Return to Valjiir Stories
You have every right to be angry. You had the right to attack one who deliberately harmed you. You have the right to live, to feel, to be…
Ruth, do not do this to me.
Ruth abruptly sat up, opening her eyes to stare down at Jilla’s face. The Indiian’s skin was again ghost white, her lips and eyes pale. Ruth had come to Sickbay after spending nearly an hour arguing with Spock. Her Vulcan husband was sorrowfully resigned to the idea of Jilla’s imminent death, but Ruth could not so easily accept it. She was determined to do all she could to convince the Indiian that there were yet things worth living for. That it was exactly that attitude which was the ultimate cause of Jilla’s damnation was no deterrent; Ruth still believed she’d done the right thing two years earlier. And as she could convince herself that this was a healing which called for desperate measures, she had few qualms about telepathic intrusion. “I didn’t realize you were awake,” she said, and was determined not to feel sheepish.
“I have asked to be allowed to face Aema,” Jilla replied in a barely audible rasp.
“You know I can’t do that,” Ruth returned. “I’m keheil.”
“Have you no mercy, then?” Jilla said. “Or is your goddess secretly an agent of Aema’s judgment, committed to prolonging my suffering?” Her voice was so inexpressive that Ruth couldn’t suppress her shudder.
“Jilla, please…”
“He is life and being,” the Indiian broke in. “Without him, I have neither. Please, Ruth, I beg you…” Her voice stopped with a sudden inrush of breath, her eyes fixed somewhere behind Ruth’s head. Ruth’s jaw tightened, already knowing what she’d see when she turned.
Sulu stood in the Sickbay door, nearly radiating shame and sorrow and contrition.
“What do you want, bastard?” Ruth snarled.
She watched as he took a deep breath. “Jilla, tu celletemi, al lina mentora’i,” he said, and, attuned as she was to Jilla’s mind, Ruth heard the meaning: my love, I beg you, hear my truth.
Ruth bristled. “If you think for one minute I’m going to let you near her…” she began.
'He is life and being. Without him I have neither.'
Damnit!
“Jilla, you just call if you need…” she started again, then realized that the Indiian had lost all awareness of anything but Sulu. She rose, striding past her former friend. “If she dies, mister…” she growled at him, and was surprised when he murmured,
“I’ll follow her. Promise.”
Ruth blinked away the sudden, unexpected tears and left the room.
Jilla’s heart started beating painfully against her chest as Sulu approached the Sickbay bed. She would hear him, she knew. If he asked to return to her, she would welcome him. If he spoke not another word of LiLing or his betrayal, she would forever remain silent. If he offered no reason and no excuse, she would not ask him for one. Yet with the knowledge came the rising once again of the fever, the anger that seethed within her blood.
He crossed the room, kneeling on the deck beside the bed. His head was bent, his tia of overwhelming guilt and remorse and apology – and undiminished, hopeless, despairing love.
“Celletemi, I… I’m sorry,” he began. “I confess my guilt, I make no excuse. What I did was wrong, and there’s no way I can take it back or cleanse it away. I promised you eternity, and I failed you, I betrayed you, I betrayed your love and your sacrifice.” He looked up, and she felt his desperation that she believe him. “I love you, Jilla, and if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make this up to you.”
Being flooded her, and it was raw agony and bitter anguish. It carried with it the renewed stain of damnation, the sting of knowing that she would, yet again, betray Aema’s one inviolate. And with it, her anger gained strength, the Vulcan drive that had committed her life to him demanding its due.
“You love me?” she rasped incredulously. “You dare to come here from another and tell me that you love me?”
“You know I never stopped,” he returned softly and the truth of it only made her fury deepen. “I’m done with her, Jilla, I swear it…”
“You swear it?!” She repeated his words again, the irony of it not lost on her. It made her choke on a bitter laugh. “What good is your word? You swore you understood, you swore you would not abandon me! You know all I have forsaken, how I have…” She gasped, sobs tearing at her words. Pain was screaming through her senses, his as well as her own. Fire thundered in her veins, rational thought quickly becoming impossible.
