The Last Time We First Met - Part Five
by: Denise Underwood
c. 2001
"So you stayed." Picard said, pouring himself and Triona a glass of sherry
from the sideboard.
"So I stayed, " Triona agreed, taking the proffered glass and sipping
delicately. "I loved my new life. It wasn't stodgy and routine. It was
different and exciting and slightly dangerous. Janette and I became very
close. I knew she hoped that one day I would ask to come across. But that
was left unspoken for some time in the future. Truthfully, though I toyed
with the idea in my head, the idea of immortality never lured me. I think
if things had stayed the same I would have never asked to walk in the night."
"What changed, Triona?" he asked softly, not wanting to startle her from
whatever long ago time she was once more visiting. She walked over to the
fireplace, staring at the flames like they were a window. He wondered what
she saw through that window.
"Everything...."
**************
"Petite, we have to speak of this," Janette said urgently to her young
mortal friend. It had been several days since Triona's encounter with
LaCroix. In that time, she had spoken barely a word. Janette, bound by her
agreement with her Master, hadn't pressed her.
"I am sorry. Once I knew he was still alive, I should have sent you away.
But I lulled myself into a false sense of security, assuming he'd be too
intent on dealing with Nicolas to pay any mind to my life." Janette said
bitterly.
"It's not your fault, Janette. You didn't force me to come here. I played
with fire and I got burnt." Triona's voice was tired and sounded far away.
She stroked the almost healed bite marks at her throat with a fingertip,
shivering a little as she replayed that night over in her mind for the
thousandth time.
"You can't stay, Triona. Not if you wish to stay in the light."
"Would he let me go? From the stories you've told, how do I know it's not
already too late?" She sank into a chair, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "I...
feel him. Calling me. God help me, but all I can think of is how it felt
when he..." her voice broke, "drank from me."
Janette, sitting in the chair next to Triona, took her hand in a strong
grip. "You must not think of that or you will never break free," she almost
hissed. "LaCroix gave me his word that he would let you leave. And leave
you must -- soon! It will only be more difficult the longer you wait. You
need distance to escape the link you now have."
Triona looked at Janette with eyes that were years older than they had been
just days before. "I'm not sure I want to escape, Janette, and it terrifies
me...."
**************
"But you did go to him, didn't you?" Picard asked into the silence.
Somewhere a clock struck one and the sound of rain could be heard sheeting
against the windows.
"Yes," was all Triona said as she busied herself adding fuel to the dying
fire. He waited for her to continue, sensing the conflict she still felt
over her decision all these centuries later.
Instead of coming back to sit with him, she sat on the floor next to the
fire, drawing her legs up, thinking. As the silence stretched, Picard
asked, "Do you regret your choice, even now, after all this time?"
Shaking her head, Triona looked startled at the question. "No. No, I don't
regret it. But I suppose I still question my motivations. I wish I could
say it was something pure, like love. But it wasn't. It was need, desire,
lust, possession. All very primal. Later, it was love, as it is now. But
not then. He wanted to possess me, remake me. And I let him; at least in
the beginning. Lucien offered me everything I thought I wanted, deep down,
where I'd never let anyone see -- not even me. He seemed to see all of me
and wanted me anyway. I'd never felt that sense of total belonging before
and it was addictive."
"No one can accuse you of self-deception," he commented wryly.
"I've had centuries for introspection -- one of my faults, or so LaCroix
likes to tell me."
Picard searched for the right words. "You said he wanted to possess you.
I'm sorry, but the only analogy I keep coming to is from 'Dracula'. But
somehow I can't see you as a mindless slave to a vampire."
Triona threw her head back and laughed. "Me? No, definitely not, Jean-Luc!
And that wasn't what he wanted either. My 'willful nature'," she said
dryly, "was one of the things that drew him to me in the first place. But
that didn't mean that at the same time he didn't expect absolute obedience
from what was his. The fights we used to have! And still do on occasion.
But in the beginning, the rage, the anger, would overwhelm us. I'm still
surprised that he didn't kill me in those early years."
