SURREXIT VERE



"Have you heard?" The eager, breathless cry alerted the two women sitting having a quiet discussion over a cup of tea to incoming as Tim O'Neill, the generally quiet communications officer on the SeaQuest barrelled up to the table, grabbing hold of the back of Treysa Barlow's seat and almost overturning it as he used it to stop his headlong rush spinning it around with his momentum.

"No fair, Tim!" The closely following sensor chief Miguel Ortiz accused as he ran up behind, coming to a more controlled halt beside Ari Adler. "You tripped me up back there."

"Ha! I can't help it if you're so clumsy, friend! All those muscles getting in the way, you know," Tim smirked back smugly.

Trey and Ari shared a puzzled glance. "Think they've finally lost it?" the older woman asked the small ensign Adler. "They aren't making any sense at all, this time." Ari shrugged.

"I don't see any difference," she teased. Miguel plopped into the seat between them and pulled a curl on her head. Smiling up at him, she leaned her head on his shoulder briefly, then raised it again. A few weeks before, he'd asked her to marry him, the ceremony to occur when circumstances allowed, but until that time, they were trying to play by the rules. It was torture, though, being so close and seeing each other every day, but forbidden to show their feelings openly by regulations governing relations between officers and enlisted.

"Captain's granting leaves to everyone who wants to go to Easter Mass. I thought that you two might want to go with me," Tim explained.

Putting a companionable arm around both women and grinning engagingly, down at them, pointedly ignoring his friend, Miguel explained further, "We'll be close to Seacouver Easter weekend. Captain Bridger got a listing of services at the different churches in the area, and we can sign up to attend, on a first come, first serve basis." He raised his hand and twined his fingers in Ari's hair, murmuring, "Well, cara, which Mass do you want to attend?"

Ari pulled away slightly and shook her head. "Is that what you two are in a swivet about? I've already put in my request."

"Miguel!" Tim called out warningly, nodding his head toward the entrance to the galley where Commander Ford and Lt. Brody were entering in search of a cup of coffee. Reluctantly, Miguel removed his arms from the two. Turning his attention to the small ensign, Tim queried curiously, "You knew? How? The sign-up list has only just been posted."

"I was the comm officer on duty when he sent for the information," she explained a trifle distantly, as if it had little to do with her.

"Well! Why didn't you tell us?" Trey asked with an exasperated tone to her voice. Ari shrugged, knowing that Treysa knew as well as she did what regulations covered comm records. She stood up, preparing to return her cup to the kitchen. Before she could move away from the table, however, Miguel grabbed her arm and pulled her back down.

"Hold it. Hold it!" he said. "So, which Mass did you request?"

"None of them," she answered tonelessly. The other three stared at her with a sense of dismayed surprise. Ari found time to go to a Catholic service at every liberty, every chance she had. For her to deliberately miss the high holy day was inconceivable. The woman took advantage of their shock to walk away without explanation.

Looking from one man to the other, a small frown on her face, Trey asked in an insulted tone of voice, "Who put a bug up her ass?" At that, Miguel stood up, looking unaccountably grim.

"I don't know, but I intend to find out," he declared striding off after the ensign. There was a moment's silence while the two remaining officers digested the scene, then Tim turned to the tall, slender, fascinating woman beside him and asked, facietiously, "Well, what about you?"



"Ari. Ari! Wait up!" the hissed order followed her. Knowing that he'd catch her sooner or later, Ari stopped, half turning to wait for her forbidden love. They walked on, side by side, not touching, but somehow seeming joined in spite of the distance between them.

"Ok, what's wrong?" he asked when it became clear that she had no intention of initiating conversation.

"Nothing. I just don't feel like going, that's all." Miguel let the lie hang in the air between them until they reached the door to her cabin.

"Ari," he said as quietly and gently as he knew how, "You need to talk to someone." She shook her head, puzzled by his conclusion, and raised her shoulders.

"Because I don't want to go to Mass? Miguel, that's ridiculous. I just don't feel like it." She began to go in, but he took hold of her wrist and prevented the retreat.

