Ricochet

Posted on Sun Sep 18th, 2022 @ 4:22am by Commander Benjamin Jamesson & Lieutenant JG Calanthe 'Cal' Diaz

Mission: Mission 6 - Memory
Location: Messhall
Timeline: 304 06:30
3867 words - 7.7 OF Standard Post Measure

It had been a long time since she'd been to breakfast this early. The funny thing about that, Cal had realised over the scorching initial sips of her hot chocolate, was that she hadn't really given much thought to how quiet the ship was for this one specific hour or so on the cusp of the two duty shifts for a long time. Half a lifetime ago it seemed, when motivation beyond her own comfort had provided the impetus for early-morning workouts and breakfast to follow, this had promised to become one of her favourite times of day. The fact that she could ever have claimed that about the early morning was staggering enough, but to couple it with a healthy exercise regime and mostly-decent caloric intake had been revolutionary. Such was the power of strong influences.

But they say it took at least eight weeks to form a habit, and it had taken only seven weeks for the routine to be shattered by the complete obliteration of one of the key components. For seven weeks, she had drawn closer to the conclusion that Ben Jamesson was worth the 0545 alarm. Then he was gone.

And now he was back, and proving just as problematic to her sleeping schedule. Despite being technically 'confined to quarters', Calanthe had assumed, (without asking just in case she was wrong), that she was allowed out for meals. Having failed to shape sleep into something that didn't wind up tormenting her, she'd eventually showered, dressed and dragged herself out in search of a change of scenery more than anything else. The usual table had been free, and the view beyond its window just as predictable as it had been all those months ago. Her chin, resting in her cupped palm, dug slightly into the warm flesh and she frowned. The sound of her teaspoon tapping idly against the side of her mug was reminiscent of something that didn't feel like it belonged to her. She was getting a lot of that lately.

Benjamin had slept but his body had not allowed him to sleep much past 6 am and he soon found himself going through the familiar motions of showering and going to the mess hall. He decided against the gym due to the fact that though he had rested he had not slept enough to restart that routine. He had no duty routine so wore gym clothes in jogging bottoms, tee and trainers. He smiled slightly as he spotted a familiar figure sitting at a familiar table just like his ship, it was so familiar that he thought for a moment he was there and everything was correct in the world. He quickly gathered some suspicious-looking pancakes and eggs with two mugs of coffee and joined her. "Morning." He said knowing he should have gone and sat somewhere else but he could not help himself when he wanted to just drink in some familiarity and something almost normal.

For a split second, reality diverged. Hello, handsome. Morning, babe. There was eeriness enough to the Commander's appearance, almost as if summoned by nostalgia alone, but Calanthe was momentarily struck dumb by the indecision of unexpected duality. Predominantly, the overriding impulse was to smile and bask in a sensation of fluttery anticipation that she'd almost forgotten had been this potent; a much smaller sliver of her expectation seemed intent on noting that he hadn't dropped a kiss into her hair.

Why the hell would he?

"Hey," she settled on after a fraction to gather her wits. "You're up early."

The man sat down properly relieved that this was a chair they did not buckle under his weight much like the ones he had found when he'd been doing laundry the previous night. He shook his head he was much more morning person than night person even if he had spent the last year doing the middle watch. “Sometimes but normally I try to be up early to go to the gym and then have breakfast and then do what an executive officer should and then do my bridge shift after that."

She already knew that. Still disoriented from the first awkward sensation of premonition, Cal squashed down a moment of imminent panic to simply nod her understanding. Ben, her Ben, had been exactly the same, and ticking off another similarity seemed like a natural compulsion except for the seemingly more pressing concern of this stream of parallel recognition that didn't make sense. She understood his preference for early morning because it had been directly responsible for her trying to make adjustments to follow suit; what she ought not have been able to also recall was burying herself under a pillow to protest.

Nervousness was not Calanthe's typical state of being. Whilst she moved at a high-octane pace that certainly involved a degree of nervous tension, it was never an indecisive or furtive manifestation. Now it was occurring to her that, outside Lexi, the Commander was the first person she'd really tried to hold a conversation with since realising her mental landscape was more chaotic than usual, and the fact that it was him suddenly brought into a focus a reoccurring theme she'd kind of been aware of but hadn't wanted to fixate on. He kept...popping up. In memories that didn't feel like they fit.

