He found Sulu's easel and paper and inks carefully stored in a wooden chest. It had been many years since he had painted, and he stared at the pens for a long time. His head was plagued by too many emotions; he could not sort it, couldn't lose himself in strategy or discipline his thoughts. He needed a focus, a means of concentration.
Ruth would not wake.
He'd tried to rouse her to no avail, and so had searched the room for an anchor. Abruptly he made a decision and fitted a point to a pen shaft. The easel proved unsatisfactory, so he sat on the deck and spread the paper before him. The picture formed in his mind, not as a whole but line by line, and his hand followed his mind's eye with grace and ease. The designs took shape slowly, carefully, his artistic training recalled as easily as sword work or helm operation. Each line was placed with thought and deliberate care, as important to the meaning of the work as would be the completed whole. A sheer mountain cliff, a cloud to the east; a gnarled tree jutting out from a ledge a third of the way down the precipice. A sudden splash of waterfall halfway down, falling to depths not seen. And above it all, soaring past the cliff, past the cloud, past the setting sun; a single sparrow.
Sulu replaced the last of the pens on the blotter and sat back. Not his best, but a fair attempt after all this time. He smiled, his head once again ordered and disciplined. He would paint more often. He'd forgotten how soothing the concentration could be. He rose, stretching, and the door chime sounded. He called, "Come"; Ruth had told him often enough that people usually didn't manually open their doors.
"Mr. Sulu," Spock said.
"Good morning, Mr. Spock," Sulu replied jauntily. He crossed to the replicator. "Would you care - no, you don't drink coffee, do you?"
"You seem rested," Spock contented, his eyes traveling to the drawing on the floor.
"You like it?"
Spock's gaze returned to him.
"I beg your pardon?"
Sulu grinned. "The drawing. Not my best, but..." He shrugged. Spock looked at the willow above the open weapon case, then back to the deck. Sulu could almost hear the thought: alike yet not alike. He frowned. Comparisons were beginning to get tedious.
"An interesting composition," Spock said, and Sulu wondered if the Vulcan understood it at all. "I came to discuss your feelings," Spock continued, "on the matter of expanded duty. I feel I can persuade the Captain that such responsibility would be appropriate considering your progress." He paused. "I am aware of how little there is to do aboard a ship when one has no duty."
"I keep busy," Sulu replied, not even trying to hide his amusement. "But if you're asking me if I'd be against more duty..." He grinned. "A man can't be artistic all the time."
Spock nodded. "Very good. I will speak to the Captain and inform you of his decision." Sulu noticed the quick flicker of Spock's eyes toward the bedroom and his grin widened.
"Thank you, Spock," he said.
Spock looked surprised but nodded before he left.
Spock could tell by the dubious, annoyed look that crossed the Captain's face when he asked him, "A word with you, Captain?" that Kirk suspected what he wanted to request.
"Sulu," Kirk answered, confirming Spock's suspicion.
"Yes, Captain. I believe that he requires more responsibility in order to encourage his adjustment."
"I had a feeling you were going to ask for this."
"It is the next logical step."
Kirk sighed. "Logical, yes." He hesitated before continuing. "I don't doubt his skill or training, but I don't trust him. I don't want a man at my helm that I don't trust."
"When he is performing his duties as a helmsman," Spock said, surprising himself, "is the only time you can completely trust him. He is learning, Captain," Spock continued quickly. "In many ways he is behaving in a normal, acceptable fashion. Still, he has much to learn. I think added responsibility will be a needed incentive."
Kirk frowned, more to himself than at Spock. "You're probably right," he admitted. He turned his chair to face the screen. "Thank you, Mr. Spock. I'll consider it," he said blandly, dismissing his First Officer.
"Captain," Spock said carefully. "Had I not believed it imperative I would not have brought it to your attention."
"I said I'd consider it."
"If I may be allowed to convince you, sir."
Kirk turned back to him with a sigh. "You will anyway, Mr. Spock. Go on."
