Lemon Tree

Posted on 26 Mar 2013 @ 2:38pm by Anera

6,670 words; about a 33 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: Arboretum
Timeline: MD05: 1210 hrs

ON:

The lemon tree with its many protruding branches and large leaves was quickly becoming a common spot for Liyar to meditate. It was a source of life, in the otherwise sterile environment of the Galileo. Aside from the people, but it wasn't wise to use others as meditative touchstones. His day had gone well until Maenad decided to abruptly sever his connection with reality. He knew that this was his mind's way of shielding him from unnecessary associations. They were all unnecessary, but they embedded themselves, wires digging lines in the sand. The node that Lilou gave him the night before perched under his left ear, along with a small internal headset attached wirelessly to the PADD he was holding in his lap. He was leaned back against the tree with his eyes closed, legs crossed in front of him. Chaotic, loud chords of music eroded away at the dust. Tapping power, shields, energy.

Liyar suddenly opened his eyes. They were the only part of him that moved, analyzing the woman who stood over him incomprehensibly before the universe slowly righted itself. Particles floating along the great river. Swirling together and apart. He lowered the volume in his ears. "Anera." The flat voice revealed he was in his usual cheerful mood.

"Liyar," she replied, easy. There was a large colorful quilt draped over her shoulder and a pad of paper under her arm. "You feel-" A heavy lemon dropped from the tree and landed on his shoulder. "-perplexed."

It fell with an anticlimactic thwak onto his shoulder and rolled away to the side. Liyar picked it up. He looked from Anera to the lemon, like they were conspiring to elude him. "I -" he didn't know what to say. He had no shields, he couldn't keep her out. His mind clawed at the walls, fingernails cracking on jagged stone. Out. "I do not understand Terrans," he told his feet unhappily.

"They don't understand themselves. No reason why we should." She spread the quilt on the ground beside him and dropped into a seated lotus on top of it. Studying him from head to foot, she lifted her brows marginally. Kestra was in a coma. So that left... who had he mentioned. Trija. She was Betazoid though. "Is there one in particular you wish to understand?"

"Understanding is unlikely to occur. Therefore it is irrelevant. Was there a reason you interrupted me?" he asked, straightening up into a more dignified position.

"I like this tree." She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. "You're worse than before."

"I am not worse. That would imply emotions I do not possess," Liyar said haughtily. It had been peaceful. Before the empaths came along.

"You know better than that," she chided gently. "I can feel you. Denial won't make it easier."

Not for the first time, Liyar longed to experience what it was like to be nothing. Molecules explicating, outspreading, lighter than air. Soaked into the trees and grass and sky. The image was calming. "Make what easier?" he asked, easing the irascibility from his tone.

"Understanding..." Anera breathed in his aura, "...her. Understanding yourself. Finding the balance between the two. Finding peace. None of it can be achieved if you hide from it."

"I did not ask for peace." His recalcitrance went unvoiced, but it pricked in his mind, spindly and sharp. It was illogical. He had spoken of it first. A mindless mistake. Empty brains, white echoing rooms. "I am not hiding from anything." The rooms were circles. No pesky corners. Nowhere to hide.

She watched him, blissfully ignorant of his internal dialogue and entirely entranced by the waves and tastes of his empathic emanations. "Did you ask for discord?" she asked. "You're jumbled. Before it was the outside, the connections, all tangled and feeding in. Now you are tangled as well and this Terran... Her touch is still fresh on your aura: white pepper and night-blooming flowers. You're confused. I might be able to help."

"What? Help?" - aura. The critical, incensed efficacy made its return to his body, forming limbs and skin and neurons rubbing together. He dug his fingers into the grass where they were hidden out of sight under his knee. Emotions weren't only of the mind. They were in the body, if one lived there. He needed shields. Watertight compartments. Ships sinking. Crashing. Flooding. Metal splashing water. Water was fear. Unknown. But it was useless. His were nothing. "No, I do not need assistance. I do not need anything." Liyar found his fingers piercing through the dirt and soil as he started to work through the first stages of meditation.

