Following their engagement with what remained of the Dominion’s Lost Fleet at Farpoint, Challenger Squadron returned to Starbase Bravo for repairs. The Higgs, already hastily repaired after encountering three Jem’Hadar fighters, took a further beating and had to be towed home by the Challenger.

It would take months to repair the Higgs fully, so Fourth Fleet Command assigned the Intrepid-class USS Toronto to replace the Higgs on Challenger Squadron and added the Rhode Island-class USS Endurance. They also offered the crew a chance to transfer to new billets.

Alexander Mitchell was not a man usually given to self-doubt, but his experience on the Higgs caused doubt to creep into his thinking. It wasn’t his skills as a pilot that he was doubting, he was one of the best pilots in the fleet and would put that to the test anytime, but it was his abilities as a commander.

His last conversation with Captain Matheson weighed heavily on his mind more than a week after her death. Her accusation that his loyalty lay with Forrester and not the Higgs haunted his dreams, and it had also started consuming his waking moments.

She didn’t trust you, a voice in the darkest recesses of Mitchell’s mind taunted. None of them did. They all thought Matheson picked you to be her XO because Forrester told her to. They don’t think you’ve earned it; they don’t think you’re ready.

“They’re wrong,” Mitchell announced to the darkened room, causing the body beside him to stir briefly. His companion’s name escaped him, though he knew it began with a K. Mitchell gently climbed out of bed and padded into the next room to let the other man sleep.

Tom Forrester had nothing to do with Matheson’s choice. She saw potential in Mitchell and decided to take a chance on him.

And you let her down. She lost trust in you.

That hurt the most, not that she’d questioned his loyalty, but that he’d let her down.

It’s time to step out from Forrester’s shadow.

As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t remain under Forrester’s command any longer. If he was going to be sure he was being promoted based solely on his merits, he needed to transfer out of Challenger Squadron.

He loved Thomas Forrester like a brother, but it was time to make a fresh start.

The familiar tingle of the transport process mixed with a heavy sense of dread as Mitchell materialised in one of the Challenger’s transporter rooms the following evening. Two hours earlier, he’d received a message from Forrester that read, ‘Join me for Dinner’. They’d been friends long enough that Mitchell could read between the lines; this wasn’t a request but an instruction.

“Brace yourself,” That was the muttered welcome from Matthias Bentley as he ushered Mitchell into the Captain’s Quarters. In the background, he could hear the rhythmic sound of Forrester’s knife striking his chopping board.

Sure enough, Forrester was working hard in the kitchen while gently playing music set a relaxed mood. Mitchell, however, felt anything but relaxed.  “AJ!” Forrester’s enthusiastic greeting set him more on edge. “Come in! Come in and tell me why I had to learn of your transfer request from the Chief of Staff.”

“Because it’s his job?” Mitchell weakly joked as he flopped down on the couch, looking anywhere but at his best friend.

The sound of chopping stopped. “Don’t get cute with me, AJ. Answer my question.”

“I didn’t tell you,” Mitchell sighed, “because you’d have asked me why.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” Forrester asked.

Bentley handed Mitchell a glass of wine and sat on the couch beside them. Both of them were useless in the kitchen, so Forrester preferred to do all the cooking, not that either would complain.

There was no easy way to say what was needed, so Mitchell just said it. “I need to step out from underneath your shadow, Tom.” Mitchell finally met his best friend’s gaze.

“My shadow?” Forrester still looked confused.

He held Forrester’s gaze and nodded slowly. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “As long as I serve in your Squadron, I’m gonna be in your shadow.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Forrester waved a hand dismissively. “You are not in my shadow.”

Mitchell knew they would have very different perspectives on this, that convincing his best friend would be an uphill struggle. “Yes, I am,” Mitchell shot back. “As long as I remain under your command, people will think that my promotions have more to do with your patronage than my abilities,” his chest tightened, “and that my loyalty is to you and not them.”

“No one could doubt your loyalty to the Higgs,” Forrester resumed chopping his vegetables.

“Matheson did.”

That stopped Forrester mid-chop. Mitchell could feel Forrester looking at him as he stared into his wine.

“She was wrong,” Forrester said as he resumed his chopping.

As much as he wanted to believe that, Mitchell disagreed. “Was she?” Mitchell asked. “I’m closer to you than my own brother, Tom. I think she was right.”

“Well, if you don’t want to stay on the Higgs, there are alternatives,” Forrester told him. “Theo Dalton is taking command of the Endurance, so I need a Senior Officer of the Watch. It’s a step back from where you were, but after a few years in that role, you’ll have your pick of XO assignments.”

