Triangles
Chapter Eight
Ari walked into the pool room and sat down beside the water. Leaning over, she plunged her hands under the surface and sat there, staring at them, her mind carefully blank, trying not to see Lonnie's pale, unconscious body being pulled out of this same pool earlier in the day. Obscurely, she felt that it was all her fault. If she had spoken up about Siebas, said something about her doubts, that she could somehow have said something, anything to stop the TSUNAMI tests, and then Lonnie wouldn't have been hooked to the navigational virtual reality gear when the
balloon went up. And she wouldn't have taken the electrical jolts that she did.
Dr. Smith had been forced to admit that she was baffled by the fit, even after Lonnie had awaken, confused, nauseous, disoriented but declaring herself to feel fine. The doctor ordered her ashore to undergo a series of neurological exams and tests. She was talking about epilepsy, brain lesions or even minor stroke. Ari didn't know what to think.
"I thought I'd find you here." Without removing her hands from the water, Ari craned her head around.
"Hello Tim. Yeah, I guess I'm pretty predictable."
Folding himself up to sit beside her, Tim O'Neill brushed back the lock of hair that always fell forward into his eyes. "Not really," he confessed. "I've already been to your room, the off-duty lounge, the library and the galley." Ari turned her attention back to the water, and didn't respond. With a sigh, Tim looked at the gently shimmering surface with her, in companionable silence.
After a while, he observed, "There's really no reason for you to beat yourself over this, you know. The accident was in no way your fault." Sitting up, holding her dripping fingers up, she nodded.
"Yeah, I know. I know that here," she went on, touching the side of her head, "but here," the tip of her middle finger touched the centre of her chest, "I'm convinced that I could have prevented it." Putting her elbows on her knees, leaning her chin on her clenched fists, she steadfastly and stubbornly stared out at nothingness. "You know, I keep thinking that if I hadn't been so determined about keeping Siebas on a professional keel, if I'd let him take the advantages he expected, then I could have gotten him kicked off the boat. And none of this would have happened." Tim snorted, a derisive bark of laughter.
"No way," he contradicted, cheerfully insulting. "You just would have gotten yourself dirty. Look, Ari, the brass wanted TSUNAMI tested, they wanted it tested by SeaQuest, and nothing that you could have said or done would have made the slightest difference in the outcome." Reaching around her, he pulled her shoulders around to face him.
"You performed a difficult task professionally and efficiently. You have nothing to feel guilty about."
"Except I'm here and she's on her way to an onshore hospital for observation." Feeling her face begin to crumble, Ari wrenched herself out of his grip and turned back to the safe expanse of the pool. "It isn't fair. And I shouldn't feel the way I do. Tim, I'm ashamed because I'm glad that it isn't me." Biting her lip, the tears began to slide down her cheeks as she made the shameful confession. To her surprise, instead of being shocked, her friend chuckled warmly, pulling her to his chest and kissing the top of her head. Glad of the warmth of his support, she finally let loose her tears of fear and grief and shame.
"There's nothing wrong with feeling that way," he comforted her. "It's natural, and understandable. You and Lonnie were both injured during the accident. It's survivor guilt." Sniffling slightly, Ari nodded her head.
Before she could find anything to say, however, Seaman Anthony Piccolo walked into the room. "Oh, Ensign Adler," he said, as if surprised to see her. "There you are. I couldn't find you and nobody knew where you were. Miguel seemed to think that you were in the shuttle bay. So, anyway, I left it in your quarters. I hope that's ok."
Ari pushed away from Tim, turning on the crewman a look of so much guilt, he blinked and grinned, while Tim stifled a laugh. As his words percolated through her surprise, however, her expression became one of complete incomprehension. "You left what in my quarters?" she asked.
"The box." Her expression didn't betray any understanding, and Tony tried again. "The one the guys at the shuttle point wanted to deliver to you." Seeing that she still didn't know what he was talking about, Piccolo started the story from the beginning. "Well, you know I was piloting the shuttle taking Lonnie to the hospital? While I was waiting, a couple of lawyer types comes up to the shuttle point reserved for SeaQuest and they start making noises about how I should drive them out here 'cause they've got something really important that they gotta give to you. Now, there's no way I was going to do anything of the kind, so, finally, they give me all these papers to sign and make me promise that I'd give the box to you and nobody else. I told them I would, but then I couldn't find you when I got back, so I put it into your room. I hope that's ok," he repeated.
