ǫᴜᴇᴇɴ ᴇʟsᴀ (icicles) wrote in noexits, @ 2022-02-22 14:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log/thread/narrative, star trek: orlin dax, ₴ inactive: elsa, → week 031 (two derleths) |
two derleths - day 4
Orlin, the good Orlin, was too nice. Aside from the fact that he’d practically given Orlin, the bad Orlin, a hug after he received the magical ‘protective’ badge, he also offered to let Orlin go through their clinic and see if there was anything his people could use. Naturally, Orlin accepted this offer. He’d already made plans with Sharon and the rest of her brokers to procure as much equipment as possible in the event that the plan to switch places with their counterparts didn’t work. He just thought it would be more difficult gaining access to the other Derleth’s facilities. He hadn’t been prepared for so much kindness and generosity. Nor had he been prepared for how genuine their desire to help actually was. He could tell they weren’t being subversive about wanting to provide aid and assistance. His empathic abilities made certain of that. And it filled him with unconscionable guilt. The other Orlin, Mr. Starfleet himself, had excused himself from the medical clinic tour to answer a call he’d received. Someone was sick from too much partying the night before. Not surprising. Orlin felt a little lightheaded himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had real alcohol. It was so uncommon to find in the worlds their Derleth took them too. (And when there was, there was rarely any left over after Eliot got his hands on it.) Likewise, the few people on his campus who were capable of brewing some form of homemade intoxicant? Well, needless to say, Orlin didn’t trust them not to poison the entire campus. It had happened once before. That was also one of the reasons why he didn’t align himself with one of the major power camps. The hell with Loki and his kingdom. Or Natasha and her community of deranged spies. Don’t even get him started on the Magicians. They were all trouble. They were all out for themselves. And it was clear to anyone who was paying attention that their ‘leaders’ all found them dispensable. It was sad, really. But that was the life they’d grown accustomed to. Survival trumped everything. And politeness, kindness, sympathy, affection—those had been the first things to go. So, Orlin was left alone in the clinic. Alone with all of the technology and medications that the people of this better Derleth had been saving up for months. Months. Not years. It was so unfair. He stepped over to the counter. A few microscopes and medical supplies were laid out. He flipped on the light to the nearest microscope and adjusted the lens so he could see. The other Orlin appeared to be looking at soil samples he’d collected from the Desolation. Just looking at those miniscule particles of dust enlarged to one hundred times their size caused him to hear the screeching howl of the wind across their campus. He flipped the light off and walked away. Then he picked up the medical tricorder. He hadn’t seen one of those in a very long time. And he was about to slip it into his pocket when he heard the door open. It was definitely a lot quieter on this campus - Elsa wasn’t exactly a fan of being on the other side, the couple of times she’d gone. The wind, the white noise, sort of varied in what it reminded her of - sometimes it was the sound of a crying child. Other times it was a low hum, bass-level, always there. Then when began to make her think she was hearing wolves, maybe the ones that she knew lived within her (wasn’t her other self proof of that?), she knew she had to get out of there. And she wasn’t sure she wanted to go back. It was difficult, however, because she wanted to help - really, she did. Everyone on this side seemed to want to do that, their care and concern for their counterparts stuck in a terrible situation actually genuine, Likely it would be their undoing, but for now - things were tentatively alright. She just had to keep going with that, and doing the best she could do in order to get through the week. Her learning experiences at the clinic were helpful - Orlin taught her a lot about medicine, simple things that she didn’t need a doctor’s degree to have to execute but that would actually be useful in a time of crisis. That was all she wanted - maybe to be able to do something besides ice coffins. She went to the clinic to see if he needed any help with those who had partied too hard the night before, or even any help with something mundane like organizing or filing - and discovered he was...there already? Or was that his counterpart? “Hello,” she greeted - his clothing was different, and it took her a second to place that this was the Orlin from the other side. “I hope I’m not interrupting?” Damnit. Orlin placed the medical tricorder back on the counter and turned to face Elsa. It was a little difficult for him to look her in the eyes. She was beautiful and polite, but the Elsa of his Derleth unsettled him. And that made it a challenge for him to look at her. The Elsa he knew was positively frightening sometimes. Then again, most people in his Derleth were scary. Even the ones that weren’t naturally villains or evil had a dark side to them. Orlin supposed he was no exception in that sense, but he’d tried his best to maintain some semblance of the ‘humanity’ he once had. But maybe it was easier for him because he was from an actual Mirror Universe. A known Mirror Universe, in fact. And through Dax he’d experienced what it was like to interact with people—other