Joint Personal Log | Capt Ivanova & Cmdr PontBrillant - “Anywhere, I Would Have Followed You”

Posted on Fri Sep 26th, 2014 @ 8:19am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Vlimar PontBrillant

2,869 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?
Location: Various locations

-=- Deck 1 - CO's Ready Room -=-

Vlimar slowly crossed the bridge and approached the doors of the Captain's Ready Room. He paused for a few seconds, his back to the wall, observing the area nonchalantly, searching for prying eyes. At that time of evening the night shift usually had already begun their duty and the hallways were quiet. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, feeling like a 14 year old teenager ready to tell his crush that he liked her. However, he was a 45 years old teenager doing something like it. Resting his back on the wall, he laughed softly, silently
at himself as he shook his head. He took a deep breath, gaining courage and crouched down next to the CO's door, reaching into his pocket. Slowly, he retrieved a piece of parchment paper, folded thin, and slid it under the door. Immediately confirming that it did go through, he stood on his feet and almost ran towards the Turbolift.

Rochelle had been up, pacing, dictating to a PADD her log for the day, when she noticed the white square of paper appear from under the door. Her voice faltered as she walked towards it, stooping to pick it up from the carpet where it lay. "End log." She called as her fingers ran over the paper's surface and the elegant black scrawl of ink that formed her name across the top of the parchment. Standing once again she carefully opened it, unfolding the layers until it revealed the note beneath. The handwriting was a work of art, long and beautiful -- sophisticated not unlike the note's author.

"A tree grows with time and nurture, as does love. For every seed, a place. A place where, as of today, shall witness our beginnings."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth and her head shook as she folded it back up. Somewhere in middle school a young boy was wishing he had the suave skill of the note's elusive writer. She stood there for a long while, considering her options and those that were dictated by time and privilege. "Damn it." She sighed and slipped the note in the waistband of her uniform's slacks before ordering down the lights and leaving her Ready Room.

The Arboretum was dark and warm, it's synthetic winds blew softly through the tree leaves. The path she walked was of cobblestone, weaving and twisting through the carefully cultivated plants. It eventually gave way to a wooden bridge that crossed the creek that ran through as a natural source of water. "For every seed a place." She mused to herself as she took pause at the crest of the bridge, resting her hands on the railing and peering down into the koi filled waters below.

From behind her Vlimar left the tree nursery on the other side of the bridge and slowly, silently approached Rochelle. As he looked at her, he couldn't help to notice her silhouette forming a black shadow in the weak light offered by the simulated moon. Her face was reflecting onto the water, often broken by koi leaping for food and returning back into the depth of the creek. The image was striking, she was beautiful, pure.

As he approached on the bridge, as much effort he put to silence the noise, the wooden planks creaked under his weight, breaking the almost absolute silence of the arboretum and revealing his presence. Faithful to his promise to her, he did not touch her, but came to rest behind her.

Crickets sang the lilting songs and seconds passed to minutes with the Captain watching her fish and working to form thoughts into coherent sentences. She knew who it was, the handwriting having been a dead give away -- she recognized the same pressure and scrawl on the bottle of wine he'd presented her back on Qo'noS. Vlimar PontBrilliant didn't know when to give up, when to allow the chase to die and the hope to fade into nothingness. It was a trait both frustrating and endearing to the delicate little woman he hovered near. "Tell me," She breathed, the sudden breach of an exquisite silver and black colored fish making her flinch back ever so slightly in surprise at his size and the height of his leap. "what seed has been sown by me coming here tonight?"

Vlimar smiled at the phoenix. The question was straight to the point, honest. It deserved the same quality of answer, otherwise why continue with the masquerade and the games? "You have planted the seed of intrigue, of beauty and...", he said, visibly holding back, lowering his head. He reached to touch her, resisting his urge, bringing his closed fist to his lips and biting the outside of his hand. {{Relax, son, relax}}.

"Love.", he finally added, softly, barely audible. He wanted to scream it, but, with time. He had learned that silence and whispers could move the world, while screams moved the weak. Though he knew that Rochelle was not weak by any means. Following the uttering of the dreaded word, he took a deep breathe, waiting for a reaction.

Love.