Then Sulu was rising, coming to the bed, taking her in his arms. “I know,” he murmured, his voice a whisper that brought both sorrow and joy to her being. “I know and I’m sorry, please, Jilla, I was wrong, I know it, I love you, please, al lina, al lina…”
Jilla began trembling. There was a tension building within her, escalating too rapidly to be fought or controlled. It fed on and was fed by Sulu’s emotions, his remorse, his despair, his desperation and the terrible abiding passion that could not be denied. The Vulcan was past all sentience, knowing only that the male was acknowledging her claim. The Indiian grasped at the life-giving emotions, setting it against the icy void – but with that rampart came a need and rage every bit as strong as the blood fever. She would live, and if she lived, another must pay her forfeiture. It was as much Aema’s inviolate as the vow of cortayel.
With one swift movement, Jilla broke from Sulu’s embrace. Her hands found his throat of their own volition, her face a horrible mask of furious, snarling betrayal. She heard his gasp, felt his hands at her wrists as her fingers tightened. She felt the realization sweep through him, along with the fear and panic – and bitter acknowledgement.
“You beg me?” she hissed at him in fierce Indiian, “Beg Aema!” Violence filled her, emotion as blinding as the silver that colored her sight. “Stand before Her Court and tell Her there is another who gives you what you need!” Her fingers dug into the flesh of his neck, pressing against the pulse there, finding, stopping the flow of blood. “You will make it up to me?” she screamed at him, vicious laughter torn from her. “Die, then, and be done with her! Die, husband, and accept Aema’s judgment!”
Sulu almost welcomed the assault. The shame burning in him was too much to bear without retribution. He had to pay for it, as he had never paid for parties at Cal’s, for all the groupies he had used at the Clave or in the penthouse’s upstairs rooms, for the chemicals and the degradation and the Hunter…
I deserve it, my Juliet! he thought at her. Shake the yoke of inauspicious stars from this world-wearied flesh. Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!
Blackness began to come over him, Jilla’s shrieks receding from his mind, and it was fitting homage, a blessed relief from the pain he had inflicted on her…
Sudden cold terror, horror filling her, her hands flying from his throat. Air rushed back into his lungs and he was coughing, fighting the spasms and the roar of his own blood in his ears. But he heard her weeping and reached blindly for her. He had no idea why she had spared him, but he couldn’t now cause her any more pain, he couldn’t leave her lost and alone and crying.
Jilla locked her arms around her body, rocking back and forth in terrified realization. Suddenly the fever made horrified sense, the reason anger touched her when no other emotion would. It was not Vulcan, though the animal The Time created would feed from it. She could not bear it, could not face it, and the surety of the joy it would bring to Sulu only made it more terrible.
She felt his hands groping for her, his voice rasping, “not for me, please, Jilla, not for me…”
It broke her, washing over her in helpless waves. “Yes, for you!” she wailed, “always, only for you…!”
“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…!”
She threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. She felt his tears falling into her hair as his head bent over hers. “Let me come back to you,” he murmured brokenly. “Please, we can start again, you’re all I need, I love you, please, celletemi, please…” He was kissing her hair, her head, the side of her face, holding her tightly to him, his tia agonized and fervent. “I’ll make it all right again, I promise, Jilla…”
“It can never be all right!” she cried.
“Please, let me try, Jilla, I love you…!”
“You do not understand!” she moaned. “It is the right of a betrayed spouse to take the life of telmnori…”
“I know what I did to you!” he sobbed, anguished. “Please, I’m so sorry, I’m selfish, a bastard… Jilla, I'm the whore…!”
“I called you husband!” Jilla suddenly shrieked. She pulled away from his arms, her eyes staring, wild and terrified and full of the pleading terror of Beggar’s Court.
Sulu blinked as the words Jilla had said penetrated his grief and remorse. It is the right of a betrayed spouse to take the life of telmnori… I called you… she called me…
“Husband, Jilla?” he stammered in awed wonder.
“And I cannot shed the word, or the fever that will drive me to…!” She broke, tears streaking her anguished face, her hands coming up to cover her shame. “You do not understand,” she repeated in whispered despair.
