You Raise Me Up
Posted on September 8th, 2022 by Scott Ammora

Home sweet home?

The promenade of Starbase 60 was alive as ever. It was eerily active. There was an energy he hadn’t experienced before in the movement of the Starbase’s people. The shops seemed fuller, the lights seemed brighter, and the dreariness that he had felt when he had been posted here was absent. It didn’t seem like home anymore. That is, if he ever had felt that it had been home. Atlantis didn’t seem like home either. It was an unsettling feeling; good and bad, new yet oddly familiar.

He weaved in and out of the crowd, attempting valiantly (and often failing) to avoid giving those hustling and bustling down the walkway a smack with his bag. Scott counted a Bolian, a Ktarian, and three young children in his body count. After apologizing for what felt like the millionth time to the faces of disgruntled people and hurrying away from one irate-looking mother consoling the small child he had almost run over, the turbolift was finally in sight.

The doors parted and, of course, was nearly packed. Squeezing himself into what looked like the last remaining spot, clutching his satchel to his chest to make himself as tiny as possible, the doors sealed. He noticed the temperature went up from the cool nature of the marketplace. And there was a smell. Someone had been working out and was heading home to shower, or so he hoped. None of it bothered him, however, as he was finally going to get to see Weston after far too long apart.

“Did you hear about the Microbiology department?” A voice rose from the back. Scott’s ears perked up, but he didn’t turn. That was Weston’s department.

“No, what about ‘em?” Another voice answered.

“The Daystrom Institute recognized one of their teams for, and I quote, ‘Profound contribution in the field of Microbiology’ at their symposium last week. The entire department got promotions or offers for research on other bases. Rumor is half of them are headed to Daystrom proper.” The first voice spoke again, female, and sounded giddy. “My boyfriend said there’s a meeting tomorrow morning to announce everything to the whole Science Department.”

There came an audible chuckle, “Who would’ve thought something like that could happen on his desolate heap of garbage.” Scott could feel, without looking, that there were some turned heads at that retort, and he could hear the audible sighs of disagreement from his lift companions.

The doors hissed open and Scott stepped out. Somehow he had gotten lucky enough to escape on the first stop after getting on. Smiling as he found himself in a corridor he recognized all too well, he began walking briskly to Weston’s quarters. It had been his place of residence for over a year and a half, and he still remembered the environmental scent. Hell, he could even recall the number of steps from turbolift to the door: sixty-two. Scott pressed the chime and waited.

“Come in!”

Scott didn’t even wait for the doors to open all the way and he was through them, tossed his bag on the floor, and wrapped his arms around a half-surprised Weston. He pushed his lips into that of his boyfriend’s with a passionate fervor. The embrace persisted for a long time, making up for every minute they had been separated, and slowly dissolved into the tightest hug that Scott could remember. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, Scooter.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ve missed that too.”

There was a simplicity to that moment. All the battles Atlantis had been in since his posting faded away. All the animosity towards and from some of his less-than-friendly coworkers melted into nothing. Sure there had been letters, communiques, and holo-conversations, but the physical act of touching the love of his life reminded him just how much he missed seeing this handsome man every day.

Weston started pulling away, “Scotty, I can’t breathe.”

Scott laughed, finally releasing his death grip. “Sorry, I’m just excited to be here.”

“I can tell,” Weston chuckled as moved back to the couch. “Sit down and tell me everything.”

“We talk a lot, babe, you know most everything.” With a smile, Scott joined him on the sofa, kicking off his boots and folding his feet under him. “Rumor in the turbolift is that your department received some well-deserved props recently?”

Blushing, Weston nodded, “Yeah, and rumor in the lounge is that Atlantis has a new Chief Tactical Officer?”

It was Scott’s time to turn beet red, but it only lasted a second before he looked up incredulously. “What? There’s no way that you could know about that. It just happened. I don’t even think it’s officially in the log. And it’s acting Chief Tactical Officer, it’s nothing amazing.”

“You could never pull off being humble, you know that, right?”

It was true. He kept it to himself at the poker game with Ensign Benevente and his friends the same night Harper offered it to him. He had kept it bottled up when he passed by some other tactical officers before departing Atlantis. Scott had even gone so far to remain silent about it when he was talking with random people in the lounge when he had first arrived on Starbase 60. It was a standard question from strangers to incite conversation: where are you posted and what do you do? He followed that inquiry up with the standard ‘I’m a marine posted to the USS Atlantis.’ That generally pulled the conversation to the recent heroics of the crew.

Truth be told, no one knew yet, as far as he was aware. He wanted Weston to be the first. And he wanted to tell him in person. Here was his chance. “I’m the new acting Chief Fucking Tactical Officer on one of the most powerful and most respected starships in the fleet! Me!” Scott hurled himself onto Weston’s lap, grabbing him again and kissing him. “God damn does it feel good!”

