:: Ready Room

Jesa worked steadily, or as steadily as she could under the emotional turmoil. It had been a few hours since she had moved anywhere, in fact. She simply sat at her desk, working on sorting, composing... and saddest of all, letters of "We regret to inform you...". Part of her knew the time was drawing near and she wanted so very much to ignore that fact. Something inside of her hated to have to do this, for it reminded her of so much sadness.

She looked up at the clock on the far wall, Luke Richards's clock, just as it began to strike its hourly chimes. 'What is it with people I know and timepieces?' Jesa asked herself for probably the dozenth time as it continued its announcement of the hours. She just sat there, watching it, until its tolling stopped. Part of her almost tried to turn back the time, not wanting to do this, yet knowing she must. At that moment, the door chimed.

"Enter." Jesa said in a normal tone. The door opened to reveal an ensign with engineering colors holding a large flat plate wrapped in some kind of quasi-shipping-cloth. He walked in and looked at Jesa. "Where do you want it?" he asked. She simply gestured to the desk, where he gently set the package down. She nodded at him in dismissal, not really looking at him. "Thank you, Ensign." He nodded back at her in response, then quickly left.

The package just sat there on Jesa's desk, where she looked at it with an odd sense of remembrance. Then she reached out and gently folded away the material that was covering it. Her eyes searched the surface of the metal, then nodded in sad approval. Folding the material back into a package, Jesa quietly lifted the metal and walked out of the ready room. Her duty was at hand.

:: Lounge

Jesa moved in quietly, drawing only a few people's attention at first in the sparsely populated lounge. Most of the lower ranks had already been moved to the Starbase Quarters, and so only those on the upper echelons were left.... And of those that were left, most were quite busy. So, the normally busy lounge was unusually quiet.

She caught the bartender's eye as she came in, in a small amount of silent communication passed between them. He had seen this tradition performed several times. There was no ceremony, no show of official protocol or procedure, it was just Jesa, the CO, carrying a familiar metal plate into the Lounge. Anyone who had entered this lounge before, would have passed by two walls on either side of the entryway doors. Most would not have noticed it in a first visit.

One wall was fairly unadorned, having a small metal plate for each of the past Commanding Officers of the Isannah, and a quote. A few previous ships' plaques also hung on this wall, during the pertinent eras of the ship. It was the other wall she stood before right now, and this was the right side one, and the one that was much more solemn in its reminder.

Metal plaques, of varying sizes and designs lay upon that wall, in fact the upper portion of the wall was covered already. Jesa looked up to the top of it; there was no label, simply these four lines.

"To these brave ones who gave us their days,
Their courage, their hearts, and always their best;
And when all has been recounted and summed
What we repaid them in, was simply death."

In tribute, Jesa's eyes traced over the names on that wall. So many had lost their lives on this ship, and many more had served and moved on. The Isannah was of regal origins, and she would live on. Slowly, she uncovered the plaque she carried, and affixed it to the place that had been prepared for it. Four points were attached for it earlier, and with only some pressure it was bound to the wall. Taking a step back, Jesa looked at it, and ran her fingers down over the memorial.

All the names, every single name of the one hundred and thirty seven that had been lost on this mission was inscribed upon this plaque; arranged by their department and rank. She ran her finger down until she touched Buck's, and breathed carefully. Lowering her head, she turned around, only to see every officer in the lounge, standing at attention. This surprised Jesa. Many of them, like her, had seen this occur before, but she hadn't expected them to remember.

In a moment of clarity, they saluted, holding the salute until she acknowledged. She raised her chin slightly, forcing a strong demeanor, and saluted back. Jesa looked at them, looked at every pair of eyes, every uniform, every person. Then she said, strongly, but not loudly. "Carry on." The slight hum of activity resumed, and without looking around again, Jesa turned and left.

Ceremonies of Evaluation ::part 2::

:: Jesa Callen's Quarters

Jesa's attitude was solemn, dignified as she went to her quarters to change for the memorial. Earlier in the day she had attempted to write something for the night, but somehow nothing came to her. She hated speeches anyway. Upon walking into her quarters, she noted it was suspiciously neat. Jesa puzzled at that fact for a minute and then thought 'Ah, Terah.' which explained the whole thing.

