=/\= T'Shen monastery, Shi'Al province =/\=
"You knew she declared Challenge?" low, unbroken with age, Sihayel's voice floated into the peaceful quiet after the human had fallen silent, obviously wrestling with his emotions. It was not the healer's habit to insult a patient's Companion with pity, but there was a mildness to her tone that acknowledged his pain all the same.
Never above taking on a novice's task with cheerful grace, Sejet had refilled the hammered copper bowl with water and procured a fresh cloth to set both by the bed but the elder woman only shook her head. Too deep was the trance for the body even to react with basic survival instincts and absorb the water they offered. It was all they could do to keep her this way, clinging to life and unable to find the way back. If only they could pull her far enough to induce a healing trance, she who had been trained here many a summer would be able to assist them without even requiring guidance.
Brent didn't respond for several minutes. He instead was simply too caught up with being close to the woman he loved. He had never felt this way before, so close to someone. And here he was close to simply losing it all in the flash of an instant. He didn't dare look away from her, less she slip into that final voyage of terminal unconsciousness. Another gentle caress to remove hair from around her cheeks, bringing some of her hair behind her ear, brushing over the tip ever so slightly, a silent tear fell to the bed, and Brent wiped away the teary remains on his chin.
It was then as if his mother's words of 'don't be rude and ignore people Brent' had come through as he seemed to center back into the room for a moment. "The Challenge? I don't know enough of Vulcan customs to really grasp how she would do that. We were separated when the Charon was boarded. She was on the bridge and I was in my office on the bottom decks. I managed to escape out, and she was taken to the Endless Sky shortly after before I could rescue her. After we finally took the ship back we went to retrieve her. I last saw him holding onto her. Unconscious," he said the dark and dangerous sounds to his voice returning. "She was already shot and like this by the time I arrived. I forced him to the wall before ending his life. His words spoke that she hated him, and denied him anything that he wanted...." He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, looking at her as he leaned against the bed.
The healer only nodded, the young male's words merely adding images to the facts and inescapable evidence before her. Utterly unfazed by the open displays of affection before them the Vulcans seemed to converse silently for long minutes, and though no expression betrayed either of them there was a clear impression of a silent argument. One that Sihayel lost as the minute crinkling around the old abbot's eyes indicated.
Other races like to comment upon the fact that a Vulcan's face may remain clear and smooth, unmarred by lines and wrinkles long after their hair has turned silver, retain the serene, ageless look of marble statues well into the middle of their second century. If the healers of T'Shen do not fit this mold it is often attributed to their tireless devotion, every line etched into their faces attributed to another long night spent by a gravely ill one or the grief of losing an entrusted patient. People would know better if they cared to look closer.
There are lines of sorrow, of anger, and there are those speaking of much laughter, silent as it may be. Sejet did not smile as he knelt to stoke the fire, place some fragrant herbs on the merrily dancing flames. But the lines around his eyes and mouth deepened, cast a cheerful shadow over the serene features, the first rays of warmth kissing the hills before dawn breaks in splendor.
The shake of her head made the long, snow-white braid falling over her back bounce with good humored annoyance, but Sihayel had to bow to her old friend's wisdom.
Careful fingers pulled back enough of the warm silk to reveal the lovely, round shoulder, the marks of knife and lash, the bruise blooming where a bone had been cracked. "Klee-fah. It is quite clear he was denied, young one."
While he might not comprehend the implications, he had acted according to ancient law and custom, law that had not changed since the Time of the Beginning. Assuming the role of the champion when his t'sai was prevented from giving the proper response. Though one could safely assume she had no chance to approve in words, there was sufficient proof she would not have objected.
"It is a private question, but for her sake I must ask you to answer. There is a bond?"
Not that Sihayel truly required it spoken aloud, too clear had been the brief flutter in the mind closed in on itself when gentle fingertips had touched the terribly cool skin of her face, traced the elegantly upswept ear. The briefest battering of the butterfly's wings, fighting to break the cocoon, ... not enough, not by far. But it had been there.
That made him look up at the old healer for a moment before his eyes were brought back down to Sakarra again, squeezing her hand in his. "Yes there is. Again I do not know how far along it is, as I have not studied such things intimately. I knew when she had been taken from the ship, deep down I knew. I knew that she wasn't dead, but was too close to it for my comfort when I knelt down before her. And I immediately knew where she was after thinking about her for only a moment out in your courtyard. Your associate there can vouch for that much."
He smiled, for the first time since the entire incident on the Charon. "I have to hide myself from her if I want to give her a proper surprise in her office. I know when she is coming and going," he said trailing off as he let his fingers brush gently over her lips. He wanted to say more, but could not. Instead he simply barely whispered the three very simple words that summed up how he felt. "I love you."
The healer had nodded solemnly up until the point where the subtle clues hidden in the human's smile made her brows shoot up. And if that wasn't enough, he proceeded to kiss her with his fingertips then and there, evoking yet another of those small, near imperceptible sparks …
Fascinating.
Whether he knew it or not, he was calling to her and she … heard.
If ever Sihayel had doubted her old friend, or dared to think an outworlder would never be capable of comprehending the Vulcan heart, … well even at a respectable two-hundred and eleven it seemed you were never too old to learn.
"My associate …" the healer began to speak but was stopped by a gentle gesture as the old monk stepped to the window, breathing the clean morning air.
"I am Sejet, and the healer tending to your beloved is Sihayel. You know your lady's name I am certain, … likely even … all of it. However," turning his dark, patient eyes towards the broad shouldered human kneeling by the bed there was that sudden, fleeting impression of an unseen smile once more "we would be honored if you might tell us how to address her chosen Companion."
Brent looked up again as they seemed to be doing introductions. He nodded at the two of them, looking at the old Sejet for a moment before he spoke up. "Sorry. I'm not really right in the head right now," he said with a bit of a frown. "My name is Brent Warren. Rank is unimportant right now," he said, turning back to look at Sakarra. "I've been hesitant to ask because I fear the answer. Just. Just how much longer does she have left. I don't have much strength left in me," the words themselves made him chuckle at the joke. "But I refuse to leave her side," he sighed trying not to think about what was probably the inevitable.
Acknowledging the offered name with courteously inclined heads, the two Vulcans seemed to ponder the question and after a brief nod by her abbot, Sehayel settled her dark, old gaze on the human. "Hours, and if it were not for some determined individuals tending to her before she arrived, and were she not the stubborn child she is, your search might have been in vain long ago. However, …" she seemed to hesitate again and only the suddenly uncharacteristically stern expression on the silent monk's face compelled her to continue "ah, Sejet. She will not …"
"Not wish to see her grandchild live? Tell me, Sehayel, how much do you believe the odds have increased due to this unexpected development?"
The answer came without hesitation. "They are now near evenly balanced."
"Ki`se'heik dular, Ohassu. Ka'lpa-voh."
The ancient phrase made the woman set her jaw but still she shook her head. "He has not the right …"
"Doesn't he?" Mild, gentle, like the breeze whispering of rain, but only a fool would have missed the steel in the abbot's voice.
[To be continued …]
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Executive Officer
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
USS Charon
Sejet
Abbot
&
Sihayel
Senior Healer
T'Shen Monastery
