Lt. Commander Erin Reynolds - Just One Word
Quinn Reynolds
((Beachside Restaurant, Cochtois Lagoon, Deluvia IV))
After a meal at a restaurant, swapping anecdotes and sharing small pieces of their lives, the small group of Gorkon officers had left civilisation behind for a walk on the moonlight beach. Rubin ran ahead of them, chasing through the sands and having the time of her life, while Erin walked hand-in-hand with Jo, in step with Maezel and Sami.
Fenn: So when was the last time you all got to visit home?
Oh, a question she'd been fearing. Erin hid a grimace with a darting look toward the ocean, as if it might answer for her. All it had to offer were the rhythmic whispers of the tide, and she tried to think of a way to answer that wouldn't dampen the mood. As a wise man had once said, "Home is where your rump rests." Perhaps that was the route to take.
E. Reynolds: The Gorkon is my home, so every day, really? ::She looked back, her smile a little taut.:: Although I'd be lying if I said I didn't scope out potential retirement spots on every shore leave, for when the day comes. Deluvia is certainly among them. I'm sure I could make some fantastic gin with the local herbs and fruits.
Fenn: I can think of worse places than here to retire, waking up here every day would be amazing. How about you, Commanders? When was the last time you got to visit home?
Marshall: Quite recently, actually. We ventured that way a short while ago, to check in on the old place. It's still there, despite frequent attempts to make it not so.
Neathler: Born on a starship, I don’t really have a planet to call home. And the only time I’ve spent on Earth was during my Academy years and a couple of shore leaves. Oddly enough that first year in the Academy, I missed my home or mainly my family but over the years, I’ve built a new family here on the Gorkon. ::She looked backward for a brief moment.:: And if Deluvia is already taken by others, I’ll have to find another spot when the time comes.
E. Reynolds: ::She chuckled.:: Perhaps I'll invite you all to be my taste testers.
Fenn: ::Eagerly:: Please do!
Erin cast a smile toward the eager Bolian as the conversation fell into a gentle lull between topics. The breeze tasted of salt, and the cool air was refreshing rather than chilling. Beach lighting edged the waves in gold and silver, the ebb and flow of the tide like the planet's breath. The hybrid exhaled a deep, slow sigh of contentment, letting herself live in the moment and be at ease with the world.
Fenn: Any word or ideas where the ship might be headed next?
Marshall: Straight into an abyss of pirates and mythological monsters, or maybe a nest of Jem'Hadar, if I read the last emergency transmission from HQ correctly before darting out the door.
Neathler: Wherever Starfleet needs us. Maybe something scientific this time.
Fenn: Personally, I hope it’s somewhere as nice as here.
Marshall: We only get that lucky if someone's gravely injured or there's some diplomacy to do and everyone needs a Mai Tai to relax afterwards.
Neathler: I think we can all do with some real fresh air after being stuck on the ship for months. ::She looked sideways towards Fenn.:: Or it’s something you’ll discover after a while.
A bird flew overhead, some kind of nocturnal hunter out to find breakfast, almost silent on the wing. Rubin continued playing in the surf, charging into the sea and then aborting before making contact with an incoming wave. With complete canine joy, the Border Collie entertained herself by doing it over and over again.
Without realising, she'd slowed her pace — or Jo had, and she'd matched it — and the couple had fallen behind Sami and Maezel. Erin caught wisps of their conversation, the odd word here and there. It sounded as though a new friendship was in the making, and she was pleased for them both.
Her skin tingled on the back of her hand, electricity dancing in the wake of Jo's thumb across her knuckles. She looked across and smiled at her partner, then cocked her head slightly. There was something churning under the surface, and when she was a moment away from asking what was the matter, Jo spoke.
Marshall: I was thinking, ::said carefully, the way one may handle fragile plants,:: about retirement spots.
E. Reynolds: Oh yes?
Marshall: You mentioned it. ::Lightness was a skill she practiced, and her voice held it.:: Scoping out spots. Every shore leave.
E. Reynolds: Right...
Marshall: You said "I".
It wasn't often Jo looked awkward, but right then and there, she did. Erin's lips parted, surprised at the disclosure, and then her partner breathed out a sigh and shook her head.
Marshall: Ah, ignore me. Forget I said anything.
E. Reynolds: Jo.
Erin tugged them to a stop in the sand and turned toward her partner, catching her other hand and squeezing gently. A soft ache rebounded through her chest, pained that her idle choice of words had sparked even a second of doubt.
E. Reynolds: Every possible permutation of my future that I want to imagine is our future. I'm a researcher, that's all. I'm researching. One day we'll sit down ready to have a serious conversation about retirement, and I'll come pre-prepared with a three-hour holographic presentation complete with qualitative analysis, statistics, citations, and enough snacks and coffee to get you through it.
Marshall: Response
E. Reynolds: I'm yours, Jo Marshall. Now and forever.
Marshall: Response
Stepping a little closer, Erin rose up on her toes and pressed a kiss to her partner's lips, leaning her forehead against Jo's. For a time, the world was only them, the soft whisper of the sea, and the brush of the breeze on their skin. It was a reminder, perhaps, that as easy as their relationship often was, she shouldn't take it for granted.
E. Reynolds: ::Gently,:: You don't worry about this often, do you?
Marshall: Response