seaQuest DSV
Fic Title: Only in My Dreams
Fic author: katirene (XMP)
Fic rating: PG
Disclaimer: This is based on the second season of the Amblin Television and Universal Television series "seaQuest DSV", created by Rockne S. O'Bannon. As is understood, I do not own any part of these characters, and have made no profit in the writing and sharing of this fic.Further disclaimer: This is an Ari Adler seaQuest fic.
Only in my dreams - part 2
Miguel headed back to his quarters, and a long overdue shower, walking slowly because Dr. Smith had given him a great deal to think about. Surely Ari couldn't have misunderstood what he meant that badly. Could she? He was turning into the corridor leading to his cabin, wishing with all his might that he could see her, when he heard the sound of steps quickly approaching from behind. Ari...?
No. Jim Brody. Besides, it was well past the middle of second shift, she'd be in bed by now and probably asleep. With a sigh, wishing he were with her, he shrugged and continued toward the hatch to his quarters.
"Miguel!" Lt. Brody called out. "Wait up. I've got to talk to you." The big tactical officer came up behind him and clapped a friendly hand onto the depressed chief's shoulder, removing it immediately with a grimace of distaste. "Eeewwww. I don't know how to tell you this, Ortiz, but you stink."
"What would we do without your tact, Brody," Miguel answered drily. He thought he heard a whisper of his name from the passage above and looked up in time to be drawn into the deep blue pools that were Ari Adler's eyes. Regardless of the man beside him, he felt himself pulled in her direction and saw her step hesitantly toward him as well.
"Hey, Adler!" Jim called out, raising his hand in her direction. Startled, she glanced toward the lieutenant. Miguel blinked and when he looked again, she was gone.
"That's funny," Brody mused. "I could have sworn I saw her. It's just as well. I wanted to talk to you first. I'll catch her later." Miguel fought the growing urge to slug the seaQuest security officer. If he hadn't shouted like that...
"Anyway," Jim continued, oblivious to the other man's irritable thoughts. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Miguel put his hand out to open the latch on the door, pushing it ajar. "You and Adler are pretty close, aren't you?" The sensor chief froze, wondering how he could answer this question. Before talking to Dr. Smith, he would have said, 'Of course.' but now he wasn't sure. Jim didn't give him any chance to answer, though, pushing the door open and stepping into the crew cabin in front of the room's owner. Miguel followed Brody in.
"So, I thought that you'd be the perfect person to ask about this since Dr. Smith says that she sees one of the other doctors onboard so she doesn't know her all that well. I figured you'd be able to answer this, if any one could. I mean, I just don't understand it, it doesn't make any sense, the way things have been going and..."
"Jim," Miguel interrupted carefully. "Just what is it you want to ask?" What he wanted for himself was to get that shower, and then maybe see if Ari were still awake and if she were find out what she wanted and maybe, just maybe, once they could have a conversation that didn't degenerate into a petty argument. What he definitely didn't want was to be standing here stinking of himself while this idiot took his time getting to the point.
"It's just... Well. What's wrong with Ari Adler?" Miguel dropped heavily onto his roommate's bottom bunk, feeling as though all the energy were being pulled out of him.
"Why?" he asked dully, wondering if the real answer to the question was 'me'. If Wendy was to be believed, it should be.
"Because, I don't understand it. Ok, here's the deal," and Jim Brody sat down beside him and held out his hand. "I've had teams doing ambush for the past couple of weeks, since the doc okayed her for action. And, since we don't schedule them for her duty watches, that means off-duty time. Beginning of second shift and end of third. Now that's not a problem..." Miguel felt bewildered, hearing the words but they were making absolutely no sense whatsoever.
"Hold it," he ordered, holding up one hand. "Let me see if I understand you. You've been arranging to ambushes? Where? Who?"
"Adler. And all over the boat. That's part of the exercise." That was what Miguel had thought that he meant, but the idea of the big, hulking, muscle bound security people jumping little, delicate Ari filled him with anger, and fear.
"You've had teams, as in more than one person, attacking my girl?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
"Yeah ... Ah, no, not exactly. One ambushes her and the other observes and stops things if they go too far. It's all perfectly safe, or it's supposed to be." Miguel closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Attacking an officer was a good way to get thrown into the brig. Just look at Tony.
"Why?" he asked again.
"Why what?" Jim was confused. It was all perfectly straightforward and clear from his point of view.
"Why do you have your security teams beating up on Ari?" Miguel clarified, speaking from between clenched teeth.
"Because the Captain ordered it, of course. Well, that is to say, he ordered me to make sure that Ari was prepared for any other attacks. Because of Siebas. To make sure that she can take care of herself. So, I've been seeing her in the gym every other day for hand to hand, right after duty, and she's been fine then. And the third shift team say that they have trouble finding her, let alone getting a grip on her."