A snort escaped Mitchell’s nostrils. “You haven’t been listening to anything I’ve said.”

“Of course I have,” Forrester replied defensively.

“No, you’ve heard me but haven’t been listening,” Mitchell told him. “I need to step out of your sphere of influence.”

“I’m not letting you transfer out of the Squadron,” Forrester announced.

“Why not?”

“Because I won’t lose you again,” Forrester shot back hotly, slamming his knife on the counter. His head dropped, and he took a deep breath before speaking again, “When the Hypatia disappeared, I lost more than my best friend; I lost the only family I had.” When he looked up, Mitchell could see unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “Thanks to some cosmic miracle, I got you back. Then you go off to the Higgs, and you almost get yourself killed in less than three months.”

Mitchell knew the past decade had been challenging for his friends and family, made all the more difficult because although ten years had passed for them, no time at all had passed for him. The experience had been challenging for him too. He’d missed so much of the lives of his loved ones; his sister’s marriage, his baby brother was now older than him, and the death of his grandparents. But even if he remained on the Challenger, Forrester wouldn’t be able to protect him from the dangers of the galaxy.

“Has he tried wrapping you in cotton wool too?” Mitchell asked with a glance in Bentley’s direction.

Bentley took a long sip of his wine. “He tried.”

“Is it so wrong that I want to protect the people I love?” Forrester’s words stunned Mitchell into momentary silence. “What?” He asked as Mitchell looked at him dumbstruck. “Do I have something on my face?”

It was another few seconds before the power of speech returned to Mitchell. “I’ve just never known you to toss around the L-word quite so casually.” He glanced again at Bentley. “You’ve done a good job with him.”

“He’s a work in progress.”

“Bite me,” Forrester shot back as he picked up his knife.

Mitchell screwed up his nose, “No thanks.”

“Maybe later,” Bentley said at the same time.

They’d drifted off the topic, and Mitchell wanted to resolve this before they sat down to eat, though it would be a while before that happened, judging by the amount of work Forrester still had to do before their dinner was ready. “So, you gonna keep fighting me, or will you let me go?”

“Matty said you wouldn’t listen to me,” Forrester grumbled as he reached behind him with his free hand and produced a PADD, which he handed to Mitchell. “There aren’t many open XO billets at the moment, so this is the best I could do.”

Mitchell read through the orders on the PADD. “Chief Flight Controller and Second Officer on the Audacious.”

“She’s a Reliant-class starship due to make her way to the Deneb Sector. She’ll arrive the day after tomorrow,” Forrester informed him as he scooped up the carrots he’d been chopping and dumped them into a pot.

This would allow him to keep doing a job that he loved and knew he was good at while learning the ropes of command and figuring out if that was his future or if being a pilot was where he wanted to stay. “Thanks for this.”

“Alright, enough of that,” Forrester said with a dismissive wave. “I have a lot of work still to do, so why don’t you guys go relax and let me get on.”

Mitchell gave him a mock salute, “Aye, Captain.”

“That was delicious,” Henry Young leaned back in his chair and rubbed a hand over his now bloated stomach. Luro always replicated too much because she knew Young would eat it. She’d been feeding or overfeeding him since their first meeting on the USS Galaxy seven years ago.

Luro beamed as she reached across and lifted his plate. “You never could resist my hasperat.”

“No one could resist your hasperat,” Young added with a toothy grin.

Luro’s wife, Allegra Rosetti, sipped languidly from her wine glass. Young could tell she was waiting for her moment. As Luro neared the replicator, Rosetti struck, “Except Captain Forrester.”

“Forrester,” Luro dropped the empty plates onto the replicator with a loud clatter, “is a snob.” She spun around and waved a dirty fork in the air, “He thinks because he cooks meals from scratch, they taste better, but he’s still using replicated ingredients. There’s no difference; he’s just making more work for himself.”

Rosetti smiled into her glass, and Young couldn’t help but find it infectious. She loved to rile her wife, and nothing got Luro Res riled up more than someone turning their nose up at her hasperat. Forrester’s snub may have been unintentional, but he’d ignited a grudge that would burn within Luro for years to come.

As Luro continued to clear the table and return everything to the replicator, Young could feel Rosetti’s eyes watching him. “How are you finding life on the Challenger?” 

“More like serving on a starbase than a starship,” Young told her.

Rosetti nodded thoughtfully. “And you didn’t mind taking a demotion to come here?”

“I had my doubts when Res offered me the post here,” Young admitted. “But being Senior Assistant CMO on a ship this size isn’t much different to being CMO on the Columbia.” He shrugged, “I’m responsible for medical facilities larger than those on a Galaxy-class starship.”

