skell / blue (writing edition)

A Starfleet officer wandering alone where we were investigating... She cannot be as clueless as she seems. What is she UP to?

To send an ensign on a risky mission like that? Surely something else is at play here... There's simply no way Starfleet isn't plotting at a larger scheme here... of course we captured her! It's their own fault for not being more careful.

—

First Contact

A young Starfleet recruit in a dirtied yellow uniform shivered as she sat herself as tightly as she could into the corner of the Romulan holding cell. When Bea had decided to enlist, she hardly imagined she would end up here— she had been promoted to a provisional ensign and had enjoyed exactly three hours of routine bridge work and was even allowed to join an away team before getting separated from her group and taken hostage by arguably one of the worst alien races to possibly be abducted by: the Romulans. There should have been no way for them to be here— the planet was Federation and nowhere near the Neutral Zone— but it would be silly to assume they always respected those rules. She supposed she was just grateful it wasn't the Cardassians. Bea had an particular interest in learning the history and cultures of any and all alien races she could, which wasn't helping the way her heart raced in fear in this particular instance. She briefly recalled the late Tasha Yar— the second one they found after her death, and her subsequent daughter Sela— before she forced herself to stop thinking about it.

The way the doors hissed open to the wardbird's holding cell nearly reminded Bea of being back on the Enterprise; the stark, square angles of the silhouette that blocked out the brighter light from the hallway snapped her back to the reality of her situation instantly. With her head tucked into her arms, she was sure the new figure in the room couldn't have seen her face— she decided she would fake sleep. No other brilliant plans were coming to mind at the moment.

"Get up," the voice from the doorway demanded. She did not move.

"I said, get up." The voice stated more harshly, and Bea heard his footsteps growing closer and closer to her safe little corner. A harsh grip on her shoulder where it attached to her neck pulled her from her huddled position, and she winced at the way it pinched her nerves. She considered for a moment pretending it had knocked her out— she decided against it. Her attempt at faking sleep earlier hadn't worked, so that likely wouldn't have either.

Bea limped forward through the alien passage, keenly aware of the disruptor pressed into her lower back as the Romulan officer urged her forward. She glanced around, trying to remember everything she was taught in her basic training— escape routes, hiding places to remember for later— she was sure she wouldn't remember them later, but at the very least going through the motions brought her some comfort.

She really wasn't cut out for this.

"Sublieutentant Veras, report to the bridge immediately."

"Sub-Commander, I have a prisoner with me. Can it wait?"

"That's an order, Veras. Now."

The Romulan— Veras, apparently— growled and grabbed Bea by her shoulders suddenly. She yelped as she was pushed past a set of doors into what looked like a supply closet, wide-eyed and stock-still as Veras twisted her around to face him, leaning in and hissing inches from her face.

"Stay in here, Federation scum, and wait nice and patiently until I get back." Veras pushed the disruptor meaningfully into Bea's abdomen. "Or else." The ensign nodded rapidly.

She was alone in the closet, forced now to grapple with her situation. The adrenaline from her interaction with the sublieutenant kept her from trying to get any rest or sleep despite the exhaustion that had seeped into her bones from the stress of the past few days.

Would Starfleet really wait or spend time looking from a lowly enlisted ensign? Bea certainly hoped they would, but she wasn't sure what exactly the protocol was in situations like this. The training she had on getting lost was much the same as what a mother would teach her children— stay where you are and wait for someone to find you. But what about the protocol for being captured by one of the quadrant's military superpowers and held as a hostage? The Romulans seemed to think Starfleet cared enough about its officers; if they didn't, she wouldn't be here, allowed to live and breathe. She'd likely be back on that planet, her body covered in some substantial disruptor burns waiting to be recovered.

The'd come back for her, she decided. They had to— the Federation's care for its citizens was the reason she had decided to enlist in the first place. She was sure they would come for her. But she had to try to help herself as well.

Taking a deep breath, Bea inched towards the door of the supply closet, looking for some kind of security or locking panel nearby. To her surprise, the door hissed open when she got close to it— no locks or security measures at all. She frowned a bit— that Veras must have had a very low opinion of her indeed.

Peeking around the corners of the doorway, Bea was shocked once again to find no guards posted at any locations she could see. She knew she had passed a shuttle bay, or whatever the Romulans called their version of one, earlier— she could make a run for it if the path was as clear as it looked.

