JL | Com Ivanova, Capt Neyes - "The Kind of Snow That Kindles Fire" pt III/III

Posted on Fri Apr 24th, 2015 @ 2:41am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Captain Landon Neyes

3,365 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Agua Mala

The next hour or so passed in nothing short of a blur. Landon found most of his clothes and managed to get Rochelle back hers in a timely fashion. His hands were tired, and muscles relaxed. They hadn't said much afterward, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. He presumed she was finding a place to start the conversation.

"I missed you." He said finally, a genuine elation to his voice. "Maybe you couldn't tell."

"Really?" Rochelle eyed him with a slightly elevated brow, her hands busied with the task of smoothing her hair back into the same severe twist she'd carefully created earlier that morning. "I couldn't tell at all." She added with a wry little smile, deciding that her task was well enough completed. Finding the pin had been an interesting, but worthy venture. Her nose twitched slightly as she regarded him, and her hands smoothed along her tunic, straightening it for what had to be the hundredth time since he'd insisted on zipping her back up, bringing them full circle.

"I..." She started, carefully considering her words, "Received an interesting package while you were away. Cecil said you'd told him what to do in case you ever had to leave." The Commodore's teeth worried her lower lip for a second before spoke again, "I know you know I have it," Her heart pitched nervously in her chest as she tried to formulate words into sentences. It had been heavy on her mind since the moment his holographic image had asked for her hand. "and I want you to know that I won't bind you to that offer if you're not sure or if you never really thought it would happen that way or..." Her voice trailed off as she wound up having to tuck a piece of hair back behind her ear in an almost sheepish fashion.

"Rochelle, come on." He filled the trailing silence immediately. "Of course I wanted you to have it. Sorry it was in holographic form... but I needed you to know in case I didn't get the chance to say it to you beforehand." He said as he closed with her, and reached behind her head gently. Unclasping the necklace, he separated the ring from the chain, and held it in his hand. It was minute compared to his grasp, but beautiful nonetheless. With a sheepish smile, he looked around at the ground.

"I uh... oh like this." He quizzically knelt onto one knee. "You'll have me, yeah?"

The eyebrow lifted again as her eyes followed Landon's slow descent to his knee. Even in that position, the top of his head reached above her ribs, reminding her of just how little she really was in the broad spectrum of things. Their awkward repose was humbling, proving that no matter their accolades on the battle field, or the ranks they held, they were still held fast by humility. He with his shy smile, her with her quiet anxiety; together they had managed to unbridle their facades and allow 'normalcy' to shine through in the most refreshing fashion. Studying his face, Rochelle nodded. It was a slow motion at first but steadily picked up intensity. "Yeah." She answered, "Yeah I think I will." The corner of her mouth tipped up in a slow smile, the rest of it following suit.

A beaming smile lit up his face as he put the ring on her finger, lovingly cradling her palm with his. It slid on easily, glinting off the faint glow of the orange lights. It was hardly the most romantic of locales to bring their union to bear, but to him she was the same no matter where they stood. Slowly rising he kissed her fingers on the ascent, thinking about all the troubles they'd faced together, and the memories they'd created before even knowing they were bound to share their lives.

"Worth it." He whispered, before turning back up to her with a teasing glint in his eye, "I'll need to move into your quarters, because Tristan and I burnt the safe house down. I hope that's ok?"

The added weight of the ring as it settled on her finger only served to solidify her decision and the levity of the situation. It was real. Life was changing and she'd have been branded a liar if she said she wasn't downright terrified of the implications. Rochelle's head cocked to one side at the sound of the question. "How... Why..." She paused, running her tongue over her still kiss-swollen lips and simply told herself that she didn't really want to know the details. It would be better that way. Less worry. Less chance of nightmares. "By all means, but Landon..." her brows furrowed and she sighed, reaching to stroke his cheek as she searched his eyes, "I'm worried. You shouldn't be here, but I can't let you go again." The hand stilled against his stubble covered skin, simply cupping his face in her ring glad hand. She knew she was looking for affirmation to be written somewhere across his face, a promise that the future was going to be bright instead of marred by the constant ducking and weaving they'd nearly killed themselves trying to avoid. Sending him off had snuffed out a massive portion of her soul, one that had only just been rekindled by the careful way he stoked the flame that burnt brightly within her. "I just can't." The Commodore had never known co-dependence having grown up alone from such a tender age, but the man was like a drug and she was hopelessly addicted.

