[JP] Lt Alex Storm and LtJg Roy Bancroft - Silence Is Sanctity - Part II
Carter Schimpff
(( Hall of Liquid Transactions – Capital District, Ferenginar ))
He lifted his brows in a ‘well, here goes’ expression, then stepped forward behind Storm with controlled, deliberate weight. The wood flexed again.
Not ideal – but workable. He adjusted, finding the center of the plank, letting his muscles compensate.
There was a time – not that long ago – when he would have flailed and overcorrected and offered a panicked apology to anyone within ten meters. Now? Now, he simply inhaled, maintained his balance, and moved on.
Alright, Bancroft, it’s a staircase, not a death trap. You’ve dealt with worse.
A creak rippled beneath him.
He paused – more out of respect than alarm – and cast a quick glance around. A nearby Ferengi archivist briefly glared in suspicion. Roy inclined his head in silent acknowledgement: message received, no intentional sound-making going on here.
Roy stepped up again–
–and was immediately reminded of the physics of following someone up a narrow staircase. More specifically: the angle. The… perspective.
Storm climbed with the kind of effortless balance that all Security and Tactical officers seemed to possess, and it made her posture, well – distracting.
Roy’s gaze lifted to the ceiling with firm, purposeful intention.
Don’t look at her glutes, Bancroft. She’s a colleague. A respected, superior officer. Oh God, she can probably hear all of this.
His mustache twitched – surprise amusement, not embarrassment. Seven months ago, he would have combusted. Now? He could acknowledge the situation, redirect his attention, and keep going with all marbles accounted for.
oO I heard that. Oo She felt her eyes take on a warm sparkly glow. But as soon as it did, her eyes widened at the realization, and her toe grazed the top of the next step, nearly tripping her.
By the time they reached the midpoint of the climb, the staircase widened abruptly into a square landing – blessedly sturdier than the planks below it. The floor here was stone, not wood, and Roy stepped onto it with the faint relief of a man grateful for a momentary cease-fire with gravity.
Storm stood nearby, her figure cast in hues of amber from the glowing contract conduits pulsing along the surrounding walls.
The landing itself felt like a tiny museum alcove – a curated pause between levels – and Roy was mildly surprised the Ferengi hadn’t bothered to monetize this little rest stop.
A tall, narrow window occupied most of the outer wall, giving them a sweeping view of the storm brewing outside. Lightning forked across the sky, illuminating the city below in stark, gold-tinted flashes. The rain hitting the window was a solid sheet of cascading water, but from this height, it looked almost peaceful. Almost.
Alex’s silhouette flashed with every strike of lightning. The torrents thrummed against the window with a deafening effect. But today, her heart didn’t resonate with the downpour. A talisman stood guard.
He stepped closer to Storm, one hand behind his back while the other rose to gently squeeze her tricep. A silent question was written across his face: you good?
Warmth radiated up her arm and across her chest, and she heard his question in her mind. Without thinking, she said telepathically, ~~ Yeah. I am. ~~
His hand remained lightly on her arm.
No sudden movement. No startled blink. Just a subtle change in the stillness between them – like air shifting before the first drop of rain.
He hadn’t expected a reply. Not in words. Not like that.
But there it was: Yeah. I am. Not spoken, not intimated through body language.
Heard.
Somewhere behind his sternum, something loosened. Not with confusion or alarm, but with a strange, low warmth – the kind that arrived without fanfare and rewired the moment from the inside out.
He didn’t look startled. His brows lifted by a fraction – not in fear, but in quiet recognition.
Whatever had just passed between them, it hadn’t felt like an intrusion. It hadn’t even felt unusual.
It had felt… right.
But that wasn’t something to analyze. Not yet. Certainly not here.
But a pressure built behind Alex’s eyes, a familiar flicker of recognition of her voice being heard.
Storm: ~~ Wait.~~ She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyebrows furrowing. She set her hand on top of his and looked directly into those blue eyes. ~~ Did you hear me? ~~
He met her gaze without hesitation, their eyes locking in the flickering gold light of the landing. He could see – or maybe even feel – the thoughts that rode just below the surface: sparks of fear, disbelief, and something much more raw than either.
She was bracing for something. A question. A demand. A verdict.
But none came.
Roy didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back. He let her see his face – open, steady, unafraid. One corner of his mouth tilted upward in a near-imperceptible smile. Not smug or amused. Just… present.
Storm: ~~ But you … you shouldn’t be able to … ~~ Her lip quivered. ~~ Unless … ~~
He didn’t know how he’d heard her. Not really. But he didn’t need to know. Not right now, anyway. Whatever this was – this strange, silent resonance – he wasn’t afraid of it. Not of her. Not of this.
She quickly dropped her hand from his and turned immediately starting up the second half of the staircase. Her right palm rubbed up and down on her leg.
oO Cassie. I need to focus on Cassie. Oo
The soles of her feet filled with fire as they touched each step, propelling her forward. The rain continued to batter the building, but little drops found their way through the cracks of the building down onto Alex’s face. The eight and a half flights of stairs were one long exhale.
He didn’t follow. Not yet.
He simply watched her climb the first few steps, taking a moment to absorb what had just taken place.
Then, without questions, without needing anything more than what had already passed between them, he lifted his right foot to follow.
The Ferengi architects had apparently saved their most dramatic statement for last: a kind of architectural crescendo that made Roy feel like he was ascending through the throat of some great beast.
The next stretch of stairs narrowed, even more treacherous than those that had preceded it. No handrails, not even the illusion of safety. Just stone slick with condensation – presumably from the storm outside.
~*~
Lt Alex Storm
Tactical Officer
USS Artemis
O240103SK2
And
Lieutenant JG Roy Bancroft
Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205RB1