The Presidio, Pt. 9: Push and Pull
Posted on April 6th, 2023 by Scott Ammora

Starbase 60, May 2399
Officer’s Quarters, 10 Months Later

“I swear this place is going to be the death of me! Scott, check the plasma rifles. Ammora, organize the armory to the new Starfleet regs. Hey kid, reprogram the security relays for the promenade to enhance the proximity systems. Do this, do that, and this and that. Hey, one more thing, polish the plasma grenades with your own toothbrush!” Scott hit the doorway with a determined gait that matched the intensity of his verbal tirade.

Weston looked up from the couch not saying a word.

Slinging his bag onto the dining table he ripped off his uniform jacket and tossed it haphazardly on the back of the chair. He ruffled his hair in frustration and stepped to the replicator. “Whiskey sour, double, on the rocks.” The beverage shimmered into existence on the replicator pad and he slugged back a gulp before placing the half-empty glass on the table. “What other busy work can they give me?”

Folding his arms in front of him, Weston leaned back into the couch cushion and leveled his gaze. “So, how was your day?”

“Oh, don’t get me started!” Scott threw his hands up in the air.

“I think that ship has sailed.” Weston retorted bluntly.

“I don’t understand how after the time I’ve been here, showing up for everything, volunteering for everything, I’m still overlooked for everything. I’m not a part of the Marine Competition again this year. That’s two in a row where I’ve taken a backseat.” He had started to pace back and forth across the quarters. He stopped abruptly mid-stride and turned to his boyfriend, “And this time, again, I’m not even in charge while they’re gone. They’ve brought in some other douchebag to run things. I’m playing second fiddle to a scab while the rest of the guys are showing their talents and skills on behalf of Starbase 60!”

“Scott…”

“Why did I think that this hellhole was a good choice? Why did I think that this would be the place to further my career? God, I’m so mad I could just throw something.” He was seething. He could almost feel his blood about to boil and he knew that his face was turning a crimson shade of red. Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he’d come home in a fit, but it was the one place where he could unload and vent.

“Hey, babe…”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean it in the way it sounds. I’m glad I’m here with you, but the professional side of my life is in shambles…”

“I don’t really…”

Scott cut him off again, “I’m going to be a 2^nd Lieutenant for the rest of my life. No opportunities for advancement, no work to gain new skills and prove my worthiness, nothing! I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and I don’t see it getting any better! I should have gone into medicine or something. Anything… ANYTHING, would be better than what I’m dealing with now.”

And then there was silence.

Scott turned to Weston, “I’m sorry.”

“No, by all means, get it out. It’s not like this isn’t the millionth time in the last month you’ve come home like this. I believe the next step is a warm shower where I listen to you talk to yourself for twenty minutes from the living room.” Weston still hadn’t moved from his seat.

“It’s not all the time.”

“It really has been all the time lately.”

“I just don’t get it. Why in the hell – ”

“Scott!” Weston finally stood and approached his love. “I get that you’re upset and unhappy. One hundred percent. But there is a time and place for everything and tonight isn’t… well… wasn’t it. Look, I know you’re frustrated, but I have an early presentation in the morning and I need to go to bed. Stay up as late as you want, but come to bed after you’ve calmed down.”

“I know I worked late, but I was trying to get everything done that they asked of me. Typical Scott, begrudgingly cow-towing to the powers that be.” Scott shook his head again.

“It is what it is.” Weston kissed Scott and headed to the bedroom, “Goodnight.”

And Scott was alone. He exhaled heavily in an attempt to free himself from the stress that had built up throughout the day. Weston was right, though, he had been complaining more than usual about his job and his life on the 60. It wasn’t all bad, mind you, but the monotony was starting to weigh on him. There was a time when he looked forward to getting up and reporting for duty. Now he wanted to get sick, hurt, or find any other reason so he didn’t have to go.

He wasn’t tired, physically, but mentally he was drained. He knew he had some reports to go over and some other items to peruse to be prepared for another ‘wonderful’ day tomorrow. Scott moved towards the table where his bag was and began rifling through it to find the PADDs he needed. He tossed one on the table and it skittered across the surface and clanked into something metal.

It was a candlestick.

It hit him like a photon torpedo and he froze. Two candlesticks lay placed perfectly on a centerpiece of red velvet cloth that brought focus to the table as a whole. Pristine plates, completely clean, rested on either side of the unit complete with linen napkins, wine glasses, and polished utensils. On the plate that would be Scott’s rested an envelope with his name scrawled across it in Weston’s handwriting.

