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Topic: EPI: S [D03|1930] Two Moons (Read 80 times) previous topic - next topic

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  • stardust
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EPI: S [D03|1930] Two Moons
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
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As Samantha had descended from the keep of King Arthur's realm, leaving the knights of the round table behind, to venture into the caverns beneath the high castle, she couldn't help but feel the comforting, yet hurtful ping of dark mementos spring to live as she set foot into the busy sickbay. Granted, it was not the exact same place, but rather a few decks down, and it wasn't by far as busy, as when the Spearhead Lounge had just gone up in flames, days prior. It still felt as if with the memory came the lingering scent of ash and cinder, still in the cracks and corners of the ship's veneers. Be it from that specific instance, or any of the ones that came after, where sparks and smoke filled the corridors. The main patient's ward was busy, yet not turbulent. Everyone knew what they had to do and were under no pressure to do so more swiftly than what was required by medical ethics. No omnipotent force pummeling down on the world around them, but rather a momentary sense of calm creeping in, that one could only appreciate in the aftermath of a grand storm.

Following the almost ethereal form of a surgeon in white garbs, as the fabric flowed through the air like liquid, the blonde's azure retinas focused in on the far side eventually. There, sitting on the last bio-bed, awoken from the dead, it seemed ... was Andrew Fisher. And it was in that moment that it felt like past and present were converging in this very instance. Time slowing down to a crawl as it fought to entangle the concoction of memories and impressions, what was real and what wasn't. Thuds of ethereal mechanisms in her chest pacing to an almost halt, as the sentiment stretched into oblivion. Even though conscious design had drawn her to this very moment in time, this very place, it belied a far deeper connection, which seemed to transcend such mortal considerations, pulling her back like an elastic tether through space and time, into reality.

It was as their eyes met, sage falling upon frozen diamonds, that the nature of said tether became more clear, as it manifested physically in their longing glances. A moment that had been pushed off in favor of protocol and duty, to the very precipice of what was humanly bearable. There had never been a true sense of being in the now, whenever Sam's visited a sickbay post Dominion War. When every bed and every console had become synonymous with loss and despair. But now, many years later, there was a golden glimmer of hope that such daemons could be replaced with the angels of opportunity and fortune, which Andrew seemed to be rather adept in tricking. The man that seemed to have more lives than a Caitian. The man that seemingly would always come out of any situation unscathed, because some kind of grander scheme was not done with him yet. For better or worse.

Passing the threshold between them, across the vast ward, the past was blown from the woman's slender physique by the sheer means of her momentum. Falling off her shoulders like autumn leaves, as a gentle smile of resolution dawned on those plump rose petals of hers. After all the new day of the present dawned on her and with it the revelation that this was different. Different from searching every sickbay for her husband, after the last battle of the war had ended. Different from finding him after the bombing of the Spearhead Lounge. Because by now the man's persistence had manifested itself as a reassuring pillar in the woman's life. A rock in the stormy seas they all had to navigate. And quintessentially so, they were for each other, it seemed. And if there was even just the slightest hope that death let Drew slip off his shovel so he could find salvation before the eternal realm, then it was her privilege to help him do that. An absolution for the both of them.

"We really have to stop meeting like that." Samantha mused softly, slipping into the void between his bed and the next. Moving one hand to gently cup his jaws, plush lips placed an almost whispered kiss on the furrowed pleads of his forehead. Lingering there a little more than she had intended, soaking in the casual fragrance of comfort and security. No matter how obscured it was by cinder and antiseptics. Letting her hand brush through the thick of his hair, before resting it into the crook of his neck, dainty fingertips dancing across the skin on the back, for the first moment she let herself walk through the succession of events since they had come back.

When she'd been so preoccupied by getting the diplomatic data and away team debriefed, that she had not noticed Andrew being transported away until the first aid team and his hover cot had almost vanished through the shuttle bay doors. Then Yeoman Henshaw had ordered all senior staff to the bridge. And the sentiment of going back to that moment where it all began was postponed in favor of duty. It was until the wildfire had been ignited once more with the spark of his sage orbs.

