“Come!” Forrester shouted as he tugged at the dress uniform jacket for the fourth time in a minute.

Similarly dressed in his dress uniform, Alexander Mitchell stepped inside the captain’s quarters to find Forrester standing in front of a mirror, tugging and adjusting his uniform. “Would you hurry up? We’re gonna be late.”

“Why is it,” Forrester began, his eyes glued to his reflection, “that with all the advanced technology at our disposal, Starfleet can’t design a comfortable dress uniform?”

Mitchell approached his friend. “Never mind that. We’re due to beam down in five minutes.” He waved his left hand in the direction of the door. “Let’s go.”

“Fine,” Forrester gave the uniform one last adjustment before deactivating the holographic mirror and starting towards the door.

Mitchell followed the captain and quickly fell into step beside him. “You’re gonna take it easy tonight, right?”

“What d’you mean?” Forrester asked. It only took a glance at his friend’s face for him to get his answer. “Oh, come on!”

The captain’s annoyance did nothing to prevent Mitchell from making his point. “I’m just saying, Romulan ale’s powerful stuff, and you can’t hold your liquor.”

“I’m not gonna get drunk at a diplomatic function, AJ.” The captain told him with an exasperated tone. “And I can hold my liquor just fine.”

Still, Mitchell pressed. “D’you remember that night out, just after we’d finished our finals?”

“No,” Forrester admitted after a moment’s hesitation. He knew what AJ was about to say; he’d heard it before and was about to again because his friend loved bringing this incident up.

Mitchell jabbed his index finger in the captain’s direction. “Exactly. You had three drinks and were passed out on the floor before ten. I had to drag you home and put you to bed. You’ve never been able to remember a thing about that night, And it’s not like you were drinking the strong stuff. You’re a lightweight.”

“I’ll be careful.” Forrester finally agreed grudgingly. “Can we drop this now?”

Seemingly satisfied that his point was made, Mitchell agreed as they entered the transporter room. Bentley shot him an annoyed look, unhappy at being kept waiting. He tried to brush off the guilt that had settled deep in his stomach since Matt’s arrival.

“Let’s get down there and mingle,” Forrester told them as he led his senior officers onto the transporter pad. “And remember, this isn’t just a party but a chance to gain some insight that may help us going forward.”

The Challenger’s senior officers materialised in a lobby within seconds of giving the order to energise. Beyond was a large reception room where strains of Romulan music could already be heard. The group was approached by a Romulan official. “Captain Forrester, welcome back to Vinex. The Governors are already inside if you’ll follow me.”

Forrester followed the official, with his officers in tow. Once through the door, they dispersed, moving around the room while he continued following the official to where the Joint Governors were standing. They were talking to a Romulan who had his back to Forrester. “Ah, Captain Forrester.” The third man said when Forrester finally reached the trio. It took a lot of restraint for him not to wipe that insincere smile off the Romulan’s face. 

“Oreth.” His acknowledgement of the Romulan Commander was minimal before turning to the Governors. “It’s good to see you both again.” Forrester reached out a hand towards Kretuk first and then Velan.

Kretuk glanced from Forrester to Oreth. “You know each other.”

“Yes.” Oreth clapped a hand on Forrester’s shoulder. The Romulan commander seemed to know exactly how to get under Forrester’s skin and was taking pleasure from doing so. “We crossed paths last year in the Gamma Quadrant.” His insincere smile grew. “It’s been too long.”

Forrester narrowed his eyes. “I was just thinking that it hasn’t been long enough.” Oreth threw his head back and forced a laugh while Valen looked uncomfortable with the tense atmosphere between the two starship captains, and Kretuk watched them inscrutably. “What’s your role here?”

“Commander Oreth will be advising me,” Valen replied stiffly, seemingly offended by Forester’s dislike of Oreth. “If you’ll excuse us, Captain, I’d like to introduce the Commander to a few people.” As Oreth was led away, he and Forrester maintained eye contact, hatred for one another burning in their eyes.

