Joint Log | Capt Ivanova - LtCmdr Neyes - "Leave All This To Yesterday"

Posted on Fri Aug 29th, 2014 @ 8:04pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Tristan Neyes PhD.

4,184 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

Lunch had been tense, leaving Rochelle unable to relax or settle her guard in the presence of the man who had cornered her in the lift. Each bite had gone down roughly, officially crushing her love affair with chicken salad for the time being, all thanks to one man; Vlimar PontBrillant. He’d become yet another addition to the ever growing list of suitors that had flocked to the young Captain’s side, each swearing to be her champion, since the death of Landon Neyes. An Admiral, an Engineer, a member of Intelligence’s old guard. The list went ever onward in undulating turmoil that left a bitter taste across her tongue.

He’d want her to live.

But to what degree? It was too soon to move on, to take another. Falling into bed simply to soothe her broken heart had never been her style, evidenced by the years of celibacy she currently continued on with. Still… They continued on and she threw her hands up to block them at every turn, this time choosing to escape to the holodeck on 7. It was large, perfect for her favored program that would see her out in the desert landscape of the American west with nothing but the wind and a good horse beneath her. It had been her plan for the day all along, just exacerbated by the kiss in the lift by a man she simply couldn’t bring herself to trust.

The rowels of her spurs sang to the bass of her boots against the deck as she exited the lift and immediately turned for the holodeck doors, not even pausing to check if someone was in there as she dug through the trenches of her own mind, tying up her hair in a messy knot in preparation for her ride. The desert, nor the comforting nicker of her favored equine companion, greeted her. It was instant immersion back into the award ceremony, back into the black tie affair of nearly two weeks prior. She froze, watching a perfect mirror image of herself dancing and conversing intimately in the arms of a Cardassian that held her tiny frame as if she were about to break and he was the only one that could keep her from shattering. There was tenderness there, a comfort a Captain simply shouldn’t have with her Second Officer, but there they were caught in a waltz. The Queen and her knight were far from smiles and star-struck eyes, but warm and safe in their own little world. To all but the most trained eyes it would seem innocent enough, but she knew better – she knew what had started and where it led.

As the two danced, the question of why the programmed recording of the night's festivities was playing reared its ugly head. The vestigial forms of Almar and Ivanova slowly moved out of the way, to reveal street clothes out of place. Amidst the party goers, gowns and suits, it stood out like a sore thumb. This person wasn't part of the recording.

Rochelle turned, feeling eyes on her back. A lock of red slipped from her bun to taunt her eyes as she looked through the dancing party-goers, their specters nearly running into her as she side stepped to avoid collision, a gown grazing the calf of a jean clad leg. There, in the half lights, she saw him and her blood ran cold.

With a PaDD in hand, Tristan Neyes stood. His eyes slowly watched the two holo-characters dance together, the music carrying them off to another place on the dance-floor. His eyes were quiet, and his brow was tense. While the young brother of the Vindicator's former Captain always stood proudly, his face and jaw were tighter than good posture allowed. His free hand writhed subconsciously by his pants. What his eyes weren't saying, his mind was screaming. Somewhere deep inside Tristan could feel a boiling sickness rise up inside him at the sight of the engineer and Rochelle together.

Tristan Neyes. The sharp near turquoise of his eyes met the ice cold ice of hers and she sighed. Immediately she felt her back stiffen and her jaw lift, she felt the air crackle with electric tension between them as she stood, guarding the image of a couple gliding gracefully across the dance floor. "Good afternoon." She greeted tersely.

Rochelle's voice tore him out of the daze he'd allowed himself to drift into. The room quickly returned to being a holo-program, and his sensibilities returned to him once again. The dark anger at seeing her with another man quickly disappeared into a fading memory. Blinking at her sudden appearance, he looked up at her. Despite his best effort, Tristan failed to produce a convincing smile to welcome her to his private holo-deck time.

"Captain. Isn't this a surprise." He said, a derisive edge creeping into his tone.

"Indeed." She responded with a nod, keeping her distance from him as she stood on the suddenly bitter cold dance floor. She hadn't remembered it being that chilly when she'd spent the evening being passed from arm to arm, person to person, dance after dance in what had turned into a debutante ball and a game of 'impress the Captain'. A quick glance over her shoulder reaffirmed the fact that she hadn't been in sleeves beyond off the shoulder black lace caps. "My fault." She added, turning her attention back to him. "I didn't check to see if the holodeck was in use before I entered. I apologize."

Neyes forced himself to relax, his expression softened and his shoulders dropped ever so slightly. The emotions centered around his brother and this crew... this woman, they were not as important as his role to their service. As counselor to these people, he would be responsible for their own inner well being. He glanced one last time at the holographic representation of Rochelle, to test his resolve against the onslaught of demons it represented. His mouth twitched ever so slightly in protest, but otherwise he felt successful.

