Once Moore Again

Posted on Sun Apr 19th, 2026 @ 9:19am by Ensign Madelyn 'Madi' Moore & Ensign Duncan McManus

Mission: Royal Mail
Location: Personal Quarters
Timeline: Day 451, Morning
2188 words - 4.4 OF Standard Post Measure

Waking up was hard.

Squinted eyes, barely open, scrutinised the face staring back, its expression likewise skewed by a scrunch-nosed attempt to discern any significant difference. The mirror wasn't always kind first thing in the morning but if there was one consistency, it was a lack of ability to see anything more than blurred approximations. Madelyn wasn't a morning person; she wasn't much for late nights either, if it came down to it.

Most mornings, it took a good half hour for the young scientist to emerge from her hazy stupor and start putting herself together. This morning had started no differently, and might have continued as usual had a stray thought not sat her bolt upright in bed and then lodged itself with just enough insistence to make any attempt to roll back over immediately futile. If Madi was honest, she wasn't great at keeping track of the passage of time even when there were no excuses involving vast distances from point of reference. What she was inclined towards, however, was considerable sentimentality over anniversaries, which tended to clash with her absent-mindedness and left her dealing with the sudden barrage of nostalgia that came with being broadsided by realisation.

It was her father's birthday.

It was meant to be her birthday.

When Madi had first told Duncan that she would have been born on her father's birthday had she not opted to show up three months too early, there had been at least one pillow casualty from the ensuing need to silence his teasing regarding her lack of punctuality these days. She was very aware that it was the only time in her entire life she'd been early for anything, her family had been saying the same thing every year since forever. It had always been just one of those little family quirks, though it had taken Madelyn a while to properly conceptualise what those first few months had been like for the others involved; she had continued to be the least-robust of her siblings, which made it all the more ironic that she was the one now dealing with vast amounts of the unknown.

Her name had always been on his birthday cake. It was just one of those things that families did.

And now, this marked the second year of him not even knowing if she was still alive. The last few months had involved a lot of very intentional rebuilding of her confidence, and her courage, and Madi had fought hard against the intrusive thoughts that had threatened to plunge her into despair, but some things still just sucked. The face in the mirror wasn't that different, as far as she could tell, than the one who'd last smushed itself against her father's for one of their silly birthday holo-images but eventually, it would be.

She poked her tongue out at her reflection. At least her bed-hair would probably never change.

Duncan was sure that Madi would come back to bed but after 15 minutes he got concerned. He called out but when she did not anwser he slowly got up and went to the door and knocked gently. “Madi?” He wondered sleepily as he rubbed his eyes trying to wake up.

All the personal progress in the world couldn't stop the twinge of guilt that came with the realisation she'd become utterly distracted again. Abandoning her face-pulling, Madi tapped open the door and stood smiling sheepishly. "Morning. Sorry," she added, as much as she'd been trying to control the impulse to apologise for everything. "I'm done if you need the bathroom."

She was still, in all honesty, a complete novice when it came to navigating their relationship. That almost didn't make sense, her previous relationship had lasted almost the full length of university and had only ended in separation because there didn't seem any logistical way forward. That had involved a lot of space though, rather than being lost in it. Talking to Duncan was a lot easier now than it had been but simple routines, like staying over in his quarters, still left her caught between not wanting to feel presumptuous and also not wanting to make it awkward by waiting for permission to pour herself a glass of water. It was a work-in-progress.

Duncan shook his head and sleepily pressed a kiss into her hair before he crawled back into bed. "No need to be sorry. I was concerned you were unwell or had fallen like Voznyuk." he was not meant to know that the Assistant Armoury Officer had fallen in the shower but he did, thanks to scuttlebutt, and it was one of the many reasons he did not want to change quarters when people started shifting. He had spent a lot of time making sure his quarters were safe and habitable.

Madelyn hesitated. During one of the conversations they'd had, when they'd first ventured to turn their friendship into something more, Duncan had been typically undemanding about his expectations. The only comment he'd ever made that slightly resembled a request was a hope that she'd feel like she could open up to him more, rather than holding everything inside. It was taking time but the impulse to pretend everything was fine wasn't quite as strong as it once had been. As a result, everything was a lot less stressful more often than not.

Funny how that went.

"Nope," she reassured, running her fingers through her messy hair as she clambered back onto the bed to sit cross-legged beside him. "Just forgot what day it was again."

The man leaned out and lay his arm over her legs and smiled. He was not at all sure what day it was? Was he meant to know what day it was? Had they arranged something? He blinked a couple of times to clear his eyes. “And what day is it?” He ventured.

Oops.

Try as she might, Madi wasn't entirely successful at controlling an apologetic wince. She knew they'd had the conversation once about her father's birthday and its significance, but she couldn't say with any certainty that she'd actually mentioned the specific date.

"Dad's birthday," she smiled, a little rueful but with a newfound determination to veer towards optimism. "Kind of snuck up on me."

