A Way With Words

Posted on Tue Sep 5th, 2023 @ 3:51pm by Ensign Isaac 'Zac' Hughes & Chief Petty Officer Nish Karalo
Edited on on Wed Sep 6th, 2023 @ 6:41am

Mission: Sojurn
Location: Personal Quarters
Timeline: Day 339
2849 words - 5.7 OF Standard Post Measure

There was a time when Isaac Hughes was notoriously good at giving people space.

Last week probably counted, in fact.

But there was something to be said for being a whole universe-size deviation away from your intended location and jammed back into a sardine tin that, whilst hauntingly familiar, was absent a few very crucial components, not to mention a couple of pivotal sardines. The doctor had not been idly projecting pessimistic forecasts when he'd warned Gerhard that returning to space after such a protracted shore-leave would test the crew's resolve. It was hard enough under normal circumstances to adjust to living on top of one another without tossing in the delight of no confirmed schedule for the next time any of them would get to smell actual dirt again. Many of them were still processing trauma and would be for a good while to come. What he was less forthcoming about sharing with the First Officer, or anyone else for that matter, was where he personally fell on the sleeping-in-an-open-airlock-the-next-time-someone-suggests-karaoke scale. After the past week, the gauge was much further past halfway than he would have liked.

Of course, part of any good coping strategy involved intentional connection. Knowing who your trusted people were and making time to be around them was an essential component of good mental health practises and this was certainly far more profound when forced to consider that you could literally count the amount of actual friends you had on one hand with fingers to spare. New relationships would take time, for all there were perfectly amicable inroads, compounded by the rest of the crew's pendulum-like wobble back and forth between wanting to support each other and craving a dark room entirely to themselves. Even if he wanted to, Isaac didn't have many people in his current vicinity that he felt comfortable being vulnerable around. It seemed to count as a perfectly feasible excuse, therefore, that his main reason for pretending that everything was fine was that one of them seemed to have decided he didn't exist.

Which he'd honestly understood at first, hence a week of courteously making sure Ben was wedged in between them at meals. But whilst his patience was indomitable and his temper very slow to be provoked, Hughes was not a fan of spending another week feeling like he'd made a complete ass out of himself. He probably had but she could at least have the decency to rub his face in it and call him an idiot. What was he meant to do with resolute silence other than commit her for a full health screening lest it be the sign of something far more sinister? It was certainly out-of-character, which didn't help make it seem less serious.

Normally, he was pretty good at giving people space but he'd run out of corners to stand in.

And so he'd pondered, and fretted, and considered every angle because you couldn't rush into making a complete and utter fool of yourself. He'd made a list, as was expected of him, and had arrived at a point where the only way forward seemed to be straight ahead. At full speed. Subtle never worked and this was a very protracted silence he was dealing with. It was with all this in mind that Isaac found himself, at midnight no less, stood outside a certain pilot's quarters with brand new guitar hung from a strap around his shoulder, carefully surveying the corridor for unsuspecting witnesses. It wasn't quite the same as the beat up old thing he'd had back in their universe but the generosity of the Realians had at least gifted him back a fairly vital meditation tool. Clearing his throat, he reached forward with the neck of the guitar and used it to activate the door chime.

The stars had begun streaking by again, during her day shifts, whatever meaning that particular word had on a spaceship. The hypnotic pattern of light stretching in endless lines, folding around the ship's warp bubble, was what she visualised to get herself to sleep after another boring day at the helm. The ship was pointed in the right direction and the throttle was stuck on maximum. Nothing much to do for someone like her.

It left way too much time to think about other things. Or really only one other thing. A particular thing that she felt strongly she'd ruined back on the frozen planet they'd left behind. Ever since they were back onboard it was like he didn't know how to act around her. He barely reached out to her. Some of her jokes fell flat. It was awkward to the max. As she was staring at the empty bunk bed above her head the chime to her quarters sounded.

For a moment she was just confused as to who it could be that would ring her door at this time of night. By the time she had slowly made her way over to the door in her Starfleet issued PJs the confusion had turned into a careful bit of hope.

She opened the door.

There was some small mercy in the fact that, having partial deference for the timing in regards to the current shift if nothing else, Isaac didn't opt to open with an energetic riff. In fact, he didn't play the instrument at all, which only seemed to add an additional layer of dopiness to his appearance. He was wont to claim absolute ignorance regarding his natural capacity for sad-eyes, having mastered soulful melancholy without apparently any rehearsal requirement. Whether it was intentional enough, there was no mistaking when he'd decided to break habit and smash his heart onto his sleeve. The man could wear an apology like most guys slapped on cologne.

