Erratic Nerd Writings

Kanor found himself awake abruptly, torn out of whatever dream state he had been in. The sheets were tangled up around his body, Marcie's absence something he was inexplicably having issues getting used to. Their last...interaction earlier in the day was bad enough, and he told himself he'd back off on his investigation as soon as he was convinced she was truly herself. The return of his solitary sleeping situation he would just need to deal with. In comparison to the extent of his life so far, his time spent sleeping beside her was probably a fraction of a percent. Given his projected expected life span, he wasn't even sure if he'd remember that minute amount of time. It made no sense for it to be troubling him. And yet...

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck, along his chest, arms, and legs...standing up. Alert. Something was wrong. He kept his body still, hoping to give the illusion he was still asleep, as he attempted to crack his eyes just enough to see, his attention to his senses ramping up as he tried to understand why his body felt full of adrenaline, why his instincts were practically screaming at him to do something, to not just lie there like an invalid. But why? There was no alert condition occurring aboard Enterprise. Cypher would have alerted him if someone had broken into his quarters while he slept, even if they had managed to get past his other defenses without her noticing. Was it the unidentified spy, the person who had attempted to gather more information about him? Were they making some sort of final, desperate act, in lieu of him botching some sort of future plan they had by simply being present aboard the ship?

His eyes swept the room through the thin sliver of his eyelids, light coming in through the windows, the vista of deep space sweeping by the only illumination. His nostrils flared just the slightest amount as he attempted to keep the matching inhalation in-line with that of someone asleep.

“You can stop pretending, you're not fooling anyone, least of all me.”

He bolted upright, his arms coming up in a defensive position over his lower face and upper chest. He had spent his entire adult life sleeping with daggers in the bed with him specifically for situations like this, but they had creeped Marcie out, so he had stopped. Instead, he had settled for placing them just above the headboard of the bed. He hadn't thought to move them back where they belonged, and now...now he would have to turn his back on the foot of the bed, where the voice had come from, to retrieve them. He had a unique set of eyes, perhaps he could...

“Lights!”

He had hoped to temporarily blind the intruder, give him those extra few seconds to identify the person, possibly even arm himself or get out of the damn bed. Instead, however, the person didn't even flinch, merely stared back at him from their perch on the seat between the office door and the replicator. Unfazed, unimpressed.

His face.

He recoiled, pushing against the surface of the bed with his hands and legs in an attempt to get as much space as possible between himself and...himself. He stammered, stumbled; his left hand had struck against the edge of the bed and he had nearly lost his balance.

“What the...”

The person in the chair was him, and yet...different. Kanor's brow furrowed as he quickly studied a face he was intimately familiar with, started noticing little details here and there. Wrinkles that didn't belong, scars. The multiple streaks of gray and white in the unkempt mane of hair that was...unruly, at best. His eyes swept downward. The extra heft in the frame, the unfamiliar clothes. The very recognizable, weathered grip of a Varon-T disruptor tucked into the belt in the exact same place he kept his. The posture, the...eyes. His gaze had swept back up to clash against the one sitting in that chair, and he saw, undeniably, himself. There was more...something than he had ever seen in his own eyes looking in the mirror, but...they were his. His mind reeled , his entire being telling him this was fundamentally wrong. Impossible. Not right. Abhorrent.

“We need to talk.”

Kanor finally woke from one of those bone-weary deep sleeps, and knew instantly he had slept longer than he had instructed Cypher to let him. He kicked the tangled sheets off of himself and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, frowning as he spoke aloud.

“Why didn't you wake me?”

“It was quite clear you were in need of more rest than you had allotted time for.”

Kanor scowled, irritated at the blatant display of free will. Cypher's development from a simple voice-interactive AI over the years led Kanor to forget she was becoming more of an independent entity sometimes. He wiped a hand over his face and sighed as he got to his feet. He had to admit, he did feel a lot better, if not fully himself.

“Time?”

“Shipboard time is six hundred twenty-four hours.”

Kanor cursed, taking a step towards his discarded jumpsuit on the floor, when he realized just how much odor he was creating. He bent over to grasp the soiled garment, stuffed it in the replicator for disassembly, and headed to the shower.

“Location of Kaz?”

“Commodore Kaz appears to be in his office.”

“And there were no calls while I was out?”

“None. Doctor O'Neil is still in Sickbay, as well.”

Kanor nodded as he activated the water and began to bathe, wondering, again, what had happened to Marcie and if there was anything that could be done. He planned on visiting her as soon as he was done with his meeting with Kaz.

“Any update on her status?”

“I am unable to access that information without calling attention to myself, especially with the continued operation of the HAL unit.”

Kanor finished the rest of his shower in contemplation. The conversation he'd be having with Kaz. Whatever had happened to Marcie aboard the Bender ship; what had that strange person done? Lastly, he thought of Cypher's rather significant choice to not wake him when he had said. Had it been a simply logical choice, or another step in her emotional development? He wanted to explore that, ask her what her reasons had been, but felt it would lead into a conversation he didn't have time for at the moment. Deactivating the water and stepping out, he grabbed a towel and began drying himself as he walked out into the living area of his quarters. The shower had helped him feel invigorated.

“I'm assuming we're returning to Independent space, or possibly a rendezvous near Federation territory. How fast do you think we can get the Hunt ready to go?”

“I have been staying on top of the regular maintenance scans and operational checks during our stay aboard the Enterprise. After you conduct a physical check of systems and structural integrity, I estimate no longer than two hours before we can depart. I am uncertain how long it will take for the Enterprise crew to transfer the Hunt from the cargo bay to the shuttle bay, but would consider it unlikely to take outside that window of time.”

Kanor nodded as he tossed the towel on top of his soiled jumpsuit in the replicator, deconstructed them, and began donning a fresh one. He would probably gather his belongings and begin prepping the Hunt after his visit with Marcie, that way he could take off as soon as the Enterprise had reached their destination. It occurred to him, then, Marcie might still be unconscious; could he leave without saying goodbye? He began placing his usual assortment of weapons and devices on his person without conscious effort, as his mind began to wander more. He should definitely visit Skid, maybe even write up a final report with some parting tips for Munson. And Kaz...maybe he could bid the Commodore farewell after they had finished their business up.

“Make sure to record and monitor our conversation, in case there are any...discrepancies that might come up. And let's hope we're well on our way and out of here by this time tomorrow.”

*************

The door to Kaz's office was open when Kanor made his way down the corridor, and standing in the doorway, his back to Kanor, was Admiral Stapes. Stapes looked disheveled; hair tousled, uniform tunic removed completely and draped over his left arm, sweat stains dotting the white undershirt almost entirely. Kanor hadn't bothered to call ahead, and figured Stapes would have been long gone by now, but obviously that wasn't the case.

“...not, and the fact you chose to bring it up now, after all that...!”

Kanor could clearly hear Kaz's response from within the office; it didn't sound like the Metron was just inside.

“It was decided you would stop attempting to interfere with my crew. I fail to see how this is any different.”

“You know DAMN well why! A murdering, unknown....!”

“Perhaps if the predecessor had been as excellent and competent as you had promised, things wouldn't have turned o....”

“That's admission to the FLEET, that's NOT the same thin...”

Kanor had stopped an appropriate distance from Stapes, and, after waiting a few beats to be noticed, had simply chosen to clear his throat loudly enough to announce his presence. Stapes whirled at the sound, and again, Kanor thought he saw the quickest, briefest of odd...ripples pass over the Admiral's face. It was so fast, he wasn't even positive he could say he had truly seen it, however.

“YOU! You've got a lot of...”

Kaz was abruptly at the door behind Stapes, and as soon as his eyes lit on Kanor, he interjected.

“I scheduled an appointment with him here after dinner last night. That he waited this long I'd say was rather polite of him. We've been at this all night, Andy.”

Stapes scowled, his eyes glaring at Kanor before switching back to Kaz.

“Don't think I'll simply brush off this latest of slights, Commodore. The fee will still apply, and you can be damn sure it'll be the highest grade possible, as he clearly falls into that category.”