A four letter word more dangerous than any knife, gun or phaser based weapon ever known or would come to pass. It had started wars and soothed them again, healed the broken and cured the bitter. She knew it well, the emotion that raged behind it and begged for her all consuming attention. It pained her and left her invigorated all at the same time. Rochelle shook her head slowly, not daring to look at him for fear of what she may find written in those piercing blues of his. "Love..." She replied, her eyes now studying the grain of the wood plank railing and how it flowed like water of its own kind beneath her fingers, "That's a strong word to use, I caution against it." Her eyes closed as another breeze passed over the bare skin of her throat just over her quickening pulse.

The man kept looking at the woman, silent. He felt his heart pounding so hard as if it wanted to rip apart from his body. One hand on his heart, the other flowed in the empty space between them, wanting to reach for her, but prohibited from it. He opened his mouth, then closed it again twice, thrice. Finally, courage overflew his temper: "Unless it is the only one that fits." he answered, his hand opening towards her, in the darkness of the night.

When her eyes reopened, the moon caught them first and lit them with something other than simple light. Behind their icy depths lay knowledge and a decent helping of hurt and savagery all rolled exquisitely into two beautiful works of art. Her head shook and she was careful as she turned to face him, ready to look upon him. Her fingers reached to rest just shy of his, close enough to feel their heat radiating in the night. In that moment they weren't held captive by a starship, they were standing somewhere almost ethereal and captured only by the darkness and the moon that shone upon them like a spotlight. "And what do you know about where such a thing fits and how it does?" She saw him there, illuminated by something far more clandestine than good ol' stella luna, something deeper and greater that built and shone from within. She'd seen it, or at least a trace of it, on Qo'noS and chose to run from it then. Running was still an option, this was still her playground.

Vlimar observed Rochelle, looking at her face, her eyes, her nose, her mouth and her hair. He was still in amazement of their beauty, perfection. He wanted to leap to her, take her into his arms, feel her skin on his, her breath on his face. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her. To her question, there was only one answer that could be said, the painful, raw truth.

"To both, I know as I feel them everyday since I have met you." he declared, directly. "I think of you every single moment I am far from your presence.", he added, closing his eyes, controlling his emotions and his will to grab her.

His words stilled her heart for a moment with their excruciating resilience and risk. Each note was agony for him, begging for the chance of rejection just as it hoped for the valor of her hand in understanding. She blinked, visibly taken back by his answer, forced to put them in perspective. She remembered the first moment she truly had come to know him, that moment on the dance floor where she challenged him with her wit. Had she truly burnt and left a mark? She'd intended for Amelia to meet him, to know him -- and now this. It had all culminated at a point of near despair where the Frenchman had lost his edge and lain his sword at her feet. Her knight. Her courageux chevalier. "This is the part where I ask why..." She warned and left the safety of the railing to stand before him, trusting him to keep his promise as she let her fingertips touch his if only barely.

In the darkness, he opened his eyes, looking at Rochelle. "Why?" he asked, pausing. "Why... Is there a reason why one would love? Is there a purpose? To love is to live. And I am feeling alive like I've never felt before." he replied, reaching for the railing as his knees threatened to fail him. Rochelle, the darkness, the silence. It all summoned him to grab her, to hug her. To fill the emptiness in his hands, he grabbed the rail firmly, breathing, restraining his own will.

She side stepped him as he went for the rail, allowing him to seek purchase against the security there as she measured his words ever so carefully. Their roles were reversed, the woman now standing on the archway of the bridge with the man now using the banister for support and safety. That four letter word threatened to fell him, to leave him broken there in the moonlight as he poured his soul out to her and offered it in kind. Love had been what killed Landon Neyes, she knew this entirely way too well -- and she also knew that to love in Starfleet, as a Captain, was to eventually order that love to meet its maker. Death. A five letter word that hung so precariously in the balance, laughing as it watched mere mortals cringe and shy away from life simply to avoid it. "To love is to die, Vlimar..." Her voice broke their impasse, curling through the air to find his ears. "I won't allow it. Not when you have other options and choices, life being one of them."

"To die?" he asked, loudly, passionately, as he turned quickly to face the petite Captain. "To die..." he said, more softly, mere centimeters from her face. "No, my dearest Rochelle, to love is to live. I know about the past, I know about my past, but let me assure you that loving will not channel death upon you, not now. Not this time. This is different. I am different." He claimed, obviously only finding empty promises to fight the argument. Vlimar's eyes were wide open, both with passion and sincerity, and absolutely fixated on Rochelle's, where, even in darkness, they shone brightly.

