Warning: This work does contain a short scene of a sexual assault.
In spite of the advancements of technology, there is still plenty of administrative work for cadets such as yourself. You joined Starfleet two years ago right out of high school despite your dislike of riding in anything that goes more than a few feet off the ground. You have no idea what you'd do if you were actually put on one of the star ships. For now you are doing a work detail, kind of like an internship, in London for one of the Admirals and have been given the temporary rank of Yoeman.
It's clear from the start of your assignment that you are very much on a need to know basis and 99% of what is going on at the "Kelvin Memorial Archives" is not for you to know. Admiral Marcus has a staff of dozens and you are so far down that particular totem pole you are shocked when he calls you by name one day.
He has documents in a file that have to be organized, the PADD containing that information is in one of the labs if you'd follow him please.
Of course you follow.
Of course you take no notice that the lab is deserted, that the lights are dimmed and that the door seals shut behind you requiring a pass code that only he has in order to open it again.
He hands you the PADD and stands off to the side and slightly behind you, showing you what needs to be done. One hand is gesturing at the screen of the PADD, the other is resting on the back of your shoulder. After asking a few clarifying questions and finding out the deadline you state that you'll get to work on it right away. Admiral Marcus steps back, the hand that had been on your shoulder slides down your back slowly, to your waist before it's removed from your person. It's an odd touch for an Admiral to give someone under their command. You are uncomfortable but not horribly so until the Admiral turns to face you and makes as if he's going to take your face in his hands.
"Admiral Marcus," the voice is deep, so much so you actually feel it in the pit of your stomach - an ache that's unfamiliar and marginally unpleasant.
"Commander Harrison, I didn't realize anyone was using this lab this afternoon."
"Clearly," the response is borderline insubordinate and your face heats when you realize that this Commander Harrison, who is just now emerging from the shadows of the back of the lab, saw the interaction between the Admiral and you and you know that it's being misinterpreted. The Admiral dismisses you and you leave to carry out your project.
Over the next week there are three more times that the Admiral seeks you out for a task of some sort. Two of those three he stands a respectful distance away and you start to forget the touch he gave you in the locked up lab. Both times Commander Harrison makes a sudden and unexpected appearance. When he speaks, he makes even the most mundane words sound just this side of sinister and it always puts you on edge for a good couple of hours after you are in his presence.
Then there is the third time Admiral Marcus summons you.
The third time you get a message to meet him in the lab you had your first...encounter with him in. You can't not go.
The lab door is unlocked and you hesitate just a bit before walking inside. The Admiral is standing across the room, his back to the door, hands clasped behind his back. The door slides quietly closed behind you. The click of your boots seems loud in the otherwise quiet and mostly empty space. He turns suddenly to face you and there's something about the way he's looking at you that makes you want to flee from the room. You force yourself to walk until you are just a couple of feet from him.
"Yeoman I've been wondering about you. Wondering about what your career plans in Star Fleet are," he says. Truthfully you haven't really thought much beyond this detail. You've enjoyed the administrative and research work and have always loved history, you could probably stand to be an administrator here. You tell him as much.
"That's it? No grand plans to be in command on a star ship one day?"
You can't help but to laugh out loud at that statement. The Admiral looks less than amused by your outburst.
"That's too bad," he says walking directly up to you, so much so that you find yourself backing into a lab table. "I was hoping that we could help each other." You can smell that he'd been drinking - bourbon or scotch. Not enough to be drunk but still enough that you are starting to realize your earlier hesitation upon entering the room had been an omen of some kind. Woman's intuition. You think you've got about 15 seconds to get yourself out of this room.
"Admiral..." and his mouth is on yours, his hands pulling at your hair, trying to yank it free from the chignon it's in. Your hands come up to push him away but he manages to pull them down, to twist them behind your back as he spins you so that you're now facing the lab table. He's using his body to press you into the table, so much that you are on your tip toes. One hand has your wrists pinned behind you, the other is reaching up your skirt, skimming your inner thigh in a mockery of a lover's caress.
You had taken the basic self defense course that had been required of all new recruits and passed it by the skin of your teeth so it should come as no surprise that a man with half a foot and close to 100 pounds on you not to mention more years of experience than you've been alive has managed to overpower you.
"Let. Her. Go." that voice again. The one that makes you so very uncomfortable and nerved-up when you hear it is now brings a relief that would have you going to your knees were you not pressed against a lab table.
"Harrison," it's almost a growl from the Admiral as he lets go of you so abruptly you do almost actually fall. Quickly you work to pull your skirt down and try and fix your hair with shaking hands.
"Are you alright?" and it takes you a second to realize the question is meant for you. All you can do is nod. "Then take your leave, Yeoman," it's permission and a command in the same statement and you don't hesitate. Not able to look either man in the eye you walk toward the door.
