DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters
are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are
the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2003 by Djinn. This
story is Rated R.
Siren's Song
by Djinn
Kirk sighed as he walked
toward the milling crowd inside the art museum, absently fingering the small
red foil token that had been his ticket into the event. This holiday gala had been Lori's idea not
his. He hadn't even wanted to go when
she'd suggested it months ago, had only decided to keep his token when she'd
asked him to give it back. Five months
ago they'd been together and happy--or so he'd thought. Now, they were apart and he was
miserable. Missing her and hating himself for it. Angry
that he'd never seen through her, that he'd been so
thick. Mad at her for having
someone--probably several men--to replace him with, to bring to this stupid
gala in his place.
He nodded politely to several
other admirals, moving purposefully toward the bar, like a shark that would die
if it didn't keep swimming. He managed
to sidestep several society matrons asking him where his lovely wife was.
My lovely ex-wife, he wanted
to say, is probably home, in our old bed, screwing one of her many lovers. He didn't say it, just smiled gamely and
moved on.
The bar beckoned; he pushed
through the throng of people, briefly admiring a bare back belonging to a
brunette in a dark blue halter dress.
Then he looked away, coming to rest against the bar. He leaned over and checked out the liquor
selection.
A low, somewhat inebriated
voice, said, "I recommend the tequila."
He turned,
saw that the bare back in the dark blue halter had an equally alluring and
almost as bare front. He forced his gaze
upward. "Chapel?"
She peered at him. Then her face fell. "Shit.
Admiral.
I didn't know it was you."
The last words came out garbled.
She leaned over the bar, giving both Kirk and the bartender a fabulous view
of her assets.
Kirk wondered why he'd never
noticed before how well-built she was.
The bartender seemed
positively mesmerized.
Chapel grabbed the bartender
by the collar and pulled him to her.
"Quit looking down my dress."
"Maybe you shouldn't
lean over like that," he said, gulping.
"Oh. Good point." She patted him on the cheek. "You're a nice boy. Now give me some antitox. I'm way too drunk. I almost hit on my former boss." She cocked a thumb back at Kirk.
"I'm not supposed
to--"
"Give me some and I'll
give you a big tip." She pulled away
from him. "Don't give me some and
I'll tell your employer you were ogling me."
"That hardly seems
fair," Kirk said, suddenly in solidarity with the bartender. "I was ogling you too."
"You outrank me. He doesn't."
The bartender dropped some
pills into her other hand.
"Here. Keep it quiet."
"Good boy." She threw the pills back, chased them down
with her tequila.
"I don't think that's
how those were meant to be taken," Kirk said.
"Tough." She sighed, closed her eyes and seemed to
wobble for a moment. When she opened
them again, her expression was clear but haunted somehow. "Amazing drug. If only all the bad things in life were as
easy to take away as being drunk."
She nodded to him tersely, then moved on.
"I should go after
her," Kirk said to the bartender.
The young man nodded, his expression wistful. "I would, if I weren't working."
"Let me have what she
was drinking." He turned to watch
Chapel's progress through the room. She
was steady on her feet, nodding to the few people that seemed to know her. Kirk noticed that she didn't smile much.
"Here you go, sir."
Kirk took the tequila and
eased his way to where she was studying one of the paintings. "See something you like?"
"Nope." She didn't
turn to look at him.
"This is a Miro."
"Yep." She pointed to
the sign, as if telling him she was perfectly capable of reading.
He turned, surveyed the
room. A few people nodded to him, but
for the most part nobody was paying any attention to them.
"I didn't figure you for
an art lover, Chapel."
"I'm not." She glanced at him. "I could say the same of you."
"I like what I
like." He shrugged, sipped at his
drink. "My wife--ex-wife wanted to
come to this."
Chapel looked around.
"Oh, she's not
here. She wanted to come when we were
still married. Well, she still wanted to
come tonight, just not with me." He
turned to see if she was following his narrative. Amazingly she seemed to be. "I was having an ornery streak, and
didn't feel like giving up my token so that she could bring someone else. Guess she and
whoever found something better to do.
Why are you here alone?"
She smiled; it was a bitter
expression. "I wasn't supposed to
be." The look she turned on him was
filled with anger--and no small amount of pain.
She held up her token, let it slide until he
could see another one behind it.
"Oops. I must have taken
both of them."
"Christine?" A man yelled from the main entrance, trying
to get past the guards.
Kirk turned to look, noticed
that Chapel didn't. The man was staring
at her.
