Comes the Dawn

Posted on Tue Jan 8th, 2019 @ 7:17am by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Commander Rita Paris

Mission: Section 31-B
Location: USS Hera, Deck 8, Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox's quarters
Timeline: 2396

One of the benefits of regular contact with a superior and organized mind was that Rita Paris' internal clock remained surprisingly accurate. Even so, she was no mistress of meditation as was her Vulcan spouse, thus she had set an alarm for 06:30 on her PaDD to awaken on time. She'd climbed into bed with Dox during the night, staying on top of the covers but being there, a presence, and gently waking Dox when she was in the throes of a thrashing nightmare.

But now it was morning, and time to face the day.

Rolling over and sitting up, Paris gently shook the embattled young officer awake. "Lieutenant? Time to rise and shine, Miss Dox."

Turning slightly with a confused and groggy expression on her face, the young pilot looked up at her watchful First Officer and friend. "Huh... oh... Uh huh." The memory of the night before came back to her as Dox sat up, rubbing her eyes. She was surprised that Rita had stayed the entire night but grateful as she spoke. "Thank you, again. I really appreciate it."

"We need to talk, you and I," Paris explained in her usual tones that carried her usually present sense of humor, and was far less gently than she'd been speaking the night before. "You have a decision to make. And I'm reasonably sure you have to pee, so why don't you start there?"

Scootching to the edge of the bed, Melanie stood up. "Be right back." She turned to follow the commanders very good advice, and while she took care of the pressing business, thought on Rita Paris' words and what they could mean. After the intensity and emotional chaos of the night before, her mind reeled.

Finishing her business, Melanie washed up and splashed some cold water on her face. She took a few seconds to take a deep breath to compose herself from whatever was to come before stepping back into the room with Rita Paris. Her mind raced wondering if her behavior the night before had been too much. If she was going to be reprimanded or even removed from her post as the flight control chief. That and what felt like a thousand other self doubts began swirling in Melanie's imagination.

Still sitting on the bed, clad only in a snug white t-shirt emblazoned with the claim 'I'm the one your mother warned you about' and black yoga pants, Paris was definitely not fit for duty dressed like that, but a far cry from indecent. Perched on the bed as she was, she did make quite the pinup, although she wasn't trying to be sexual- with Rita Paris it just kind of happened.

"First, you are off duty today. Ensign Gonadie can take care of your shifts and keep the department running for a day, I have confidence. I need you back in one piece with your head screwed on straight, right?" Rita smiled, a million-watt smile that made her look like bomber art from one of her planet's ancient wars.

Resisting her initial emotional reaction to insist that she was willing and able for duty, Melaine knew not so deep down that while she felt better them she had the night before, she was far from alright. Her hand tightened for an instant as she stopped herself from indulging In the nervous habit of rubbing the top of an ear while nodding towards her commander.

"I understand." Melanie's stomach tightened as she feared that while her career might not be over it was still possibly in danger. She waited patiently for whatever Rita Paris had to say next and didn't want to make her situation worse by trying to assume what that was to be.

"Oh, for the love of all that's holy. Come here, Dox, sit down," Paris patted the bed, and as the anxious officer edged nervously toward the bed to sit stiffly, the first officer of the Hera rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Relax. You are not in trouble, you are not unfit for duty and you still have your job. Okay?" Paris inclined her head toward the frazzled 'first thing in the morning after bad sleep with no hydration' Melanie Dox.

The knot in Dox's stomach released just a bit only to be replaced by a bit of embarrassment at overreacting. "Sorry... Um..." Melanie let out a small sigh.

"It's okay, Melanie... do you know why I always seem to be one step ahead of you?" Rita smiled a funny little quirky smile that was full of obvious masked insecurity, a surprising expression to see on the confident commander's face. "It's because whatever chatter is happening in your head, it's probably very similar to the one that would be happening in my head if I were in your shoes. It's just empathy, Miss Dox. Everyone can do it if they try- it's just that most folks are having too much trouble keeping it together themselves to be considering how the other person is feeling. Not a shortcoming, just an oft true fact of life. Which brings me to my next point."

"I spoke a bit with Sonak, and I advised him of your situation. In my defense, I did breach your trust, but he was going to find out then next time we touched, and I assume you understand that?" As she spoke Paris realized that Dox more than likely was unaware of the telepathic bond she and Sonak shared through touch, and that she was actually stumbling a bit in this explanation.

Smiling slightly, Melaine turned towards Rita and shook her head. "No breach of trust. Honestly. I've watched you two at dinner... I remember the stories you both told. You're like...one person when you're together. It's... kind of amazing to watch."

Looking down slightly with a thoughtful look on her face, Dox continued. "I... trust you, Rita. Otherwise I wouldn't have... everything I let out... Let you see. I may second guess myself and everything. But I trust you. So... that means I trust who you trust."

