The Lady and the Tramp

Greetings from the madman of the U.S.S Drake.

You’re a doctor. Can a man really rub himself raw from excessive masturbation?

Not that it’s doing me any good. I never was much good at bringing myself off, and now with the Bond… at least I’m guessing that’s why it’s proving to be impossible without Jilla’s presence. I don’t think even you’d be able to help me out (small joke). Where’s a friendly telepath when I need one? And Del hardly counts - I did say friendly.

Don’t get me wrong, Jer. I miss you like crazy (like always) too, but… it’s been six months since I’ve been with her and I don’t know how much more I can take.

Maybe if I could get Lian to insist I need a medical leave? Yeah, I can just see her recommendation: “Captain Sulu is a pain in the ass and is driving us all to drink and Rigellian and if he doesn’t get laid soon the CMO will not be responsible for her actions – or the actions of the rest of the crew who may just keel-haul him to get some respite from his goddamned howling at every moon we pass.”

I’ve gotta run, I’ve got a briefing. Hope things are better for you. Tara says hello and she can’t wait to see you again. Just between you and me, though, she’s not celibate, and you shouldn’t be either. Not that I really think you two got all that serious, but…

And Del is - well - Del. Remind me to tell you all about him and the puppy formerly known as The Paine.

Anyway, love ya.

Sulu

Commander Jeremy Paget frowned at the viewer. Then he checked his service record. Then he checked the Drake’s schedule, and that of the Enterprise, then the timetables of the Shipyards. After a few queries of the computer, he nodded to himself, then called the captain’s office to request an immediate conference.

He was a man with a mission.

Paget stood at an easy attention inside the captain’s office. Jim Kirk had listened very patiently to his request and the presentation of the relevant data. He was due some three weeks of leave. There was no indication of any upcoming situation which would require the Chief of Security. He was rated to pilot a Chutzpah. The Enterprise was less than a week out from Terra, and the Drake was only two days farther, due to take leave in less than two weeks. The Enterprise would be at Terra herself in three weeks, where they could rendezvous with Paget and the shuttle. The timing was perfect.

Jim smiled up at his Chief of Security. “It looks like you’ve covered every contingency, Mr. Paget,” he said at last.

“Yes, sir,” the TerAfrican replied, grinning. “I like to be thorough, sir.”

“I’m sure Captain Sulu will appreciate it.” Jim signed the authorizations with a jaunty flourish.

“Yes, sir,” Paget repeated with another smile.

“Give him our regards, won’t you? And to Mrs. Majiir.”

“Will do, Captain.” Paget picked up the statboard Jim was handing to him. “Thank you, sir.”

“My pleasure, Commander.”

“Jilla, there’s a Chutzpah coming in, and she’s from the Enterprise!” Ruth exclaimed as she bounded into the kitchen and dining area. She and Jilla had just started a well-earned two weeks off before the final push on the Nests. Ruth’s Berkeley home had proven to be a welcome respite from the bustle at the shipyards, but the Chief of Computer Sciences and the Chief of Engineering hadn’t had much time for relaxation. “Let it be Spock, oh, please goddess, let it be Spock!”

"The Enterprise will be in port in two weeks,” Jilla reminded her friend.

“So maybe he took some of his piling up like Rigellian ash on a Haven boat leave to spend with his horny wife,” Ruth returned jauntily.

Jilla smiled faintly, “Perhaps. Did you access personal communications?”

“Yeah, there’s a message from Roy,” Ruth answered the unspoken question. The Antari quickly pulled on her uniform, discarding the casual halter and shorts she’d been wearing. “I’m going to Docking. If it is Spock – please, gods – can you go to a hotel for a while or something? Maybe visit your in-laws in L.A.?”

“Perhaps you would care to avail yourself of the opportunity to introduce Spock to his in-laws,” Jilla suggested.

“I don’t plan to get out of bed,” Ruth returned, then laughed at Jilla’s faint silvering.

