Jilla had needed some time alone, and Jeremy busied himself, first with some of the simulations he'd programmed into the computer, then with sending a private message to the First Officer of the Drake, asking the Equian to let the Icarus know where the Captain was intending to start his leave. Finally he decided he might as well pilot for a while. He switched off the automatic systems and let practiced fingers tell the engines and navigation what to do. It was a great deal more relaxing than needle piloting, though, he had to admit, no where near as much fun. He had settled into the easy flow when he gradually became aware of the sound of Jilla's lyrette and her soft, sweet voice:

To hear the song, click here

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you...

He sighed wistfully. I know exactly how you feel, Lady, he thought. The dancing rhythm of the Indiian's nimble fingers on the strings was a evocative counterpoint to the expressive vocals. It made him think of sunlight on the water of the Pacific, or the sands of its beaches, with the quiet but continual roar of the surf as background.

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure, and then
Again, I would spend them with you.

He found himself humming along with the chorus. He knew the song; it was a part of the Valley Collection, and he'd often heard Ruth performing it at parties.

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
You're the one I want to go through time with

Ah, babe, if only that were possible...

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you.
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
You're the one I want to go through time with

Jeremy felt tears in his eyes, and quickly quelled them. He wouldn't disturb Lady Jilla's peaceful joy for all the credit in the galaxy.

Jilla awoke to the soft touch of a hand on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, Lady," Jeremy's voice said, "I hate to wake you, but there's an ion storm dead ahead. We don't have the time to go around it and I'll need your help piloting through it."

She nodded, and quickly rose from the small cot. She was wearing her night shift, and Paget's appreciative desire at the sight of her body made her flush. He grinned, and stepped away.

"I cleaned your uniform," he told her, pointing to the red fabric draped over the end of the cot.

"Thank you, Jeremy," she replied.

"My pleasure," he said, then turned, carefully closing the curtain as he left the sleeping area.

Jilla dressed, foregoing hose and boots, and moved to the front of the shuttle. There was a cup of coffee waiting for her and she slipped into the seat beside Jeremy. A check of the instrumentation told her what was required for the coming challenge. "Diverting power from auxiliary, increasing shielding to maximum," she said automatically.

"It doesn't look to be too wide," was Jeremy's comment, "but I'd drink that coffee now." She nodded in agreement, reaching for and draining the cup. "You sure you're not in Security?" he joked.

"Ruth and I have had much practice in time management the past six months," Jilla returned.

Jeremy snorted. "I'll just bet you have."

There was little discussion over the course of the next hour, their attention taken up by monitoring the shuttle's systems and keeping the Icarus on her proper heading. Jilla often found herself glancing at Jeremy's hands as they moved over the controls. They were quick and strong, with none of the heaviness she had come to expect from Security personnel. Of course, he was a needle racer, she reminded herself, and found her usual distaste of that activity melting into curiosity. She had never before realized that, while it was still dangerous, unnecessary and illegal, racing would have an undeniably positive effect on one's ability to handle the controls of almost any computerized system. She found herself wondering how much of both Sulu's quick efficiency and Ruth's skilled work was the result of their racing experience. But it makes equal sense that their abilities were what made racing attractive to begin with. The engineer in her longed to create some way to run a comparison on the idea, and she placed the idea in the back of her mind and again focused on the shuttle.

When the sensors at last showed they had cleared the storm, Jeremy sat back in the pilot's chair with a deep sigh. "Thank you, Jesus," he murmured.

Jilla glanced at him. "Why do you give thanks to your god, Jeremy?" she asked. "It was our combined skill that accounts for..."

To her surprise, the Security man scowled at her. "You sound like some kind of atheist, Lady," he said, "and I know that ain't true."

Jilla flushed. "I do not understand what Indiian religious belief has to do with..."

"My religion acknowledges the Lord's help in everything I do," Jeremy interrupted.

"As does mine with Aema's guidance, however..."

"...and so when I come through a difficult time, I give thanks."

"Your tia was that of a personal..." Jilla tried again.

"Jesus is my personal savior," Jeremy retorted.

"Jeremy, I can understand thanking your god for the skills which enabled you to pilot the shuttle effectively, however your emotion was as though your god himself was somehow responsible for the shuttle's safely, rather than his effect on your skills." She took a breath, wounded by the harsh recrimination in his tia. "I am only trying to understand your reaction."

"And I don't see why. My religion isn't yours. Indiians are supposed to be tolerant."

"I was not being intolerant," Jilla insisted. "I was simply curious."

