A midnight sleep-deprived meeting

Posted on Tue Jun 2nd, 2026 @ 6:09am by 1st Lieutenant Ángel Martinez & Ensign Tyler Williams
Edited on on Sun Sep 20th, 2026 @ 2:51pm

3,082 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Side Plots
Location: Small Gym, Deck 26

The withdrawal symptoms from alcoholism had woken Tyler up in a sweat and he found he wasn't able to get back to sleep after being awake for what seemed like hours. Looking at the clock, it was 0455. He groaned load enough out of frustration that he for sure would wake someone else up.

A large drink of water and a shower later, and Tyler was ready to take his frustrations out on the exercise equipment in the gym. Maybe if he worked up a big enough sweat, the symptoms would disappear, and he could focus on other things instead of wanting another drink? His black singlet hung slightly loose and showed a bit more of his chest than he normally would've liked, and the shorts fit just a bit tighter, but who cared, it was way too early for anyone else to notice what he looked like or judge him for it.

Prior to making his way down to the gym, Tyler consulted the exercise routine he'd constructed for what he was doing each day. It was a five-day routine that combine cardio and strength, and was a mix of compound lifting, interval cardio, and functional conditioning, nothing that would be too repetitive and work the same muscles over and over again. Today was day three: working the core with some cardio mixed in.

After some stretching to warm the muscles up, Tyler began his 60 minute run on the treadmill. Music was playing through his earbuds, some high intensity upbeat electronic music that was infused with rock and metal, and he was facing away from the gym entrance, so focused on his run that he failed to notice anyone else coming in after twenty minutes.

Martinez had found sleep difficult to come by. They had spent time resting on their back, staring at the ceiling, but all they had felt was a tightening in their skin of memories...and the hint scent of mint that wasn't there. And when sleep refused them completely and that twitch has started in their little finger? The gym was the most natural place for them to go.

They entered the small gym, eyes going to the treadmill they had gotten so used to but found it occupied. A man was running, back to them...in his own world, as he did not react at Martinez walking across. That suited them well in the moment. The man ran well, steady pace that showed he was fit, if the muscles didn't convince you enough. Built for power and speed, Martinez judged, in a once-over look more suited for the battlefield than the gym. They shook it away, moved to stretch...eyes going to the punch bag hanging there. It was not their...usual thing. But maybe it was what was needed? They exhaled and moved to the replicator, getting a towel, bottle of water and tape for their hands.

The bag hung still, unassuming, and Martinez put the bottle and towel on the bench before approaching it with the tape. They wrapped their hands carefully, with practice, but a slight frown. There was something ritualistic about it, something they always found both satisfying and disturbing. The tape went into the pockets of their combats. They shifted their stance, feet light in the worn trainers, the vest top showing the tattoo of stars on their arm, the scars on their skin. The first punch was to set the force. The second the rhythm. And they let themselves lean into it, fall into a pattern that brought the feeling of close quarter combat without the adrenaline of life and death.

The second punch landing on the bag conincided with the timing of the song changing for Tyler and it pulled his focus back into the present, causing him to almost miss a step on the treadmill. Pausing the run and jumping onto non-moving parts of the machine, he looked around and saw someone, someone he hadn't seen around before, using the punching bag.

He gave her a look up and down and saw the build, the strength behind them, and figured she must be a Marine. "You're a long way from Marine Country, aren't you?" his Southern drawl was on point as he took a drink from hia water bottle and wiped some of the sweat off his face before he walked over. "I haven't seen you around before, I'm Tyler, part of the Tactical team."

Martinez followed the punch through with a knee, then stepped back and met Tyler’s russet-brown eyes. They gave a nod, wiping sweat from their brow with one forearm. "Martinez. They/them," they said simply, the arm dropping. "I like this gym. Best part is I’m the only Marine in it..." The smile came quick, with a flash of teeth, but good natured. "You run like someone who could do it all day."

So, the Marine used different pronouns, that was cool. Tyler barked a small laugh out, "Ha, yeah, I don't think I could run all day, but I can definitely do other things all day, that's for sure. I think I only got like a third of the way through the run too. Anything to tire me out, really." He huffed out a breath and could feel his chest start to tighten from the hard breathing he'd been doing. "So, what brings you down this way?"

"Same as you, I suppose," Martinez said with a small smile, motioning to the bag as if it could back them up on it. "Couldn’t sleep. Needed to do something to wear myself out." They didn’t mention the rest. The itchy feeling under their skin. The way thoughts looped when left unchecked. The weight of too many memories surfacing in the quiet on their quarters. "I like the size of this gym," they added, voice easier now. "And it gets me out of Marine country. Let's me see people who don’t wear the green."

