It shouldn't have helped. But it did.
At this rate, she was going to have to start giving La'an credit on her medical licence.
She felt gradually more human, more Christine, as she showered the dregs of the day off her. As she pinned her hair up into something elegant and light, sat to put on her face, turning herself back into someone she recognised. Someone open and fun and bright, who knew exactly what she wanted, who could be the focal point of a party without a thought. Who no one needed to worry about, because despite the chaos all around her she was competent as hell, and she always had her crap together.
She clipped on earrings faceted to catch the light, applied a dusting of glitter over her eyeshadow, because the sparkle would set off her eyes, but also because La'an was like a magpie, distracted by anything shiny for microseconds at a time, and she was going to need the reprieve tonight. This was going to be a party. The proper kind, with crowds and noise and everything La'an's cortex was set up not to take. They had somehow managed to stare down pirates and win. There was no way this thing wasn't going to be wild.
It was harder choosing what to wear, but La'an didn't watch. She never did, the only person in over a decade who didn't seem to find the sight of her wrapped in a towel magnetic. It was strangely comforting to know that she could drop the thing, pull on her clothes, without some little part of her whispering she needed to make it look attractive. That she was putting on a show. She ended up taking out her green dress, sleeveless and flowing in a way that always made her feel tall, that kept people just a little further away, and slipped it on while she watched La'an instead.
She had taken the mandala off the shelf when they came in, layering the sand with deliberate focus. Chapel studied her while she buckled her shoes, stood at the table with her back straight, intently absorbed. She didn't react as Chapel came up behind her. Didn't acknowledge her even when she touched a hand to her waist, leaning in to look over her shoulder at the board.
It was covered in a glittering swirl of midnight black, scattered with points of light like a starscape Chapel couldn't read. Pretty, at a glance, but cold too, deep and haunting, growing darker and wider the longer she looked, a chill seeping into her chest that left her feeling like this was something she shouldn't see. Too personal. Too raw. She started to pull away, but La'an followed the movement, swaying back against her, trapping her hand in a way that said stay as clearly as anything ever could.
Familiar warmth rose inside her as she drew her close, wrapping an arm around her slowly, pressing a kiss into her hair to feel La'an lean into the touch, slight but real, trusting her with all of this as if it was nothing. As if it wasn't some abstract, cosmic leap of faith. La'an's hands were minutely unsteady as she covered the image in a stream of featureless charcoal, blotting out the light, the depth, the cold, locking it away under a dense layer of soulless black. But once it was done, the bowl empty and the board blank, she stood staring down into the darkness, centering its rendered calm, and everything went still.
It was stark, to see it visualised, but this was how she did it. A layer of repression like blotting ink, drowning out reality until she could breathe. Chapel hugged her tight, turning her cheek into La'an's warm temple so her lips ghosted her skin. "I love you." It was so much easier to be able to say it. To understand that this was what it was for.
La'an's eyes closed, heavy for a second before she nodded. "Are you ready?"
"Yes." We don't need to do this. Saying it would only make it worse. Instead she waited until La'an turned to run her fingers over her hair, pressed a kiss into her parting as La'an's forehead dropped against her chest. It was so easy like this, carding slow fingers through the waterfall along her back, to pretend they were the only two people in the universe. "There are going to be flaming cocktails."
"I know."
"And a band."
"I know."
"People are going to get drunk."
"I know." La'an almost laughed, blunt nails pressing into her back. "You're not getting out of this Chapel. We're going dancing. You're going to have fun."
The opening was just too easy. Chapel dropped her voice, leaning to murmur directly into La'an's ear. "There are other ways to have fun."
The nails went sharp, threatening expertly against her waist, just light enough that she didn't quite dare squirm as La'an pulled away. "Move. Now. Or I'm telling Uhura you said that."
"You wouldn't."
"Try me." La'an's glare was like solid flint.
Chapel leant down and kissed her, feather-light and gentle, because she really was the most perfect thing in the world.
/
The party was already in full swing when they arrived. Chapel caught herself scanning the crowd with an uncomfortable mix of butterflies and trepidation, searching even though she didn't want to find him. Unable not to look despite herself. But he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't come. T'Pring had come aboard. Surely he wouldn't show.
La'an took her hand, spinning her gently onto the busy dance floor, catching her focus the way she always did, her warm, dark eyes making it easier to breathe. To smile as Chapel let herself be drawn into hold, fingers brushing into long, soft hair. She was so damn sweet, steady and sure and utterly unfazed by what should have been an insupportable mess. By everything Chapel was, and couldn't help but be, that should have left her reeling.
Fingertips pressed into her shoulder. "Stop thinking. You're supposed to be having fun."
She was. It was impossible not to.
All security officers knew how to move. La'an was no different, light and balanced, able to travel while staying grounded, surefooted and coordinated and fast in a way that was always exhilarating. But what made it glorious was that she was musical. That without seemingly any outward effort she could dance with a kind of artless, flowing grace that should have been entirely incongruous and yet totally, manifestly wasn't. She spun Chapel through the fray easily, weaving them between swaying couples as the world dropped away.
She let Chapel lead, after a few turns, because the crowd was too much for her, too colourful, too loud and detailed and strange, but as her eyes blinked shut her hands softened and she settled closer to just breathe, surrendering to the moment in a way that was so overwhelmingly intimate Chapel could have lived there forever, mesmerised in perfect balance.
Inevitably though, it couldn't last. A blink and an eternity and the music was changing, the swirl was slowing, and then Glenn Marshall had appeared beside them, halting Chapel with a touch to her shoulder. He smiled at her, open as always. But it was La'an he offered his hand.
"I've heard this is how you pick your doctors."
