What followed as Scott walked through the gate unfolded before him like a dream. A wide marble courtyard spread beneath the dome of open sky, framed by high columns draped in violet silk. Floating lanterns drifted lazily overhead, trailing threads of gold. The music wound through the crowd, all warm brass and sultry strings, underwritten by the soft rhythm of the ocean waves. 

Everyone was wearing a mask. 

Scott paused just inside the archway, letting the scene settle in around him. His nose filled with the scent of wine and spices, his eyes caught the subtle glinting of mirrored sequins, and he could hear the hum of voices speaking in half a dozen languages. His own mask itched slightly at the edges, but he resisted the urge to adjust it.

She was here, somewhere, and she was playing.

He scanned the floor, watching the dancers pass gracefully in front of him, spinning and laughing as they went. He spied a woman in a sapphire dress and lifted his sleeve gently to check the colour against the ribbon. Wrong blue. There were so many shapes, so many masks…

There. 

Near the far edge of the dance floor, standing under a hanging sculpture of gold-leafed glass, stood a woman in midnight blue. He checked the ribbon. It was a perfect match.

Her gown shimmered with flecks of silver as she moved, like starlight against the night sky. Her mask – razor-edged, arched like a raptor’s wings – was both elegant and striking, shaped to both obscure and accentuate all at once. She stood alone, her head tilted slightly to the side, watching the crowd with the cool patience of a predator who already knew how the game ended. 

Scott felt his heart lift and stutter. His mouth suddenly dry, he snatched a glass of something bubbly off a passing tray and drained it in one, setting it down on the next tray that came by. He moved through the shifting crowd of dancers, past the laughter and the soft clicking of glasses together. She didn’t move, just watched as he approached.

When he reached her, he stopped a polite step away and offered his hand. “Would you honour me with a dance?”

She turned to look at him slowly, head cocked, her icy green eyes filled with excited mischief behind her mask. 

“Oh?” she said, her voice lilting and pitched theatrically in an unfamiliar but amused tone, “Are you sure I’m the one you’re looking for?”

He couldn’t help but raise his eyebrow behind the mask. “You fit the description,” he said dryly. 

“And what description would that be?” she asked, clearly enjoying herself now. 

Scott stepped a little closer. “Elegant. Strong. Vaguely dangerous. Smarter than me. Stubborn, possibly Romulan.”

Her lips curled slightly. “Possibly.”

He glanced deliberately at her gown. “And you’re wearing the same colour as that ribbon you left for me,” he said.

That earned him a private, soft laugh. “You have been paying attention.” For a second, she didn’t move. Then, as if satisfied, she slid her gloved hand into his. They moved through the crowd together, their steps syncing without hesitation. As they found a place on the dance floor, the music shifted, fading into a slower, smoky jazz tune. 

Scott picked up his head, listening. “…this is the same song,” he said softly. 

“Mhmm,” she answered, “from the lounge.”

Their first dance, back in the lounge of the Leif Erikson. An old jazz record she chose from the jukebox that Scott kept there. ”Do you dance, Captain?” she had asked. ”Let’s see if you remember how…”. That dance had been spontaneous, lubricated by whiskey and the danger of their circumstances. 

This one was different. It was slower. Deliberate. They had learned each other’s rhythms now. They circled through the crowd, her gloved hand on his shoulder, his hand at the small of her back. Around them spun colour, masks, and flickering lights, but none of it touched them. They might have been the only people in the universe.

“You remember,” he said.

“Of course I do,” she replied. 

He looked at her. “Why did you ask me to dance that night?”

She didn’t answer right away. The music carried them through another slow turn. Finally, she said, “Because I needed to know if what I felt was real, or if it was just war-bonded adrenaline and half a bottle of bourbon.”

Scott laughed. “And?”

“Now I know,” she replied.

The music swelled, the last soft notes echoing into the air. She stepped back slightly, her fingers lingering in his. She raised her other hand to the edge of her mask, then paused. 

“You first,” she said. 

Scott removed his mask slowly, deliberately. No hesitation.

Her eyes softened. She followed suit, lifting her mask and letting the cool night air kiss her skin. 

And then there she was. Not hidden. No disguises. Just Dathasa. 

Scott exhaled the quiet breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding. “Beautiful.”

This time when she smiled, there was no teasing, just warmth. She stepped in close, her fingers brushing the ribbon tied around his wrist. “You wore it,” she said softly.

“How else was I going to find you?” he asked with a smile. 

She took his hand and led him away from the dance floor, then out past the columns into the darkening courtyard. Out here, the night was calm and quiet, with the twin moons shining overhead. The sea stretched out below them, waves glinting in the silver moonlight as they rolled towards the coast. They stopped at the marble railing, and Scott leaned his forearms onto the cool stone. He glanced sideways at her, admiring the way her gown shimmered faintly in the moonlight. 

“You really planned this whole thing,” he said with a smile. 

It was her turn to arch an eyebrow. “You’re just now realizing this?”

He gave a small laugh. “I still don’t know how you managed to get half the town involved.”

Her lips curved. “Charm, mostly. And credits.”

“So you bribed them.”

“I prefer to call it delegating.”

He turned to face her fully now, one hand resting lightly on the railing. “So. Why? What was all this for?”

She looked at him for a long moment. The breeze caught a loose strand of her hair, brushing it across her cheek. “You carry so much,” she said finally. “Your crew, your ship, that… constant Starfleet weight on your shoulders. You don’t know how to stop.”

“I am on vacation,” he pointed out gently. 

“Yes,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “And yet the first morning we got here, I caught you reading status reports at breakfast. I had to hide your PADD just to get you to sleep in.”

He started to protest, but she held up her hand. “You needed a day that forced you to slow down. And maybe remember what it feels like to let someone else take the lead.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “So all this was to make me relax?”

“And,” she added, her eyes glinting with a playful edge, “to remind you that you are not, in fact, impossible to surprise.”

He smiled at that. “Fair.” 

They stood in silence for a minute, the sound of the sea filling the space between them. 

“It worked,” he said finally. 

“Did it?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

He stepped closer, his hand coming to rest on top of hers. “Yes, it did.”

She smiled again. “Good.” Their eyes met in the moonlit dark. Scott leaned in to kiss her, slow and unhurried. The kind of kiss that promised: here, now, in this moment. 

When they parted, she rested her forehead gently against his and curled her fingers into his, turning them both back towards the ocean. For a while, they just stood there in the cool night air, eyes closed, listening to the music playing faintly behind them.

“Let’s go home,” Dathasa said finally, eyes still shut, her voice barely above a whisper.

 “Yeah,” Scott murmured in response. “Let’s go home.”