Need Personal Attention

Posted on Fri Jan 26th, 2024 @ 12:29am by Lieutenant Commander Ferrand Beaulieu & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Aries

2,613 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Ethics, Morals & The Prime Directive.
Location: Ferrand's Quarters
Timeline: Part 2 of 'Some Kinda Hurts'

Ferrand had only a moment to sigh, he was expecting a medical office bound to drag him to Sickbay, or one of his tech crew to check up on him, or his crew chief to give him an earful for wrecking his fighter. Regardless of who it was, they were not going away and sooner or later the door would need to open. Though he probably wouldn't admit it to his team, it was actually good to see Victoria, knowing that he'd be grilled about her later given her display when he got out of his craft about who she was and what was going on between them. "It's open." He called as he lay on the sofa along it's length, his head on a pillow atop one arm rest, his feet dangling over the opposite.

Victoria walked in silently, not sure what she'd find when she did. The door slid shut behind her, but she didn't dare move in further, looking at the man who was sprawled across the sofa, turned away from her. "Ferrand?" She asked quietly, "Are... You okay?"

Ferrand rolled over now that he knew who it was. "Little stiff, cold flight seats aren't meant to be favourable to soft bodied pilots." He spoke, his tone softer then his norm as reality has seeped in a little in the solitary moment he'd found himself in prior to her arrival. For most pilots death was quick, killed with the destruction of their fighter but for him, a potential slow death of cold, hard, lonely asphyxiation.

She slowly stepped forward some more, "D-do you know how close you came?" Victoria had to know if he did, but she wasn't talking about the lack of air, the failing of the life support, "There was an impact crater right next to your shock frame, maybe two inches.." She felt warmth flowing down her face again, although she'd been absolutely certain that she'd had no more tears left.

"I thought I felt something, but was too busy keeping control. I suspect there are many such impacts on the space frame and plating with some close obstacle maneuvering I had to do back there." He rolled to a point where he faced her. There was an almost blank look on his face, like he was deep in thought, had been, or still coming to terms with recent events.

Victoria collapsed to her knees as she came up to the sofa, putting her eyes more at his own's heights, "God, I must seem like a little twit, crying over all of this, don't I?" She tried to force a little laugh.

Ferrand didn't like seeing her so upset especially since he was the cause. "I knew the dangers every time I set into the cockpit, and if the Dreadnought had been attacked, with flames, debris, venting sections that I'm confident I too would be upset and worried." He tried to reassure.

"I know, and I'm really trying to come to terms with that." Victoria buried her face in his chest, hiding her eyes from him, "And you know that if you saw Dreadnought looking like that, that I'd be right there in the thick of things, putting her back together on the fly. Being new to a relationship really sucks, did you know that?"

"When I warm up some more I'll let you know. I might have to put a complaint in to the tailor, flight suits are not meant for the cold of space." Ferrand joked trying to lift the mood some given what had recently happened.

She looked up at him, "You know, if you'd like, I could help you warm up a bit?" She gave a half-laugh, knowing that THAT part of warming him up was likely something neither of them were in the mood for this day, but body-heat would definitely help.

"Sure." Ferrand shuffled back so he was pressed against the backrest of the sofa laying on his side facing her. He patted the seat he was just laying on in front of him. Sometimes something as simple as a hug, a touch, a look was all that was needed. Nothing in depth or intimate, just simple and straight forward sometimes yielded the best results.

Victoria toed off her shoes before laying down on the couch facing him, but wiggled one arm underneath him and held him tightly, pressing herself to him and resting her chin on his shoulder, "I'll get used to this, I promise. You won't have me crying all over you each and every time you land. I know that goes against your macho nature and you get teased for that, don't you?"

"Are you kidding....I'm going to be teased for the short dash you made that I saw after I landed. Pretty sure I'm going to be questioned about that hair flying with her pace, stocking shining heroine rushing towards the CAG move you made." He knew that was coming, it would only be a matter of who would be brave enough to question it first. "Was something like an old TV show or something."

