Vigil
Posted on November 7th, 2008 by T'Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

T’Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

The silence in the corridors was almost oppressive. It was as if the softer lighting helped to mute the sound, the lack of people causing T’Kirr’s own carpet-cushioned footfalls to grow in significance. Everyone was asleep, resting for the rendezvous with the Hemingway in the morning and whatever else that brought with it. Well, everyone except for her, it seemed. It was unfair that the people aboard the ship could sleep voluntarily when Ian only wanted to wake up.

T’Kirr couldn’t stand sitting around her quarters any longer, so she had gone to the Flag Office to think. That hadn’t worked out so well, however, because when it wasn’t reminding her of who should be sitting behind the desk, it plagued her with how she had spent the majority of her shift trying to figure out how to save said person. So she had gotten up again and just started walking. Moving helped her to think, doing something that didn’t require much thought, but kept her brain going, like running an old-fashioned cylinder engine in low idle.

What if Gerard refused to help them, and their journey to meet with him was just a waste of time that Ian didn’t have? T’Kirr had to be prepared to take her crew to Orban II without his assistance. The thought that the same crew possibly held the one directly responsible for poisoning Ian’s cigar that could still be on her ship somewhere nagged incessantly at her. What if the culprit had planned to kill Ian, and would be forced to finish the job? Or what if the idea was just to get him out of the way while making an attempt to sabotage the warp core? Sure, Busard was locking down workstations and taking every precaution, but any number of things could be done to undermine the ship’s integrity. With the right attack, the ship and its crew was only as strong as its weakest link.

As a commander, T’Kirr had her fair share of command experience. When that command extended to an entire ship of people, the position became a little more daunting, but she could handle it. The experience was made even more trying when she couldn’t just comm up the Flag Office. Come to the Bridge, Admiral, we’re being hailed. Ian was always there to take over when things got tough. She could always rely on him for support and as a source of strength. He always knew what to do. Now, however, he was dying on a biobed in Sickbay, and T’Kirr was running out of time.

She still had the entire senior staff to help her, although that was different. T’Kirr thought back to that hectic afternoon, before the meeting where she had informed them on their current situation. It had been difficult to promise McKnight she would follow protocol with anyone they captured–not that T’Kirr regularly broke the rules. On the contrary, it was most logical to be in harmony with the chain of command. There were extreme cases, however, where the established structure tended to not lead to the best solution, and T’Kirr did not want to limit herself, especially when it came to Ian’s life. In such a dangerous mission, however, it was critical she have McKnight backing her one hundred percent, and she had chosen to compromise.

T’Kirr had stopped, and for a moment, she didn’t know why. The Sickbay doors were just off to her right, and she sighed in resignation. In addition to her quarters and the flag office, walking had failed to put her mind at ease as well. Maybe she should just go back to her quarters and attempt meditation again. She turned around, thinking of Ian lying helplessly unconscious.

She stopped again. Maybe seeing Ian was what she needed.

Although the ambiance of Sickbay matched that of the corridors, it held a singular sign of life at its center. T’Kirr approached slowly, as if fearing to disturb him. Ian lay peacefully, with only a standard Starfleet-issue medical blanket to warm him. She wanted to lie down next to him to share her warmth, and it didn’t seem right that it just wouldn’t be proper. Even though she had been walking, she felt a chill on the air. T’Kirr opened her mouth to chastise the environmental controls, but thought better of it. Humans and Betazoids alike preferred the temperature cooler, so maybe he was comfortable. Still, an ill person would like it warmer, wouldn’t he?

“Ah, I thought I heard someone come in.”

T’Kirr turned at the hip at Nolan’s voice. “How is he?”

“Resting,” Nolan assured, gesturing at his patient, “as you can see. His vitals are still stable, but his condition continues to deteriorate.”

“Is the temperature in here normal?”

Nolan was taken aback. “Um, yeah, of course. Problem?”

“Would his condition deteriorate faster if you increased it three degrees?”

The doctor squinched, breathing out his nose as his head vibrated sideways. “No.”

“Please see to it.”

Nolan bowed his head. “Of course, Commander. Err,” his eyes flicked to the man on the biobed, “Captain. Can I do anything else for you?”

T’Kirr grimaced inwardly at the title. “No, please just give me a few minutes.”

He bowed his head again, stepping away. “If you need anything, I’ll be in the office.”

