AUs of our AUs: A timeline diverges, and a would-be queen leaves her kingdom behind.

[deheldegarthe]

Hadand knew he was here. She waited in the throne room, dressed in her family's green rather than the royal crimson, a black sash at her waist. Cama stood by in Shield Arm position, having had both the faith in Hadand and Evred and the air of authority necessary to take over the Guard and back Hadand's orders. When Evred finally reached the throne room, his arrival heralded as much by the people's gasps and murmurs as by any formal announcement, she saluted, fist to heart.

Everything blurred together after that. Evred got her alone at first opportunity, taking Hadand by the hands once they were safely shut into the royal nursery where they had grown up together. "You held the kingdom. There's nothing greater anyone could ask."

It struck her suddenly, how tall and straight he'd grown. Only his expressions distinguished him from his late father. There were new lines around his eyes since last she'd seen him. Even at twenty, he was old enough and wise enough that Hadand could easily trust him with a kingdom. She would trust Evred with anything, herself included. He could never care for her romantically, of course, and she stamped out any faint tendrils of attraction before they could take root and grow strong.

"Sponge--" she started, cutting herself off at use of the childhood nickname. "Evred, I know you have far more than your share of worries right now, but could I ask you to take on one more?" At his nod of assent, an unspoken 'of course' implied in the look that accompanied it, she continued. "There are whispers in the palace. Eyes follow me, and people stop speaking when I enter a room. I've no wish to burden you, but things changed after my father went home to Choread Elgaer. I fear it may mean more trouble coming."

He squeezed her hands briefly before releasing them. "Hadand," and he paused here to consider his words, "you know that I trust you completely, and know you too well to believe any testimony against you." The one bit of broken trust between them had been long-since forgiven, though never forgotten. Evred loved her like a sister. He had always trusted and looked up to her, in a way he never had his own sibling.

"That means there is false testimony," Hadand concluded, as he'd known she would. "Lies to further muddy the waters, as if things weren't bad enough. What do they say?"

Evred's mouth twisted. "You were implicated in my brother's assassination." At her look of outrage, he continued, "I doubt they can get you executed for it, but they will almost certainly have you imprisoned in the numbers they are amassing to back their story.

"Hadand, I want you to go. Like Inda." He never mentioned Inda aloud anymore, but Hadand knew her youngest brother was always in Evred's thoughts. The name alone was proof of his seriousness. "I want you out of reach of this, and there will be no honorable return to Iasca Leror. It is all I can do for you. You deserve to be Hadand-Gunvaer, and hailed as Deheldegarthe by the people. You earned that place. You defended the throne with your own two hands, and I had thought to ask..."

He trails off momentarily, before shaking his head. "Go to Lindeth Harbor. Sail on the ship with least ties to home."

Hadand had remained stoic throughout the speech, but that last word, home, broke her facade. Evred could see how lost she felt now, rather than just surmising it. She knew nothing of space travel. When Barend came home to speak of his time aboard ships, it sounded like nonsense to her. And Iasca Leror was, of course, her home. Hadand could recall no time when she had not known that she would be its queen one day. Her life was here. Her family, what little of it remained to her, was here.

Her family.

With Hadand gone, that would leave not a single one of her parents' children alive and within the kingdom. Her mother would be left with the two girls she'd raised to wed the two sons now lost to her, and not even any letters from a daughter in the royal city as consolation.

That was unacceptable. "If I go," she said quietly, "I need a promise from you. As my friend, my family, and my king."

"Anything," he promised, "if it is within my power to do."

Hadand breathed deep before she spoke again, chin jutting out stubbornly. "Bring my brother home. Swear it to me, and swear it to my mother. Write to my mother from time to time. Tell her I escaped safely. Pass along my love, if you can manage it." She reached out, very lightly touching Evred's arm. Her voice was very soft. "Inda's situation was nothing like mine. He refused a whipping after contrived boyhood dishonor, not because he was afraid but because he did not deserve it. Find a way to set it aside. The revelation of your uncle's other treachery should help. Find Inda, and set things right."

He said he would, and so, she left.

As luck would have it, Hadand found the most foreign ship of all, one whose ties were in an entirely different part of the galaxy. Hadand pled her case with Captain Janeway of the Voyager and was allowed aboard. It pained her to leave Iasca Leror and know that there would truly be no return, but at least now there can be no second guessing.

Hadand can never go home.

She tries to settle into her new life aboard ship, the greenest of new recruits but willing to learn. Hadand cautiously works her way into the crew trying to find a place and a purpose after losing the only ones she'd known.

Comments

[chakotay]

Chakotay falls silent for a time, letting her words settle between them as he considers what she's just said. True, to some it might seem that both situations were the same, but he could see the differences. Where the Marlovans had allowed the Iascans to intermarry and still exist in some form, the conquerors who pushed his people out time and again had not. It was all or nothing for his people. In an effort to get her to better understand that, he draws upon his gift of storytelling, another piece passed down from his ancestors.

"On the great plains of Earth, there once existed a group of animals called cheetahs," he begins slowly, turning to face her once they've stopped along the shore of the ocean they could hear. The water crashes against the rocky edges, spraying any who dare go closer. Somehow it seems fitting for this. "They were predators, yes, but not particularly strong. They only took what prey they needed to survive and would not wander beyond their lands. Content with their lives and happy to worship and live as their ancestors did, the cheetahs existed peacefully for many, many years. One day, a pride of lions arrived. These lions were large and very strong. They had larger teeth and a roar that echoed across the entire plains. When they killed, they did so for sport more than food and they quickly scared away all of the cheetahs' food supply. But more than that, they promised peace to the the cheetahs, a peace that was never to come. Over and over the lions betrayed the cheetahs. Again and again the lions forced the cheetahs from their ancestral lands, claiming that territory for their own. Those who resisted were killed. The last time this happened, the cheetahs decided to stand and fight against the lions. Their losses have been numerous, but they are unwilling to sacrifice their connection to this land."

There's more he could say, but it's delving into a personal discussion, one he'll have to start from the very beginning. And not with a story. Explaining about the Cardassians and the Maquis will take a lot more time. Instead, he focuses on the similarities and differences between her people and his.

"Somehow, I don't think your ancestors did to the Iascans what the conquerors did to my people," he finishes quietly. "Your people allowed the Iascans to mix. The two cultures rose as one. That option was never given to my people, whether we would have accepted or not." And who knew if they really would have accepted? It's hard to say, even now. This latest conflict would be met with a resounding no, though. The Cardassians would never have opted for a blending of cultures and none of the people involved would have accepted it, not after what the Cardassians had done. Not after the Bajoran Occupation.

