Joint Log | Commo Ivanova, Capt Neyes - "Under the Stars" Pt. III/IV

Posted on Tue Jan 6th, 2015 @ 8:28am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Captain Landon Neyes

2,298 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill
Location: Observation Lounge

"You weren't on board yet, but when I was first promoted, and just a few other officers were on the bridge... I used to zone out. Granted there were no big fluffy pillows, or you. The viewscreen, which by the way is ridiculously oversized, was like portal to the stars at my fingertips. I had my own ship once or twice, but not like Vindicator. Not with the minds of a thousand people behind me.

"I could stare out this window for another 750 years, and it would never feel like it did when I was up there. Where you are now." Landon took his place at her side, sliding his legs under the blanket, and cozied up to her. He took an arm and pulled the blanket up around her, cradling her minute frame inside his own. "I could also say something about how the stars are never going to be as impressive as the sight right here in this room," he said, his eyes drifting toward her, "but that would be tacky."

The redhead hummed as he settled in and stole her for himself, cradling her diminutive form up against his chest. "The bridge is never empty enough for me to just sit and relax. I envy you that experience even if I doubt any onlookers would understand the need for big fluffy pillows and a blanket." She chuffed in mild amusement at the thought. "And now... Company." Sharing her favorite nighttime hiding space was quickly proving itself to be a far better alternative to the long lonely nights she'd spent in the past, even if it yielded to the sudden assassination of tradition and the faux pas associated with a proverbial fumble in the dark.

Looking up at him from the thick veil of her lashes, Rochelle's nose wrinkled in consideration of his schmaltzy offering. "And untrue." Landon was only half joking, using his own flippant nature as a shield to protect himself from whatever quick quip such a volley would provoke. "Lies are considered conduct unbecoming, Captain, whether you're currently commissioned or not." She chastised him with the poke of a pointed index finger to the belly, mere inches above the mottling around his belly button she'd denied herself the chance to explore earlier. He'd compared her to the stars, something many had done and none had successfully penetrated her acute defenses with in the past. It may have been the way he said it, or the look in his eyes, or the way he held her – or a thousand more 'or's – that made her believe in his sincerity. To him, she wasn't the Captain or some decorated officer. To him she was beautiful. To him she was his... His, whether she chose to acknowledge it or not. The single pointed index finger gave way to the flush fixture of her palm against his abdomen, feeling the taught muscles under the flimsy barrier of his shirt rise and fall as he breathed beneath her touch.

"While I have no obligation to explain my over-used, tacky, and apparently 'false' compliment," he teased her with a pretend glare, "I have been around the quadrant and back again a hundred times. I would rather sit in the silent dark with you... than spend an eternity looking at the glittering dust filling the universe." It was truth put in words, and Landon had the experience to know what was true about it.

Sitting along in The Room with Tr'Bak wordlessly threatening to interrupt any peace Landon might have found since their last session, there had been only one thing Landon missed more than his family, or his freedom.

"It would not be easy for a human to impress herself upon me like you have." He wormed his hands into position at her sides, "so be careful who you're calling a liar, young lady." A devilish grin formed at the curls of his mouth.

An eyebrow inched its way up as if in consideration of his challenge and her skin tingled beneath his touch, "And just how did I accomplish such a feat?" Rochelle questioned, pushing up to sit more than rest against him, and it was clear that her stubborn nature had once again won out – she’d chosen to play chicken with fire once again, but this time it wasn't with the Devil and push come to shove, she'd embrace the consequences. Rochelle was a lot of things up to and including being carefully measured in the manner in-which she conducted herself as a Captain. So much so she'd been called an 'Ice Queen' and 'Frigid', never seen letting her hair down and always shouldering away from would be suitors. She'd chosen not to give anyone reason to doubt or question her abilities as a skilled, though often brutal, tactician. Landon, however, had always curled his finger and called forth her more playful side, the one that had been steadily tamped down over the years and all but extinguished over the past five months. It was as if he truly enjoyed provoking the spirited little spit fire, squeezing from her the very center of her essence no matter how much calamity it caused and now it was as if she were poised to simply explode and go super nova.

All for him.

Silly and 'tacky' as his approach had been, Landon had taken a torch to the ice she'd so carefully built up around her core since his so-called death. It wasn't the cheap lines that did it, it was the honesty that he packed behind and all around the playful words and carefree nature that he executed them with. Even the grin that painted his lips and the twinkle in his eye, and the way he'd sidled up behind her with his toying reminder that the binds that once held them apart had been undone, set out to be her own undoing. While the past begged her reach out and tie them back in a knot like a hangman's noose, the promise of the future saw her throwing them away and instead balling his shirt up in the palm of her hand, knotting it between her fingers and using the fabric as an anchor in order to swing a practiced leg over his lap. The redhead's heart raced and the past, the part of her that promised she'd get hurt again, screamed 'what the Hell are you doing?!' as she settled her weight in the saddle of the Trill's narrow hips. "Or else what?" She knew he could likely feel the adrenaline induced hammering of her heart beneath his chilled hands as she dared to provoke him for response again. Her thighs gripped his as she further feigned bravery by leaning forward to bring them nearly nose to nose. Rochelle tread across foreign territory, albeit nervously, and refused to give up the hold she had on his shirt. It had become her safety net the same way cowboys clung for dear life to tattered lead ropes on a bronc. It wouldn't save her from falling – she didn't want it to.

