Commander Alora DeVeau & 1st Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell: Lost and Found Pt1/2

[Josh Herrick]

I'm always a fan of particularly strong narration, but I love how this also let me learn more about both character's history in a particularly heart warming moment. It is indeed a small world! @Alora DeVeau and @Arturo Maxwell

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((USS Oumuamua, Docked at DS9))

 

Max had - like many of the crew - jumped at the chance to take a drip down to Bajor itself. Properly visiting DS9 was on the list whilst they were docked for repairs, but for now, Bajor it was. He had taken part in a Gratitude Festival before, and hopefully this time it would be without incident. Donning his much-loved kilt, and a SFMC t-shirt over a long sleeve top he had pinned on his combadge, and gathered up his pocket-PADD before ducking rapidly out of his quarters before his roommate had a chance to collar him.

 

With the couple of shuttles of their own already in use, Max had made his way onto the station and hopped aboard one of the regular shuttles between DS9 and the surface of Bajor. As they had departed the station, circling around its docking pylons Max had taken a good look at the battering the Oumuamua had taken. On another pylon he spied a Ferengi merchant vessel, and on the pylon directly below another Federation vessel. An Intrepid-class from the look of her, Max muttered the name and registry number to himself as he had tapped it into his PADD

 

Maxwell: oO USS Eagle. NCC 74659. Assigned to Denali Station, in the Aavaro Wilds. Oo

 

His interest piqued, Max made a booknote of the information so he could go back to it at a later time. He’d then tucked his PADD away into his sporran, pushed his seat back slightly and dozed the rest of the way to Bajor.

 

((Capital City, Bajor))

 

Wandering the streets with no real plan or direction, Max cared not a jot. He was blown away by Bajoran architecture, and the warmth of every person he encountered. He had wandered down streets that appeared to house apartments, other streets lined with shops, as well as a couple of market squares and a park that seemed to go on forever. Everywhere he went there were masses of people mingling and moving around, all appearing to be partaking of the Gratitude Festival. Taking a break from his wandering, Max took a seat at a streetside cafe and ordered himself Hasperat and a small pot of Cela Tea. As he relaxed with a cup of the hot tea, he watched the thronging crowds as they drifted this way and that whilst casually fingering his way around a map of the city. Being seated so close to the street, it was only a matter of time before somebody bumped into him accidentally. It wasn’t hard, and fortunately his gripped cup was still on the table, but the bump was still enough to spill some of his tea.

 

Although she had visited a Gratitude Festival on another section of Bajor, that had been in a smaller town, far more quaint than the Capitol city.  Since the events continued for a period of several days, that afforded her the opportunity to experience one in the larger city.  All told, she had enjoyed the smaller town, but was curious to know how it compared to something with more people and, perhaps, slightly different ways of doing things. 

Obviously, the scrolls and burning them was a standard among all the festivals, as, it seemed, was choral music.  While there were other aspects that shared a commonality, there were also some that differed.  In the bigger city, she found far more commercialism whereas in the smaller town, while that had been an aspect, it was less pronounced.  People were in more of a hurry, and the smaller events which were a part of the larger, overall festival were not only more numerous in the big city, but also more bombastic in nature.  She found herself wandering around, knowing her time was limited as she had to leave for Betazed soon, and trying to figure out what she wanted to see most.  

 

Because of the number of people hustling and bustling, it was common to catch someone on an arm or bump them in the side.  For a while, she had paused each time to offer her apologies and concern for the oversight and offence, but almost everyone barely acknowledged her and simply continued on as if nothing had happened.  After several such collisions, Alora had gotten used to simply calling out an apology without even looking at the person with whom she had made contact.  When another, particularly bulky man found himself the victim of such an incident, she didn’t even glance up, but asked for a pardon and continued on her way.

 

Max held up a hand, indicating no apology was necessary.  After a few moments, his brow furrowed as he processed the voice that he’d heard. He looked up, just catching sight of the woman as she faded into the crowd. He estimated her to be around five or six inches shorter than himself, with long brown hair. But what really caught his attention about the hair were the hints of red highlighting. Abandoning his meal, his tea and almost forgetting to grab his PADD, Max darted into the crowd after her. After a couple of minutes of ducking and diving around Festival-goers, Max called out.