It was. Or it had been. Chapel watched La'an consider him, pressing subtly back into her hold, looking for something, finding it as Chapel pressed gently back. Then she was stepping towards him, letting him spin her slowly away, and Chapel was left briefly aimless only to find Erica beckoning her over to the bar.
"Did she seriously just agree to dance with Marshall?"
Chapel took the drink Erica was holding out, bright and foaming and garlanded with fruit. "Why not?"
"Because she's… La'an."
"So?" Chapel took a sip while she waited for Erica to formulate something more eloquent only to find herself grimacing at the unholy overkill of sweet. "What is this?"
"Drunken Monkey. I had Wattana dig up everything he had with rum. 'Cause of the pirates, see?"
"We beat the pirates."
"Well yeah, but cocktails."
It was always amusing to Chapel that Erica, all round macho badass, had such a weakness for anything that could conceivably be topped with a paper umbrella. "What's in this?" She prodded at the luminous mess, fishing out a maraschino cherry. "Seriously. It tastes like acetone."
"Pineapple?" Erica sipped her own drink cautiously. "Coconut? Rum though. Definitely rum."
It was foul. Chapel threw it back anyway. "I'm going to need something stronger."
"Woah." Erica took the empty glass from her, half concerned half impressed. "I heard you had quite the day."
"Yeah."
"You want to tell me, or…" the question trailed off as her eyes caught something over Chapel's shoulder. "Ah. Something stronger. Got it." She turned to wave down Wattana, leaving Chapel to close her eyes for a second, then pivot slowly into what turned out to be the oncoming oleander smile of commander Chin-Riley. Still, given what the alternative had been, she'd take it.
"Commander."
Una indicated the spot beside Chapel with her tumbler, but then leant into the bar anyway without waiting for an invitation. "So, you know how to use a hypospray."
"Sure. Busy clinic, runaway patients, you get the knack, you know?"
"It looked like a little more than that, from the footage." Una peered down into her glass, leaving a pause she probably thought was subtle, an imitation of human that was just... off. Like an actor playing a role. Nothing you could put your finger on exactly, until you knew, and then suddenly glaring. Performative. Like La'an. Only La'an's mask dropped, when things mattered. "Have you told her?"
There was no point pretending she didn't know what. The footage. Soon everyone would know. She resisted the sudden urge to scan the crowd again, focusing on the feel of her nails against lacquer. She shouldn't have downed that drink. It would have given her something to do with her hands. She tried not to fidget, stalling despite the fact she knew she needed an answer.
Una's eyes flicked up, then up further. Her face changed.
The air shifted. An arm settled around her, warm and solid as La'an leant into her shoulder.
"You know how you like all those cheap romance novels?"
Una's face went blank, fading into the deadpan she seemed to reserve just for La'an. It was fascinating. She had to know La'an was being a brat. That she was being set up for something. But somehow she couldn't pull away. So she just sat and took it, playing the game.
"Do you have any recommendations?"
"There's actually a whole sub-genre of them called 'you touch her you die', or something."
"Yes." Una swirled her drink carefully. "It's always struck me as a little over zealous, as a premise."
La'an shifted, leaning minutely further in. "I think I could make it work."
She probably could. Having her say that to you in a crowded bar might be funny. It equally might make you fear for your life. Chapel tried to suppress her smile, because contrary to popular belief she did actually know about tact, but Una wasn't looking at her anyway.
"If there's something you'd like to tell me…"
La'an made the sound Chapel had come to associate with frustration, a truncated cross between a growl and a sigh, projecting idiot with characteristic efficiency. Her fingers tightened against Chapel's waist, then she was gone, ducking through the crowd, invisible for a moment until she suddenly pushed up onto the stage. The band stuttered to a halt. La'an snagged a microphone, bringing the crowd to attention with a brief shriek of static before she handed it back. The dancers halted. People muttered, conversation stalling as the room turned to watch. La'an waited while they went quiet, staring them down.
"There have been some rumours going around. I'd like to put them to rest."
Beside Chapel, Una stiffened. "Not what I meant."
Around the hall people were flickering, shooting each other glances, looking for her in the crowd. Uhura looked elated. Chapel could see her mouthing no way at Mitchell across a cluttered table. A growing wake of silence opened up around her, while up on stage the band sat frozen, watching La'an in mesmerised disbelief.
"I've spent a lot of time with nurse Chapel over the past few months, as I'm sure a lot of you have noticed. Which means it should come as no surprise to anyone that she would be capable of taking on an assailant hand to hand. Today, while the rest of us were busy falling back, she took out five armed pirates with a hypospray. Alone, without backup. If she'd had command codes she could have taken back the ship. So to anyone who still imagines force trumps action, think again. Action wins, every time. And to anyone who still feels the need to question her capacity, I have some security footage for you to emulate. Every morning, including weekends, until you get it right. Is that understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
The automatic chorus came from a handful of security crew and La'an's growing batch of cadets. It drew scattered laughter from around the room that died almost instantly under the force of her glare, the lift of her chin.
"Is that understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
Una didn't bother with the salute, but she raised her glass fractionally with a muttered touché as they watched La'an drop unceremoniously off the stage. "I'll take that as a yes."
Chapel wasn't sure what she meant, but before she could react someone had whistled, loud and shrill over the growing chatter, and then applause started up, stamping that made the deck rumble, fists pummelling tables, a rising chant of Chapel, Chapel, Chapel, swelling around her until Oleg Krastev was lifting her onto his shoulder, spinning her full circle as the ovation topped out into layered cheers.
Chapel grinned into the chaos, fielding a battery of high fives as she was carried through the crowd.
It was totally ridiculous.
And utterly, gloriously liberating.