Delivery!

Posted on Fri Dec 12th, 2025 @ 9:45am by Lieutenant Commander Drevas & Lieutenant JG Elen Rell

3,444 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: USS Guinevere
Timeline: 2388

Elen had wrapped it up, for once. Properly. Not in a box...that was too stiff, too formal. But not just handed over, either...she had done that for a lot of things, but this was something she had taken longer on that she'd usually do to ensure it was perfect. She had even unravelled it three times before she was happy with it. It deserved something more.

No, this one she’d wrapped in a length of soft cotton cloth, dyed with natural plant pigment, knotted at the top in a simple twist ...the sort of wrap she’d seen once in an Earth book, from somewhere called Kyoto. Functional, a little elegant, but mostly...soft. Gentle. The kind of thing you could tuck under your arm and it felt like it belonged there.

The cloth nestled the hat inside...dusty plum with its soft rose edging, the tiniest curl to the earflaps where the yarn relaxed. She hadn’t blocked it too aggressively. It didn’t feel right to make it too perfect in that sense. Wear would fix that.

She walked with purpose. Which meant she walked at a pace that might have looked erratic from a distance: speeding up, then slowing to a thoughtful meander, then catching herself and speeding up again. But inside, her thoughts were at a constant simmer...

Did I pick the right colours? I think I did. That soft plum looked really nice and will suit him when the lighting wasn’t too harsh. It doesn’t clash, does it? I don’t think so. I hope not. Maybe I should’ve gone bluer? No...no, the rose was a good choice. Friendly without being...too friendly. Warm. Oh, maybe he won’t wear it at all. That’s okay. Hats can be shy. People too. It’s not about wearing it, really, it’s about having something that was made for you. Isn’t it? It is. Right? Right.

She exhaled through her nose, then tugged her sleeve straight. Her fingerless gloves were back on, warm from her own wrist heat, and the yarn at her wrists matched the trim on the hat. Unintentional. Mostly.

Andorian fleece always smelled a little like snow and woodsmoke when you work it, which was wild, but then again she had never been to Andoria. Maybe it was psychosomatic? Like memory, or a story baked into the fibre. Would Drevas notice that? Or maybe he’d notice the stitches, the pattern. It’s all done in the round, no sharp corners. No harsh edges. Good for someone who always looked like he’s bracing for something.

She was nearly at his door.

The package felt warm under her arm. Not hot, not heavy. Just... present. She tapped the back of her knuckles lightly against it. A habitual tic. Like knocking on a door that hadn’t opened yet.

Then: deep breath.

Then: door chime.

Then: smile.

The door went unanswered for a second or two. Then it slid open, revealing the Kelpien beyond. The smell of some kind of cooking food - yes, homecooked food, the kind you'd make if you wanted to reclaim a little bit of yourself - wafted out the door at once. It smelled vaguely of tomatoes. Perhaps Drevas had decided to make himself pasta. Or something like that.

Either way, the Kelpien seemed pleased to see her, which was good. He wasn't in uniform tonight; he'd swapped it for a comfortable-looking gray shirt and a pair of jeans. Strangely, no apron. Perhaps food safety rules remain murky even in this day and age, who knew.

"Miss Rell. It's good to see you." His eyes drifted to the bundle she carried under her arm. "Do you have something for me?"

Elen blinked, surprised. Not by Drevas himself, but by the version of him that answered the door. Of course he wasn’t in uniform. Why would he be? He was off shift. She just...had this picture in her head of him always in something formal. Maybe something robe-like. Definitely more layers. Not jeans. Definitely not--

Her thoughts backflipped before she could stop them. She looked down at the bundle in her hands like it had just changed shape.

“Oh!” she said, startled into speech. Then, before she could overthink it any more, she held it out to him: arms extended, hands flat underneath like she was offering up a warp core stabiliser that might explode if jostled.

“It’s just...um...a thank you,” she said, eyes flicking up to meet his and then off again, tracing the floor, the wall, anywhere. “For...you know. Being patient. When we first met. And after. For not making me feel ridiculous when I was going on about your whole ramen-architecture thing.”

