Questions and Quanadries

Posted on Wed Apr 20th, 2022 @ 8:00pm by Captain Jocelyn Blake & Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Edited on on Tue May 10th, 2022 @ 10:19pm

Mission: Episode 2: 18th and Constitution
Location: The Fortress, Pinetop, Arizona
Timeline: Mission Day 29 at 0730

[The Fortress]
[Pinetop, AZ]
[MD 29: 0730 Hours]

The first thing Jocelyn felt on waking was the luxurious warm restful feeling that comes after deep sleep. She was deliciously toasty, tucked underneath the comforter in her bed. Memory and consciousness wove themselves back together and the second and third realities followed close on their heels. Second… she had fallen asleep naked, an unusual feat for her. And third… she was sore. It wasn’t the kind of sore that made you think you slept in a funny position. More the kind that came when you’d exercised just a little more than normal and knew that you were going to find stairs a bit irritating for the rest of the day.

With a yawn, she stretched, slipping her hands up over her head and turning to the space next to her only to find that the other side of the bed was, unexpectedly, empty. The comforter was drawn back neatly at a 45 degree angle as if prepped for return, but then perhaps Sturnack had thought better of that decision. The thought that maybe… just maybe… now that the physical crisis had been averted… his logical side had reasserted itself and reminded him that she was human flooded her brain. Emotional. Young. Words tumbled through her head, each offering more and more reason for her to believe that she might have turned out to be insufficient after all. Her heart raced at the thought and her stomach twisted uncomfortably making her pull her legs up. Her arms wound down, wrapping her knees and she squeezed her eyes closed. Idiot. How could she have thought he could actually love her?

Whooooosh. The sound of the toilet flushing in the next room filled a few heartbeats-worth of time, followed by a rush of water from the sink. The stream was a staccato of sound, interrupted and shaped by the washing of hands underneath. Shortly after the water was shut off, the door swung inward, offering a view of a very naked Vulcan. Very much in shape and sculpted in musculature and tone, Sturnack returned from the bathroom and had been about to climb back into bed when he noticed Jocelyn's position and condition.

"Are you...alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he moved to sit next to her on the bed. Sturnack took the initiative in taking one of her hands, allowing the connection between them to spark alive. Just as it had the night before, the telepathic touching of minds allowed for the sensing of his emotions. Though the Vulcan aptly suppressed and dispensed with them, the undercurrent of concern and affection could still be felt through the link.

Unwinding herself, Jocelyn looked first down at the hand holding hers, then up at the face looking down at her and then, when everything had registered her eyes widened and trailed down the very clearly unclothed body next to her. From her side the link was a spatter pattern of emotion, relief and sheepishness, a touch of embarrassment overtop of a significant undercurrent of affection and, with the last detail clicking into place a flush of memory from the night prior sent another more complicated level of affection through the link.

She tried to sort out how best to sit up without dropping his hand, but in the end did so, if only temporarily, so she could situate herself next to him. "Is... it... ok if umm..." she started, faltering slightly. The communication that had come so easily to her the night prior felt harder the morning after. She read his expression, though, and the flow of feeling from where they touched and sighed. "This is going to take some getting used to," she explained, a sheepish grin flashing across her face. "Would you like to snuggle?"

The sheer unexpectedness of those words leaving her mouth while an extremely naked Vulcan sat next to her was not lost on her and she couldn't repress the giggle that resulted.

Arching an eyebrow, Sturnack simply replied with "Indeed" to Jocelyn's assertion of potential complications. However, once the woman had requested to snuggle, the Vulcan's brow lowered and his head tilted back and forth in a nod. "Cuddling may commence," he said affirmatively, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, which felt cold against his back. "Vulcan and human pairings are, of course, difficult but they are not wholly uncommon. You will find that the telepathic link we share by touching will often inform you of certain feelings I may have but deign not to express." He looked down at Jocelyn then, reaching with a free hand to gently rest the tips of his fore- and index-fingers against her own, the link strengthening as he did so. "Onlookers have often wondered why Vulcans allow their human partners to hold their hands in public. While we speak little of it to others, you now know why," Sturnack said, dipping his head.

It was then that he lifted his left arm around and behind Jocelyn, gently drawing her closer until she was pressed against him. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the chill in the air as the woman found herself firmly in a snuggle. Sturnack had guided Jocelyn into a position that had her face resting in a soft bed of chestnut and black hair across his chest, her hand reaching over to hug him from the side.

"Is this sufficient?" Sturnack asked, an undercurrent of humor subtly clouding the link, though his face remained passive as ever.

