Oz's Yellow Brick Road - Part One

Posted on Sat Nov 12th, 2011 @ 1:51pm by Jackson Banning V & Commander Oralia Zeferino

Mission: In Our Time of Need
Location: Jackson's Quarters
Timeline: Just Before 'The Shining Blade Of Destruction'

Ever since Connor had left her so abruptly, and despite their as-yet-inadequate attempts to reconcile, Oralia Zeferino had been a fount of bad ideas. She wasn't completely aware of it, though her brother was. There was the idea that she'd transfer to a low level security position and go explore the Delta Quadrant; there was a second one where she'd resign, join a band of pirates and explore the universe that way; there was another wherein she would resign, go home to Mom and Dad's place and, eventually, succumb to parental pressure to marry and procreate. That one made Chance shudder with horror; comparatively, the other two were fantastic ideas.

The one bad idea Chance wasn't aware of, however, was one that had the potential to compound upon itself in incredibly awful ways. The idea came to Oz as she sat in the recently opened Cravings, watching a hologram of the great Nina Puckett singing the blues and licking a spoon clean of a decadently dark chocolate genache. It was nearing 3am, closing time for Cravings, and Oz had consumed a number of drinks during her celebration of finding Kh'ali, alive. The exact number, she'd never be able to recall, but there had been much more than three and perhaps a few shy of ten.

While in this state, feeling comfortably numb but not yet willing to go home, alone, to her cold, empty bed, Oralia decided to hoof it over to the Wormhole and make a few inquiries into the recent attack on Connor. It didn't hurt that, maybe, just maybe, she could also resolve the 'cold, empty bed' syndrome she was having. She recalled an adage her mother used to say: To get over someone, get under someone else. Her mother hadn't been the greatest at being a romantic role model. She did head home first - just to change out of her uniform and into something a little more worthy of the Wormhole.

In a crime-scene-yellow and black dress form fitting enough to guarantee she would be noticed, it'd be easy to find someone willing to accommodate her requests. Along the short trip to the Wormhole, she'd passed a few of her minions and waved happily; more than one raised a brow as she passed.

Going into the Wormhole, the dress was as attention-getting as an airhorn in a church. Eyes followed Oralia from the door, to the bar, to a table off to one side. One pair of eyes in particular followed her every step across the room. He grumbled aloud and slid his glass back across the bar to Jomo, the bartender. Jomo gave a shake of his long mass of tiny braids and gave Jackson and ear-to-ear smile.

"Look like yo' lady friend's feelin' no pain, mon."

"Yeah and that spells trouble, Jo." Jackson turned to watch as Oz sat at her chosen table.

She wasn't alone at the table for long - two male suitors, both of whom were happy to buy another round for the pretty brunette, joined her at the table. One of the males, a species unfamiliar to Oralia, gave her a toothy grin, touched her cheek, where the blue cast of a bruise was showing through her attempt at makeup, and commented, "Looks like someone's already hit you up, sweety."

"Either that... or you like being... manhandled?" The other laughed, as if his comment was wildly witty. He dropped a hand onto her thigh, hard enough Oz winced.

The two were, by her standards, cretins, but... perhaps cretinism would work for an evening. Smiling slowly, she said, "No one has hit me up. A petty officer tried to show off his kickboxing moves." Sipping the drink one of them had brought to her, she wrinkled her nose at the slight bitterness in the liquid then said, "Hey, I'm looking for some information."

"Really? We might have some information...," one of them answered, chuckling.

"Good. I need to know who stabbed a fellow in his bed a few days ago." She looked from one to the other.

"Ah...," the one looked at his friend, a brow raised. Turning a charming smile on Oz, he suggested, "Let's not discuss this here, bella. You would be more comfortable in my apartment, I think."

Oralia blinked as a fuzziness hit her. The first stirrings of how bad an idea this had been started to percolate in her head. The man's suggestion, though, sounded like a great idea and pushed those stirrings aside. She nodded, "That sounds like a plan."

Slipping off the stool she was on, Oz nearly toppled to the floor. One of her escorts grabbed her arm and steadied her. "Oops. Watch that first step!" He laughed and used the moment to slide an arm around her. "Come along, let's take you someplace a little less public."

Jackson rose as Oz stumbled off the stool and it became apparent that she was intending to leave with the two ruffians. "This is not good."

"No, mon, but please don't start another fight, huh? We still cleanin' up from the last one." Jomo leaned on the bar, watching the trio as they left the table. "On second thought, it's those two? Go for it. You kill 'em I'll swear it was their fault."

Jackson smiled back at Jo. "You may get your wish my friend." He left the bar, moving quickly through the crowd to intercept Oz.

Out of instinct, one of Oz's new friends looked back and commented, "Looks like we have an uninvited tagalong."

Oz looked back, too, and smiled, "Jackson!" By the way she slurred his name, it was obvious she was inebriated.

"The belle of the ball I see, Oz." He flashed her a smile that vanished when he looked back at the two men. "Playin' with fire, boys."

"We got it covered," one answered and flicked his hand at Jackson in a dismissive manner, "No need for you to worry yourself." The other tightened his hold on Oz and started to step away.

Jackson was lightning quick as he grabbed the outstretched hand and bent it back to a painful angle. "Wanna try again? We can do this the easy way, and you let 'er go, or I can report that you drugged the Chief of Security and removed her against her will. The owner of this place doesn't care if I kill you either. So what's it gonna be?" Jackson's tone was steely soft.