versions of himself, for example—from the Prime Timeline. He wasn’t innocent, by any means. And he’d done some horrible things in Derleth in order to survive that he regretted. But he still kept track of the wrongs he’d committed. He didn’t want to forget. Because once he forgot, once he allowed it to become normal, he’d become like the rest of them. “Oh, no! Not at all. Of course not. I was just admiring the facilities you have here. Orl—Doctor Dax was showing me around, but he was called away. Someone had a little too much to drink last night, I think. I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Orlin offered a timid smile. The kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he averted his gaze so as to not get caught in that icy stare. He’d been a little horrified the night before when she asked him to dance. His feelings towards the Elsa he knew were complicated. They didn’t get along poorly, but they didn’t get on very well either. Mostly he avoided her. He’d had something of a boyish crush on her when he first arrived. (Once he got over the pain of being separated from his partner in his own universe, that is.) But she was one of the unattainables in his Derleth. The ones with power so deadly that even looking at them the wrong way could end you up on a spike or cut in half with a portal or turned into an icy statue. So he’d felt a bit like he was taking his life in his hands when he accepted the other Elsa’s offer of a dance. In the end he was glad he did. But that didn’t make him any less nervous. Unlike his counterpart, however, he didn’t ramble when he was anxious. On the contrary, he got quiet. He smoothed down the thin sides of his goatee, the only obvious distinction aside from his clothes that he wasn’t the Orlin of this world. “Did you need some help? I’m quite certain my medical license has long since expired, but I still know a thing or two.” At the party, Elsa had let loose more than she thought she would - the wine helped with that, and it had been good (whatever Stephen had conjured). Sweet, but not too sweet - it didn’t coat Elsa’s mouth like motor oil or anything, but perhaps just gave her a bit of liquid courage instead. She’d basked in the warmth she felt, the effects of alcohol slithering through her veins and since she didn’t drink very often her tolerance wasn’t exactly made of steel - it let her get up the nerve to ask Orlin to dance, and she stuck with him longer than she meant to. He didn’t seem to mind, however. Even if this was his counterpart, she found she enjoyed being around him just as much as the one she’d known first - she liked Stephen but he was a prime example of how most men didn’t have enough blood to run their nether regions and their heads at the same time. “No, no help needed,” she assured. “I usually come by here to help him - Doctor Dax, that is. He’s been teaching me a few things. So I can assist during emergencies, besides with making ice coffins.” She stepped closer, leaning in and caressing his face with the backs of her fingers, eventually coming to hold his chin in a gentle grasp. “The facial hair really suits you, if I forgot to mention yesterday.” It was a shame he couldn’t stay here - or maybe he could? Elsa had to admit, the idea of some of their counterparts just being stuck in that desolation made her stomach twist nervously even if she also knew it wasn’t fair to decide something like who stayed or who went. They all should be able to break away from that weekly torture. The absolute look of panic-stricken terror on Orlin’s face when she mentioned ice coffins. Clearly his brain did not automatically go to a place of sentiment. That sounded a bit more like murder to him than the helpful assistance it had been. Then again, he hadn’t been there. And that’s what Dark Derleth could do to a person. It made jumping to conclusions all about jumping to the worst conclusions. But then his empathy kicked in and he realized there wasn’t any malicious intent behind that statement. There wasn’t even any callous humor. Elsa only exuded, well, pleasantness. And honesty. He didn’t get any sense of deception from her. It was so odd. So unfamiliar. Orlin couldn’t even remember the last time he was in the presence of someone whose aura wasn’t on the verge of either violence, backstabbing, or a traumatic meltdown. Well, except for when he’d spoken to his counterpart. The other Orlin didn’t appear to be anything but goodhearted either. Although he was clearly very overwhelmed by the recent addition of newcomers. He probably needed more practice with his abilities. This Orlin had a lot of psionic practice while working alongside his marauder companions during the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. That probably explained why he wasn’t on the verge of throwing up every time he walked into a room. A feeling which he assumed the other Orlin was struggling with this week. “I’m sure he’s incredibly grateful for your help. I wish I had more help in our clinic. Not that it’s really much of a clinic. More of a triage center. I stopped being a doctor years ago. More of a butcher, really, at this point. If I had some of this equipment I wouldn’t have to spend my weeks cutting off so many—” Orlin stopped himself from finishing that sentence. It was too gruesome. Then Elsa stepped closer and touched him. His eyebrows shot up into his forehead, practically reaching the thin row of spots that lined his face. He froze, uncertain of what it was she was doing; waiting for her to cast an icy spell on him. But she didn’t. Instead she held his