Lieutenant Valesha Sienelis - Take the Now
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Quinn Reynolds
Jun 26, 2022, 3:19:30 PM6/26/22
to Gorkon (IC)
((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon))
After Samira’s exit from their quarters, their daughter’s grumblings had ceased, though she was still wide awake and blinking in incomprehension at the surrounding strangeness. Fingers in miniature flexed and straightened, grasping at the fabric of her mother’s cardigan. Valesha knew she should put her down, let her baby get a little more sleep, but holding her close was just too much of a comfort to give up right then.
Sienelis: I don’t know what to tell you, Chris. Like I said, you get the best side of him. I don’t.
C. Sienelis: I don't think I do right now. I don't think he does right now.
He erupted in Russian expletives, the curses rolling off his tongue. Torn between validation for being right all along, and misery that Chris had to experience it for himself, Valesha remained quiet. All she wanted was for people to let her be herself, judge her on what she had done and not what they assumed her Romulan heritage meant she was capable of.
C. Sienelis: Whatever happens, we'll fight it. You're not going anywhere. Not again.
It was an option, and just because he was the first to voice it didn’t mean he was the only one thinking it. They could pack up their things, and hightail it out to the Romulan Republic. Settle on a world where she wasn’t an outsider, where when anything went wrong she wasn’t the first suspect.
But the idea of doing it by herself hadn’t crossed her mind. When she’d fled with Bear, it had been with the Admiral’s help, and she and Chris had been friends dancing around their true feelings. Things were very different now, and the idea of leaving either Chris or their daughter behind to save her skin was intolerable.
Sienelis:
Chris looked back toward her, hazel eyes falling on wife and child, the newborn oblivious to the anguish of her parents. He slipped his arm around his waist, his hand stroking across their baby’s fuzz of dark hair, and rocked gently back and forth with her. It reminded her of a time in another world, a conjured dream where he’d been heartsore with guilt, and they’d held each other and swayed among the meadow wildflowers.
C. Sienelis: You know what absolutely won't help right now but will at least feel more like us and less like we've just had the srat dropped on us from a great height?
Sienelis: Enlighten me.
C. Sienelis: We get on the sofa, the three of us. Get under the blanket, turn on some music, dim the lights… Probably fall asleep, but be tremendously comfy while we do.
Her smile was thin and faded, but it was there. Valesha pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin, lingering in that moment of warmth. Black pepper and oakmoss filled her nose, their daughter’s perfect newborn smell mixing with it, the particular scent of their family.
Sienelis: That sounds perfect.
A few minutes later, with a blanket spread over them and the gentle melodies of a piece both parents loved to dance to, the small family cuddled together on their sofa. Their daughter wriggling and wide-eyed on her father’s chest, Valesha laid her head on Chris’ shoulder and her hand on the newborn’s back. Her gut still twisted and churned like stormy seas, but the simple act of curling up with her family—the person she’d chose to live her life with, the child they’d brought into the world together—brought some measure of peace.
Live in the now, and deal with the future when it happened. That was all they could do.
After Samira’s exit from their quarters, their daughter’s grumblings had ceased, though she was still wide awake and blinking in incomprehension at the surrounding strangeness. Fingers in miniature flexed and straightened, grasping at the fabric of her mother’s cardigan. Valesha knew she should put her down, let her baby get a little more sleep, but holding her close was just too much of a comfort to give up right then.
Sienelis: I don’t know what to tell you, Chris. Like I said, you get the best side of him. I don’t.
C. Sienelis: I don't think I do right now. I don't think he does right now.
He erupted in Russian expletives, the curses rolling off his tongue. Torn between validation for being right all along, and misery that Chris had to experience it for himself, Valesha remained quiet. All she wanted was for people to let her be herself, judge her on what she had done and not what they assumed her Romulan heritage meant she was capable of.
C. Sienelis: Whatever happens, we'll fight it. You're not going anywhere. Not again.
It was an option, and just because he was the first to voice it didn’t mean he was the only one thinking it. They could pack up their things, and hightail it out to the Romulan Republic. Settle on a world where she wasn’t an outsider, where when anything went wrong she wasn’t the first suspect.
But the idea of doing it by herself hadn’t crossed her mind. When she’d fled with Bear, it had been with the Admiral’s help, and she and Chris had been friends dancing around their true feelings. Things were very different now, and the idea of leaving either Chris or their daughter behind to save her skin was intolerable.
Sienelis:
Chris looked back toward her, hazel eyes falling on wife and child, the newborn oblivious to the anguish of her parents. He slipped his arm around his waist, his hand stroking across their baby’s fuzz of dark hair, and rocked gently back and forth with her. It reminded her of a time in another world, a conjured dream where he’d been heartsore with guilt, and they’d held each other and swayed among the meadow wildflowers.
C. Sienelis: You know what absolutely won't help right now but will at least feel more like us and less like we've just had the srat dropped on us from a great height?
Sienelis: Enlighten me.
C. Sienelis: We get on the sofa, the three of us. Get under the blanket, turn on some music, dim the lights… Probably fall asleep, but be tremendously comfy while we do.
Her smile was thin and faded, but it was there. Valesha pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheek, the bristles of his beard tickling her skin, lingering in that moment of warmth. Black pepper and oakmoss filled her nose, their daughter’s perfect newborn smell mixing with it, the particular scent of their family.
Sienelis: That sounds perfect.
A few minutes later, with a blanket spread over them and the gentle melodies of a piece both parents loved to dance to, the small family cuddled together on their sofa. Their daughter wriggling and wide-eyed on her father’s chest, Valesha laid her head on Chris’ shoulder and her hand on the newborn’s back. Her gut still twisted and churned like stormy seas, but the simple act of curling up with her family—the person she’d chose to live her life with, the child they’d brought into the world together—brought some measure of peace.
Live in the now, and deal with the future when it happened. That was all they could do.
--
Assistant Chief Science Officer
USS Gorkon
simmed by
Commanding Officer
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0
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