How Come Neither Of Us Went To Surface

Posted on Thu Jan 30th, 2025 @ 7:32pm by Commander Benjamin Jamesson & Lieutenant JG Calanthe 'Cal' Diaz

Mission: Remnant
Location: Operations Offices
Timeline: Day 408 AM
2183 words - 4.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Benjamin looked up as someone came into the area now firmly operations and smiled a little as he saw Calanthe stood there. He raised an eyebrow and indicated for her to come in as he discussed what he had planned for the shift with a crewman who was eager for some change and potential to advance in a new department. He smiled but carried on for a few more minutes before the crew man left with a PADD full of tickets to work through and tools to try out. “What do I owe this honour? Thought you would have jumped at going off ship?” He asked staying on the other side of the console.

As much as she'd felt a little silly standing around waiting for him, the truth was, the five minutes of gazing up at the ceiling was about as much thinking time as Calanthe had managed over the last few hours. If she looked tired, it was because she was, but that was a pretty common occurrence amongst a crew trying to keep its chin up during an impending fuel crisis. Having taken the moment of solitude to assess whether she actually had a headache or not, Cal startled a little as she realised it was just the pair of them at last and then offered the newly-minted Operations Chief a wane smile for his observation. "It's Lexi's turn," she replied, stepping over to watch him from the other side of the console. "Or so she tells me, anyway."

“And you did not pull rank. I am proud of you.” The man commented with a smile at her as he leaned forward on the console and watch her. “Whilst me on the other hand decided I am quite happy staying onboard fixing things.” He admitted with a shrug. He did not mind not going down as he was just looking for a quiet life; it was why he declined Second Executive Officer.

The teasing earned Ben a smirk, followed swiftly by a huff of soft laughter as Calanthe conceded his evaluation of her options was pretty spot on. "If I'm honest, I'm not in the biggest rush to be first with my head in the lion's mouth this time." Whether she was serious or not, it definitely didn't sound like her usual gumption. "Besides, someone has to listen to the static and make sure nobody sneaks up on us."

“I like honesty.” He said smiling still at her. He was glad that she was not putting her head in the lion’s mouth this time. “I am glad you are on my six but are you sure you are okay?” He wondered coming around from his side of the consoles stopping himself from touching her so it felt a little like hovering for a moment.

The difference in their size as Ben moved closer was more of a reassurance than any source of intimidation. Turning to lean her back against the console, Calanthe folded her arms across her stomach and screwed her nose slightly at the question. She also liked honesty, particularly where this man was concerned. The difficulty arose when she wasn't entirely sure of the problem herself. "I think I'm just tired, and stressed. You know, the general mood right now." A moment's hesitation signalled a silent consideration, the unspoken 'but' that connected to her next admission. "I certainly feel differently about this planet than I did Relia."

“I do know that feeling very well. It is a different type of planet to Relia.” He reminded her gently finally leaning out to brush back a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You could have a nap on that sofa if you want.” He offered.

It was such a simple gesture and yet not one that could easily be misconstrued as one crewmate looking out for another. As much as patience wasn't a hallmark of her personality, Calanthe had found a way to breathe through these moments, staying grounded and present without demanding more. He was healing; they all were. She turned her head towards the piece of furniture in question and raised her eyebrows, affectionately amused. "Someone's been repurposing unused assets, I see." There was no room for a sofa in the Communications area but Cal suspected Ben had already given away why he'd prioritised securing one. "There seems to be a very Ben-like dent in those cushions." A raised eyebrow teased him. "Did they not give you a bed, Commander?"

“MACO’s don’t need it,” he pointed out quietly before smiling a little shoving his hands into his pockets as she caught him out. “Easier to sleep here when I am still trying to work out this department.” He said quietly with a shrug. He had no shame in it especially when she knew him better than he knew himself in sad times thanks to Smith.

"I think Medical would argue that a series of 20-minute 'cat naps' isn't nearly enough to keep an officer functional over time." Whilst not as vocally stubborn as she was, Cal had enough information had her disposal, both learned and acquired, to know the Commander was passively her equal in that regard. "Are you still trying to get by on one meal a day and ration bars?" It was phrased as a question but the pointed look in the brunette's eyes confirmed she already knew the answer. "Ben..."

Ben blinked a few times before shrugging. "Are you going to snitch to Hughes?" The man wondered. He was fully aware that cat naps were not enough to keep people functioning and paired with him forgetting to eat meals was possibly going to get him a trip to sickbay or worse in front of the Captain. But what was he meant to do when there were things to do and it kept his mind in a good place and where he wanted it to be.

Holding his gaze for a few seconds, Cal relented with a slight deflation of stature and reached out to lay a hand against his arm. "No. But I am going to start swinging by here before I head to the mess," she threatened with a partial smirk, aware that it wasn't much of an ultimatum. They had naturally fallen into a pattern of eating breakfast together fairly regularly, so at least she could be certain he started off the day with some nutrition. It would take a lot to make Ben Jamesson fade away but they'd all be tightening their belts at this rate.