"No, not just that. Come on, Ari. You're still having nightmares, aren't you?" Her silence answered him. "What kind? Are they about Siebas? Is it your Uncle Paul? What?" Frightened by his insight into her psyche, Ari retailiated with anger, jerking her hand from his grip.

"You want me to talk to Dr. "bluidy psychic" Smith, don't you?" she flared up. "No. No thank you! Everytime I try to talk to her, she gets up on her hobby horse and, frankly, it's been ridden to death. If you're so worried, you talk to her."

"Ok, don't talk to her. Talk to someone else," he answered, trying to rein in his automatic response to the heat in her voice. If he let her get under his skin, any point he was trying to make would get lost in the reconciliation. "But you can't go on like this. You're tearing yourself apart."

"I'm doing quite fine, thank you very much CHIEF Ortiz. See," Unbuttoning her cuffs, she pulled the sleeves up to her elbows. "No bruises, no marks."

Shortly after learning of her uncle's death, Ari had begun unarmed combat training with Lt. Brody. Her unexpressed grief and suppressed feelings of "survival guilt" had led to extreme, psychosomatic clumsiness in the training sessions, resulting in massive bruising all over her body. Her friends had discovered the self-abuse before it had gone so far as to require official notice.

The problem had apparently been resolved, or at least not recurred, but Miguel remained convinced that the reasons behind her abberant behaviour remained, hidden deep inside her iron self-control. He felt certain that her reluctance to take advantage of the Captain's Easter offer had to do with her uncle's death. The old man had been a big part of her life, had heavily influenced her character, and her choice in careers. Miguel knew that was the only thing which could induce her to pull rank on him now.

"Fine, sir," he responded formally, trying to force her to examine her actions. "Then I will stop bothering you will my worries. If you will excuse me, sir?" He started to leave. A small, timid voice called him back.

"Miguel? I'm sorry. If you think it's important, I'll try to talk to her. But the way she goes on and on about psychic phenomena and psi factor ..." Ari's eyes were troubled, and she seemed very young, as young as her actual age. Miguel sighed, his incipient anger melting at the sight.

"It's ok, cara mia. I understand." He sometimes wondered, if they were free to show their love for one another, if that could make a difference. Right now, she looked so close to tears that it was all he could do not to take her into his arms and stroke her hair. Instead, he touched a knuckle gently to her cheek. "I'll talk to you later," he promised, and she nodded her head, stepping backwards into her room and closing the door slowly, her anxious face watching him for as long as possible.

Shrugging, feeling the need to do something, Miguel headed back toward the galley. As he re-ran the conversation through his mind, something she'd said struck him and he examined it closely. Raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips thoughtfully as he considered the idea, he nodded his head slowly. Yes. Maybe he should have a talk with Dr. Smith, himself. Changing direction, he hurried off toward the head medic's office.



Carrying a stack of reference books from her desk to the shelves, Dr. Smith wasn't too impressed with Chief Ortiz's concerns. Lifting one shoulder and looking over it at him with a pert smile, she observed, "So, Ari doesn't want to go to church. That's not so odd, Miguel. Lots of people aren't all that crazy about organized religion. More than half the crew haven't signed up for any of the times." She frowned, remembering that Tony Piccolo and Dagwood, the GELF, had both requested the late Saturday night Vigil Mass. Something about that worried her, but she wasn't sure what.

Miguel shook his head stubbornly. "This is ARI," he stressed. "She is into the religious thing. She's more devote than Tim about it, and even if she wasn't, Easter and Christmas are the two days that everyone goes to Mass, if they claim to be Catholic. She can't miss them." He sighed as Wendy continued to shelf her books, he wasn't making any impression on her.

"Look," he said, trying another tack, "I think this has something to do with her uncle."

"Great-uncle," the doctor corrected with a quick backwards glance. "That is, if you mean deLegardi? Didn't he die, what, five, six months ago?"

"Yeah, yeah, her great-uncle. Has she ever talked to you about him?" Intrigued, the attractive woman turned around, the last two books still in her hands.

