A Chance Encounter
Posted on Mon Aug 10th, 2026 @ 10:31am by Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen & Petty Officer 2nd Class Leah Rochester
Edited on on Wed Aug 12th, 2026 @ 8:34am
2,368 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Episode 3 - The One Who Got Away
Location: Sidebar Lounge - Deck 5 - USS Artemis
Timeline: MD006 2100 hrs
The Sidebar Lounge was buzzing.
Leah had seen it busier, but she was still having to wait to be served at the bar. She flicked her dark red hair back over a shoulder impatiently, leaning on the bar with folded arms and raising herself onto tiptoes...despite the high heels she wore...peering down the length of the bar. She smiled when a server headed her way, but before she could get a word in, a dark haired guy nudged in next to her, ordering loudly.
To add insult to injury, the man was so close to her that his arm jostled with hers as he turned away to leave, his drink sloshing onto her arm.
Leah swore as she shook her hand off, but luckily the dark liquid had missed the sleeveless, short white dress she wore. "Rude!" she shouted after him all the same, sighing as she finally caught the eye of a server. "Dark and Stormy, please," she managed a half smile for him as she mopped her arm off.
The dark-haired man didn't make it more than three steps.
Ezra van Wijnbergen's hand met him at the center of the chest. It wasn't hard enough to hurt but it was firm enough to suggest that forward motion was no longer an option. It was a large hand, too.
"Easy," Ezra said. His voice didn't rise to compete with the noise of the lounge and it didn't need to.
The man blinked, surprised more than anything. His multi-coloured drink wobbled in his grip.
"You bumped her," Ezra added, motioning toward the woman with dark red that fell past her shoulders. "And you spilled."
For a second, the man looked like he might simply shrug it off. People did that sometimes--bumping into others or causing some minor issue, and then continuing to move on and let the small things stay small. But Ezra didn't move his hand. Nor did he push.
The man glanced past Ezra, back toward the bar, toward the woman who was still wiping her arm and standing there in white. Finally, he turned with a look of resignation.
"Hey. Sorry. Didn't see you there."
Ezra's hand fell away and the man made his escape swiftly, disappearing into the rear of the lounge beyond the throng of patrons.
Leah blinked with surprise, never having expected that, not in a million years. She watched him totter off with awe, shaking her head slowly from side to side before finally looking back to Ezra. She looked him up and down, trying to work out what his trick was. It helped he was huge, she was sure. "Thanks...how much to tell me your secret?" she teased lightly as she finished drying off her arm.
He smiled at Leah, glancing back to where the man had disappeared. "No secret. It's just--" Ezra leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Most people don't expect to be stopped. At least not calmly and gently. They will either brace for an angry reaction or ignore it entirely."
Ezra glanced over to Leah's arm where the liquid had left a dark patch covering most of her sleeve.
"If you take away both options then they don't have much left to stand on. It gives them a way out. And an apology costs less than pride if you don't make it expensive."
Leah chuckled as she turned fully to him, clearly impressed as she rested against the bar with an almost playful smile. "Sounds like you have a pretty firm grip on what makes people tick..."
"Ezra van Wijnbergen," he said, offering his hand to her with a curt nod.
Leah took the hand, giving it a firm shake, testing out the strength in it with a grin. "Leah Rochester. Now *that* is a handshake. Security?" she had to ask, besides, guessing games could be fun at times.
He didn't tighten his grip when Leah tested it. Instead, he simply met it, matched it, and let it go when it was done. No contest, no correction.
Another off-duty officer slid between them with a one-liter stein of ale, whispering a polite excuse. Ezra looked again to her arm, then back to her face. She had delicate features--a smooth forehead like polished marble, eyebrows finely arched over what Ezra considered the main feature: a pair of luminous blue eyes that seemed like pools of water at some tropical location.
Her nose was straight and slender with softly rounded cheeks. She was absolutely stunning for a younger woman but Ezra could see that beneath it all, something harder and sturdier lay behind the charm.
"Counselor," he said, immediately regretting the involuntary rising intonation on the last syllable. "Victim Advocate."
Feeling a little awkward, he quickly threw the focus back to Leah. "My turn... Engineering?"
"I'm going to take that as a compliment, that you'd trust the ship in my hands," Leah laughed softly, but also to cover her surprise at his being a counsellor. She knew she shouldn't be surprised though. It was her own bias showing. "No...Forensics. I investigate crime scenes..." she glanced around, trying to find an empty table. "Would...you like to move to a table with me? It's getting pretty crowded up here at the bar, and I'd like to keep at least one good sleeve..."
Ezra took a quick glance at the crowd that was now gathered three-deep around the bar and gave Leah a knowing nod.
"I think preserving the sleeve is the wiser tactical choice."
Before they made their move, Ezra lifted two fingers subtly toward the bartender and then pointed over to the empty table near the viewport. The bartender caught it immediately and returned a knowing nod from years of taking orders.
The table was near the outer curve of the lounge where the lighting was dimmer and and more intimate. Ezra was reminded of the time he made his first friend on the Artemis, Constantine. The table they shared was on the opposite end of where they seated themselves.
"Ah, perfect, no distractions," Leah smiled, smoothing the skirt of her dress down as she took a seat, stealing a glance at the view as she settled back. "Right, now look me in the eye and tell me again that you don't lift weights for a living," she teased, leaning forward on the table to him with a small, playful smile.
Ezra stifled a sound that would very likely have been a laugh had he allowed it. Instead, it sounded like he was bringing up a hairball.
"I spend a lot of time in the ship's gym," he said, settling into the chair. "But data PADDs are what I find myself lifting most." He folded his hands loosely on the table in front of him while he looked into her bright, blue eyes.
