Author's Rating: R for Romance, a little language, a little sex...trust me, it's much milder.

Author's Note: Quite some months ago, I was helping Rob Wood to flesh out the background of one of his characters, one Lieutenant Benjamin Krause IV, and his "hometown" on New Paris. Since reading Jack Darke's text "Guts and Glory" on expanding Shaktars as PCs (see here, as Jack asn't yet added it to Fractal Silence as of this posting: http://www.team8.co.uk/forum/viewthread.php?tid=3528&page=13#pid62104), my urge to write and edit kept bringing me back to this story.

The reason for this would be the unanticipated and unexpected challenge that came up between Cerise and one particular Shaktar. I can say it is a fair bit different from what I was prepared for, and yet the end result seemed...just right.

This story a different pace from many of the stories I post here; much slower, more setting-oriented, more relaxed in some ways. Exploratory versus action. As a heads-up, there is one shorter sex scene toward the end, as it was appropriate for the characters, but this piece actually isn't erotica as a whole. (Aye carumba...!)

In the spirit of an expanded understanding and liking for the Shaktar race on my part, I'm presenting this story.

Truth and Honor in New Paris

Coastal town of L'Eau en Cristal, New Paris. At a beach house belonging to General Joseph Briggs, Dept. of Militia. 900SD.

The water is a mix of blue at the top with green undertones and is clear enough Cerise can see the bottom for a ways out. In the far distance, she sees a flash of white as a sailboat with a white and yellow sail turns lazily in the wind.

So beautiful.

“Scares me a li’l.” The small woman beside her shrugs and smirks sheepishly, “’Kay, a lot. Ah’ve nevah seen so much watah t’weren’t fallin’ from the skah.”

Cerise looks at Dixon with a smile. “Is it the open space? I know it can be weird, coming from the City.”

The DT-born sniper shakes her head with her eyes still locked on the water. “Uh-uh, just the watah,” she says. “It’s…unreal. Not poisonous, is it? Y’kin swim innit?”

Cerise shakes her head then nods. “Not poisonous, and please swim, if you can. Should feel a bit like a warm bath. Just don’t do out too far from shore, it gets deep.”

“It does?” Dixon’s eyes blink incredulously. “How deep?”

Cerise blinks back. Just where had this Sector Ranger—this blonde petit sniper—come from that she didn’t know what an ocean was even in theory? “Um. Well…deep enough to submerge a skyscraper, first floor to penthouse.”

And Dixon’s eyes widened a bit too much. “All th’ space… Anythin’ live theah?”

Cerise nods hesitantly, not seeing the point in lying to her. “A whole world beneath the surface. A lot of things live there. You’ll probably see some of the small fish and coral first. Maybe a crab. Just keep in mind that most things have a way of defending themselves if you try to touch them. Just like on Mort. That’s the same.”

A slow nod. “Do Ah need a knife?”

“No!…no, you shouldn’t. Just don’t go out too deep. Stay near Boxer, you’ll be fine.”

Dixon looks back out toward the beach pensively.

Great…I’ve probably ruined it for her…

Then the young woman nods bravely to herself. “Ah kin do this. Ah will do this.”

Boxer, her squadmate and the big teddy bear wearing his bright cartoon bunnies swim trunks, was already splashing about in the warm water and waves for Dixon to come on in. The small woman smiles uncertainly, looks at Cerise a moment, then slowly started trotting toward the water’s edge.

With any luck, she won’t want to get out at the end of the afternoon.

Ben arrives a few moments later wearing a white linen suit and light colored shirt that accents his athletic build and tanned skin tone. His light brown hair had streaks of sun-bleached blonde in it and his hazel eyes have some of the same shades of green as the water. He jingles keys in his hand and slides on sunglasses.

“Are you ready for your tour of the town?” he asks.

