Drastically Misinformed

Posted on Sun Nov 10th, 2024 @ 9:42pm by Ensign Ezmyrae Varin & Ensign Liam O'Connor
Edited on on Mon Nov 11th, 2024 @ 8:47am

Mission: Pandora's Box
Location: Personal Quarters
Timeline: Morning after adventures.
4127 words - 8.3 OF Standard Post Measure

Myra hesitated as the turbolift doors opened and the empty corridor beyond stretched on with daunting inevitability. She had spent the entire ride trying to decide if she was relieved Liam was in his quarters because at least it meant she wouldn't be interrupting a work schedule or if the prospect of privacy just made the whole confrontation more nerve-wracking. He was alone at least, she had been struck by a sudden epiphany to check that much, and perhaps it was kinder on him, at least, not to have to process her unexpected presence in front of an audience. Guilt twisted her stomach into knots as she stepped out, just as uncertain as she'd been when she'd first scrolled the crew manifest over breakfast and realised the human was on board. There were a lot of regrets to navigate but she'd at least learned that delaying communication lead to silence.

Perhaps I should have just written him quick message.

As she approached the door to his quarters, the second-guessing kicked in. There was no concrete evidence to suggest that he'd be angry to see her but there was likewise no proof he'd be overly pleased and that lack of information felt like largely her fault. He had deserved more than the excessively-late explanation for her delayed return to her studies, certainly hadn't deserved to fall victim to her self-isolation as she tried to process the ramifications of the accident that had nearly taken her life. Myra didn't know what the odds were for randomly ending up on the same vessel, nor was she all that sure how she felt about the concept of fate, but there was no denying the almost-mandatory nature of delayed apologies. Finger hovering over the door chime, she drew in a deep breath and then winced as she gathered her courage to press it. She'd just let him know she was here, no obligation beyond that. She could confine herself to Sickbay and quarters if it made it easier.

Inside his quarters, Liam was blissfully unaware of the tension brewing just outside his door. Having just wrapped up a few maintenance tasks—including a particularly vexing glitch in Holodeck 3—he had decided to indulge in something unusual, a lingering aftereffect of his recent transformation mishaps. First, Q had turned him into a prince, then a mouse, and finally back to a prince again. Though he was now back to his normal self, the whole ordeal had left him with an inexplicable craving for cheese.

And, well, wine just seemed like a natural addition.

Seated comfortably at his small table, Liam had set up an elaborate platter of cheese—a variety of sharp cheddar, gouda, and brie—along with a bottle of red wine. He poured himself a glass, swirling the liquid as though he were some sort of sommelier, though he had no idea what he was doing. The last few weeks had been a whirlwind, but the strange events had left their mark in small ways, and his new fondness for cheese was just one of them. He popped a piece into his mouth and sighed, a little smirk tugging at his lips.

Just as he took another sip of wine, the door chime sounded. Liam blinked, startled by the interruption, and glanced toward the entrance.

"Who could that be?" he muttered, wiping his hands on a napkin before heading toward the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, his room mates all on another shift or away and he hadn’t scheduled any appointments with the crew for follow-ups on the holodeck issues. Perhaps it was someone from Operations, maybe needing more information.

When the door slid open, his casual smile faltered.

“Myra?”

As much as she knew she wasn't prepared for the moment, Myra had still underestimated the impact of seeing Liam again. He hadn't changed much other than the subtle differences that came with the passing of time and it was all she could do to avoid staring mutely at him as a sudden tug of conflicting emotion threatened to overwhelm. It wasn't just the abruptness of separation, or the fact that she'd not been prepared to just never see him again, it was all the association that came with being flung backwards to a point in her life where everything had been wonderful. Struck like a deer in the headlights, her eyelashes fluttered and she found herself only capable of the most inadequate of first responses.

"Yeah, it's me. Hi."

Liam stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the figure before him. His mind reeled. It looked like Myra, and it certainly sounded like her—her voice a little deeper, more mature than he remembered, but unmistakable. The same dermaglyphs framed her features, curling over her skin like intricate artwork, disappearing just beneath her collarbone. Her athletic build was still there, as fit and petite as ever, the same posture that told him she hadn’t lost her knack for swimming and racquet sports. But there was something else—something hidden beneath the surface. His eyes caught the faintest glimpse of something under her shirt.

But Myra was dead.

He had made the call, contacted the hospital himself after the accident. They had told him it was over—That they were saying their final goodbyes. He had mourned her, grieved for her in his own silent, private way, and tried to move on. And now... here she was.

For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His mind raced for an explanation, struggling to understand how this could possibly be real.

“This... this has to be a Q thing,” Liam finally muttered, his voice cracking with disbelief. He leaned back against the doorframe, his eyes narrowing as if that would somehow force reality to make sense. "It has to be. Some kind of cruel joke or a leftover trick from that twisted omnipotent lunatic. You... you’re not supposed to be here."