Jeremy's fingers furiously returned the shuttle to auto-control, then he stood. "That was the intent of your question, yes," he nearly snarled. "But the comment about our combined skills, implying that Jesus had nothing whatever to do with those skills..."

"In my case..."

"All right, then, damn it, implying that Jesus had nothing whatever to do with my skills!" Paget snapped. "That I found intolerant!"

Jilla blinked. "Forgive me, Jeremy," she said softly. "I meant no offense."

"You address Aema often enough," he grumbled as he moved past her toward the back of the shuttle. "I'd think you'd understand it."

Jilla bent her head, her eyes closing. It was true, the common Indiian phrase, Aema, sumin tu - Aema, have mercy - was a direct address to the goddess, but she had been given to understand that Terran religions did not view their gods in quite the intimate way Indiians did. Aema was Mother, the progenitor of the entire Indiian race, and still present, though in a non-corporeal form. What she had learned of Terran beliefs had implied that its concept of deity was, like its concept of eternity, a non-literal one. At least in Jeremy Paget's case, this was obviously mistaken.

She pushed aside her own pain at the topic, and rose herself. "Forgive me," she repeated. "I made an assumption regarding the nature of your beliefs, based on what I have observed of other Humans. I was wrong. I am sorry to have inadvertently derided the strength of your devotion. Believe me, I would never deliberately do such a thing." She waited, feeling the bitter indignation draining out of him as he realized the sincerity of her apology. Finally he sighed.

"I'm sorry, too, Jilla," he relented. "It's just that - there's a lot of - cynicism, I'd guess you'd call it, among Terrans about someone who believes in the literal reality and presence of God. It's considered unscientific and unenlightened. Why thank God, they say. If He exists, He may have given us our abilities, but it's mankind who has nurtured and used those abilities." He shrugged. "Which is what I heard you sayin'."

Jilla nodded thoughtfully. "That is indeed the general premise regarding religion among Humans which I have been lead to believe, which is why your statement surprised and confused me. I understand now that your beliefs are, in nature, far more similar to my own."

Jeremy smiled. "Then we're on the same page, here."

"The same...?"

"It means we're in agreement, at the same mental and emotional place, as though we were both reading the same book and were both..."

"...on the same page," Jilla finished with a brief smile of her own.

Jeremy regarded her warmly, then turned back to the coffee pot.

"Would you like another cup?" he asked.

"Yes, please. I doubt I would be able to return to sleep."

"Adrenaline does that for ya," Jeremy agreed. He poured the coffee, then sat down at the table. "Jilla?"

"Yes?"

"Would you tell me something about Aeman religion?" he said. "All I really know is what Sulu's told me - and I've got to admit, that ain't always been very flattering."

"No, I imagine not," Jilla returned quietly. She took a deep breath. "What would you like to know?"

After over an hour, Jeremy understood the nature of Jilla's beliefs much better. Aema was, like Jesus was for him, a personal deity, very involved with every aspect of an Indiian's life. Of an Aeman's life, he corrected himself wryly. He'd known, of course, that there was another kind of Indiian spirituality, but had never really understood the schism. Hearing Jilla tell of the Aeman belief of Roshi's abandonment of Aema, it made a lot more sense. He found himself wondering if Roshi had been a Seeder, and the mythological tale of his marriage to Aema a cultural way to explain the awareness of it in the Indiian collective unconscious. Not that that would belie the myth's literal truth - it could, after all, be both. And such a thing might also explain the strength of the Aeman reverence for the marital state. After all, a physical union with a god would make for a mighty powerful attachment. And with Indiian sensitivity, the power in that union would surely become part of the very background of an Indiian's emotional existence.

Which brought him to a subject he wasn't sure he wanted to bring up.

But if I don't, it's gonna prey on my mind and she'll pick that up and wonder why I'm suddenly so wary, which ain't gonna do either of us any good, he thought, and steeled himself, taking a deep breath.

"Jilla," he began quietly, "I know this is hard for you, but..."

She bowed her head, her face taking on a soft sheen. "I would have thought Sulu explained the effect The Time and Dr. McCoy's serum had on my emotional..." she began.

"He did," Jeremy interrupted. "I wasn't gonna ask about that." He paused. "Lady, I've read the logs from the Enterprise regarding the token investigation into the death of Ensign LiLing - " Jilla stiffened, but Jeremy went on. " - so I'm aware of the exact wording of your answer to the charges that were never formally brought against you. Knowin' a little more about Aeman belief, I understand the accuracy of that answer. I also know that, given all the circumstances Commander Spock listed as being necessary, this question might seem a little ridiculous. And before you answer, I want you to know that it's not gonna change my devotion to your and Sulu's happiness. I knew the woman, and I'm well aware what she was capable of. I know Sulu, and I know the demons that drive him. You know how I feel about him. His devils don't change that. You know how I feel about you. Your devils won't change that, either." He smiled gently, then reached out, taking one of her hands in his. "Jilla, did you kill her? Did you, through action or inaction, cause her death?"