Son of a bitch.

He picked up the card and his eyes glanced to the bedroom door. He carefully, and with great trepidation, ran his finger under the lip and opened it.

“To my amazing, Scott. Two years have passed since we met. Two glorious years. When I look into your eyes I know the meaning of peace. I know the meaning of certainty. It’s as if I can see the future through you, in you, and with you. You bring out the best in me and I’m honored that you’ve given me that gift. I loved you yesterday, I love you today, and I’ll love you for all the tomorrows. Happy Anniversary, Scooter, thank you for being mine. Weston.”

His hands trembled and he felt a wetness welling up in his eyes. How had he forgotten their anniversary? How had he allowed work to take so much of his attention? Why didn’t Weston call and remind him to come home? There were so many why’s and how’s going through his head that he winced on reflex. “Damn it,” he said aloud as he sat down in front of the unused flatware.

 

*****

 

The next morning Scott awoke in bed by himself. Weston had gotten up early, barely making a peep, and trudged off to the presentation he had spoken of the night prior. Scott had laid in bed for what seemed like an eternity, reliving the previous day and interaction the two had shared. He still felt sick to his stomach about the whole thing and he continually chided himself about his oversight.

He dressed and prepared for work. He just knew it would be another hellacious day in security and he was definitely not looking forward to it. However, he was more worried about the evening when he’d have to throw himself on his sword and apologize to Weston for being a complete asshole. Scott didn’t like to admit when he was wrong, but this was so glaring that there was no other option in his mind.

As he strode into the living room he noticed a PADD on the table flashing a message to him. He picked up the PADD and activated the message: “Holodeck 7, 1800 hours.”

Sighing, Scott put his stuff into his bag and went to work.

 

*****

 

The doors to the holodeck loomed ahead. He approached with unease. The day had preceded, more or less, without a hitch. Work, work, work, and then done. The entry way parted and welcomed him. The smell of salt water cascaded over him and his hair rustled in a slight breeze. Just past the threshold he recognized a familiar cobblestone path headed upwards. At the pinnacle he looked out at the Golden Gate Bridge and the ocean waves swelling and crashing below the vista.

Looking around he noticed there was no one to be found. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach as he stopped at the railing and placed his hands on the cold steel. The soft mist that had collected made his palms wet and he wiped them on his uniform. Scott closed his eyes and took a deep breath as a calming sensation took him over – he loved this spot.

“Stop being an idiot.”

A familiar voice came from behind him and he turned. “Pasha!”

Pasha Pruitt stood stoically, her arms on her hips, her hair moving slightly with the wind. She looked as gorgeous and put together as ever. “Scotty, good to see you.”

They embraced for a second before the reality of her presence struck him. “I know why you’re here.”

“Do you?” Pasha moved to the banister and Scott followed. “I’m guessing you have an idea, but I don’t think you get the full scope. You’ve always been a little short-sighted.”

“I don’t need a lecture.”

She smiled, “I know you don’t. But, you need a different perspective.”

“Look, Weston…”

She interrupted him flatly, “Weston is the love of your life. He adores you and wants what is best for you. From what I can tell, though, you’ve got yourself into a repetitious pattern of self-destructive reflection that is becoming a hindrance to your professional ambitions and – now – your personal relationship with an amazing man.”

Scott shook his head, “Big explanation for an even bigger problem.”

“Because YOU are making it bigger than it needs to be.”

“You don’t know the whole situation, the background, the constant and ever-present obstacles that I’m facing.”

Pasha rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you’re the constant and ever-present obstacles you’re facing. Tell me I’m wrong. Honestly and truthfully: look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong.” Her demeanor shifted from pleasant into one of a challenging nature. It was apparent that she meant business and this was more than just a social call. “Go ahead, I’m all ears.”

Pausing, Scott turned his attention to the horizon. The words were there, albeit fragmented, but he couldn’t string them together to make a cohesive argument. “I – I – I just don’t know.”

“No, that’s a cop out, you do know.” Pasha wasn’t having his sidestepping of the issue. “And, like always when you’re in a situation like this, I’m here to save the day to say it for you. Correct me if I’m wrong, and I know I’m not so don’t bother, but you want off this station to do something else.”