"No. But he was almost 90 years old. It's not like he could have had much to do with her. He didn't even put up much of a contest for custody, when her parents died. She only lived with him later, because she was still too young to stay in the dorms in college." Miguel shook his head, and her voice trailed off. "I see," she concluded. "What am I missing, here?"

"Ari idolized the guy. He was her godparent, he and his lover, apparently. And she spent a good bit of time visiting him in Paris as a kid. Before, when she first arrived, she was forever quoting him. 'Uncle Paul says this', 'uncle once told me that'. But since he died ...,:" Miguel shrugged his muscular shoulders.

"It's as if he never existed. I can't get her to talk about him at all. And she hasn't cried, hasn't mourned. Dr. Smith, that can't be healthy. Sometimes, when something happens to reminds her of him, she freezes up. I think that this is part of that." While the young Cuban spoke, the doctor's face grew more and more serious and she slowly replaced the books on the corner of her desk and gave him her full attention.

Nodding, she conceeded, "You could be right, Miguel. But what can I do?"

"Talk to her," he suggested urgently. "That's your job, to help us work out our problems, isn't it?" She shook her head apologetically.

"I can't," she answered simply. "Ari won't talk to me. I blew it with her, Miguel. I was so determined to get her the training that she needs, that I pushed too hard and she doesn't trust my motives." She shrugged, helplessly. "Ari needs someone she can trust, someone with the authority to ... to force her to talk it out, to start mourning. That isn't me."

Looking thoughtful, Miguel nodded his head judiciously, her words sparking an idea in his mind. Grinning suddenly, making him dangerously handsome, he stood up and headed for the door. "Thanks, doc. That gives me an idea. I think I know what to do, now."

"What? What are you going to do? Miguel? Miguel!" But the light-hearted young man left without relieving her curiousity, as if talking about his plan might jinx it, somehow. After a few moments, Wendy Smith sighed and shrugged her shoulders, a small twisted smile on her face. Picking up the books, she returned to the shelves.



"Hey, Adler!" Ari looked up from the dials in the engine room as McKay called out her name. "Comm officer says there's a personal call for you, looks important. You can take it in here and I'll finish this up." Ari passed the clipboard over with a nod of thanks, slipping into the watch engineer's office to pick up the receiver.

"Ok, this is Ensign Adler. What's up?" Tim's voice filled her ear.

"I've got an Andrew Mercier asking for you from Paris, France. You want to talk to him?"

"YES!" she squealed excitedly. His muffled 'ouch!' made her realize just how shrill she'd been and she murmured contritely. "Sorry about that Tim. I didn't mean to be so loud."

"S'alright," he answered a tad acerbically. "I only use that ear to hear with."

"Smart aleck," she shot back. A picture appeared on the vid phone, of a mischievious, impish man, his eyes twinkling with youthful glee, surrounded by the signs of a lifetime of laughter.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, with a pretense of outraged dignity, his eyes rising up on his forehead. But the hint of a smile on his face betrayed him.

"Andrew!" Ari caroled out happily, a broad smile greeting him. "I was going to call you next week."

"For Easter? That's the reason I'm calling now. I've got a meeting I need to attend next week in Seacouver on the western North American coast, and I won't be home for Easter. I'm sorry, Ari." She stared at him, her face carefully blank as she realized that she might be able to meet up with him. Her eyes began to blaze with excitement.

"You're going to be in Seacouver Easter weekend?" she echoed, wanting to be sure that she was hearing him right before she got her hopes up.

"Yes," he nodded, sighing sadly and leaning back in his chair, running his fingers through his burnished silver-gilt hair. "It will be my first Easter away from Paris since, well, since I started living here." He flashed a strained smile at her. "I wish that I could have put it off, but maybe it's better this way. Without you, here and with Paul gone ... It's easier to be alone in a strange place when the strange place isn't home." Ari stiffened at the sound of her uncle's name.

Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk top and templing his hands as a support for his chin, a reminiscent smile touching his full, red lips as his eyes grew distant and misty. "You know, I think I'm going to miss Paul more on the night before Easter than any other time since he died. He sponsored me into the church, you know. We never missed a single vigil mass since that spring." Shifting uncomfortably in her seat, Ari looked nervously toward the door to the engine room.