Cerise grins and smoothes her sundress a bit, a lovely free-fluttering number that reached just to her knees, cinched at the waist with a sash, and looped behind her neck to cross her chest in a deep V, leaving her back bare to absorb some of the sun through the thin layer of sunscreen. Natural reds, yellows, and tans lined the fabric in angular abstraction, seeming to brighten her short blonde hair and her smile. “With my own personal guide? You bet!”

As she loops her arm in his, he smiles at he nods towards the left. “Garage is this way.”

He leads her past several rooms and down a hall adorned with pictures similar in nature to the ones she’d before seen in General Briggs’s office—all alien landscapes, most of them War Worlds. She’s always thought it interesting that the General was a hobbyist shutterbug, taking pictures of the battlefields. But these here all have a vacation bent . While some are in wartime, the men are obviously having a great time on R&R. One shows a mob of men and women on a beach in between games of football or volleyball. A brief moment of piece in the middle of hell.

Ben steps into the dark garage and with the existing illumination, Cerise can see three vehicles sitting there. Lights flicker to life in wide, long panels and she’s standing within a few feet of three extremely high-end sportscars. Walking around one, Ben disables the alarm with the remote and nods towards it.

“This is my favorite. It’s a 780SD Aurora Coup,” he says. “An absolute classic.”

"Oh god," she says, staring wide-eyed as she quicksteps over to the passenger side of the gorgeous thing. I get to ride in this! She smiles. "Wow."

Ben presses another button and the soft top retracts to reveal a pristine interior. He slides in and opens the door for her.

“Put on your sunglasses and hold on,” he says with a wry smile.

With a soft squeal of delight, she gets in, closing the door, latching her seat belt and donning her sunglasses, looking over at him and grinning. The engine growls to life with a series of low thrums like a huffing animal and a thin line of pure light slices the darkness as the door raises. It’s briefly blinding but the sudden acceleration distracts her. The warm air is whipping past her ears as he takes the performance auto up the private drive, around the circle once, and out the gate to hang a left. Accelerating on the open two lane road, Ben grins fiercely and continues shifting. The vehicle responds immediately and she sees the speedometer approach triple digits.

Cerise is holding on and laughing with glee, enjoying the rush as it continued to flow. The air was warm and whipped at her hair and her sundress fluttered a bit, starting to rise up her thighs. Weeeeeeeeee!

Ben wisely downshifts and slows as he approaches other traffic then shrugs at her sheepishly with a “Had to do it” sort of look. Her eyes are glittering looking back at him, her face flushed and she looks aroused, breathing heavily. She settles back as they have to slow down around the other traffic and reaches over to squeeze his thigh. Ben gently cups her hand as the warm air whips around them then returns it to the stick. The dash is made of a dark burled wood with silver inserts that glint in the sun.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he says. “I want to spend time with you. It’s been so long.”

"Oh...well, of course, Ben," she replies, rubbing his thigh where she had squeezed it, actually a bit of a nervous gesture. "Thanks for inviting me."

Before he can say more, she kisses his cheek and leans her head to rest on his shoulder as he continued driving. He smiles and kisses her forehead and is quiet. She knows they’ll talk some more on this trip…their first reunion after she’d reappeared hadn’t been complete. But personally she’d rather not talk about it while in a moving vehicle.

The ocean is bright and blue with glints of light from the lazily shifting waves and the bone-white beaches. Following the road up the coast, the elevation increases and she can see more of the rich, green land to her left. It’s either truly breathtaking or completely unnerving if one was from the depths of Mort. Ben seems fully alive and unburdened here, grinning nearly constantly as he takes the vehicle along the curves and slopes of the road. Most of the time he has no need to shift and drives with one hand on the wheel and another on her.

Cerise sees the occasional figure in a bathing suit visible along the deserted beaches but as the get closer to the city, the beaches have a higher population. Against the vista of high, white buildings made of bleached stone with elaborate facades, scores of people in colored bathing suits lounge and frolic in the clear water and the sand. Crossing a short, arced bridge, Ben slows and downshifts to turn right along the Rivera and they’re soon amongst a bustle of people.

