Happy(?) Reunion (Backpost)
Posted on Wed Oct 23, 2019 @ 10:34am by Lieutenant JG Camille Lévesque PhD & Lieutenant Nicole Anderson
4,695 words; about a 23 minute read
Mission:
Nibiru
Location: Approx 100km North of Montreal
The road was devoid of the signposts of modern civilization. Sure, the road itself was paved and well maintained, but to either side was nothing but trees as far as the eye could see. Dense forest of mostly maple trees, their leaves merely buds on the branches given the time of year, were broken up by both the main road, cleaving the forest in half, and a smaller single lane road that went into the private property.
A deer enjoying an afternoon snack suddenly bolted into the forest, startled by the sound and shimmering lights of a pair of humanoid women beaming down.
Camille Lévesque took a deep breath and smiled widely as the cool air filled her lungs. It was just cool enough that the air condensed into little clouds when she exhaled. Indeed, her first exhalation fogged her glasses, which made her giggle. Taking them off to wipe them down, she looked to her shivering girlfriend.
They’d checked the weather before beaming down. It was six degrees Celsius, a very pleasant spring afternoon to Camille, who wore a light coat over a cute sweater and tight jeans. But it appeared Nicole disagreed.
Nicole was clad in a warm wool overcoat sweater, shirt, jeans and gloves. She'd considered a scarf, but went for a coat with a high-neck instead. She'd found one that was long, black, and resembled one her mother had once owned. She'd tried it on and fallen in love with it and was now very thankful she'd worn it. Aside from sightseeing and shopping around Montreal, the long empty road had a wind whistling between the trees that the coat was mercifully protecting her from. "I'm sorry if I'm overdressed," she said.
“Oh, you’re fine!” Camille chided. “It’s a five minute walk to the house. They’ll have tea and a fire waiting for us. Come along,” she took Nicole’s gloved hand in her bare one and led her up the lane that went into the forest.
"I am, 'ow you say, 'appy to oblige mad-mwa-zelle," Nicole said, exaggerating her imitation of Camille's accent and giggling. "I figure I'd better get over butchering the accent now before I commit a faux pas and say a word wrong. Mother likes to say, 'the French don't care what you do, so long as you pronounce it properly."
Camille couldn’t help but snort and then laugh. “Wrong French, my love. Come on.” She gave her a kiss on the cheek and pulled her down the road.
For once, the universal translator that Nicole wore, this time subtly hidden under her sweater, caught everything Camille said and translated it properly. The science officer had made contact with a friend in Montreal, who sent her a software patch that more easily translated Québec French, including more rural dialects. Camille installed it to increase the likelihood that her girlfriend would actually understand what was being said, but managed to secure agreement that she could remove the patch when they left. “Many cultures prefer that occasional words and phrases not be translated,” Camille had explained earlier that morning. “It helps to promote cross cultural understanding and tolerance.” She wasn’t 100% Nicole bought it.
Nicole gave her a look. "I think you just like saying words that make you sound so much more cultured than an old country doctor," she said, winking and kissing Camille's cheek.
Along the way, Camille spotted lines coming out of one of the trees. She smiled and pulled Nicole off the road to it, letting go of her hand to touch the transparent blue tubes hanging from the tree. A small amount of fluid flowed through them. When she was a girl, her father allowed Monsieur Théroux from a few houses down to tap the sugar maples on their property. Only a few trees were appropriate. But Camille was delighted to learn that her father kept up the practice. It meant there would be sweets in the house. “It looks a like a good year,” Camille observed, “some years it gets too warm too early, shortening the maple syrup harvest. That there’s anything coming out this late is a fantastic sign.”
"Well don't let them ply me with too many sweets," Nicole said, grinning. "I might start singing. They'll think I'm some drunken sailor fresh off the boat." Nicole watched the trees and the old-world technology in use. It felt much like home, and she felt secure on the path. When she first went off-world from Rigel, she'd developed a small case of agoraphobia. She'd largely conquered it, but being in a forest always calmed her.
It wasn’t much longer until the two approached the house. Far from a log cabin, it was a normal suburban house with all the amenities of any city, and some touches of rural living. Smoke came from a chimney, and the pile of cleanly cut wood near the side door showed the fire to be genuine. A wooden porch sat in front of the front door, and though she couldn’t see it, she knew there was a large wooden deck in the back. A pair of speeders, which Camille recognized as belonging to her parents and her older sister, rested on a small platform near the front door. Further out, on a much larger pavement platform, sat a modified Danube-class runabout, which Camille hadn’t been expecting, but she recognized as being Uncle Maxime’s. That’s nice, she thought. He must have found out I’m here and came to visit. That makes...six people plus us. Seven, if Aunt Amélie is here too, and she should be. She had asked for the Aunt who saw her through her teen years to be here.
