Joint Personal Log | Capt Ivanova - LtCmdr Waterhouse - "Make It a Hurricane"

Posted on Tue Aug 19th, 2014 @ 4:54am by Commander Amelia Waterhouse & Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

4,099 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: In the Dark

The day had gone by slow as molasses on a chilly winter morning - thick and stubborn, idly holding time captive. Rochelle had counted down the seconds to the end of a full duty shift, knowing well enough that as the Captain she could have walked away at any moment. Especially since they were still docked and undergoing repairs. She refused herself the out, truly dreading what was to come next — the true acknowledgment that Landon was dead, that hope had died with him, that her goodbye would have to be made in solitude. Perhaps even the need to come to grips with what the morning had brought her in the arms of the Cardassian engineer. Too much.

Her mind whirled wildly.

Following her feet, Rochelle found herself poised in front of her old quarters and froze. She didn't live there anymore, her belongings had been transferred to the Captain's quarters after she'd left for duty. These were Pond's now. Her grip tightened on the PADD she held — perhaps being alone wasn't the best way to handle the situation, perhaps the comfort of a friend would ease the hurt that she could feel boiling beneath the surface. She hit the chime.

Amelia had intended to start unpacking. All her stuff had been waiting when she'd arrived after leaving the ready room, even the stuff that had been in her old quarters, as promised. Noah's paintings were fine, her plush turtle had been waiting in the middle of her bed, her bat'leth displayed on the wall, and even the comic book she'd fallen asleep reading the night before had been laying on the coffee table. All she'd gotten done was hanging the paintings before hunger, and the temptation of having a kitchen of her own, had distracted her.

"Come in," Amelia called when the chime sounded. She was kneading pizza dough on the counter, two white flour hand prints were smeared on the front hips of her shorts and her hair was in a loose knot at the nape of her neck.

Stepping inside, Rochelle drew a steely breath of resolve. It wasn't often she felt the need to seek out assistance or find company or support when she did battle with her demons. "Why didn't you tell me about the new counselor?" She asked softly, standing there in the middle of her old living room, PADD in hand. She wasn't angry, she wasn't accusatory, the songbird was somber as she collected her thoughts.

"New counselor?" Amelia made a face as she considered the list of incoming crew she'd looked over before the ceremony last night. She didn't remember a counselor in that list. "Did someone get added to the crew since I looked yesterday?" She considered Rochelle with a side long glance as she stretched the pizza dough out into a thin disc on the peel. She couldn't help wondering if this had any connection to her efforts to find a counselor for Teá.

"Yes." The smaller woman responded calmly, "Lieutenant Commander Tristan Neyes." The words fell heavy from her lips, feeling like lead weights as she formed them and allowed her voice to carry them from her. It was the first time she'd uttered his name, allowed herself to taste it — and it burned like a stiff shot, forcing her to mentally recoil.

It took Amelia a long moment to process why that name meant something, and her eyes went wide as a couple of colorful metaphors escaped her lips in Klingon and Orion. "The vipers already sent him out of the nest? And someone in the fleet thought sending him here was a good idea?"

"On the Vindicator. As our counselor." Rochelle swallowed hard, her hand beginning to shake. "He gave me something from Landon. A recording."

Amelia opened her mouth to offer to ask her father to pull some strings, get the new vessel for the slug reassigned, when Rochelle mentioned the recording. So she wiped her hands on her shorts again, and stepped out of the kitchen. "My tea stores are getting low, but we can explore the more exotic flavors, or I've got the fixings for a good stiff drink..." Amelia insisted as she put her arm around her friend.

The songbird's head shook at the offer of drinks and tea, standing firm as her friend's arm came around her shoulder — thankful for the warmth and support as she began to cope with the coming storm. "I already hate him and I shouldn't." She said, pursing her lips and holding up the PADD in front of them, "I should hate the fact Landon is dead, not the man they put the symbiont in. Right?" Rochelle didn't bother looking at Amelia, she already knew the look she could expect to find and the answer that would come.

"In theory, they're entirely different people with each new host," Amelia allowed with a sigh. She guided Rochelle to the couch, moving the comic book to the coffee table as they sat. All the venom her mother had fed her over the years about the symbiosis commission was making for quite a cacophony in Amelia's head as she tried to focus on what her friend needed to hear, not the image of these people as painted by her mother's bad experience. Between them, the plush turtle in the orange mask blankly stared from him spot leaning against the crack between the two cushions in the back of the couch.

