In the Silence Between
Posted on Sat Aug 29th, 2026 @ 6:46am by Lieutenant Siadra Molaur & Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Edited on on Sat Aug 29th, 2026 @ 10:58am
3,323 words; about a 17 minute read
Mission:
Episode 3 - The One Who Got Away
Location: Corridor, Deck 43A, Starbase 304
Timeline: MD002 1400 hrs
The corridor just beyond the morgue was as still as a temple abandoned mid-prayer. Only the faint electrical murmur of the various energies coursing through the bulkhead of Starbase 304.
Ezra stood with his back against the cold wall, his eyes closed.
His uniform jacket hung loose in one hand now, the garment now peeled halfway off as if it had become unbearable--which it had. Sweat dampened his short, dark hair at the temples despite how chilly this section of the station seemed to be. Somewhere beneath his ribs, his heart seemed to beat fast and with near-embarrassing insistence.
Three years among the reclaimed had altered the nature of Ezra's work. The Artifact had been full of ghosts too, but those were different. Ex-Borg survivors carried multifaceted dearths inside of them--great hollowed places where individual identity has lived at one time. Their pain had come in fractured memories and terrifying nightmares, but they were alive. Always alive.
This is a was dead child. There were no more memories. Just one big broken promise.
He tipped his head back against the bulkhead, feeling tension at the nape of his neck.
The overhead lights seemed cold and barren, and for one odd moment the corridor reminded him of the underground cisterns beneath New Klipfontein after the rainy season: sweaty stone walls and emptiness abounding.
We will carry you now, he thought again. That phrase had attached itself to him the moment he saw the boy.
Ezra pressed the bottoms of his palms against his eyes until colours sprang to life there--violets and reds swimming like interstellar clouds starship often visited. His pulse began to slow now, but his body still remained in that post-adrenaline state. It was at this moment he became aware of someone else nearby.
He lowered his hands from his face and before his eyes could readjust, he simply said: "I thought everyone had already gone back to the ship."
The body was already sent to the Artemis and the others had made their way there. Siadra had noticed not all had left the station, after counting noses. She had watched, Ezra taking a moment or two, collecting himself.
"No not everyone," her words soft and gentle. "We do need to get back to the ship and not be left behind." Siadra moving forward to slip her hand into his.
She gave a gentle tug, to get Ezra to move from the bulkhead, "Come on, lets get to the ship and--" her eyes went towards the morgue where the boy had lain cold and quiet.
Siadra felt a heaviness in her heart, her hand tensing slightly upon Ezra's. "Lets go someplace where there is some warmth and some life."
Ezra felt it again: her cool hand in his. And not just that, the connection at their touch. He mentally stowed it away and swallowed.
"That sounds good."
There was a peculiar hush in the Sidebar Lounge for a late-afternoon. Perhaps it wasn't so peculiar given the nature of the assignment Artemis was now managing.
The hush wasn't a total silence. There were still the typical sounds of glassware and utensils clinking from behind the bar as staff prepared for Happy Hour. Some barely audible jazz music drifted in from the opposite side of the lounge where a pair of engineers occupied the corner booth. Still, the entire room felt subdued.
Beyond the wide portside viewport, Starbase 304 was at an awkward angle and only partially visible from where Ezra and Siadra now sat. From this vantage, the station resembled an enormous lantern that was still burning beneath the surface of deep water.
Ezra found himself sat with one big hand wrapped around a ceramic mug. Steam was still rising from the hot toddy in thin ribbons, carrying the scent of lemon peel, cinnamon and real bourbon. It was genuine article.
He stared down into the amber liquid for a long time while more crew members filtered into the lounge.
In front of her sat a larger than normal glass of mulled wine. Siadra gazed down upon its dark red color, and the slice of orange which floated on top. The orange was a lovely contrast against the wine.
The scent of the drink wafted its way towards her nose, Siadra breathing in the spicy scent, that of cinnamon, cloves and anise. This was something that she enjoyed, ever since she had been introduced to it many years ago. It was around the human Yuletide holiday, when she her first drink of it.