Jocelyn nodded against his chest, warmth and contentment and a not insignificant amount of something that could only be described as awareness washed across their link, a bit like the lapping of water around the edges of a pool when someone had dropped something in making a large splash. "This is lovely," she said with a sigh. "And unexpected. And comforting. And..." she waved her free hand as if it would conjure all of the words she wanted to express herself. When the words didn't come she gave a sort of half shrug and burrowed closer, setting her hand on his chest next to her head and slowly running her fingers up his chest, swirling and returning back downward in a sort of slow soothing motion.

"I have... a lot of questions..." she said after a few quiet minutes of simply sitting. Despite the chill she found she was warm curled up against him and she'd closed her eyes, breathing him in and trying to memorize the way he smelled.

"It is possible that I have answers," Sturnack replied dispassionately. "You may ask whatever it is you wish, Jocelyn." He was all business: matter-of-fact and all that. But underneath, through the link, a tickle of nervousness and apprehension arose. It was nothing to quell the emotions and set them aside, though Jocelyn would, of course, be privy to them. Waiting for her questions, the Vulcan allowed himself to relax more into the embrace. He did not sigh with contentment or otherwise express happiness but, the fact that he allowed the touching was encouraging.

A touch of embarrassment colored the feelings the Vulcan would have picked up from their link. "So... you used the term Partner..." she began, drawing out the words as she said them. "Did we... I mean... on Vulcan..." her cheeks colored slightly. "I'm mucking this up," she muttered before she sucked in a deep breath. "Are we... like... married or something... in the Vulcan sense?"

"On Vulcan, the Pon Farr is resolved by the practice of mating. Mating," Sturnack explained dispassionately, "can take multiple forms. It can be as temporary as a one-time partner or, as with pre-arranged Vulcan marriages, the mating can be a permanent arrangement. However," an eyebrow arched even though, from her position, Jocelyn could not see it, "you and I did not say the words that would bond us for life. We coupled last night and, from here, we must decide how much or how little we wish that bond to permeate our lives. You are not permanently beholden to me, Jocelyn," the Vulcan reassured. "However, should you wish, we could continue to pursue an...entanglement," he nodded.

Fingers continued to trace as she listened, processing his explanation. So mate meant the act, not the title. It was helpful context and yet felt like an insufficient description for the connection between them. A very unladylike snort escaped the woman at the term entanglement. "Just if I wish?" she asked with a touch of amusement, although uncertainty threaded through the rest of her emotions. She did want... wish... whatever term he wanted to use, but the very human urge to question whether he wanted to or whether the act of sating that need was sufficient to... cool... some of the affections he had expressed loomed large.

Sturnack grew quiet for a moment, listening to the whispering threads of emotion coming across their bond. Though he, himself, did not wish to experience such emotions, he could not deny that they were a source of valuable information about Jocelyn and her current thought processes. "I am, of course, possessed of agency in the decision as well," he finally said, nodding slowly. "And if you were so inclined, I would be willing to pursue such further. However, entanglements between humans and Vulcans are not always easy to navigate. There may be times when my stoicism and lack of emotion frustrate you. Conversely, your own emotional states may not always...tickle my fancy," he used a native aphorism. "Should we mutually decide to further pursue this connection, we must do so with our eyes wide open. There will be much to discover and settle into," Sturnack advised.

Jocelyn was quiet for a moment, trying to sort the emotions that were hers and those that were his. With the Pon Farr satisfied his emotions were quieter. Still present, but they required more effort to separate from her own. The nuance of it was surprising to her and it took an effort to characterize which were his and which were hers when they were touching for more than a moment like this. Briefly she wondered if it would always be so hard to discern the difference or if she would learn, with time, the way a person's footsteps or mannerisms become familiar, bringing instant recognition.

She had tugged her bottom lip between her teeth, worrying it as she thought before finally coming to some sort of conclusion, the certainty of which overrode other doubts. "I want to see what it would be like to be a couple with you. I understand that you are Vulcan and I am not. But I want you to understand that that is a secondary detail. I like you. I am attracted to you. But I only want to try this if you also want to. Not acquiescing to what I want. I want you... To want me too. If that isn't possible... Then I don't know..." She trailed off losing the form of her thought.

"I admit," Sturnack began again, "with the Pon Farr now passed, the drive to mate has receded. In its wake, however," the Vulcan continued, "I find myself very drawn to you, Jocelyn. My curiosity is quite piqued; I wonder where this newfound connection could go. However," his tone was steady and methodical, "curiosity alone does not drive my desire to pursue this. I have admired you for quite some time. And," Sturnack noted, "while this...relationship," for it seemed that was what the mating was becoming, "may make our work lives more difficult, I wish to see it through."