“And if it is not Spock?”

“I’ll cry myself to sleep for a week. See ya.”

Jilla rose from the breakfast table, taking the dishes she and Ruth had used to the sink. She debated washing them before reading Sulu’s communiqué, then chided herself. The dishes would wait, and she needed to hear Sulu’s voice, to see his face. The six months they had been separated had been more difficult than she had expected. The Bond was an aching in her soul, not even the constant awareness of its presence eased her anxiety. Or your hunger, she admitted wistfully. She understood Ruth’s assertion – if Sulu were on Terra, she doubted very much she would want to get out of bed, either.

She padded softly into the living room and the computer terminal. Taking a seat, she entered her personal log-in, calling up Sulu’s waiting message, but before it began, the communications program interrupted it with a priority call. The origination was C.S. 1701 Icarus – the Enterprise Chutzpah shuttle.

With a raised eyebrow, she completed the link. “Commander Majiir,” she said.

“Hey, Jilla, it’s Jeremy.”

Jilla blinked as the screen resolved into the face of Commander Paget. “Good morning,” she said uncertainly, then found herself adding, “You are not Spock.”

Paget grinned. “I sure hope not.” There was a pause, then he said, “I guess Spike’s gonna be disappointed, huh.”

“To say the least,” Jilla returned. “Why are you here?”

“You’ve got two weeks leave, right?”

“Yes…”

“Sulu’s got leave in about six days.”

“Yes…”

“And I’ve got a Chutzpah, and permission.”

“I beg your…”

“And if you can throw a few necessities in a bag and meet me at the port, I’ll have you to him in a week.”

“Jeremy, what…”

“No time, Lady. We’re on a tight schedule here. Can you do it?”

“You will take me to…”

“To the Drake, yes, ma’am.”

“Jeremy, I…” Jilla stammered. “I hardly know what to say…

“Say yes.” The dark face smiled. “Get a move on, Jilla. We’ll have plenty of time to talk on the trip.”

Jilla hurriedly packed and left a message for Ruth. She very nearly ran to the transport station just outside Berkeley, beaming up to the Fleet port. When she checked the arrivals, she found the Icarus just docking. She also found her clearance and travel authorizations waiting and approved, and had to suppress a smile. Jeremy Paget was a very efficient man.

The shuttle hatch hissed open, and Commander Paget grinned at her. “Welcome aboard, Lady,” he greeted her, and automatically took her suitcase. He called, “See, just a quick turnaround,” to the docking officer, who nodded and waved, turning to his board as Jilla stepped into the shuttle.

As the hatch closed behind her, Jeremy stowed her case at the back of the small craft, then took the pilot’s seat, motioning her to sit beside him. “Once we’re underway she can be set to autopilot,” he said, “though you can take a turn anytime you want.” His large hands flew over the controls with expert ease, and almost before Jilla could catch her breath, the Icarus was sailing out of Earth orbit.

“It was very thoughtful of you to plan this, Jeremy,” Jilla said as the TerAfrican leaned back after setting the course into the automatic controls.

“My pleasure, Jilla,” he returned, then smiled. “Sulu’s been soundin’ more than a little twitchy of late.”

“You care deeply about his welfare,” she added softly.

“No more than you do, Lady.” There was a short, awkward pause, then Jeremy got up from his seat. “Care for some coffee?” he asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied.

He nodded, and headed to the back of the shuttle. “I’ve got a make-shift kitchen here,” he said as he moved. “We can take turns cookin’. I’ve been known to make a mean omelet.” Jilla watched him as he got two cups of steaming black liquid, bringing them back with him to the front of the craft. He handed her one, then retook his chair, immediately putting his feet up on the console. “I curtained off a cot back there,” he rejoined, gesturing. “We can take turns sleepin’ too.”

“You have thought of everything,” Jilla observed.

Jeremy smiled again. “Well, you and Ruth designed her right,” he said, then added, “seein’ as how she was first intended as makeshift living quarters for a couple of weeks.”