Once again alone, T’Kirr stepped to the side of the bed, her lowered eyes looking Ian over. His face was pale, and he looked very much unwell. The presence of power and authority that usually eminated from him was disturbingly absent. He shouldn’t ever be like this. It wasn’t right.

Tentatively, T’Kirr folded Ian’s cool hand into hers and gazed into his face, longing for him to awaken. Surely he’d know what to do. “We’re going to find the cure,” she spoke softly aloud. She allowed herself to envision him cured and awake. She would tell him everything that happened, honorable and shameful. Would it come to both, though? Had she limited herself in her options by giving McKnight her word? Would Ian disapprove, be angry at how she’d handled it?

—–

Admiral Blackthorne’s eyes narrowed at his Chief of Science. “This report is cursory, full of subjectivity, and just cuts off in the middle. Where’s the rest of it?”

With a look of hopeful desperation on her face, T’Kirr just started spilling words. “It must have been the saboteur. It must be part of his agenda. I know the records say they were deleted under my user, but–”

Blackthorne interrupted the cascade. “And now you’re making excuses. Out there on the bridge it was like having a first year cadet at Science!”

T’Kirr swallowed, but stayed silent, offering no argument because she knew what he had said was true.

He threw the PADD down onto his desk, the clatter as harsh as his words. “Commander, what the hell is the matter with you?”

Finding herself unable to lie as she opened her mouth to object, T’Kirr hesitated for a moment and tried again, this time quietly admitting the truth. “I.. don’t know.” She looked away from Blackthorne to the door and contemplated arguing that there were more important things to be dealing with out there, but realized it wouldn’t do any good and remained quiet.

“Figure it out, Commander, that’s an order,” he rebuked.

Startled, her gaze snapped back to him from the door and she stood there like the proverbial deer in headlights, finding thought the last thing possible, whether he had ordered it or not. T’Kirr desperately wanted to hold onto professionalism, but having screwed up so badly and seeing Blackthorne so angry at her caused all pretenses of dignity to fall. She barely managed to squeak out, “Admiral….”

“Go ahead,” came his expectant reply.

“I…” T’Kirr started and faltered, then gestured uselessly to gain time as she fought off emotion, “I’m distracted.” She closed her eyes, finding that term wholly insufficient as she waited for the inevitable.

Ian’s face softened a bit. He was finding her easier to read as her control failed, and was sensing conflict in her. “Over the years I’ve come to rely on a rock of strength back at my Science console.”

Her voice inwardly scornful, she answered, “Apparently, you no longer have it.”

“Then as your CO, I ordered you to figure out why. But as your friend, I’m telling you to look inward to figure it out, because this ship can’t afford you making sloppy mistakes.” The words had visible effect on her, and he fell quiet, having said his peace, and waited for her to sort it all out.

—–

T’Kirr had seen Ian angry more than a few times. For his position as Admiral and captain of third fleet’s flagship, it suited him and served him well. His anger had never been so focused on her, however. She wasn’t supposed to be so affected by one’s emotional outbursts, but Ian’s most certainly had that day. It seemed that over time, he was able to stir her more and more, and any hope to regain her resistance to him was a futile effort.

The way logic seemed not to apply to the situation was frustrating. His subjective anger had affected her more than her own failure did, and that wasn’t right.

She had disappointed him. Even if she managed to cure Ian and he took his rightful position back, they would both remember what mistake she was capable of. Could he fully trust her again? T’Kirr would always carry the memory of how her distraction had caused her to fail at her duty.

T’Kirr squeezed Ian’s hand, bringing her free hand up to brush at his hairline. His mind was so open now, so vulnerable, yet she couldn’t feel anything from it. She knew she could force her way into his mind if she were desperate, but she didn’t dare. Mental stress would only make his condition worse.

Despite his anger at her, T’Kirr remembered Ian had calmed somewhat after recognizing her internal struggle. He had only wanted the truth.

—–

T’Kirr’s face had hardened at Ian’s first words, but then she took his claim of friendship to heart and began to ponder. Taking a deep breath, she fought for calm as emotional pain threatened to overcome her, forcing her to recognize what she could no longer afford to deny. “Admiral–” she began, but hesitated to catch another breath, “Ian, I think… I think you already know.” Forcing herself to look him in the eye again, she added, “You do know.”

Ian returned her gaze, searching for truth. “But do you, yet?”

Having finally admitted to herself what she had suppressed for so long, she found her confidence, and replied in a small voice, “Yes.”

Despite the ease in reading her turbulent emotions, he decided to keep his mind to itself for now and let her deal with this on her own terms. “Then, tell me.”