The belly laugh that came from Weston was reassuring. “There’s my Scotty! Congrats, handsome, you’ve earned it and I know you’ll do great!”

“I hope so too – ”

“There’s no hoping, it’ll happen. I know that. I know you.”

Scott stood up, shoving him a little, “You have to say that.”

A scowl followed that remark, “Take the damn compliment.”

“Fine, fine, fine, thank you. What about you? Is that a second golden pip on your collar, Lieutenant?”

Weston’s hand went to his neck, “Yeah, full lieutenant. I wanted to tell you face to face. And show you how shiny it is.” He smirked, “I know you like shiny things.”

Running his hand down Weston’s cheek, Scott smiled a devilish smile, “You know what I like more? A comfortable bed.” He winked and bolted for the bedroom followed closely behind by his knight in shining armor.

 

*****

 

Even though there had been time between them being together – far too much – they laid in bed not talking. Weston stroked Scott’s hair gently and rhythmically and the other hand was draped across his stomach. Their breathing was in sync, their eyes open, and the stillness laid upon them heavily. But it wasn’t a bad heavy, it just… was. The calmness in that moment was amazing in Scott’s opinion. There was always a soothing feeling when he was with his man. And there were no words to describe it verbally.

“Chief Tactical Officer.” Weston finally mumbled.

“Lieutenant Weston Brock.” Scott leaned up on his elbows, turning his gaze to Weston’s. “I heard in the turbolift that a lot of the team is going to Daystrom. Maybe you’ll finally get what you want.”

Wes put his arms behind his head as he shook it in a negative response, “No, they’ve already talked with those that got promotions and who were offered the positions. I was not one of them.”

“That’s bullshit!”

“It is what it is, Scott.”

Scott was beside himself. Weston was one of the brightest people he knew. He was the one who applied himself so much that it was almost a detriment to his gleaming personality. How could someone not see that? How could the brilliance his boyfriend have go unrecognized? It didn’t make sense. Then again, Scott mused, a lot of things in the universe didn’t make sense. “So, what do you plan on doing, stay here?”

Suddenly the bed was empty next to him as the young science officer pushed the covers back and retrieved his clothes that had been strewn haphazardly across the bedroom. “I’m hungry, want to go grab something to eat?”

“Uh, yeah, sure. You can tell me about your next big adventure on Starbase 60.”

“There are no grand adventures on Starbase 60, you know that. There’s a reason that you’re out saving the galaxy and I’m knee-deep in petri dishes. Research isn’t an adventure.” Weston was already completely dressed and standing next to the door. “Are you coming?”

“Hold on a second, Wes.” Scott knew that disarming tone and that intentional diversion. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, I’m hungry.”

Scott gathered his own clothing, but didn’t move in the direction of the exit. “Weston, I know you. Either you’re really pissed and not letting it out, planning something you don’t want to talk about, or lost in your head so deeply that even your gigantic brain can’t put into words how you’re feeling. So, talk to me.”

Another negative shake of the head, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know a promotion is supposed to be a good thing. Focus on that.”

Weston smirked and then chuckled, but it was dripping with disdain. “Rank isn’t everything. On top of that, the research gets done whether you have one pip, no pips, or the entire Starfleet medals catalog on your neck.”

Now they were getting somewhere. “It’s not about the title, it’s about the work. I get it.”

“No, you really don’t.” The retort was sharp and felt like it was aimed directly at Scott. “In other departments and other lines of work the rank symbolizes expertise and commands respect. In the science world, at least I feel, it means nothing. You have science officers who are making Captain and having their own research vessels, but know fuck all about anything other than their field of expertise.”

Scott nodded, “But – ”

“And you have some of the smartest minds sitting at the rank of ensign or… you know, Lieutenant. I love the work, I’m good at the work, I want to keep doing the work. It’s just hard when you’re contributing and feeling like you’re not getting the recognition. And, I don’t need that, per se, but to see people that are your peers move onto the next level in their career and you get pigeon-holed back into your corner to start fresh on a new project – one that could take another two or three years – it starts to put things into perspective.” Weston’s ramble had disintegrated into an open pace and circling of the living room. Whether or not that was intentional or if he was even aware of it, Scott wasn’t sure.

Scott moved and stopped Wes in his track. “There’s always something new to discover. There’s always obstacles. You taught me that. I’ve never seen you like this, though. What’s really bothering you?”

“I fucking wanted Daystrom! I wanted it so bad!”

“I know you did.”

“It’s the holy grail, Scooter. And it was right there. It was within reach. And as they were calling out the names of people getting the interview, or recommendation, or whatever, I saw it slip away with each name that wasn’t mine.” Weston slumped onto the sofa, rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know when that opportunity will come again.”