To her horror, Myra felt her eyes prickle with moisture. As much as she'd worked herself up with the possibility that Liam wouldn't find her sudden arrival anything to celebrate, it still stung to be confronted by his disbelief. The expression on his face was indecipherable, not exactly the anger she'd anticipated but shock tinged with suspicion. "I..."

She faltered. Much of what he'd said didn't make sense, but the last statement had landed with enough impact to consume the entirety of her focus. "I only arrived this morning," Myra started, rushing to explain just enough so that departure would be possible. "I didn't realise until then that you were here or I'd have reached out earlier."

It sounded a hollow promise even to her and Myra knew how likely it was that she would have worked up the nerve to get a message to him ahead of time, if only to avoid this. Of course, there would have been countless moments of wondering if she should request a different posting, a nervous willingness to give up working alongside Dr. Solis in exchange for continued cowardice. Given the amount of resolve it had taken to pick up the pieces of her career and forge a path forward, this almost felt like the universe's way of challenging her for thinking she could hold onto a single aspiration without it shattering to pieces. Unable to look at Liam any longer, she lowered her eyes and sagged visibly.

"I'm sorry, I should have done that anyway. I meant to, I just..." Her brow puckered as she closed her eyes. "Didn't want to intrude."

Liam blinked, still trying to piece together what was happening. Myra’s words washed over him, but his mind struggled to process them. She wasn’t supposed to be here. That thought looped in his head, refusing to untangle itself from the stark memory of that hospital call. She was supposed to be gone—forever. Not standing in front of him, apologising like she’d just missed a dinner date.

For a moment, he could still hear the doctor's voice on the other end of the comm, clinical but kind. "They’re saying their final farewells." The words had been like a knife at the time, slicing through his world with a finality that left no room for hope. He had grieved. He had forced himself to move on.

But there she was. Not a figment, not a holodeck glitch, and somehow... not a Q trick. Q’s games were ridiculous, unpredictable, and theatrical. This—this was too raw, too real.

"This isn’t a Q trick," Liam realised aloud, his voice quiet, almost as if the realisation had hit him just as he spoke. He let out a slow, shaky breath, trying to steady himself against the rush of emotions. His hand tightened briefly on the doorframe before he stepped back, opening the door a little wider. "I—"

He hesitated, his heart racing. Say something, he urged himself, but his mind still felt muddled. The disbelief was wearing off, replaced by a flood of memories, of emotions he thought he’d buried with her loss. There was a part of him that wanted to demand answers, to question how she could be standing in front of him. But another part of him, the deeper part, felt too overwhelmed, too... relieved, despite everything.

"Would you..." he started, his voice softer now, almost uncertain. He cleared his throat, offering her a tentative smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Would you like to come in?"

Hope hurt. If life had taught her anything, it was an inherent mistrust for what seemed on the surface to be the turning of fortune. Myra had worked with her care-team to overcome the worst of that pessimism, and now that she was finally done with officer training, she had the vast resources of Stafleet's mental health sector to bolster her support network. She was definitely in a better place than she had been or she wouldn't have made it this far in her re-engagement with her training but some scars ran deep. Her personal life was a different matter and it required more willpower than she was currently in possession of for Myra to stop her hand drifting to settle against her abdomen as she forced herself to look up again. She nodded, accepting the offer. Privacy came with its own challenges but she wasn't ready yet to share too much with this crew of unfamiliar faces.

"I don't need to stay long if you're busy," she said quietly as, stepping into the quarters, evidence of Liam's plans for the evening lay spread out on the small table. "I just wanted to let you know I was here before you found out some other way." It was a sentiment perhaps a little late to the party but, if she couldn't do anything about previous lack of communication, Myra felt some urge not to repeat the same mistakes at least.

Liam straightened up as the door closed behind them, feeling the smallness of the room pressing in. The space that had moments ago felt like a comfortable sanctuary now seemed tiny, suddenly claustrophobic with Myra’s presence filling it. He hadn’t thought about this moment — how it would feel to see her again, alive and standing there as if the universe had rewound itself just for him. But it hadn't. She was here, and everything had changed since.

He took a breath, forcing himself to stay calm as a torrent of unspoken emotions churned inside him. His heart was racing, every part of him wanting to blurt out questions, and demand explanations, but there was a knot in his chest, guilt tugging at him for reasons he couldn't yet explain. Still, he had to start somewhere.

"I’m not busy," Liam said, his voice steadying as he gestured awkwardly toward the table. "I was just about to have something to eat, so… if you’re hungry, I have more than enough." He flashed her a brief, tentative smile. "You know me, I tend to overdo it sometimes. Cheese and wine, apparently my new guilty pleasure since... well, since the whole Q thing."