face gently. Softly. And she complimented him. Orlin didn’t know what to do. He just sort of stared at her like she was some unearthly being. And, at some point, he may have actually forgotten to breathe. “Uhm … Thank you. Nobody’s ever said that to me before. Well, not here anyway.” Elsa could only imagine what it was like for her counterpart on the other side - no doubt she’d frosted over her dwellings like a birthday cake, every surface sprouting beautiful, intricate winter crystals and all that white; furnishings and colors sparse as her emotions, she likely buried her secrets up to her neck. Or kept them locked in a tomb made of ice too. She felt bad for that Elsa. If only she would have heeded David’s wisdom by realizing that alone in a frigid cave was where she’d end up, if she always shut people away. But this Elsa could understand why she didn’t - and how easy it was to get to a place like that. It was easier to see now more than ever, when she considered everything those in the opposite Derleth had been through. “Do you think you could stay here?” she asked, also not wanting to imagine the gruesomeness of having to <>hack off limbs</i>. Probably necessary, but - the fact that it had come to that was more than depressing. What was there to be done? What was the point of these two Derleth’s appearing side by side if they were only going to pull apart in the end? Then she dropped her hand, a candied pink flush blooming in her cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable - I just really liked dancing with you.” The question took Orlin by surprise and a bit of panic caused his chest to tighten. Had she heard something? Had someone spoken out of turn? He knew that party was a dangerous idea. As much as he enjoyed it, it had been an incredible risk. It only took one of them to say something stupid or off the cuff. He focused on Elsa with an intent stare. He was trying to gauge her intention or her meaning. But it wasn’t easy with her fingers on his face. The touch was distracting. It had been so long since anyone had paid him such close and careful attention. So long since anyone cared. “Do you mean … hypothetically or literally? Would I want to stay here?” Orlin almost laughed at the absurdity of the query. “I would give almost anything to be able to stay here. You have stable electricity and running water. There aren’t any ear-piercing sounds. The Green. I can’t tell you the last time I saw trees. Not to mention the food or the delightful company.” A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Orlin hadn’t been overly social with many people in the other Derleth, but he had enjoyed the company. He didn’t have a lot of friends in his Derleth. And very few people took the time to have a nice conversation. Because there wasn’t much about their world or lives that was nice. “Whether I could actually stay … I don’t know if Derleth would allow it. That would probably require some kind of technological or magical solution. Possibly both. But there’s already a version of me here. If I managed to stay, how might that affect him?” Saying it aloud caused a flash of shame to cross his eyes. What he’d done was wrong. What they were all doing was wrong. But if he was the only one not to do it, he’d never survive in his Derleth. If he was the reason the plan failed, they’d ruin his life. His expression turned into an unconscious pout when Elsa dropped her hands from his face. He’d forgotten what that felt like. To feel someone else’s touch. “I’m not uncomfortable. It’s just … It’s been a long time since anyone has paid me any real mind. It’s not something I’m used to anymore. But, for what it’s worth, I really enjoyed dancing with you as well. Actually, it was my first dance since before I arrived in Derleth. And I imagine it’ll probably be my last. Unless Derleth decides to send me home.” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully - she’d been curious if he knew of any way for him to feasibly stay here, but it didn’t sound that way. Elsa, admittedly, hadn’t really heard of a way either - if there was, she assumed the other campus would already be making preparations to make it happen. Right? Something itched at the back of her skull - she didn’t know what it was. Couldn’t put words to it. But it sort of dug in like a tick and stayed there - something to keep an ear out for. Shifting scales or a balance tipped off - the party had been fun but it also felt like there was tension in the air, like it was radiating through all of them. But she wouldn’t focus on it - even if she wouldn’t specifically ignore her gut feelings. No, she’d just make the most of the time they had. Overall, that seemed to be a running theme they couldn't go wrong with. “Well, we’ll make sure it’s not your last dance,” she spoke decisively, picking up Orlin’s hands in hers - then she stepped back before playfully gliding back in, the bare bones of a waltz or something similar. “Dance with me again now?” There wasn’t a karaoke machine or any music, per se, but she hummed a few bars - the tune was familiar to her, reminding her of the onset of spring when there was a maypole and everyone would dance, ribbons fluttering, bright and colorful. Whether intentionally or not, Elsa had planted the seed of a dissenting thought in Orlin’s mind. What if they were doing all of this wrong? What if there was hope for them to stay in this Derleth? Not just one side or the other, but all of them. They’d never been in this position before. A position where they could work together with another Derleth. A Derleth with different