BACKLOG - JDL | Com Ivanova, Capt Neyes, Cmdr Archer, Cmdr Neyes - "Offer Me That Deathless Death" - Pt II/II

Posted on Sat Mar 7th, 2015 @ 9:56am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Tristan Neyes PhD. & Commander James Archer & Captain Landon Neyes

2,134 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: A Spot To Kill

Tristan motioned for himself and Archer to leave, giving the two some privacy. "I'll prepare the Horizon right away." The counselor quietly said, walking astride the Intel Officer. He didn't look at the man, only spoke to him.

Archer slid the hypospray across the table to Rochelle and stood, "I'll be outside to carry him to the shuttle... If you need." He said and left beside Tristan. "Godspeed, good luck, be safe, all that happy horse shit." He nodded to the younger Trill.

Neyes barreled out of his chair and turned around, hurling it into the wall with a devastating crash. "I will not let this happen!" He cried out, his voice thundering behind the strike of his seat against the bulkhead. It broke him, and he could feel the panic setting in. It was an unfair reality he had no choice but to accept, and it was taking his everything to try and work around it. There was nothing, however, and Rochelle knew it just as much as Landon did. This was their only option, for Tristan and for Zed, this was the only way out. He wasn't built to accept this control over their lives, and he wasn't built to run and hide from the workings of an unfair system.

"This can't be how this ends, Rochelle. Please don't do this." His eyes closed, and the words were colored with pain. "I don't want this to be how this ends." A wet stream rolled down his cheek, and he took her hands in his, gripping like it would be last time.

The Commodore’s eyes lingered on the hypospray that Archer had left behind as Landon hurled his chair against the bulkhead and left her feeling as hollow and broken as the mangled, twisted piece of metal and leather the chair had become. Her lips pursed as she closed her fingers around the offensive item and slipped it up her sleeve, praying it wouldn't come down to her needing to use it – and the sound of her name on the Trill’s lips called to her senses, drawing her face back to the sight of his.

She could see the anguish plainly written along his brow, the hurt dappled across his handsome visage like raindrops from the storm of woe that had ensnared them both. “I love you Landon.” Rochelle whispered, her hands tethered by the confines of his and kept from being able to wipe the tears that soiled his cheeks. She hated it when he cried. “We won’t end.” She whispered, moving to lace her fingers with his, drawing nearer to him. “But there’s only a ‘we’ so long as we both are alive to carry it on, Landon. I’d rather love you from afar than mourn you up close.” Deep in her heart could feel the storm struggling, shifting her power, and cutting into her resolve. So close to breaking, the little redhead knew what she needed to do, what she had to do. It would be the only way to tame the demon that had come to rip them apart. So close to letting him stay, Rochelle knew that something would have to give, the proverbial bough would need to be what it was that broke.

Desperate to find something in her that would go against all the things he loved about her, to sacrifice her place as Captain for their life together, he looked at her with quiet remorse. "Come with me. I won't leave here without you. I won't."

His words were soft, but cut through like a beacon of truth. He had no intention of leaving her on this ship to face the galaxy alone. Even the company of the entire ship and her crew wasn't enough to sate his need to see her safe. To know she hadn't been swept up in some twisted plot, like he had been told before. She was like a fire in the wind, burning hot, but sometimes he worried when it might be too much. Part of his mind still whispered back to a time when she was nothing more than hope, and a ghost telling him to take this second chance together by the hand. He had known her death, at the hands of Romulan spies and torture. He had known a period in his life when his love for her felt like an empty pit he could never fill.

Now they were together again, and his greatest dream had come knocking on his door. Only to vanish at the steps.

"I won't," he pressed.

For awhile she stared up at him, searching his eyes with her head slowly starting to shake. "I... I can't." She replied at long last, swallowing hard and trying her damnedest to hold a decent composure. "I have to stay here, have to protect the Vindicator." Rochelle's hands squeezed his gently and broke their grasp only to reach and cradle the Trill's handsome face, stroking her thumbs over his cheeks and jaw. He'd never leave her, not willingly. Even if she demanded he go with all the fury of the Commodore rank she wore so boldly, he wouldn't. He'd defy her, hold her, beg her and plead with her until she wore down and simply caved to the welling need to keep him close to her always. She wasn't ready... She'd never be ready to say goodbye, but she knew she must even if it was poised to rip her apart.

The little woman's teeth sunk into her lower lip and her head still from its shaking long enough to guide him closer to her, "Please, Landon..." She begged in a whisper, asking from him to understand and make this as easy as possible. "I can't lose you, not when we're so close..."

She was pressed against him now, her small frame encased in his. Seeing over her, his eyes grazed the hypo-less tabletop. Archer had given them the solution they needed, whether his intention was mercy or force didn't matter. Landon knew she had it, and he knew there was nothing else that would make him leave. Taking the option away was in itself the only option. Letting her think she had forced the decision upon him was just as unacceptable as leaving, however.

