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's 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's 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's 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 Enterprise. Where I
don't have to resort to subterfuge. If I want to drink, I do. If I don't,
there's no reason I have to pretend. I'm that comfortable with these people.
But not comfortable enough to
pry my backside away from this table.
I hate being shy. I look over
at Christine again and 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 and lifts her glass to me, then turns back to the
crewman she's 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's
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's 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 and
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 to 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 and 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 and
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 and 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 are 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'd 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's about to walk away again.
"It's not about no
regrets," I say.
She turns to me and 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 and doesn't
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 only 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