“We still got the job done, Andy. And that'll be huge for future opportunities with the Federation.”

“And it cost us plenty more, COMMODORE. As we discussed, that's the ONLY reason you're getting off with what you got. I expect to see you on Independence One as soon as things are settled. And if I feel like you're attempting to weasel out of any of it...”

Kaz's eyes flashed with heat.

“I gave you my word, ADMIRAL. And I wouldn't be the first to say it's worth a fuck of a lot more than most of the people on the Board!”

Stapes made a noise, turned to look Kanor up and down for a brief moment, curled his lip, then turned around to stride purposefully down the corridor in the opposite direction. Kanor really wanted to lay into the Admiral for his unfounded hostility, but he turned his attention back to Kaz. The Commodore had also removed his uniform tunic, and was wearing a simple black undershirt without sleeves. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his entire face had a haggard look to it Kanor hadn't seen on him before.

“Almost didn't think you were coming.”

“I...overslept. I think I was feeling how you look.”

Kaz snorted at the remark, the corner of his mouth turning up briefly as he turned back into his office and headed towards the left, where a small conference table and two recently used chairs were arranged, along with four others, pushed up against the table's edge. The table had the remains of what appeared to be a barely touched dinner, long cold. Kanor glanced over to the right of the door where the much more relaxed couch set-up had been before as he followed Kaz in, but there was only a bulkhead. He wondered if the office was designed to have these annexes tucked away when not in use, as he hadn't see this table arrangement last time he was here.

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

“I...haven't, no....”

“Good, as you can see dinner wasn't exactly palatable, so I'm rather famished. Take a seat, though I wouldn't recommend that one...it's been contaminated.”

Kaz made the remark offhandedly while flicking a wrist in the direction of one of the settings for dinner, to the left of the head of the table, so Kanor took the seat to the right, instead. Kaz was sitting down and pressing a button on a panel inset on the table.

“I'm here in my office with Kanor, now. Send us up an all out breakfast for two-the good kind, not that perfunctory crap of last night-and make sure to send a clean up crew.”

Kaz released the button after the voice on the other end responded, and leaned his head back in his chair for a moment, sighing as he closed his eyes. Kanor glanced around awkwardly, not really sure where to begin, when Kaz opened his eyes again and smiled tiredly.

“That went on for a lot longer than even I anticipated.”

Kanor arched a brow.

“When I realized how much time I had spent sleeping, I thought for sure you would have gone to bed and come back already. Either way, I do apologize for my tardiness.”

Kaz waved a hand dismissively.

“Nonsense. Probably for the best you did, anyways, your timing was actually...apropos this morning. At least one of us will be rested and alert.”

“If you'd rather go get some rest, I completely understand, we can resched....”

“Definitely not. We need to get this taken care of and sorted out, the sooner the better.” Kaz took a moment to squirm in his chair a bit, then he turned, resting his back against one of the arms of the chair and draping his legs across the other. “We've contacted the Federation bounty officer, and have scheduled a rendezvous in neutral territory for tomorrow morning.” The Metron frowned, his brow crinkling for a moment. “Today...? No, no. Second morning after tonight...tomorrow, now. Yes. We will be...accompanied by the I.S.S. Independent and Stapes, but we will be making the exchange.”

“Where is this neutral territory?”

“Roughly midway between Independence Space and Federation territory, I'll have Jax send you the exact coordinates. Stapes is hoping to enter into some tenuous talks with an authorized representative he's managed to convince to be there, as well, and unfortunately we'll have to stick around for the duration, though I'm guessing it'd only be a matter of hours, not days or anything. Skid will probably appreciate the extra time she'll have to make repairs to the Enterprise anyways.”

“That's...good. And we'll get paid as soon as the transfer is complete...?”

Kaz nodded as three ensigns came into the office; one of them was pushing a hovercart loaded with food, and as soon as he deactivated the temperature controls, he began transferring used items from the table. The other two ensigns had proceeded to the chair directly opposite of Kanor. One began working on wiping it down, while the other produced what Kanor could only assume was a molecular sanitizer and began methodically moving it from top to bottom of the chair. The audible rumbling of Kanor's stomachs made him switch his gaze from the ensigns to the food as it was being laid out in front of them. He wasn't even sure what it all was, but it smelled incredible.

“These eggs are from birds native to the planet at Independence One, have great flavor. Those are called Belgian waffles, from Earth. Jax has instructed the Chef in how to make Trill-style pancakes-if you haven't had them before, you should definitely try them out-there's some rare Tellarite bacon...”

Kanor's eyes widened at the last.

“It's actually...!?”

Kaz, in the middle of grabbing large amounts from multiple plates, chuckled and shook his head.

“Nonono...but they're understandably...appalled at the idea of eating pork in their culture, of course, when in fact they have some of the most naturally flavorful, perfect meat-to-fat ratioed pork you'll EVER taste. Lets just say I...helped set up a bit of an underground market flow from one of their planets and make sure we're well stocked. Oh, and make sure you have some of those biscuits with that jam; they're both made right here on the Enterprise, incredible stuff.”

Kanor was taking Kaz's suggestions, while also sampling some of the other dishes that had been arrayed before them. They were huge serving dishes; he wasn't sure how the two of them would ever be able to eat all of it, but he realized, after he had heaped his plate to a precarious level, their first pass had already taken a larger chunk out than he would have thought. He glanced across the table to see the two ensigns finishing up with the chair cleaning, and the other ensign was putting out the last of the various condiments, extra napkins, and additional eating utensils. Multiple large pitchers of liquid had been placed near to Kaz and Kanor both, each with their own set. He picked up the empty goblet that had been placed beside them and decided to go with the amber-colored one, for starters. Kaz was filling up his own goblet with a dark, steaming beverage of some kind as he looked over at the crewmember who had brought the food.

“Thank you, Lorien. I'll let you know if we need anything else; give Chef my regards.”

Kanor picked up one of the slabs of Tellarite bacon, his eyes widening as he chewed his first bite of the seasoned, perfectly crispy meat. He glanced over at Kaz as he swallowed, licking his lips.

“You weren't kidding, that is...superb. None of this is replicated, you have an actual kitchen aboard?”

“I do. All made this morning, and I make sure to keep Chef well supplied and very happy.”

The two of them proceeded to devour their first plates, Kanor and Kaz both going back for more. They exchanged a few comments here and there about the food as they ate-Kanor had never even heard of a Deltan gnuberry, let alone tranya-their work conversation had been mutually set aside in an unspoken agreement so they could simply enjoy the feast. Kanor, who hadn't really realized just how hungry he was or how long it had been since he had last eaten until the aromas of the table titillated his senses, found he was having to force himself to stop. Kaz, who had been picking lightly at a partially eaten fruit of some kind, grinned as he saw Kanor sit his fork down and lean back, his eyes widening as he rested a hand on his stomach.

“Getting full?”

“Regrettably. This was...immensely satisfying, thank you.” He reached for his goblet, which he topped off with the last of his tranya. “So...payment. I assume it won't be too much of a pain in the ass if I get my ship transferred back to the shuttle bay so I can take off as soon as the exchange is all complete?”

Kaz sat the fruit down and leaned back in his chair, producing his package of cigarettes and the lighter, pulling one out, placing it in his lips, and lighting the tip. He inhaled deeply and slowly, closing his eyes for a brief moment after he sat the small box and flame device within easy reach on a clear spot on the table. The smoke lazily started creeping out past his lips as he exhaled just as slowly, his eyelids raising as he settled his gaze on Kanor.

“About that...”

Kanor's eyes narrowed, and he felt a tenseness in his shoulders as he sat the tranya down, waiting for Kaz to continue. Kaz, at least, was smart enough to read into Kanor's physical cues immediately, and he shook his head a bit.