experiences, different knowledge, different research. Maybe there was an answer to their problem. He glanced around at all of the medical supplies. If they had this much in their clinic, what could they have in their laboratories? His thoughts were turning, spinning, searching for a way wherein he could take back what he’d done. If he could find another way for his Derleth to remain in this place, then he could take the badge back. He could make things right for all of them. He drifted off then. He was in a completely different place mentally. A far away look in his eyes. Something tired and strained, but also somber and determined. Then Elsa’s voice broke him out of his daydream. “Really? Here? Now?” But she’d already answered his question when she took his hand. He looked her in the eyes again. On second thought she wasn’t much like the Elsa from his Derleth at all. Same appearance, same voice, same color swirling around her pupils. But she didn’t have that same coldness. This Elsa may have had the powers of ice and snow, but she was far from frozen. Orlin took a step closer and placed one hand at her waist. He was by no means a professional dancer, but some of Dax’s earlier hosts had knowledge of the waltz. Jadzia, for example, had loved dancing. And she had been quite good at it. Give Orlin a minute or so and he’d remember the steps. “I hope this isn’t a pity dance. That’s not what I was hoping for when I said I’d probably never dance again.” A soft blush returned to his cheeks, deepening the color of his spots. He was quite a bit taller than Elsa, but he was careful not to overstep or crowd her. He kept a polite distance between their torsos, but close enough to display a subtle interest. To let her know he was only maintaining propriety for her sake. He might have been from the bad Derleth, but he wasn’t really bad. “Is that a song from home?” “I promise you it’s not a pity dance,” Elsa chuckled in her gentle sort of way - and surprisingly, she wasn’t too nervous about closing polite distance. Were it anyone else, she might have been - heartbeat in her ears, butterfly wings in her stomach, blood heating up in her veins. She just usually didn’t know how to react when people were close to her. But it didn’t seem to matter now - it felt very natural, for some reason. So her arms came up and she draped them around Orlin’s neck - twitch and sway, she moved like smoke over water as her torso drifted nearer and she pressed against him. It was a gamble, sort of, maybe for the both of them - him because was she going to freeze him? A spinning wheel and skipping dice - who was to say? It was a gamble for her because she didn’t get close to people and being pushed away was always a risk too - that would set her back a long time and disintegrate any remaining courage, most likely. “I wanted to dance again, that’s all,” she added, letting pale blonde lashes flutter closed as she rested the side of her cheek against his collarbone. “But yes, it’s a song from home. Around the onset of spring in Arendelle - it’s always so nice when that happens. When winter thaws.” Orlin’s experience with romance and intimacy was confusing because of the memories of the other hosts. Before he was joined with Dax, his attempts at being close to other people had been mixed. His universe wasn’t as dark as the ones Derleth took them to, but it wasn’t as positive as the Prime Universe. They didn’t have the Federation. He wasn’t part of Starfleet. There weren’t very many peace treaties or safe regions of space. People scavenged the galaxies and made alliances to serve their purposes. Not unlike his Derleth. It made the opportunities to meet people incredibly challenging. Especially because it was impossible to know who to trust. Then Orlin was joined with Dax and had to spend a good deal of time living aboard the same ship as Jadzia’s lover. That was confusing; having her feelings and memories combined with his own. That was the one thing about joining no one had prepared him for. The people the hosts left behind. The ones who lived. The ones who couldn’t separate the old Dax from the new one. So, maybe it was because this was safe that Orlin felt he could be more confident in himself. What harm could it do, after all? In a few days they’d be separated. They’d never see each other again. One dance couldn’t hurt. Could it? His arms slipped around her back when she brought hers about his neck. He held her close. Not tightly or demanding, but sturdy. If she were to slip he would have easily caught her. The waltz was exchanged for a more gentle and caressing sway. His hips followed hers from side to side. Not provocative or presuming. Orlin might have been a mercenary and a thief, but he was also a consummate gentleman. “I like this kind of dancing,” he said. “I wasn’t familiar with any of the songs at the party. Too upbeat. Too much gyrating, not enough face to face.” It was a gamble, wasn’t it? But he’d forgotten that she had the power to kill him in an instant. “There’s a song from my world, too. A long time ago it was meant to be a song of celebration, but the tune has changed a bit over time. It’s a bit slower now.” He hummed the part he knew. It was a nice melody. At a quick speed it definitely could have been something that involved clapping and foot stomping, but Orlin hummed it at a very languid pace. Almost melancholy and lullaby-esque, but with the hint of something bright in the background. Like her song it was very easy to sway to. And his humming voice wasn’t that bad. There had definitely been too much gyrating at