Posted by Lieutenant Pawl Batario (Chief Engineer) in Knocking on Pawl’s door.

Posted by Lieutenant Commander Kastarak (First Officer / Navigation Officer) in Knocking on Pawl’s door.
Kastarak had not planned to visit Pawl. There were protocols in place for situations like this –– medical privacy, command structure, and the professional courtesy of waiting to be asked. These protocols had even made it unethical for Kastarak to continue his previous relationship with Pawl.

But then, there been the mention of Lieutenant Pawl Batario in a routine Sickbay report that he read. He still paid extra attention to Sickbay reports, having long worked there. This mention had disrupted his focus during an otherwise uneventful normal report reading session. There had been no detail. No supplementary note. No indication of severity. Only a name.

Such gaps did not usually warrant personal intervention. But this particular name carried weight. Kastarak noticed the feeling in his gut, decided – perhaps somewhat illogically – not to purge it until committing to a then seemingly “logical” cause of action.

Three quarters of an hour later, Kastarak stood outside Pawl’s quarters, his hand paused just short of the door chime. There was a measurable increase in sympathetic arousal. He noticed them all: increased heart rate, skin conductance, and warmth across his shoulders. The pattern was familiar. Not distress. Anticipation, perhaps undercut by something less defined.

He pressed the chime and waited.

Kastarak, Lt Cdr
First Officer and Navigations Officer

PAwl just got finished freshening up a bit as he heard the chime ring. He straightened his uniform as He moved towards the door. He felt a familiar presence outside his door. He tapped the button to let him in. “Why hello there sir! Please come in.” Pawl offered. “What’s on your mind?” Pawl inquired calmly.

[[Lt ]] [[Pawl Batario]]
[[Chief_Engineer]] [[Uss_Chernov]]

Sir.

The word struck with more force than it should have. Not because it was incorrect; it was, in fact, precisely appropriate. But it had not always been how Pawl addressed him. Once there had been other modes: informal, teasing, once even something close to intimate. Kasarak with the t muted, almost swallowed – something Kas_t_arak never corrected but always found endearing – his special name called by a special someone. He missed that now. He had wanted to hear it.

He suppressed the response, the feeling. He needed to. Necessity and decorum demanded it.

Sir was correct. In this corridor, in this moment, it was structure. He let it stand.

He stepped inside, nodding briefly.

Pawl had clearly made an effort to appear at ease. The uniform, the composure, the smile. But Kastarak’s gaze moved with the practiced efficiency of a physician: pupils reactive, facial colour within baseline, gait fluid. No immediate evidence of physical distress. Still, he studied the details longer than necessary. The extra studying allowed him to reminisce of once having kissed that face, longed to see that the muscular movements of empathy in that face. Like a rush of adrenaline, his memories of Pawl’s face swallowed his presence for a moment.

Kastarak folded his hands behind his back, bringing himself to composure.

“You were in Sickbay earlier,” he said at last, voice measured. “I was not informed of any injury. Are you well, lieutenant?”

The use of rank created space. It was necessary. He had once believed there was no need for space between them. That belief, like Vulcan itself, no longer existed.

Kastarak, Lt Cdr
First Officer and Navigations Officer