"I think I found another thing I'm bad at."

As far as openings went, he couldn't have gift-wrapped her a better one.

Slowly folding her arms and leaning into the doorframe Nish pondered whether to let him in or to just have him make a fool out of himself in the corridor. As the moments measured in heartbeats passed between them she had settled on the latter. "I'm sure you have some redeeming qualities."

"I didn't say..."

He left the words hanging, a forfeit before the battle had even started. Instead, using one of the pegs of the guitar to scratch his nose, he tried a different approach. "You know, some people pick up music instruments and just take to them. Me, it took me 10 years of stubbornness to get by on the guitar and, even then, I don't think I'd submit my technique for expert analysis." Sticking out his bottom lip in exaggerated thoughtfulness, Isaac allowed his gaze to wander the ceiling overhead as if searching for clarity amongst the rivets. "10 years of mediocrity and yet it's still not the thing I suck at most."

"I'm no good at musical instruments either." Nish' gaze fell to the floor instead of the ceiling. "Perseverance is a commendable personality trait though." Slowly she looked back up trying to find eye contact again with the man she had alien-married, a soft encouraging smile accompanying the glitter in her icy blues.

A dip of his head to the side seem to pay the sentiment some credence. "There's that, though one man's persistence is another man's restraining order." He seemed to take a moment then, chin rested on the slightly-angled guitar neck, contemplating his next words with the thoughtful deliberation he was somewhat infamous for. Certainly within the current dynamic, he had a capacity to lose himself in introspection often enough to require a pillow to the face. "It gets tiresome though, you know. Getting so close but never quite making it all come together." Wistfulness cast his gaze over her shoulder and, with palpable weariness, the doctor shook his head. "I mean, at this rate, I could reach the end of my days never having successfully executed a cartwheel."

Only the extensively initiated knew how to interpret the flicker of vivacity behind his eyes.

"I don't even think I can sustain a handstand with any sort of passable proficiency."

It was all he knew how to offer her, the best version of an olive branch he could think to extend. A reason to groan at him, permission to hit him with something, a stubborn refusal to laugh at his stupid jokes even though they always reliably broke the tension. It was also the only way he knew how to wedge himself into the conversation that needed to follow and it required a considerable trust in her ability to understand that his intention was not to be flippant. There were things that had to be said, he just needed her to know that it was still him saying them.

"I think I lost your metaphor, unless the cartwheel was a euphemism. In which case I'm sure you're fairly proficient at handstands." Nish pushed herself away from the doorway with a devious grin. It was always good to see Zac squirm his way through awkward conversations, or apologies, or anything else. "It's been weird between us. More so than usual." The whole thing had seemed silly at the time, but the kiss, the love she had felt after, it was all making it a bit too real and if she had to be honest with herself it was clear that she had taken some distance from him as well once they got back to the ship.

"I'm sorry." The apology was quickly followed by a bit of a nod towards the guitar. "So how about you play your wife a nice melody to show how much you forgive her?"

There had been some point to his choice of diversion, an analogy that was probably apt if anyone wanted to take the time to unpack it. As it happened, Isaac had just gone for misleading humour because the entire ridiculous conversation had given him time to think properly about what his actual plans were. It was midnight and he was in the middle of the corridor wearing a guitar. He squinted.

"That would require an agreement that forgiveness was necessary and that just feels like a fiery pit of Isaac-can't-win." His expression cleared as circumspection took over. "Which at least re-establishes the status quo." Glancing up the deserted corridor, he considered the untrustworthy nature of empty space and turned back with tentative hope. "Can I at least come inside first?"

"I'd like to hear first what I'm about to let into my home." Nish folded her arms again, the grin hadn't disappeared from her features since they had broken the tension between them somewhat. There was even a feeling the pit of her stomach that could possibly be described as winged insects.

Normally, it was about now that he simply fixed her with a deadpan that, whilst accepting his imminent demise as inevitable, refused to take it on the chin without some complaint. Isaac felt the habit slip into place and yet, for once, since it involved pouting at her, found the connection of their gazes a little too preoccupied with rapid-fire communication at an emotional level beyond mere chagrin. Was it corny to say that, regardless of anything else, he'd just plain missed her? A lot of shit had happened to them lately and yet he would have still struggled to find something worse than standing next to her and feeling like he was somehow another whole universe away.

