Okay, okay. It's taken a while, but it's finally here. Dr Kristen Westphalen's birthday story. The story is (c) Andrew McKinna, 1995. The characters and settings are (c) other people like NBC, Amblin, Rockne O'Bannon, et al. It was written as a non-profit excercise. Sorry if I've infringed people's copyright, but they probably shouldn't be reading fanfic anyway. " T W O A N D T W O M A K E S . . . " Andrew McKinna The one thing Kristin wanted most on her birthday was a window. A window looking out to the horizon, or even just across the street. A window that let in natural light, not the harsh artificial lights abundant down here. She was _sure_ they were putting lines around her eyes. She wasn't a particularly vain woman. She rarely wore make up, and her auburn hair was always arranged with practicality in mind. She was fortunate to have fine features and a sense of poise that had been with her since her upbringing. They combined to give her an air of style under even the most trying circumstances. Those who worked under her found her an easy woman to respect, and the few that she let close to her found her to be just as easy to admire in private. Her quarters were basically drab, like most of the crew's. It was hard to decorate with so little, but she'd brought aboard a few potted plants and a pile of books. The few shelves fitted to the room were stuffed with knickknacks and candles, and she'd managed to smuggle in a small supply of soft, apricot lighting with some medical requisitions, which made the harshness of the grey retreat a little. A small photo, unframed, leaned against the wall, showing her two daughters. It still wasn't what might be described as a woman's touch, but she felt that a room like this was beyond the touch of all but the most exceptional of women. She'd served on ships with the UEO in the past, but never aboard a submarine, and never for a whole tour. The biggest adjustment she'd had to make was to the loneliness. Down here, separated from her family, her children, many of her friends, she often spent time alone in her room. She enjoyed the company of other crew members, but most of them were as young as her family. They seemed to accept her easily enough, but more often than not she felt as if she were intruding. She didn't feel old. Forty-seven was not old, and yet she didn't feel as young as she'd have liked. She wanted to go out and dance and get drunk like she'd never done twenty years ago. She'd been far too caught up in her study to be a young person, and she was regretting it more and more each year that passed by. It was on days like today that she could almost hear the biological clock, tick-tocking away inside her. She felt time rushing past, leaving her in its slipstream, and she couldn't keep up with it. She'd lost one husband, lost touch with the other. Both of her daughters had gone in their own directions; Maree had gone into bio-engineering, but she hadn't heard from Cynthia in more than three years when she'd been on her way to South America somewhere. With all the upheavals there, there was no telling what had become of her. And here she was, with no long term direction to her life. This was the life she'd always wanted when she'd been younger, taking things as they came, not being tied down to anyone or anything, but she could feel herself beginning to tire. She still enjoyed her work--there was little she'd rather do--but at the same time, she felt she might like to settle down somewhere soon. Maybe work with a commercial firm. She didn't want to forfeit a comfortable retirement for the sake of ideals she was growing out of. But just as she didn't want to grow old and poor, she didn't like the idea of becoming old and lonely, either. These were what she liked to call her birthday thoughts. It wasn't that she only had them on her birthday, but that was the one day of the year she allowed herself to become melancholy over them. They became more pronounced for a few days, and then she was able to put them aside for another year and get on with her life. *** Okay, okay. It's taken a while, but it's finally here. Dr Kristen Westphalen's birthday story. The story is (c) Andrew McKinna, 1995. The characters and settings are (c) other people like NBC, Amblin, Rockne O'Bannon, et al. It was written as a non-profit excercise. Sorry if I've infringed people's copyright, but they probably shouldn't be reading fanfic anyway. When Kristin arrived on the Seadeck, it was like a breath of fresh air. The artificial sunlight filtered through