Spock nodded curtly. "Thank you, Captain. In the last week, Mr. Sulu has exhibited, on the majority of occasions, behavior that can only be called Terran normal. He has shown an interest in social interaction. Examples; a poker game with Dr. M'Benga, a heated but academic discussion of history with Lieutenants Palamas and Crawford. He seems to have developed a romantic interest in Ensign Valley. I have noticed he is, like our Mr. Sulu, an artist, a creative outlet for tension. He has studied our laws, customs and history with what I can only describe as intense dedication. In my opinion it is time he was given a wider field in which to utilize what he has learned from us and to use the skill he already possesses as an officer."
"A poker game?" Kirk asked as if that were all he had heard. "Who won?"
"Mr. Sulu, I believe," Spock replied, easily masking his annoyance at the Captain's flippancy. "He has behaved with perfect gallantry toward female crewmembers, and with a certain camaraderie towards those who will engage in swordplay or combat exercises with him."
"'Certain camaraderie' meaning what?" Kirk interjected.
"I believe it is referred to as black or gallows humor," Spock returned, remembering Sulu's casual 'I'd've put you in the Booth for that' to Chekov after the ensign had attempted a difficult maneuver in unarmed combat - successfully. "In any case, Captain, Mr. Sulu needs occupation or he will surely cause more difficulty. And in such an instance, it would be we who were to blame."
"I see your point, Spock," Kirk said thoughtfully. "You say he can keep his temper?"
"I have not seen him lose it since the incident with Miss Rand," Spock replied. Something indefinable flashed across Kirk's face. "He must give him our trust if we expect his, Captain."
"Yes," Kirk said slowly. "Well, I'll consider it."
Spock closed his eyes, fighting the exasperation. One could hardly present a logical case to a man with a closed mind, and such refusal to see reason was not in Jim Kirk's character. He was about to begin again when Lieutenant Carlisle turned from the Helm.
"Ion storm dead ahead, sir," he reported. "It looks like a bad one."
"We're in for a rough ride, Captain," Chekov added from Navigation.
Before Spock could point out that this would be an excellent time for Mr. Sulu to prove his capabilities, Kirk had thumbed his intercom.
"Mr. Sulu, report to the Bridge. Acknowledge." He turned to Spock. "I told you I'd consider it."
"Thank you, sir," Spock said.
"He's still the best helmsman I've got," Kirk replied tightly. "And whether I like it or not, I need him."
Spock nodded and stepped to the Science Station as Sulu's voice said, "Acknowledging, sir."
It had been a half an hour since Spock had left. Sulu tried several more times to wake Ruth, and now he was getting worried. The last swirls on her skin still hadn't healed and she was lying so motionless… He thought she was breathing, but he wouldn't bet on it. With all her mental power, though, maybe she needed a healing trance or something to recover....
What have I done?
The thought came panicked, almost grieving. Does she need help? Should I call Sickbay - no, M'Benga if anybody. What do I do if she's -
She deserved it! Damn her, she wouldn't -
What, let you die? What kind of fool wants to die?
It's all I deserve.
She didn't think so. She's so good, so much, she could be all I need.
Not if your excesses kill her.
That's academic now, isn't it?
Please, no, gods, no!
He went back to the bed, touching her face. "Ruth," he whispered, "I need you. Please." There was no response and his fear increased. He shook her. "Ruth!" he demanded. She was limp in his grasp. He swore, turning away from her, pacing in anxiety and growing anguish.
Do something!
What?
Damn your pride, call M'Benga! Can't you feel it? She's dying! And what will you do if she does?
He clenched his fists, closing his eyes, then made himself go to the intercom. All that matters is that she live, he told himself fiercely, and reached for the button that would let him call M'Benga.
The Captain's voice came before he touched it. "Mr. Sulu, report to the Bridge. Acknowledge."
The Bridge. Spock's added duty.
Why now, damn it, why now?! If I don't go, I'll never get another chance.
