The Days Were Like That

Posted on 31 May 2013 @ 11:44pm by

3,808 words; about a 19 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: LTjg Maenad Panne's quarters
Timeline: MD10 0500 Hours

ON:

napping in bomb craters, haggling - over debts i couldn't deny were mine- cold and damp, words trickled down the walls, under the door like whispers. Blue was the color, the days - were like that - songs inside the fog inside the world. Talon-claws gripping, lifting, metal and energy, they were their own soundtrack. He couldn't run. Couldn't move. Only his disembodied eyes could see, and see, and see. memorizing every month's horoscope - you taught me to love - thinking of all the never you were - but there were limits and lengths there were- there it was. The heavy, paralyzing cord of fear, knowing-coming-rising. The snap of blood and bond, flung to the far corner as the floor rocked underneath his his? feet. He reached out his hand and could almost touch the small, crumpled body in front of him. No, it couldn't be gone, he couldn't be, he was right there- it had only been a flash, a second, nothing could change that quickly- good apples on back order from god - you had left me-

Flat on his back, Liyar blinked himself awake with a small twitch. His hands formed into fists by his sides, and nail marks embedded into his palms. The chronometer on the table flashed 0300 and he carefully, silently extracted himself from the covers as not to wake Maenad, gripping and ungripping his hands. He sat up, resting his head against his wrists and digging his fingernails into his scalp. He ran the edge of his thumbnail against the inside of his index finger, bored the same finger into a spot just above his eye, tension headache. He looked down at Maenad who was slumbering peacefully and he tugged the blanket back up over her, breathing deeply, shallowly. He could feel anger and disjointed frustration, self-awareness buzzing under his skin. Images and snapshots blinked horror frames behind his eyelids. There would be no sleep tonight.

He stood then, and padded out of the room, stretching his fingers against one another, bending them back unnaturally. Starlight streamed in still from Maenad's window, casting shadows over her plants, the books, the piano. He sat down at the bench and traced lines in the wood with his eyes, then restlessly got up and walked over to the replicator, accessing the medical control panel and keying in the script for two small hyposprays both containing a blue vial. He uncapped them and stuck them one after the other into the side of his neck, leaning against his hand on the wall above the replicator. Dreams and death and destruction didn't stop chasing a person just because they found shelter. He had absolutely no idea what to do, the only thing he could do; shake it out, ignore it, move on. It grew and swelled inside of him until it threatened to explode but he could not release the pressure valve. It would destroy him and everyone around him.

He dumped the used hyposprays back into the reclamator and grabbed a PADD from the shelf, sitting down at the table and flicking through it mindlessly. He was a stop motion frame and he moved in stages. First the table, the couch, the shelf, the piano, table, push-ups on the floor, then the table again, comedy he didn't understand, books that made no sense, language charts, economic projection- (he quickly tossed the PADD aside)- on and on, until breakfast. He'd make Maenad something, he thought. Wake her up before shift, then find the nearest holodeck and rip out something's throat with his bare hands.

Maenad's eyes fluttered open from a sound, dreamless, sleep. She laid there for a good minute in a state of half-sleep, half consciousness, staring at a dark wall, until she suddenly jolted up. Her alarm hadn't gone off, which meant that she probably forgot to set it. She was late. A sense of panic filled her; the clock read 0530 hours and, like being hit with a freight train, she stopped. A sigh of heavy relief escaped her lungs, followed by a grateful smile.

But then, something was still missing. She was sitting upright, straight as a pole, with her hands supporting her, palms flat on the mattress. She frowned, knowing that something wasn't right. Liyar. Her eyes widened. He was gone. She hadn't dreamed it? No. She had not. He went to bed with her. Maybe not in the way she had wanted, but he was there when she'd fallen asleep. Now he was not. The freight train came again, this time it hit her with shame and regret. Maenad slouched and pushed her bangs across her forehead very slowly. She had come on too strongly. She had forced him to come to bed with her. He didn't want to offend her, so he came anyway. He didn't understand her motives, no matter how hard he tried.

Maenad's eyes watered, but not a drop left them as she held back her tears. She sniffed once, and that was the end of it. Slowly, she pulled her covers aside, exposing her bare skin to the cool air of the bedroom, and threw her legs over the side of the bed, where she sat for several long minutes, staring absently at the floor. She was lucky to have a friend like Liyar, she thought. But was he so lucky to have a friend like her? She knew that she was going to ruin it, like she always did. "Stupid," she mumbled under her breath. Every time she made friends, every time she thought she fell in love, she never really did. They always wound up hating her.

