Chapter Text
Those welcoming Una back to Enterprise filed out of the transporter room. Chris’ eyes followed them as he walked to her. The doors swished closed leaving Captain and his first officer alone. She turned in his direction, a faint smile softened her features. His raised then lowered eyebrows accompanied by a nervous smile and a single head bob-tilt combination silently commented on the razor thin edge on which her freedom had balanced, too fine an edge. Despite the many dangers they had faced together, he had never come this close to losing her.
His emotions flooded across a wide spectrum. Gratitude, satisfaction, returned equilibrium, tender attachment. All of this propelled Chris forward as he wrapped his arms around Una, drawing her tightly against his body.
Tentatively, with care at first, she reciprocated, her hands settling around his shoulders. Being an Illyrian in hiding often meant shying away from the touch of another, a hardship given the profound sensuous nature of her people. Her eyes closed. The warmth radiating from Chris’ body shut out all else. Lingering stress from the ordeal. Disquiet. Anxiety other members of Starfleet, maybe even her shipmates, feared her genetic engineering, feared what she might do, what she might become. Terrors unleased during the Eugenics wars were ingrained in every Human survivor and their descendants’ DNA. A technicality ignoring her dishonesty and granting asylum couldn’t wash this away.
A quiet sigh, one of release and belonging, escaped her lips.
Years ago, her post lecture comment on his piloting error started a written correspondence. This acquaintance had grown into friendship like a sturdy oak tree, ever faithful, its roots strong and deep, rings of teacher and student, colleague, mentor and mentee, companionship, fellowship layered its trunk. Their mutual understanding was innate; when words were required theirs was a private, tailored language, twin speak. Physical attraction was present too. Yet when they had inched toward adding the complex layer of lovers to their relationship, situations intervened, or mutual, though never discussed choice, declined.
Or Una retreated.
Now Chris understood why.
And she no longer had to hide.
The embrace took them out of time. In this state of possibility the question felt right.
May I kiss you?
He hesitated rather than asking. Now his chosen fate was the barrier, not insurmountable, but there. And unavoidably, coldly real.
Piggybacking this wave of relief our journey together continues isn’t the way, isn’t the time to start something lasting. The moment may come, but this isn’t it.
Time restarted. He pulled out the embrace; his hands grasped her arms then he stepped away. His eyes gazed at her. Playfully he rapped her arm, like a teammate hailing victory. “Good to have you back Number One.”
“Good to be back Captain.”