Anera settled in beside him. He was wrong, of course. He needed a great deal, not the least of which was a large amount of empathic detangling. And some serious self-study. That, he was avoiding at all costs. She could see that now, as he tried to meditate away... himself. No one can escape themselves. Their thoughts. Their feelings, she thought sympathetically. It would be better for him to look, really look, and deal with who he was, who he'd become. Wishing and wanting it gone wouldn't make it so. He was a touchstone. He'd have to learn to deal with that and all it meant. "Liyar," she whispered. "You're still trying to hide. There's no reason to. What you are is magnificent and rare. You have to embrace it. And yourself. Or it will only get worse."

"I cannot." Liyar spoke only when he was certain he was modulated. Unfeeling. Afloat. "It is dangerous. To allow that would be to invite chaos. There is no benefit to dwelling on it." But dwell, he did. Being a telempath was not a handbook into someone's way of being, not if one didn't understand the context.

"A sword is dangerous in the hands of a man who hasn't studied its use. Your skills - who you are - are dangerous to you and those around you for as long as you try to deny them. Part of who you are is how you feel. That- is hard for me to see. It's a cloud around you. What irrelevancies?"

He breathed out of his nose slowly. Anera and privacy did not go well together. "It would be imprudent of you to repeat this discussion to others," Liyar said.

"Shucks, I had a whole speech planned," Anera grinned. "You think assistance is irrelevant?"

"A speech."

"Turn of phrase," she explained. "I don't see why I'd repeat anything we discussed to someone else. It's for you to speak to others about yourself. It's for me to speak to others about me." She paused, "Is that why you're trying to hide from yourself? Because you're worried about hiding this from other people?"

"It is not hiding. It is discretion. It is extremely disrespectful to discuss others and their behavior while they are absent. Furthermore, I am not hiding from myself. It is simply unwise to indulge in nonsensical emotional discourse." He didn't feel anything identifiable. He had spent enough time in his own fractured mind to know when to back off. Everyone told him he should discover and let it out but he knew the truth. That would end in mayhem.

"Nothing about emotional discourse is nonsensical," Anera gazed at him wide-eyed from her chin perch. "You don't have to talk about it with me, of course. Or with anyone. But you need to look at it yourself. You need to allow it to be a part of you, because... it is. Obviously. It can't not be. You might as well accept it, just like your pointy ears and the way your nose gets when you're disgruntled."

Liyar crossed his arms. "I assure you, my nose does not get any way at all."

"We can agree to disagree about that."

He ignored her as his thoughts trickled down into his eyes. Grudgingly, he conceded, "You stated that you could help. That you understand Terran behavior. That you can tell me what it means. She," he said, recalling Anera's perception, sharp and floral, "is my friend. Unfortunately for us both. I do not understand Terran friendship at all." He picked up the lemon beside him. "I had been attempting to adapt. But I must have done something wrong."

"How so?"

"I do not know. Until this morning, our interactions were relatively normal. I do not think that I did anything offensive. At least," he qualified, "not enough to prompt such an adverse reaction." He stared forward quietly at the line of colorful orchids and shrubs in the distance.

"Adverse reaction?"

His thoughts and feelings and perceptions blended together, until they formed an unidentifiable mist rolling along his brain. "She kissed me. Her reaction afterward was extremely bizarre. She believed that she had ruined our friendship. That everything was somehow destroyed. She insisted it meant nothing, when her reaction would indicate otherwise. Her emotions at the time were contradictory. She then abruptly left." His confusion was evident.

Anera pressed her lips together, listening to the Vulcan empathetically. "How did you react to the kiss?"

"She began to ramble almost immediately afterward. I attempted to placate her."

"That's how she reacted," Anera reminded gently. "What about you?"

"I attempted to placate her," Liyar restated slowly. If his reaction was the cause of her distress, her question would make sense - but, "I did not do anything else."

"You didn't have an opinion about being kissed? You didn't return it?"

His opinions, like the rest of him, were unreadable. Tangled feelings and grief and logic and time in an hourglass slowly draining, grains of sand hitting glass bottom. Oh, for now. Soon it would get quieter. Insidious. He would be so used to hearing it fall and one day it would stop, leaving only the echo of blood. He didn't ruminate on it. It was wrapped in itself. Pull down one thread and they all started to fall. Her reaction only confused him more. "No." Liyar didn't realize he started to rub the flat of his hand over his knee. "That would not have been appropriate. I fail to see the relevance of your questions."

"What wouldn't have been appropriate?"

