=/\= T'Shen monastery, Shi'Al province =/\=
17th Day in the month of et'Khior, YS 9022
No. Something was wrong. This wasn't good. He had to do something. She wasn't coming out of it. It was just like before, only Brent didn't think that it would only take the threat of water to bring her out of this. The healer's words brought to him the seriousness of this situation, it was in fact just like before. He gritted his teeth and leaned down, wrapping Sakarra up in the sheet that covered her, before he rolled her over, adjusting the dial on his belt ever so slightly before he took Sakarra up into his arms. Not waiting for anyone to move or to debate the facts, he leaped over the bed, clearing it with unusual ease before he dashed outside into the rain.
The cold rain felt good to him. The hot fire had been quite warm for him, even if it was what the other had wanted. Brent gently shook Sakarra speaking to her softly there as the cold raindrops fell on them. "Come on. Wake up sweetheart. It's that time. You've had enough healing for now. Come on!" he said giving her a more firmer shake. Again nothing happened, or at least nothing that was the desired result. Brent looked around, remembering the pond that he had come by on the way in. Well if he was going to irritate her, he might as well go all the way no?
Brent leaped up onto the roof of one of the nearby buildings, running with intense speed as he hopped from one point to the other, until he came to the ledge that he knew would be closest to the pond in question. He paused for only a second, looking down at his beloved and then at the pond. Without another moment's hesitation he leaped feet first into the cold pond waiting below. Just as he leaped, Brent leaned down and placed a kiss on her lips, hoping that this of all things would bring his beloved back to the land of the waking.
Warm. Safe. Voices, presences, familiar, loved.
Why were they so agitated? Everything was alright now, no? It was … good. She was only tired, so very tired …
Faint memories of pain wanted to surface, pain and something else …
Deciding it was too much of an effort to think on such things, think of anything, she felt the warm darkness pulling her back. Ah, it would be nice. It had been peaceful there. Peaceful, quiet, after all the … after … how very strange, to be floating like this.
A touch, a glowing thread. Yes. She had been searching for it, she remembered. And now it was here. Perhaps that meant she could sleep now.
Or perhaps not. It was tugging, calling … a brief stab of … something almost cleared the fog, but an oddly familiar wave followed, making warmth and pleasure seep into her very bones.
Tired.
Why don't you want to let me sleep?
The voice again. The one she had longed for. But it sounded … wrong. Very wrong. And the warmth … it was going away.
Fight.
She had been fighting, reaching for that voice, that glowing thread. But why? It was there, always had been. It would not leave her, she knew it.
Fight!
Uncomprehending, she floated in the dark, and did what the voice asked of her.
Wake up sweetheart.
If she knew how, she would … but he sounded so worried, so hurt, … he.
Brent.
The name thundered through her as if Seleya herself had developed a voice and shouted to the heavens. No longer a thread, frail and fading, but a scorching current of purest white flame, the bond flared to life and in one magnificent instant seared her mind to the point where she would have screamed in agony, if not …
Oh, dear.
She gasped against the lips holding hers captive when the shock of cold jerked her body back into sync with her mind.
You did not.
But of course he would.
Night black eyes flew open to look at what she knew was there, had known all along.
You. Ah, you.
Cradling her in his arms, the fierce heartbeat in his chest, so familiar, beloved. His breath on her face, warm amidst all the … rain. Rain?
Water. Lots of it. But … wasn't this … home? Wasn't …
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing but this.
It was strangely difficult to move her arms but she slung them around his neck all the same, holding on as if she meant to never let go, in this or any other life.
You.
People were running, familiar voices talking quite excitedly, and still the rain was falling.
It was just as well. What difference did a river of tears make when your face was wet already?
You.
If you stop kissing me now, I shall kill you and feed you to the Sehlat, Brent Warren.
There hadn't even been time to draw breath for a reply, let alone protest before the human had dashed out into the rain, the injured Vulcan in his arms.
Heedless of the three people racing behind him after a split second of shock, he … V'Ley's eyes went wide when she saw the Marine jump onto the roof like a Le-Matya on the hunt. Powerful leaps, and still the little healer doubted the woman in his arms felt a thing besides a gentle, fluid motion.
"The pond."
It had been the male speaking and as if on command, the three Vulcans turned, racing through the monastery like a small stampede. Two mightily disheveled females and a splendid but no less drenched male, leaving wet footprints and no small amount of bafflement in their wake.
They arrived just in time to see the arms move around the human's neck, see the lithe little body stir under the ivory colored silk that clung to her like a second skin.
'But of course my love,' was his only response as Brent was now glad that the pond was deep enough to allow him to jump in. He had still tucked his legs at the last second, and judging by how he had to tread water for only a few moments before his feet found gravel, he had picked a good point to jump into. Slowly but surely he walked out of the pond, holding onto his love. The water fell from them in a great cascade, falling back onto the pond and then dripping down onto the ground of the monastery. Brent opened his eyes looking at the flock of Sakarra's friends and the healer that he had left behind, catching up and smiled into the kiss, finally decided that now he should break it.
'As much as I don't want to bed fed to the local wildlife my dear. You have friends here that very much would like to talk to you. And in all honesty I should probably set you down next to the fire, lest you start to sneeze, no matter how cute I think it is...' With that Brent finally let go of the kiss ever so slowly and ever so reluctantly, before turning and looking at those who were running up on him at that moment. He broke into a stride, motioning that they should follow him. "We should get her back to the fire. Lest she gets too cold," he said.
"Impossible male."
She stated it so matter-of-factly, with a calm and grace belying the fact she was not only a thoroughly drenched little Vulcan bleeding slightly into the sodden sheets, but with a timbre of such deep affection it made more than one person who had been minded to comment upon the human's … unconventional methods stop in their tracks.
Not that she seemed to care, her eyes fixed on his face as if there were no sight more beautiful, more welcome, in the entire universe.
But of course he was right. The storm was truly breaking loose now, shaking the trees and howling around the ancient stone until even the last reveler found it prudent to retreat back inside and watch the marvel from the safety of a warm, firelit room. If V'Ley blinked under her abbot's questioning gaze or the pregnant one laughed outright at being soaked for the second time in one day …Vulcans are no a superstitious lot, never have been. That doesn't mean they don't realize that rare events are just that, and the universe's inherent sense of humor means that where one occurs, more are bound to crop up.
It was raining harder than it had in one hundred and forty three years, after the entire planet had just narrowly avoided complete disaster. No surprise then, a human should turn the monastery upside down, a little healer blush a vibrant emerald after running around barely clothed and one of their kind was laughing so hard she was going to go into labor soon if she wouldn't stop. Nothing to get overly excited about, if you thought about it.
[To be continued …]
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Executive Officer
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
USS Charon
