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 PG-13.
The Party's Over
by Djinn
Christine is smiling. It is an odd smile, not the gentle one she
usually wears or the lopsided grin that comes out when she's had a little too
much to drink on shore leave. This is a
sad smile trying to be brave, an expression that, for all its brilliance, seems
to contain genuine misery. She is
leaving us. I thought that we'd be the
ones with the sad faces, wondering what our futures would hold, missing her
already. But instead she is the one who
looks as if her world is ending, not beginning anew.
She's going to med
school. Leaving, just like Janice did,
to improve her life. Leaving
with the blessings of the Captain and of her mentor--although McCoy looks a
little the worse for wear. I've
always wondered what he felt for Christine.
If he considered himself a big brother or, if things were different,
would he want more from her? I'll never
ask him, and he'll never volunteer that kind of information. Not to me, anyway.
He sees me looking at him and
walks over. "She's really leaving
us, Sulu." He reaches for one of
the bottles on the table behind me.
"I think this calls for a drink."
I look at his nearly full
glass and he laughs.
"Another
drink." He tops off his glass and raises his eyebrows
at my empty hands. "What's your poison?"
"I'm fine." He must wonder why I'm leaning up against the
drinks table if I don't plan on drinking.
I don't tell him that I learned in the Academy to stake out this spot. Everyone talks to you...but not for very
long. You get a reputation as a good
guy, a great listener. Without a lot of commitment.
It's the way to go if you're shy and trying not to be.
If I were at an Academy
party, I'd have a glass of something in my hand, even if it was just
water. I'd be one of them then, wouldn't
have to field any questions about why I'm not drinking. But I'm not at the Academy. I'm here, on the
But not
comfortable enough to pry my backside away from this table.
I hate being shy. I look over at Christine again, see her smile
that tight, twisted smile. She's shy
too. And she doesn't like being the center
of attention. She notices me looking at
her. Her grin this time is puzzled not
pained. I smile back, holding my hand up
in a drink-free salute. She laughs,
lifts her glass to me, then turns back to the crewman she is talking to.
I don't recognize him. He could be new, or he may have been onboard
for quite some time. He's not in my
section so I haven't met him. I need to
be better at that, especially if I'm going to have my own command someday. I watch Captain Kirk as he moves around the
room. No one is left out of his
notice. He says hello, talks for a
moment to everyone. He is so good at
reaching out, making everyone feel included, special. I want to be like that. I want to be like him.
He's stopped to talk to
Mister Spock. Seems to
be urging Spock to go talk to Christine.
I'm not sure it's a good idea.
Spock looks like he agrees with me.
Finally, he walks over, engages in what for him is probably small
talk. I can't hear what he is saying to
her, but he looks awkward. And she looks
pained again. She nods a few times. Then Spock leaves the recreation lounge.
Kirk looks as if he wishes he
hadn't sent the Vulcan over. He walks
over to Christine, gives her a hug and whispers something in her ear, something
that makes her smile in a bittersweet way.
Then he too leaves.
Chekov starts to hover around
her. He has a crush, has spent endless
lunches lately telling me about the blue of Christine's eyes or the flaxen
quality of her hair. He gets this way
over every woman who leaves. Stalks them
for a few weeks, then mourns them until the next
departure is announced. I wonder how he
ever got together with Irina. Did she
leave and then come back before anyone else left?
Christine sees him; her
expression tightens a bit. She's not
being unkind. Pav's
just damned annoying when he's in the full-on puppy love stage. And it's not like Christine doesn't know what
he's up to. She's seen him do this every
other time. I know she's not about to
become the woman of the moment. Fact is,
very few of Pav's obsessions ever give him the time
of day. I sometimes wonder if it would
spoil his fun if they did.
Uhura shoots me a knowing
look from across the room. She lifts an
eyebrow, glances over at Chekov then back at me. I nod, encouraging her to intervene this time,
not just laugh at his antics as she usually does. She rolls her eyes, then
walks over to give Christine a quick hug before dragging Chekov out of the
lounge. He'll wax melancholic the whole
way to his cabin. I know. I'm usually the one to drag him away.