"You don't have permission to be dismissed, Yeoman," Admiral Marcus's voice stops you. "And you, Commander, forget yourself."
"I've forgotten nothing, including the proper treatment of a subordinate, of someone under my protection. I could report you on her behalf," Harrison responds, each word bringing him a step closer to the Admiral until they are toe to toe. There is something else at play here, something you don't understand, something that you feel as if you are now very much now in the middle of. All you want is to leave, to go back to your small apartment (flat - you are in London after all), shower and sleep and pretend like this never happened.
"Be very careful what you do here, John," his name is said on a sneer. "Fraternizing with a subordinate may be against regulations but we both know there are bigger issues at stake here."
"Fraternizing implies consent and I don't believe that I'd be out of line, Admiral, if I said that seemed to be lacking."
"And yet we both know what will happen if you make an allegation. Is she really worth it or are you sorry you didn't try your luck with her first?"
For three horrible seconds you think that Commander Harrison is going to hit the Admiral. Nothing more is said by either man. Marcus straightens the tunic of his uniform and walks toward the door. He stops directly in front of you and it's all you can do to stand at attention.
"Make sure to fix your hair before you leave this room. That's an order," he says softly, twisting a lock that had come loose during your struggle around one finger. The flinch is a reflex and you immediately hate yourself for it. You realize he's not going to walk away until he sees that you plan to obey his...order. So you reach up and pull out the pins that had kept your braided knot in place. Satisfied, he lets go of your hair and walks out of the room.
You couldn't manage the hair pins and twist back up your hair without the aid of a counter top or a second pair of hands even if you weren't shaking so badly it's all you can do to hold on to the small objects now digging into your palm. You take two steps over to the nearest lab table and set the pins down, aware that Commander Harrison is still watching you. You pull your hair into a low pony tail. Your hands are shaking so badly, you can't manipulate your fingers to make the braid that you've done your hair in every day for two years.
"Let me," Commander Harrison's voice startles you. The last thing in the world you want right now is another man's hands on you but you find yourself nodding anyway. He steps behind you and gathers your hair in his hands. You'd noticed how large they are, how long his fingers are and you wonder how someone like him knows how to dress a woman's hair. He finishes the braid and twists it back, securing it with your hair pins, managing to keep from digging any into your scalp. He steps in front of you to admire his work.
"It's a little crooked but I think it'll past muster," he remarks. You swallow hard and find your voice to say a soft "thank you" but can't bring yourself to look him in the eye. You wait for his permission to be dismissed again. Instead, he places one of those long fingers under your chin forcing your head up to look at him. His face is all harsh angles that somehow manage to be beautiful in that unique way that truly strong, confident men are. His eyes are a deep blue that stare intently in your own. It would be the work of a scant few muscles to turn your eyes down, away from the intenseness of that gaze but you can't.
"I saw what he did. You have to report him," Commander Harrison says.
"Report him to who? He's in charge here. And who would believe me? He's got a daughter a few years older than me, no one in the world would buy that he..." You can't bring yourself to say the words but in that moment it all comes back, him cornering you, pushing you against the lab table, reaching under your skirt as he uses his body to pin you in place. His fingers...were inside you...
You pull away from Commander Harrison. Your going to be sick and as if he knows he's leading you to a sink where you throw up. You use your hands to brace yourself against the counter unable at this moment to stand without the aid of something solid. Then there is something soft and cool and damp on the back of your neck being held in place by a firm hand. You are just this side of hyperventilating and your heart is pounding so fast and hard it hurts.
"Take a deep breath," he instructs. But you can't because what the Admiral did to you is playing over and over in your mind in fast forward like on an old film. You shake your head no, no to I can't breath, no to the hand on your body, no to being in this room, in this post, in this city, in this organization.
"Yes," he insists, stating your name in a soft firm way and you doubt anyone in the history of his life who ever heard a request in that tone has ever denied him. "Yes, you can. He's not here, he's gone and you're...safe..." that he stumbles on that last word is hardly a comfort.
"I want to go home," you manage to half gasp, half whisper.
"As soon as you've calmed," he responds. "Now take a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your mouth." You squeeze your eyes shut and manage it leaning heavily on your hands that are braced on either side of the sink. Your stomach learches and you feel like you may be sick again.
"Again," he instructs, commands. You do and the nausea passes. You take another breath and then a fourth and finally feel like you could stand on your own two feet so you cautiously let go of the counter. Harrison's hand is taken off your neck along with the cool object that you see now was a towel.
You have no idea what to say to him. Versions of "Thank you" and "I'm sorry" flow through your brain but none seem adequate.
"I'll see you home," he says.