Avalon Chapter 25: Starry Serenade, a white collar fanfic

I'm falling

In all the good times I find myself longing for change

And in the bad times I fear myself

As the horizons changed over the days and stars from afar zipped past his windows the deeply rooted anticipation heavily mixed with dread and a dash of depression almost broke the man sitting behind almost foot thick window on the observation deck. The bottle clutched in his hand almost empty and several more lining up the wall next to the seat. It was feeling of utter helplessness that lingered heavily in the air as the dark room hid the tear tracks on the haggard cheeks and rough surface of the scarred neck covered by five-o-clock. The intensity of immense loss and grief for times too far away and mistakes too far gone to be corrected. Lifetime of regret and sour self doubt and blame.

It was all eating the man so full of all the dark he was seeing behind those windows from his control panel. It was eating him for decades upon decades. Yet he still wasn't fully aged nor was about to. Despite the factor of immortality of some level or being forever young because maybe there was a mixed up alien blood donation sometime he was still looking almost twice his immortal age. Scars and general roughness made his face appear so old. Almost politely appropriate for a man gone through a ringer and seven years of doom before suspended in space for some more.

And longer he let it the deeper he fell.

Just that nobody ever would see. They didn't have to. It was his and only his own fault and he'd take it.

He didn't deserve all the luxury he was facing.

Hell, he didn't deserve to be alive yet he was.

A spasm rippled through his spinal cord and jumbled the nerves within sending his leg out in a weak reflection of a kick. Another one abruptly broke the marginally stable hold of the bottle and it went rolling away to join the cavalry of the rest of empty squadron. Approximately eleven empty and six more full bottles. Seventeen together and just for what he allowed public to see.

Given the rank and reputation his file presented Noel "Narcho" Alisson was enough to be never questioned about why a man of such rank would be getting drunk despite it being much in vain. Because he was so immune to normal earth human alcohol he required especially wicked alien sort. While easy to achieve for Enterprise ship-crew the desired effect was leaving a lot to be desired even for man like him.

But surprisingly as it was not even Admiral or Captain ever tried to make any knowledge of their best Lieutenant and notably skilled Pilot slash Helmsman of the main ship trying to drink himself to death on every given day. He was part of most important Enterprise crew members. Also he was great part of extra crews who led the battleships into fights against violent aliens. Part of patrol unit and attack lead that protected the main ship full of scientists and explorers. Full of families among crew and full of life otherwise.

Who cares if one more light goes out

In the sky of a million stars?

It flickers, flickers

The lonely Commander for his small fleet and Lieutenant for main ship. He used to be a captain for short moment but while his strategic skills still impressed the heart was in the little things. Heart he was deliberately holding out there. Maybe because otherwise he'd truly give up his attempts of life and it would not be fun.

And surely Lt. Alisson wasn't man for giving up easily. He'd make the most of it before the suicidal nature would make a mistake or miscalculation lethal enough.

Another spasm took over all his back giving his half numb body a harsh jerk and he narrowly avoided making a tumble for floor. It did let a sound echo in the small deck room. There were many around the perimeter of the ship and they allowed small clusters of intimate crowds gather and watch the stars and space slide past. And these rooms were small enough for couples to hide away and enjoy a moment.

Or in his case a lone man indulge in his darkness long enough for his health getting bored.

Lieutenant Commander Alisson hidden away all alone in a dark little room clad with numerous amount of empty and half empty bottles of very wicked drinks that were half illegal to possess. What a sight. Federation would get his head just for one bottle. Let alone his impressive drug collection. The amount of his prescription and less time prescribed medication and drugs that would make a regular drug dealer giddy would simply call for life in prison. Or federal trial with no amnesty and forced retirement under dubious causes.

Title for life. Yeah.

Who cares when someone's time runs out

If a moment is all we are?

Or quicker, quicker

Noel looked at his shaky hands and flexed the fingers noting slight stiffness that wasn't there months ago. It was what all the warning were about. Every doctor from nurse level to PT said same- he would be lucky to have hand function for about a decade before his progressive paralysis would take over.

Why it was happening was unclear though. One contemplated it was due to force field's lethal energy frizzing nerves and connections. Some dropped it along severe brain damage to those connection endings from when his head collided with ground. Others wondered deeply that maybe the fractured pieces of his vertebrae had sliced up those nerves and they haven't reconnected and if they did then it's now wearing out and over time they'd simply snap.

Whatever it was it was what made him vulnerable and a liability. A weakness too dangerous to leave him be.

It was literally palpable every time he was in the room with others as he sat behind controls ready to take Captain's orders. He felt the eyes of nearest Ensign roll over his body every single moment he made a movement to stretch or just decided to take a bathroom break. He sensed the eyes of the whole room following every single twitch of his body and he knew they were very deeply checking him every single time his shift came to beginning or close.

For a man full of smarts he did realize it was only way how the crew could allow showing they care or just was aware and wanted to keep an eye for him. Because he was still remarkably famous for the reckless nature he possessed and ways his crazy ways had done the jobs and let crews survive anything. He's been famous for his flying long before this ship and his fame came along as his ranks rose.

The reminders pull the floor from your feet

But what he truly wanted was sitting on the side of the main ship. Strapped tightly in its post ready to shoot out of the tube and bite the crazy aliens in the butt. His little brave rocket made from space grade metal alloys to survive the harshness of vast space and collisions of asteroids and phaser beams. To survive the war. And kill the enemy relentlessly.

The one-pilot battleship was small but capable of heaviest G's and super intuitive in controls. It was readily responsive and quick maneuvering with small radius of turning. It could rotate and hang in place as long as necessary and do it even upside down. The huge maneuverability and responsive control system was success the eleventh Raptor-Viper fighters succeeded with victorious cheer. Phasers always at ready and bonus hidden laser-blast rockets and some completely simple missiles Air Force style made it lightweight and fast. Four-engine dual complex unity made it variable for many lift-ups and tactical moves. Also it allowed variations of speeds and power. But most drooling vent for shield system. Somebody did a very fine job of making shield available while shooting. And the beaming system was also imported to the sizeable craft with what looked relieved ease. Because so far it was complicated and temperamental technology that required patience and study.

But they did it and here it was. His little bird with the callsign on both sides visible from all angles.

And you're angry, and you should be, it's not fair

Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there

Now that was what both warmed his heart and terrified his whole body into near panic attack every single time something felt stiff or more numb than usual. Because the more his condition progressed the less chances he had to get back in his little bird. And that was the thing he knew would break him entirely and beyond repair.

So he had to try and maintain his body and mind alike as stable as possible and hopefully find something that allowed to further investigate and maybe stop or lessen the effects. Noel wasn't ready to break just yet. He was eager to experience actual fight and put his mind and skills to use in next mission. He was tired of repeated drills and sitting like a fool in a box with huge black goggles over his eyes and pretend over comms that it was as real as the toast he ate that morning or drop of liquid fire he allowed to sneak in between shower and medication. That it was all for a reason and with good cause in mind. That in case of actual emergency they'd succeed and get back home.

He hoped next time he'll be allowed to accompany the scientists for exploration missions on planets as a security escort. He did know combat and while now rubbish he could do scanning and comms and observing for them. It was also important part of those missions, Noel had said himself it millions of times when he stood in front of his mirror trying to convince himself it will do for the day.