It cut into him, filling him with all the twisted logic and desolate fear that had driven him for months, ever since the damned Elihuite commission! he thought with sudden ferocity. Jilla’s conviction of her own worthlessness had called to his, the lie that she was no more to him than an alien taste had festered with other ugly things that were true; his promiscuity, his varied and depraved pleasures, his manipulation – and his own susceptibility to it. She hadn’t blamed him, but he had begun to blame himself. The idea that ‘his kind of dealings with aliens’ were not only understandable to the Elihuites, but actually commendable had poisoned his thinking. The fact that he still found others attractive – a fact that certainly wasn’t news and hadn’t bothered him before – had assumed enormous, erroneous importance. The realization that he had confined himself to – and had been more than content with – only one sexual partner for an entire year, and that after nearly a year of celibacy, had shocked him – and had awakened the beast within him, Cal’s ‘prince’ who was owed the galaxy and more. And finally, Jilla’s nightmares had lit the fuse on that very explosive, very destructive combination. She had been his saving grace, the gentle eye of his ever-present emotional storm and when it seemed as though she was turning from him…
He gently took her hands, pulling them from her face. “No, honey,” he said softly, “I do. I haven’t given you much reason to believe me, but I do.” And he carefully let her feel his turmoil, all the self-hatred he carried within him, all his torment and shame and the bitter wonder that someone like her could want him, could welcome him. Then, just as carefully, he turned it around, and reflected back her turmoil, all the self-hatred she carried within her, all her torment and shame and the bitter wonder that he could want, could welcome her. “I understand your rights, ton tu’emi,” he told her, taking her face into his hands. “I understand what the word does to you, to us.” He took a deep breath, wiping the tears from her now-wondering eyes with his thumbs, speaking in quiet but determined Indiian. “My wife, I have betrayed you. I beg you, release me that I may accept Aema’s judgment.”
Jilla sobbed and threw her arms around him. He held her tightly, letting her tremble, taking all her fear and sorrow and empty grief, accepting the pain as proper recompense for all he had done. He gave to her his hope and devotion and trust, praying that it could begin to heal the terrible damage he had inflicted upon her soul.
When she had at last calmed, he gave her a final, loving kiss, then moved away from her. He went down on one knee at the side of the sickbay bed, his left hand held out before him, palm up. He waited, his heart and emotions open, for her to respond to the formal declaration of his own damnation. It was bitter for her, he knew, that she had never had the opportunity to say the words to Selar. And though she had already screamed one of the two possible responses; die, husband, and accept Aema’s judgment, he knew that by Indiian custom it would be neither binding nor lawful unless it came after his acknowledgement.
Tense moments passed. He willed himself to be ready to submit to her decision, regardless of what it would be. He heard the slow, careful intake of her breath and held his. Finally she spoke, and her words were soft and tremulous, but full of conviction
“I do not release you; acceptance I give and we will face Aema’s judgment together.”
He let the totality of his relief fill her with renewed commitment as he again rose to take her into his arms.
Jade took a fortifying breath as she prepared to enter the room in Sickbay to which Jilla had been confined. She could not have agreed to euthanasia, regardless of Vulcan logic, and was at least glad to have Jilla’s own refusal on her side. However, she also had Jilla’s plaintive request to stop the attempts to prolong the Indiian’s life. And while the doctor didn’t want to agree to that, either, she could see no good alternative, nor any reason other than personal to deny what amounted to a dying patient’s last request. And regardless of any of it, she had a duty to check on Jilla’s condition before retiring for the night.
The door opened at the pressure on the touch-plate, and Jade stopped short. Jilla lay in bed, her face a soft, silvery sheen. Her eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even and peaceful. Next to her, holding her blissfully curled body to his, also deeply asleep, was Sulu. His arms were around her, her head gently held to his chest. The blanket was pulled up to Jilla’s shoulders but Sulu’s arms and upper body were naked, and Jade could tell from the uniforms on the deck next to the bed that the rest of him, along with Jilla, was also sans clothing.
The riot of emotions that passed swiftly through Jade’s thought processes was truly astonishing. Disbelief, followed by dumbfounded amazement, followed by anger and shock and dismay, then supplanted by pique and disapproval and annoyance, turning rapidly to relief and curiosity and finally to determination and professional detachment. She gave a quick visual check of the scanner above Jilla’s bed. The readings were a little confused, of course, due to the fact that there were two people being monitored, and the other was Terran, not Indiian/Vulcan, but it was obvious there was no discernable trauma or immediate danger. Jilla’s condition was, in fact, better than it had been in two months. And one could die of a lack of surprise, Jade thought wryly. Sulu was all that was going to keep her alive, and it looks like he’s done it. And since that’s obviously the case, does it really matter why?