He wasn’t sure if humour was appropriate right now, but he felt like he had to break the tension somehow. This wasn’t just any awkward reunion—it was Myra, back from the dead, or at least from what he thought had been death.

Taking a step toward the table, Liam grabbed a chair and pulled it out for her, trying to act normal even though his mind was spinning. "We can sit. And, uh… maybe we should go through what happened. I mean, what really happened." His voice wavered slightly, as he realized just how deeply he wanted to know. To understand. "I thought… I thought you were gone. They told me you didn’t make it, and I—" He faltered, running a hand through his hair, tension seeping into his voice. "I feel like I should’ve known better. I should’ve found out… that you survived. But I didn’t."

He let out a long breath, his eyes locking onto hers, emotions swirling beneath the surface. "I’m sorry I didn’t know. I feel like… I should have."

In spite of everything, it had been difficult to curb a sense of curiosity as the doors had closed behind them and Myra had been given her first glimpse into Liam O'Connor's life since they had last seen each other. Of course, the non-descript furnishings of a standard Starfleet officer's quarters weren't going to tell her much, but the spread on the table held a story that only deepened in intrigue at the vague explanation she had no context for. She was reminded of Ensign Lorel's earlier speculation, however, and was drawn away for a moment from her own nervousness by a sense of inquisitiveness that had always played a pivotal role when it came to this man.

It was the same inquisitiveness that had caused her to notice him, their early-morning workout schedule aligning by the time her third year courses had veered to include some engineering-specific minors that would compliment her growing interest in bio-medical specialisation. A similar curiosity had fuelled their first conversation and lingered long enough that, by the time he invited her to breakfast only a few weeks into the new semester, Myra already had an answer speculated and ready to go. As it had become part of a regular routine, it would have been fair to say there had been countless times where her fascination with the way the universe, and the people in it, worked had dominated their conversations. She had an inquiring mind; almost to a fault.

There wasn't time for the questions already forming in her head, however. Already caught off-guard by the familiarity of him pulling the chair out for her, Myra had sank into it initially glad that he was willing to carry the bulk of the conversation, until the tone of his rambling veered wildly in a direction she hadn't anticipated. Wide-eyed, the Trill hadn't noticed her posture had frozen in a stiff ramrod, nor that the hands that had been resting on her thighs had balled anxiously into fists. She'd long-ago accepted that it was the nature of her overdue message that had convinced Liam to sever contact and, at the time, she'd been mostly relieved to have been left holding the pieces without any additional drama to try and navigate. She hadn't once considered that misinformation might have been the cause.

"They told you what?" The disbelief in her voice was palpable. "I don't understand, why would they say that? My condition was serious and, for a while, life-threatening, but I...there's no reason..."

Liam’s chest tightened as he saw the disbelief in Myra’s eyes. “I don’t know why they’d say that,” he began, his voice strained. “The reports I got—Starfleet Medical, the hospital—they said your condition was critical, and that your family was preparing to say their final farewells. I… I thought that meant…” He trailed off, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I thought I lost you, Myra. I didn’t question it. I should have. I should’ve fought harder to know the truth, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.” His voice wavered, guilt pressing heavy on his chest.

It was more than Myra had expected from the conversation by such an extreme amount that, in the face of Liam's honesty, she found herself momentarily stunned into silence. It wasn't an ideal reaction and, once she recovered her wits, became just another thing to immediately regret but this kind of rapid-fire changing of direction was something she needed to get used to again. She'd always been good at thinking on her feet, the recent knock to her confidence was hopefully not a permanent hinderance. That being said, it was still an area of major focus during her therapy sessions and something of this magnitude had blasted right through the strategies she'd been working so hard to establish.

And then it occurred to her, a flash of inspiration, what had probably happened. As the idea took form, the enormity of the misunderstanding unfolded as the most likely option but also brought with it an entire topic that Myra just wasn't equipped to discuss at the end of a long day already full of surprises. She hesitated further, already gripped by a sense of guilt that the temptation to just allow the miscommunication to exist without explanation became her preferred option. She needed time to think.

"You don't have to apologise," she finally reassured him, hoping that the sincerity in her tone would make up for the delay. "It was a very messy time, I was...unwell for a long while." Myra broke eye contact to deliver her own confession to the tabletop. "By the time I had the headspace to even think about the bigger picture, so much time had passed that I just..." She hunched a shoulder and looked back up at him. "Life had moved on, and I was sure it had taken you with it. And since I honestly wasn't in a great place, I thought it was just better I let you get on with everything you had planned. You would have been close to graduation by then, I think."

