Temper {Star Trek Enterprise Fan Fiction}

Victories and Surrenders

He didn't ask why, he just did as asked. He'd been a marksman, and took it out with one phase rifle shot while Marie Patrice watched.

"My, my father's name was Doug," she finally said.

"Still is," he said, reholstering the weapon.

=/\=

Claymore and Hudson then went past Sick Bay.

Even Doctor Morgan had heard the commotion, and came out to investigate, "Uncle Cyril!" Pamela said, once she'd seen him, "You know Blair, don't you?"

"I do indeed," he said, "Those bruises healing all right?" he asked her.

"Much better," Blair said, "Thank you."

"You're not supposed to thank people, you know," Doctor Morgan said, "It's a sign of weakness."

"Not if they do you a really big favor," Blair said, "Which I should repay."

"Oh?" he asked.

Pamela left them and continued walking. The men now joined her, following, stalking her and watching her walk.

=/\=

Kirin stared at the remains of the smoldering cooler, "What was that all about, Dad?"

"Uh, nothing," Aidan said, "So you'll be in charge, eh?"

"With Jun," Kirin said, "And Chip'll be busy."

"Right," Aidan said.

"You could probably do more, Dad. Go back to Tactical or something."

"Naahhh," Aidan said, "I didn't mind caring for all of you. And I still don't. I can work with Susan. I'm no teacher, but I can clean the erasers or something."

"More than that," she said, smiling at him.

=/\=

Pamela made her way to Engineering. There was just one person she wanted to see.

She was, in general, not a big fan of engineers, but this was the best possible prospect. Her entourage stopped following her. Engineering was such a dull place.

"Mr. Ramirez," she said, "I get the feeling you're getting a promotion."

"I suppose I am," he said, purging an intake manifold, "Hand me that."

"All of that stuff going on, on the surface, you don't really care about it at all, do ya?" she asked.

"Nope. Well, a little. But, really, it doesn't matter much. All I wanna do is work and stay alive. Some reason you're here?"

"I, uh, I'm free," she said.

"Oh," he said, straightening up. He was sweaty, and his hair was a little gritty from the work he'd been doing, "Are you looking for someone?"

"Maybe," she said.

"This can wait," he said, putting down a tool. He approached her, "I'm not a romantic guy. I'm not stylish, I don't dance and you will never get me to change my hairstyle, not even when I'm eighty."

"I don't think anything like that is really important," she said, "Will you hit me?"

"No," he said, "Will you hit me?"