Star Trek: Theurgy

Day 18 [2100 hrs.] Echoes at Eventide

April 03, 2020, 11:25:26 PM

ECHOES AT EVENTIDE
STARDATE 57602.62
MARCH 28, 2381
2100 HRS.

[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Chief Counsellor's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Fife

He was late.

Hathev had been quite precise in arranging the details of their sortie this evening, specifying not only the time and place of their meeting but the manner in which it should be undertaken -- that is, the appearance, the dress, the expectation. She had been quite clear in dictating such things, that there might be no misunderstanding or confusion on his part, considering her understanding of such things led her to believe he may, perhaps, experience some trepidation or nervousness as the specified time approached.

She, of course, felt no such things, and thus the fact that the officer in question was a full forty-seven seconds late did not disturb her. It was hardly unexpected, considering the proclivities of Commander Cross; despite their shared heritage, he was an emotional being at heart and could not therefore be expected to ascribe to the tight punctuality of their species.

A full minute's tardiness, now. Still. Such things could simply indicate a slight delay in transporter function. It would be illogical to assume any other reasoning for such a thing.

They had tentatively suggested this evening for a meeting several nights ago, at a time when neither of them had been particularly... themselves. Thus it was not until this morning that she had reopened contact, allowing the span of three full days of distance that they might process the events leading to such a suggestion carefully -- and separately.

She had been entirely prepared to call off their arrangements for this evening, or to be met with a similar refusal from Cross. Yet even after returning to her accustomed equilibrium in every other matter, she found one irregularity remained extant.

Perhaps had she been more practiced at turning her counsellor's gaze inwards she would have diagnosed such inklings earlier. Certainly the introspection she had engaged in over the past few days had raised a conclusion simultaneously surprising and obvious. She had always regarded Mr Cross in a light different to that of her regular clients -- as indeed he had never been one, his request more that of a colleague seeking guidance than a patient seeking treatment -- and his outlook and disposition had been both professionally fascinating and personally impressive. She had been struck by his depth from their first meeting, and though she never would have referred to him as refined, it was indubitable that he had come to handle his earlier transition with strength and grace. He displayed an active wit, a bright intelligence, a sense of humour that she could not entirely appreciate but nevertheless found... pleasant.

That she had more recently married such observations with other, more surface-level impressions of the comparative ratios of his facial features and such, to create a complete picture of the man, and that this picture was neither uninteresting nor displeasing to her, was perhaps unsurprising, then. The force with which such feelings had arisen had, of course, been most unexpected -- and impermissible -- yet now they had calmed somewhat it had become clear that they were not entirely new, nor did they spring from nowhere.

There was also the matter of what she had seen, and what she had shown. But that, at least, was not a concern for the immediate moment.

No, more concerning was the fact that Cross was now two-hundred and thirty-three seconds late.

Perhaps he had reconsidered. His response to her missive this morning had been positive, yet it was entirely possible that he may have had a change of mind in the twelve hours' interim. She could hardly hold such a thing against the man; certainly, while her own estimation of him may have been proven to be intransient, that did not preclude the possibility that his was. It would be illogical to complain of such a thing.

Nevertheless, she checked for any new messages, lest he had conveyed such a thing already and she had merely missed it. There was nothing to suggest that being the case.

Three-hundred and two seconds. Perhaps he had decided not to send a message, merely returning to their standing before even their first meeting -- professionally cordial, maintaining proper distance. She could have no objections to such a thing. It would be proper, after all. She could hardly complain about such behaviour.

At precisely 21:05:25, she received a chirp from her door notifying her of a visitor. She was across the room in an instant that she might greet the unknown personage properly by the entrance to her quarters.

It was him.

'You are three-hundred and twenty-five seconds late,' she admonished. Belatedly realising that such an exact time might give the impression of undue attention on her part, she duly amended: 'Approximately.' An appropriate affectation. 'Should you no longer wish to meet this evening you need merely say so; I would bear no ill-will against you for such a decision.'