Jeremy watched carefully as Jilla's head slowly came up. Her eyes were steel, with not a glimmer of remorse or guilt or regret. "Aema sent forth Her Judgment," she said, and her voice, too, was as cold and hard as dylithium.

Jeremy took another deep breath, forcing himself to hear with his new understanding of her religion. He'd seen enough preachers filled with the Holy Spirit to recognize it when it was manifesting before him. This is Jesus in the temple, he acknowledged. Compassion and understanding and forgiveness can't be universals or they cease to have any real meaning. It was right for Jesus to throw down the money lenders, it was right for Him to destroy the marketplace, just as it's right for Him to sit on the right hand of God to judge the quick and the dead. This is Judgment.

He looked into her eyes. He waited until the steel lifted and Jilla was herself again. He filled himself with all the acceptance within his power, and nodded.

"She had every right to," he said. And so did you.

Jilla was quiet for most of the rest of the trip. Jeremy was sorry to have been the cause of that change, but contented himself with all the programming he'd arranged for just such an eventuality. She, of course, got more anxious as they approached the planetary system where the Drake was taking leave - truth be told, so did he. He would enjoy - revel in - the joy on Sulu's face and then would find Tara Ryan and throw himself into a more than pleasant reunion with her until it was time for the trip back to Terra. And then, he promised himself, I'll spend a week enjoyin' the joy on her face not thinkin' about how it got there.

Jilla's voice interrupted his reverie. "May I ask you a question, Jeremy?" she said.

He shivered, smiling at her shy pleasure to his now-standard reaction to the way she said his name. "Shoot," he replied, and as her eyebrow started to rise, he added, "It's a short-hand reference to the idea of fire when ready, meaning go ahead." He grinned at her faint smile.

"Why did you and Sulu never marry?"

Jeremy's own eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I thought Indiians didn't understand same-sex unions," he said.

"It is unknown on Indi," Jilla returned, "but I have lived among other races for quite some time. I do not understand fully, but I am aware of the existence of such bonds. And," she continued, blushing, "I can hardly be ignorant of the strength of your attachment to him, and of his to you."

That took him by surprise. "Lady, he's never felt for me what I feel for...."

"You are wrong, Jeremy."

Jeremy blinked. No, don't tell me that, not now, not when it's far too late... He turned from her with what he hoped was a casual move. "Well, I'm not gonna argue emotion with a sensitive," he said jauntily, "but be that as it may... whether he does or not, he didn't. We were far too young to think like that then anyway. And he never was the monogamous type - " He turned again, grinning down at her. "Not till he met you. And I didn't have a reason to want him to be, and my idea of what makes a marriage was never his and..."

"I am sorry to have caused you such sorrow," she broke in softly.

His heart thumped painfully against his chest. "I told you before, Lady," he managed. "What I want is for him to be happy. I don't make him..."

"You do," she countered.

"Not the way he needs." He took a deep breath. "I don't know why I love him like I do. I always have - or at least, I can't remember a time when I didn't. And while I know he loves me, it isn't the marryin' kind of love. It isn't romantic or forever or..." He swallowed. "It's nothing when compared with how he loves you. It never was. It never will be. I know that. I accept it. I'm glad to take what he has to give me, and I'm overjoyed you can understand it and still let me be a part of his - a part of your lives." He blinked back the tears that plagued him late at night. "Lady, it just wasn't meant to be."

She stared up at him, and he tried not to flinch from her gaze. We both know all this, he found himself thinking. Why do we have to say any of it out loud? He tried in vain to hold back the flood of memory. Morning on the beach in California, a day nearly fourteen years ago...

"Sulu... I'm not sorry. I wanted it, I wanted you. I loved what we did, how you made me feel. I love you."

"So you said, babe."

"It's true."

"I know."

"And you don't love me."

"I care about you, Jer, you know that. We're friends, like brothers, we always will be. I hope we can be lovers. But love...? I'm sorry. What I feel... it just isn't the same."

"It's all right. It doesn't have to be. Does it?"

"You have to tell me."

He'd thought about it. Could he love Sulu, knowing Sulu didn't love him? Could he be Sulu's lover, knowing he'd never be his partner? And even if he couldn't, could he give up the joy? Never to feel Sulu's arms around him, Sulu's lips on his; never to feel the power in Sulu's body, the magic of Sulu's touch...

