Honour Restored

Posted on Tue Jan 10th, 2023 @ 2:32am by Evelyn Reynolds & Oliver Lucas

Mission: Mission 16: Hysperia
Location: Hysperia Market
Timeline: After "Okay, Maybe Not Quite Pistols"
2592 words - 5.2 OF Standard Post Measure

News travelled quickly. In a place like this, with a population of this disposition, it was likely to spread faster than wildfire and whilst that had the potential to make life difficult, this time there were benefits. Evelyn, by dint of being Ser Rufus' scapegoat in his attempt to disguise pure bigotry as gallant concern for her well-being, had come out of the various recounts a lot more mysterious than was probably warranted but wary fascination kept people at bay and she wasn't about to complain about that. Certainly, people seemed confused about her, if the sideways glances she was receiving were anything to judge by, but that was okay because Evelyn was also confused about herself half the time and, at the very least, the furtive scrutiny seemed to be peppered by a degree of admiration. There was also the fact that her current company was fast securing a reputation for commanding a harem of harpies. It made him a far more interesting target for speculation.

It was probably also making the locals wonder what she could pull out of her back pocket.

As it happened, not much. No longer dressed for charades, and disinclined to entertain them anyway, Evie walked in stride with Oliver, a gentle pace for the sake of her knee, but without the loop of arms that had set off the chain of events in the first place. Her hat, fallen to rest against her back, tapped against her shoulder-blades and did very little to prevent the puffs of breeze from sending strands of hair across her face. Reaching up, she tried to tuck them behind her ear and then firmly cemented both hands into her empty back pockets. Whatever tricks the locals expected from her, they weren't to be found there, at least. She glanced upwards at the silent man beside her.

"I guess you're stuck with me then." Humour, for his sake, danced in her eyes. "By official decree even."

"Please...don't..." he protested weakly. It was bad enough that Beya had taught Ser Crispin a very clear lesson, but the fact that everyone seemed to know about it just made matters all that much worse. The looks and attention that he had desperately desired to avoid were now pressing in on him. And it wasn't that people hated him, it was that they feared him. Feared the ex-Borg. Whether that was because of his unfortunate past or because of the more recent events, the outcome was the same. He blinked uncertainly at Evelyn, the one person that had offered any semblance of genuine compassion throughout this entire unpleasantness. "S-sorry. I'm just...not used to all the attention."

After studying him for a moment, Evelyn's features relaxed into weary resignation and her smile, now tired, fell more towards wry agreement. "I'm not a fan of it either," she said, her tone lowered. "Though if I'm going to endure it, I'd rather it be because I didn't turn a blind eye to bigotry. It won't last," she said of the scrutiny, her gaze veering sideways to glance at those trying their very best not to appear interested in the pair. "Once the festival starts, they'll have other things to focus on."

"I hope so." He meant it, in a very bitter sort of way. "Perhaps...it would be better to move on from the unpleasantness." Maybe it was what he thought she wanted to hear, or at the very least just some wishful thinking on his part. Either way, even verbally drawing a line under it was a step in the right direction. Not that he suspected it would ever go away. "I'm sorry if it brought any attention on you."

"You're not the one that owes apologies in any of this."

Evelyn's tone, whilst quiet and withdrawn, held an definitive edge that offered no room for disagreement. A twinge in her knee, more a psychological reminder at this point, curled the hand furthest from him into a fist momentarily and Evie turned her head completely under the guise of considering a stall's wares in order to buy her composure time to settle. It wasn't easy to bear the weight of an entire marketplace's curiosity and it was taking a great deal more effort than she cared to admit to not to seek a dark hole to hide in, but the situation was less about her than it was Oliver and Evelyn, by dint of layers upon layers of inherited reservation, fought against the notion of bringing her own demons into play. Furtive eyes made accidental eye contact with a wary customer and, in a single flourish, the blonde doctor turned back and slipped her arm through her younger counterpart's, as companionable as the first time and equally as determined to prove that a direct association with him was not something she sought to hide. "Come on, let's fine something to eat. I think I still owe you lunch, right?"