from the lamps above, and the water in the moonpool gave the air a salty taste unlike anywhere else in the boat. There was also a fishy smell, but that was hardly surprising as it was Darwin's feeding time. Lucas was hand-feeding the dolphin from a bucketful of smelts and talking to Ben Krieg. On her arrival, Darwin splashed the water with his tail and swam over to face the door. His mouth opened and he dropped a fish over the side of the tank and on to the floor. His mouth opened and shut excitedly, and he clicked and whistled at her. Almost immediately, a translation came from the speakers mounted along the walls. "Happy birthday, doctor." "Thank you, Darwin." She picked up the fish and held it out for him. He kept his mouth obstinately closed. More dolphin sounds seemed to translate to "Present" "Aha. Thank you again," she said, as she unzipped her pocket and put it inside. "I'll, ah, treasure it always." Squeals of delight came from the dolphin as he swam back over to Lucas and Krieg for more fish. Kristin tried not to grimace as she rezipped her pocket. During the fishy exchange, both Lucas and Krieg spun around. Neither of them had heard her come in, and both of them were trying, not entirely successfully, to look innocent. Ben was the first to speak. "Ah, good morning, Dr. Westphalen. I had no idea that it was your birthday today--" "Yeah, me either--" "Well, um, happy birthday." Lucas started to giggle. "Yeah, I hope you get something a bit more memorable than a dead fish." Krieg kicked him, but by the time he got around to opening his mouth again, he too was barely controlling his laughter. "Lucas, I'm sure the doctor will have a fantastic birthday." He struggled to restrain himself. "You two are worse than a pair of schoolgirls, you know. Giggling and kicking and little secrets. I don't know. Why don't you two go off and gossip somewhere else for a while. I'll feed Darwin if you like." That was all the prompting they needed. The two of them piled out the door, and the last Kristin saw, Ben was swiping Lucas over the head, though both were laughing too hard to take it seriously. *** Okay, okay. It's taken a while, but it's finally here. Dr Kristen Westphalen's birthday story. The story is (c) Andrew McKinna, 1995. The characters and settings are (c) other people like NBC, Amblin, Rockne O'Bannon, et al. It was written as a non-profit excercise. Sorry if I've infringed people's copyright, but they probably shouldn't be reading fanfic anyway. "...and unless your asthma starts playing up again, you should be fine by the end of the week." "Thanks a lot, doctor. Is that all?" "That should do it. Just remember to take it easy for a few days." She saw him about to open his mouth. She already knew what he was going to ask. "I'll have a word to Commander Ford, and have him keep you on Bridge duty." He smiled. "Thanks. I'll see you later." "All right, Tim. Bye." And then it hit her. _I'll see you later_? Maybe he would. Maybe there _was_ something going on after all. People certainly had been acting oddly all day. A few people, even Levin, had forgotten--or perhaps _pretended_ to forget--her birthday entirely, and Lucas and Krieg had been acting very oddly. *** As she pushed through the double doors into the galley, Kristin almost bumped into Chief Crocker. She'd heard him described--never to his face, mind you--as looking a bit like a garden gnome, but she'd never found him to be anything other than a gentleman. "Howdy, doc." He was on his way out of the galley. "Hello." He stopped and turned to face her. "Your birthday. Is that today?" She nodded. "Well, you just go and have a good one, then, Doc." "Thank you, Chief. I'll do my best." "You just do that." He waved a cheery hand at her and disappeared through the doors she'd just used herself. She started to make her way over to where the food was being served. Looked like veggie burgers again. She took her serve and went to leave. One of the advantages of heading the science contingent was a private office she could use to get away from all the hubbub. She often took her lunch there, and while it wasn't officially authorised, the ship's crew seemed to turn a blind eye. She was almost through the jungle of tables when she heard her name called out again. She looked around to see Katie Hitchcock waving her over to the table she was sharing with Jonathan Ford. She'd wondered in the past whether their closeness was only professional, but she put such thoughts out of her head as she made her way over. "I just heard it's your birthday." "That's right, but..." "Well, happy birthday." Katie stood up and gave Kristin a friendly hug. "You look great, anyway." "Thank you." Ford pushed back his seat and stood up, but not to his full height. After all, there's quite a difference between polite and intimidating. "Happy birthday, doctor," he said, proffering his hand. She shook it firmly, impressing him. "Thank you, Commander." "Any plans for tonight?" asked Hitchcock. Kristin put another mental tick next to the box marked _surprise!