Divine Windows of the Soul

Posted on Wed Aug 15th, 2018 @ 11:27pm by Lieutenant Commander Angus Murphy

Mission: A Majestic Affair
Location: Chief Engineer's Quarters, Deck 10
Timeline: MD 6, 2000 Hours
3393 words - 6.8 OF Standard Post Measure

Several days had passed since Lieutenant Murphy had installed the kitchens for Pat in his quarters and then a larger commercial unit in the mess hall. He'd heard good things about the chef's meals, mostly as scuttlebutt around engineering from people who had had lunch in the officers' mess. Murphy wasn't one to do lunch in the mess, but maybe the messages of how good they were had a subliminal effect on his cravings. Maybe something about Pat's story had also resonated with him. Whatever happened, they exchanged some short messages and had arranged a time for a 'small dinner' and Murphy had explicitly requested 'nothing major just keep it simple.'

Keeping simple was something Patrick entertained often so he had gone about preparing a small meal. Assuming he was meant to join the man for dinner, he had prepared a small lasagna with home made pasta sheets and freshly made sauce. The only replicated part really was the cheese as he had no fresh cheese available to him. For dessert he had prepared two lava cakes with vanilla sauce.

Balancing the tray on one hand as he approached the CEO's quarters, he reached to press the chime. He hoped it was alright that he was a good five minutes early.

Murphy knew he was running late, having been caught up in a complicated plasma regulator repair job until just about fives before. "Enter!" he called to the computer from the sonic shower, which opened the door and admitted the chef. "Sorry, I'll be out in a sec."

The quarters were rather empty, but fairly spacious. There were not a lot of personal belongings and no pictures anywhere.

Patrick glanced around, taking note of the bareness of the private quarters. It was such a contrast to his own room, he noticed as he walked up to the dinner table and slid the tray onto its surface. "No rush," he called ahead, "food's bleedin' hot anyway so it's alright for it to cool a little." As he had to wait anyway, he set out to put the plates and cutlery he'd brought onto the table. "I hope you like lasagna?"

"Sure, it smells great," he called back. The engineer emerged from the other room a few minutes later, still pulling a shirt on. He was dressed in civilian casual clothing, nice but nothing fancy. He ran a hand across his short hair to make sure the hair wasn't standing on end or anything. "Lasagna, huh? I haven't had real Italian in... forever." He seemed mostly to be in a fairly decent mood, maybe he's secretly been looking forward to this.

"Neither have I, but then I've never been to Italy either," Patrick confessed. He gave the man a once over, giving a minute nod in appreciation. "But mine's not really traditional as I do add a lot of cheese." He smiled ruefully as he dished up a single serving from the bowl he'd brought. "I did make the pasta myself, it's very relaxing to do." Handing the plate over he grinned. "I hope you like it."

"Cheese is good," Murphy grinned as he sat down at the setting and took the serving that was handed to him. He held it up to his nose and inhaled the characteristic smell of italian herbs and tomato and pasta. "I'm blown away already," he said as he set it down. "I should confess that I didn't even know you could make pasta from scratch." He waited for Patrick to get a serving himself.

"Of course you can. You just need to know which ingredients to use. I'll be happy to show you some time." Patrick offered as he served himself. "It's time consuming but quite relaxing, at least to me it is. But I always add extra cheese as I don't feel it cuts it if there's no cheese. I use several kinds though, perhaps you can have a guess at which?" He watched the man expectantly, waiting for comment as he tasted a bite.

Asking Murphy what kind of ingredients were in a lasagna was akin to Murphy asking Pat what size coil spanner was needed to open a dilithium chamber. "Uh... well, uh... white cheese?" he guessed before taking a bite and closing his eyes as he absorbed the melody of flavors. "That's almost as good as sex."

Patrick all but choked on his bite of food on that comment. "What?" he breathed, while trying to make sure his food went down the right way. "Yes there's white cheese...I used Mozzarella and Gouda cheese, and a bit of Parmesan."