"No." It sounded firmer than he intended. A subconscious consequence of his desire for independence. Or perhaps to remain as chivalrous as the moment allowed for. His facial expression softened, a little apologetically. "I owe you. So...what would you like?"

She could have argued. Maybe if she'd had more energy, she would have, but something about Oliver's tone also made Evie pause long enough to reconsider obstinance. He had, she supposed, weathered a lot of imposition on his behalf recently and she certainly had no desire to add more dents to his self-confidence. After a moment's thought bought her time to realise that it was kinder to accept than protest, Evelyn turned her attention to the question itself.

"Honestly," she ventured quietly, "if we can find something that can be taken somewhere secluded and away from everyone's gawping, I think I'd find a better appetite."

He was relieved that she didn't insist. And actually, the suggestion of somewhere less likely to trigger someone was a welcome one. He tapped her forearm, still looped through his own.

"I think I have an idea in mind."

---

Not thirty minutes later, the pair were virtually alone on a grassy knoll overlooking a breathtaking valley. It was a location Oliver had seen on some of the tour maps, a little spot that promised views of grand tourneys and such - but as those were out of season it meant they were all but alone with a wonderful view and a small basket containing a light meal.

"For all I might have to say about the people of this world, it makes up for that with its vistas," he said, letting Evelyn take in the view.

It had been worth it, to navigate the incline and push her physical limitations further towards what had once been a more typical threshold of stamina and strength. Forever her own harshest critic, Evelyn was aware that her reliance on the cane was more a psychological thing and, though it would be a welcome rest to finally stop and sit down for a while, the view and subsequent privacy had more than warranted the effort. Her eyes drifted across the valley's topography, finding herself inclined to give Hysperia the benefit of the doubt if it could pull of this despite the inherent inbreeding of some of its men.

"It really does remind me of home," she eventually remarked. "I guess stepping back in time has its benefits if you remove the archaic sensibilities of a handful of fools from the equation."

"I suspect that's the reason Hysperia isn't a more popular holiday destination," Oliver agreed. "What was your home like?" he asked, curiosity raised by her observation of their surroundings.

The question seemed to surprise the doctor, though deeper analysis of Evelyn's reaction veered more towards an understanding that they hadn't shared much about their initial origins. With that realisation came the epiphany that she didn't know a lot about his childhood, his home before assimilation. It wasn't that she wasn't interested, there had just never been a time to broach the topic in any sensitive capacity.

"Well, we swung back and forth between a few places." It was a tactful way to broach the matter of her family's estates, which weren't so much an embarrassment as they were an unnecessary boast to the wrong ears. It was, after all, just the way of things and given the value of maintaining the scant heritage-listed features her family were charged with protecting, it was as much a matter of historical preservation as it was a flexing of material wealth. "This," Evie nodded towards the view, "reminds me of my mother's childhood home in Denbighshire. A lot of hills," she added with a fond smile.

"Hills. Grass." He nodded thoughtfully. "I don't remember a lot about the colony where I grew up. Pictures and vague senses. There were a lot of trees; I think one of them had a makeshift swing set up for the kids to play on." It was hard to recall anything beyond that. His pre-assimilation memories were difficult to fully recall. And a by-product of the process was that he had a few other jumbled-in memories from the minds he had been linked to in that time. "I remember that it was quiet, though. Like this."

"Which certainly earns it bonus points," Evelyn agreed, glancing around at her feet before choosing a place to ease herself down to sit. Extension of her knee several times was the only reminder that discomfort was her constant companion, she certainly took pains otherwise not to draw attention to it. Eventually, she settled for it slightly bent, foot planted to the ground, and hands surreptitiously settled in such a way as to allow her thumbs to dig into the tension without being too obvious. "Have you ever gone back?" Curious eyes studied his face, hunting for the reaction buried in his expression. It wasn't an easy subject but he'd brought it up. She had to think perhaps he wanted to talk about it.