“Of course you'll be paid in full, as we agreed upon, and I can absolutely have your ship transferred up from the cargo bay, no problem. I mean the Enterprise will be returning to Independent Space immediately afterwards. You'd be welcome aboard during the trip, Kanor, as a guest. I've gathered you're not exactly Mister Sociable, but still...I'd wager you've made some friends aboard, and the Enterprise can not only fly much faster than your ship, but you'll have a lot nicer accommodations for the duration, too.”

“I...do appreciate the offer, and you're right, on both accounts...”

Kaz took another pull from his cigarette, quickly pushing a stream out of the corner of his mouth before leaning forward a little.

“Let me be perfectly frank with you, Kanor. You're clearly a very talented individual.”

“Thank you.”

“We discussed, when you first came aboard, certain...problems that had been going on aboard the Enterprise. Problems that, with your arrival, were rather neatly taken care of, for the most part.”

“Your...extended meeting with Stapes would seem to indicate otherwise.”

Kaz waved his cigarette-holding hand dismissively.

“Oh that'll never go away, really. That's something else entirely; and, I won't lie, something I actually enjoy and play into at times.” A brief pained expression flitted over Kaz's features, though it was quickly suppressed. “It...occasionally spills over places I don't expect, but generally, I'm...truly trying to make a more positive difference.” He shook his head. “All that aside, though. Currently, things aboard the Enterprise are mostly how I would prefer them to be, with the exception of one small problem.”

“The crewmembers in your main sickbay, including your Chief Medical officer?”

“All recovering; Marcie woke up during the night and should be discharged by now, if things went as Doctor Malen expected. No, I'm talking about my Chief of Security. I need one. An above-average one, as we've been getting along with a grossly sub-par waste of space for so long.”

Kanor eyes widened as Kaz so casually informed him Marcie was not only awake, but apparently doing well enough to be discharged from Sickbay. He was so taken aback, in fact, he didn't realize at first Kaz had stopped talking and was looking at him expectantly.

“I'm...I'm sorry, what?”

“I'd like to hire you. Permanently; or at least as long as you'd like to make a contract. Have you join the Enterprise crew as her new Chief of Security; complete with full officer grade percentage of pay from all of our jobs, as well as full benefits and access to ship and even fleet facilities, which would include a berth and materials provided, of course.”

Kanor blinked a few times as he mentally switched gears, trying to focus on the conversation at hand and not the corridor he wanted to be walking down to board the turbolift down to where Marcie's quarters were right beside his own. A job, Kaz was offering him a job.

“But...that'd necessitate a joining of this Independence group thing, wouldn't it?”

“It would, but...you'd be aboard Enterprise. Working with people you're already used to working with, and-I'm guessing-raking in a lot more credits than you would on your own. I think we can both agree you meshed well with the crew, Kanor. Hell, even Selorus made a comment in one of his damnable reports that he found your performance 'impressive', and that's saying something coming from him. You have skills we could use, and we have resources you don't.”

Kanor frowned. Sure, he'd...had some interesting developments with members of the Enterprise during this mission, but...joining them? The Hunt was his; he took the jobs he wanted, when he needed them, and completed them his way. He didn't have to report to anyone, or worry about what Anonymous Crewperson One was doing. And sure, he'd met some competent people aboard the Enterprise he actually had a grudging respect for; there were also other people he'd have to work with, like the person who had been sitting across from where he was now mere hours ago.

“I...appreciate the off...”

Kaz cut him off, pulling the cigarette from his lips while smoke wisped out behind it.

“No need to decide now. We've got a journey ahead of ourselves before we finish this job anyways, and I understand there's a lot to take in. Just...think about it. Yeah, Stapes is...well, we don't really need to elaborate there. I get reservations you might have off of that alone, but...it's a decent paying job, doing pretty much the same thing you're already doing anyways.”

“Except for now, when I take a job, I don't have to split that reward...however many ways. I get it all. And if it's a job I don't like, I don't take it. I don't have to worry about some supervisor breathing down my neck.”

“As Chief of Security, you'd report to myself, and Skid. Though she's transitioning out of the role of first officer, admittedly. Still...you've seen the way my crew is, you know there wouldn't be supervisors 'breathing down your neck'.”

“Stapes would never decide to...oh, I dunno, demand I salute him some random time he decides to step aboard?”

Kaz snorted.

“He rarely steps aboard my ship. The only reason he has lately is I've essentially forced him to. Yes, there would be other officers in the Fleet who would technically outrank you and could order you to do something; not following it being a breach of your contract. However, said people are also busy doing their own things, and you'd rarely have to interact with them at all. I doubt you'd even meet all of them.”

“Still.”

“Well, I'm not trying to cloud things for you at all. Yes, that would be different. However...think about your credit situation now. You get all of a job's payout, sure. But how many of those jobs would you have to take to equal...say, this job, alone, even? Obviously your take here is larger than you'd get as an officer, but you get what I'm saying. I'm sure you take some enjoyment in what you do, but you didn't get into the bounty and freelance business out of sheer joy. It's a job you can do well and get paid enough so you can live off of. You increase that amount, though, and...you can start getting things moving. You can do things in a lot quicker of a timetable than you would have had before, not to mention the resource wealth you'd have access to through Independent Fleet channels. Plus, you wouldn't have to worry about paying all those fees that are just a part of operating. Docking fees, hotels, information searching, ship maintenance? You'd increase your profit margin.”

Kanor glanced at his goblet of tranya, swirling the liquid around in it for a bit. There was a project he'd been agonizingly slowly making steps towards for years; that would be able to take a huge leap forward, to say nothing of his ongoing work with Cypher.

“Just...let me know before we get to the rendezvous tomorrow, that's all. Or feel free to stay aboard while we travel back to Independent Space and think about it more.”

Kaz took one last pull from his cigarette, then put it out in the remains of one of his dishes, right where a small pile of ash had been deposited. He pushed his chair back from the table and got to his feet, a weary smile crossing his features.

“Have you ever heard of Earth's JJ Cale?”

“Erm...no. You know, in my short time here, I've noticed you seem to be quite obsessed with Earth for a Metron...”

Kaz chuckled heartily at that one.

“Well honestly, I've been obsessed with humanity and Earth for longer than I was a part of the Consortium, and purely by chance. It's what happens when you encounter a being so full of life and forging a legend they don't even realize yet.”

“I...see.”

Kaz started to step away from the table and crossed over towards his desk in the center of the room. Kanor had a vivid image of Sh'lan's corpse flopped on the floor, Munson on guard at the door, Marcie walking through for the very first time...

“C'mon. Before I send you out of here so I can hopefully go to my quarters and sleep like the dead, I've got to play you this first.”

*************

Kanor made sure he got an empty turbolift car and it was underway before he spoke to Cypher.

“Remind me to look into some of these performers Kaz seems...obsessed with. They're certainly not like the human music I've heard before.”

“Added. Kanor, t....”

“That was unexpected. A job. What are your thoughts on that?”

Cypher seemed to pause a moment, making Kanor wonder if she was doing that as a learned trait she had picked up from people, or if she was genuinely pausing to...what, reflect, process? She had a processing capability on par with a starship's computer, possibly even better, really. The silence stretched out longer than he thought it could, and as the turbolift slowed to a stop, he glanced around to ensure no one was nearby when the doors opened before prompting again.

“Are you okay?”

“I am...unsure how to respond.”

A corner of his mouth tugged up as he walked down the corridor to his quarters. He let her have some time to elaborate before he pushed more.

“Explain.”

“I...do not think I have the proper information to form a satisfactory response to your inquiry.”

His grin expanded, amused by this difficulty she was having, even as he empathized with her dilemma. The doors to his quarters whisked open silently.

“Well, you...”

Cypher interrupted him, which was unusual in of itself; the tone of her voice, however, was also...urgent.

“Kanor, I attempted to inf...”

He stopped abruptly after passing the replicator, in the doorway to the main living area. Marcie was sitting in the chair directly across from him, over by the bed. She was sitting in the dark, nothing lighting the room except the star's illumination outside the window, but he could tell it was her. Her legs were pulled up off of the floor, her arms wrapped around them as she rested her chin on her knees. She glanced up as he entered.

“Marcie!”