 

Maxwell: No stopping tae say hello tae an old friend?

 

It wasn’t the words that did it; she would have normally ignored them.  In most circumstances, that sort of call wouldn’t have stayed Alora’s feet.  She would have simply continued on, content in her exploration.  After all, people called to each other all around her, and none of those had been directed at her.  Too much noise rumbled in the area for her to think so highly of herself that she would catch the attention of anyone there. But the voice that broke through the cacophony of others froze the woman in her tracks.  Turning, her eyes settled upon the origin of the voice.  

 

He had changed; his visage scarred by whatever had stolen him away from Ops and held him captive.  She could see the lines of those experiences, and for a moment, Alora wondered if she stood face to face with a ghost rather than a reality.  Perhaps he was a spectre returned from the beyond to visit her, though why he would deign her worthy she couldn't fathom.   Had the Prophets elected to commune with her and use his image in their attempt?  Or maybe, in the depths of her heart, she had held onto and hidden the sorrow of Max’s loss and pushed it aside as the loss of Kalin overshadowed the loss of her friend.  But there he was, standing before her and Alora could only utter a single word. 

 

DeVeau: Max?

 

His creased and scarred face split wide open into something he hadn’t done in a long time as a broad grin formed. He let off the odd half-smile or smirk now and then, had managed a full smile when calling Milly, but a grin?

No.

 

Maxwell: Aye, that’s me.

 

There were still several feet between them, which Max elected to maintain for a moment. He had no idea how his appearance might have an effect, and for a moment he felt a pang of selfishness at just dropping back into her life, unannounced, on a busy street.

 

DeVeau: But…but you’re…

 

Dead.

 

The unspoken word hung like a ton weight in the air. He’d had a suspicion that Alora was unaware of his return from the grave, as were a great many others. He knew that eventually, he would contact them all, but there never seemed to be enough time.

 

Maxwell: As handsome and charming as ever?

 

Those scars spoke a million things, of experience he should have never had to go through, of pains and horrors that he should have never had to witness.  But he was there, standing before her, alive. 

 

DeVeau: Max…

 

He took a couple of slow steps forward, holding his hands out as he did so.

 

He uttered no words, made no further motions, but merely stood there and waited. Alora's response was immediate; she staggered forward, collapsing into his embrace. Her arms enveloped him without a shred of concern for onlookers or whatever judgments they passed. A husband lost, then a friend. The returned husband met a true demise, and now, in a cruel twist of fate, the friend followed suit. Would history cruelly replay itself? Despite his comforting hug, tears surged uncontrollably. The emotional dam broke, and rivulets coursed down her face. Her body trembled, and her wails resonated, an unrestrained outpouring of a mix of grief and joy.  

 

Maxwell: Hey you…..

 

Arms wrapped about her, Max held Alora firmly as he rested his cheek atop the slightly shorter woman's head. The pair of them stood there, an immobile bastion in the midst of an ebbing, flowing and swirling crowd. He felt his own eyes prickle slightly at the level of emotion displayed by a dear friend that he had missed greatly, and had presumed would never be seen face-to-face again.

 

Eventually, the deluge ended, the sobbing eased, then ceased all together, but joy was the prevalent emotion, not sorrow, because the dawn had come and though Alora had lost so much over the last couple of months, she had at least regained a friend.  Then fear trickled in; fear, because she had regained a husband and lost him a second time, and she couldn’t bear it should that happen again. 

 

DeVeau: I thought you were gone.  

 

Kissing the top of her head, Max returned his cheek to its previous position as he squeezed her that much tighter. It was as if he was afraid to let go, fearing that the moment he did so she would evaporate into the crowd having been nothing more than a spark of his imagination.  But they could not remain there forever.  Too many questions sprang to Alora’s mind, and though she had desperately wanted someone to hold her like that for so long, the realisation that they still remained in the midst of a populous area, subject to scrutiny, she found herself longing for a more intimate setting.  Pulling away, her hands wiped at her eyes, but a smile appeared, like sunlight through a rainshower. 
 

Max: That’s enough ae that now, you’ll be setting me off wailing like a wee bairn.

 

He smiled, reaching up to gently wipe an errant tear from her cheek.