He guided her hand that wielded their saving grace, massaging the device from her sleeve and into her palm. Taking a slow seat and holding her hand in his, he pushed the hypo against the tense muscle of his neck. A harsh deep breath rushed into his lungs as fear took hold. It might very well be, once again, the last time they saw each other. He would rearrange the stars to avoid that fate, but destiny was a cruel mistress, and they were her favorite play things.

"That too, will never happen." The words held the sincerity of his ages. If it was in his power, they would see each other again. Forcing a smile, he squeezed her hand.

The knot in the Commodore’s throat was unbearable, threatening to choke the very breath from her as he spoke, as he moved, as he sat and forced her hand to do that which she knew she must, but lacked the will to do. He must have known, able to sense the crumbling of her resolve and the intense urgency of the situation. He had to go, and Rochelle felt the strength of his hand closing around hers like a vice. For a moment she watched his eyes in wide eyed fear and pain as she resisted against him as best she possibly could.

It was pointless.

Strong as the feather weight was, she couldn't ever hope to best his strength, and she drew a quivering breath as she felt the telltale click of the plunger meeting its mark and heard the hiss of the drugs exploding into his system. A strangled, muffled cry of surprise and anguish managed to heave its way from her larynx and she leaned forward, bringing her trembling lips to his in the softest of kisses, masking the deep shuddering sobs that threatened to consume her as his hand fell away and hers dropped the offending item, sending it clattering to the deck below. He was gone. Lost deep in slumber that wouldn't end until Tristan allowed it, and Rochelle knew the younger Neyes wouldn't dare let Landon wake until he was absolutely certain there was no possible way of him navigating home to the Vindicator… To her.

Minutes ticked away and found her kneeling on the floor beside the chair, holding his unconscious form as she pulled herself back together. It was the second time he’d denied her a proper goodbye. No. This wasn't good bye, she told herself, this was simply farewell until they could find each other on calmer seas. “Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” She whispered to the slumbering man, brushing the barest start of a stray hair from his forehead and sniffled, “You'll be home soon.” Relearning how to breathe without a hitch or hint of sadness was her next feat as she wound a hand into one of her pockets. When it reappeared and opened, the lights glinted off a single brass pip. It shone like a beacon in her cupped palm, the very same one he’d rolled across her desk and affixed to her collar the morning after the Masque, the one she’d forgotten to place there – ever so absorbed in the reality that he was alive and ever so eager to get back to life as it was. It had been an honest mistake, falling back into the role and rank of Commander instead of the Captain his ‘death’ had allowed her to rise to. To her, it had become a memento of luck and fortune, a symbol of respect and love. Some Captains wore St. Christopher around their necks, Rochelle carried the single pip as the symbol of her hope and safe travels, and now she found herself quickly replacing it in one of Landon’s own pockets, sliding it deep into the fold of fabric where she knew it wouldn't fall out as he was being carried or maneuvered.

Now it was his.

Her lips brushed his temple and forehead as she rose to her feet and closed her eyes, drawing a breath and resolving herself back to the role of flawless Commodore. “Ivanova to Archer.” She spoke strongly as she pressed her combadge, “Please escort our guest to the Horizon for departure. I’m afraid he’s a little under the weather.” Codes. Always codes and stupid riddles. Always secrecy and hiding. Looking down at the man she loved, she silently promised a time of clarity and world where neither hid in the shadows, where their demons were firmly harnessed by leashes, impotent, and unable to harm them. She promised him hope. She promised him life. She promised him that this wasn't the end.

Stepping through the doors of the conference room, James immediately saw Ivanova's puffy face and the lump in the chair that was Landon. "Always the hard way," he said as he picked up the unconscious Trill, threw him into a fireman's carry, and unceremoniously toted him off to his waiting shuttle.

---

Rochelle couldn't follow them to the shuttle bay, everything they did needed to be under a guise and filled with optical illusions just in case a spy or two lurked aboard the ship. Instead she’d retreated to the bustling Observation Lounge, a place where she’d surely be seen and accounted for by any who bothered to look. As strategic as it was, she knew she’d chosen the location for other reasons as she gazed out the window from her favorite spot; the Horizon’s departure was quick, Tristan handling her controls seemingly well as the small craft zipped past without any sign of hesitancy or trouble. For that she’d be grateful, even if she felt like she was coming apart at the seams standing where she and Landon had ultimately stopped pretending and finally started living. Her eyes shut for the briefest of moments, working to steal away the threat of her ordering them back, but she reached to tug at the hem of her tunic before they reopened and she spun contritely on her heel to begin yet another trip to the bridge. “Ivanova to Dahe’el.” She called as she pressed her combadge, “Prepare for departure through the wormhole.”

--- END ---

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

Captain Landon Neyes
Former CO - Unassigned
USS Vindicator

Commander James Archer
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC 78213-E

Commander Tristan Neyes
Chief Counselor
USS Vindicator

 

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