Camille walked with Nicole up the steps of the porch to the front door. She took a deep breath. Suddenly she was nervous. Not for what they might think of Nicole; she knew they would love her, English heritage notwithstanding. But, she hadn’t been on-planet, let alone home, in two years, split between Jupiter Station and the Victory. Her father didn’t approve, and Renée wasn’t too keen either. She had supporters, but the last thing she wanted was conflict with her family over the most important aspects of her life.
Nicole watched her girlfriend's expression and gave her a supportive smile, squeezing her hand. "You've waltzed through lasers, fought holographic mutants and conquered the heart of a vicious beast," she teased. "You can open a door."
As Camille raised a hand, the front door opened, revealing Camille’s little sister Mathilde. “Don’t tell me you were going to knock on your own front door!” she joked. “You may not live here, but it’s home!” She squealed when her big sister took her up in a big hug. “I’ve missed you, too, Camille. And you must be Nicole? Come inside, I’m letting the warm out. We’ll make introductions in there.”
Camille let go and looked at Nicole a bit sheepishly. “After you.”
Nicole stepped across the threshold and back in time. The room looked like one of the more 'modern' single houses on Rigel. It was quaint, comfortable and despite being immaculate, had the undeniable feeling of a well-lived-in home. She paused in surprise halfway through removing her coat as she saw the room in front of her.
Camille’s eyes practically bulged out of her head when she saw not the seven dinner companions she expected, but no fewer than twenty-six. Cousins, aunts, her paternal grandparents, and two small children in the living room laughed at their reaction, as did Mathilde. Most of the men watched on from the nearby kitchen, obviously amused by the surprise. A short woman with graying blonde hair and tears of joy in her eyes pushed through the crowd and pulled Camille into a hug. “I’ve missed you too, Maman,” Camille said, struggling to keep her own eyes dry.
Nicole smiled and found her own eyes misty in empathy. She then spent the next twenty minutes receiving an impromptu lesson in the Lévesque and Huard family tree. Her head was spinning with names and faces, but she did her best to remember them all as she watched Camille grin wider and wider.
An hour after introductions spent in front of a roaring fire, during which time Camille got to hold her cousin’s newest little baby, barely three months old, they were told that dinner was ready. The family was split into multiple rooms to eat, as no one room could sit twenty-eight, even uncomfortably. It reminded Camille of so many Thanksgiving or Christmas dinners, with some at the dining room table, children at a dedicated kids’ table, and others with their plates on their laps on any available chair or couch in the living room by the fire, or the family room watching some sporting event. The Stanley Cup playoffs, which countless generations of Lévesques and Huards had enjoyed, had just begun, and while Camille was interested in watching, she was far more interested in her family.
The dining room table had the two guests of honour next to each other, with Camille in the middle and Nicole to her left. To her right was Aunt Amélie. Across was younger sister Mathilde, older sister Renée, and Sylvain, Camille’s future brother-in-law. At either head sat Camille’s parents, Roger and Marie, the latter of whom had prepared from scratch a turkey dinner that put so many Christmases and Thanksgivings to shame.
Sadly, there was some tension in the air. None objected to Nicole, of course, who was welcomed like a member of the family from the first moment. But Camille’s father hadn’t said much since her return, and neither had Renée. They hadn’t been rude, just quiet.
Ever-talkative Mathilde was doing her best to break the tension. “So, Nicole, how did you and my sister meet? She’s told me, but the story seemed a bit extreme and one-sided, and I wouldn’t put it past her to exaggerate about that.” Camille answered by sticking her tongue out, for the first time confident no one would snatch it out of the air.
"Actually, given what happened, I'm guessing she was rather accurate," Nicole said, grinning. She efficiently but fully regaled them with the tale of her brave mission to examine every new crew member, Camille's dedication to her work and self-exile in her lab, and their first session of tea and biscuits. "Thankfully," she said, "my ability to overwhelm people during introductions was lost on her," Nicole concluded.
“Then we started working closely together during the crisis that followed,” Camille added. “And we got to know each other better.”
“Crisis?” Renée asked.