the party - and the music was foreign to Elsa as well, thus, she related. “I didn’t know any of the songs either,” she admitted. “But that one - “ She listened to Orlin’s tune, committing it to memory. It sort of reminded her of the lullaby she sang in Norway, when she was with Loki - the haunting melody from her childhood, the one that lingered on and on like a daydream, a broken record set to repeat. That was what all their lives were, weren’t they? Just one big broken record? Everything was its own haunting melody. “The one from your world? That’s a nice song too,” she said. “Now it’s going to get stuck in my head, but that’s alright.” Her skirt had a nice flounce to it, when she moved back a bit to do a little twirl before coming in close once more - this was a dress she’d picked up in New York. A ‘secretary’ dress, deep royal blue, with small white and green flowers decorating the fabric. “There are worse things to have in one’s head.” She didn’t want their makeshift dance to end, necessarily, so she didn’t move away - Elsa felt very at ease here, still. Not like Orlin was just using her to make himself feel good, or fluff up his own ego - and while she had a presence about her that commanded respect, due to her status as a queen, the title wasn’t always what she wanted to be known for. Sometimes she just wished to be Elsa. “Can I have something else before the week is up?” Orlin wished he had something better to wear. A few people had told him about the wardrobe in the theatre, but he felt guilty going through it. He did envy the other Orlin’s uniform. The teal and black combination looked good on him. Orlin’s attire was much more plain in comparison. Mostly various shades of brown. There weren’t a lot of opportunities to mend clothing in his Derleth, let alone put together new pieces. None of them looked very nice. Only the magical people capable of illusions, and those they bestowed their favors upon, had any semblance of real style. The rest of them all looked like street urchins. Orlin wouldn’t have trusted himself if he saw him. Well, he thought he wouldn’t. But evidently he did. That brought another wrenching stab of shame in his gut. But he pushed it aside to focus on the moment. A moment he knew he wouldn’t get again. Even if their plan did work. How could he ever trust any of the people from his Derleth knowing what they’d all done together? How could he ever be close to one of them? No, this was a fleeting moment. A one-off chance at a connection that couldn’t last even if they wanted it to. He was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to tell her how beautiful she was. Not because he expected anything. He didn’t. And even if that offer were made available to him, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to act upon it. He wasn’t like the others in that sense. Not like Loki or Strange or Margo. He craved an emotional connection more than a physical one. Part of that was because of his symbiont. Because of Dax’s memory of so many loves lost. And part of that was because Orlin was, well, the kind of person with whom an empathic connection surpassed anything he could ever obtain from a single night of passion. Thus, he wanted to tell Elsa that she was lovely and kind. That although he didn’t know her, he could sense that her soul had a beauty about it that he’d not witnessed in many years. But Orlin had never been very good at making the first move. And he was afraid that she might misunderstand him. Again, she spoke up when he feared doing so himself. “Yes, of course,” he said, completely oblivious to what she was going to ask. Because naturally he would be. That was something he shared in common with his counterpart. “If it’s something I have and if it’s something I can give, then yes. What would you like?” Maybe answering the question with actions rather than words was the best course to take? Elsa didn’t know. She was very unfamiliar with this sort of thing so she just had to sort of go with what felt right. Which was very bold of her, to be certain, but - she didn’t want to be her other self, perpetually stuck in that cave of ice and not even giving anyone else a chance. She didn’t know what would happen with that Elsa - would she remain frostbite chilly and sharp as a broken mirror? So her arms reached up (Orlin was tall - well, taller than her, but that wasn’t difficult) and tangled around his neck again. She arched up too, crushing her lips to his; it knocked the wind from her lungs and also simultaneously felt like walking on air, and plus all that warmth. The kind that had been generated between them during their dance and closeness; the kind that was often felt in situations such as this (or so she assumed, anyway). She felt that in her too, it boiled thick like honey in the miniscule space that separated them - but there wasn't much at all. Even if she was a little tense and prepared to pull back if he became aware that she had no idea what she was doing. That was the last thing Orlin expected. He saw her reach up and lean in, and while part of his brain warned him what was coming, he wasn’t prepared for it when it happened. Her lips met his and for a brief moment—fleeting but noticeable—he paused. He not so much froze as didn’t know what to do. He almost thought it was a dream. Like his imagination had gotten the better of him. Or maybe it was Derleth playing him for a fool. Tricking him as it so often did. Torturing him with something he’d never be able to have. Like that week when they were all trapped in a fever dream of their own nightmares. But