A/N Reed/Sato. Quite a trippy piece, probably AU of some description. I also suspect Malcolm may not be thinking terribly straight.

There's a branch of Shinto that worships dragons as kami (water spirits or suijin). Kami have two souls, a gentle one and an assertive one. How they behave depends on which soul has charge at a given time. A summary of the legend of Kiyohime can be found on Wikipedia. Suffice it to say if Malcolm's correct in his identification he's in really big trouble.

A big thank you to everyone who reviewed my previous stories. Hope you enjoy this one.

I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making any money off this.

The Remembrance of Dragons

She stands, silhouetted against the translucent drapes of the bedroom window. Behind her dawn spreads its golden light across San Francisco bay, across those smooth arms, her gently curving thighs, picking out the gold threads in her dressing gown, picking out the golden dragons, the flecks of water around them like silver blue ice, pouring, tumbling, churning. He is going under, drowning. He had not expected this. He, who prides himself on being prepared for all eventualities, on thinking ten, twelve moves ahead, who can even beat T'Pol at chess on occasion, missed this strategy by a mile. He hadn't seen what was under his nose all these years. That Kiyohime always wins.

The sound of her showering had woken him. Now she stands, her wet hair one sleek black mass splattering droplets onto the floor with soft pat pats. She is a suijin, a water deity, he thinks. He is a man afraid of the water, afraid of drowning. She is dangerous. He should beware. She could turn all his discipline to nothing with one touch of her lips.

Last night she danced, her movements sinuous as a dragon. Every time he looked she was watching him, patient. He should have left with the others. Should have gone back to the ship. But his glass was two thirds full and some of the crew were still there, were still on the dance floor. Maybe it was habit. In the coldness of space he was charged with protecting her. But this was Earth and this was shore leave and she was not his responsibility. He should have gone back to the ship. But she lured him in, her eyes like fire, her kisses like cherry blossom, her body smooth and firm as a pebble on a river bed. His blood thundered like a waterfall and he went under.

She turns her head slightly, her profile dark against the dawn. He can not see her expression, can not see her eyes. He senses her watching him and wonders which soul has control of her today. When he first met her it was always nigi-mitama, the gentle spirit, but space and the Expanse have given ara-mitama strength.

Slowly she crosses the room towards him, footsteps like the patter of raindrops on a tin roof. Like rain on dry ground, full of promise she comes.

She bends her head towards him and he smells jasmine. Her lips brush his. A single kiss. His mind fills with the thunder of water. It closes over his head and he is submerged.

The bedroom door shuts with a quiet click.

And then there's only silence and the remembrance of dragons.