Jean-Luc unsuccessfully tried to hide the shock he felt at her last
statement, realizing she meant it quite literally.
"It's okay, Jean-Luc," she said shaking her head. "At the time there were
undercurrents at work that neither of us were aware of. You see, he didn't
want to bring me across immediately. What he wanted was a mortal lover.
Something that only very old and powerful vampires can manage. But those
years changed me, changed him, more than he realized. We were trapped in a
cycle of primal emotions that neither of us could break. We did eventually
figure it all out -- but it was almost my death."
A knock at the door interrupted further conversation. "Come in," Triona
called.
A tall stocky woman in her fifties stepped into the room. "Madam, will
there be anything else tonight?"
Triona looked quickly over at the clock on the shelf behind her, noticing
with some surprise it was after one. "Heavens no, Mrs. Baker! I'm sorry,
you should have checked hours ago."
"It's alright, ma'am, I had things to see to with you back in residence and
all," she said, smiling. "I did want to let you know that I've prepared the
Grey Room for your guest, should he be requiring it."
Triona nodded her thanks. "Did you check on Elizabeth?" she asked after the
surrogate.
"She's quite well, madam. Sleeping like a baby. And she ate a large dinner,
have no fears there."
"Has T'Rayla gone to bed yet?"
"She's a night owl, that one," Mrs. Baker tsked disapprovingly as she
smoothed the gingham print apron she wore. "Working on some engine design
project last I checked on her."
Triona laughed at the older woman. "She's her father's daughter."
T'Rayla was Triona's ward while her father, Spock of Vulcan, worked
undercover on the Romulan home world towards the goal of Vulcan/Romulan
reunification. She was ten and a genius even by Vulcan standards. It was
all Triona and the rest of her family could do to keep up with her.
"Or her 'grandmother's'," the housekeeper replied pointedly. "It's that
little skimmer of yours she's working on, after all."
Triona just smiled in response. She was well used to Mrs. Baker's
good-natured grumbling. "Thank you, Mrs. Baker. Have a good night."
"Mrs. Baker doesn't approve of my penchant for fast ships," Triona
commented to Picard as the woman shut the door behind her. "She's sure I'm
going to splat myself all over an asteroid one day."
"And are you?" he asked, a note of teasing in his voice.
"I've been flying ships since there've *been* ships, Captain." Triona
arched a brow and said smugly, "I fancy I could teach you a thing or two."
Triona may have been thwarted as a mortal in pursuing her degree in
astrophysics, but she had remedied that not long before the war. As
technology progressed, it had turned out she had a talent for spaceship
design. It was one of the reasons she'd taken on the task of Imladrin
defense. They may have been a small federation of aligned systems, but
thanks to Triona, they had an efficient and deadly fleet of starships that
were some of the most advanced in known space.
Over the last four centuries, Triona had carefully cultivated the best
minds and nurtured a space and advanced technology program that would be
the envy of many governments - had they realized it existed. Of course,
some suspected, but Imladris held her secrets close.
"Of that, I have no doubt, Minister," he conceded.
"But I'm a terrible hostess. Here I am keeping you up till the wee hours of
the morning talking."
"On the contrary. If you're willing I'd like to hear more."
"Until you have all my secrets?" She laughed softly. "Very well. But first,
I'm hungry. I think we should continue this in the kitchen."
"No objections here. I wouldn't mind another cup of tea either." Picard
looked woefully at his long empty cup on the table in front of him.
Imladrin Blue tea was an extremely rare and expensive luxury export from
the Imladrin system. Since Triona had discovered Jean-Luc's fondness for
it, she'd made sure to keep him supplied with his now- favorite vice.
"It's a good thing you now have a pipeline of Imladrin Blue, Jean-Luc. I
think you've become quite addicted!" she accused jokingly. "Fine, then off
to the kitchen. It should be safe now that Mrs. Baker has gone to bed."
*********
Denise * ithildin@ondragonswing.com* Ith
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