There was no way she could go back to sleep now. Not after these revelations. She stood up and dragged herself to the bathroom. After using the toilet, she stared at herself for a few minutes in the mirror. She looked like death, she thought. Her hair was matted to the sides of her head, she still looked like a raccoon, and she, as always, looked sickly pale. Her skin made her eyes seem darker, somehow, and more watery than they were. Prettier, she thought. And her and lips stood out more, too, in a way that she liked, and so did her longish nose. She made a half-hearted smile to herself, then inspected her teeth. She pushed her wild hair behind her ears, but over her shoulders so that it rested at the base of her neck - that was as long as it could go, anyway. She turned around, looked at herself over her shoulder, ran her eyes down her back as far as the mirror would allow, and saw that there were impressions, minor bruises, from Liyar's massage. He hadn't been rough with her at all, she remembered, forgetting that anemia made her bruise more easily. She looked herself in the eyes again and smirked, washed her hands and, after drying them on a handtowel, made her way to the living room.

Liyar was sat at the table across from a tray of toast, fruit, and something he remembered that Kiwosk had shown him once before: waffles. His own place was empty, except the PADD, which he prodded his finger into lifelessly to switch the screens. He was reading an old novel printed in Shi'kahr in 2365 about criminology and emotional suppression. It was fascinating, if sensationalist work.

The door opened without her having to slow down, so by the time she was halfway into the living room and her bedroom door had already closed, it was far too late for her to avoid being seen. She thought that she was alone. She thought that Liyar had long gone. But he wasn't; he was sitting there at the kitchen table, directly in front of her. A PADD in hand, and breakfast on the table. Her jaw dropped. Her eyes went wide. She was right there. Everything. She couldn't speak. Or move. It took her a few seconds to react; she blinked, tried to not skip to the couch, and lifted the blanket to cover herself. Before turning around, she closed her eyes, then opened them and stared outside. She told herself to stay calm. It didn't matter. She didn't care. She repeated that. Twice. "I thought you left," she said as she turned around to face him again, this time in a quilt. Her arms crossed over her chest, and she looked angry.

Liyar stood from the table and walked over to the other side, pulling out the chair. He saw when she turned around that her back was covered in bruises and imprints, and he jolted, his eyebrows arching quickly. He hadn't done that, had he? Surprise and something a little darker flashed through him. It wasn't easy after all to get rid of his obnoxious inner nature, fascinated to see the physical remnants of his touch on her. She did not seem to be in pain, but still. He'd bruised her. Puzzled, and a little distressed, he decided to address her frazzled emotions first. "Please, eat." He placed his hands over her shoulders, and guided her to the seat, before sitting across from her. "I apologize," he said, and it was sincere. "I awoke early." He was juxtaposed puzzlepieces flipping up over did they fit, did they not, swivel, turn, placed down onto the board. The end image made no sense. He looked straight into her eyes as she sat, and as if he were admitting some sort of secret, started, "I do not sleep well. I left, as not to alarm you. My dreams are often unsettling and my abilities less so. I attempted to-" he gestured a hand up and toward the waffles, as though changing the subject, "-it seemed like something you may find palatable."

Maenad smiled at him, warmly. Affectionately, even. "Oh," she cooed, "Liyar, you're so kind." Her eyes watered again, but mostly because she felt badly for the way she'd thought about them when she first saw that he'd left. "I do find it... palatable," she grinned. There was a small dish of whipped cream and a bottle of maple syrup on the table. Liyar had obviously done some research, which made appreciate it all the more. With her fork, she spread the cream on the fluffy waffles and then drizzled some syrup over it all. "What kind of dreams do you have?" she asked more seriously, as her hands cut a square of waffle.

