=/\= USS Charon, Deck Ten =/\=
Sakarra moved closer until her hip rested lightly against her Companion, still keeping her sharp gaze fixed on the screen. He seemed less infuriated now and she was deeply grateful for that, but a tiny voice at the back of her head promised dire consequences for whomever had put him in that state in the first place.
A good picture as such things went, most likely taken off the security feed in Charon's hallways. Another tiny voice commented dryly that in some cultures pictures of events such as a first kiss – no, second in this case – would be highly valued. In that light, someone had been generous indeed.
"Nope. Can't tell who sent it either, but I am not very good at all of this. Maybe you can have some better luck at figuring out who sent this?" Brent grumbled and contemplated hitting his desk again. The desire faded soon after he felt her lean against him. She had a devastatingly calm affect on him that he was just beginning to notice. "Just more information about you that you probably don't want getting out," he motioned at the additional files that were present in the information packet, scrolling along slowly so that she could see it all.
He stopped when he came to the picture of her in a uniform. "I suppose the one slightly good thing about all of this is the fact that I get to see you in this uniform here. That is an excellent looking uniform on you," Brent leaned into her as he put his arm around her waist.
"I will most certainly attempt to .." the files scrolling over the screen made the young Vulcan narrow her eyes and for long seconds, she stood perfectly still. It wasn't until the picture came up that she exhaled slowly, and the arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her slightly closer, was about all that stood between her and another sizeable dent in the desk.
She knew this one well, taken right outside the Regar spaceport. A Vulcan, without doubt, although soft features betrayed her youth and the black eyes gazing unblinking at the horizon hinted at a mixed heritage. Glinting in terracotta and copper tones, the uniform left no doubt as to exactly what the woman in the picture was, even without the shimmering gold of the rank insignia on the high collar or the telltale braids of her sable hair, coiled neatly at the nape of her neck.
It had been the day after the first successful test flight of the D'Vahl, and the squadron had still been complete. The f'rel-barr had insisted on file pictures so they had assembled, grudgingly for Vulcans, rather than make their way to the merchant's quarter and their favorite restaurant to exchange notes and observations on their respective flights. In the end, the admiral herself had joined them and they had talked as only utterly fascinated Vulcans can until T'Khut had set over the desert and the inn keeper had given them a mildly exasperated look as the breakfast crowds began to file into the gardens.
A surge of grief welled up at the memory, unbidden and unstoppable, but she managed to push it away. Still, she pressed her face into Brent's hair for a moment, leaning against him and for once not caring that this could well be considered a show of weakness.
"Those files … they are classified. Not only by the Vulcan Ministry of Defense, but Starfleet." She murmured, thoughts racing "This is not merely a prank. Whoever gained access to this is definitely a most resourceful individual."
"So someone who is resourceful is digging up information on us. Apparently to embarrass us somehow? If this was so classified then perhaps you can go back to your Vulcan Ministry of Defense and see if there was a breach on that end? It's doubtful but it's an avenue I guess we should double check just to make sure," he said as he felt her press her head against him. "Hey. You ok," he asked genuine concern in his voice as he turned to look at her. "You going to be ok with all of this coming down? I mean not too bothered? If it makes you feel any better I promise to break something on this guy or girl whenever I find them."
"If we were in communications range, I most certainly would pursue this avenue."
The open concern in his voice prompted the reflex to withdraw, shield him from the sorrow still lingering and fighting to surface, but she dismissed it by sheer force of will.
Looking into the deep blue eyes, Sakarra saw the dark depths of her own reflected in them, and a face set in marble. "I am not. But I will be."
Following an impulse, she took Bent's face in her hands and breathed a light kiss on his lips, almost smiling despite it all. So ready to stand beside her, not even asking about the content of those files, nor considering for a split second that the relationship he had gotten himself into might turn out more troublesome than he had bargained for. Instead, his first thought was to go and deal out harm to one who had dared cause her distress.
No words. Only a flood of warmth reverberating through the mental thread.
"The question is rather, how would the crew react to this becoming public? I do not believe it is merely meant as embarrassment. The Marine Commander in a relationship with the second officer already brings up bad memories for many. The not at all subtle demonstration that said second officer has reason to … be unfavorably disposed towards Romulans might well add fuel to people's fears."
Brent held fast against her desire to withdraw. He could sense it across their link and he would immediately have none of it. When she stopped and kissed him he smiled at her. "Good. I'd hate to think that you weren't going to be well but if you were I am here for you," he said softly. Her words about how things in the past would affect him brought about his ire again. He frowned and shook his head. "You know I am getting really sick and tired of people judging me based on what someone else did," he seethed quietly. "If I had not met you here? Chances are I would have bid this ship farewell by now because of that," he said shaking his head. "I am not him. What do I need to do to make people see that."
"Perhaps some of the breaking you mentioned might help." The wry comment was out before she could stop herself but then she exhaled, feeling her Companion's renewed exasperation as if it were her own – and maybe some of it was.
"No, you are not him." Tender fingers ran through golden-brown hair and Sakarra did not resist the arm puling her closer again, decorum be damned. Anyone walking in without having the good graces to press the chime first would have bigger issues than having found a Vulcan in their Lt's embrace.
"Although in fairness, your choice of a Companion has served to aggravate lingering unease. You were not here when the other Marines mutinied. I was. And I remember. People died, Brent. And ever since, the tension has not disappeared, only … become less obvious. The fire may have died, but there is still heat under the ashes, waiting for a breeze to spark new flames. This…" she waved at the screen, an expression of obvious disdain on her face "may be an attempt to do just that. What do you need to do? I can't say. Only that I understand those who are afraid."
What she did not say was that deep down, she was angry at the very notion people would compare Brent to Cole, and think her either a toy in his hands or a vile woman whispering poison in his ear. She was not even sure which of the latter she found more revolting.
Brent sighed and nodded his head. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to get so mad like that... Especially at you," he said one of his own hands reaching up and brushing back some of the hair near her face to behind her ear. "I just... Hate the feeling that it gives me. I'm being judged for who I care for deeply," he looked directly into her eyes at those words. "And then for something that someone did before me. Something that I find repulsive to the nth degree. Something that I would stomp out in a heartbeat if given the chance for," he sighed and shook his head again. "There I go again getting upset over it," he sat down in his chair looking up at her. "We have to find out who did this before they do something else, like release those files to the crew or perhaps try to turn them against us for just being together."
=/\= To be continued ... =/\=
Brevet 1st Lieutenant Brent Warren
Marine Commander
Lt Cmdr Sakarra Tyrax
Chief Helm
USS Charon