And now, at this point, it felt like it would be hard to put it out again.
  • Last Edit: September 28, 2021, 11:43:29 PM by stardust

Re: EPI: S [D03|1930] Two Moons
Reply #1
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Intensive Care Unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

About to write a private communique to Lieutenant Alana Pierce, the Officer he'd select to serve as his new second, and who he'd intended to rely upon over the course of the next twenty-four hours while he was laid up in sickbay, Fisher's gaze shifted away from the PADD held in his hands to a figure who'd only an instant earlier stepped into the Intensive Care Unit.

"Sam." The whispering of her name barely audible as it had escaped his lips more as an exhale, than an actual spoken word.

Immediately, a litany of thoughts and emotions surged forth from the periphery of his mind and the depths of his subconscious, like an overwhelmed storm levy that had given into inevitability. Was she real? Was any of this real? Where had Hurley gone? Questions besieged and battered his conscious thinking, daring him to loosen the tenuous grasp of reality he'd managed, so that he might be swept away in a torrent of absolute confusion, floundering into an abyssal he'd might never re-emerge from. Yet when his eyes found those of azure, any lingering doubt as to the veracity of the moment seemed to fade; this was real, and more importantly, she was real. The relief of knowing this fundamental was enormous, and suddenly the deluge that had befallen him seemed only to ease his mind, rather than further confound, and contort it. Assuaged of his doubts, at least for the moment, he set the PADD face down on the bio-bed beside him and began to shift his position so that he might sit in a more upright position for her approach, and their eventual coalescence. Sure enough, the star he'd imagined during their night of passion flared into brilliance in the back of his mind as she finally stood beside him, and the tenderness of her lips touched his forehead.

Exhaling deeply, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he was at ease once more.

As before, this incredible woman had acted as an anchor for him, keeping him at bay amidst the veritable hurricane of fate which seemed to batter and bruise him at every possible turn. Her steadfastness in the face of her own adversity, never waning as she had not only remained poised during the siege of Theurgy but had also coordinated and overseen the mission to rescue his unfortunate hide. Whereas others might have faltered under such a barrage, their ability to forge ahead so stoically having been compromised, she had seemed to be beyond such reproach. Fisher wondered for the faintest of moments, if that trait of hers was due in part of her upbringing, so surrounded by a family of prominent Federation Diplomats, or rather her Vulcan heritage peaking through; or both. Regardless, he had so quickly come to understand that she was as unflappable as any he'd ever before met, and as long as she was in his life, he could trust in her to tether him to a better aspect of who he was, and he would always strive to be the man she'd seemingly come to admire, whoever that might have well been.

"Yeah. There are better ways to appease my addiction for the smell of Sickbay antiseptic." He mused, a broad teasing smile crossing his face, the swollenness of which had finally come down, thanks to some cursory attention given him by the Medical staff so far.

An odd realization soon came to Fisher as he let his head rest gently against a comforting forearm, the scruff of his gradually regrowing facial hair brushing gently against the back of her wrist as he almost nuzzled into her; while he knew that it was important to remain actively cognizant of where he was, and to be locked in the here and now, he so desperately wanted to let himself go and be washed away into the sea that was her blue gaze. The thought however, served as a stark reminder of how dangerously he was perched upon a precipice of sanity. After all, Hurley had been there just a few scant seconds earlier, and he could still detect the stinging scent of burnt tobacco on the inside of his nostrils, tainting the lovely aroma of his pleasant and very real companion. "I guess I owe you something of an apology." Deflecting away from the very real consequences he was currently faced with. It was obvious he wanted to steer clear of any of the important aspects of his capture and subsequent interrogation. "I guess I also owe you a thanks too, for the whole, rescue thing. Should make a list of all the things I owe you for now that I think about it." He nodded in an over-the-top affirmation, narrowing eyelids around sage orbs as he glared at her teasingly.