_. "No, just a quiet night, I think. seaQuest isn't really a hive of social activity for us oldies." She smiled. "Don't be silly. You're welcome to come out with us if you like." Kristin didn't miss Ford's glare in Hitchcock's direction. "No. Thank you anyway, but I don't think so. You enjoy yourselves though. Now, please don't think me rude, but I really should eat and run. I'll. ah, see you later, hmm?" _Bingo!_ *** Okay, okay. It's taken a while, but it's finally here. Dr Kristen Westphalen's birthday story. The story is (c) Andrew McKinna, 1995. The characters and settings are (c) other people like NBC, Amblin, Rockne O'Bannon, et al. It was written as a non-profit excercise. Sorry if I've infringed people's copyright, but they probably shouldn't be reading fanfic anyway. Kristin had almost reached her quarters when she stopped short, turned around and returned to the female washrooms. She didn't want to spoil the party by having to pop out in the middle of it. Only one other cubicle had been occupied, which was unusual. As she washed her hands afterwards, she looked up into the mirror. Her skin was definitely not as smooth as it once had been. In her mind's eye, she could still see the photos from her first wedding. She and Christian standing side by side, he in black and she in cream. Her skin was so radiant that it almost glowed from the paper. Naively, she'd thought it would always be the same. She thought she'd die in the arms of Christian, too. Wrong on both counts. She splashed a little water on to her face and rearranged her hair, which had lost some of its order during the day. There was no great transformation. She didn't suddenly look fifteen years younger, but it would do. She looked orderly, and with a little imagination, even elegant. She was struck with the thought that her nanny would have been proud, god rest her soul. And for a moment, she caught herself feeling a little proud too. She still scrubbed up pretty well, even after a day like she'd had today. She'd almost reached her own quarters when she thought she heard the scuff of feet. She looked around. There was nobody in the corridor that she could see. Maybe it had been her own feet; maybe someone in an adjoining companionway. Maybe someone was late, and trying to avoid bumping into her, spoiling the surprise. Closing the hatch behind her, she walked into her quarters with a calculated nonchalance. After a few moments for people to organise themselves, she turned on the light and feigned surprise, before being genuinely surprised. Okay, okay. It's taken a while, but it's finally here. Dr Kristen Westphalen's birthday story. The story is (c) Andrew McKinna, 1995. The characters and settings are (c) other people like NBC, Amblin, Rockne O'Bannon, et al. It was written as a non-profit excercise. Sorry if I've infringed people's copyright, but they probably shouldn't be reading fanfic anyway. "Captain!" She looked around. There was nobody else here. She wasn't sure she was all that disappointed. "Happy birthday, Kristin." He lightly kissed her cheek. There was a light scratch at the door, but right now, she was prepared to dismiss it as just another of the boat's peculiar late-night noises. They stood still for a moment, eyes locked, before Bridger broke off the stare and handed her a present. It wasn't well wrapped, and it was clearly a bottle. She wondered if he intended to get her tipsy. She smiled a little and looked up at him. "Thank you, you really shouldn't have." He silenced her with a wave of his hand. As she loosened the ribbon around the bottle's neck, she pulled the paper from the bottle and looked at it, agog. Bailey's Irish Cream. She almost asked him if he knew how hard this stuff was to get, but she stopped herself short. Of course he did. "Oh, Nathan!" She wrapped her arms around his chest, kissed him briefly and rested her head on his chest. She felt his arms around her and his lips upon the top of her head. A snatch of conversation from the week before floated through her mind. _Is there