"Not my best part of the day," she confessed, trying to maintain the conversation as it would normally have progressed. "But you are usually guaranteed an element of peace and quiet." For a second, she considered pointing out that his counterpart had got her to begrudgingly see the point of not rushing around in the morning but that seemed...tactless. Cal offered a tired half-smile. "Even if the Messhall's seen more than its fair share of action lately."

The man nodded he could appreciate the peace and quiet that she craved as it would be hard to come by on a ship that was constantly filled with 80+ people. And the 80+ people being the same people over and over. He had become accustomed to it but he also knew when you could find places where the silence loomed over him and allowed him semblance of quiet and relaxation. It was much easier for a senior officer.

For a moment he wanted to suggest them to her but stopped himself, this was not his version of the communication officer. He could not let her in on secrets that he knew of the ship, it would taint what his promise and what she knew about him. “Yeah, far too much action.” He agreed solemnly.

"At least it's over now."

It was a statement said with only marginal conviction, which was an odd level of hesitation for the brunette. By all accounts, it seemed as though Smith was gone and, hopefully, with an entire quantum spectrum to terrorise, they'd seen the last of him. Niggling doubt had attempted to convince Cal that her odd experiences with recollections that didn't seem to be hers probably ought to have been reported lest they prove to be evidence to the contrary of Smith's full departure but everyone looked so tired. Raising panic levels just because her head was a mess wasn't an easy pill to swallow.

Picking up her drink, Cal directed her gaze outside the viewport and considered the darkness for a moment. Not for the first, and certainly not the last, her thoughts turned towards her parents. Her mother, a university professor and experienced translator, had met her father through military ties. To say they had both been proud of their daughter's deployment was an understatement. And look at her now. Right now, more than anything, she wished she could talk to them. Between her mother's animated passion and her father's quiet introspection, they would have known the best way forward. Melancholy flared briefly before Calanthe squashed it with a sip of her drink and glanced back to her breakfast buddy.

"Now we get to go back to trying to figure out where the heck we are." She smiled, attempting to maintain a somewhat optimistic tone. "It's about time we stumbled across an alien species obsessed with spa treatments and deep tissue massage."

“I believe we know where we are. It’s a case of getting home.” The man commented lightly. They were in exactly the same place they had ended up in his universe well past where even Vulcans and Andorians had dared to explore. They were very much in charted territory even more so for him not just space but also universes. It was mind boggling to him but who was he to complained when he was alive enough to drink algae coffee. “Maybe. Personally I could just do with some real Terra firma.” He admitted.

It was enough to strengthen Cal's smile to something a little more akin to her usual capacity for optimism. "Now that's something I can get behind." Her brown eyes roamed the space just above his head in speculative zeal, her mug poised between both hands. "Perhaps somewhere with a beach. And boats." Taking a sip, she dropped her gaze to meet his and added wistfully. "Maybe a horse or two."

Being this far from home had certainly permitted time to reflect on what mattered most and Cal, aside from missing family, had longed mostly for the recreational pursuits that had gifted her a sense of freedom. Sailing, horse riding, the simplicity of a jog along the beach... It was easy to assume she missed the night life, and shopping, and anything fast paced that seemed to match her personality but Calanthe, down to her roots, was not really the person people often expected her to be. She actually liked solitude, to an extent, and had aspirations for a future that involved security and family. As much as she enjoyed the company of others, and the throb of loud music and pulse of the dancefloor, what she craved was far simpler. A sunset. The sensation of wind through her hair. Strong arms and a rugged jawline.

Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away the burgeoning daydream.

"Though I'd settle for being able to breathe fresh air for a while."

“There might be something animal like but it is unlikely to be horse-like.” He had never been a great animal person in all honesty but he would be if it meant being back on earth for a little bit. “Should go to hydroponics once in a while. I used to find myself taking in deep breaths of fresh oxygen and fooling myself into thinking that I was somewhere with terra firma beneath my feet.“ he said hinting to her what he did often more than once in a while.

Cal blew across the surface of her drink as she gave the suggestion some thought. Eventually, she dipped her head as if to give credit, though she wasn't sure she could go as far as to convince herself she was standing anywhere other than smack bang in the middle of the same ship she'd been stuck on for far too long. "I mostly just draw myself an escape," she admitted quietly, and then wondered why. These snippets, the personal things, had been part of what she'd started to share with Ben before his death and it was admittedly very difficult to remind herself that this wasn't the same as just picking up where they'd left off. She lowered her eyes to consider the contents of her mug. "When I get the time, at least."