If I don't go? It wasn't a request, was it? Nothing I can do. Captain's orders. He looked down at Ruth. She'll be all right, she has to be. I can't stay, Ruth. You understand, don't you?
He grit his teeth and called in his acknowledgement, then, with a final silent prayer, changed into a uniform and left his quarters.
Sulu's arrival on the Bridge did not create the disturbance Spock expected. He was appreciative of the crew's efficiency and seeming acceptance of the young man. Unlike the previous occasion, there were no stares or hostile comments, not even from Lieutenant Thompson. The only noticeable reaction was a slightly increased tenseness in the Captain's posture, and the unexpected arrival of Dr. McCoy a few minutes after Sulu had taken his place at the Helm. McCoy stationed himself next to the con, almost behind Sulu, and glared.
Whether Sulu felt the glare or there was some other cause Spock didn't know, but the helmsman was definitely not the relaxed, almost insolent young man he'd been previously. The Captain's tension was matched by Sulu's own, and though he kept his attention on his board, he did so almost with an air of anxious preoccupation. Spock had little time to ponder it. McCoy was speaking quietly to Kirk and the Captain's discomfort was growing, almost visibly. Spock frowned. In Sulu's present mood, whatever the cause, it would be more than risky to subject him to derisive questions and comments. "Captain," he began, and Kirk turned to him. "I have been considering a reorganization of the Science Section. There are several areas of inefficiency that - "
"Do whatever you think is needed, Spock," Kirk interrupted. "I trust your judgment."
"I had thought to discuss it with you..." Spock continued.
"Fine, but not now," Kirk broke in.
"I see no reason for..."
"I can take care of myself, Commander!" Sulu suddenly cut in savagely. Spock sighed. How had he believed Sulu would not notice what he was doing? He felt Kirk stiffening, the stern decisiveness, and silently damned McCoy.
The ion storm hit with all the ferocity Chekov had predicted. Spock returned to his station, monitoring all the sensors as was his duty, but carefully keeping a part of his attention on the Helm. The Captain was a silent vulture, scrutinizing Sulu's every move, and from the tension rippling in the helmsman's back, Sulu felt every judgmental stare. But it had no effect on his performance of his duties. They were executed perfectly, and after an hour the worst of the storm had passed. Spock relaxed from the sensor scans and was quite aware that Sulu didn't. Kirk cleared his throat.
"Apparently, Mr. Sulu, you can take care of yourself," he admitted, "And this ship."
Sulu's tight answer came without a glance at the Captain. "Yes, sir."
"The last time you were on this Bridge you were the calmest man here," Kirk pointed out, and Spock found he was suddenly apprehensive. "What are you so jumpy about now?"
The already tense back tensed even more and Sulu's hands clenched on the Helm. Spock saw McCoy lean forward suspiciously. "Personal, sir," Sulu replied through clenched teeth.
"Ruth," McCoy said abruptly. He looked up, accusatory, directly to the First Officer. "Spock, where is she?"
"Her rooms, or so I assume," Spock replied, hiding a sidelong glance at Sulu from McCoy. The Captain noticed.
"What's wrong with Miss Valley, Mr. Sulu?" Kirk asked sternly.
Sulu turned slowly, his gaze sweeping with naked hostility over Spock and McCoy, then riveting on Kirk. A faint smile pulled at his lips, but his eyes were cold, furious - and agonized. "She loves me," he enunciated, but his tone was taunting.
McCoy bristled, a protest on his lips. Kirk reddened with visible anger, and Spock was quite sure Sulu had had enough.
"Your sense of humor is inappropriate, Mr. Sulu," Spock cautioned warily.
"Where's Ruth!" McCoy demanded. Sulu's eyes snapped to him.
"Here, Bones," Ruth's voice said and all eyes turned to her. And Sulu smiled.
