I hope you enjoy this update. I only own the OC while Mestral and Star Trek belong elsewhere.
The two months, three weeks, four days, eight hours, and thirty-seven minutes that had passed since his arrival at Yew Valley Farm had been most intriguing. Mestral had learned much about the intricacies of running a ranch from Jessup and the other ranch hands and felt sufficiently trained to work without his mentor now that Jessup had returned east for his education. He had yet to perform a job on his own but that was not because the others felt him unable to do so; the majority of the duties vital for a ranch required the work of two or more individuals. Mestral preferred the jobs that required fewer fellow workers but he found that the presence of the others was wholly not disagreeable or trying to his nature. He did not have to evade invasive questions here near as much as he did back east. His fellow workers appeared to be content with whatever answer he gave them when they did inquire after his opinion or his past and rarely if ever attempted to pry further.
The majority of the humans that he'd encountered on the ranch were much less animated than their eastern counterparts, leading Mestral to wonder if the isolation of the ranch and less social stimulation outside of their own niche caused this. They rarely interacted with the ranch owners or ranch hands of neighboring ranches (given the fact that their closest neighbor was still some distance away) and thus were left much to themselves. Because of this there appeared to be more stability in the relationships and expectations each human put upon their peers than Mestral had experienced before.
That was not to say that his fellow ranch hands were not wholly without a sense of jocularity. Indeed his first few weeks at the ranch had been filled with what Jessup had called "initiation pranks." Most of the incidents had been tolerable and minor but one particular incident had caused him discomfort. Some of the ranch hands had absconded with his clothing whilst he was bathing. He always took great precaution to bathe when the others were not around, either in the very early morning hours or in the night after the others had already retired, and yet they had become aware enough of his routine to wait.
He'd discovered the lack of clothing with almost immediate understanding that this was yet another "initiation prank." Given the late hour of the day he had not given much thought to his safe return to the bunkhouse without being seen in the nude by others; rarely did anyone from the main house (which was where the few women on the compound lived) stray far from their quarters at this hour. After he'd rearranged his hair (in need of the attention of a barber, though he could not afford to expose himself to one) to cover his ears he'd left the bathhouse. It was then that he'd felt some discomfort. Miss Madsen had apparently been visiting the bunkhouses during the time he'd been bathing and he met her on her return to the main house. The darkness offered much by way of covering his nudity, though the lights from the main house behind him would have allowed her some detailed study if she'd chosen to do so.
Mestral knew that humans were much more sensitive in regards to nudity than Vulcans and had therefore not been surprised when, after the initial shock had worn off, Miss Madsen had covered her eyes, muttered repeated apologies, and then ran to the main house without waiting for an explanation from him. Upon his arrival at the bunkhouses the other ranch hands had looked like they had been shedding tears (a strange occurrence that often times accompanied moments of extreme amusement within humans) and Jessup explained that they had seen the whole incident. Beyond that night no one mentioned the incident, especially not Miss Madsen, and the "initiation pranks" had ended.
Aside from their gambits of mischief, all of his fellow ranch hands were proficient and dutiful with their responsibilities. There appeared to be no underlying current of animosity betwixt the men, neither was there a jostling for hierarchical power that Mestral had come to associate with many masculine vocations on this planet. From his keen observations, the ranch operated on a hierarchy of its own and each ranch hand knew well his or her part in the proper running of the facility. The few times there had been a relational mishap, the result of too much drink after the evening meal or in response to a crisis while out on a job, the matter had been quickly and efficiently solved between the foreman Hank, Miss Madsen, and whichever ranch hands had perpetrated the matter.
His quick reflection upon Miss Madsen gave him some pause. During the two months of his work on the ranch she had not attempted to hide her increased preferential treatment towards him. She did not pay him more currency nor did she give him extra privileges, if she did then Mestral believed some of the other ranch hands would find this unacceptable. Instead, she would invite him to sit with her after the evening meal (they all came together to eat in the evenings, much like the clan families would on Vulcan) and she would draw him into discussions on various matters: politics, history, humanity, gender issues, and more recently the merits of logic and reasoning versus empathy. He found these interactions to be most pleasant and often found himself, during his meditations, pondering what his response would be to an unfinished question from the night before. Sometimes the other ranch hands would stay and offer their opinions but most often it would just be Miss Madsen and himself exchanging what he felt to be pleasant discourse in the evening hours.