Jilla flushed. While she was quite aware that all of Starfleet knew the details surrounding the creation of the first warp shuttle, thinking about the incident was still a source of both consternation and pride.

“Of course, there have been some improvements,” Jeremy said, and winked at her.

“It was inevitable and necessary, as the Chutzpahs are intended for longer voyages than a standard shuttlecraft,” she said.

Paget nodded, then took a long drink from his cup. “Ahhh…” he sighed.

Jilla, too, took a sip. The coffee was quite good. After another short silence, Jeremy said, “So, what shall we talk about?”

“How did you manage to arrange this?” Jilla wanted to know.

“Well, seein’ as how I’m Chief of Security on Jim Kirk’s ship, and I have some pull with Admiral Bradigan, and I’m a shrink to boot, all I had to do was mention how good this would be for Starfleet’s newest captain and their Chief of Engineering.” He paused. “That, and take advantage of the happy timing.”

“Happy timing?”

“Me havin’ leave time, you havin’ leave time, Sulu havin’ leave time, the position of the Enterprise and the Drake to Terra…” He shrugged. “It was coincidentally perfect.”

Jilla nodded her understanding. “I am grateful, Jeremy.”

“I notice you didn’t say anything about me bein’ a shrink.”

“Sulu has told me.”

“Ahh.” Jeremy took another drink of coffee. “He tell you anything else about me?”

“He has told me everything.”

“’Course he has,” Paget murmured, and Jilla was uncertain if she was to respond. Then he glanced at her. “He’s told me everything about you, too.”

“Of course. He trusts you completely. He is more than fond of you.”

“And you know all about how I feel about him.”

Her answer was simple. “I am Indiian.”

“And a beautiful Indiian at that.”

She flushed again.

“You remember when I arrived on the Enterprise, I told you that what I feel stays here?” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Yes.”

“That goes for how I feel about you, too.”

“Jeremy, I…”

“I can’t help but be attracted to you, Lady. Not only are you beautiful and intelligent and caring, but Sulu loves you. Anyone as important to him as you are automatically becomes just that important to me. I’d go to the ends of the galaxy to make sure he has what he wants, and to take care of anyone he loves.” He gazed steadily at her. “And I suspect you would, too.”

It took Jilla a long time to meet that gaze, and longer to answer. “I am honored that you think so, Jeremy.”

“But…?” he asked, after a significant pause.

Jilla glanced at the deck. “But… I am Indiian. And Vulcan”

“Which means…?”

Her voice was nearly inaudible. “I am jealous and possessive of my mate.”

To her surprise, Jeremy burst out laughing. “Of course you are,” he managed. “Good thing then that the only person he wants is you.”

In the time the Chutzpah had been made ready for his mission, Jeremy had prevailed upon Commander Spock to program the shuttle’s computer for both chess and Go, taking into account both his and Jilla’s proficiencies in both games. He’d added a few solitaire games, a couple of logic puzzles and lots of his favorite music, including several dozen selections from the Valley Collection. He’d consulted with Scotty, Monique DuBois, and Geoff Redford to be sure to include some of Jilla’s preferred pieces as well. He wanted there to be as many distractions as possible, knowing that Jilla was generally a private, self-contained person. He could talk non-stop for a week, but he doubted if Jilla could – or would want to. He was more than prepared to spend a good deal of the trip by himself, spending as much or as little time with the Indiian as she wished.

So it was that he was quite surprised when Jilla regularly initiated conversation with him.

He had prepared a light lunch after a few hours of determinedly comfortable silence and, as expected, Sulu’s Lady-wife was politely grateful. She ate rather more heartily than he would have predicted, and after getting herself another cup of coffee, she asked softly, “Can you tell me what Sulu was like as a child?”

Jeremy leaned back in his chair. “Outgoing,” he replied, then smiled wistfully to himself. “Rambunctious. Mischievous. He was a stereotypical Japanese second son.”