Hell yes, it matters!
Personally, perhaps, but Jilla’s your patient and at the moment she’s showing marked improvement. She’s asleep – in the name of the gods, peacefully asleep! – and so is he and I don’t think he stripped her naked then got into bed with her without her knowing about it. So whatever happened, she accepts it. Do likewise, Doctor, and if there are lectures to be given, let it wait until morning.
If there are lectures to be given?
When. But it still waits until morning.
Jade quietly programmed the scanner to alert the doctor’s lounge when Jilla awoke, then left the room. She made a quick notation on the Indiian’s chart, then set the ‘do not disturb’ message on the touch-panel of the door. She didn’t want any well-meaning Antari deciding to visit Jilla in the middle of the night and waking the dead of three galaxies with her furious shout of “and just what the hell do you think you’re doing you bastard.” She also left a note for Leonard, telling him she was sleeping in the lounge, and headed there to get a well-earned night’s rest.
Jilla woke renewed by the feeling of devotion and acceptance that had enveloped her tia all night. Sulu’s flesh was warm beneath her cheek, and she kissed his chest, her arms sliding out from around his waist. He came instantly awake, his arms tightening around her shoulders. She felt his head bending, his lips kissing the top of her head. “Morning, silver one,” he murmured, and her heart was filled with joy.
“I have missed you,” she whispered back.
Regret and sorrow immediately flooded his tia. “I’m so sorry, Jilla…”
“I know. It is done, my love.” She glanced up to see him staring concernedly at her.
“Is it?” he said frankly. “Can it be this easy?”
She flushed. “I nearly strangled you. I do not consider that easy.”
“I do,” he returned. “I deserved it.”
“You deserve what I have given you,” she told him, and though her voice was soft, there was a stern grimness behind it.
“Yes, but I don’t feel it the way you do,” he said, again kissing her head. “I am zilmnori but I’m not Indiian.”
Jilla held on to him more tightly. His casual use of the word was only further proof that he truly did understand what he had done to them both. Telmnor meant, literally, ‘vow-negator.’ Zilmnor was ‘vow-accepted,’ one who was damned but given a reprieve by the wronged spouse. Its use condemned them both; she because, though he was not legally her husband, using the word proved tia said he was, which confirmed her damnation. He was condemned because to call himself zilmnor admitted his guilt and sin before Aema regardless of the fact that he had not vowed before Her. “You feel it as a Terran can,” she supplied. “It is enough.”
“Hardly.” He sat up, bringing her with him. “And I can lay good odds that it won’t be for several other people I could name.”
Jilla shook her head fiercely. “It is my right,” she stated. “Whether or not they understand or approve.”
“Like that’s gonna be good enough for Spike,” Sulu muttered. “Or Doctor Han. Or Spock.”
“I will live. That will be enough.” She paused, and he chuckled deprecatingly.
“And I’ll deserve whatever shit they give me for it anyway.”
She flushed again. “I did not say so,” she demurred.
“No, but then you really didn’t have to, did you, hon?”
Jilla remained silent and Sulu chuckled again, hugging her. “I love you.”
“And I you.”
“God knows how you can.”
“Because you are my life.”
His hands came to her shoulders, putting her a short distance away from him. She gazed at him as he searched her face. Finally he said, “I’m not good, I’m not strong, I’m not perfect. I thought I had to be. I thought I could free you. I wanted to give you what you needed, even if that wasn’t me.”
Her breath caught briefly. “And do you for one moment believe I do not feel the same way?” she said. “Or that I could need anything but you?”
His shame was palpable, his voice hoarse. “You really would have let me screw her and stay with you, wouldn’t you?”
Jilla bent her head. “You are my life,” she repeated simply.
“I vow to you, Jilla, I’ll never forget that again,” he whispered and the sincerity in him was almost painful in its intensity.