“That illness she told us about,” Mathilde answered.
“Was it very serious?” Marie asked before we put more potato in her mouth.
“Very,” Camille replied. “An entire ship dead, and a planet threatened. Our measures to save the planet were...extreme. But not a single life was lost, thanks to the Victory and her lovely doctor.” She grinned at her girlfriend next to her.
Nicole blushed so hard that her skin took on a normal human shade. "I had some help," she reminded Camille. "I can't take all the credit for a team effort." She patted Camille's hand gently. "If you hadn't been there, I'm not sure we would've succeeded." She looked at Marie. "Your daughter is brilliant, and was my lifesaver. I was quarantined for 48 hours in a shuttle at one point, and she was there to keep me company, talk to me and give me a reason to not lose my mind. I'm so thankful that she chose our ship to embark on."
“She couldn’t have made that difference from here?” That was Camille’s father, grumbling under his breath.
“Roger!” said Marie, shocked that those would be the first words her husband would say at the dinner table.
“Papa,” Camille said, looking him in the eye. “You know that this is what I want. I’m where I’m happy. And Nicole is right. Papa, we saved hundreds of thousands of lives together.”
“You can do science anywhere,” Roger argued, more forcefully now. “You can have a professorship at McGill or University of Montreal. You could be tenured in a few years, easily. Leave the space work for real Starfleet. They can save the lives without you. Besides, I know how Starfleet works. They probably make you speak ‘Standard’ all day, right? Do you still speak your mother tongue, Camille? Or have they blocked you from it?”
And as it was so often, virtually every time she came home, Camille retreated into herself, avoiding confrontation, glad to spend time with family but waiting for the subject to pass.
Nicole, however, had no such habit, and the animalistic growl in the back of her throat threatened to become audible. Her eyes flashed red for the briefest of instants. "Your daughter is a hero," she said, her voice hardening a bit. "You should be proud of the people she's saved. She tells you that we stopped hundreds of thousands of lives from being snuffed out, and you're worried about her being a polyglot?"
She reached under her shirt and pulled out her combadge, deactivating it and setting it down on the table. "Son bonheur vaut plus que tout. Qu'est-ce qui vous convient?" she said in what she was sure was atrocious French, but didn't much care at that point.
“It’s okay, Nicole,” Camille said softly. “Merci beaucoup, chère, but you can put your UT back on. Thank you so much for the sentiment. And for learning.” Having her love at her side, her backbone stiffened a bit. “Papa, I am happy. And we’re doing amazing things. I’ll never forget who I am or where I came from, but my place is up there.” She pointed to the sky. “So when my leave is over, Nicole and I are returning to the Delta Quadrant.”
“As long as you’re okay disappointing your sister that you’re missing her wedding.” Roger wasn’t looking at her anymore.
"Lok-patam," Nicole grumbled, placing her combadge back out of sight. "You didn't answer my question," she said, fixing Camille's father with a hard gaze.
“Don’t get me wrong,” the senior Lévesque said, “I’m happy that she’s happy. But nothing is stopping her from being happy here. I taught her the importance of her history and culture and the need to keep it going, and she’s not doing that out in the stars. She should be here for the family and the people. And because she’s absent, I’m going to be walking my eldest down the aisle and only one of my other daughters will be there with her.”
"Well that settles it then," Nicole said, sitting back. "We're moving the wedding venue to Starbase DQ8."
“What?!” Roger demanded. Renée shot the doctor a scowl. The nerve! Interfering with our wedding like that!
Nicole leveled a glare at the elder gentleman. "The only thing stopping her from being happy here, is your constant insistence that she stay here. You taught her the importance of her history and culture and the need to keep it going, and she's taken it across the galaxy. Do you know how many dinners I've sat through listening to stories about this area? How much French I've learned, albeit badly? She is doing that out in the stars. She should be where she can do the most good, and saving a world is doing good. So, if you wish to have her at the wedding rather than committing to the life she's chosen, we'll compromise. She'll get a week's leave from the ship, and you all can travel across the galaxy for her. She's clearly been willing to do it for you." Nicole folded her arms and glared at him, then Renee.
“We’re getting married in the church that our families have been getting married in for centuries,” Renée said firmly. “And how dare you.”
“No, how dare you!” said Amélie, the first time she spoke in her niece’s defence today. “You both think your way is the only way, even though people who don’t want that for themselves suffer.”