this was different. The touch was real. The taste of her lips, like fresh snow glistening under the moonlight, crisp and soft. There was a sparkling chill to her lips at first that quickly melted into the warmth of his own mouth. He felt an electric tingle travel the length of his spots; from the tips of his toes all the way to his temple, flooding him with an amorous heat. Once his brain caught up to his body, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, maintaining that kiss for as long as he could. For as long as she would let him. And if she didn’t know what she was doing, Orlin didn’t notice. Because, in truth, all the memories in the world couldn’t make up for a lengthy breadth of inexperience. And it had been years since he’d kissed anyone. Years since he’d felt comfortable enough to share that kind of closeness with someone. Years since he’d felt that need. But it was the fact that she exuded a sweet calm and composed steadiness in her aura that allowed Orlin to push beyond the boundaries of his own insecurities and truly enjoy the moment. No one else in Derleth—no one he’d come across at least—had that gentle ease about them. It soothed his worried mind and eased his restless conscience. And it made him wish there was a way for him to stay. Not necessarily in this Derleth, but with her. Not because he hoped this could become something more than a chaste kiss between two people who only had a few days together—although crazier things had happened—but because she gave him hope. Hope that things could be better. Hope that he could be happy. Even in a place like Derleth. This close, and she probably smelled just like the winter could - dark and heady, burning pine cones, a crackle in the fireplace, crunched leaves and the sun that hid behind snow clouds; it was the kind of aroma that clung to your hair, your skin, and Elsa brought it with her everywhere she went. And she’d let Orlin kiss her forever - or until either of them had to take a real breath, whichever came first. Otherwise, Elsa was more than fine with letting the second tick by until she had to breathe through her nose, separate briefly, and then go back in once more. Her cheeks were rosy and glowing, however - bright red and flushed, for a few different reasons. She was so not used to anything physical but right now, she wondered why she’d held herself back for so long - because if she’d been missing out on something like this, well, that just seemed to be a right shame. She smoothed her hands down over the front of him, that outfit that had obviously seen better days. “Thank you,” she finally said, laughing a little sheepishly because she hadn’t meant for that to get so involved. Everything about this Derleth challenged Orlin’s perception of how things could be. It was proof that he was little more than a figment of the man he’d been before he arrived. All of those years suffering, struggling, fighting against the elements Derleth dropped them in, being pitted against the people around him. They didn’t have that here. Not in the same way his Derleth did. Elsa was proof of that. In his world she was a formidable and daunting queen. She was the kind of woman he purposefully shied away from. If she was in the same room he averted his gaze for fear that she might see something in his glance that rankled her ire. Not that she was the only one. So many of his Derleth compatriots were the same. Ripped from war-torn worlds and collapsing galaxies. Possessed by dark magic and an uncontrollable lust for power. And then there was Orlin. Not the lowest of the low because he served a purpose. Because he wasn’t human. But he wasn’t far up from the bottom either. What he wouldn’t sacrifice to be able to stay in this Derleth. To have the safety of his own bed in a room protected from the ghosts. To be able to lie in the grass and stare up at the shaded canopy of the trees. To eat real food instead of scrounging for scraps with the consistency of cardboard. To be reminded of the good in people and the potential for deep connections. And for moments like this—even if they were brief and transitory—to feel alive again. If he could have that then he would be forever grateful. And it ached to think that this was what they were trying to steal from the people here. From good people. People who did nothing but wake up in a more forgiving world. But even beautiful moments had to end. When their lips parted, Orlin’s breath caught in a soft gasp. His eyes glistened, holding back tears he hadn’t shed in almost a year. He didn’t know why she’d kissed him. He couldn’t even fathom a guess, but he knew she wasn’t the one who should have been thanking him. “Please don’t thank me,” he said. He released his hold on her and took her hand in his. Then he placed a kiss to her knuckles. Not because she was royalty, but because he wanted her to know that what he was about to say next was true and not born of some lustful frenzy that so many others around them felt entitled to. “That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” “Well, I enjoyed it too,” Elsa laughed breathlessly - so it wasn’t strictly a favor just for him. Mutual enjoyment, if that was actually a thing - not anything she knew much about, since she was always so skittish and shied away from physical affection. With Anna and Kristoff it was different - she’d hug them, of course, and she’d hugged her friends in Storybrooke many times. David and Snow and especially Emma, whom she had a deep fondness for. But romantic gestures had been very much off the table. Mostly she believed those sorts