In the Quiet Between

Posted on Tue Jun 3rd, 2025 @ 7:03pm by Oliver Lucas & Evelyn Reynolds

Mission: Shackles
Location: Personal Quarters, SS Mary Rose
3300 words - 6.6 OF Standard Post Measure

At your earliest convenience.

Despite the hour, and the mounting fatigue born of poor sleeping habits, Evelyn was not in bed. Her attention was focused instead on the dark expanse beyond the communication terminal, a thousand-yard stare cast into the void whilst the inverted projection of the words currently displayed on-screen imprinted themselves across her forehead. StarFleet had a way with words, she had decided long ago, that made it very easy to speculate the designation of key personnel matters to an algorithm that never once saw an empathetic person's scrutiny before being sent into the ether to form layers of convoluted 'due process'. Certainly, when it came to grievances and complaints, all forms of written communication suddenly became overtly officious and, ultimately, unhelpful. Resignation wasn't any easier, at least not in her case, though she had unearthed a rather amusing inability for one department to share information with another. Recruitment services seemed very reluctant to let her go, whilst the trauma unit assigned to her case showed considerable disinterest in renewing her medical leave once the current allocation expired. Neither were very impressed with her silence but that seemed to be about the only thing they did agree on currently. If words held power then a lack of them exposed weakness but Evelyn wasn't greatly concerned with her previous employer's opinion of her, not anymore. As far as she was concerned, the earliest convenience could be any time after she was dead.

Drawing in a deep breath, the doctor roused herself from the weariness of familiar thought patterns and took her empty tea mug with her as she rose. As tempting as it was to allow the formal summons to pile up, the time was fast approaching when she would have to deal with Jack's interference directly and overturn her previous commander's appeal on her behalf under the fabricated assertion that she was not capable of making rational decisions about her own career. With Lonn on board, at least Gregnol's crew wouldn't suffer from her absence but that was a small mercy amidst a whole pile of damnation. More difficult was figuring out a way to leave, even temporarily, without Jake realising. Dragging him into his brother's scheming didn't seem much of a repayment for giving her a place to disappear into. Against her better judgement, Evie set down the empty mug and reached for what was left of the last brew. Regardless of where her choices landed, nothing was going to happen until she at least got some sleep.

It had taken Oliver longer than expected to actually press the door chime. His anxious pacing outside of her door had been a way of self-regulating while he tried to figure out what he was going to say. Consulting with other people hadn't really helped all that much; in the case of his brief conversation with Curtis he'd ended up more confused than resolved.

But in the end he'd summoned the courage to buzz the door and enter Evelyn's quarters. Something about stepping over the threshold with the door closing behind him triggered even more of that trepidation.

"I wanted to see you..." he mumbled; not the rehearsed words, and certainly not loud enough to actually start a conversation.

It took several seconds for the sequence of events to lead Evelyn to the realisation that she hadn't locked the door. The instant flare of anxiety was not so much directed at the unexpected visitor, who was arguably amongst the small minority she would have invited in anyway, but because the uncharacteristic lapse in personal security was an instant failure of one of the many subtle strategies that had kept the panic and paranoia at bay. Cup in hand, she realised its uncomfortable heat a little too late to spare her fingertips and set it down quickly after a quick sip to address the sudden dryness of her mouth. "Oliver."

It was, in a way, a vocalisation of recognition meant to calm her own nerves. As a first response, it wasn't entirely helpful, however, and though the urge to inspect the door to make sure the fault wasn't mechanical in nature was strong, Evelyn mustered composure enough to remember her manners. It also gave her time for a secondary response, which was far more directed at the downcast angle of the man's gaze. Her brow furrowed. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? No...no. I mean..." he hesitated, his face not quite following what his brain was thinking. "No."

Silence.

"Why? Is something wrong with you?" he finally managed to blurt out.