"Hon? I've lost my
token. Come clear this mess
up?" He turned to the guard at the
door. "See, that's my
girlfriend. She probably has it with
her."
The guard showed signs of
relenting, so Kirk said softly.
"Are you his girlfriend or not?"
"Not." Again the pain showed in her eyes. She seemed to be fighting back tears.
He looked over at the man,
who seemed genuinely confused. Kirk
thought he should take his side in this--he knew what it was like to get
screwed over by a woman. But he couldn't
imagine Chapel being like Lori, or deliberately hurting anyone. He had to go with his gut on this one, and
every instinct he had said to side with Chapel.
"He doesn't know that
your relationship is over?" At the
shake of her head, he held out his arm.
"Why don't we show him?"
She looked up at him, anger
slowly replaced with a look of grudging appreciation. "Thank you, Admiral."
"Call me,
Jim."
She took his arm, studiously
ignoring the man at the entrance. "Only if you'll stop calling me Chapel."
"Christine!" The man seemed frantic. "Honey, what are you doing?"
"I gotta
tell you, buddy," the guard said.
"She doesn't look like your girlfriend to me. Move it along now."
"Christine?" The man's cries slowly faded as the guards
pushed him back from the door.
She pulled away from Kirk as
soon as the coast was clear.
"Thanks." She hurried
off, into the next room.
He followed her. She had stopped in front of a Chagall, did
not turn when he joined her.
"Spock likes
him." He shook his head, amazed
that after all this time he was still thinking of Spock as if the Vulcan were
his best friend. As if he had never run
off to Gol.
Run off for reasons that Kirk had never understood.
Kirk missed him. More than he usually let himself think
about. But here, with her, his friend
seemed very close. And
utterly out of reach. Is that how
she had felt all those years?
"Why is there a chicken
in it?" she asked.
"I don't
know."
"Does Spock like
chickens?"
He shrugged.
"I never knew him well
enough to know what he liked." She
sounded bitter. Hurt and angry but also
resigned, as if she had grown used to such negative emotion.
She walked away, and he let himself
admire how the dress clung to her curves, how the bare skin of her back--was
shaking. She stopped at another painting
and he walked over to her. She was
crying, turning her head away slightly as if to keep him and the people behind
them from seeing.
He had the sudden urge to touch her, to hold
her, but he didn't think she'd appreciate it.
"Do you want to tell me about it?"
"No."
He did touch her then, just
long enough to steer her deeper into the room, then through a doorway into a
hall. Away from the crowd, from the eyes
that would tear them apart if they saw weakness. He sighed.
His own mood was coloring this.
He should let her be.
She sniffed loudly and he
felt for her pain, whatever it was.
"I'm fine," she
said, pushing him away suddenly and striding down the hall. She disappeared into an exhibit entitled
'Magical Places.'
He looked back at the
crowd. There was nobody he wanted to
talk to here, just a lot of people he'd rather avoid. Like boring admirals who
would want to talk about his boring job.
Or people who would ask him about Lori, people to whom he didn't want to
have to explain that his marriage had fallen apart. That he couldn't make a relationship last
even when safely grounded on Earth.
He turned and followed Chapel
into the far exhibit. "Magical
Places?"
She looked over as he walked
toward her. "There's no such thing
as magic."
He nodded. If there were really magic in the world, love
would last, and the people who swore to cherish and protect you wouldn't break
your heart. "Magic's a crock."
She looked up at him, her
face expressionless. "At the risk
of being rude, sir, please leave me alone."
"I told you to call me
Jim." He tried to smile, felt as if
the expression came out as a grimace.
"What should I call you, since you don't like Chapel?"
She shrugged, seemed to give
up on his giving her any peace. "Whatever you want." She turned away.
"I used to call you
Christine."
"Call me that
then." Her tone was resigned. As if she knew she couldn't stop him from
talking to her, so she wasn't going to try.
"Difficult is what you
are. I think I'll call you that.
Difficult."
"Probably
fits." She moved to the next
painting, stared up at it as if mesmerized.
"Beautiful."
Yes, beautiful would fit her
too tonight. He'd always considered her
one of those women who was handsome.
Nice figure and features, but too severe to be beautiful. Maybe it was the pain that softened her eyes
and made her lower lip tremble slightly, or the slip of dark blue fabric and
how it fell around her, or the way her legs seemed to go on forever, but
tonight she looked beautiful. Then he
realized she was talking about the painting.
