[JP] Lieutenants Amelia Semara & Ras El’Heem - The Biggest and Most Perfect Apology Dinner, Part 1

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(( Amelia’s Quarters, Room 145, Deck 14, USS Khitomer ))

Amelia fluffed the pillow on the couch for the eleventh time, but not because she actually expected to sit on the couch at all.  Fidgety, fluttering energy kept her moving around her quarters, making sure cutting boards were set out at perfect right angles, and the ingredients she’s picked up were laid out on the cutting boards at a perfect artisanal thirty-degree angle.

To call the affair merely excessive would have been an affront to the effort Amelia put into making the evening’s elaborate dinner happen.  Even the invitation was on replicated paper made from linen with black-and-gold calligraphy she spent far too long obsessing over.  The only concession made - and it was a doozy - was the one Talia had encouraged her to make: leave the main course unprepared and cook it together with Ras.

Every lesson drilled into her as a little girl about hosting screamed at the idea.  Which was probably why she was so massively over-compensatory in every other dimension she could dream up.

A tiny table for two was up intimately against the window, starlight reflecting on the silverware just so.  Fresh flowers from the arboretum stood in a vase, and her antique gratitude bell from home sat in the window sill next to it all.  She’d even gone so far as to hang an elegant, modern mini-chandelier of polished gold over the table to give the setting the perfect lighting.  No decorative ambiance was allowed to be imperfect.

For herself, black was quickly becoming an addictive fashion choice since her transfer.  Instead of color, she had started tinkering with cut and fabric and accessorizing.  A relatively modest, sleek black dress was this evening’s choice, somehow giving a subtly asymmetric appearance of being grown for her rather than tailored or replicated.  Even her makeup had shifted to a higher contrast with redder lipstick and smokey eyeshadow. The glint of Golden Leaf of Semizad in her hair appeared more dramatic against the darkened palette - like a star shining out in the void.

And the food?  In the high country fashion, there was enough for three times as many people who were three times hungrier, spread across a bewildering count of courses and food groups.  Virtually every flat surface aside from the table had been repurposed to either neatly display little appetizers (a smorgasbord of stasis-preserved nuts, cheeses, and fruits - including a pair of Nantahala peaches purploined from the Dangani pomology museum), or prep areas for fish and a dozen different varieties of mushrooms and vegetables.  With the Kressari getting more serious about their intentions in the Isles, getting the real deal for some of the ingredients turned out easier than expected - traders were coming through DS33 more and more regularly, much to the benefit of an enterprising intelligence officer.

Which is to say that Amelia was still worrying it wouldn’t be enough of an apology dinner.  Now if she still lived in her ancestral home?  That would have been a dinner for the ages.  But that was light years away and belonged to someone else now.  And Ras was here.  Her quarters would have to do.

Yet with all the preparation, she still paced and puttered with perfection because she was still trying to chase down her own thoughts.  There was so much to say, and Amelia needed the words to be perfect.  And they weren’t.  The number on the clock slowly squeezed the remaining moments to the appointed time, and still everything she could think of saying came post-scripted with a “but” or a “please understand”.  Ras deserved better.

So, as she continued fixating on the decorations, she was already half planning an apology for her apology because it was all so meager.  Planning the secondary apology was also a useful distraction from the way the primary one still lacked words.  The constant motion kept her from watching the time.  Or compulsively putting together the rest of the meal before Ras could show.

(( Corridor, Deck 14, USS Khitomer ))

There had been a great deal to come to terms with in the days since the ceremony. Ras now carried the weight of Chief Science Officer, and it made itself known in the accumulation of responsibilities rather than any single overwhelming moment. There were PADDs that seemed to multiply when left unattended, long-term projects that required his review and direction, officers he had not yet properly met, and the broader, more uncertain task of deciding what the department ought to be under his leadership. He had spent one full day relocating his belongings and, more carefully, his plants to his new quarters one deck above. One-three-five. Senior officer’s quarters. Curiously, almost directly above Amelia’s. The move had felt like a threshold. The beginning of the “new chapter” Captain Naxell had spoken of, though Ras found he was still sorting through how to properly close the last one.

That alone would have been enough. But there was also the absence. A Betazoid-shaped gap in the science roster that no amount of reallocation could neatly account for. Amelia’s work had been extensive. Efficient in a way that made her absence immediately obvious. He found himself adjusting schedules, redistributing tasks, compensating where he could. And then there was the more personal absence beneath that. The simple fact that he missed her presence. Not just professionally. Though, if he were being honest, there was a small and shameful relief woven into it as well. Without her there, he had been spared the constant reminder of what she was to him, and what he was not to her. It gave the wound space to settle. He suspected it would scab over soon enough, and in time, become something like a cherished scar. Not the same as before, but functional and the basis for a story he could tell someday.

He had not yet managed to apologize. Which made the invitation all the more unexpected. Complete with an ornate card that was assuredly not a subspace message. In fact, it was quite indulgent. Dinner, in her quarters. To smooth things over, no doubt. That tracked with who she was. Kind and considerate. And Betazoid. He knew that if she wanted to, she could have reached into the mess of thoughts he had been carefully avoiding and understood it in an instant. Of course she would not leave things unresolved like this. And before all of this, before he had complicated it, they had been thick as thieves. Easy with one another. Natural. He found himself holding onto that version of things, hoping they might return to it with enough time and care.

Ras had dressed more formally than necessary. He knew that. But this was not just a dinner. It was an apology, and he needed it to read that way before he even spoke. When he had stood in front of the mirror, this had been the version of himself he wanted her to see when the door opened. A heavy ecru-white sashiko shirt, structured and deliberate, layered beneath a lighter beige chore coat that draped across his frame with quiet intention. The pockets sat empty, but they suggested utility all the same. Like he could fill them with samples were he to wear it into the field. His trousers were dark brown wool, textured with subtle slub, cut high at the waist with inward-facing pleats that almost certainly made his long legs seem longer. The black leather Kressari moccasins grounded it all. They were soft in construction, but not at all casual.

He knew she would forgive him. That part felt certain. But forgiveness was not the same as repair. He needed her to see the effort. To understand that he recognized where he had overstepped. That he could be better than that version of himself. And beyond that, he would let the evening be what she needed it to be. Not what he hoped for and not what he feared. Just what it was.

Ras took a steady breath, held it for a moment, and let it out slowly. Then he reached forward and pressed the buzzer.

TBC

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Lieutenant Amelia Magnolia Semara

Intelligence Officer

USS Khitomer - NCC-62400

A239710MA0

&

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Lieutenant Ras El’Heem

Chief Science Officer

USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)

K240106RE3