"Commander. Commander." Announced a Nurse as she inched closer, intruding upon their moment for just an instant to get an updated reading from the bio scanner before she spun round on heel and politely left them be.

"They uh, have to do some kind of surgical repair for my ribs and lung." He began to explain. "Same side as the piece of shrapnel from the other day; right side of me is starting to feel neglected." His left hand touched gingerly against that side of his exposed abdomen, where there was an obvious hint of bruising from the 'treatment' he'd received from his Klingon friends. "Doesn't hurt too bad, now." There was an obvious sentiment of male bravado not so well hidden in his voice, all part of that charm he turned on whenever Sam was around. Lifting his head slightly as if to allude to Rutherford's own untreated injury, he had noticed the small bit of dried crimson that hugged at the periphery of her forehead when she drew nearer. "Maybe you should get that checked on while you're here. Give them something serious to take care of. I think they're starting to get a little bored with me." Winking wryly, he winced as a sudden pang sprang up throughout his abdomen; a muscle spasm that came and went with some regularity and which was starting to really grate on his nerves.

"Mmmh-mmmh... yeah, she's nice alright."

Blinking, Fisher's attention shifted as he caught sight of Hurley standing at the end of his bio-bed, lit cigarette in his lips, and a disgusting look in his face as he looked Rutherford up and down as though she were a piece of meat. Fists clenched tightly as the spy took a deep breath, trying to dispel what he was seeing, and latch back onto the reality he had been in. Realizing how obvious his demeanor had suddenly changed, he shuffled uncomfortably in bed and cleared his throat in an attempt to further deflect attention. "I caught the Captain's discussion with Martok and the Oneida. Was nice to see the kid reunited with his Grandfather." At the same time, Hurley took a few steps over to stand beside where Sam stood in actuality, the gaze of his former mentor having returned to Fisher again. The sight pricked at the back of his neck, causing an obvious twitch at his temple as he fought the urge to yell at the hallucination. "Has your department started in on an approach for Donatra and her supporters yet?" Genuinely, this was one of the threads he'd wanted to pull on with Rutherford, for obvious reasons, but it likely would have been clairvoyant to the Chief Diplomat what Fisher was doing at this point.

"Oh come on, introduce us already! She'll love me!"

Ignoring Hurley was getting difficult; the floodwaters threatening him and his slight grasp on sanity, but Fisher refused to give up on the idea that eventually the manifestations would dissipate like a receding tide when the last of the drug had been cleared from his system. It was just a matter of time. He was totally convinced of it, and with Sam here and now he knew the struggle to ignore that which threatened his grasp of reality would be lessened.
Writer of
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]
[ Lt. JG Kate Foster | Chief Surgeon | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]

  • stardust
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Re: EPI: S [D03|1930] Two Moons
Reply #2
[ Lt. Cmdr. Rutherford | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Swift
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The true irony of strength, in its essence, was that it wasn't born from the absence of fear, but rather an acceptance over things that could not be changed. Over one's own limitations and mortality, and going on despite of it, rather than in absence of it. Just like light could not exist without darkness, strength could not exist without the matching fear to support it. Something that was very much true for the blonde diplomat, whose fortitude had grown in equal measure to her fear. So, one could surmise from how strong she seemed, on the outside, how much trepidation and insecurity there was to warrant such strength. An equilibrium held in check in no small part thanks to her Vulcan upbringing, heritage and teachings. Which acted as a catalyst, to level the scales of power, within her slender frame. A mechanism that threatened to fall out of balance, whenever she touched Andrew's body, triggering a biochemical reaction, that equaled a wrench being thrown into a well-oiled machine. Which both calmed and worried her. But the submission seemed to win more and more often than not, which was an alarming trend, had her conscience not gone down with the tantalizing fog of ignorance as well, that challenged her free will whenever he was around.

