A Safe Space

Posted on Tue Jan 28th, 2020 @ 5:45pm by Hera & Commander Rita Paris
Edited on on Wed Feb 5th, 2020 @ 9:40am

Mission: Bachelorette Bash
Location: USS Hera, Deck 8, VIP Quarters 11
Timeline: 2397

While the duties of a First Officer were myriad, one of the most important was supporting the officers beneath her, in whatever capacity that was required. Sometimes it was guidance, sometimes it was emotional support, sometimes it was just a shoulder to cry on. Long ago having accepted these duties, Commander Rita Paris shouldered those responsibilities without complaint.

In truth, she enjoyed keeping the starship running efficiently, and she cared a great deal about those whom she was mentoring as officers beneath her. The future of Starfleet were the junior officers of today, after all. To her there was no greater duty than to being a good role model, and insuring that the next generation would be confident, competent, responsible officers.

However, when it came to her own needs, she tended not to share them down the chain of command. Her own neurosis, insecurities, doubts and fears were not something the junior officers needed to know about. Those were to be shared and addressed privately, so as not to undermine morale. While she could approach Enalia about such things, the pirate queen turned starship captain was often at a loss as to how to address Rita’s emotional stability. Her own coping mechanisms left her ill-equipped to help Rita with such issues; thus Rita tended not to bring such issues to her commanding officer. Enalia always felt badly when she could not help, as she had the desire, just not the skills.

In her own quarters, there was Sonak, of course. The rock of stability upon whom she depended, who gave her the strength and confidence to do what she did and face what she faced. But of late he had been growing more and more distant, to the point where she was becoming concerned. Claiming that a Vulcan was emotionally distant seemed like a moronic statement, yet that was exactly how she felt. Once upon a time, he had seen her as an amazing and unique individual whom he would cross time and space to be beside. Yet more and more, when she came to him for emotional succor, he simply tried to direct her to solve her own problems, seemingly uninterested in her well-being.

While she had tried to adapt to it, more and more she was feeling lonely, cut off from the man with whom she shared minds. Hers was easy for him to read, after all, and she held no secrets from him. But his own mind was vast, beyond her ability to fully comprehend, forget about explore. So whatever he was feeling and thinking were something she was not able to ascertain if he did not willingly share it… which he seemed, of late, less and less willing.

Preparing to undertake an expedition that she anticipated would be fraught with danger and would stretch her ability to protect the crew quite thin, she had sought him out for some reassurance, some centering calm, possibly even a quickie. But he had been coldly aloof once more, asking her how she would advise another with her problem, turning her needs back upon themselves once more, and when she became angry about it, he simply shut her out.

Leaving their quarters, she had grabbed what she needed for the evening’s adventure, and departed without a word. Hurt, angry, even more anxious than when she started, she felt alone and rejected. She didn’t know what had changed, but it was clear that change had occurred. He no longer saw her as special nor unique; he no longer found her fascinating. When she came to him for succor and support, he was unwilling to offer it. Instead he pushed her to be self-sufficient, which was far from what she sought from him. In their marriage, she was beginning to feel as though they were drifting apart, and it broke her heart. Was she no longer interesting to him? Had logic won out and overcome his love for her? Was she too needy? Was she no longer attractive to him?

All of this swirled in her mind as she approached the VIP quarters of the Hera, on Deck 8, down the corridor from the senior staff. Despite her internal turmoil, she did not let it show on her face- or at least she tried. Professional detachment was a skill she’d learned very early in life, to give no hint of when she was hurt or upset. It had been cultivated as a defense against her abusive father and brother, that had served her well in command roles since. Now, as the honor guard on Hera’s quarters snapped to attention, she nodded and offered a casual “At ease” before entering the quarters.

There was work to be done, there were details to be tended, and dangers to be prepared for in the here and now. Thus she could not afford the luxury of her heartbreak. She was needed, she had a duty and an obligation, and she could not afford to be dwelling upon her own needs and problems. Others needed her more, so she would work to focus on that, instead of herself. One of whom was in the here and now.

