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Trellis Vondaryan

Rear Admiral Quinn Reynolds - A Few Days

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((Observation Lounge, USS Gorkon))
 
::She didn't know why she was sat here, staring out of the window. Any console where she could access the ship's sensors would be far more helpful in her current endeavour. The many sensor pallets of the Gorkon were vastly superior to her own eyes, and yet she desperately wanted to see the arrival of the Triumphant in person, rather than through a console screen. 
 
::So there she sat, and there she squinted, waiting for the tiny, familiar dot of white to get close enough for her eyes to find it. 
 
::It took a while, but there it was. A smile like the breaking dawn caught her lips, and she watched as the punchy, powerful little ship took a slow, graceful arc toward the planet. The orbit insertion was a complicated, fancy manoeuvre -- Walter was clearly letting his helmsman show off, and it made her chuckle. She watched the little ship circle the planet for a while, indulging in a little nostalgia about her time aboard it.::
 
Brunsig: =/\= Brunsig to Reynolds. I'll be in the transporter room in five. =/\=
 
Reynolds: =/\= Aren't you supposed to ask permission to come aboard? =/\=
 
::She grinned at the impatient sigh that echoed through the channel.::
 
Brunsig: =/\= I assumed that the Ktarian chocolate puff I've brought with me would do the talking. =/\=
 
::She was out of her chair like a torpedo from its tube, heading straight for the closest transporter room.:::
 
 
 
((Personal Quarters, USS Gorkon))
 
::The next morning, the first sensations she had on waking was perfect comfort and warmth. Warm, in no small part, due to the other body in the bed that was laid against her, the comforting weight of an arm draped over her waist, legs entangled with hers.  Her small movements prompted a breath of air against her neck, a kiss just underneath her ear.::
 
Brunsig: Morning, Sunshine.  Would you like bacon and eggs, or toast?
 
::She replied with a sleepy laugh, recognising the words. He'd first said them to her back on the Triumphant when she, as a newly promoted JayGee, had dozed off in the torpedo control room after working through the night on the targeting systems. When he sat down next to her to check her work, she had inadvertently curled up to him in her sleep, as though he were her favourite teddy bear.  Back then, those words had been said with the express intent of embarrassing her; Walter couldn't be accused of being good with tactile contact, either giving or receiving it.
 
::Since then, it had become an odd little ritual of theirs, a greeting shared whenever they woke up together after some time apart. She usually got the offered breakfast, too. Today, she thought, she'd go with the bacon and eggs.
 
::Her train of thought was broken by another kiss on her neck and a murmured question in her ear.::
 
Brunsig: Gone back to sleep?
 
Reynolds: Just thinking.
 
Brunsig: I've a cure for that.
 
::She laughed and he grinned, pulling her close and into a kiss that made it explicit exactly what his intentions were.::
 
 
((Hiking Trail, Taidel Woods, Trill))
 
Reynolds: So… I haven't told Dylan about you and I. 
 
Brunsig: I'm surprised, Cupcake. Look at me. This is my surprised face.
 
::He scowled at her. Of course he did.::
 
Reynolds: Oh, don't be like that. I just… I wanted to give it, to give *us* a little time. To get used to being us again.
 
::He didn't answer for a little while, and she didn't push. There was no need and she had no inclination to do so. They had miles to go, and she knew him well enough to know that prodding for an answer would only earn her sarcasm and snark in return.
 
::Instead, she let herself soak in the surroundings. It was a pleasant day; the sun was peeking through the canopy, casting dappled light across the trees and bushes of the forest floor. The trail underfoot was soft, cushioning their booted feet, and easy enough to follow. And it was quiet, with only the breeze rustling through the leaves and the spirited calls of birds to listen to. It was heavenly, the kind of place she usually only got to visit in a holodeck.::
 
Brunsig: I'm assuming this means you want to tell him now.
 
Reynolds: I'd like to. But only if you're happy with it.
 
Brunsig: It makes no odds to me. 
 
::She hadn't expected a ringing endorsement -- this was Walter Brunsig she was talking to, after all -- and yet she found that response somehow disappointing.::
 
Reynolds: Okay. 
 
::His eyes, the colour of the clear sky above the trees, swung away from the path ahead to look at her.
 
Brunsig: Look, Quinn. We're… ::he hesitated, a discomforted frown on his face,:: ...family. A screwed up family, but nevertheless. So I'm fine. It's good. You should tell him.
 
::She smiled at him, and she was granted one of his rare, fleeting smiles in return. It changed his face, and she felt her heart skip a beat. Funny, the way things went; when they first met, she couldn't stand him. And now here she was, loving him so much that sometimes it hurt.::
 
Reynolds: I love you.
 
Brunsig: And yet you're usually so smart.
 
::He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes, laughing. His fingers intertwined with hers as they continued their walk, hand in hand.::
 
 
((Shuttlebay, USS Gorkon))
 
::The next day, he was here. The shuttle door opened, pivoting on its hinge, and Dylan stepped out. She swore he was taller than the last time she'd seen him -- but then, she always did. He'd had a hair cut, which suited him, and he was more tanned than when she'd left. Which, instead of concealing his freckles, had only seemed to birth even more. It was funny how similar mother and son looked -- the both of them with brown hair, slim builds and naturally pale, freckled skin -- given that there was no shared DNA there at all.
 
::With his bag swinging over his shoulder, he smiled at her and she smiled right back, her heart leaping at the sight of him. He sauntered over, straight into a hug, and didn't even complain when she kissed him hello on the cheek.::
 
Dylan: Hi Mum.
 
Reynolds: Hey, Pickle.
 
::He pulled away and frowned at her, evidently finding his childhood nickname entirely inappropriate now that he had reached the grand old age of ten. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around Walter's waist, and an awkward grimace took root on the blond captain's face. But to Quinn's surprise, he returned the hug, scowling at her when she dared to smile about it.::
 
Dylan: Dad.
 
Brunsig: Offspring.
 
Dylan: Hi.
 
Brunsig: Yes.
 
::Quinn rolled her eyes, while Dylan grinned as he stepped back; unlike her he was entirely content -- happy, even -- with the monosyllabic exchange. His gaze swung between the two people he considered his parents, and then with the with offhand manner that only children could pull off, he stuck a pin the balloon of apprehension she'd spent the past few days inflating.::
 
Dylan: So you two are back together, huh?
 
::She stared at him, her carefully prepared and rehearsed speech out of the window with one throwaway question. Quinn wasn't sure if she was annoyed or relieved.::
 
Reynolds: Uh… Yes. We are.
 
::There was a pause as she hesitated, debating whether to ask him how he felt about that, when her eldest child preempted her again, this time with a casual shrug and a nod of approval.::
 
Dylan: Neat. I'm hungry. Can we eat?
 
::She stared, wordless, while Walter snorted in undisguised amusement. Jabbing his thumb toward the large shuttlebay doors, he answered the youth's question.::
 
Brunsig: Come on, Pickle. Let's hit the lounge.
 
::Eyes twinkling with mirth, Walter shot her a look before starting off, Dylan trotting along beside him. All she could do was shake her head, and follow.::
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