The woman herself was also aesthetically pleasing and based upon her physical reactions to his presence Mestral knew that she found his appearance pleasing as well. She would touch her hair and neck more often while he was around, the reddish hue that accompanied feelings of embarrassment was often on her cheeks or neck whenever he spoke to her, her smile would come more readily and broaden wider than when others elicited such a reaction, her voice would deepen in pitch and he'd noticed on more than one occasion that her pupils would dilate whenever he stood close (though he did not seek to stand close very often). He'd not had the opportunity to study such details of the human female reaction to a male's presence this closely before; in Carbon Creek, his times with Maggie had always had the added diversion of trying to contact Vulcan in mind and he had not had previous encounters with humans with which to compare her responses to him. In his time on earth since then, he'd observed the interactions of both genders, as well as their courting methods, and so he could now recognize the early signs of what the humans called "attraction."
Mestral was not about to follow through with his curiosity in regards to Miss Madsen though. The human kiss he'd shared with Maggie had been the only physical intimacy he'd shared with a human female and he'd not attempted to repeat the process in the past four years. The physical act of kissing, as humans did, had not been unpleasant but in the years since Carbon Creek he'd not encountered another human female with which he'd found himself drawn to with an interest in repeating the gesture. Miss Madsen, however, had captured his intrigue and on at least one occasion he'd found himself curious over whether or not she'd be reciprocal to such a physical interaction. Such curiosities were not to be pondered long though, Mestral well knew. He did not want jeopardize the opportunity that he had here on Yew Valley Farm: to study humans in an entirely new fashion and environment; nor did he want to endanger the contented warmth he had thus far received from Miss Madsen.
"Hey Mestral!" Mestral looked up from his work (hammering in a new fence post) to see Hank approaching. "I don't know why you keep insisting on doing this by yourself." The middle aged human stopped once he was beside Mestral. "Just wait until I'm done getting a drink will ya?" His voice denoted a tone of voice Mestral recognized as frustration.
Mestral knew that by human standards the fence posts were heavy, though not impossible for a lone man of strength to lift. Moving them into position and hammering them solid was perhaps the most difficult part of the process as it required good balance and dexterity. The ranch hands always paired off to repair the fences and Mestral obliged this routine. His partner on this day was Hank and while Hank had felt the desire to pause for a brief respite and drink Mestral had felt no inclination. He'd continued on working and in the time Hank had rested he'd managed to finish one post by himself and had moved to work on another.
"I meant no disrespect in my continuing Mister Hank." Mestral loosened his hold on the hammer when Hank reached for it. "I merely thought that if I continued we would be finished with this portion of the pasture more readily."
"Ah hell Mestral I know you didn't mean any disrespect." Hank pulled off his hat momentarily in order to wipe his brow the sleeve of his shirt. "Just makes me feel damn old when you keep working like that."
Mestral understood that most ranchers did not live long lives (in comparison to Vulcans, no human did), due to the exertion required within the harsh elements. Hank was not old by Vulcan standards at age 53 but by ranching standards he was approaching the end of middle-age. He also knew that most of his peers thought he was somewhere between 30 and 35 years old, Jessup and Kelly had played a game in regards to his age.
Mestral made no further comment in regards to Hank's age or the work but followed alongside his companion for some time after. They worked mostly in silence, one reason that Mestral preferred working with Hank over the other ranch hands. They were just starting to string the barbed wire between the fence posts when they heard the approach of another vehicle. They both looked up to see a green pickup approaching; it was Miss Madsen's vehicle. She often visited the ranch hands on the various jobs they were assigned, usually offering them food and beverage (Mestral had had to adjust to the common occurrence of being offered water and beverages by females on this planet) and sometimes bringing them news of more urgent jobs.
"Mestral!" Hank's panicked voice brought Mestral back from observing the approach of Miss Madsen's vehicle just in time to see the barbed wire begin to coil up, rushing in their direction. Hank had not secured it tightly enough on the previous post, and Mestral had not double checked his workmate's work. Mestral reached forward and jerked Hank to the side, twisting his body in the process, so that they would fall away from the fence line. A sharp pain erupting from his sensory nerves in his calf alerted him to the fact that he hadn't been fast enough in removing himself from danger.
The truck lurched from how quickly she shoved it into park. She was out of the truck and running towards Hank and Mestral within moments. She'd seen the wire slip off the post but had been unable to warn them. Thankfully Hank had noticed and Mestral had good reflexes otherwise there might've been need to visit the hospital, a good few hours away by truck.
"Are you two alright?" She asked as she came closer.
