JDL | Capt Ivanova, Capt Neyes - "Time Goes By So Slowly" Pt. II/II

Posted on Wed Dec 10th, 2014 @ 4:02am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Captain Landon Neyes

3,475 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: All Hallows’

His gut turned over. There was no turning back from this now, not that he'd ever want to. The possibility that there wouldn't be a shocking reaction to his unmasking seemed less and less likely as he truly thought about it in those last few moments. In slow motion, he reached back up over his head with both hands and unhooked a false buckle on the back of the mask. Without having to say a word to the computer, he pulled the iron Dragon mask up before it shimmered and vanished into thin air. Left behind was simply the slightly ruffled image of Landon Neyes.

Disheveled cropped hair, and a thin bit of stubble at his chin, framed his face. The telltale Trill spots were there of course and his eyes shone with genuine, if hesitant, happiness. This was a moment he'd gone over in his fractured mind a thousand times. Not only while under the duress of the Romulans, but also after being rescued by her crew. He didn't want to imagine the swirling emotions or turmoil going through her head. Part of him simply wanted her to be happy he was alive, and leave it at that... but he knew too much about what had actually transpired to believe she would be so removed from his 'death'.

"Hi." He said, a stupid smile lit up his face, and he couldn't help his eyes getting a little glossy as he looked at her without the mask.

The first thing she saw as the mask disappeared were the spots lining up along his neck as the cloak fell away from the mask and its cowl rested down his back as a hood. Her eager eyes followed them to the revelation of his stubble covered chin and familiar lips, lips she'd only been allowed to taste during a time of tragedy but had often pondered what they'd feel like in happier times before. Next was his nose, the bridge of it attesting to having been broken a time or two, but adding an air of regal strength to the man's face... And then the eyes, the shape of them, the light of them tying off the rest of the picture as they lit with a smile and the mist of raw emotion.

Rochelle felt her breath catch, heard the gasp as her lips trembled and weakened to part as her jaw dropped and the smile faded. Her fingers curled into her belly, dragging across her bodice as she took a hasty step backwards and nearly tripped over a loose board. "L... Landon!" She managed to pant as her head and heart spun. It felt as if someone had kicked her in the ribs, and they burned against the constraints of her gown and corset, refusing to give her the air necessary to formulate thought and a proper sentence. It wasn't fair, he was a ghost, a replication, a figment of her imagination. He wasn't really there and she, once again, had been teased by her own emotions. No matter how many times she blinked, no matter how many times she shook her head, he wasn't going anywhere. He was there, smiling, speaking.

Leaving the heavy satin of her bodice, shaking fingers moved to feel only the skin of her bare upper chest and the rise of her collarbone where her combadge should have been. It became real then, the moment she could feel her own warm flesh beneath her fingers and chose to reach a trembling hand towards his face, hesitating only once before touching the rough stubble along his jaw. No intruder alerts had gone off and the heat of his skin and the texture of his five o'clock shadow promised he wasn't just another dream time apparition like she'd woken up from so many times before or some cruel joke of a hologram.

"You're..." Her heart skipped, once, twice as her thumb grazed the satin softness of his lower lip. "I..." Her head shook, a curl falling free to drape across her shoulder, "You died... You're dead. But you're here... But you're dead..." The familiar welling of panic rose in her chest, the sting of tears forcing her to blink several times and chase the snow flakes from her thick lashes. Rochelle couldn't run from him, though she knew she probably should have and the lack of oxygen combined with adrenaline forced her down further and steadily threatened to steal from her more than just her breath. She teetered on weakened knees to reclaim that one stolen step towards him with her lower lip quivering and chin dimpling as she fought to keep from crying. "I saw them take you..." She whimpered in a whisper, her eyes raking over his face and landing back on his with confusion and question smoldering within their glassy teary fathoms. Moreover, there was hope in them. Hope that he was real and by some miracle she'd been lied to and he'd made his way home to them... To her. There in the cold one more thing became ultimately apparent; she was going to faint.