He shook his head, silently thinking about that for a moment. "It never really felt like home. Not after..." His eyes fell. The Borg rarely left much left after an incursion. Anything he went 'home' to wasn't ever going to look like it once had. And his memories of it were so minimal that he wouldn't have found comfort there. Only emptiness. "Home isn't a place. It's a feeling."

"And isn't that the truth."

As they lapsed into silence for a moment, Evelyn regarded the distant hills with fresh perspective. She had avoided going home because she hadn't wanted the dark cloud hanging over her to engulf her family. Inevitably, her father had been pulled into it somewhat, too many close connections that saw him as a way of getting to her. Such expectations failed to take into consideration the strength of their relationship, however, and her father's own intelligence levels. If anything, Evelyn had been left with the feeling that he wasn't surprised and so a trip home for proper discussion of what he knew, or suspected, would eventually be on the cards. Right now, Earth might as well have been on the other side of the galaxy for all she could see herself visiting any time soon.

"So, where is home then?"

She turned her gaze back to study his profile.

He didn't reply immediately. It took a moment for him to try to put the feelings into some sort of verbal explanation, a skill he was lacking in naturally.

"Home is..." he hesitated, his eyes drifting closed. "Stillness. Silence. Safety." He opened his eyes, returning her gaze in a way that he wouldn't with most other people. Evelyn had shown she was indeed safe; a person he didn't need to shrink away from. "And other words beginning with 'S'."

"Sauerkraut and sausage?," Evie offered the suggestion whilst pulling towards them the package of food wrapped to maintain warmth. As much as she was determined to try pottage before she left Hysperia, the stew hadn't looked particularly transportable and there was something almost hedonistic about the size of the bratwurst the stall had been selling. She had tried, with limited success, not to smirk whilst Oliver ordered and there was a twinkle now that paraded as excessive innocence as she placed the package onto his thigh. "I tend to agree," she let him off the hook by continuing his observations. With an exhalation that was more obvious than she'd intended, Evelyn cast her eyes back towards the view. "And far more so the older I get."

He nodded, letting silence fall as he slowly noticed the food. It was only at that point that he realised he was hungry, and made a move to tear open some of the packaging. Before he took a bite, however, he stopped to acknowledge the moment. "Thank you. For this...and for everything. You've...been very kind to me."

Had she though? A niggling twinge of guilt left Evelyn wondering for a moment if she wasn't more culpable for using Oliver as a security blanket. He'd certainly become her entire reason for bunkering down on the Mary Rose with any purpose, which had gifted her a modicum of confidence that her future wasn't entirely in tatters, but it also ran the risk of getting in the way of her actually dealing with the mess she'd left behind. Mess that, so far, only Jake and, to an extent, Gregnol even knew about. She had more hope now than she'd been in possession of when she'd first arrived but things still weren't over. Evelyn was a private sort but dishonest didn't sit right with her.

Turning her head, she regarded her mentee for a moment and then offered a tired smile.

"You're more of a comfort than you realise," Evie pointed out quietly. "Let's just say it falls under the category of the least I could do."

For some reason, he felt his heart flutter in his chest when she said that. He felt...cared about. Probably for the first time in forever. Since childhood, perhaps. Sure enough, the doctors that had restored his humanity had cared for him in the medical sense, but he'd not felt an emotional connection to anyone like this before. He wasn't sure how to respond to that feeling; Shame? Embarrassment? In the end, all he could do was put a hand on hers and squeeze. Which was, in the end, the only kind of physical action he had ever taken. With anyone.

As it turned out, it was a gesture complex enough in its simplicity to nearly break her. The insidious worm in her gut, the same one that occasionally rose its head to throttle her composure with so little provocation, squirmed with the sudden impetus to tell Oliver everything. Only a far more established sense of decorum stopped her, not just because the truth was ugly and confronting and stripped her of the illusion of competency she was building here, but because he didn't need the trauma-dump of someone he had entrusted his career to. Being strong for Evelyn had been a battle she'd so often felt like she was slowly losing. Being strong for Oliver was an entirely different impetus.

Turning her hand around, Evelyn returned the squeeze and offered a soft huff of laughter as she nodded her head towards his food.

"Eat your sausage."