TWENTY-EIGHT: Domestic Matters
The lights in the open living area of Dagmar's home slowly switched to their daytime cycle settings, gradually brightening the room, and the redheaded Human rolled her head to one side, a sleep-slowed grimace twisting her lips as she felt the muscles protest. Her forehead brushed against… antenna? Frowning, ignoring her pained muscles, Dagmar cracked an eye open.
Oh, okay. It was just Thelen. Wait, Thelen?
Action movies. Laughter. The cold burn of not-quite-minty Andorian ale. Talking. Talking until they were too tired to talk, too tired to move from the couch they had been lounging on-
There we go! She remembered now. Thelen had come over again. Lately, he'd taken to spending a great deal of time at her domicile. Most people at the Embassy – those prone to gossip, anyway- were convinced that Dagmar and Thelen had become playmates. Truthfully, all she and Thelen were doing was watching Human and Andorian films. It tended to keep them up rather late.
Thelen insisted it was a good way for her to learn some of the more subtle social ins and outs, and, for the most part, Dagmar agreed. It became something of a down-time hobby for the pair. They would watch an Andorian film, with Thelen pointing out tiny moments and explaining contexts, and then they would watch a Human film, with Dagmar doing the same. Some of their discussions would go on into the wee hours of the morning, until suddenly they were making breakfast together, or they'd wake sometime in the late morning hours, still on the couch with cricks in their necks and lukewarm glasses of Andorian ale sitting, half-drunk, on the table.
Speaking of… Groaning as she raised her head –an act which took entirely too much effort- and she saw an empty bottle of Andorian ale on the low-bearing wooden coffee table, two empty glasses with just traces of the blue liquor at the bottoms of each. The viewing screen that they had been using to watch movies –an action film and a historical drama this time- was blank. It had probably automatically switched off sometime in the night.
The Andorian, limbs sprawled half on the couch and half on her –and vice versa- was out cold, antenna just barely flicking as he dreamt.
It was strangely… domestic, this routine.
"Is it morning already?" Thelen murmured, amber-yellow eyes like slits under heavy eyelids as Thelen's head lolled away from hers slightly. Dagmar answered just as sleepily, but it came out more as a mumbled moan than actual words. The sound made Thelen crack a fractional Human smile, and his antennae, droopy with sleep as they were, curved together slowly. "One of these days, we'll remember to sleep in an actual bed. My neck might even thank me."
If that had come from a Human male, Dagmar would have been extremely uncomfortable – not to mention irritated. But Thelen was Andorian, and the context was completely different.
The redhead snorted and sat up from her slouched position, grimacing again as both her back and her neck protested quite emphatically. "Oof. Yeah. Okay. Next time we watch the movies on the bed. And we'll find some extra pillows, too."
Thelen made an agreeable noise as he slowly clambered off the couch and onto his feet, stretching like a cat after a long nap. When he finished, he straightened his clothes and moved over to the kitchen area, the slow, languid movements still somehow graceful in such a willowy-bodied species.
Sometimes, Andorians made Dagmar feel clumsy.
As Dagmar rolled off of the couch, haphazardly just happening to land on her feet in a somewhat balanced position, the terminal view-screen set in the wall near the kitchen area beeped. Straightening and attempting to straighten out her hair somewhat, Dagmar staggered over to the screen to find that she had an in-coming call.
Intrigued, Dagmar answered it.
"Greetings." A familiar voice spoke calmly, raising his hand in the traditional salute. The face on the screen was nearly as familiar as her own.
Dagmar could have leapt for joy, and nearly did, as a grin broke out over her face. "Varek!"
In the kitchen, Thelen paused, half way between taking out the various pots and pans he'd need to make breakfast for the pair of them, and gave her a strange look, antenna wiggling. Dagmar paid her friend no mind, however.
"How are you? How's T'Lar? I haven't seen either of you in ages!" Dagmar babbled cheerfully, knowing full well that she was probably irking the Vulcan male, but not particularly caring. She was happy – and damned if she wasn't going to enjoy it.
"Peace, Dagmar Gunnarssen." Varek intoned, the same way he used to when she became over-excited about a new idea in his classes. Dagmar's grin grew wider, but she held her peace. "We had not anticipated your move to Andoria – it has been difficult to reach you. We are both functioning within acceptable parameters."
Oh... Oh! Damn! She'd completely forgotten to tell Varek about the move! Dagmar mentally kicked herself. She hoped she hadn't caused any sort of worry… Not that Vulcans were particularly prone to worry, or anything, but she'd still feel awful if she had.