He turned to study it, smiled.
"La Grotta Azzurra."
She read the sign. "The Blue Grotto by Leucosia.
You've been to the grotto, I take it?"
He nodded. How many years had it been since he'd visited
"I've never been,"
she said.
"You should go."
She shook her head. "I've been busy getting my degree. No time to travel." She smiled tightly. "That's what you can call me, Admir--Jim. Call me
Doctor."
"Doctor." He smiled,
this time a real expression.
"Congratulations, Chris."
The name rolled off his tongue.
He was about to take it back, but decided it suited her.
She shot him an odd
look. "Nobody calls me that
anymore."
"All
the better." He didn't want
to explain to her that he liked the idea of having something all to
himself. After finding out that he'd
been sharing his wife for too long.
He forced his thoughts along
other lines. Thinking about Lori would
only make him feel depressed. And old.
Chapel turned her gaze back
to the painting. "Is it really that
blue?"
"Bluer."
"Hmm." She turned
away, walked to the next painting.
He studied her as she moved
around the room. She seemed tense, the
muscles in her back taut, her hands clenched somewhat as she stopped and stared
up at one of the works. He wondered if
she was even seeing it. He moved closer
to her and realized she was crying again, only this time she was hiding it
better.
He stepped in close. "What happened?"
She shook her head, but the
tears that rolled down her face seemed to multiply.
"Sometimes it helps to
talk about it," he said softly.
"I will if you
will." She sounded like she didn't
think he would.
He sighed. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He'd become a master of holding his pain
inside. Where it was
probably festering. "I
thought I had a good marriage," he said into the silence.
She turned to look at him.
"She was fun,
passionate, witty.
The sex was great." He
looked down. "For me and all the
other men she was seeing."
"I'm sorry."
He waved her pity away with a
brusque gesture.
"Did you ever see her
with them...these men?"
"No. One of them came to see me. Wanted her for himself. Actually asked me to step
aside in the interest of true love." He shook his head. "When I confronted her, she was
outraged. Not at me, but at this guy for
wanting more than just fun. She seemed
to think it was perfectly all right to have a little action on the side."
He hadn't told any of his
friends this. He hadn't told anyone
this.
"I'm sorry." She did sound sorry.
He nodded tightly. "Your turn."
She sighed. "I was at a seminar today and the last speaker
cancelled. We let out a couple hours
early. I went home. Tom--my boyfriend...ex-boyfriend...the guy
out there--was already home. In bed. Our bed. With someone else."
He touched her arm. "I'm sorry."
"They didn't see me, so
I snuck out. Like some goddamn thief, I
just backed away out of my own place. I
walked for a while, was headed back when I saw her leaving. I gave him a few minutes, then
went inside. I got ready and left while
he was in the shower."
"So, he doesn't know you
know."
She shook her head.
"You should tell
him."
She jerked away from
him. "I know what I should do. I don't need you to lecture me." She walked back to the painting of the Blue
Grotto, stared at it as if she could fall into it if she looked long enough. "I want to be there." She closed her eyes, as if she was making a
wish.
He smiled. "Well, let's go there." It would still be early morning in
"Right." She turned
away.
"I'm serious. I've got transporter credits up the
yin-yang."
"You want to go to
He nodded. "Don't you?" He sighed heavily. "I know I don't want to go home
tonight." Home: that barren
apartment he'd moved into once he'd finally left Lori for good. He hated it.
Hated Lori.
Hated his life.
Some days he even hated himself.
He held out his hand. "Chris?"
She stared at him for a long
time. Then she slowly began to
smile.
He smiled back. "It's warm and the water's so clear you
can see the sea bottom no matter how far out you go." He nodded as she reached for his hand. "And there's always a breeze."
"Sounds
nice."
"It is." He squeezed her hand gently. "It will be. The water's perfection
against your skin."
"Are we going
swimming?"
He nodded.
"I don't have a
suit."
He touched her shoulder, ran
his finger down her arm, smiling when she shivered. "You won't need one."
"Oh."
He thought for a moment she
was going to pull away, then some strange resolve
filled her eyes.
"Tit for tat," he
asked quietly.
She looked guilty. "That's not very fair to you, is
it?"
"Do I look like I
mind?" He turned, began to walk out
of the exhibit.
Her heels echoed on the floor
as she hurried to catch up with him. He
took her glass and set it with his own on one of the server's trays.
"Do you have a
coat?"
She laughed softly. "No.