"Look, Andrew. I'd love to stay and chat about old times, but I'm on duty right now. SeaQuest will be stationed off the Seacouver coast that weekend. Maybe I could take some time off and we can go together? I'd like to see you."

"To a vigil mass? That would be wonderful. I'd love to spend it with you, Ari. I'll start making plans ..."

"Wait," she held up her hand. "I don't know if I can manage that leave. The list's been posted for a couple of weeks already. I'll have to take whichever I can get." Andrew nodded. "It may be the sunrise service," she added warningly, knowing how much the night owl in him hated seeing the sun come up.

"Just let me know, ok? Love you baby." Ari smiled at the pet name, but felt compelled to protest, as part of the game they'd always played.

"I'm a big girl, now, Andrew. An officer in the UEO. You can't call me that anymore." He laughed and burlesqued a salute at her.

"Very well then. Ensign. Back to work, you." He paused, the merest hint of a proud, pleased smile on face. "You're looking good, kid."

"Thanks, Andrew. I love you, too." The connection broke and Ari sat for a few seconds, smiling with gentle pleasure and thinking. With a soft sigh, she stood up at last, and went back to checking dials and adjusting levers. She'd sign up for liberty as soon as she got a break.



Primping nervously before the mirror in her room, Ari teetered between irritation and pleasure. Trey, lounged on the bed as though it were a couch, flipping through Ari's marine mammals textbook, watching her prepare for liberty.

"You look great," she comforted the other woman. "Not that it matters. He wouldn't mind if you showed up in a potato sack."

"Andrew? Yeah, I guess you're right, he wouldn't," Ari admitted with a snort of laughter. "But I still owe it to him to look my best. Do you think that this pair of earrings looks best, or these?" she asked, holding up the two sets to different ears. It was a new dress, in that she hadn't worn it yet. Uniforms and casual clothes were so much more sensible usually. But sometimes, you needed a nice gown, and since a madman had gotten into her quarters during an emergency half a year ago and destroyed all of her old dresses, she still hadn't decided how to accessorize the few she'd picked up.

"I like the gryphons best," Trey answered, swinging her legs off the bed and sitting up. "Then you can wear the leaf choker. But I was talking about Miguel."

"Oh, Miguel." And there she put the finger on the sore point, the thing that had Ari in such a confused state. When the small ensign had gone to see if there were any slots left in the Easter evening liberty, she'd found her name had already been added, right below Chief Ortiz's and in a suspiciously familiar handwriting. Since there weren't any openings during that time period, she should be glad he'd done so, but she was upset that he had so disregarded her expressed wishes in the matter. "I'm not going with Miguel, he's just going to be there anyway," she said as off-handedly as possible. The thought that Miguel would be there was making butterflies flutter in her stomach.

"Come on, Ari," Trey jollied her, the older woman reading her response with depressing accuracy. "Whether he had the right to sign your name or not, admit it. You're glad he did." Ari relaxed, her shoulders dropping and a small. rueful smile touching her face.

"Yeah, I guess I am. But you aren't to tell him," she turned around, shaking her finger at Trey. "I don't want him to get the idea he can make a habit of this kind of thing."

"Naw, I wouldn't do that. Here, turn around and I'll fasten this thing around your neck. There, you really do look great, kid."

"Thanks, Trey. I wish I didn't feel so nervous." She looked at her friend in the mirror, "So, Tim did persuade you to go with him? Sunrise service?"

Laughing, shaking her head no, Trey finished with the necklace fastening and rested her hands on the smaller woman's shoulders. "And get up at four a.m.?" she asked in tones of horror. "No Way! We kinda made a deal, 'cause I was going to wear my dess uni and he started pouting......"

Ari turned around, giving Trey a quick hug of thanks and adding with a laugh, "And theres nothing worse than a `Tim Pout'." The older woman gave a fervent nod.

"You got that right. So, I said I'd wear a dress if we went to a later service. But I think I made a mistake."

Ari put down the brush she'd been using, trying to get her curls under some kind of control and gave Trey a look of concern. "Mistake how?"