Vulcans did not lie, and such a grudge would be illogical; she spoke the truth. Nevertheless, she had dressed for the occasion, donning a neat black skirt and crushed velvet blazer, even allowing a silk blouse in an indulgent maroon; therefore to have expended such effort without proper provocation would be unfortunate.

Re: Day 18 [2100 hrs.] Echoes at Eventide

Reply #1 – April 06, 2020, 07:10:05 PM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Hathev’s Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @fiendfall
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Cross took a deep breath as he rounded the corner and strode down the corridor, his heart pounding as he advanced towards his destination. He could see the door to Hathev’s quarters ahead, and his nerves grew with each step as he drew ever closer. Pulled to a halt several steps from the door, Croos took another breath.

Then another.

Hathev had been all too wrong about her prediction. His feelings had not faded with time. They had remained constant, if not stronger, than they had been that day. Since she had contacted him that morning about their agreed upon date, Cross had felt another feeling growing alongside the affection he felt towards the Chief Counsellor.

Anxiety.

The fact was, he had been distracted all day. He had had to read reports twice, having taking in no more than a word or two during his first read-through. He had lost track of where he was, having to as Thea for directions several times. He had stopped by Kai’s quarters, asking his friend for advice, the former hybrid’s eyes looking almost frantic as he put for his plea for his friend’s input.

The simple fact was, it had been a long time since Cross had been on a date.

Now, the hour had come, and Cross stood just feet away from Hathev’s door. Another deep breath, and he closed the distance, raising his finger to press the chime.

His finger paused mere millimetres, the digit twitching with each pounding of Cross’ heart. His pale eyes remained fixed on that finger, and the chime it was meant to press, as he took another breath to steel himself. Then another breath.

As he drew in the third breath, his hand fell to his side. Perhaps this had been a mistake. Maybe she had only agreed to this evening out of sympathy for him. Or perhaps she only wished to inform him that her feelings had been fleeting, and that they no longer held any meaning. Maybe she only wished to inform him in person.

Maybe this was all a mistake…

Cross turned away from the door, and made it two steps before he stopped again. This time, twisting to look over his shoulder at her door, Cross asked if he really wanted to walk away. What if she did still hold those feelings? What if it hadn’t been pity which had made her agree to tonight?

Did he really dare walk away from the chance that she still felt as she had?

Cross reached up and rubbed his hand across the back of his head, sighing as he did so. He was nervous. He was confused. Frankly, he was a mess. He was being an idiot he growled inwardly, turning on his heels and striding back to her door.

This time he depressed the chime before he had a chance to second guess himself. His heart seemed to skip a beat in it’s thunderous drumming as he pressed that little button.

The doors hissed open after just a moment. Hathev stood on the other side, looking rather stunning in a black skirt and blazer over a maroon blouse. Cross found himself staring for a moment until her realized that she was calling him out on being three-hundred and twenty five seconds late. One of the former hybrid’s eyebrows rose as Hathev belatedly added a hasty ”Approximately” to the statement, as though trying to hide the fact that she had, in truth, been counting every second. Cross knew he had initially arrived early, and wondered for a moment just how long he had been standing out in the corridor. Bllinking, Cross forced his thoughts back to the present and stared into Hathev’s eyes, the corner of his mouth curling into a crooked half-smile as Hathev insisted that, should he have changed his mind about this evening, he need only say so. ”I haven’t changed my mind, Hathev. Otherwise I wouldn’t be standing here.” His smile grew, his pale eyes twinkling in amusement. He took a step closer, his eyes staring into hers with certainty. ”I told you, I’ve been dealing with my emotions for a long time. They don’t tend to go away.” He smile warmed, the amusement giving way to something bordering on awe. He reached up and gently stroked Hathev’s cheek with the back of one finger, all too aware that she would be able to feel his nerves as he did so. ”You look beautiful.”

Cross’ eyes narrowed then, his smile taking on an aspect of mischief. ”I have to say… three-hundred and twenty-five seconds is a very precise approximation…” Cross leaned closer, the finger which had been stroking her face now gently guiding her chin to meet him. The kiss lasted only a moment, after which Cross let his hand fall away from Hathev’s face. ”If I didn’t know any better, I'd think that you’d been counting the seconds.” Cross’ pale eyes searched hers, his grin slowly spreading. ”But that would be illogical, wouldn’t it?”