Murphy grinned and cut another bite away with the fork and scooped it up into his mouth. "Sorry, that was a crass comment. I just meant it was really good. Hands down the best I've ever had. You've got a gift, for sure."

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Patrick looked down at his plate. "Thank you," he murmured, scooping up another mouthful, "what is your favourite food? Anything out there that you'd drop everything for if you were able to get it?"

Murphy chewed his bite more slowly as he thought about Pat's question. Finally he shook his head. "I really don't have one... I mean do you count coffee as a food?" The question was said with a joking laugh. "I just need to get promoted to starship captain someday and the then I'll have someone to cook for me and then maybe I'll figure it out."

"No," the Irishman chuckled, "coffee is not a food. Just come to the mess around lunch or dinner time and I'll be happy to cook. I don't think I'll have time to bring it to you every day."

"Oh, no, no... I wasn't asking you to do that," Murphy explained, feeling guilty if it had been interpretted as such. "I don't really go up to the mess very often. I feel like I need to be down here, making sure work is getting done and setting an example." He paused a second, dissecting the remaining lasagna on the plate as though to unravel its multi-layered secrets. "It hard to hang out with people in a personal setting like that. At least for me. You know."

Patrick nodded. "Believe it or not but I don't like crowds either. I do prefer to eat somewhere quiet too though I'll admit when it's busy I often forget to set something aside for myself. It's not odd for me to miss a meal or two a day." He watched Murph play with the remainder of the lasagna. "Want more?" he asked, pointing to the bowl. "There's enough for seconds, or to heat it up tomorrow if you want. I wouldn't recommend eating it cold though. Cold pizza is nice, but cold lasagna is disgusting."

"I'm going to be stuffed. I'm also trying to pace myself, too, because I see," he craned his neck at the still-covered dishes, "that it looks like you brought dessert. You should know I can detect a dessert from at least 500 meters." He leaned back in the chair, not wanting to rush the dinner and also enjoying the company and the relaxed nature of the visit. "I don't really have anywhere to store left overs... I usually just recycle whatever I don't eat and then re-replicate it the next day."

"Hmm no recycling my food. I'll put it in my fridge and you come get it when you want it, deal?" the young chef smiled gently, clearly enjoying himself. "If you can detect dessert, can you also guess what it is then?" he challenged, pointing towards the covered plate.

Murphy grinned for a moment and nodded before he got a more serious expression on his face and touched his finger tips to his temples as though trying to psychically read the food. "It's very... fuzzy... I'm sensing sugar and sweetness, but after that it's really hard to tell..."

Shaking his head, Patrick laughed as he uncovered the plate. "Careful it's hot and runny. At least it ought to be... Do you want sauce with it, or do you prefer it without?" He tipped one of the cakes onto a smaller plate, then gestured towards the little jar with sauce. Shoving the plate towards Murph, he tipped the second tin over and pulled it towards himself before covering the sweetness with even more sweetness while he poured the sauce.

"Sauce. Always sauce," Murphy declared as though this were a life rule set in stone. "Do you want some wine or something? I feel terrible that I haven't offered you anything to drink. I've got a bottle of this amazing Risan sweet red."

"I'd love a glass of wine," Patrick accepted, "should go great with the chocolate of the cake too." He tipped the jar over Murph's dessert. "Just say when," he said, while continuing to pour the sauce.

Murphy got up to retrieve the wine from a wall storage cabinet that had a bunch of other bottles in it. "Oh, that's good right there. Not too much." He brought the bottle over along with a couple of stemless wine glasses. He opened the bottle and poured the wine, it's sweet fruity aroma evident immediately. "I hope it's not too sweet for you. I'm certainly not a wine connoisseur. Should we toast? To... a good mission?"

Patrick picked up the glass. "I usually use wine for cooking, not drinking," he admitted as he lifted his glass. "To a good mission," he echoed, then took a small sip. "Oooh this is very sweet... good dessert wine for sure but with the sweetness of the cake it might be a wee much."

