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Date: Sat, 17 Jul 2004 15:05:17 -0400
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS Revenant [R] 1/6  K/Ch, ChFF
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TITLE: Revenant
AUTHOR: Djinn
CONTACT: djinn@djinnslair.com   http://www.djinnslair.com
SERIES: TOS
RATING: R
CODES: K/Ch, Chapel Fic Fest
PART: 1/6
DISCLAIMERS: Paramount and Viacom own these characters--I'm just
warping canon--and trying to explain some things.
SUMMARY: Sequel to "Commander" and the final installment in the look



The events unfolding on the big screen in ops are changing the very
nature of the galaxy--and of Christine's world.  Again.  She feels
off balance, reeling from the emotions of first having lost Jim to
that Klingon hell world, then elation when she saw him reappear just
a few moments ago in time to stop another assassination--this time
of their own president.  She thanks every deity out there that while
Starfleet may have kept the location of the Federation-Klingon peace
talks secret, they still beamed the proceedings throughout the
galaxy.

She bets they never counted on their show being quite this exciting--
fortunately the live events played in their favor.  But they might
not have.  It could so easily have gone the other way.  A few
moments' delay, and Jim would not have stopped the murder attempt.

And the chance for peace with the Klingons would have been lost
forever.

She's not sure how she feels about that.  She hears some grumbling
in ops, looks around but can't decide where anyone's loyalty lies.
Everyone looks stunned, but it is unclear if it is because peace was
almost ripped away from them, or if they cannot fathom living in a
world that includes accommodation with the Klingons.

There is an undercurrent in the place, one she has never felt.  As
if a chasm has suddenly opened up underneath them all.  As if
suddenly there are two camps.  She looks up at the screen again,
sees Matthew and Valeris, both apparently in custody, and feels a
shock as if someone has stuck her with a cow prod.

What if we could _do_ something? Matthew used to say.

What if he had done something?

Something terrible.  Something so horribly ambitious that it might
have spelled the end to the Klingon empire.

But only after months or possibly years of war.

"Matthew," she murmurs, and sees Rasmussen turn to her.

His look is appraising, as if he is trying to figure out which camp
she is in.  She stares at him coldly until he finally turns around
again.

There should be no question.  The man she loves was nearly killed.
She's in his camp.  In the camp of peace.  If he can forgive them
for David, for destroying his ship and nearly Spock's chance at
rebirth, then what right does she have to hang on to old anger?

Even if one of her best friends is in trouble.  Even if her protege
appears to be involved somehow too.

She suddenly doesn't feel like being in the big room, walks back to
her office and sits down.  The comms are coming in fast, updates
from all over the system, as well as congratulations from worlds not
invited to the talks.  And another note for her personally that
appears to be from Matthew, sent via an unknown intermediary.
Opening it, she sees that the note starts with no text, simply a set
of coordinates.  She runs them through the system; they appear to be
a bar on the seedier side of town.

"You said once that I saved you.  It's time to return the favor.
Ask for Jasper," the note says after the coordinates.

"Quite the day?"  Admiral Manners says from her doorway.  Her boss
has come back in, and she was too focused on cryptic messages to
realize it.

Looking away from her screen, she smiles at him.  "Yes, sir."

They have never reached the ease she had with Matthew.  At times,
she wonders if Manners resents the rapport Christine had with her
former boss.   The rapport she still has with a member of the CINC's
staff.

A former member.

God.  What did Matthew do?

"Trust Kirk to save the day."  The expression on the admiral's face
is light, but there is something biting in his tone.

Christine has found it all too common for some of Jim's peers to
resent or be jealous of him. Would they rather he didn't save the
day?  Would that make them feel more worthy?

"He is lucky that way," she finally says, striving for some
neutrality.

Manners shrugs, gets off a last shot as he walks to his
office.  "It's Kirk's last big hurrah.  I guess I can't begrudge
him."

It is common knowledge the Enterprise A is being decommissioned.
Less common knowledge that the B is just about finished.   Command
went back and forth on whether to rename the ship altogether or
allow the name to continue.  Jim's presence looms large, not just
for the brass, but for whoever takes his place at the helm of an
Enterprise.  They still haven't formally announced that they've
commissioned the pretty ship the Enterprise B, or that Harriman has
been chosen.