"Must be running out of paper soon though?" He said quietly. It was one of many things that the ship would be running out of eventually but if they were like his own they were already thinking on how to survive and keep things recycling for different uses.

For a moment, the observation silenced her, and one didn't have to know Cal very well to understand how rare that was. He was right, of course. When she'd brought her art supplies along for the ride, there had been no capacity to store anything grandiose, and certainly no room for stockpiling. Had she known what would eventually befall them, Cal would have found a way to squash in at least several more sketchbooks but she had the three sizes she'd boarded with, and the set of pencils that had seemed enough at the time. Eventually, they too would be sharpened down to nubs.

When her gaze lifted to meet his, it was saddened by melancholy agreement, though she made the effort to smile. "Eventually. Digital art isn't the same but I guess I'll just have to make do."

The Commander felt a moment of sadness that he had caused her to have a moment of sadness but he needed to be realistic and live in the logical. He could not help but agree as well that digital art was just not the same but it would still allow everyone a creative outlet for anyone who needed it. "Well, you will just have to learn how to make paper." He teased thoughtfully. Maybe that could be his new role seeing he was already thinking about it already - work out how to recycle and reuse what they had. It would be something to talk to Beth about when he finally bucked up the courage to do so.

It coaxed a strengthened smile from Calanthe, for all he might have suggested she learn to wave a magic wand and produce things out of thin air. "I might need to figure out how to grow trees first," she joked, her eyes reflecting a grateful warmth. Seeking solutions and other avenues was normally her forte and his suggestion, however ambitious, served as a reminder that you were only defeated when you gave up. "Or maybe we'll be home before it even matters." The unrealistic sentiment added a rueful edge to the brunette's smile but optimism sometimes required an element of wishful thinking.

“Recycle what you have onboard.” He advised before jumping at a loud noise that came from the kitchen. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I hope so. My nerves might not cope if we do not.” He said trying to be bright and breezy but it did not quite reach his eyes.

Calanthe's eyes welled with immediate concern, her attention completely captured by an attempt to read beneath his expression. For a split second, she was overcome by a fierce desire to wrap her arms around him and struggled, as she had all day, to place the intensity of the compulsion. He seemed so lost, which was a sensation Cal was fast developing a keen reciprocation for. Just as she had in Sickbay, she settled for reaching across the table to offer him a hand. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

The man looked at the woman reaching across for him and he smiled before he moved his hands out of reach. "No... I am okay. Or at least I will be." He said gripping his hands tightly together to stop him from reaching back for her. He hated that he was putting a barrier up but his own morale compass would not allow him to put his needs first. "Lots have gone on recently will take time to adjust."

Don't cry. She blinked several times, rapidly. This is stupid, why would you cry anyway? As she pulled back to her own side, Cal processed the rejection with as much shock as if he'd slapped her across the face, mostly because she hadn't anticipated it. A quick reflection left her feeling stupidly naïve, chastised for expecting him to appreciate the attempt at over-familiarity, whilst part of her screamed that his reaction was wrong. Flashes of him sitting by her bed in Sickbay mingled with the emergent imposters, fleeting recollections of a near affectionate-nature, but none were defined enough to stand up to his stark and immediate withdrawal.

Rather than stare at him in stunned disappointment, Cal lowered her gaze and nodded her understanding, making a show of suddenly finding the tableware she wasn't even using particularly interesting. "I guess we're probably not the most comforting people right now," she acknowledged miserably.

"Not really but it is no one's fault. It is one of those quirks of the universe that I came out here to experience." He said suddenly feeling numb inside as he watched the woman carefully looking for something about the tone of her voice. His hands wrapped firmly around the mug relieved for the material that would not buckle under his grip. How was he going to survive on this ship with all these emotions that were battering him and sending him through loops?