“I have studied the culture,” Jilla returned, “but I admit I do not understand it. All the familial duties fall upon a first son?”

“Yeah,” Paget said. “The heir is supposed to study the family’s livelihood – whatever that may be – in order to take over when he’s an adult and the father wishes to retire. A second son is free to look for his own interests and career, which sort of requires that he be creative, extroverted and a risk-taker. I guess that’s how new endeavors in Japan come into being. In Sulu’s case, his older brother Chiro is a partner in their family’s landscaping business. Have you seen their garden?” he interrupted himself.

Jilla shook her head. “Sulu has not had the opportunity to formally introduce me to…” she began.

“I can do that when we get back to Terra if you’d like,” Jeremy told her. “My folks still live just down the street from Sulu’s.”

To Jeremy’s surprise, Jilla lowered her head. “I do not know if I would be – welcome,” she said.

“They’re not Indiian, Lady,” he returned gently.

“No, that is not – “ Jilla took a breath and the rise of her uniform-covered breasts made Paget’s toes tingle. “Sulu has told me that his grandmother never allows his mother to forget that she is not fully Japanese.”

Jeremy laughed. “Ah, dear obaasan,” he said. “She used to chase us both with that broom of hers.” He shook his head, the memories much fonder than the reality had been. “That’s just typical Japanese mother-in-law/daughter-in-law antagonism. She won’t care that you’re not Japanese. Besides,” he added, leaning closer, “you’re not even Terran.”

“But is that not the point?” Jilla asked.

“Naw. Terran cultural ethnocentracism almost always stops at Earth orbit – Elihuites excepted, of course.”

“But if there is typically antagonism between Japanese mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law, will not Sulu’s mother…” Jilla persisted.

“Midori is a wonderful woman,” Jeremy soothed. “She’ll welcome anyone her favorite son loves with open arms.”

“Her favorite…?” Jilla questioned.

“Yeah. But don’t ever let Chiro know.” He smiled, again winking at her.

“How can a mother have favorites among her children?”

Paget shrugged. “I don’t know, Lady, but most do. It isn’t that way on Indi?”

Jilla shook her head. “No. An Indiian mother loves all her children equally.”

“I didn’t say Midori loved Sulu more than Chiro, just that he was her….” At the blank look on Jilla’s face, Jeremy shrugged again. “Never mind.”

“Terrans habitually lie about their emotions,” Jilla said softly, almost to herself.

“Where’d you hear that?” Jeremy wanted to know.

“Dr. Han explained it to me as a way of helping me to cope with the confusion Terran social evasions engenders in me,” Jilla explained.

“Freudians,” Paget sniffed.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Jade Han’s a Freudian psychologist,” Jeremy returned. “I’m Jungian.”

“What is the difference?”

Jeremy took a deep breath and launched into as clinical and unbiased a description as he could manage, foregoing nearly all of the mock-antagonism, joking sarcasm, and pointed jabs he would have freely peppered his explanation with had Jade Han actually been present. By the puzzled silence from Jilla, he knew she hadn’t really understood it.

Click here to hear the song

“Darlin’ you-ooh send me
I know you-ooh send me
Darlin' you-ooh send me
Honest you do, honest you do, honest you do
Whoa-uh-oh-oh…”

Jilla woke from a light sleep to the sound of Jeremy’s deep voice. He was singing to music that floated softly all through the shuttlecraft. She listened for a while before rising, enjoying the more than pleasant sound. She and Ruth played a great deal when they had time, but she found she missed a male voice. Memories of Selar’s singing were painful to her, but she had enjoyed Spock’s rare vocals, and had missed Noel DelMonde’s voice after he had transferred, though she more than understood why he had had to leave the Enterprise.

Presently the enticing scent of a vegetable stew filled the small cabin, and Jilla got up, running her hands through her hair to smooth the worst of the tangles before leaving the curtained sleeping area. She waited until Jeremy turned, smiling at her, to speak.