I wasn't exactly thinking straight when I ran out."
"Are you cold?"
She seemed to think about
that. Then she lifted her eyes to his,
smiled. "No. I'm not."
He smiled back, led her to
the exit.
Quite a few eyes took in
their departure.
Good, Kirk thought. He hoped they told Lori. He looked at Chapel, admiring again the way
the dress hugged her body. Let them tell
his ex that he'd left with a sexy woman.
He nearly laughed at the thought, at how good it felt to be paying Lori
back. He should feel worse about
that. It wasn't very nice of him. But he didn't much care.
"What?" Chapel
asked.
He shook his head. "Just admiring how amazing you
look."
"Ogling
again?" She smiled and it was
finally the warm, gentle smile he remembered from the
"I'm afraid so."
"It is a good dress,
isn't it?" She brushed away a
wrinkle only she could see. "I got
this to drive him crazy. Tonight was our
one-year anniversary." Her face
fell.
Kirk squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry. Lori and I didn't make it to one
year."
"Couple
of losers." She looked up at him.
"Them
or us?"
She sighed. "I don't know. We're the ones who got hurt. So us, I guess."
He nodded ruefully, afraid
she was right. When hadn't he lost at
love?
She looked ready to cry
again. He pulled her out of the museum,
hoping to get her free of the crowd before she lost control, wanting to spare
her that humiliation.
Her boyfriend was waiting for
them outside. He was blowing on his
hands and pacing.
"Christine?" He shot
Kirk an irritated look. "Do you
mind?"
Chapel moved closer to
Kirk. "Tom, leave me alone."
"What's the meaning of
this? One minute we're fine. The next you're hitting on this guy? It's our anniversary, for god's sake."
Kirk felt her hand clench on
his. He squeezed back, trying to give
her strength.
"I came home early
today."
Tom looked suddenly wary.
"I came home hours
before you think I did. I saw an awful
lot. Enough to last me
the rest of my life."
"Christine, I can
explain--"
She pulled away from
Kirk. "You were screwing another
woman in our bed. How much explaining is
necessary?"
Tom reached for her but she
jumped back, running into Kirk, almost losing her balance.
Kirk grabbed her arm,
steadying her. "Come on,
Chris. He's not worth it."
"Why is he calling you
Chris? Who is he?"
"Goodbye,
Tom." She leaned into Kirk, let him
draw her away.
Tom followed. "If you
think this is over, that I'll just let you run off with some other guy..."
She turned; her voice seemed
to drop vitriol. "Let me? You lost the right to let me do anything,
Tom. Now get away from me."
When he didn't move, she took
a step toward him. There must have been
something threatening in her expression, because he took three rapid steps
back.
She turned back to Kirk. "Let's get the hell out of here."
He nodded, pulling her gently
away from her stunned ex and to the waiting transporter station.
This time, Tom didn't follow
them.
--------------------
Chapel held onto Kirk's hand
tightly, afraid that if she let go, she'd find herself back in the apartment,
staring at Tom and that woman. Watching
them make love in her bed.
"Hey?" Kirk said
gently, looking down at their clasped hands.
She realized she was
clenching down hard. "I'm
sorry." She tried to pull away but
he didn't let go.
"It's okay. I meant that as a 'Hey, what's going on in
that head of yours?' not as a 'Hey, lady, you're breaking my hand.'"
She smiled. "I was just thinking about finding them
in bed. When I saw them, it was like
someone hit me in the stomach with a sledgehammer."
He nodded. "Yes.
That's a good description. Later
it will just feel like someone is trying to pull your guts out with a
crowbar." He shot her a wry
grin. "Good thing time heals all
wounds, eh?"
She was glad he wasn't trying
to sugarcoat the truth for her. She
thought her other friends might. But
he'd been through it too. He wouldn't
lie to her and tell her everything would be all right.
He let go of her hand as they
arrived at the transporter station and she found herself missing his
warmth. She had been cold since she'd
found Tom and--
She shook her head, then did it again. Trying to rid herself of the image of that woman, sitting astride
Tom, head thrown back.
She felt Kirk's hand on her
back and leaned into it.
"I'm sorry," he
murmured, seeming to understand what she was thinking about.
She nodded,
afraid she'd break down if she tried to talk.
He led her to a transporter
pad, told the transporter tech, "
The tech made some
adjustments, then the world disappeared to be replaced
by a much smaller transporter station.
She followed Kirk off the pad, walked out into the cool morning air.