At first Rochelle resisted, locking her knees and looking plaintively at the door as if weighing the option of leaving and handling matters in private, on her own time. The gentle persistence of the dough and flour covered quarter-Klingon, however, demanded otherwise. Her tired mind demanded otherwise. "In theory. I know, but who are we kidding? They remember and they know." She replied, her mind playing over the way Tristan had toyed with his hair, the way his eyes had held that same bold flair — she knew he was struggling in his attempts to sort the past from the present, it was painted clear as day. Taking a seat, she hunched forward resting her elbows on her knees and studying the PADD he'd given her. "Landon woke up for about an hour and went back under and..." She shrugged, chewing her lower lip as she thought about her word choices, "they butchered him. He knew this was inevitable, his choice."

It was the oddest thing that cut through the cacophony for Amelia, the thing that let her see past the hatred for this tradition of the Trill her mother ranted against every time it came up... Joined trill were like the timelords of Doctor Who. Each regeneration different, but at the core, the essence is still the same. Each different life, weaving a new thread into a larger tapestry, making something new with each forging of a personality from the sum of the host and the symbiont. But this realization didn't help find the words that would soothe Rochelle, nor did it resolve the issue that Tristan posed.

"Maybe it'll help to hear what he had to say?" she suggested, and could only hope that Landon had been of sound enough mind in his last hour of consciousness to realize Rochelle would need to be made to understand.

"Maybe." Rochelle responded, her lips pursing after the word had spilled into the air and silenced. Her thumb brushed along the PADD's screen as she drew a breath, stealing bravery. The faded sound of Landon's voice began to play through the sound system. Doing his best not to sound tired or weak, an upbeat tone cast over his sometimes struggled words.

Hey Commander,

I know writing this isn't going to help. I know stepping outside yourself feels impossible. I know being there for you is the one thing I can't have, but it's what I want most more than anything right now. The commission told me what I'm sure you'll already know by the time this reaches you. Neyes isn't safe with me anymore.

Being chosen for joining was the greatest honor of my life. Until I was joined with Neyes, I would have never felt ready for the world. I would have never felt ready for you and the Vindicator. The experience was worth the eight years, and it was worth the year you and I had serving together. You shouldn't feel responsible for this, because as a host and a Starfleet officer I knew exactly what I risked each and every single day. I want you to know that I wanted this, and failing that I need you to realize you played no greater part in the circumstance we find ourselves in than I did. The last time I saw you I got to hold you. Love you. I get to see my baby brother! I thought he was dead, but he's sitting right here, Rochelle. I could only be happier if we'd been given more time. So please don't worry about me. Tristan will take care of me, and the commission has selected him to carry Neyes in my place. He can monitor our family's assets this way as well. It's a mess, so I'm glad he has to clean it up.

I have a nephew. Who knew, right?

And Rochelle, you are going to be fine.

You will be an excellent Captain. You practically run that ship already, so no big deal. They'll give the ship to you, since I already forwarded my recommendation to Starfleet months ago, just in case. Plus those brick-heads got us into a civil war, I hear, so they're not in a position to argue.

He told me Starfleet wants Neyes back on the Vindicator. Be good to him, Rochelle. I hate to ask, because I know you and what you've lost. He's my little brother, and if I can't take care of him I know you will be the next best thing. I thought I lost him already. I'm glad he has you.

Rochelle. Commander. Captain. I love you. I'm ok, but I've got to go now and Vindicator needs a strong captain so she's all yours. Keep her safe, keep our crew safe. Almar put engines in that brick for a damn good reason, so you better goddamn well use them if you get into a scrape.

Give my pictures to Tristan, I keep most of them in a locker in my quarters. Sorry about the coffee stain under the captain's chair, I just always covered it with my foot. Replace that couch in the cap's quarters when you move in, one of the cushion sections collapsed after I dropped my dagger into it a few months ago. There's a bottle of Saurian brandy in the cabinet above the replicator in there too, so go crazy.

Take care of yourself.

Landon

She sat for a long moment after the words had silenced, after the sound of his familiar and comforting voice faded. While her hands shook, she held the PADD surprisingly steady while tears willing in her eyes and threatened to spill over the brim of her lower lids.

"So, let me get this straight... not only is it the new host that's our new counselor, but it's Landon's little brother?" Amelia finally broke the silence as she'd been processing what the ghost of a captain had said. She looked to Rochelle, and saw the pending water works, and forgot the question all together as she pulled her friend tightly into her arms.

Rochelle didn't fight it when Amelia tugged her close, instead she allowed her head to find her friend's shoulder. "Yeah." She sniffled slightly, her voice small and delicate, "The eyes are a give away." She added, pulling the PADD tighter to her, holding it for all she was worth as her mind whirled to process everything Landon had left her with. He'd been so warm and candid, thankfully bypassing the maudlin prose she wasn't sure she could have handled.

"If you want me to handle him, at least at first, I'll run interference," Amelia offered. "I could always ask Dad to see if he can get him reassigned somewhere?"