Hank was on his back staring at the sky, unharmed but a bit dazed, whereas Mestral was already sitting up and calmly attempting to disentangle his right leg from the mesh of coiled wire. The cowboy hat that had been on his head was on the ground by his side but the red bandana he kept tied around his head during the day was still firmly in place. Jodi winced as she watched Mestral pull at the wire with his gloved hands. Thankfully his trousers and the sleeves of his work shirt were thick and the wire had only wrapped itself around his lower calf and foot, the protection of the boot saving his foot.
"Hank, go get my med kit from the truck." Jodi held her hand out for Hank's gloves, which he quickly handed over, as she knelt down beside Mestral, the wire cutters that Hank had discarded in the fall in her hands. "Here, let me help." She leaned forward and began the tedious process of clipping through the various wires. She had to be careful to do so in a planned manner, she didn't want it to continue coiling the wire, ripping more of Mestral's trousers and flesh. Mestral remained silent as she worked, holding on to various wires when needed. He appeared to be handling the pain better than she would have; she'd been caught by coiling wire before and it'd hurt like hell. She remembered that she'd cried while her father had cut her loose. "There." She finished cutting the last wire and they watched as the wire continued to coil in on itself, forming a mass of metal by the far fence post. "Hank," her foreman had returned to her side, "you start fixing that heap while I see to Mister Mestral's injuries."
Hank handed her the med kit while she handed back the wire cutters and his gloves. She settled herself more comfortably beside Mestral and opened the kit. When she reached for his leg he evaded, prompting her to look at his face.
"I can see to my own injuries Miss Madsen. There is no need for your assistance."
Jodi narrowed her eyes at him, "I'm sure you have the capability to do so, Mister Mestral, however I would feel much better if you'd allow me." She again reached for his leg but he again evaded.
"I really must insist Miss Madsen. I do not believe the injuries are so significant that I require your attention."
"Perhaps you'd feel more comfortable with Hank's help then." She turned to call to Hank but she felt the slightest of touches on her shoulder and turned to see Mestral shake his head at the suggestion. "Mister Mestral," she clenched her teeth then, "if you do not allow me to look after your injuries then I will have you locked in your bunkhouse upon our arrival back at the main house. It is very easy to get an infection out here and even if the injury is minor it can quickly turn major without the proper preventative measures."
He looked ready to argue again but she moved without waiting for his response. She had his leg in her lap and was pulling his trousers up his calf before he could manage to reach for her shoulders to push her away again. Jodi gasped when she saw the large cut that ran parallel to his ankle, from the side of his calf clear around to the front. It would need stitches; if she pulled the edges of the cut further apart she'd probably glimpse bone and deep tissue. It was only after her initial inspection that she noticed his blood. She knew it was blood from the smell and yet the color was wrong. She looked back to Mestral's face. He appeared to be watching her closely, as if he was waiting for some sort of reaction from her.
"You see," she gestured to his cut, "you need stitches right away if we're going to stop the bleeding and keep the scarring to a minimum." She reached for her med kit. She'd have to do the stitches back at the main house but at least she could get the cut bandaged now and stop the bleeding. "I'll bandage it here but you'll be coming with me back to the main house for stitches." She looked back to his face and gave him a direct stare. "I'll have no arguments Mister Mestral."
"I understand Miss Madsen." He fell silent then, though she felt his eyes on her as she pulled out the bandage and began to wrap it around his calf. It wasn't until she finished the wrapping and had tied off the bandage that he spoke again. "A genetic difference in copper levels."
"Pardon?" She closed the med kit before giving him her attention again.
"The color of my blood is due to a genetic difference in copper levels. It is a very rare occurrence." She thought she saw a hint of a wry smile touch his lips when he finished his explanation.
"Ah." That made sense she supposed, at least she had no reason to contradict him. Her knowledge of human anatomy was mostly focused on how to keep a human body patched together and not all the oddities that can appear. "Come on now, let's get you to the truck." She reached for his arm and drew it around her shoulder. She sensed some initial hesitation from him before he finally gave into her stubborn insistence and allowed her to help him to his feet. He did not lean much on her as they moved to the truck but he did lean enough on her to reassure her that she'd made the right decision in helping him. "Wait here." She spoke once he was settled in the truck. She returned to Hank to explain the situation.
The ride back to the main house was mostly silent. Mestral had been somewhat surprised with how readily Miss Madsen had accepted his explanation for the color difference in his blood. He knew her to be a logical and reasonable woman and most likely, with no other cause but the one he'd offered, she'd found no reason to disbelieve him. She hadn't attempted to question him further on this matter either. The only things she'd said during their drive had been inquiring after his pain levels and telling him that he'd be working closer to the main house for a few days in order to allow his wound to heal more rapidly. He offered no protests. The decision was a logical one.