"And then you run into people who have been thinking about wanting to wear the green." It was one of the first times he'd said that out loud, to someone he'd only just met no less. He shook his head, "Sorry, yeah, it's a nice small gym that I don't think actually gets used all that much, if I'm being honest. I regularly come this way and don't see anyone here." A shrug of the shoulders, "Did you just transfer on board?"

Martinez watched him with interest as he said he had been thinking about it. They could see it. He would be a good fit, on the surface. No trouble with the physical side. The rest... he had been through Starfleet Academy. He would be sharp enough to pass the tests. They took a deeper breath, looking down. “I wasn’t always a Marine,” they said, a quiet confession. Or maybe just an open hand, offered to bridge the gap. A way to say it didn’t have to be the first choice.

A small smile followed as they met Tyler's eyes again, briefly. “I transferred...well, more or less just did,” they added, giving a nod. “Long enough to have unpacked. Not long enough to explore properly.” They looked around the room, for a brief moment, taking it in. The hum of systems. The scent of sweat and recycled air...familiar to the level it was almost a comfort. “Found the gym on my second day. Kept coming back after. Just depends on the hour.”

Tyler made a self-depreciating joke and laughed, shifting his weight back and forth from his feet upwards, "Well you've come to the right person if you want to know where all of the alcohol is kept! But all jokes aside, welcome aboard. If you need a gym buddy, I'll either be here or up in Security somewhere."

"Thanks," Martinez said with a small smile, watching Tyler for a moment before nodding. "Good to have someone to spot, run with... hand-to-hand too, although I suspect you've got a few tricks up your sleeve." Their eyes flicked to his stance and there was a look of understanding. "Your balance. You move like a fighter."

Tyler grinned at the compliment and bowed his head slightly, "Why thank you. Back in my younger years, maybe fifteen years ago and before joining Starfleet, I did Mixed Martial Arts and boxing and was pretty good with them so it's all muscle memory now. I've still got a few moves stashed away though." It wasn't the awards he won or the training he endured for it or even how it made him happy that he remembered, it was getting his knee kicked out and the pain that came along with it. "How about you? What kind of experience do you have?"

Martinez gave a small nod at the mention of MMA. It explained a lot...the balance, the stance, the way Tyler moved. “Competitive martial arts? None.” They stretched, rolling out their shoulder, then started to unwind the tape from their hands. “Enlisted in the Ground Forces in ’69. Infantry. Did officer training in ’76, transferred to the Marines in ’85. After Mars.”

"Wow, that's really impressive." Tyler nodded in appreciation as he watched them with the hand wraps. "You're going to have to tell me more about that at some stage. I don't think I can even compare anything to the stories you'll have, right?" He knew it wasn't a competition and didn't want it to be, he was mostly just curious to listen and learn more.

"I don’t know...I suspect you’ve met more interesting characters on ships than I have on ground," they said, sliding the worn straps into their pocket. "So...what’s next on your exercise round, Tyler? Need a spotter...or someone to distract from the burn in your muscles?"

They met Tyler’s eyes, holding them. But there was a gentle smile at the corner of their lips, and their posture was easy. Relaxed.

Was Martinez... flirting with him? Tyler stood there, momentarily dumbfounded because he didn't know how to respond to the question if they were actually flirting. The grin remained in place, however, "Given i was only twenty minutes into a sixty minute run, i guess there's the core circuit to do: four rounds that involve a plank for forty five seconds, fifteen reps for a hanging knee raise, thirty seconds side plank each side, fifteen reps for back extensions, all before a ninety second break before each new round." That was today's core workout, the other days were different.

"Would you care to join me in doing it, if you're keen?" Tyler had subtly checked them out while they were talking, but not in the creepy way, just to check they could handle themselves and a challenge or two.

Martinez made a face like they were weighing the pros and cons of the proposed training, then finally nodded with confidence. “Well, I’d be a sorry excuse for a Marine if I couldn’t get through that without throwing up my breakfast,” they said, their grin answering Tyler’s with its own easy charm. They stretched one shoulder with a slow roll and added, with a scarred eyebrow raising just a hint...“Just don’t judge me if my side plank gets wobbly around round three. Been a long night...”

"Understandable, I'll join you on the floor for that one if it gets to it." Tyler replied as they both moved into a more open space to begin and he sat on the ground.

Martinez sat down as well and considered something, briefly. "So...I know why I am here before reverie...what about you, Tyler? What brings you to the gym when most people on your shift pattern would still happily be snuggling with their duvet?" they asked, brown eyes on him, the smile gone. They didn't look severe, just the humour was making way for something concern-adjacent.

How honest could he be with someone he'd just met? The question caused him to faulter slightly, again, "I, uh, I don't sleep well, haven't slept well in general, for a while now. Maybe a few hours at a time. So I channel what should be sleep into something productive."