Her voice picked up speed, spiralling forward. “And for the advice. And not laughing. And for letting me talk even when I wasn’t sure I was making sense and you could have just said ‘I’m busy, please leave,’ but you didn’t, and that, well. It mattered. So. I made this.”

She gestured slightly at the bundle like it might explain itself if she pointed at it hard enough. “It’s a thing. A good thing. Hopefully. Or, like, a soft thing, anyway. If you hate it, no worries, it can live in a drawer. But if you like it, it’s for you.”

She finally looked at him again, shoulders tight with anticipation but her smile crooked and warm. “It’s... a hat. But it’s a feelings hat.”

Now Drevas was intrigued, well and truly. He accepted the bundle, unwrapped it just enough to get a look at the handmade hat inside - and his expression softened instantly. He tucked the bundle under his arm with a kind smile. "Oh, miss Rell, I simply can't bring myself to hate your work. Not that it is in any way unpleasant to behold." He stepped aside to allow her to enter his quarters if she wished.

"Please, I must offer you a drink, at least, in return, if not now then sometime else." He said with a smile. "I insist. My father, if he ever found out that I took without giving something back, would not be pleased. If he were still around, that is."

Elen’s eyes widened at his words, not just the kindness of them, but the whole rightness of the way he’d received the gift. Not made it awkward. Not joked or dismissed or asked why. Just...soft and present. Like he got it.

Her gaze darted past him, into the space behind...warm light, real food, that sense of lived-in calm she didn’t know how to make in her own quarters yet. She caught the shape of the space in a heartbeat: tidy but not clinical, with purpose behind every placement. She nodded, a small tilt of her head. “Just...a drink,” she said, her tone both grateful and slightly surprised, like she’d expected the door to close behind her, not open wider.

She stepped in with the same caution and curiosity she gave to any new environment: eyes scanning lightly, hands kept close to her sides like she might knock something delicate if she wasn’t careful. “Thanks,” she added softly, more habit than requirement.

Then, a grin curved at the edges of her mouth, flickering sideways as she looked around properly. “This place is much more...organised than mine,” she said with a rueful little laugh, glancing at him with mischief in her eyes. “Mine looks like someone sneezed yarn and isolinear chips all over the place and then left it for a Betazoid archeologist to interpret.”

Drevas' quarters were the epitome of someone who possessed a tidy mind. Everything seemed to have its place, from the small understated pictures of himself and his family (and by god, was the picture big; there were as many as fifteen Kelpiens squeezed into that one holoimage) to the small Andorian flute placed neatly upon his working desk to the many, many, many books placed neatly on shelves around the room. Clearly Drevas was a bookworm, and a big one at that - in addition to his other competencies, of course.

"Messy as it might be, it is still home, to you at least." Drevas remarked with a smile. He stepped up to the replicator. "What would you like?"

“Oh! Ginger and lemon tea, please,” Elen said, almost before he’d finished the question. Then she smiled, taking in the space properly now. Her eyes caught on the large holopicture and lingered there, head tilting just slightly.

“Is that your whole family?” she asked, warmth flickering across her face like sunlight. “That’s...a lot of people. Red dust, you must have had so many names to remember.” Her voice held a note of something wistful...gentle awe, not sadness, as she turned toward the bookshelves.

She wandered over, fingers hovering close to the spines, not quite touching. “You’ve definitely got a system,” she said, half teasing, half admiring. “I bet if I pulled one out at random, you’d know exactly which one it was and what page you were on last.”

"Perhaps. Even I sometimes need a reminder, actually." Drevas smiled fondly as he replicated their drinks: her ginger tea and his tall glass of iced lemon tea. "I buy them presents every time I return home. Each of them has different tastes in what they want, especially the young ones. Which is why I keep a note on my PADD at all times - so that I never really forget." Yes, Drevas was a Starfleet head of department, good son and good uncle, apparently, who could've guessed?

"For example. Gabri, the eldest, and his partner Keela are heavily into model building - they build the kits I bring them together always. It's one of the most beautiful things in the world." Drevas smiled and placed Elen's drink on the table.