He had taken off his gloves in the truck, having no more pretense to keep them on, and so when she came around to help him into the house he'd taken great care to avoid touching her skin directly with his fingers. While she wore a long sleeved work shirt, the cloth had pulled away from her neck with his arm draped around her shoulders; if he hadn't been careful he would've touched her. Especially with his recent increase in curiosity over the woman, Mestral believed such an occurrence would prove detrimental to his objectivity.
She took him to the main lavatory and left him sitting on the commode while she fetched the proper supplies with which to dress his wound. He'd tried to persuade her to let him look after himself but she'd resisted again and he'd acquiesced. He knew well enough by now that when she set her mind on something there was very little that would dissuade her course. He'd not before been the object of such focused attention from her but now that he was he found her directness and intensity most alluring. She could have no knowledge of the implications such dedicated focus meant on Vulcan and yet, even though he knew this fact, he found himself drawn even more to her as a result.
"This is going to sting." She spoke as she approached him again, various supplies in her hands. She set the majority on the counter-space beside the sink and knelt down with a cleaning solution and cloth in hand. After looking him in the eyes for a moment she pressed the cloth against his wound. It did indeed "sting" as she'd warned and Mestral sucked in a breath through his teeth. He saw her expression change into one of empathetic discomfort. "I'm sorry." In spite of her apology she continued to clean his wound and the area around it. After the initial sting wore off, Mestral found the lingering tingle to be tolerable. "Thank you by the way."
Mestral raised an eyebrow, "Of what are you referring to? Should I not be the one thanking you for your service?"
"For pushing Hank out of the way." He saw that the reddish hue was once again in her cheeks and on her neck. Her ministrations did not falter though. "That was a very decent thing to do."
Mestral watched her long fingers pass over his skin, gently prodding at the wound in her efforts to clean it thoroughly. She hadn't yet touched him skin-to-skin for very long but whenever she did he felt an almost immediate trickle of emotion from her: concern and warmth. The reminder of being the focus of her attentions tugged at an element of his character that he kept buried. It was near the more primal urges every Vulcan felt during the fever and yet it was more bearable than they typically were. He knew he had nearly a year before his next fever and so did not equate this sensation with the fever. No, it was most likely connected to his already established curiosity with the woman as well as the mutual attraction.
"I merely reacted as any other would in a similar situation." He noted that his vocal quality had altered. It sounded deeper, even to his own ears. He saw the color on her cheeks darken in hue in response and he knew that if he saw her green eyes her pupils would have been dilated. "I am here to serve, Miss Madsen."
She looked up at him then, her expression one of surprise and interest. He wondered if it was in response to his words or to the situation. She maintained eye contact for a moment longer, during which Mestral again felt the stirrings deeper in his mind, before she shook her head and turned her attention to the rest of her supplies. Mestral was curious over this evasion response and filed it away for further study. He then watched as she readied a needle with thread. At his look she smiled, though it was not one of great humor.
"Don't worry, Mister Mestral. I've done this before. If you could help though, by holding the flaps close together."
Mestral leaned forward to comply. She continued to kneel, his leg propped up on the edge of the bathing tub beside the commode, her head bent over her work. He distracted himself from the prick and pain of the needle passing through his skin by observing the woman. He noticed on the side of her neck, close to her shoulder, she had a few spots where the pigment in her skin was altered (freckles he'd heard Jessup call them when he'd asked). Mestral closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. The acrid smell of disinfectant was strong and yet underneath he could still detect her scent. It was earthy, very much a reflection of the environment that she lived in, but accompanying it was a floral quality. No doubt the cleansing agent she used on her hair or body. It was not overpowering; in fact, Mestral opened his eyes and forced himself to lean back when he noticed that he'd begun to lean closer, he found the scent heady.
"There." Her vocal quality had also deepened, Mestral noticed, by the time she finished her work and sat back on her heels. She tipped her head up and looked at him then, her eyes wide and the expression open, contemplative, and warm. Though her hands were in her lap, Mestral noticed that they were clasped together, as if to keep from moving back towards his leg again. Mestral felt stirred, drawn forward towards her. His curiosity rose to the surface of his mind and the tips of his fingers began to thrum with energy, the desire to touch them to the meld points on her face a sudden craving in his gut. She seemed to shake herself out of whatever thoughts had been preoccupying her mind and turned her attention to the medical supplies she still had yet to use. Mestral leaned back again, understanding quite well that he would need to meditate longer and more deliberately this evening over this instance.
As a further form of distraction from the intensity of the moment before, Mestral looked at the work she'd done and nodded, "You are indeed proficient with the needle, Miss Madsen." He saw her smile before she began to clean the area around his wound prior to dressing it with the bandage. "Where did you learn such skills?"