He turns a little more to face her, his head tilted so she can see the marking on his face. "My people wear this tattoo as a symbol of our tribe, our connection to the Sky Spirits, who are genetically bonded with us. It's an outward sign of my people." It's something he treasures now that he doesn't have his father's wisdom and guidance in life. To Chakotay, the tattoo makes him feel as though he can uphold his father's values and perhaps earn back the love and respect he had so carelessly thrown away. It also means that there are no other members of his tribe aboard Voyager. In that sense, he is alone.

"There's a lot about Voyager that you don't yet know, a lot that I should tell you if you are to understand us. More than that, though... I want to tell you, if you'd care to listen." He wants her to know because he has come to care about her in a very personal way. The difficulty is figuring out how and getting her to understand why he did what he did, what the Maquis stood for, and how bad their lives would have been under Cardassian rule. He doesn't know how she'll take it and that has him a little nervous. It was easier with Kathryn; at least they always knew the other's stance in this conflict.

[deheldegarthe]

Hadand trusts Chakotay not to hold her personally accountable for the actions of her people. She does, but a part of her is still braced for him to take this poorly. Not to outright condemn her, both because it would be out of character for him and because she could very convincingly argue the point. Hadand fears instead that it will create a distance between them that has never been there before.

When Chakotay replies with a story rather than an immediately obvious answer, she holds her breath and listens carefully. Hadand looks for the meaning in it, waiting with far less patience than she appears to have. It's true that there are differences in the situations, but those do not negate the parallels Hadand has already pointed out. The betrayals and conflict in her own people's history have never been Marlovan against Iascan but among the Marlovans themselves. The Montredavan-An family comes to mind, rulers until they were deposed by the Montrei-Vayirs. That Chakotay's story focuses on differences rather than similarities fills Hadand with relief in spite of the rush of sympathy for his people. She underestimated Chakotay.

Or perhaps not so much Chakotay as the bond between them. Their friendship is still new. Hadand admits now that she has been viewing it as a far more fragile thing than it truly is. She fears for it because it is so new and because she values it so highly. There is strength there. He clearly reciprocates the regard in which she holds him. It didn't break at this first test, and she would be doing both Chakotay and herself a disservice to believe it will at the next.

"I don't think it was ever intended to be an option," Hadand muses. "I think a large part of it it happened gradually, managed so carefully that the Marlovans didn't realize how much of Iascan culture they were allowing themselves to adopt. I think the Iascans tricked the ones who would have protested." She smiles at that. Hadand can appreciate secret movements for the good of a people, even if those movements were against her own ancestors. After all, some Iascans number among her ancestors as well. That's what they accomplished with their efforts. Never Iascan rulers, but rulers with Iascan words on their lips and at least a few drops of Iascan blood running through their veins.

Hadand has wondered about the tattoo, and knowing it identifies his people leads her to the obvious conclusion. He is the only one of his people aboard the Voyager, just as Hadand is. It suddenly seems like a much greater honor to learn about the traditions of his people, knowing that those traditions are Chakotay's alone among the crew. "Would you tell me about the Sky Spirits later?" she asks.

If she'd care to listen has never been in question for even a second. "Of course. I want to hear it." The way he very clearly expresses a desire to tell her rather than simply a willingness is an important distinction, and it warms Hadand. "About the ship, the crew, or your history and traditions." Chakotay's specifically, as well as those of his people as a whole. "I'll listen to anything you want to share."

[chakotay]

Chakotay nods once at her question. Of course he would be happy to tell her all about the Sky Spirits when they have a chance. Hadand can know; Chakotay wouldn't mind divulging more about his people to her. It's the larger and more personal story that has him a little uncertain on where to begin. There's so much to tell her, so much that he needs to go over, and the subject matter itself won't be the easiest for Hadand to swallow.

"I'll tell you all about the Sky Spirits another time," he agrees, the smile slowly sliding off his face as he watches her reaction. "As for the other tale... it won't be nearly as pleasant." That's about all the warning he can really give. Shifting his weight a little, he reaches up to the collar of his uniform and unpins the bar signifying his rank. He turns it around and then offers it to Hadand so she can examine it while he speaks.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now the differences between some of the crew's rank insignia, especially mine and Captain Janeway's," he begins, his eyes on the symbol of his rank in Starfleet. "Starfleet ranks are usually shown with the pip system used by the captain and most of the crew. They are Starfleet officers. Those like me wear a provisional rank insignia. We aren't part of Starfleet and even though we are all acting as one cohesive unit, obeying our captain and Starfleet protocols and directives, we will not forget and the Federation will not forget who we were before this."

No one would forget. There was far too much animosity and downright hatred between the two for either to ever forget. Perhaps forgiveness would come now that most of the Maquis have been killed and the ones left are either in prison or lost in the Delta Quadrant. Likely not. Likely they will still face whatever punishment Starfleet would like to bring down upon them for their stubborn refusal to agree to the treaty and leave their planets to Cardassian rule.

"A few years ago, the Federation negotiated a treaty with the Cardassians that redefined the borders between Cardassian space and Federation space. It also created a demilitarized zone between the two sections. The problems arose when certain Federation planets suddenly found themselves in Cardassian space. The Cardassians wanted them to leave and refused to take no for an answer. The Federation was forced to abandon these people who would not leave. Many of them came together to form an organization called the Maquis, as an attempt to combat the Cardassians and keep their planets safe. Cardassians are not known for their compassion. Prisoners are often treated to the worst conditions imaginable." Torture and executions. Torture by Cardassians isn't usually just physical torture, either. Cardassians are known for being terrible prison guards, as any Bajoran of the last few generations would know.

"During one encounter, my ship and crew escaped into a region of space known as the Badlands. Captain Janeway and Voyager were sent to track us down and bring us back to be held accountable for our actions by Starfleet. Instead, both of us were pulled into the Delta Quadrant. Through a long series of events, my ship was lost. Captain Janeway and I decided to merge the two crews as one. Her First Officer had been killed, so she appointed me to take his place. We both thought that having the two leaders as the top-ranking officers would do more towards helping the crews merge and accept one another than promoting another Starfleet officer. The Maquis crew members were either given the ranks they had once held in Starfleet or what would be the equivalent." He knows that opens up a variety of questions like how many of them had been Starfleet officers, whether or not Chakotay himself once was, and what had made him join the Maquis if he had been Starfleet. At this point, he is prepared to answer those as well.