Trey looked away, her face scrunching up worriedly, and anwered, "I bought 3 dresses on that one assignment, but hadn't looked at them since then. 2 are cut to here and slit to there," pointing to her breast bone and her hip respectively, "and the other, well...... its this white silk thing, mandrin style dress." Ari smiled speculatively.

"I wonder what you were thinking about on that shopping trip. But they all sound lovely. What's the problem?" Noticing the time passing, she began to vigourously brush her hair. "I'd go with the white silk, though, if I were you."

A small voice answered her. "What if he doesn't like it? I should've just stuck to the uniform. He's used to that."

Laughing quietly to herself, Ari put the brush down on the dresser top and sat on her bunk next to her overly anxious friend and put her arm arond her shoulder. "Look at us," she ordered comfortingly. "How many years of training, education, and experience between us, to become proud examples of UEO officers and we both still worry what a man thinks of the way we look." Giving her a squeeze, Ari continued encouragingly, "Trey, Tim would love you no matter what you wear."

Trey shifted her body to hide her face in Ari's shoulder, nodding her head. "We've been together 5 months, now," she explained woefully, "but it's always uniforms or jeans & teeshirts. I KNOW what to do when I'm in those. But," her voice faltered as she got to the crux of the problem, "What if I revert to type once I'm out of uniform?" Ari snorted scornfully.

"Is THAT why you haven't tried any of them out in the two months you've had them? Trey!" Under Ari's brisk common sense, Trey felt her worries receding. "Besides, Tim would love it if you did try to vamp him," she added.

Sitting up straight, her eyes bright with curiousity, Trey eagerly asked, "How do you know? Did he say something to you?" But the aggravating little miss just sat there looking smug and shaking her head. Trey sighed. Trying to get Ari to divulge any of Tim's confidences was something that she felt compelled to continue, even if nothing had worked to date. Feeling that there had been enough silliness for one eventing, she sat straight up and began shooing the girl away with her hands. "You'd better finish, before Migs gets here."

Ari stood and smiled down at Trey, letting the unwelcome nickname pass for once. The tall, elegant ensign tried so hard to appear self-sufficient and experienced, always cracking wise and teasing, that not many people realized just how insecure she was about a lot of things, and especially about her relationship with the fascinatingly complex Lt. Tim O'Neill. But Ari felt a special responsibility for both of them, and she wanted, with all her heart for them to be happy. Of course, she was also intensely jealous as well. Tim and Trey could see one another, even enjoy one another's company on board, discretely, of course. Nathan Bridger only allowed the relationship between Miguel and Ari so long as the captain was left in ignorance of it.

Thanks to her friends, she and Miguel were able to enjoy one another's company on liberty, in a group situation, but this outing was the first time they were going to be out alone, even if they were only sharing a ride to and from the church. At the thought, Ari suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She smoothed down the flaring skirt of her dress and wished fervently that she was in uniform. What if ...

Ari opened her mouth to say something, to ask Trey to go to the shuttle bay, make her excuses, say that she was sick, anything to get out of this, but a knock at the door interrupted her. Giving Trey a curious glance, and getting a warning from her big grin, Ari went to answer it. Miguel stood there, looking almost as nervous as Ari felt, wearing his best uniform and holding a flower corsage. At least he was in uniform.

"Ummm, I thought we could walk to the shuttle together," he said. Ari blinked at him, her peevishness disappearing under the influence of his appearance and the look of appreciation in his eyes. "Ari, you look, You look beautiful," he told her, holding out the flower. "I'm ashamed to give this to you, it doesn't do you justice."

Smiling with delight, casting her eyes down shyly, Ari licked her lips and replied. "Thank you, Miguel. You look pretty wonderful yourself. I don't think I've ever seen you looking so, so fabulous." As he grinned back, Trey made a gagging noise from inside the room.

"Gods! Kiss her, Miguel, before I get sick," she teased the two of them.

"Ummm, here Ari," he said quickly, his face darkening with emotion. "This is for you." He held the corsage up.