"I'm sorry," The translator apologized. "I completely forgot to tell you about the move! I work for Ambassador Thoris now."
Varek inclined his head, patient as ever and dressed in the familiar formal robes of his people. He seemed to be in good health, from what Dagmar could see and there was the strangest sense of… contentment, perhaps? The Vulcan professor answered her with just the faintest touch of wryness in his voice. "I have discovered as much. My wife and I wished to inquire as to your health."
Wife? Dagmar's brow furrowed for a moment before… "Oh! You and T'Lar bonded! Congratulations! I'm very happy for you!" And then, belatedly, "I'm fine! It's been a bit strange, adjusting to the culture and everything, but I have good friends here and they've helped me through most of it."
Varek raised an eyebrow. "A most illogical sentiment, but… I thank you. I am also pleased to hear that you are transitioning well."
Thelen, looking more and more bewildered as each moment went by, set the pans down and, not bothering to straighten his sleep-rumpled clothes, came over to Dagmar's side to see who the mystery caller was.
"Who's this?" Thelen interrupted with the typical Andorian bluntness she had come to expect from the species. His expression was extremely suspicious, and his antennae flicked in irritation.
"Indeed. I believe introductions are in order." Varek murmured, eyeing Dagmar's image on the screen in his home with a fractional lift to his eyebrow once again.
Dagmar flushed. "Sorry – Thelen, this is my former xenobiology professor, Varek. He's been something of a mentor to me ever since I took his a few of his classes. Varek, this is Thelen, a security officer under Ambassador Thoris' employ and a very good friend of mine."
Turning to Thelen, whose look of suspicion had faded somewhat, the Human translator elaborated slightly. "Varek helped me a great deal with learning to deal with living on Earth. He was the one who prompted me to go out and meet people, which lead me to meeting Shral's cousin Theb."
There, introductions done.
Thelen nodded, understanding replacing much of his suspicion, but Andorians were not known as a paranoid and violent species for nothing. He stepped back, but remained standing behind and to the right of Dagmar, assuming a vaguely standoffish posture. Dagmar had to refrain from rolling her eyes.
Even though Vulcan and Andoria were at peace, prejudices and old wounds ran deep. The two species still tended to regard each other warily –something that Earth officials hoped would fade in time. But Dagmar understood, though, she really did; she had grown up in a world full of old wounds and prejudices. She had witnessed the fall of the Twin Towers, and that of the Pentagon, from her living-room couch and she vividly remembered the years of aftermath that followed.
She'd thought the sort of prejudice which had followed had been as stupid then as it was now.
But she understood it.
Addressing Varek, Dagmar turned back to the terminal and offered an awkward smile. "Thelen helps me adjust to Andorian culture and keeps me out of trouble."
The Andorian behind her snorted, but said nothing.
"A most agreeable choice in companions, then." Varek commented with what looked suspiciously like a glimmer of approval in his otherwise flat and calm eyes. Then again, Dagmar could easily have been imagining things, or projecting. In the background on Varek's end of the call, Dagmar heard a door slide open and watched as T'Lar approached her husband and took a seat beside him.
"Hello, T'Lar!" Dagmar chimed, noting how the couple brushed their paired fingers together in the traditional public display of affection between Vulcan spouses.
"Greetings." The Vulcan woman replied, as serene as Dagmar had ever seen her. Her robes were immaculate, as were her husbands, and very formal – and oddly loose. Some Vulcan robes were quite loose and flowing – it helped with the heat of the desert- but the robes T'Lar wore almost looked like maternity clothes. The translator wondered if they were about to go out to some ceremony, or had just returned home from one.
"Dagmar has offered her felicitations on our union." Varek caught his wife up on the conversation. "And her companion is named Thelen."
Thelen grew bored with the conversation around that point and returned to the kitchen to resume making breakfast. Dagmar had recently taught him how to make crepes, and Thelen was determined to make a batch which wasn't partially burnt. For someone who was normally very proficient in the kitchen, sweeter foods tended to baffle the Andorian – which, naturally, he took as some sort of personal challenge. This would be the seventh straight morning of crepes for breakfast, it seemed.
The redheaded Human thought it was both endearing and hilarious, and she didn't bother to suppress the fond smile which followed Thelen as he made a pot of katheka and began to mutter about impossible Terran foods.
