Lt. Nolen Hobart — The Only Heart Unbroken

[Kali Nicholotti]

((The Starboard Bow, Deck 6, USS Arrow))

Lieutenant Hobart let go of Lieutenant Ohnari's hand and gestured towards the window of the Starboard Bow, sloping up and out along the Arrow’s belly. Without any significant atmosphere between their eyes and the stars, there was no twinkle. They simply burned mercilessly bright pinholes of light, steady and unyielding, through a pitch black canvas.

Hobart: There’s a war coming. Could be here any day. We’re not on the frontline, we are the frontline. The Sheliak are coming with their new friends, and they view us all as vermin. You’re our Chief Medical Officer—"Acting" or otherwise—and you’re about to be elbow-deep in blood. ::beat:: You’re going to need to remember those puppies on that beach, but for me that doesn’t work. You didn’t offend me. ::placing both hands on her shoulders:: I’m working on a project with Connor, and whether it ever actually helps win the war or not, it helps me. That’s why I left the holodeck. I was getting ready. ::beat:: For what's coming. So... I'm sorry for makin' you worry.

When he finished speaking, Nolen sensed the bouquet of emotions competing for the spotlight in Ohnari's mind. He couldn't be sure which of them won out, but an instant later she had wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his shoulder. He felt, through the shoulder of his dress uniform, the gentle tug of air pulled past his neck as she inhaled, and the warm gust as her lungs let go again.

He couldn't imagine what it looked like to the rest of the Starboard Bow, but, then again, he didn't care to try. Whether it be relief that she was wrong about him, or anticipatory grief for the days, weeks, months, or even years to come, Talia needed the hug, and as much a trickster as he could be, Hobart couldn't deny it to her. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and the other up across her shoulders, his fingers weaving between her raven locks, his palm cradling the back of her head.

Ohnari: ::muffled:: I think we're both a little weird sometimes...

Hobart: ::chuckling:: We're weird a lot of the time… ::sigh:: but only weirdos join Starfleet.

He'd said it before. In a post-scarcity society, where you could do and be anything you want and never have to worry about the necessities of life, it took a special kind of misfit to volunteer for service in Starfleet. Even on a barren backwater like Relva VIII, Nolen could have gone anywhere else. But he'd never have fit in anywhere else. At least here, they were all not fitting in together.

Ohnari: ::turning her face so she wasn't muffled:: And whatever is coming… ::unconsciously squeezing tighter for a moment:: We'll face it. 

Hobart: ::softly, looking around at the celebration:: Call me the fly in the ointment, I guess. Didn't mean to ruin your big night.

Ohnari: No… it makes sense. In a twisted, "Of course this is happening" sort of way. ::taking a deep breath:: Sickbay will be ready. And if you and Connor have anything to do with it, the Arrow will be running like she's brand new. 

Without realizing it, they'd started rocking. If they were clever, they could probably play it off as dancing. Of course, given the set list for the night, they'd have to each pretend to be rhythm-impaired. And if Nolen wasn't transferred, that would be a charade they'd have to carry on for a conceivably long time.

But apparently neither one of them was feeling especially clever, because rather than lean into it, they simultaneously froze, in realization. The comforting hug had started to transform into something different and regardless of whether they were prepared to acknowledge it to themselves and each other, they were certainly unprepared to acknowledge it to the crowded room they edged. 

Hobart: Uh… Wubber?

Ohnari: ::smallishly:: We're still hugging, aren't we?

Hobart: Technically.

Ohnari: It's getting weird, isn't it?

He twisted his head to the side in consideration. "Weird" was a relative thing, and given that it was the two of them tangled in each other's arms…

Hobart: In fairness, it started weird.

Ohnari: Count of three, we break and never speak of it again.

Before he could get in another quip, she pushed off him, winding up nearly a pandemic’s spacing apart. He instinctively straightened out his white jacket as he watched her fall away. 

Ohnari: ::stern parting nod:: Lieutenant Hobart. 

And with that, she turned and headed straight for the bar. Heaven help anyone in her way, thought the Betazoid hybrid. He watched her go, hips swaying beneath her dark gown, delicate chains across her back still twinkling.

Hobart: ::slow nod, softly to self:: Talia.

“Never speak of it again.” Yeah, that was probably for the best.

NT/End for Hobart

———

Lieutenant Nolen Hobart

Engineering Officer

USS Arrow (NCC-69829)

A240001NH3

[Piweh]

I am giving this the love reaction because I found it impossible to choose between the cry and laugh reactions.