of things to be better suited for Anna, whose appreciation for whimsy and love seemed to be a part of her being - with Elsa, well. There was a reason Hans had gone for Anna all those years ago, to try to manipulate her into falling for him - because he wasn’t getting anywhere with a queen whose heart was unable to be reached, not unless one was willing to take a toothpick to a cave of ice and carve their way there. She leaned up and kissed him again, hands framing his face. This type of thing would certainly be frowned upon in Arendelle - kissing a suitor so deeply, alone together. However, she’d spent some time in the modern world, in Storybrooke, and knew things were different there. She’d seen Emma and Killian (and even Snow and Charming), how in love they were - and while she had never been in love before, she did know that in modern times it was more acceptable to make choices about what you did with your body, even before a marriage contract. Having to be married for certain acts was an old and stale tradition, and even back in her time? Not everyone followed that tenant. The gossip she overheard from her ladies-in-waiting was proof of such a thing; those who broke the rules were simply sneaky about what went on. Not that she was planning on going that far - especially not in the clinic. “I’m glad I stopped by,” she murmured huskily then. There was a lot of confusion for Orlin in this moment. His relationship of fear with the other Elsa aside, this completely threw him for a loop. He never thought that he would have much more than a simple conversation with someone from the other Derleth—his own counterpart being the only one on his mind, after all—and so the idea that he might find himself in an embrace, experiencing his first kiss since, well, since way before Derleth, was messing with his perception. A scared, paranoid part of him even worried that she was doing this on purpose. That this was some sort of plan to trick him into revealing his side’s secrets. But then he looked her in the eyes—like a frozen lagoon, bright blue speckled in snowflakes—and knew that wasn’t possible. This Elsa wasn’t anything like the one he feared. She wasn’t like anyone from his Derleth. She was so genuine and altruistic. Even her features, albeit the same as the Ice Queen, were softer. She lacked that calloused edge and that stern, illegible stare; a look capable of freezing a desert. This wasn’t a trick. And Orlin wanted so desperately in that moment to tell her the truth. To warn her of what they were planning. Of how they were there to steal their world from them. Because he, and the others from his Derleth, were selfish and unkind. Because they hadn’t stopped to really consider the moral ramifications of the choices they were making. I thought they would be just like us, Orlin thought to himself. I thought they would be bad people. But they weren’t. The only bad people were the ones Orlin had aligned himself with. “Elsa, I—” Then she kissed him again and Orlin thought his knees might snap. He knew it wasn’t right for him to feel a certain spark for her touch. They barely knew each other. And a few dances wasn’t a reason to give up years of hard work and research. But when she kissed him he imagined her trapped in his Derleth, her light snuffed out by the harsh conditions of the worlds they visited and the depression of their Void. And he didn’t want that. He couldn’t live with himself if he’d sacrificed her for his own comfort. ‘I would give almost anything to be able to stay here.’ That’s what he’d said. Almost anything. He took her by the shoulders and leaned into the kiss. This time with more certainty and presence. Not just with desire, although that was there, but with a fervent need to make sure she understood him. That this was not something he did. Orlin wasn’t the kind of man who traveled between worlds and left behind a wake of broken hearts. He was the type who was searching for something true. Something deeper. The kind of emotion that touched the soul. Maybe, in another life or another world, that could have been Elsa. When the kiss ended, he kept his face near to hers, the tips of their noses nuzzling. Then he looked her directly in the eyes. “Elsa, I know you don’t really know me. And you have no reason to trust me. But I need to request something of you now.” Orlin took a breath. “I need you to stay away from your counterpart. Don’t go near her. Don’t trust her. Please.” Elsa felt a little bit dizzy, but certainly not in a bad way - it just felt like her head was in the clouds and she had yet to float back to the ground, though she gave it her best shot when she heard Orlin speak to her. Her arms were still around his neck, one hand slipping down to let her thumb travel over his cheekbone and down the side of his neck, feeling muscle and tendons and the beat of his pulse, and maybe she was imagining it but it seemed to hammer in the same way hers did. “I - alright,” she blinked, and the funny thing was? She did trust him. Trusted him to be sincere in this moment, anyway - trusted that he wasn’t just using her for whatever reason; she wouldn’t have gotten so close to him, just now, if she sensed such things. And she liked to think she had always been more world-weary than her sister - less naive about how cruel people could be. Elsa was colder, but there was a reason for that. Many reasons. “I promise I won’t go near her,” she whispered, not making any effort to move from his embrace, even as she looked down through the fringe of pale lashes and realized she would have to move. Eventually. Orlin