Re: Day 18 [2100 hrs.] Echoes at Eventide

Reply #2 – April 17, 2020, 10:14:16 PM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Chief Counsellor's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Fife

Mr Cross had not, it seemed, reconsidered. Hathev saw no reason to unduly analyse the reaction such knowledge instilled in her. She found appointments left unkept to be an illogical waste of time and effort; thus her response (of gladness? of relief?) was merely an expression of approval that such an eventuality had been avoided.

She was pleased to see him.

The man before her had of late occupied altogether a greater portion of her mental faculties than should under normal circumstances have been appointed to him. On multiple occasions she had found her thoughts bending towards him with seemingly little impetus, with only the slightest of correlations between her current activities and the connection her thoughts made to him.

She had not intentionally avoided him per se in the interim between their last meeting and this evening, but nevertheless she had interrogated every intention of renewing their acquaintance -- and there had been many instances of such intention. On every occasion she had found her logical reasoning lacking, and thus required herself to become content with extended solitude.

Now, however, she was not so.

She decided it would be disingenuous to deny the relief she experienced at his words of reassurance. Thus she would not deny it.

'I am glad to hear that,' she said. 'My own mind remains equally unchanged.' His reference to the steadfastness of his emotions inspired something of amusement in her. 'Indeed, as your erstwhile emotional consultant I am well aware of their recalcitrant nature. On this occasion, however, I believe we may forgive them that.' Such concessions to emotion were outside her customary remit, and yet she found a certain enjoyment in making them. There was no purpose in denying her affection for Mr Cross, nor so in denying the fact that she was glad such a sentiment was yet reciprocated.

His touch was unexpected, giving her no time to raise her mental fortifications; instead, she received all that he transmitted. Weaker than the meld though it might have been, it momentarily overwhelmed her, unprepared as she was, flooding her synapses with all of his trepidation, his nerves -- and beneath it all, his tenderness. She endeavoured to allow it to pass through her without catching upon any of her own internal workings; distracted as she was, she was similarly unprepared for the kiss, when it came.

The contact was brief; Hathev broke it quickly, receding from his touch. 'I-- our species is not known for being tactile,' she explained quickly. 'You must forgive my reluctance.' She sought for the words to express herself correctly; misunderstanding here would be unfortunate. She took a moment to clear her mind, preparing herself, and reached out to take his hand gently. 'That is not to say that such things are unwelcome, merely... I would appreciate warning before such initiation.' Her thumb stroked over his knuckles lightly. 'I am unused to contact with emotions as strong as yours. I wish only to spare my office a second tempest.'

The memory of that first -- and, should she have any power to prevent reoccurrences, last -- maelstrom was fresh in her mind, and coloured by the slightest twinge of embarrassment. She had no desire to reenact such a thing.

Logically speaking, she knew Cross was volatile. She had encountered the brunt of his emotions once before, on the holodeck. Such occasions masked the degree of control he exhibited at other times; yet even at his most controlled, his emotional state was far beyond anything she herself recalled experiencing since childhood.

Yet despite this, she did not object to his presence, his company, or even his touch. She merely needed to enact the necessary precautions -- precautions she would take with any emotional being, that she did not have to experience the unpleasant sensation of feeling.

She could only hope Cross would understand. She did this not out of-- of frigidness, or pride, or whatever else emotional creatures thought of Vulcans. Unexpected though it had been, she had felt the affection within him; she did not wish to threaten that with something so simple as misunderstanding.

His comment on the logic of her impatience inspired the most minute of eyebrow quirks in response. 'Of course,' she said dryly. 'Nearly as illogical as the premise of this evening. And yet, what is it the humans say? Stranger things have happened.'

She stepped from her quarters to join him in the corridor. 'To where should we proceed, Commander?'