“You have a beautiful voice, Jeremy,” she said, and noticed that he shivered.

“Thank you kindly, ma’am,” he returned. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You did, but it was most agreeable,” she answered. “As is the aroma of your dinner preparations.”

“I was hoping you’d think so,” he offered, then gestured to a small side table that protruded from the shuttle’s bulkhead. “If you’re hungry, dinner is served.”

Jilla took a seat, but said, “You needn’t wait on me, Jeremy.” He shivered again, and she found herself blushing at the emotion in his tia. “Does my pronunciation of your name disturb you?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied, and shivered a third time. “But not in a bad way, believe me.”

She cocked her head, gazing at him. “It arouses you?”

She couldn’t see the reddening of his skin, but she knew that he had blushed. “Uh-huh,” he affirmed, then set down a dish of the stew before her on the table. “You make it sound so – soft,” he explained, “yet strong and gentle all at the same time.”

“Fitting,” Jilla commented, “as those are your defining qualities.”

“Why I do believe you’re flirtin’ with me, Lady,” Jeremy teased.

Jilla blushed herself, and found herself saying, “You sounded exactly like Dr. McCoy.”

“Well, we’re both Southern gentlemen,” was the TerAfrican’s response.

Jilla’s eyebrows lowered in confusion. “I thought you were from Los Angeles.”

Paget took a seat opposite her with his own plate of stew. “I am, but my Daddy’s from Mississippi and my Mama’s Haitian by way of Alabama. I learned how to talk from them.”

“Haitian by way of…?” Jilla began.

“Her family’s in Haiti, and she was born there, but moved with her Mama and Daddy to Montgomery when she was just a baby.” He chuckled. “She don’t like it none when Daddy reminds her of her native roots.”

“Why is that?” Jilla wanted to know.

Paget shrugged. “She considers it unsophisticated. Not fittin’ for the wife of a preacher.”

“Preacher?”

“My Daddy’s a Baptist minister.” Before she could ask, he went on. “Baptist is a Christian denomination. He was assigned to a parish in L.A. before I was born.”

“Ah, I see.” There was a pause. “A minister – is that like a priest or priestess?”

“Not exactly. Baptists don’t hold with the idea that you need an intercessor to talk to God. My Daddy’s more like a leader – a guide to helpin’ folks find God’s truth and love for themselves.”

“I was not aware you were a religious man, Jeremy,” Jilla said.

“Well, not in a showy kind of way. My faith is strong and true, but I don’t feel the need to bother anybody else about it.”

“Ruth has given me the impression that all Christians are determined to convert everyone to their ideas.”

Jeremy snorted. “That’s Ruth for ya. Probably comes from hangin’ around Alana Phere at the Academy. Now her daddy’s quite the missionary.”

“Missionary?”

“Sulu’s right,” Jeremy suddenly stated. “You do have a habit of repeatin’ what a person says with a question mark. Not that it’s offensive, mind you,” he quickly added. “In fact, I think it’s endearing.” He smiled at her.

“It is only that there is so much of other cultures of which I am ignorant,” Jilla demurred.

The security man reached across the table, patting her small hand comfortingly. “Don’t worry about it, Jilla. I don’t mind answerin’ your questions.”

Jilla played Go with the expertise Jeremy would’ve expected from someone who had undoubtedly been taught by Sulu. Since he himself had learned the game from a Japanese family, they were just about equally matched. Her chess playing was consistently logical, and once he knew her favorite gambits, he was able to maneuver to a victory nearly half the time. She seemed every bit as pleased when he won as she was when she did, that that pleased him. They had finished a game – with Jilla the victor – and he sighed contentedly, then told the computer to terminate the program and rose, going to his gear to retrieve his stash of Rigellian.

“You mind if I smoke, Lady?” he asked.

She shook her head, and he noticed her eyes following his movements as he deftly rolled a small blunt, then lit it, inhaling deeply.

