Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
The first thing that registered with me when my bleary eyes opened was that my head was pounding and my stomach was roiling in discomfort. I vaguely remembered stumbling up to our rooms last night; there may have been a few close calls along the way since I think I may have been more than buzzed, and my head was confirming that fact now.
It finally occurred to me that the reason my head ached so badly was because someone was knocking on my door. Granted, they weren't knocking very loudly, but it sounded like banging to my ears, and I groaned, groggily forcing myself out of bed to answer the summons.
Soval was standing there, prim and proper and already dressed for the day, a concerned look on his face. I rubbed my eyes and stared blankly at him, waiting for him to speak.
He frowned at me. "Are you quite all right? I checked your schedule and you are due for class in an hour."
I groaned again, shaking my head. Immediately, I stopped, because that made my head hurt worse.
"I'm not going to class today," I mumbled. "I can't. My head hurts like hell and I feel like I might throw up."
Mild concern contorted into a perturbed expression, and he quietly closed the door behind him, pushing me back into my room. "Where is the pain in your head centralized?" he asked, and I was secretly grateful that he kept his voice down.
"It hurts all across my forehead." I winced and clutched my stomach as my belly rumbled in protest. "I really need to sit down."
But instead of sitting, I laid back down, awash in sweat and misery. I was too miserable to make a crack about how disgusting I must smell to him, but not too far gone to make him a promise.
"I'm never drinking your devil's brew again," I groused, crossing my arms across my stomach. "I can't handle it, and I don't want to feel like this ever – oh..."
Some sort of warm, calming energy pulsed across my forehead as his fingers made contact with my temples and massaged them. My eyes lulled shut in satisfaction, my headache slowly abating, and I sighed into the pillows. My stomach still simmered angrily and threatened retaliation for my excesses last night, but his fingers worked my nerves and quieted them, and the throbbing eased and was finally stilled.
I was frightened that when he took his fingers away, my headache would return in full force, maybe not right away, but soon after, so I swallowed my pride and looked into his eyes. They looked soft and gentle as they twinkled above me. His eyebrow twitched upward in silent question, and I relaxed my stiff jaw and smiled.
"Thank you," I whispered. "That helps so much more than you realize."
He made a noise of acknowledgment and pulled me into a sitting position, slowly letting me get my bearings. My stomach still burned, but the headache wasn't nearly as intense as it had been.
"Trash can," I moaned. "Just in case."
He moved quickly, setting my trash can in my lap.
"Breathe deeply," he whispered, rubbing my back. I closed my eyes. "Let me call for the doctor, then I will return."
"Thanks." My voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper, but, to my surprise, he tucked a few stray hairs behind my ear, his eyes softer than I expected, then hurried from the room to make the call.
He was only gone perhaps thirty seconds before his weight lowered the mattress beside me. My eyes were still closed, my focus on holding in last night's dinner. His hand found my back.
Up and down his hand stroked, warm, strong, steady. I felt like hell, but at least I wasn't alone with the feeling. Being ill wasn't quite as scary since I had another person to comfort me.
"Thank you for staying with me," I croaked. "I appreciate it so much."
"It is no trouble," he replied, his voice a soft purr in my ear. "My first priority is your health and safety, and I intend to see you well again before the day is over."
"Thank you." I knew I was repeating myself, but so what? I didn't thank him enough on a daily basis, and I knew in my heart of hearts that I had been kind of difficult these last few days.
A few minutes of silence passed before we heard a knock on the door to our quarters, and Soval called for our visitor to come in. The doctor appeared a moment later, bearing a medical kit and a much friendlier expression than the last physician I had seen in the Consulate. He was only a little taller than the ambassador, and his skin was darker, a deep, rich olive hue. His hair was jet black laced with silver, his eyes a deep, chocolaty brown, and they seemed to flash with approval as he took in the sight of me.
"Genevieve Forrest?" he asked, thankfully keeping his voice low and soft. I nodded, raising a hand in greeting. "I understand your last encounter with a Vulcan physician was less than pleasant. I apologize for my colleague's behavior. Hopefully I can show you that Vulcan doctors are not all distasteful."
I smiled at him. "No, I think you're the better kind of doctor."
A nod confirmed my statement, and he stepped closer to me. "Please tell me your symptoms."
"My head hurts, but the ambassador did something to it...it doesn't hurt as much as it did a minute ago. But I feel like I might throw up at any second, so if you have something for that, maybe a hangover cure-all, that'd be great."
"Ah," the doctor said, a slight smirk touching his lips. "Did you overindulge last night? I could see from my table that you were enjoying the port."
I was about to agree with him when Soval cut in. "Avarak, the fault is mine. I miscalculated the amount of alcohol she could handle."
The doctor had no comment on that, but simply nodded and pressed a hypospray to my neck. "That should alleviate your nausea and headache. If they are not gone by this afternoon, come to the infirmary so I may give you a more thorough examination. And remember: if you keep yourself hydrated today, the medicine I gave you will be more effective."
"Thanks, doctor. I appreciate you going through the trouble to come to me, and not the other way around."