“We need not speak of it more, Sulu,” she soothed. He straightened, again pulling her close to him.
“And you don’t need to comfort me,” he told her. “I’m the bad guy here.”
“Celletyea, tu’ros.”
“Cortayel, tu’emi. And this time…” He suddenly got up from the Sickbay bed, looking around. “There’s got to be a scalpel here somewhere,” he muttered.
Jilla’s tia was filled with his intent, and it both thrilled and horrified her. “You cannot,” she gasped out, getting off the bed herself. “It would not be accepted, you are…” She stopped talking as Sulu turned back to her.
“Already damned,” he finished wryly, then sighed. “Okay, honey. But if you ever want it…”
“You have just given it,” she returned, and held out her arms. He came to her and kissed her fervently.
“Ahem.”
Jade cleared her throat, crossing her arms at the sight of the two naked people embracing. Jilla began glowing fiercely and Jade’s heart leapt. It was a normal Jilla-response, the first Jade had seen since this ordeal began. Sulu leaned across to the bed, grabbing a sheet, pulling it protectively around the Indiian’s body, but he was smiling.
“I take it we’re feeling better this morning, Mrs. Majiir?” Jade asked, then hoped her use of the marital title wouldn’t be taken as a gibe.
Jilla glanced adoringly at Sulu. “I am fully recovered, Doctor,” she said.
“I doubt that. You’ve lost a good forty pounds,” Jade returned.
“I’ll make sure she eats now, Jade,” Sulu put in.
Jade deliberately kept her face impassive. “Will you, Mr. Sulu?” She expected his jaw to tightened, or his eyes to harden, but instead he glanced down at Jilla.
“As best I can, for the rest of our lives,” he vowed.
Hmm, Jade thought. It’s obviously settled between them. Jilla will live, and that’s the important thing. Still…
“I hope you realize that this little indiscretion of yours isn’t going to simply go away,” she rejoined dryly.
“No, I didn’t think so,” Sulu agreed. There was still no expression of irritation or defensiveness.
“And while you may have made it up to Jilla – though I can’t for the life of me imagine how,” she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “you have yet to make it up to the rest of us.”
The helmsman nodded, and Jilla said quietly, “He accepts Judgment, Jade. That is how.”
Jade frowned. That’s all? “And I feel it my duty to warn you, Mr. Sulu, that should this ever, ever be repeated, it won’t matter if she forgives you. I’ll make certain you won’t get a third opportunity.” She glanced meaningfully at his genitals, then gave a wide, Cheshire-cat grin.
Sulu closed his eyes, a faint, acknowledging grimace touching his features, then looked directly at her. “Noted and understood, Doctor,” he said.
“Understood?” Jilla repeated uncertainly.
“She means she’ll make it – ah – physically impossible for me to…” Sulu began in explanation, and Jilla again silvered.
“Jade!” she protested, “You cannot be serious!”
“Well, I can’t kill him, you need him to live,” the doctor returned urbanely. But Jilla looked so distressed, she relented. “I just want him to know how serious I am,” she clarified.
“You certainly accomplished that,” Sulu put in.
Jade nodded. “Good.” She again addressed Jilla. “I’ll discharge you if you promise to go home – “ She stopped and glanced toward Sulu. “Home?” she asked. He nodded, smiling. “Home,” she repeated to Jilla, “and eat and get more rest. Mr. Sulu, I’ll speak to the captain about authorizing a rec day for medical reasons.”
“My thanks, Jade,” Jilla murmured.
“You’re welcome. You’re the only reason I’m doing this.”
The Indiian’s head bent. “Yes, Doctor.”
“Thank you, Jade,” Sulu echoed.
“Do get dressed before you leave,” Jade advised. Jilla’s skin flared brightly in another blush. She’s definitely back to normal reactions, the doctor noted. She turned to leave the room, stopping at the door. “Oh, and,” she called over her shoulder, “good luck with Ruth.” She heard Sulu’s low groan and grunted in satisfaction, stepping through the doorway, letting it close behind her.
“She did what!?” Ruth screeched and on the viewscreen of the com, Jade winced.
“I’m just letting you know what happened,” the doctor returned. “For explanation, you’ll have to go to her.”