Even though there was the truth in her words, Pasha was oversimplifying his predicament. Or was she? His tongue was tied again as he smirked, shook his head, and looked at the ground. “Always easier said than done, I’m afraid.”

“Afraid. Yes, that’s correct, you are. But I’m right. So, why are you dragging yourself down about it and taking Weston with you?”

“He understands…”

“No, Scott, he doesn’t. You have this wonderful man who loves you and who wants what is best for you. Do you think he enjoys seeing you miserable? Do you think he’s not trying? Do you think that he wants you to be so wrapped up in the negativity of your position that it causes you to do something so ungodly dumb as to forget your anniversary?” With each passing moment the words gained more edge, more pointed authority in drawing out the obvious pitfalls of his situation.

Scott groaned slightly, “He told you about the anniversary?”

“Before he went to bed last night. I was close and on shore leave. Figured I’d make a stop to slap you back to reality.” Pasha softened slightly, bumping his shoulder with hers. “You’ve always been the kind of guy that goes for what he wants. Weston, for example. Yes, you take your sweet time, but I’m not seeing the rationale behind wallowing in this self-pity you’ve got going on.”

“He wanted me to come to Starbase 60, Pasha. Practically begged. When I mentioned other postings he would get angry and accuse me of not listening to him or taking ‘us’ into account. I do not want to go through that again.” Scott put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, “It’s happening all over again.”

“This is different.”

“How?”

“Scott, you’ve been together for two years. You are on the other side of the newly together trope. This relationship has lasted through fights and turmoil. I think you need to wrap your head around the fact that, as hard as it may be to accept, what once was an argument between the two of you might not be such a big issue now.” Her words of wisdom rang true, to an extent. She always had a knack for pointing things out to him that he wasn’t seeing or, most of the times, refused to see.

He nodded absently, “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am, but go on. Though, in fairness, might was the keyword.”

“Yeah, that still leaves me a place of not knowing what to do.”

It was Pasha’s turn to groan, “Scott Ammora, you hard-headed and often completely naïve man. You need to do three things. One, you need to suck it up and realize you don’t want to be here anymore. Not for any other reason than your career. Own that. Accept that. And realize that you will not move forward in any capacity in anything if you don’t. Your relationship included.”

Scott tilted his head up towards her in silence.

“Two, your relationship with Weston is one that people – myself being a part of that group – would love to have. You support each other, you love each other, and when you are hurting it affects him too. Collateral damage. Rest in that as a sign of his commitment to you. Go to Wes and talk with him.” She held a finger up to him as he opened his mouth to speak, “He gets to have his side and his feelings, but I think you’ll be surprised at what he says. Hopefully.”

“That’s reassuring. And the third?”

“Stop. Being. An. Idiot. Do you think that you two are the first to come up against this hurdle? Hell, you’ve already done it once and you’re still together. Moreover, do you not think that up through the entire chain of Starfleet Command that people haven’t dealt with this same situation?” Pasha waved a hand towards the ocean, “Even now I’m sure there is some Fleet Commander or Captain somewhere dealing with this exact decision with their spouse. You are special for many reasons, Scott, but this isn’t one of them.”

“And you really think Wes is going to be behind me on this?”

Pasha guffawed, “Oh, hell no. Well, not at first anyway. I’m sure you’ll fight and I’m sure he’ll be upset and try and get you to stay. That’s Weston. He loves you. But, I’m figuring that if you really want to do this and you stick to your guns, he’ll come around. He reached out because I think he’s tired of seeing you unhappy and he doesn’t want to be the one to tell you that you need to do what is best for you.”

“So, you’re saying that he called you to encourage me to leave?” Scott really didn’t buy that line of reasoning. It seemed so… not Weston. Then again, he knew Pasha was his best friend and could say things that Weston couldn’t. So, maybe?

Another chuckle came, “No, I think he wanted me to talk some sense into you and to ground you again. The decision is yours. You’ll handle this together like you always do. The first step is having a serious conversation and go from there. Anything in this universe worth having is worth fighting for. Now, walk me back to the transport, I’m out of here in less than an hour.”

“Thanks, Pash. Why not stay a little bit? You just got here.”

She put her arm around his waist as they headed to the exit, “Stick around on this sad bucket of scrap? No thanks. I’ve hit my limit. How have you lasted this long?”

“Love,” Scott stated simply, “And liquor… lots of liquor.”