As if it took enormous effort, Jesa changed out of her normal uniform. Then she unclipped her hair and grabbed a brush; moving to stand facing the mirror. Pulling her rather lengthy hair over her shoulder, she began to brush the ends. She hadn't really looked at her hair in a long time, as she worked it in such a familiar way. It was so strange to her how the most automatic of tasks seemed to be rather amazing when one stopped to think about them.

She ran her fingers through her hair, noticing its length down the front of her body. It was longer than she remembered making it, but she was pleased at that. The color of it was a rich red, but with touches of burgundy near the roots. The feel was nice, pleasing, and it lay against itself straightly without fuss or difficulty. Jesa couldn't help but think she rather liked her hair, as strange as that sounded in her own mind.

No one would know how long it was down, because she always wore it up. It was almost a way of keeping more of herself secret, hidden. Her desire to keep parts of herself out of the public eye only became stronger with her taking command; but that seemed a fairly normal reaction for Captains, who were unavoidably in the public eye of their ships. She continued brushing up her hair, and flipped it over to the other shoulder. She liked its silky feel as she pulled it back to her back, and worked up through her hair.

Her brushes became slower as her face caught her attention in the mirror. Gently, without tearing her eyes from the mirror, she laid her brush aside and studied critically her facial features. The first impression she got was that she looked older than before, older than when she had come from the Academy; older than the days with him here. It was as if time made its mark on her features just as surely as it did on solids.

She could have changed it, of course, but she didn't care to. Some part of Jesa hung onto that change, as right and good for her. Her eyes seemed tired, but more steely, strong, and maybe even commanding; if she could possibly think that way. Jesa raised her fingertips to her face, and traced the outline under her eyes and across her cheekbones. Telltale changes in her skin gave impression to age, though her face was mostly different in emotion. This kind of change, she couldn't bear, and worked for a few minutes against that physical blemish.

Jesa stroked her fingertips down on each side of her nose, and across her jaw-line, chin, and down her neck, just looking at herself for no apparent reason. Then she looked down at her hands, just studying the lines of them. She never tried to make any part of herself particularly beautiful, or even perfect in a human's idea of beauty. But she liked to think herself pretty, from time to time; though pretty for whom, she never quite thought about. Jesa sighed a little, then looked at her whole self in the mirror. She tilted her head at her appearance, looking at herself.

Such actions felt kind of odd to her, seeing as she could change anything appearance-wise, about herself that she wanted. But it wasn't in measuring up that she was looking at herself, but it was a strange kind of trying to "know" herself. As if somehow, studying her features would give her some insight on her heart right now. When, for whatever reason, her inspection of herself was over, she slowly put on her dress uniform and put her hair up in the usual fashion.

In a strange way, she reached out and touched the mirror softly, and whispered. "Who are you, Jesa Callen?" No answer was found in that moment of silence after the question was asked, however. And she had duties to attend to, duties that nagged at her night and day. So she shook her head with a sigh, dropping her hand from the mirror. Not looking back, she left.

Ceremonies of Remembrance ::part 3::

:: Starbase 120, Blue Hall

Quiet dignity; that was the impression that these sorts of places always sought to give. The hall was large, spreading out in all directions, seeming to dwarf the people who were within it. It had to be to accommodate the crew of an entire starship, Jesa quietly wondered how the designer felt about building such a place for this purpose. Almost three hundred people were walking about and talking... there were several small groups hidden away in the shadows of people crying, holding each other, wiping their eyes.... Jesa felt something, a detachment as she watched them. Only Lysander had even offered to hold her while she cried, and Terah...

Looking around she tried to see if she could see Terah, but alas, she wasn't to be found. It was a pity, Jesa felt she needed some strength right now; something that was confirmed in the slight shaking of her hands. The place was always grand, such as was this hall, as its tall ceiling swooped up for five deck's worth. As if they tried to make one feel a part of the larger scheme, to try and make everything immediate seem small. But the thing that wasn't small was the number of caskets lining both sides of the aisles, and in the wings to each side of the room. In the center were all the benches, long and accommodating for families. Even among those, extra chairs had been set near the caskets along the side walls, for those who grieved.