"So what's the problem?" Miguel asked, breathing a sigh of relief. He should have known that Ari could handle it.
"Three members of second shift security have requested counseling for anger management," Brody said. Miguel shrugged.
"So?"
Brody's face was expressionless as he confessed, "They each claim that they lost it while on ambush against Ensign Adler, that if the observer hadn't been there, they don't know if they could have stopped themselves. Not only that, but the observers said that she was off form. Clumsy, awkward, unsure. Like she's a whole different person." He stopped, remembering the reports. "One of them said that it was as if she were fighting herself as well as the attacker," he went on slowly.
Miguel stood up, facing the wall, leaning into it, trying to make some sense out of this. But his overburdened mind couldn't handle it right now. He turned to look at Lt. Brody, standing next to the door.
"Ok, Jim, I'll tell you what. Ari is probably asleep right now. But I'll talk to her tomorrow morning and find out what I can. I appreciate you coming to see me about it." Somehow, he got Jim out of his room. That was exactly what he'd do, he decided. Ion shower now, then bed. He'd get up a couple of hours early and force Ari to talk to him, without fighting. He hoped.
But sleep didn't come easily. His mind kept running over the things that Dr. Smith said. Was he coming on too strong, too macho? Was he trying to tell Ari what to do? He didn't think so, but then he'd start replaying some of their arguments, and he wasn't so sure. And it seemed that they were arguing everytime they met now. The only way to stop them was to, well, to stop her mouth. That worked, she just sort of melted, then. But... But it didn't really seem to solve anything. Maybe it even made them worse.
And then the thought of people deliberately trying to hurt the petite junior officer. That was a frightening image that he took into the unconsciousness of night with him.
20 December 2021
The blaring alarum woke Miguel out of a deep sleep, and he reached out to slap the snooze. For a few moments more, he lay there, thinking about his dreams. They had been odd ones, and not very pleasant either.
In the ones he could remember, he'd been little again, but he hadn't been himself, he was sure. Miguel had been an overweight child, and had only lost the last of his 'baby fat' during the advanced SEAL training while on hiatus from the seaQuest. In dreams, sometimes, he was still overweight.
But in these dreams, he hadn't been. He'd been a small, thin, undergrown child. In the one he'd awakened from, the most recent one, he'd been, where? Someplace cramped, chilly, crowded. A sub. Yes, an old sub, almost an antique. Someplace he was sure he'd never been. Maybe he'd seen something like that in a movie. But in the dream, he'd known every dial and lever and he'd loved it, never wanted to leave it. There had been some people with him, and a monster, but one of the men there protected him from the monster and kept him safe.
Miguel closed his eyes and tried to remember further back to before the dream changed and became about subs. Where had he been? Someplace, another place that was cramped and cold. And lonely. Where?
He began to remember. He'd been in some kind of prison, unable to talk, to communicate, being punished for some crime. Frowning, Miguel pushed for the details. What had he done? Murder? Yes. He was in there because he'd killed someone. But in the end, he'd gotten away and he'd gotten to the sub. So that was ok.
The dreams haunted him. They felt important, like they meant something. His mother believed that he had inherited his grandmother's psychic gifts, but Miguel had never paid much attention to her when she'd raised the subject. These dreams reminded him of those half-heard conversations. They felt like a memory, but not anything he remembered, himself. The alarum went off again, and he hit it, turning it off and starting to get up. He had to find Ari.
Concentrating on his desire to see her, to get everything straight between them, wishing he had a cup of coffee to help him wake up, he headed toward the moon pool, but swerved down the corridor toward Dr. Webster's lab instead. The pudgy, jolly marine scientist was supervising Ari's graduate school work and Miguel thought that she might be there. He heard the sounds of a fight up ahead, and hurried, stopping as he came upon them.
Ari was fighting with Coulter, moving smoothly and gracefully, eluding the security man's blows easily and landing not a few of her own. She looked up, saw Miguel and froze, stumbling into the path of Coulter's fist. It hit her squarely on the side of the head and she swayed, gasping before crumpling to the ground, while Coulter looked aghast.
Miguel sprang into action, rushing forward and sliding to a stop on his knees beside her while Coulter and Novacek were still trying to understand what had happened.
"I... I never expected... Sam, what happened?" Coulter asked his partner, who'd been observing. "She could have avoided that easily," he went on. "I don't understand..."
Sam Novacek shook his head in bewilderment. "I guess she got distracted. How is the ensign, chief?" Miguel had her head up in his lap and was pushing the hair off her face when her eyes opened, recognized him and crinkled into a happy smile of welcome. Then she remembered what had happened and started struggling, trying to get up.
