JPL | COM. Ivanova, Cmdr. Dahe'el - "I Was Looking For a Soft Place to Fall" pt. V/V

Posted on Sat Jan 10th, 2015 @ 12:52pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

1,814 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

"When you're an alien in a xenophobic society, as much as it tries not to be the Federation still is when it comes to some particular species, people like me can find it difficult to make friends, let alone find someone we trust enough to let them get close," Almar replied as he cocked his head slightly, his obsidian eyes lined with nothing but the truth of his statement.

Turning off the tap, Rochelle shook her head and reached to dry her hands. "That's their problem, their loss." She huffed, taking up her glass of wine and finishing it off. He'd been right, it was a shame they'd wasted the rest on the fish. By the end of the night, she'd likely have been happy to hide in her bedroom with a bottle to herself, and that was saying something for someone who rarely touched the stuff, and never without company. "Almar..." She said, setting the glass down and gingerly stepping over to him, "I want you to listen to me and not just to yes me to death." Sliding into his lap, she straddled his knees and took his jaw in her still damp hands, her eyes finding and searching his. "You deserve to be happy, to have everything you've ever wanted in life and not to just hide behind some fucked up pretense or another. You're better than that."

His arms instantly found their way around her waist and his rough hands found the small of her back. Holding her close and breathing in her scent again bought him the same peace that it had bought him when he had acted as her guardian of the night, the silent alabaster watcher warding off the terrors of the night that sought to tear her down after the horrors that had befallen her on Notura and then later on the Vindicator too. "Rochelle, at the moment I have everything I could wish for. It might seem small to some people but I feel as if I am valued. on the Vindicator I am more than my appearance, I am more than Cardassian, I am Almar Dahe'el, I am the Chief Engineer, I am the second officer." he rattled off from the depths of his soul, the deep obsidian of his eyes seemed to flash when he spoke, "I have friends, I've been bought into a family, I'm happy."

Rochelle's fingers began to tremble as they cupped his face. Her thumbs stroked along his cheeks as he spoke and she listened in earnest, unable to contain a smile as she knew he was right. On the Vindicator, Almar was much more than simply a man, more than an officer or an Engineer -- he'd become a quintessential part of daily life. Her life, and she didn't want to hurt him with everything that had transpired over Christmas. The falsely replicated blue mark on her wrist burnt like acid against her nerves. It was psychosomatic, not really burning, but it still charred against her soul as a lie to someone she honestly and truly loved. The better part of her wanted to cry, the other part wanted to absolve into him and never let go.

Always gentle... He could crush her, snap her spine with nothing more than a flick of his wrist and leave her broken on her kitchen floor, but she knew he would never. It wasn't in his makeup, and even if it was, he couldn't harm her. There had been so many nights that he'd spent quietly rubbing her back as she fought the demons of the night, shepherding her through whatever battles waged in her dreams. Many times she'd lay awake with her back to him just thinking and feeling. But... Vindicator had come first, she would always come first. That was to be the cross he bore, and she was helpless to that call. Rochelle simply couldn't, and wouldn't, demand anything different from him. "But you're even more than that." Her voice sounded so small as she shook her head, "Vindicator doesn't define you, you help define her."

"I used to be defined by my work, I was the consummate professional. I had to be because I couldn't risk letting anything get close enough to develop into something else," the Cardassian said, feeling her tremble as she drew her hands across his face and took a breath in that spread his chest slightly, "I've grown in my time on the Vindicator and you've helped bring that out of me, Rochelle."

"I haven't done anything," She said with a more definite shake of her head and the bright ice blue of her eyes searched the depths of his, "Nothing special, anyway. Nothing that someone else, anyone else, couldn't have done." The knot in her throat was growing again, threatening to constrict her airway if something wasn't done about and quickly. "If anyone's done something special, Almar, it was you." Rochelle continued, feeling that steely resolve begin to buckle beneath his touch and the weight of knowledge resting against her. "You saved me. Over and over again, you've saved me and kept me..." The word burned as it raked against her tongue and the fullness of her pretty lips, "honest."