“Hey...”

He was across the room before he really thought about what he was doing, scooping her up in his arms and lifting her right up out of the chair, hugging her to his chest. He had to remind himself not to be too enthusiastic-he wasn't really sure if she had any sort of physical frailties.

“Kaz just told me you were released this morning...how are you feeling, what happened?”

She was silent for a few moments, simply resting her head against his chest as she shifted a bit and maneuvered her arms around his neck. Her legs hung limply down the front of his body.

“Um...lights...?”

The lights came on in his quarters, finally illuminating the room and his visitor. She was out of uniform, wearing some sort of soft, loose fitting clothes that seemed very comfortable, at least. Her hair was a mess, her eyes somewhat...dazed, with dark circles ringing their sockets.

“They're not sure, I just...woke up, I guess. Almost like a coma, though...that wasn't it. I'm tired, and...I feel weird. My head hurts.”

She was speaking more softly than she normally did, and Kanor's brow furrowed as she went on. There was an odd detached-like sound to her voice. Something else seemed to be disturbing him, too, though he couldn't quite place it.

“I woke up, and was immediately cognizant of my surroundings, where and who I was. Not a coma, yet definitely wasn't just asleep, either. They monitored an extreme amount of neural activity, but I don't remember anything that happened, wasn't aware of what was going on around me. I'm not cleared for duty, of course, but...physically, I seem to be fine. Headache could be stress, tension. Unclear.”

Kanor sat her feet back down on the floor so she was standing in front of him, his arms remaining loosely around her. She seemed to be staring at his chest, her hands simply resting against the material of his jumpsuit.

“Is it okay for you to be up and around, though...? Should you be sleeping, or...I don't know, something?”

She shook her head, still not meeting his gaze.

“That's why I came here, to sleep. But I couldn't do it. I'm not tired, not really. My brain doesn't seem to want to stop.” She paused, finally lifting her head up to look up at him, tilting it to the side a bit as her eyes narrowed. “This isn't right. You're an asshole.”

Kanor's face jumped, as if she had slapped him. Simultaneously, she shrugged off his suddenly limp arms and stepped back away from him, staring at him blankly. Her arms seemed to wrap around her own torso, a curiously blank look on her face. He blinked stupidly at her, completely at a loss as to what to do, how to respond, still trying to process what she had just said, her flat, emotionless proclamation. She stepped further back, her gaze never wavering from him, until she stood in the entryway to the vestibule, where he had stopped mere moments before. He saw the pale, delicate flesh of her throat ripple as she swallowed audibly, her lips curling into her own mouth. She spoke, and her voice was even softer yet, quavering, higher pitched than normal.

“Do you remember what I said the first time we met?”

Kanor found his throat inexplicably raw; tight, difficult to force words out. What was going on? He stubbornly pushed until he discovered speech again.

“....you...you like milk chocolate...”

She nodded slowly, and Kanor thought for sure he saw liquid beginning to pool in her eyes.

“And...?”

His eyes started to burn, the sight of her starting to blur for some reason. He blinked multiple times, attempting to wrap his brain around what was going on. He was so, so clever...why was he having difficulty with this? His head crinkled even more in concentration, his chest pushing the words out once he managed to flail about in his memory enough to recall.

“And...and that I should...take it...would be good for me or something...”

Marcie's mouth pulled up in the briefest, tiniest of smiles as she sniffled, nodding her head. Another step further back.

“Klerac would be proud.”

Kanor looked at her incredulously, but she didn't give him an opportunity to react further. She was lifting her right hand up in the air, spreading it open between the middle and ring fingers, the pinkie and index fingers pressed tightly against their neighboring digits as her thumb jutted out perpendicular to her palm. A salute he knew all too well.

“Live long and prosper.”

And with that, she turned and walked out.

Kanor went to sit down, but it was more like falling onto the bed. His eyes widened as he continued staring at the doorway, unable to process what the fuck had just happened.

*************

“Kanor.”

He blinked, his eyes focusing upon where the ceiling became the top edge of the windows over his bed. The streaking lights of the stars passing by had been burned into his retinas, so that even when he closed his eyelids, he could see a starfield. He realized he had been re-experiencing his...brush with the Bender's mind. He thought he had finally shaken off all the weird echoes of it, but could still hear the alien voice echoing in his head, over and over, like a mantra, “alone, all alone”. Cypher repeated herself.

“Kanor.”

“What?”

“You have been immobile for an extended duration of time, and have not responded to multiple attempts to get your attention.”

“...there were so many things not right in that conversation.”

“Other than the Doctor knowing your father's name, despite having never been told, I did not register anything else that was 'not right'. Her use of the Vulcan salute, while peculiar, isn't indicative of a problem, based on the parameters I've established so far.”

Kanor sat up in his bed, his eyes narrowing as he felt...just off the cusp of grasping something elusive. Some detail.

“It's a fairly well known Vulcan custom, but...we've never exchanged it before. She's never shown any sort of...proclivity for it, either. It may not have been 'indicative of a problem', but...it was definitely very uncharacteristic of her. And on top of everything else...I mean, she said 'Klerac' as if she were...familiar with it somehow. Not like it was her first time saying it.”

“She was just released from a undefined coma-like state for several hours, and did indicate she was not feeling herself. Also, I might add she has always had multiple unnatural qualities...”

Kanor's eyes widened.

“That...tingle, that spark. When we touch. It wasn't there this time.”

“You have mentioned this in the past, but I have as of yet been unable to witness or record it in any measurable fashion.”

Kanor got up to his feet, excited.

“Yes, but that doesn't mean it wasn't ever there. I've gotten so used to it, I almost forgot it, but...not once. Not once during that entire interaction did I ever feel it; it's normally every single time we touch, period.”

Cypher was silent for a few moments as Kanor paced back and forth beside the bed, chewing on his lower lip.

“I fail to see how this has any relevance.”

“Something is off, Cypher. Whatever happened aboard that Bender ship.”

“Kanor, isn't it...within the realm of possibility that you are having an emotional response to the derogatory term Doctor O'Neil applied to you?”

Kanor stopped, frowning up at the ceiling for a moment as the look on Marcie's face when she looked up at him and said that flashed in his mind. Again.

“Of course I am, Cypher. But I'm not trying to...make myself feel better. Factually, something is wrong. Too many odd coincidences and uncharacteristic behavior. I...I can deal with her just...not wanting to be around me anymore, if that's all it was. But I don't think it is.”

Kanor pulled out his communicator and activated it.

“Kanor to Doctor O'Neil.”

The communicator chirped it's normal response, then made a negative flat sound. She had responded by ending the transmission.

“Dammit all to Gre'thor...”

“If she is unwilling to talk to you, what do you plan on doing next?”

He looked towards the vestibule where she had stood, reliving the last moments he had seen her, heard her voice speaking to him, perhaps for the final time.

“Do you remember what I said the first time we met?”

Interspersed with this memory was that first meeting, the way she had walked into Kaz's office as he waited on the floor, almost like the door was a window letting in a breath of fresh, planetside air. Even then, she had seemed so confident they were friends, that they had a connection.

“You...you like milk chocolate...and...and that I should...take it...”

Kanor felt his throat constricting again as he saw that sad, bittersweet smile. He held his communicator up, still staring at the vestibule entryway.

“Kanor to Kaz.”

There was a momentary delay, then the communicator prompted him to repeat himself.

“Kanor to Kaz.”

The communicator finally chirped in the affirmative, then a groggy, exhausted voice came through.

“Yuhhn?”

“Sign me up.”

{{Again, I'll post the final two pages-the epilogue-later.  I knew very early on this was not going to be something I'd be telling with these characters in a single book.  Too much I wanted to do here.  However, I will be returning and picking up with all those loose plot threads you're probably groaning about after my next planned project.  And yes, I do have a definitive idea of where this is all going!}}

He made his way to the last room of his rounds for the night, the aching tautness in the back of his calves yelling at him to finish his shift already so they could get some relief. At least the final patient in this room was pretty cut and dry. He rarely ever spoke, if he was even conscious, and other than checking his vitals and ensuring he had taken his meds, there wasn't anything else that needed tending to. The patient was mobile again, and was expected to be released soon barring any unforeseen circumstances.

