Buck panted as he ran through the glade. Ten minutes late. He hated unpunctuality, and knowing Jesa, she'd slaved over the coal stove for the past two hours to make sure dinner was absolutely perfect and now he was late and it'd be cold and... His mind ran along this tangent, somewhere along the way managing to blame himself for the Ferenginar poverty line and Cardassian World Hunger as he went.

The meeting with the Alderman and the Town Council had gone better than he'd expected. They understood that there were reasons that he and Jess, as they knew her, wanted their presence to remain unknown to offworlders; they also understood why Buck wanted them to keep their women and children out of the way if anybody ever came for she and him. The only part he'd had difficulty with was convincing them not to try and protect them. It had touched him, deeply, that they were willing to go to any lengths to protect their own, and that over the past year they had come to view he and Jess as two of 'their own'. Eventually he'd managed to make them understand, but only by giving them the absolute worst-case scenario that their involvement could induce. And even then, some of them were hard to convince...

Buck was a damned fine chicken farmer. But he was a better Doctor. He had earned their trust and respect when he preserved the Alderman from a heart murmur and cardiac fit. He earned their admiration when he'd helped Marie Coswold deliver her triplets, all fine healthy girls. And, despite his mysterious ways and fretful personality, the folk of the town LIKED him. And he liked them. And he had trained two of them up as nurses and midwives, and (with the knowledge of only the town council and his assistants) set up a medical replicator beneath the blacksmiths shop. These people needed medicine, and the Town Council realized this.

And many of them owed him - he never took pay for his Doctorin', just for his eggs - and all of them liked him. So the idea that he might up and leave had not pleased them in the slightest. The Alderman himself had said to Buck, after all was said and done, "Buck, old son - when you and yer Jessie leave us, ma George'll look after yer chickens, and his Agnes'll look after yer garden, and one day - maybe lowng after A'm dead'n'gawn, ye'll come back to our little world, and pick up whar ye left awf - yer farm'll always be here..."

And now, after fighting so hard to convince himself that he couldn't stay, he found he hated to leave.

He slowed up as he got to the house, straightening up his necktie and shirt, and fluffing out his jabot, and walked through the door. "Honey! I'm home!"

She came out from the kitchen with an ample amount of flour and juices spilled across the front of a white apron and shot him with one of those looks that a wife somehow 'developed' after the marriage. It was a you-are-late-and-I-want-to-make-sure-you-know-it looks that caused husbands to walk carefully no matter their race, age, or creed. She had never been one for yelling. Just... looking.

Jesa actually had taken to this old-fashioned way of cooking without complaint or awkwardness, showing more skill than was proper for someone raised in the modern ways of Federation society. But then again, she had been the more traveled of the pair, so Buck assumed she had picked up the basics somewhere else.

Buck flinched slightly at 'the look'. He grinned, lopsidedly, his face decidedly unsure, and decided to play the 'kicked spaniel' card - it sometimes worked, and it certainly had a higher success rate than any of his other expressions.

"I'm sorry I'm late - the meeting overran. There were some... objections to some of my suggestions. But in the end it all went the way I wanted. So, what's for dinner? It smells deeeeeeee-licious!" He bounded into the dining room, trying to avoid any further 'looks' as desperately as one might avoid phaser blasts.

Jesa expertly hid an amused smirk at his expression. She was far from a cruel person, but sometimes - just sometimes - she liked to keep him on his toes. Shaking her head she disappeared into the kitchen and came back out again with two plates with some of last-year's sweet potatoes and some of the early-season beans balanced precariously, and a marvelously roasted pheasant. She never used towels or the like to shield her hands from the heat; she simply changed their composition.

"You're not in trouble, by the way," she chuckled. "I figured you'd be late, despite your estimations." Returning to the kitchen for a moment she came back with a basket of rolls and a small crock of butter.

Buck licked his lips as he sat at the table. He glanced at his pocketwatch, compared it's time to the mantlepiece clock, and wound it two full turns. "This looks like an absolute feast, dearest. And you made your bread-rolls for me, too! You're too good for me, you do know that, don't you?" He smiled up at her as she sat opposite him.

A bemused expression entered Jesa's features. "I did tell you that I wasn't angry with you." She smiled more honestly and reached over and patted his hand. She looked down at her own plate and wondered why she continued the charade of eating. She didn't need to. And food was precious on this planet, they worked for their survival. It was funny how easily it was taken for granted, and yet... Mentally she shook off the thought. She continued to do it because for one, it was social, two, it was keeping up the image, and three, Buck hated eating alone.

Buck stood up, realizing how boorish he had been - sitting before the lady - he could have slapped himself. He then covered his silly moment of chivalry by leaning forward to start carving the bird. His actions didn't go unnoticed by Jesa, and considering how she both thought his chivalry 'charming' and 'silly' at the same time, she made no mention and instead paid attention to what he was saying.

It was cooked to perfection, but with Jesa it always was. He doled them both out a nice helping of breast meat. They tended to save the leg meat for sandwiches the following day. Once the food had been passed around, and the condiments (Buck adored his salt - a failing that drove Jesa up the wall, knowing exactly what it was doing to his cholesterol), he sat back down and began to recount to her the events of the meeting.

A slight sad smile came to her lips as he described how concerned they were for the well-being of Buck and herself. It tore at some memories she had intended to keep buried for all of time.

Buck then steeled himself for the news she was not going to take well... "Jesa... I have to leave. Alone. It's the only way I can get an update on father's investigations on our behalf, and the only way I can make contact with... Another potential source of aid."