The two stood opposite ends from one another, neither caring to move closer.

"No worries, ma'am. I was just looking for standouts. Since most of the crew was here during the ceremony, I thought I could see if anyone looked aloof. Parties often force out the most subtle of troubled minds. How are you, if I may ask?" The words felt hollow on his lips, but not because he didn't want to know. She was his greatest hurdle, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to conquer their past.

"I can understand that." She replied, casting a quick once over around the specters as they danced and played. Even the wall flowers seemed intricate and different now that she wasn't smack dab in the middle of the event and living it for herself. Bringing her attention back to Tristan, her head tilted softly, canting to allow her a better view of him as she watched his demeanor shift and his posture change. To her he represented everything she once loved having been lost and resurrected into one untouchable, teasing bind.

Landon was in there, somewhere, neatly packed away as nothing more than a living memory. The familiar sting of pain prickled at the tip of her nose, threatening to be her undoing the longer she studied the Trill man in front of her. "I'm fine." She lied, "Better than ever." A small smile tried to cover her ass further, the rouse complete, even if it was constructed from badly stitched tatters.

Neyes raised a brow, "You're fine."

"I am." Rochelle countered, her chin lifting imperceptibly in that tell tale sign that she was closed off, defensive, ready for a fight should she be pushed.

There it was, that anger bubbling up inside him again. "With all due respect," he started to speak matter of factly, "and at the risk of oddly speaking with self-interest... we both know that's bullshit." He paused, "Did I use that correctly? Between you and Landon's friend Rob he learned quite a few Human expressions I wasn't familiar with. Yeah. I think that was right.

"Because the way half this ship tells it, you've become a ghost woman drifting in and out of your first officer's quarters on a regular basis. When you're on duty, you're a robot. You treat me with kid gloves, and you insult my intelligence by pretending I don't notice. Is that pretty normal for you, Captain?" He stopped, giving her a moment to respond.

Rochelle's jaw set as he spoke to her so dangerously candidly. It had been years since anyone had dared to speak to her in such a manner, the punishment for it was usually a swift verbal kick in the groin that left them writhing and unwilling to come back for a second round. She hated him, this apparition, the one that had come to taunt her with the constant reminder of what it was that she had lost. A carrot dangling, begging to be snatched but never ever being truly available, just out of reach. Her eyes frosted over, any warmth disappearing under the undulating fathoms of winter that consumed their crystalline grace.

"How dare you," She started, no longer caring around the images dancing around her as she moved, like a shark, straight for the kill. He was only minimally taller than she, but to be eye to eye she'd have had to stand on the very tips of her toes. Instead she stood square with him, "You know absolutely nothing about me, Commander, not a God damned thing. You know only what the gossip mongers want you to think and yet you feel you have the audacity to stand up to me when I tell you the way it is? What the fuck do you want from my life?"

"Computer, remove characters." Neyes said dryly. The images of the crew flickered and vanished. Mid-dance, the holographic Cardassian Engineer and Ivanova shifted out of sight.

"Who cares what I want." Tristan stepped toward her, a strong but impassioned flare rising in his voice. His words carried none of the anger he felt, but they conveyed the same intensity. "We both know I know you better than you want me to, Rochelle." Her name slipped from his tongue fluidly, like no effort came at uttering such an informal title. Something else was overtaking him now, something deeper than he'd thought was apparent. "I want you to be you. Is that what you think you're doing? Being better than you ever have been before? Can you honestly tell me that's how you feel?"

Her weight shifted from hip to hip as she folded her arms protectively over her chest, blocking him out as he volleyed back. Each of them driven by something deeper, instinctive, feral. Shaking her head to rid her eyes of that annoying lock of hair that always seemed to manage to free itself, Rochelle found herself far more uncomfortable as the program left them in an empty ball room, his words reverberating off the cold marble floors and swanky black walls. The sound of her name seemed so foreign and yet so familiar as it fell from his lips thick as molasses but far from as sweet. "I am me." She snarled, her fingers tightening on the tank top beneath them, "How I feel about it is absolutely none of your God damned concern. You're overstepping your bounds, Commander."

Each word fell heavily, like hail stones dropping in preamble for the true violence of the storm to come when the two fronts finally collided.

Tristan stood unfazed. "I do not think so."

Despite his collected stature, inside something was tearing at his control, begging to let loose. The sight of her dancing with Commander Dahe'el, the whispered rumors about her and the Admiral. Each of them yanked at something in the pit of his subconscious. Now he dared to poke the Dragon, or so it felt at least. It was so far beyond what he would have normally tried as a mediator, and partly she was right. There was more to them though, Landon and Rochelle, and now whether he wanted it or not he was a part of their story.