"Why don't you pin it on," she suggested breathlessly, swallowing heavily, but wanting to have him close to her for as long as possible. Fumbling a little, his fingers warm against her bare skin as they slipped under the neckline of the dress to prevent the pin from sticking her, Miguel pinned the offering to her shoulder as she stood before the mirror, watching him, smelling the sharp, clean scent that was his essence. He finished, stepping behind her to check her reflection. The delicate pink flower, surrounded by dark green leaves, set off the midnight blue velvet of her square necked frock beautifully. Regretting that they couldn't walk down the corridor's arm and arm, Miguel touched Ari's arm, turning her toward the door. But Ari stopped there and turned to Trey, still stretched out on the bed as though the room belonged to her.

"Trey, why don't you take book to your own cabin?" Ari suggested. "I won't be needing it tonight." The earthy ensign exploded with ribald laughter.

"You don't say?" she replied humourously. "Don't keep her out too late, chief. You don't want to get her into trouble." Wrinkling her nose at the other woman, Ari retorted, "And don't you stay up too late. No sleeping allowed in church."

"She'll be able to sleep in, carissima," Miguel answered. "She persuaded Tim to chose the 11 am Mass, lazy wench." Laughing together for no real reason except the fact that they were together, the two of them walked through the corridors heading for the launching bays.



Andrew was waiting for them to disembark. For a moment, Ari stood and stared at the tall, thin man, then, with a sob deep in her throat, she ran up to him and hugged him close.

"Oh, Andrew. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" she cried, her tears washing his vest. Miguel held back, not wanting to intrude on the reunion.

Patting her back, Andrew was growing teary-eyed himself. "There, there, baby. I know. It is hard isn't it." She pulled back and looked up at him through eyes half-blinded by half a year of tears.

"I tried, Andrew. He said that he didn't want any tears, he didn't want me to be sad, and I tried."

"I know, but, Ari, as wise as Paul was, he sometimes made mistakes." She stared at him, appalled at this blasphemy, and he laughed down at her. "I know, Ari, I know. But it's true."

"About the cognac ..." he began. Ari turned bright red and stepped away.

"No," she replied flatly. "If I'd thought of it, I would have brought the rest of it to give back."

"I'm sorry, dear, but just listen. Paul thought that if you shared the brandy with someone, that you would form an emotional bond with them and that would help ease the pain of his death." Ari stared at him blankly for a few seconds, then an expression of horrified comprehension spread across her face.

"He thought that I could, that I would, replace him like that? No!" she shook her head violently. "No. He knew me better than that. He should have known ... No." Andrew put his hand on her shoulder, and tried to explain.

"Paul was sick and failing fast. More than anything, he wanted you settled and he could tell that you ... He was afraid that you'd be so upset about him, that you'd do something foolish. He wanted to be sure that someone would be taking care of you." She shook the restraining hand off, stepping further away.

"I don't need taking care of. I'm fine on my own."

"I know, dear. But Paul was a very old man, and he saw you as a child, still. Please." Sighing out her irritation, Ari nodded and stepped back into his arms. In spite of her declaration of independence, it did feel good to be there again.

"Umm, excuse me, sir, Ari," Miguel stepped up to them. "But I've got a taxi waiting to take us to the church. We do have to go, you know, Ari."

"Of course, of course. Thank you for reminding me." Cocking his head to one side, he regarded the young sailor closely, making him fidget nervously. "I've heard a great deal about you, Chief Ortiz," he said, causing Miguel to give Ari a scandalized glance. "May I call you Miguel?"

"Yes sir!" the Cuban almost snapped a salute, and Ari giggled, seeing nothing about her familiar friend to warrent such behaviour. Andrew shot her a reproving glance.

"Very well," he responded in a pleasant voice. "Lead us to this taxi."

The mass was long, as expected. Beginning with lighting the bonfire at dusk outside the building and preparing the huge Easter candle, then the scramble, carrying the unlit candles, into the pitch-dark church, trying to find seats. The procession in began, the Easter candle in the priest's hands the only source of light. The cry went up, sending a shiver down Ari's back at the sound of the chant "Christ our light." The response came from all around "Thanks be to God." Again and again, the procession of catechumen, candidates, altar servers and priests raised high the candle, singing out the call and response, as those coming into the church behind the priest lit their candles from the big one and shared the flame with the people seated in the pews, the flames flickering as strangers turned to one another for light.