Jesa's brow furrowed for a moment. Her instinct was to fight to be allowed to come along. Was Buck all-of-a-sudden thinking her some frail flower? Did her readiness to fall into this expected social role make him forget who she was? Did he now think he didn't need or somehow didn't want her watching his back? On the other hand, she knew she should trust him, and if he needed to go alone, she knew there had to be some reason.

It wasn't very comforting.

Finally she nodded. "I understand." Ooh, how it grated at her. She didn't want to be understanding. She wanted to be useful again - she wanted to be at his back, and she wanted their team to be unbroken. And there was a part of her that just chafed against not taking the lead. But she told herself it was also very silly. And she did trust him.

Buck paused. She had given in so easily... He had been bracing himself - dreading - having to convince her not to come along. And now he realized exactly how awful the alternative was - that she might not want to come along with him... He knew she lived in the kitchen and the drawing room these days, but he didn't expect her to have fallen into the subservient role proper... That was his job, as the male in the relationship, Betazoids being a matriarchal people.

Well, either way, she hadn't argued. Which meant she'd be safe. She just trusted him enough not to worry - that had to be it. Now the next part.

"Do you recall the name Deina Reeal...?"

Jesa calmed herself to keep from allowing her temper to flare. "I remember you mentioning someone by the name of Deina. But that she was 'dead'." The stress she put on that word had emphasized the alternate meaning of the word.

Buck nodded. "Well, indeed. But I know where she's buried. If that makes sense." Buck sighed. "And her contacts were always more extensive in this area than my own. This was her 'haunt', as far as Intel goes - if anybody can help us, it's her. And she owes me a few favors..." He paused.

Jesa couldn't stand it any longer. "Why do you want to leave me behind?" she asked, completely bluntly.

Buck paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, and lowered it. His fringe had fallen forward, covering his eyes. Which was good, because they were glistening with tears.

"These are good people, Jesa... If - If anything should happen to me, they'll look after you. They'll take care of you." He almost faltered, choking on the words, but he fought on. "This is a high risk endeavor. Higher than you can imagine. But the stakes are also higher than either of us have ever gambled before. If we win, we win big. If we lose, I-" He paused, taking a deep breath. "If we lose, then we only lose what we've gambled - we only lose half the game..."

Jesa stood up slowly and moved to the window. The evening was falling outside and with her eyesight she could see some animals scurry across the meadows and an owl that dove into the grass probably after some mouse. It took her a few moments to order her thoughts. Then she turned back to him. "I don't need to be looked after, Buck. I don't need to be put safely away on a shelf." Her words weren't harsh, but she wanted him to understand. "What I need is to be with my husband."

Her eyes held intensity and the thoughts that had filled her mind during her time in the kitchen were coming back to her.

"I need to learn what I can, and handle myself at your side in whatever happens. You think this is high stake? It will get worse before it gets better. I am certain of that. I have tried in perhaps a clumsy and immature way to stem the tide - but the ocean is still there. There are only two choices in this situation. We run and hide. Or we fight. And fighting will be nasty. I know you want to protect me from that. I know you don't want to return to that. I want to protect you as much as you want to protect me. But I am tired of running and hiding. And even if we do... it is those people who would love to see our death we leave as the stewards of the Federation, and that is not something I can live with."

She stopped, suddenly. That last reason wasn't something she had connected before this point.

"Damnit, Jesa! Let me be the man of the house just ONCE before I die-" He tried to stop the word, but it was already out there. She knew. He did not expect to return... He paused.

She clenched her jaw and a dark look came into her expression.

"I've monitored some things. Even here. The Runabout has a very effective communications array. I can't send, but I can receive. And I've received some worrying rumors. I have to go away, grab what information I can, then set up a breadcrumb trail away from this world."

Jesa knew what he was doing. He was luring them away from her.

"They might not catch me. If they don't, I swear by the Great Fire I will come for you. I will find you..." His voice faltered and he broke down, collapsing into his chair.

She walked over to him and rubbed his shoulder gently, speaking quietly. "I think we should find a plan where we both can survive."

Buck looked up to her, seeing nothing but his own love reflected back at him. They had faced death before. Together. Why couldn't they face it again...? Why did they need to...?

"Maybe there is another way... What if... What if we have the trail of breadcrumbs left for us, leading far from this space - out beyond the Frontier - and we... We go back." He stood up, wrapping his arms around her, never wanting to let go. "You're right. We can't leave our friends to the tender mercies of our enemies. They need us to protect them."

Tears were freely flowing down his cheeks now.

Jesa wrapped her arms around him, dinner quite forgotten. "I just want you to stop trying to leave me behind in a safe place so you can go get yourself killed on my behalf."

"It's a Betazoid thing. Behind every great woman is a man willing to die for her." He smiled, not entirely forced, and kissed her cheek. "You're right..."

She kissed him gently. "I need you to stop trying to protect me without my knowledge, and instead share things with me. I am not innocent and don't need to be kept in that supposed state." Jesa smiled a little, "And I will promise in return I won't go off - headstrong that I am - and do distasteful things for the sake of our preserved survival." Gently she reached up and touched her fingertips to his lip, looking up at him.

He took her hand, smiling down at her. "I understand... I'm sorry. I just... Occasionally, Jesa, I get very, very lost. Promise me you'll always be there to lead me home. Promise..." He kissed her fingers and pressed his nose against her forehead.

"I promise," she said softly, leaning her head against his chest. She could hear his heartbeat - that rhythmic sound which had become a very familiar source of reassurance for her. There was a reason for all of this. There was reason in all of this.

"Very well, Imzadi - by your command..." He smiled, playfully, and led her back to the table. "Now, I think we'd better finish dinner - at least one of us has to balance calorific intake with energetic output."

Jesa sat down, she had at least broken his habit of always having to seat her and smiled. "So, tell me about this Deina..."