Re: Day 18 [2100 hrs.] Echoes at Eventide

Reply #3 – April 21, 2020, 01:22:24 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Corridor Outside Hathev’s Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @fiendfall
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Cross grinned as Hathev stated that her mind remained as unchanged as his, the knowledge sending a sense of relief flooding through him. His expression took on one of consideration as Hathev reminded him that her, or rather their, species was not known for being tactile. She clarified that her seeming reluctance was based on her lack of acquaintance with emotions as strong as his own rather than an aversion to such contact. She even went so far as to state that she wished only to spare her office a second tempest. Cross raised an eyebrow at that, his mouth curling into the makings of a smile as he regarded the diminutive Vulcan which stood before him. A joke? Hathev? ”My my, was that a joke?” Cross couldn’t prevent the grin from spreading over his face this time. ”The other Vulcans on this ship are going to believe I’m a bad influence on you!”

As he poked a bit of fun at her, asking if it weren’t illogical to have been counting the seconds, Hathev agreed that it had. In fact, it had been almost as illogical as this entire evening was, though as the Humans say, “Stranger things have happened”. Cross chuckled at the statement, wondering just how many expressions the Humans had as he stood back to let her step from her quarters into the corridor. ”Humans seem to have an endless number of the things, and not all of them seemed to make much sense to me. Kai uses them every now and then, and I have no idea what he’s talking about. Like “Cat got your tongue” or “Buttering someone up”.” Cross’ brow furrowed. ”How would putting butter on someone make them more amenable to your suggestion?” It was at that point that Cross realized he was rambling, and he took a deep breath in an attempt to subdue his nervous behaviour. ”Although in this case I suppose I’m happy. Both for the fact that I understand the expression, and that it’s the case.”

He was glad when she asked where they were going, if only to shut him up for a moment and let him get his thoughts together. He’d have to watch he didn’t ramble about nonsense again. He just needed to calm down. ”Well, first we’re off to Transporter Room Three. After that is a surprise.” Cross said, not giving Hathev any further information than that as he gestured for her to proceed, then fell into step beside her. ”And I think that, given the fact that this is a date, and that we already know far more about each other than most people do on first dates, Cross might be more appropriate than Commander, don’t you?” Cross directed a smile at her as they made their way to the turbolifts. He was very nervous, but alongside the nerves bubbled a certain level of excitement at the prospect of the evening ahead. Either it would go well, or end in disaster. At least the disaster couldn’t be as bad as during their last meeting. There was something reassuring about the fact that, were things not to go well, no matter how badly their date went it wouldn’t be as bad as that final session in Hathev’s office.

Or alternatively, if the date did end in an entire room being destroyed, Cross had no doubt that Kai would never let him hear the end of it…

Focus, Cross He reminded himself, not wanting to walk the entire way in silence. Say something you hajari idiot!

”I hope they managed to put your office back together.” Cross said, glancing at her with an almost sheepish expression. While it had been Hathev herself who wrought destruction on the room, the fault lay with Cross’ emotions. It seemed strange to think that it was out of that chaos that the idea of this date had grown. It was only as the turbolift doors hissed open ahead of them that it dawned on Cross that that particular subject might put a damper on the mood of the evening.

You’re just batting 100, aren’t you? Another of Kai’s expressions he didn’t understand.

”I noticed you had a cactus in your office.” It had, in fact, been one of the first things in the office to survive Hathev’s wrath unscathed. Not that he was going to mention that just now… ”I didn’t realize Vulcans were fond of keeping plants. Seren keeps one as well. Have you always kept them?” The topic was hardly a great one, but as it was better than the destruction of her office Cross decided it would do for the moment.

He’d never been good with small talk.

Or women.

The doors of the turbolift opened just as Hathev spoke, and Cross listened as they made their way towards the transporter room, hoping he'd make it to Vector 01 without putting his entire foot in his fucking mouth.