The bedside lights were on when he entered, though the patient didn't seem to be doing anything other than simply sitting there, his eyes fixated on some cross-stitch hanging on the wall to the right of his bed that had been donated to the hospital. The TV was off, his book sitting on the table next to his empty water cup. His gnarled, spotted fingers clutched at the homemade blanket his wife had brought in weeks ago loosely.

“Not feeling too horribly sleepy tonight, huh?”

The patient shook his head as the nurse came around the bed to check the myriad readings from the machine tucked out of the way. It made a low, steady humming noise as it broadcast the man's inner workings, and the nurse copied down the numbers onto his clipboard in all of the appropriate places.

“You know, there's so many of those things in all the rooms, I don't even really look at them anymore. You probably know the details of this room a lot better than I do.”

He glanced over at the frame on the wall, curious what this one was. Most of them were some inspirational or supposedly insightful statement on life and death, that sort of thing. This was some vista of outer space, however; a background of blacks and dark blues, with what he could only guess was some sort of colorful gaseous cloud or nebula, maybe? He wasn't really sure; it was pretty, though. He wondered how he had ever missed it before; he used to look at everything when he had first started here.

“It stirs up some memories. A lot of little things seem to do that when you get this old.”

The nurse grinned as he jotted down the last of the readings, the man's voice always welcome when he heard it. It had a warmth to it, despite the coarseness that he could only guess came from the guy's age. An easy-going drawl he couldn't place. From what he'd gathered from the other nurses, the guy seemed to be social during the latter half of the day, while he was working, more than any other time. He looked up from his clipboard to smile at him.

“Funny how things come out of the blue like that, huh? Good memories, I hope?”

The patient's eyes shifted to lock with his own, the blueish-gray seeming to expand as his pupils focused on his face.

“You're about to get off for the night, aren't you?”

His brow pinched together slightly at the switch in their conversation, an involuntary tingling in his stomach as he wondered why the guy was interested in knowing. He responded reluctantly.

“About, yes...”

The patient's eyes switched back to the cross-stitch, his shrunken-in chest rising and falling slowly as he seemed to consider something. “Please don't let it be some weird last minute request,” the nurse thought. “A sponge bath, a walk around the floor, some fucked up fetish or something...”

“I don't suppose you'd indulge an old coot and sit and talk for a while? Hear a memory or two.”

The nurse made sure to keep his expression neutral, but inwardly he sighed. He was really looking forward to walking into his shabby little apartment where his overly thrilled dog would be waiting, heating up a frozen dinner, and parking his pajama-clad ass down in front of the television for a few hours watching one of the movies he had lined up. He was off for the next few days, and the aches and pains in his lower back, feet, and legs had been pining for that extended relaxation for a while. Besides, the facility didn't exactly encourage extended fraternizing with the patients like that, for the patient's sake as well as the employee's. Then again, the guy would most likely be gone before he came back to work. And he just wanted to talk, share a few stories. The nurse thought about his situation for a moment; he wasn't really that hungry yet, and at least he could sit down. Who knew, maybe they'd be better stories than one of the movies he was going to watch anyways. Old people were full of surprises. What if the guy was going to confess to some awful crime or something, though?

“Wouldn't perhaps want me to get one of the patient consultants...?” It was a last ditch effort, but worth a shot.

The man's gaze was back to his again, his own expression seeming to grow somber.

“It started with the pigs on my ma and pa's farm, when I was about twelve, but eventually I couldn't stop myself, it felt so good, and...and before I knew it, I was...I was...I was drawing Sharpie mustaches on everything I could find!”

The man's guffaw was punctuated by a smack to his own thigh as his lips parted, baring the too-perfect rows of false teeth in his mouth. The nurse's shoulders sagged as he exhaled in relief, shaking his head. For a minute, he thought that was going to go somewhere really bad very quickly.

“Hell, son, I don't wanna talk to no mental fiddlers. Put whatever name to em you want, I know what they're used for.”

The patient had a strange sense of humor, no doubt about that. He felt like he had a weird one, too, though, so maybe this really would be worth it.

“You know what, why not. Lemme go finish up and clock out, then I'll swing back around. Need anything else before I no longer have to listen to you?”

The man cracked a smile at the nurse's levity, seeming to sit up in his bed a little, adjust the blanket in his lap.

“Just a fresh pitcher of water, that's all. Can't talk with a dry mouth.”

*************

He padded down the hallway back to the man's room, holding a bottle of water and a honey bun he had left over from his lunch in his locker. The nurse on duty had raised an eyebrow when he mentioned what he was doing, but had simply shrugged her shoulders as she turned back to her computer screen dismissively.

“Long as you're gone before Cindy comes in; you know she'll shit kittens if she finds out.”

Cindy was their supervisor, but she wouldn't be in for hours, yet. This wouldn't take that long, the guy would probably talk himself to sleep first. Thinking of his dog again, locked up in his crate, he considered simply turning around and just going home. He owed nothing to the man; sure, it'd probably be a disappointment for the guy, but it simply wasn't his job. He wondered, not for the first time, why the guy wanted to have a talk with a relative stranger, anyways. The guy had family; a wife, at least two different adult kids, from what he could remember. Maybe a couple of friends, too? The other bed in the room had been empty for a while, they must have been there for him.

He found his feet continuing to stride forward, though. Found the last room at the end of the hall approaching even as all of that ran through his head. And before he knew it, he was seeing the man crawl into the upright bed stiffly, the sound of a toilet tank refilling coming from the bathroom.

“For a minute, I thought you had changed your mind and weren't comin back.”

The nurse chuckled a bit as he crossed over to the chair in the corner, dragging it over near the occupied bed so the guy wouldn't have to make his voice carry so much, so they could have a bit of a private conversation. He positioned it on the side away from the machine, so when the nurse came by to check in, he'd be out of the way. The old man was still getting himself re-situated; tucking the sheets in just right, pulling that faded, gently tattered blanket up over his lap.

“Honestly, I thought about it, won't lie. Work so hard here, I usually try to run out of here as soon as I can.”

The man had a twinkle in his eyes as he smirked towards the off-duty nurse, who was settling in the chair.

“I bet you'd be lingering if that cute lil auburn-haired nurse with the freckles was working the shift after you, instead of before.” He chuckled softly. “Though I suppose you'd be at that station out there, versus here...”

The nurse's cheeks flushed at the old man's remark, wondering if he was that blatant about his interest in her. He had always thought he was doing a good job of downplaying his attraction...maybe he was talking about someone else? They didn't interact that much in front of the old man, surely.

“I uh...I'm not sure...”

The man waved his hand as he rolled his eyes.

“Oh please; I'm old, I'm not deaf, blind, and stupid. And we both know the girl I'm talking about. You should ask her out; she likes you, too, ya know.”

The nurse shifted in his seat uncomfortably, not liking the direction of this talk so far.

“We're coworkers, that wouldn't be professional.”

The man snorted.

“Son, fuck professionalism. Neither of you are supervisors over each other or anything, and your job isn't your life. If the two of you are adults about it, the rest will all work itself out.”

The nurse cleared his throat, fiddling with his water bottle cap for a moment as he dropped his eyes and shuffled his feet.

“Look, sir, if you were wanting to talk, that's fine, but I'd rather...”

The old man sighed, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“You're right, you're right, I know....”

The nurse looked up as the man trailed off, to find him staring up over his shoulder, at the cross-stitch on the wall again. There was an awkward moment of silence, and the nurse suddenly decided this had all been a big mistake; he was trying to come up with something polite to announce his departure, when the old man spoke again.

“Truth is, I've never really talked about this with anyone before. Can't. Or couldn't, I suppose.”

The nurse frowned, part of him curious, but another part wary of finding out. Why the hell did this have to happen on his last shift...? The man's gaze shifted back to look at him.