Ari sat back, sharing a puzzled look with Tim. "Was there any name on the box?" she asked, trying to figure it out. "Any return address." Tony screwed up his eyes, trying to remember.
"I remember that the name started with a little letter and had a big one in the middle of it," he stated uncertainly. "And it didn't look too English to me." Ari's face changed as a possibility occurred to her.
"Could it have been deLegardi?" she asked quietly. At Tim's questioning glance, she answered, "My Uncle Paul. Aside from my nun Aunt, he was my only living relative." Getting to her feet, she started to leave the moon pool, saying, "I might as well go see what it is and who it's from, as stay here playing twenty questions." But she paused at the door and looked back, fixing Piccolo with a gimlet eye. "Oh, and Tony," she said warningly, "if you don't stop calling me ensign Adler when we're off-duty, I'm going to start calling you Seaman Piccolo all the time. Is that understood?"
A big grin on his face, Tony threw out his chest and burlesqued a salute, "Yes sir, sir!" he barked back. Ari half-grinned back at him and spun around, right into Miguel, who put his hands on her shoulders to keep her from falling.
Looking past her, to the communications officer, only now beginning to stand up, he called out, "Tim! You told me that you had seen her in the shuttle bay! You lied to me, you rat."
Ari reached up to remove his hands. Holding them briefly, she smiled up into his eyes. "Sorry, Miguel, but I've got to see about something in my quarters." She looked back at Tim and then at the sensor chief standing in her way. "I'll see you both in the galley in about an hour's time, ok?" Then she quickly ducked under the burly chief's arm and disappeared down the corridor.
Walking into the room, Miguel poked Tim on the shoulder, "You knew she was here all along, didn't you?" he accused. His friend just smiled and shook his head.
Turning toward Piccolo, heading out toward the other door, Tim yelled, "Hey, Tony." The ex-inmate halted, looking at him with upraised eyebrows. "How was Lonnie last time you saw her?" the lieutenant asked, his concern for his injured friend clear to see.
Tony took a few steps back in their direction. "She looked ok, to me. She said that she didn't see what the big deal was, it was just a little faint, she hadn't eaten much breakfast. But Dr. Smith, she wasn't buying any of it. She said that if it was low blood sugar, then she wanted to know for a fact that that was what it was, and Lonnie wasn't leaving the hospital observation until the doctors was one hundred percent certain that Lonnie was ready for duty again, no matter what anybody had to say about that."
"But Lonnie looked all right?" Miguel asked, looking for confirmation.
"Yeah, Lonnie looked great. But then, Lonnie always looks great." With this, the crewman turned and ducked out the other door. Miguel pivoted his torso around to look Tim in the face.
"Now, I believe that we were talking about someone lying to someone else?" he said quietly, the laughter imperfectly suppressed underneath. Tim smiled broadly.
"I don't think you want to talk about that," he suggested. "Not to someone who has the books you might want to borrow to study for the officer's test. Come on," he slapped one arm around the other man's shoulders, "Let's go see what you need for it." Together, they walked out of the room.
The package was on the floor just inside the door, as though the crewman had slipped in just far enough to put it down and no further. Smiling, Ari picked it up. Tony was a strange amalgam of cocky bravado and shy courtliness, she thought that he probably had a lot to say, but he always got uncomfortable in her presence.
Sitting on the bed, she examined the package closely. It was from her Uncle, or rather, from his lawyers. Not a very large box, wooden, about the size and shape of a shoe box, no. A boot box, more likely, with the legs straight up. Opening it carefully, she found it packed with straw and wood chips, most peculiar. With a letter on top. Carefully placing the mysterious package on the floor, she settled back onto her bed and opened the letter.
