Lost Property, Part 3 of 3

Posted on Sun Apr 27th, 2025 @ 6:25pm by Crewman Mateo Gardel & Civilian Temas Latham

3,906 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: To Boldly Go
Location: Medical Laboratory 1, Deck 7, USS Fenrir
Timeline: Day 14, 08:00

[ON - Continued from Part 2. And, now, the conclusion...]

"I just..." Temas' voice was quiet as he looked at him, clearly feeling a little embarrassed. But he could see the interest in Mateo, the curiosity. He liked it. He himself was a curious soul, hence the wandering around. "I didn't want to just...sit still or fall into what was expected of me. I wanted to see more, understand more. I come from a small town as well, I suppose...I was drawn into something similar..." he chuckled at himself, because it sounded...well, boring. Not like exploring the stars. He glanced around the lab, at things he didn't understand.

"I was trying to find my own sense of self. Teaching Federation Standard was...a way of doing it. Those small communities, they taught me more Spanish than I taught them Standard but...their way of life is an obsession about being tied to the past, as much as a necessity and way of life. Traditions..." he glanced at him, a small smile coming to him. "My Dad's like that now. Traditions, old stuff with your hands so that you have some grip on...your own sense of past. Easier for him than me."

Mateo leaned back slightly, considering Temas’s words. The quiet embarrassment in his voice was noticeable, but it was quickly replaced by genuine interest. Mateo’s curiosity deepened, not just about Temas’s experiences, but about the complexity of the journey he described—the search for self, the tension between tradition and the pull to understand more. “I get that,” Mateo said, his voice thoughtful. “Trying to figure out what you’re meant to be… not just what others expect. It’s hard to break out of what people want you to be.” His eyes flicked toward the lab equipment around them before returning to Temas. “I guess that’s why you teach, huh? It’s part of finding yourself. It’s not just about the language, but what’s behind it, the culture, the people.”

Mateo watched Temas closely as he spoke, trying to understand the quiet strength in his voice, the calm way he spoke about the places he had been and the things he had learned. “You mentioned you were drawn into something similar...” Mateo said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He wasn’t sure how to say it, but he was intrigued by the way Temas seemed to move through life with a searching spirit. “What’s that like for you?” he asked, the question light but genuine. “I mean, coming from where you did, and finding your way into something like this... how do you balance it? I guess it’s more about figuring out who you are, not just going with what’s expected.”

Temas’s perspective intrigued Mateo more than he realized. The idea of embracing tradition while also seeking something more—the balance between roots and growth—was something he didn’t fully understand, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much he wanted to. He’d always been about the future and what it could offer, but right now, there was something about Temas’s path that called to him. He studied Temas again, his expression thoughtful but not overly intense. “I guess... I’m just trying to understand. I’ve always been more focused on what’s coming than what’s behind me. But you’re showing me that there’s something valuable in that balance.” His voice was quieter now, reflective, but still warm with curiosity.

Temas smiled at the question, shaking his head as he looked at him. "I'm half Betazoid," he finally said, with a gesture of his hand to show it wasn't a big deal. Yet it defined him as much as his human side. "For me, I've always felt like I didn't quite fit in where I grew up. But when I went to Betazed, I didn't fit in there either. So. For me, I think travelling to other places and learning about them, as well as teaching...it helped me cement my own identity and sense of self. And I...stopped feeling awkward about not fitting in. It's now somewhat of an armour," he added the last quietly, thinking he sounded like an idiot. "My Dad always wanted me to be more human than I was, to...sail the way he did. To stay on Earth."

Mateo listened closely, his gaze steady on Temas as he spoke. The revelation about being half Betazoid hit him harder than he expected. It wasn’t the fact that Temas was Betazoid—it was the thought that someone might be able to sense his emotions, to read his mind. Mateo had always found that unsettling, the idea of anyone knowing what he was thinking without him even saying a word. His stomach tightened as he subtly shifted his posture, crossing his arms around his chest, a small but instinctive gesture to protect himself. The floor beneath him felt oddly cold against his legs, and he shifted, trying to distract himself. His muscles were tight, a subtle ache creeping up his spine, the physical discomfort mirroring the unease gnawing at him. Was he reading me now? Mateo blinked, and for a moment, he could swear the air in the room felt heavier, almost as if his own thoughts were floating just a little too close to the surface.

He swallowed, doing his best to keep his tone steady as he spoke. “That sounds... unsettling,” Mateo said, his voice quieter than usual. He couldn’t shake the thought that Temas might be hearing the unease pulsing in his mind. Could he hear his heart racing? Mateo kept his gaze on Temas, but his attention was split. His own pulse seemed too loud, the thrum of it in his ears, the warmth creeping up his neck like he was under a microscope. The small sounds—the low hum of the ship’s systems in the background—felt overwhelming now. His chest tightened again, the faintest bead of sweat forming at the back of his neck. Was Temas hearing that? Could he tell how nervous I am right now? His mind buzzed with the thought, and Mateo quickly looked away, trying to ground himself.