Elen watched him with open awe as she took the mug, letting the heat sting her palms in that pleasant you’re alive and grounded sort of way. She breathed in the scent with a soft, grateful sigh. “I am so impressed! Like, I’ve only got my Dad, step-Mum and sister to keep track of, date-wise. I mean, I’m trying to remember others here too. I’ve officially started birthday recon.” She leaned in slightly, eyes alight. “Just so I can ambush someone with replicated cake and stare at them while they suffer.”

Her grin widened, delightfully unrepentant. “Did it to Petty Officer Lopez last week. Thought he was gonna die of embarrassment...buuuut he held up! Even had fun in the end. Knew there was a secret party man in there somewhere...buried deep. Like, get-the-archaeology-department deep.”

Drevas hummed softly. "I'd hardly call that suffering. Perhaps he was so used to no one else other than himself remembering his birthday he was lost for words." He suggested with a kind smile. "And then he felt content to let himself go.'

"The universe needs people like you, you know. Those who bring joy when it is needed, not necessarily only when it is wanted. Those things are not always synonymous." He added as he sipped from his own drink. "Adding even a little bit of light to even the thickest, blackest smog can help light the way forward. Simple as that. You underestimate yourself, you really do."

Elen felt the heat rise in her cheeks and shook her head, like she could scatter it loose with motion. “Oh, no, one thing I don’t do is underestimate myself,” she said with a grin, looking up at him. “Chaos gremlin at the best of times. Warp core whisperer. Amateur morale officer. Working on the full set.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against the side of her mug, eyes drifting around the room again, cataloguing. Soft awe. The family photo. The books. The order of it. “I don’t know,” she added after a beat, “I just can’t sit idly and let that smog settle too long on the deck, y’know?” She waved a vague hand as if to scatter imaginary gloom. “Makes me twitchy.”

And with that, she sank down to the floor rather than claiming a chair...bringing her own brand of Engineering entropy into his tidy, intentional space. Mug cupped carefully in both hands, grounding her. She took a sip. Thought for a moment. “Makes me need to do something.”

"It sounds to me like you already do something with that urge. Something positive. Something needed." Drevas said, softly and with a kind, almost paternal smile. "It may not be much to you, but I guaratee you that everyone your something touches thanks you for it - even if that thanks is silent and said in their hearts."

"For example, this hat you've just given me." Drevas unwrapped the thing and stuck it on his head. It fit perfectly. No, seriously. He could almost swear it was much softer and less itchy than most other beanies and headwear of that type he's ever had on his head despite obviously being made of the same or similar material.

The difference, of course, was attention to detail that sprang from a place of genuine care. When you want the reciever to feel good wearing it, you'd probably put your heart and soul into working every single thread too.

"I've needed a good one like it for years. One that feels nice to wear without compromising aesthetics or function. I've tried several variants, but none quite as good as this one." He said with a wistful sigh. "A 'feelings hat' it may be, yes. I say without compunction that it will keep me feeling warm and supported for a long, long time. Few people ever give me presents like this one. I will treasure it forever. Thank you."

She looked at him, her eyes bright, almost glassy with all the words he’d just given her. She took a soft breath, let the warmth of them settle. “You don’t really need a grounding hat,” she said at last, the words slow, considered. “But I wanted to make you something. So you’d know you were seen.” Her hand lifted vaguely, gesturing toward him. “Hat felt...right. Not too much. Just enough.” Then, with a crooked smile and a tilt of her head: “I like hats. They don’t like me back. Too much hair, not enough structural integrity. But making them for people who can wear them? That’s a joy.”

She glanced down at her drink, fingers tracing the rim. “You don’t need itchy wool. You need something that...settles beside you. Not to cradle. Just to...compliment. Like quiet company.”

Drevas nodded. For someone who seemed so high-strung and energetic the way she was, Elen Rell seemed unusually well-versed in this sort of thing. Here he'd thought that she wouldn't have too much difficulty endearing herself to those around her - but maybe, just maybe, the exact opposite was true instead. The chance that that very same energy was what drove others away from her was nonzero. That thought alone made his heart ache.