The street is about two car widths wide and lined on both sides by benches, cafes, and stands. People dressed in the latest fashions are visible everywhere as they shop, visit, and drink wine along the river itself. Turning left, Ben worms the car through a group of people meandering in the street, up a slight hill, and left again where the street becomes cobblestone. They’re soon in an elaborate square surrounded by shops. In the center is a tall figure in bronze of some sort of soldier. Ben smiles as he pulls the car into a spot and shuts off the engine.

“I think you’ll like this,” he says as he gets out and comes around to open the door for her. Taking her hand, he walks her towards the high fountain where she gets a good look at the statue. It’s a large, muscular man holding a trident and commanding the waves with his outstretched hand. A group of playful nymphs and porpoises surround him like an attending court.

“Does he look familiar?” Ben asks with a very playful smirk.

Cerise's mouth goes slack as recognition does indeed settle over her face. "What...! My god, what is the General doing here as...as an ocean god, of all things??"

Who paid for that statue? Who commissioned it??

Ben laughs and shakes his head. “Uncle Joe did a lot of things in the war and he’s sort of a local hero,” he says. “A lot of the land around here is owned by the Dumas or the Deneavux families and they had sons who served with him.”

Ben grins at the statue and leans over to kiss its feet.

“Tradition,” he says then continues. “He single-handedly saved a lot of those sons. They honored him the way they knew best. He’s even got a Rue named after him.” He starts to chuckle. “This statue always cracks me up though. Can you guess its real name?”

Cerise looks at it, or maybe for a plaque that would say... There is none, so she shrugs. "Um. Playboy Sugar Daddy?"

“Charlie ne pas surfer,” he says with a laugh.

Cerise tries to translate that. "Charlie the non-surfer?" She doesn't quite get it.

“The translation isn’t that good but its Killian name is ‘Charlie Don’t Surf’,” he says with a wink. “Uncle Joe was on Charlie’s Point for a while and later went to Cinder then Dante. He’s got about a half dozen statues along the river showing him.”

"You're kidding..." she says. "All different themes, I take it? One with a dragon, maybe?"

“How’d you know?”

Her eyes glitter with humor, shaking her head in mild disbelief. “He must like people kissing his feet by proxy."

“Uncle Joe once suggested that the pretty ladies kiss higher. He got slapped for that one. And his fourth wife.”

Cerise laughs out loud, quite able to picture that. The General, “Uncle Joe,” probably would have attempted to seduce her at one point had she not been with his best friend’s firstborn son at the time. “So, what happened for this statue’s commission?”

“Uncle Joe can tell it better than I can but he got Slayer’s Cross out of it fighting a combined unit of Dinos and Thresher.”

She blinks. "Holy shit."

He nods. “He’s a womanizing hellraiser now but he was a heroic, hell-raising womanizer back then.” Ben smiles to himself. “He and my Father were really close. Dad was with him but you won’t see any statues of him out in the street.”

He turns to Cerise, threads his hands around her waist and lifts his chin a bit to kiss her gently on the mouth. The Ranger is actually a few inches shorter than her, but so fit from being out in the Sectors and handsome by accident of birth that people at the spaceport had commented aloud how the “honeymooners” looked so good together.

“How about some wine, bread, and cheese?” he asks. “I know a great place.”

She'd been about to deepen that kiss right there on the street (still aroused from the car), but blinks at him in temporary confusion that clears up the next moment. "Hm? Oh! Yes, that would be wonderful."

Taking her hand, he leads her through a narrow alley to the main thoroughfare and left where they’re surrounded by the same types of stands and passersby that she saw on the approach. A white railing lines the edge of the road facing the river and many of the tables on both sides appear to be of the same material. A few boats including some for sightseeing or young couples make their way past.

Cerise notices nearly every male she sees is staring at her with an appreciative intensity that would be highly inappropriate in normal Mort society. Ben notices her noticing and smiles.