“That goddamned overconfident, arrogant, patronizing, self-centered, egotistical…”
“Supercilious, self-important, presumptuous, condescending…” Jade added.
“Mother-fucking, cock-sucking son of a bitch!!”
“Agreed. I sent them home. Do go have a talk with him before going on duty, won’t you, Ruth?”
“Oh, I’ll have more than a talk with the bastard,” Ruth growled. “I’ll cut his balls off and feed them to Sylvester!”
“Aren’t tribbles vegetarian?” Jade asked mildly.
“Then to Victoria,” Ruth returned vehemently.
“Victoria?”
“She’s a terrestius manus,” Ruth explained, then added, “It’s fitting. The fucker gave her to me.”
“Well, have fun, dear,” Jade commented, then closed the comlink.
Ruth turned from the desk to find her husband frowning in disapproval. “You’d better not be aiming that at me, mister,” she began warningly.
“While I am no more sanguine regarding this turn of events than are you,” Spock told her, “we cannot allow personal feelings to interfere with what Jilla wishes.”
“Why not?” Ruth muttered. “It’s what started this mess in the first place.”
One eyebrow arched meaningfully. “As we agreed before she repaired her relationship with Mr. Sulu…”
“I didn’t agree…” Ruth said, then stopped as the eyebrow lowered. “Well, I didn't.”
“At any rate, since our objective was to find some way to keep Jilla alive, and since her renewed association with Mr. Sulu will accomplish that, I would think this would be a cause for celebration, not rancor.”
“But he can’t just waltz back into her life and pretend nothing happened!” Ruth burst out. “He can’t be allowed to get away with this!”
“And what do you propose, short of mutilation and a meal for Victoria?” Spock wanted to know.
It was Ruth’s turn to frown as she thought about it. Finally, she glanced up. “I can make his life hell for a while,” she suggested.
Spock inclined his head. “And will that not distress Jilla?”
“Only if she’s around when I do it.”
“And do you imagine that, after the past two months, she will not be around him every available minute?”
Ruth’s lips pursed in a pout. “Yeah,” she said, then sighed. “I’ll think of something.”
“My wife,” Spock intoned, then he, too, sighed, and came toward her. “Please don’t.”
“Why not?” the Antari blazed.
“There are numerous reasons, but ultimately, because it is her life. If, as Jade stated, he has accepted damnation to Jilla’s satisfaction, will he not suffer as she suffers? And as you and I both know, this is considerable.”
“But he’s not Indiian,” Ruth retorted stubbornly. “He won’t feel it the way she does, or even the way you and I can.”
“Do you not remember when she returned from her telin-arin?” Spock returned gently. “Did he not bear the pain of it with us, with her then?”
“It’s not the same.”
Spock took her into his arms. “This hurts you for more reasons than Jilla,” he murmured.
Ruth tried to stop the words, the images, but with Spock in physical contact with her, it was impossible. Something in my heart died last night, one more chip off an already broken heart…
I am here now, beloved. I have allowed, welcomed your knowledge of me, I have joined with you as with no other.
Ruth sent him her deepest regret. It’s only memory, Spock. And really, it was because I didn’t think there was any hope for us.
But it burns you still. Can I not ease it?
You can. You do.
But not erase it.
I wouldn’t want you to.
There was a questioning from Spock’s mind.
It’s a part of me, and I like me, warts and all.
His soft smile enveloped them both. As do I, my beloved.
You’re supposed to say, ‘what warts, my wife?’
“What warts, my wife?” Spock repeated aloud, and Ruth laughed.
“I love you,” she told him.
“And I you.” He pulled away from her. “If you wish to have time to insult Mr. Sulu before your duty shift, I suggest you hurry.”
“You don’t object?”
“He deserves at least one good talking to,” was the Vulcan’s response. “Though no physical mutilation.”
“Can I castrate him verbally?” Ruth asked, then brightened as she realized what Spock had said. “At least?”
“I will speak with him as well. And I am certain Miss Gollub will have something to say.” He paused. “In addition to schmuck.”
“And Del and Monique and Uhura,” Ruth agreed happily. She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “See you on the Bridge, Boss.”