Instead of embracing her like the slowly burning fire inside him demanded, he looked up at her with a slightly upturned brow. Landon didn't want to appear sad, because that wouldn't describe the emotional torrent inside him. Everything he'd wanted was now true, and Rochelle was apparently willing to entertain the idea that their relationship had transcended any formal shackles it had previously equipped. Yet now he looked up at her, and the fear of it suddenly ending crippled him. Countless times he'd dreamed she was next to him, only to have a wave of icy water crash away his fragile mental escape. Nobody would be there when he woke up, yet every time his heart drowned in horrific disappointment when nothing met him in waking, except the darkness. Landon became accustomed to having his dreams crushed and blown away with careless malice.

Their eyes locked and he buried the guilt, terror and pain, in favor of living in the 'now'.

"You impress me..." he kept looking at her, his voice whisper quiet, "because you're alive."

Landon could think of so many others who would have failed where she forced herself and everyone else to press on. Maybe it was the people she surrounded herself with, or just her own brand of tactical ability. "And nothing. No consequences from me. Just admiration." He pressed his hands firmly against her back, drawing her closer against him.

The truth behind him, behind them, hit like a nine iron to the back of the head.

Rochelle's fingers released his shirt from the nervous death grip they held, allowing the bunched up material to fall slack against Landon's belly once again. Both had been convinced the other was dead. Both had mourned a false ghost. The two of them tip toed and tap danced around the truth of the matter, instead choosing to tease and court like school children; picking on and challenging one another. What they should have done was sink their teeth into the fruit of the matter and condemned the icy cage of 'death' that had separated them for so long.

Releasing the breath she hadn't realized she was holding, Rochelle allowed him to draw her close and she in turn wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly to her. 'Sorry' came to mind, an apology for not knowing better, for being fooled by such a convincing lie, but it failed to produce itself. She couldn't have known or stopped that course of history, neither of them could have and hindsight was always a crystal clear twenty-twenty. If either had known, she'd never have been in the position to be snatched in the first place. He admired her. Loved her. Chose to breathe life in her direction, but both froze out of nothing but constant concern that every moment they lived was a falsity.

Rochelle pressed a kiss against the spotted skin of his neck just south of his earlobe. "I'm afraid." She breathed in absolute honesty, "Partly that this is just another dream and partly that you'll decide to up and leave and lead your life somewhere far away from here." Resting her head on his shoulder, she held him beneath a blanket of star shine and could feel as the icy walls around her heart melted and crashed, slowly allowed her to bare her soul to him. "I love you, Landon, I can't lose you again."

Neyes made a face, and pushed her up, rolling them both over onto the pillows at their side. She was so easy to move, and to love. "You have more important things to worry about. I am exactly where I want to be, otherwise I'd have taken to the wind and found something more interesting than Starfleet to keep me busy", sarcasm dripped.

"As far as I'm concerned, nothing's more important." She replied with indignation, half due in part to his mild rebuttal and half to being shifted as if she were nothing more than dandelion fluff. The threat of him leaving was gone, dead, and buried – that alone was worth the near constant reminder of her diminutive size when left in his hands. With a small sigh she surrendered to her new position, tucking herself against him and reaching to free a tangled bit of hair from beneath her shoulder, tossing it back against the pillow that had caught her.

"Did you know you can make more than your weight in latinum per year if you sell glossed spare parts to Caitian starships? For some reason they love those shiny pipes." He felt her body beneath him, and he leaned in to kiss her. Their lips touched, and it felt as if they'd both been waiting for it their entire lives. Every kiss felt like it lasted his entire existence, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

“That's not – “ Whatever words had made up the final lilt of the young Captain's retort stilled on her lips, captured and erased by the balmy satin of his. Each little touch worked steadily to further destroy doubt and to sweep away any niggling sense of professionalism that dared remain, though her mind spun with a thousand reasons to end it before it could burn out of control. While Rochelle knew that they both may have shared the same sincere concerns, the ones that said every moment they've been given together was nothing more than a dream, she was quickly reminded of reality which in turn threatened their existence each and every day. To allow him was to allow tragedy to steep in the shadows. Anything she would have said in protest was apt to only make its presence known as a whimper against his lips.

Dickens, however, had once said 'Reflect upon your present blessings, of which every man has many; not on your past misfortune, of which all men have some.', Dickens could be damned. Though, another touch, another kiss and her mind was ready to say that Dickens was a genius and a saint. It would be control, however, that hung fast as the last tie to cut, the one that reminded her that she was the Captain of a Starfleet vessel and they were most definitely exploring dangerous territory without the safety net of quarters, walls and boundaries. All of the above defied a great deal of even her wildest of dreams and her stalwart approach at leadership.

That last tie, however, frayed and finally snapped as she returned and savored each exchange.

-- continued in part IV --

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS Vindicator

Captain Landon Neyes
Former CO / Unassigned
USS Vindicator

 

RSS Feed