"The Cardassians considered us a military threat. The Federation called us terrorists. Those of us aboard Voyager aren't expecting a warm welcome home." He certainly isn't and the small, sad sort of smile he adopts fully says as much.

[deheldegarthe]

Hadand gives Chakotay's words all the attention they deserve. She can hear in his voice how much the confession costs him. Waiting patiently until he's finished, the first words from her lips are, "Did you think I would hold this against you?"

She doesn't. She's glad to know, grateful for the sudden burst of understanding of Chakotay's past as well as the undercurrents she's known she's been failing to read among the crew members, but Hadand doesn't blame him. "It sounds like yet another broken promise, another instance of your people being forced from their homes." Meeting Chakotay's eyes with a steady gaze, Hadand declares softly, "I would have fought." Hadand has never been one to give ground gracefully.

"Did you attack non-military targets? Settlements, places where people lived and raised families? Those are the kind of pirates I've spent my life hating." It's true that Hadand has been raised to harbor no mercy toward pirates. There's very good reason for it, something she'll tell him someday without hesitation. Maybe even this day. But the boundaries have blurred recently. And she trusts Chakotay in a way that Hadand has rarely given trust outside of those close enough to be family.

Not to mention that Hadand's brother might just as well be one of the Maquis in terms of his standing within this part of space. Her dear, affectionate, open little brother. She has no idea how he's grown up, but Hadand can trace his actions and find in them a sense of honor. More than that, a sense that he's never forgotten his home and those who love him, even in exile.

"I can no more hate you for your actions than I could hate my brother for his." She'll explain that, too. Today for sure, not at some point in a distant or nebulous future. It's the only real secret she has left, though there are still a few things no one aboard knows about Hadand's life. Chakotay and the Voyager's crew have more than earned the telling. "I just wonder at your trying so hard to get home, when you expect the worst to greet you once you get back. I don't want to see you executed or imprisoned should we make it there."

There are plenty more questions, like who among the crew, particularly Chakotay, was once a Starfleet officer, or what the state of things was in his part of space before he was brought to the Delta Quadrant. Why he joined the Maquis doesn't seem like a thing that needs questioning, and no questions at all seem important enough to ask now. Not when he just laid so much out in the open, and not when she could offer acceptance instead.

[chakotay]

In all honesty, Chakotay and the rest of the Maquis are used to having Starfleet hold that against them. Even the Starfleet crew of Voyager had until time and circumstance had forced them each to see through each other's eyes and come to an acceptance that in order to get home they need to work with each other. Each side needs the other. Over time and because of events like Seska and the Kazon, Voyager's crew had come together into one. They were no longer two separate entities, even though they won't forget the circumstances that brought them together in the first place.

He hesitates at her question, mostly because he can't say for all of them. Some of the Maquis were mercenaries, some were displaced people like him, and some just wanted the glory and fun of a good fight. For his part, the answer is clear. "I never did. No one who served under me would stoop that low. There were some people who joined the Maquis as mercenaries or just for the fight, but the main goal, the idea of the Maquis, was always to protest Cardassian rule. We weren't far enough into Cardassian space to have much of an impact on their civilians, certainly nowhere near Cardassia Prime, and our fight wasn't with the Federation unless the Federation brought the fight to us. Like Voyager would have." He can't blame her for hating pirates like that and if his admission about the Maquis tarnishes their friendship, he won't hold it against her.

The rest of her words give him pause and for a moment his gaze grows distant as he considers the inquiry. It's a legitimate concern, something they have all thought about more than once. The answer comes easily, firmly. "I think that, when we do make it back to Earth, Kathryn will stand up for us. Perhaps not against what we did before, but for what we've done since." He uses the captain's first name to make a point, a point that shows the relationship between the two of them. No one else on board dares use her first name, but she had once given him permission and since she never retracted it, he has taken full advantage of it. Doing so now shows their strong bond and emphasizes the strength between the crew of Voyager. They are friends. They are family.

"Earth is only home to the Starfleet officers," he continues, deciding in a split second to speak of something no one speaks of. Chakotay had faced it when he had forced B'Elanna out of her spiral of depression after they heard the news, but since then no one has spoken of it. The war seems so far removed from them, or they are so far removed from the war, that dwelling on it doesn't seem to be helping. Dwelling on their losses never helped. "The rest of us consider our homes elsewhere, especially now. We heard last year, in a brief communique with friends and family in the Alpha Quadrant, that, aside from the small handful who were in Federation prisons at the time of the attack, the Maquis on Voyager are the only ones left. You're right. We don't know what will come, what Starfleet will do when we get back, but we still want to try. Because it's home. And we want to see this war end."

Somehow he thinks she, of all people, might understand.

[deheldegarthe]

As Chakotay didn't hold the crimes of Hadand's ancestors against her, she has no intention of holding the actions of those not on his crew or under his command against him. "That's all I needed to know," she says softly. "I have reasons for hating pirates. I believed better of you, but I wanted to hear you say it. That none of your crew were anything like those who murdered my father's first family."

She looks down at the ground for a moment, taking her steady gaze off Chakotay for the first time since his confession began. "He never recovered," Hadand admits, even more quietly. The sounds of the gulls overhead nearly mask the sound of her words, but they should be just barely audible over distant bird cries. "Even by the time I was born, and then grown, he was still so distant that only family loyalty made him more than a stranger."

Hadand has family loyalty in spades. So does her father, when he can be roused to the present. He barely knows her, though. He rode to the royal city seeking justice after finding out who paid off those pirates. When her father found most of the royal family dead and his daughter giving orders in the throne room, his staying to back her up was the most time and visible devotion she's ever had from him. Even then, he left before Evred returned home, pronouncing himself satisfied where justice was concerned. Cama Tya-Vayir waited with her after that, acting as shield arm and backing up Hadand's orders if anyone questioned them.

She understands the underlying message in his use of the captain's name, smiling as 'Kathryn' crosses Chakotay's lips. Hadand knows all about that. She called Aldren by name to his face sometimes, but when talking about him, it was always 'the Sierlaef.' He was the only one who grew up in the royal nursery during her generation that Hadand ever referred to by title. And Anderle was never anything but 'the Sierandael' or 'the Harskialdna,' even though his wife was Aunt Ndara. The use of names as opposed to titles or ranks means something, and may in fact have been the first very simple code she learned as a child. Use of Captain Janeway's first name is a reassurance within the reassurance, and she takes it as such.

"Of course you want to," she agrees with heartfelt sincerity evident in her voice, lips tightening in sympathy as her mouth closes on the last word. But if that end means loss of yet another home, yet another planet...

