Denial Ain’t Just a River in Egypt
Posted on August 18th, 2007 by T'Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

T’Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

The whole ordeal had taken less than a day. Aside from something resembling police tape barricading off absolutely every doorway or corridor junction, Atlantis was undisturbed by the Machen Bren. Apparently, they had not had enough time aboard ship to do more than put up the proverbial red tape, and it was comforting to some to know that the bureaucratic mentality was still a universal constant. Ian Blackthorne had only been in his quarters long enough to shower, shave, and get a fresh uniform, but he had already taken a step toward acting on the life-changes he had decided to make while in jail. A few moments ago, he had called T’Kirr and asked her to stop by. He had yet to see her since their return to the ship, and aside from wanting to ensure that she was alright after her stay in the Machen Bren prison, he had decided that it was time to tell her how he felt.

Now he sat on his couch, waiting for her to arrive. Whatever her reaction, at least the uncertainty and denial would be gone.

She didn’t keep him waiting long, as there was soon a chime at his door. He stood, smoothed out his uniform tunic with a sharp tug, and answered, “Come!”

T’Kirr entered, appearing fresh, in uniform. Perfect, as always. The look of curiosity was clear in her eyes as they sought his. “You wished to see me?”

“Yes – are you alright after the ordeal we just endured?” She certainly looked fine, but even Vulcans could be traumatized.

Her immediate response was to be Yes, of course. That was, after all, the proper and logical thing to say. Was it logical, though? Ian would see through that, as he knew her better. T’Kirr instead found herself searching internally at her state of mind, knowing that’s what he was concerned about. “I believe so. I am, now that we’re back home. I was in the process of preparing myself for an extended stay, and possibly worse, when the guard came and let me out.”

Ian could sense calm from her, so he was assured she wasn’t just putting on a show. Smiling, he said, “Glad to hear it. Please, sit down, there’s something I want to talk to you about, a personal matter.”

The glint of curiosity in her eye brightened somewhat at his last words, and T’Kirr hesitated only a moment to better look him over, as if to find a hint of what was on his mind in his appearance. Carefully, she perched on the edge of his couch and waited.

Sitting down next to her, Ian leaned forward and met her hazel-eyed gaze. He swallowed once and began to speak clearly, not taking his eyes off hers. “T’Kirr, I’ve cared about you a great deal for many years now, as a good friend and a damned fine officer. But now I’ve come to realize that my feelings for you run deeper than friendship.”

T’Kirr stopped breathing. Had she heard him correctly? Yes, verifying she had, the notion that it was some sort of joke briefly passed through her mind, but that was even more absurd. It wasn’t Ian’s style. Where had it come from, then? Why had she seen no indication of this, been able to prepare herself?

Had she become that poor at reading people?

Sitting up a bit straighter, T’Kirr searched for the proper words to respond with. Ian was looking at her intensely with those eyes that made him such an accomplished ambassador, waiting for what she would say. She found herself unable to return it any longer, instead looking down at his hands clasped in his lap. Managing to swallow with some difficulty, she instead said nothing, as she often did when the words failed to come to her, and waited for him to continue.

The lack of an enthusiastic reply didn’t deter him, at least yet. “I’ve been denying the way I felt for a long time now, but that’s something I don’t want to do anymore. And somehow… maybe as a residual effect from when our minds were joined – but I think you feel it too.” Ian’s eyes searched for a reaction from her, hoping that even at that moment she was searching for her feelings under the layers of suppression.

Deeper than friendship, he had said. T’Kirr stared at his shoulder in thought. The soft tone of his voice, unfamiliar and full of personal purpose, ignited a small spark within her. T’Kirr was usually all for exploring new territory, but she recognized this for what it was and snuffed it out immediately. It was a danger to her serene world, the composure necessary in everyday functions. She couldn’t have it.

Her eyes flicked back to his, her voice was soft and questioning. “You’re suggesting romance?”

So matter-of-fact and cold, as if he she were reacting to him suggesting that they remodulate the long range sensors. Still, he had realized that she may respond this way and wasn’t overly surprised, after all, he had indeed decided to try to romance a Vulcan. “Yes, T’Kirr, that’s exactly what I am suggesting,” he said, smiling and returning the directness.

T’Kirr could see it in his eyes. It was just there, in an expression of his she had never seen before, full of emotion barely restrained by nothing more than the surface. It was raw and powerful, alien and overwhelming. No Vulcan in his right mind would display such a thing.

It terrified her.

She nodded once and looked away again briefly, as if summoning strength, before meeting his gaze again. The tension of the mental barriers instinctively thrown up practically thrummed through her mind. “Please don’t misinterpret when I say that I must decline. You are a dear friend to me, Ian, and I trust you with my life.” Her voice dropped, losing its force. “But I cannot consent.”

Ian’s smile disappeared as his face fell. Had he possibly misinterpreted what he had felt from her? Thinking back, he was sure that he hadn’t, but what was he going to do, argue with her about it? Of course not, and even though she had just rejected him, perhaps he could give her something to think about. She may have already begun; he had never heard her call him Ian before, always Admiral or sir. “T’Kirr, our minds were joined. I vividly remember what I felt from you, though at the time I chose not to believe it. Did I somehow misunderstand?”

Despite T’Kirr’s aversion to disappointing Ian, she stood her ground. “You must have. As I said, I consider you a good friend. That must be what you felt.”

She was in denial. Over the years as an empath he had felt a lot of emotion from other people, and given the force with which Vulcans felt them leading to the need for their suppression, he couldn’t fathom misidentifying what he had sensed. Perhaps reminding her would help. “When you woke up from that experience and had yet to fully establish your control, you kissed me.”

T’Kirr’s face was a picture, that of a targ caught in torchlight. “I did?” she breathed.

“Yes, quite forcefully. At the time I dismissed it as post-traumatic shock, and perhaps gratitude. But now I realize what it was; a pure, unsuppressed Vulcan emotion.”

If she had pushed herself away before, becoming more distant, she had now suddenly leaped kilometers. “Again, you must be mistaken. I wasn’t even aware…”

It was then her cheeks turned a lovely shade of green. She swallowed nervously and mumbled, “Perhaps we should… I need to turn in. I have a thorough internal sensor sweep scheduled early and with the Machen Bren possibly getting into stores… the logs need to be checked, and McKnight needs… that is, you have even more things than I–” T’Kirr finally trailed off, realizing she was rambling. She dared not look at him, carefully pushing off from the couch.

He nodded, thinking that maybe he had given her enough to think about. Perhaps when she meditated and searched her thoughts, she would find what she had hidden away. “Alright then. Good friends we remain,” he smiled. “I’m sorry for being so forward.”

“Good friends.” It was repeated automatically, T’Kirr looking distractedly at the door. She forced herself to glance in Ian’s direction in proper farewell. “Good night.”

“Good night, T’Kirr.” And as quickly as that, she was gone.