He loved her smile. There was something behind it though--a fragility, maybe. He didn't wish to judge or make any predetermination. His evening was going to be a quiet one: a drink, and maybe some cardio in the high-G section of the gym. Instead, he was sitting across from a beautiful woman and all he wanted to do was stare into those eyes and learn more about her.
"You, though," he said with a genuine smile, "don't look like someone who gets intimidated by spilled drinks or bar fights."
"There's a lot bigger and scarier things out there to be intimidated by. Why worry about the small stuff?" she shrugged lightly, smiling almost playfully with the words...but her eyes showed there was sincerity to them. "I investigate crime scenes for a living. I see the worst of what people can do...and...I think you do too in the work you do. If I'm right...?"
Ezra's smile faded slightly after her question. The lights on this side of the lounge ceiling reflected in the polished edge of the table between them, soft gold against a dark lacquer.
"I think it's fair to say we probably stand in neighbouring rooms of the same house," he admitted.
A server appeared beside them then with Leah's Dark and Stormy and a bourbon neat for Ezra he didn't remember ordering. Glancing across the lounge, his eyes met the bartender's who lifted to fingers in acknowledgment. Ezra returned the gesture subtly before taking hold of the short glass.
"So, Leah Rochester," he said breezily, "what was the exact moment you realized you wanted to spend your career examining crime scenes?"
Almost as soon as he said it, he regretted it how it corny it sounded.
"I can safely say it was never a plan, it was something I sort of just... fell into," Leah admitted with a soft laugh, sitting back and spreading her arms to either side, as if to say she was an open book. "I studied biology and psychology at university. I was based in England at the time, and honestly? I sent so many job applications and got pretty much radio silence in return. Then finally... the police replied. They interviewed me for a trainee crime scene investigator role, and...I can't deny the idea intrigued me."
Ezra listened without interrupting, turning the glass between his fingers and feeling its weight.
"I suppose you started to find yourself in places you didn't expect or looking at things you never imagined you'd be responsible for interpreting."
"That is definitely one way of putting it," Leah laughed softly as she leant forward on the table to him, searching his eyes with interest. He didn't seem to shy away from the idea of her work. It was usually an off putting subject for most people. Still, she decided not to push her luck and change the subject. "How about you? It seems like such a specialised position..." she smiled warmly as she considered the routes he might have taken.
"I don't know if it was ever a plan," he admitted, lifting his eyes to hers. "The real truth is, I don't think my job is all that different from an engineer's."
"An engineer?" Leah laughed at the comparison, unable to see it herself. She folded her arms, resting them on the table so she could lean in closer, her eyes narrowed playfully. "I have to hear this..."
Ezra grinned fully at her this time, showing his teeth--something he rarely did. Her curious look only encouraged him to continue.
Taking a gentle sip of his drink, he continued. "If a plasma conduit ruptures, nobody would expect the Chief Engineer to stand there and give a speech about being resilient." His smile deepened a fraction. "They identify the damage, stabilize the situation, and restore the system to functioning again."
He could feel Leah's eyes on him and decided to continue, though his amusement softened.
"People aren't all that different. They get hurt--sometimes by circumstance, sometimes by other people. Sometimes by themselves. Most of the job is helping them figure out what still works and what doesn't. And what can be rebuilt." He said the last with a faint shrug. "Strip away all the fancy psychobabble and I'm no different than a maintenance technician."
Ezra found himself bringing the glass tumbler back to his lips again as he waited to see if Leah might burst into laughter or raise an eyebrow at the analogy.
But Leah was just watching him, head tilted thoughtfully to the side as she searched his eyes. She saw nothing but sincerity though, and the concept was intriguing. Different to other counselors she'd seen at least. "So... you think anyone can be rebuilt or fixed? If you find the right... schematics to put them back together?" she asked, with a soft, gentle smile, but the question was serious.
Ezra found Leah's question cinching itself between them with a surprising bit of weight. Now here was a question that people often asked counselors after months of therapy--not after twenty minutes and a spilled drink.
He grinned back at her. "That's unfair. You're making me live with my own metaphor."
"Hey now, you tossed that ball into the air, I just had to hit it," she pointed out, but with a warm laugh as she motioned with a well practiced tennis stroke. "But it's the logical progression, yes? A comforting one too."
His eyes lowered down into his drink, but a half-smile remained on his face.
"Maybe I need to listen to myself talk sometimes," he admitted, taking another small sip. He decided to change the subject.
"Where's home for you?"
"Here, for now...wherever I lay my hat, next..." Leah shrugged but laughed softly, knowing all too well that wasn't what he meant. "It used to be Earth. England, to be precise. Hadn't even left Earth all that often before joining up. I've probably seen more of the galaxy in the last couple of years than I had in my entire life. How about you?"
Ezra smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He wondered whether to tell her about the New Klipfontein colony or maybe his adopted home of Betazed.
"A bit of everywhere. Earth for a spell," he said, smiling at her. "I would suppose my home is here--for now."
Deciding to toast their home, he raised his glass in front of him. "To Artemis, then."
Leah searched his eyes for a long moment, reading the vague language, much like her first reaction to the question of home. She recognised a difficult story in there somewhere, but it was his to give or keep. She gave a small, knowing smile, clinking her glass to his. "And the homes we make along the way."
Ezra brought the drink to his lips but his eyes never left hers. Inside, he continued to ponder Leah Rochester and why he was suddenly and easily so attracted to her.
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Victim Advocate Counselor, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
Petty Officer Second Class Leah Rochester
Crime Scene Investigator, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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