Suddenly realizing it was his time to assume the not-so-stunned role, he slowly took her hand and pulled her closer, letting her use him to maintain her balance. "So I keep hearing." Landon said, brushing away her crazy little lock of hair that refused to take its place, and rested it behind her ear. He didn't really expect her to believe he wasn't dead, at least not right away. The Grants and Noah had told him she had grieved desperately for him; pain by which was only onset atop guilt of surviving her ordeal with the other Landon had shackled her in mourning. It wasn't necessarily going to be rose petals and bubble baths from this point forward. "It wasn't me, Rochelle. I don't know who it was, ...but it wasn't me."

Her eyes closed as he touched her and smoothed away her unruly forelock. Even in a time of such great uncertainty, Rochelle felt safe and secure beneath his touch. "No..." The unmasked Phoenix shook her head and pushed back against him, shivering from a thick mix of the frigid air and shock. "I want this to be real," She cried, "I want it to be you, for you to be alive and here with me..." Her words came as an anguished sob and her fingers brushed away the first of her tears.

Landon Neyes was dead. It played like a mantra over and over, begging for her to rationalize and run away. Hope, however, refused to let her go. It kept her planted there, frozen there in the safety of his arms. He was warm, vibrant and strong, a stark reminder of everything she'd fallen in love with and lost. "I want it so God damned badly."

He let her go when she pulled away, afraid he would accidentally force himself to her. Though maybe it was a little too late either way. A bitter sting of disappointment still echoing in her words, even though he had expected nothing more from her. Even though he wanted it so badly, there was no easy way to tell her he was alive, and had been all this time. When she'd spoken kind words on his memory to the crew, he was alive. When she'd read the letter written by his double, he was neither the author or the one who'd succumbed to the injuries they'd endured together.

Maybe if someone else had told her things would seem different, but even then she would have probably dismissed them, and it was impossible to know. She was rallying to defend herself from the impossible, and it was a fight he didn't expect to keep her in. To make her see that it was really him, he'd need more. He stood before her, the smile faded as he watched her cry.

"Computer, acknowledge." Neyes said softly. "Am I a hologram?"

"Negative. Voice print recognized as Captain Landon Neyes. Please be aware your record indicates-"

"End response." Neyes rolled his eyes and cut her off. "Rochelle, I have wanted this more than anything else since the last time I saw you. The... Romulans, they plucked me off Notura after you were captured," his voice started to break as the tears and the pain filled him up once again, "I woke up in a dark room and for five months all I thought about was you. I pictured your face. I imagined you talking to me. I had... dreams about stupid morning briefings and coffee. You kept me alive. You kept me sane.

"Please. It's really me. I am here. I am with you, and gods willing I have wanted to be for every day that has passed since I saw you last." He said, the happy hurt echoing in his voice. He didn't want her to suffer over him ever again, and his heart froze in anticipation of what she would do next. He'd pained over it since the first rush of air entered his lungs on the Vindicator.

"Five months..." She repeated, tearing tear brimmed eyes away to find his again. Five months of dreaming, of hurting, of longing... Five months of missed briefings. They'd been pointless, meaningless, but they'd started her day perched on the edge of his desk, or curled into a chair, pouring over reports that could easily have been stuffed and filed by a yeoman. She'd never complain, they'd given her him and a fodder for fantasy she'd never admit to, but more importantly the briefings were a constant touch stone they could depend on. "Romulans... Oh God..." Her hands came up to cover her mouth, the confusion and shock slowly dissipating to hurt and anger. Romulans. The same dirty sons of bitches that had attacked them just a few days prior...

Suddenly it clicked.

