[BACKLOG] The Return of Something Old - Canaan's Return

Posted on Sunday November 6th, 2022 @ 3:28am by Lieutenant Commander Canaan Serine & Commodore Gregory Paladin

2,729 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Concluding Affairs
Location: USS Poseidon; Deck 6 - Senior Officer's Complex
Timeline: In Transit; Cardassian Refugees on board
Tags: Canaan, Refugees, Return

[ON]

Commodore Paladin had been surprised by many things lately. Top of which was with cadets who came in. Typically, as academy commodore, he had some manner of control over who arrived and came to the ship for training. He had a dedicated staff of yeoman, ensuring that specific criteria were met to avoid any unfortunate situation with unprepared cadets. In the manner of new arrivals, he typically only grabbed the best - a prime example is the ship's new Cardassian assistant chief medical officer, lieutenant Kicil Priadden, who he had stumbled on by accident and pulled strings to grab.

However, there were times these situations were out of his control.

Gregory played with the edges of his cup of coffee as he thought over the events of the last 24 hours. An admiral Johnston from Starfleet had contacted him a few hours ago, stating that he was pulling a favor for Gregory on behalf of an old friend. The file was sent only after Gregory had approved the transfer and the transferring crewman was en route. The file had been opened just a few moments before Gregory was holding the coffee, and his thoughts had drifted far more profound than he had anticipated. Work had encompassed his life as of late, this some odd year or so since he last saw Canaan. The commodore was left stunned and somewhat surprised when Starfleet Command had effectively ordered him back through various channels and favors that Canaan had somehow managed to accumulate and use.

He had believed he'd never see Canaan again. He thought that the love he had experienced would never foster again. He had tried to move on with another member of the Poseidon crew lately, but it had never taken off the ground. His mind had always been with Canaan.

The door chimed, and after his yeoman informed him of the arrival, Gregory stood to greet Canaan after so long.

Nervous. The word so inadequately described the fusion of emotions he was experiencing. His heart was hammering in his chest cavity, and his pulse crackled in his ears. He'd taken tentative steps toward the door. Convinced was he that no force measurable could delay him.

He stood, uncertainty and apprehension catapulting their way to the forefront of the feelings overwhelming him. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. If he didn't control his breathing soon, he'd no doubt faint under the yeoman's observant gaze. They probably thought him a bit out of sorts, entertainingly or humorously.

What did they know about it all, anyway? Nothing, he mused, as Gregory and he had kept their relationship a secret outside of those with a need to know. Had that changed? Several years passed since their heartfelt goodbye at Starbase 45, and they'd not spoken to one another in those years since, wrapped up wholly in their respective careers. That didn't mean they'd not thought of each other, right? Had Gregory forgotten him? He'd moved on; that much had to be a certainty. Would Gregory even remember what they'd shared? That was a silly question, now, wasn't it? Gregory would surely remember him, hopefully as fervidly as he did Gregory.

He'd changed in the years since they'd seen one another. Physically, he was much the same, save for his hair. Dress regulations were not stringent on the Cardinal, so he'd let it grow. He wasn't as rail-thin, although that had more to do with the meals the crew had shared in cooking three times a day. The Cardinal didn't possess the creature comforts of a ship like the Poseidon, so Canaan joined in the group workout routine structured by the ship's security officer, Trinity Anderson. He'd developed a sturdy build between the workouts, sharing the daily responsibilities of rotating cargo and the frequent planet-side excursions.

Psychologically, he was more assertive. Grounded by leadership responsibilities, he'd worked through much of his past trauma. It had taken a considerable amount of effort. Between himself and the Cardinal's medical officer, Madeleine De Saint Castine, the two were dedicated to one another on an emotional level that transcended the bonds of friendship. Maddy was the sister he'd never had, and she'd helped him rediscover a hope he'd long since believed lost. With her help, he'd gone from surviving to thriving.

But it wasn't only Maddy who'd shown him there was life beyond Arach-VI. Ewo, M'Riz, Arminius, and Trinity became his family in a way he'd never expected. So when it came time to move beyond the Cardinal, his heart was heavy with a bittersweet sadness. The Cardinal had been a chapter in his career and personal life he could look back on with fondness. Much of the crew remained on for the next expedition while he returned to Earth. He'd spent six months teaching survivalist training on alien planets at Starfleet Academy. However, when he'd heard the Poseidon had an available posting in their academic training roster, he'd pulled every string and called in any favor possible to capture the opportunity.