"I thought you said it
would be warm here." She rubbed her
arms. "It's not much different than
"But the water will be
warmer than the air, at least."
"By
how much?"
He laughed. "About ten degrees if we're lucky."
She shivered again.
He took off his jacket,
wrapped it around her shoulders.
"Come on, we need to get to the Grotto before the boats
do." He hurried to a local
transport that was just pulling in.
She followed him, having
trouble keeping up in her strappy sandals. He held his hand out, pulled her up the high
first step. She followed him to a seat
in the back. As she sat down next to
him, he dropped an arm around her, pulling her in close then turning to look
out the window, a huge smile growing on his face.
"It's more beautiful
than I remembered." His arm
tightened around her.
She relaxed against him,
letting his warmth soak into her.
"It is spectacular."
The transport was moving
quickly through the narrow streets. They
were empty at this hour of the off-season but she could imagine them filled
with swarms of tourists when summer came.
The sun-bleached houses shone in the early morning light, the white
broken by an occasional pastel-colored building, a
warm yellow or dark pinky red peeking out from between the snowy facades.
They moved out of the city,
cutting across open land and then winding their way down through hairpin
switchbacks into the smaller town of
A local woman was watching
her. When she saw that Chapel was
looking at her, she smiled, approval on her face. "Amore."
Kirk looked over at her, then he pulled Chapel a little closer. "Amore," he repeated, but his voice
was sad.
"Amore sucke," she said, smiling when he laughed at her
massacring of the language.
"It doesn't have
to."
"Doesn't it?"
He shook his head, leaning in
to kiss her gently on the lips. She was
too surprised to pull away, then too caught up with
how good his lips felt on hers to do so.
He finally pulled away. "Did you go to the party intent on
picking someone up? To
pay him back?"
She looked down.
"Chris?"
No one had called her that,
not since she was a kid. But it sounded
right coming from him. She wasn't sure
why. "Yes, I think I
did." It wasn't an admission that
she liked to make. Didn't like what it
said about her.
He just nodded.
"Aren't you going to
tell me that it's wrong?"
"Nope. Maybe I would have
been better off if I'd done something like that." He pointed to the low cliffs ahead of
them. "That's where it
is." He looked at the other
tourists, sighed. "I thought we'd
have it all to ourselves."
"I'm a strong
swimmer," she said softly. "We
can beat them in."
"Dressed like this? We have to find someplace private to take
these clothes off."
She smiled softly. "Didn't really think this through,
huh?"
He shrugged. "It'll work out. Things always do."
"Do they?"
His face fell again, and she
was sorry she asked. She leaned in and
kissed him, enjoying the feel of his lips against hers, the way his hand went
under his jacket to rub her back. Funny,
she had never in her life fantasized about kissing Jim Kirk. Had been too busy mooning
over his first officer. Yet here
they were, and touching him seemed the easiest thing in the world to do.
The transport stopped. Chapel got up just as the old woman did. Chapel waited for her to go, but the woman
was struggling with a large package and motioned for her to proceed. She turned to see Kirk helping the woman get
the package down, then he turned back to Chapel, his hand coming to rest on her
waist, not pushing her, not copping a feel, just there. Comfortable and steadying.
There was a sudden crash
behind them. They both turned, Kirk
hurrying to help pick up a stack of paintings that had fallen out of their
packaging.
"Presto, eh?" the
driver of the transport called back, impatience clear in his voice.
Chapel saw that a smaller
painting had fallen under one of the seats.
She crouched down to drag it out.
It was of the Blue Grotto, similar to the one in the museum that had
drawn her so. She handed it to the
woman. "This is beautiful."
The old woman took it and
smiled, tried to take the bigger paintings from Kirk but he insisted on
carrying them for her. She led the two
of them off the transport. "Grazie."
She studied them. "You came
to swim?"
Kirk nodded. "That was the plan." His expression changed to dismay as he saw the
number of tourists already there.
"No damn suits," he muttered.
"Better to stay
out. It is rough today."
Chapel looked out at the
still waters. "Rough? Where I'm from, that wouldn't qualify as
rough."
The woman looked out at the
sea. "You can't always see what is
coming." She smiled slightly, the
same way she had earlier on the transport, then her look darkened. "Or the hidden dangers."
"That's true," Kirk
said. "But we still want to
swim."
"No
matter the cost?"
"Beach was free last
time I was here." Kirk grinned.
