BACKLOG | Capt Neyes, Cmdr Neyes, 'Ennui' - "The Baffled King Composing Hallelujuah" Part II

Posted on Thu May 28th, 2015 @ 11:32am by Captain Landon Neyes & Commander Logan Grant, PhD.

2,286 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Ennui
Location: Trill Sector

=/\= Part II... =/\=

"Rochelle! Rochelle look at me!" Landon's vision started to blur as the pain in his head began to rise from a dull ache to a stabbing, merciless pain. He forced every wall and barrier against the pain, to fend off the assault drawing away his attention. She needed him now more than ever, they were in this together, and he would see her through. The focus in her eyes was drifting, and she was listless. A sharp worry cut through him as he watched it all unfold. "Tristan, something's wrong!"

His younger brother was now looking up from his work to see Landon cupping her face in his hands, desperately trying to keep her awake. Tristan, knowing his obligation was to the child now, did his best to keep the blood from showing. Clearing the way for the baby girl was the best way to end this quickly, and Rochelle's best hope if he had time to help her. Without the surgical bay, treating her for complications was nearly impossible, and his heart broke as each fearful breath escaped Landon's lips.

He never thought it would end this way. "Almost there..." The doctor said shakily. Tristan noticed a distinct lack of force on Rochelle's part, and he could feel wetness forming at the corners of his eyes.

So close and yet so far, Rochelle did everything in her power to stay, to awaken, to make it. Instinct told her it was a fruitless endeavor, that she'd been called to make the ultimate sacrifice not dissimilar to one she'd made in the past; her own life to keep a little spark of magic, a life that they'd created together, alive. Her focusless eyes blinked, trying to keep him there with her - trying to convey how much she loved him and how sorry she was that things had tanked so brutally, but that this, bringing new life into the world with him, was the greatest conquest she had ever made. With no less than an anguished roar splitting her tired lips - that broke into quiet laughing sobs of pride and anguish that slowly began to dissolve into shallow, hapless breaths as she felt the child finally be pulled from her - Rochelle made that final leap without bias. The reward for her efforts lay now in Tristan's careful, capable hands as they cradled the tiny birth wet body of her greatest victory. Her successful birth, however, drove the final nail for the woman who had given her life. The torn blood vessel split wide without the compression of the baby's weight against it, pulsing away Rochelle's life with every feeble beat of her tired, though valiant and mighty, heart.

As the baby stole her first few breaths from the world she'd been delivered into, she was angry. Her tiny little hands had balled into tiny little fists, shivering from the cold and brightness that assaulted her after such an arduous journey away from her mother's confining, nurturing world of warmth and tender murmurings and, so very like her parents, she was more than willing to let the man holding her know exactly how she felt with her red faced plaintive cries of displeasure. Most importantly, the incensed little girl was very much alive with ten fingers, ten toes, a plethora of soft umber spots playing along the contour of her chubby baby body in homage to her father, and what would eventually even out to be her mother's fair complexion and full, pouty mouth. She was perfect, and she was...

"Beautiful." Would be the last word ever uttered by the child's mother as her tired hand tried to grip one of Landon's. It was her final act to try and comfort him while asserting the heart bursting emotions of love and pride that seared through her, and failed, when her fingers slipped from the cool skin of his wrist and fell, stilled against the disheveled sheet beneath her body. Rochelle Andreeva Irelle died not in battle like she had once thought she would, but during the peace of an early spring day, held by the very reason her heart had ever beat at all. Instead of rending death, she died granting the magic of life. Though heartbreaking, the circumstances were a far better alternative to giving credit to any number of angry races for extinguishing the glorious light that her dimming eyes had held and the watcher did what they did best; watched with an enamored smile as Landon was left with the spoils of such an exquisite war.

The room fell in an odd silence. Landon was handed his child, the most precious thing he'd ever see. The moment he became a father to another person. It didn't matter how many times he'd done it before, or what it was like for Neyes in previous hosts... there was nothing like it in the world. He took her from his brother's hands, since they were needed elsewhere, and for a split second the world stopped. Her little eyes, which had been clamped shut with the most force their limited ability could muster, cracked to peer out into the world for the first time. She looked directly at him, the first thing she saw in all of her life, and he couldn't help but feel lifted up. She was the concentrated effort of his love and life with the only other person he truly felt he shared a real bond. From her little legs to her crinkled face, she was flawless. Her cheeks and her eyes, they were all Rochelle, and her nose was distinctly his. Landon could have spent eternity just taking inventory of her perfection. She was beautiful.

He and Rochelle had picked out a name long ago. Eléna.

A piercing constant tone tore into the air. It was the sound of a world ending, life altering reality he never truly could prepare himself for. The sound hollowed him out from the deepest depths of his soul, and started to claw its way through him... bit by bit. He knew what it meant, and he knew what had happened. If he could have looked at his daughter for all eternity there in that moment, pretending everything was fine, it would have been the only choice he would ever make again. Desire, guilt, love, hate, anger, fear. They all came crashing down into him when the walls gave way and bared his psyche to the harsh circumstances around him, his concentration lost. The sweat on his brow was icy cold, and he could feel his skin crawling with agony and discomfort. There was no remedy for this. No action to take that would bring her back to see their daughter, or to know the love of being a mother.

He forced her to leave. He took away her choice. She had wanted to stay. Would she still be alive if she had?