"It is no trouble at all. I hope you feel better soon, Ms. Forrest. At this point, I would recommend breakfast and plenty of water."
"Sure thing," I murmured, pressing my forehead into my palms. My urge to vomit was receding slowly, and I continued with slow breaths while my body settled. Soval spoke briefly with the doctor in Vulcan, and then Avarak bid me good day and left.
"I should take a shower," I said, running a hand through my oily hair. "Hopefully when I'm done, I'll feel up to breakfast."
"Would plomeek be acceptable?"
"That would be great." I looked sidelong at him through bleary eyes. "Thank you...for everything."
His eyes were just as soft as they were when he touched my temples. "It is my duty and pleasure to see to your well-being, Genevieve. Perhaps I should make you some tea to go with the broth."
"Maybe later. Just water for now would be great."
The Vulcan nodded and rose from my side, offering his hand so I could stand as well. I accepted, and he slowly pulled me to my feet. I looked up at him, blinking slowly in my tired state, and despite my better judgment, I squeezed his shoulder in gratitude as I made for the bathroom. My fingers trailed along the shoulder seam of his robes before I tore my hand away and reached up to undo my braid. I didn't dare look back at him to see if he was disgusted, or if his eyes were still soft.
The medicine hadn't quite kicked in as much I may have liked, so I sat on the floor of the shower and scrubbed my skin and hair clean with the unscented products he had given me. Once my flesh was pink and raw, and my hair free of oil, I gingerly exited the shower and dressed in clean clothes. My urge to vomit was blessedly abating now, and I felt slightly better as I brushed my hair. I was too tired to bother with a braid today, so my hair went up into a ponytail and I left my room.
My stomach grumbled in hunger at the sight of breakfast steaming on the table, and Soval was just setting down a glass of water when he caught sight of me.
"Your color has improved," he said softly, tucking a stray lock of hair out of my face. I smiled at him and lowered myself into my seat, forcing myself to go slow on breakfast, just in case my stomach decided to change its mind. So far, the broth was going down smoothly, and a long pull from my water glass didn't upset my stomach either.
My thoughts turned to the classwork I was missing, so I messaged my professor, telling her I was sick and would meet with her tomorrow to catch up on my work; finals were only a few days away, and I couldn't afford to miss any of the review material.
"Is the medicine working?" he probed, his tone a gentle rumble. He slid into the seat next to me with a cup of steaming tea, and I took another drink of water, still going very slow in case I wasn't as well as I thought.
"I feel better. Not back to 100 percent just yet. I'll get back to you in an hour or so."
"Forgive me for putting you through this. It was not my intention to inebriate you, but I know now that I miscalculated the amount of alcohol you could handle."
I took a morose sip of broth. "Just out of curiosity...what did you not take into account?"
"The fact that you do not drink often, and therefore are a...what is the word...lightweight?"
I narrowed my eyes. "I am shocked and appalled that the Ambassador Soval is not completely and perfectly accurate 24/7, 365 days a year. Totally unacceptable."
He actually looked rather put-off by my comment until my smirk gave it away. His eyes narrowed as well, his lips twitching upward. "Please forgive an old Vulcan for his mistakes. It will not happen again, I assure you."
"I was just teasing." I drained the rest of my water, and he immediately jumped up to fetch me more. I watched him work, the last twinges of nausea fading as he refilled my water glass. If he kept this behavior up, how was I supposed to resist him? This was perhaps the most kind and considerate I had ever seen him, baring that incident with my ankle. Aside from carrying me, he hadn't touched me as much as he had this morning. But maybe he felt guilty, just as he said, and wanted to make up for his miscalculation with a little extra kindness. I resisted the urge to sigh.
"The medicine should be working now," he said gently as he handed me the water. "After you are feeling better, would you be opposed to perhaps taking a walk with me?"
"In about thirty minutes when this medicine is done working its magic, sure, let's go on a walk. It would be good to get out of the Consulate for a while."
He opened his mouth to reply, but a beeping from the console in the corner interrupted him. His eyes darkened, and he jumped up to answer the call, striding quickly to the comm. Sorak was on the other line, speaking fast and low in Vulcan, and the ambassador did not seem all that pleased with whatever he was saying, but replied calmly all the same. Their conversation ended soon thereafter, and he turned to me with a grim look in his eyes.
"Forgive me, Genevieve," he said morosely. "We will have to postpone that walk. I have been called away to a meeting, in my office here, not outside the Consulate, but I am not sure how long I will be. However, when I return, we will go on our walk together. Again, forgive this delay."
"Go do what you need to do," I said gently. "I'm not going anywhere."
He lightly touched my shoulder and departed, and I finished my breakfast. After some debate, I decided to lay back down. But no matter how many times I twisted and turned in my bed, I couldn't get comfortable; I felt restless, so I gave up in favor of a book. Fifteen minutes passed, then another five, then another ten, until he had been gone almost forty minutes. I had expected a quick, twenty-minute conversation, but it was almost an hour before he returned.
