Crashing and Burning
Posted on Fri Oct 7th, 2011 @ 6:06am by http://starbase900.info/index.php/personnel/character/23 & Commander Oralia Zeferino
Mission: In Our Time of Need
Her day had been hellish. Between the missing diplomat, the upset freighter and passenger ship captains, the arrested homebrewers and drug makers, the thankful parent who later decided it was all security's fault his child had gone missing, and the seeming implosion of her personal life, Oralia had had a really troubling day. After talking to Jackson, she hadn't had time to track down Connor and deal with whatever drama they were creating for themselves. She hoped he was home so that they could talk.
Entering the quarters, though, Oz immediately knew something was off. Connor wasn't there - the place felt empty. Then she noticed the empty spots on the shelves, the walls and, once she made it to the bedroom, in the drawers. He wasn't simply at work or out and about on the 'base; he had moved out.
He had left her.
This was why she hadn't wanted to live with him; why she had been slow to admit her feelings: she had known that the clock on their relationship was counting down from the moment he'd moved in. She'd known that he would leave her.
And he had.
The thought created a looped mantra in her head. I knew he would and he did. Barely able to breathe, Oralia went through the motions of her normal evening routine. She undressed, donned comfy pajamas, poured a glass of wine and then... then she went off the rails slightly: she went to Iggy's terrarium, lifted the top and took the spider out. Placing Iggy gently on the floor, she pulled out the bag of crickets Iggy liked and, with her glass of wine in hand, slid down to sit next to the spider on the floor. Having the spider out of her terrarium and on the floor was a thing Oz didn't normally do. She was usually concerned that Iggy would scamper off and hide under something. At the moment, though, she wasn't thinking of anything except: He left.
Cricket!
Oz nearly jumped out of her skin at the single word from Iggy's tiny little brain. "Iggy? Okay, okay, cricket. Here," she said, opening the bag and handing the eight legged monster a writhing little bug. "I didn't realize you could still talk to me."
Neither did I. The spider held the cricket and enjoyed her snack. Did you eat the male?
"What? No!"
He's gone. Did you kill him, then? He looked tasty. Juicy.
"Iggy, no." Oz was used to 'talking' to pets - cats and dogs, at least; horses, too - but talking to a spider and, worse, getting answers from the spider, was just plain weird. "He left."
The spider had made short work of the cricket and crawled up onto Oralia's leg. She could feel the devastation in the human's emotions. Moving slowly, Iggy crept up Oz's torso and brushed one front leg against the human's face.
Oz carefully stroked Iggy's back and sipped her wine. The lower the level of the wine, the lower her spirits sank. As tears started, she whispered, "What have I done, Iggy?"
The awful thing about crying till one fell asleep was the headache that usually came when one woke up. For Oz, the headache was compounded by the grooves on her cheek from the carpet's pattern and the fuzzy feeling in her mouth from the wine. She had no idea what time it was. Sitting up, she also had no idea where Iggy was. The bag of crickets had been ripped open, though, so at least the tarantula was well-fed. Oz spied a few lone survivors crawling near her couch. They'd be tough to catch. "Carp."
Groaning, Oz checked a clock: only eleven pm. Plenty of time to hunt down and grill a doctor. Several minutes later, showered and dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and boots, Oralia left her quarters. "Iggy, wherever you are, behave."
It was dark, the only light casting shadows on the walls was a trio of candles on the coffee table that sat before the sofa. In pajama pants and a t-shirt, Connor was about to sit down with a cup of chamomile tea when the door chime rang. He looked at his wrist crono, and noting the time, knew it could only be one person. Feeling the need to swallow down some nerves, feeling a bit lost, he set his cup down and walked over to the door, hitting the wall panel for it to open.
She didn't enter. She stood just outside the doorway and looked in for a long moment. Part of her told her to turn and leave, to just bury whatever had been and chalk it up to stress and good sex and surviving a horrible crash together. He'd left her, after all. What could she possibly say now that would make him change his mind without killing her pride?
