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Newly widowed woman discovers there is a sexual undercurrent.

"What the hell is your problem?" He asked, shooting her an angry look. "I show concern for your health and you freak out on me?" He rubbed his wrist, damn, she had a grip like a vice.

"I-I don't, just stay out of my personal space. Borealans...I don't like humans touching me."

"Oh, so it's like a race thing? We sure have a lot to learn from the enlightened Borealans! Next time I'm in a wreck maybe I'll think twice before pulling one of you big orange fucks out of it."

She leaned on her crutch and dragged her free hand down her face in an expression of exasperation, she looked as exhausted as he was, on edge.

"McGregor, just...don't."

He was angry, and tired of her shitty attitude, she had no right to complain when she was holding him here against his will, ransoming food to force his compliance, food she could not even have retrieved from the crashed landing craft without his help. Even her damn splint had been his idea.

He spread his arms and advanced towards her, she took a step back, her crutch caught on a root and she almost fell, but she steadied herself.

"You know what, shoot me, do it, I don't care anymore. Fucking shoot me."

He kept walking forward and Zhari took another step back.

"You aren't going to do it, are you? You're all bluster."

She raised a hand, almost imploring, and gestured for him to back off. She looked pained, sick.

"McGregor, I'm telling you now, stop this, you don't...I can't..."

He felt a pang of regret in his belly, she was beside herself, maybe she really was sick? Was some unknown tropical virus altering her behavior? She had rejected his innocent attempt to take her temperature, what else could he do for her? He dropped his arms to his sides, and stood still, watching her tremble.

"I don't get you, Zhari. I just don't get you."

She turned her back on him and hobbled back through the undergrowth, making her way to the cave. He let her go, figuring he would give her a few minutes to cool down, then join her and try to reason with her again. As much as he disliked her plan, and hated her bossy attitude, he felt as if he might go crazy if he were left alone in this jungle. He couldn't just turn himself in, the Betelgeusians did not take prisoners. Zhari's incomprehensible behavior was making this whole ordeal more difficult than it needed to be, and he resented her for that, but at the same time he couldn't stand to see the usually proud creature diminished in this way, her fierce pride was all she had left out here.

Zhari stumbled through the brush, twigs and vines impeding her progress, she wanted to get back to the cave, the cool, damp space might help her regain control over herself. If her leg had not been broken, and she could move with her usual speed and grace, she would have taken McGregor right there, beneath the branches of the tree. Only the pain that flared in her swollen shin had brought her back to her senses in time to prevent that. Her mind roiled with guilt and arousal, she wanted him, it wasn't right but she did, every atom in her body ached for it despite the taboo. Was she no better than Raz had been? A deviant xenophile enslaved to her base desires? The conflict threatened to tear her in half, she reached the cave entrance and pushed past the vine curtain, dropping to sit against the wall and discarding her crutch on the ground. She tried to meditate, to get her breathing under control, to slow the flutter in her heart, but the heat in her loins would not abate.

McGregor walked up to the curtain of vines, he reached his hand out hesitantly and pushed them aside, sticking his head through to look around. Zhari was hunched against a wall, his eyes hadn't adapted to the low light yet and he couldn't see what she was doing. He stepped through gingerly, and approached her, she was turned away from him. He placed his hand on her shoulder gently, careful not to startle her.

"Hey Zhari, are you..."

Her hand reached over her shoulder and grasped his wrist, she turned her head to look back at him.

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