Chapel smiled at his joke,
the daring that barely covered his stubbornness--his dogged determination to
get his way no matter the cost. She'd
seen that determination save them over and over. Maybe that was what a hero was? Someone who just didn't know when to quit?
"Come with me
then," the old woman said matter-of-factly, as she led them to one of the
closed shops. She opened the door, let
them in, then locked it again. Sizing them both up, she began to go through
the racks of clothes, thrusting things at them, including bathing suits and
some simple sandals. "Go. Change."
Chapel looked at Kirk. He shrugged, went to one of the dressing
rooms and closed the curtain behind him.
Chapel looked over at the woman, who motioned her into the other
room. "Hurry or the boats will come
and you'll lose your chance."
Chapel didn't argue, peeling
off her dress and pulling on the simple tank bathing suit. She tried on the rest of the clothing. It all fit.
She walked out, wearing the
shorts and swimsuit, carrying the rest.
"You have a good eye, ma'am."
"My name is Ligi." The woman was going through the pictures,
matching them with small descriptive tags.
"My sister paints these with such care, but then she does not pack
them well." Ligi shook her
head. "Artists." Her tone was scornful.
"You've lived here all
your life?"
Ligi smiled oddly. "Yes."
"And owned this
shop?"
"No. The shop is only recently mine. My sisters and I worked together. Now, we're retired. Separate." She touched one of the paintings; it was of a
cliff-side ruin. "But still in
contact."
"Sisters? You have more than one?" Chapel had always wanted to have a
sister. She'd felt cheated, growing up
an only child. When her parents had
died, she'd had no one left.
"We are
three." Ligi's
tone seemed to say the conversation was ended.
Kirk came out and Ligi took
the clothing and his suit and shoes from him.
She neatly stuffed everything into a large straw carryall. Then she handed it to Chapel, rang up the
purchases as Chapel pushed the things she'd worn to the gala and Kirk's jacket,
as well as her new clothes, into the bag.
"I'll pay you
back," Chapel said softly to Kirk.
"I'm an admiral, I think I can handle it." He grinned at her, and she realized it was
the first real grin she'd seen from him.
"Besides, I was the one who dragged you out here."
"True." She smiled back.
Ligi was humming and the
melody somehow grew to fill the shop.
The tune seemed to reach down into Chapel's bones, reminding her of
swimming, of bonfires on the beach, and the warm sea air rolling across her
face.
"That's beautiful,"
Kirk said. "What is it?"
"Just
a song of the sea." Ligi motioned them out. "You go now. Swim.
Enjoy. Amore." She grinned.
Chapel found herself grinning
too.
Kirk looked at Chapel, then reached back for her hand before he said to the old
woman, "Thank you."
She inclined her head, a
movement that looked almost regal for its grace. "It will be a good day for the
grotto. Very blue,
very bright. Like your
eyes," she said with a smile at Chapel.
Then she turned back to the paintings, muttering something Chapel
couldn't make out, clearly dismissing the two of them.
------------------------------
Kirk hurried over to the ladder
that led to the beach. He took the
carryall from Chapel and slung it over his shoulder, then made his way
down. He saw her climb onto the ladder, begin the descent a few steps behind him. Reaching the rocky slip of beach, he stowed
their bag in the higher rocks like the other tourists had done. He slipped off his sandals and waited for her
to take off hers and step out of her shorts. Then he reached for her hand and
led her into the water.
"It's not warm,
Jim," she said as the water hit their thighs.
She was right. Fortunately, it was calm. "But it's warmer than the air. Give it a chance."
She surprised him by shallow
diving into the water, moving gracefully past him under the water with a strong
dolphin kick. He followed her, powerful
strokes and kicks catching him up to her, but not without effort.
She surfaced, smiling as she
brushed the hair out of her eyes.
"It's been ages since I've been swimming in the sea."
He treaded water, paddling
gently to keep upright, surprised to see that the sea was getting rougher even
as they got used to the water temperature.
A motion above him caught his attention.
He thought it was the woman from the shop standing there, watching
them. She turned and walked away from
the cliff edge.
"The waves are
bigger," Chapel said.
He noted that there was no
note of panic in her voice; she seemed to like the waves.
"When it's choppy like
this, it can be dangerous trying to get into the cave." He pointed toward the opening. "If you go in by rowboat, you have to
lie down or risk being scraped on the top of the opening. If it stays this rough, the boats won't come
in at all."
She only nodded, a fearless
smile playing at her lips.