“Hera? It’s Rita,” she called from the foyer, where she always paused to alert the goddess of women, family and motherhood who traveled on the starship that bore her name of her presence. Although she needn’t have bothered- the goddess, who had been transformed by Rita’s belief in her, was almost always aware of the time-tossed tempest, particularly when she came to visit. “The Baroness’ bachelorette party is tonight, and the Asgardians are here. They want you to come along, so do you have something to wear for a girl’s night out on Risa?”

Some interesting things had been streaming across the bond that Hera shared with Rita. First there was happiness for a friend with a touch of confusion, rushed planning and thoughtfulness towards her while an Asgardian presence was nearby. Then after a while, as she was getting ready for something she could only guess at but knew she needed to dress well for, she felt that her friend had become upset and needed her evermore.

Thus Hera paused in her preparations for merrymaking and went straight off to the kitchens for proper mothering. There she poured a glass of milk, and set a couple of the triple fudge brownies she had prepared earlier that day on a plate, bringing both to the small table she entertained guests at just in time for her door to open and Rita to declare herself.

"I'm in here, sweetie! Come here and let me give you a big hug, okay?" The matronly goddess ignored the invitation for now, as well as the fact that she was only mostly wearing a pale blue Greek dress as she went to pull Rita into a loving and motherly embrace.

“Uh, hi… hello,” Rita was taken aback a bit by the action, but of course still leaned into the hug. At which point tears pushed to the surface, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop them. Her breath hitching in her throat, she tried to compose herself, and failed.

Clinging to the maternal goddess, the misgivings of months found their way to the surface, and Rita Paris sobbed. The anxiety of what the evening held was a driving force, but her growing alienation from her husband was something for which she could never be prepared. Now, here in the moment, in the arms of the closest thing she had to a maternal figure, all of her fears and worries and hurt and sadness all gave way at once, and she clung to the goddess of woman as she wept.

The elderly goddess just made soft cooing sounds and held Rita tighter, softly stroking the back of her head. "There, there, dear. Let it all out. Let those tears out and don't bottle them up. I'm here for you. Mama Hera's got you now and there's not a thing in this universe gonna hurt my baby right now. I promise you that."

"That is weird and comforting in equal degrees," Rita sobbed out as she started mopping at her face, pulling back to snort back a considerable load of snot. She got it down to the occasional sob, then took a deep breath, straightening her posture to come to attention, then relaxed her stance to open her eyes once more. Smiling at the reformed tyrant of Meroset 347, Rita finished wiping her face. "Thank you... I needed that. It's not something I do a lot, but... thanks, Hera."

"After everything you've done for me? I will always be here for you. Now come here, sit down, have a brownie, and tell me what's got you so upset. I don't think anyone will mind if we're a few minutes late to the party." Quite insistently, Hera motioned Rita towards the small table, waiting for her to sit first before she'd sit as well.

"I, ah, need to change, too," Rita tossed the black leather jacket and minidress she'd brought on the table, and sat down. Picking up the brownie, she contemplated it. "Sometimes... sometimes the emotionless thing isn't a boon. Sometimes it means he fails to see any logic in the situation, so he devalues it. The significance to me is irrelevant, as it doesn't factor into the logic of the situation."

"Like when he beams me. It's like he's irritated with me for being averse to being beamed places, and he just forces it on me because it's the logical choice. My feelings are irrelevant to the equation for him. Then he gets even more irritated when once again, against all logic, something goes wrong with Rita and a transporter. Which isn't my fault, yet it frustrates him." Eyeing the brownie, Rita let it roll out.

"He was an endangered species when I met him, did you know that? His planet was gone, and his people were scattered and few. He asked me for my help, because he needed to learn to understand humans if he was to live amongst them. He was fascinating, he was alone, and he needed me." Looking up to meet Hera's eyes, Rita smiled, a sad, wan little smile. "He's not alone anymore. He doesn't have to live amongst the humans. His home is still there, right where it belongs. So he doesn't... need me... quite like he used to, I think."

"When he came for me," Rita leaned in, the torrent of words burbling out as she got in touch with how she was feeling. "When he came for me, he was... so much in love with me. We could only feel each other when we touched, but his love it was... huge and pure and amazing. He still thought I was the most amazing woman in whatever universe we happened to be in, and he honored, admired and respected me." Looking down, Rita shook her head a bit. "He used to make me feel so special, you know?"