"You say that like I would leave. Again." He added, "I'll fill you in, Rochelle. Don't worry. I'm sure Archer will have questions anyway. Besides, you'll need to tell me all about what happened while we were away." Feeling her hand against his face brought a welcome calm, something he didn't get to feel except with her. It was part of the reason he loved her, and why he needed her; she was his sanctuary.

"Shall we?" He held out a hand.

Confusion. Elation. Nirvana. They'd all been attained and they all tried to paint themselves across her flushed face. This would be the second time she'd count her blessings she was still smattered with the remnants of her encounter with the Atlantean winter. It had kicked her ass. "I trust you will." Rochelle nodded slightly, allowing her hand to slide firmly into the comfort of his. She'd let it be tabled, even if the worry still gnawed at the pit of her stomach and sent warning bells off in her head. Either he'd won some war he was yet to reveal, or he had gone completely insane and either way she knew she'd find some way to protect him, or she'd die trying. Losing Landon, again, simply wasn't an option. Not while she was still breathing.

Her fingers laced with his, squeezing in gentle reassurance both to herself and him that things were alright. They could do this. They'd succeed. "We shall." She nodded; centered herself, and reached to the console she'd been perched upon mere moments earlier. A few flicks of her fingers, plus a silent prayer that those doors had come complete with some element of sound dampening, and she'd revealed them to the rest of the busy promenade.

"As far as Atlantis," The decidedly elated young Commodore began as they took their first blinking step back out into the open together, "Let's just say it's on the same list as Notura. Not worth discussing."

Landon eyed her for a moment as they walked. She was the kind of woman who shut in the worst of herself, and weathered the storm to protect those around her. Rochelle would probably cave if he pressed her for information, especially if the exchange of his story left it rather one-sided. Something gnawed at him, and it only took a moment for him to notice subtle changes in her.

"Not a lot of sun on Atlantis?" He asked, feigning humor as he looked her from shoulder to shoulder.

"Sun..." Rochelle shrugged, nodding slowly as if reassuring herself that there had indeed been sun, "and then snow. I think I hate snow." She said, glancing briefly at him, unnerved by the intensity of his questioning gaze. He wouldn't rest until the story was told and likely wouldn't rest afterwards either. Damned if she did and damned if she didn't, she knew it would only be worse if he heard from someone other than her. "I found my real father..." She offered. It seemed like a good thing to open with, so much better than the alternative of 'some psychotic political zealot cut my throat from ear to ear when we charged her with everything under the Atlantean sun, but I got better! Rotek had it under control. No big. Want lunch?'.

"Huh." The brightness in his face faded for a moment as his eyes wavered beneath her chin. "You're missing some freckles." It was odd. Almost like... no. She would tell him if something like that had happened. "About your father. That's... good. Yeah? Maybe."

"M..." Her voice cracked as the knot in her throat from earlier made an encore presentation. "Missing freckles?" She asked, pointedly studying a passerby that had studied the couple until Landon spoke again, "Considering he's the Commander in Chief of Starfleet..." She chuckled almost nervously, ducking her head. "I knew he and my mother had been close during their time on Deep Space Nine, I just never had reason to think anything different than what I'd been told." Rochelle sniffed, finally looking over at him. "She lied to him. Something about blaming her pregnancy on a drunken screw up with another man, let him go on to lead his political career and her to go on and take over the Sirenian." The story seemed to resonate with her and how similar her mother's reasons for chasing Hark away had been to her own for denying Landon; careers and political gain.