Neyes was part of her healing, so he would wake the Dragon even if he was truly stunned by her fury, and despite her position of command. If every word meant dragging her feelings out into the open, and unmasking the inner demons; he would force her to deal with her pain for the sake of the ship.

"Captain, you may not see it but this ship is feeling the rippling wake of the tragedy on Notura. Not because Landon is gone, or because they lost friends, but because their new Captain is aloof and distant. She is in pain and they are powerless to help her. Maybe you're fine the way you are, but this crew will not be comfortable with you if you are not prepared to be a sound example of how they need to deal with their pain.

"I am here to help you do that." Neyes' aqua-blue eyes were sincere, and anything but cold. Affecting her recovery from everything that had happened transcended his own internal struggles. Being a new person made it all the more difficult, but had given him a perspective into this woman. She was a fire that would blaze out of control, but also burned to keep those around her warm and safe. Somewhere he had to find the balance.

He tried to be soft with her, a new tactic trying to draw to her more sensitive sensibilities as a Captain, throwing rank back in her face. She countered with a twist, subconsciously denying him that gentle touch he sought to land against her troubled mind. "Their Captain gives them the respect and honor they desire and in return they've come full circle." She all but spat, eyeing him sidelong as she held her ground. This time it was different. She wasn't playing chicken with the Frenchman in the lift, she was standing toe to toe with a challenge that would span the ages. He questioned the very essence of her soul, the very dear and bittersweet parts that still clung to Landon's memory for all she was worth. "You're here to do anything but that." The redhead hissed, her resolve slip sliding away as both fire and ice threatened to consume her. The Phoenix rose from the ashes, clawing at her chest as it begged for release -- that same savage spirit that Andrea had carefully cultivated and Landon had fanned with admiration. "If I had a choice, you wouldn't be here at all." The truth was there, the battle lines drawn and she tugged against the restraints he tried to keep her with.

She was a child. A fitting child no better than his own of five years. This woman was not ready for the light of day, and her violent reaction to being called on her paltry acting skills was evidence enough. Like removing a sliver from his son, she was fighting him when all he wanted was to see her recover.

"Finally." He said quietly. "The first honest thing you've ever said to me."

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" She asked, her voice far lower this time, measured as she observed him. The first round had drawn to a close, with the second winding up along the back stretch. He played her like a fiddle, poking and prodding and demanding she release the hurt and anger she kept pent up within herself. The blame game. The guilt, all of it bubbled up and threatened to shove her over the edge. He was right, she was living a lie to the eyes of a vast majority. Pond, Almar were the only ones that had truly seen the evidence of her charade, and now him. He saw right through her with aid of the memories his brother possessed. It wasn't fair. Like a child, she rebelled, kicking and screaming each and every time he reached a guiding hand for her.

"The truth, Tristan, is that you know nothing." His name nearly hurt to say, to acknowledge, but she threw it like a stone and that stone was all it took for the levee to begin to fracture. "I died twice." She said, "Once in your brother's arms and again when they took him. There are worse things than death out there, Tristan, there's life where you can't sleep or breathe without feeling some form of hurt and guilt that you're living and breathing when someone died for you, because of you." The little Phoenix's voice began to tremble as she spoke. "When I close my eyes all I can see is snow."

Neyes' chest ached as Rochelle struggled with the words. Everything in him was either angry at her for finding comfort in another man, and for caring too much about Landon. It was a confused and irrational anger. One he knew he could never dwell on or it would consume him. There was too much at stake, and too many other more important things he would need to hammer out.

"When I was seven and Landon was nine, I feigned the tough little brother. I was always first to venture out, leading the way for gentle Landon who loved adventure. The truth was my being the leader was the only way I had to be impressive, and I wanted to impress him any chance I got. Landon was quicker, taller, smarter, older, and stronger.

"One day on an outing, we crossed paths with a Cesparian Redwasp. They have a poisonous bite that hurts like hell for a week after." He could feel wetness in his eyes, and he fought it back, "It chased us for 2 kilometers. All six centimeters of it, and it had a particular need to attack me instead of Landon. So... in his damned selfless way, he managed to catch it in his bare hands. He carried it into a pond and drowned it, but not until it had bitten his hands more than a dozen times.

"He was sick for weeks. We had to take him to an off-world med center." Tristan could remember both his own and Landon's recollection, and the conflict of emotion started to grate against his composure. The burning and searing pain on every bite, and at every cry. All to protect Tristan, and never regretting it. "It was just how Landon was. He would rather put himself in front of death instead of see someone he loves suffer."

