Fine Lines

Posted on 05 Sep 2015 @ 8:11pm by Lieutenant Oren Idris Ph.D. & Petty Officer 3rd Class Ellsworth Hudson

5,018 words; about a 25 minute read

Mission: Episode 09 - Empires
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 4, Quartera 04-1007 EN
Timeline: MD02 - 1300hrs

[ON]

In my arms lies Eternity.

Oren startled awake as the words flowed through his ears and he lifted his head from the pillow, looking around. "Did you say something?" he asked Ells, unsure where he was in the room exactly but knowing he was there.

The two had stumbled into Ellsworth's quarters less than an hour ago after a futile visit to Sickbay. Oren was once again released after a prescription of pain and nausea medication and Ellsworth had insisted he not be left alone. Agonizing over having to spend more time with Ellsworth, Oren had struggled against him but had ultimately agreed, defeated. Emotionally and physically wiped out from both the ordeal of passing through the breach and his lingering, unidentifiable illness, all it had taken was for Oren's head to hit the pillow and he was fast asleep.

"I said it's taking an eternity to find my chocolate. I think someone stole it!" Ellsworth groused, head half buried in a mass of clothing in the closet. With a huff, he extracted himself, empty handed and pouting. He'd been looking for it to give to Oren, because chocolate was obviously the universe's best medicine, but catching sight of Oren all pitiful and tucked into the bunk made the chocolate quickly fade from his mind. "Oh... Oren. Look at you."

Shuffling over, Ellsworth picked up a cloth, went to one knee next to the El Aurian, and began daubing his forehead with it like he'd seen in a holovid. He wasn't entirely sure what sort of therapeutic value it had but it seemed like it might be soothing. It also had the added benefit of giving him a sort of shield against any more projectile vomiting, which not an experience he ever intended to relive for the rest of his life.

Letting out a pitiful noise as he felt the cool cloth against his forehead, Oren slumped back down against the soft bunk. The sheet had been removed and the material beneath his cheek was scratchy, but the pillow next to his head smelled like Ellsworth so Oren didn't complain. Instead, he looked up at his friend, green eyes bleary. "I thought I heard a woman's voice," he said softly, knowing how insane it made him sound but not having the energy to pretend. Since the incident in the Arboretum, he'd been sick three more times and the strain on his ribs was making every movement painful.

"What? A woman? Are you making fun of my voice?" Ellsworth asked, looking a little serious but covering it with a smile and gentle shove in the shoulder. "No ladies in here, crazy pants. You were dreaming, probably. Did you know you talk in your sleep? You were saying..." He stood up to collect more blankets from the closet but adjusted his voice to something suitably dramatic as he did so. "'Ellsworth is the most handsome man in the universe! And he's the best quartermaster in Starfleet! I wish I could order gaskets and widgets and adhesives like him!'"

A sound escaped Oren, a laugh which soon turned into a pained groan, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply settled down on the bed, choosing to watch Ellsworth as he piled blankets into his arms. By the number he was gathering, one would think Oren was dying of hypothermia rather than whatever illness had gripped him. at the thought of it, Oren's worry resurfaced. Half burying his face into the bedding, he swallowed against the lump forming in his throat. What was wrong with him? Although Allyndra seemed pretty certain that he was simply experiencing some stress over coming through the breach, but Oren felt something was deeply wrong, right down to his bones.

With loving care, Ellsworth spread out each of the blankets in turn. He didn't have too many memories of being sick, but one of the most poignant was from his time with his favorite foster family (which he totally screwed up by running away seven times). He had some kind of cold, and the mother had swaddled him up in what had seemed like a thousand blankets. They were warm and something about the confined feeling made him feel safe. After he'd finished the task, practically burying the El Aurian in cloth, he went down to one knee next to the bed and brushed some hair out of Oren's face.