knew he should have explained himself. He should have told her more. But the less she knew the safer she was. The safer they both were. Because if the people behind the plan were correct, then if even one person wasn’t tagged then the entire endeavor would fail. And they would be ruthless if they realized what he’d done. Derleth was bad. The resets were horrible. But those things were nothing compared to the tortures that the residents of his Derleth could inflict. Their vengeance wouldn’t be sugarcoated. They might not have been able to kill him permanently, but there were worse things than death in Derleth. Not to mention the fact that Orlin would have his own conscience to deal with. It wasn’t an easy decision to reconcile with himself even now. It wasn’t just her she was saving and himself he was sacrificing. He was sacrificing the hopes of all the people from his Derleth. All the people who’d worked tirelessly on this trap. And, if they found out, he’d have to live with them knowing what he’d done. Orlin had never made such a heavy decision in his life. But it was the right decision. Maybe it was the only decision. He just hoped no one else found out what he’d done. The inside of his head was loud. Not with the buzzing screech of the Desolation, but with the rapid beating of his heart. He could barely hear himself think. She trusted him despite having no reason to. And she didn’t even ask why. He hadn’t experienced that kind of connection since—well, he’d never experienced it. The last person who had was Jadzia. But that was just another one of Dax’s memories from another life. Not his life. He brushed his fingers back through her hair exposing the entirety of her face. “I guess this is what they mean when they say ‘life isn’t fair’.” He should have let go, but he didn’t want to. Instead he leaned in for another kiss. The door to the clinic creaked open. The other Orlin made his way through, balancing plates of leftover sandwiches from the party on his arms. But he stopped halfway through entering when he saw himself—for lack of a better description—locked in what appeared to be a romantic embrace with his new medical assistant. Blink, blink. “Oh, I—uh. Didn’t realize you were in … consultation. I’ll just…” He stepped backwards and bumped into a filing cabinet, nearly dropping one of the plates. Awkward laugh. “It’s okay! I’m okay! The canapés are okay…” Well, wasn’t that embarrassing. Elsa’s heart leapt up into her throat and she spluttered - about the same time other Orlin was spluttering, anyway. “Orlin, hi!” she greeted all too brightly, like she hadn’t just been caught in an almost liplock with his counterpart. “Oh, you brought...canapés?? How sweet of you!” What was even happening right now. Reluctantly, she extricated herself from other-other Orlin’s (mildly confusing, yes) arms, going to make sure nothing really did spill. It wouldn’t do any good to waste food, not when it was usually in scarce supply and especially not over an awkward interruption. “Here, I’ll help you - “ She glanced back over her shoulder at the Orlin she had just danced with. Her expression clearly said that this wouldn’t be the last time they’d see each other, and she’d make certain of that. Both Orlins were mortified. But the Orlin who’d held Elsa in his arms was quite a bit less embarrassed than his Starfleet counterpart. Maybe it was because he didn’t have any Ezri in him. Without her he was missing quite a bit of the other Orlin’s insecurities. He also had the advantage of having been around Derleth a lot longer. He was accustomed to the unexpected. Not to mention he was much more weary and broken. Hopefully the Starfleet officer wouldn’t find himself in that position, but there was nothing to say that this Derleth wouldn’t go bad too one day. That was the one thing none of them had control over. He let go of Elsa the moment she began tripping over her own words. Then he straightened his posture and watched as she helped his other self, both of them fumbling to maintain their composure and chagrin. Fumbling was a kind way to put it. The other Orlin’s fingers clenched onto the tray of finger sandwiches and canapés with a nervous death grip. He knew that Elsa had been planning to come by to help out in the clinic, but he hadn’t expected to find her with, well—it was really weird to see yourself (granted a much more handsome and charming version of himself) posed like the hero on the cover of a romance novel. Okay, maybe that was a little exaggerated. But facial hair aside, the other Orlin was a perfect twin image of himself. So when he saw them it was like seeing a confident version of himself in a position of—well, a position that Orlin would have been too afraid to initiate. But they did look quite nice together, didn’t they? No! He wasn’t going to think about that. And he covered up his awkwardness with another uncomfortable laugh. “I just thought it might be nice to have some sustenance in the clinic. In case anyone showed up. Ha, ha. And it would be a shame if all that party food went to waste!” He cleared his throat. “I’ll just set them over here while you two … Just pretend like I’m not here!” The other Orlin, the mercenary doctor from the dark Derleth, turned his attention back to Elsa. There was a sadness to his eyes, but his mouth turned upward in a small smile. He really did hope they’d be able to talk more again. Just the two of them. Then he shook off his confused feelings and followed his counterpart to the counter. “Do you have any of those cucumber sandwiches leftover? They were delicious.” |