His heart yearned to return to the place where his healing began. And here he stood, outside an office he'd visited countless times when he'd served the Poseidon as chief science officer.

With bated breath, Canaan entered Gregory's office, uncertainty clouding the rich blue of his eyes.

Gregory stood slowly. Time slowed for him as he watched Canaan enter, and emotions held tightly down through the years they had been apart coming flooding into him. It was overwhelming, more overwhelming than anything he had felt. The feeling of anxiety, fear, hope, the anxiety of their meeting, fear that he had moved on, and hope that he hadn't - however selfish. His eyes turned to the yeoman who stood just behind Canaan.

"Ensign Cline, this will be a private meeting," he said, in a way to order.

"Aye, sir," the female yeoman said. She didn't daddle or linger, nor did her gaze betray her duty. She closed the door, knowing her task was sending anyone else away for their meeting.

With that out of the way, Gregory's lips began to tremble, and slowly, the wall started to crumble. The stoic man who held the world together through thick and thin, the commodore who had faced the devil and lived... began to cry. Tears began to form, and they began to fall, and, all unexpectedly, his body yearned for the touch of another. He yearned for Canaan. He complied with the instinctive need, rushing forward and grabbing Canaan too unprofessionally and without any formal greeting. He hugged his former lover. He began to test the waters as he tried to initiate a kiss, an action as intuitive as the urge to do it was.

Canaan felt the world fade around them as he returned Gregory's embrace. His fingertips dug into the man's shoulders, finding a familiar purchase. His lips pressed against Gregory's, timid at first until tell-tale electricity charged their intimacy with an unbridled passion neither man had known before each other. Canaan's lips strayed, kissing the man's tear-stained cheeks, Gregory's stubble irritating his pale, sensitive skin. "I'm here," he whispered between a kiss to the man's temple, "don't let go… please…." He felt Gregory's arm's around him tighten as his kisses continued to the man's forehead. He breathed in Gregory deeply, body melting against his beloved.

Gregory nodded. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to cry - to let out his emotions - as he held tightly to his former lover. The electricity between them felt unyielding, as new as when it was first started. He held tightly to him, and after around thirty minutes, he began to let go gently.

Standing back, he readjusted his uniform before extending a hand for a shake.

"Welcome back, Canaan," he said with a smile. "And welcome back aboard. I've - we all - have missed you."

Canaan stepped into Gregory, helping the man to straighten his uniform tunic. "I've missed you, too," the sincerity in his voice was matched by the kind smile that played against either corner of his lips. Unlike Gregory, Canaan was dressed in civilian attire. Having decided to come directly to the commodore's office rather than changing, Canaan felt slightly out of place while straightening Gregory's crisp collar. "It's been…" he thought on his words, "too long." There was a steadiness in the softness of his tone. Instead of shaking Gregory's hand, which seemed too formal for what they'd shared, Canaan held the man's hand and pulled him to one of the two chairs in front of the large desk. "This must be a bit of a shock to you?" He asked, sitting down and staring up at Gregory with a vulnerability he'd not felt in some time.

Gregory had returned to formality in place of not knowing what to do. When Canaan led him by hand to sit, he complied, feeling comforted especially after his former lover - perhaps current - helped him straighten his attire. His mind was playing tricks on him, hoping Canaan was here to stay now; he gave the nod and wiped a tear away. He slowly regained some sense of professionalism after such a release of emotion.

"It was," Gregory admitted. "I've been... I don't know. Struggling, I think. I found the man who killed my family, Canaan. I think he's dead; he should be dead. But it was a brutal affair. I almost lost the ship again. I changed things around and made it so I'd never let my ego hold me again - chasing that damn white whale. Last I heard, Starfleet had captured him. He was... the mirror of me, a terror, a terrible thing. But I found him... and I don't know if it was worth it."

His eyes looked up, defeated, somewhat lost expression in his eyes as he looked up to Canaan.

Canaan understood, recognizing a distance in Gregory's eyes and the undertone of defeat in the softness of his voice. Had the experience brought any semblance of closure to Gregory's life? In how he described the ordeal, perhaps not. How could closure be an option when mysterious circumstances exacted such a heavy toll? He empathized with Gregory's struggle and the relentless demons plaguing his heart, mind, and soul. It united them in a bond that superseded anything he'd experienced.