"I sense that you are worried," Ellsworth said, deepening his Betazoid accent until it was a caricature. He drew his thumb across the wrinkle that always popped up when Oren was worried, ostensibly to draw attention to it but really just because he wanted to be in physical contact with him. "You have the hottest nurse on the ship. You're gonna be fine. Do you want anything? I couldn't find any chocolate but Dr. Allyndra gave me a code to override the energy conservation lockouts on the replicator. I'll bring you anything you want!"

Oren smiled, reaching up to take Ellsworth's hand. Clearly, the pain medication was kicking in and he was delirious. Or whatever lingering illness he had caused insanity.

"I don't want anything," he told Ellsworth. "I just want to know what's wrong with me." The admission was said sadly, Oren's voice shaking by the end of it. The last 24 hours had been an emotional roller coaster for the El Aurian and it seemed to have finally come to a boil, aided by the medication lowering the usual wall he maintained between his feelings and his surroundings.

"Oh," Ellsworth said, brow drawn together in sympathy. He held Oren's hand happily; without realizing it he began running his thumb across the back of it like he used to do, as if it were an involuntary action. "You're gonna be okay. You'll get better soon. And I'll stay here with you until you do. I can do my work from the desk." Well, most of it. The rest can wait. "Are you sure you don't want something? I'll get you something. You should eat."

Without waiting, he went to the replicator and called up a recipe from his own personal database, a dish that had always been a comfort to him when he was feeling down: Ktarian chocolate soup. With steaming bowl in hand, he returned to the bed and took up the spoon. It was frustrating, seeing Oren like this and feeling so completely outclassed by an illness. If he was sick Oren could probably tell him what was wrong, explain it to him. Everything Allyndra had said sounded like gibberish. All he had was a bunch of chocolate recipes.

The first thing Oren noticed about the soup was the ungodly syrupy smell. It smelled like sugar, caramel and chocolate, making his stomach lurch almost immediately. Swallowing down the bile that had risen up, Oren looked at Ellsworth, his eyes softening then. The Betazoid looked so earnest, staring back at him with the spoon in his hand. He watched him scoop up a spoonful of the sticky mess before holding it out for Oren.

Swallowing again, this time to steel himself, Oren opened his mouth and tried the soup. Despite his better judgment, he didn't want to hurt Ellsworth's feelings. He felt bad enough without having to see his kicked-puppy look. At the intensely sweet taste, Oren gave an actual, full body shudder as he swallowed it, suddenly looking a little green and sweaty, but that could've easily been the thirty degree temperature caused by the six layers of blankets.

The look of disgust was so palpable that even Ellsworth wrinkled up his nose.

"Did I replicate it wrong?"

He leaned down and took a whiff, then tasted what was left on the spoon. It seemed okay to him, and he couldn't remember Oren saying anything about not liking chocolate. Trying not to look rejected, he took the bowl back to the replicator, then looked over his shoulder at Oren. He looked so pitiful. The urge to do something for him, to care for him, to be nurturing, was overpoweringly strong. He'd never seen him look quite like that, so vulnerable and worried, and it almost broke Ellsworth's heart not to be able to produce some miracle cure.

"Okay, no chocolate soup then. What about a drink? Some regular water?"

"That would probably be safest," Oren said, his voice understanding despite the situation. He knew Ellsworth meant well but he wasn't sure how much of his good intentions he could take. As if on cue, the stifling heat of the blankets began to feel overwhelming and, with a few weak movements, he managed to push them down until they only covered his legs. He sighed, happy with the cooler air of the quarters hitting his damp skin now that the blankets were off.

He watched Ellsworth, noting his slumped shoulders and worried expression. Suddenly feeling bad, Oren wondered how long before his medication's effect would reach its full strength so that he could get back on his feet and look after himself. He hated having to worry someone like this, to be a source of stress. A burden.

"I'm sorry."

