Chapter Text
You sit on the sofa in Chris’s quarters, legs tucked up under you, nursing your black coffee. His coffee is very good, and you like how warm the mug feels in your fingers. You like the smell.
The Maur Asani have joined the Federation; yesterday you had the privilege of singing at the signing ceremony. Their Hall of Governance was unlike any building you’d ever been in, part built and part grown, giant trees in place of columns, the canopy interlaced with large stones flecked with the same crystal the Maur have on their foreheads.
The acoustic was beautiful, more alive than the theatre back in San Francisco. It was almost like a church, the slight echo allowing your voice to soar. Afterward, there were receptions and celebrations before you returned to the ship.
And in a few days the Enterprise is due to rendezvous with the USS Sioux, to take the musicians and diplomats back to Earth, including you.
“You okay?” Chris is looking down at you, brow furrowed.
“Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugs. “You’ve been staring at that coffee for a while.”
“I guess I have.” You put it down on the table.
You’ve enjoyed your time on the ship; you even had duties, of a sort – after the success of your musical soirée, you performed almost daily for the Maur Asani, and helped compile playlists of music from the ship’s computer to play for them in the arboretum during their remaining meetings.
And you’ve enjoyed your time with Chris especially. His company, his cooking, his bed.
But there’s often a sense of anti-climax in the days after a big performance, or when you come to the end of a run at a particular theatre. You spend so long preparing, so long getting to know your music, finding the heart of it, practicing, psyching yourself up to be in the headspace to sing the best that you can.
When you’re actually singing, when you look out over the audience and know that they’re with you, that high is like nothing else. It lasts for a little while, and then... you wake up and there’s nothing, just emptiness, and part of you wonders if you’ll ever find that feeling again, even though you know in your head that you will.
“It’s the post show blues, I suppose. Yesterday was amazing, but now it’s over. Soon I’ll be going back to Earth. And by the time the Sioux gets us there, I won’t even have many performances left in San Francisco. Sorry, I shouldn’t be so… negative.”
Chris nods, thoughtful, and he sits, turning to look at you. “No, I get that, I think. Feeling a bit empty? You’ve enjoyed your taste of exploration, and you don’t want it to end. But what if it doesn’t have to?”
You study him, puzzled, but his expression is open, genuine. “I don’t understand.”
“The Enterprise is down for a survey mission next, but then we’ve been ordered to Starbase 44. I believe there’s a moon near there…”
“With a Kaseelian Opera house! I’ve always wanted to go. I can’t believe the prima donnas really— But you don’t carry passengers. How?”
“Admiral April tells me I can take on a Civilian Specialist for a while. So how about it? Long range sensors have detected some interesting sonic signals from the nebula we’re surveying, too, if that sweetens the deal.”
You feel your brow furrow, despite your excitement. “But space is silent, everyone knows that.”
“Not all of space. The gas density of this nebula, it’s close to a planetary atmosphere. Hell, you could probably sing there, if you can breathe in it. We’d need to check the composition.”
“I could sing…” You shake your head, picturing your teacher from years ago. You weren’t sure if you were ready to explore the galaxy when you beamed onto the Enterprise, but now you know you are. You’ll need to call Leda, but you’re sure she can cover the rest of your shows.
“Thank you, Chris. I think this might be something I really need.”
“I’m glad.” He smiles, pleased, and you can’t resist leaning over to him. He pulls you close, and you cup his smooth-shaven jaw in your hand. The kiss is soft, lush, and it deepens.
“Not that I’m not enjoying this,” Chris murmurs into the skin of your neck sometime later, “but I do have a ship to run. Breakfast? Pancakes, waffles? Or something else?”
“Hmm.” You pull back a little. “I guess I never did make you that French toast…”