 

DeVeau: We should go somewhere so we can talk. 

 

Max: Aye, that we should.

 

Taking a light step to the side, he found himself smiling once again as he offered Alora his arm. He couldn’t believe that out of the thousands of people bustling around the city they had somehow encountered one another. But they had, and it was like a little piece of home to have her there with him.  Alora’s arm slipped into his, grateful for the steadiness of the man as he escorted her through the throng.  

 

And so the pair walked, looking for a quieter place where they could sit and talk properly. It had been over eighteen months since they’d had a casual coffee the morning before his departure aboard the USS Meili. A light breakfast at Freya’s coupled with easy conversation and much laughter as Max had spectacularly failed at pronouncing some of the latest words they were being taught at their evening Romulan classes. The memory lingered in her mind especially, their last gathering, the parting which had been two friends wishing each other well, followed by the news of the Meili limping in, and Max gone, presumed dead.  

 

Eventually, they located a cluster of benches off the beaten path and only one other was occupied by three, so they took the furthest away.  Sitting down, Alora eyed her friend, noted the scars once again, then asked softly - 

 

DeVeau: What happened? 

 

Max sat in silence for a moment, as he replayed the attack in his mind, hearing the red alert and the sound of weapons impacts ripping straight through their shields and into the hull. The blast of the bridge taking a direct hit and the sudden feeling of being yanked violently towards the ragged hole, his face a momentary flare of agony before the void took him.

He reached out, taking her hand into his own.  Her warm fingers curled around his hand.  She knew that look, had seen it countless times, and even worn it upon her own face.  She hoped her touch would ground him.  

 

Maxwell: We were ambushed. ::He turned his head towards her.:: We were hunting down fleeing refugee transports, escorting them tae safety or taking aboard those on damaged ships.

 

Nodding, Alora remembered the reports had said that very same thing, but this was his story and she would not interrupt him, even if she already knew the information.  There was more she didn’t know, more he had to say.  More he had to tell.  

 

Maxwell: There was a distress call frae a transport and we jumped in tae help. There wasnae any transport, just a Delrothian battleship waiting for us. ::He balled his free hand into a fist.:: They knew exactly how tae draw us in, and where so we’d be out ae coverage range ae the task force.

 

It was the truth, but only a part of the truth and it made his heart hurt to be unable to give her the full facts. The ambush had been orchestrated by an old foe of Ops, one Commander Vivienne Hatfield. She had been - could well be still - an associate of the Romulan terrorist Vrerik, and had done many things to try to destroy the USS Narendra, and more specifically Max and Sal. During his debriefing Max had been given a small portion of the information regarding her involvement, and had filled in the blanks himself.

 

Nine days into his “debriefing” he had finally run out of room to manoeuvre and had been forced to reveal his connection to the facially-scarred woman he now ironically mirrored.

 

He was holding back, not telling her everything.  Part of Alora wanted to insist, to draw it out of him because what good would it do to hold back?  The other part recognised how difficult it was to talk about trauma and how could she be so hypocritical when she still struggled herself?  Nodding, she studied the man’s face, her eyes tracing the lines of his scarring.  

 

DeVeau: The attack killed many of the crew.  We thought you were lost. 

 

It wasn’t an outright ask, but Alora wanted to know what had happened after, what he had been through.  She wanted to share his burden and try to understand.  The door was left open, and it was his choice as to whether or not he would walk through it. 

 

Maxwell: I suppose I was. I came around in a hospital on Delroth six. Patched up, bandaged and bloody sore. ::He paused.:: A lot happened after that…..

 

Seriously injured, perhaps to the point where his survival would have been in question.  However, Max was far tougher on the outside than he might have seemed, and he had obviously pulled through.  He had the scars to prove it.  

 

DeVeau: What sort of things?

 

He thought for a moment before answering.

 

Maxwell: Apparently some important resistance leader was being treated there after being captured. There was a raid tae free her, I just happened tae be close by.

 

Alora’s eyes widened slightly, and both eyebrows darted upward in surprise.  That was certainly an unexpected outcome. 

 

DeVeau: They’ve been in a civil war for over two years by now.  

 

Maxwell: Aye, and it’s no looking like it’ll slow down any.

 

A raid by the resistance to free one of their leaders, and he’d happened to be close by. 