The crowd is thinning
out. I should go too. But not just yet. I'm comfortable here, against the drinks
table. It's a good turnout for
Christine. I'm glad to see that. Glad that others appreciate her. It's good that she'll know she's going to be
missed. I know I'll miss her, especially
on shore leaves. It was on shore leaves
that I got to know her. Usually drunken binges where Uhura and Chekov and Christine and I
would try to see who'd be left standing.
I almost always won. At least in the left standing department. Uhura used to tell me I couldn't actually win
if I didn't drink. That was okay with
me. I'd rather be in control than win
some damn drinking game.
I see Scotty come up and give
Christine a sloppy, Scotch-fueled hug and kiss.
She doesn't seem to mind. He's
always been kind to her. She returns the
favor now, holding his hand for a long moment before letting him go.
I look around, take stock of who's left. A few
engineers remain in the corner of the room; they always close down a
party. The rest of the crowd seems to be
afflicted with the 'party's over' virus.
They steal from the room like little sheep, one after each other,
murmuring goodbyes and good luck to Christine as they head for their quarters
or other parts of the ship.
Christine starts to head over
to me, but is waylaid by McCoy. He seems
to be standing closer to her than he usually does. He leans in even more to whisper something. She laughs and pushes him away. When he pouts, she kisses him on the forehead,
turns him toward the door, and gives him a gentle but firm push. He weaves a bit as he heads for the exit,
eventually reaches the door and makes it through without hitting the sides.
Christine turns and walks
over to me. She pours herself a drink,
the first real one she's had. The glass
she held all night was filled with water.
I saw her fill it. It's a trick
you learn when you're shy. Better to
stay in control, then to end up in a place you don't understand.
She leans up against the
table, her arm brushing against mine as she settles in. "Everyone's a fan tonight," she
says.
"It's your night."
"Not like I'm
special. How many times have we watched
this happen, Hikaru? How many parties
have we been at where everyone was out for a piece of the guest of
honor?" She laughs so softly I
almost miss the sound. "It's the
opposite of fresh meat. It's 'no regret'
meat."
I chuckle at that. But she's right. Goodbyes are dangerous.
"Where were all these
admirers when I was lonely or sad? Where
were all these open arms when all I wanted was someone to hold me?"
It was a good question. And an easy one to answer. Elsewhere. They were elsewhere.
"I hate this." She swishes the ice around in her glass, the soft tinkle of the cubes seems at odds with the
angry look on her face. Even now she's
careful not to spill, doesn't want to make a scene. Quiet, it's how our
lives are, how we like them.
"Maybe it just takes
some folks a while to realize they're going to miss you?"
She shoots me a look.
"Okay, so three years is
a bit more than a while. But you know
the old saying, 'You don't know what you've got till it's gone'? I think it applies here."
"Can we change the
subject?"
She's angry. Her voice is tight, strained almost. Fine. We'll change the subject.
"What did the Captain
say to you," I ask.
She doesn't seem to like this
subject much better.
I look over at her. "It was about Spock, wasn't it?"
She sighs. "He said that Spock's a fool."
Smart man. Like I said, I
want to be just like him. "He's
right."
She glances over at me,
shakes her head. "Our last party
together..." She trails off and I
wonder what she was going to say. Then
she throws back her drink and says, "Who's going to hold up the other end of
the table?"
Normally, she doesn't stand
so close to me. Normally, she's at one
end of the table and I'm at the other.
We let the others come to us. When
they're otherwise occupied, we talk to each other. I realize parties are going to be much less comfortable
without her there. And a whole lot less fun too. I always enjoyed talking to her more than
mingling with the others.
She looks at me again,
waiting for my answer. I shrug, the
gesture seems helpless. I wonder if the
smile I shoot her is as pained as the one she wore all evening.
She turns away, looks back
out at the nearly empty room.
"I'm going to miss the
view from back here."