"Augh!" The one whose hand Jackson was bending back complained then yanked his hand away. At the same time, he moved to jab Jackson in the solar plexus with his other hand.

"Aww shit, here we go again...."

With those words, it was on.


* * * Jackson's Quarters - The Following Morning * * *


Oz woke slowly. Something was nudging at her brain, making continued sleep impossible. Was she late for duty? As she gradually became aware of the sheets under and around her and of the light in the room, she sensed something was wrong. Yeah, something is wrong: Connor isn't in my bed, she thought, but immediately knew that the something was even worse than that. The smell in the room was off. It wasn't a bad smell; it was just... more something... more manly, more unknown, more like... Jackson, Oz thought and a bolt of panic hit her.

She sat up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her breasts. Two things hit her: one, a wave of pain from her hangover; and, two, that, yes, this certainly wasn't her bedroom. And she'd bet her pips it wasn't Connor's quarters. Whose room was it, though? Was it really Jackson's?

Under the sheet, she was naked and... a quick scan of the room told her that her clothing wasn't in the room. There was, however, a shoe, one of her favorite zebra-striped heels, laying on its side over by a table holding a Risian sex idol. A memory assailed Oz's aching head: one of Jackson making her blush by mentioning how good stilettos look up in the air. Surely... oh, surely they hadn't made that image a reality. Had they? Her concern intensified as she turned to put her feet on the floor and spied her other stiletto on the nightstand. "Oh boy."

Her clothes weren't in the room, but there was a thick robe draped over a chair. Oz quickly traded her sheet-covered nakedness for robe-wrapped nudity and ducked into the bathroom. Was this a nightmare? She'd woken up in exactly this same way: hungover, naked, and wondering what the hell she'd done during the night. Then, she had gotten a reprieve: nothing sexual had happened that night. This morning, her head ached and her tongue felt fuzzy; she hoped nothing had happened.

While her thoughts ran away from her, she showered, replicated and donned a very staid and demure dress and pulled her still wet hair into a ponytail. Leaving the bathroom, she was angry with herself. If she'd bedded Jackson... damn it, how dare she not remember that?! She'd been dying of curiosity, dying to have him kiss her, even when things with Connor were ....'smooth'..., and now? He might have done a whole lot more than kiss her and she didn't have a single memory of it.

Approaching the bedroom door, Oz hesitated. She turned and collected her shoes then glanced around the room again... yup, her clothing was not in the bedroom. Squaring her shoulders and taking a breath, she stepped out of the bedroom and was soothed by the smell of coffee. Her head complained but her stomach rumbled with anticipation. She found the source, and maker, of the coffee in the small kitchen. He had the bad manners to be wearing only a pair of loose pajama pants; the muscles in his back flexed in a beautiful way as he glanced back at her and pulled a second coffee mug out. "Jackson. Ah. Good morning," she nodded and wondered if she wouldn't be better off just running out the door and hiding in her own quarters.

"Mornin' glory." Jackson pointed to two pills on the counter, then poured her some black coffee. "For your head. What they gave you, I'm surprised you can stand the lights even."

"What who gave me?" Oz moved forward and gratefully took the pills and the coffee. Even as she asked the question, she had a vague recollection of being at the Wormhole and talking to two cretins. "Oh... them," she said and punished her tongue with the hot coffee. "So... um...," she looked at Jackson, her gaze running over his bare chest and abs, "...how is it I'm in your quarters?"

"An interesting story, that. You feel like breakfast?"

"I feel like a shuttle landed on me," she answered. Already the pills and coffee were making a difference in how she felt. Still, a concern nagged at her. "J, did we... um... I'm not sure... Don't take offense..., but did we...?" She jerked a thumb towards the bedroom and gave him a questioning look.

"Did we what? Hang from the chandelier? Did we pour you into bed with a bucket by your head? What?" He looked back at her with a gleam in his eye, obviously enjoying her anxiety.

Fixing him with a baleful look, Oz smirked and clarified for him, "Did we have hot passionate sex, or any version of sex? 'Cause if we did, you didn't make much of an impression."

"Honey, I coulda flown a Bird Of Prey through here and landed it on your pillow and it wouldn't have made any impression on you. You have no clue what was really goin' on last night do you?" He turned to refill his coffee, then ordered breakfast from the replicator - scrambled eggs with cheese, grits, bacon, and biscuits. Luckily, Oz was from his neck of the woods and appreciated decent food.

Having puzzled it together from her missing memory and Jackson's comment, Oz stayed quiet and smiled at Jackson's choices for breakfast. Taking a plate, she admitted, "I do, and I feel like an idiot of the tenth order. Chief of Security and yet I fall for the oldest trick in the book."

"You sure did. Then again, you weren't exactly on your game when you got to the Wormhole, they just took advantage of it." His tone turned thoughtful. "Wanna tell me what put you in that state?" He still had noticeably not answered her original question.

"What put me there?" She stopped in mid-sip to think about it. "After a number of drinks at Cravings, I thought it'd be a fabulous idea to go dig up information on who attacked Connor. Where better to do that?" She finished her sip and took a bite of a strawberry.

To Be Continued...

*********

Jackson Banning V
Owner & Man Of Steel
The Nexus Club

LC Oralia Zeferino
A Babe In The Woods