 

DeVeau: So they freed you too?

 

Maxwell: They knew there was a captured Starfleet officer in there as well. They thought I was the Meili’s commanding officer. ::He smiled at her.:: For all their intelligence, they just couldnae grasp the fact that I was only aboard on attachment.

 

The argument with his captors had gone around and around.

The Meili’s OC was actually a Provisional Lieutenant-Commander - slated for promotion, but only a Lieutenant in reality. But it just did not sit with them that Max wasn’t the ship's captain.

 

DeVeau: And then what? 

 

Maxwell: They took me in, I helped train them in small unit tactics and weapons drills. Thing is, the group I fell in with contained the planet's rightful president as their overall commander. ::He glanced at Alora.:: The government that is in place are usurpers. They’ve built camps that make those from the Occupation ae Bajor look like holiday villas…

 

As he recounted his story, Alora leaned heavily upon the table, her cheek resting upon her hand.  She listened closely, but couldn’t quite understand.  If he had been freed…

 

DeVeau: Why didn’t you contact Starfleet?

 

That was a fair question, and one that had been asked of him dozens of times by the black collars back at SFHQ.

 

Maxwell: All channels are monitored and secured. They’d have found us within the hour if we’d sent a transmission off-world.

 

She leaned forward a little, her gaze without judgement, but within the depths of that gaze reflected concern and worry.  What had prevented him from reaching out. 

 

DeVeau: You could have contacted Henry.  I know for a fact he was reporting on the war. 

 

She had read those articles and the man got around.  Surely he could have been reached. 

 

Max’s eyes widened a little, pulling at his scarred side.

 

Maxwell: Henry was there on the ground?

 

Henry was supposed to have been aboard the USS Mayoko, an Odyssey-class and reporting on the broader picture directly from the right hand of Captain Hyster. If Henry had been there on the ground, then surely he must have gotten word out about the camps, the roundups, the genocidal “cleansing” of entire areas? But if he had done, then why was the Federation still allowing the petition for membership to go ahead?

 

Max knew they possessed superior weaponry and shielding to Starfleet vessels and secretly he began to fear that they were being used as some kind of bargaining chip for entry.

 

DeVeau: I don’t know if he was on the ground then and there, but I know he’s written some articles about the war. 

 

Alora sighed. She didn’t know why she was asking those questions.  Did she want him to explain?  How could she?  How dare she?  What right did she have to question someone who’d likely been through hell and back? 

 

DeVeau: I’m sorry…I shouldn’t be so pushy.  I’m just…I’m just so glad to see you again.

 

She’d lost too many people as of late.  To have one come back, only to lose his life, to find that finality, had been difficult.  In one sense, she was almost afraid the same thing would happen with Max. 

 

Max looked down for a moment at their joined hands, reaching out to place his free hand atop them. Looking up again, he fixed her with a smile.

 

Maxwell: I’m glad tae see you as well. When I put a call in tae the station I was told you’d transferred, but no where to. Didnae think I’d see you again.

 

He moved his unlinked hand again as he watched the passing crowds for a moment.

 

DeVeau: How did you get back?  When did you get back? 

There was another question on the tip of her tongue, but it was one Alora managed to hold back.  She wanted to know why he hadn’t called her, but once again, she chided herself.  She had no right to request that either.  They were good friends, but it wasn’t her place to determine what he did.  

 

Maxwell: New years day, last year. I was picked up by the USS Sherman and transported straight back tae HQ as a priority.

 

He would have smiled at the mild irony, as it was the Sherman that Max had been aboard on his journey to SB118 as a Cadet 1st Class.

 

DeVeau: You were finally rescued..

 

Maxwell: If you can call it that. ::He glanced towards Alora.:: Intel kept me in solitary for a fortnight. Nae contact, or anything. They treated me like some kind ae traitor.

 

Alora winced and squeezed the hands that held hers.  No one should have to go through that.  Although Intelligence had a job to do, that didn’t mean they had to treat Max like that. He would never turn against Starfleet or engage in traitorous behaviour.  

 

DeVeau: I’m sorry Max.  That you had to go through all this.  What happened after that? 

 

Maxwell: Had me retrained ::He motioned to the SFMC logo on his t-shirt:: and told me I’d be sent back tae one-eighteen.