It was no ordinary smile. It was delirious and glorious, a smile to eclipse suns, one of passion and joy and life. Ruth looked at him, and her eyes were soft, weary and tender. They took in the light of his smile and gave it back as knowledge and acceptance and love. But Sulu's eyes reflected incredulousness, a disbelief of worth that Spock could not bear to look at. And somehow did not feel anyone else should.
"Dr. McCoy," he began. "I trust this incident makes you aware of the illogic of jumping to conclusions. Especially when such action jeopardizes the functioning of a member of this ship's crew."
"That's enough, Spock," Kirk interrupted. "Carry on, Mr. Sulu, Miss Valley."
Spock was sure he detected grim, sardonic mirth from Sulu, and fearful, aching discomfort from Ruth, and so he said nothing more and turned back to his station.
After another hour Kirk casually informed Sulu that it would be all right if he wanted to leave the Bridge. Sulu grinned wryly and obeyed the subtle order. It disturbed Spock that the Bridge crew noticeably relaxed. It disturbed him that Ruth had been working in total silence. She sighed tremulously as the turbolift closed behind Sulu, and Spock moved unobtrusively closer to her.
"Miss Valley," he began.
"Spock," she whispered. "I know what I'm doing. You have to believe me. I know what's wrong with Sulu, what I have to do to help him. Please, no matter what happens, don't interfere, not to help me or save me, not for any reason. Don't let McCoy or Kirk interfere. Cover for me, for us, like you did today. Please, Spock. It's the only way."
He searched her eyes, saw the desperation, the hope, the fear and worry - and the love. He did not understand, but he remembered a time when he had asked the same of an uncomprehending Jim Kirk - and had received it. Slowly, he nodded.
It was a dangerous gamble. She knew what the drug was supposed to do, she also knew that it didn't force one to do anything. He wouldn't feel coerced - but would he allow the feelings? Practically it hardly nattered. Anything he did would be no worse on the drug than off it. And there was the chance...
The only problem was where to get it.
Ruth sat cross-legged on the floor of Sulu's cabin, waiting for him to return from the gym. She'd gotten rid of the blood-stained bed clothes the night before, had replaced the cleaned knife back in its dragon-sheath. She'd had plenty of time to think. It had taken her a long time to convince her body to heal. Despair was an emotion she wasn't used to and had decided she didn't like. In that time, she'd recalled the other times she'd known despair - not her own. Sulu, of course. Roy. Dear, gentle rogue, and his secret fear and shame. She touched it - touched him - only briefly, only once. He was desperately ill, McCoy couldn't help. She tried, and encountered a desperate terror of being found out: he played sadist games. He hated his need for then, he was ashamed of the times he gave in and indulged that need. He wanted no one to know. Most of all he wanted to keep his 'perversion' from compassionate, loving keheil Ruth ani Ramy.
And he used amber to allow his violence to surface. Amber, the Haven drug that removed all inhibitions without compelling any action at all. It was fitting that amber be the means to allow this Sulu to express emotions that were as abhorrent to him.
Still, where to get it?
The answer came with Sulu as he entered the room. There was no trace of the joyous relief that had lit his face when she'd walked onto the Bridge the day before, no trace either of the desolate worry that had touched her empathy while she'd convinced herself to heal. He glanced at her and nonchalantly dropped to the bed.
"Chekov says we're putting into Starbase 10," he said, apparently to the ceiling. "Buy me something pretty while you're on leave." There was a slight accent on 'you're.'
Ruth smiled gratefully, thanked the Zehara, and went to the bed and Sulu's arms.
Spock knew exactly what Kirk wanted when he called the First Officer to the Captain's office. He was aware that the ship was being diverted to Starbase 10 to pick up supplies and replacement personnel for the outposts along the Romulan Neutral Zone. He also knew that the Captain would look upon this unexpected assignment as the perfect means to rid the ship of its unwanted crewmember. He decided to proceed on what Miss Valley called the best defense.
"This concerns Mr. Sulu," he said as he stepped into Kirk's office.
"Yes," the Captain answered and paused before beginning his statements. Spock took full advantage of it.