"He still..." the emotional executive paced, her chin dimpling and her eyes filling up as she continued the confessional of her feelings. "I still think he's special... I mean, I don't ask much, I try not to, anyway. Just... just help put me back together, give me someplace safe to be vulnerable."

Looking up, the career Starfleet officer defended herself, although no one was impugning her. "I mean, this is a hard job, what I do. I don't complain, I shoulder my burden and I do my duty, and I keep the crew going. I just... I just need to be able to be just plain Rita, sometimes. Not the Commander, not saving the day or coming up with a plan or doing something insane. Sometimes I just need to be... well, human, and let it out, or just maybe hump. It's... I mean, he's my husband, that's all implied, right?"

Bringing the brownie to her lips, Rita took a small bite and chewed as she sniffled a bit, now feeling guilty for her pity party.

"Oh sweetie, I am so very sorry you have to go through this." While Rita had been baring her soul, Hera had reached over and taken her free hand in her own and held on, squeezing tenderly. "Men can be so vexing at times with their... Ugh... I wish I could wave my hand and make everything better. I really do."

"Unfortunately, all I can really do for you is offer you an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, fresh baked goods..." With a wink, Hera raised one fist before her and shook it in the air. "And tell you how women through the ages have vented this particular frustration."

"You raise your fist to the sky and shout curses at the moon." Hera had a wide grin on her face while she said it.

Squeezing Hera’s hand, Rita smiled back, a sad little smile. “That’s all I need, Hera. Not some magical solution, just… someone to listen, who cares, who gets it and can tell me I’m not crazy for wanting what I had once and don’t understand why I no longer have that.” Sighing, which turned into a chuckle, Rita’s expression changed to one of wry amusement. “Although I might try shaking my fist at the next moon we encounter and list my grievances.”

“In the meanwhile, I need to get dressed so that I can go herd a rather large and powerful clowder of cats on an evening with the God of Mischief onboard to insure that if it was going to be uneventful, it won’t be. Go be the life of the party, keep everyone moving, keep everyone safe, be prepared for literally anything. Plus they insisted I wear these,” Rita pulled back her sleeve to reveal the bracers of the bridesmaid’s armor with which she had been gifted for the wedding. “So as not to offend the Asgardians, all of which is another altogether unknown commodity.”

While she listed it off casually, it was clear that the stress of the evening yet to come had already worn on her, and the Starfleet siren was trying to brighten her mood artificially, which seldom worked for anyone for long. But as she had a duty and a responsibility to a dear friend, and she couldn’t let the Baroness down just because her personal life was in disarray.

Hera's eyes widened as she took in the detailing on the bracers on Rita's wrists. Reaching out, she traced a few of the detail lines on them. "Well, I'll be... I haven't seen these patterns since I was... Well, a lot closer to your age."

With a wide grin, the matronly goddess looked back up to her favorite daughter. "One piece of advice regarding tonight, if I may? As I sense Loki nearby and suspect they have some trickery afoot... I recommend you not worry about things for tonight. It's supposed to be a night of merrymaking and festivities, so it would be in poor taste to not join in the frivolities as well."

"And having feasted with Odin before, not enjoying the festivities... That is a grave offense to any Asgardian," With that, Hera stood and pulled the buxom bombshell to her feet with her. "So let us prepare for a night of frivolity and enjoyment with our closest of friends and allies and leave our worries in the streets, yes?"

“Yes… you’re right, of course,” Rita acquiesced, trying to shove aside her concerns, worries and heartache so that she could do what was needed of her, as she always did. Just put on a happy face, and smile, Rita, or you’ll get wrinkles, then no one will want you, she heard the voice of her father echo in her memory,. “May I use your bathroom to change? I need to do something with my hair, and the uniform doesn’t exactly say ‘I came to party’. So time for something a little different…”

"Not quite yet, young lady. You haven't finished your brownie. Relaxation is an important part of preparation, you know." Hera reached out and booped Rita's nose softly with a warm, motherly smile that said that no matter what happened, she'd be there for her. "You finish it, get rid of that 'I've got to be strong for others' look, properly relax, let me worry over my daughter tonight, and let someone else save the galaxy, okay? There's plenty of time for changing clothing."