He cleared his throat.

The cords that he strummed, despite his earlier lament, were confident and mostly in tune. (He'd forgotten that some kind of tuning assistance might have been a good supplementary tool and, thus, they were now dependent solely on his ear.) There was slight flamboyance to the effort but that was very well because, if she was going to force him to serenade her in front of everyone, she was going to have to also deal with his singing.

"We're not strangers to loooove..."

It was a great song choice. It earned him free food from her plate, aimed primarily at his forehead, every time. The trouble was, Isaac could not for the life of him remember the lyrics, nor was he bothered about learning them.

"Something something with apple pie."

"Get in here, you idiot." Nish quickly looked into the corridor to make sure nobody had spotted them before pulling him into the cabin. As the door closed behind him she planted a passionate kiss on his lips. "What took you so long?" She started to pull at his shirt, the guitar and strap helplessly in the way of her wanting to peel off his clothes.

The difficulty was, Isaac pondered in the midst of fleeting bewilderment, that whilst there was definitely a conversation that was required well before what his best friend was currently impatiently instigating, they had technically already had it. There was just no way of knowing, without having another conversation with her, how much of it Nish had remembered. In his head, part of the reason he'd given her space was to let her grapple with the returning recollection of a decision already partially made to redefine the parameters of their relationship. Kowalski's interference had set them back and he'd been willing to start over, or revert back, but it was impossible to know without asking how informed this fresh bout of impulsiveness was.

"You took off on me," he reminded her gently. Though he didn't fight her proximity, Isaac sought a brief reprieve from spontaneous passion by taking both her hands in his. "I figured you wanted some processing time."

It was an awkward conversation to have over the top of a guitar.

"You always want to process so much, sit and think. Ponder. Discuss. Make your lists." Nish shook her head as she traced her hands over his arms, up to his neck. "I know there's things that are vague, from when Kowalski was messing with our heads. I barely remember, and when I do I get a pounding headache." Her fingers found their way into his hair. "but I also get this feeling in my stomach. Butterflies. For want of better word. I just want to savour it."

It was such a succinct way of describing his more prominent personality traits that Isaac struggled, at first, with an expression of sheepishness. It seemed a decent time to extract himself from his guitar, which meant withdrawing to a solitary distance to avoid causing injury to either of them. Propping it up against the wall beside the door, he reached for Nish's hand whilst still distracted by the task and gently tugged her into a hug that tucked her head under his chin. It was just close enough to the affection they normally shared but daring enough to be considered new territory under the circumstances to warrant as positively impulsive by his standards.

"Impetuousness has mixed results," he observed quietly. "It's been difficult," he then admitted with rare vulnerability. "I have a pretty decent recollection of things, I think, but with everything that happened..." Zac released his breath as a putter. "Treading carefully felt like the only way to avoid turning this into additional trauma."

"It's been a wild ride. Perhaps it also proves that sometimes overthinking things has mixed results." Nish slipped her hands back around his waist after he removed the guitar from between them. She closed her eyes for a moment as her head rested against his chest. The thrum of his heartbeat was soothing. "I appreciate you keeping me safe, making sure I don't rush into this, even when I throw myself at you."

The expression on Isaac's face as his chin nestled amongst strands of tousled hair was circumspect but not without elements of sheepishness. "Events have conspired against us enough that it felt kind of important to make sure we knew what we were getting ourselves into." It wasn't the time to delve into complexities of his perspective, not when at least part of it had involved a very surreal uncertainty of her survival. If he were entirely honest, Isaac hadn't even processed the separation from his daughter as something significantly more permanent than the likelihood-of-permanence he'd been grappling with to start with. The ping-pong tournament that was his relationship with Manishie had aspects that would just need to wait their turn.

"So?" Nish leaned back away from his chest to find eye-contact. Mischief in her own eyes. "Want to get into it?"

There was no reasonable excuse for being flabbergasted. Not only did he know her well enough to anticipate most things, Isaac had already been down this path with her once before and only a poorly timed interruption had altered the outcome that time around. As realisation dawned, he closed his slightly-agape mouth and fixed her with a wry deadpan.

"You," he declared, already backing her towards the bunk, "have quite a way with words, do you know that?"

 

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