Murphy imbibed from his glass as well and then set it down to try the cake. He shaved off a sliver with his fork, popped it into his mouth, and just let it melt. "Mmm. My god," he said, mouth still full as he wiped chocolate from his lips with the napkin. He swallowed and then chased it with some more wine. "It's very rich. It's perfect."

"I'm glad you like it," the chef admitted with a smile. It made him feel happy to see someone enjoy his cooking. "Sadly I only made two of these..."

"Well, there's only two of us. I would have been worried if you showed up with more than that," Murphy laughed between bites and sips. He refilled his glass. "This is nice," he eventually said, not just of the food. "I miss real conversation."

"How come? Don't you talk with people?" Patrick peered at him over his glass. He took a sip of his wine, washing down the cake.

"Sure, I talk to people all day long," Murphy replied as he thought about it. "Not really the same thing. I distance myself from the people I work with. I don't want them to get soft. I don't want to be their friend. They let down their guard and start getting sloppy and then I start overlooking things because of a friendship... and that's when accidents happen." He went to pour another drink but the bottle was empty. He retrieved another of a less sweet variety. "Anyway, it's not the same thing."

Patrick nodded. "It's alright to have a few trusted friends in your department though..." He sipped his wine as his thoughts wandered. "Andrew wasn't a departmenthead, but him and his boss, who wasn't a departmenthead either, were good friends. It's alright to have friends."

Murphy nodded. Of course he knew what Patrick was saying to be true, but real life was something different. It was easy for Patrick. Patrick cooked for people, made them happy, even if for only the duration of the meal. "No, I get what you're saying," he said, nodding again. He looked down at the plates. "I really suck at the whole friendship thing," he admitted.

"Why?" It was a simple yet very loaded question and Patrick knew it. "It's good for team spirit and bonding to hang out with your team once in a while. Surely you have some of those events for your team on occasion? Team building?"

"This feels like a setup," Murphy grinned. "Did someone in engineering put you up to this?" He chuckled and shrugged easily. "Team building is fine. Sure. Yes, it's a thing. It'll always be a thing. I thought we were talking about friendship... which is a different thing." The wine was complicating his feelings, but in some weird twist of irony also helped the words flow. "Would you be offended if I told you that I'm kind of really attracted to you?"

This was unexpected and Patrick froze, simply staring at him for several seconds. "Why would I be offended?" he asked slowly, feeling very flattered rather than offended. "I'm not offended..." He set down his glass, not quite sure how to respond instead. "Not at all. I mean..." He paused again, hoping he wasn't giving a wrong impression now. "I don't know what I mean. It's very sudden, but I do like you."

"It is sudden," Murphy conceded quietly as he stroked the stubble on his chin with his free hand, the one not holding the wine glass. "I'm not trying to push anything or make anything awkward... I just... wanted you to know... because... life is short and no one knows that more than the two of us, right? And.. like? I can work with like."

The younger man seemed flustered, but he nodded quietly. "I know you're not pushing, and I do understand," he said softly, "but rushing into things isn't going to work. I'd like to get to know you better first." He gave a small but genuine smile as he reached out. "I do like you," he repeated, "but I don't want to rush into anything."

Murphy thought for a moment. "I'm not asking you to move in, Pat. I'm not even asking you if you feel the same way. I'm just telling you what I'm feeling.. that there's this attraction. I don't even know if it's real or just physical. That's all it is right now. You can take it and you can do whatever you want with that. If something happens and we all die tomorrow, then I will die without those unspoken things on my chest."

"That's not what I mean," Patrick all but whispered, feeling a little rebuked. "I just don't want you to feel that I am responding because I need someone to replace my husband. That's the last thing I want someone to feel. And I don't want to be a replacement either, that's why I suggest to take things slow." He paused, looking him straight in the eyes. "I know there is attraction, I feel it too," he admitted, "but as I said I want to get to know you better too."