“Um, you do realize the galaxy saving bit is pretty much my job, right?” Rita smiled, despite herself. While she had witnessed such phenomenon with friends who had close relationships with their mothers, she herself was unaccustomed to such treatment. Which did not make it unwelcome- in truth, she was grateful for the space to vent and give voice to her feelings, and get it off her chest. She was still in turmoil, but having someone ‘mother’ her, for lack of a better word, was actually oddly soothing in her moment of crisis. Taking a bite of the brownie immediately put her stomach in rebellion. When she was upset, her stomach tended to burble up with acid reflux, but she’d give it her best. Besides, drinking on an empty stomach wasn’t going to help her in the least.

“If you don’t mind playing confessional…” Rita said between bites, her voice low and quiet, “just between you and me… it was my idea to request transport via Bifrost to and from the party. Which doesn’t change the fact that I’m trying very hard not to be completely terrified of transporting that way. I mean, I get lost on REGULAR transporters, and they don’t cover that sort of range, and aren’t powered by magic. I don’t even want to imagine what this might do if something goes wrong, and on top of everything else, TRYING not to think about it is stressing me out. Y’know, because the universe really, REALLY enjoys me getting lost, it seems.”

"Don't you worry about the Bifrost. It uses the same technology as Yggdrasil, so I can tell you a few things about it." Now Hera was more in her element. She was quite familiar with the transport tech that the old races used, and could describe in detail how they worked. "In fact, I believe Starfleet is familiar with a similar technology. It creates a quantum tunnel that connects both points together in a sort of slipstream effect, pulling the people whole from one location to the other rather than breaking them down into particles, energy, and data."

With a soft smile, the matronly goddess continued, pulling the notepad and pen she had handy over to draw a brief diagram of literally a quantum slipstream filament. "By crossing the quantum barrier directly with direct oversight by a seer, and in this case the best seer ever born, we'll be able to literally fly there across the realms in seconds via a quantum filament. As for Heimdal himself, I've seen him pull people from other times, dimensions... even Death herself. So while I admit it may be scary, it's as safe as traveling via the grand vessel in which we reside in now. Plus, I will be with you. I won't let anything happen to you."

The explanation helped- while Rita was no scientist, and in truth most of the science that she came across tended to be over her head and education level, knowing that she wasn’t going to be disassembled into energy then reconstructed at her destination did reassure her somewhat. But what she found more reassuring, on a number of levels, were those simple words- ‘I won’t let anything happen to you’.

When she’d met Hera, she had been an angry bitter, snarling menace who was trying to commit suicide by Starfleet. She had raised an army and transformed a planet, manipulated the local births and by the time Rita had destroyed her psionic beacons and fought her way to Hera’s temple, the goddess had dismissed all but her generals, the archetypes of her children- a great minotaur, a living statue, an Amazon guard and a harpy. Having fought her way through the city, Rita had tried to reason with the Minotaur general, only to be forced to execute him. She had expected the troops to pour in then, but they had not. Hera had chosen to face her end surrounded only by her generals, the ‘children’ she prized above all others.

That plan had not worked, as Rita managed to outmaneuver the remaining generals, and Asa Dael had destroyed the psychic channeling device that was Hera’s throne, stunning her and rendering her powers almost void.

When Rita had taken Hera captive, the Goddess had tried to bait her with barbs, still trying to get someone to kill her so she could return once more to the afterlife from which she had been summoned, into a universe that seemingly no longer needed her. But she showed compassion for the young immortal Asa Dael, and saved their life. In doing so, she nearly destroyed herself, but Rita saved her life- twice. When in the tradition of her people Hera had offered the nubile navigator a boon, she had replied quite simply.

“Be better, Hera. Be a goddess that I can tell my kids about someday- a noble spacefarer who was not some snarling tyrant, but an immortal being who helped, who healed, who cared. Just be better, Hera,” was the time-tossed temptress’ request, and from that moment on, Hera had done just that.

When she had been turned over to the Asgardians for imprisonment awaiting trial, she had gone without complaint, as Rita had written to her to keep her spirits up, and tried to send her books and videos. When on the planet New Texas, in proximity to Log’yerm’s reality altering powers, Rita had accidentally summoned the maternal goddess, whom she then petitioned the Asgardians to let her remain on the starship that bore her name, in the hopes that being needed and in proximity to Rita herself might help the matron goddess reform.

