"...And There You Were" (Day 1 - Afternoon)

“I’m down here!!” Marisol’s voice echoed from beneath the floor grates.

“Is now a bad time?” Ly asked, hand tracing the wooden beads at her neck. She couldn’t see Marisol, but her voice coming from below had a certain disembodied quality to it. Perhaps it would be easier to talk about what happened on Beaumonde like this, rather than seeing the disappointed look on her face.

Lyen’s voice filtered down from the upper deck. Marisol halted abruptly, her breath catching in her throat at the sound. “Now is great!” she attempted to conceal nerves which made her own voice seem somehow unnatural.

“I’m sorry I took so long--I didn’t mean to make you wait. Please believe me that I was packed and… and I just had to say goodbye to Haddie, you know, because I never got to talk with her about that laugh.” She chuckled, remembering, “We were covered head to toe, and you know, I’ll never forget the look on your face when I stumbled upon the pair of you. That was the first sound I’ve heard from her, so I wanted to encourage her before I… before we, might never see her again.” Her eyes were darting over the equipment, the readouts and scans, the pressure gauges. It was like talking to the Veil, but she knew Marisol was listening.

“But I was ready to follow, you know, because I realized something I’ve been feeling for a while. Marisol, you’ve become incredibly special to me. I can’t picture what life on this ship would be like without you. Somehow it existed, before you came along, but it was like a silent film, or a black-and-white movie. You stepped in and it became bright and brilliant.” She paused swallowing, “I…” the last hurdle was the hardest to cross, the expression of a feeling in simple words rather than gaudy hyperbole, “I…” she tried again, only to exhale and watch the ceiling for inspiration.

The mechanic was silent, rooted to the spot as the nun’s voice washed over her. Lyen’s recollections raised a smile, each treasured moment prompting so many more within her own memory. Things they’d done together, from the simple joys of cooking to the many times Lyen stepped in to help with the tasks of running a boat in the black. The laughter...the singing...the sweat of their brows. And, she couldn’t forget, the tears she’d cried the one time she thought she was actually saying goodbye. There was a depth to their history, a bond that only in the most crucial moments had she come to recognize exceeded the bounds of friendship...or sisterhood, for that matter.

There came a pause from above. Marisol held still, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Lyen had reconsidered...a hasty impulse this morning had forced a bad decision...she felt compelled to redefine the terms of their friendship? The quiet dread Marisol had fomented since this morning welled up, ready to play upon dozen well rehearsed answers, all intended to “take the pressure off,” to forgive, to permit the orderly retreat.

*”...you’ve become incredibly special to me. I can’t picture what life on this ship would be like without you... ”*

*Marisol laid a hand over her heart. Her mouth fell open, as she steadied herself by grasping at nearby piping. [i]Breathe,* she reminded herself as Lyen spoke her heart. *Breathe…*

*“I..”* She could hear Lyen stammer in effort to coax the words, the courage, perhaps both.

*"I..."*

“Wait!” the mechanic exclaimed. “I’m coming up!” If she were to be asked about this moment, Marisol would have to admit that she held no memory of wiping her hands, or the speed with which she ascended the ladderway. In that moment, all the diminutive woman would ever recall was the first time she saw Lyen, the feel of their hands clasped together, and above all, the expression within those almond eyes. In a voice she could barely hear for the blood rushing in her ears, Marisol invited fate. “Say what you need to say, girl.”

It bubbled up from inside her, coloring her cheeks as she spoke, “I have feelings for you...” she was captured by Marisol’s glinting brown eyes, “that I never thought I’d feel. More than I thought I *could* feel. You have been a close friend, and--and a confidant, and a fellow conspirator,” she laughed, tears brimming in her eyes. Lyen lowered her gaze to take Marisol in from head to toe, “I know I’ve already said too much to walk it back, but I want to know if, maybe, you could see something between us, as more than just friends?” Her brows knit together as she watched Marisol’s expression.

This felt like the singularly most terrifying and freeing question the nun had proposed in all her life. The fear of rejection crept along the back of her neck even as she held tight to Marisol’s hands. She felt naked and vulnerable, staring at someone who could take the awkwardness away with a single word.