Ellsworth returned with the water and immediately took note of the shoved blankets, though he tried to pretend that he hadn't. Maybe El Aurian's don't like blankets, he tried to rationalize. If so, it was a good thing he'd worked to restore environmental support to his quarters. While Oren had been undergoing a battery of tests in Sickbay, he'd stepped in Dr. Allyndra's office to argue with the Ops officer on duty via comm about the medical necessity to sacrifice some of the ship's meager power supplies to ensure a "recuperative environment" for Oren. With most of the ship's systems offline or otherwise damaged, such a "favor" had cost him seven extra duty shifts and an entire bottle of Risan summerwine, but apparently it had been worth it.

"Here you go," the Betazoid said, handing over the water. "Why are you sorry?"

Taking a sip from the glass, Oren licking his lips before putting it back on the end table. He settled back down on the bed before answering. "For throwing up on you, and for making you have to look after me until I feel better." This was definitely not the relationship they had agreed on only a few hours ago. The tentative steps they revealed they were willing to take and what was happening now were worlds apart and Oren wasn't sure where they would stand afterwards. This was definitely a blurry line between them.

Was taking care of your sick friend inherently romantic, he wondered? It could be, of course, and the way Ellsworth looked at him when he believed Oren wasn't looking definitely made it look so, but Oren was sure that somewhere in the history of humanoids, this kind of situation could be seen as entirely platonic, no matter the relationship between parties.

No matter how much Ellsworth's care made Oren's stomach flutter in a way he couldn't fully attribute to illness.

"The medication should kick in soon," he assured Ellsworth weakly. "Then I'll be out of your hair."

Ellsworth made some space for himself on the bed and sat down, though he was sure to keep some distance between them after recalling the way Oren had pulled his hand away from him in the arboretum.

"Out of my hair? You're not in my hair. Besides, if you weren't here where I could keep an eye on you then I'd just be worried and calling you all the time. 'What if he got dizzy again and fell and hit his head and he's bleeding to death on the carpet?' 'What if he threw up in his sleep and he's choking on his vomit?' And, anyway, sick people need someone to take care of them. They just do." Ellsworth looked down at his hands in his lap and tried not to fall too deeply into self-pity. "I mean... I know I'm not the best at it. But it's better than, like, Landi trying to take care of you. Probably."

Pushing himself up a bit, Oren moved himself into a more comfortable position to look at Ellsworth. "You don't give yourself enough credit," he told him with an encouraging smile. "I'm not saying you can volunteer in Sickbay anytime soon, but I can say that I feel very taken care of."

"Really? It's because I didn't punch you when you threw up on me, right? Full disclosure: I thought about it." His sly look softened, and suddenly he seemed very earnest. He reached out to take Oren's hand again, weighed the cost of what he was about to say, and decided that even though it wasn't subtle - the verbal equivalent of an inappropriate kiss - he wanted to say it anyway. "I'll always take care of you." He blinked; it sounded different coming out of his mouth than it had in his head, somehow less appropriate. He dropped the hand. "I mean, like...when you're sick, I'll bring you one blanket and regular soup."

As Ellsworth let go of his hand, the warmth of it lingered and Oren looked down at it. Staring for a few moments, he thought about the awkwardness between them and whether it should be addressed.

He looked up at Ellsworth again, studying his profile.

"I know," he said softly. The two sat in silence for a few tense seconds before Oren decided to speak again. "I wanted to tell you something." Licking his lips, he continued. "I know things between us didn't really...well, there was nothing official between us, but I'm sorry it ended." Like Ellsworth, Oren knew the words coming out of his mouth seemed strange, silly even. But he still said them.

Ellsworth felt conflicted. People often said and did things completely out of character when they were under the influence of something, whether it be an analgesic or just alcohol. He'd spent many a Risan night tangled up in the arms and legs of another young man being told all sorts of beautiful lies about his body and personality and mind only to be treated like a stranger, a piece of property, or a service-provider in the morning after they'd sobered up. And while Oren had never given any indication of being that way, trust and distrust weren't simple switches one could turn on and off at will.

