Lt Ross - Swapping Sides

[Hannah S]

((Shari’s Café, San Francisco District – Starbase 118))

They didn't know each other well, but Ross was very familiar with the feeling of being too caught up in your own head. Sometimes he longed for those deep, desperate conversations you only had with sad strangers in bars: faceless, worn out people you'd never met and would never see again. It was oddly easy to find connection over distance, familiarity in places of loneliness. Maybe, and this was a frightening realisation, he was the most honest version of himself only when he was sitting behind a lonely shabby counter - and he hadn't done that in a long time. A tiny shared table and a fruitcake would have to suffice; a colleague he didn't know well and whose face mirrored the shadows on his own.

Ross: Have you been feeling alright lately? You look a little tired, pal.

Ryden blinked. 

He looked down at his coffee, swirling it absentmindedly. The silence stretched, and just when Ross thought he wouldn't get an answer from him, the younger Ensign finally spoke up. 

Kel: Yeah... I’ve been tired.

He drew in a breath, slowed through his nose, held it a moment.

Kel: Not in the ‘I need to sleep more’ way. It’s deeper than that. I took a Romulan disruptor to the side during the last mission. ::he grabbed at his side... gesturing toward his wound.:: And I’m walking, I’m functional, I’m... technically fine. But I think something in me never stopped bracing for the next hit.

He let the words hang there a second, his fingers tightening slightly around the mug.

Ross pressed his lips together and gave a short understanding nod. He knew exactly what Ryden was talking about - the pain in his shoulder was back, taunting him every night since T'Reyna had left. The old wound was healed, but its marks were still there. Wyn had explained to him how stress could take a physical toll on the body, but some part of Ross knew it was only himself, turning the blade within his flesh. People like Ryden and him needed protection from themselves sometimes, and maybe this knowledge was the humble result of the two decades separating them. 

He threw him a thin smile of sympathy. 

Ross: Recovery can be more draining than the moment of injury. In many ways. 

But that wasn't all. 

Kel: And then Sam left. No warning. No goodbye. One day he was here and the next... nothing.

Ross, who had just been about to take a sip of coffee, set his cup back to the table, untouched. He had seen them together, Ryden and Sam, but he hadn't immediately thought about them when he had heard that the Marine had transferred. It seemed he wasn't the only guest in heartbreak hotel. 

Ross: So... you two were...? 

He was careful how to put it. 

Ryden's voice didn’t break, but there was a raw edge to it now... a quiet grief still pressed into the seams of his words.

Kel: We weren’t just... ::He shook his head, eyes flicking down.::... Anyway, It’s been a lot. And I think my brain’s stuck in that place where it keeps looping everything, trying to make sense of things that don’t.

A sharp sense of guilt stabbed his chest. For a moment, Ross felt the bitter taste of many years passed - he sunk back into his chair, battling the feeling of remorse aching through his chest. It was as if he had been sent back through time: into a younger version of himself, always on the go, never staying for long, leaving and breaking harts as he went, unable to ever look back. Was he suddenly facing the consequences of his own actions? For a second Ryden looked hauntingly familiar; resembling so many people he had met, clung onto and eventually left behind. 

His voice was raspy when he finally quietly answered. His hand clung onto his coffee mug to keep it from shaking. 

Ross: ...maybe they just don't. Maybe that's the whole answer. 

Ryden looked back up, offering a crooked, almost apologetic smile.

Kel: Maybe it’s a half-Betazoid thing. Or maybe it’s just a Ryden thing.

Ross: I think it's probably more of a Sam-thing. 

Kel gave a small, ironic chuckle.... and although Ross didn't know why, that made him continue.

Ross: It kinda used to be a Ross-thing, too, you know.

Kel: ? 

He managed to raise his gaze, forcing a pained smile. This wasn't an easy confession.

Ross: I used to be like that, for a long time. Like Sam. Just... ::he gestured faintly:: Disappearing. When it all got too much. 

Kel: ? 

He shrugged hesitantly. 

Ross: I think its just... easier. You know? It's a thing cowards do. It's a thing you do when you're unable to confront your feelings for someone. But also when you don't want to confront your egoism. Knowing that you care for someone, but it won't make you stop. It won't make you stay.

His fingers played absent-mindedly with the tiny fork next to his plate. 

Kel: ? 

He grimaced slightly. 

Ross: I know it's terrible. I'd like to think I'm better than that now. But as someone who's been there and done that way too often... ::beat:: That is not a man you should rely your future on, Ryden. That's a... sad and destructive man. One day he'll might realise that and reflect on it over a fruitcake.

He managed a wry smile.

Kel: ? 

***

Lieutenant Evan Ross
Intelligence Officer
StarBase 118 Ops
O240009ER2