'My dearest Irene,' her eyes filled with tears. He must have written this after his stroke. Her finger gently traced the wavering, uncertain letters, so unlike his usual bold, decisive style, but heartbreakingly the same as well. 'This is the last time I shall write to you mon petit rien, my little nothing. Oh, no. Never that. If you only knew what you meant to me.' Ari swallowed hard. Little Nothing had been a pet name. It was how she felt these days, hollow, empty, trying desperately to find something to fill in the hole.
In a voice roughened still further by tears, she replied to the spirit of the man behind the letter, "Oh, I knew, Uncle Paul. I knew. And I felt the same way. I just wish I could have, ..." With a sigh, she continued reading.
'Mon petit rien. Do you know how you got that epithet? The first time I saw you was mere hours after you were born. You were so small and wrinkled, ugly as a monkey. So small. As I picked you up, you weighed no more than a kitten, I told your mother that it had been a lot of work for so little a nothing. And she hit me, but carefully, because I was holding you.'
Ari blinked away the tears blurring the shakey letters, making them even more difficult to read. "I knew that, Uncle. I knew," she whispered.
'I also remember the first time you met Andrew. Do you? Ah, child, if your father hadn't been stuck on that six month tour and your mother pregnant with the twins, there's no way I could have gotten permission for you to visit us in Paris. I was so scared. There you were, an infant of six years, but you knew your own mind even then.
'When Andrew met us at the airport, you walked right up to him, tugged on his coat hem until he knelt down to see what you wanted, and you stared him in the eyes. He told me later that he was terrified you would yell or cry or, even worse, just turn turn away coldly. It was the longest 3 minutes of my life, dear heart. But then you smiled and lifted your arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. You won his heart that day, you know.'
"No," Ari corrected him softly. "I already had it, for he had yours. I just wanted to be sure, that's all."
'Oh, Irene. I wanted to be there, to see your children growing as I saw your mother grow, and you. I wanted to see you settled and happy. But, no time for that, now.
'Your Aunt Mary called me "Uncle Pandarus". She was quite mistaken about many other things, as well. I have lived my life to the full, it is true, and I have no regrets except one. That I did not fight that ruling to the fullest extent. If I had pushed a little harder, then I could have gotten the venue changed to France, and then, oh, what a difference! But to see you, year by year, grow more reserved, more inward, more untouchable. It was agony to watch. If it hadn't been for SeaQuest, I really think that she would have seduced you to the convent.'
An explosion of laughter mixed with tears stopped Ari from reading further. "Oh, NO!" she contradicted the dead man, laying the letter aside carefully and covering her face with her hands. "Never! I knew I had no vocation, no call to holy service. I wanted military service!" The tears and pain in her throat started the dry cough again. Wiping her eyes with the heels of her hands, Ari got up and got a drink of water, sipping it slowly as she continued to read.
'I told you years ago what kind of wake I wanted. You won't be here for my burial, I know that and accept it. In a way, I am happy that you shan't be here. This way, you will always remember me alive, and happy. But I still want you to give me the send off you promised.
'Andrew has selected a bottle of the finest vintage brandy from my cellars. I charge you, my beloved great-niece, to share it with the one you love the best, remembering me kindly, with laughter, love, song and cheer. And mon petit rien, no tears.'
Ari bent her head, denying the hot splashes threatening the words on the fine paper. "No, no tears, Uncle Paul. I promise. I'm trying to anyway." Her fingers traced the closing.
'Forever and Always, best beloved. And always remember; Credendo vides y quaerendo invenietis. I remain your loving relative, St. Paul deLegardi.'
"Credendo vides y quaerendo invenietis," she repeated in a whisper. "Believing is seeing and seeking is finding. I will remember." Folding the letter with trembling hands, she carefully placed it into the chest pocket of her uniform, touching it like a talisman. Slipping down to kneel on the floor, Ari began to unpack the box, pulling the bottle out of it's carefully prepared bed. Looking it over carefully, she frowned. It wasn't the kirsch brandy he'd always said he would send to her.
Leaning back against the bed, she rested the bottle on the floor and put her head up, feeling the burning tracks made by the tears rolling down her cheeks. Who should she share it with. Uncle Paul would have liked Tim, he would have approved of his dry wit and quick quips, so like his own. But Miguel, hmmm. Miguel would have appealed to his sense of fun. And he so much liked the accounts she'd written about the chief, asking for more information.