“You're...what, in your twenties...?”

“Twenty-six, yeah.”

“Hmph...to be that young again...I'm sure you're thinking 'why doesn't he talk about this with his family, with his wife? Why me?'. Well, son, if there's one thing I learned, even if I didn't always obey it, is sometimes it's best to just keep your damn mouth shut. Some things, they just don't want to know!”

The nurse opened his bottle to take a sip of water, wondering where this was going. The guy cheated on his wife at some point, that had to be it. He found himself imagining the liver-spotted, wrinkled old man in his prime, flirting with the girls, chasing tail. Probably being an asshole, too, whether it was intentional or unintentional. Some of the things his parents had said while he was in high school were appalling, let alone this guy, who was probably old enough to be THEIR parent, possibly even the grandparent of his parents. Social interaction between genders had come such a long way...

“You ever been in love before?”

The old man's question broke him from his reverie. Had HE ever been in love before? He sure hoped this wasn't going to turn back on him again. He had no desire to talk with this guy about his love life, or lack thereof.

“Well, I mean...I've dated, sure, even had a girlfriend for a while there, but...”

“But...? Two of you dated long-term and you can't even say that you loved her?”

The nurse frowned a bit.

“Well sure, we said it to each other, but I mean...hell, we were just kids, really. We didn't really know what love even meant.”

The man settled his head back against the pillows, staring up towards the inoperative TV for a moment.

“You know, I've heard that a lot through the years, people talking about how kids don't know what love means. I think it's bullshit. You got your phone on you?”

“Uh...yes...”

“Look up 'love' for me. Read me what they say the definition is.”

The nurse had a puzzled look on his face as he dug out his phone from his pocket, but proceeded to do as the man asked. He actually had a dictionary app on his phone; working in a hospital, there were times he came across words he didn't remember from school, and it helped. He read from the screen.

“Well, there's a long list of them...'profoundly tender and passionate affection for another person', 'a feeling of warm attachment or deep affection', 'to have affection for', 'sexual intercourse or copulation'...”

“Those dictionary definitions?” When the nurse nodded, the man grunted. “Wikipedia?”

The nurse was surprised the old man even knew what Wikipedia was. He routinely had to explain to most of the patients this guy's age how to operate the TV; they seemed like they'd be equally unqualified to use the internet. He started skimming over the article after pulling it up.

“Uh...'a variety of feelings, states, and attitudes that ranges from interpersonal affection to pleasure'...can refer to an emotion of strong attraction and personal attachment....can also represent human kindness, compassion, and affection...oh, unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another, I like that....”

“Okay, okay...now, notice a common trend there? Amongst all that?”

“Well...affection. Feelings of affection for someone or something, I guess.”

The old man nodded, as if this explained everything.

“There ya go. I'm sure you knew what love, or 'feelings of affection' were when you were with this girlfriend of yours, just like I'm sure she knew, too.”

The nurse frowned, turning off the screen of his phone while he put it back into his pocket.

“Affection, maybe, yeah, but...not REALLY loving someone...”

The old man lifted his head from his pillow to look over at him again, his eyes narrowing.

“How would YOU define love, then? This 'REAL' love that you seem to be hung up on...”

The nurse's brow furrowed even deeper with frustration. He felt like the old man was purposefully trying to get him riled up; the guy knew what he was trying to say, surely.

“Real love, as in...the love you have for your wife, or your kids. You know, not like...puppy love, or sexual attraction. Love that stands the test of time, that stays through thick and thin; the love you get married over.”

The old man was grinning.

“Now see, THAT is something else entirely.”

The nurse's expression became incredulous, but the old man held up his hand before he could respond. He was quite a moment, his bottom lip being sucked into his mouth briefly before he continued.

“You'll at least agree that everyone loves differently; they define it differently, they express it differently and all?”

The nurse mulled that over for a bit, but made a face and shrugged his shoulders a little.

“Sure, that makes sense. That's why 'love' is so hard, everyone has a different concept of what it is.”

“But that's just it. They don't, really. You said 'real love' was what people get married over, that it stands the test of time. But what you're describing is impossible. Love's an emotion, right? Can you tell me you're happy constantly, or you're sad constantly? Maybe that you're angry all the time? Of course not; they're emotional states, just like love. It comes, it goes. It ebbs, like a tide.”

The nurse frowned again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“You mean to tell me the love for your wife has come and gone?”

The old man rolled his eyes.

“I mean I've been married to my wife for over fifty years. She's my best friend. That don't mean there weren't times I didn't get annoyed with her, or get angry with her. There were times I wondered why I ever married her, and I know for damn sure she had the exact same feelings over the years.”

“Yeah, but...you guys still loved each other. That's what I mean; sure, sometimes you felt those other emotions, but throughout the years, you two still loved each other.”

The old man's eyes drifted off, glancing down at the blanket that rested over his lap.

“Not throughout, no. There were times I hated her, times she hated me. See, it's not love everyone is confused about. When I say 'love', people think of different things. Different memories, different expressions people they've loved shared, different concepts of what they want from it, even. But love the FEELING, the EMOTION...that's not so different. In fact, I'd say it's pretty much universal.”

The nurse scoffed.

“You mean to tell me the hot cheerleader I drooled over back in high school stirred the same emotion in me as that girl I dated, or the auburn...”

The old man grinned broadly as the nurse stopped himself from finishing that sentence. He didn't shift his gaze in the nurse's direction again, which was good; the nurse felt a heat in his cheeks.

“Of course not. But you had learned the difference between lust and love by the time you started datin that girl, right...?”

The nurse seemed to mull that over a bit, so the old man continued.

“Some guys, and even some girls, are thinking with their loins well past high school. And that's fine. But even most of them realize the difference between physical desire and emotional desire. The phrase 'knowing what love is' is about as outdated as I am. Generally, people learn what love the emotion is pretty damn early, because love the emotion is pretty much the same. Warmth, affection, a softening of your defenses. What people MEAN to say when they say 'don't know what love is' is people don't know what they want from a relationship. They don't know how to express their deepest emotions to another person.”

The nurse's eyebrows rose as he pondered that. That...made a lot of sense, actually. He looked up at the old man, to find those aged eyes looking right back at him. He cracked a bit of a smile, and found himself taking another sip of his water bottle. The old man reached for his plastic cup and did the same, holding it for a bit as he seemed to be gathering his thoughts some more.

“As a kid-which lemme tell you, was a damn long time ago-it always angered me when I heard people say that phrase, whether it was about me or not. That never changed as I got older. I knew what love was back then, what I didn't know was how to express how I felt about the people I loved, or how to respect them and myself. And I didn't know how to communicate what I wanted from a loving relationship. How to foster a relationship. That, my friend, is what people struggle with, and sometimes never understand. Hell, I don't think even I understand completely. It's an ongoing process that never ends, I don't think. And it's different for everyone person. Because, and I repeat again, love is an emotion; it's not a solid state of being that never changes. People change, emotional states change, relationships change.”

“So...you're saying...love, the feeling, the emotion, is the same, but...people express it differently as they change, which...causes their relationship to change? And they don't always love each other, even then?”

The man's wrinkled face beamed with a bright smile.

“Well, seems like you were listenin after all!”

The nurse chuckled a bit, shifting in his seat as he gripped that honey bun package, creating a crinkling sound.

“How the hell did we get here, again? Wait! You asked if I'd been in love before...now, isn't feeling love, and being IN love, two different things, at least? I mean...okay, I can see that...that love the emotion is...well, real, regardless. But...being IN love...”

The old man waved a hand dismissively, his eyes dropping down.

“We'll get to that in a minute...you going to eat that?”

The nurse followed the man's eyes down to the honey bun he was clutching in his hand. He shrugged his shoulders and looked back up.

“Well yeah, I mean...normally I eat dinner when I get home, so I brought this with me in case I got hungry while we talked. It's leftover from lunch. You can't eat this.”

The old man's face scrunched up in a pout.

“Why the hell not?”

“It's not healthy for you!”