"Miguel! I didn't expect to see you." He started to tighten his grip, still feeling the adrenaline rush from seeing her apparently in danger. Her struggles intensified and he forced himself to relax and let her sit up on the floor by herself. "I'm all right, Coult, Sam," Ari reassured the two security men, adding wryly, "But I think I failed that one." They exchanged a shrug with one another.
"We should get you to Med Bay," Sam observed, citing protocol for any blow resulting in unconsciousness. He bent forward. "And you were down for the count," he reminded her. Miguel waved him away.
"I'll handle this," he said shortly, allowing his anger at the whole situation to overflow into his voice. "You two ... ah, just carry on, ok?" After another shared look, they nodded and left.
Getting to his feet, Miguel held out a hand to help Ari up, but she ignored it and got up on her own, brushing off her uniform in an attempt to regain her composure.
"What are you doing here, Chief Ortiz," she asked formally, not looking at him. "Checking up on me? Again?" He was surprised by the jolt of irritation the suggestion excited in him, and the difference between this and the earlier comment.
"No. I just wanted ... Look, let's get you to Med Bay and then.... Well, I haven't had any coffee yet. Do you think you could you join me in a cup?" She smiled tightly and nodded, a brief bobble that barely bounced a curl on her head, wincing as even that miniscule movement jarred.
After explaining things to the med tech on duty and watching anxiously while she checked the small ensign's eyes and reflexes, Miguel escorted Ari to the galley, solicitiously seating her at a table and going to fetch coffee for both of them. Placing one cup down in front of her, he took the chair opposite and examined her closely wondering exactly what it was that he wanted to say.
"How do you feel?" he asked, playing for time. Ari touched the side of her head, as if trying to hide the developing bump.
"I'll be all right," she said with a deprecating snort. "These things happen." The act of putting up her hand pulled the sleeve back on her arm, revealing other bruises marching up underneath. Miguel reached out and gently took her hand, stretching the arm across the table and pushing the fabric back out of the way, stopping when she winced as the cloth tightened on the sore spots.
From what he could see, the bruises continued up her arm, a mottled array of colours, new dark blue and fading old green and yellow. "It isn't as bad as it appears," she said carefully, trying to retrieve her hand and push the uniform sleeve down again in the same movement. Miguel held on stubbornly, feeling helpless anger at the sight of this, a symbol of abuse from which he'd been unable to shield her, to protect her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" His voice came out harsher than he intended. Ari jerked her hand back.
"Because it wasn't your business," she answered coolly, straightening her back proudly. "And it still isn't. This exercise is designed to..."
"To beat you up. Damn it, Ari. You don't have to put up with this. If Captain Bridger knew what was happening..."
"I'd never be able to go out on any kind of mission at all," she finished angrily. Her blazing eyes were locked on his and he had a sudden desire to grab her and kiss her right there in front of everyone. Clamping down the impulse, he continued, biting each word off short.
"He would have had you assigned to more training. Ari, this has got to end."
"Why?" she threw the question at him. "Because you say so? I'm sorry, Senior Chief Ortiz," each syllable of his title was weapon, intended to hurt, to remind them of the difference in their ranks. "But you do not give orders to officers or to the captain of this boat. Or at least, that's what I thought regulations said." Miguel started to retailiate, but he caught himself and pushed his anger away. This wasn't what he wanted to do.
"No, you're right," he answered with a semblance of calm. "I'm sorry. If this is the way you want to handle it, it is your call. But will you allow me, at least, the right to worry about you?"
A slight expression of surprise settled on her face at the first part of his statement, followed by a quick flush by the end. He felt ashamed of the pique that had sounded in his last sentence, and hurt by the surprise in her eyes. What had he been doing in the past few weeks for her to not expect that?
"I'm sorry, Miguel," she apologized softly. "I was out of line there."
"And so was I," he admitted, just as quietly. "But when Jim told me what was going on..." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Her head shot back up and indignation fired her face the colour of flames.
"Why?" she demanded. "Why did he go to you? What did he want? You aren't my keeper. If Brody has something to say, he should say it to me."
"Granted," Miguel answered shortly, his temper rising again. "But I'm not responsible for what Jim does or doesn't do. Maybe he just thought that I knew you better than it appears I do. Or maybe he was talking to me as one of the onboard experts in hand to hand fighting?" He stood up. "This was a mistake. I should have known better than to try to talk to you when I'm half asleep." Tossing the napkin on the table, he turned, finishing with, "I'll see you later." Ari jumped up, too.
"Miguel, wait, please." He turned, wondering what she wanted. Her eyes were misty soft and full of regret.
"Ari?"
"Please, I don't like this. I don't want you to go away angry. Please." Her gaze left him to circle the room, taking in the faces of the people around, alive with interest and avid curiousity. "Look, I was supposed to be meeting Trey in my room, that's where I was heading when the team jumped me. Why don't you come too. If you want, of course. But," she looked down shyly, "I'll understand if you don't."