A frank and warm smile settled on the face of the human explorer. "I know how hard it is for you to open up and to trust, so I genuinely appreciate that, Dox." Reaching over, she patted the wrung-out pilots hand. "I guess I do pick up a bit from him and he from me when we're together. It's..." Rita paused to look up at the overhead, searching for some way to relate the experience to her friend. "It is simply beyond human experience. I know him like I will never know anyone else in this life, as he knows me. We understand and celebrate one another, and in our diversity is our strength."

Watching Rita speak about the love of her life made Melanie smile that much broader.

"But that's not what this is all about," Rita Paris blushed a bit, the rush of affection even talking about Sonak brought to her shining through in her all-too human reactions. "To use one of the captain's styles of metaphor, I got you through the emotional storm, helped guide you out of those dangerous waters. Now has come the dawn, and you need to chart a course from here."

"I'm good for a lot of advice, but really, this is his strong suit. You need logic, the wisdom of the Masters of Gol, a capacious and encyclopedic storehouse of knowledge whose sole purpose in life is to learn, to share that knowledge, and whose very greeting often involves, 'we come to serve'. It can't hurt. Have a chat with him. I asked if he'd be willing and he is, but the choice is entirely up to you. I'm not pulling rank on this- it's just an offer. Because really, I think he could help. He wants to, we both do. Because that's what Starfleet shipmates do."

Sitting back, Melanie's expression turned to one of contemplation. She thought it over for what felt like a full minute. "Okay." She replied simply.

Turning back towards Rita, she reinforced the decision with a bit more confidence. "Absolutely."

"Okay then," Rita grinned, happy to see some of Dox' confidence returning. Plucking at the humorous white top, the first officer's expression turned a bit more chagrined. "If you don't mind, I am going to use your shower and grab a clean uniform, because I have to go be on deck as a sterling example of Starfleet pride at 07:00 hours. Take a few minutes, have some water or coffee or tea or whatever starts your day and I'll be out in a flash."

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Of course." Melanie gestured lightly with her head towards the direction of the shower, though she knew Rita obviously knew where it was. "Whatever you need to do. I'll be in the main... Ya' know... over there."

Standing up, Melanie was still a bit out of it from the night before and headed into the main living area of her quarters. "Did you want anything?" The perpetually anxious pilot asked.

"30 ounces of water, a cup of coffee black with two sugars and a fresh uniform in my size would be spectacular," Paris called as she pulled the t-shirt off over her head, shrugging out of the yoga pants in a surprisingly deft motion. "I'll be quick..."

"Uh... A... aye... Commander." The somewhat official, if stuttered reply was all Melanie could manage as she quickly turned to go over to her replicator. If struggling with the implications of learning that her body had been surgically altered as a child wasn't enough, now the short, rotund young part-Romulan officer now had the image of the voluptuous curves of Rita Paris' statuesque frame in her head.

As she ordered up Rita's request from the replicator, Dox looked down at her own unimpressive, thick middle that a lifetime of diet and exercise couldn't quite crack and moaned lightly. She placed the items on the bed and nightstand for Rita, then went back and ordered a basic vanilla breakfast shake for herself and began to pace around her largely bare quarters.

She paused in front of the workout dummy in the corner. Across the molded, rubber-like face of the pale blue simulacrum were a series of dark greenish brown streaks. Her own blood from attacking the dummy wildly the night before. Taking a drink, she looked down at her knuckles, bruised but re-bandaged from the night before. The fresh bandage was no doubt the result of Rita Paris' care the night before, applied after Melanie had passed out from exhaustion.

Grabbing an antibacterial wipe from the replicator, she wiped the dried blood clear from the dummies face.

Two minutes later Paris poked her head out of the bedroom. "I'm an idiot. Computer, please replicate Paris standard undies set including hosiery, thank you." As the replicator hummed to life Rita Paris made eye contact with Dox. "If you wouldn't mind, Miss Dox? I can do the hands over the naughty bits dance with the best of them, but I would appreciate a hand if you wouldn't mind terribly?"

It was a reminder that while she was built like a bombshell and often surprisingly liberated, at heart Rita Paris was a bit of a prurient prude, although she tended to be very non-judgmental about other's practices.

Turning a deep tan and she blushed at the idea, Dox fumbled for a moment to find the proper words. In spite of her bombshell appearance, Melanie tended to think of Paris as both an excellent First Officer and a good friend, bordering on something of a big sister with a body she seriously envied. Now, however, she couldn't help but really notice how attractive Rita really was. On one hand, it triggered many of her own body image issues, but on the other hand Dox was still a fairly young woman with a fluid sexuality where gender or even species was concerned and the anxious knot that lived in her stomach tightened for a completely different reason.

But this was Rita Paris, and ultimately Melanie just couldn't think of her in any sense beyond the familial at this point. She smiled, getting over her extremely brief initial reaction and responded. "Sure thing. What do you need?"

"Uh, grab my undies and run them over here so I can get dressed?" Rita laughed musically, amused at the situation she was in which was of her own creation, and her unwillingness to wear the same underwear for two days in a row. "Oh, and toss me my uniform please?"