In the light of the kitchen, he looked green-eyed, bloodshot and his hair was stuck up from his nails digging through it. He was weary, and his posture drooped over the PADD. He looked worlds older than usual. "I dream of my family," he finally answered.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to," she said after swallowing. Whenever Liyar talked about his dead wife and son, she always felt guilty. Like she was imposing on something, or stealing from someone. "I'm sorry," she said, sincerely. After all, if they hadn't died, he would still be with them. She could never match what he'd had before, and she knew it. Vulcans got more from their spouses than love and affection; Vulcans literally gave their entire selves to their partners. They gave so much that they became intertwined, so fully integrated to each other that to suddenly lose the other often meant death for the one who lost. Sullenly, she put a strawberry in the whipped cream on a slice of waffle she'd cut, then stabbed through it with her fork. She looked up at him once with her eyes, then looked away, as she put it into her mouth. She was only human.

"You are upset," Liyar tilted his head toward her across the table. "I would discuss it." He pressed his lips together in a small frown. "With you. I know that you think, I am here with you, because they are gone. In an objective way, that is true. But they are gone. I cannot stop the way that it has impacted me. What I do know, is that they are dead. The person who was their father, their mate. He is dead. It is as I have told you once. My life, as I knew it, is over. I need to find a new life. That is a choice, made by who I am now, and that choice is you." He prodded his finger against the glass top of the PADD in front of him again.

Maenad looked up at him. She'd stopped eating. Something tingled in her chest, a lump formed in her throat, and she felt a sting behind her eyes. "Oh, Liyar," she said tenderly, shakily. She carefully put down her fork and knife and stood from the table. Maybe she loved him. Was that possible? She walked around to his side of the table and put her hands on his shoulders from behind, down his arms, and to his wrists. She lifted his chin by a fingertip. "Don't say that the man you used to be is dead," she told him sincerely. "You are still that person. He is inside you. You are who you are because of T'Yron and Raek," her voice was quiet and motherly. "You might not recognise yourself, but you are still you. The person that you were before has allowed the person you are now to exist." Maenad lowered her mouth to the side of his head, just behind his ear, where it would tickle when she whispered. "And he is the best friend a person could ever have," she spoke, grinning a little. "They were lucky to have you in their lives, Liyar, and to have left their impressions on yours."

Liyar's head lowered against hers, and his eyes closed briefly, almost in a nod. It was the first time he'd ever tried, of his own accord, without being forced by counselors, to put into words the way he felt about it. He spoke quietly, even haltingly. "What I know, is that I am very different now. There is a certain way, that a person can exist- untouched by the universe. Even when things happen to you, there is a sense of security- knowing that what truly matters can never be taken from you. And it can make you callous." He looked up, and leaned forward on his hands, slouching Maenad over him slightly. "I was not a cruel person, but I was disaffected. I had opinions, worldviews, a sense of myself. When I saw them die, when the bonds snapped, it just," he rose a hand to the side, "collapsed. It was as if I felt myself die. And now, I must find a way to cultivate life within myself again." He slid his hand over Maenad's and rested it against her wrist. He wasn't sure how to explain himself. "When a building is torn down, it occupies a space in time. It creates a window, a vacuum that must be rebuilt, restructured, and it can be done in any way. It can even look the same as the old building. But it must be stronger, you must learn what caused it to break down, use a different material. Make conscious choices to better its foundation." He squeezed her hand and tipped his head up to meet her eyes. "I cannot go back to who I was. That would be tearing the building down again. I know that I am damaged, there is little need to sugercoat it. But I am not looking to replace them. Nor should you feel as if I expect that."

"I know," she mumbled. "You say that, but I can't help what I am. I will never be able to give you what you got from her," she explained. "I worry that, right now, I am all that you said. But, when you need more, as you will, I won't be able to give."

"We have options," Liyar said, "and we have time, to see how we will progress. I am not looking for what T'Yron gave me. That is what I meant by my earlier statements. I believe that this relationship will progress much better if we do not make assumptions or demands of one another. I am certain that there are many things a Terran would be able to provide you that I cannot. For instance, I had no knowledge that leaving your bed would be taken in a negative manner," he added dryly.

Maenad stood up. "What are you talking about?" she asked. Had she been negative? She went back to her seat, adjusting the blanket around her waist.

"You stated that you assumed I left. You appeared quite angered. You believed that you had come on too strong." He repeated the thoughts that had zipped about in her head almost unconsciously, as if he hadn't been capable of distinguishing voice and mind. "I therefore have concluded that I made an error in leaving. Although I have yet to understand what meaning you derived from it, it was not my intention."