"It's okay," Ellsworth said, refraining from apologizing himself. He still remembered very well Oren's injunction to stop apologizing when they were together in the arboretum. Pressing on quickly, he said, "You should probably get some sleep, right? Don't they always tell sick people to sleep? I can fluff your pillow if you want."

Oren frowned, letting out a small groan as he pressed his face down against the thin mattress. It was clear by both Ellsworth visible reaction and what Oren could feel emanating from him that he'd said the wrong thing. What was so wrong about it (besides it being a complete non-sequitur, he realised in hindsight), he didn't know.

Turning his head, he placed his cheek on the warm sheets and stared at the opposite wall. Now that he'd said what he had, he had no idea where he'd planned to take the discussion. The medication had clearly begun to set in as, with each breath, he no longer felt stabbing pain in his sides. Instead, with his muscles feeling numb and his head light, all he could feel was a bubbling sadness and helplessness. He hated the strange wall that was suddenly between them but he didn't know what to say or do without completely compromising himself, and putting himself into a situation where he could be easily hurt again.

He wanted to comfort Ellsworth but he knew that what the Betazoid wanted was an actual explanation to how Oren felt and he knew he couldn't give him that. The idea terrified him, and he wanted so much to just close his eyes and open them to a better moment. One where he wasn't curled in on himself, in pain or high on medication. One where hadn't nearly died less than twenty hours ago. One where he could say whatever he wanted, whatever he felt, without saying it in his mind eighteen times beforehand, long enough to discourage himself from saying anything that mattered, convinced that it only mattered to him and no one else.

Only when he sniffed once did he realised the dot he'd been staring at on the wall was blurry from tears. Dammit, he growled at himself, proceeding to cross his arms in front of himself and bury his face in them. Briefly he wondered whether other people had more control over their emotions, if Ellsworth ever hated that he seemed to care so much about things no one gave a damn about. If he ever felt like a complete wuss who couldn't seem to handle anything without wanting to cry like a six year old. He was seventy-five, for heaven's sake!

Ellsworth readjusted himself on the bed and scooted closer to Oren. His hand reached out and ran through the other man’s hair, down his neck, across his shoulders, and then back again. His touch was neither too heavy or too light, and it wasn’t intrusive; it was comforting, loving, soothing, and intimate. He wasn’t very good at following regulations, he didn’t always remember to fill out paperwork, and he was an absolute wreck when it came to relationships but he was good at physically pleasing others and putting them at ease.

“I’m sorry we’re not better at talking,” Ellsworth said. He adjusted the sheet across Oren’s body, tugged it until it was pulled up to his shoulder, and then resumed his attempts at soothing. “You know, about serious stuff.” Seeing Oren struggle was difficult on any number of levels. Ellsworth himself often felt just as emotionally overwhelmed and incapable of controlling himself, just as ashamed of his own mind. His eyes shifted away, and he dropped his voice lower, though it kept a pleading edge to it. “Please don’t be ashamed - not around me - okay?”

Oren sighed, the tension in his body easing with Ellsworth's caresses. Swallowing hard, he shuffled towards the Betazoid until he could comfortably rest his head on his lap. He knew it probably wasn’t the most sensible thing to do but he was too tired to be sensible. At Ellsworth’s plea, Oren replied with the most honest answer he could give.

“I’ll try.”

Oren realised how comfortable he felt. He knew most of the tension he built up was self-made, but that didn’t make it any less real. Still, Oren cuddled against Ellsworth, enjoying the moment while it lasted.

“You’re a really good person, Ellsworth,” Oren told him, feeling like it was something the man in question needed to hear. Few people on the ship, if any, actually took Ellsworth seriously or treated him like an actual person instead of a joke and Oren felt that was their loss. To him, Ellsworth was the most loyal, loving and gentle person on the Galileo and, despite what he’d done to hurt Oren, the El Aurian knew he hadn’t done it with cruel intent. Instead, it was just youthful arrogance and a case of not thinking about your actions. Oren himself knew that he had been guilty of it when he was Ellsworth’s age, even when he’d been much older.

