Light Years From Lonely, Part 2

Posted on Mon Aug 4th, 2025 @ 4:20am by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Ensign Wrenleigh Reed
Edited on on Thu Sep 4th, 2025 @ 8:48pm

2,050 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: The Menagerie II
Location: Orange Crescent Beach, Barisa Prime
Timeline: Evening (MD007, 1825 Hours)

"So tell me something about you that I never would guess in a million years." Wren said in a happy tone as the water lapped against her feet before retreating again. It was like the tide was coming in or something.

He looked down at their joined hands, still surprised they were allowed to exist this way--just together. Simple and totally unguarded. It was almost worth all those years of isolation coming home to an empty apartment, walking the frigid corridors of Starfleet Intelligence. Since arriving on the Astrea two days previous, he continued to contemplate how swiftly his world had changed trajectory--a captain who seemed to trust him, an ally in Xalanth--his direct superior, a possible friend in Osirin, and now her. Wren. Wrenleigh Reed. Who was she, and who was she becoming to him? They were questions he preferred not to presently define.

Jean-Baptiste considered her question and let out a self-conscious laugh. Well--okay," he paused, his thumb brushing over the side of her delicate hand once more. "I took ballet classes when I was six."

"There's nothing wrong with ballet! If anything, it will have helped strength, flexibility, coordination and understanding music and rhythm," Wren commented with a smile and a slightly raised eyebrow at her hand being played with again. "I think it's a nice quality for a man to have, did you continue it on long term or was it just done as a child?"

JB's laugh softened into a something more reflective as he gazed out over the curl of an incoming wave.

"I stayed for three years," he said, pridefully. "I only started because my cousin Mireille was in the class. She was two years older--my hero back then. I followed her everywhere. But I kept going because... I liked it."

He kept his thumb frozen in place, realizing it might now be annoying Wren.

"It taught me balance, discipline, and how to move with intention. Later, when I got into boxing as a teenager, I realized those years in the studio made all the difference."

He glanced back at her then, a shy smile flickering over his lips, almost as though revealing this boyhood chapter of his life had loosened something he'd normally keep folded inward.

"Your turn," he said, giving their clasped hands a gentle swing.

"I enjoy writing and have been working on a futuristic kind of novel," Wren said in her standard matter of fact tone but slightly softer. "I'll admit it's still in the very early stages, like only fifty pages or so, but there's a lot of detail that's eventually going to go into it." She didn't admit it to many people because it was more of a hobby she persued when there was enough down time.

The swinging of her hand in his ellicited a laugh from her, a sure sign she was actually enjoying herself and allowing for some fun to slip through the cracks of the carefully constructed professionalism. "Other than that, I don't have many other things you'd never guess about me. My life is pretty public, most information about me can be linked back to my family, really." Wren frowned at that fact.

He caught the subtle frown that tugged on the corners of her mouth. It was very slight and easy to miss--but not for JB.

Jean-Baptiste tilted his head a little, his eyes steady on her brilliant blue-grey eyes--now appearing bright blue to him in the fading light.

"Your family?" he asked, curious but careful not to pry too sharply. "Who are they?"

"Well, my mother is a physician at Massachuesetts General Hospital, Dr. Laura Reed, and I have two brothers, Tanner and Evan who are the Chief Flight Control Officer and Marine Executive Officer respectfully on the USS Athena." Wren hadn't had much of a chance to speak to Evan for a while and made a mental note to call him a bit more often, whereas Tanner would call her on the regular just to annoy her.

She loved her family, don't get her wrong, but to have her own actions in her career be judged based on previous actions by her father was rather unfair. In saying that though, she was a daddy's girl through and through and was following in his footsteps the best she could. "My father is an Ambassador, Commander Johnathan Reed. He was often associated with matters to do with Vulcan, Betazed and the Cardassian union, and there have been a number of articles published on him, both bad and good."

As they kept walking, Wren added, "I'm not sure if you're familiar with him at all, but I try and distance myself from falling under his shadow, so please don't judge me based on anything he may or may not have done." The dull sound of the ocean was enough to keep her thoughts clear from any negative associations with her father.

JB slowed his steps, her words drawing him toward something distant in his memory.

"Jonathan Reed..." he repeated softly. "The name sounds familiar."

He stopped then, turning fully to face her. The ocean hissed mere inches from their feet, folding over itself in a strange, slow applause. He took her free hand into both of his now--cradling it gently, as though it were as fragile as tissue paper.

"Listen," he said, his voice dropping lower. "Some of the best writers come from complicated families. The more complex, the better, usually. You see the world from angles most people can't even imagine. All those sharp edges make for the truest stories."