Yes.

Throat tight, and chest caving in, Landon opened his mouth to cry but couldn't make a sound. He eyes peeled away from Eléna, resisting with every ounce of control he had to look at his wife. It was all he could do to keep breathing in the air around her. Rochelle was still the picturesque image of the glorious woman he loved. Her eyes were quietly closed, and her sweet mouth just barely open. The fiery red locks of her hair pulled back and over her shoulder to keep out of the way. Looking just at her face, he could almost imagine her simply taking a nap, being at peace in the life they'd made together. Another stab of anguish gutted him as reality dared to drag him out into the open, bringing the elements of death and despair into the fray. There wouldn't be anymore afternoon naps, or long nights looking at the stars. She wouldn't ever be there to help their daughter become an amazing woman like her mother.

Holding his little girl in his arms he leaned over the bed and pressed his glistening face against Rochelle's cheek, hoping without hope she would simply get up and everything would be alright. It was all a nightmare. A dream like so many others he'd had before now.

"...this isn't how this happens..." Landon whispered, his voice breaking in pieces, speaking to the woman he loved. Even if she couldn't hear him. Finally the flood of pain filled him to the breaking point, and the tears started to bleed like rivers from his clamped eyelids. "I'm so sorry, Rochelle. No... please?", a sob broke his words, "please get up."

“No, I suppose it’s not.” The watcher’s voice rang free, unable to watch anymore. They’d seen what they’d come to see, heard what they’d come to hear. It came from Tristan’s mouth as he sat back and folded his bloodied arms. “But what…” His lips twisted from the hurt grimace of heartbreak into a sardonic smile, “what if it is? What would you do to keep it from coming true?” He asked as he rose from the chair between the legs of the fallen Phoenix and gave her a final passing glance. Even in death she was truly beautiful and the watcher knew why it was so many people were drawn to her side. It wasn't just because of her looks, for truly she was a rare beauty, but for the strength she exuded and the selflessness she wielded like they were her super powers – like she would surely die if she didn't.

“I've watched you two for so long and tried to get it… You know… Why.” ‘Tristan’ shrugged, peeling his eyes from the heartrending picture of the broken man clinging to his daughter and sobbing into the cooling skin of his dead wife. “I think I understand now.” He said, reaching to stroke the face of the neonate burrowing into the crook of her father’s powerful arm. “Love is an incredible thing… But really? What would you give?”

Something clicked in Landon's head. His eyes slowly turning to meet with his 'brother' as the young Trill, covered in the blood of Landon's soul mate, cracked a wicked smile. Years of working on instinct and drive had gifted Landon with keen senses and tactile perception. Now his brother... was not Tristan. The face was wrong, and the demeanor. He shrugged off the blood like it was water in a rainy day.

"What...", his words were cold, unwieldy, "what is this?" Landon asked dryly.

The stone-like and tear streaked expression of the Trill told the watcher that he'd gone on the defensive. "Just answer the question." They replied, bracing just in case he lunged for them. It would only take a blink and they could be anywhere and he transformed into some insignificant single celled paramecium, harmless and helpless to whatever bleach the watcher chose to pour. That wouldn't be fun for either one of them, and certainly not enlightening.

Landon stood up, pulling the baby and himself further back into the room. Grabbing a blanket to swaddle her, he deftly put some distance between them. The rest of the scenario faded away as some real and conceivable threat was suddenly present in the room. He could feel it, but didn't understand it. All he could think about was losing Eléna. "I don't answer questions like that. My brother would know better. Who are you? Where's Tristan." His eyes scanned the room for something to use as a weapon, finding nothing. He idly wandered into the other room.

With a tilted head, the watcher simply observed as Landon sunk deeper into the role of father, preparing to protect his most prized possession with the very essence of his life if need be. "Don't worry about Tristan, just answer."

"Answer mine and I might be persuaded." Neyes rebutted.

He was strong. It was impeccable, really, the way he managed to hold himself so strong and resplendent in the face of so much pain and anguish. The death of his heart hadn't left him frozen to the spot, instead he'd begun to revive it with the faith bestowed in him by the tiny little being he warmed with the heat of his body. The watcher looked between him and the babe and back. It almost seemed cruel to separate them, if such a word truly existed in their vocabulary. The game wasn't going to continue if she was plucked away. "Fine." Tristan sighed as he followed, stomping with a pout. "Tristan is asleep upstairs. You can't wake him, not like this anyway." They yawned and in the blink of an eye they were gone, suddenly reappearing perched upon a counter.

This time, the watcher sat, envious of the curves they embodied, as the magnificent redhead that had given her life for her child. Her hair was swept up, pulled back into her trademark French twist, her body clad in the pristine duty uniform of a command officer, the mark of a Commodore emblazoned against the pulse of her neck. If it weren't for the near seductive, mirthful shine in her eyes she'd have seemed every bit the severe officer he would remember. "I'm anything and everything you want me to be, Landon." Rochelle practically purred in that soft, breathy lilt the watcher had heard spill from her succulent lips so many times in his dreams and during times when they believed they were alone to worship at the alter of one another's love and pleasure.

"Your turn."


=/\= TBC =/\=

Captain Landon Neyes
Former Commanding Officer
USS Vindicator

Commander Tristan Neyes
apb Landon/Spaceman

All others played by Spaceman

 

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