"Out here we have to be pretty self-sufficient. Doctors and vets can't always make it out this way, depending on the time of year and weather, so we find it best to be able to do some of the more simple things on our own." She tied off the end of the bandage and leaned back. "Now I know you won't completely heed my orders to stay off your feet if I let you leave the house so I've decided that you'll be helping Illah May and Dirk in the kitchens for the remainder of the day. Tomorrow we'll see how you're doing and discuss what you can do then."
Mestral nodded, "That is an acceptable decision Miss Madsen."
She continued to kneel by his side, studying him intently, before she sighed and stood. She began to pack up her supplies and spoke without looking at him. "If you head back there now you should be able to get in on the potato peeling process."
"Very well." He stood, waiting a moment in order to regain full equilibrium, and moved behind Miss Madson on his journey to the door. The area was narrow between her back and the wall behind her, and while Mestral attempted to get around her without touching her overly much it was unavoidable. Though the moment was brief, her back pressed against his chest and his thighs against her lower back and rear, he felt her tense in awareness. When he glanced at her face through the reflection on the mirror he did not see distaste or discomfort. Instead he watched her eyes close and her hands cease their movements, as if she was unable to continue while he was so close. Mestral found this response most intriguing and fought the urge to see what would happen if he remained in that position longer by pressing on and leaving her alone in the lavatory.
He was not wholly unaffected by the moment either, he noted by the slight elevation in his blood pressure. His intrigue was connected to his own desire to remain close to her. As he entered the kitchens and informed the two occupants of Miss Madsen's instructions, Mestral reminded himself that it would be unwise to follow through with his curiosities. Aside from her physical attraction towards him and her preferential treatment towards his intellectual presence, Mestral knew that to follow through with his curiosities would most likely lead to his dismissal from the ranch.
Jodi opened her eyes and stared at her reflection once Mestral left. She'd dressed and stitched countless wounds before but never before had she ever felt like this at the end of doing so. She knew it was in direct relation to the man himself; she'd never stitched up a man she was attracted to before. While she'd found Mestral handsome from the very beginning, his time on the ranch had darkened his skin tone to a ruddy olive hue and his once clean shaven face now bore a neatly trimmed goatee, both aids in making him most devilishly handsome now, and a damn temptation at that.
While she still enjoyed their nightly debates, often daydreaming throughout the day on what it was she'd say in response to one of his more challenging questions from the discussion before, they'd begun to take a toll on her sleep. Every night it seemed she was plagued with dreams of Mestral. At first the dreams had been innocent in theme: he'd merely be walking beside her in the fields or sitting near her on the porch during a sunset. But a few weeks ago they'd decidedly changed in nature. The branded image of his naked body—the result of an initiation prank—came back to haunt her subconscious mind. Instead of running to the house, her dream-self instead would step close to the man and touch him, running her hands along his chest, across his shoulders, and down his sides. His skin was always warm and firm, the muscles underneath bunched in tension as if he'd been holding himself back from reaching for her.
When he'd moved behind her just now, in order to leave the bathroom, she'd been reminded of her dream the night before. In it she'd touched him again, standing nude in the main yard, but then she'd turned to go back to the house. Instead of letting her leave, as her previous dreams had done, he'd stopped her by taking hold of her wrist and stepping close behind her. Their height difference was such that his chin was at her ear level. She'd woken up with a jolt after he'd leaned down just enough to draw the tip of her ear into his mouth. In the bathroom this evening she'd felt a shiver of déjà vu and had had to fight the desire to lean back into the man.
Poor Mestral. Jodi sighed as she finished packing up the supplies. He hadn't done anything untoward or remotely sexual and yet she was lusting after him like a teenager. She'd never really been given to strong sexual urges having grown up on an isolated ranch with all the men being more like father figures to her than crush-worthy, and she'd only barely experimented with the two "boyfriends" she'd acquired whilst she was away in college and grad school. These facts served as doubly frustrating to her now that she felt such strong urges now, so "late" in the game. She was unprepared and unused to such strong desires and quite frankly didn't know what to do about it. She'd never really liked touching herself to relieve the ache she got sometimes; she'd always felt strange doing that. But now when she woke with a strong, near alien (in its intensity and quality) ache in her body, especially between her legs, she wondered if she should start. Mestral was too good a man to deserve such base attentions and Jodi felt ashamed to admit the depth to which she felt attracted to him. Perhaps she'd been on the ranch too long and it was high time she went to town for a little socialization.