Sturnack held up two fingers then, as he had the night before. When Jocelyn matched them, pressing her own against his, the depth of the connection between them deepened. It became much easier for her to identify his own emotions versus her own. There was something there; something burgeoning as he leaned down to gently place his lips on Jocelyn's. Though he had not said the words expressly, the Vulcan's desire for her flared like fire. He moved to --

Knock knock knock. The sound of the door being thumped from downstairs broke the reverie.

Sitting up -- careful not to jostle Jocelyn -- the Vulcan arched an eyebrow. "Who would be coming to call on Christmas morning?" he asked, wondering if they -- in their coupling -- had forgotten some prearranged visit.

Heat rushed through her followed promptly by a deep flush to her skin brought on by the sudden knocking. Jocelyn's heart felt like it was in her throat, pounding in her ears, at the interruption. She felt like a teenager caught by disapproving parents and had to remind herself that she had every right. That they were both consenting adults.

"I don't... know..." she said, breath just a touch ragged. A flush of disappointment and annoyance flowed through her as well, frustrated at the interruption.

Sturnack rose from the bed just as the knock, knock, knock sounded again: somehow insistent this time. "I will see who it is," he said, retrieving the tunic he'd worn the night before from the floor, near the bed. He looked ridiculous like that: clothed on top but bare bottomed as he hunted around for his undershorts and pants. Finally finding them, though, the Vulcan was in motion toward the bedroom door even as he slid his legs into the appropriate holes. Hoisting up and fastening his pants, Sturnack exited the room and moved down the stairs.

Jocelyn was a bit slower moving, but only by a small amount. She slid off the bed after him, heading for the closet, but casting glances in his direction as he dressed finding it hard not to stop and stare instead of focusing on her own attire. He was already out the door before she'd even managed a bra and underwear. She debated a moment finally deciding on a pair of joggers and a more fitted sweatshirt that was comfortable, but also allowed for range of motion should this be something more nefarious than an unplanned visitor. She cycled the short list of people who knew where they were through her head. Cowell? Seemed unlikely if he hadn't been called there. Would Whitford chance it? She shook her head and then hurried out of the room, padding softly down the stairs.

Arriving at the door, Sturnack reached out to undo the locks before thinking better of the idea. Instead, he moved into the kitchen and retrieved a phaser he'd stashed there upon he and Jocelyn's arrival. In fact, he'd hidden a phaser in every room of the cabin, anticipating that firepower would be necessary should the assassin they'd been hiding away from find them and break in. Holding the phaser up at hip level, Sturnack again moved towards the door as -- yet again -- the pesky knocking insisted on being addressed. Reaching up with his free hand, the Vulcan poised himself to undo the locks before calling out, "Who is there?"

"Starfleet Security, sir," came the muffled voice from the other side of the door. "We tried to contact you on your combadge but got no response. Are you alright, Admiral?"

Sturnack's eyes narrowed. While it was true that his combadge was in his bedroom -- where he'd left it the night before -- and inaudible from the bedroom, that did not mean the person at the door was who they said they were. If they truly wanted to reach them, why not contact Jocelyn? Unless, perhaps, her combadge had been set so as not to interrupt their Christmas Eve merriment? Nevertheless, a visitor was here and his identity needed to be confirmed. "Please provide the security passphrase," he said through the door, invoking the phrase Starfleet Security had given him to identify themselves if needed.

"Little teapot," came the response. "Short and stout, sir."

That was, indeed, the passphrase. As such, Sturnack nodded and swiftly undid the deadlock bolts on the door. Swinging it open, he could now see the two Starfleet Security officers on the porch. "Greetings," he intoned, moving back to let them inside. "Why are you here?" the Vulcan asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

Jocelyn had just caught the end of the passphrase as she reached the bottom of the steps and had to bring a hand to her mouth to suppress the giggle. She wondered if Sturnack was aware of the children's rhyme being referenced. Somehow the idea that he was made it that much funnier. She made her way over to stand next to the CinC, standing close enough that the backs of their hands brushed. If the security officers noticed the new closeness they didn't comment.

"It's over, sir," the lead security officer said. "Late last night, we detected a transporter signature nearby. It was, of course, outside of the transport inhibitor field but still close by. When we neared the location to investigate, the suspect had already made his way into the field and was headed towards the cabin. We'd been keeping a close perimeter, though," the officer explained, "and we quickly isolated the suspect's location. He ended up giving us quite the chase through the woods, sir." And indeed, both officers bore cuts and scrapes on their faces to indicate such. "We eventually we got him down, though. He's currently in custody back at headquarters."