Re: Day 18 [2100 hrs.] Echoes at Eventide

Reply #4 – May 09, 2020, 05:08:36 PM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Corridors | Deck 10 | Vector 2 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Fife

Hathev minutely arched a single eyebrow at Cross' suggestion that she was making a 'joke'. 'You shall find Vulcan wit is significantly more sophisticated than the vulgar humour associated with a 'joke',' she said smoothly. 'It is unsurprising so many lack the understanding to appreciate it.' A brief pause; her eyes made an unruly flick to Cross' face before being once again trained properly upon the corridor. Then, quietly: 'Yes. It was a joke.'

'A bad influence' was possibly an understatement for the effect the Commander could potentially have upon her. In fact there was a degree of amusement she found was to be had in the glib delivery of such a thing -- the concept that, of all the possible complaints their fellow Vulcans might have against such an arrangement as they now entertained, their greatest disapproval would be reserved for the act of making a joke. Rather than act as a sobering admonishment, this thought was mildly entertaining in its illogicality.

Fortunately, outside of the opinions of a select few, she cared little for the judgement, positive or otherwise, of her fellow expatriots.

As they walked, Cross ruminated on the subject of Human sayings; it was rare to find him so talkative, and she listened with interest, alongside, she discovered, no small amount of fondness. He may not have been Vulcan in the cultural sense, and yet the confusion he described over such things was starkly reminiscent of her own whenever she came across such a new expression. His rambling was... charming, in a way. At the very least, she found it to be so.

'I always used to wonder,' she said as they walked, 'whether such sayings had within them a grain of truth, a single nascent incident in which a person truly was 'buttered up' in some manner, or whether they have simply always been as nonsensical as they appear to us today.' Her gaze slid to him once more. 'I suppose in truth it hardly matters. The primary intention of communication is to convey information; so long as all parties are familiar with the meaning of the methods used, the technicalities of their individual logic is unimportant.' They, for example, had utilised a mind meld to seek and convey information, and although it had hardly been the most successful of Hathev's career, it had at least been successful in the barest sense. She understood Cross to a far greater degree, and for that which she had not fully grasped, she at least knew where to begin looking.

Or would know, if such a task were still her duty. But instead she had forfeited it in exchange for coming to know him in very different circumstances.

The man was cryptic in his answer to her question of where they were headed; he quoted their destination as a 'surprise'. Such uncertainty initially left Hathev with a certain amount of trepidation -- she disliked immensely the sensation of loss of control, and sought to avoid lack of knowledge in every aspect of her life. Her first instinct, therefore, was to demand a satisfactory answer. And yet even as such a demand took form within her mind, she let it die upon her tongue. Was the destination so very important? Was she truly concerned it would not be acceptable? No; even if it were so, she was under no obligation to remain.

At the very least, she mused, it would be informative to see where Cross chose to set such an excursion. For although she had now a working understanding of his upbringing, such as it was, and his personality, she knew little of him in this context. Additionally, rationalising her decision in this way alleviated much of her discomfort at her lack of control.

Thus: 'Very well,' she said instead, and followed where he led.

She nodded her head in acquiescence as he requested a more familiar form of address. Hathev was very particular about such things; her patients, for example, she never addressed by their rank, as such things had little place within their sessions. She engaged with the person, not the rank, and reminding them of the weight of their responsibilities could only be detrimental. Thus referring to Cross by his rank was an acknowledgement of the ways in which their relationship had changed; continuing even further to a more familiar mode of address was... appropriate, she decided.

He had already been referring to her in such a manner, she realised. Then, with surprise: how had she not noticed at the time? Had it already become normalised in her mind?

Apparently so. Curious.

'You may be correct,' she admitted, and was surprised to find her body predisposed to increase capillary blood flow to her cheeks. Whether this was prompted by Cross' characterisation of the evening, by her agreement to transition into a more familiar arrangement of address, or indeed of the insuation that they each knew a great deal about the other, she could not properly determine. Whatever the case, she denied the reaction, of course; nevertheless it was most unusual that it should have been prompted within her in the first place.

They had lapsed into silence, which Cross valiantly strove to break with an apologetic reference to the destruction last wrought upon her office.