Tapping the side of her neck under her ear like Counsellor Troi had taught her and attempting to steel her resolve, Bea began sprinting towards her goal. Her heart raced faster and faster, hardly any of it from the physical exertion. She turned the corner she thought she had remembered— and ended up in a completely unfamiliar hallway which split off into two more at its end. She groaned in frustration and panic, gripping her hair before turning on her heel and trying the next one.

It was two more hallways and about 100 meters of back-tracking and re-tracking later that she finally found what she was looking for. The entrance to the shuttle bay was also unguarded— there was no point in turning back now. Bea rushed towards the shuttle bay; the doors opened with her proximity much like the others had, and she had made it just a few paces into the room before her arms were snatched up from either side, cacophonous and mocking laughter filling her ears. Her stomach dropped and she felt as though she would be sick.

"Veras was right," a woman spoke from her left, "personally, I thought a Starfleet officer would have a bit more sense in her head."

From her right, the other officer addressed Bea. "Do you truly think us foolish enough to leave escape routes so unguarded, or are you just dull enough to think you could get so lucky?"

Humiliation and fear brought nothing but tears to Bea's eyes as her head drooped and she slumped into the guards' grips. She heard a scoff.

"Pathetic."

This time, Bea was returned to her holding cell while she waited for the Sublieutenant to return. She had stopped crying maybe five minutes after being dumped back into the sparse space, but her puffy eyes and rosy cheeks gave away all they needed to by the time Veras entered once more.

"Shameful," he stated with an even tone, "such a blatant and sloppy escape attempt is unbefitting of someone who wears such a uniform. I was told your kind could be recognized by their self-righteousness and lofty egos," as he spoke, he lifted Bea by the collar of her uniform this time, "I don't recall anyone mentioning such naivete." Veras kept a hand on Bea's arm as he led her out of the cell this time. "Although maybe that part is just you."

Eventually, the two reached a turbolift and Veras ordered it to take them to the bridge. The sublieutenant turned squarely to face Bea before he spoke.

"If you make even the slightest sound, or attempt to communicate in any sort of way when we arrive, I will execute you immediately. Do you understand?"

Bea looked panicked and unsure of how to respond. Veras rolled his eyes.

"You can speak now."

"Yes," Bea blurted, "yes, I understand."

"Good." The Romulan sighed and muttered something under his breath that Bea couldn't hear.

The turbolift doors opened and revealed the front viewing panel to be filled by the formidable presences of both Captain Jean-Luc Picard and Commander Will Riker. Out of instinct, she smiled and parted her lips to greet them; she gulped and pursed her mouth back shut when Veras jerked her with one hand and pressed a disruptor to her side with the other.

"Ah, here they are now," the Romulan in the Commander's seat said smoothly as she turned to look at Bea and Veras, "as you can see, she has not been harmed."'

"I don't buy it," Commander Riker scoffed, "if that were true, why does her uniform look like that?"

"I'm sure your away team can confirm that the planet we found her on was no paradise," the female Romulan explained, "and it seemed to us as though she had been lost for quite some time before she ran into us."

"That planet was strictly in Federation territory, Sub-Commander," Picard said sharply, "what business did any of your officers have being there?"

"We were on a diplomatic mission," the Sub-Commander replied easily, "it's a simple matter of speaking to one of your admirals to confirm such."

"Trust me, I plan to. And I expect her to be returned to us without delay, Tel."

"I wish it were that simple, Captain, I really do," Tel lamented dramatically, "but the guard I have posted with her isn't merely for show. You see, despite her being a guest in our ship, your ensign has decided to repay our generosity by snooping around for Romulan intelligence and attempting to steal one of our shuttles. She was our guest, but I'm afraid we have grounds to keep her as a prisoner now."

"Steal a shuttle?" Riker turned to Picard in exasperation, "Captain, I believe it's much more likely that she was trying to escape!" Picard held a hand up; Riker sighed through his nose, straightening his posture and smoothing out his uniform.

"I'm inclined to agree with you, Commander, but Sub-Commander Tel has provided us with… evidence of her claims." Picard tugged on the front of his uniform and fixed his gaze resolutely on the Sub-Commander. "So— what would you have us do to correct the situation, Tel?"