After this talk with Chakotay, Hadand no longer feels like the only person aboard who's lost her home. If anything, she sympathizes more with the Maquis than with the Starfleet officers, in spite of all the military training and command structure she's had in her life up until this point. At least those from Starfleet have the expectation that home awaits, if they can just get there. Hadand can do nothing to regain her world for herself, nor to help preserve it from Venn attack. She isn't sure she'd risk everything the Maquis have put on the line, not for worlds that she's never even seen, but if there is any way she can help, she wants to.

[chakotay]

Concern and empathy cross Chakotay's face as he listens to Hadand's explanation about her father. In her shoes, he would hate all pirates and anyone who could remotely be considered the same. In her shoes, he might even be angry at people like the Maquis for the slightest possibility of the same. It speaks to her character that she can separate them like she is and that certainly makes him care for her even more.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly to her, reaching over to place a steadying and comforting hand on her shoulder. His gaze remains steadfast, though sympathetic. He's known plenty of people who lost family and friends to the Cardassians. And now, a sizable portion of the crew has lost many people they might call family, brothers and sisters in arms against a common enemy. They're the only ones left.

"Things are different now," he continues, letting her dictate whether or not his hand remains on her shoulder. "We won't know how different until we get back. Communication with Starfleet is very rare. We were lucky to get anything at all."

Five years passed before they received any communication at all and that had been completely accidental. It had also set a new enemy upon them, one they've only recently been able to dislodge. Someday he'll have to tell her about the Hirogen, though they seem to be fairly distant now, distant even from her planet. With luck, if they go after anyone in this section of space, they'll hit the Venn, a prime target for their hunting games.

The Hirogen and the Venn. Now that is a terrifying thought.

Chakotay lets the moment rest, maybe a little too long. What interrupts them isn't the idea to go somewhere else or head down the beach. It's the Doctor's voice calling over the comm system.

"Sickbay to Commander Chakotay."

Knowing exactly what this is about, Chakotay gives a mock wince in Hadand's direction before he taps his combadge to answer. "Go ahead, Doctor."

"Neelix tells me you took our guest off his hands earlier." The accusatory tone is easy to hear, as is the pout practically dripping from the Doctor's words. "I checked the duty logs, so there's no use trying to deny that you're off duty. I would appreciate it if you would bring her by sickbay so I don't have to come charging around like a bloodhound."

"Understood, Doctor. Chakotay out."

As the comm line closes, Chakotay gives Hadand an apologetic look, even through his amused smile. "I think our secret is out," he teases, though that quickly fades to sincerity. "The Doctor's been after me ever since you came aboard. He wants to get your medical records on file. I just didn't want to overwhelm you."

[deheldegarthe]

Chakotay's quiet sympathy, with economy of words and an anchoring hand on her shoulder, affects Hadand far more deeply than any comforting speech could. Rather than moving away or shrugging free of his grip, Hadand finds herself fighting the urge to step closer. Her heart speeds in her chest, and she is near dizzy with realization.

He's older than her, though not of her parents' generation. Chakotay is still young enough, and strong as well as compassionate. He's shared so much with her, and Hadand has been more open with him than with anyone, here or at home. She's actually spoken secrets that, while known, were held almost entirely in silence among her closest friends and family. Though Hadand rarely gives her full trust, Chakotay has it. It's the sudden desire for more than trust and companionship that unnerves her. She wants more than the contact they have right now, wanting to hear him breathing, to touch him.

But Hadand doesn't know if he wants her. She has no idea of the customs of his people, nor of shipboard protocols. And what exists now between them, their friendship, is too valuable to risk in hasty action. Hadand will set aside her feelings to be examined later.

Despite that, she can't deny him the same comfort he's offered her. At the reiteration of the fact that his own world may be as lost to him as hers, Hadand reaches out to grip Chakotay's other arm. She squeezes his upper arm lightly in wordless comfort.

Hadand won't be the one to break contact, and the moment stretches as long on her end as it does on Chakotay's.

The interruption, which preserves her sense of caution, is met with some relief. Hadand smiles and ducks her head. She is grateful for the excuse not to meet Chakotay's eyes for a moment, fighting a chuckle at the petulance evident in the doctor's tone. "You could have asked sooner," she chides Chakotay gently, amusement still audible in the form of a barely suppressed laugh. "I'm not so easily overwhelmed. We'll go now and appease the doctor."

She still needs to tell Chakotay about Inda today, but that can wait. He's already promised her his evening.

[chakotay]

Chakotay doesn't offer to spend time with just anyone. The whole crew has likely realized it by now and the Gossip Squadron, as Kathryn and Chakotay had named the group of gossipers on the crew, can't be helping. If he were actually paying attention to the amount of time they've spent together, Chakotay might figure out that it's a good idea to keep an eye out for the members now. Tom Paris might have sent someone to keep an eye on the holodeck, for example, now that the Commander is actually using it.

In fact, he's pretty sure he saw Ensign Vorik walk by as they entered.

All that isn't much of a concern when faced with the sight of this young woman. She is young, yes, younger than Kathryn. But she isn't so young that it might be taboo. He's pretty sure most people would understand. Having her hand on his arm in return seems to stretch the moments. It's as though time stands still during one of his vision quests, a point where he has to stop and take his time. Right now, they have all the time in the world.

Until the interruption.

Chakotay ducks his head as he finally pulls back a little to put space between them and let their hands fall back to their sides. Admittedly, he's a little flustered, but at the same time, he's enjoying their talk. Getting to know her has been one of the highlights of his life on Voyager.

"You say that now," he responds, his grin warm and open. "Computer, end program." The landscape disappears and the castle with it, leaving the dry and empty holodeck for them to step out of. Once they're in the corridor -- and that is definitely Naomi Wildman who just waved and called out, "Hi, Commander!" as she walked by in the opposite direction -- he turns to head for the turbo life and sickbay. Inside, he gives the command for the right deck and lets the doors slide shut before continuing.

"The Doctor takes a little getting used to. Not as much as Neelix, but he's... a character." The Doctor is great, but his sense of humor and chiding might be a little interesting for her to get used to. There's also the part where he's a hologram. Chakotay hasn't told her that and he doesn't plan on it. He'll let her find that out on her own.

[deheldegarthe]

Hadand's breath catches in her throat as Chakotay steps back. She can't be sure whether she's interpreting the expression on his face correctly, but, briefly, hope mingles with the small rush of emptiness at his withdrawal. Hadand thinks that perhaps for a second before her gaze dropped downward, she saw a mirror to her own thoughts. She won't speak or act now, nor set her heart on reciprocation. She shies away from further acknowledgement of what she feels.