Another part wanted to yell at him. That part won the inner dilemma she was having. Stepping into the quarters to avoid making a scene in the corridor, she started off with: "Who the hell are you? You get me to trust you, to love you, and then you pick up and move out without ever once talking to me? Worse, you tell some random ass dude that he can have me!" She stopped, having rendered herself speechless with her anger. "I'm not even sure why I'm here right now."
Connor had stared back at first, rubbing the back of his neck as he was thrown off by her entry. "Me neither", he finally said, walking around her, "You don't love me...don't say you do", and then he backed her up to the wall, placing a hand above her, "..'n' don't insult my intelligence when it comes to Jackson."
Had he left it at 'me neither,' Oralia would have turned and left and that would have been that. But then he expanded upon it, saying one of the worse things he could have said. She couldn't even answer his accusation that she didn't love him. Both things were a hard slap in the face. Reeling from his words, she asked, "Have I ever insulted your intelligence? I don't recall ever denying that Jackson holds an attraction for me. But I'm with... was with you. Until I came home tonight and found you had moved out without even a 'by the way' call!"
His bland expression changed to one of pain, and he pushed himself away from her, turning around and running a hand through his hair, "I can't do this Oralia, defend myself while you spit venom."
She glared at him. He could toss out the hurtful comment that she didn't love him but pointing out he'd been underhanded earned her a 'spitting venom' tag? She might be careless while in a relationship, but he was brutal with the false accusations and passive aggression. Her stomach dropped and her heart followed it. Already, she could feel the prick of tears behind her eyes. "This was a mistake," she kept her eyes on him and edged toward the door, sliding along the wall until the door sensor tripped and opened for her. Stepping out of his quarters, she added, "You don't have to do this, then, Connor." Hoping he'd stop her, that this was a bad dream, she turned and walked away.
He watched her leave, and then fell back leaning against the wall, running his hands together down his face with an internal battle. Seeing her hurt him as much as he knew it would, but he couldn't let her walk away, not like this. He had convinced himself his leaving her would mean nothing to her, but the look in her eyes told him how wrong he had been.
He walked quickly out into the corridor, towards her, reaching out as he caught up. "Oralia..stop!", he pleaded, grabbing her arm, and folding her into his arms as he swung around to face her. Slowing her to a stop, he kept his arms around her, the side of his face against hers as he held her close, "Please come back inside 'n' talk to me."
Between his door and here, she had changed her mind: she didn't want him to stop her. A wall had gone up, the same one she'd had in place for five years on the Montreal, the one that had earned her a reputation there as an icy bitch. Pushing him away, she shook her head. She replied, "No. The time to talk left us; you've chosen your action. You've literally chosen your bed." She had tried for a calm tone, but her voice shook with suppressed pain and rage.
Facing the floor, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard, "I know...." He felt her walk away and turned again, shouting out after her, "This morning I was in no shape to yarn to you. I moved out on impulse 'n' out of anger", and not caring who heard as long as she did, "Afterwards I spent hours in treatment 'n' counseling. I'm sorry...", not mentioning accepting his new position nor the medical emergency, and his voice cracked, "Oralia... please talk to me now."
Stopping, Oz debated whether she should. He'd allowed his OCD or PTSD or whatever to drive him to a point where he'd left her instead of staying and talking to her. What good would talking do now? She realized that what she wanted to do was beat someone and her pain-born anger was just getting started. After a long moment, Oralia turned and stalked back to him. In an angry whisper, she said, "Connor, you're wrong. You've used your head as an excuse again and I can't... I'm not...." Shaking her head, she walked away. "I'm just not."
"Who's using it now?!", he shouted, his voice trembling, feeling as if he just been stabbed. "If you couldn't deal with it, why didn't you tell me?! Instead you chose to make your bed with Jackson long before I moved out! Fuck you, Oralia!"
His accusations knifed through her but she kept walking, her back ramrod straight. His 'always' had turned out to be awfully short.
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Lt.Cmdr Connor McKinney
Lt.Cmdr Oralia Zeferino