 

Alora nodded, wishing she had known.  She could have called him, offered him encouragement, maybe even some comfort.  She’d gone through her own hell last year.  Perhaps this year was a new beginning for both of them.  

 

DeVeau: What about Milly?

 

Maxwell: I contacted Ishreth as soon as I was able, but I didnae speak with Milly straight away.

 

Ishreth, but not her. If she was honest with herself, Alora felt sad about that.  Even though he’d been told of her transfer, he could have taken the time to trace her.  The computer could have connected them.  Then again, she needed to remember the man had been through a harrowing event, and while they were friends, he’d been dealing with a lot and it wasn’t fair for her to have any resentment.  

 

DeVeau: Were you afraid of how she’d react?

 

Max nodded.

 

Maxwell: Aye, figured it would be best if Ishreth sounded things out and broke it to her first.

 

Their first call had been a pretty emotional one, but almost immediately the seeds of the plan for Milly to move from SB118 to rejoin him had been planted. If Milly had wanted, Max would have left her with Ishreth and Tyva. But as soon as there was an opening in the conversation, she had stated her wish for them to be reunited.

 

DeVeau: I can only imagine how happy she must have been.  

 

Maxwell: She was fair bouncing in her seat. ::Max smiled at the memory of it.:: I’ve spoken tae my Maw, and Henry. Ishreth and Tyva. ::He scratched at his forehead:: Tried tae contact Erin, and left a message but I’ve no had a reply. That’s it so far.

 

There were so many to contact. Taisa, Sal, Ishani, Rustty, Eireen, Lauren. There was Freya, Zel, Rue, his ever-faithful and irreplaceable assistant Janice, and even the big guy, Janul. He had no idea if Theo or dearest Mirra had even heard of his KIA listing, but after eighteen months he feared that they would have. He needed to contact them either way, and hopefully before that report ever got near them.

 

The fact he had not heard from Erin surprised her.  The two were best friends and as far as she knew, that hadn’t changed.  She hoped nothing had happened with the woman.  How many people had mourned the death of the gentle Scottish man?  Far more than he probably realised, and she had been one. 
 

DeVeau: You should.  Let them know.  I’m sure they’ll be very happy to hear from you.

 

Maxwell: It’s on my list ae things that need doing.

 

There was a comfortable and silent pause for a few moments, before Alora spoke again.

 

DeVeau: So…where are you going from here?  Of all the places for us to meet!

 

He grinned at her.

 

Maxwell: Aye, right? Who’d ae thought we’d be in the same spot, on the same planet at the same time. As for where? I’m no sure the now. Us junior officers don’t get told much you know.

 

Alora started to respond, then paused.  He’d said it so matter of factly that for a second, she had thought to continue without really thinking, but the words caught up with her and after a brief pause, she asked softly - 

 

DeVeau: Junior?

 

Maxwell: Aye, junior. I’m a second lieutenant the now.

 

DeVeau: You turned green?  

 

Max laughed before he answered.

 

Maxwell: Aye that’s one way tae put it.

 

DeVeau: What made you decide to take that route?
 

Not that she necessarily thought it inconceivable, she was simply taken by surprise.  She had thought he would be gold forever, or at most turn red.  Then again, that was still a possibility.  

 

Maxwell: Wasnae my choice. After I’d been debriefed I was “invited” tae undertake Marine training. Due tae my recent experiences I was told I’d be retrained, and sent straight back tae one eighteen.

 

It had been sold to him as being part of an operation to secure as many refugees as possible that were fleeing from that shattered system. And in part, to conduct utterly secret extractions of prisoners from the horrific Re-education Camps. Then, he had been sent to the Oumuamua instead with no indication of it being a temporary assignment.

 

DeVeau: Huh.  That sounds a little bit…shady. 

 

Starfleet was an excellent organisation, but it wasn’t flawless.  There were darker parts that existed within, though she knew that was few and far between. Still, occasionally, people didn’t act in a manner that was right, and if she had been there, she would have certainly raised an objection at the way Max had been treated.  

 

Maxwell: Aye, and I’ve had a distinct distrust ae those in black collars since. ::He offered up a roguish smile, gently patting her hand and changing the subject before it turned to dark subjects.:: We cannae talk about me all day though.