The man looked at her hand and smiled a little before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I appreciated that but you do not need to Cal. I am fine. Just overwhelmed with my need to sort out all the things I need to do to ease the engineering pressure.” He also wanted to prove his own worth. He had 76 lives that had died on his watch and he needed to prove that him surviving meant something.

Tiny. Little. Precious. Moments. And if she leaned into them, and let them be, and didn't draw too much attention to them, they seemed to calm him. Realising she was holding her breath, Calanthe allowed a minute for Ben to read the sincerity in her eyes before she quietly replied, "Yes, I do. For my own sanity if nothing else."

The man sighed deeply and shrugged. "As you wish." He pressed another kiss to her forehead, stroking her hair from her face. "Thank you but you do not need to, Cal, but I will do this for your sanity." He assured looking down at her, seeing the look in her eyes.

No matter which side of a confusing headful of emotions you fell on, being held by Benjamin Jamesson was a comfort very difficult to resist. Dropping her forehead to rest against his sternum was a surrender to an internal struggle not to overwhelm him but they had barely scratched the surface for her visit and Calanthe wasn't sure she really had the words to describe how disheartened she was by her reaction to people leaving the ship. Being nearly consumed by space flora had exposed the reality of the crew's extreme ignorance and the vulnerability that came with it. She understood the need to search for fuel as a priority but that hadn't stopped her from feeling immensely relieved when Lexi had expressed a desire to join the first away team. For a woman very used to taking the bull by the horns, succumbing to fear felt like failure.

"I hope this mission succeeds," she eventually murmured, head still bowed to tuck beneath his chin.

“Me too.” He had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that it would as the crew had left and they had not come back as of yet. The man leaned up and stroked her hair watching the dark locks go through his fingers. “Let’s stay positive Calanthe.” He whispered wishing he could offer more support. “Fancy joining me for a nap?” He offered wanting to offer her some more comfort.

Without moving, Calanthe gave a huff of laughter that she hoped at least somewhat masked the suddenly elevation of her heart-rate. Nervous anticipation was partially due to the excitement and anticipation of a reforged connection but there was also a healthy sprinkle of just plain anxiety thrown in for good measure. Reluctantly, she stepped back enough to look up at him and then craned her head to look at the couch. "Are you sure?" The implication wasn't just in regards to the elevation of intimacy beyond their current arrangement; this wasn't behind closed doors, after all.

The man looked back down at her, wondering what she meant before he realised the space they were in. This compartment was not his or hers quarters but it was not open to everyone all the time. “It’s my office too.” The man stated simply, letting her go for a moment as he went to the door panel and locked it before he lay on the couch. The couch was comfortable and he could have to thank Iryna when he saw her next.

As was so often the case, Cal's moment of hesitation marked the need to process a wave of inherited nostalgia. Enough time had passed that the implanted memories had settled and nestled amongst her own recollections, mingling to the point where it wasn't always easy to immediately distinguish an acquired experience from something she'd personally been through. This, she recognised, had been his strategy for escaping insomnia back in his own universe, and with the realisation came the understanding of why she'd felt compelled to come here at the end of shift rather than retreat to her own quarters.

Driven by a similar desire to protect and nurture, Cal pushed aside the very real flutters in her stomach and sat first, twisting to look down at the quiet man's weary features. Offering a faint half-smile, she laid a hand against his cheek and ran the pad of her thumb along the curve of his cheekbone. "You should have asked sooner."

The man closed his eyes at her soft touch, savouring it for a moment before he opened them again to look at her. “I am trying to take my time with you and appreciate you better this time.” He whispered quietly, trying to not scare her with his proclamation.

If it was fear that she felt, then Cal didn't have any better idea of how to process it than all the other things that had caused her to rethink things lately. Rather than risk being overwhelmed by competing emotions, she chose to focus on something outside of herself. Her thumb smoothed his eyebrow gently. "You need to sleep. If that's something I can help with, then I'd rather you ask." Very slowly, she allowed her hand to slide down and settle against his chest. "Maybe then I'll stand a chance of convincing you not to burn yourself out entirely because you think you have to."

“I am not going to ask. I never do.” He said quietly watching as her hand finally settled on his chest and he relaxed. “I am trying to not burn out but it’s not as simple as it seems.” He explained smiling at the physical touch between them. He leaned up and touched her cheek.

"Then I guess I'm just going to have to keep showing up."

An average-sized person might have struggled to find any space on the sofa with the Commander's bulk stretched out. Tucking herself into what remained became so instantly familiar, and provoked a sense of security that Calanthe hadn't felt in such a long time, that any residual awkwardness evaporated in the face of bone-deep fatigue. Both of them had pushed too hard.

"Sleep, then food," she promised, her voice already thick with drowsiness.

The man did no even have a chance to argue as his gentle snores sounded out telling her he was already out cold.