Sulu had gone with Jilla to her single room to get her essentials: drafting tools, lyrette, the shrine to Aema, her personal toiletries. Everything else could wait, he said, for later in the day, after she’d eaten and gotten more rest. Jilla insisted on retrieving one more item, a storage unit from the bottom of the wardrobe. When he’d asked what was in it, Jilla had gazed up at him and replied simply, “you.” It was only after they’d returned to their cabin and unpacked every gift he’d ever given her that he understood.
They had erected the shrine together, both kneeling before it in silent supplication. Jilla had started to cry and Sulu had held her, apologizing once again, vowing to her again, pointing out that this time it was before Aema. The emotional release exhausted Jilla, but he managed to get her to eat before putting her wraith-like body into bed. Then he sat, just looking at her, thanking every deity he knew, and some he didn’t, for this second chance.
The sound of the door signal startled him, but he slid the partition between the common area and the sleeping area closed, then went to the door, opening it manually so as not to take the chance of his voice waking Jilla.
“Good morning, motherfucker,” Ruth said pleasantly.
He closed his eyes, biting his lips. “Can we keep this quiet, Spike?” he said. “Jilla’s asleep.”
“Keep what quiet, bastard?” she asked as she stepped into the room.
“Your yelling at me,” he said.
“Is that what I’m going to do, schmuck?” she asked sweetly.
Sulu glanced down at her hands. “You don’t seem to be armed,” he returned.
“Like I’d need a physical weapon, you son of a bitch.”
He sighed. “Point taken.” He stood straighter, squaring his shoulders. “Okay,” he said, taking a breath and closing his eyes again. “Give it to me.” He waited, tensing. Nothing happened. Cautiously, he opened one eye. Ruth was at the room divider, carefully peeking in on Jilla. The Antari turned as he opened the other eye.
“Just wanted to make sure,” she said caustically.
Sulu took a step forward, and Ruth quickly sidestepped away from him. He stopped. “Ruth, what can I say?” he said. “I was wrong, believe me, I know how wrong. It was the biggest mistake of my life, and I won’t take the fact that Jilla’s given me another chance for granted.”
“But you will take it,” Ruth interrupted.
He was quiet for a moment, then looked directly into her eyes. “You want her to live, don’t you?” he asked as humbly as he knew how. He saw the loathing cross her features, and lowered his gaze. “I know that sounds arrogant, but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know why, Ruth, but I’m what gives her the strength to face Aema, the being to counter Indiian ice.” She stared at him, and he couldn’t read her expression. “What can I do, Ruth?” he asked softly.
The conversation wasn’t going at all how Ruth had expected it to go. She’d expected – wanted Sulu to be defensive and self-protective and maybe a little nasty. But here he was, openly accepting his guilt, taking all the blame – even his arrogance was nothing more than honest assessment. She found herself wanting to let it go, wanting to simply accept whatever Jilla had…
In dark sorrow, they gaze down into the darkest heart…
“What can you do,” she repeated. “Don’t you think you should’ve thought of that a little earlier?”
“Yeah,” he answered. “But I didn’t think it was going to be a problem. I never thought…”
“You’d get tired of LiLing?” Ruth put in, giving him a chilling smile. Bastard!
He closed his eyes again. “I never thought I’d be enough,” he said.
Ruth blinked. “Enough?” she said. “What the hell are you talking about?”
He took a deep breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was full of all the bitterness she felt.
“Jilla adored me,” he said. “She worshipped me. I liked it.” He paused and Ruth had begun a vicious retort in her mind when he went on. “For a while. Until the Elihuite witch hunt. Until she – and you – pointed out my colossal Terran presumptions.” He chuckled, a hard, rueful sound. “She said she understood the commissioners, Ruth, she said she knew she was soiling my Terran purity with her alienness. They said my type of dealings with ‘aliens’ were understandable, that I put them to their proper use.” He paused again. “And Jilla agreed with them.”
The pain and fear of those few days came back in stark, clear relief. Ruth shuddered, remembering Jilla’s desolation, the Indiian’s certainty of worthlessness. “What’s that got to do with…” she began.