The engineer slowly nodded and shifted so he was sat up and leaned back against the cool wall, only wincing himself a little at the sudden chill. “Come here.” He whispered and pulled her closer. “This kind of dates always do. But I bet we can find a little cake and a candle and you can blow it out for him?” He suggested softly.

He was, Madi discovered more and more each day, ridiculously sweet. Duncan had always been her most pragmatic friend, the kind of unflappable, easy-going steady influence that Madelyn likely needed but had occasionally taken too much for granted. She was learning that his optimism and tenacity for simply getting on for things didn't mean he wasn't capable of moments of compassion. He just didn't make a public display of them usually.

"It's okay," she replied, content to snuggle against his side. "It's not like it should be different to any other day." By that, she meant she owed it the same kind of effort she'd been giving every other intrusive thought that threatened to suffocate her with despair. Grieving was a complicated process but Madi had at least come to realise how futile it was to wish for things outside her control.

“Course it should.” The man said sleepily, pressing a kiss into her hair. “Plus, cake is an easy way to honour people,” Duncan said, thinking of a memory from his childhood of his mum always celebrating his dad’s birthday after he died with cake. He supposed it worked both ways.

Unconvinced, Madelyn sat in silence for a moment, which was at least a comfortable excuse to snuggle whilst she thought the matter over. They were about to welcome aboard passengers who were apparently a big deal and, if that weren't enough, it was games night and those had become pretty important to the social fabric of their little group. She wasn't in a huge hurry to put herself into a mood that would compromise any of it.

"Dad would probably prefer your latest concoction," she settled on eventually, huffing a just puff of laughter at the thought. "According to him, he's more a 'pie guy', but he would also say he prefers a dessert wine over dessert itself." Her nose wrinkled, partially out of affection but also somewhat in an attempt to maintain composure. "Only time of year he drinks really."

"That could be arranged, too." The man laughed, thinking he was going to need to go to that area of the ship this morning after breakfast to check on everything, especially the stuff that was under pressure. "I have not had pie in a while. I wonder if we could persuade chef to arrange something." Duncan sometimes thought with his stomach, and this was one of those occasions.

"I think everyone's probably a bit distracted with this upcoming mission," Madi replied gently, not wanting to dampen the man's attempts to cheer her up, nor his predictable willingness to pursue any avenue that might involve being creative with the menu. The truth was, as sad as the day was capable of making her feel, there wasn't a lot of room for moping when they were about to play host to someone important. Madelyn wasn't entirely show how important, only that it warranted an escort by another group of strangers and everyone seemed to suddenly be worried about how everything looked. "Who knows," she smiled, conciliatory as always. "Maybe our guests will have their own ideas about dessert."

“Maybe.” He offered brightly. “But chef is always looking for new approaches so we are not bored with food but maybe after this hosting session.” He offered taking the hint that maybe not right now but it was not a straight up no. “Do we have to get up?” He sighed wishing he really did not have to move.

Being a long-term fan of hiding herself in her quarters to read or write, Madi could empathise with the reluctance whilst simultaneously still trying to adjust to having someone to share her solitude with. They were slowly mastering the art of just being around each other without feeling the urge to fill the time with anything in particular. "Not for a little bit." It was pretty ridiculously early, which caused a slight twinge of guilt as Madelyn realised she was the reason he was even awake. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

Well that was something, he decided sleepily. He wanted to get some more sleep, having not finished his extra tickets till near midnight. “Are you going to join me?” The man wondered as he slowly slid down the wall and lay on his side looking up at her.

It was technically earlier than necessary. Madelyn still hesitated, knowing that somewhere on the ship, Finn was probably already falling out of bed mid-panic because trying to make sure there was enough fresh produce to feed extra mouths had made the last week in hydroponics a particularly stressful one. She may have conceded to consider options outside of her current posting but Madi hadn't exactly had an opportunity to settle on anything that would warrant a request. Right now, ditching her friend seemed mean, but Finn wasn't the one staring up at her with impossible-not-to-stare-into eyes.

It would have been weird if he had.

Another half hour wouldn't hurt. It became the justification for squishing back down under the covers, though there was an awkward moment where she had to rescue her pillow from the floor and almost ended up joining it.

The engineer smiled and snuggled back down. His breathing settled down quickly so that he was back asleep within moments, thanks to his training to sleep anywhere and anywhere within minutes. It had wound up previous roommates and colleagues, but it meant he was always rested.

It wasn't the first time Madi had watched him fall asleep. If quizzed on why, she would have bashfully stumbled over confessions of it being a simple comforting reassurance to watch someone relax into sleep as if he didn't have a care in the world. She was starting to understand that Duncan wasn't as impervious to stress and grief as his outward appearance often suggested but that didn't change the fact that the man was the most genuine optimist Madelyn had ever met. It helped, during these moments of intense sadness, to just watch him drift off. Nothing seemed quite so big and insurmountable when Duncan was more than content to just snore his way through it.

She smiled, reached out to pull a curl away from his face and then stretched out on her back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Happy birthday, Dad."