'Indeed,' she said. 'It is as if nothing had occurred.' She paused, realising the lack of sense in such a statement. 'Within the office, that is. Clearly more lasting changes were enacted elsewhere, as evidenced by our presence here.' The delivery lacked her usual grace; she pressed on. 'Nevertheless, the offices of my career have been privy to any number of destructive forces.' Left unsaid was that such forces had never originated from her own being; nevertheless, she judged it unnecessary to make such a clarification.

She had to admit Cross' mention of her cactus was unexpected. The plant was an echinopsis, approximately 1.76 inches in height, and had stubbornly refused to flower for the entirety of her guardianship. Thus it was rather unobtrusive, hardly something she would expect anyone to notice or remember.

'Yes,' she said, her voice coloured by surprise. 'I do.' She pondered his question momentarily. Her first plant had been an alem-vedik, a succulant native to Vulcan and a gift from Selv from when they had first met once more on Earth and she had sought his counsel on her son. When everything in her life had fallen apart, she had dutifully remained caring for that little plant. It had been at once a welcome and terrible reminder.

But that plant had, of course, been destroyed along with everything else she had upon the Bellerophon. It was as lost to her as Kireil.

What it was that had prompted her to seek out a replacement, she did not know. What had caused her to choose a non-Vulcan plant species, she knew not either. The arboretum's Vulcan grove was filled with worthy specimens she might have requested. Yet instead she chose the echinopsis, a plant commonly known amongst Humans as a 'hedgehog cactus'.

Perhaps she merely wished for a change.

'Caring for a plant can be an almost meditative process,' she said in explanation. 'It is a habit I have not always entertained, yet Seren's father can be most forceful in his gift-giving. I imagine Selv to be the reason Seren engages in the activity also. Yet I have found it to be a mindful and grounding practice, and one I would recommend to all.' Indeed she often did recommend such a thing to her patients. Caring for something outside of the self, nurturing something through life, and taking time to allow one's mind to breathe were all invaluable to one's sense and understanding of oneself.

'Do you keep plants?' she found herself asking Cross. 'The arboretum has quite an impressive collection.'

Re: Day 18 [2100 hrs.] Echoes at Eventide

Reply #5 – June 05, 2020, 12:45:05 AM

[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Corridor Outside Hathev’s Personal Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @fiendfall
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Cross listened as Hathev informed him that he would find Vulcan wit significantly more sophisticated than the more vulgar formed of humor generally termed as “jokes”, the former hybrid making an effort to keep his face straight as she spoke. She voiced the opinion that it was unsurprising that many people lacked the understanding and appreciation of such wit. Cross, who watched her out of the corner of his eye as they continued along the corridor, saw the quick glance she cast up at him as they walked. The glance had been brief, but she had caught his gaze for the brief moment before her eyes darted back to the hall ahead of them. ”Yes. It was a joke.” Cross failed to suppress the chuckle which rose at the words, his lips curling into an amused expression as he kept his eyes fixed forward. ”Vulcan wit can’t be that sophisticated if even I can pick up on it.” Cross spoke softly, his eyes once again glancing at Hathev out of their periphery. The amused expression remained on his features as he poked a bit of fun at his companion, his amused tone making it clear that there was no ill will contained in his words.

Cross had been worried that the ships Chief Counsellor might find his rambling regarding Human saying and figures of speech, but she took up the topic with ease. He decided she’d either had similar confusion regarding the Humans as he had, or she knew he was nervous and was simply being understanding.

Cross figured it was likely a mixture of the two.

Hathev seemed to accept Cross’ lack of answer to her question regarding their destination, though he thought he had initially seen her tense for a brief moment at his reply. Eventually she spoke the words ”Very well”. Cross was surprised to find that, upon his suggestion that it might be more appropriate for her to refer to him by his name rather than his rank, Hathev’s cheeks took on a slight greening tinge as she admitted that he might be right in his suggestion. Cross fought back the urge to tease her about the fact, not wanting to push the counsellor too far. This was their first date, after all, and he didn’t want to appear cruel. He could prevent the slight, lop-sided grin that formed on his features, however. Hathev was one of the most proper and composed people he knew, outside of the events which had taken place in her office just three days previous. The sight of this calm and composed Vulcan woman blushing as she was at resent was simply adorable, and Cross had to stop himself from reaching out at the sight.

