Hot Tempers Create Cold Shoulders
Posted on July 27th, 2021 by Scott Ammora

The debriefing had been long. Painfully long. Excruciatingly nauseating. It wasn’t just one horse that was beaten, no, it was a stable full that had been laid to waste. By the end of the second hour, with no end in sight, the security folk that Scott observed had stopped taking notes and resolved to arms folded across chests and drooping eyes. It was the nature of the beast to analyze the ends and outs of what happened well, what went poor, and all the statistics in between. Nonetheless, Scott had resigned himself to expect his ears to start bleeding.

When the meeting had concluded, and the collective sigh of relief had faded, Scott stood and gathered his supplies, glancing around. People were congregating in small groups – no one was smiling – and discussing the information they had just been provided. It wasn’t good information, but it was factual and to the point. It’s the one thing he liked about Starfleet: they didn’t sugarcoat anything.

Rodney Styles walked by him, not even so much as a glance heading Scott’s way. Scott opened his mouth, then stopped. There had been something there, but now was not the time to try and go down that rabbit hole. Scott nodded and received nothing in return. Perhaps that ship had sailed. He felt a twinge of regret that he hadn’t handled that situation correctly, but after his time on Atlantis and numerous encounters ending the same way, it was par for the course at present.

He didn’t feel like a pariah. And, at the same time did. He had made amends with Acacia and even felt that he could call her a friend. Colleague? Friend may have been too strong of a word, but progress had been made in his taking responsibility for his lack of etiquette. Even with her concession to allow him to see Damien, he still knew he had a hurdle with Tailor. Not knowing anything about her Scott knew he had an uphill battle to smooth things over from a management perspective.

Within his own department, he still felt on edge with Grey, but felt he was working towards a better relationship after his time spent with her husband. Her handsome husband. Her talented and well-skilled husband. Rodney was a personal thing, although that was no excuse for his bad choices. Damien and he still had their conflict, for sure, but Scott was hoping that his helping save the guy’s life would earn him some points. That’s not why he did it. That wasn’t the intention. It just was what it was.

Zoe, he felt, was the one person that he could confide in one hundred and twenty percent, but she had seemed off lately with the presence of whatever-the-hell-her-name-was.

Weston and him hadn’t been able connect in over week – obviously. Too much going on, too much to talk about and catch up with, and the difference between science and tactical when it came to work had always been a glaringly large chasm in their relationship. But, he missed him. He missed his face. His smile. His voice. His love. Everything. At this point in his assignment Scott was willing to admit that the separation had been taking its toll on his psyche.

He just felt alone.

Slumping back down into his chair he found himself in an empty room. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He tapped at the PADDs in front of him, each one containing his own personal observations, data from the previous presentation, and a plethora of other insights from the skirmish. His eyes danced across each even though he had read all of them many times and had written others. “It was textbook.” Scott said out loud.

“It really was. We did good work.”

Scott turned and saw Damien Hill standing in the door. His stomach tightened. This was the first time that he’d seen him since their moment on the battlefield. Even though he had attempted to go to Sickbay and check on him, it hadn’t gone as planned, and Scott wasn’t even sure if Damien knew if Scott had tried. It didn’t matter. Scott wasn’t looking for accolades or props because his heart was in the right place; no, Scott wanted, genuinely, to know that Damien was recovering well. Given the fact that he had already been released from Sickbay so quickly was a good sign.

“Yeah, minus all the losses.”

Damien nodded, “There will always be losses.”

“You doing okay?”

“Sure, as well as one can expect.”

“Good to hear.” Scott tapped away on his PADD, editing a previous journal entry. “I’m happy you’re getting better.”

Damien didn’t move. “Me too. I heard you came to Sickbay to see me before disappearing abruptly. I’m assuming duty called, but I appreciate the attempted follow-up.”

“Of course. You looked a little worse for the wear when I dropped you off in the medical tent. Figured it couldn’t hurt to pop my head in.” He was unable to sense sincerity in what Damien was saying, but he couldn’t feel any sarcasm either. Fair enough, he was more than content to take middle-of-the-road acknowledgement.

Damien smiled, “I’m surprised they’d even let you in.”

Oh, for the love of everything right in the world! He forced himself to take a breath and not respond, which lasted for all of about three seconds. “You know, at some point, the dogging on me for something I did when I got here ages ago is going to have to stop. Especially since I saved your damn life.” The words carried a bit more disdain than he had wanted, but that was Scott’s go-to: speak first and then internally scold himself later.

“Hey man, I’m just poking fun at this point. It’s one of those things that you don’t just move past and get over. Plus, we’re marines, I’m still getting references about stupid shit I did at the Academy and that was years ago.” Damien sat down in the chair next to Scott. “And I’m grateful for the assist, Ammora, I truly am. Maybe I was wrong about you.”

Excuse me? “Really?” Scott turned slightly, the incredulous look on his face amazingly difficult to hide.

“Calm down, I said maybe.”

There it was. “I’ll take it. Want to get some lunch and get to know each other? You know, set aside preconceived notions and become better teammates?” An olive branch extended, Scott’s hand trembled a bit. He was concerned that Damien wasn’t being genuine, though had no inclination of any subterfuge.

Damien stood abruptly as two other marines entered the briefing room and moved to the far workstation. Taking a step away, Damien shook his head, “That’s not going to happen, Lieutenant. And I’m not hungry.”

The feelings changed, and not in a good way. “Uh, okay. Just a thought. Rest up, have a good one.”

“Thanks for the save, but I still don’t entirely trust you, neither do a lot of others. And until your reputation changes, I have to protect my own. You understand, right?” Damien held his rigid posture, but his eyes looked sympathetically at Scott.

“Yo, Hill, grab some grub?” The two workers had crossed the room to the door, motioning Damien to follow them.

“Yeah, I’m starved.” Damien said as he marched away from Scott. “Heya fellas, just giving some advice to Ammora on how to actually carry a wounded person away from the battlefield. Thank God he let the doctors do their job this time.” The three of them chuckled as they disappeared into the corridor.

That stung. A lot. And just like that the weight of his obvious solitude lowered down behind him again placing its cold hands of loneliness back on his shoulders. And he sat there, alone.