He smiled back, knew it was
the same bold expression. He was in no
mood to play it safe either. "We
have to time it just right behind a swell or we'll brain ourselves on the top
of the opening."
"Okay."
"And watch out for the
chain. The oarsmen use it to pull their
boats in." He turned toward the
grotto. Watched as another
couple tried to work up nerve to get past the nasty swells and into the cave. They gave up and turned around.
Another group of tourists
swam near the entrance. They watched the
waves for a moment, then they too abandoned the
effort, heading for shore.
Several couples came shooting
out from inside the cave, laughing breathlessly, exclaiming at how close they'd
come to being pinned against the top of the cave entrance. One of the swimmers looked out at Kirk and
Chapel, shaking her head. "You
don't want to go in there. It's too
rough."
"We do want to go in
there. We came here to go in
there," Chapel muttered, surprising him with her stubbornness. "Coming?" She set out for the cave with a smooth and
easy side stroke, looking as if she could swim for days. He noticed that she barely broke the water as
she moved.
A mermaid. That was what
she looked like in the water. A mermaid.
She smiled as she caught his
look. "My mom used to call me a
waterdog. She could never get me to come
out of the water when we went to my grandparents' place on the bay."
"I grew up swimming in
pools and the pond near our house, and sometimes in the
She nodded. "The water feels like home."
"Yes. It does." He smiled as she turned back toward the
cave. The water did feel like home. The only thing that felt even more so was
space. And that was lost to him
now. He sighed, trying to push away the
emptiness he always felt when he let himself think about his future--his future
at a desk.
She slowed as they reached
the entrance, and he moved ahead of her slightly, trying to judge the timing of
the swells. The chop was making it
almost impossible to see through the entrance.
They were unlikely to make it by staying on the surface.
He turned to her. "How deep can you go?"
She grinned. "How deep do we need to go?"
"Follow me," he
said, pleased again at her daring. He
blew out quickly several times and then sucked in a large breath. He could hear her doing the same. Then he dove down deeper and deeper as he
headed for the entrance. The swells
seemed to push him along, more gently now that he was not on the surface. As soon as the light changed around him, he
headed back up. He heard her break the
water a second behind him.
They had the cave to
themselves.
He looked around, marveling
yet again at the beauty of the place.
The morning sun was hitting the water perfectly, coming in from an
underwater entrance as well as through the way they'd just swum. The sunlight hit the limestone covering the
cave, lighting the water up like a mirror, throwing azure reflections on the
cave walls and ceiling.
"My god," Chapel
said, then fell silent, turning to take in the wondrous color.
"And this is nothing
compared to later in the day when the boats come. But they won't let us swim in
then." The swells were gentler
inside the cave, moving him toward her.
As he bumped up against her, he reached out, pulling her close. "They used to have orgies in here, you
know?"
She giggled. "Who did? And how?" She kicked out slightly, moved her arms in a
gentle backstroke, pulling him with her toward the cave wall. Reaching back, she held on to a grip she
managed to find in the wet rock.
"Tiberius," Kirk
said. "From all accounts he was a
perverted old coot. Actually
moved the capital of the
She nodded. Her eyes gleamed blue in the cave, her face
colored by aqua and azure streaks as the light rippled off the water. He reached up, found a grip and held on tight
as he leaned in to kiss her. Her mouth
met his in a sweet touch. She wrapped
her free arm around his neck, swung her legs up to straddle him.
He deepened the kiss,
intensely aware of how her body was pressing against his. "Chris," he moaned. He was suddenly very willing to try to
recreate one of Tiberius's orgies.
She kissed him back,
passionately, wildly. For
a moment. Then she eased off,
finally pulled away.
He tried to see her face but
she looked down. He could feel her
trembling in his arms. Heard her make an odd noise.
"It's okay." He tipped her head up, saw that she was
crying.
"I thought I could do
this..." She looked away.
"But you can't?"
She shook her head. "I want to though. I want to make him pay. And you've been so nice..."
He kissed her gently, the
touch of his lips on hers meant to be friendly, and comforting. He wanted her to know that he expected
nothing from her. "It's okay, Chris.
You're not like him."
"I'm not like him"
she repeated, her voice so sad she sounded almost broken.
"Hey." He kissed her again. "Not being like him is a good thing in
my book."
She nodded. Leaned in to give him a
gentle kiss. Then
another. "I'm sorry. I wasted your credits."