"Oh," she blushed. "No, you misunderstood." She ate another piece of her waffle. "I thought maybe you left because me, that I made you uncomfortable," she smiled, tilting her head.

"Indeed. But you did not." He folded his hands over one another in front of him as she returned to her plate. "If I am uncomfortable, I will let you know. I would ask the same of you. Perhaps that is a better solution than both of us constantly second-guessing ourselves," he said; an indirect admission. He took a small drink from the glass of orange juice beside his PADD. "It is as you stated yesterday. We will behave and act in ways which work for us both, independent of expectation."

"I said that?" she asked. She couldn't remember.

"You stated that," Liyar's eyes flicked up and to the left, "We should just do what is right for us, and, not to worry about whatever conventions our cultures have," he repeated her words verbatim.

"Is that a quote?" she asked, smiling, through narrowed eyes.

"Affirmative," Liyar nodded.

Maenad laughed and ate some more of her breakfast. "What were you reading?" she asked a few minutes later.

"Alen taivrethtohreda li't Annitare maloaz," Liyar recited the cover, a translation from Golic into Miredara. He flipped the PADD over and slid it across the table, where the MAG characters sprawled neatly over the screen. "It is, criminal behavior and emotional control," he tried to explain the concept as succinctly as possible. "It postulates that there is a higher degree of criminal activity in Vulcans who have less emotional control. In some ways, it is accurate, and in others I find it rather tabloid, equating emotions themselves to criminal acts."

"Oh," she inclined her head before going for her last waffle square. "In what way is it accurate?" she wondered.

"This book in particular discusses the V'tosh ka'tur- a sign of its sensationalist nature," Liyar said. "It fails, however, to account for the nearly 20% tu-Jarok population in our society who are just as adjusted as the rest of us."

"Hm," Maenad forked some more strawberries and ate them. "Sounds interesting," she said, looking down at her empty plate.

He didn't need to be a telepath to figure out how thrilling she found it, but he wasn't offended. He watched her regard her plate. "Did you want more?" he asked.

"No," she looked up and smiled. She pushed the plate aside and settled against the back of the chair. "What did you have?"

Liyar saluted his orange juice and then drained it in one go. "I do not possess much of an appetite," he answered.

Maenad shrugged. "You should eat," she told him.

Liyar shook his head. "I do not believe I can."

"I'm just saying," she said across to him."You don't eat as much as you should. You need at least three meals a day, Liyar."

"I know," Liyar replied to his empty glass. The high lexorin doses he'd jammed into his neck earlier made that a pipe dream, he didn't add on. He toyed with the edge of the glass in his hand and then set it firmly aside, standing to take her tray back to the reclamator unit.

Well, if he didn't want to eat, then she couldn't make him. Tugging the blanket around herself a little better, Maenad stood up and brought her empty dishes to the reclamator. She got herself a cup of Earl Grey and went back to the table. "How long have you been awake?"

"I awoke at approximately 0300 hours," said Liyar, and looking through her quarters, it certainly showed. The entire living room, the two desks, the shelf and the coffee table were all spotless and neatly organized. The furniture was straightened and there were no stray clothes or PADDs anywhere. Even the piano was polished. In contrast to the spartan environment that followed him around wherever his nervous energy buzzed, Liyar was scruffy, wired and on edge. He scratched his head, returning her wineglasses which had been resting on the counter to dry back to the shelf above and walking over to slide the PADD he'd been using back into her bookshelf.

"Three o'clock?" she said in disbelief. That meant he hadn't slept at all. "What have you been doing all night?"

"I-" Liyar made a quick motion with his head, looking back at her, and then forward again at the cloth in his hands. Over, under, around, through, shine, polish, reflect. Repeat. Each glass was systemically dried and placed upside down in the cupboard. His hands were quick but his mind lagged. He gazed at her again. "I cleaned. There were things lying about." He finished, and leaned back against the counter, wiping his hands with the towel and folding it to dissolve where he'd replicated it. "There was not much else to do. I did not wish to wake you." He was struggling to keep busy lately. The chronometer told him that it was almost 630. He hesitated for a moment and then pushed away from the counter, folding his hands behind him. "If you are still willing, I have not given up the prospect of teaching you proper self defense. We have approximately two hours before shift begins."

ON:

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, VDF/SDD
USS Galileo

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