Eventually, Forrester returned his attention to Governor Kretuk. “You don’t like him,” Kretuk announced as a waiter arrived with two glasses of blue liquid. The Governor took one while Forrester reached for the other. 

“He orchestrated the murder of the leader of a planet in the Gamma Quadrant and tried to frame Commander Bentley for it,” Forrester replied as he eyed the Romulan ale in his hand. “To say that I don’t like him is an understatement.” Kretuk watched silently as Forrester took a gulp of his drink, only for the captain to instantly regret it.

***

Matthias Bentley was in his element. As much as he’d enjoyed teaching, he enjoyed the fine art of diplomacy more. Making small talk, gathering snippets of information from people in the know who wanted to show off and as the first hour wore on and more alcohol was consumed, it got easier to gather that information. Excusing himself from his current conversation, Bentley moved toward someone who had caught his eye. Standing awkwardly at the side, Commander Gabrielle Bennett was watching proceedings silently.

“I believe the captain told us to mingle, Commander,” Bentley prodded playfully as he sidled up next to her.

Commander Bennett shot him a look that Bentley couldn’t quite read. Between his first spell of the Challenger and now, he still didn’t know many of the senior officers particularly well. “Just taking a break.” A waiter approached them with two glasses of rose wine.

They took a sip of their wine, grimacing as the liquid hit their tastebuds. Bentley had transmitted a copy of the replicator patterns for several varieties of wine, but apparently, the Vinex replicators hadn’t done an excellent job. He would swear that it tasted like a mixture of banana and peach instead of grape. “That is awful.” He announced, eyeing the drink warily.

“Still better than Romulan ale,” Bennett added.

Bentley smiled at the comment. “Don’t let our hosts hear you say that.”

“I don’t have a death wish.” Bennett smiled back. Her eyes scanned the room slowly, eventually falling on something apparently of interest. Bentley followed her gaze to find Bennett watching the captain talking with his hands. “I’ve never seen the captain so animated.”

“Captain’s drunk.” A third voice, belonging to Alexander Mitchell, announced as he approached them. 

Bentley watched the captain closely. He seemed to be holding something in his hand and was showing it to the group of Romulans and Remans he was talking to. “How do you know?” Bennett asked.

“Oh god.” Bentley groaned as he realised what he was watching. “He’s doing his magic trick.”

Judging by the surprised look on her face, this was news to Bennett. “The captain knows magic?”

“Alex taught him a trick during our third year at the Academy,” Bentley told her, his eyes fixed on the captain.

Bennett turned to Mitchell. “How do you know magic?”

“He was taught by a guy he was f-” Bentley started to answer.

Mitchell quickly cut across him. “Friends with.” 

“How much has he had to drink?” Bennett asked.

Mitchell shrugged. “Two.”

“How is he this drunk on two drinks?” After all these months, the question highlighted how little she knew of the captain.

Bentley and Mithcell answered simultaneously. “He’s a lightweight.”

The three officers watched as Forrester tried to make the coin he somehow managed to acquire disappear, only for it to fall at his feet. The sight drew a groan from Bentley and Mitchell. “Yeah, you guys need to get him out of here now. He’s thirty seconds away from trying to lead those guys in a rendition of Country Roads.”

“Us? Why don’t you do it?” Bentley asked.

Mitchell’s amusement at their situation was really starting to annoy Bentley and, if her face was anything to go by, Bennett too. Mitchell’s reply only infuriated him more. “Cause I’ve put his drunk ass to bed more than enough. It’s your turn, lover boy.” With a shit-eating grin, Mitchell shot Bentley a wink before walking off.

“I’m going to kill him,” Bennett muttered as she watched Mitchell walk away. Her head snapped back to Forrester when she heard him singing the opening line of Country Roads. “I’ll make excuses for the captain; you get him back to the Challenger and put him to bed.”

Bentley followed hot on Bennett’s heels, quickly moving to the captain’s side, so they flanked him. “Excuse me, captain, you’re needed back on the Challenger.” Bennett interrupted Forrester mid-song. “Commander Bentley’s going to escort you.”

