By Lt. CMDR O'Sullivan and Ensign Cristiane
80121.17
--=Later on, during the party: Arboretum=--
80121.17
--=Later on, during the party: Arboretum=--
In Dane's view, the only thing good about being forced to attend the gathering this evening was the food.
He filled his plate for the third time, unable to believe how amazing the beef shish-kabob tasted. With large servings of Rice Pilaf and tossed salad piled high on the plate beside the chunks of meat and a tall synthale in his hand, he felt bothered suddenly by an unwelcome, unaccustomed emotion. An emotion that was threatening to supersede his prevailing, permeating state of brooding.
That unhappy emotion was called gratitude.
He shoved it down.
He was determined to remain angry, at the circumstances under which he'd been pressed into service aboard her ship. He was, he reminded himself explicitly, furious with that woman.
Furious with life itself.
Making the rounds to try to meet as many of the crew as he could tonight, Zander Blakeslee approached. A warm smile on his face, a mug of synthale in his hand as well, he gestured with his beverage toward the empty chair beside Dane.
"This seat taken?"
Dane simply glared at him.
"O. . .kay. Maybe another time."
Dane shoved his knife into a hunk of steak, still glaring.
"Right." Blakeslee added softly, thinking that tonight didn't seem to be his night when it came to making new friends.
That wasn't entirely true, though, he reminded himself. He'd actually made several so far, including a man he was definitely going to be working closely with in the days ahead. That man was Security Chief Keiran O'Sullivan.
As Dane Cristiane continued sulking and eating as much food as he could possibly stomach, O'Sullivan saw Zander and motioned him to come closer.
*Finally.* Zander thought. *A friendly face.*
"Sit ye down here, Mr. Blakeslee." Keiran invited, his booming voice theatrical- melodramatic. It seemed, Zander thought, that the law enforcement Officer had been consuming something a little stronger than Synthale this evening.
"Sit ye down and tell me about your soul," he repeated.
*Oh yeah,* Zander thought. *He's lit.* He sat down at the table where O'Sullivan had assembled an unlikely band of co-conspirators.
The illustrious group consisted of Micah Samson from Science, who seemed so young even though his file said he was actually four years older than Zander himself. Next, there was the Bajoran Vedek, whom Zander understood -after his conversation with the Captain earlier in the day- was not only Ship's Chaplain and the Arboretum keeper, but also, Zanh's significant other.
TC Blane was also present and sat quietly, expression blank, staring into his drink.
Avery Breaux, smiled in a welcoming fashion, and most interestingly, the ship's Long-Term Medical Hologram, whom Zander had just learned over dinner had been instrumental in saving the Captain's life after her rescue, rounded out the motley crew.
"My soul?" Zander raised an eyebrow in O'Sullivan's direction. "How do you mean?"
"We're celebrating so much tonight. The ship. The Captain's rescue. My new nickname. . ." Keiran elaborated merrily.
[[Nickname?]] Jariel signed, and Samson spoke softly for him, lending his voice to translate.
"Aye. Nickname. 'Sully'. Bestowed upon me by a woman of distinction and honor, the good Captain Zanh herself!"
Jariel looked away and contemplated this new information. *She just met him today, and she's given him a nickname already. Hmm.*
"We mustn't forget, no, never forget the last thing to celebrate! The. . beautiful surroundings of our new ship," Keiran shared a glance with Breaux as Fleur Le Marc walked past, clearing away abandoned dinner plates from the table.
"Pfffffft." She huffed, rolled her eyes, and walked away.
She knew instantly that the Irishman was referring to the living 'scenery' aboard ship, and not the ship herself.
"To beautiful surroundings!" Breaux toasted after Fleur had gone, raising his glass.
"Sláinte chuig na fir, agus go mairfidh na mná go deo!" O'Sullivan clunked his beer mug against the engineer's glass, sloshing some of the foam within overboard. It ran down the side and unceremoniously plopped onto the table. "Means, health to the men. . . and may the women live forever."
A round of 'here here"'s circulated through the group. Jariel put two fingers to his forehead and saluted cavalierly to signal he could agree with the sentiment, also.
"Your soul, Blakeslee!" O'Sullivan rambled on. "Tell me what matters to you, what motivates you! The adventure of space? The tactical challenges of a fight?" He paused, and leaned forward. "The love of a good woman?"