Liyar asked himself how this had gone from talking about Maenad to talking about him. He hadn't acted inappropriately. "To return any such advance," he reminded her of her initial statement. "I do not understand her behavior. What would prompt such a reaction?" he tried to direct the conversation back to something he was less reluctant to discuss.

"You tell me. I wasn't there. What prompted it?"

"I do not know. She stated several different reasons. The overlying answer was that she had decided not to think." He didn't have a better explanation. He studied Anera skeptically.

"Words," Anera waved a hand. "What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Terrans misunderstand themselves a great deal of the time. Sometimes I think they do it on purpose. So what did you sense before she kissed you. And when she kissed you."

Those were knots, and he didn't have the slightest idea how to filter them out. "I understand the motivation that one would have to kiss another. She experienced similar motivation." He wasn't comfortable going into her mindspace. That was hers to speak of. "I do not understand why she would do so, and then proceed to profoundly denigrate herself for it. If she believed such an action would ruin things, why would she do it?"

"This brings us back to... how did you react. You didn't return the kiss. What was your response?"

Liyar let out a short breath through his nose, inevitably doing the thing he did when he was irritated. He had until then resisted recalling the moment in any particular detail. "I do not know what you are asking. She was attempting to fix my hair. I went to remove her hand. She felt panic. I stopped. The impression of her intent was clear to me before she kissed me. I did not have sufficient time to react. It was over. She stepped away and insisted that she had done something gravely wrong. Her thoughts on the matter were that she had made one of the biggest mistakes in her life."

"Have you ever kissed someone and not had the action returned?"

"No," Liyar said, with a fair bit of certainty interlaced with more confusion. "Is that relevant?"

"It's an experience that can lead to misunderstandings for the unempathic. They tend to perceive the lack of response as a negation of intent and often pair that with rejection - not only of the action but of themselves as well."

"I believe that is part of why she felt as she did. She thought several times that I was her friend, and now I am not. I did not decide this. I told her explicitly that I was not rejecting her as a person. Why must it be this complex?" He very clearly was thinking aloud now. "It was a simple action. Compared to thirty-one years of living, I hardly think it warrants such excessive thought. Can it not simply be forgotten?" He sounded a little helpless.

Anera smiled sympathetically. "It is not so easy to forgive one's self, as it is to forgive others."

"Forgive what?"

"I don't know her, so I can't speak to definitives, but it sounds like she feels that she pushed you away by trying to pull you closer. Words," she told him quietly. "Mean very little in these situations. Actions must resolve it." She watched him, sniffing at the vinegar and rainwater muddling of his aura. "What did she make you feel?"

"You are suggesting I should have responded. That the only way to resolve this is, to -" He looked away. "No. That would be recklessness of the highest degree," he conveniently sidestepped her question.

"I am suggesting nothing. Just hypothesizing based on the information available to me. There's never only one way to resolve a situation. Always, there are choices. Options. Perspectives." Anera smiled, "I'm not easily distracted, Liyar. Why don't you want to answer this?"

Liyar began to get genuinely frustrated with this discussion. "There are no feelings. There cannot be any feelings. It would not be appropriate, or even accurate. How am I supposed to react when I do not even understand what has happened?"

"There's no 'appropriate' or 'accurate' when it comes to having feelings, Liyar. Only when it comes to taking action with them. And even then, I think the rules of various societies are a bit silly about the whole thing, but that's beside the point."

"I rather believe that is the point," Liyar mumbled under his breath. She kept talking.

"You clearly have feelings about this. I can tell that much. But you're muddling them by trying to control and subvert them. Identify and deal with them and you'll feel better."

"It is not my feelings I am concerned about," Liyar said, pressing the backs of his teeth together. He counted the threads in the flowery garments that wrapped about her head and shoulders. He was going to start losing his temper if he didn't remind himself that she was not an obstacle, nor a textbook or computer. Simply a person. Who did not need to speak with him at all. Anera's unusual kaleidoscope of feelings shone through clear amber, alien and fractal sunlight through slats. Dust on wooden desks. Each with their own sensations and ideas.

"They should be," Anera explained gently. She could feel him at her mind, but she had nothing to hide and no reason to try to hold him at bay. He was in pain - not physical pain, which she might have simply taken from him for a time to let him heal. Not even empathic pain, which she could attempt to treat with kratoa or any number of different drugs. This was his, murky and untouched. He wouldn't find peace until he could see his own feelings with the clarity of spring water. "Your feelings are the ones you can manage right now. Hers are her own to sort through."

