Dreams of Paris

Posted on Mon Jun 11th, 2018 @ 11:43pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Sonak
Edited on on Sat Sep 15th, 2018 @ 2:46am

Mission: Curing the Black Blood
Location: USS Hera, Deck 12, Sickbay
Timeline: 2395
Tags: flashback

The somnambulator put the gold-clad adventurer to sleep, to let her body rest and recover from the concussion and the shock safe on a biobed in the USS Hera's sickbay. As her consciousness slid into the subconscious, at the end of a long and harrowing day, Rita Paris allowed herself the luxury of remembering her T’hy’la, Sonak of Vulcan.


Pounding the deckplates had not been as satisfactory as she had hoped, despite the mileage covered nor the exertion involved. Now Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris was bustling about her quarters, slinging ingredients together to get dinner ready before Sonak arrived- assuming that he would be free to arrive. Today had been hectic already, and she had set their dinner date time a bit early, which meant that she was now in a hurry to get the vegetarian lasagna in the oven in time to be finished before he arrived.

Today had been one long stressor, starting with Stuart magnanimously volunteering Rita to grade the cadets on the Kobayashi Maru test. Not that she minded, but it did put her on the spot as she scrambled to find the grading guides of the test. Then had come the admiralty pre-inspection, which had been interrupted by the arrival of the admiral an hour and a half early. Which turned out to be a promoted Stuart, coming from inside the ship no less.

It would not have grated on her that he showed up as the inspecting admiral nearly as much had he not rushed things, as he always did. Which forced the entire crew to scramble for no reason, as he always did.

With Stuart promoted to Commodore, Sonak was suddenly promoted to Captain of the Exeter, which dredged up a number of Rita’s insecurities about the status quo changing instantly, as the dysfunctional little family she had built here with which she had become so familiar and comfortable was disrupted in an instant.

Of course, Sonak had known that would be the case and had calmed her by informing her that she would be staying on, promoted to first officer. Which was certainly a career goal, although given the looks of fear that she now received moving about the Exeter, she was definitely beginning to see how rank distanced one from any sort of relationships with the crew. Which would quite likely only become more pronounced if she managed to achieve her lifelong dream of command of a starship.

Right now it was starting to look slightly less appealing… but this was day one, so Rita wasn’t about to start revising her career plans just yet.

Then there was Lieutenant Saavik, whom Rita was trying very hard not to hate. A walking talking rulebook-quoting bit of Vulcan perfection, Rita didn’t like the way that she seemed to get preferential treatment, nor the way that she cozied up to Sonak. The fact that Rita was now going to have to deal with the woman every single day was of very little appeal, and trying to keep Sonak from finding out how she felt about his protégé was next to impossible. So she had that to look forward to tonight as well.

Like it or not, her world was changing, and Rita wasn’t enjoying it. Working under Sonak as a first officer should be an exciting opportunity for her, but instead it was twisting her stomach into knots. Stuart leaving after this cruise was something that made her unhappy as well, because she liked the man. Despite how much he had driven her crazy, the navigator had enjoyed supporting him as captain. A year, if not more, of putting up with Saavik on the bridge was liable to drive her to request a transfer despite her relationship with the last kolinahr. And somehow the promotion to executive officer had been a thrill that seemed to have been somehow short-lived. The realization struck her that despite all the ground she had covered roving about the starship today, only Stuart had congratulated her. Well, and Saavik.

The science department were at the moment all trapped inside a stasis bubble. The ensign whose experiment had produced said effect seemed to feel that the situation would best be dealt with using explosives and transporters. Which had also set her on edge, because she couldn’t decide if the man was cavalierly idiotic or eccentrically brilliant. Unsurprisingly, given her own experiences, the possibility of having science officers torn apart by the transporter made her break out in a cold sweat every time she considered the possibility. So much for successfully dealing with her transporter phobia.

Times changed and nothing lasted forever, so there was no choice but to adapt. That didn’t mean that she had to like it, though.

There was the brief consideration that perhaps lingerie would make the evening more special, but she suspected that this might not be a night of romance, given her own emotional turbulence. Although given the day that she’d had, losing herself in sensations of the flesh seemed like it might just be the best possible answer for her- deny the future, deny the present and just forget everything in an athletically orgasmic haze. Not the most adult solution to her problems, but it didn’t sound half bad right now.

Sonak, of course, found interest in the tactile sensation of the fabric textures, the rituals of disrobing yet not being naked, the effect upon her psychology and more, though of course the lust-inspiring qualities of the garments were lost upon him.

Insuring the oven timer was set, Rita rummaged through her closet looking for something lacy and enticing enough to woo a Vulcan… and that Harry Mudd perfume with the silly name... there it was, ‘Pon Farr- why wait seven years, when it could be tonight?’



The door opened automatically at Sonak’s approach- she had reprogrammed the sensor years ago to recognize him and open automatically, for she kept no secrets from him and he was almost always welcome. When he entered, he smelled immediately the aroma of that Terran dish she knew that he appreciated so much. Humans had such a richness in their culinary traditions, inspired by their powerful sensuality and deep emotional commitment to food sharing, it often made him meditate on what had been lost with emotions by his people; and especially himself.