He looked at her for long moment, his gaze completely unguarded. His thumbs moved softly against her knuckles, as if coaxing her to stay in this tiny fervid space with him just a little longer. For a second, it almost seemed like he might lean in and close that last electric inch between them. But he didn't.

Wren's cheeks flushed pink again at the compliment and the encouragement towards her writing before she took a look at how gently he held her hands in his own and then up towards his face and into the intense yet kind eyes that held her own, "You know, I've heard your surname somewhere before but I can't put my finger on exactly where..." She wanted to close the gap and moved an inch closer toward him.

As Wren inched closer, JB felt his breath catch in his chest. The world felt like it had shrunk down to just those last few inches between them. Her eyes seemed to be inviting him, wide and searching, their bluish depths whispering something he couldn't hear. Her lips were parted slightly, soft and full, and waiting for his to land.

But just as their faces drew within that final trembling margin, JB dropped his head, eyes closing as if to shield himself from the force of the moment.

A tremor moved through his shoulders that was so slight it may as well have been the ocean breeze.

"I--" he started, but the words seemed to fall apart and disappear among the sand.

Wrens shoulders slumped slightly, her eyes dropped down and the smile fade lying slightly, and she took a step back, "I can't or I'm sorry, that's what you were going to say, right?" Her tone wasn't meant to be accusatory, Wren just wanted to know.

She felt like a fool for misreading the signals, her cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as a result, and her hands withdrew from his. "I'm sorry, I really misread the situation. That's my fault."

JB kept his head bowed for another heartbeat. He could feel the words catching like fishbones in the back of his throat.

His hands remained held close to his chest as though the ghost of her hand were still there.

"No--no, Wren," He finally said, voice now raw. He lifted his head just then, meeting her eyes again, but his own eyes were snaked with someone vulnerable. He could see the hurt written across her features and felt his heart drop.

"You didn't misread anything," he went on, taking a small cautious step forward. "It's me. It's... I just--"

He exhaled a shaky breath that seemed to come from somewhere deep down--like a tormented pocket of air that had been stuck inside him for years. He felt the ache of it resonate along his spine.

"It's been so long since I let myself want something like this," he admitted. His voice sounded foreign in his own ears. "I didn't forget how to want. I just forgot how to move toward it without feeling like I'd ruin everything."

He finally lowered his hands, fingers now twitching at his sides--yearning to reach for hers once more. But he held back.

"I want to get this right," he said finally.

Wren looked to the ground and the wet sand moving with the tide before looking out to the distant and almost endless horizon before she looked up at JB, "I do too... I've spent so long trying to perfect my career and what I want to do with my life that I've neglected this side of things like forming real relationships, and I don't know how to even start."

A warm wind cut across them, carrying the brine and the sound of a distant breaking wave. JB's hair stirred at the fringes of his forehead, and for just a moment, he looked younger. Like a boy standing at the rocky edge of a lake, daring himself to jump.

He stepped forward--not all the way, just enough that their mutual warmth found each other again. He found his voice again, coming out low as if on a frequency just for her.

"We don't have to start big," he said, his eyes holding hers. "We can start right here. With small, true things. Like the way your laugh sounds when you're surprised. Or how I might squeeze your hand when I'm thinking."

He lifted his hand halfway, then closed the distance this time, the palm of his hand coming to rest lightly against her cheek. The gesture was so gentle it felt like a question, like a tentative note at the very beginning of song--a song neither of them could hear just yet.

"We don't have to know what comes next," he added. "Maybe that's the point."

Wren leaned into his hand touching her cheek and closed her eyes as a smile flitted across her face again. His touch was gentle and familiar and she thought the next logical step if it was a romance novel was that he would kiss her and she'd kiss him back.

"You're right," Wren said when she opened her eyes again to look at him, "We don't need all the answers, not just yet. But I would like to get to know you better regardless."

"That sounds like a good place to start," he said, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone now, as though he were trying to memorize the shape of her courage. He didn't move to kiss her, not yet. The quiet seemed to settle around them in that moment.

They stood there, suspended in a silence that almost felt sacred--the ocean breathing in and out at their feet. Wren's hair lifted slightly in the salty breeze, a few strands catching against his wrist.

"Maybe," he said after a long moment, "getting to know each other is the adventure. The real one."

His hand slipped from her cheek and founds hers again, fingers intertwining without hesitation this time. He held it firmly, and then they both resumed their plodding path along the sand.

"Shall we continue on then?" Wren gave his hand around hers an affectionate and light squeeze and a smile. It was like a storybook romance coming to life for her, but who knew what fate had in store for her, and JB for that matter.




Ensign Wrenleigh Reed
Diplomatic Officer
USS Astrea


Lieutenant J.G. Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Assistant Chief Security Officer
USS Astrea

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