The situation’s complexity wasn’t lost on Scott. He had been Weston, after all. The irony wasn’t lost on him either. Like the moment in the bedroom just minutes before, he was at a loss for words. Was comfort the right path? Was objectivity the better choice? Diversion and distraction? Scott was always on the other side of the table when predicaments like this surfaced between them. Usually Scott went with the age-old ‘blow shit up and ask questions later’ approach.

“Maybe transfer to the Atlantis? I could put in – ”

“The Atlantis doesn’t solve my problem, Scott!” Again with an awkward, out-of-character outburst.

“Whoa, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”

“You can’t. Other than not getting what I wanted, things are fine.”

Scott didn’t believe that for a second, “Are they?”

Weston looked up, painfully. “No. I have had a goal in my mind for so long that it’s etched permanently into my brain. Daystrom. Academy first and then the Institute. When step two didn’t work I went to the research to bridge the gap. But step three would have been Daystrom again. Now, I have no step three. Do I stick with step two or create a new step three? Do I abandon Daystrom and try and teach? Deep space science vessel into the unknown? Pack it all in and go to Atlantis back to the trivial nature of frontline service?”

Ouch, that one stung. Scott opened his mouth to respond, but thought better of it. He knew that Weston wasn’t intentionally slighting his career or what he was doing on Atlantis, but it stung nonetheless. Instead he folded his arm and leveled his gaze. “Lots of questions, but what are the answers?”

“What do I do?”

“You don’t have to decide now. You’ve got time. What you can do is fight the little battles.”

Weston looked up, perplexed, “Like what?”

“Like where we’re going to eat.” Smiling, Scott offered his hand to his partner. As the two strolled hand-in-hand into the corridor he could feel the tension and confusion in Weston’s grasp. He knew that Weston would be okay, but it worried him that this turn of events was affecting him so badly. It wasn’t the Weston that Scott was used to. There was an absence of confidence being exuded that permeated the air. All he knew was that he didn’t like it.

 

*****

 

“Dinner was good, nice choice.” Scott said. He was lying, but he was convincing.

“Yeah, thanks.” Wes responded.

“I’ll pick next time.”

“Okay.”

“Holodeck?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Stroll in the botanical garden?”

“Off limits right now due to hydroponic maintenance.”

“Ah.”

Staggering silence. Forlorn footsteps. Bated breath.

Scott couldn’t take it much longer. Even dinner had been a rough endeavor laden with uncomfortable lapses of conversation followed by a lack of eye contact. Serve that up with mediocre food, on a plate of uncertainty, with a nice helping of self-doubt on the side and you had a three-course meal fit for prison camp detainees. “What about…?”

“Scott, stop trying so hard. I’m fine. Really. It may not seem like it right now, and you’re probably right, but I’m just trudging through some stuff mentally.” There was honesty in the words and Scott had no reason to doubt him. “I’ll get through it, I’ll be okay, and there’s always the next thing.”

Nodding, Scott grabbed his hand, “Then let’s just enjoy our time together and not talk about it. We don’t have to solve every problem right now. You know I’m here for you like you were there for me.”

“I know.”

“How about a game of Velocity?”

“You will kick my ass and you know that.”

A mischievous grin spread across Scott’s face, “Nothing like kicking you while you’re down. I got to take the wins when I can get them.”

“Just for that I’m going to transfer to the first deep space research assignment to spite you.” Weston squeezed Scott’s hand a bit playfully; it was the first sign of happiness that Scott had seen in him since his arrival back on the Starbase. It was reassuring, albeit tainted by what he knew to be rolling around in his boyfriend’s head. “But, sure, why not.”

“I’ll go easy on you.”

A genuine laugh escaped Weston’s lips, “Ha! I’m sure you will. Mr. Competition himself? I highly doubt that.”

“As long as I’m here, make me a promise…” Scott stopped at the turbolift doors and turned his attention to the man who towered over him. “No Daystrom talk, no work talk, no Atlantis, nothing that isn’t productive and positive. Okay? Whatever comes next, we will weather it together like always.”

Weston agreed with a bob of his head, “You got yourself a deal.”

“You happier now?”

“Yes.”

Scott ran a hand through Weston’s hair and kissed him, “Good, because I wasn’t going to really go easy on you.”

“Trust me when I tell you I knew that.”

The turbolift arrived and the doors hissed open, the two stepped in still with their hands entwined, and the door slid closed behind him. Even light-years apart, across a great distance and separate such a long time, they settled back into their relationship. Bumps and bruises would come, accolades would be celebrated, and hard decisions would be made. The only thing that remains constant in the world is that everything changes, and Scott knew that. But he also was aware that they would change, together, and as long as they rested in the fact that they loved each other, nothing couldn’t be overcome.