“She was frightened, picking up on the commission’s xenophobia and adding it to her damnation,” he was going on. “I told her over and over that it wasn’t true, and after it was all over, we stopped talking about it.” His voice got very soft. “Only I didn’t stop thinking about it. What if they were right? I am a collector. I do enjoy alien tastes, alien pleasures, I was promiscuous and egotistical… worthless, arrogant, using whore. I was using Jilla, using her and she worshipped me. She forsook her vows, damned herself, all for me; terrible, vile, odious me. They were right, the Elihuites had me pegged. How could I be worth all she gave?” He hung his head. “I never wanted her to see it, Ruth, just like I never wanted…” His breath caught. “But she's Indiian. She can’t help feeling it.”
In the silence that followed, Ruth lowered her shields, letting herself take in all that was obviously overwhelming Sulu’s memory. Fleeting images traveled to her, too fractured to comprehend except for the emotions: raw need and pain, manipulation, coercion, dark pleasure and ferocity, guilt and hunger, anger and mind-numbing terror.
That’s what you’ve been hiding from me all these years, she realized. Roy, what could you have possibly done…
“How could I ever be enough?” Sulu was murmuring. “How could I ever comfort her, take it away from her? I wanted… I needed to save her, to give her a chance to find someone better, someone who wouldn’t use her…” He glanced up, and his eyes were glistening with unshed tears. “Then comes LiLing; beautiful, exciting and an easy piece. One who doesn’t mean anything to me. One who the user can cast aside when he’s done and not ache about it. One who the worthless whore won’t damn every night.” He shook his head. “I did what I did to save Jilla from myself and I did it because I loved her too much to hurt her.” He let out a short, barking laugh. “I know, how stupid can one man be?”
Ruth folded her arms, studying him. With her shields down, she knew there was no lie in him. These were his reasons, this was the truth.
“She’s forgiven me, Ruth,” he suddenly went on. “More, I’ve accepted Aema’s judgment. I’ve made it right with her.” He stared at her. “What do I need to do to make it right with you?”
“Why do you want to?” Ruth heard herself saying.
“I want my friend back,” was his simple reply. “You don’t know how much I’ve missed you.”
Ruth swallowed. “How am I supposed to forgive you?” she rasped. “You nearly killed her!”
“And I nearly killed him,” Jilla’s soft voice broke in. “Is that not recompense enough?”
Ruth turned to the Indiian. Jilla was standing beside the privacy partition. Ruth’s unshielded empathy brought her the picture of Jilla’s abortive attempt as well as all the meaning behind it. The Antari stared for a long moment, absorbing both the horror and the completion as Jilla moved across the room to stand at Sulu’s side.
“Aema, sumin tu, Sulu i ton tu sina,” Jilla said. Aema, have mercy, Sulu is my husband.
“And she’s my wife,” Sulu added.
Ruth struggled with the emotion overwhelming her senses. That the matter had indeed been settled between them could no longer be in doubt. She didn’t want to understand; not Sulu’s guilt-driven and honestly-intentioned infidelity, nor Jilla’s acceptance of this final damnation. She didn’t want to forgive him, but how could she continue to blame him in the face of his own self-loathing? How could she hate him when he so clearly believed he was worthless, a bastard, a whore? It made terrible, unwelcome sense. She wouldn’t want to inflict that on someone she loved, would she? Might she not go to such ridiculous and outwardly cruel lengths if she truly believed she was that irredeemable? And, at the last, for him to have to accept that, regardless of his own inadequacies, Jilla needed him in order to live…
Ruth shuddered, felt Jilla feeling her jumbled emotions, and quickly raised her shields again. “I don’t know if it’s enough,” she said slowly, then took a deep breath. “But I guess I’m not the one who has to.” She swallowed her own pain and regret and loss, then glared belligerently at Sulu, her hands going easily to her hips. “But so help me, Roy, if you ever do anything like this again…”
Sulu’s grateful smile warmed her. “I won’t, done deal, Spike,” he promised.
“Nor would he survive it,” Jilla added calmly.
Ruth watched as Sulu closed his eyes, then again whispered, “Done deal.”
“And don’t expect me to call off the dozens of other people who want to rip you a new one,” the Antari continued blithely.
“Rip a new…” Jilla began, and Ruth smiled.
“Never mind, Jilla.”
The Indiian’s soft, “I never do,” was the most gratifying thing Ruth had ever heard.