JL | RAdm Sidra MacLaren & Commo Stephen MacCafferey | "Unfinished Business"

Posted on 241708.01 @ 7:19am by Rear Admiral Sidra MacLaren & Commodore Stephen MacCafferey

Mission: Non-Plot Log
Location: Scotland, Earth
Timeline: 241708.01

The humidity was heavy in the air, it was almost so thick that the air was choking rather than replenishing. Her hands had started to tingle as they were suspended over her head, her feet sucked deep into the sticky mud, trapping her in place as her body almost hung under the shackles at her wrists. There was a crack in the air, and a millisecond later, the consequences of that crack ripped across her back, the flesh torn open, exhaling fresh blood at the edge of a fleshy gorge. She groaned, struggling to hold in the audible exhalation, but it was impossible to keep bottled up. Her teeth clenched until her jaw shuddered from the pressure, sure the ivory molars would give out. Her mouth opened in a furious and painful cry as the lash tore across her back again.

She jumped with a start from the bed she was on, feeling her body lift from the mattress as she lay prone, dropping onto the bed again with a start, her mind snapping out of the nightmare. Her heart was racing as Sidra assessed exactly where she was, her breath exhaled from her flared nostrils like an angry bull. Her palms lifted her from the soft flannel like sheets, pushing her torso off the bed until she was kneeling. Her pulse still raced in beneath her breastbone, threatening to burst through her chest. Her skin was covered in a sheen of sweat and the cold air from the cracked window swirled in and caressed her in an icy grip.

The dawn had not arrived, though there was a hint of light on the horizon outside of the cottage window that faced east. Sidra MacLaren closed her eyes, slowly at first and then squeezed them tight until tears penetrated her lids. A single tear for each eye escaping her tightly squeezed emerald eyes and her face turned skyward. She inhaled slowly, taking in the cool, moist air, heavy with moisture, just like in her nightmare.

Her eyes opened again and Sidra slid her nude body out of the bed, slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb her partner. Stephen slept on his side, facing the windows, turned away from her from his natural drift through deep sleep. She had fallen asleep with his hand caressing her bare hip, his breath on her neck as his lips tickled her skin behind her ear. She had grinned and bit her lip at his advances but chuckled softly, as she verbally pushed him away, “I’m so sleepy Mac…” Back to the present, even as she tried to recapture that moment, her mind grabbed and clawed at it, Sidra knew it was lost and the comfort and pleasure just a few hours ago was replaced with rage. “Damnit…yer aff yer heid.” She growled at herself, low and quiet, but her eyes stayed on her partner, not wanting him to move, willing him to stay still.

Sidra’s feet moved away, her hand absently grabbing from a chair in their bedroom, a green and navy wool tartan, lines of red and gold woven through it. She wrapped the wool around her shoulders, letting it cover her nude body like a shawl. Sidra’s breathing was more controlled, her pulse no longer threatened to jump through the thin skin of her neck, but her rage was not drifting away.

Her bare feet padded across warm rugs and cool, waxed dark wood floors, past her son’s room. The door was cracked and for just a moment she heard his reassuring, steady deep breathing as the boy lay flung across his bed, a tangle of limbs in impossible positions.

Her nightmares, the torment of her peace, were from a time before the son she treasured, a time before Stephen brightened every day of her life. She didn’t want to include her boys in this; it wasn’t fair to them. They had no part in the torture she endured all those years ago. There were times she thought these midnight terrors were past her. Sidra could go months on end, close to a year without these vivid punches. She started to feel safe and secure in bed, able to have wonderful dreams of love, adventure, comfort. Then out of nowhere like a bolt of lightning in a clear sky she was struck, forced to relive the terror again. Her sense of peace and security, warmth and love, was striped away and she was left raw.

Sidra moved through the living room, the embers from the wood fireplace still glowing, barely hanging onto life, pulsing as stars did before they died. She pushed the front door open and inhaled sharply as the cool breeze that been filtered from her windows changed to a punch that hit her full on. The stiff wind, full of salt, came off the angry ocean below the cliffs, her home, their home poised defiant against the rage of nature.

She pulled the thick wool tartan tighter around her shoulders and fell in defeat onto a padded adirondack chair on the porch. Her hands mindlessly tucked the tartan around her, covering her ivory skin from the sting of the wind. Only her face, flushed from the sting and her emotions, was exposed and Sidra MacLaren let the tears flow. The hot salty tears warming her face for just a moment as they slowly spilled their banks, she sobbed silently, the tears taking over her face, spilling onto her tartan. Large drops were snagged on the wool, separated into smaller pods of salty despair, making a line down the slope of the green and blue wool until they dripped off onto the porch floor, reabsorbed into the world.

