Interlude: For Want of a Nail

Posted on Fri Apr 27th, 2018 @ 5:57am by Captain Charybdis MacGregor

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Operation: Risa!
Location: Risa, Roma Arcology, Empress hotel penthouse suite
Timeline: 2265
Tags: Relationships

For Want of a Nail

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

~Benjamin Franklin


Biology and a work schedule that was somewhat self-imposedly demanding had left Charybdis with the rather enviable sleeping schedule of a forty-hour day. She had adjusted to sleeping four to five hours a night with Patrick, but overall she required very little sleep and unless she thoroughly exhausted herself, she tended to sleep, endure her nightmares then awaken refreshed and ready to go after a few hours.

Last night she had dropped herself to sleep intentionally while still aboard the Bonne Chance- Patrick was on the first leg of his vacation, so she had snuggled up with her body pillow (which she had sardonically named "Alejandro") and slept for seven hours. Thus she had awakened, finished all of her preparations and beamed down ready for a full weekend. She would need sleep again by the end of the weekend, which would work perfectly for her.

Humans tended to be a bit lower on the endurance scale, exceptions like Patrick notwithstanding, and Caitans had apparently perfected the art of the nap. Thus she shooed Fiona and Selune off to nap for a few hours... their club expedition would not begin until 2100, and it was not even 1600 yet, so she ordered them to get some sleep so that they could be fresh for the evening, which Selune at least cheerfully complied.

Alone in her sumptuous suite, she took rather a long bath in the gigantic tub. Fiona was correct, it was rather amazing, and she thoroughly enjoyed luxuriating in it and pampering herself. Taking the time to paint her nails and toenails, she then blew her hair dry and configured it in a completely different style than she usually wore it, sweeping her bangs out and over to one side to thoroughly change her look. Sweeping the sides back into a series of ponytails, she then teased the ponytails out to give the cascade of hair down her back more volume. Then she smoothed out the sides along her temples to show off her delicate eartips (which she had been told were quite exquisite), which would emphasize her exotic nature along with the one sharply angled eyebrow which she had left uncovered by her hairstyle.

Stepping into a fresh thong the color of her uniform- she preferred the minimal undergarment for night life activity- she wriggled into the old creatively holed and torn fishnet hosiery, pulling them up high then letting them settle where they liked, as one did with such garments. She fetched the durable thick-woven stretch material tank dress, smiling fondly at the memories that it brought to the surface of many nights in clubs across Earth, far from the Academy and Starfleet and anything else, just lost in the music and the beat and the smoke and haze and sensations. She may have been unhappy at the Academy, but she had learned to love Earth with every weekend of freedom she had cajoled for herself.

It was a bit of a struggle to get into the tight dress... at first she was mildly concerned that she might somehow have outgrown it, but then she recalled that this dress had always been a Mugatu to wrestle into. Once she got it over her prodigious bust it got easier though, and she realized once she had tugged the rubberized hem down over her upper thighs that she had forgotten to put on a bra.

Frowning, she reached into the scoopneck of the dress, adjusted herself and then jumped up and down a few times experimentally, then rolled over into a handstand. Bending her elbows she turned it into a handspring then flipped back over onto her feet once more, sliding a bit in her hosiery-clad feet. Her bosom had stayed pretty much where she had wanted it to, so the snug fabric would do the trick, much to her delight. She strapped on a wide belt around her waist with a narrow sleeve built inside it that would hold an ID, an emergency holdout cred card, a few condoms and a surprise or two from her clubbing days that few would suspect an upright Starfleet officer to be carrying.

A thick pair of low necked socks wouldn't be seen inside her modified duty boots, but combined with the cushioned insoles molded specifically to her feet in the shoes, they would keep her feet comfortable no matter what she did. Thirteen centimeters of high heel with three point three centimeters of platform would give her an amazing height advantage, making her stand (factoring in the ten centimeters of height of her hair added in with the style she had created) just a hair shy of a full two meters tall.

