Red Means Dead

Hunter

I feel him moving to get up and I burrow into his side, my cold nose pressing into his neck, a soft protest coming from my throat.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest and he settles back down, his hand threading through my hair so his fingers can massage the tendons in the back of my neck. If I were a Caitian I'm quite certain I'd be purring and flipping my tail languidly.

I drape my leg over one of his, a far more intimate gesture than either of us has ever attempted. It is so incredibly simple and yet such a leap to make that it leaves me far headier than it should. He probably hasn't even noticed I've done anything or maybe it doesn't mean as much to him as I hope it does.

Before I realize it, I've slipped my hand under the hem of his shirt, my fingers grazing the edge of his pajama bottoms. I am feeling power-drunk, or maybe love-drunk, thinking I am invincible and desirable.

I sigh. "Can we just stay like this forever?"

His hand stills for half a second, almost imperceptibly so, but I can feel it, I can feel how the rest of his body has tensed.

I slowly lick my suddenly dry lips and wish on all the stars around us that I could take the words back.

Obviously, he doesn't feel the same way.

"I guess we couldn't shirk our duties," I say far too calmly. "They'd eventually find us. There'd be a court-martial. It wouldn't be worth it."

His fingers start moving again but he's distracted. I count very slowly to one-hundred in my head. Well, to fourteen then warp 10 through the rest. I pat his stomach a few times before hopping to my feet. "Work calls."

He props on an elbow and checks the time. "Your shift isn't for another hour."

"Mr. Scott wants me to do a diagnostic on the gravity precessers. Something about not wanting to 'skelp his napper from a puckle of pooched precessers'," I pause, holding my breath to slow my heart down. "Or something like that."

"Peaches--"

"I'll see you tonight."

But I don't show and he doesn't either. And I don't go the next night nor the next. My pride is wounded. My heart is heavy.

I waffle between hurt and anger. On good days indifference only to crash the next with bone-crushing sorrow and self-loathing.

If he's bothered by our distance, he doesn't show any signs.

We've passed each other no less than 10 times and even sat at the same table one night in Mess and he's never looked my way for more than a moment. He's cordial when we pass, says all the right things but the warmth isn't there. Or maybe it's just the same as always and I want more.

It's two weeks before I take some sort of action and approach one of the engineers close to my age and ask if he wants to get dinner later. He jumps at the chance but that doesn't really excite me. The only thing I really know about him is that his name is Hunter but I don't care enough to ask him if it's his first or last name. He's just a distraction, a welcome one, and knows how to absorb most of my attention. It's nice dating someone in engineering, someone I have a lot in common with. McCoy must feel similarly because I swear he and his nurse have something going on.

Hunter is attractive, I'm more than aware of that but I'm not completely impressed with his looks. His hair is slightly too light and his eyes slightly too dark but I'm sure I'll grow accustomed to both with time.

He is talkative and doesn't seem to mind that I'm not because he is far too kind. Definitely far too kind for me. And funny. He's managed to make me laugh which is no easy feat.

Before I know it, a month has past. It's not been a whirlwind. It's not been a blur. It's just been.

Things are going well, though maybe not perfectly, but I'm okay with that. At least, that's what I tell myself late at night when I can't sleep and I'm wrapped tightly around a pillow with sickening images dancing through my mind. I wake myself often screaming.

Hunter notices at breakfast after a third night in a row of restlessness.

"Are you okay, Sadie? You aren't looking so great. Maybe you should go see the Doctor."

Rubbing my fingertips under my eyes, I shake my head and think of the truth of his statement. "Just tired. I didn't sleep very well last night."

"Are you sure? Dr. McCoy is right over there. Hey, Doc?" He beckons before I can tell him not to and I feel McCoy's eyes on me as if they are black holes, sucking me in so I can't escape. There's a funny feeling bubbling up in my chest that I can't quite describe but it makes the back of my neck hot.

"Troubles, crewman?" McCoy asks as he walks over to the table. He stands in front of us, his eyes mostly on Hunter though occasionally flicking over to me, but only for brief moments, as if correcting a reflex. My stomach tightens. My body has missed his nearness and is betraying me for going so long without him.

Hunter grabs my hand and it's all I can do to keep from ripping it from his grasp. "Sadie isn't sleeping too well. Think you can do anything for our girl?"

I'm only slightly mortified. Usually that would be enough to send my embarrassment through the roof but what comes next is like a photon torpedo exploding in my face.

McCoy looks at me, his face stone-like and judging. "Not sleeping, hunh? I'm sure some late night exercise and a bit of cuddling will get 'our girl' through it. That seems to be all it takes."

A white-hot, sick panic washes over my body and I know that the only thing that could help me feel better at this moment would be to vomit over everything. I can feel beads of perspiration on my upper lip and there's a loud roaring in my ears.

I swallow, hard, and keep my gaze as level and steady on McCoy as I can although I know he can see the cracks in my veneer. His words sting because they aren't true and they are true. It's not the what that got me through all those nights but the who and he doesn't want the same thing I did...do. His words imply all the wrong things about our relationship, that I was just using him. I wasn't.

His words are petty and harsh and mean nothing to Hunter but hit me at my core.

I shake my head, even more of my façade breaking. "You men are all the same." I stand abruptly, knocking my cup of water over. "I would have preferred a hypo," I say pointedly in McCoy's direction, letting my words sink in and cut as deeply as they can. I think I mean it for now as much as I do for that first night with McCoy. He's the one that stuck the knife in, I'm just giving it a good twist.

McCoy challenges, "You're too stubborn to let anything like a simple hypo help you."

My eyes narrow and I harrumph.

"Lighten up, Walker," Hunter says, righting my cup and shaking water from his hand, unaware of the battle going on between McCoy and me. "Sit back down. He didn't mean anything personal by it."

Hunter's words pierce my heart. I shake my head, there are a few too many thoughts in there, but I focus on one and stare at McCoy. His comment was personal, far too personal. He said it to inflict pain but why would he want to? Unless he is hurting like I am.

He looks back at me like we're playing poker, like he's afraid to give away the smallest flick of emotion because it will show his whole deck.

Knowing my scrutiny of him is drawing attention, I clear my throat and wave my hand. "Mr. Scott needs me to align the secondary plasma coils on the transporter. I'll see you later."

"And the doctor, too. Let him check you over."

Little does Hunter know, I was talking about the doctor. As I walk off, my eyes linger on McCoy's as he watches me leave, his face neither triumphant nor defeated.