A downgrade led from the four entrances down to the front of the room where the podium stood. It looked regal and proud, in the dark black finish with wood trim that was hallmark of Federation style. Above the podium was a large flag that dominated the wall behind. It was blue; the Federation flag seemed to loom largely over them, a protector... but all Jesa could think about is that they protected... with the blood of her friends, crew, and... fiancé.

She let her eyes wander across the front of the room, and at the faces there. Jesa tried not to think about the fact that she was going to be taking that podium in a few minutes. Instead she slowly began to move in amongst the people, the grieving people. Had she been telepathic, she could not have experienced their pain any more acutely. It fell upon her like waves, echoing and reverberating in her soul, showing her own feelings like a mirror. No words could have explained it, nor did she try to understand it The desperation of her pain and regret at these deaths overwhelmed her.

Quietly, she worked her way from the crowd and back into the almost catacomb like side-wings in the room. She was looking for a name, she recognized far too many of the faces in the photographs. Far too many of those who had died... unfortunately, the one she was searching for was up next to the podium, in a very public view.

Jesa slowly made her way towards it, trying to ignore the people she knew were watching her. Slowly she drew herself into her own little universe, it consisted of only a two items, herself, and Buck's casket. Jesa outstretched her trembling hands and ran her fingertips over the surface of the finished case. She felt her body start to tremble a little, and fought to control it, but she could only manage to keep her sobs silently in her throat.

She blinked and a few tears streaked down her nose as she looked down at the picture of him set up atop his casket. 'Buck... I love you so much...' she thought. 'I don't... I can't accept that you're gone, but I know it's true... and I don't know how to live without you...' Jesa quickly brought her hand up and wiped the tears from her eyes. 'They want me to say something strong... they want me to help them where they hurt, but.... I'm not strong.'

"I just don't know how to live without you..." she whispered, not even realized that she had begun speaking. "I keep looking for you in the corridors... and when my door chimes, I think it's you.... I catch myself..." she sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I catch myself anxious to get off duty so I can go spend time with you..." Her voice took on a choked sound. "Oh why did you go away?" her voice squeaked and she held a hand over her mouth as she supported herself with her other hand on the casket. Quiet sobs racked through her body and it was plain to see she was weeping.

If anyone did see her weeping, no one sought to comfort her; or maybe they simply didn't know how, or if they should. Whatever the reason, Jesa was left in her own quiet little universe for quiet some time, as she slowly ran through memories of them together. But the image she kept settling on was of one night, a very late night after dancing, when they simply held each other and swayed to the slow music. For hours, she stayed like that with him, her head against his chest, feeling his breath against her hair, his heartbeat under her ear... his gentle movements and his caressing touch on her hair and down her back.

It seemed even now he could find the way to comfort her. She felt something against her cheek, and reached up to touch it softly, running her fingertips down to her chin and then off again. Her eyes went unfocused, distant, as she searched for something. A memory, a feeling, she wasn't sure what it was, maybe it was even a thought. Yet, as she searched for it in the inter-realms of her mind, she was startled when someone touched her on the shoulder. Turning around, she saw Lysander's eyes, sad and solemn, looking back into her own.

He only said one phrase, a whispered one at that. "It's time."

Ceremonies of Healing ::part 4::

:: Starbase 120, Blue Hall

Jesa took the black-finished and stained wood podium slowly, grasping the edges of it firmly. For a long moment she looked at the polished surface, watching her reflection curiously look back at her, with various emotions swirling in her face like the clouds on a windy day. Slowly, the mix of emotions settled down into calmness, a mask forming over the emotions and the other masks she always wore. Jesa could hear the sounds of the crowd, shuffling, and slight coughing at times, a few benches squeaking... all waiting for her to speak... She so disliked speeches, and this one was even more difficult.