Watching his pate dip into the soft dune of her warming arm, like a weary traveler, Samantha let her thumb flick up through the scruff on his chin, before delicately tracing the precipice of his lips, as her wrist ever so smoothly turned in his possessive ministrations. A distinct discharge of protons prevalent between the fine ridges in her fingertip, where her nervous system terminated, and the plush delicateness of his own beginning. A curious sensation deepening, as a measure of the man's emotional state seemed to be come ore into focus than it had been seconds prior. A notion, heralding back to the night of their reticence's undoing, when they fused into one sentiment of ethereal bliss. Which only now, under the scrutiny of logical thought, seemed as more than just a poetic memento, symbolic of their congruous chemistry. Calling more from a memory of shared conscience, than mutual sympathies, which the commander had experienced only once or twice before.

"I am sure they could give you some rubbing-alcohol to go." Samantha replied coyly, the faint glow of rouge playing at her cheeks like the violets and orange hues across the sky of a rising day. All the while her shoulders delicately shimmied left and right, as her pate dipped with plump lips curved mischievously, belying the audacity of her thoughts behind them. A small indecency that quickly succumbed to the professionalism of her grander nature, yet it would forever be a notch carved into the brimstone of time. A fleeting glimmer of devotion. A similar notion of affection and rapture still prevalent, albeit in a more comely manner, overcasting the first indications of a shadow looming, in the connection they shared through tender touch. So, all that remained on the forefront of her attention, was how gingerly he venerated her extended hand, as if it was the very token of his salvation. Though a brief a notion of confusion, washed over her radiant features, at the mentions of an apology, her mind did not immediately hone in on what that would've pertained to. He owed her nothing.

The way Andrew worded his subsequent exculpation, however, brought back the whisper of amusement, to her rosy petals, which made her icy diamonds pop like sparkles in the sea. "Worse things to imagine than your forever devotion." She whispered quietly, not faltering in her unwavering attention as the insipid nurse intervened as if she was here to sell the daily newspaper. Though it did require a good measure of that good old Vulcan self-control. She merely nodded, as he continued, letting her hand fall together with his, to the supple dunes of his cozy blanket, where she could idly stroke the back of his with her delicate thumb. Keeping that spark alive, that tied them together so vividly, like a psychedelic drug. "I am sure you'll be as good as new." Sam replied confidently shaking back a wave of golden strands that tenderly curled down the side of her peach cheek, fine lines appearing as if out of thin air, beneath her blue eyes, just for a second, as plump lips inched upward just a little more. Letting his concern wash over her with a subtle shake of her head, sending curly tresses into an uproar, there was no way she'd even just take as much as an analgesic ointment away from his recovery.

Er face, however, froze in motion ever so gently, as she heard a voice that didn't seem to have left his lips. It was, however, coming distinctly from the man's direction, yet so quietly she couldn't tell if it had been his voice. The ocean in her eyes dying down to a frozen plane for a moment, broken up by frostwork of concern. "Who is?" she asked quietly, voice barely but a raspy whisper, as her blue eyes moved around the immediate pasture of their being. Brows inching closer ever so slightly, over the sculpted bridge of her nose, dipping alabaster skin into vague turmoil. Catching the flicker of his eyelids, as dark lashes cleared away some semblance of illusion, sage eyes had shifted to the end of Andrew's bio-bed. Following the notion with her own crystal orbs, she could discern naught but a faint feeling of dread, manifesting in the approximate vicinity. Looking back at the man with concern marking her flowery features, the diplomats mind staggering over the ensuing attempts at diversion, all the while trying to keep a stable connection with the more covert subtones of his aura.