Reform she did, becoming a valued passenger on the Starfleet vessel, and a confidante to Paris herself. As she had lost her own mother at an early age, the goddess of women and motherhood had filled a void in Rita’s life she had spent most of it ignoring, and in return, Rita supported the goddess’ efforts to reform, to help and heal, and both had benefited from the relationship. Time and again Hera had stepped between the starship and calamity, on occasion even saving Rita’s life.

Now, as they stood here, with the maternal figure reassuring her that she would not let anything happen to her, Rita Paris was filled with a sensation she had not known since she was a child- that feeling of having a mother watch over you and reassure you that she would not let anything happen to you. It was not a claim that could be justified per se, as no one could guarantee another’s safety. But just that simple extension of care was enormous to the emotional executive who was not on solid emotional ground at the moment.

While most of the hard science was over her head, the concepts were simple enough to grasp. In truth, a stargate did worry her less, somehow. But beyond that, just hearing a reassurance that was and yet was not a realistic one to make that was offered out of love was still touching to the heart. Smiling benignly, Rita patted Hera's hand. "Thanks. I mean... it's nice to hear that sometimes, I guess? I mean, I know this crew is good about not leaving behind any of their own, but... it's nice to be reassured, I think. I don't... get a lot of that. Huh."

Which was when the old fashioned officer sat upright and cocked her head at an angle.

"I forgot one invitation. Be right back," Rita jammed the rest of the brownie into her mouth, and ducked into the reclamator. There was the sound of running water, and 30 seconds later she emerged, clad in a black minidress which was actually a bit longer that her usual uniform, her explorer boots cuffed over to make high ankle boots, and a leather jacket studded with pins and buttons. The short blonde hair of the lost navigator was pulled up and back into a pompadour with a bit of conditioner from Hera's bath. A smudge of eyeliner above and below made her eyes pop, and she grinned mischievously.

"It's probably pretty rude not to invite Death. Are you ready to travel?"

While Rita was getting ready, Hera had finished as well, using a glamour for the few bits she needed and just going with the simple Olympian toga style clothing she had already started putting on. "I am, my daughter. Let us go personally invite one more and show everyone what a good time looks like."

Considering the moment, Rita paused, frowned, then turned back to Hera. "I appreciate that as the goddess OF women, that you've chosen me as one of your daughters. Although in a cosmic sense, I suppose we are your daughters, aren't we? It's very sweet of you, and... I'll admit, it's nice to have someone to talk to who I can't damage, and won't judge me… who gets it."

"But... you are a goddess, Hera. One of these greater beings of the universe, like the Asgardians, who can manipulate energy on a scale we mere mortals still don't comprehend. If you take to calling me your daughter, people are going to expect me to be a goddess... and we both know I am all too mortal." Taking Hera's hand, Rita's blue eyes sought out those of the matron goddess.

"It's probably not a good idea to call me that in public, I'm thinking. Especially around the Asgardians. Just plain old human Rita does not need any godling hazing. I love you for saying it, I do, but... maybe just in private?" Rita had tried her best to phrase it not to hurt, but that was beyond her control once the words were out. But they needed to be said. The Baroness might have ascended and Jablonski looked like she needed a PSI warning label, but Rita was determined to be just plain Rita. The Earthling girl who literally happened to have a few tricks up her sleeve, not one touched by the divine who was more than mortal. Searching the honey brown eyes of the Olympian, Rita waited to see how it would be received.

In those eyes was nothing but concern and love for the one that had saved the very soul behind them. After a moment, Hera nodded with that motherly smile of hers, acquiescing to Rita's request. "Yes, that seems wise... you are likely right, especially with Loki around. You have enough troubles as it is, without that piled on top as well."

The elderly woman leaned in conspiratorially and lowered her voice. "But between you and me... you're the best daughter in the polyverse. Especially saving an old fool of a woman like me more than once, and that means you'll get all the mothering I'm able to give you."

Wrapping the ancient who had seen centuries of life into her arms, Rita whispered back, "You saved yourself, Hera."