The controls built into the belt buckle still responded, so she activated the boots and stepped onto the wall. Sure enough, the structural materials used in the construction was in there somewhere, and she took one step, then another, then pulled her foot forcefully free to take another step, then inspected herself in the mirror as she stood on the wall. This was certainly a trick she hadn't used in a long time, but it could definitely come in handy tonight somewhere along the way- if nothing else for the sheer surprise value of the girl who could dance on the ceiling.

Deactivating the boots she cartwheeled to the floor once more, and picked up the last bit of her ensemble... the leather jacket she had borrowed from Patrick's closet. She held it up before her, then clutched it to her chest. There were very mixed feelings about him swirling within her right now... Fiona and Selune had brought up a number of points that she could not argue with. The remarkable clarity of her mind's ability to recall information made it very hard to delude herself when recounting events or disputing facts, and while much of what they had said were opinions, some were clear and plain facts.

He did not thank her... in fact, he never thanked her. It was starting to seem as though he had pursued her initially as a conquest... after all, the chance to mate with a Vulcan woman occurred once every seven years if one was fortunate enough to be in the right circumstances. Her own availability was considerably more frequent than that, and she could see the appeal for a human so fascinated by Vulcan culture. The moment when she had thought he was proposing to her yet he had simply turned it into telling her about himself came to mind... that had wounded her. She had shoved it aside and blamed herself, but she was beginning to now see it in a different light... he had perhaps not realized how hurtful it had been to her, but his insensitivity had certainly been emotionally traumatic for her.

Then there was how he had treated her in regards to the Vulcans. The internal conflict that had bloomed within him had caused her to shove her own feelings aside to deal with that, and she had buried that as well... but like anything, she had not forgotten it. He had made her feel devalued and belittled by his dismissals and lectures in regards to the Vulcans, and it was yet another element that was adding up rather quickly in her mind to a very negative overall portrait.

Captain Patrick Tadhg O'Connor... the 'Tadhg' meant 'poet' or 'storyteller', she had read in an idle moment... was taking advantage of her. Not only was he taking advantage of her, he was taking her for granted. He did nothing but benefit from their relationship, while she did all of the work, and she did not receive so much as a word of thanks.

Those sharply angled brows angled a bit more sharply, and a voice she knew well spoke to her.

"He knows your secrets... but then, you know his as well. Unless he kills you then you are stalemated. He does not have any hold over you that you cannot counter, so your freedom is still entirely valid. You need not fear exposure... and you have allies. Should he attempt to silence you they will expose him, for you have earned their friendship and respect, he has earned neither."

The smile that spread across her face was a Romulan's smile, filled with cleverness and deception, and her mind took a turn in a new direction. There was still a part of her that held a dream of a home and hearth and a family with the human, but that part was now faced by the reality that he was simply using her, and that she had let him. While it had sounded like a pretty fairytale, the practical nature of the adaptable intellect which held her psyche together could no longer believe in it.

When she had named him as her One... he had not responded. She had chosen to overlook that fact, not once but twice.

"The man you purport to love," Siivas had referred him.... and while she had overlooked it at the time, Siivas had known all along. Of course he did, as the wily Deltan doctor was far more experienced than her in matters of intimacy and relationships as well as life. And as was his way, rather than try to stop her, he had let her continue on her own path and learn her own lesson.

"Dinna let him walk over yer heart," she heard Fiona say, even as Selune's out of character somber expression explained "You two would barely be considered friends... he barely speaks to you". Her friends were trying to tell her the truth, she only had to listen to the people who loved her... not the one who said that he did so quickly and easily, yet demonstrated it so poorly.

"Did that appreciation demonstration take place between yer thighs?" Fiona had asked... and she had been correct. That was the only affection that he had ever showed her, and the only expression of appreciation it seemed he could muster. To satisfy himself within her, deriving pleasure from the pride of causing her cries of ecstasy.