Never to show him how much he loved him.

That had decided him. He'd take what he could get, and rejoice in it, content with being able to love him. Because he knew, even then, that he'd never love anyone else.

He opened his eyes, not realizing he'd closed them. Jilla was still staring at him, her eyes full of all his grief and all his longing. "You gave him to that which you thought he needed," she whispered.

He could only nod.

"Jeremy," she said after a long silence. "You are not Indiian. You were mistaken."

Jeremy never knew how he came to be in her arms. All he knew was that he wept for a long time.

"Don't wear your uniform," Jeremy advised, then added with a chuckle, "not that he's gonna let you stay in whatever you've got on for long."

Jilla flushed brightly and Jeremy chuckled again. He turned his back to the sleeping area, smoothing his own civilian outfit, a white shirt with a deep 'V' neckline and sleeves that were open to the wrists, over a pair of black leather pants. He listened to the rustling of clothing and fought with the temptation to take just a small peek.

"Will this do?" Jilla asked, and Jeremy turned around. Then he had to remind himself to close his mouth.

       

The small Indiian was stunning in a simple but beautiful floor-length gown of ebony, cut close around her throat, exposing her shoulders and arms completely. She was wearing a pair of beautiful bracelets, dark metal and dylithium, and a faceted dylithium pendant. Smaller matching pendants hung from her earlobes, almost hidden in the rich fall of her burgundy hair.

Jeremy shook his head. "Lord Jesus, woman, you're gorgeous!" he murmured.

Again, Jilla blushed. "Thank you, Jeremy," she replied.

He checked the chronometer, then smiled at her. "According to my sources, Sulu'll be at the Vivianne Lounge right about now, orderin' a bottle of sake and feelin' sorry for himself," he told her. "And I can't wait to see his face when he sees you." He held out his arm. "If I may escort you, Lady?"

Jilla demurely lowered her head and placed her hand on Jeremy's outstretched arm. Jeremy grinned, and hit the release on the shuttle's hatch.

The Vivianne Lounge was an elegant, upscale establishment, with a large, oval-shaped bar surrounded by well-spaced, secluded alcoves, each containing wall-to-wall, luxuriously padded bench seats and a dark wood table. The lighting was subdued, but not too dark, and Jeremy immediately began to scan the mostly Starfleet crowd. As promised, the First Officer of the Drake was conspicuous, the satyr-like appearance and spiraled golden horn easy to spot, with Sulu right next to him. Jeremy steered Jilla through the people standing around the bar, then gently tapped Sulu on the shoulder. The dark almond eyes lit with surprise and pleasure as the captain turned, and Jeremy immediately stepped back, presenting Jilla with an almost courtly flourish.

"Jer, what the..." Sulu began, then his voice stopped. He stared, then blinked. "Jilla?" he whispered. The Indiian began glowing softly. "Jilla?!"

Jeremy grinned as Sulu lifted Jilla right off the floor and into his arms for a passionate kiss. When he set her down, he didn't let go of her, looking over her head to Jeremy.

"God, how did you..." Sulu began in incredulous wonder. Then he interrupted himself. "Never mind, god, Jer, I love you!"

Jerel Courtland held out his hand. There was a hotel pass key in it. "The Riviera, just up the street, Captain," he said. "The Senatorial Suite."

Sulu was grinning from ear to ear. "You helped set this up, too?" he asked of the Equian.

Courtland whinnied. "You were driving us all batshit, sir."

Sulu looked from his First Officer to Jeremy. "I don't have the words..." he began.

"Forget words, Sulu," Jeremy told him. "Go. Enjoy. I'll be around to pick her up four days from now."

"How can I ever thank you?" Sulu's voice was rich, full of emotion.

"No need," Jeremy returned. "Just love her."

The captain smiled down at his Indiian wife. "I will, Jer," he said softly. "Oh, I will." He kissed her again, then took the key from Courtland's hand and, with his arm around Jilla, moved away from the bar and out of the lounge.

"Mission successfully accomplished, Mr. Paget," Courtland grinned.

Jeremy nodded, then clapped his hands together. "Now, Commander, if you could point me in Miss Ryan's direction...?"

Four days later, Jeremy was lounging at the desk of the Riviera Hotel, waiting for Sulu and Jilla. It was one minute to the posted check-out time, and Jeremy didn't expect to see the couple for another 59 seconds. He'd only checked out of his own room five minutes before, and had said a fond goodbye to Tara, who had promised to look him up again as soon as circumstances permitted. He smiled to himself, enjoying the lingering taste of her lips on his. It had been a very satisfying four days.