If one thing was true of Cal in any universe, it was that she loathed being a source of strife or pain. It often surprised people, because her personality was bold and brash enough to make it seem as if she had little care for other people's feelings at times but her spontaneity, coupled with her flash-in-a-pan temper, only served to mask the brunette's preference when it came to her interpersonal interactions. It stung, in a way that drove layers deep, to know that being around her was a problem for him. More than that, the realisation left Calanthe swamped by a sudden wave of intense loneliness. She interacted with everyone but how many friends did she actually have? A week or so ago, her tally might have been optimistic. Now she felt a bleakness that had no real foundation in logic other than she felt his losses as if they were her own. Hadn't she just spent her entire morning wondering why she missed Lexi like crazy when the woman was only a deck away?

She still couldn't look him in the eye. Instead, she turned her head to look back out the viewport again. "Well, in that case," she replied softly, "I promise I won't take offense if you give me a wide berth." It would hurt with a ferocity she couldn't explain, but she wouldn't be offended by it. Finally succumbing to a stubborn tenacity for bravery, Cal risked a glance across the table and tried to smile. "If it helps, then it counts."

"I appreciate your company Calanthe." He said simply hoping she understood that it was not about her but all about his mental health and not allowing his universe to bleed through here. "This is not about me but I do need to stop thinking about some of you as the people I have lost. It is a weird mix of emotions." He said seeing the bravery all over her face. Why could she just not be quiet and none brave for once?

But I don't want you to.

Somewhere, buried beneath the rubble of her equilibrium, Calanthe Diaz rallied. Bruised, battered but as ferociously resilient as she'd always been. Though she lacked ample proof to understand it herself, she was a woman who had stared down a beast intent on killing her twice, and though she was 50/50 in the victory stakes, it didn't change the fact that Cal didn't wallow in self-pity. She didn't back down from a challenge and she sure as hell didn't abandoned people who were suffering just because she felt a little rough around the edges herself.

Slowly, the confusion in her eyes evaporated into gentle warmth.

"For what it's worth, it's just as tricky reminding myself that you likely have no idea what half my terrible jokes mean. I think," she reasoned, "This is just something that only time can sort out. I..." She picked her words carefully. "...really valued my friendship with Ben. Breakfast has been pretty lonely without him."

Benjamin did not answer for a moment before he felt a smile surface from his turmoil. "Your jokes are terrible in both universes." For a moment he could always imagine it was his ship and this woman was his version of her before he closed off and shook his head. "I am sure there are many people here who could make your life less lonely." He said through gritted teeth.

Incredulity rendered Cal's expression almost typical for a moment. "I think many is a stretch." For a moment, she swirled her drink around, considering the best way to complete her sentiments without alluding to the impact of a certain absence. Even she hadn't realised how much it had shaped her choices until just recently. With a glance around the almost-empty room, Cal extended a hand in a partial shrug to emphasise her point. "Not exactly overwhelmed by options."

"Well if you do choose to get up early." He countered as the doors opened and several people came in as if to prove the point. "You're loved and respected around here, Calanthe, do not ever stop remembering that." He said firmly offering her some comfort.

It was a kindness that earned him a tired smile. Popularity wasn't really the issue, she'd learned very early in life how to please a crowd. Real, abiding connections were challenging, however, in such a confined space with absolutely no where to go if things turned sour. It escalated the risk whilst also leaving the door wide open for hasty decisions based on lack of options. It was, as it happened, a conversation she'd already had with him once. It felt odd to repeat it, even though there was obviously no way for him to recall it.

"I guess I'm just overly particular then."

"What have you got planned for today?" He asked.

Cal lifted her gaze to the ceiling to consider the question. Shrugging, she replied, "Actually, I don't really know. I'm not cleared for duty until tomorrow at the earliest and sleeping isn't exactly working out, so I guess I'm stuck finding something that keeps me out of the way and appeases everyone's insistence that I take it easy." The roll of her eyes seeped into her tone such that there was no need to be looking at her to realise what her expression looked like.

“Why don’t you try out what I suggested in the hydroponics bay?” He suggested with a nod. It was a a suggestion but smelling fresh earth, herbs and getting fresh oxygen always helped him. “That is definitely taking thing s easy.”

"Maybe I will," Cal smiled, not having taken the suggestion seriously until that moment. She wasn't quite convinced but something about Ben's certainty, and the way he kept coming back to it, felt like a missing link somehow. Her eyes dropped to his plate and, in predictable style, her expression relaxed into a more prominent grin. Glancing back up at him, she quirked an eyebrow. "Are you going to eat all of that?"

The man lost in a moment pushed his plate to her and stayed silent. This was going to kill him, he just knew it.