The little one's head shook, "No." Rochelle, even dismal, knew better than to run away from a potential challenge. "The Neyes symbiont belongs here. Landon belongs here." She said, looking up and smiling sadly.

"He's not Landon anymore," Amelia gently reminded her, "He's Tristan now. Even if this host is Landon's brother, they're going to be different. Siblings are often as different as night and day..." Amelia pulled back, releasing her petite friend from her hug. "And if you need to take a little time before you deal with him again, I will run interference and deal with him, or even just be there when you do. It's a tough situation, but I'm here... that's what an XO and a friend is for, yeah?"

Amelia's stomach growled, and she was reminded of the pizza she'd been making when Rochelle arrived. "When'd you eat last?"

"I know. I keep reminding myself." She replied with a sigh, setting the PADD in her lap and reaching to wipe her eyes when Amelia released her. "It's hard because I want to hate the man when I don't even know him. I feel like I'm blaming him for Landon's death and I know it's ridiculous." Rochelle drew another shaky breath, allowing herself to pick up the PADD and move it to the coffee table in front of them, leaving it there was becoming a test of will as she forced herself to sit back on the couch. It wasn't meant to be her crutch, especially not after what she'd encountered earlier in the morning. It did, however, cement the fact that serving Starfleet and Starfleet only was the safest way to lead life and not run the risk of loss — not run the risk of anyone else dying because they felt the need to save her.

Pond's voice once again stole away her attention with mention of food. "Before I came here." She lied, "a bagel." It had been half a bagel and several hours even prior to making the young woman her executive officer. She'd grabbed it on the run as she left for duty.

Amelia looked at her friend with her head tilted, and considered. Even if Rochelle was telling the truth, which Amelia was very skeptical about, just a bagel was not enough. The weight lost with the incident on Notura had not been returning, if anything Amelia would swear
Rochelle had dropped a little more, but she wasn't sure of it. She knew if she tried to force the issue, it might blow up, so she had to go about this carefully.

"Well, I'm hungry. If you're not, that's fine... but can we move to the kitchen?" Amelia stood. "Since Tristan's his little brother, Landon would want you to accept him... he said as much, after all. But I'm sure both all the memories in Neyes, and Tristan himself, will understand if you need a little time to sort yourself out. This is like something out of a soap opera holonovel, after all." Amelia shook her head, hoping Rochelle would leave the PADD on the table as they moved.

Rochelle eyed the PADD setting on the table as Amelia got up and moved off towards the kitchen and made a subconscious decision. It was safe where it was, no harm would come to it, and as such the young Captain followed her XO to her kitchen. A small feat made harder by the hesitation she exhibited with the first two or three steps before allowing herself the freedom to move to her next perch, the counter. "It's... Something." She replied, leaning against the kitchen bench, "I can't actively avoid our counselor, though."

"Not so much avoid, as let me handle him for a bit while you let yourself heal. A week or two?" Amelia suggested, quickly putting away the anchovies that had been intended for the top of the pizza. Any chance of convincing Rochelle to eat was nil if the anchovies went on the pie, likewise away went the olives. Everything else was fair game though, this was certainly going to be an American style pie, heavy on the toppings. "At the very least, I can just be present, if you want."

She watched certain toppings disappearing back into Amelia's refrigerator, a move that piqued her curiosity and beckoned her senses. Without the anchovies and the olives, the pie was becoming extremely tempting -- even to the Captain that hadn't felt hungry since learning of her fare while in captivity. The very thought churned her gut, twisting it and making her mentally shy away from the food. "For the next couple weeks, we'll handle him together. I need to find my footing with him. I'm the Captain, not a spoiled child."

"Of course," she acknowledged, generously heaping the toppings on the pizza. "Do you happen to know how high his security clearance is? Teá has some stuff she needs to work through, might actually be the source of what bugs you about her, and if we give him something to do out of the gate... Well, he'll have less reason to come talk to you." Amelia picked up the peel with the fully loaded pie, moving to slide it into the oven on the preheated stone.

"No." Said Rochelle, shaking her head, "I didn't ask and haven't looked. You do what you think needs to be done with Teá, Pond, but I honestly believe the girl is a lost cause."

"I have to hope she's not, if she doesn't figure it out, I don't think there's enough Guinness in Ireland to heal boyo's heart if she breaks it." Amelia sighed, setting a timer for the pizza. Not long, twelve minutes, just enough to crisp the thin crust and melt the cheese. Amelia leaned against the counter next to Rochelle.

Rochelle's only response was a soft snort at the mention of Sean and a shake of her head as she folded her arms across her chest and studied the floor. Amelia coming to rest on the counter beside her tore her attention away from the battles waging in her own head and she realized that a verbal response would likely be in better taste, "Then hope for the sake of the Guinness brewery that she straightens up. If she doesn't, she won't be on this ship for very long."