“You’re really kind and I don’t think you know how rare that is. I love that you really care that everyone around you feel comfortable and taken care of, even if it means you don’t feel the same. Sometimes I wish you wouldn’t do that. People can be real assholes who take advantage,” Oren told him. The words flowed easily from him and the sincerity in his tone was clear. “You deserve someone to make you feel safe. You deserve everything,” he sighed, making an effort to roll over onto his back, the fact that he couldn’t see Ellsworth’s face bothering him suddenly.

Although his medication was working, his eyes looked clear as they met Ellsworth's and Oren wanted him to know he meant every word. In that moment, Oren didn’t spare much thought for their predicament, whatever it was; now that the medication had calmed his mind, the entire thing felt absurd. Of course him and Ellsworth could be friends, he realised as he looked up at him, part of him suddenly struck with how young he was. He was barely finishing up his second decade, and was just coming into his own. He was doing his best, and Oren felt it was important for him to at least know he was worthy of the best.

Ellsworth smiled down at him the whole time and tried not to let himself blush too much. It helped that he could keep his hands busy because he could still listen but have an outlet for the nervous energy that came with so much attention and praise, especially from Oren. He brushed away the hair from the El Aurian’s face when he rolled over and continued on, running fingers along the lobe of his ear and down across his neck. Deep down Ellsworth suspected they were probably both desperate for one another’s touch - the touch of someone safe. And it was as good a time as any to indulge.

Nobody had ever seen him that way before, much less said it out loud, not even K’os. To the half-Vulcan he’d been a moment’s fun, a true and genuine friend but now with severe limitations and restrictions. Even without them, Ellsworth was certain he’d never seen him the way that Oren saw him. He imagined it would take the wisdom of seventy-five years and the training of a researcher to see it anyway, past all the nearly-teenage ramblings about chocolate and boys and sex, down to the heart of the person buried beneath the veneer.

If he’d had no sense of the scale of his mistake before then Ellsworth certainly understood it now thanks to Oren’s candor. It was like throwing away something with true value for something flashy that was destined to lose its luster in a short amount of time, something ephemeral and immaterial and meaningless. Oren and the things that he said and the things that he did were like a strong, solid rock. They were certainty and love that offered meaning and depth. And he’d thrown it all away.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Ellsworth said shyly, evincing true modesty. Everything he wanted to say would be too much, too typically Ellsworth in how heavy-handed it would be. So he carried on running his hands through Oren’s hair and watching the striations in his green eyes just to give himself some time to think. He fought the pull in his abs that urged him so strongly to bend forward and kiss Oren; instead, he ruffled the other man’s hair gently, gave him a smile, and then averted his eyes again. “I’m gonna give you medicine every day so you can keep saying sweet things.” He let silence take over and then with eyes still averted, asked in a very quiet voice, “Do you mean it?”

Oren smiled gently, enjoying the blush Ellsworth was sporting. “I always mean what I say, medication or no medication,” he assured him. “I don’t always say what I mean to say, but when I do say something, I mean it.” Reaching up, Oren ran the back of his fingers against Ellsworth’s cheek, feeling the warm beneath the light stubble. The touch was brief and Oren put his hand back on his chest soon after, sighing contently.

“Especially this. I’d never lie to you, you know that,” Oren said, momentarily regretting how it may sound, all things considered. He didn’t mean to bring any attention to their problems but the words were already out.

“I don’t mean it like that,” he said quickly afterwards. “I told you that I forgive you. It’s in the past now, anyway.” Hoping to make him feel better, Oren felt around the bed until he found Ellsworth's free hand and covered it with his.

Ellsworth turned his head and looked down, but it wasn't clear if he was hanging his head in shame or had his attention drawn to their hands. His eyelashes obscured his eyes at that angle, and he made sure to keep it that way. He wanted to the issue of trust to be an old conversation between them, but he knew it had touched Oren so deeply that it would keep manifesting itself whether he wanted it to or not. It was one of those things with an impact on the direction of their future over which he had frustratingly little control. Forgiving someone almost seemed like the easiest part; truly moving on was far harder.