"Heroine, right!" Victoria laughed, "More like one of those old Westerns where the sheriff comes back from one of those old-fashioned duels in the middle of the street against a gang of bad guys and the girl is just happy to see him and falls all over him in relief. Going to have to get you a cowboy hat." It was humor that would definitely help, "I mean, if anyone gives you too much BS, let me know and I'll make sure that something just happens to 'go wrong' in their quarters. Like their hot water goes off in mid-shower, right after they've lathered up, or 'Oops', their lights are malfunctioning and emitting UV light instead."

"I don't think they will go that far, but you expect some to be curious for sure." Ferrand answered as he held into her closely. "Not sure I could pull off the had though, kind of lack the moustache or beard for it, and no way in hell you'd be getting me into chaps." He chuckled. "Not sure I can twirl phasers on one finger too like they would pistols."

"I think you could pull off the mustache, but a definite 'No' to a beard. They scratch too much when kissing someone." She loosened her grip a little bit to pull her head back, "You really didn't mind seeing me when you landed, did you? I mean, I was there in part for work purposes, but it was mostly to be there when you got back."

"I was surprised, sure." Feeling the look up at him, in turn he looked down. "Was a very welcome thing believe me, after focusing for so long trying to keep things together and all." It wasn't the landing, or the craft powering down, or what was left of the canopy being lifted out of the way. The arms around him told everything he needed to know things would be ok now.

"Then I'll have to try to make it a habit, won't I?" Victoria asked him, eyes bright, "Except maybe some of the training flights. Wouldn't do to be down there every single time, people might think I'm too wimpy. Besides, I might not have a good enough excuse to be down there in your ground crews' way. I think your crew chief gave me a really nasty look when I was checking out your fighter.. It's a total loss, if you ask me, we're going to need to build some replacements."

"That is going to be an interesting report to the Captain." Ferrand answered. He knew his own report would be equally interesting but as yet he didn't know exact losses and damage to equipment, something his Exec would filter for him. "That was a brand new fighter too, fresh off the production line."

"I think he'd far rather lose equipment than people." Victoria pointed out, "Fighters can be replaced, and while technically pilots can be too, people are too.... Unique." She nudged him gently, "Besides, I'm kinda getting attached to having you around, even if it hasn't been long." She pursed her lips for a minute, "We'll build you another fighter."

Ferrand smiled knowing that his fighter would be replaced. "Just watch out you don't appear on the nose of it like aircraft of old during the wars for good luck." He tried doing something similar when he first became a pilot but things were different now, he had experience, position and rank.

"Does that mean you think I'm a bad luck charm?" Victoria asked extra-sweetly, batting her eyelashes at them. "Or should we be figuring out what sort of pose and clothing I should be in for whatever nose art you've got in mind?"

Ferrand nearly choked on a swallow when he heard that. Considering some of the nose art he'd seen could be rather...racy, or at least it was on some of the WWII craft he'd viewed in pictures. "Are you sure your reputation could take that kind act?"

"You let ME worry about my reputation." Victoria assured him, "It was traditional in World War 2 for bomber and fighter crews to put their sweethearts or wives on display to remind them what they were fighting for and what they were going home to."

He couldn't exactly argue with the logic behind that, Victoria did have a point. "Guess we have time then since I'd need a new one." He knew he could fly one of the many others but pilots tended to favour one they have flown for a while, gotten to know and the feel of the craft, a bond so to speak.

"We've got time. How are you feeling, though? Any better than before?" Victoria did give him a bit of a worried look

"I'll be fine, I'll need a medical review anyway before I'm allowed back in the seat." At least then he'd get the green light officially. It was good to see Victoria as the first thing he saw, like everything was going to be ok and a lot warmer. "You going to be ok? Are you skipping shift because of me or have you finished already?"