Cross listened as Hathev replied to his question about her office, as noted some surprise in the other Vulcan as he mentioned the cactus in Hathev’s office. He found his own unvoiced opinion that tending to plants was a calming and meditative endeavour being echoed by Hathev. She went on the explain that Seren’s father was the one who introduced her to the practice, as he likely had with Seren. When she asked Cross if he kept plants, he couldn’t help but grin. When she mentioned that the arboretum had an extensive collection, his grin briefly took on an impish expression before he schooled to to something more innocent. ”Yes, I have several orchids. I actually helped Seren with some issues he was having with his own plant after he saw the three I had in my quarters.” Seren had tried to swear him to secrecy on the fact, though Cross wasn’t concerned with that fact at the moment. ”And I agree that the arboretum has an impressive variety of plant life. It’s one of my favourite places on this ship.” Cross decided it would be best to omit the minor detail of the fact that one of his orchids, a beautiful Vulcan specimen, had been “liberated” from the arboretum by the Tactical officer.

He was going to leave his statement at that, but then decided that, as Hathev likely knew more details of his past that anyone, he may as well continue. ”I’ve been fond of keeping plants ever since I was liberated from the Cardassian camp and taken to Earth. Lieutenant MacDonald, who was one of the ones who found me and who took charge of my rehabilitation, thought it might help calm me while I was at my most volatile. As it turned out, he was right.”

Cross paused in his explanation as they entered the transporter room and made their way unto the pad. ”Vector One, Transporter Room 2 please Ensign.” Cross said to the Ops officer stationed int eh transporter room, a surly Andorian who simply nodded with a muttered ”Yes, sir.” before punching in the commands. Cross saw the room disappear around them as they were dematerialized, then a nearly identical room take shape around them, though this new room was crewed by a young Human female rather than a grumpy Andorian. Cross nodded to the Ensign as he and Hathev strode from the room, Cross leading the way to yet another turbolift. ”What was a saying? Ah, yes…” Cross said as they stepped into the corridor. ”In the camps I’d seen little of the outside, and spent most of my time in the medical and science area. I had no idea of the vast array of plant life that was out there. I think that, after what I had seen growing up, the idea of caring for something and watching it grow was comforting to me. From that moment on, I’ve always kept plants. My quarters on the Endeavour were full of them until… well…”

Until the Borg blew up the ship and everyone still aboard. Cross wondered if Hathev felt something similar regarding the Bellerophon.

”Perhaps we should go for a walk in the arboretum later, if the evening hasn’t descended into disaster by then.” Cross grinned at Hathev as they stepped into the turbolift, then glanced at the control panel. ”Deck 13.”

Cross folded his hands behind his back as the turbolift whirred into life, organic hand grasping metallic wrist. ”I ended up walking the arboretum with Commander Stark not long after I came aboard. As I said, it’s one of my favourite places on the ship.” Cross’ features broke into a grin. ”I also fell asleep in the grass one day, and an unfortunate young woman tripped over me and ended up in the pond…” Cross glanced at Hathev with a sheepish expression. ”I felt back about that. Now I make sure to fall asleep against a tree so people won’t stumble over me.” It was only after the turbolift had whirred to a stop and he’d finished speaking that he thought it might not have been a good idea to mention his stroll through the arboretum with Stark. It had simply been an after-dinner walk, nothing more, but talking about it while on a date might not be the greatest of ideas. Cross briefly glanced at Hathev, wondering if Vulcans got jealous.

He decided not to press the topic as they approached the doors and their ultimate destination. The doors hissed open, and the pair stepped through into the kitchen which resided next to the mess hall. ”Here we are.” Cross said as the doors hissed shut behind them. ”I thought I might cook for you before we take that walk in the arboretum. I reserved the use of the kitchen a few days ago.” Cross turned and regarded Hathev, trying to gauge her reaction. ”Do you have any preferences or food allergies I should know about?”

- FIN