How could she tell them to go on when she herself felt the need to give up? How could she comfort their wounds when hers were open and oozing her life away? How could she minister to them, when her own hurt filled all of her vision? There was little room left for looking after others. She hadn't prepared for this, for everything she wrote sounded inadequate, and clumsy. Finally she looked up, stopping for a moment to glance over the faces. Most were tinged with sadness, others were looking impatient, but they were the minority. She looked over at the command staff, those in the front row, and they looked more curious, but patient... wondering what she was waiting for.

Jesa cleared her throat, regaining her center of focus. "Evening, fellow officers... I do not say good evening, because for most of us this evening is a reminder of what has transpired over the past few weeks aboard our ship. Just looking around the room, the number of those crewmates, those who walked the halls with us, those who breathed and laughed and ate with us, those we passed, are laid out here, lifeless..." She looked down briefly, fighting her own tears.

"A question came to me when I was writing up the official notifications for the families of these." She swept her arms wide, indicating the row upon row of caskets that lay before them. "The official, 'we regret to inform you...' letters. The ones I hate so much. They are gone, we are alive, with holes in our lives, and in our hearts... spaces they used to occupy, that have been forcibly removed. I asked myself... Why do this? Why gather here? For what purpose does this serve?"

"In the quote unquote, commander's manual, this would be listed as... 'preserving the unity of the crew and promoting good morale', stated as cold as you please. They would have me go on about the honor to serve in Starfleet, and the noble way we are sometimes called to lay down our lives. As if this was just some ritual that would make everything alright again. As if somehow those platitudes would make the pain go away. As if somehow the rationalization would fill those holes in our lives, those friends, brothers, sisters, spouses, and even children... that have been left by those departed."

Jesa shook her head softly. "No... I tell you that it is not enough. To serve here is an honor, and to die in this service may be noble... but it is not right, necessary, or sufficient. For what cause could justify the taking of lives? For what "mistake" innocently stumbled upon, could be rationalized as "expendable personnel." No... no one is expendable... and in our daily life, in our duty and in our service, we may be called upon to do things that are necessary, but not best... And we may be called upon to die... or be killed... and this is the reality of our life... " She looked around solemnly, her eyes flashing with emotion.

"But look around you... as still in my heart, I ask... is it worth it? At the same time, needing to accept it and move on." Her voice was quiet, tender, speaking with amazing honesty she didn't know she could conjure. She took a deep breath. "We come here for two reasons, and I wish to urge you to consider both... We come here together, to support each other's losses, because when the Isannah exploded, ripping out the innards of the ship like some beast, we didn't just lose the materials, we didn't just lose the people who died, we lost... a part of ourselves. " She spoke softly, forcing back a gleaming in her eyes, a threat of tears in her face.

"We come here, together, because we all have lost... and for those of you just coming aboard, you come, to see our loss, to understand it, and help with it." She looked down briefly. "As clichéd as this sounds, as overused, and worn, these around us, are our family... we live together, we eat together, we laugh together, we cry together... and sometimes we die together..." Jesa looked over the crowd, pausing before continuing. "The other part of what I wish to say, is an appeal... and appeal to the time we have now." She paused. "Look around you, right now, look at the people to your right, to your left, and behind you..." she spoke, but when no one moved, she urged "Go on! Look around!"

A few moments passed as the sound of shifting of benches and chairs and people uttering hasty apologies and such. Then she spoke again. "How many can you remember the first name of? How many do you know? How many have you seen dozens of times, but never stopped to say hi? How many do you know in regards to what is important to them, why they are here, and what they wish to do? How many have you been around for months and really don't know?"

"My appeal to you is this... don't wait. Don't wait for 'the right time', for that may never come. If you have words you have needed to speak to those around you; speak them. If you have been waiting for the right time to do something so important with someone who means something to you; do it... Don't wait. Life is too fleeting to leave the essence and the best of it... to the chance of tomorrow. Don't leave important things in hope for another day, because... like we see here... tomorrow, may never come..." Jesa looked down and closed her eyes for a moment, then stepped back from the podium to indicate she was quite finished. Something she said to Lysander drifted through her mind as she stood there with her eyes lowered. 'Mourn the dead, but remember the living...' yet, that was so hard to do...