"You stated that I could only take action with feelings. I have none. But to take action without understanding hers would be to act without consideration for her. That would be illogical." This sounded and felt true, and it was, in a separate way to his own attempts to distract himself. Even if he did understand his feelings, he did not understand her. To act without understanding could damage her. He did not want to do that. That was why he tried to speak to Anera to begin with. "If you state that I should have, responded, that it was the only correct - reaction," Liyar reiterated her earlier words dubiously. "Then you are suggesting that this was her attempt to change the parameters of our interaction. I have failed to conform to this change. Ergo, we must no longer interact." He was highly displeased with Anera's advice.

"That isn't what I said, but it's interesting that that's what you heard," Anera murmured.

He knew he was making things difficult, but he didn't know how to stop. Well, he certainly had a feeling now, he thought to himself ironically. The absent companions. Syran. Meres. T'Livre. The bitter will. Hollow rage. There they were. Waving in the distance. He pulled open the cellardoor and hauled out the chains. If he were a normal Vulcan, he would meditate, and do exactly what Anera was suggesting. "I am not - able to," he finally said through teeth ground together, creaking in his skull as though the admission were physically painful.

"You are able," she encouraged him quietly. It was already happening. She could taste bits and sparks - copper and fire and dirt on her tongue. "You are a living touchstone. You can look at yourself. You can see - it will help you. It will help with all of it."

"I always need to back off. You do not understand." He took several slow, measured breaths. "I do not feel things the way that you do. It would be counterproductive to indulge in this speculation and it is illogical. It will not help."

"What you feel is not a matter of speculation, merely a matter of awareness." She breathed him in. "Help me to understand, so I can find a way that will help."

"Why do you want to help? What is your motivation? I am not normal. Even if I were, it would be dangerous on its own merits. You said it yourself. Instead of using reason, following the path I am meant to take. Going home." Moving on. Even that was offensive. Move on from what? Fifty years of living? Make a new life? Be a new person? He realized now that the doctors were wrong. All of them. He had followed her, into death. He had died. The person he was now, wasn't anyone he recognized. "My mind is searching for connection. And I sincerely doubt it is discriminatory. Therefore, none of my perceptions can be trusted. None of this is important," Liyar said, gesturing to the side. "All that is important is that I understand what has happened so I can fix it without damaging anything."

Why? It was such a strange question. "I'm Deltan," she said by way of explanation. "We're reciprocal empaths. Even if I weren't fond of your crinkling nose and acerbic voice -"

"I am not -"

"It's in my best interest to help those around me find balance. Otherwise, I'm going to end up feeling like you do." She looked at him seriously. "That's not something I want for either of us. What you feel - it's important to you, for the sake of your own self-awareness which is a keystone in empathic control. And for my sake. And for the sake of every other person on this ship with telepathic and empathic persuasions, seeing as you're a touchstone and therefore likely to affect all of us at some point or another. So. One step at a time," she added, encouragingly. "How can you understand what has happened until you understand your own feelings on it; so you can decide whether or not that perspective is filtering the event in your mind?"

"What do you want me to say? I perceived, what -" He gave up. "A connection. Of some kind. You expect me to believe that is an independent perception? I may be a Vulcan but that does not mean I am so braindead that I cannot understand the implications." He glared at the rose bushes behind her. They were very horrible rose bushes. Shame on them. "What relevance does that have? I am not a child, I grasp the concept that I am," he gestured to his skull, "damaged. It has no relevance to her at all."

"I expect nothing from you but self-awareness," she reminded him gently. "And I've never heard anyone refer to any Vulcan as 'braindead'." She tried to smile for him. "Did you feel this sense of connection before she kissed you?"

"I do not know. That is friendship is it not." Then again, his mind was such an addled disaster zone that he felt connected to the teapots in the mess hall, he thought to himself bitterly. It was a dumb, vague word, but he didn't know how else to describe it. "I do not know," he repeated. "It was likely an empathic response, from her residual emotions."

"Are you a reciprocal empath?" Anera asked carefully. "That isn't how Vulcan empathy has been described to me."

"My mind does not function normally. I assumed that we had established this."