The missing survivor that Archer had said never existed, had sworn she'd mistakenly remembered due to her concussion. Tristan's distance, Andrea walking on eggshells, Amelia's almost Cheshire smiles... Logan and his pep talks promising that Landon knew she loved him, that he didn't blame her for his death and that he was safe and sound. At the time she'd let it be glossed over, hadn't thought much of anything - her head was still reeling from Mikkal and the battle. They all knew Landon had been brought aboard, but had covered it up until now, until the masquerade. The costume; Her mind drew her attention to it as he spoke, the intricate nature of it's sculpting, the hologram projected mask...

Noah.

Stepping forward, Rochelle looped her arms over his shoulders, her cheek grazing his jaw as she stood on tip toe to free the holo-emitter from where it rested on the armor's leather collar at the nape of his neck. Drawing it away, her hands began to shake anew, the quarter sized mark of the flying spaghetti monster sat proudly emblazoned for all to see though hidden unless one knew where to look - but there it was sitting in the palm of one of her hands, the low light and snow trying to highlight it's dark red plastic facade. "Cthulhu's brother." The Phoenix gushed and looked back up at the Dragon. He was there, real, alive. "Landon." She half-laughed, half sniffled his name, trembling while the emotional roller coaster threw her through yet another loop, adding relief and bliss to the chaotic mixture. This time she wouldn't be able to pull herself from the spiral, the emitter fell from her palm as her hand, along with the rest of her body, went limp and fell to the snow dusted deck in a heap of satin, glitter and feathers.

Neyes let her fall into her shock, while keeping her steady in his arms. They both dropped to the deck, her resting her up-done head in the crook of his cloak-covered arm. The plated knees of his boots pressed the snow away, sliding beneath her and keeping her dry. On the floor, snow falling gently against their costumes... he couldn't help but just take in the moment, knowing she was alright had settled so many demons inside him. The days of wondering what happened to his crew, or worrying she'd turned angry and cold were over. Even sitting in his quarters for a week hadn't prepared him for seeing her in person, and words slipped form his mind as her face had come into view. She was the image of everything he could see now. When he thought of uplifting acts and emotions, Rochelle Ivanova came to mind, and he was powerless to affect it.

"Rochelle." He whispered in response, the tears rolling down to his chin. It was like a dream come to life. A stream of words escaped the grasp of the universal translator as his face broke against the overwhelming sadness at all he'd missed, all he'd failed to do, all the pain he'd brought against her and the ship, and then twice again as rapturous joy forced the pain down to second fiddle. Me muttered sorrowful,

"I'm so sorry, for everything," he said, broken, and his teeth clenched.

They didn't need wit. They didn't need strength. Each knew the other almost implicitly. He would be there for her. She had saved his life, albeit unknowingly. There were days in Starfleet where Landon had spent more than his fair share of time battling the struggle within himself. His determination to have his career mean something consumed him, while outwardly his attention drifted. When Rochelle came into the picture she had brought with her the visage of potential, shaped by strife and injury. He identified with her on so many levels, rising to a terminal ending when he'd realized she was now walking in his shoes on a ship more alive and vibrant than ever before. He would support her, and protect what they both knew to be a treasure in the hell of a galaxy they traveled together.

Through the haze of her swimming mind, and the fog and pinpricks of consciousness that held her just at arm's length, but she could hear him speak. The little woman could hear her name and his apologies -- everything else seemed lost, jumbled and all but forgotten as she lay there fighting to stay above the darkness. Curse her corset, if she could have drawn a deep breath she'd have been fine and not forced to play the role of the wilting flower. Curse her injuries, Rotek had done well but had still demanded she take life with a slow and gentle stride. Between the offending garment and Romulan gifted head trauma, the fiery creature was forced to rest and left drawing measured even breaths to keep her heart pumping oxygen through her veins as she lay there looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. The softly falling flakes were catching on his hair and the plates covering his shoulders, melting as they touched the heat of his skin -- but Rochelle, for once, didn't see Notura. She only saw what had once been lost. Magic. "Shhh." She tiredly hushed him, reaching to press a finger tip to his lips, silencing him before working to whisk away the tears from his chin with a quiet, though shivering, touch. "You never did anything wrong."