"And I, you." It was a fair concern, Murphy admitted to himself, that he was patching a hole in his soul with someone else. Maybe that's exactly what he was doing. 'Is that really that bad? Don't you deserve to be happy, too? Isn't life too short not to be happy? Haven't you grieved for long enough?' All the things the wine whispered to his heart and stirred up feelings like the mucky bottom of a lake. "So, we go slow," Murphy agreed with Pat's point, even if it wasn't what the wine was telling him.

Patrick nodded, his hand still covering that of the other man. "Tell me about your husband," he asked carefully, "what was he like?" Fingers tightened slightly around the hand, as if to indicate it was okay to talk about it. "Was he Starfleet too?" He shifted his chair around the table, moving a little closer to him while pushing his plate in the opposite direction.

Murphy nodded at the Starfleet question. "Marty was an engineer too. That's how we met, on the Indiana. He was a damage control specialist, I was a senior engineer. He was... my rock. He was so grounded, like this calm, neutral energy. No matter how bad or hectic the day was, he was there." He paused a moment. "What about Andrew?"

"He was a starfleet archaeologist. We met when I was catering at the academy while I was in my senior year. He had just graduated. He loved getting his hands dirty and could get enthusiastic about the littlest of things. I suppose I was the one who kept him grounded, and made sure he got home every evening and got fed. If I didn't he would've been a very skinny man as he always forgot to feed himself. If he was out on a trip, he got lost in his work." He smiled sadly at the memory. "He's buried on Cheron, not far from the archaeological site he had been working on before the station was attacked. Admiral Hurin made sure he has a special place, overlooking the site."

"I've never been to Cheron. Maybe I could go with you, some time. I mean if you want," Murphy offered.

"I'd like that. Cheron is a Reman governed planet, where Starfleet has a base in orbit. It's now captained by a Reman Starfleet captain. He's a good man... I don't know that many Remans but I know he's a good man." He sighed softly, shaking his head. "I'm not ready to go back there, but in time I will be. I need to find myself again first."

"A lofty enough goal," Murph offered an understanding smile. The next statement was clearly a bit more difficult to talk about. "We had a space funeral for Marty. Still not sure if that was the right thing, but it's what the Captain recommended and it seemed right at the time."

"There's something to be said about both," Patrick mused, "if it was right at the time, it probably still is?" He picked up his glass again, taking a small sip. "Do you have a picture of him?" He knew Murphy had seen pictures in his own quarters when he installed the kitchen unit. Was that really only a few days ago? It seemed so much longer now.

Murphy let out a breath. "I don't have any physical copies anymore," he said as he pushed the dessert plate aside and tapped the empty space to bring up a workstation console embedded into the table's surface. "I don't know, is it weird I got rid of all that stuff? It feels weird. I don't know." He scrolled through his personal files until he got to some short holographic vid of a dark-skinned man throwing a frisbee on a beach. It played three dimensionally above the table and was only a few seconds long, but looped continuously.

"He was very handsome," Patrick commented as he leaned in to better see the hologram's face. "Why not make a still out of the video if you have regrets about throwing the pictures away? Or contact his family?" He looked up at the man beside him, before looking away. "I'm sorry... it's not my place to bring up suggestions like that."

Murphy closed down the video with a swipe in the air and then turned off the workstation. "No, it's alright. I'm working through a lot of it still with counselors. Majestic is my first assignment since, so I know it's going to be difficult. I don't know if I want the reminders every day."

"I only have a few photos up," Patrick offered, then blushed, "and I have his blanket. His scent was impregnated into it. It'll never fade." His blush deepened. "It helps me sleep."

"Don't be embarrassed," Murphy said, reassuringly. "If I had kept anything of his, I'm sure I'd be the same..." He turned his hand over and held Patrick's for a moment. "You know, I can clean all this stuff up later. Do you want to get out and do something? Maybe walking to the arboretum for some air?"

"I'd like that." He stood, pulling Murphy up with him, drawing him into a quick hug before letting him go just as quick. "it's turning out to be one of my better evenings already," he admitted with a smile.

---

Lieutenant Murphy
Chief Engineer
USS Majestic

Patrick O'Malley
Captain's Chef
pnpc Lhaes