"Friendship is connection, yes, but I don't think that kind of connection would make you this murky. So I'm going to ask a question, without judgement. Keeping in mind that I don't want you to feel any particular thing; only that you see what it is that you're feeling. Ready?"

Even to him, that sounded rather ominous. How was this question going to help him understand the problem or how to fix it? The problem, as he'd told her repetitively, wasn't about him. Was it? He spread his hands in assent, unconvinced.

"In your mind, go to the moments before and during the kiss and stop there. Don't go to anything beyond that contact." Anera's voice was slow and measured. "Did you want her to continue?"

The words fell on deaf ears. He was utterly inert, silent. The stagnancy broke as he stood, dropping the lemon on the ground. His response was trenchant. "That is inappropriate speculation. This discussion is terminated."

"It isn't speculation. It's a question." Anera lifted the dropped lemon and sniffed it. "One you need to answer for yourself."

"For what purpose?" Liyar asked stridently. "It does not matter what I think, the answer is the same. I cannot pursue this in any fashion, of course I cannot."

"Why can't you?" she asked. It was an effort not to be overturned by his emotional tide, but she could try. She could stand against the waves for a while in the service of calming them. Because if they battered on like this for days or weeks, they would turn her and then they'd both be drowning.

The stone was long past thrown into the lake. The ripples had turned into tides, and now it was a tsunami. Gravity and push and pull. "Of course I cannot. What do you think I should do, operate at any whim my damaged and broken mind can come up with to make it stop? None of this is real. It is a substitute."

"What you feel is real, whether it is based in reality or no. What you feel colors your perception of your reality. If you accept that feeling, identify it, then you can make decisions on whether or not it is something you wish to pursue. But the knowledge must come first." She rested her nose on the lemon, "I do not find you cruel. I do not think this Terran believes you to be that either. Cruelty tastes like sour, rotting fish and you have no such scent to you. But take a moment and feel, don't think. You say your mind thinks of her as a substitute. For the rift you suffered," she said, discovering it as pieces fell into place. "The tearing that left you open as a touchstone. It was a loss. A love. Oh-" She pressed her lips together, looking up at him soulfully as a feeling broke in her chest - a crack of the ribs that led to a tunnel dark, deep, chained. "Oh," she said again, pressing her hands and the lemon in them to her heart as the feeling became more and more clear. Climb back. Climb out. She winced as her chest tightened unpleasantly. "Substitute," she reminded herself. "Is that what you feel? Or what you think?"

"This is offensive. I clearly do not possess sufficient control." Behind his back, Liyar's nails dug into his palms. His own emotions met hers, amplified. She reflected back. Echoes in layers. Someone dropped a small pin in his head and ignited a bomb through his bones. Oak trees breaking in wind, high pitched, smoke. Wood shattering into fog, burning forests and war. It was odd, how like physical pain it felt. His mind would find new poetry to express it, he didn't think it felt the same each time. It was devastating in new ways each time he lifted the veil. Maybe that was why people killed and buried the knife, welling blood, drowning in it. Pain was an art. A language. It could be shaped, molded. "This is not necessary. It is as I stated. It is unwise to indulge in such emotions. I am not built for it."

"There are more levels to this than the black and white indulgence or avoidance you seem to see. It is unwise to ignore feelings this complicated and bound to you; they are facts. They will continue to grow and shape your perspective, even if you pretend they are not there. And if you are not aware of them, you will not be able to see yourself or those around you clearly." Anera sucked in a breath as the murky depths of his aura grew hot and sharp around her. "I cannot do this for you, there are too many levels. I can guide. Support. Your control will weaken, you will be dangerous to yourself and others; balance through awareness is the only path I know of."

"The last time I was aware of it I tried to kill my aide," Liyar told her. "It should not be for anyone to guide me. This is dishonorable. I should be able to do it on my own. I told her that I would not abandon our friendship. But you have not told me any other way aside from one that is absolutely impossible."

She shook her head, "You're a touchstone; not ignorant. Not dishonored. You feel. You feel everything. You hear everything. And through all of that, you are pressing your own self back and down. If you do that, continue to do that, it will build in pressure and it will erupt through every strand that connects you to everyone and everything around you. You have to let yourself up for air, to breathe, to see clearly." She held the lemon out to him. "You have not told me why it is impossible."