“And you mean to tell me it is for you?”

The nurse frowned, using the honey bun to point at the old man.

“You're only supposed to be eating hospital food.”

“You got that from the vending machine here in the hospital, didn't you? That makes it hospital food. At least just tear me off a few bites, what harm could that do...?”

He was wavering, unfortunately finding the old man's logic pretty damning, when he was rescued by the on-duty nurse coming in to check the man's vitals. She smirked at them both as she circled around the bed towards the machine, picking up the clipboard at the end of the bed along her way.

“You two still chatting it up in here?”

The old man turned his head to glance up at her, a look on his face that almost made the male nurse drop that honey bun.

“I'd rather be in here chattin with you, but you sadly made it quite clear you couldn't be lingering with your patients, apparently not even your favorites.”

She grinned, shaking her head as she copied down the information.

“I never said you were my favorite, and probably because you're absolutely incorrigible.”

“You forgot tenacious.”

She chuckled, her eyebrows raising up on her brow.

“THAT goes without saying.”

“This man won't share his honey bun with me. I'm wastin away to nothingness, while he's full of youth and vigor, but he insists what's bad for him, is even worse for me.”

Finishing her task, she moved back to the foot of the bed to replace the clipboard, glancing over at her coworker in the chair before resting her wrists on her hips and looking at the old man.

“You want me to bring you a snack?”

“I'd like a honey bun.”

“Well there aren't any buns of honey you're going to be getting in here.” She lifted her left arm to glance at her watch. “I shouldn't even be giving you anything, it's too late. But I'll bring you some applesauce, if you'd like.”

The old man huffed, his lower lip jutting out.

“Applesauce...hmph! Fine...bring me some applesauce.”

The male nurse, satisfied the man was going to get some food of his own, went to pull the plastic wrapping of the honey bun down so he could take a bite. His coworker smacked him on the shoulder as she walked by.

“The least you could do is eat that thing outside so he doesn't have to watch you!”

He glanced over at the old man, who was beaming triumphantly, a pink appendage sticking out from his lips. He shook his head as he got to his feet, pointing that bared honey bun at his adversary.

“Don't think I don't see what you did there!”

*************

He settled back into the chair a while later, waiting for the old man to get out of the bathroom, his eyes falling on the emptied plastic cup with smears of applesauce coating its sides. His tongue swiped across his lips, the taste of sugary sweetness refreshing in his mouth as he caught a bit of lingering icing. He'd had to go to one of the public bathrooms on the floor himself while he and the old man had taken their respective breaks; somehow it felt odd using the one in the room here. His stomach rumbled a bit, and he wondered if he had time to run and get one of his own containers of applesauce or something; that honey bun just wasn't cutting it. About that time, however, the toilet flushed, and soon enough the sound of the sink's faucet reached his ears. He glanced up at that cross-stitch up on the wall, not for the first time wondering what about it had gotten to the old man, and where all of this was going, what the point was. The door opened, the sound of the old man's slippered feet shuffling across the floor filled the room. His back was hunched, and his hands would reach out to grasp and press against things frequently for support as he made his way to the bed, but he was moving on his own pretty well.

“Should've dropped one in there so you'd be forced to endure the smell. Lucky for you, that just wasn't happenin!”

The old man cackled as the nurse shook his head with a grin.

“If you had done that, I'd just have an excuse to leave, Mister Crude. I still don't even know what we're really talking about here.”

“Bah, I'm just too old to give a damn anymore.” The man made an impatient sound as he settled into the bed, getting settled once again and then sighing a bit as he pulled that blanket up close. “Love. Commitment. Relationships.”

The nurse nodded encouragingly as he lifted a leg up to rest over the opposite knee. He waited, holding what was left of his water bottle.

“Bein 'in love' with someone. What does that mean, to you?”

The nurse's eyebrows shot up as he started mulling that over, his right hand lifting up to stroke at the stubble on his jaw idly.

“Well...a relationship, I guess. Feeling so strongly about someone you're either in a relationship with them, or want to be?”

“And by 'relationship', you mean a...'committed to that person only' interaction with said person you're in love with, yes?”

The nurse shrugged, nodding.

“Yeah. Monogamy.”

“What do you think our society has constructed monogamy to be?”

The nurse squirmed in his seat, his mind racing. Was that it, was this guy some sort of swinger or something? He tried to put that aside to focus on the question, tried to put into words his worldview, as it were. Not something he was used to doing.

“Uh...well, someone loving someone so much they commit to them. No one else, just that one person. That...by that commitment, they're showing how deeply they love that person above all others.”

“And loving someone else outside that commitment...?”

“Well...I mean, someone other than family? I guess that'd be cheating. Or at least...I dunno, kinda immoral?” He frowned. “I mean, at least that, even if there's nothing sexual going on...?”

“Lemme ask you something. This ex-girlfriend of yours...why'd you two break up?”

The nurse shifted in his head again, but didn't take long to respond.

“Well, we realized we both wanted different things in life. Had different priorities.”

“So it wasn't some explosive break up involving someone else, just a realization?”

The nurse nodded slowly.

“Yeah...basically. I mean...it was far from easy or anything, for either of us. But no, there wasn't someone else involved. When we realized things weren't going to work out, we decided to stop before it got to THAT point.”

“THAT point being falling in love with someone else. Tell me...do you still love her?”

The nurse's mouth opened to respond almost immediately, but slowly shut without saying anything as his brow furrowed. His gaze dropped down to his lap for a moment, his fingers twisting the water bottle cap back and forth idly. After a few moments of silence, he answered, his voice subdued.

“I guess...I mean, I know things just...just wouldn't have worked out.” His face scrunched up a bit. “But still, I WANTED them to, you know? I sorta resented her for a while afterwards, for...for doing everything right but still ending up alone. But I got over that, eventually, and...and yeah, it's not like I hate her or anything...”

The old man's gaze had shifted to look over at some blank point on the opposite wall, his eyes a million miles away. The nurse looked back down at his water bottle, reliving memories of his own, but the man's voice broke into his thoughts.

“Sometimes you love someone and the timing just isn't right. She needs to live there, you need to live here. She's ready to delve into the next level of a relationship, you're still trying to sort out the first one. You're ready for one stage of your life, she's not finished with the other. Even you're seeing someone else, and she's not. It's all timing.”

The nurse wasn't sure what to say to that. Even if the timing had been different with her, he didn't think that would have helped their outcome any. They wanted different things in life. Then again, he had changed a lot since then; what he set out believing he wanted had changed compared to what he wanted now...

“Let's go hypothetical here. You start datin auburn-haired girl. You two hit it off. You love her, she loves you. Does that mean you suddenly don't love your first girlfriend any more? Does that mean you're guilty of cheating, because you love someone outside of that commitment to Auburn?”

He frowned, but shook his head slowly.

“Well no, of course not, I mean...that's in the past. And...I mean, I love her, kinda, still, but...I'm over her. We're over, I mean you just can't...”

The old man interrupted him.

“But the fact it was in the past doesn't diminish it at all, the fact that you've moved on doesn't make it less somehow. That feeling you two had, it was real. You both knew what it was, the timing just...wasn't right. And now there's Auburn. You don't love her less, somehow, because she's not the first woman you've fallen in love with, right?”

“No!”

“Because love isn't some fixed state! It's not some limited resource pool; once you've parsed it out, it starts diminishing!”

The nurse blinked, his eyes widening as he involuntarily leaned away from the bed. The old man had sat up, was leaning forward slightly, his arthritic hand clutching the side-railing of the bed firmly. His gaze was intense, this singular point something the old man was obviously very adamant about. He managed to fumble out an unsure response.

“Okay....?”

The old man stabbed a finger against the railing, using it to emphasize three words.

“The concept of 'one true love' is bullshit!”

The old man leaned back, his lips tightly clenched-quivering a bit, even-his eyes alive with more fire than the nurse had ever seen in them. The nurse swallowed around a throat he abruptly realized had gotten very dry, and he found his fingers fumbling with the water cap, unscrewing the lid so he could take a quick sip. He wasn't sure what to say, felt like to break the silence would incur the old man's wrath. Was he being too loud swallowing? The old man continued, his face dropping to look down at the blanket in his lap as he moved his hand from the railing to curl his fingers into it.