“We men of New Paris greatly appreciate the most important things in life - women,” he says and proudly leads her forward. He’s oblivious that many of the women are also staring at him and receives more than one subtle smile or eye bat.

She feels her face warm, knowing what they would be imagining at the very least picturing her naked. She wasn't sure how she felt about it anymore in general…and the intensity felt awkward standing next to Ben. Cerise holds onto his arm to at least give the correct body language that she was taken—and so is he for the moment— a bit surprised that Ben didn't seem to mind them all looking and showing what they were thinking so obviously, when he’d taken offense before on Mort. Has to be cultural.

The street rises slightly into a slope, then drops in a gentle dip as it turns with the river to the left. The area ahead is wider open and filled with more shops and a large market area. Ben casually turns right onto a bridge overlooking the water and smiles downward at some of the boats. He slows to a stop amongst a crowd who are watching the water traffic.

An attractive young couple approaches in a boat propelled forward by a single man with a pole and they seem to be the subject of attention. The woman is focused on her companion and looks very excited as the man sinks to a knee and offers her a ring. The group on the bridge stops breathing for a moment as the woman looks between the ring and the man’s face. Several of the couples near Cerise clench hands in anticipation.

They've got an audience, she realizes in astonishment. An intentional one.

When the woman accepts, a happy cheer rises from the people on the bridge with Ben included.
Cerise is too surprised to cheer, but looks from him to the boat again. The young couple is oblivious as they embrace and pass below the bridge, apparently well on their way to consummating the future marriage.

Ben’s face warms as he looks at Cerise. She looks back, her face flushed as much from heightened confusion and anxiety as the sun hitting her face. He's not thinking of popping the question, too, is he? Not now…

“It’s considered good luck to get engaged under this bridge,” he says. “Local tradition.”

She blinks, looking at the water again. "Oh?"

Did Mort even have any quaint romantic things like that? Ben wasn't thinking of suggesting the same thing, right? And it's not just me being commitment shy! It's...just a real bad idea right now... too soon to even be thinking it as plausible...

With a smirk, he adds. “I don’t put a lot of stock in it since Uncle Joe got engaged three times here. Still quaint though.”

She relaxes a bit hearing that, dragging her mind with some effort out of the gun-shy spiral it was in about marriage, and laughs. “Three times?"

Ben nods. “Yes, he doesn’t learn that quickly but no one seems to care that every one of the hero’s marriage that started here failed.”

He leads her across the remainder of the bridge and to a table sitting in front of a small shop. Pulling her chair out, he sits next to her and the smell of bread and cheese is thick in the air. Other tables with couples and groups sit around eating and talking and Ben smiles up at the waiter as he approaches. Heavily accented and very rapid New Parisian passes between them, and the man vanishes into the shop. It’s plain that Cerise had trouble understanding them speaking at that rate.

Looking back to her, Ben looks at her as if he’s seeing her for the first time. His eyes roam the slope of her chin, her face, her eyes and then downwards to take in her body. They return to her eyes.

Cerise feels herself flush despite her best efforts. He's trying to reconcile me with a very familiar place. Has probably sat here in this chair before, maybe even with another girl, but never with me sitting here before...

It is all new to her, so she can only smile back at him and deal with the sensory overload boppling over her like BBs bouncing off a tent.

The waiter returns with a loaf of bread, a bowl of cheese, and a bottle of wine with glasses. Ben pays him and opens the bottle, leaving Cerise to take care of the warm bread. Its crust is warm as it pops apart in her hands.

Mmmmm..... Not only a perfect distraction, but her mouth begins to water from the smell. She breaks off a piece for Ben first, setting it on his plate and then a similar sized piece as well...of which she takes an immediate chomp while it was still warm. Be still my beating heart...!

As Ben sets a glass in front of her, he looks out across the crowds, colors, and water and looks truly peaceful. There’s a touch of sadness in his eyes as he thinks but he forces it back when he looks over.