"I believe it is important that he be granted a small leave," he began. "I have considered carefully his progress and disposition, and to deny him what the rest of the crew will be receiving will do a great deal of harm to his acculturation. Far more, even in comparison, than he could do while on such a leave. It is time we trusted to our own standards, Captain."
"Leave?" Kirk said incredulously. "Grant him leave? Spock, I hardly think Commodore White would appreciate such a gesture and I know I don't. He's my responsibility, remember?"
"His behavior has been exemplary..."
"In a tightly controlled environment - which a Starbase is not."
"Captain." Spock cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "I believe there are - facilities - available for any potentially harmful activity Mr. Sulu might care to engage in. To release his needs there is better, is it not, than to keep him caged - and dangerous?"
"Assuming he's civilized enough to use those facilities," Kirk rejoined.
"He certainly is intelligent enough to realize the advantages in doing so," Spock replied. Then he watched as Kirk thought heavily.
"Your logic can be very annoying, Mr. Spock, as I believe I've mentioned before," he said, then sighed. "And as he is my responsibility, my suggestion isn't really appropriate." He sighed again.
"Commodore White will be grateful to hear it, I'm sure."
The Captain glanced at him sharply, then grinned. "You know me too well, Spock. All right, a short leave. I just hope your logic proves as correct as it is annoying."
Sulu glanced appraisingly at the image in the mirror. The black jumpsuit was attractive enough, but far too plain for his taste. The peacock was a carefully-worked-at facade and though it was no longer necessary, he found he'd grown to like the colorful, sensual display. He found a few pieces of sedate gold jewelry that helped, but not much. The irony of his vanity wasn't lost on him and he chuckled at his reflection. "Something funny?" Ruth asked softly from behind him. He turned.
"The idea of Kirk actually letting me loose," he replied. "Even for twenty-four hours."
"I know it's not a very long time," she returned, "but it's yours."
"Mine," he murmured. As though anything here is really 'mine'. With one possible exception, dear. He smiled at her. "Well, since we both look passably lovely..."
She returned the smile and took his hand. He chuckled again, this time at the irony of such a romantic gesture after the fearful passion of their nights, and went with her to the transporter.
Ruth had planned on introducing the idea of drugs as something to please Sulu. Even on a Starbase, Haven suppliers could be found. She would suggest amber for the both of them and trust to her own resources to stay awake - just awake. A keheil with no moral restraints could be as catastrophic as a supernova, and so her body assured the survival of the galaxy by reacting to amber with nearly irresistible drowsiness. But before she could allow enough time to pass to be convincingly bored she noticed that the USS Hood was in port. The Hood, which meant, of course, Cobra. She hadn't talked to him since Sulu's - Roy's - death. He must have been devastated. It would be more than good to see him - and if anybody would have chemicals or would know where to find them, it would be Cobra. And his own enthusiasm for the drug would be a better catalyst than her feigned boredom.
So she let her face light up and exclaimed, "The Hood's in!"
Sulu glanced at her, and while his voice was neutral his eyes were full of a knowing tolerance. "So?"
"An old friend is assigned to her. Jeremy Paget. Can we visit?"
If his expression altered, she didn't catch it. "Sure. Why not?"
Eager hunger raced into Sulu's being at the name. Jeremy Paget. Dear Jer.
Whoa. Slow down. Not the same one. And you can't be sure he betrayed you.
Her 'Roy' is dead. I'm sure.
Still not the same one.
No. Of course not. But it could be interesting anyway. Especially if he's as devoted as my Jeremy.
He answered Ruth casually, then followed her to a com unit. She made contact, speaking quickly. Paget was on duty for another hour. She left a message for him to meet her, taking no mention of her companion. Then they went to a small cafe to talk and drink and wait.