Picking up the replicated undergarments, Melanie walked them over and handed the to Rita, now comfortably past her initial insecurity. "Here you go. And I folded the uniform and put it on the bed."

Smiling, Dox pointed slightly behind the Commander to gesture to the freshly replicated uniform behind her. "And your coffee's on the nightstand." Then the young pilot stepped back into the main room to give Rita as much privacy as she preferred.

"Why thank you, Miss Dox! Your hospitality is top notch. Be out in a jiffy!" Paris accepted the rest of her uniform from her hostess, then tabbed the door controls.

Precisely fifty-three seconds later Rita Paris emerged, dirty casual clothes mostly stuffed into the empty water tumbler in one hand and her coffee in the other. She looked fresh-faced and ready for duty, though there were dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. Striding over to the replicator, the old-school officer jammed the compact bundle into the replicator and sent the matter back to storage. Then the crimson-clad commander stood up, one-handed straightened her skirt then stepped with a much more casual stride across the empty space of the quarters to Melanie Dox.

"You're sure you're okay with this? Having a talk with Sonak. I mean, clearly, I think it's a good idea. Y'see," Rita Paris paused to compose how to say what she wished to relate. Her expression went from curious to annoyed to resigned acceptance. Those bright blue eyes came up to make eye contact with Dox once again. "When I met him I was a bundle of damage and neurosis. I was still pretty screwed up- from being a ghost, still terrified of transporters but trying to deal with it by transporting anyway, still very messed up from my daddy issues. I was a train wreck. Seriously. And trying to work as the navigator of a starship that was in drydock and quarantined. I couldn't even get torpedo inventories because no one was allowed aboard to count them! Anyway..."

"Sonak of Vulcan is an amazing philosopher with a very keen understanding of the human condition," Rita performed a little mock curtsy, then pointed at Dox with the coffee cup. "In addition to knowing a little bit of nearly everything else. So my thought is that you have two heritages, Miss Dox. I represent one part in this discussion, and I've had my say and helped you in the tradition of our people. Sonak is not a Romulan, but the Romulans and the Vulcans are cousins. He understands their physiognomy and culture. You have questions, he's probably got answers. That's why I asked him to come. The choice was and still remains yours, but I follow my intuition, my human instinct, my gut, call it what you like, and it said this was the right plan. You with me, Miss Dox?"

"I appreciate the thought and... I think it's a good idea." Melanie smiled her usual awkward grin. She was nervous but it wasn't a level of nervous that was going to stop her from trying to do what she knew was the best course of action. She knew she needed help beyond the emotional support she had received from her shipmates so far. Asa Dael not only saved her life in sickbay but had been a friendly hand every step of her recovery. Even Lieutenant Commander Thex, the ship's engineer and second officer, had offered a friendly ear if Melanie wanted to talk. Rita herself, of course, had been instrumental in helping her through the worst of her emotional breakdown the night before. But Melanie knew that she needed more help if she was ever going to come to grips with her identity and heritage, and agreed that Sonak was the most qualified person to offer assistance in ways nobody else could.

"Emotions I have well and truly covered. But I think I could... really use some serious logic right now to help me get out of my own head, ya' know?" She chuckled slightly as she spoke, hoping that Rita understood. Which she so clearly did.

"Indeed. Okay Miss Dox, unless I am sorely incorrect, you do enjoy the water and a steamy shower. Go take yourself a very long, very luxuriant shower, brush your teeth, do what makes you comfortable, and when you are finished, Sonak will be here." The friendly first officer held up a finger to make a point.

"You are not keeping him waiting, so don't rush on his account. He wants you to be prepared for a conversation and to ask your questions, not for you to get out of his hair. You are not imposing, you have the day off, and he is eight hours ahead of schedule on any duties he might have, so you are not keeping Mr. Sonak from anything. This is time that he wants and has chosen to spend helping you find your way. Understood?"

It was clear that Rita was right about knowing what Dox was thinking more often than not. She grinned and let out a chuckling sigh. "Understood."

"Oh, and don't worry about saying anything stupid. He has dozens of variations of it, but he believes there is no such thing as a stupid question; but there can be stupid answers." Drawing herself erect, Rita's expression became somber as she recited his words verbatim, from a recent memory. Even her cadence and enunciation changed in a reasonably uncanny impression of the kolinahr. "Posing questions and discarding them is an answer in itself; that the question needs to be further thought about in order to truly lead to a valid answer. And that is the basis of wisdom; not to know all the answers, but to understand the questions."

Then she smiled and waggled her eyebrows, back to the cheerful second in command of the USS Hera once more.

"That's my guy. Now go, shoo, shower and I'm out of here. Give me a hug, eh? You've really been through a lot and I am very, very proud of how you are handling it." Rita added, having saved it for last because she knew it was going to make her tear up. But like whenever she spoke, there was no false sentiment nor even omission. It was just earnest and honest, from the heart.

As expected, tears welled up in the conflicted young woman's eyes as Melanie Dox hugged Rita. "Thank you again... really. Thank you."

"It's why we're here, Miss Dox. We come to serve."