Liam furrowed his brow as he poured himself a glass of wine, the weight of Myra's words hanging in the air between them. The enormity of the misunderstanding—the lost years and everything that hadn’t been said—was something neither of them could easily untangle. As he reached for the bottle, offering it to her in a quiet gesture, he realised that now wasn’t the time to push for answers. She wasn’t ready, and that was alright.

“Cheese?” he asked, gently steering the conversation away, pouring his own glass before she even had the chance to reply. The soft clink of the wine bottle against the glass felt like a momentary anchor, something familiar in the midst of so much uncertainty. “The wine’s rather good, surprisingly. Seems I’ve developed a bit of a taste for it since... well, everything.” He smiled, a small, tentative gesture, hoping it might ease the tension just a little, giving her space to breathe.

"Wine over beer?" It felt almost wrong to lean back into old familiarity, to recall even in such small detail something she knew of him because of shared experience. It was a better conversation to have than anything else currently available to them, however, so Myra smiled faintly and tilted her head to the side to catch the bottle's label before shaking her head. "If its genuine, then I won't. I, uh, pretty much exclusively stick to synthehol now." If she was lucky, the conversation wouldn't veer back around to why, because it was already starting to feel like bath-water circling the bowl. "Cheese, on the other hand, I always have room for." Sitting forward, Myra peered at the selection. "Any recommendations?"

“I would suggest the Stilton,” he said with a teasing smile, “but considering the close proximity to another life form, perhaps it’s best to play it safe with the bloodwine-infused Red Leicester?” He selected a piece for each of them, carefully placing them on the table. Not wanting to overstep, he refrained from pouring her a drink, respecting her choice to stick to synthol. He realised after she left that he might need it himself anyway.

The first tentative bite provoked a wince but that was a fairly predictable reaction to anything bloodwine-adjacent. "It's certainly authentic." Hesitation didn't interfere with Myra's willingness to finish the morsel, however, which was indication enough that she hadn't lost her tendency to indulge in culinary experimentation. She'd always been as adventurous with her cuisine as she had been with most other opportunities sent her way. "It's not exactly a flavour you relax to though."

She paused then, not wanting to overstay her welcome but also compelled to offer some sort of attempt at kindness now that the distance between them had a more complicated explanation than she'd realised. "Tension seems to be a running theme around here today though. I heard there was an issue with a crew gathering last night. Were you...involved?"

Liam chuckled, grateful for the lighter subject. “Let’s just say I had a close encounter with Q,” he replied, his tone conspiratorial. “Imagine this: Q, with all his usual flair, decides I’d look better as a prince. That was fine, I guess, but then he had me as a mouse, then a prince again—all in the span of an evening. The experiences left me craving cheese, believe it or not,” he added, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, I'll forever be worried he'll show up again."

He relaxed back, watching Myra with a look that held genuine warmth. “To be honest, though, all those strange events feel worth it now that you’re here" He shrugged, sincerity in his eyes. "If there's anything I've learned from Q, it's to expect the unexpected—though, for once, I think I can handle it.”

For a brief moment, Myra had escaped the cyclic nature of her anxious thoughts and simply allowed herself to revel in the familiarity of Liam's charismatic ability to hold a table's attention. His capacity as a storyteller had been one of her favourite things about him and it was a comfort to know that he hadn't lost it. She returned to reality with a jolt as he made his final declaration, however, and slightly pink-cheeked, tried to hide her muddled head behind a smile. "At least it explains all the cheese." With a soft laugh, the Trill then drew in a deep breath, surveyed the remains of the meal, and seemed to gather her wits. "Which I would love to stay and enjoy more but...I wasn't really sure what to expect of this conversation and I didn't plan on intruding long. We could catch up later perhaps?" She tried not to sound overly hopeful.

Liam watched her reaction closely, catching a faint flicker in her eyes that he couldn’t quite read. For a moment, he wondered if he’d overstepped, maybe pushed too much too soon, his own unease stirring beneath his calm facade. But he quickly shook off the thought, giving her an easy smile as he leaned back and stretched his arms casually. “Well,” he said, letting a light chuckle slip, “guess I’m a bit worn out from all that mousing about today. We can catch up properly another time, no rush.” He met her eyes with a reassuring nod, hoping she’d feel the same.

"I'd like that."

It was, Myra mused as Liam showed her from the room, about as heartfelt and sincere as she could manage for the moment. Whilst the conversation had gone some way to alleviating her concerns about the pair of them sharing a posting if only because it seemed unlikely now that Liam was actively predisposed towards avoiding her, it had opened up a whole different can of worms that would require some deep thought before she even knew what to feel about it all. For now, she craved the solitude of her empty quarters, a reclusiveness that Liam would probably find alien and yet felt like a default state these days. She hovered a moment by the door, uncertain of how to leave things, and then simply wished him a good night. Eloquence would have to wait.