He heard the sound of the elevator and glanced up, noting that Sulu still had his arm around Jilla's waist. To his surprise, Jilla was nearly leaning against Sulu's chest, her face beatific, gazing adoringly at her husband. As they approached the desk, Sulu grinned.

"Have a good time, Captain?" Jeremy asked with a smile of his own.

"It was exactly what I needed," Sulu responded. "Jer, I don't know how to thank you."

"If you both enjoyed yourselves, that's all the thanks I need," Jeremy returned. He smiled at Jilla. "You did enjoy yourself, didn't you, Lady?"

Her grey eyes shined up at him. "Yes, Thank you, Jeremy."

He noted Sulu noticing his shiver. "Am I supposed to trust you with her for the next week?" he asked, mock-suspiciously.

"The trip here is when you should've asked that, babe," Jeremy pointed out. "Now I'm nicely fulfilled - and I expect she is too."

Jilla flushed as Sulu laughed. "Oh, yeah," he murmured. He turned and handed the passkey to the desk clerk, and Jeremy turned his attention to Jilla.

"You ready for the trip back to SanFran?" he asked.

"No," she replied softly, "but as the journey must be made..."

"I know just how you feel, Lady," Jeremy agreed. Sulu again turned from the desk, and Jeremy stepped back, allowing him and Jilla the time for a private farewell.

"I love you, little one."

"And I, you."

"I'll miss you."

"And I will miss you."

"Think of me."

"Always."

"It won't be too much longer."

Jeremy thought there was a hesitation before Jilla replied, "No."

Sulu took her into his arms, hugging her fiercely, then kissed her. Then he took a deep breath, stepping away from Jilla's small form. "Say hi to Ruth for me," he said cheerfully.

"I will," Jilla replied. Sulu glanced up at Jeremy.

"Take care of her, Jer."

"Will do, Sulu."

"Give my regards to Jim and Spock and Jade and Uhura and Daffy and Pavel and... well, to everyone."

Jeremy nodded. "Captain Kirk said to give you the same," he said.

With another deep breath, Sulu held open his arms, and Jeremy stepped into the intense, ardent embrace. "Thank you," was whispered in his ear. "I know what this cost you." And Sulu gently kissed his cheek.

Jeremy swallowed his emotions, hugging his friend warmly in return. "You owe me a couple weeks of leave," he whispered back, and Sulu laughed, breaking the embrace and stepping away.

"Love you both," he said, and turned, heading for the door of the hotel, only to turn back to give Jilla another kiss. There were a few more false starts before the captain of the U.S.S. Drake finally walked out the door.

After the Icarus was on its way, Jeremy left Jilla alone to have the good cry she needed. He stubbornly refused to succumb to the melancholy himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to make things worse for her. Instead, he filled his mind with reliving the four days spent with Tara. He didn't love her, and she didn't love him, but they had a wonderful time together, and they were well suited to each other. Most importantly, both of them understood the demands and peculiarities of being in Security. Damn shame we won't ever serve on the same ship, he thought, unless one of us wants to take a demotion.

He shook off that sour thought, and went to the computer. There was already a message for Jilla from Sulu, and, to his surprise, one for him.

Origination: U.S.S. Drake
              NCC 541
              Command
              Captain T.Sulu - S-3419098/CMD
              Terminus: C.S Icarus
              Attachment NCC 1701
              Security and Operations - AWL
              Cmdr. J.M.Paget - P-4038751/SEC

Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!!!!!

Jeremy, you're a wonder. I don't know how you managed to pull this off, but it was the most wonderful surprise I've ever received. Jerel was right, I was driving everyone a little insane - not to mention myself. God, I don't deserve a friend like you. There aren't words to express all I'm feeling right now. It was so good to be able to hold her, to love her, to feel her skin against mine, her breath in my ear, her voice, her touch...

And I'm sorry, babe, I know you don't need this. But then, Tara has an awfully sated smile on her face right now, so maybe it won't be too bad, huh?

What else can I say? You mean the world to me, Jer. I miss you already, even though we didn't spend much time together. And I have to thank you for that act of selflessness, too. There's so much I have to thank you for....

Take care of yourself until we can see each other again. Maybe at the Nest launches?

I love you, Jer. I really do.

Sulu

Jeremy smiled at the viewer, then pressed two fingers to his lips, then to the screen. Until we can see each other again, Sulu, he silently promised, then turned heading for the small galley. Jilla would, he was sure, want some fresh coffee.

The End