Harriman is a good friend of Manners.  Christine often wonders if
that colors her boss's view of Jim.  She can't imagine following in
Jim's footsteps.  And Harriman hasn't impressed her so far.  Decker
was a worthy successor.  This bozo--

She's channeling Jim.  He can't stand Harriman.  And corridor gossip
is not kind to the newly minted Captain either.  He's great at
managing up and making the brass think he's competent, not so good
at actually leading those who depend on him.  And he's been lucky.
So far.  She hopes that luck keeps up.

Jim was lucky too, but he always had skill to back that good fortune
up.  Christine doesn't want to think what might happen if Harriman's
runs out.

She reads the message over and over.  Finally, she gets up and goes
out to main ops.  The place is in chaos, but for once there is no
action needed.  They can only watch as history unfolds somewhere
else.

Christine looks at Rasmussen, who has turned around to watch
her.  "I'll be out for a bit," she says, and he nods before turning
back to the screen.

The bar is closer than she expects.  She's never spent much time
thinking about how close the bad part of town is to the good.  Has
never actually considered that there still is a rougher part of
town.  Life is so tame now.  Even rough is relative.  This area may
have once been the Tenderloin, but it's just a little dangerous
now.  A place for rebellious youth and black marketeers to hang out.

Nobody bothers her as she enters the bar, but all eyes seem to be on
her. Even if no one is staring outright.  She imagines it is in
these people's best interest to know what is going on.  Especially
when a Starfleet officer comes in.

"Pretty stupid coming here dressed like that," a man with a tray
says.   "You going to stand in the door all day or you going to
order?"

"I'm looking for Jasper."

"Yeah, well you found him."  He nods at the bar.  "Sit down so you
don't look so much like a sore thumb."  He points with his chin at
the vid set that is replaying Jim pushing the Federation president
down.  "I hate busybodies."

She sits down on one of the stools.  "I'm not sure what I'm doing
here."

"No?"  Jasper starts wiping down glasses.  "Better figure that out
quick, or you and me will have nothing to talk about."  He holds up
a glass, as if inspecting it for cleanliness.  It's covered with
spots.  "I count two people in custody.  Is that what you count?"

She follows his gaze up to the screen, sees the replay of Matthew
and Valeris being led out.

"Two that matter anyway," he says softly.

She leans in.  "Matthew sent me.  He said I had to save him?"

Jasper leans in.  "Rescue him, you mean?  I doubt that old Matt
meant that."  His tone is mocking.  "Best you can do is save him
from what's to come."  He pushes a small packet to her.

She opens it, trying to keep it out of anyone's view.  There are two
pills inside.

"Supposedly used by Cardassian intelligence.  Gotta hand it to the
spoonies.  They sure know how to make a suicide pill."   He leans
in.  "Nothing but dust left when this is done working."   He backs
away from her.  "Now all you gotta do is find a way to get it to
them.  Security's going to be mighty tight."

Matthew expects her to get these to him and Valeris.  To save him
from whatever repercussions capture might bring.  She wonders if he
knew about that hell hole Jim was sent to when he left these pills
for her.  She feels like shoving the package back at the unpleasant
little bartender.

She puts the pills into her pocket instead.

"Nice talking to you, Commander.  Don't ever come back."

She gets up, pushing away so hard that her stool is in danger of
toppling over.  Fleeing outside, she walks quickly until she is back
on familiar--not so seedy--ground.  The sunshine is warm, and as she
walks, she fingers the package in her pocket.

Why did Matthew choose her?  He had other friends, ones who were
probably involved in whatever dark conspiracy led to the
assassination of Gorkon and the attempted one she just watched.  She
wasn't involved, but he wanted her to help him.  Why?

She sees the news crews around Command headquarters.  The guards are
keeping them out of the building for now.

Access.  Christine doesn't have it, but Jim will.  As soon as he
gets back to Earth.  He'll be able to see Matthew.

And she just bets Matthew will ask to see the two of them.  He'll
need to make peace with his friend.  Possibly for real, but
primarily so she can hand over two lethal little pills.  One for
him, one for Valeris.

And no one will ever suspect that she was behind it.  Where would
she get Cardassian pills?  Why would she want to save Matthew from a
fate he consigned the man she loved to?

It's brilliant.

She has a good idea that Valeris thought it up, not Matthew.  It has
her hallmark--nothing left to chance.  Matthew is far more
emotional, far more seat of the pants.

Christine sighs, pushing the pills deeper into her pocket as she
walks past the news crews, ignoring those who recognize her as Jim's
lover, who want her to give them a statement.

She has no comment.

