I Almost Forgot its WIP WEDNESDAY!
Voyager was lost. Five years, six months, twenty-three hours, and nine minutes. Taurik spent the first three years grieving his twin brother, Vorik. Who had vanished so suddenly, the buzz of his mind there one second and gone the next, like a snuffed candle. Taurik assumed death came swiftly enough that Vorik had no time to react. It provided some comfort; he had not suffered, but it did not alleviate the ache of his absence.
Taurik absorbed that pain, making a home for it deep inside himself. For three years, he held it, sharp and cold. It cut into him at random. When getting up to begin his day.
"My brother is dead."
When he was running a systems check.
"My twin is dead; he's never coming back."
In the middle of his shower.
"I miss my brother."
Then the war started. Sam Lavelle went with him when he was reassigned to DS9, and he knocked Chief O'Brien on his ass when he came barreling into docking bay four. "Sorry, sir!" he called behind him as he raced to Taurik.
"Look, look, look, it's Voyager!" Taurik raised an eyebrow as he turned from his work, replacing the outer plating on a Runabout. Sam shoved a PADD into his hands.
ATTENTION ALL STAR FLEET PERSONNEL: CONTACT WITH VOYAGER HAS BEEN MADE.
Sam had to scroll down to the updated ship registry because Taurik was frozen, gripping the PADD so tight he cracked the screen.
Lieutenant J.G. Vorik was written in bold yellow text.
"He got promoted," Taurik whispered, a lone salty tear dripping into his mouth.
The war would rage on for two years, with billions of deaths, but his brother was alive. Every few weeks, Voyager would send a message. Each acted like a buoy, keeping him afloat through it all. He would hold his breath until he found Vorik's name in the registry.
One night during poker in Quarks, Sam would put his cards down. "You did it again," he said, nodding at the bar behind Taurik.
T'Ryn was sitting with her ankles crossed, sipping sparkling water while she read something on her PADD.
"I can't blame you for staring, she's very pretty," Sam smirked.
Tuarik, impassive, did not look up from his cards. "I was not staring."
"You've looked back at her three times in the last fifteen minutes. If you're not careful, she's going to catch you."
Taurik glanced up. "Are you implying I have a romantic interest in Nurse T'Ryn?"
"I'm implying you have a big fat crush, yes," Sam replied.
"Vulcans do not get crushes," Sam spoke in unison with Taurik. "Bullshit, you don't. Go for it."
Taurik raised an eyebrow. "Go for it?" he repeated Sam's words back at him. "Go over there and ask her out, or start a courtship, fight her betrothed to the death. Whatever it is, do it."
"T'Ryn does not have a mate," Taurik said before he could stop himself, and he folded his arms in thinly masked annoyance. Sam's lips curled in amusement, but what he said next caught him by surprise. "Your brother wouldn't want you to be alone."
He would marry T'Ryn before the war was over, and be forever grateful to Sam, especially now while she slept beside him. He splayed a hand across her stomach, feeling the thrum of new life inside her, a second and third child.
"Did he respond, Adun?" T'Ryn did not open her eyes, sleep heavy in her voice.
"No." He sat up then with tented fingers.
"You are going to him?" T'Ryn sensed his thoughts.
Taurik inhaled sharply. " I do not want to leave you." She stroked her fingers over his soothingly. "Go speak with your brother."