 

DeVeau: We can’t?

 

Maxwell: No, we can not. You’re here as well. And I want tae know what I’ve missed out on.

 

DeVeau: I don’t know.  I don’t mind talking about you.  I’m glad you’re back, though.  I’ve missed you, and Milly.  I had hoped to take her for ice cream, but…things got strange.  

 

And frankly, it was Alora’s own fault. She’d fallen into a trap of wallowing in herself and her problems and she hadn’t returned to take the girl out for the treat as she had originally planned.  Now she was on Denali.  Maybe Milly wasn’t related to her, but she was sweet, and she was Max’s daughter.  Alora should have paid her more attention. 

 

Maxwell: Strange?

 

DeVeau: It’s…a long story.

 

Maxwell: I’ve got time. We’re here a wee while yet.

 

Taking a deep breath, Alora pondered what she should tell him.  Max had been through so much, and she didn’t want to burden him with her own problems.  On the other hand, he was a dear friend, one she had thought killed and now brought back to life.  Closing her eyes, she nodded, and launched into the story.  The entire thing.  

 

Kalin.  She hadn’t ever mentioned him to Max before, but that was where she started.  The classified research, though she didn’t go into details that weren’t allowed, how they met, how they became friends, then something more, and finally married.  And how two weeks later, she lost him and was left with a condition that would most likely mean her life would end far sooner than expected.  

After she came to that point, she paused.  Already it felt heavy, the weight of a million years all wrapped into one.  The path she’d trod to get to some sense of who she once was had been difficult, but some of it involved Max.  Although he had been part of the whole fiasco with the love potion, he hadn’t even heard her experience.  So she told him.  How the potion made her feel love for Sal, how it was both torturous and desirous, and emotion she never thought she would feel again. 

 

And that was it.  She wasn’t actually in love with Sal, though he was a wonderful person.  She hadn’t wanted the feeling to continue because of the man himself.  Rather, it was the fact that she could feel that way again at all that made her cling to it.  When Kalin died, it was as if half of her soul had been ripped away, and that potion had made her feel something again.  Eventually, she did take the antidote, but the guilt that she bore from having that sort of emotion lingered far longer.  Even after explaining it to Sal, who had suddenly cornered her in regards to it, he still hadn’t understood.  It had driven a wedge between them.  She had hoped for understanding.  Instead, he focused on playing the victim. 

That saddened her.  She had hoped they could become friends, and while she had great respect for him, the very distance he blamed her for had only increased.  It had taken a long time for her to realise she wasn’t at fault.  She couldn’t help her feelings, and had actively sought counselling for them.  But even that wasn’t enough for him.  However, that was past.  Starfleet had taken her elsewhere, and Denali had brought with it a fresh start, a chance to focus on the future.  That didn’t mean she wouldn’t look to the past, oh no.  The pain was there, and that pain had shaped her in ways that brought her to where she was today.  She had to recognise where she had been to understand who she was in the moment and where she was now.  She could regret that pain, feel sorrow for it happening, but she was slowly starting to see that she also couldn’t allow herself to stall.  If  nothing else, she had a future to look forward to, even if it was a truncated one. 

 

Raising an eyebrow, Max gently released Alora’s hand before putting his arm around her and giving her a gentle squeeze.

 

Maxwell: Nope, no getting out ae it. You’re pinned now.

 

That actually coaxed a laugh from the scientist, who, despite herself, had begun crying.  Leaning into him, her tears falling upon his shirt, Alora had to admit that she missed this, the feel of a dear friend, a warm embrace.  Kestra and Raissa most certainly would have done so, if she had both admitted what had happened to them and if they had been physically present.

 

And there it was, another realisation, an epiphany that should have come sooner, but was only realised then and there.  If she was really going to move forward, then she needed to tell her story to those closest to her.  To her friends.  Her family.  It was time to talk - really talk - about all that had happened.  Tilting her head upward, Alora’s cheek rubbed against the soft material of Max’s shirt, and a smile shone through the glittering of her tears.  

 

DeVeau: Thanks, Max. 

 

Smiling down at her, Max tightened his arm a fraction.

 

Maxwell: Any time.