She pauses a moment, then works on chewing a little faster in case she needs to reply to whatever he is going to say.

“I love you,” he says.

And that hit like a ton of bricks. She doesn't know why, exactly...he's said it before, but…the setting. Something about being here on New Paris.

She manages to swallow her bread without choking. “I love you, too,” she murmurs quietly.

It had taken her disappearance for months, her separation from everything she’d ever cared about, suffering and nearly dying to be able to say that aloud. Ben had tried to tell her before she’d been captured…she hadn’t let him because she couldn’t say the same. At the time.

It seemed so stupid now in retrospect. She doesn’t know what he wanted here and now…but they would talk about that, and hopefully in full honesty. And regardless, she does feel love for him.

Ben smiles a bit looks out at the distant buildings, one of which has a series of flags fluttering from its top. “That building is named after my Father,” he says.

She follows his gaze. Wow, he really does have deep roots here. Then, Oh well duh...he's Benjamin Krause IV!

“There’s a statue of him if you want to see it. It’s testament to what he did, to what he stood for, and what I want to be. I want to continue the legacy.”

So there was the start of the conversation that has been waiting…the nebulous future. She wonders, should she bring it up now, or try to enjoy the vacation instead? She wonders only for a moment before she forges ahead. What good had delaying it done her in the past?

"What are your thoughts for continuing the legacy? What do you want to do with the rest of your life, Ben?"

Definitely 'dangerous' ground here but...she really did need to know. And sooner is better, she knows. It is silly to try to pretend the wheels aren't turning in his head, all these things he is showing her, and to think things wouldn't change between them...that they haven’t already.

He ponders about it for about thirty seconds and takes another sip of wine. “Part of me wants to stay a Ranger in the grit for the rest of my life and die that way but another part…” he says and pauses, his eyes shifting to her. “Someday, I want to be more than that. I want to be here, in New Paris or maybe part time in Mort Central in the Auxiliary.” Ben looks at her for several long moments and there’s a degree of sadness in his green-hazel eyes. “I want to be a Ranger until I’m a liability then I want to do what Uncle Joe does and be in command.”

She nods and smiles warmly. With his lineage, what else could they expect?

He swallows and looks out at the passersby as if they’re ghosts.

Here we go. She feels her stomach tense a little, not knowing what she would rather he say...

“I also want to be married to a woman of my choice,” he says and smiles softly.

She had expected a mention of marriage but she's truly surprised with how he phrased the answer. Not putting her on the spot--like the time before--and quite possibly saying that he could choose or love another if Cerise was no longer around, and certainly wouldn’t accept an arranged marriage like his mother had been pressing for when Cerise had been gone. She nods slightly and stares at him a few seconds before he continues.

“Not yet, not anytime soon, but someday. And I want to be a father.”

She feels her middle warm and tremble slightly with some hard-to-pin emotion, briefly picturing him with his firstborn in his arms, and nods. The dream suited him.

Did it suit her?

Not with Roman and Cloak watching her… Not with Morgan still hunting her and Anton alive again. She bites her bottom lip.

Ben looks at her eyes for a few moments, seeing she was still quiet. He takes a sip of wine, and looks along the river again. “I wouldn’t ever force any of that on you, Cerise,” he says.

She blinks and can't help a grateful expression crossing her face. Not straight relief and refusal, but gratitude for offering some compassion and patience...because she doesn't know what she wanted, where she stands, what is happening to her...

She nods again slowly. "Thank you...I..." She smiles a bit, swallowing what she'd been about to say, that maybe she wouldn't be Ben’s best choice for that dream anyway, that her baggage might fuck it all up for him.... Instead she says, "Someday. You'll know when that is."

Be nods and swallows. “I hope so. So…what do you want with the rest of your life?”

I want to be free...but I have the feeling I won't be ever again. Not like before.