And then she stumbled, falling over the obstacles he had laid out for her, in the shape of diverging sentiments. Her mind wrapping around the ideas posed, weighed by the added gravity of duty, that compelled her to pursue this avenue first. "Yeah, of course." The diplomat replied momentarily, before her thought process had fully caught up to the sudden shift in momentum. "I mean, no ... I have a department debrief in an hour." The blonde instantly corrected, shaking her head with abject confusion. Something had stirred in her mind, and it was hard to get back to the one true path. Then there it was again, that cutting whisper, making her body shiver with a sudden sense of gloom. A voice that was so distinct from Andrew's warm baritone, yet no logical avenue would allow a different rationale that it was indeed the handsome intelligence chief. "Who are you talking to?" she queried in gentle contempt, that invaded her own perception like poison. Pulling her hand back as if through a subconscious need, she rubbed the extent of it into her other, as if she had been stung by the thorn of a cursed rose. Yet the haze like slumber lifted, after the deed, instead of intensifying. Only proving that fairy tales weren't always true.
  • Last Edit: October 03, 2021, 08:35:58 PM by stardust

Re: EPI: S [D03|1930] Two Moons
Reply #3
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Intensive Care Unit | Main Sickbay | Deck 11 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @stardust

Fisher's assumption that time would lead to silence in regard to Hurley and the other recurring hallucinations he'd had been experience, was one born purely of a personal desperation rather than any kind of advisement made by members of Theurgy's medical staff. There had in fact been no advisement at all regarding the things he was seeing, due to his not having divulged their existence to anyone; as far as all of the Doctors and Nurses knew, Fisher's ailments were entirely of the physical kind. Sure, they knew he'd been administered some kind of an advanced chemical agent geared toward interrogation, but on all neuro-scans that they had conducted so far, nothing had seemed to be overtly out of order. It was a dangerous thing to keep such an admission to himself, but Fisher had little to no interest in revealing the potential damage done to his psyche, as he knew it would mean an extended stay from duty, or worse. It also would've meant an all but mandatory session sitting opposite a Counseling Officer, and there were seldom few people Fisher disliked more than them. The thought of being ordered to put the whole of his thoughts and emotions on a proverbial slab to be dissected by Commander Hathev was about as alluring as an evening spent under the guide and care of his Klingon captors, and he might well have legitimately opted for the latter over the former.

"Would be nice to finally add some hint of a personal touch to my quarters." He followed in on her coy reply, the muscles, and tendons in his face tensioning in just the right way as the already broad grin across his face broadened further.

No, it was bad enough that he'd be under constant medical supervision and observation for the foreseeable future, deprived of the chance to coordinate and lead his department in advance of Theurgy's next move to meet with Donatra and her allies. It was safe to say, Fisher was itching at the opportunity due to his recent and extended past involved with the Romulan Star Empire and their internal matters of state. All of that would technically need to wait for him to be given the okay to return to active duty. Or at least, some of it would. If anyone thought he'd be laid up in Sickbay without any say or input in the matter of overseeing the running of his Department, they had another thing coming. He would acquiesce to the orders of his superiors, within reason, but he absolutely would not allow his Operation to suffer because of a few broken ribs and a mildly annoying case of overactive memories. That was what he was trying to convince himself they were, in the sincere hope that it might hasten their eventual disappearance.

If it was indeed an eventuality. He hoped.

"More like you're making an ass out of you and me." Hurley interjected, the burning cigarette bobbling up and down as it was still perched at the corner of his lips as he spoke. Fisher chose to continue to ignore him, though it didn't seem to make much of a difference in said hallucinations persistence, or the annoyingly smug look in his face.

And then there was Sam, who he was feeling a stronger connection and dependence to with each passing interaction, and whom he knew would invariably want to know more of his thoughts and feelings as they grew closer. To an extent the idea scared him, as he worried that he'd in turn scare her off if she got to better understand him on a deeper level too hastily. Thus far, they had certainly shared and professed an interest in one another that had gone beyond mere physical attraction, and Fisher had already settled into a modest level of emotional comfort whenever she was with him. But at the same time, he knew it would've been entirely unfair of himself to hide from her who he was, and what he thought. He'd owed her that much, and end some given all that she had done for him in their short time together. But if he was unwilling to share the knowledge of his current predicament with Doctors and Nurses, did it really make any sense for him to share it with her? What would her reaction to such a revelation mean, and how would it affect his status within her mind? Tilting the pate of his head slightly in opposition of her, so that he might better peer up into those azure pools of hers, the sway of his internal debate was dipping in her favor.

