The End of a Very Long Day...

Posted on Sun May 15th, 2011 @ 5:06pm by Captain Nathan Cowell MD & Lieutenant JG Elizabeth Marion

Mission: Shore Leave 2; Picking Up the Pieces
Location: Commodore Cowell's Quarters, Deck 2, USS Arizona

Commodore Nathan Cowell trudged through the doors of his quarters, a place he hadn't seen much of for far too long. The damage to his quarters had been minimal. A few fallen books, a few ceiling panels out of place, but in all the place had come out far better than other compartments had. The most important item that had survived was his recliner. That dusty, crusty piece of antiquity still stood in defiance of several hundred years of personal abuse at the hands of not only its owner, but the elements, time, and circumstances. With a content nod, the old man approached his replicator and ordered a Coke, and even went so far as to demand the glass bottle that went with it. He plucked it from the replicator, happy to note that the top was still on it. As he passed by his dinning table, he rested the lip of cap on the edge and in a fluid motion, slapped the neck of the bottle and sent the cap flying off. Nathan didn't bother to see where it landed, he had to clean up a bit anyway... he'd see to it tomorrow... or next week... or never. He didn't give a damn right at the moment.

The El-Aurian sank down into his recliner with a grunt, the encircling feel of the fabric and stuffing a welcome sensation against his tired body. He even went so far as to fully recline, letting out a moan of relief as his body stretched out and sank even deeper into the embrace of the old chair. He reached over the right arm rest to grab the small remote that rested on his equally ancient end table, and activated the wall mounted display. Within the computer rested a vast library of films and shows that Nathan had either watched during his years on Earth, or had managed to collect upon his return. He'd commissioned one of his first Operations Chiefs to organize all of that combined entertainment data into a portable form that he could take with him from ship to ship. He also had instructed the man to make it surf-capable, so that at the click of a button on the custom crafted remote, he could move from 'channel' to 'channel' in the old nostalgic fashion that he'd been privy to back in the day.

As Nathan surfed the channels before him, settling on a few once in a while then abandoning them to see what else was on, the sound of the door to his quarters sliding open caught his attention.

"Elizabeth, is that you?" Nathan asked, not bothering to turn his head and look for himself.

"Yeah, it's me," the woman replied. The Operations Officer walked over to the replicator and ordered an iced tea before making her way over to the small love seat that sat off to Nathan's left, positioned so the occupants of the piece of furniture could view the screen comfortably while still being able to converse with him, or the people sitting on the much larger couch that lined the wall. She sank down in a lump on the couch, resting the glass of tea on the small coffee table in front of her.

"How's the hip?" Nathan asked her suddenly.

"Sore," came the honest reply, "But at least I can still walk."

"You sayin' I'd do a shitty job putting you back together, little Miss Humpty Dumpty..." the old man glared at her.

"No, I'm saying I'm blessed that my Father is such a skilled Doctor," the woman smiled, "Though your bedside manner sucks balls through a straw..."

Nathan laughed at hearing her use one of his more beloved of phrases. Coming from her, it didn't sound quiet right, but she probably hit the mark better with that phrase than anything else she could have said. He know she was right, he was a crusty old fart that groused and grumbled at people just as much on a whim as he did anything else.

The old man decided to take the usual 'wounded grump' route, "Who taught you shit like that? Keep that up and you'll run off all the boys and be stuck with me for the rest of your life."

Elizabeth laughed, but something about his comment felt... comforting. He indeed would be there for the entire length of her lifetime, probably beyond. While she wasn't immediately aware of it, she was beginning to wonder if such a prospect was all that bad.

Before she could think twice about it she muttered, "What's wrong with that?"

"Plenty!" Nathan argued, "You'd have to put up with my constant bitching and complaining. I'd drive you up the walls and across the ceiling... and I hate footprints on my damn ceiling!"

As much as the old man blustered, she knew as well as anyone could that he cared about her in his own way. While he may talk a good game of nonsense about his ornery disposition, it could be said that it was simply a screen to keep people at just the right distance for him not to become so attached that he wouldn't be able to handle their passing. It might have been for that reason that the only marriage he'd ever attempted had ended in divorce before the woman had died.

Nathan sat in his chair, flipping through the channels, seemingly enjoying the peaceful atmosphere without any desire to engage in any tangible conversation. He'd known Elizabeth for the length of her Starfleet career, seen her come up the ranks, spent a good amount of time playing foster father and friend to her. As far as he was concerned she was family, and as such he didn't really feel the need to put undo stress on a moment with conversation if none was forthcoming. It wasn't until she started talking again that he noticed she had something on her mind.

"So how are you holding up, old man?" Liz asked in a soft tone.

"I'm surviving," Nathan said tersely as he lifted his coke off the end table and took a sip, "Why?"

"I don't know, you just look... drained..." the woman observed.

"Maybe that's because I am," the old man admitted.

"Have you talked about it with anyone? Get some of the weight off your chest?" Liz asked.

Nathan looked over at Lt. Marion with a frown, "I really don't think it's all that important right now to bother with. There's too much to do right now, and I'm just one person out of a hundred something that has a need for help. I'm old enough to know how to cope until things calm down and I have the luxury to sulk and suck down a few dozen cold ones."

Liz sighed, "You're just as important to the ship as anyone. Maybe even more so. You're this crew's compass. If you start to stray off North, the rest of the crew is going to follow your lead. Helping yourself helps the crew, I'm sure you know that..."

"Listen here... I don't need you playing shrink. For one, you're not good at it," Nathan glared momentarily before casting his gaze back to the screen in front of him, "And for another thing, you've got plenty enough in your life to worry after. I've gone through this a hundred times over..."

"That doesn't make it any less hard on you," the woman said firmly.

"Maybe not, but I've managed for six hundred and five years... That's gotta count for something," the old man said in a low tone.

"You're only six hundred and five..." Liz's eyes narrowed.

Nathan didn't argue with it. That was probably a conversation for another time anyway... He decided to change the subject, "What are you making me for dinner?"

Elizabeth knew by that sudden change that he wasn't going to talk about it any further, and pressing the issue would be about as useful as trying to talk the Borg out of assimilating her. With a shrug, the woman swung her feet off the couch and stood up, "How about Mexican?"

"Yeah, that works... Don't forget my nachos..." Nathan grumbled.

Liz giggled and started to walk past the old man. With a speed that didn't really seem possible for him, Nathan lashed out and caught her wrist, giving her a bit of a start. He pulled her over to the side of his chair and looked up at her, "Give your old man a hug, huh?"

Elizabeth smiled down at him. He rarely asked for any manner of affection, indeed he wasn't the type that seemed overly dependent on any kind of contact whatsoever. However, the fact that it was unusual didn't make it any less endearing. Lt. Marion bent down and planted a soft kiss on the man's balding head and gave him the requested hug.

"You big old softy..." Liz whispered in the old man's ear.

"Yeah yeah... fetch me my dinner," Nathan groused in reply.

"Keep your pants on, you old fart..." Liz laughed as she headed for the replicator.

"You're damn lucky I had some on in the first place!" came the usual counter to that comment. Things were starting to normalize, even if they had a long way left to go...