“You don't stop lovin other people when you get married, or when you commit to a relationship. It doesn't make you an adulterer, or a bad person, or an immoral sinner. It just means you're still human.”

The nurse stared at the old man as he lowered his water bottle, hearing a trembling in the man's voice, a vulnerability, he hadn't heard before. He sat the water bottle down on the floor next to his chair, absorbing the old man's words, his mind awhirl with implications. The old man wasn't finished, however.

“There's no 'happily ever after', no 'perfect relationship' or 'one true love'. You make relationships with people every day. You nourish and nurture relationships with people you care about all the time. Sometimes, you encounter other people you grow to love; that doesn't mean you've stopped loving everyone else.”

The old man paused for a moment, whether to collect his thoughts again or for breath, he wasn't sure, but the nurse had to tentatively ask.

“What...what does that make monogamous relationships, then? If...if not a choice to only love one person?”

“Commitment. A promise that we're in this together; that regardless of loving other people, our lives move together, side by side. Lives of mutual trust.”

The nurse watched the old man run his fingers along the weave of the blanket tenderly, as if he were stroking a newborn kitten. He thought about all of that, about the frail old soul in the bed in front of him, the man he had barely heard a dozen words from before tonight. What kind of life had he lived, what would a conversation with him had been like back when the old man was his age? He tried to assimilate that, the familiar noises of his work place the only sounds in the room.

“Sir, I...well, that's a lot to take in. And I can't say I've ever thought about any of that like that before, I really appreciate the wisdom. I'm just...I really don't understand why you're telling me all this. Why this wasn't something you couldn't have told anyone else.”

The old man sighed; a soft, long exhalation of air that was filled with weariness and the full weight of so many years lived. His jaw moved a few times, but he didn't speak. His eyes lifted up, and the nurse was surprised to see moisture welling up through his eyelashes. He looked at the cross-stitch on the wall again for a few moments, then looked back down, pulling that tortured blanket even closer.

“Years before I met my future wife, there was a woman I loved more fervently than I ever thought possible. She emotionally supported me, bolstered me, and touched my very soul. I became a better person for her having been in my life.”

The nurse felt his throat constrict at the raw emotion laid bare in the old man's voice. Tears were painting their trails down the wrinkled, lined face shamelessly. The nurse swallowed roughly, trying to wet his mouth enough to speak.

“What happened?”

The man choked back a small sob, but a faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. After a few moments of regaining some degree of composure, he managed to rasp out.

“Bad timing.”

The nurse smiled grimly, sadly; curious though he was, he dared not press further.

“Amongst everythin else, I still had a lot of growin up to do.” He paused for a moment, glancing up at the cross-stitch again, lingering for a bit this time. “She hurt me more deeply than anyone else ever has, too. Not that I didn't have it comin, to some degree.”

The nurse waited for the old man to go on, but he seemed lost in gazing up there at the wall, just over his shoulder. He went to grab his water bottle, but remembered too late he had already emptied it. He licked his lips nervously, glancing up at the old man, then back down to his feet.

“So why...”

“I never stopped loving her. I met my wife, we made a family together, shared more than half of our lives together, but I never stopped loving her. Was hardly a day that went by I didn't think about her, feel the ghost of her walkin through my mind.” He coughed suddenly, his bony shoulders hunching forward as he lifted his arm to cover his mouth, his entire body convulsing with the force of it. He shook his head, lowered his arm and cleared his throat loudly. “You can't tell a spouse that, no matter how much the two of you love each other, no matter how much you trust and share everything else together.”

The nurse's hands clenched on his thighs, his teeth gnawing at his lower lip thoughtlessly, simply overwhelmed.

“I'd give just about anything to see her one last time, before I die, but I don't even know what I'd say to her after all these years. If she's even alive. If she even remembers me, or doesn't hate me.” He lifted a hand from the bed, pointing a shaking finger towards the cross-stitch. “That thing right there...it's been a long time since I saw something that so vividly reminded me of her. And for it to be now, here, of all places...” He coughed again, shaking his head as he withdrew his arm and swiped his hand across his face.

The nurse turned in his chair to look at the cross-stitch, blown away by the depth of emotion coming from this man, wondering how long he'd been carrying this along with him, how deeply he had buried all of this inside. He found himself talking without thinking, not even aware where the thought was coming from fully.

“Do you think she truly loved you the way you always thought she did?”

He hated himself for saying it as soon as he did, wishing he could take it back. He turned to look at the old man, about to ask him to forgive his rudeness, but his aged eyes had shifted to stare right at him, and the nurse found himself unable to speak. There was no anger in that gaze, no shock or betrayal; simply acceptance. The old man's eyes glided back up to that cross-stitch, going back to a different place, a different time.

“I can still remember the way her eyes lit up when I opened that door the first time, the joy that filled me when I finally got to wrap my arms around her, bury my face in her luscious hair, inhale her scent for the first time.” He was silent a few moments, then slowly shook his head. “I don't have an answer for you, you know that.”

The nurse tried to keep the disappointment from his features, the burning need to know, to understand, but the old man could see. Understood the frustration.

“I trust she did. I believe that smile that captured my heart and made it sing...that it was born from love. That the feelings she elicited from me were rooted in how she felt for me, too. That all those memories, those feelings, weren't the misbegotten hopes and wishes of a lonely man. In the end, that self-belief, that trust? That's all any of us ever really have.”

*************

He came back into work an hour early, hoping he could spend some time with the old man again. He had asked the on-duty nurse before leaving that night if she could let him know if the guy was going to be released while he was off.

“You're here early, lose track of the time or something?”

He felt the heat involuntarily flare to life in his cheeks, stammering a bit as the bob of auburn colored hair swished past him as he was heading to the old man's room.

“Um...well uh, I was actually coming to see one of the patients. Think he's going to be released this evening, and...well, we talked quite a bit the other night. Kinda wanted to say my farewells, ya know? He's a pretty...interesting guy.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes widening.

“Which...which guy...?”

Something in her face made his throat tighten.

“Room 426...?”

She bit her lower lip, her expression softening, her voice quiet.

“Oh, I'm...I'm so...he...he died this morning...in his sleep...”

“What?! But he...he was recovering! He was going to be released!”

“I'm so sorry, I...I don't...”

He spun around and took off down the hallway, almost bowling over one of his coworkers just outside the room as she was hefting a plastic bag of used linens onto her cart.

“Hey! Watch it!”

“Sorry!” He tossed over his shoulder, his shoes squeaking on the floor as he stuttered to a stop inside the room, his eyes sweeping around. Empty. Empty and scrubbed clean, sanitized like so many other rooms he had dealt with over the years. Nearly ready for the next occupant. His head whirled around to look at the wall, where one of those plastic adhesive pull-tab hooks was perched. They never used those to put things up on the walls. He turned to look back at his coworker, who was frowning at him from the doorway as she wiped a stray lock of hair from her face.

“There was a...a cross-stitch, up on the wall right here.” He pointed at the hook.

“Yeah, the space one, right? Never saw that up there before until that guy was in here.”

“What happened to it, did one of his family take it?”

Her face scrunched up, her eyes darting up towards the ceiling in recall.

“Erm...I dunno...the wife and I think one of their kids came in to get his things. Neither of them paid any mind to that. They left, and I had already started cleaning up the room when this other woman stopped by, though.”

He felt his breath catch in his throat, his eyes widening.

“What'd she look like...?”

“Short; as old, if not older, than that guy. Beautiful hair. She'd been crying, clearly had to have known him. Asked if she could get that thing, I said sure. I just assumed she was a relative or something. Why, was it yours?”

His vision started getting blurry, his eyes filling with hot, burning tears as he glanced at the bed, now empty; crisp, stark-white sheets pulled taut over it.

“No. No, it wasn't.”