"Oh, skipping shift." Victoria said casually, verbally waving it away, "If the need me they'll call me, but Charlene can handle whatever happens on the flight deck and I've got seven VERY good assistant chiefs to handle the rest of the ship. I did tell you that I'm essentially just oversight on everyone else at this point, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that was before I wrecked a fighter, dented and scratched up the deck plating, not to mention the other repairs on the remaining fighters from the battle and let's not forget the two Defiants that will need post engagement assessments." He replied somewhat at unease at being party to the burden of work he'd landed in her lap.

"You don't think I'd be the one down there banging the dents out of the deck, or patching holes in the fighters or crawling around a Defiant making sure everything's still where it's supposed to be, do you?" Victoria chuckled, "Oh, I'll personally help put your new fighter together, because I'm going to make it better than the Fleet designed it. At least I hope I can, because you're going to come back in one piece next time, right?"

"Technically...." Ferrand spoke. "I did last time, my fighter....not so much." He knew he was playing a risky game but it was to lighten the mood after several hours of cold flight back to 'the barn' as most pilots called home base.

"Technically? You're right." Victoria squeezed him again tightly, "And thank God you did. But next time, I want you to bring your fighter back in one piece too, with the nose art unblemished. I don't think you want someone shooting holes in me?"

Ferrand had heard many stories over his years as a pilot of art or things of significance that had come home untouched, while the rest of the craft it was on was crippled or damaged beyond belief. Ferrand held Victoria closely, enjoying the feel of her to him, how she seemed to fit his own in curve and angle, how it felt good to hold and in turn be held. Until recently the closest bond he had was to his fighter and other pilots and yet that was purely for work.

This was different.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Victoria asked, "Or, you know, we could just stay like this. I don't mind either way, I just think... I'm done for the day, unless they call for me. That's the bonus to being my own boss."

"Several things really." Ferrand relaxed a little in his hold of her. "Same coin but both sides, fighter requisition reports but getting a new fighter. How cold it was, how good it was to see the ship grow from a spec to a looming welcome of home. Like I said I've not been in a relationship before so all this...." Suggesting the current situation they found themselves in.

"Is new for me. I've been a pilot, worn the uniform since I could get my hands on one, it's all I've known. I've tried hard, worked hard to get where I am. I wonder what our relationship will do or mean to our respective departments, you dating a pilot, my putting you on the nose cone of my next fighter." Especially considering who it was, wasn't hard to determine and then it fell down to pose and outfit to what she was comfortable being seen in.

"This is sorta new for me too. I've been on dates here and there, but never more than two in a row with the same guy and I was hardly a social butterfly." Victoria lay her head back down on Ferrand's chest, "I'll admit that I've never even considered dating a fighter pilot, so I never considered how I'd feel when one went into combat. As for Engineering, people aren't going to care one way or another. I'm that semi-mythical creature to them, the Old Lady, who pops up out of nowhere, pats someone on the shoulder and vanishes again. I'll never get to know all of them before they rotate off-ship, no matter how hard I try."

"With a ship this size and departments the size that they are I'd be surprised if any department head will ever truly get to know everyone under them." Ferrand held the hug for a while longer before easing it up. "Say, do you feel like ordering something in?" There were plenty of places to eat and he was sure that he'd be able to get something delivered, in this day and age it was as common a thing as space travel.

"That sounds good to me." She released him as she rolled off of the couch and landed nimbly on her feet, "I suppose I could also get out of this uniform and into something a bit more comfortable." She chuckled, "Movie night?"

"Movie night." Ferrand spoke but wondering too what 'more comfortable' meant since she didn't have anything of hers present unless she went back to her quarters to change or replicate something.

Victoria smiled at him and started to make the walk over to his bedroom before lingering by the door for a moment, "I'll let you order dinner, I'm game for just about anything, I'll be right back.." She winked at him, preparing to raid his closet if she could find the right shirt, some things were tradition.

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