The corners of her mouth curled up gently, as Siadra thought of that memory, then the smile faded away, as something encroached upon that memory. It was that of the boy, she, Ezra and others had looked upon.
Her eyes went from that floating island of an orange slice to where Ezra sat across from her. Reaching out one hand which had been warmed by the mug she had wrapped her hands around, she gave his hand a slight squeeze.
Ezra glanced around the room. There was definitely a mood in the lounge. Of course, ships developed moods. Even small ones like Artemis. Anyone who claimed otherwise had simply never lived aboard one long enough. There were days a ship hummed with confidence--where one could feel the bulkheads ready for an adventure. Other days, there was exhaustion. Today, it was watchful.
Members of the crew entered the lounge in lowered voices and seemed to choose quieter tables. Even the laughter, when it came, seemed to be restrained and short-lived.
"I think everyone knows," Ezra whispered, his eyes falling to the orange slice in her drink.
Lifting her eyes from her drink, Siadra took in the mood and the muted whispers of those there, it was evident. Anything that touched upon the life and death of a child, clouded the atmosphere, the silencing of a young life.
"Yes, they do, one can't help but to notice it." Siadra replied, sadness weighing heavily in her own words.
Moving her hand from his, Siadra lifted up her drink to sip at it.
For what seemed a long while, Ezra said nothing. The mulled wine left a faint trace of steam between them that, when rising in front of Siadra's face, made her appear more magical than usual.
It's not that he didn't have any words. Ezra always had words when other people needed them. It was one of the strange burdens of his profession. He could sit beside a stranger whose life had just shattered into hundreds of pieces, and yet he somehow could find bridges across the wreckage.
When it came to himself, however, language often showed up late.
"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, his deep voice almost low enough to sound like the rumble of distant thunder.
"Yes you may." Siadra lowering her glass of mulled wine, gazing deeply into Ezra's eyes. Her own filled with curiosity as to what he wished to ask.
Right now her focus was all on Ezra, the noise of life that surrounded them, became muted only a merely a background.
"We've only spoken a handful of times," he said carefully, and grounded in the matter-of-fact. "And yet every time I find myself around you..." He searched for the thought rather than rushing it. After a good five seconds, he simply reached across the table and took her hand without breaking the soft eye-contact.
Her hands were cool to the touch--always cool. But it wasn't the temperature that drew him to reach for them.
She didn't withdraw her hands, Siadra clasped his with her own. A warm smile appeared,
"I have felt," her voice growing soft, her cheeks flushing a comely pink, feeling a bit shy. "I have felt a connection with you. Just something about you..." She could feel her heart start to beat rapidly. "D-do you want to go somewhere quieter to talk more?"
Ezra looked down at their joined hands. He didn't squeeze them, but the tips of his fingers could feel Siadra's pulse on the insides of her wrists.
"Quieter would be good," he said. He took a slow swallow of the hot toddy, letting the afterburn of the bourbon clear out the stale chemicals of the the starbase morgue that still lingered at the back of his throat. "What did you have in mind?"
He wasn't sure he had anything in mind either. Although, the only thing he was certain of was that he wanted to remain close to Siadra right now.
She released one hand to finish off her mulled wine, as if to give herself some courage, before Siadra answered.
"I do have a place I like to retreat to, and-it will be my quarters. Calming classical music, comfortable seating. Would you, like to go there?"
Ezra nodded silently before taking one last look down at his cup. The toddy had been reduced to a thin, reflective layer at the very bottom of the stoneware with flecks of ground cinnamon staring back up at him. Its contents were now in his stomach, the warmth having both numbed him and lulled him into a calm state.
He waited for Siadra to rise and then stood slowly, his large frame making the chair he had just occupied seem as if it were meant for a young child.
Once he had risen from the chair and moved to her side, Siadra linked her arm with his.
The door to her quarters opened, Siadra stepped inside, releasing Ezra's arm.