I'm about to tell her that
I'm going to miss her when the engineers shout goodbye to her, one of them even
comes over for an impromptu dip and kiss.
As he walks away, she wipes her mouth off with her hand.
"I thought it was bad
when no one paid attention to me. This
is worse."
The engineers wave at us then
clear out. The room is empty
finally. We stand for a moment in the
silence, then I start to laugh. I turn to look at her.
The angry look is
fading. She begins to laugh too. "We've closed down a party,
Hikaru."
"Guess there's a first
time for everything."
"Guess so." She pours herself a refill, only half a glass
this time.
"There's
a lot of things we've never done."
The statement shocks me. It's not
what I meant to say. It's a stupid thing
to say.
She seems to agree. She turns to look at me. "Not you too."
"No, Christine, I just
meant..." What the hell did I
mean? I should leave. Now. Before I say something even
more stupid. But I don't want to
leave.
But when Christine starts to
go, I realize I don't want to stay either.
Not alone. Not without her. "Christine, I--"
She turns so quickly it
startles me. Her expression is
annoyed. "Please don't tell me that
you're just one more fool looking for a night of no regrets."
"That's not fair,
Christine. You know that." I reach for her hand and she pulls it
away. "I didn't mean to make you
mad. I...I'm not sure why I said
that."
She ignores me, just
concentrates on finishing her drink.
I try to think of something
clever to say. Something
light. "No one will hold up
the other end of that table."
She looks as if she would
like to stay annoyed with me, but the words make her smile. "Maybe it's time to let the table fend
for itself?"
"Maybe."
She doesn't say more and I
realize that she is about to walk away again.
"It's not about no
regrets," I say.
She turns to me, her
expression has moved past annoyance and straight into disbelief. "What?
You suddenly can't live without me?
I thought that was Chekov's routine?"
"I'm not saying that I'm
in love with you."
Her eyebrows go up. "I'm not sure that approach is much of
an improvement."
I smile. "I mean, I do love you. You're my friend. And we've been there for each other."
She doesn't smile. Her expression is so grim that I consider
giving up. What am I trying to do
anyway?
"I care for you. I'm going to miss you. A lot. Maybe I'm a little afraid of what it's going
to be like without you here."
"I'm afraid too,"
she finally says.
"Of
what?"
"Of my
future. Of it being too much for
me." She glances at me. "Of the way you're looking at
me." She takes a step back. "Why, Sulu?"
I shake my head.
I can tell by the look in her
eyes that she needs a lot more than that.
She'll run if I don't think fast.
My brain refuses to work.
"Goodnight." She hurries away.
I wait long enough to think
of a couple dozen reasons why I shouldn't follow. Then I go after her. The corridor outside her quarters is empty as
I ring the chime. She answers it, does
not seem surprised to see me.
"Is this a good
idea?" she whispers.
"No," I say,
without hesitation.
Then I wait. She studies me for the longest time before
she finally takes my hand and pulls me inside.
We stare at each other.
"One of us should say
something."
She's right. One of us should.
"What do you want from
me," I finally ask her, wondering if she'll understand just how much
territory that question covers.
She understands. "Everything. But just for the night."
It sounds just right. "Everything."
"But just for the
night."
I smile. "Well, let's not rule out the
morning."
She laughs.
I laugh too.
Then we kiss. It's nice.
Sweet. Two friends saying goodbye.
Maybe forever.
It quickly becomes more than
just nice.
I wonder what life would have
been like if we had done this sooner. I wonder
if she's thinking the same thing.
I quit wondering about things
I can't change and pay attention to her instead. She looks like she's doing the same
thing. Paying
attention to the present.
It's all the time we'll ever
have.
And, as I kiss her again, I
think that's all right. One night--and a
morning--and then goodbye will be fine.
That's what I tell myself. But I
can already see that it's a lie, that in the morning, when I'll leave her after
very little sleep, it won't seem fine at all.
I'm not exactly sure what I
am feeling now, or what I'll be feeling then.
But I do know it's a hell of a long way from no regrets.
FIN