 

DeVeau: I needed this.  Truly needed this.  

 

How funny that had it happened that way.  A chance encounter, an impromptu admission.  Perhaps it was time Alora really did what she kept saying she was doing - moving forward.  Living life.  Kalin wouldn’t have wanted her to stall.  As much as she loved him, and he her, he wouldn’t have wanted all that brokenness to steal away her happiness.  It was hard to remember, but it was important.  She needed to remember that. 

 

Maxwell: At your service, ma’am.

 

There it was, that sparkle of mischief in the eyes at the oh-so-formal wording of his response, combined as it was with a roguish grin.

 

DeVeau: There’s…actually a little more.

 

Maxwell: Oh aye? You gonnae tell me you’re pregnant or something?

 

DeVeau: I’m pregnant.

 

He belly laughed for a moment at the perfectly timed delivery after his own comment. As their eyes locked the belly laugh faded away, gradually being replaced with steadily widening eyes.

 

Maxwell: Holy sh- ::He paused:: Wait, really?

 

Of course really. He knew it was a stupid question as soon as he asked it.

 

DeVeau: Yes.

 

His grin was so broad it was probably a miracle that the top of his head didn’t fall off. He looked at her, down at her belly, up again, down again and finally back up again.

 

Maxwell: That’s… that’s a grand piece ae news!

 

It was, most definitely.  Alora didn’t resent the child at all, but was grateful to have them.  They were a piece of Kalin, something she could retain from her husband.  If only he had survived…

 

That thought flitted through her mind, dimming the light that usually shown in her smiles.  

 

Maxwell: Isn’t it?

 

DeVeau: It’s a long story.  

 

Maxwell: Aye? Well, pretty sure I’ve got the time tae listen.

 

Taking a deep breath, Alora began.  Although she couldn’t divulge too many things, such as the type of experiments they conducted, she could tell enough for him to understand.  The research station, how they met, became friends, the development of their feelings, hsi proposal, their marriage.  Then the accident.  His death.

 

Only his death wasn’t factual, though no one had known.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have, but she did divulge enough information to tell him that the accident caused Kalin to jump back and forth in time, and he had landed there, in the present, with her.  She’d even admitted, for the first time to anyone, that she had planned to be with him for that next jump, and join him.  Only things hadn’t turned out that way.  The Romulan talks had moved up, an assassin almost started a galactic war - and Kalin had been the one to kill the assassin by jumping back in time.  

 

That second time, she knew.  Somehow, it was different.  Somehow, that line had been severed.  She knew it was the last time she’d ever see him, because she knew, that time, he truly was dead.  But now, she had a life that blossomed from his, and she cherished it.  

 

And all that, she laid on the table with her friend. 

 

Maxwell: Jeez-o. ::He gave her hand a light squeeze.:: Fair been through the mill there lass.

 

Alora nodded, unable to formulate a worded response.  The last few years had been a struggle, and when she had received news that Max was missing, presumed dead, it had only heaped more sorrow on top of sorrow.  Ironically, her love had returned, just like Max.  She just hoped she didn’t lose her friend permanently.  

 

Maxwell: I’ve had it light compared tae that.

 

He didn’t envy her one bit what she’d been through, but he hoped telling it all to somebody had lightened it a fraction. A comfortable silence descended for a moment, and Max tilted his head slightly to rest it gently atop his friends.

 

Alora closed her eyes, a small smile flitting over her face.  She couldn’t help but worry, but she also understood she couldn’t stop time and let nothing ever happen to him.  Despite the dangers, they both had a duty, and that meant fulfilling that duty, come what may.  At least, for the time being, she could bask in the knowledge that Maxwell was okay, that Milly had her daddy back, and she could hope that both would never have to go through something like that again.  And for now, she would simply bask in the warmth of the knowledge that another friend was back in her life, and they had a little time to spend together. 

—

 

Commander Alora DeVeau

Chief Science Officer &

Second Officer

Denali Station 

&

Matriarch of the 15th House

Betazed

M239008AD0

 

&

 

1st Lieutenant Arturo Maxwell

Marine Officer, 4/73 Marines.

USS Octavia E. Butler: NCC-82850

O239311AM0

 

Edited December 7 by Josh Herrick
Adding pt 2