"Welcome to my retreat where you may find yourself having a spot of yarn fluff that might have made its way."
Giving a sweeping gesture to her quarters.
There was a separate area for where she slept, Siadra having a curtain which crossed the small archway which led to where the bed was. This would be to the right from the door. In front there would be a comfortable sofa, over the view port were curtains which could be closed. To the left there was a seamstress form, with an unfinished dress, which was a dark purple. Next to it in an alcove were some skeins of yarn of various colors. Also in the alcoves below the yarn was a selection of books. Below that was a tea set, black with humming bird with a red hibiscus upon it and the cups with it were hibiscus.
"Is there a selection of music that you'd like to hear?" Siadra asked as she walked over to take her shoes off.
Ezra stepped inside and paused for a moment before answering her question. Her personal quarters carried the unmistakable imprint of Siadra herself: the yarn, the books, the unfinished dress, the tea set waiting on its own shelf. Altogether, they lent the place a feeling that reminded him of small homes on Betazed near the cliffs where someone was always in the middle of making something.
His eyes drifted over to the seamstress form which held the unfinished purple dress.
"Dealer's choice," he said. "If this is your retreat, you should choose the music."
A small smile appeared on his face as he moved toward the sofa. "Artemis doesn't have large luxurious quarters like some of the larger vessels in the fleet," Ezra admitted, glancing around. "I can't say much about my own personal quarters--Milo and Trigger have taken it over. But you've certainly made this a home, Siadra."
"I do like to make the most of the space I have been given." Siadra giving a pleased smile.
She requested Clair de lune by Debussy in soft tones. enough to be heard but not to where it would drown conversation.
When the music began to play, Siadra moved towards the sofa, almost seeming to float, just the grace of her movement, taking a seat beside Ezra.
Ezra settled back into the sofa as the first notes of Clair de lune bloomed softly throughout the room.
"Debussy always feels like he's writing about something he can't quite reach," he observed. "I like him. Especially at times like this."
He listened for another few moments, his eyes lingering on the curtains of her window. Internally, he remarked that he hadn't often seen curtains in the personal quarters of crewmembers during any of his assignments. Perhaps it was because any view of space required no adornment. And yet Siadra had done so and Ezra found himself admitting that he quite liked it.
"That man died during one of Earth's terrible wars. He died of cancer in Paris while the opposing side was bombarding the city. I've read that his funeral procession was small and that his mourners endured constant artillery bombardment while they made their way to a temporary grave."
"It is..." Siadra sought to put words to how she felt at Ezra's sharing of Debussy's passing. "Sorrowful, he created such magical music, nothing run of the mill, he found his own voice, his own path"
Shifting herself to where she could look into Ezra's eyes. Siadra added, softly. "The fact he lifted people enough that they went to pay their respect to him despite endangering their own lives. Adds to the music that he had written."
Siadra's quarters had grown so quiet in that moment that even the piano withdrew--seemingly--into the corners, allowing the ending notes of Clair de lune dissolve into thin air.
He looked at Siadra for a long moment. There was still sorrow in both of them. The child from the starbase had been carried in their hearts and his weight was felt in the spaces between every sentence. Yet grief had a curious habit of making certain truths impossible to procrastinate. If anything, it stripped away the unnecessary until all that remained was what mattered.
Ezra's fingers tightened gently against hers.
"I've been trying to find the right words," he said, almost smiling at the confession. "But I gave up on searching for them about an hour ago."
"So perhaps..."
The distance between them was already small. He crossed what remained with the utmost care, giving Siadra every opportunity to pull away if she wished. His eyes never left hers, searching them for permission rather than any expectation.
When his lips met hers, it was only for the briefest of moments. It was not deep--just a small peck. But it was warm and gentle.
She didn't pull away, in fact, Siadra felt a little bit breathless. Was this actually happening?
His kiss reminded her of a butterfly landing upon a petal of a flower, even though it was brief, and to be truthful she liked it.