But fortunately, in his case, he had met Rita Paris. She accepted all his limitations and alienness and freely shared with him her human passions without ever complaining over his own lack of them. Which was something he had never thought a human female could have accomplished, another lesson for him about the infinite diversity in infinite combinations his people were so proud of having as a philosophy. The closeness they had developed over the years had not only helped him take full control of his Pon Farr cycle, but the telepathic intimacy borne of it had allowed him to explore her emotions without having to feel them himself. Yet he could touch them as if they were his own, and gain a new understanding of her, of himself and of life far beyond the deepest studies of all the kolinahr masters before him.

If he could just give her as much as she was providing him, he would declare his life fulfilled. He hoped that offering her promotion and position on the Exeter would at least partially accomplish that end.

Her career, he knew, was important to her; far beyond simple professional achievement or any sort of competition, it was a defining life challenge for her. And he offered it to her because she was ready for it, and there was no one better for the job. Because he was to be the captain of this starship, and no one could better compensate for his limitations and provide him with everything he needed to be himself proficient at his job... than Commander Rita Helena Paris.

In any ship in Starfleet. she could have been the perfect first officer- but she had accepted his request to be first, just as she had accepted to be with him in every other conceivable way. That turn of good fortune was almost enough for him to start believing in luck.

Turning as Sonak entered her quarters, Rita Paris frowned slightly.

Blue had always been Sonak’s color, and the gold captain’s uniform seemed to wash him out a bit to her mind. But again, this was the nature of change- she didn’t get a vote, instead the realities of the situation were what they were and she had no choice but to learn to accept it. Though she would miss how the blue of his science commander uniform had set off his eyes. Stepping across her quarters- they were large for starship quarters yet still quite compact and efficient in truth- she entered his personal space, cozying up to him.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Captain. Well earned and overdue, I would say,” she expressed, draping her arms over his shoulders. Flat footed like this he had a few inches of height on her, which was something that she always appreciated. In moments like these she always found herself looking up at him, which was fitting in so very many ways for her. Brilliant, capable, psychic... and somehow he thought that she was amazing. Of all of the possibilities in the universe that such a man should think that she were so unique and special was still somehow a mystery to her, but in that truth was the core of their relationship.

In each the other had found someone unbelievably precious, and both counted themselves incredibly fortunate to have the other in their lives.

Her bright blue eyes sought out his own grey eyes, which seemed so impassive to many, but to her were as expressive as her own. While she was far from psychic, and she only heard his thoughts when he projected them to her, she certainly understood the varied and subtle nuances of his expressions, and would claim quite fairly to know him better than any other living being.

“I understand ‘thank you’ is the proper response,” he said flatly, knowing full well the ritual for decades now but still speaking thusly in a lame but sincere attempt at human humor. It was an old running gag between them now that always made her smile- thus the nature of the jest. “The fact is, I never wished for a command of my own. But we all must serve as best we can for the sake of others; the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

Pressing their bodies together gently, she expressed her needs physically rather than verbally while the churning emotions she was trying to tamp down told him another tale of her needs. Outwardly she simply smiled and enjoyed her proximity to him, as he wrapped his arms about her narrow waist in the manner he knew that she preferred, then she pressed her body to his tightly. This produced a significant calming effect in the human woman, and he felt much of her tension begin to melt away from this simple action.

Sonak applied some Vulcan pressure point techniques to ease the neuromuscular tension he could feel throughout her body, mixing them with the specific caresses he had learned that she enjoyed and thus emotionally soothed her. This was a new and strenuous period of her life she was entering, and he was responsible for part of that difficulty, having offered her more and weightier responsibilities. It was only proper for him to compensate as best as he could.

Sliding and nudging along her back, his hands moved smoothly and surely along her spine, pressing himself to her even as he caressed her. Times like this she felt not unlike a cello in the hands of a master musician, being tuned for a night of orchestral play. All of her problems were still there and no resolution had been reached in any of them, yet she felt calmer and more relaxed as she snuggled against his form. In this moment she needed no kiss, no stroking of their fingers, no greater intimacy- just to be held by strong arms that cared for her, as she took comfort in the sensation of being close to him, smelling his faint sandalwood scent and feeling his warm skin against her own.

Feeling how his higher body temperature was helping her to relax, he kept her physically as close to him as he dared without crushing her more fragile body with his considerable Vulcan strength. A Vulcan woman would have had no difficulty matching him; but he had found over time that this physical weakness of her human frame was, in fact, more stimulating as it made him all the more keenly aware of her physical presence and sensations. A most stimulating experience indeed, especially considering that her katra was easily a match for his own, or anyone else’s. The contrast between flesh and spirit was truly fascinating… and something he found to be quite admirable.

“I am most appreciative of this effort you have made to again, and as always, accommodate my eating habits in such a agreeable fashion. Most kind of you, considering that I have burdened you with more work and responsibility than ever. Again, you prove yourself a most admirable and remarkable person. It is most gratifying to live this relationship with you. For this, and much more, I truly thank you.”