Acutely aware that all the men were staring at him now, Zander blinked several times as he formulated his response.
"All of it!" He declared at last.
"A true Renaissance man!" Keiran shouted, pounding his fist on the table and drawing looks and laughs from those seated nearby. "We're lucky to be in the company of someone so rare! A fine officer and gentleman ye are, Lieutenant Blakeslee."
Zander shrugged modestly and took a swig from his mug. He then glanced over at Micah Samson, who looked like he had just lost his best friend. The Vedek was signing to Samson, and Keiran frowned.
"Lad, you've hardly spoken a word tonight!" He said, addressing Samson as well. "What's the matter then?"
Micah sighed, and each man leaned forward, closing their group into a tight huddle in which Samson could share his secret, if he dared.
"It's. . ." Micah paused. He shot a look across the room, to the quiet corner where Grace and Reece sat on the ground beneath a tree. The lovely February smiled, tossed her hair back over her shoulder as that man leaned in and stole a kiss. Micah turned red, and felt a knot in his stomach as he turned his rapt attention toward the fine linen tablecloth. "The scenery."
"Boy's got a broken heart, sure as stars are shining." Avery announced softly. He reached out and clapped a hand against Samson's back in sincere sympathy. Perhaps he was not alone in his suffering, as he tried to move Alessa from the place in his heart she currently occupied into one closed off, and associated only with the past.
[[Micah? Who?]] Jariel signed. He had known Samson a long while now, having served with him at their previous assignment and also going through the entire Alchemy mission to rescue the Captain with Samson as well. He had never seen the young scientist show interest in any of the women they knew, and he wondered where all of this was coming from so suddenly.
"I'm the living embodiment of the phrase 'he who hesitates is lost.'" Micah moaned bitterly. "I had just worked up the nerve to ask her out. Yeah, I knew that she was interested in. ..." his eyes shot daggers at Reece from afar. "Someone else, but who knew that they'd just run off and get married? And then not tell anybody?"
Jariel's eyes grew as wide as the plates on the table as Samson's meaning dawned on him. *Oh my,* he thought. *Apparently not everyone is rejoicing over the news of the Grace/Reece union.* He signed to the Lieutenant adamantly.
"I know, no one knew I felt that way. That was the problem. Maybe if I'd told her,"
"Sometimes, it just cannot be helped, lad." O'Sullivan offered sagely, after draining the last drops of beer from his mug. "Sometimes, it's not meant to be."
"There are plenty of fish in the big sea," The Doctor offered. "You're a youngin' yet. You'll find somebody."
"I don't want somebody. I wanted her." Micah lamented. "Doesn't matter now,"
He looked around the table. He wasn't accustomed to judging the looks of other men, but if he'd had to he would have said that the lot around him were a very good looking bunch, over all. A type for every woman.
Jariel was the sensitive, introspective type. O'Sullivan, the big and brawny type. Blakeslee could have used his looks to go into a career in acting if he had wanted. TC Blane was built like a brick wall. Breaux was brilliant and handsome. Even the Photonic had his country-charm thing going on.
Micah felt like the runt of the litter amidst current company. "Easy for you to talk like this, I don't suppose any one of you has ever been rejected by a woman in your lives."
With the exception of TC Blane who still seemed to be in his own world at the opposite end of the table, every man burst out laughing.
"You kiddin', Son?" The Doctor spoke up. "Even my personality profile contains memories of what it's like to be shut down by a female. It happens to everybody."
"That's right. You'll see too, it'll all work out for the best." Breaux offered, trying to convince himself of the same sentiment as he spoke it to Samson.
"Yeah." O'Sullivan's mood seemed to shift and darken now, and he stood up from the table. "For the best. If you'll excuse me, gents, I need another. Anyone else?"
"I have to get going," TC said, standing up. He nodded to the crowd. "Gentlemen." Without another word he disappeared.
Jariel held up his tea mug, indicating he would like another.
"Mercy, Vedek. It's this late and you're still drinking tea? We've got to work on you then, don't we?" Keiran declared, as he headed for the bar Trick London had set up near the food.
Avery Breaux took the opportunity to speak softly to Samson as the rest were distracted a moment.
"It'll be all right, young man. You'll see." He sipped his own drink and repeated the words to himself . "You'll see."
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Lt. Commander Keiran O'Sullivan
Acting Chief of Security
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Ensign Dane Cristiane
Communications Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012