Nicole was flushed and breathing hard, but she took Camille's hand and squeezed it. "Tradition is important, I agree," she said, trying to control herself. "But your culture, like any lifeform has two options: evolve, or die. By attempting to keep it here, entropy will eventually take over and it will fade to darkness. Your daughter has fought to carry your culture and keep it alive. It's one of the things I love about her. To guilt her over something beyond her control is unfair."
“Of course she has control over it,” Roger said. “There are no scientific studies that she can’t do from a university here.” He shot a dirty look at Amélie. “And what do you mean by suffer? No one suffers here.”
“That’s enough, Papa,” Camille said, pushing herself up from the table. Finally, and literally, standing up to him, strength bolstered by Nicole’s hand on hers. “I was never going to stay. There’s no version of the future where I stayed here. It isn’t me. And that’s okay. I do my best to bring every lesson you taught me wherever I go. I’m not forgetting where I can from. But, and you need to listen to me very clearly, I will never give up my life in space to come live in Québec. To live anywhere on Earth, actually.”
“But—”
Camille took a deep breath. “I would rather die than live here. I should know. I tried.”
The room was silent. Nicole's head whipped around so fast she almost smacked herself in the face with her braid. The noise from Camille’s chair as she stood had caught everyone’s attention. Everyone heard it, and no one, aside from the children, misunderstood her meaning.
Camille’s mother’s eyes began to water, but it was Renée who spoke up first. “What...what are you talking about?”
“Amélie remembers the day, I’m sure,” Camille began to explain, her aunt reaching up to gently rub her shoulder. “I decided I wasn’t sure if a future stuck here was worth it, so I walked out to the lake one night and seriously thought about losing myself in the ice cold water. I couldn’t go through with it. I didn’t want to disappoint any of you. But after a few more weeks, I’m sure the call of the void would have won. Thankfully, Amélie was visiting. The next day, Maman tells me I’m going to try living with my aunt for a little while. And somehow my life got instantly better. I began feeling happy for the first time in years. Years!” By this point, tears were streaming down her cheeks. “I’m happy, Papa. Happier than I’ve ever been. I’m doing meaningful work. I’m learning about life and the wonders of the universe. A beautiful woman, whom I love, loves me back. And I’m representing my culture in a particularly diverse environment.” She lifted her glasses, wiped the tears, and took a deep breath. “You can either accept that or not, I suppose. But I’m done keeping my head down and listening to you challenge my life choices. Make me feel guilty for it again and I’ll take it as a sign that you’re okay with me out of your life.”
Nicole swallowed hard. She had a good idea what it just took for Camille to say all that, and she wanted to just scoop her up and hold her and damn everyone else. She gave her hand another squeeze and stayed by her side, but still between her and her father, still protecting as best she could.
There were no dry eyes in the Lévesque house. The eyes that weren’t on Camille were fixed on the source of her discomfort. Roger’s own parents, in the nearby living room, stared daggers at their eldest son. The Lévesque patriarch, helped by their youngest son, walked over to Roger. “The importance of our heritage shouldn’t come at the expense of our happiness,” he said. “I taught you better than that. She’s done so much. And look how brave she is. You’ve never stood up to me like that. Be proud of your daughter.”
“It’s possible to preserve who you are out there, brother,” added Maxime, standing next to his dad. “Starfleet isn’t in the business of assimilation. Diversity is its strength. She speaks our language every day, and I know their translators don’t like our accents. I’m sure her Captain is annoyed by the French that slips through, but she does it anyway.” He smiled at his niece. “It’s your job to annoy your Captain, so keep it up.”
After a moment, Roger pushed back his chair and stood. He walked around the table and stood in front of his middle daughter. “Doctor Anderson, would you please deactivate your translator a moment?” He deactivated his own. Camille gave her a nod.
Nicole took her combadge off and deactivated it, but watched them carefully.
“Vous êtes vraiment joyeux en espace? Loin d’ici?” he asked.
“Oui, Papa. Pardonnez-moi, mais oui.”
He continued. “Et vous parlez toujours la langue maternelle?”
“Le plus que possible,” she answered. She then gave him a smile, remembering an old joke they used to share. “Même quand il faut câlisser quelqu’un.”
Her father let out a chuckle and then looked her in the eye. “Et quand tu vas vouloir marier la jolie médecine...”
“Église, probablement ici pour une cérémonie, mais j’attends que tu viennes à Rigel pour une deuxième cérémonie. Elle n’est pas Terraine.”