"We'd have notified you earlier," the other officer spoke up, "but it was so late, Admiral Whitford said we should let you sleep. When we couldn't reach either of you this morning, though, we got concerned that something had happened."

Sturnack took all of this in, looking back at Jocelyn even as he felt her emotions through their surreptitious touching. His own undercurrents were tinged with relief, though -- as ever -- the Vulcan's face retained its mask of neutrality. "It would seem the immediate threat has ended, then," he nodded to her. Looking back at the officers, he asked, "Do Homeworld Security and Starfleet Intelligence believe it is safe for us to return then?"

"For the time being, yes," the first officer nodded quickly. "Obviously we're going to interrogate the perpetrator but we have little reason to believe a second assassin is out there. Even so, you'll both be escorted by enhanced security details until we can be absolutely sure the danger has completely passed. You can return home whenever you wish, sir," he smiled warmly. "And uh...happy Christmas," he smirked, noticing the lit-up tree and festive decorations.

"And to you," the Vulcan dipped his head in response. He watched as the two officers, now dismissed, made their way across the snow-laden grounds of The Fortress, heading for the edge of the transport inhibitor field. He imagined they would be quite glad to get out of the cold and return to their own homes as well. Closing the door, Sturnack turned back to Jocelyn and held her hand in its entirety. "It would seem we are free from sequestration. Do you wish to return now? Or would you, perhaps, wish to linger for a time? It is, after all, Christmas morning." Unspoken -- but perhaps felt -- was the latent quandary of how the would-be assassin learned of The Fortress' location. Such was best left for later, however, once they had returned to Starfleet Command.

Even in the face of serious news the feel of Sturnack's hand holding Jocelyn's sent her insides fluttering. She glanced after the retreating backs of the two officers, considering. "If we linger..." she said, the start of a question on her lips, "can we let them go home?"

Truth be told she didn't have anything to go home to. She'd barely been sleeping at her apartment before the assassination attempt and the thought of returning there after everything that had happened the night prior felt uncomfortable. Still, she hated to be the reason that others, who might also wish to be with their loved ones, were left standing out in the cold to manage the security for herself and Sturnack. "I would... like... to spend the day with you," she told him. "Honestly there's not much to go home to."

Sturnack shook his head slowly. "They will stay here as long as we do. However, my understanding is that the shifts have been both decreased in duration and increased in number to account for the holiday. This should provide ample security coverage regardless of our location today while still allowing security officers time with their loved ones as needed or desired. Meaning," the Vulcan explained as he crossed the room, taking a supine seat on the floor next to the glittering tree, "they will be...just fine, as humans are fond of saying," he said, head dipping. "We may remain here as long as you wish."

It was then that Sturnack reached under the tree, retrieving a package elegantly wrapped in shining, foil-esque paper. The paper itself was cardinal red interspersed with checkered squares of opague and half-transparent black, looking not altogether unlike a certain Buffalo plaid shirt Jocelyn had spied the Vulcan sporting on colder days at The Fortress. Entwined around the package -- which measured around 8 inches long and 4 inches wide -- was a beautiful chromatic bow, which glimmered with a rainbow cascade of reflected flecks of light as Sturnack passed the parcel over.

"Merry Christmas, Jocelyn," the Vulcan said, the dispassion in his tone a stark contrast against the general, intended merriment of the words he chose.

Jocelyn had followed the Vulcan over to the tree and settled next to him, one knee bumping his as she did. For a long moment she stared at the stunning paper and the bow looking from it to Sturnack and back again. The expression on her face was soft and warm a signal of how she felt in the moment. "Merry Christmas, Sturnack," she said the emotions she was feeling suffusing her tone. She leaned over, pressing her lips to his for a long moment before sitting back and carefully beginning to unwrap the gift.

As the paper fell away, a black eyeglass case was revealed. And as that, too, was opened, the real contents of the gift became apparent. Sitting nestled in the cushioned confines of the case was a pair of transparent-framed glasses, quite similar to the style Jocelyn was almost always found wearing. The lenses reflected the light as the glasses were pulled free of their case and examined. At first, the glasses remained clear -- completely see-through in color and tint -- but after a few moments of Jocelyn's touch, they began to slowly rotate through different colors. Clear frames became indigo, then cycled through cyan and canary before slow-fading into cranberry and then azure.

"I realize you already have a pair that change color," Sturnack noted, eyeing the currently-red-spectacles on the woman's face. "These do the same but have an additional function, however. Place them on your face," he encouraged softly.