Tristan's voice collapsed for a moment, his breathing heavy, as the memory ripped the pain of losing his brother wide open. "You had NOTHING to do with his choice to die for you, because he would have done it no matter what you said. I couldn't have stopped him, neither could this crew, or every admiral in Starfleet. I can recall nearly eleven lifetime's worth of memory, not including my own, and no one I know could have stood in his way to save a member of this crew. Especially not you.

"I am getting blinding headaches, and sometimes I forget who I am. This morning I woke up and couldn't find my daughter. I don't have a daughter, just my son Zed. Ehryn had daughter. I didn't know who he was, Rochelle. I forgot who my son was! And now... now I get to listen to you tell me I don't know anything when I can remember feeling his last breath..."

Neyes looked up at her face, realizing he was slipping himself. He softened, attempting once again to regain control of his words, "He didn't die because of you. He died because he had no other choice. And Rochelle, you have to stop this.

"Because this..." a sickened agony crept into his voice, "this is torture."

The outburst startled her, forcing her head to jerk back and her body to follow with a couple steps all highlighted by the sudden clang of the spurs at her heels. It was about safety, about raw emotion, about being verbally slapped in the face by someone she could barely stand to lay her eyes on and yet they held the keys to what had once made her feel so alive. She wanted to scream, to shout at him, to throw whatever hot ash she could in his face to force him to turn away -- but found nothing. Nothing but the cold hard ice and snow that had been placed within her since Notura as it built back the levee and forced her away from him, from Landon. His words were gospel and perhaps that was what struck her and stung the most. She couldn't have stopped him, couldn't have derailed the train that was Landon Neyes when he'd set out to rescue her from that frigid, miserable Hell.

"Again..." She breathed, taking another step from him, this one controlled, this one filled with resolve and dignity, "I'll reiterate that you know nothing. You have your own cross to bear and demons to kill, leave me to mine. The only common knowledge we have is what Landon experienced during his time on Vindicator and the fact we both love him for who and what he was and mourn the loss of him." Her voice found its strength again, "Beyond that?" A single hand cut through the air in front of her back and forth as if she were wiping clean a slate, "Nothing."

She was about to turn and leave when another thought struck her, forcing her eyes to find the somber turquoise of his with her own tear brimmed arctic blues as she processed everything that had flown from his mouth in legacy of Landon and more. "I don't envy your position or what you're going through, but I will say that you're lucky you had the chance to say goodbye." The smile that tugged on the fullness of her mouth was a sad one, filled with regret and hurt.

Neyes went to speak, but didn't have the strength to say what he wanted to say. For all the times the counselor had hoped to see his brother again, he could have never imagined a more harrowing experience than one in which he took Landon's essence away from the world. Landon had been lost to Tristan for more than eight years. Seeing some ruinous form of his statuesque elder sibling had stricken him, and the finite amount of time they'd spent together before his death had been consumed with one thing.

Her.

Landon had sunken into a pit of worry upon hearing about her, and had insisted on writing the letter to Rochelle. Instead of afflicting the newly minted Captain with the crippling knowledge that while Landon had been happy to see Tristan, he would have been happier if she had been there to say goodbye, the man was silent. Tristan would have been happier for it as well, and his goodbye wouldn't have felt half-driven by a despair for his love of her.

Tristan searched for words that would begin her mending, but shook his head instead. "Computer, end-program," he said as he moved to the exit. The image of the party shimmered and vanished. "I know nothing, and you will never get to say goodbye. So what do we do about it?"

Rochelle stood there as the party crackled and disappeared, leaving them in the grid covered void of the empty room. Each of them frayed, desperate, torn. Each of them still sizing up one another and hatefully dealing with the grief that still plagued them. If she were honest with herself, she'd recognize that they were two crumbling parts of the same whole -- united by their common ground. Her fight against him was futile and infantile, but she refused to let it go... For now. "We do nothing." She replied stiffly.

He walked past her toward the exit, giving her space to feel comfortable; daring not to tempt her temper. "Then have a good evening, Captain." He said hollowly. "You know where to find me."

The firebrand scoffed as she watched him go, her head shaking as her eyes followed his every move. She didn't trust him -- or rather, she didn't trust the situation surrounding him. Part of her heart reached out to him, understanding the pain and the loss and all things that surrounded the emotional Hell they both shared. It was an impossibility, however, for her to allow him in to her circle yet.

Someday.

For now... "Computer, start program yankee uniform mike alpha zero five one eight." Was all that would do. The program began and a familiar nicker began the soul soothing while the arid heat on the Sonoran Desert prickled along her skin.

---

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Lt Commander Tristan Neyes
Counselor
USS VINDICATOR

 

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