Luro slid back into her seat with a refilled glass of wine. “I’ve been thinking about asking Remi Loxley to join us for dinner next week.”

“Why?” Young asked, though he knew the answer and could feel his ire rising.

A practised actress, Luro’s face was a picture of innocence. “He’s new on board and doesn’t know anyone. I thought it might be nice if you boys got to know each other.”

“Res.”

Rosetti’s warning tone did nothing to wave Luro off the subject. “What? The boy doesn’t know anyone onboard. I thought it would be nice if he and Henry were friends.”

“I know what you’re doing, Res and,” Young paused, ”I know you mean well, but I’m not ready for that yet.”

Luro waved dismissively, “I’m not talking about anything serious. You boys can just have some…fun.”

“I don’t want to have fun with anyone,” Young said vehemently. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Rosetti reach out and place a hand on her wife’s arm, a subtle attempt to her Luro to back off. Too subtle, as it turned out. “Henry, you’re a young man; you shouldn’t be locked away pining for Dujan. He wouldn’t want you to-”

“Don’t tell me what my husband would’ve wanted!” Young surprised himself with how firmly he told her off. He wasn’t ready, and that she, who’d lost her husband more than twenty years ago, couldn’t understand, only frustrated him more. “I think I’ll skip dessert.” He drained the last wine from his glass while Luro tried to convince him to stay and, in a flat tone, said, “Thanks for a delicious meal.”

He hated himself for storming out like that, but he was tired of people pushing him to start dating again. He’d buried Dujan less than six months ago; why did people think he’d just be able to get over the love of his life in such a short time? 

Luro, of all people, should be able to understand.

The door chime sounded almost two hours later as Young transitioned from downward dog to warrior two. He thought about ignoring it, but the chime going off again, accompanied by Rosetti’s voice carrying through the door, put paid to that, “I know you’re in there, Henry.”

Young ordered the computer to pause the ambient music he was playing and approached the door. “Is Res with you?”

“I thought it would be better if she stayed home,” Rosetti replied as she brushed past him.

That was probably for the best. “I’m sorry for storming out like that.”

“Oh, caro mio,” Rossetti waved a hand. “Don’t worry about that. Res was being an idiot and I told her so.”

That made Young smile. Rosetti was one of the most supportive people he’d ever met, but she didn’t suffer fools gladly and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect those she cared about. There was no one he wanted on his side more than Allegra Rosetti. “I’m not ready to move on yet, Ali,” He told her sadly. “And I have no interest in fucking my way through the ship’s company.”

“I know caro,” Rosetti stepped into his space and placed a palm on his face. “Luro forgets that her relationship with her husband was different.” Young’s confused look caused Rosetti to explain, “They were young and impulsive when they got married and by the time she was pregnant with their second child, they’d realised that they loved each other but weren’t in love.”

Young had never been told that, though Luro rarely talked about her life before Starfleet, except for her two sons. “Why didn’t they get a divorce?”

“Have you met my wife?” Rosetti asked with a light chuckle as she took a step back. “She made a vow before the Prophets and she takes such things very seriously.”

Young found himself feeling jealous of Luro’s belief in the Prophets. There was something alluring about being able to take comfort in one’s faith during difficult times. “Can I ask how long it took for you to feel ready to put yourself out there again?”

Rosetti moved to a nearby chair and perched on the edge of it. “After Helen was killed at Utopia Planitia, I thought I’d never love anyone ever again,” She smiled softly at the look that crossed Young’s features, “a feeling I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

No matter how hard Young swallowed, a lump that stubbornly refused to be moved formed in his throat. “Yeah,” Young whispered. “I just can’t imagine there being anyone but him.”

“It took me two years and meeting Luro Res to feel ready to move on,” Rosetti told him. “But everyone is different. You’ll know when you’re ready.”

“And what if I’m never ready?”

“Oh, caro, you’ll drive yourself crazy with ‘what ifs’,” Rosetti told him. “Just focus on what is and leave the what ifs to the Prophets.” She stood and hugged Young tightly. “Luro and I will be there for you, no matter what.”

“Thanks,” Young could feel tears pricking his eyes. When he finally stepped back, he wiped the unshed tears from his eyes.

“Now, I’ll leave you to finish your yoga in peace,” Rosetti moved to the door. “You can expect a grovelling apology from Res in the morning.”

Young smiled. “I look forward to it.”

“Have a good night, caro.”

“I’ll raise ten.”

“Fold.”

“Fold.”

“Call.”