She also has no idea what she is going to do.  Matthew did save her,
and he helped get Jim back.

How can she not try to help him?

But he nearly got Jim and Len killed.  How can she forgive that?

Mind racing, she heads back into ops to pretend to work.

-------------------

She lies next to Jim, content beyond words now that he is back and
safe.  She's checked him over about a dozen times, looking for
remnants of his time on Rura Pente.  The last time she did it he
captured her hands and told her to cut it out.  Then he kissed her
until she gave herself up to other, less medical, examinations of
his body.

The Enterprise sits idle in spacedock, waiting to be
decommissioned.  They plan to make a museum out of her--at least for
a while.  Luna put in the best bid for her, part of the Lunar
Council's attempts to increase tourism revenue, no doubt.  They may
have an atmosphere on the Moon, but the landscape still leaves
something to be desired.  Terraforming is a slow business as long as
there is no Genesis to speed it up for them.

"You're awfully quiet," Jim says, pulling her close so he can kiss
her again.

They've spent a lot of time in their bed since he came home from
Khitomer.

"Just thinking about the ship."  She sees his expression shift,
knows he is already thinking about life without the
Enterprise.  "It's going to be hard for you, Jim.  I know that.  I
do understand."

"Same as it's going to be hard for you leaving Emergency Ops?"  He
brushes her nose with his own, a sweet gesture that gives her a warm
rush.

They both plan to retire, plan to find a useful way to use their
time.  One that isn't just second best to the most fun they've ever
had.  Several foundations have already approached Jim, feeling their
way to see if they could get _the_ Captain Kirk at the helm.
Several of them have also been wooing her--they're the smart ones,
the ones who know if they can interest them both, they'll have it
made.

"I'm leaning toward Pan-Relief," she says softly.

"It's a good organization.  And Len's already signed up, hasn't he?"

"Yep."  She runs her hands down his body, still a bit in shock that
he is back next to her.  When she saw him sentenced to Rura Pente,
she thought for sure that she would never see him again.

Smiling, he lays back against the pillow.  "So how long will it take
you to get over almost losing me?"

She wonders if he realizes that she's never really gotten over
losing him the first time.  She's not sure she'll survive it
again.  "A long, long time," she says, as she lets her hand show him
what she means.

Laughing, he pulls her on top of him, watching her as she rides
him.  "I thought I'd never see you again," he says, the admission
coming from him grudgingly, as if he is admitting defeat by even
saying it.

"I guess we both should have known better," she says, leaning down
to kiss him.  "That famous Kirk luck..."

"Let me show you some other famous Kirk skills."  He waggles his
eyebrows at her as he says it, making her laugh.

Then she concentrates on other, more pressing things.  The sex his
first few days back was a bit frantic, almost desperate.  They've
reached a point where they can calm down and take it slow.

Not that frantic, desperate sex with Jim doesn't have its
attractions.   She thinks that any kind of sex with him is pretty
darn alluring.

They finally lie quietly again.  She is curled against him, and he
is holding her close, drawing lazy patterns on her arm where it
circles his waist.

"Matthew wants to see us."  He seems to feel her tense.  "Chris?"

She has been waiting for this moment.  Has known it would come.  She
looks over at him, studies his face--so precious to her.

She cannot lose him again.

"Why does he want to see us?"

"He says he needs to make things right with me before he is sent
there."  It is a testament to the awfulness of Rura Penthe that Jim
avoids saying its name if he can.

"Why does he need to see me?"

Jim looks at her quizzically.  "You're his friend."

"I thought I was his best friend.  I think maybe he had better
ones.  In the conspiracy."  Smiling sadly, she says, "You know,
sometimes life gives us a chance to prove that we really can learn
from our mistakes."

He frowns, clearly not following her.

"Let me up," she says, pulling away from him and walking to the
chest where she has shoved the little pills.  Carrying them back to
him, she says, "This is why he wants me there."

He looks up at her.

"Suicide pills," she says.  "No Rura Pente for Matthew and Valeris."

Jim looks disappointed.  "I thought he was stronger than this."

"He is--if it were anyone but the Klingons he was about to be handed
over to."  She cannot imagine a worse fate for him.  Sitting down on
the bed, she takes the pills back from him.  "I've been having a
hard time with this, Jim.  He's my friend.  He did save me."

"I know he did."  He is staring at the pills, then raises his eyes
to hers.  "What are you going to do with them?"

Smiling sadly, she presses them back into his hand.  "I'm giving
them to you, Captain.  What are you going to do with them?"