There would be time later to reflect on how instantly her nerves were diverted, which was promising after months of requiring heavy decompression to navigate panic spikes. For now, Evie dipped her head in search of a better look at Oliver's expression, her only concern now that he had reverted almost completely to his furtive avoidance. "Nothing more important than this lack of eye contact."

It was, of course, partially her fault. Circumstance had allowed her to avoid the conversation they needed to have, and whilst the work had been genuine, it hadn't been so severe that she couldn't have made time to spare him this burst of courage. "We need to talk," Evelyn acknowledged, her tone conveying both resignation and apology.

"Oh." Oliver's mind immediately attempted to process the various directions this conversation could possibly go in. He'd seen enough holonovels to know that this was the part where she would either reject him, or drop some sort of bombshell that would send whatever relationship they had spiralling out of control. "Was it...was I not very...uhm...?"

Though typically a master at controlling her outward appearances, Evelyn didn't even try to hide her surprise, nor the subsequence relaxation of features that came with realisation. "That's not what I meant." Bridging the distance between them, she hesitated a moment before reaching a hand out to squeeze his elbow. "Not every failure is yours, and there's certainly no grounds for a performance review." The tug of a faint smile added to the twinkle of mischief in the doctor's eyes, though Evie was careful not to push. Instead, she studied his face and asked, "Is that what's been bothering you?"

Of course it was.

Of all the things to highlight the differences in their life experiences, this one still managed to catch Evelyn unawares. It brought into sharp focus just how long she'd spent with a man who had no capacity to question his own worth, who would never have thought for even a minute to fret about whether he was satisfying her or not. She genuinely hadn't considered Oliver's lack of confidence and felt immediately ridiculous for the oversight. Everything she'd come to know about him had given her ample reason to be mindful and all she'd done was bury herself in her own problems.

"I just..." He opened his mouth to let things come tumbling out, but there was a difference between speaking it to himself and speaking it in her presence. So his mouth closed again and his brow furrowed. "We hadn't really spoken about...you know..." the volume of his voice started to tail off. "If we were...?"

It was, Evelyn understood, not an unreasonable question and one she should have expected. The anticipation of consequence for her choices had not been entirely ignored; in many ways, the niggle of conscience had been a constant in the back of her mind, mingled with the protective melancholy of recalling a much older Oliver's grief. It left her not without hope that she spared some thought for the should I?, though she was no closer to resolving the conundrum and just as inclined as always to succumb to the alternative when he was standing in front of her. The answer he wanted was far more complicated than could be explained kindly, and even then, was largely a matter of risk management. A definitive 'no' would have been easier, perhaps, but when had her personal life ever been that simple.

"Then let's talk about it now," she replied gently, taking care to slip a hand into his. A reassuring squeeze was the least comfort she could offer after leaving him in the lurch for so long. "You're worried that I regret it. I don't." Evelyn allowed the strength of her gaze to bolster her sincerity. "And you're unsure if it will happen again. That's definitely something we should discuss, neither of us are mind-readers. Are you okay about it?"

"I..." Another moment for him to stop, to think, and to clearly formulate an answer. Surprisingly, this was an approach that she had encouraged him to follow as part of his medical training. "Yes. Yes, I'm very much 'okay' about it." His self-questioning expression lightened into something more hopeful. "And I'd like to experience it again, if you wanted to...?" In the back of his mind, his ill-equipped brain wondered if she meant right now, but quickly clocked from her body language that it wasn't on the table. At least not yet.

Despite the conversation veering too much towards the transactional to be entirely authentic, Evie still found it necessary to control the twitch of her lips to avoid giving Oliver the impression she was making fun of him. The awkwardness was endearing and she accepted it would be a part of his disposition for a good while yet, but it wasn't indicative of the Oliver she'd encountered once he was provoked to a point of letting his guard drop. Two sides of the same coin, each with their own allure, and yet Evelyn knew which one needed to be present for any kind of second helping he might be referring to. Both of them were currently far too in control for it to compare.