I let you leave that night, he thought. "I'm not so sure about that."

Landon saw her controlled breathing, and deftly slipped a finger through the bow at the base of her restrictive costume. He was careful not to let it slip open entirely, but still enough to decompress the tension to allow her comfortable breaths. Scooping her up under his cloak and in his arms, he looked at her again, still unsure if some twisted dream was taunting him with what he'd desired more than anything. Rochelle was safe and he was on the Vindicator, his crew was safe and despite all the threats, promises, and proof to the contrary... they were alive. No gift could have been as sweet, and no promise he was more glad to have been a lie.

He gently brushed his lips against hers, closing his eyes tight as if the moment would somehow vanish from his grasp if he wasn't vigilant. "I never told you that I love you."

A shiver of an entirely different value consumed the petite firebird as the Trill's gloved fingers unlaced the ribbon at the small of her back, releasing the added pressure of the boned bodice from her ribs. A new flood of oxygen raced cold into her lungs as she caught her breath and was tugged into the warmth of the Dragon's arms. Providence had gifted him to her on a night when the dead were fabled to rise and demanded she repay the honor with her own life. It was to be long, filled with the only brand of prosperity that could befall a creature of her nature, and devoid of hidden affection or late night pining for the impossible.

And while confusion came to grace her brow, the memory of the frozen Hell that was Notura seemed to disappear, fuzz, and refuse to come to light. It didn't matter what had happened there, or the jumbling of memories that denied her purchase. It didn't matter that she had never been able to say goodbye, or that her profession had been too little too late, Landon's lips brushed hers and all the hurt and anguish fell away into the snowfall. "Forgiven." She breathed and she cupped his cheek as her snow speckled eyelashes veiled her eyes, "I've always loved you, Landon. Saying it just never seemed fair to you."

Without effort he carried her to one of the padded benches lining the wall just outside the doors, he unsnapped his cloak and let it carry along with her while she sat down. Landon kept her close while he took a seat as well, both because he needed to know she was real, and to keep her warm. He could have asked the computer to adjust the holodeck, but in the moment all he could think of was her and what she must be thinking. He did happen to pop back into her life a little more suddenly than most 'dead' people do.

"Don't be too hard on the others. They did it all for you. They can tell me a thousand times it was for us, but I know a loyal crew when I see one. They'd have locked me away and thrown out the key if they thought it would hurt you."

The sound of falling snow was more a hollow, soft moan than a whistle. Spend enough time around it and things like how each flake met it's fallen brethren with a distinct and delicate crunch of ice forging and melding together to become something greater, better, became apparent. In much the same way, the pair of them moving and coming to light on a bench in the quiet privacy of their virtual alps, made the same soft succinct sounds. They were a puzzle, so perfectly rounded and notched in areas that only seemed to fit together and become whole when they shared space. He held her and she, in turn, wound her arms with his and rested against his powerful warmth.

Rochelle's smile was demure as she nodded. In five months the spit fire had grown and evolved from relative ashes. Losing him had killed parts of her she never thought would have disappeared, but they had and with their departure had risen the true adult; the Captain. Where once she relished in the thought of warfare, she now balked and wrinkled her nose in want to protect her crew... Her family. "I'm having a hard time being angry at them, to be honest. Confused and maybe a bit disappointed that they didn't share sooner, but not angry." She replied, looking up at him. If she was honest with herself, there was a lot about the situation that left her completely baffled. "Not tonight, though. You're alive and you're here... That's all that matters right now."

Landon hoisted her up with a playful grunt. "Where to, Ma'am?"

To that question there could, and would, only ever be one answer. It didn't matter where he took her or where they were, with him she was safe and everything was as it should be. "Home." She hummed, resting her head against his plated shoulder. Home. A word so foreign, but it only seemed fitting. There in the clutches of her Dragon, the Phoenix burned the brightest she ever had.


---

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

&

Captain Landon Neyes
Former Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

 

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