Lt. Commander Caedan Nkai - Time (Doesn't) Heal All Wounds
Quinn Reynolds
((Cochtois Lagoon, Deluvia IV))
Time flew. It was five years ago Valesha had returned from the Shoals with her twin, long thought lost in the Hobus disaster. Given how close Valesha and Caedan were, it was a surprise to no one that he'd found a friend in her brother, too. Caedan had found Taeval was a steadying influence; calm and patient, willing to listen without trying to fix anything. Medicine might not have been the Romulan's dream when he was growing up, but it was clear he suited it as much as it suited him.
The Artist only knew that Caedan had needed a steadying influence recently. He was back on duty, life returning to some semblance of normal, thanks to friends, time, and understanding. Today, he felt more like his old self, enjoying an afternoon walk along the cliffs. Sea spray salted the air, the tide whispered below, and a crisp breeze kept his skin cool, despite the brilliance of the sun in the sky.
Taeval: ...and then Hiro passed out, still wearing it.
Nkai: I don't think he'll be able to get away with doing that now. ::He chuckled, then turned a more serious.:: How are you feeling about the changes to medical?
Taeval: I've worked with Vulcans before.
As was his wont, he said it mildly. Not an ounce of inference in his tone, and his mental voice was as soft as his spoken one, barely anything leaking through the duranium trap of his mind. But there was something. Something Caedan probably wouldn't pick up if they were strangers, or walking on opposite sides of the path. A hint of metal and vinegar, bitterness slipping through the cracks.
Nkai: You have a talent for packing a lot of meaning into very few words.
His Romulan friend smiled slightly. Taeval was both like and unlike his sister. The physical resemblance was obvious; both tall, athletic, pale as a moon, with ink-black hair and mossy green eyes. And they were both clever, stubborn, and trying to find their place in a galaxy that had taken away everything they'd known. But where Valesha was all sarcasm and sharp edges, Taeval was a gentler soul. Thoughtful and softly spoken, more likely to brood than fire off salvos of acidic remarks.
Taeval: The Vulcan belief in logic is a lot like the Klingon belief in honour. It gives their society a clearly defined ethical structure to adhere to. ::He lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.:: And it works for them. Like any belief system, it's only ever a problem if they think it elevates them above those who don't follow it.
He paused, weighing his next words. The Romulan moved like silk, each footstep an elegant flow into the next. Every once in a while, something perfectly mundane reminded Caedan that either of the twins could snap him like a twig, if the mood took them.
Taeval: My experience is there are a few Vulcans who think that about everyone, and many more who believe it about my people in particular.
Nkai: You're bracing yourself.
Taeval: Valesha told me about the last science chief.
Another answer with more layers than a nitas. Valesha had experienced a miserable eighteen months under Alieth's leadership. The Vulcan had singled the Romulan out, being overly critical and deliberately undermining her in front of peers and subordinates, taking away opportunities and writing performance reviews so reproving they read like they described another person entirely. Caedan had never been sure if the Vulcan's behaviour was the reason she was no longer aboard the Gorkon, but it wouldn't surprise him if it was.
Nkai: Yeah. That... wasn't great.
Taeval: Now you're showing a talent for packing a lot of meaning into very few words.
Taeval offered him a restrained smile, and Caedan exhaled a muted chuckle in reply. What else was there to say? It shouldn't have happened, yet it did. And it went on far longer than it should. Perhaps out of sheer disbelief it was happening, or optimism things would change—but he doubted that thinking was much of a comfort to Valesha.
Taeval: I will be fine, Caedan. If I could manage on Ketar Five, I can manage here.
Nkai: As reassurances go, that's a depressing one.
Another small smile from Taeval, accompanied by a sideways incline of the head to acknowledge the truth of the statement. The Romulan didn't talk much about his time on Ketar Five, but Caedan could guess what life had been like on a colony that refused jobs and education to the Romulan refugees. It was, perhaps, little wonder he'd been willing to abandon it so quickly once Valesha presented him with an alternative.
Taeval: How are you doing? ::He studied the Rodulan for a moment, green eyes thoughtful and searching.:: You seem brighter.
Nkai: Yeah. ::Accepting the change of subject, he nodded.:: Yeah, I'm all right. There are still days, but it's not every day anymore.
Taeval: The humans have a saying: "time heals all wounds." ::He fell silent for the length of a few footsteps.:: It's a pleasant lie to tell oneself.
That drew out a quiet chuckle from Caedan, and a small murmur of agreement. There were times he was afraid he'd never escape from the shadow of Wolf 359, or losing Solan. No doubt Taeval felt the same about Romulus, and the people he'd lost to the Hobus disaster. Old wounds that never seemed to scar over, they just bandaged them up.
Nkai: It works until it doesn't.
Taeval: As with all things. ::He smiled faintly.:: And when it doesn't, you find people who can help.
Nkai: Is that a subtle dig?
Taeval: I prefer the term 'gentle encouragement.'
Caedan laughed, and Taeval joined in with his own quiet chuckle. The conversation continued over the rhythm of their footsteps, ebbing and flowing, shifting from lighter topics to those more prickly, and then back again. The sun drifted toward the horizon, and they didn't pretend they'd uncovered the solutions to their problems. It wasn't what either would call comfort; more like truth, shared and understood, and a little easier to bear because of it.
--
Mission Specialist
USS Gorkon
simmed by
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
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