Andrew looked solemn and exalted as he carefully held the flame for Ari to light from, then she passed it on to Miguel. By the meager flicker of hundreds of small candles, a cantor stood and sang the proclamation, and Ari as though she were hearing the Exsultet for the very first time, the promise and the hope. With each reading, the lights came up, a few at a time, to symbolize the word of God filling the world with light and hope.

During the homily, Ari began to cry again, This time, she wasn't crying because Uncle Paul was dead, but for her loneliness and misery missing him, and for the misery of the past months of hiding the emotions deep inside and refusing to acknowledge their existance. Miguel put his arm around her, and she leaned on him, finally accepting the comfort she so badly needed. Afraid that the old man would feel slighted or insulted, Miguel looked over at him, and found Andrew smiling sadly at his adopted grand-daughter, the look of every male relative on realizing that the little girl is indeed gone, leaving a woman in her place.

After Mass was over, they went out to eat, to celebrate the end of Lent, and to indulge in an orgy of reminiscing about Paul deLegardi. Miguel was amazed, astounded and a little shocked by the accounts of the avant garde old man, who had lived his life as an individual, unafraid and unabashed. Finally, he was beginning to understand the woman he loved, and how she had come into existance.

It was while they were returning to the shuttle dock, before they got back on base, that Andrew stopped the taxi. Asking the driver to wait, he suggested that they take a walk in a park nearby. "Umm, I've got a little Easter present for the two of you," he announced, patting his pockets down. The two sailors waited politely while he sought, although Ari began to giggle a little at his typical mannerism.

"Ah, here it is," he announced, pulling out an old-fashioned ring box. He looked at the two young people severely. "Now, before I open this, is there anything that you want to tell me Ari?" he asked in a prompting tone of voice. She looked puzzled, gazing up at Miguel as if to find the answer there. He shrugged his bewilderment. Andrew sighed.

Turning to Miguel, he asked in a pointed tone of voice, "Is there anything you want to ask me, young man?" Miguel's eyes widened with understanding and he put his arm around Ari's waist, pulling her close.

"Yes sir," he replied as Ari looked between them, trying to figure this out. "I'd like your permission to marry your ... your... Irene Adler." Ari's eyes grew wide now, and her mouth formed a perfect "O" of astonishment.

"Andrew!" she protested indignantly.

"You have it," he replied. "And I have this for you. A deLegardi family heirloom. Paul willed it to you, through me, Ari, whenever you chose to marry." The twin rings lying on the velvet were sized for a man and woman, the hands on the two reaching out when separated, but stored together, they joined. "These are the family betrothal rings. Good luck, you two and God bless." His voice quavered with emotion as he removed them both, handing the larger ring to Ari and the smaller to Miguel. Under his tearful, approving eye, they solemnly placed the rings on one another fingers. With a last embrace, he left them to finish the walk on base, while he took the taxi back to his hotel.

Waiting for the next shuttle, Ari eyed Miguel sideways, as he stood a carefully considered distance away from her.

"It was a put-up job, wasn't it?" she asked quietly.

"Huh? What was?"

"Andrew didn't happen to be in Seacouver. You called him. You set this up because I wouldn't go, didn't you?" Miguel turned to her, his expression pleased, satisfied and happy and he nodded.

"I'm sorry to go behind your back, carissima, but you did need to talk to someone. I'm glad that I did it." Smiling up at him, she nodded back.

"I am too. Thank you, Miguel." Her fingers caressed the empty hand on the ring, reaching out for its mate. She looked down at it. Sometimes, just sometimes, it was nice to be able to rely on someone else to be strong. Ari glanced sideways at Miguel, finding that he was watching her in return. She smiled again, secure in the knowledge that he would always be there for her, a refuge from the noise and confusion, a fount of strength and support, a safe harbour in any storm. Pray God, that she could be the same to him.

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