“Are you distressed in some way, Jeremy?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. “Naw. I just like the relaxation.”

“That is what Sulu says, but he is nearly always disturbed about something nonetheless.”

Jeremy shrugged. “That’s Sulu.”

The Indiian paused, then went on. “Do you know what it is he is nearly always distressed about?”

“Ah, Lady, that’s a long story.”

“We have a great deal of free time, Jeremy.”

He chuckled. “So we do.” He put his feet up, taking another deep hit of the calming smoke. “I don’t want to be tellin’ tales out of school,” he began.

“Telling tales out of…?”

“It’s a euphemism for givin’ information that might not be considered – positive.”

“Why? Are Terran schools often a negative experience?”

“Let's just say that Terran children are prone to be a little different with their peers than they are, say, around their families or other adults,” Jeremy explained. He glanced at the thoughtful look on Jilla’s face, and added, “I’m guessin’ it’s not like that on Indi.”

“No,” she replied carefully, “but I did notice such behavior on Vulcan.”

“I guess Vulcans habitually lie about their emotions, too,” he returned with a grin.

Her face sparkled gently, softening in a smile. “More so,” she said.

“Do tell,” Jeremy commented with a grin of his own, then, as Jilla took a breath, “no, I didn’t mean that literally. It’s another expression. It means – well, it conveys the idea that the previous statement isn’t at all a surprise.”

“You are very good at explaining such things, Jeremy,” Jilla complimented.

“Comes from bein’ a shrink.”

“Sulu is not.”

“There’s a reason for that, y’know.” He again inhaled a lungful of Rigellian. “It has to do with what distresses him all the time.” He exhaled slowly, then leaned forward. “Jilla, how much do you know about – well, about when Sulu was a teenager?”

“I know about the Clave,” she answered. “He told me about Ruis Calvario’s penthouse and about the Hunter.” At the mention of the name, Jeremy scowled. “And I know there is something about his relationship with Mr. Calvario that he does not wish me to know.” Jeremy nodded to himself. “I know he was quite promiscuous, and that he used a variety of Haven chemicals in amounts I often find alarming.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Paget muttered.

She looked surprised. “But – did you not share most of this with him?”

“I did,” Jeremy confirmed, “but I only used chemicals recreationally.”

“And Sulu did not?”

“Like you said, Lady, his usage was sometimes a bit alarming.”

She was silent for a moment, then asked quietly. “Is it related to what distresses him?”

“Yes, Jilla. Yes, it is.” Jeremy carefully extinguished his blunt, then sat forward and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. With carefully chosen and edited words, he explained to Jilla Sulu’s almost dual personality. He spoke without incriminating details of his best friend’s darker side, of the hungers that drove him and of the self-hatred those hungers engendered. He tried to make clear, as best he could, where those urges originated in Sulu’s psyche, and who he felt was responsible for them. He knew he could never keep his intense loathing of Cal from Jilla’s sensitivity, and he counted on that fact to aid her in understanding what he would not say – all the terrible, manipulative, twisted things the sick-fuck had done to and with Sulu. Not that he had a ton of details even if he’d been inclined to give her any. He didn’t need details. He knew, just by Sulu’s tortured reactions and guilt, the kinds of things Cal had done.

“And the thing is,” he concluded, speaking softly but earnestly, “I’m not sure Sulu consciously remembers a lot of it. When someone takes a lot of amber –“ He’d spent some time explaining the nature of Sulu’s preferred chemical high. “ – it begins to affect the memory. But somewhere inside him he knows, and he’s got such a creative mind that he imagines a lot worse.” He sat back. “And that’s what disturbs him, and it’s why he needs to smoke more than he wants to, and it’s why he sometimes can’t explain the things he says,” he finished.

Jilla was silent, but there were tears in her grey eyes. “Is there nothing we can do?” she asked plaintively.

“Lady,” Jeremy said gently, “don’t you know that your loving him is exactly what he needs?”