Ceremonies of Living ::part 5::

:: Corridor

For a change, Jesa's pace was slow, relaxed...mostly contemplative. She had just spoken most eloquently on something that tore her to pieces, inside and out. More than anything she just wanted to go back to her quarters and cry. Yet, something else dragged her feet up to her office, and then, down here, to the security deck. There was something, someone, she had to take care of.

As the door opened, she caught sight of him in the cell, just looking at him for a moment before entering. Victor was seated on the floor in the middle of his cell, his hands resting on his knees. He seemed to be sleeping, or perhaps meditating, but it was difficult to tell with his back to her. Jesa decided it would be best to let him finish what he was doing before talking to him, so she took a nearby small chair and sat it down in front of the cell. When he started to move from his seat on the floor, apparently done with whatever he had been doing, she looked at him and quietly spoke. "Hello." He turned around and nodded to her, Remy skittering off his lap and hiding under the nearby bench. Jesa smiled a little at Remy's reaction...she was sure that cat would hate her until the end of time.

"Apparently...I am supposed to simply keep you behind this forcefield until they decide otherwise." She said, watching him carefully, but not overly critically.

He opened his eyes and stood up. "That's quite understandable. But if I may ask, who are 'they'?"

"You may always ask; I just may choose not to answer." Jesa raised her hand slowly to point to her collar. "Anyone with more of these than I...actually."

"Hmm yes." He said thoughtfully, more to himself than to her and sat down, crossing his legs and closing his eyes. Remy peeked out warily and slowly made her way over to his lap. She curled up and rested her head on her paws, keeping one eye open, watching Jesa intently.

She tilted her head, watching him, deciding to change the subject, for now. "Do you know what I just did? I just came back...from seeing...over a third of my crew, laid out in caskets, dead...and their mourning families weeping over their bodies." She shook her head slightly. "I am actually ashamed to say that...I hardly knew any of them...One hundred and thirty seven dead...and for what? I suppose I will ask that question many times."

Victor watched her closely, careful not to give anything away. Nearly everything he had said and done had been leading up to this moment, but one small slip could bring it all crashing down on him. His voice took on a snide quality as he prepared to feel out the commander. "Yes, how interesting. So tell me Commander Callen, why are you here? I doubt you came to enjoy my company."

The snideness in his voice slipped right over her, she just shook it off. She met his eyes with intensity. "I am here...because...I have been on that side. And I have no wish to be a jailer. They have given me...no information about why you're here, and I hoped that you would be more helpful." He voice stayed a moderate calm, though an almost withdrawn one.

Something about Jesa's choice of words struck Victor the wrong way. Normally, he would have said that she was just curious and lazy (typical of Lonnie officers), but he was getting the distinct impression that he was some kind of symbol to her. There was no way to tell exactly what it was Victor was supposed to represent. Something opposed to whomever the commander considered an enemy. Victor needed more information. He gave a defeated sigh, "What would you know, Commander? Would you hear of the 'foolish renegade who betrays Starfleet to its most dangerous enemy'? Hmm?"

'What would Starfleet say to one of theirs which is their most dangerous enemy…' Jesa shifted slightly, looking at the man sitting there, wondering what his life did hold. "Betrayal comes in many forms, and is judged differently depending on your viewpoint...I am willing to hear you out, Tyne…" she spoke clearly, but softly.

"Hmm well I believe the official charges are stealing classified information concerning Starfleets 'Axis' project, violating Starfleet General Order 21, and attempting to sabotage a Starfleet vessel. All of which amounts to high treason." That much was the truth, as far as he knew. It would be stupid to try to lie about something when it was very possible she could verify if what he said was true.

' 'Axis'...why does that sound vaguely familiar?' Jesa asked herself, but shoved the thought out of her head for later contemplation. "The official charges...don't tell me much." Jesa said, looking at him levelly.