They were fooling no one. One would have to be blind to miss that the captain was drunk, and they seemed to take pleasure in the sight of a senior Starfleet officer in such a state. Bentley couldn’t worry about that; he needed to get Forrester home. He gently took the captain’s elbow in hand and began leading him away.

“Where are we going?” Forrester slurred his words as he spoke.

Bentley caught sight of Mitchell watching them with that stupid grin and a drink in hand. He raised his glass in salute. The desire to begin planning his revenge was strong, but Bentley needed to focus on steering the captain to the lobby. “I’m putting you to bed.”

Forrester let out a delighted hum. “Take me to bed, ya big stud.”

Much to Bentley’s continued annoyance, Forrester insisted on continuing to sing, segueing from Country Roads to Danny Boy during their walk. His annoyance was tempered with the knowledge that Forrester would suffer in the morning.

When they were clear of the ballroom, Bentley tapped his commbadge and ordered the transporter chief to beam him and Forrester directly to the captain’s quarters. In just a matter of seconds, the lobby dissolved around them and was replaced by the darkened captain’s quarters on the Challenger.

“Computer, lights,” Bentley ordered. “One-third illumination.”

As the lights slowly came up, Forrester took Bentley’s hand and began leading him towards the bedroom, a suggestive smile on his lips and desire smouldering in his hazel eyes. “I believe you said something about getting me into bed.”

“What I said,” Bentley replied, “was that I was going to put you to bed. You need to sleep off your two-drink bender.”

Forrester’s smile slipped, and his eyes darkened. He dropped Bentley’s hands and walked into the bedroom looking dejected. Bentley could feel annoyance rising in him again. He tried to tamp it down, telling himself that Forrester was drunk. Stepping into the bedroom, he found Forrester sitting at the end of his bed, struggling to remove one of his boots.

“Here,” Bentley kneeled in front of Forrester, “let me help.” He could feel Forrester’s eyes watching him intently as he removed the boots.

Bentley looked up, his eyes meeting Forrester’s. “I’m sorry.” The captain whispered, the smell of alcohol strong on his breath. It caused Bentley to recoil slightly.

“It’s okay,” Bentley reassured him with a half-smile. “You’re not the first guy to drunkenly hit on me.” A flash of jealousy flared in Forrester’s eyes, so Bentley placed a hand on Forrester’s leg and gave him a squeeze. “Though you may need to apologise to Commander Bennett.”

Forrester leaned forward and snaked his hands around Bentley’s neck, rubbing his thumb across the skin. “No.” Bentley’s skin tingled at Forrester’s touch. “I’m sorry I keep hurting you,” Forrester whispered.

Bentley couldn’t speak. The Thomas Forrester in front of him was one he’d only rarely seen during their most intimate moments on Earth. The barriers that Forrester usually erected around his feelings were completely absent. He could ask Forrester anything right now, and he was sure he’d get a completely open and honest answer.

“I’ve missed you, Matty,” Forrester whispered, leaning further forward to rest his forehead against Bentley’s. “I’ve missed you.” He repeated, softer this time.

Bentley closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the few moments of intimacy he’d missed. The pull to try and talk to Forrester now was strong. He’d be less likely to shut down in his current state. But that wouldn’t do much good if Forrester didn’t actually remember the conversation in the morning. The comfortable silence continued, and part of him didn’t want it to end, but his legs were beginning to protest.

Forrester’s weight was heavy against him, his limbs loose. “If you’ve fallen asleep, I swear.” Bentley pushed Forrester back, holding him upright, but his eyes weren’t closed. They were still open and glassy. It seemed like he was looking through Bentley rather than at him. “Tom?” He rubbed a hand over Forrester’s cheek over his beard.

It felt like time slowed to a crawl. Bentley watched as Forrester’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head, his body wracked with convulsions. “Tom!” Bentley gently lowered him back onto the bed before slapping his commbadge. “Bentely to transporter room. Medical emergency. Two to beam directly to sickbay.”

It took only a few seconds, though if asked later, Bentley would claim it felt like longer for the transporter beam to claim them once more.