He sighs.  "I'm going to turn them into Starfleet security."

She lies back down, can feel tears starting.  "That's what I figured
you'd do with them."  She turns, and he catches her up and holds her
while she weeps.

"Shh.  It's okay."

"It's not okay.  How can I consign him to the same place that nearly
killed you?  How can I repay him this way?"

He is silent, just continues stroking her back.

"But how can I lie to you?  I could lose you all over again."
Wiping at her eyes, she pulls away, so she can look Jim in the
eye.  "I love Matthew.  I would like to spare him this.  But, at the
end of the day, he's a traitor.  And I'm not."

Jim smiles.  A sad smile that recognizes how hard this is for her.
But a smile that shows her how proud he is of her.

"Don't, Jim."  She leans down and kisses him.  "Don't look at me
like I'm some kind of hero.  I'm not.  I'm selfish.  I don't want to
lose you.  If it weren't for that, I'd be there, handing over these
pills without a second thought."  She looks away.

He pulls her face gently back so she is looking at him.  "Who gave
you the pills?"

"His name is Jasper.  He's the bartender at the Lazy Susan."

Jim laughs, but it is a bitter sound.  "Matthew and I used to go
there in our Academy days.  Thought we were living on the edge."

"Well, apparently, he never stopped going there."

"Apparently not."  He studies the pills.  "Anything else I should
know?"

"Nothing concrete.  But I don't think the conspiracy was just a few
people.  I think it ran deeper.  Even if just in sympathy not actual
participation.  I can feel it in ops now.  As if we've chosen sides."

He nods.  "I can feel it in Command too." He sighs.

"You expected them to love you for what you did?"

He laughs. "Well, I doubt I thought much about it when I did it.
But now, it's sort of odd the reception I'm getting.  Spock's
noticed it too.  We're not terribly popular with all our colleagues."

"They don't matter to me.  Only you do."  Kissing him, she
whispers, "We'll be out of it soon."

"Very soon."  He pulls her closer, his mouth touching down tenderly
on hers.  "A few more months pretending to work at Command and then
that launch--"

"--You're going?  I thought you said you'd rather die than see
Harriman take over an Enterprise?"

"I did say that. I still feel that.  But the CINC called me in
personally.  Said it would 'send a message' if I didn't go."

"Yeah.  That Command picked the wrong man."  She sighs.  "Who else
is going?"

"Scotty and Chekov."  He laughs.  "Nyota won't answer her comms,
that's how much she doesn't want to go."

Lucky Sulu and Rand were off on their own ship.  "And Spock?"

"Spock pretty much does whatever he wants these days.  I don't think
they know how to rein him in."  He grins at her, clearly tickled at
his friend's behavior.

"Yeah, it was real funny when he shanghaied you into that mission in
the first place."  She's never seen Jim quite that pissed.  At
anyone but her anyway.

"Time heals all wounds, remember?"  He nuzzles her, his hand moving
lower again.

Smiling, she says, "It certainly seems to have worked for us."

"Yes, it has," he says, as he moves under the covers, following his
hand to points south.

For a moment, there is only pleasure, but then she sees Matthew's
accusing eyes and she is distracted.  She finally tugs on Jim's
shoulder, pulling him back up.  "It's not there.  Not right now
anyway."  It's rare that she is so preoccupied he can't pleasure her.

He stares down at her, then leans in, kissing her gently.  "I'm
sorry.  I know this is hard for you."

"But I want you, and I'm pissed that he's taking that away right
now.  And I'm angry that I'm thinking about sex at all when my
friend is in trouble.  But he betrayed you...he betrayed all of us.
It's just so damned confusing."  Holding him close, she kisses him
frantically.  She is crying again, wishes she wasn't.  Wishes she
could do the right thing and that it wasn't so complicated and that
someone she loves didn't have to get hurt.

"I love you, Chris."  Jim holds her close, letting her cry.

She did the right thing.  She didn't lose his love.  She did the
right thing.

She has to believe that.

------------------------

She is packing, wrapping up the rest of their dishes when the chime
sounds.  She almost yells for Jim to get it--she's used to him being
home now.  Used to him being there to do things like get the door.
But he's not here now.  He's up on that new Enterprise watching
Harriman take over.

She's glad they decommissioned his ship.  Doesn't think he could
have stood seeing his own silver lady taken away from him by another
man, much less one like Harriman.  It was bad enough giving him a
new Enterprise.  Jim asked her not to watch, said he wouldn't have
if Command hadn't strong-armed him into being there.