"And what if I had to order you to your death?" She asked, her chin lifting as it always did when she sought to defy something. He was so close, so near, she could see the way the stars and the synthetic light of the moon all came to line his handsome features, begging her to understand and to see things his way. She simply couldn't. "What if I had to demand that of you, as a Captain? You're not immortal... None of us are." Rochelle's head shook, mostly at the words she found coming from her lips as if she were even entertaining the thought. She wouldn't mourn again, couldn't allow her heart to feel the pain of being completely and utterly dashed ever again. Of that she was adamant even if it meant she never allowed herself to love again.

Vlimar hung his head down in submission. "I would welcome it.", he replied softly. "If it is what, truly, would make you happy, make you smile... It would be worth it.", he claimed, looking back up at her. "Mourir d'amour est mourir pour une raison, une passion. Un belle mort...", he replied, softly.

"That's just it." She said, reaching to bring the cool tips of her fingers just barely beneath his chin, guiding it back up. "It would kill me." Her lips forced the words out though they began to die immediately in the ghost of a whisper as she sought his eyes with hers. Rochelle knew deep in her heart that as a Captain it was entirely way too likely that she'd be forced to make such a decision in order to protect the greater good of the ship, of Starfleet -- it was then she understood so perfectly why she and Landon had fought the raging tide of their emotions for as long as they had, out of fear for not wanting to be responsible for the other's sudden undoing or to feel the heartbreak that would rage within the moment the other died. How sinister was life to have allowed such a thing to come to pass without so much as a meager warning?

She swallowed hard, letting her fingers slip from the warmth of his skin once again though never daring to pull her eyes away from his as she listened to the magic of that moment for all it was worth.

Vlimar couldn't help but to lean forward at her comment, as if he wanted to kiss her, to prevent her from saying what he was saying. Obviously held back by his lasting promise, he simply brought his lips to her ear and murmured "If you prevent yourself from allowing love in for fear of death, you let her control your destiny. You control it, you have a chance to prove that love is, in fact, life. We will all die someday, my love, but I choose to die with my heart full, having loved you." he said, his lips barely touching her ear.

"I can't..." Rochelle breathed, her skin set ablaze by the nearness of his lips. The greatest thing one could ever learn was how to love and be loved in return. She couldn't remember who had pioneered such a thought, but she remembered it as she shifted her weight in threat of leaving him standing there alone in the darkness. "Love me by serving Starfleet with everything you are." She whispered, her own lips so close to his ear as their cheeks nearly grazed one another.

Vlimar listened to the words she spoke, shaking his head. Under no circumstances was he to accept that serving as loving, not for a second. "I cannot. I already serve Starfleet as a mistress. I want to love you as my own, as you are. I want to be with you, to fight with you and to support you." he added, his words cutting through the silence of the arboretum, echoing into the depth of the creek. "I want to love you by being with you." he concluded, frankly, honestly.

Her own head shook and her hands found his, holding them in their tiny grasp. "Stop." She said, her nose tipping down to avoid his eyes as she drew away from his warmth. "You don't want me, Vlimar. You deserve far better than anything I could ever offer you. Far better." Instead she offered him the saddest of smiles before the cold, steely resolve of the Captain chased away Rochelle the woman. Her hands left his, dropping to her sides as she proverbially picked herself up. "We both need to find sleep, we only have a few hours before we reach the source of the emergency beacon."

Vlimar sighed. He knew she was right and that there was no happy ending to this chapter of their story. He nodded, almost sadly. "You are better than you think, dearest Rochelle." he replied. "Perhaps, one day, you will think I am worthy of you..." he added, prior to offer her a soft smile and turned to walk away.

She sighed, her head shaking as she watched him go. Calling after him would only be suicide on her part as she clung tightly to her steely resolve on the matter. The silence of the night once more swallowed her until she herself made way for her quarters, the crickets serenading her as she walked.

As he reached the end of the path, Vlimar turned and looked back, hoping to see Rochelle, smiling. But darkness was already taking its place and, through the lack of light, he walked out.

---

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR

&

Commander Vlimar PontBrillant
Strategic Operations Commander
USS Vindicator

 

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