Curious, she removed her glasses, setting them on the floor next to her. They were a bit of an idiosyncrasy of hers having not opted for corrective surgery when the shift in her eyesight remained minor. Carefully she flipped open the temples and slid the new ones on.

As the glasses settled onto the bridge of Jocelyn's nose, said extra function sprang to life. The lenses made a slight whirring sound as they activated, an augmented-reality overlay of information appearing across the inner surface of the lenses. Sprawling across Jocelyn's vision were various news outlet headlines, notifications of newly arrived text communiques, weather information for Pinetop, Arizona, and other bits and bobs of information helpful in the woman's role.

"I hope you will find these helpful to you. They are operated," Sturnack explained, "by eye tracking and certain blinking patterns. Perhaps not as robust as a PADD," he noted, "but when you're on the go and your hands are full of coffee tumblers and umbrellas, they might provide some utility," he said.

The Press Secretary was speechless. She scanned the information, mouth dropping open in surprise. After a moment, though, she removed them, leaning in to kiss him again before resuming her old glasses. "Thank you Sturnack. I love them. And I will wear them... once I learn how to work them." She grinned at him with a chuckle. "But for now... I want to be able to see you without the data stream. Which reminds me..."

She jumped to her feet, a grin stretching along her features. She held up one finger. "One second," she said then disappeared in a flurry up the stairs to her room. It was only a moment before her footsteps could be hurried hurrying back down the stairs. When she reappeared she held a cube-shaped box. It, too, was wrapped in paper, though the ribbon was some kind of almost plastic feeling thing that spiraled in a cascade of twirls down the sides of the wrapping.

"For you..." she said, offering him the box before resuming her seat, eyes expressing her excitement.

Sturnack arched an eyebrow as he took the box, eyeing the curls of ribbon as they fell around it. With a delicate grasp, one end of the ribbon was pulled, releasing the knot that held the wrapping paper tight. The Vulcan carefully pulled the paper free, setting it aside on the nearby coffee table.

Wrapping removed, a cardboard box was revealed. It was lightweight and when Sturnack pulled open the tabbed top, there was a bed of red and green paper on the inside. Nestled carefully in the paper was what appeared to be a coffee tumbler, though by the size of the box it couldn't be a real one.

The Vulcan carefully prized the tumbler from the box, lifting it by a glimmering and dainty gold hook to examine in the light. The tumbler-as-Christmas-ornament was cranberry in color and bore a miniaturized version of the Starfleet Command seal. "Ah," Sturnack said, placing the meaning behind the gift as his thoughts clicked into place. The ornament was a direct callback to the tumbler the Vulcan had given Jocelyn not long after beginning her new job at Starfleet Command.

"It seemed... appropriate..." Jocelyn said, suddenly self-conscious. "There's a note in the bottom of the box." She waited while Sturnack pulled the paper free, drawing forth a small slip of paper. She had written it the afternoon prior before wrapping the box. She knew he couldn't simply have an ornament, but hadn't wanted to stick him with a lot to carry whenever they could leave, so the note indicated a promise to produce a smaller version of the tree from The Fortress for Sturnack's use on the next holiday and an offer to assist him in procuring additional ornaments.

"A gift to be treasured," Sturnack nodded slowly, reaching to place the little ornament back into its box for safe keeping. "Thank you, Jocelyn," he added, wondering what his apartment would look like with a Christmas tree come next December. Such was hardly Vulcan but, if Jocelyn was to be in his life at such an intimate level, the adoption -- or at least the allowance -- of human customs would become much more the norm, he anticipated.

"The entire day is ours," Sturnack said, slowly rising from the sitting position he'd been in. He offered Jocelyn a hand up, too, as he said, "Perhaps the logical next step for our day is to make breakfast. Have you heard of a 'waffle iron' before?" the Vulcan asked, eyebrow raised. "The Admiral's has not been used in quite some time. We could replicate the ingredients needed to make waffles should you be interested. Our first join effort as a...couple?" he used the term Jocelyn had chosen earlier, his tone curling upward into a questioning end. "Griselda included actual maple syrup from New Hampshire in the supplies she brought us..." Sturnack trailed off.

Her eyes gleamed at his use of the term couple and she found herself worrying her bottom lip again. "I am, quite, familiar with waffle irons," she informed him proudly. "Sounds like the perfect way to practice our... coupledom..."

Her hand hadn't left his from when he'd helped to pull her from the floor and she stepped close, going up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Shall we?" she asked after a moment, taking the hand she was still holding and pulling him into the kitchen.

=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

Captain Jocelyn Blake
Press Secretary
Starfleet Command

and

Fleet Admiral Sturnack
Commander-in-Chief
Starfleet Command