"I'll still say it later," she insists with a merry grin, taking refuge in comfortable banter. "You underestimate me."

The ease with which they recover from the moment between them and its interruption is reassuring, another reminder that their friendship is too strong to be upset by anything else that might change. Regardless of whether anything more happens between them, Hadand can hope to keep that.

When they enter the corridor to a cheery greeting from a young girl Hadand hasn't yet seen more than occasional glimpses of, she turns to Chakotay and asks, "Who was that? I've seen her a few times now, but it surprised me to find a child aboard." Hadand likes children, as her smile would imply. She hasn't gotten to spend much time around anyone Naomi's age since she was young herself, visiting home and seeing her four-years-younger brother. Hadand rarely interacted with the Academy boys, who didn't come for training until age ten anyway. And the girls she did work with were even older, fifteen before they entered the Queen's training.

"Warning taken. Are medical examinations standard for all crew members?" Hadand asks curiously once the pair are in the lift and on their way to sick bay. They aren't, in Marlovan culture. People seek medical attention as needed rather than having baseline records to keep track of health problems. "I'm healthy enough, but I suppose it would make sense to note differences in physiology before I'm injured and already in need of treatment. I assume I'm the first Marlovan he'll have treated." Well, mostly Marlovan. All Marlovans have taken on Iascan traits by now.

[chakotay]

Chakotay grins in response to her returning banter. "I'll make a point never to do that again," he promises, both in teasing and seriousness. He doesn't intend to underestimate her ever again.

"That was Naomi Wildman, Captain's Assistant," he answers, glancing in the little girl's direction as the turbo lift doors slide shut. Once they're shut into the lift, he adds on, "She was born on Voayger about four years ago and she already wants to help out. Most likely she was running an errand for the Captain. It's never anything big, always something like taking PADDs around or running me the duty roster. She does it happily. If we're out here long enough, Kathryn might have to worry about her job security."

It's a complete joke, even if it's common knowledge that Naomi would be happy in the captain's seat someday.

"They are. Everyone's expected to report to sickbay once a month for a physical, a check-up, to be sure we're doing all right." Chakotay glances at her for a second, nodding. "The Doctor would much rather have everyone's physiology and records on file for that exact reason. Life here isn't easy and it's better to know what to expect than be surprised." She is the first Marlovan he'll have seen, but that goes without saying.

When the turbo lift finally spits them out on the right deck, they turn and start down the hall to find the Doctor making his way down. Chakotay spies the ever present mobile emitter on his arm, a very small piece of equipment that allows him to move outside of sickbay. It isn't something that any of the other crew members wears, but Chakotay decides to let Hadand be observant enough to note that.

For his part, the Doctor looks thoroughly exasperated. "I'm glad to see you took my warning seriously," he says with the air of someone who has just had a great grievance done against him. Chakotay has to work to hide a grin. "I wasn't looking forward to going to find you. I'm a doctor, not a bloodhound."

"Sorry, Doctor. She's all yours," Chakotay says, looking back to Hadand. "See you at 1800 hours." With that, he'll leave the Doctor to his patient.

[deheldegarthe]

Hadand is still smiling when she answers, "I'm glad to hear it. I'll try to return the favor." She thinks it unlikely that she would underestimate Chakotay, given the amount of respect she has for him. She'll be careful in future, though, never to underestimate his friendship.

When he answers her question about Naomi, one aspect of it comes as a surprise. "Four years?" Hadand asks. "I was under the impression that most of those aboard had fairly similar lifespans and aging processes to my people's, though of course there would be a few exceptions. She looked older." At four, Hadand spoke multiple languages and was learning to read and write, teaching Evred all her lessons at the same time though he was only two. Honor and expectations were always serious, for keeps, even for the very youngest Academy boys. She would never think anyone incapable just because of age. In fact, it speaks well of Naomi that she wants to be useful even if it hasn't been required of her.

Shaking her head, she remarks dryly in regard to the medical exams, "Monthly seems excessive to me. It's been years since I was clumsy enough to miss a block during drill." She touches her arm, running a thumb down the long deep scar hidden by a sleeve. It carved its way through muscle and set back her training for months. "The other girls jeered at both of us for a week. That was the last time I saw a medic. I hardly expect my health records to change significantly in the course of a single month."

Hadand will comply, of course. She's had a lifetime of orders and protocol, of military precision. Aboard Voyager, the consequences for disobeying orders seem to be less stringent, but Hadand would never test that without very real reason. Especially not given how she likes and respects the commanding officers.

She notes the device on the doctor's wrist, but Hadand can no more identify its purpose than she can fly. For all she knows, it's a medical device, not a holographic emitter. She simply doesn't have the technical expertise.

"I apologize for making you wait, doctor," Hadand says, unable to keep a little humor from brimming over into her voice. She could probably succeed, if she tried harder, but Hadand has been relishing the freedom from secrets and diplomacy too much to slip back into her usual masks. "You're welcome to contact me directly next time you need to see me. That might be more... expedient, as you can ensure that I actually receive your messages."

Shooting a quick teasing look at Chakotay as she leaves the blame squarely upon his shoulders for her lateness, Hadand lets him speak. She nods her agreement to the time he names. "I'll see you then, Chakotay."

[chakotay]

"Most do," Chakotay agrees easily. "Some species are a little different. For instance, a Vulcan's lifespan is much longer than that of any human. Tuvok is over a hundred years old." Vulcans might be the best example of this but it might also be slightly petty that Chakotay chooses to use Tuvok as the Vulcan example. In any case, Naomi Wildman is a much better topic. "Naomi is half-human and half-Ktarian. Her Ktarian side means she grows and develops faster than a human, so she looks and acts older than she actually is."

Naomi is a perfect example of how the crew has evolved and taken on more tasks than where they began. She is also a perfect example of the dedication with which Voyager's crew works. Every member is necessary and each death is felt not only personally, but also professionally, as others have to stretch their duties to encompass those of their fallen comrades. Gaining a few from the Equinox had helped, but they never could afford to lose anyone. Maybe that was what helped keep them together when all was said and done: their absolute and intrinsic need for each other. The Starfleet crew could never have survived with half their number dead and the Maquis could never have made it out of the Delta Quadrant alone. The Val Jean had lacked the firepower and endurance to manage an extended stay in this region of space. Separate, they were impossibly weak, but together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"It's more that we like to keep on top of everything. If something happens and suddenly you're showing abnormal readings, at least with recent medical records, we can more easily rule out what it isn't and figure out what it is. But... I think I'll let the Doctor explain further."