"No, you didn't. We're here, aren't we? In the Blue Grotto? We got in when everyone else was
afraid?"
She nodded, a slow smile starting. "We did."
"We could stay here for
a while, on
"Stay here?" She looked tempted, then
her expression turned nervous.
"Not for sex," he
said quickly. "Just
to explore the island. For fun."
"Fun?"
He nodded, had to reach in
for another kiss. Her lips were so
soft. "You remember what fun
is? Because I barely
do."
"I think I vaguely
remember." She smiled. "I have time off. Before I report to my new
assignment." She looked away
again, as if afraid to tell him what that assignment was. "You heard?"
He nodded. "I read the crew manifest. Congratulations. CMO is quite an achievement. And on the
She laughed,
a slightly bitter sound. "An
achievement many think I don't warrant, I bet."
She moved her hand from
around his neck to his head, was running her fingers through his hair. He wondered if she was even aware that she
was doing it. It felt terrific and he
closed his eyes for a moment.
"You know Decker
personally, I take it?" he finally asked her.
"He's Tom's best
friend. And he's become mine too. I've been mothering and badgering him now
for a year. And he actually listens to
me."
Kirk nodded. "That's crucial in a good CMO. And why McCoy was so valuable to me. Because as much as I hated it at times, he
was never afraid to tell me when I was way off on something."
She nodded. "I think I can do that for Will. He pushes himself so hard. He's been trying to live up to his dad's
reputation. And live it down at the same
time."
Kirk nodded. "He's lucky to have someone who
understands him."
She kissed him again, sweet,
little caresses that barely touched down on his lips, his cheeks, his neck. He moaned.
"I shouldn't do that,
should I?"
"You can." He grinned.
"It's nice. It's
friendly."
She grinned back. "I think it's more than that."
He kissed her the same way
she'd done to him, heard her giggle when he touched a sensitive spot behind her
ear. "Does that mean you want me to
stop kissing you?" He gave her one
more for good measure. A long, gentle kiss on her lips.
When he pulled away, she
sighed. Then she smiled,
a closed-mouthed smile that was both sweet and very sad. "No, I don't want you to stop."
"Good." He let go of her, felt her unwrap her legs
from around him. "The colors change
in here depending on where you are. Come
on."
They moved through the cave
without speaking; the only sounds were the swell of the sea against the
entrance and the walls, and their gentle breaststrokes occasionally breaking
the water.
"It's breathtaking,
Jim." She rolled to her back,
stared up at the ceiling. "Simply breathtaking."
He smiled,
glad he could give her something nice.
"Yes, it is."
--------------------------------
Chapel yawned. She put her head on Kirk's shoulder as the
transport made its slow way back to
"It's time to go to
sleep in
"Just
a little nap? Please?
When we find a hotel?" She
wrapped her arms around him, snuggled in.
"Please?"
"All right," he
said, as if she'd asked for the world and he'd just decided to give it to her.
She chuckled, allowed her
eyes to close. "Wake me when we get
there?" She felt his lips on her
forehead.
"You bet."
She woke to the same gentle
caress.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
She slowly sat up; they were
back at the transporter station. She
followed Kirk off the vehicle and into the busy plaza across the street. They walked for about three blocks, then he turned into an elegant hotel.
"This is the oldest
hotel on the island. I stayed here the
first time I visited." He bounded
up the steps, into the marble foyer.
She followed him more slowly,
taking in the lovely old style of the hotel.
When she joined him, he was looking at her thoughtfully.
"What is it?"
"They have one room
left." His voice was soft, pitched
so that only she could hear it. "With one bed."
"A big
one?"
He shook his head. Saw her reaction and said, "We can go
somewhere else. I'm sure--"
She touched his hand. "Get the room, Jim. We'll flip for the floor. Or we'll share the bed. No big deal."
He touched her hand where it
rested on his, then turned back around to reception.
She wandered over to where an
old woman sat at an easel working on a painting. Her eyes were closed, as if she was invoking
some scene and she hummed softly to herself.
Then she opened her eyes and began to dab paint onto the canvas.
"You like it?" she
asked Chapel without looking at her.
"Very much," Chapel
said. It reminded her of the painting of
the Blue Grotto that had so mesmerized her.
"What is this place?"
"The
Villa Jovis. Have you been?"
"No. We just got here."
"You had enough time to
swim though." The woman laughed
when Chapel started. "I can smell
the sea on you, my dear. Did you go down
to the
"No. To the Grotto."
"Which one, child?