Finley Calderwood studied the two cards in his hand; the two of diamonds and the queen of hearts. On the table were the three of clubs, the four of hearts, the ace of clubs and the five of clubs with one card left to be dealt.

I just need a six to complete my straight, Calderwood thought as he studied the faces around him. Nybor and Rix had already folded and were watching Calderwood with interest. Anderson, the latest addition to their weekly game, had called Bradshaw’s raise.

Does one of them have a flush? Calderwood asked himself. Or are they both bluffing?

“C’mon Calderwood, call or fold already,” In the short time they’d served together, Calderwood had learned that patience was not Nybor’s strong suit, as evidenced by his friendly heckle.

Calderwood sat back in his chair and studied Bradshaw sitting opposite as he toyed with the corner of his cards. If she had a tell, he hadn’t figured it out yet. He glanced down at his meagre pile of chips, enough to call with five left over.

“All in,” Calderwood announced as he pushed all his remaining chips into the centre of the table.

“I’ll call.”

“Me too.”

Both women threw another five chips each into the pot.

“Finally,” Nybor grumbled as he dealt the final card, a six of diamonds. “Let’s see what you have.”

Anderson turned her cards up first, revealing two aces. Calderwood’s heart skipped a beat when Bradshaw turned up her first card, the eight of clubs. From the smirk on her face, he knew she’d beaten him, which was confirmed when she turned over her second card and revealed the jack of clubs. He’d only managed to fill his straight on the river, but by then, he’d already been beaten.

When Calderwood finally turned his cards over, Bradshaw let out a delighted shriek and immediately reached for the pot in the centre of the table.

“Tough luck,” Rix consoled him with a pat on the shoulder. “Do you want to buy back in?”

Calderwood was about to agree when a thought struck him. “Computer, what time is it?”

“Twenty-Three-Zero-Seven Hours.”

Shit! I’m going to be late. Calderwood slid his chair back. “I have to go.”

“Where do you have to go at this time of night?” Nybor asked.

Rix watched him with a knowing grin. “He doesn’t want to be late for his special friend.”

The XO’s words caused Calderwood to pause. There’s no way he can know.

“What special friend?” Bradshaw asked as she stopped midway through shuffling the cards. “You have a special friend you haven’t told us about?”

“No,” Calderwood replied quickly.

Rix looked at the others. “None of you have noticed?” When he received only head shakes and shrugs in response, he continued, “All those furtive glances between them on the Bridge or at staff meetings.” Everyone still looked confused. Rix shrugged, “I guess it’s much easier to notice the subtle signs when you’ve lived six lifetimes.”

Calderwood could feel his face heating up. “We’re not dating.”

“Finn doesn’t do relationships,” Bradshaw chipped in.

Rix rolled his eyes. “Okay, you may not be dating, but you’re sleeping together.”

As much as Calderwood wanted to deny that, he knew the truth was written across his features as clear as day. “I have to go.”

“Whose he dating?” Calderwood could hear Nybor asking as he left.

“Rix knows about us,” Calderwood announced as he invited Rafael da Costa into his quarters forty minutes later.

The easy smile on da Costa’s face disappeared and Calderwood could see his whole body tense. “How?”

“Apparently, we weren’t as subtle as we thought.”

Like a caged animal, da Costa paced the room. “Does anyone else know?”

“No,” Calderwood replied before quickly correcting himself. “Well, Bradshaw, Anderson and Nybor now know I’m sleeping with someone; they just don’t know who.”

Da Costa stopped pacing and groaned, “Great. Now they’ll watch you like hawks to find out who you’re sleeping with. I knew this was a bad idea.”

“What does it matter if people know we’re shagging?” Calderwood asked, unable to hide his frustration. He’d never understood da Costa’s need for secrecy.

A pang of guilt shot through Calderwood at the look of hurt on da Costa’s face. “That’s really all this is to you?”

“Yeah,” Calderwood confirmed. “That’s what we agreed this would be, just some casual fun. I was honest with you about not wanting a relationship.”

Slowly, da Costa nodded his head. “You’re right. You were honest from the start. I think I was the one who was lying; to myself. I thought I could do casual, but I can’t. It’s not me and it’s not who I am.”

Calderwood knew this would happen eventually. “I guess that’s it, then.”

“Yeah,” da Costa whispered. “We should probably keep our distance for the next few weeks.” He placed a gentle kiss on Calderwood’s lips. “I’ll see you around.” 

With da Costa gone, Calderwood was left alone with two wine glasses, untouched, sitting on the coffee table. He reached for one and took a long drink.

“Bollocks.”