He gives her an amused look as the Doctor's exasperation becomes even more clear. As they part, Chakotay turns to head back for his quarters to prepare for their evening and the Doctor motions Hadand into sickbay, speaking just loudly enough for Chakotay to hear as he leaves. "The Commander has a habit of protecting people he thinks are worth the effort." Though, really, he should know better. "I'll need to take a scan today, to get your medical records on file. I trust the Commander told you that much."

In all fairness, the Doctor's exasperation isn't entirely real. He's just spent time worrying about the Captain and now this. Honestly, what do people take him for, a butler, a security officer, or a doctor? Mulling that over, he moves to pick up one of the medical tricorders and brings it over for a scan.

"If you'll just sit on one of the beds, this won't take long and you can return to your time with the Commander." That is the bonus to this particular visit: the scan itself won't take more than a few minutes. Unfolding the tricorder, he points it at her and lets it do its thing.

[deheldegarthe]

She nods, humming light agreement and acknowledgement, though it does surprise Hadand that Tuvok is so much older than the rest of the crew. Naomi sounds charming and Hadand hopes to get to know her at some point. As for the medical exams, she supposes that the dangers are far more varied and unexpected out in unknown space than they would be at home. She can see where he has a point.

If Chakotay looks back as he leaves, he'll see the same thing the doctor does. Despite ducking her head, Hadand fails to hide the smile that springs unbidden to her face at the observation that Chakotay considers her worth his time and effort. And protection, though Hadand has always done her best never to need that. Chakotay has shown that he enjoys her company and considers her worth spending time with, but to have it bluntly stated by a stranger warms her heart. It's also a little nerve-wracking, given her newly realized feelings toward the Commander.

Hadand complies with orders as always, boosting herself easily onto one of the sickbay beds.

"You're welcome to do any tests you need," Hadand tells the doctor, realizing as she does, "Commander Chakotay never did mention your name. You know mine by now, I assume, if you've been trying to bring me in for an exam. What should I call you, Doctor?"

The scans reveal a very healthy woman who clearly exercises regularly. The only old injuries on her, if the tricorder can pick them up, are the small scars already visible to the eyes scattered on her hands, a deeper scar on her left forearm, and one finger that was broken several years ago. There are a couple of irregularities, though.

Hadand does get menstrual cycles, but she doesn't ovulate. Her womb isn't an environment that could currently bring a baby to term. She is infertile, her body incapable either of initiating or supporting a pregnancy.

There's also something odd about her digestive system and the way waste is processed. It appears as if it would work normally, but it's far more complex than most. Seemingly needlessly so.

[chakotay]

The question of a name gives the Doctor obvious pause, as though he hasn't considered the idea before or he's surprised she asked. "I'm just the Doctor," he answers slowly. "I wasn't made with a name and though I did try to come up with one during the first two years in the Delta Quadrant, I never found one I really like. So... I'm just the Doctor. I'm surprised the Commander didn't tell you that."

It's not like it really matters in the long run. Were Kes still here, she would likely do everything she could to encourage him to keep searching, but he's given up. Not having a formal name doesn't make him feel any less real than the rest of them and that's what really counts. Still, it's a surprise that she even asked. Partway through the scan, he lowers his tricorder just a little as he comes to a sudden realization.

"He didn't tell you anything, did he?" Now it's clear why Commander Chakotay hadn't brought her in sooner: he was trying to make sure she could handle having a hologram for a doctor. He can't decide if this is helpful or insulting. Raising the tricorder to continue the scan and wearing a look of consternation on his face combined with my life is so difficult, he continues with, "I'm a hologram. It seems the Commander wanted you a little more familiar with Voyager and her technology before he brought you to see me." Sighing to himself, he shakes his head. "You've got several scars I'll heal before you go, but otherwise you're in perfect health. As far as I can tell."

The Doctor continues the exam, going over everything he finds with her and figuring out how her body works. AS much as she'll tell him. Back in quarters, Chakotay prepares for the evening, washing up and pulling together everything he wants to show Hadand when she's ready to call him over. He's thrilled about this development and even though he knows he'll have to keep his feelings under wraps, the evening should prove enlightening. He plans on talking about spirit guides and maybe she'll let him help her find hers.

[deheldegarthe]

She pays close enough attention to the Doctor's words to catch 'made' in there instead of born. Her brow is furrowed in confusion right up until he clarifies. It's very clear that no, Chakotay didn't tell her anything.

"Are you?" Hadand asks curiously, eager to learn rather than looking down on the Doctor for what he is. "Up until he took me to the holodeck today, I'd never seen a hologram. Your programming is obviously much more advanced than the only person we encountered there."

And with a very soft laugh, she adds, "Commander Chakotay did warn me that he felt I might find a medical visit overwhelming, but nothing more specific than that. I wonder why." A joke at their expense, perhaps, though not an unkind one.

Hadand tells the Doctor about the fact that infertility isn't unique to her, though he finds the idea of an entire species deliberately making its women infertile appalling. On realizing that gerda doesn't grow and isn't available outside of her own system and the neighboring ones, Hadand's heart sinks a little. She wasn't thinking so far ahead. It didn't occur to her, to bring the root with her. Not when she didn't plan on children for years.

She'll never be pregnant now, according to the Doctor. There's always the Birth Spell, she supposes, but there's no guarantee it will work. Its name is a holdover from when they believed it to be magic. Now, they acknowledge that there must be a scientific explanation for its success, but no one has managed to find one yet. Hadand will try it, though. Perhaps it will be successful. Thinking of Aunt Ndara now is steadying in a way it hasn't been since the woman's death. Both because Ndara's own son was born by Birth Spell, and because Ndara loved Hadand as dearly as she would have loved a daughter of her own. Hadand knows that it doesn't take shared blood to be a mother, because she had that example in front of her all her days growing up.

She frowns at the idea of removing all the scars. "The one on my arm aches sometimes," Hadand admits, "and I won't mind its absence, but would you please leave my hands alone?" The scars on her hands are reminders of all the hours spent with knives in them. Of home, and of training. She isn't sure she wants to lose those marks. In them, she can trace the history of her improvement as a fighter. All are years old, because Hadand has gotten too good to make any mistakes that leave scars in a very long time.