She returned his kiss, hers lingering, slipping an arm around Ezra to draw him closer. Her heart was beating rapidly, just enjoying this contact between the two of them.
For just a second, Ezra forgot that Artemis' artificial gravity was even functioning. It wasn't because her kiss lingered or even that she had chosen to answer him. There was an extraordinary difference between offering affection and having it returned. He had spent years helping others believe they were worthy of being held by another soul, and throughout that time had often wondered if that same grace might one day find him.
As Siadra's arm settled around him and drew him nearer, he could feel an old and weathered corner of his heart begin to loosen. It was as though a door was swollen shut by countless rough seasons had finally yielded by a patient hand.
When their lips parted, he remained close enough to see the light in her eyes. She looked different than she had an hour ago. Or perhaps she had always looked this way, and he was only now learning to see Siadra.
Right now, it was just her, Siadra. The other voices were quiet. She smiled softly feeling herself drawn into his gaze even further.
Ezra was an extraordinary man. A man who had a great capacity to listen to others. Accepting, willing to share the burden of those he came into contact with. He was also someone who found himself standing alone, on the outside looking in.
The one thing that she also noticed was, Siadra could see herself reflected in his eyes. She saw the change in them, the opening of a door in his heart. The eyes were the windows to the soul, he was allowing her to step in.
It touched her deeply, Siadra reaching up to gently caress his cheek, her fingers tracing along his jawline, running her thumb along his lips.
She didn't want to speak, to break this moment with words. Just wanted to take in this...
Ezra decided not to chase the silence. There was absolutely no hurry to fill the quiet space between them.
He leaned into the warmth of Siadra's hand against his face, closing his eyes for only a moment as her thumb traced his lips. Something about the gesture was reassuring and it reminded him of someone smoothing over the cover of their most beloved book with absolute reverence, before opening it to read again.
His hand rose to rest lightly over hers where it cradled his cheek. He turned his face just enough for his lips to brush the inside of her palm, a kiss offered there with the same tenderness as the one they had already shared. It felt entirely instinctive--almost ancient--like some quiet current was carrying them to a tranquil shore.
"I don't want to rush this," he whispered, his voice deep yet no louder than a soft piano key.
Ezra eased closer until their foreheads were resting together. Their breaths mingled in the small space between them.
A gentle sigh of contentment from Siadra. A moment like this, with Ezra, She'd not dared to dream about. She didn't know where this life was going to take her. Nor where this was going to take her or Ezra either.
"I don't want to rush this either," she uttered quietly, giving a quiet smile. "Right now live in the moment, making a moment like this cherished, but also treat it gently."
She moved closer once more, resting her head upon his shoulder. His scent, reminded her of a forest on a summers day, something peaceful, and yet filled with promise.
He turned his head carefully toward her head, breathing in the scent of her hair. Ezra closed his eyes and marveled at how light and fragrant it smelled, wondering at how the usual beating of his heart had slowed in her presence.
Ezra said nothing, deciding the moment was too precious to acknowledge. He simply kissed the top of Siadra's head, settling back, closing his eyes, and allowing himself to feel who he was in this shared moment with her. Even more than that, how she made him feel.
Occasionally, words were helpful--even useful. Not in this moment, Ezra thought.
The peacefulness of her quarters with the two of them cuddling upon the couch, Siadra could fee her eyelids begin to droop. Being held in Ezra's arms, was so relaxing, so comforting, so delightful. She didn't want to move at all.
A thought came to her mind though, it was about his dogs, there was a routine that they had, as far as she knew, and them being separated from him.
With reluctance, Siadra whispered, "I should let you go, as your canine companions maybe wondering where you are at."
"They know how to use the replicator," he said softly, stroking the back of her neck with two fingers.
A Joint Post By
Lieutenant Siadra Molaur
Chief Forensic Science Officer, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
Lieutenant Ezra Van Wijnbergen
Victim Advocate Counselor, USS Artemis
Starfleet Criminal Investigations Unit
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