He took the lemon and gestured to his head. "I am a Vulcan, and not only that, I am - you've called it a touchstone. There is just no way."

"So - because you're Vulcan and a touchstone - there is no way for you to be self-aware? It seems as though that would mean... the opposite."

He dropped his head to the side. "Everything you are asking me and telling me suggests that you think I should pursue this with her. That is impossible. It does not matter what I think, I cannot. I still need to know what to do."

"I haven't told you to do anything except study your own feelings. If your own feelings make you think that you should pursue this with her, then that is something to consider."

"No, it absolutely is not."

"And thus far, I've heard no reason why you could not if that was your wish and hers."

"Because we are two completely different species?"

"You seem to be capable of friendship, as you've stated. You said yourself that you were both learning to understand the other's culture. Why should this be different?"

"I stated no such thing," Liyar told her incredulously. In fact he'd said so several times. He and friendship did not go well together. "It is different. I do not experience these things the way that you do. I have to think about my future. And it cannot be with her."

"Maybe it was- oh." She smiled, embarrassed. It was a feeling perhaps. Sometimes they jumbled. He showed so much concern for this Terran: what does she feel, what does she feel in regard to me, what did she mean, what do I do... His words were at odds with his actions. If he'd been more stable, she could have taught herself how he felt, but as it was she didn't dare dip further into the murky ocean around them. "For what reason?"

"I have to think about my future." He didn't know how much clearer he had to make that. "On Vulcan. With another Vulcan."

Anera looked at him wide-eyed. "Why?"

"Because you do not ask Terrans who you have known for one month to marry you. Because my family would disown me. Because she can hardly lift a chair without struggling. I could kill her," he bit out acidly. "I cannot pursue a relationship with an offworlder."

"She is weak?" Anera asked quietly.

"Yes."

"You could help her to be stronger."

"Not if she no longer wishes to speak to me. However much I try to help her, I cannot make her sickness go away. Not even a Vulcan has that kind of will."

"She's ill? With what? It isn't curable?"

"It is not my place to speak of it. But if it were curable, then it would be cured. It is manageable as far as I understand, but yes, she is physically weak."

"What about her emotional strength?" Anera asked.

"I do not know," Liyar replied honestly. She did not give herself enough credit, that she believed her own character to be weak, but he was always confident that she would be able to face the situations she feared. "She is not a weak person."

"So your concern is that you might physically overpower her?"

"Might is an inaccurate word," Liyar muttered darkly. "I do not understand why we are having this discussion." He tried, very hard, to distract Anera. "It is what it is. If that is something she wants," he was getting a little frustrated again. "I cannot do it. It is physically impossible, it is mentally impossible, it is impossible. She thinks that I care about her, even stated that she thought I loved her." He was still. "I do not have the faintest idea what love is. I am a Vulcan. If I do anything, I do it for myself."

Anera tilted her head to the side, eyeing him. Poor man. "Love is something one does for one's self," she told him slowly. "It's a release. An acceptance of one's own needs and desires - paired and matched with the needs and desires of another person. And it's the fulfillment of your own desire to look after the needs of another person. It is, perhaps, the most selfish and most unselfish of feelings. Maybe you all have a different word for it, but I bet it exists for you, just the same as it exists for every other sentient mammal. It's built into your biology in pheromones, hormones, neurochemicals... And you've known it, or something like it, because I feel the wound that remains with you."

"My - biology - is different." He arched an eyebrow at her pointedly. "I am not designed to care about another person's needs and desires. It is what every Vulcan must face. To be able to think, and rationalize. And empathize. Maybe, it could grow. I know there have been, others, in the past. But I know; Terrans are too different. This is complete conjecture. I do not know what she thinks. She will only lie."

"People often say things in the heat of a moment that they later regret or find they didn't actually mean," Anera said, accepting what he said as his truth. "It is possible that this may not need to change anything. But it does raise the question of whether it should. Do you feel that she would lie to you if you asked her?"

"I did ask her. She did lie. I am not going to chase her down and berate her."

"You could ask without berating," she suggested.

"And she will likely lie again. Just because a Terran feels or thinks something does not mean they want it, or they would choose it. They are not like us. They do not deal in the realm of thought. And what if she said yes?" What was he supposed to tell her? That he spent that much effort to hear the truth only to deny it?