When she does get back to her quarters after the Doctor is through with her (scars on her hands intact despite his protests), Hadand checks the time before changing her clothes. Tonight, she unpacks blatantly Algara-Vayir clothing, silver owls in flight embroidered beautifully along all the edges of the light grey wool robes, with matching embroidery at the hems of wide trousers that would do nothing to impede her movement in a fight or on a horse. Hadand traces a few of the wings and thinks of her family before shaking her head and briskly slipping into them.

She negotiates with her replicator for awhile, finally managing to come up with the closest approximations she can to a Marlovan meal. The bread is the thing she's most picky about, and Hadand spends several minutes just trying to get that right. Finally, she deems her efforts a success. "Hadand to Chakotay," she calls him. "You're welcome whenever you're ready."

And when he arrives, Hadand opens the door with a smile. "Thank you for joining me."

[chakotay]

Chakotay is meditating when he receives the call from Hadand, trying to tame the nerves that suddenly sprang up as the time neared. It's been a while since he felt nervous like this and he's had to be careful with what he allows himself to focus on. It's been a struggle, admittedly, and he's almost certain that his spirit guide is laughing at him somewhere. That would be appropriate to his life. Taking a deep breath, he pauses before answering her call. "I'll be right there."

And he will be. When her door chimes and she gives the call for him to enter, he's standing there holding a bundle. His medicine bundle, to be exact, not that she would know right away. As his eyes land on her, a slow smile spreads across his face, lips pursed together before they part with no small amount of fondness. He holds himself back, not wanting to become to overbearing too quickly, only stepping forward when she gives him the okay.

"Thank you for inviting me," he answers easily. "I admit, I'm starting to feel under-dressed."

He might be joking. He might not be.

"I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of bringing something with me," he continues as he steps inside and lets the door hiss shut behind him. "But I wanted to show you this. After your traditions."

Restday first. Then they can move on to his people and their culture. He'll wait for her to tell him what to do and where to be, as he doesn't know what to expect with this. If nothing else, he is eager to learn and just as eager to share his life with her.

In more ways than he really wants to admit.

[deheldegarthe]

She would hardly invite him to dinner and leave him standing in the doorway to her quarters. Stifling a smile at that pause, she says warmly, "Come in, Chakotay."

Hadand laughs outright when he speaks. Chakotay's comment cuts through her own nerves at the prospect of the evening as well as any small lingering griefs from her conversation with the doctor. In style, the clothes vary little from what he usually sees her in. A vast majority of her clothes are grey or green, family colors. Few have the owl of the Algara Vayir banner worked on them, though, the decoration on these far more intricate than most of her wardrobe. "It seemed a good time to wear something from my family. We are having a Marlovan celebration."

And celebration it is. It's obvious, glancing at the meal waiting, that Hadand really hasn't been spending her replicator rations. There's more than enough food for both of them, and Chakotay may recognize bits of it. There are no leola roots to be seen. It isn't quite the typical fare for any one Marlovan meal. Instead, Hadand tried replicating a lot of her favorite things, or as close as she could get without having anything new programmed into the replicators. Oatcakes, honey, cabbage, and a variety of other foods in small portions surround what is clearly the focal point of the meal. Dark bread rests in the very center of the table, and Hadand can't help taking a deep breath in to appreciate the scent of it. It's the closest her quarters have come to smelling like home.

Beckoning him toward the table, Hadand takes a seat on one side of it.

"I want to see what you brought," she insists firmly, "though I agree that my turn should come first because I wouldn't want all the food to get cold. How could I ever mind you offering to share your traditions with me?" That, among too many things for her to count, is something Hadand would have hoped for but never asked of him. She is still shaken by her earlier realization. It's sinking in now, settling into her heart as well as her body. The overwhelming affection and gratitude she feels, knowing that he really does want to share with her in ways above and beyond what she asked, aren't lust or even merely friendship. They are considerably more than that. Hadand hesitates to put the proper name to the emotion when she doesn't yet know Chakotay's feelings, but she knows that tactic will only last so long.

Not naming something changes nothing of what it is.

[chakotay]

"You look lovely," is the next thing out of Chakotay's mouth as he watches her. The reaction is out of his hands, an instantaneous thing due to how lovely she really does look in actuality and the fact that he does partially want to impress her and make her feel as wonderful as she looks.

As soon as she motions towards the table, he moves closer, setting his medicine bundle on another surface, where it won't be in the way or in danger of being hurt, knocked off, or spilled on. The bundle is sacred to him, special in a way that he can't quite explain. Not yet. He wants to try, which is why he brought it, but that can wait. Right now they need to focus on the actual dinner and it is an amazing dinner, indeed. It's been a long time since he smelled or saw anything quite like this. If she really isn't using her replicator rations except for this... well, she must be very brave to stomach Neelix's leola root cooking so often. No one else does.

He takes a seat where she indicates, glancing over the food appreciatively. "You seem to have found your way around the replicators pretty quickly. And well. This looks delicious. Is it all what you would have in your home?" His curiosity will likely never die out entirely. It might simply dampen or fade over time, once he decides not to be as open with it as he is now. Or it might remain as it is. At this point, he won't try to decide where their relationship might go. For all he knows, it won't go anywhere else.

More and more, for better or for worse, this is beginning to feel like his friendship with Kathryn, right down to his realization of his feelings for her and also the knowledge that nothing could ever come of them. Hadand's situation might be different, but at this point, he doesn't yet know her well enough to figure out if that is even a possibility and honestly he would rather have her as a friend than nothing at all.

"You'll have to teach me your traditions first," he comments, waiting to see what sort of pre-meal traditions her people have, if any. The last thing he wants is to mess up such an important day for her.

[deheldegarthe]

Hadand isn't used to compliments, especially of her looks. Appreciative glances at her body are familiar things but 'lovely' is a first. Next to Joret, no one stopped to think Hadand beautiful, however attractive and likeable they found her.

That the compliment comes from Chakotay only makes it more striking. She inhales sharply, wondering if this means she dares hope he might be as attracted to her as she is to him. She can't hope for more than that. It's too much to expect. Even the silent questions in her mind aren't enough to stop the smile spreading slowly across Hadand's face, one that she can't hide despite ducking her head. Hadand manages a quiet, "thank you," her voice steady only due to years of training for command and diplomacy.

Questions about the food, at least, are far easier to interpret and respond to. "It's as close as I could manage. I spent awhile talking to the replicators. The bread took me five minutes," she admits, adding a little more quietly, "I wanted it to taste like home."

As for Hadand's traditions, she tells him, "You don't need to do anything. Just hold out your hand." He can ask any questions he likes over their meal.