The chime rings again.  "Come," she yells at it, setting down the
platter that she thinks Jim was given by some Andorian dignitary--
why are they taking all this stuff with them?

Spock comes in.

"Hey there.  I didn't expect to see you."  She smiles at him, but
her smile fades as he stares at her.

"You did not watch the launch?"

She can feel her stomach drop, her throat closing as she says, "Jim
asked me not to."

Walking over to the vid set, he turns it on and backs away as the
images become her whole world.  The images and the text that runs
underneath them.

"Captain James T. Kirk killed saving ship."

She sits with a thud, is fortunate a chair is underneath her.  She
can't see through her tears, can barely hear as she tries to make
sense of the news broadcast.

One thing is clear to her. One thing only.  There is no body.

"Where is he?"  Her voice breaks, sounds like that of some kind of
wild animal that is hurt, in terrible pain.

Spock is there, holding her hands, chafing them as if to put some
strength back into her.  "They did not find a body."

"I know.  So where is he?"  She knows what explosive decompression
can do, but even then there is a body to bring back.  "Was there an
explosion?"

"I am unsure."  He is pulling her up, and she fights him off, does
not want to leave the images in front of her.

Does not want to leave all that is left of Jim.  They have his image
up now.  He is smiling.  The way he does when he's just won
something.  She loves that smile.

"Christine.  We must go now."

"Go?  Go where?"

"To look for him."  Spock grabs her arms, shaking her slightly.

She studies him.  They've both lost something, both are
reeling.  "Look for him?"

"Do you want to come or not?  I am going."

She nods.  Yes, she must go.  Together, they will find Jim. He can't
hide from both of them.  "I'll get my things."

Going into the bedroom, she begins to throw clothes into her bag.
She walks into the bathroom and grabs a few items, taking them to
the bag.  She is about to join Spock, when she turns, grabbing Jim's
pajamas and stuffing them into her bag.  He'll want them.  When they
find him, he'll want his favorite pajamas.

And they smell like him.  They smell like love and home and the man
that both she and Spock would die for if they could.

He can't be dead.  There's no body, so he can't be dead.

Spock takes her bag from her as she walks out.

"Thank you," she whispers, knowing that he didn't have to include
her.  He could have just gone.

His hand is gentle on her shoulder as he urges her to the door.  She
can't see well and realizes she is crying again.

"We'll find him?" she asks, blinking the tears away.

He nods, but his expression is bleak.  She suddenly realizes he
doesn't believe it.  Why is he taking her out there if he doesn't
believe it?

"We will find him," she says fiercely and sees his expression ease a
bit.  And she understands.  He is taking her out there because she
believes it.

She clutches at his arm, then feels bad, knows that he does not like
to be pawed at and pulls away before he can recoil from her
touch.  "I'm sorry."

He reaches for her hands, puts them back on his arm.  "It is all
right.  I understand."

She grips him tightly the whole way to his shuttle, letting go only
once he opens the door.

"We'll find him," she says softly.  If she believes it enough for
both of them, it will be true.

There's no body.  He can't be dead.

"Yes," Spock says, his voice dull.  "We will find him."

She sits in the copilot's chair and stares out at the stars, willing
herself not to cry.

They will find him.

There's no body.

He's not dead.

He can't be dead.

--------------------

She doesn't look at Spock as he sits with her in the lounge.  He is
going on to Vulcan.  He is giving up.

And so is she.  Jim's pajamas still sit in her bag.  She's cried
into them every night they've been out looking for him.

Looking for him, then looking for his body, then looking for
anything--even just a trace of him.

He's gone.  He's gone and he's not coming back.

"He is dead," Spock murmurs, as if reading her mind.

She's a doctor.  She should not hate that word so much.  Dead.  To
not live.  To cease existing.

Jim is dead.  Their bed will be cold, and the chair he would have
filled at Pan-Relief will stand empty.  They will have to find
someone else to run their organization.  She can't do it, she's just
a doctor.  She is not Kirk.

The thought stabs at her.  She would have been.  He wanted to marry
her.  Once they were settled.  They were going to get married.

She would have been a Kirk then.

She sniffs back tears, feels Spock's hand touch down on her own for
just a moment.

"You will join Doctor McCoy?" he asks.

She nods.  Len still needs help.  She may just be a doctor, never a
Kirk, but he just needs a doctor.