"Anyone could have, yes." Almar replied with a slight sigh as he pulled the young redhead close and rested his chin on her left shoulder, "But it was you who chose to, you broke the mold and opened yourself up to me and worked to get me to open up to you."

She shivered as he drew her closer and pressed her lips against his temple, shifting her hands to soothe his hair back and away. "You didn't give me a choice." Rochelle hummed, closing her eyes against the world, "You made me see things in a new light, made me grow up."

A quick sniff of the air told the Cardassian's sensitive nose that the fish was close to being done and that he should probably let the redhead off his lap, but his arms refused to remove themselves from around her, he wanted to keep her in that position for as long as possible but his brain kicked in and forced them apart, "I think the fish is about ready, Rochelle."

"Mushrooms are probably close." She muttered in acknowledgement, letting him release her and break their touch and bond. Swallowing that growing knot, "I'll let you tend to that and go get changed." Her hip and buttock sent threads of pain down her left leg as she put the weight on it necessary to swing off his lap in one well practiced movement. Years of horses had left her more than adept at such an action, but leave it to the snow to have her feeling feeble and awkward.

As she left, the Cardassian felt a tug at his heart and a smile crossed his face as he hunted around the kitchen cabinets for the plates, it only took a few minutes and he had a pair of them laid out, the fish was released from the pan and smelt wonderful and the mushrooms were saved from the fiery depths of the oven just in time.

In the confines of the master bedroom, Rochelle felt the levee break. Her chest heaved with the first spasms of emotional pain, swelling before she released the breath she'd drawn in as a quiet, choking sob. She almost didn't make it to her bed, her knees shaking and eventually giving out, but somehow was able to catch herself on the mattress simply by the grace of Gods and used a hand as support as she sunk the rest of the way to the polished yellow pine floor below. If she made a noise, let one cry rise even a fraction of a decibel, she knew the gig would be up and she'd have been caught red handed.

The tears came hot and heavy, stinging her eyes as they ran a torrent down her cheeks and she was merciless to do anything about them or the reason why they'd plagued her. Loving shouldn't have been as hard as it was. Falling in love was hard on the knees, it left them scabbed and ripped and bloodied when you hit rock bottom -- and Rochelle had hit rock bottom. Loving Landon came with a ease. She loved him fiercely, like a wild fire. He set her free, giving her that chance to flourish and fly in ways she'd never felt possible. But loving him came at a price; losing Almar, her touchstone. The one who had studiously worked to breathe life back into her when she was so very certain that she was going to die from a broken heart. She loved him. A love that was a slow burn, one that came from respect and dignity. But... Vindicator. The love of that ship came freely and fully. His heart would break regardless. She knew that, and it was highly likely that it would be the end of bond that had affixed itself between them.

Rochelle mourned for him and the betrayal she knew he'd soon feel as she sat there, curled in a ball, crying like a child in the dark holds of her chilly bedroom. It couldn't take long, she knew, just long enough for her to get changed and freshened up. A heavy wet cough forced her to draw a deeper breath, allowing her the chance to begin to take charge and pull herself together -- to crawl towards her dresser and drag out a pair of sweats and a camisole.

Five minutes later, she'd sniffled her last sniffle and aside from her eyes playing the role of Benedict Arnold, Rochelle looked no worse for wear as she half walked, half slid, down the hallway back towards the kitchen. "How bad were they burnt?" She asked.

"They weren't." Almar replied as he brandished two plates towards the table he had set for the pair of them, "I think I managed to get them just in time," he added as his eyes met hers and noticed the redness that spiked them, "What's wrong Rochelle?"

"Dust is wrong." One lie became another and another, all to cover an inconvenient truth. "I'm glad you caught everything in time." She covered, carefully stepping around behind him to find her place at the table. Food would quiet her troubled soul, sleep -- if it could be found -- would do the rest. Meanwhile the storm moving in from the south-west announced itself with the whistle of wind as it picked up and tore through the snowcapped pines outside. Cold. Dark. A broken mirror image of her psyche as she tried to piece herself together.

--- END LOG ---

Commodore Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

&

Commander Almar Dahe’el
Chief Engineering Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

 

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