"He..." Canaan replied softly, "... is an indelible part of your life. What he did to you, what he took from you, that will never go away." He swallowed hard, his gaze holding Gregory's. "But, what he did to you he cannot do to anybody else, and countless others can rest easier without even knowing it." Canaan offered what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "You will move forward, surrounded by those who love and care about you, while he stays put... cemented in place by evil deeds. He deserves no more time, attention, or energy from you." Canaan reached out, cupping Gregory's cheek as he stared affectionately at the man.

The memories of the encounter rushed back. Initially, the situation had developed because of a Gorn Pirate named Russhook. He had been the personal bane of the USS Poseidon's Chief Science Officer, Lt. Commander Sam Perkins. It turned out later that Gregory had come across Russhook some years before, as the Gorn had been an Academy dropout and - effectively - had been failed by the Academy. After the affair, Gregory joined a team from the USS Nautilus for a private expedition and encountered his mirror self. The final confrontation had been brief, Mirror Gregory putting up a short fight before the commodore subdued his pirate self. A team from the Nautilus had taken care of the rest.

They had exchanged words during their altercation. Words that cut deep for Gregory. Mirror Gregory had finally revealed his plans for the commodore to take over and utilize his station for nefarious purposes. He had shown that the commodore's family had "been in the way." This prompted a fistfight over five minutes, which made the commodore the superior fighter. Against all odds, he had survived and, in doing so, had ended possibly one of the greatest threats to the quadrant in an instant.

But it wasn't the fight itself that had taken such a heavy toll on Gregory. It was the fact that, in retrospect, he had utilized Academy and Starfleet assets for years, influenced people's lives and decisions, changing the course of personal histories of multiple people to catch his mirror self for revenge. It nearly broke him after returning to the Poseidon. He had vowed never to undertake such a selfish crusade ever again.

"You're right," Gregory replied as he looked to Canaan, leaning his head into the palm on his cheek. "I made a mistake making it my life's mission. You came into my life, and I swore I could let go. But when you left, it all came rushing back; the anger, the hatred, the desire for revenge. And I got my revenge, but it feels empty knowing all I've done in that course. But..."

He closed his eyes softly, releasing a sniffle before opening them. He held Canaan's arm gently, moving it away so he could lean in and kiss. He embraced Canaan profoundly and lovingly.

"But it's over now," he spoke softly, "And you're back... now what do we do?"

Canaan breathed in deeply, a steady exhale slow to follow. He gently gnawed at his lower lip, savoring Gregory's kiss as he thought about how best to respond. "We..." he started, a smile playing against the softness of his lips, "... continue performing our duties admirably and see what life has in store for us both?" He wondered. "When I learned the Poseidon needed an instructor, I knew returning was a certainty fulfilled. I've changed, though, too, Gregory." He admitted with confidence he'd discovered in his time on the Cardinal. "I want to know you - who you are now since we last said goodbye. And I want you to know me, too." Evident their feelings were for one another, blossomed from time past, now would present an opportunity for rediscovery. "For right now, maybe we take this one step at a time." He tucked the hair that'd fallen over his eyes behind an ear, unveiling several new piercings along the curve of its helix. "Is that okay with you?" His eyes held Gregory's, searching them for an answer.

"I can live with that," Gregory said, smiling, eyes unwavering and sympathetic. "I understand. We've drifted apart, things happened, and events unfolded. We need time to adjust. We can do that now. Freely. For whatever it's worth, regardless, I'm just glad you're here."

Canaan's shoulders relaxed at Gregory's words. He'd not thought himself tense until feeling the relief in Gregory's eyes. "Me, too." He replied, his tone sincere. "I should speak to the quartermaster about accommodations and get a few things sorted before taking on my duties." He rose, hands clasped in front of him. "Also, I think a short visit to Kana is in order." He said with a grin. Taking a moment to glance around, Canaan took in another deep breath. So much had changed, yet it also remained the same. He was glad to be back... to be home.

Gregory stood, nodding gingerly. "I'm sure things will get situated quickly; keep me updated."

He stood, daring to give Canaan a polite hug before turning to leave.

"I have some academy stuff to address, but... maybe we'll see each other this evening or after?"

It was a hopeful query. Gregory didn't want to press Canaan, but it still was a hopeful request.

Canaan returned the hug, offering a subtle nod to Gregory's suggestion of seeing one another again later. Eyes lingering on the commodore for another moment, Canaan turned to leave without saying another word. His belongings would have been transported by now, and there was still much to do before he stepped into his new role onboard the Poseidon.

[OFF]

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Lieutenant Commander Canaan Serine
Academy Training Officer
USS Poseidon

&

Commodore Gregory Paladin
Mission Advisor
USS Poseidon

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