Martinez met his eyes, gave a nod. "Makes sense," they said, before they shifted, bowing their head and stretching their leg out, hand going to grip their foot as they bent their body over it. "I do the same. This was preferable to staring at the ceiling."

"I struggle with alcohol abuse." Tyler said suddenly and quietly, a sudden urge to be honest with them rising up and coming out. He felt ashamed to say it out loud too because it was the first time doing so, and to an almost complete stranger nonetheless. He went back to stretch out. "Sorry. That was too much."

There was no flinch in Martinez, no trace of a grimace. Just stillness, and the kind of quiet attention that didn’t try to soften the truth. They looked at Tyler, watching the flicker in his eyes, the look they knew too well. The one that twisted in your throat, where grief and shame had started learning to form words. “It wasn’t,” they said, calm and steady. A contradiction. But true. They shifted to stretch the other leg, letting the silence breathe before continuing. “It was brave, though. Just saying it.” They met his eyes again and gave a small smile. A nod, slow and respectful.

"Thank you," He appreciated the reaction to his admission, appreciated them and the quiet amount of affextion they gave off. Tyler reflected for a moment by picking a spot on the ground and staring blankly at it before snapping out of it and moving his body so he was laying on his stomach with legs straight out behind and his arms folded in front. "Want to see who can hold a plank the longest?"

Martinez let out a breath before shifting into the same position, eyes ahead. "Spoiler alert, Tyler. You're going to plank the longest," they said with a breathless laugh. "I can stand at attention for hours, but this kind of thing? Never had it in me. Always find an itch." They glanced over, just briefly. "Still...you've got the conditioning for it."

Tyler laughed, "Then how about I go easy on you then? Or we change things up to whatever you reckon is a challenge?" He understood about the itch, it always appeared at the wrong time for sure.

"Tyler...I'm happy follow your lead," Martinez said and grinned, shaking their head, just a fraction. It felt good just to challenge themselves with something different. "Just don't laugh too hard at me when it goes downhill."

"So does this mean that if I ever actually join the Marines, that I'd be lower ranked than you but I'd still be fitter than you?!" Tyler shot back with another laugh and a look of mock surprise on his face. He was hoping to coax out a competitive side in Martinez, even if it was early in the morning.

"You think being a Marine is all muscle?" Martinez chuckled softly, brown eyes warm as they looked at him. "You can be fitter than me, but when I give you good intel, cover your six and make sure that whatever you got to do doesn't burn your soul? You'll be glad I'm the smarter one..." they winked, the chuckle warming into almost a throaty giggle.

"Hey, I never said I was smart!" Tyler flexed, more just to show off and be an idiot, "What I lack in intelligence, I make up for it in brawn... I'll make sure I can carry you away from the conflict in one piece." What was he even saying?

Martinez couldn't stop it, they laughed and broke the position. "Aw...yeah, you'd fit right in as a Marine, even got the lingo down," they said and shook their head, the smile making their cheeks hurt. They rubbed them quickly, shaking their head.

He appreciated the compliment, again, but it was just standard... him. Tyler couldn't help but smile wide at them laughing, he'd accomplished his mission. "Now I've got you laughing," he finished stretching and relaxed back onto his hands, "Come on, your choice: boxing or core?"

"Boxing. By the Red Sands of Mars, boxing..." Martinez looked at him, the smile settling to something more comfortable...not just for their face. "Spent months sparring after the war ended, when we were just...waiting for whatever came next. If anything...I learned how to avoid a punch. And block one. Much better than a black eye..." they moved to stand and offered a hand down to Tyler, meeting his eyes.

Tyler's eyes met their dark brown ones as he accepted the hand up and got to his feet. He could listen to them for hours, "Yeah, no one wants a black eye. Been there, had the fight and got it as the prize before. It's not nice." Loosening his shoulders up, he queried, "So what are the conditions with sparring with you? Anything goes or?"

"Like the Earth Gladiators of ancient times...until missio..." Martinez said playfully before rolling their shoulders as well. "No, seriously...anything does go, but we listen to each other. One taps out, the other respects it, if we need to pause we pause. I want to avoid sickbay...but I also want to make sure I can still handle myself in a fight."

Tyler nodded, "Terms and conditions agreed." Putting his hands up, "Come on then, wanna get started?" He gave them a wry grin and with a come here motion, invited them to be the one to start.

"Sure," Martinez said and gave a nod...because of nothing else, it would be interesting. To see how they would measure up with someone from the past.

"Let's go then," Tyler prepared himself as they began, continuing the sparring session for a good long while before they both gave in to the tiredness.


OFF

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1st Lieutenant Ángel Martinez
Marine Officer
USS Astrea


Ensign Tyler Williams
Tactical Officer
USS Astrea
(NPC of Eirly Andersen)

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