He folded his arms across his chest and met her gaze. "So what do you want then? Do you want me to spout the classic dribble about 'fighting for my own people against insurmountable odds'? How I worked the last five years of my life to create something stronger than the Federation ever will be? Would you hear of Tami?" Victor immediately clapped his mouth shut, cursing himself. He'd allowed the character he was playing for the commander's benefit carry him too far on that one, and he knew he'd pay for the slip later.

'It is almost chance, that the 'heroes' are heroes rather than scum, for when the chances they take are completed, it is a matter of what cost, and who won.' Jesa pulled herself back to the present. Tami...the feeling around the way he uttered that word echoed in her own heart, with another's name in its place. She sighed softly, she wanted to ask, as this was the second time he had brought that name up, but she would allow him the dignity of her skipping over it. She could see in his posture silent curses to himself.

"Believe it or not, scoff at it or not, I am trying to help you, Mister Tyne...and am doing my level best to determine if that is feasible or not." She said, looking at him with what was perhaps the second mildest expression in her arsenal.

He stood up and faced her down, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Now it was time to bait the hook. "You little pawn. What can you possibly offer me? Do you actually believe that you can get me off for 'good behavior'?" He nearly spat at her. "How awfully naive of you." He lay down on the bench with a silly grin on his face. "Besides, I've already made better arrangements…" If indeed Victor represented a threat to the commander's enemies, that should prove just enough to get her attention.

Jesa sighed silently, looking at the man and shaking her head. "No, I didn't think I could get you off, and if the charges are true without any justification, I wouldn't wish that. But I perhaps could have offered a balanced opinion when the time came for trial...and until then, freedom on this ship, my ship." Jesa slowly stood, resting her hand on the back of the chair. "But since...it is quite obvious you have no desire to discuss this with me...I will leave you in peace, and I apologize for disturbing your evening." She said softly, with meekness she didn't know she had, turning to replace the chair where it was.

He sat up suddenly, his interest piqued. If everything he assumed was true, then he definitely represented something to the commander. Her enemies obviously had some kind of power over her, and this was her way of 'thumbing her nose', so to speak, without directly challenging them. But who would hold that kind of sway over a Starfleet officer? "What exactly do you mean by 'freedom'…?"

Jesa paused, then looked at him, resting both hands on the back of the chair. "I mean, that you would live here, work here, just as any other member of the crew. That is the most I can offer, I'm afraid."

He laid his arms in his lap. "Well, anything is better than rotting away in here." He tapped the forcefield with a finger, causing the energy to spark to life. "Shall we shake on it?"

She tilted her head at him slightly. "You do think me very naive, don't you?" she said, looking at him "How can I trust you? I need to know what happened; because unlike most of the rest of this crew, in you, I have great reason not to trust. And I must think of them first, their safety...and would you be a danger to them? If you were in my position, what would you do?"

He laughed merrily. "I would chuck me out the nearest airlock, as would you if you had any sense whatsoever. But I am a man of honor, and I swear it upon my word as a gentleman that if you should lower this forcefield and grace me with your touch, I would do nothing more than perhaps give a gentle squeeze or another kiss." He bowed low, pure sincerity showing on his face. Everybody loved a clown, and Victor needed to ingratiate himself to the commander right from the start.

Jesa smiled very slightly at his laughter, then just looked at him for a moment. Her instincts were seldom wrong, and something told her that this man could be trusted at his word; unless, like her, other things overrode it. So the real question was, how many other prior commitments did his word have before any promise to her, and how likely would it be called against a promise to her? In this universe of uncertainty, who knew?

"Victor Tyne...I will give you this amount of trust in your freedom on two conditions." She spoke strongly, her posture straightening and looking at him, moving to stand beside the chair she had set in front of the cell.

He straightened up, assuming his most regal pose. "And those are?"

"One, that you give me your word that you will do nothing to harm, or in any way jeopardize the operation of this ship, or the well-being of anyone on it. And I will trust your good interpretation to not legalize and find loopholes in that statement. Including your obligations fulfilled just as any other member of the crew, without exception...accepting any watch I may decide to put on you." She spoke clearly.