When he complies, Hadand takes a small loaf of dark rye bread, rich with nuts and honey, and tears it in two. She offers one half to Chakotay, unable to keep herself from squeezing his hand in companionship as she does. It's the same gesture she'd offer to a brother or a close friend, but attraction spirals through her now just as strongly as it did earlier on the holodeck. This time, she was braced for it, half longing and half dreading. As their hands touch, Hadand meets Chakotay's gaze and says, "As strength to the body, so strength to the spirit."

She hates withdrawing her hand from his, but Hadand forces herself to do it with no visible hesitation, resting it in her lap as the other hand brings her own share of the bread to her mouth.

[chakotay]

It means exactly what she thinks it does, but he won't be mentioning anything for quite some time, if ever. That's just how he works. It's easier to let her come to him. Then he doesn't have to worry about possibly misinterpreting things or being too eager. If he knew of her feelings, he would be happy to try something. But right now, he is working off what he knows best: hints and distance.

He also decides that he likes that smile of hers. If he can find more ways to bring that forward, he certainly will.

As for the food and traditions attached, Chakotay easily does as instructed. Holding his hand out to her, he locks gazes with her as she squeezes his hand and for a moment he debates the meaning of so simple a gesture. It could be part of her traditions, part of whatever ceremony this is. Or it could be something entirely different. He resolves to ask the spirits later tonight. For now, he returns the squeeze and lets go only when she does. When she takes her bite, so he takes his, savoring the taste of it with reverence. Only when an appropriate time appears does he speak again.

"This is wonderful. I haven't had good bread in a very long time."

[deheldegarthe]

The gesture isn't part of any ceremony. It was prompted by her own selfish desire to touch Chakotay, given the opportunity to do so in a way that was friendly and would place no pressure upon him. Hadand may have acknowledged the strength of her feelings, but she refuses to burden Chakotay with them.

She eats all of her bread before she speaks again, not because speaking is entirely forbidden but because she's so busy savoring the first bread she's had since leaving home. Homesickness washes over Hadand, and watching Chakotay across from her is the only thing that makes it bearable.

"At home, the highest ranking woman present passes out bread to everyone." At Tenthen, that meant her mother spent a long time distributing it to all of the castle, though the royal palace was too big for that to be a viable option. Normally, the task is a much more time-consuming one. "It wouldn't feel right to eat bread on Restday without someone here to share it." She's so grateful for his presence, her gaze on him warm.

With his comment, she agrees wholeheartedly, "It's been too long for me. Bread is the food I've missed most, and not just for eating. Whenever I opened my windows at the palace, I could always smell grass and baking bread."

[chakotay]

Chakotay respects her unspoken wish, staying as silence as she is for as long as she is. He enjoys the bread as much as she does, though perhaps not quite to the same degree. Every so often, their gazes meet over the table and he gives her a small smile, one that is no less warm than any other he's ever given her.

When they finally break the silence that's fallen over them, he listens. "Then I am grateful that I could be here," he answers honestly. Really, he is, and not just because the bread is wonderful. He really is happy to provide this for her, to be able to give her a part of her home that she would feel incomplete without. It's a high honor, as far as he's concerned.

"The closest we have to that is spending a lot of time in the mess hall or the holodeck," Chakotay admits thoughtfully. "Though the holodeck might be the better choice. You might get the smell of leola root stew if you stick around the mess hall too long." He's joking, but it is a valid concern.

"What other traditions do you think you'll try to keep here?" A part of him wants to know what else she might want to ask him to help with, while a part of him just wants to know more about her culture. What is she used to? How have her people developed over time? The anthropologist in him is very, very interested in this study of cultures, both hers and his.

[deheldegarthe]

Those smiles help with the homesickness too, in addition to the simple comfort of his presence.

"I am too," she says. There isn't anyone else aboard Voyager who she's quite this close to, no one else she'd approach to ask for the favor of their company, even if there are a few she'd welcome. Hadand has already expressed her gratitude to Chakotay, but she offers it again with a soft smile.

And she grins at the realization that he's right. The holodeck program did have smells, not just sight and touch. "I hadn't thought so far as to consider programming the scents of home as well as the sights, but I'd like that very much."

As for other traditions, Hadand pauses a moment to consider. "Restday bread and songs, along with practicing the Odni, are the most important to me. At least of those that happen regularly." She brushes her fingers against her wrists, adding, "I'm armed right now. I hope you don't mind. Before coming aboard the ship I never let my knives out of reach except in the baths. Not since I was a little girl. I still feel naked without them." So she wears them whenever she can, which is, for now, limited to her own quarters.

Other traditions that come to mind aren't daily or weekly. They're longer reaching things. "This may be morbid, but the last Marlovan song I sang was Hymn to the Fallen. If I'm not among my people, no one will know it to sing me onward when I die."

The next thing, she hesitates to mention around Chakotay given the depth of her feelings for him, but she would say it to any friend. Hadand is resolved to scrupulously treat him as exactly that unless she ever has any indication her love would be a gift rather than a burden. "And if I ever marry, I wouldn't mind making my husband's wedding shirt now that I have a say in who he'd be."

[chakotay]

Hadand isn't used to the holodeck yet, not the way everyone else is. They've all practically grown up with it, so they think of it naturally. She still has to adjust to it. In time, that will come. Right now, he's just happy to have given her yet another little piece of her home to hold onto.

He nods in response. He had expected her to be armed. After hearing what her life was like and learning more about her, he never would have expected her to go unarmed when she could have them. "I trust you wouldn't throw them at me without due warning," he teases gently, his eyes saying that he doesn't expect her to ever throw them at him unless they're sparring or she's teaching him whatever she wants to teach him, the Odni or something else.

The next one makes him frown just a little, but only because he doesn't like the idea of her dying at all, let alone anytime soon. That would break him. It's hard enough losing a member of their crew. Losing someone he cared for so deeply would destroy a part of him that he would never get back. He would much prefer never even entertaining the idea. Even so... "Is that hymn something else you can teach?" he asks, in what is another clear offer for him to do something for her. She means that much to him.

He'd thought the comments on death would be the hardest to handle. He was wrong. He was very wrong. A knot developed in the pit of his stomach as she mentioned a husband. Even a theoretical one made him nervous, jealous on some degree. Maybe not completely jealous, but he definitely loved her. If she wanted to marry someone else, he would certainly not stand in her way. It would just be a rehash of his feelings for Kathryn and that didn't help his already tumultuous thoughts.

He ducked his head for a second on the pretext of focusing on his food before he managed to smile up at her again. "He would be a lucky man. I can't imagine anyone would turn down your handiwork." He certainly wouldn't.