Paige #2
Tobias approaches Diana Moss at her station. “Lieutenant Moss, your report on the communication irregularities helps us establish Walsh's timeline. Without your observations, we might not have caught him.”
Her relief is visible. “I am afraid you think I am involved, sir.”
“You report suspicious activity when you notice it. That's exactly what you should do.” Tobias nods once and moves on.
Diana catches my eye across the bridge. I nod at her. She has been brave to report what she saw, even when she is scared. That takes courage.
We walk to medical in silence. The corridors are full of Christmas Eve celebration, civilians laughing and hanging the last decorations.
None of them know how close we've come to losing everything.
None of them need to know. They've done their part.
Built their lights. Saved themselves through community and hope.
Now we've saved them through competence and partnership.
The medical bay is empty except for the automated scanners. I step into the radiation detector, let it run its analysis. Clean. Acceptable exposure levels. Nothing dangerous.
Zoric's scan comes back the same.
We stand in the sterile medical bay, and suddenly everything that has been pushed aside by crisis comes flooding back. The way he looked at me in the core. The fact that we've nearly died and I've spent those moments thinking that if I have to die, at least it is beside him.
“Paige?” He says my name like a question.
I close the distance between us. One step. Two. Until I stand close enough to see the individual silver traces along his temples. Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin.
“I'm tired of almost dying without telling you things.” The words come out shakier than I intend. “Tired of pretending this is just professional. Tired of...”
He kisses me.
Not the gentle, testing kiss I might expect. This is desperate. Hungry. His hands frame my face and his mouth finds mine and everything else disappears except the heat of him, the taste of him.
I grab his uniform, pulling him closer, pouring weeks of tension and fear and wanting into the kiss. His hands move to my waist, my back, sliding under my jacket. Everywhere he touches burns.
“Your quarters,” I manage between kisses. “Not here. Not where anyone...”
“Yes.” He pulls back just far enough to see my face. “My quarters.”
We make it exactly four steps into the corridor before his comm unit beeps. He groans, presses his forehead to mine briefly, then activates it. “Zoric.”
“Captain.” Tanaka's voice carries relief. “Just confirming you've secured the situation. Walsh is in the brig. The cascade program is terminated. We're clear.”
“Confirmed. Excellent work, Commander.” He pauses. “I'm off duty for the rest of the evening. Unless the ship is actively exploding, do not contact me.”
A pause. Then Tanaka's amused voice: “Understood, sir. Have a good evening.”
He closes the comm and looks at me. “Where are we?”
“Heading to your quarters.” I take his hand. “Quickly.”
We walk through the. ship holding hands, and I see heads turn.
See crew members notice. See some smile, some frown, some look uncomfortable.
I don't care. Let them see. Let them talk.
Let them know that their chief engineer chooses this alien captain and will choose him again given another thousand chances.
His quarters are dark when we enter, lit only by the stars visible through the viewport and the lit corridors of the habitation rings visible through their viewport windows, thousands of warm glows against the dark.
Light from the hab ring windows paints colored patterns across his walls, across his face.
The door closes behind us. Locks.
We stand there for three seconds. Five. Looking at each other in the dim light while my heart tries to break free of my ribs.
“I don't know how to do this,” he says quietly. “My people don't... we've spent a thousand years suppressing this. Connection. Vulnerability. I don't have...”
I kiss him. Softer this time. Letting it communicate what I can't say in words. That I don't need him to know. That we'll figure it out together. That wanting is enough.
His hands find my waist again, pulling me flush against him. The heat of his body through our uniforms makes me gasp. He is so warm. Impossibly warm. Like standing too close to a sun.
“Your temperature,” I manage. “Is it always...”
“Yes.” His mouth moves to my throat. “Does it bother you?”
“God no.” I arch into the kiss. “It's perfect.”
We move toward his sleeping platform without breaking contact. My jacket hits the floor. His uniform shirt follows. I get my first clear look at his chest, at the way the markings trace patterns down his throat, across his collarbones, disappearing below his waistband.
“These,” I trace one with my finger, “do they feel different? When they're lit?”
“More sensitive.” His breath catches as I follow the pattern. “Everything feels more intense when I stop controlling them.”
“Then stop controlling them.” I kiss the marking on his collarbone. “I want to see you. All of you. Not the controlled version.”
Something breaks in his expression. He pulls me down onto the sleeping platform, his weight a welcome pressure. His hands map my body through fabric, then beneath it, and every touch leaves trails of fire.
My shirt joins his on the floor. Then more barriers disappear until there is nothing between us except skin and heat and the light that turned everything surreal.
“Paige.” My name like a prayer. “I need...”
“Yes.” I pull him closer. “Whatever it is, yes.”
He enters me slowly, giving me time to adjust to the heat, the size, the overwhelming sensation of him. I gasp at the intensity of it. At the feeling of being filled and held and wanted.
We move together and it is desperate, overwhelming, life-affirming. All the fear and adrenaline and weeks of tension channeling into this. Into connection. Into choosing each other despite every reason not to.
“I love you.” The words tear out of me as pleasure built to impossible heights. “Zoric, I love you.”
His rhythm falters. His hands tighten on my hips. Then he says something in his own language, harsh and beautiful, before switching to mine. “And I you. Thanei. My balance. My Paige.”
I shatter. Come apart in his arms while the glow from distant corridor lights visible through the viewport, creating patterns of red and green and gold across both our bodies. He follows seconds later, my name on his lips, his whole body going rigid before collapsing against me.
We lie tangled together, hearts racing, breathing ragged. I trace patterns on his chest, following the lines of light, feeling the heat pulse beneath my fingers.
“That is,” he starts, then stops. “I don't have words.”
“Yeah.” I kiss his shoulder. “Me neither.”
We stay like that until our breathing normalizes. Until the immediate desperate need eases into something gentler. He rolls to his side, pulling me with him so we face each other in the dim light.
“Again?” he asks softly. “Slower this time?”
“Please.”
The second time is different. Slower. He takes his time learning my body, finding the places that make me gasp, the touches that make me arch into him.
I explore him the same way, discovering that his markings are more sensitive at the temples and throat, that the small of his back makes him shudder, that he likes it when I say his name.
We make love with the glow from distant corridor lights visible through the viewport, creating patterns of red and green and gold across our joined bodies.
No desperation now. Just tenderness. Discovery.
Celebrating survival and each other and the impossible fact that we'd found this despite every obstacle.
When we finish the second time, I lie with my head on his chest, listening to his heart beat its faster-than-human rhythm.
“Thanei,” I say, testing the word. “What does it mean exactly?”
“Perfect balance.” His fingers trace patterns on my back.
“The moment when all forces equalize. When opposing elements create something stronger than either alone.” He pauses.
“My people have a festival celebrating it. The winter solstice, when light and dark reach perfect equilibrium before the light returns.”
“Like Christmas,” I realize. “Light returning in the darkness.”
“Yes.” He pulls me closer. “Like Christmas. Like us.”
I smile against his chest. “The Christmas stars. That's what my grandmother would call this. Finding light when you need it most.”
“Then that's what we are.” He presses a kiss to my hair. “Your Christmas star and my perfect balance.”
Inside, we lie wrapped in each other, safe and alive and impossibly, wonderfully together.
Tomorrow will bring questions. Crew reactions. Mission reports. The reality of being a human chief engineer in love with her Zephyrian captain.
But tonight is ours. Christmas Eve. The darkest night before the light returns.
And we have each other.