"If it truly is impossible," Anera said calmly, "isn't it better that you should talk to her about it? So that she understands where you're coming from? It's worse to linger and wonder and second-guess."

"I do not know how to do it without harming her. I do not understand anything about this." This was so complicated. On Vulcan it was a simple equation. Things either were or they were not. He focused on Anera again, looking at her instead of at the bat orchids behind her. He could see something in her mind. A shape. No. Movements. "What is this?"

"Italri is a balancing practice; it evens the scales and releases tension. You need a great deal of both. What I can tell you is this - if you clarify what it is you feel, you will be more able to communicate that to her. Communication with Terran females is a key."

Now they were talking about something else. Liyar's head spun. "I cannot communicate my feelings to her."

"I don't know what she wants," Anera shook her head. "But my experience with Terran females and with other non-empaths is that they want to hear about what we feel precisely because they cannot feel or intuit the information for themselves. Communication balances the playing field."

"Such communication for my species is typically telempathic. That type of communication would not be feasible for her. She does not appreciate telepathic contact. I do not know how to communicate any other way."

"You're doing quite well right now."

"You are an empath," Liyar reminded her.

"Am I? Sometimes I forget," she answered, tongue in cheek. "So I am more aware of your emotional state and intentions than she might be, but you are still explaining your feelings, how you perceive them and how you feel about them. And when we started this conversation, you were impossible to read. Now you're... marginally more clear. Can you feel that?"

"You expect me to have the same convoluted discussion with her? She is not a patient person. It is not her job to listen to me attempt to figure out my own irrationality. It is not your job," he said quietly. Shame was hunching; seedy, slimy disgust. Slithering into the cracks, standing him up straighter. Openness. Of the mind, of his thoughts. The anger he had displayed. Not just indirectly, but toward her. He had lost control. Any Vulcan would have him committed.

"You're right. My job is to teach. And here we are: we're learning together." Anera smiled at him warmly. "Maybe this is my job, after all. More than that, it is in my own vested interest that you find resolution for yourself in this matter. As I've said. We can't very well do with a telempathic tsunami storming about the ship, can we?" The way he described her - impatient and brittle - felt inaccurate to her based on the slivers of clear insights she was beginning to taste of his aura. Denial by proxy, she wondered. Or his own concerns about her reaction coming to bear? "Your feelings about your connection with her are entirely relevant to her experience and her life. They effect what that connection is. And it is necessary for her to understand them in order for her to make an informed decision about what she might like to do about those feelings. If you don't tell her, you're making the decision for her. Is that what you want to do?"

"What feelings?" Liyar said. "That is not what I said."

"You're saying things that are different from what you're projecting," Anera shrugged. "Look. Fine. Your... reactions then. Your reaction to this alteration to the dynamic of your... interaction with this Terran who you would like to continue to have in your life as you've expressed." Man, was that tiring. "She doesn't know what your perspective is on the event. If you don't tell her, she will likely just... make something up to explain whatever action you take from this point on. It's better if you both understand where each other stand. That way there is no need for deception or maneuvering to make things happen the way you want them. Things will happen because they should or they shouldn't, based on you both having ample access to the truth of the situation."

"I do not know the truth," he admitted down at his feet. When he looked up again he fixated on the bright sun glowing in the distance. "She is not impatient and brittle," he repeated Anera's thoughts idly. "Not - the way you think."

"Tell me."

Liyar handed her the lemon and shook his head. "I need to go. There is a mission. I must prepare for the away team." Maybe, if he was really lucky, a boulder would steamroll him and he would not need to think about any of this any longer.

"I'll be here," Anera rolled the lemon back and forth between her palms. "Well... not here necessarily. But if you wish to further clarify your thoughts, you are welcome."

He paused, and turned back, reaching out with fingertips to touch her shoulder lightly. Breath gave way to an alternate world, internal molecular structures, topsy-turvy. Inside out. Through it all, mixed gratitude and apology. It lasted only a brief moment before he ducked away and hurried out.

Anera rolled the lemon between her palms, watching him go, then closed her eyes. She thought about meditation, but then she felt a gentle tug. Well. She rose in one movement, leaving the lemon where it had dropped and gathering her quilted throw from the ground. Something new to discover. Or someone.

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, VDF/SDD
USS Galileo

Anera
Teacher
USS Galileo
(pNPC Lilou Peers)

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