He took her hand in both of his. "Ari, I'd go anywhere you want me to. Why would you think otherwise?" She didn't pull her hand out of his while they put their cups away to be washed, and in comfortable silence, they began walking to C-Deck.
"Miguel, I ... I don't know what's going on," she confessed haltingly, in a voice so quiet he almost missed it. "But, I don't like the way I am these days. What's happening to us?" It was like an echo of what was going on inside his own head, and he still found himself without an answer.
"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I'm not much better. I .. I've dated other women, of course, but, except for Sheila, nothing serious. And..."
"Sheila?" Ari questioned carefully. "I don't think you've mentioned her before." He shrugged, wishing that he hadn't now.
"A girl I knew in high school," he explained dismissively. "She was going to wait for me, but even before I finished boot camp, she'd written to say that she'd met someone else and was going to marry him. It was probably the best thing that could have happened, but I didn't think so at the time."
"I should think not," she replied indignantly. "If you're going to break up with someone, you ought to have the courtesy to do it face to face, not in a letter. Writing a 'Dear John' letter, that's mean." Miguel felt warmed by her concern.
"Hey, it's ok, now," he reassured her, laughing a little at her intensity. "It was a 'Dear Miguel' letter, and anyway, if she hadn't, I wouldn't have the most gorgeous girl in the UEO navy, now would I?" He squeezed her hand.
"I guess not," she answered in a subdued voice. Eying her curiously, Miguel wondered if he'd said that the wrong way, but he couldn't figure out why.
After a few moments of silence, turning down the corridor leading to her quarters, he asked, "What did you want to say to me last night?" She stared up at him, confused by the abrupt question.
"Last night? When?"
"On about 2200 hours. At the end of the corridor that connects to my cabin. Jim Brody called your name and you ran. Why?" Her face flushed again and she hung her head in embarassment.
"I thought that was a dream," she mumbled, looking very young, and very unhappy. "I can't believe that I'm... Oh, blast. I'm hope I'm not dreamwalking again."
"Oh." So, she hadn't been coming to see him, exactly. They were outside her cabin, now, and he waited while she fumbled at opening the door, standing back to let him enter first.
They were alone, Trey hadn't arrived, yet. Perhaps he had been acting a little preemptory lately. Clearing his throat uneasily, he tried to make things a little better.
"Ari, about the ... about Wiggins and Corbett," he said. Her face lost all expression as if a passing hand had swiped it clean, and her gaze became distinctly wary. "If you feel that you need to ... to do this. Then you definitely should," he said. There, he thought, what could be fairer than that? But he still thought it was a stupid stunt.
"Thank you." The sarcasm in her voice cut through his self-satisfaction and startled him. "But I told you I don't have to have my friends checked through you." Now he could feel the blood rising in his own face.
"That's not what I meant," he said, his teeth gritted, trying to hold in any inconsidered words. "And you know it."
"It surely sounded like it," she returned. "You keep trying to decide who I'll see and what I'll do," she accused. He shook his head. "Yes, you do."
"I'm only trying to protect you," he said. "You don't understand what it could mean, if it gets into your record that you are soft on terrorism."
"And Lucas?" she said, her tone of voice pushing the point. He took a deep breath, held it, then expelled it slowly.
"Yes, I do think that you are spending a lot of time with Lucas. But have you considered that maybe I'm jealous because you're spending more time with him than with me?"
"Maybe because he doesn't always make me feel bad and he doesn't try to tell me what to do all the time. Or maybe because he needs me right now." Miguel opened his mouth to protest and she jumped up.
"Oh, this was a bad idea. I can't talk to you. I've never been able to talk to you." He jumped up too, and grabbed her arm as she started to walk away, ignoring her wince of pain as his fingers pressed hard into the bruises that covered it. Jerking her against him, he held her tight, able to feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, knowing that she could feel his as easily, and that it was beating just as fast. As he held her there, she slowly relaxed, leaning against him and closing her eyes.
"Ohh, Miguel. I don't know..." He kissed her softly, quieting her words, and knowing by her response that he was right. They did belong together.
"It's all right," he whispered. "We'll make it all right."
"Much as I hate to disturb this touching scene," Trey's voice pulled them apart. "But I think I'm supposed to be here?"
"Come on down, Trey," Ari invited, pushing away convulsively and spinning around. While Trey and Ari handled some joint business and Ari got the other woman started on the computer, Miguel looked over the books and manuals on her desk and shelves and selected one, taking it to his usual place on the floor beside the head of the bed. Ari picked up her book viewer from beside the computer and came over, too, plumping up the pillows so that she could lie on the bunk and prop herself up on them. Half lying on one side, she trailed a hand onto his shoulder and began to read. Yes, Miguel thought to himself, they would make it all right.
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