He walked into our quarters, going slowly, a cut on his lip and scratches along the right side of his face; the skin around the lacerations was starting to bruise an ugly yellow color, with small splotches of purple. He rolled his shoulder, as if testing it to see how far it could go without hurting. Then he sat in the nearest chair, sighing heavily.
I gasped at the sight and rushed to him.
"Are you ok?" I blurted out, kneeling in front of him to examine his wounds. "What happened?"
His brown eyes found mine, and he almost looked saddened by my question. It appeared as if he had aged a few decades; the lines on his face seemed deeper, his skin paler, his entire visage exhausted and defeated.
"I...it is a matter of security, Genevieve, and I would not want to worry you."
I shook my head. "Ok, but are you all right?" A bead of green blood beaded on his lower lip. "You're bleeding."
He touched his finger to his lip and looked at it in apparent fascination. "So it would seem."
"Here, let me get a rag or something." I jumped up and searched through the kitchen supplies until I found an old cloth, then I wet it and returned to him, kneeling once more.
"Has the doctor been told about this?" I asked, and he nodded.
"Avarak is occupied with other patients, but once he has fulfilled his obligation to them, he will attend to me. You do not have to..." He closed his eyes as I dabbed very lightly at the scratches on his temple, and it seemed whatever fight was in him before was gone. He leaned into the cloth, his pained expression easing back to neutrality, and as I wiped away the emerald beads at his mouth, his lips parted slightly and his nostrils flared wide.
"How's your shoulder?" I murmured gently, touching the cloth to the deepest scratch on his cheek.
"It will heal," he said, his voice a soft rumble. "The doctor will see to it."
I sighed and gently turned his head to the left so I could have better access to his cuts. "Now, I want you to answer my question...are you ok?"
He stared mournfully at me; I paused in my dabbing and waited for an answer.
"I know you don't want to worry me, but it's going to keep me up at night unless I know. Whoever attacked you – because I know this wasn't an accident – is there any risk of this happening again?"
Soval murmured a negative.
"Ok," I whispered, unconvinced. I tried a different angle. "I just don't want you to get hurt again. We're friends, remember? Friends look out for each other and take care of each other, so please don't lie to me. I want to be on my guard if that's a necessity for your safety, and I guess for mine if whoever the mysterious 'they' is wants to involve me."
"The threat has been neutralized and will not return," he said firmly. "And you will not be involved. I will not allow it."
I nodded slowly, mulling over his words. Then I realized something. "Who else was involved? Are they ok?"
He didn't answer me for a moment, but stared blankly into his lap. "Sorak and another aide are being treated now. Their injuries are not serious, though they are more severe than mine. Avarak assures me they will be fit for duty by tomorrow at the latest."
I hung my head. From what he had told me, the only conclusion was that he was attacked by someone and Sorak and another aide had either been in the room with him or had swiftly come to his rescue at the point of attack. Someone had tried to hurt him, and the thought made me sick. The comprehension and sadness in his dark brown eyes told me he knew I had come to the right conclusion, however incomplete. But the details didn't matter, since he was certain something like this wouldn't happen again, so I breathed out slowly and let go of my curiosity.
My hand sought his uninjured cheek, and he blinked languidly at the contact, his dark eyes becoming even darker, almost black now. "I'm so sorry this happened to you," I whispered, and he closed his eyes. "Is there anything I can do to make this better?"
"I believe we require a walk now more than ever," he murmured, his eyes still closed. "Once Avarak has seen to my injuries..."
"Absolutely," I said gently, pulling my hand away. "Do you have any antibiotic ointment we can put on these cuts?"
"The doctor will see to that, Genevieve, you...you have done more than enough. I..." He sighed. "It would be unwise for you to do anything more than wait for Avarak to heal me. Not that I do not appreciate your attentions, but when a Vulcan man is injured and a young woman sees to his needs, it is...you would not like the outcome of that scenario, Genevieve, so for your own sake..."
"Have I made you uncomfortable?" I asked, apprehensive of the answer. He shook his head. "Have I committed some cultural faux-pas?"
"No." He sighed again, staring blankly at the floor. "No, there is nothing offensive in your behavior, simply...if you continue, I do not believe you would like the results."
I nodded slowly. "If you say so. When do you think Avarak will be here?"
"Presently," he replied, and just as he said it, there came a knocking at the door; I leaped up to answer it. And there was the doctor, prim and proper as ever, and I stepped aside to let him in.
"Thank you so much for coming," I told him sincerely. He bowed his head. "How are your other patients?"
"They are doing well, and they will make a swift recovery."
"Good." I stopped pestering him and sat down on the couch, and the doctor tended to Soval, speaking softly to the ambassador in Vulcan. Under the light of the dermal regenerator, the scratches on Soval's face faded and finally disappeared along with the bruises. I sighed in relief seeing him back to normal, and after giving his patient instructions, Avarak left us alone again.
"Are you ready for that walk?" I asked gently as he stood, and he nodded. "Well then, where to?"
I saw the first positive expression on his face since he had returned to our quarters, and he led me out the door.