With a sobbing gulp, she tried to stop crying and stood up. Uncle Paul would be horrified if he could see her like this. She wiped her eyes carefully, trying not to press too hard on the bruises and blew her nose. Miguel or Tim? Which would it be? Leaning forward, she peered into the mirror as if that could give her the answer, but her own miserable face stared back silently. They'd both be in the galley by now. She'd put off the decision until later. As she lifted the bottle, careful not to shake or bruise it, she gave a sad, uncertain half smile. Maybe she'd share it with both of them. Uncle would like that.
Much later, Ari woke in an unfamiliar room, held tightly against a warm body, another one curled up at her back. Opening her eyes, she smiled euphorically to see Miguel's face so close to her own that she could feel the heat of his breath. Tim stirred against, and she peered over her shoulder, suddenly afraid that he might wake up.
Carefully, she unclasped her hands from around Miguel's neck, unable to resist running her fingers through his curls before pulling them away. For a few moments she lay there, quietly watching him, wishing that she didn't have to go. Tim pushed against her back, trying to get more room, and pressing her closer to Miguel who reacted by tightening his grip even more. Ari sighed. Reaching behind, she tried to force his fingers apart, as tight as he was holding on, she didn't think that she would be able to wiggle out. But he didn't want to let go.
After a while, she gave up and lay there, watching him sleep and wondering what to do. Then with an impish smile, she began to kiss him softly, tracing his teeth with her tongue and rubbing her hands over his body. In his sleep, he responded, moving his hands up to her shoulders reaching for new purchase, With a carefully suppressed giggle, the ensign pushed him over onto his back, rolling up on top of him, over and off. Tim murmured something in his sleep and she froze, crouched down on the floor beside the bunk. She didn't want him to see her like this.
The ridiculousness of her situation hit her and Ari pressed her hand over her mouth, trying to stop the giggles bubbling up her throat. Tim must have seen her like this, if she was like this, but how had she gotten to be like this, with them like that? Miguel reached out in the air, his arms seeking the body that had just been filling them, and finally found Tim's shoulder, just as he rolled over. Deciding it was probably as safe as it would be, Ari stood up and started collecting her clothes by feel, folding Miguel's as she came to them and stacking them together.
Dressing quickly, she picked up the pile of clothes and carried them over to the table, putting them down beside the bottle of brandy. Seeing it there, her drink addled mind suddenly yielded the answer to the question.
Uncle Paul's legacy! Ari'd walked into the room, and found the two of them had already been at the cognac, stripped and demanding an answer that she wasn't prepared to give. But they were so persuasive, and the brandy so smooth, that she agreed, ... Her smile faded, what had she agreed to, she wondered.
Oh! Yes! They'd gotten into some heavy duty petting and mutual masturbation, that was it. She shook her head at her absentmindedness. With a deep sigh and a contented smile, she turned to go, pausing to examine Miguel one last time by the light of the reading lamp. Bending down, she kissed him lightly on the forehead and left the room, shutting the door and locking it behind her. Didn't want anyone just walking in and seeing that, she thought, laughing. No telling what they'd think.
The click of the lock springing to sounded loudly in the quiet room and Miguel's eyes snapped open. For a moment, they didn't focus properly, then he looked at the warm, naked shape cuddled in his arms. Horrified, he slowly pulled his limbs free of the tangle and retreated off the bed, his body reacting in shock to the sight. Tim O'Neill? He and Tim?
Feeling something close to panic, Miguel looked around the floor for his clothes, picking up a pair of uniform pants and putting them down again as he realized they weren't his. Then he saw the neat pile on the desk and lifted the jacket. Nodding grimly, he dressed as fast as he could. Tim burbled happily in his sleep, something about Ari.
Ari! Miguel froze. If she found out about this, she'd be devastated. How could he look her in the face again? This made a mockery of everything that he'd ever hoped for, marriage, children, a home life. Quietly, he stood up and left Tim's quarters, feeling as though the bottom had fallen out of his world. Behind him, Tim frowned in his sleep, patted the air and rolled over, hugging his pillow close and curling up around it.
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