After he'd regain enough composure, the young Betazoid turned so that his dark eyes were looking down at Oren again. He renewed the push of his fingers through blond hair, adjusting them to run deep enough to massage Oren's scalp while he was at it. It was hard to keep control of his face and his movements, to make certain they didn't shift over into making him seem like a doe-eyed lovestruck fool, but he managed. Barely.

"Hey, you know that geoengineer I told you about? I had to deliver some stuff to the lab, and he was hitting on me hardcore. Like, Nausicaan-level subtlety," Ellsworth said, smirking. "Maybe you should tell him that I took care of you while you were sick. And I let you put your head in my lap. And I ran my fingers through your hair. And told you that you're beautiful and kind and warm. And that I've missed you and the things you say and the sound of your voice so much. Maybe he'll finally take a hint."

Oren had closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Ellsworth's fingers raking through his hair. He chuckled at his words. "You want me to use my new authority as Chief Research officer to tell my subortinate to leave you alone? You want me to state my claim?" His voice was teasing, but good natured.

Ellsworth blushed so hard he could feel his cheeks burning, even as he felt giddy. There were very many fine qualities in Oren - sometimes he liked to amuse himself by listing them in his head - but near the top of the list was his perception. Ellsworth felt like he had the benefit of trying to be subtle (even though he wasn't very good at it) and Oren would pick up on what he was really trying to say.

"Well... Maybe I do," he said, nudging Oren playfully to try to downplay the fact that he did, in fact, want him to state a claim. Before he could get much further with the thought, something the other man had said struck him. "Wait, what? You got a promotion? When?" His brow drew together as he frowned down at the El Aurian. "Why didn't you tell me? Did I miss the party?"

"There wasn't a party," Oren said, shaking his head. He decided to ignore the question of why Ellsworth wasn't told, not wanting to bring more attention to their falling out than it deserved. "When some of the Senior Staff was transferred and Stace was made First Officer, the Admiral offered me the position of Chief Research Officer and I accepted. I even got a field rank." He grinned, though he found the whole thing slightly silly. "I am officially Lieutenant JG Oren Idris now."

"What, really? I'm so proud of you!" Ellsworth said. In the haste of his excitement, he nearly kissed Oren, but remembered at the last minute the finer points of their predicament and the other man's illness. He veered to the left, planted a peck on his cheek, and then hovered close for a few moments. He smiled a weird smile, shy and private, then straightened back up. "I bet you look cute in your uniform with your shiny pips."

Oren's breath hitched as Ellsworth's face inched closer. Still, he didn't move away; in fact, he actually caught himself leaning in towards him but stopped, hoping the Betazoid wouldn't notice. Instead, he blushed at the small kiss on his cheek, meeting Ellsworth's eyes as he looked down at him.

The Betazoid kept eye contact for a moment, weighed his options, and then looked away. He took the safe way out of the situation, decided to ignore the move that Oren might have come to regret later, and instead chose to be happy with enjoying their time together. He assumed it would be short-lived. Once Oren was well again, once the medicine had worn off, all the open feelings would be put away again. The clear insight from his illness would once again be obscured with the dross of self-awareness, concealed by all Oren's suppressed concerns. He'd remember more keenly what Ellsworth had done to him, feel the twist of the knife once again, and they'd be back to the distance that kept them at arm's length.

Ellsworth would hate it, of course. And he might have chosen to dwell on it in that moment, to delve into all his worries, concerns, and insecurities. But that would have been the greater tragedy - to waste such a perfect moment alone with Oren - so he chose instead to smile.

[OFF]

Lieutenant JG Oren Idris
Chief Research Officer
USS Galileo

PO3 Ellsworth Hudson
Quartermaster
USS Galileo
[PNPC Mott]

RSS Feed

Comments (2)