None of that meant anything anymore.

Kyym had come dangerously close to ending their story on a far more tragic note, one that she watched Landon steadily try and figure out as he studied her with eyes filled with a fine mix of worry and careful scrutiny. The gig was up. "Rotek said the freckles will come back as soon as I see some sun." Her voice found footing as they entered the lift. "Docking ring." she called.

Landon squinted at her neck as they got on the lift, leaning in slightly to get a closer look. "Uh-huh." His eyes flashed from the evidence of her person to look at her with a bemused expression. "Did he tell you that before or after someone pealed open the skin at your throat..." The use of a blade wasn't anything new to Landon, especially when utilized as a weapon. An eyebrow shot up slightly as he leaned back.

Squeezing his hand, Rochelle knew the tale would need to be told and carefully tipped her head in a fashion where the barely there scar would be overtly apparent in the bright white halogen lights of the lift. She swallowed her own pulse, or at least that's what it felt like, "There was an Ambassador that had her eye on the throne and she used the Vindicator's safety and Almar's life to try and manipulate me into taking an Atlantean husband." She slowly began to explain, her eyes closing lightly to keep from watching Landon's face as he inspected the healing wound. "I did something stupid that turned out to be something smart, took control of the weapon she was intending the use against the ship, and she made a last ditch assassination attempt when she realized she couldn't win." The redhead did her best to keep her voice soft and nonchalant, trying her damnedest to play it off as just another day on the block even though she knew, and feared, just how close she'd come to never seeing another day, let alone his face, ever again.

Landon blinked. "She's dead, yeah?" A casual tone entered his voice.

For a moment, Rochelle wasn't quite sure how to respond. Her eyes reopened and her head returned to its normal position as she eyed him before nodding, "She was found dead in her cell a few days after we broke orbit. No one knows who did it, but it isn't like she didn't have enemies." She breathed as the station's lift patiently continued on its way. "They're a race that will never be happy. Admiral Archer says if you take the aggression of the Klingons and the deceitfulness of the Romulans, you get the Atlanteans and I'm inclined to agree with him. I don't ever want to go back, but judging from the Admiral's expressions something tells me that I haven't seen the last of that damned planet."

It was her turn to exhibit the expression of bemusement, pursed lips and all. "The point is that I'm ok. I'm tired and a little raw, but I'm ok." It was the third time she'd risen from the ashes like the fiery mythical bird she'd been likened to, and now more than ever she'd come to realize just how charmed a life she'd lead thus far. She hated it, but she was frail and far from immortal – and more so, that mortality needed to be wrapped carefully in cotton wool, preserved and protected if ever keeping Landon happy and sane was to be attained. Her world was steadily shifting and she steadily growing further and further away from the near destruction that had come for her on Notura.

Losing him would be ultimate death, a blow from which she couldn't recover and a memory that rekindled the complex notes of irritation and concern she'd had pushed aside by the need to know he was real and alive. "But you..." Her head shook with sullenness, "You're a wanted man who's only been on the run what... Six weeks? Seven?" The delicate taper of her face tilted once again, allowing her eyes to bore into his in a quiet demand for answers. "Yet you just paraded across the promenade of Cold Station Theta like you owned the joint. There're more bounty hunters sitting in the bars on this rig than I can count, Landon, yet the ones I could pick out just looked the other way as if it hurt to lay eyes on you."

"Walking astride a Starfleet Commodore has its perks, but you're right. We hauled ass back this way when I... well it doesn't matter, really. I had an experience. Then Tristan and I decided it was best if we rejoin the ship. Since we started back there hasn't been a peep from anyone really. I checked with a contact near the TSC and nobody even seems to remember we were ever on their radar. I mean they still don't like me, but they aren't trying to hunt us down and kill us anymore.