"It's not my jurisdiction," Tel shook her head, "I will have to speak with my Commander about it and decide if there is some sort of compromise we can reach. The demands of justice cannot simply be ignored."

"Of course," Picard said flatly, his expression stony. "We will open communications with you again in one hour." He turned his attention behind Tel, and his gaze softened. "Ensign, we will get you home. I would ask for your patience and cooperation, for your own sake."

Bea felt her heart squeeze at the Captain's reassurance, and she risked a small nod. Veras made a small noise of disapproval, but otherwise remained motionless.

"I'm afraid that's not entirely under your control anymore, Captain." Tel turned and nodded to her communications officer, and the transmission ended. She turned around to face Veras. "Sublieutenant, return her to her quarters— and play nice. Do not kill her."

"What if she escapes again, Sub-Commander?"

"Must I hold your hand through everything, Veras?" Tel snarled, "I don't care how you do it, just keep her contained and don't do anything that would provoke the Enterprise in the case that she is returned. If you must discourage her somehow, get creative." Tel turned her cold gaze to Bea, and a small, mean smile crossed her lips. "If I had to guess, I doubt she'll give you much trouble."

Bea attempted to escape three more times before the hour that Picard promised was up. It's not that she was trying to anger the Romulans; that wasn't in her nature. It was rather the result of one particularly bored Romulan guard and Bea's trusting nature and insistence on seeing the good in everyone she ran into. Yes, even if those people were actively holding her hostage and playing cruel games with her.

Each time the guard pretended to take pity on her sad state and unlock the cell for her, a separate guard would find her and haul her back to her quarters. She supposed she should have questioned why the guard posted to her door wasn't getting in trouble for allowing a prisoner to escape, but it wasn't until the third and last time he unlocked her door that she realized what was happening— and it was only because he and the Romulan taking her back had burst into laughter when they spotted each other and Bea's frustrated expression.

"Centurion Melar," a deep, cutting voice suddenly interrupted the derision from the door guard's communicator, "report to my office and bring the Starfleet officer with you immediately." Melar looked to the other guard nervously; moments later, the same voice came from his communicator. "Centurion Cemut, return to your station. Now." The voice growled and went silent just as suddenly as it appeared.

Bea didn't make a peep as she could practically feel Melar's angry gaze burning in the back of her head. They retraced the same path she had taken with Veras earlier, making their way to the bridge and passing all of the high ranking officers to reach a door she didn't recognize. Melar pressed a button and waited a few moments before the same voice from the communicator replied.

"Enter."

The way the room Bea entered was set up told her right away who the person sitting behind the desk was— the Captain; or rather, the Commander of this warbird. He glanced up to Melar with a leveling stare, waiting until the Centurion began to squirm before speaking. "Leave us."

Melar obeyed immediately, scurrying out of the office. After the doors slid shut behind him, only the thrum of the warbird's quantum-singularity core left to fill the air.

"Have a seat," the Romulan Commander finally invited, gesturing to a single seat across from his desk. Bea wasted no time, nearly tripping herself as she rounded the chair and all but fell into it. The Commander hardly looked impressed.

"I watched you attempt escape a total of four times, ensign." The Romulan turned to face Bea more fully, his stern tone making her start to sweat. "You had to have known it was futile after the second attempt, or at least the third. What game is it you are playing at?"

Fidgeting with her hands in her lap, Bea stared at the Commander for a few moments, trying to recall if it was Romulan custom to be explicitly told to speak to superior officers or something the like. The man across from her raised an eyebrow at her antics. "You may speak freely."

"Your guards were messing with me, sir," Bea admitted, "I started to suspect something after the third time, you're right, but I wasn't sure. I haven't— well, you see I'm not— really good at all this."

The Commander barked out a sudden laugh, and Bea flinched. "What, being a hostage?" he chuckled again, "Most aren't."

"Well, I more so meant being in Starfleet." Bea admitted, shame creeping into her voice. "I hardly remember protocol, I don't handle this kind of stress well, and everyone tells me I'm—" she stopped suddenly, muttering quietly, "Well, it doesn't matter. It's not like you really care about any of this."