He gave another low bow. "To do anything but would be dishonorable. You have my word as a gentleman that I will abide by those laws." This was the perfect character for him, the gentleman-rogue. It was one he'd played before to great effect, and would serve his purposes impeccably here as well.

Jesa smiled inwardly, not allowing it to show. It was rare in her experience to find someone who still behaved in this manner. Interesting, but odd. "And second...I need to know what happened...all of it, the whole story, without holding back except by what previous oaths you may have given. I need to know the man I am giving freedoms to. Yes, I do realize how much of an intrusion into your life this is...but I will need to know all of it, starting with…" her voice became gentler, treating the name with reverence. "…who was Tami?"

Victor's face blanched and he sighed deeply; he had known this would come up sooner or later. "Assuming it is any of your business, Tami Roh is the name of my late wife." He tilted his head to one side, a spark of anger glimmering in his eyes for just a moment. Victor needed to quash this topic once and for all, or it could prove his undoing later. "Since we're being honest with each other, I suppose you wouldn't mind telling me who "Buck" is..."

Jesa gripped the back of the chair tighter for a moment, her eyes closing involuntary for a moment in pain. She still had to fight back the tears whenever his name was uttered. Her breath was more ragged than she meant it to be, but she drew it finally. "Buck...is...was...my fiancé. I made him a promise that when we finally made it back to the Starbase, we would be married, as we had been putting it off for quite some time…" she breathed carefully. "He...never made it...died on the return trip." She bit her lip, forcing herself to regain composure. "But you would have known all that from talking to anyone on the ship…" She fought the urge to twist Buck's engagement ring on her finger, somehow to hold on.

Guilt spread across his face, and through the rest of him as well, though he merely filed the feeling away in some corner of his mind. Victor hated to have to do that, but it was necessary. He would atone for it later, when he had the time. "Please, forgive me. I meant no harm." He reached out as if to comfort her, and the forcefield crackled its defiance.

She was snapped out of her thoughts by the crackling forcefield, trying to find a graceful way to exit this emotional minefield. Jesa stepped forward towards this side of it, looked at him shamelessly, telltale tears shining in her eyes. Then she reached out and gently deactivated the forcefield. Then she looked back at him. "It's not your fault." She said with a shake of her head.

He took a tentative step out of the cell, searching her face, then slowly and comfortingly took her hand in both of his, his expression marred with guilt. "Still, I apologize."

Jesa smiled the barest of smiles, allowing her hand to remain relaxed in his. "It's alright...all is forgiven." Her smile grew slightly wider, at the tenacious nature of her own mind. "I still need to know what happened…."

He looked around, bringing their surroundings to her attention. "Perhaps we could go somewhere else to discuss this? I don't think this is quite the right setting for my tale of heroism...or traitorism...whatever you prefer to call it."

She nodded slightly. "Of course." She paused a moment "I know somewhere on the base where not many officers go...we won't be observed, or harassed." Then she looked down at the cat who seemed quite...displeased, with the friendliness her master was showing with Jesa...or at least lack of outright dislike. "Only point is what to do with...Remy? Is that her name?"

He gave a sharp whistle and the cat bounded up into his arms, growling softly at Jesa until Victor tapped her head. "Oh, our little terror will just have to manage, won't she?" He tickled Remy playfully, and was rewarded with a few scratches on his hand but it did nothing to dampen his spirits.

Jesa smiled softly at his affection, then stepped back, moving a step away and waiting for him to fall into step. He walked beside her, stroking Remy gently and whispering comforting words in her little ear. And, if he didn't know better, he would have said that the cat's reaction to Jesa was just a front, much like his own…

And so they left, walking side by side, Victor cradling his precious Remy, and Jesa wondering how the heck she was going to justify this particular action. Of course, unbeknownst to them, their entire conversation had been observed, and that particular person wasn't pleased by the turn of events, not pleased at all. She glared at the monitor, then turned and said to no one in particular. "So, our dear Captain is sleeping with the enemy now? We'll just see about that."

Loaded: 03.20.2004