Also..." he trailed off. "This isn't possible, but the cloned symbiont is gone. We woke up from some insane dream one day, and then we were on the Horizon, pushing max warp on our way back here. Tristan is fine though. We checked his isoboromine levels and ran a full medical workup best we could on the runabout. There's nothing wrong with him. He remembers Neyes' memories and Notura, but he isn't joined. In fact... there's no evidence he ever was."

Landon's face was a mix of confused white pallor and intrigue. There was, or had been something terribly wrong with the last week. Landon and his brother had been delayed in their effort to disappear, and the TSC were hot on their heels. Now they seemed to be without a care in the world as far as the commission was concerned. Honestly he had been terrified by the entire ordeal. Not only was Tristan no longer a joined Trill, but Landon had witnessed the birth of a daughter and the death of his wife in the same 15 minute spread. A nightmare would have been welcome.

"What the..." Rochelle's eyebrows furrowed and she crossed the small distance between them to stand on tip toe and rest her palm against his forehead. It was cool to the touch and far from feverish. "Are you feeling alright?" She asked incredulously, "What you're saying doesn't make sense, Landon. Symbionts don't just disappear and the commission doesn't just stop hunting people." Her head shook for emphasis as she dropped her hand from his head. "What... Happened and where the Hell is Tristan?" She asked, taking up his hand again as the lift chimed and tugging him from it and out onto the relatively empty docking ring. Vindicator had been brought in far away from every other ship to help mediate traffic issues. Her massive, hulking, self had created quite the logistical drama for the poor Operation's team, but Admiral Red had figured out how to pencil her in and away from the two Odyssey class vessels; Illustrious and Enterprise. The two Security officers guarding the Vindicator's umbilical nodded their hellos, quizzically eyeballing Landon as he was towed along by the ever careful Commodore. She didn't trust this. Something was wrong. Tristan would never have allowed Landon free rein if something hadn't either gone drastically wrong... Or Landon's story was reality and not some fantastic fairytale. Or maybe she was dreaming... Or dead. Casting a glance over her shoulder and catching Landon's harrowed expression she crossed dead off the list.

"I know how it sounds, but we don't have any answers right now. For the moment we appear to be safe, at least from what I can tell. Tristan went back to the runabout after I came to see you, I can give you our coordinates. We detected some other Starfleet ships in the area after we picked up your signal, something going down?" Landon said.

"We need to find ans--" She paused, her lips pursed, and her head shook. Something nagged at Rochelle not to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. Doing so likely would only lead to confusion, maybe break whatever spell of good fortune had been granted to them, and send things spiraling back out of control. "Have him bring the Horizon in for docking. I'll notify Ops not to ask questions." She finished instead, openly welcoming the trio home.

Home.

The word seemed so fitting, so warm. Vindicator, for all of her brawn and fire power, was just that. She was home. "Illustrious is Hark's flag ship. She joined us in Atlantis Prime, will be headed back to Headquarters in the next couple of days. Enterprise was brought in to accompany us on a diplomatic mission. It seems the universe has a new set of bad boys and they're enamored with the idea of joining the Federation." The Commodore explained, hardly caring that the information had been handed to her on a need to know basis. Landon, she decided, needed to know. "The crowned Princess of their empire has been aboard Enterprise as an ambassador for a few months, apparently." She added, casting a glance over at him as they made their way through the familiar corridors of their ship. The idea was simple; get him off the station and safely settled in up in the command suite, make perfectly sure she was perfectly put together, and run like Hell to make the command meeting with Amelia. A damn good plan if she'd ever had one.

“We’ll talk about it all later. Right now? You get inside there and don’t leave until I come back.” The doors to her quarters hissed open unceremoniously and standing on tip toe, she planted a quick kiss on the Trill’s lips before shoving him inside. He’d know better than to argue with her and from there she bolted to make that damned meeting.


--- end log ---

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

&

Captain Landon Neyes
Command Liaison
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

 

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