Her father whispered an Osti before Marie smiled and joked “Une chose à la fois.”
The man opened his arms, and Camille gave him the biggest hug possible. Years of animosity on both sides melted away as the hardest bastard in Québec collapse into tears, mumbling Je m’excuse into his daughter’s shoulder. He looked up to Nicole and said in English, “I’m sorry. Thank you.”
Nicole shook her head, and wiped her eyes as well. "Like I said," she said gently, "a team effort."
Cousins, aunts and uncles, as well as Camille’s grandparents, had beamed home. Camille and Nicole had had a chance to speak with all of them, held newborn Sophie, and spoke at length about their adventures on the Victory. Little eight-year-old Colette had given her a painting of Jupiter Station, surprisingly accurate for a girl her age, but special mostly because it had been painted with love for her. She still held it as the last Aunt, Amélie, with whom they planned to get tea the next morning before their transport left, beamed away.
“We should get home, too,” said Renée, her fiancé at her side. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the things I said tonight. I’m proud of you, little sister.”
That earned her a big hug. “It’s worth more than you think. And I’m sorry I can’t be there for you. But send me pictures! And I’ll make sure we send you a message on the day.” She broke the hug and gave a less familiar one to Sylvain. “Good to see you, too. Be good to my sister.” She grinned a bit wickedly. “If you’re not, I’m sending my Captain after you. Nicole can confirm that she’s scary and will hunt you down!”
"And if she's busy, I can come yell at you," Nicole said, smiling, shaking his hand and giving Renée a slightly awkward hug and kiss goodbye.
The two walked out the front door as Mathilde came running down the corridor. “Wait! Can you fly me home?” she called to her eldest sister. She gave Camille as big and warm a hug as ever. “Be safe out there, Cam. If you get hurt, I’ll kill you.” The two shared a laugh as they embraced.
“At summer break, try to come out my way,” Camille suggested. “The Delta Quadrant is full of wonders, and new cultures to interact with. A subject for your PhD maybe.”
Mathilde nodded. “I’d like that.” She pulled herself from Camille and gave one just as loving to Nicole, to everyone’s surprise. “I’m glad she found you, Nicole. I hope we didn’t scare you away.”
Nicole had never had a sister; her old shipmates had come closest to that status. But at that moment, she suddenly regretted that she was an only child. "You haven't even come close," she promised.
She let Mathilde go and took Camille's hand. "You have a wonderful family," she said. "Once their rough edges get smoothed out a bit." She gave Camille a wry grin. "No wonder you were attracted to me."
“Why do you say that?” Camille asked, holding Nicole’s hand.
Before any answer came, Camille’s parents emerged from the kitchen to give both women hugs and kisses. They made sure they were bundled appropriately and sent them in their way.
"Well," Nicole said as they walked down the road back to civilization, "we have a few legs of our return journey to go through. First stop: Rigel V."
“Will the Castelnaudary take us?” Camille asked as they walked.
"No, the Castel will only be moving us to the transport station in Montreal," Nicole said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I've made other arrangements."
“Wait a moment,” Camille said as they approached the road. She tapped her commbadge. “Lévesque to transporter room. Slight change of plans. Can you beam us to coordinates 45.5039 North by 73.5876 West. Energize when ready. We’ll walk to the transport centre from there.”
The road disappeared, replaced an the observation deck that Camille hoped Nicole would find familiar. “I wanted you to see it for real.”
Nicole's breath caught in her chest as she looked out past the observation deck and over the glowing city of Montreal. Her people believed in science, even though many regarded Numerology as a pseudo-science, and had given up the Old Vulcan Gods long before the Great Divide. Still, she was sure Heaven, whatever, wherever it was, couldn't be as beautiful as the glittering city below.
"There's something I want to say, that I didn't want to say in front of your father," Nicole said when her voice returned.
“What is it?” Camille asked, nervous by the possibilities such a statement might bring.
"If you ever feel that it's time for you to move back home," Nicole said, "I am willing to go with you. I know how important your family is, and I can visit Rigel from Earth easily. Just say the word, and I'll be packed and ready."
Camille’s eyes watered and she pulled Nicole close, took her face in her hands, and gave her a passionate kiss. People walked past, some annoyed by the public display, others finding it sweet. Camille didn’t care. She knew in that moment how much Nicole loved her. She had no desire to move back here, but knowing she didn’t need to choose between Nicole and home made all the troubles of the day slip away, leaving only her happiness in the now.
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