Marisol nearly gushed, until a memory lifted to the fore. “What I’m gonna say may sound a little...unorthodox,” she admitted, her eyes sharing the intimacy of the moment. “But...when I left the boat on New Kasmir,” she said as their hands remained linked, “I found myself crying to you...do you remember?” As Lyen nodded, she continued. “The next morning...early, right before I woke up, I heard your voice. And I found myself wrapped in a warmth, this...compassion, this unequivocal love that felt like it was holding me for a minute...and all I knew in that moment was your name.” She smiled. “I know it sounds a little off, but that hasn’t left me, Lyen. I feel it every time I look at you.”

Lyen listened, remembering alongside Marisol their first goodbye. Remembering how she had prayed the Chenrezi prayer in the quiet dawn of New Kasmir and felt Marisol’s hand on her shoulder. It was the feeling of something left unsaid that triggered Lyen most, amidst the feeling of longing. That Marisol had felt that, too? It shook something in her; some spiritual bone in her body.

Marisol could feel her own eyes begging to well up. “This morning, when you said you’d come away with me?” Marisol laughed. “I was so excited...like a child! Wow...my heart’s going ninety to nothing right now,” she grinned as the first tears touched her cheeks. “And this...what we have...didn’t come together for me until I thought I was about to lose you again.” Her lips quivered softly as the direct answer finally came. “Yes, Lyen,” Marisol emphasized her reaction with a nod. “I feel the same as you do..there is so much more between us.”

Lyen embraced Marisol, grinning and crying. Laughter is a beautiful medicine. It is the salve of sadness and pain; it covers a multitude of sins, and cuts decorum with sharp spasms. Laugh was all Lyen could do in this moment, so relieved, so poised on the precipice as they were. She clutched this beautiful, electric woman to her chest. This funny, and raw, and honest Marisol. Her hand moved to curl around the nape of her neck, to hug her closer. It was a moment that she wished she could save forever, such did her heart resonate with this body. “Wǒ hěn gǎnjī wǒ zhǎodàole nǐ (I am so thankful I found you),” she whispered, hot tears falling.

Pulling away, she wiped away a tear. “When you were staying on New Kasmir there was this tug inside that said that there was something more, something unseen. I just can’t believe you--” she hesitated, covering her mouth, “you feel it too.” It was strange to finally glimpse the invisible wheels turning behind the scenes.

Marisol gave room as their embrace loosened, but didn’t break. “You’re gonna laugh at me,” she grinned as Lyen brushed a tear, “but looking back? I have to admit...on Solstice Night at the Cabaret, when I played David Bowie and dropped to one knee before you….we made faces at each other!” she laughed. “I know that’s so silly...but I loved you for it, right then and there.”

“You *are* incredibly easy to make faces at,” she laughed, not missing the fact that Marisol had just mentioned ‘love’ in this moment. She pursed her lips, “I loved…” exhaling, “watching you perform. I’ve never seen you so in your element as you were on stage that night.”

Marisol’s smile was undiminished. “Now we can sing together.”

Ly watched Marisol’s face, biting her lip in regret, “I don’t think you want to hear my singing voice. I reserve it for birthdays and the shower, exclusively.” This moment was perfect, but somehow that creeping doubt snuck back in with a million implications. What would her realization--even though it felt so right in this moment--mean for life aboard the LV? What did these feelings mean vis-a-vis her Order of the Interverse? And finally, how would things change with Marisol? That last question brought a smile back to Lyen’s face. She discarded all other queries as her almond eyes found Marisol’s once again. She cocked her head to the side, “But I sure can chant.”

“Then you can teach me,” Marisol replied playfully as she released the embrace. “I’d better get back to work before they find a reason to kick me off. Will I see you at supper, or is Dorian cracking the whip?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, even if he cracks the whip. I’ll be on night shifts until Silverhold. I’ve got this exam certification to study for, but I wouldn’t mind some company now and then.”

The mechanic nodded her understanding. “Sure.” She thought to turn away, her feet beginning to carry her, until sudden impulse took her right back to Lyen. Marisol rose to tip toe as she placed an arm around the sister’s neck. “I know we’ve got a lot to figure out,” she said quietly. “We’ll get there.”

An unstifled smile took Lyen’s face, held so closely to Marisol’s. She was listening, she really was, but it was difficult not to stare: she was somehow even more beautiful, from boots to bespeckled brown eyes. Her last encouragement came with a gentle squeeze, “Just… wow” Ly said, unable to stop smiling.