Some might have viewed the statement as aloof and distant, emotionless and robotic. Simply the facts with an insertion of customary politeness. But for Rita Paris it was far more than that. He enjoyed her cooking and appreciated that she ate vegetarian for him. He had tried meat, experimenting and branching out, but the texture disagreed with his digestion. Thus their shared meals she voluntarily ate vegetarian, even as she seldom ate meat at meals she took alone. Except for the occasional bacon on mornings when she was feeling particularly iron poor.

When he spoke such words though, it was more than an effort of politeness. The man was genuinely gratified that she made the effort, appreciative of both it and she herself, and it made her happy to know that she could share this with him. Most women did not pine to hear a man tell her that it was gratifying to live a relationship with them, but for Sonak that spoke volumes, and she knew what she meant to him. One of the advantages of loving a psychic was that more than once she had seen herself through his eyes, and she knew exactly how he felt and what depth his words carried on so many levels.

Running her fingers up his neck into the back of his hair, she pulled him down to her a bit even as she looked up to gently place their foreheads together. Whenever she gently coaxed, he always moved with her, in a dance whose steps he had learned through practice rather than instinct. Yet despite his great strength he followed her lead without resistance, for the course she plotted was the one he followed, as he had since they had begun their relationship.

I’m scared, Sonak. I am afraid of letting you down and I really can’t stand that woman and I am very much going to miss Michael and a shipful of cadets seems like a recipe for disaster and I’m concerned the amateur scientist is going to kill the science team or worse and all of the junior officers are afraid of me now and I really love you so much it hurts and I am afraid this is going to change things and ruin the good parts of my life

It may have seemed the antithesis of logic to project pure emotional chaos into the ordered mind of a Vulcan in such a manner, through one of the closest proximities their minds could achieve. But Sonak was a kolinahr, the last of a long line of ancient Vulcan logic masters... and his was no ordinary mind, even amongst Vulcans. The ebullient and neurotic Rita Paris had been intimately connected with him for years now as his T’hy’la, his one, and she knew what would do harm and what would not. When to suppress, and when to share. This was time to share, because more than ever, in so many ways, she needed him.

He had grown accustomed now to the torrential flood of emotions that carried her thoughts to his own, like a tide bringing in crashing waves upon a reef. And just as a reef, he simply stood there and molded the flow over and around him just like the power of the tide molded him without ever dislodging him. In fact, he often conveyed this most alien image, as Vulcan had small and rather tame oceans compared to those of Earth, as a mind technique for her benefit. Something about such primordial imagery resonated in the human psyche; even he, a Vulcan, was sensitive to it. His mind spoke from it.

Fear is like the wind; you feel the cold, but it will pass and will never hold you. You can no more ‘let me down’ than the surf can let down the coast. All living things can only respond according to their gifts. That is true of Saavik as well. You are the seagull now, and she is but the chick out of the egg that once you too were. Give her time to spread her wings… and show her how.

Michael Stuart is forever part of us; he can never be gone from us, even if he is not there. Children need adults to become adults themselves, and it is the adult’s greatest duty to be there to help them do so. You are that adult, Rita. Do not worry over what you cannot change, but act to change what can be. Let the wind of your fear pass and it will soon pass over the others as well when they will feel your warmth afterwards.

It is the same for love as for fear or any other emotion; the stronger the feeling, the calmer you shall be, like the reef with the passing tide. The tide will always come… and it will always ebb. Life is movement. Life is change. That’s what makes life good; because change does not equate loss. It equates growth.

And we have chosen to grow together.



Lost to her, she could still feel that part of him inside her soul. If she wished she could call up any memory of him and likely even interact with it, dialogue with it, gain comfort from it. But the very thought introduced the logical observation that to do so would be unhealthy, as she might call upon that reflection of him over and over, imbuing it with more and more of her own consciousness until madness took hold.

Madness was somewhere Rita had been once already, and she had no desire to return.

Instead, as a compromise, Rita recalled the memory of her lover’s face, so that she could remember trailing her fingers across his smooth cheek, and cupping the line of his jaw in her palm. What remained of him within her would help her to remember their time together, for his memory was far more accurate. And he would provide her with answers from time to time, such as when he identified a sehlat was when it was chasing her. Feeling that bit of him always within her would on some level convince her, no matter how firmly stated her denials or protests, that Sonak would still find a way to rescue her. Or that she would find a means and opportunity to return to him.

Away from the Hera, away from the future which she struggled to understand, in her dreams the lost navigator could remember the past and treasure the life she’d lost. In the waking world she had duties and responsibilities and people whom she was getting to know who expected her to be squared away and on the job. But this was not that time- this was her downtime, a much-needed rest during which no one expected anything of her.

For while she recalled the logic in her lover's words and the wisdom therein, and she knew this experience would force her to grow, her loss was still fresh. To her heart, this change did equate loss.

Alone in her own mind, the heart of Rita Paris pined and keened for her lost love.