Stephen awoke, slow and leisurely coming out of his deep slumber. His head stretched out across the bed and found only a faint warmth of the body he’d been expecting to be there. Yawning wide, Stephen opened his eyes to find his mate gone. “Hmmm,” he said to himself and climbed out, checking the time before slipping on a robe. With soft steps, he went in search for her, knowing why she was gone. He made his way to the kitchen, stopping only to make sure Will was still asleep. He paused at the boy’s door, looking at him, watching him sleep, and smiling to himself.

“There’s a good boy,” Stephen said softly before moving on.

He pulled out the tea kettle and went about boiling water while finding the tea leaves. Stephen used two scopes and placed them in the tea infuser before setting out the teapot and placing it in the cozy. He then filled it with the hot water and placed the infuser inside before grabbing two large mugs. He place the teapot and mugs on a small tray and walked outside. The replicator was only used when there was no time to cook, and freshly brewed tea or coffee could not be replicated. While he waited he thought of her, hoping she’d come back in by now. He had gotten used to her sleepless nights, or the when she could not be still. However, they still disturbed him deeply. Whenever he thought of it, he wishes he could punish the people who did this to her. But he couldn’t. Instead, he found her on the deck, wrapped up in her tartan and slowly moved towards her.

“There ye be, m’eudail,” Stephen said softly.

Sidra’s bright green gems turned toward him, rimmed in red and still heavy with tears. Though she registered he was there, her eyes were still vacant, still lost in the world that seemed to trap her. She saw the sadness there, it wasn’t really pity, but Sidra knew that if Stephen could, he’d fix this for her. There was a rage in her, hating that this affected him. She was hoping he wouldn’t wake, but he always did. Sidra could not figure out what she had done to deserve someone the likes of Stephen McCaffrey.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut and taking a deep breath, her head pounding from stress of the nightmare. Sidra exhaled slowly through her nose, her breath hot against the cool skin on her face. Her eyes opened again, she let her mouth turn up in the hint of a smile, appreciation for him and the tea he brought. A bare arm emerged from the wool and she grabbed a mug with long, slim fingers, pulling it to her face, letting the steam warm her skin. “mo ghràdh, will you make a fire. I want to talk.”

She didn’t usually want to say anything after getting woken up like this, and her request was almost like a plea, but one she knew he would fulfill. Sidra felt something pulling at her, clawing to get out. She took a sip of the tea, not wanting anything in it as this ungodly hour. Sidra unfolded herself from the chair, swapping her mug to her ice cold hand so she did not stroke his grizzled cheek with ice. She slipped back into the house to find a robe and meet him back in the living room, closing Will’s door gently before making her way back out to sit on braided rug in front of the hearth.

Stephen complied and took the a few logs from the wood pile and stoked a fire to a full blaze, warming the room to a comfortable level. When he was finally satisfied he turned and found Sidra on the rug. He grabbed her tartan and wrapped it around the both as he took his place next to her. He sipped the tea and allowed it to sooth and warm him at the same time. He then set it aside and took her hands in his to warm them as they sat by the fire. Underneath the tartan, he loosens his robe to allow more movement and enclosed her, brought her in brought her close to him. No matter if she was still cool to the touch, he wanted to feel her skin to skin, and allow his warmth to warm her.

“Now, you have my complete attention.”

She smirked at that, but slipped her robe off her back, sliding between his legs, her back against his warm chest, she leaned into him, pulling his arms around her, weaving her right hand into his left and pulling the joined hands against her heart. His chin rested on her shoulder and she nuzzled his scratchy beard against her smooth cheek.

Sidra knew exactly what she wanted to say, but it was how to say it that she was turning over in her head. She was used to being so direct for most of her life. She had surrounded herself with people who didn’t seem to mind her bluntness. Her quick rise to positions of growing authority meant that she never had to temper that directness. Then she met him and everything about Stephen made her stop and think with her heart and not with her tactical brain. Then they had Will and a softness had grown in Sidra she had not known she was capable of, but it came naturally to her.

She smiled, thinking about them both, “I love this life, I really do.” Sidra hoped he knew that, she hoped she told him enough. Her next statement felt like a release of something she didn’t know she’d been holding on to. “I want to go back in.” She felt her body tense as she said it. Sidra needed him to be on board with this, it needed to be right for all of them. If he convinced her it wasn’t, she would accept that. She picked up her tea with her free hand, sipping and waiting, feeling just a little of the tension ease with the warm liquid.