The Romulan at the desk looked somewhat shocked; likely at his prisoner's willingness to share what seemed like literally anything with him with nearly no pressure, let alone interrogation or torture. He blinked.

"What is your name, human?"

Bea looked equally shocked, but it didn't take her nearly as long to respond. "Bea. I mean—" she stuttered and blushed at her own informality, "Ensign Bell. — Sir."

The Commander straightened in his seat. "Good. I am Commander T'mok. As I'm sure you've deduced by now, I command this ship."

"Yes, sir," Bea readily replied.

"I admit that I don't fully believe your story about your reasoning behind your escape attempts, Ensign. Please, indulge my curiosity— what were you really thinking?"

Shifting uneasily once again, Bea avoided eye contact with T'mok as he watched her expectantly, hands folded on his desk. "The guard, you called him Melar," Bea started, "he said he wanted to help me escape. I believed him the first time, just naturally." She glanced up to T'mok. "That's why people call me naive, I guess. But every time after that, I knew he wasn't really being honest. But I wanted to believe him. Maybe if I showed him I trusted him, he'd actually start to feel differently. I don't know."

T'mok sat in silence for a good few minutes, and it was clear he was in disbelief at the story he'd heard and processing Bea's words.

"He is Romulan. You know that, right?"

"Yes," Bea argued, "but that doesn't mean I should just assume I can't trust him. Everyone else might say so, but I refuse to believe that."

In the silence that followed, something in the way the Commander and the Ensign looked at each other shifted. T'mok raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, taking in all of the woman in front of him for the first time since they'd met— Bea studied T'mok's face more carefully and felt her cheeks warm a touch as she noticed he was quite a bit more handsome than she initially realized.

"You really aren't cut out for this." T'mok said flatly, and Bea's face fully flushed.

"I know."

Despite Tel's heartened protests, T'mok spoke to Picard and arranged Bea's return to the Enterprise without any further delay. He had guided the Ensign from his office with a hand between her shoulders rather than with a disrupter jammed into her side, and she easily cooperated with the Commander. At the time, Picard had actually commented on it.

"You seem to be in much better spirits, Ensign. Have they been treating you well?"

T'mok initially watched Bea expectantly, but turned his attention to Melar and Veras before she responded. They both shrunk under the stare.

"Yes, Captain," Bea reassured Picard, "They haven't hurt me. I feel fine." She glanced over to Tel and withered a bit at her mean expression. "Just, um… feeling a bit homesick."

When Doctor Crusher examined Bea later that evening, Bea assured her that whatever injuries she had came before the Romulans found her. She admitted to the Captain that she had attempted to steal a shuttle like the Sub-Commander had said, but didn't respond when he asked if it had been because she was trying to escape. Picard eventually huffed at her strange responses.

"Ensign Bell, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to protect the Romulans." He glanced down to the marks on her wrists where handcuffs had dug into them. She tugged her sleeves down. "Why?"

"I haven't lied, sir." She said confidently— and she hadn't; Romulans had a nasty habit of telling half-truths and dramatizing when the situation allowed it, so everything they told Picard had been technically true, save for the stealing-intel bit. "I really wasn't treated all that poorly when I was over there. And their Captain; er, Commander, was really reasonable and nice. Captain…" Bea leaned in seriously, "I've read up on Romulans extensively and I know what could have happened to me. I'm really okay."

Picard sighed and leaned back in his seat, a cup of early grey warming his palms as he watched his Ensign. "You are exceptionally kind and forgiving, Ensign. We could use a few more officers like you— although I'm grateful it was Commander T'mok who found you instead of… well, perhaps quite literally anyone else."

"You flatter me, Captain," Bea said with a warm smile. "And I'm sorry, but I think I quit."

As Bea filled out her resignation papers in her quarters, her mind wandered once again to the Romulan Commander she'd encountered that day. She thought about the authority he carried so naturally, and his hands folded on that desk… she shook her head, rubbed her tired eyes, and decided she would get to bed early that night.

Neither the Ensign or the Commander realized that they were both thinking of each other at the same time that night. Bea slept for 13 hours, and T'mok slept for his usual disciplined 6.

posting more t’mok and bea bc I have a few drabbles stacked up for them and I care them so much >:)

rating: t

word count: ~1650

content warnings: drinking, slightly drunk flirting, a teeny bit suggestive if you squint