Jeremy Paget was overjoyed to get the message from Ruth. He'd thought about her often, wanted to call her but he hadn't been able to make himself do it. He couldn't talk about - it - not yet. Not with Spike. She'd gotten as close to Kam as he himself had been. Friend, confidante… lover. Kam - Kamikaze, Sulu's racing handle, as his was Cobra, as Ruth's was Spiike - oh god Sulu... No. No more tears. It won't do any good. You need to talk. She must, too. That's why she called. He changed out of his uniform and went to the Hood's transporter, anticipating a good, cleansing leave. He found the cafe Spike had specified with no trouble.
And stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who sat with her.
His first reaction was blinding ecstasy and the urge to run into Kam's arms and weep out his joy and relief and love.
Then came disbelief. Are you crazy, Paget? It can't be. He's dead, gone.
But he's there, in the black suit he knows I love, in the jewelry I gave him.
No. Insanity or illusion. Sulu's gone.
Finally came realization. Kam - LeRoi's gone. That's him. The other one.
Spike, how can you...
Because he's a Sulu, right? Right. Swallow your resentment and get over there. She's waiting.
He moved across the cafe, opened his mouth to give a greeting and Sulu looked up at him. Again the galaxy stopped. There was depth and knowledge and fire in the black eyes he knew so well. Taunting amusement, a hard, smoldering anger, compelling awareness. And they drew him in as Kam's eyes always had when they were alone and making love, with a beauty and passion Jeremy hadn't been able to resist since the age of fourteen. His throat tightened, his mouth went dry and his smile was nervous but willing.
"Hello, Jeremy," Sulu said.
Ruth had prepared herself to deal with the turbulent emotions that would pour from the tall black man upon seeing Sulu. She was therefore unprepared for Sulu's greeting. 'Hello, Jeremy?' How did - when did - of course, you idiot! Parallel universe, remember? Just because he didn't know a version of you doesn't mean he wouldn't know Sulu's other friends.
Why didn't he say something when I mentioned...
Testing me, a game, who knows?
What difference does it make? What was their relationship? What should I expect? How do I handle it? Or do I? Say something!
"Jeremy, this is Sulu."
"He knows that, Ruth," Sulu said quietly, his eyes never leaving Jeremy's face.
"But - not the..." Ruth sputtered helplessly.
"It doesn't matter, does it?" Sulu's voice held an undertone of sharpness and Ruth subsided.
Jeremy all the while seemed to be caught in Sulu's mesmerizing stare. And it was Jeremy we used to call Cobra, Ruth mused ironically.
After a few more interminable moments, Ruth cleared her throat. "Cobra," she said quietly.
He seemed to come out of a daze. "Yeah?"
"Hello to you too," she muttered, then continued loudly, "This is our first leave, and Sulu finds it a bit boring. I thought..."
"Do I?" Sulu interrupted her.
"Well, I thought..."
"You want a supplier," Jeremy broke in.
"You reading minds?"
"No problem."
Ruth took a deep breath. She felt totally out of control of the whole situation. And left out. There was something going on between Sulu and Jeremy that she was definitely no part of. As she watched the two men, she realized that she didn't like it. "I thought," she began again, "that he'd like amber."
Did Jeremy's eyes light up? "Amber?" he asked.
"Sure. He could use..."
Then Sulu was up, Jeremy having grabbed his hand. "Come on," Jeremy was saying, and judging by Sulu's smile, he'd get no argument.
Ruth wanted to scream, 'Oh no you don't!' firmly and loudly. Therapy. For his own good, remember? she hastily reminded herself. He's mine! also rang through her head.
You've no right to be jealous.
Don't I? I love him!
Then help him. That's what the amber's for.
But not with Jeremy!
If -
NO!
She stood, called out, "Sulu!"
He turned, his eyes glinting. "What?" It was a challenge and she knew it.
On his terms, she told herself, and swallowed the protest. And for his own good. "Have a good time." She tried to say it pleasantly but knew it came out closer to a snarl.
The glint hardened, and he smiled. "I will," he said.
But his smile exactly matched, in inflection and meaning, her words.