“Hmmm,” Stephen said in his professorial way.

He hugged her, but not too tight to prevent her from drinking her tea, and pondered what she said. He too loved this life, but more so because she was here. He loved having time to raise their son, teaching him the ways of his native land and heritage, but the boy was getting to the point where there was more to life than Dad. While he did not have the life that Sidra had, he was happy with taking early retirement to spend the rest of their life in quiet contentment on the paradise that Earth had become. He pondered a moment what would he do if he had the opportunity to go back on active duty. He wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it had to be different and hope it would keep him close to Sidra and within arm’s reach of their son.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes and let his mind drift, reviewing their life from her point of view, seeing if ever he detected any sort of unhappiness or restlessness in her. If there had been any of the sort, he’d not detected it. That made him wonder if he’d been watching carefully enough. Placing a kiss on her neck and scooting closer, Stephen so wanted to please Sidra greatly.

“So, the fearless Admiral wants to go back into space,” Stephen said teasingly before turning serious. “Why?”

She put her tea down and rubbed his leg, feeling his worry. Knowing him as she did, she knew he’d consider everything she said and would want to know all the information she could give. Sidra was more impulsive, ready to jump right now, only he was able to reign her in and pull her back to Earth. Sidra replied, irritated with herself for not being able to articulate it better, “Because I still have things to finish. You know what, I don’t need to say it. The only place I can solve that puzzle is back in Starfleet.”

Sidra felt her anger rise and it was not at him and she would not project this rage onto him. The redhead sighed, letting it release from her before she continued softer. “But I won't do it if it’s not right for *us*, all three of us.” Her mind tumbled over the image of their family, of her eight year old son stomping barefoot in the dark soil of the fields, already growing too fast, and then she saw in her mind’s eye the border collie trailing behind him. “Bloody hell, I guess four with Buddy.”

She wondered too if she was being selfish, was it right to expose the boy to that world. She’d grown up in it, and thought she turned out just fine. His world was small here in Scotland, that was the truth. And what would Stephen do, just follow her around and keep house while she worked in what would likely be a fleet job, struggling to get home to see them before they were asleep. Sidra whispered, “Tell me I’m being selfish.”

Stephen rubbed his hands up and down her body and shook his head. He quirked a smile when she asked if she was being selfish. From a certain point of view, he could say she was being selfish, but that wasn’t the one that Stephen held to. He’d learned a long time ago that she was a shooting star and he was lucky to bask in the glow of her light. He turned her chin to face him and gave her a deep kiss, and an approving smile.

“Where the Admiral goes, so go I,” Stephen said, “It is obvious that whatever you must do, it has a strong enough pull that it won’t let you sleep. I am your faithful squire, my lady knight, and where you choose to lead, I will follow…me, Will, and yes, Buddy too.”

He gave her a soft smile and hugged her tight, considering the fire. “I love it here Sidra, not because of this place, or this is our home, but because you are here. We could be on a starship, a starbase, moon, or some other world. It doesn’t matter to me. It allowed us to give Will a solid foundation for the first several years of his life, and let us be thankful for that.”

He planted another kiss on her soft lips and trailed her jawline before cupping it in his hands. “You know my career, I’ve had one adventure in my life and it was the best not only because it was an adventure, but because we did it together. So…Admiral, you finish this thing you must do, but know that you are not doing it alone, you have me also…to make sure it is finished once and for all.”

He paused to look around this place they have called home. “And by providence, we shall return here again.”

Sidra glanced around their cottage, she’d miss this place, miss nights in front of this very fire. Stephen was right though, it didn’t matter where they went if they went together. She had his blessing now and her work would start when the sun was up in the sky. She’d find a posting, and she’d make sure it was somewhere he had a job to do as well. That would be her stipulation.

For now though, she turned to face him, sliding her legs over his, wrapping them around his back, her hands sliding along his bearded jaw, her fingertips brushing his cheeks before her long fingers rubbed the back of his neck. He called himself her squire, he was indeed her knight. Sidra kissed him lovingly, her eyes peeking back open to enjoy his salt and peppered look with a smirk before saying, “I love you, so much more than I could ever say. Now put me back to bed mo ghràdh.”

Commodore Stephen MacCafferey

&

Rear Admiral Sidra MacLaren