Duty

It would be awkward at first, he knew that. But he would adjust, as he always had before. After all, he was a Starfleet officer. Making adjustments was a big part of the job.

The Tiptree arrived on schedule, transferring cargo and several passengers. She was the last to beam over. He hadn't expected that, but then, the unexpected was part of the job. He didn't take the time to puzzle over it.

He was waiting in transporter room 3, as was proper, his uniform crisp from the reprocessor. A Starfleet officer should always look his best. She smiled widely at him, and for a moment he felt pure panic. The sense of not being in control terrified him, and she was one thing he would never be able to control. Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down. After all, not always being in control was part of the job too.

She greeted him formally, placing her suitcase on the floor before holding out her hand. He shook it, careful to grip tightly, but not strong enough to hurt. She smiled again, then withdrew her hand, turning to greet the others before retrieving her suitcase.

He escorted her to her new quarters, taking the time to point out the newest features and small luxuries someone of her rank was afforded. She followed him here and there, listening politely if a bit distant. As soon as it seemed possible to do so without being derelict in his duties, he withdrew. She followed him to the door and offered him another handshake. He endured it with the good grace of a disciplined officer, then left.

There was a reception in her honor that night, and he was duty bound to attend, keeping himself near enough to been seen without being too close. She seemed to accept that, her manner polite and slightly distant.

She retired early, having stayed long enough to fulfill the requirements of proper protocol. He reluctantly excused himself from his companions, taking it upon himself to escort her back to her quarters. She declined politely, having already accepted the offer of another officer. He gave her a polite nod, then returned to his companions, not even waiting for the door to close behind her before turning away.

She pretended not to notice.

She requested he accompany her for dinner the next day, and, because it was polite, he accepted. They spoke of ships business, and of their friends, never once talking of anything personal.

Two weeks, then three passed in this manner. The two officers seeing each other occasionally while on duty, or sharing a politely formal meal. It was not what either of them might have wanted, but there were their positions to consider.

It was, of course, their responsibilities that changed this polite, distant relationship, bringing them together in a way that they hadn't been together in so very long. Long even before she went away. Leaving him behind. Abandoning him.

And it was his duty as a Starfleet Officer; his duty to the truth, that let him go to her. To tell her that he had been wrong to be angry at her for leaving, and then coming back. That he was sorry he had been so cold to her. That he loved her, and he always would.

And because it was her duty, she comforted him. She accepted his explanation. She understood his regret. She told him she loved him, too, and assured him that she always would. And then she sent him back to his own quarters and he was glad to go.

And as the doors closed, separating them as effectively as a million miles, she wept for the loss of her child.

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