"Then the fate of Guinness lies in the hands of Tristan Neyes," Amelia insisted with a soft sigh. "I think my parents cornered her at the awards ceremony." She shook her head.

"I hope we're not all doomed." The Captain's head shook again as the aroma of cheese and vegetables permeated the air and crawled up her delicate nose. It begged her to relent, to succumb to her want and need for food. If she admitted it to herself, which of course she wouldn't, the idea of homemade pizza was downright drool worthy. Her mind began to drift away from Notura, Landon, Teá and Tristan -- and onto feeding herself, arguing that there was a distinct difference between who/what the Noturans fed her and the pizza Pond was baking. Punishing herself would only lead to the ship being without yet another CO. Her stomach growled.

"It'll probably work out in the end," Amelia insisted. Waiting for a pizza to bake was always the worst part, the way it teased the nose, but the teaser often broke down the barriers people put up against eating when they needed to. Amelia hid a smile as Rochelle's body betrayed her with a growl. "Think what you will of the symbiosis commission, but they generally select highly competent people to carry the symbiotes. He'll probably be a good counselor, all other things aside."

An undignified snort broke her silence and her eyes closed for a split moment as she considered the possibility of anything good coming from the commission. It was a senseless hatred. "Time will tell." Said Rochelle, quiet, dark, brooding. She drew breath to say something more when the oven timer went off announcing that the Italian pie was ready and further coercing her towards giving in to its beckoning for her to partake in the goodness and comfort it promised.

"The one thing they have down to a science is the care of the slugs," Amelia argued, collecting the pizza peel with one hand as she pulled the oven door open. "Their goal is to give them the best set of life experiences they can, so if course they're going to pick what they consider the best people." The peel slid under the pizza with ease, and out came the glorious pie. "Translated from Trill, I suspect 'best' means highly skilled."

For a short moment there was silence, each word carefully being spun through the shorter redhead's mind as she took in what her friend had said. It wasn't often that Amelia was thrust into the role of the practical and logical one -- a role that seemed to suit her, oddly enough. "I don't doubt that they know what they're doing with the symbionts. I just question the logic of them allowing him to come here."

"Oh, that's easy, they just don't give a fuck about anything but the slug," Amelia dismissed with an eye roll, grinning at the pizza she set down on the counter. She collected the pizza cutter, and started slicing. "Honestly, I'm tempted to file a formal complaint even though you're determined to make it work. I'm sure it wouldn't get him reassigned, but occasionally those vipers listen to paperwork. Maybe we can spare someone else down the road."

"It's a thought." Rochelle agreed, watching the taller officer begin to cut the pie. New York style, she recognized, her hunger starting to win out over the stupid stubborn mess that was her mind, "They'll argue it's culture and cultural experience and then we'll just go round and round forever with no real resolution aside from making the counselor uncomfortable. That, unfortunately, isn't a win."

"Absolutely not," Amelia agreed as she finished slicing. The cutter set aside, she collected one large slice and folded it in half length wise. One hand waved Rochelle towards the pie, trusting the aroma to draw her friend in, and Amelia took her first bite. Her eyes rolled back into her head, there was just something about fresh pizza straight from the oven.

fuck it, she thought. Almar had rocked her to sleep and now Amelia was getting her to eat. Somewhere on Notura it was as if she'd lost part of her independence, or was it that her own stupidity had gained the high road? Rochelle sighed, it didn't matter. Punishing herself wasn't going to bring back the dead and she found herself closing fingers around a smaller slice of pizza, tugging it onto a plate. "Do you have garlic and Parmesan?" she asked. And it was over, the hunger strike folded much to the relief of her tired, aching body.

Amelia quickly chewed the bite in her mouth, waving her free hand as if to say she'd answer soon, moving towards the fridge as she did. "There's enough garlic in the sauce to kill a vampire across a rugby field, but I found some fresh parma," she answered after swallowing. Out came a hunk of cheese, and a drawer yanked open for a grater. "Don't ask where I managed to find fresh cheese, I'm still not even sure myself... I think that bad penny yeoman is still trying to win me over. He found it." A hip bump to the drawer closed it again as she offered the grater and hunk of cheese to Rochelle.

"Stranger things have happened." She mused, taking both implements and grating the goodness over the surface of her slice of piping hot pizza. The freshly added cheese began to melt almost immediately and it wasn't long before the Captain's delicate fingers lifted the slice and guided it to her mouth. It was perfection. A flavor explosion that quickly over took her mouth that had only been allowed a liquid diet for the past few days. "It's good... Really good." The comment came after that first bite and Rochelle allowed herself to find pleasure in the meal she partook in.

=/\= END LOG =/\=

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS Vindicator

Lt Commander Amelia Waterhouse
Executive Officer
USS Vindicator

 

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