She feels herself losing control, is surprised when Spock's hand
touches down on hers again, this time gripping tightly, almost
painfully.  It is a focus, something to stop the tears, and she is
grateful to him for the gift, wants to ask him to hurt her some more
so she won't have to feel.

She wonders if he is giving her that pain so he won't have to feel
either.  She touches his hand with her free one, stroking
gently.  "I thought we could find him."

"We did not."

She has never heard Spock sound so desolate.

They have both lost the man they love.  She has not said anything
about the feelings she knows Spock has for Jim, does not want to
trivialize the loss for Spock.  They both understand how things
are.

She thinks neither of them have any idea how things will be.
Except that they will be bad.  Empty.

"Where will you go?" she asks.

"Qo'noS.  I have work to do there."  He is resolved about that, at
least.  No hesitation.

They will both go help others.  He to his damned Klingons.  She to
some less offensive place.

The shuttle to Earth finally comes, and she stands.  "This is
goodbye."

He nods.  Spock's eyes are empty, as if all the life he once had has
gone away with her lover.

She knows her eyes look just the same.  "I love you," she whispers
to him, trying to give him at least that.  She does love him.  He is
one of the few things she has left.

And they are saying goodbye.  She does not think she will ever see
him again.

For a moment, he brushes her cheek with his hand, then he is gone.
She watches him walk away, then turns to board the shuttle.

The trip is a blur, when she arrives back on Earth, she can't face
the apartment so she wanders the city, her bag growing heavier and
heavier on her shoulder.  Finally, she sits down in front of Command
on the bench where she used to eat lunch whenever it was a nice
day.  She stares down the hill, watching as people come and go, none
of them caring that her life is empty and meaningless and over.

"Christine?"

She looks up, sees Rasmussen.  She doesn't remember him calling her
by her first name before.  But she is technically retired.  She only
missed the formal debriefing because she was out with Spock looking
for Jim.  She shouldn't even be wearing her uniform anymore, is no
longer on duty.  Will never be on duty again.

"You heard, right?"

She thinks he means Jim and wonders why he is asking her.

"About Admiral Cartwright?  He's dead."

She feels as if the little bit of earth left under her feet is being
chipped away.  "How?"

"How do you think?  He was beaten to death by some prisoner in that
hell hole he was sent to."  He gets closer, in her face.  "That hell
hole that I think you had a hand in sending him to."

"I didn't sit on the panel that decided that."

"You made sure he had to go though, didn't you?  I was down at the
Lazy Susan recently.  Jasper's not there anymore.  Why do you
suppose that is?"

She looks up at him, eyes dead and she thinks that the blankness in
her gaze convinces him that he is wrong.

His eyes soften, and he sits down next to her.  "I'm sorry,
Christine.  I'm just so angry.  He was a great man.  You know that."

"He was a great man," she repeats forlornly.  "What about Valeris?
Does she live?"

Rasmussen nods.  "She's stronger.  And younger.  She has a whole
lifetime ahead of her to suffer there."

Christine nods.  Gets ups, pulling her bag over her shoulder.  "I
have to go now."

Rasmussen doesn't try to stop her.

She stumbles slightly as she starts down the hill.  Matthew is
dead.  Valeris is suffering.  Two little pills would have stopped
it.  Two little pills that she didn't give them because she couldn't
stand the thought of losing Jim.

She's lost Jim.  Where are those pills?  Why can't she go back and
give them the pills?  She stumbles again, nearly falls.

Hands catch her, a concerned voice says, "Commander?  Do you need
help?"

She looks up, sees a young cadet.  He looks a bit like Jim, and she
starts to cry.

"Ma'am?"  He is southern; the title comes out drawled like Len would
have done.

Len.  She has to get to him.  He'll know what to do.  How to help
her.  And there is work to be done.  People for her to help.  "I'm
going off world," she says softly, as if the boy actually
cares.  "I'm okay."

It's a lie.  She is nowhere near okay.  But it is the kind of lie
that she allows herself these days.

"All right, ma'am."  He lets go of her.

She turns away, walking clumsily the rest of the way home.  It is
hard to see through the tears.  She has to hit the door for her
floor in the elevator twice before it lights up.

She is going off world.  She has to get off world.  Away from this
godawful planet where bad things happen to her.  And not in space
either.  She wants to be on terra firma just not on Terra firma.

She pulls out Jim's pajamas, curls with them on the couch and weeps.

She's going off world.  But for now, she just needs to cry.


End part 1 of 6




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