"You're not entirely wrong." He admitted with a wan smile. "You're very perceptive, miss Rell. Have you ever considered the possibility that you might make a good counsellor? Or psychologist, perhaps? I know of a handful of of my crew who could stand to benefit from insight like yours."

Elen gave a soft snort of laughter, the kind that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. “Me? Oh Dust and Stars and Circuits, no. I’d be terrible at it. Can you imagine?” She gestured vaguely with one hand, curls bouncing. “‘Yes, yes, please, do go on about your tragic childhood while I knit a jumper and accidentally blurt out something deeply inappropriate.’” She shook her head, a smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “Nah. I think I just...notice things. People. Patterns. The bits that don’t get said out loud. Doesn’t mean I always know what to do with it.”

But she paused. Thought about it, a small shake of her head.. Her fingers toyed with a thread at her sleeve. “But thanks, though. That means something. I...just think I'm best as the Engineering Chaos Goblin with a love for strategically therapeutic knitwear.”

"There is nothing inherently wrong with that, you know." Drevas replied. "And it heartens me further to see that you direct this 'chaos' towards something that ultimately benefits those around you. There is great potential inside you, miss Rell. The potential to do an immense amount of good, in your own chaotic, sometimes messy way."

"I'm sure you have touched lives in ways that you have not yet fathomed. Sometimes the mere knowledge that in a seemingly uncaring world, there is someone who cares enough to bring you a feelings hat, is enough to change a life forever." Drevas took off the beanie now, laying it in his lap.

Elen went still for a moment. Not holding her breath or anything like that, just… still. Like something had landed in her chest, soft and solid and unexpectedly warm.

"That’s..." she started, then trailed off, laughing quietly under her breath. Her hand came up automatically to push a curl back from her face, then tapped the same spot a few times as if the motion might help her finish the sentence. "That’s properly kind, Drevas. Thank you." Her eyes dropped to her fingers, which had already found a piece of yarn escaped from her gloves, flicking it back and forth. She looked back up, eyes thoughtful. "I do think about it sometimes. Whether I’m just... too much. Loud and distractible and elbowing my way into other people’s space with all this… stuff. Noise. But I like making things. And I like people to feel... held. Even if it’s just by yarn or stitching or a weird lumpy hat."

She gestured gently to the beanie in his lap, then rubbed her palm on the side of her trousers as if remembering she was meant to sit still. "You don’t have to wear it. I mean, ever. But if it helps, even a bit, if it makes you feel like someone out here sees you and wanted you to have something just yours, then it’s worth it." And then, breaking into a crooked grin, her eyes sparkling again, "Still think you look cracking in it, though."

"I think it feels good on my head, whether it looks good or not. I will be using it, especially for cold weather - assuming I ever find myself in a position to enjoy the cold outside of a mission context, of course.' Drevas assured her with a smile.

Elen’s smile lingered, softer now, the kind that settled in rather than flared and faded. She took another sip of her tea, letting the warmth fill her chest before setting the mug carefully down.

"Good," she said at last, her voice gentler. "Then it’s doing its job already." Her eyes drifted briefly to the holopicture of his family again, then to the neat rows of books, before finding him once more. "Thanks for letting me bring it by. And for the tea." She tipped her head, curls sliding forward. "It’s nice here. Feels...settled. It's very you. The quarters, everything."

"Thank you. I do like to keep my spaces like this if I can." Drevas put his cup down and stood up to accompany her to the door. "One more piece of free advice: it does not matter who thinks that what you do is but noise. Use your judgment and surround yourself with those who see the value of your actions through the supposed noise."

Elen looked at him, giving a nod at the words. "Except...you sort of can't in Starfleet," she said. Not disagreeing, but offering the why to why she couldn't comply completely. "On duty anyway. You know, you sort of have to work with all sorts. I like it, but I know I can be a bit much."

"To some, perhaps - so find those who see through the noise to the person beyond." Drevas replied with a kind smile. "Till next time, whenever that may be."

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