She stepped closer to him, and softly asked, “What was it you said to me? That night, you asked me to your quarters.”

Smiling at the memory of the night she had turned him down when he knew full well how she felt about him, he chuckled lightly. “I said a lot, but it was much like talking to a wall…”

T’Kirr stopped directly in front of Ian, confidence building. Her voice quiet yet strong, she quoted him, “Deeper than friendship.”

“Yes, and I still feel that way,” came his reply, along with his realization that she truly had figured it out.

She stared up at him, intensely judging his eyes. “Even now? Now that I’ve shamed my position as Chief of Science?”

“Such deep feelings aren’t tied to your job performance, T’Kirr.”

T’Kirr deflated a little, thinking of how horribly she had messed up lately. “Apparently, they are for me…” Realizing what she had just admitted, she stopped breathing for a moment, flush with color as she waited for his reaction.

He simply smirked as she missed the point. “That’s not what I meant, but I do understand. Vulcan emotions are very strong and you’ve been trying to fight away something that’s just too strong. The fight’s over; you’ve admitted your feelings, now accept and embrace them.”

—–

Even though Ian had kept from actively reading her, he had very successfully understood a Vulcan who made it her duty to mask her emotions. As T’Kirr gazed down at the suffering form of the man who had taken hold of her heart, his image blurred, and T’Kirr attempted to blink it away. With Ian like this, not only was she filling his position, but she had to actively track down the ones responsible and in the process find a way to save his life. If he were conscious enough to speak to her, he would tell her to concentrate on finally bringing the clandestine betrayers to justice, but she found herself distractedly concentrating on the latter. Once again, she was failing to think logically.

Not only did Ian understand T’Kirr, but he trusted her. If she couldn’t fully rely on logic, she at least had his trust to hang on to through this.

T’Kirr drew in a shaky breath and blinked at the blurriness again, sighing. She wished Ian would smile up at her. Smile, and tease her about something, anything. He would say she’s being illogical for doting on him when she should be researching. T’Kirr ran her fingers over the tightly woven texture of the Sickbay standard covers and up over the smooth, too-pale flesh of Ian’s toned chest. Her body temperature was naturally warmer than his, but he was still too cool to the touch. It was actually starting to feel warmer than she was accustomed to on board Atlantis. Nolan must have increased the temperature more than just three degrees.

—–

She tried to swallow, but failed, as her composure started to break apart. “I’m… sorry….” came the choked words as she tried to recover, shaking her head and looking at the floor. “What I’ve done is… it must go on my record, you can’t just let this go…”

“Don’t worry about that right now, besides, I don’t think it’ll continue to be a problem going forward. The point you missed was that I meant that my feelings toward you aren’t tied to your job performance. We could be court-martialed out of Starfleet and nothing would change.”

Nodding, she tried to take in everything he said, and things started to fall into place as she truly accepted his words. Things finally sunk in when he got to ‘court-martialed’ and she raised her head to look him in the eye again, seeking emotion and the truth of his words.

Ian met her gaze and held it, quietly adding, “Where we go from here is up to you.”

As she watched him, she grew irritated at his apparent calm, which strengthened her voice surprisingly. “You would make a good Vulcan.”

He laughed. “Thank you, but you’ve got your work cut out for you if you want to make a good Betazoid.”

T’Kirr’s eyes flicked to Ian’s lips, and without warning, she gave in to what she had been taught to suppress, forcefully kissing him full on the lips. Ian’s momentary relief that she had finally embraced her feelings gave way to a rush of excitement as he lost himself in the moment. Encouraged that he hadn’t pushed her away, years of Vulcan training were momentarily set aside as she let her emotions ran rampant. T’Kirr grasped his uniform, pulling him down to her, wanting to deepen the kiss as much as possible. Ian’s arms encircled her and pulled her close as he let his mind run free, sensing the rush of her emotions as if a dam had burst.

—–

T’Kirr leaned forward, the hand at his chest pressing against him. The thoughts they had shared coursed through her memory. She had known the reason for his anger, the truth of his understanding, and the depth of his love. T’Kirr desperately wanted to open her mind to Ian now, but she dare not risk it. Careful not to obstruct Ian’s airway, she instead pressed the tenderest of kisses to his lips, soft yet purposeful. T’Kirr’s eyes fluttered shut, and a tear slipped away to rest on his face. She pulled away to speak, barely a whisper.

“Thank you for your trust in me. I’ll find a way.”