something else you need on the boat? I don't know, I'll have to check. What does that mean? It may take a little while, but I'm checking._ You know, she thought, I think I have found it after all. In a way, she hadn't expected to. She'd been involved with men like Bridger before, she'd even married two of them, but in the past, they'd been too preoccupied with their jobs to make the relationship work. Just like her, she admitted to herself, with a wry grin. This time, though, it seems a little different. Nathan was more of a "people" person. Nathan "Where on Earth did you get it? It's damn near impossible to buy." "I'm not telling you that!" "Of course Nathan, I'm sorry. I'm just a little overwhelmed." She paused. "Just tell me one thing." "I'll do my best." The door creaked again. Although they had only been speaking quietly, she dropped her voice further, so it was only a whisper. "Tell me you didn't get it from Ben Krieg." "Ah." "Nathan?" He remained silent, but as she pulled away she could see from his face that he had. Why didn't he _think_? Neither of them could afford to be caught in a compromising situation like this. She motioned towards the door, and the realisation dawned on his face. They broke apart, and Bridger took a step towards the door. *** Okay, okay. It's taken a while, but it's finally here. Dr Kristen Westphalen's birthday story. The story is (c) Andrew McKinna, 1995. The characters and settings are (c) other people like NBC, Amblin, Rockne O'Bannon, et al. It was written as a non-profit excercise. Sorry if I've infringed people's copyright, but they probably shouldn't be reading fanfic anyway. In the corridor, Ben Krieg squatted by the door of Dr. Westphalen's quarters, stethoscope to the door. Lucas squatted by his side. "Ben, what's going on?" "I dunno. They've stopped talking, that's for sure. What did I tell you? Baileys, Lucas. Works a treat. Hang on, a moment, something's moving. I can't quite tell what." "The Earth, maybe?" "Lucas, it may work quickly, but not that quick." Lucas was the first to look up. The window was still covered, but the hatch lock was slowly turning, almost unlocked. "Ben!" he whispered. "The hatch!" He pointed to the handle and ran off down the corridor. Ben however, was a little slower to catch on. By the time he realised what was happening, the door had disappeared from under the stethoscope, and he was listening to Captain Bridger's knee. "Lieutenant, what the hell do you think you're doing?" He looked down to the stethoscope for inspiration. "Ah, you know how it is, Captain. I just happened to come across the doctor's stethoscope, and being the kind of guy I am, I just thought I'd drop it off back to her." He could see that Bridger wasn't convinced. "You're not the only person aboard qualified to be supply officer, you know." "Yes, Captain, I know that. But..." "How many people have you told about tonight?" "Nobody, Sir." "Bullshit, Krieg. How many people have you told?" "Just a few. Lucas, O'Neill, Ortiz. I think Ford and Darwin know, too. If it makes you feel any better, Sir, everyone's really happy for you." "No, Lieutenant, it doesn't make me feel any better. Darwin knows?! I can't believe this." He could almost see Darwin leaping around with glee. The dolphin had been on his back since he and Kristin had become friendly. "Bridger find mate?" was a constant question. He didn't have the nerve to ask her whether Darwin had been bugging her, too. But Darwin had a long memory--he'd already proved that. He was never going to live this down. "Well, Mister Krieg, as you've taken it upon yourself to spread the word, you can also spread the word that nothing happened tonight. You should be able to verify that." "Ah, Sir..." "No, Krieg. See me in my quarters at 1400 hours tomorrow, but until then I want you out of my sight." Krieg turned and left, the usual swagger missing from his step, Bridger was pleased to notice. It was about time that man got a good dressing down, or he was never going to make it anywhere in the UEO. At this rate, he'd barely last the tour. Nathan stepped back down into Kristin's quarters. She was sitting at the small table that was in the centre of the room, bottle still unopened. He took a step towards her. "No, Nathan. Good night. Thank you for the Baileys, but I think we'd better call it a night." "Yeah, you're right. Good night Kristin. Happy birthday." "I'll hang on to this for next time." Pushing aside the wooden chess set from the corner shelf, she put the bottle away, in pride of place. E N D