This... was not her One. She had wanted for him to be, but he was no such thing. He had filled a void within her temporarily, but he was unworthy of her fierce grey heart, it was clear to her now, and she doubted that he would change if given the opportunity.

Her arms slid into the leather jacket with a smug smile. She eyed the communicator laying on the bed... she had heard from him once so far since taking his shore leave, and it had been to repeat his order that the entire crew take at least some shore leave. Idiot, she thought to herself. Did you even look over the leave duty rosters? No. I did that. I made sure that they were all functional and correct. Do you have the faintest clue of whether the crew is getting leave or not? No. Yet you can take the time to call me to insure that Thy Will Be Done. Not a single solitary word of 'thank you for arranging a wonderful vacation for me', not a breath spared for what a good time you are having. Gods forbid you should spare a breath to mutter how much you care for me or miss me or wish I was there... just another dunderheaded and wholly unnecessary order.

You would simply have barked at Yuna and threatened discipline... and suddenly the pattern dawned on her. When he had first come aboard, he had seemed surprised that she was not grateful for not being court martialed... for saving the ship. When he had come back from his away mission, he had berated her for the damage to the ship. It must have been his upbringing, she realized- his father must have always accentuated the shortcomings in his achievements, thus to him that substituted for praise.

And she thought her upbringing was screwed up...

"You are better than he deserves, and you know it," said her reflection in the mirror, and she saw the lithe yet curvaceous Romulan Major looking back at her, posture erect, hands folded behind her back. "You have had your fun, and raised the stakes of the game. Now that you realize the truth, do not allow him to harm you. Break it off. Let the Human learn what he has mishandled and lost and perhaps he will learn something... although I somehow doubt it."

His leather jacket was not going to survive the night. She would decide later if she would bother to look repentant about it. Sliding the communicator into one of the pockets, she set it to insistent vibrate and zippered the pocket closed. While she somehow doubted that he would bother to call her, she would at least give him the opportunity. But there was a chance that the Bonne Chance might need her, and just because she could feel her emotional ties to him withering and dying at a remarkable speed, she still loved her ship and felt responsible for her crew. They might need her, and if that were the case then she would stand ready, no matter what.

There was debate in her mind about cancelling the reservation that she had made for the remote tropical paradise she had rented for just the two of them, and it brought a tear to her eye. She fished the ring she had bought that very afternoon out of the box where it sat on the dresser and looked at it. Shiny, polished tritanium... starship building material. It would have been fitting, she thought... but she knew better now. She was a convenience to him, a bed warmer, and when she closed that door, he would simply move on to another officer or crewman. She walked to the window and opened it, the warm breeze blowing into the cool room, and made to hurl the band out the window.

But she couldn't.

Perhaps she needed to keep it as a memento of a hard lesson learned. Perhaps she needed to hold onto it as a vain shred of hope that somehow the facts were all wrong and he wasn't just an arrogant, self-centered ass who was using her professionally, physically and emotionally. Perhaps there was someone out there for whom she had bought it, whom she had not yet met.

"Sentimental fool..." the voice in her head spat, but she ignored it this time. There was a balance to be sought, and Scylla would not always be correct. It was better for her to have dreams and hopes... healthier for her future sanity.

There was no way to be certain... but for now, she would keep it, and she slipped the ring into one of the jacket's pockets as well.

The reservation she would keep... perhaps she would meet him there, or perhaps she would not. Perhaps a few days without her might make him realize that she was important to him, and that he valued her more than he realized. Or perhaps he would just be miserable in a steamy and hot remote lagoon with beautiful waterfalls and no one and nothing for miles around, and perhaps he would blame her for it and 'tease' her as he so often seemed to do.

The only thing of which she could be absolutely certain was that he would not be in her thoughts tonight. Because she had a growing confidence that she did not reside in his... save if his bed happened to be empty.

 

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