She's quiet about thirty seconds as well, but doesn't have anything nearly so clear cut as he did by the end of that time. She thought briefly of older, kind man, Leon, who’d seen her about her nightmares… He still had a dream of retiring to New Paris where he’d grown up, with a kind, normal woman, in a little shack on the beach...and SLA will never let him because of what he knew, what he’d seen.

"I don't know, Ben," she says quietly, her shoulders lowering just a little bit. "I...still have some things I have no choice but to work out, and...I don't know where I'll be by the end of it. Perhaps I'll have a better idea after some more time has passed." She looks at him. "I do love you, though. Here and now. It's what I can and want to offer you, today."

Whatever else she didn't know or understand about her future...it at least didn't scare her anymore to tell someone she loved him. Or her. Because once can lose the chance so quickly.

He smiles with warm and hope and his eyes are gentle. “That’s all I can ask,” he says softly.

Cerise lets out a breath softly, reaching to take his hand. "Thank you for...not demanding more. I know my life's still sort of screwed up right now.” Really screwed up. “It's getting better, though." She smiles more strongly. "Especially being here with you. Today."

Ben caresses her hand and looks at her eyes with one of the most gentle, honest, and passionate gazes she’s ever had fall on her. “I’m very patient and will give you all that I can of me but I’m not trying to seduce you into marriage,” he says. “Maybe someday years away, but…it’s not right for either of us right now.”

She nods with a soft, hesitant breath. If she had been standing, she's pretty sure her knees would give out relief. "Yes."

“Just…Cerise, just know, even with your life ‘screwed up,’ I don’t want to be here… today… with anyone else.” With that, he leans over to gently brush her lips with his and his warm breath spills across her cheek as he tilts his head to offer a more sensuous kiss.

Oh...! Her mind trilled at the first brush, then whispered Ohhhhh... as his mouth opened just a little, and she presses forward to take that second kiss, sliding a hand up his neck to rest at the nape, feeling the short fuzzy hair beneath the pads of her fingers. It is easy to forget they are in public with her eyes closed, feeling his lips and breathing his scent. It also doesn't take long for the warmth to spread down from her chest to her belly, slowly but surely infusing her sex...

She feels him lean into it and he offers his tongue and lips more fully. A hand gently slides to her leg and rides up to cup her outer thigh. Cerise can feel a tremble in his touch as he becomes aroused. His scent and taste are stronger than before and he grips her leg more tightly. Maybe he wasn't trying to seduce her into marriage, but seducing her into his bed sure wouldn't be a problem...

Mm...I don't want to stop... Feeling her nipples harden beneath her sundress, Cerise sighs softly through her nose as she continues lingering and feasting on Ben's mouth and gently caressing the back of his neck and head. She puts her free hand onto his leg in return, slowly glides it further up his thigh, approaching his crotch. She isn't sure how far Ben would allow it to go but he is already acting more comfortable in "this" public than he ever had in any place public on Mort. He'll signal they should stop sooner or later, and she will. But she is in no hurry and he is going to have to tell her when...

A low thrum comes from his throat as she touches higher and she feels his mouth pull back. He gently cups her hand in his, slides it down on his leg, and leans back. He’s sweating and visibly aroused. She has to admit he is all the hotter for being able to see the visible effect on him.

“I can’t do what I want in public,” he says with narrowed, hungry eyes and a husky voice. “And you’re making it really hard not to.”

"You let me go further than other times," she murmurs, her lips close to his as she smiles. "And I've completely forgotten what we were talking about..."

Ben blinks. “We were talking?” he quips and chuckles, gently kissing her again.

Grinning she returns to her cheese, giving them both time--sipping some wine and nibbling some food--for the heart to slow and the blood to slowly drain back out of their laps.

The anticipation is nice, though. Having something to anticipate…is even better.

“I would like to see your father’s statue when we’re done here, Ben,” she says with a calmer smile, feeling somehow on more familiar territory with him. The way he smiled, she knows she said the right thing. They are mostly quiet as they finish up.