"Then relax," she chided him gently. "There's no problem here other than my chronic ability to drown myself in work."

It was only brief but there was a flicker as Evie's eyes averted, a demure moment of self-depreciation that culminated in her casting a fleeting glance at the terminal she'd been sat at not five minutes earlier before her hand slid from Oliver's elbow into his to pull him towards the sofa.

"I can get you a drink if it will help," she offered, remaining standing whilst she encouraged him to sit lest he take her up on the offer. "There's half a bottle of cognac waiting for the right occasion, which is admittedly mostly a refusal to sink low enough to drink alone."

Evelyn didn't wait for a response beyond that, having already moved to pull the expensive liquor from the cabinet beneath the television. The two glasses set down on the coffee table were not quite of the same vintage and, in fact, closely resembled the kind of mass-produced glassware found in countless bars around Freecloud; because they were. The story of how they had come to sit beside a 100-year-old bottle of brandy inside the quarters of a woman who, to date, hadn't shown much of a tendency to drink at all, was quite a tale and not one that Evelyn chose to share immediately.

Drinking wasn't particularly high on Oliver's list. Socially, he'd never really understood the human need for it. Medically he found it questionable for one's health. And in this moment, he wondered just how quickly Evelyn was using it to deflect his attention.

"No...no, I don't want a drink," he murmured, frowning. "I want to understand. I want to know whether...whether this feeling is something more. I don't think I know what it is."

It wasn't until she'd poured herself what her father would have argued was a half-serving that Evelyn sat back and regarded the agitated man on her sofa. Having spent her life cultivating knowledge on the complexities of people at a cellular level, she didn't have nearly the kind of response Oliver had come to expect when bombarding her with questions. "Deconstructing emotions isn't anywhere near as procedural as dissecting a cadaver." Her tone, whilst kind, was also cautionary. "There is a reason so many poems and songs fixate on the complexities of emotional connection." Taking a sip, Evelyn then drew in a breath and sighed. "Was that your first time?" Again, she posed the query in gentle terms but intentionally sought out his gaze.

"Yes." His voice was soft; not quite embarrassed, more concerned that his inexperience was a negative for her - something that would drive her away. His lack of confidence in the past had certainly stymied any other opportunities to build friendships and more. "It was...really good."

He was, as it stood, one of only two people on the ship who could worm their way beneath Evie's composure to provoke genuine amusement. In Jake's case, it was a matter of unfair advantage, gifted through years of careful analysis to arrive at a point where he had determined she wasn't half as uptight as she liked to pretend. Oliver, being far less presumptuous and certainly not as well-versed in reading her moods yet, wielded his power through accidental boyish charm. There were times, when he fumbled like this, where Evie could have sworn he'd figured out how difficult she found it to maintain a sensible head where he was concerned. Then a crash-course in reality reminded her of everything Oliver had been through and her features softened.

"I agree." Once again, Evelyn made a point of seeking eye contact. "Confidence suits you."

Another hint of colour rose in Oliver's pallid cheeks. "Thank you." He actually felt a mixture of embarrassment and pride at that. Just a simple compliment often felt like it was enough to placate him. Strange that she was one of the few who really seemed to pay them. "So, uhm, I guess...I don't know where this leaves us. You're married, aren't you? That feels like it should complicate things."

"My husband is dead."

Evelyn knew that wasn't who Oliver referred to, but the distinction was important. It wasn't the first time the conversation had skirted around Jack's existence, though to be fair, she'd never been particularly good at directly explaining where things stood in regards to the man. Briefly, her eyes drifted down to the amber contents of her glass before Evie rallied and lifted her chin to add a hint of defiance to her next words.

"And Jack Ford will eventually learn that there are things in life he cannot strong-arm into compliance. We were never married," she added as further clarity, "He had more important things to do."

In one gesture, Evie finished her drink and set the empty glass aside.