"Forever devotion? Doesn't sound too bad at all." Sensing and seizing on an opportunity to turn on the playful charm he tended to exude, Fisher deliberately shifted the tone of his voice to a flirtatiously teasing one, while a deft hand stealthily slipped down to gently pinch at her thigh. Were he in better physical condition, he imagined he might've acted on the mounting base need he felt when in Sam's presence.

"Hopefully sooner rather than later." He winked.

Blinking as the pleasant moment made an odd turn, Sam reacting to something that wasn't there, at least not for her, Fisher's brow furrowed in joint confusion, all while the shit-eating grin on the persistently annoying man he actually could see intensified. A moment passed, and while a part of him considered asking her for an explanation, Fisher decided to just let it pass as little more than an isolated mistake, distraction, or loss of concentration on her part. After all, it had been just as taxing, if not more so for Sam over the course of the previous twenty-four hours, and it was entirely reasonable if she'd thought she heard something that simply wasn't there. Maybe she needed rest as much as he did. Whatever it was, it didn't seem of paramount importance to investigate. Pressing on, he'd asked her about the preparations her Department was likely making, and whether or not she'd had a chance to meet with them. Indeed he wanted to know what she was planning, because they would have to coordinate their efforts closely, just as they had during the rescue of M'Ven, even if that had been somewhat cobbled together on the fly. Once more though, Fisher ignored Hurley as he tauntingly plead for himself to be introduced. Instead he nodded in acknowledgement of her apparent scheduled meeting, the idea inspiring him to consider scheduling one of his own with the remainder of his department and the new people that would be picking up vital roles therein.

He would have to reach out to Lieutenant Pierce, and from the sound of it Lieutenant Amarik too, since she was supposed to also be assigned-- Wait a second, was she talking to him?

"What?" he asked her aloud, seemingly as confused as she was.

"Uhh-ohh! She's just as crazy as you are, bud!" Hurley piped up, narrowing his eyes as he took a step closer to her, his face quite literally an inch or so from hers, and evidently examining her for something. "Yeah. That's what you get whenever you mix in any of that pointy-eared logician DNA." Bringing a hand to his lips to retrieve the burning cigarette, he disrespectfully exhaled smoke right into Sam's face, and the thought near boiled Fisher's blood. "Guess her old man added one drop too many during the crafting process." As Fisher's fists clenched again, knuckles popping quite audibly so as he did, the manifestation of Hurley turned his attention back to him. "Unless your crazy is contagious, and she caught it just by being near you." Recoiling away in another mocking motion, Hurley checked his hands for cleanliness. "I didn't touch you, did I?" The seriousness in his voice betrayed by a chortle of laughter that escaped him a second later. "Nah! I'm just fucking with you!" Subconsciously Fisher's mind was trying to make sense of his and her shared confusion, an explanation of which, however haphazard it might well have been, was relayed to him via his hallucination, though understandably so, he was reticent to believe it. There was no way, that Sam was hearing Hurley, that is, if she was really Sam and not another lifelike manifestation of his mind.

His heart stopped for a moment in reaction to the thought that he might have mistaken a fake for the real thing, and soon after a wave of panic began to hit him, his vitals visibly spiking on the monitor behind his head on the monitor.

"Sam?" he swallowed hard, sitting up straighter in his bed, very clearly worried.

"You're... you're not real?" he asked.



OOC: Tagging writer's who's characters were also mentioned: @P.C. Haring @Pierce @BipSpoon
Writer of
[ Lt. Cmdr. Andrew Fisher | Chief Intelligence Officer | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]
[ Lt. JG Kate Foster | Chief Surgeon | USS Theurgy NX-79854 ]