After a long moment, Varek caught her attention again. The conversation that followed was not filled with any particular revelations or world-changing news, but it was pleasant and Dagmar found that a few things had changed since she had last spoken to her former professor several months ago. She winced when she was reminded of how long it had been – and felt a wash of guilt when she remembered all of the other people she hadn't spoken to, as well; Zepht, the friendly Denobulan student who had made her laugh during dinner, and Grigor with his horde of cats…
"But, I believe it is time to come to the topic which prompted me to contact you." Varek was saying. Dagmar snapped to attention as surreptitiously as she could.
"And what is that?"
T'Lar was the one who answered her with the typical Vulcan straight-forwardness. "We require an ovum."
After Thelen had ceased accidentally inhaling his katheka and after Dagmar had returned from rushing over to help, the pair of them stared at the Vulcan couple as if they were insane.
"I'm… sorry?" Dagmar asked dumbly, completely blindsided by the request. An ovum? What the devil could they possibly want with an ovum? And why were the asking her of all people for one? They weren't even from the same species!
T'Lar frowned, just fractionally, unable to understand the Human female's shock. "For what are you apologizing?"
"Humans apologize when they hear something they require clarification for." Varek explained serenely, completely unaffected by the entire conversation.
Thelen, from his position at her side, hissed with what sounded like faint disbelief, "It's like you have a sign on your forehead that says 'Follow me, crazy knife-ears!'"
Varek frowned, extremely unimpressed. Except, being Vulcan, it was more like a slight furrowing of his brow. Dagmar grimaced, feeling extremely uncomfortable, and elbowed Thelen in the ribs, hissing back, "Hey! Don't say stuff like that about my friends – they are not knife-ears, they're Vulcans! I'm sure they have a very good reason for asking something like that. ..And I do not have a sign on my forehead saying that!"
Thelen snorted, but relented. No apology was forthcoming, but, then, Dagmar hadn't really expected one; prejudices ran deep, and Andorians had long memories – as did Vulcans.
T'Lar spoke at length and clarified her earlier statement, but Dagmar saw the frosty look in her dark, almond-shaped eyes. "My husband and I have not yet been able to conceive; testing has revealed that I am incapable of producing suitable stems cells."
Dagmar winced. That was no easy admission for any women, much less a Vulcan. How much of her pride was T'Lar forcing down to just speak of such an issue to begin with, never mind speaking of it in front of a Human and an Andorian?
"It has been thought that an unfertilized Human ovum, given the relatively simplistic genetic nature of such an cell, might serve as an appropriate substitute for my own." T'Lar's voice was neutral, her expression calm, but Dagmar knew better. Her pride and her cultural reserve were so strongly suppressed that it was visible in the stiffness of her shoulders and the absolute stillness of her folded hands. Varek was the same.
Thelen had the grace to look mildly embarrassed. Andorians valued children extremely highly, and an Andorian who was incapable of having offspring was subjected to equal parts stigma and overwhelming pity. In a climate where, in order to ensure the survival of even a small number of children, it was necessary for mated pairs to combine their resources and cohabitate, an infertile male or female was both a symbol of tragedy… and a social leper. It was never discussed openly, even among family – and Vulcans were even more disinclined to speak of such things.
Bu Varek and T'Lar were speaking about it to her – and Dagmar grasped the magnitude of the gesture at last.
"Thelen, would you…?" Dagmar didn't want to throw Thelen out, but she didn't want to make the Vulcans on the screen before any more uncomfortable than they must have already been.
Thelen nodded, immediately understanding what she intended, and transferred the call to a more private room in her home... but before he did, he made a gesture to the Vulcan spouses he had only just moments ago insulted. It was a small gesture, a hand palm upwards and then rotated at the wrist until the palm of his hand faced the floor. A Vulcan would not understand. A Human not already studied in Andorian body language would have missed it… But Dagmar understood. In turning his open palm over, he expressed a wish for their luck to turn as well.
Thelen would not apologize for his prejudice, but not even an Andorian would wish a childless existence upon a Vulcan.
"I'm sorry, T'Lar." Dagmar sympathized once the door to her bedroom had closed behind her. "…And Thelen is, too, in his way."
In the background, she could just faintly hear Thelen resuming his preparation of their breakfast.
Neither Varek nor T'Lar said anything, but Dagmar guessed that Varek knew something of what Thelen's gesture had meant; there was a faint look of surprise about him, a subtle looseness in the muscles of his neck and shoulders, which belied his stoic expression.
Clearing her throat awkwardly, feeling the first beginnings of hunger beginning to rumble in her belly but ignoring them in favour of the conversation at hand, the Human woman prompted, "So, uh, what precisely do you need from me?"