"It's more the complication of making sure we don't impact your accreditation. That, and how comfortable you feel with a dozen set of eyes on you sneaking into my quarters." Her lips twitched, enough that the intent was clearly to ease her own reservations with gentle teasing.

"I don't think anyone saw me..." he started, before quickly catching the intended humour in the comment and falling sharply silent with that mix of embarrassment and awkwardness. After a painfully long silence, he added: "What do you mean about my accreditation? Does this mean you can't still teach me?"

"No." Evie hesitated, searching for the best way to be honest without causing further alarm. This was so much more like the Oliver she'd first met, the slow increments of confidence had succumbed, understandably, to the pressure of mundane life. It was easier to be honest when facing desperation. "Not exactly. But if we can employ some discretion, there's less chance for the board to decide there's a conflict of interest." Conscience prompted her to add, "It's not really a concern since I assume you'd rather we didn't sell photographs to the highest bidder."

"You took-" He stopped himself instantly, realising with yet further mild embarrassment that she was pulling his leg. "Never mind. I mean, uh, I'd really appreciate it if you did continue the training. And...the other training, too..."

This was getting them no where other than further down a pathway of completely disproportionate control. A twinge of concern dislodged Evie's own confidence for a minute, a flicker of the same hesitant vulnerability that had arguably pulled them down the inevitable plughole in the first place. Was she being unfair? It seemed almost certain that she was being selfish, particularly if she opted to acknowledge the fact that she was already missing the Oliver Lucas who had kept her from scattering tiny pieces of her sanity across multiple timelines. There had been purpose to him then, a strength in adversity that made sense but apparently wasn't easily replicated without provocation. Her gaze flitted away, towards the viewport, as the twist of uncertainty's knife dug deep enough to provoke a sense of guilt.

"I'm not a sex therapist, Oliver."

"No. Well, not to say you couldn't be...ah..." His shoulders slumped and his brow furrowed again. "Look, I'm not very good at this. It's new. And, well, that makes me scared of...messing it up." His body language turned inwards and defensive for a moment. "You understand, don't you?"

With some effort, Evie forced her posture to relax with the deflation of a tired sigh. Her mood wasn't Oliver's fault, even if his timid sense of constant apology wasn't helping to improve it. Her gaze drifted back to him and, after a thoughtful moment, she nodded wearily. "Of course. And communication will always be important but we can't fall into this pattern where you're constantly seeking permission in advance for every little thing. At some point, you have to trust me enough to take a risk because the only thing it feels like right now is that you're scared of me."

"Maybe I am scared of you..." he replied, probably a little too quickly. Flushed, he felt a surge of anxiety at having put it out there. "Scared of disappointing you." It felt like a weak explanation, in the face of everything. "Like I said, I'm really new to being so open with anyone. That's terrifying for someone like me."

The moment of silence that followed was brief, though it was significant in that it gave Evelyn time to neatly reshuffle her own anxiety. She was expecting too much of him, and the impetus for that had nothing to do with Oliver at all.

"I know." Her quiet tone was devoid of the slightly domineering attitude that placed her intelligence in the driver's seat so her emotions didn't have to steer. "I know," Evie repeated. "I'm not very good at it myself." Offering the faintest of smiles, she then averted her gaze, staring down at her hands with a rare sense of vulnerability that shed years off her composure. "You won't though." Though her posture didn't change, her eyes flicked up to meet his. "Disappoint me. You haven't yet."

He lurched across the room to wrap his arms around her. It felt like the only thing left to do, given a comment like that.

"Thank you." It was a whisper, his mouth half in her hair. "I won't. At least...I hope I won't."

It only took a second for the tension in Evelyn's posture to drain, another decision to simply surrender to the inevitable need to shed her protective barrier once in a while. Beyond the door, confronted by the universe, there was no question of succumbing to other people's interpretation of her strength, but here... It didn't feel quite so impossible to break, just a little.

She leaned her forehead against his chin.

"And that is exactly why you won't."