“But I get it,” he continued, his words now more measured, as though he had to think harder about what he was saying. “Trying to figure out who you are... It’s not easy, no matter where you come from.” Mateo glanced back at Temas, trying to pull himself together, but the words felt weighed down by his lingering discomfort. He wasn’t sure if it was the Betazoid heritage or just the vulnerability it triggered in him, but the thought of someone knowing what was in his head, uninvited, made his stomach twist. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to open up like that. “I guess if it helps, armor’s one way to look at it,” Mateo said, his voice softening. “If it works, then it makes sense. I guess we all have our own ways of protecting ourselves... mine just happens to be a little less obvious.”

And there it was, the shift, the wall coming up slightly. The other man had great control of his body language but the uncomfortable nervousness radiated from him in a way that made Temas' pulse hitch and he shifted a little. He hated this feeling, but also had wanted to be honest with him. And hiding what he was, the biological advantage of his mother's species, it would have been wrong. It was always a risk. He just hoped it wouldn't backfire from this man who made him feel as if there was some sunshine and warmth in this metal box shooting through space.

Temas wasn't a telepath, he wasn't even considered a good empath, but it was difficult not to see it in Mateo, how nervous and uncomfortable this had made him. The imaginary wall being put up between them, it was something he longed to hammer his hands against, to ask for him not to close off from him. "And...what is your armour, Mateo?" he asked softly, hoping to lower the wall as he watched him. He gave him a small smile and looked down, as if that gesture could give him some privacy.

There was a stretch of silence between them, thick and quiet, as Mateo wrestled with the question. Temas’s openness hung in the air like a weight, and Mateo couldn’t quite shake the feeling that this moment was different from every other conversation he’d had. Temas had asked him to show his armor, to reveal the invisible walls Mateo had carefully built, and for a brief moment, he considered keeping them up. It was easy—comfortable, even. Mateo had always hidden behind sarcasm, distance, and control. But Temas was different. There was something about him—something genuine, something warm—that made Mateo want to be honest, even if he didn’t quite understand why.

Mateo shifted his weight slightly, his body language betraying the internal war he was fighting. He could feel the tension in his chest, the tightness in his throat. For a moment, he even wondered if he was betraying himself, making himself too vulnerable. Was he really willing to open up? To expose himself? He glanced at Temas, noting the way his eyes were soft, the way his expression waited for Mateo’s answer. And it made the air feel too close, too intimate. Mateo wanted to turn away, to hide behind his usual defenses, but he couldn’t shake the curiosity Temas stirred within him. Why was he feeling this way? It didn’t make sense. He’s different, Mateo thought. And that’s what’s making this hard.

The silence seemed to stretch, dragging the air around him, and Mateo couldn’t avoid it any longer. He took a breath, the exhale shaking ever so slightly. He could feel the weight of his own hesitation, but somehow, the words slipped out before he could fully stop them. “I guess my armor is... distance.” The admission felt strange as soon as it left his mouth, too raw, too close to the truth. But it was true. It was always distance—physical, emotional, mental. He guarded himself from everyone, always separate, always disconnected. It was easier that way. No one could hurt him if he stayed on the outside. It was all he had ever known, and even now, saying it out loud felt like ripping apart an old habit he wasn’t sure he could quit.

Mateo paused, feeling the weight of his own words. He rubbed his hands together, trying to calm the nerves that were suddenly crawling under his skin. The air felt thicker now, as if his words had made the walls of the room a little smaller. And the thought that Temas could hear his racing pulse, could sense how much he didn’t want to be vulnerable, almost made him want to retreat entirely. But Temas hadn’t asked for all of him—he hadn’t expected Mateo to pour out his heart. So why did it feel so important to be honest now, when every part of him wanted to hold back? Was Temas’s honesty making Mateo feel like he had to respond in kind?

He looked at Temas again, trying to shake off the thoughts swirling in his head. “I don’t know why I’m saying this,” he muttered, a hint of frustration in his voice. “It’s just... it’s how I’ve always been. It’s not that I’m not open, it’s just—” He stopped himself, chewing on his lip. His instinct to retreat was pulling him back, but there was something about the quiet strength in Temas’s gaze, the way he didn’t rush Mateo, that kept him from shutting down completely. He took another breath and met Temas’s eyes, his voice quieter now, but not without a trace of honesty. “It works for me, I guess. The distance. It keeps things from... getting messy.”

“Messy,” Temas said aloud, his eyes softening at the way Mateo was explaining it. It came from a vulnerable place, sounding almost…well. He wasn’t sure what was there, but he could understand the difficulty of having to put up armour against hurt. He had seen it enough. Why Mateo did it was a question he wouldn’t ask, because it wasn’t his business. “People and…emotions can be so messy,” he chuckled at himself, nodding. “I get that. I have seen it. I…sometimes though, that messiness…can be more. You start seeing that the mess is actually…art. But…it takes time. And it isn’t always what is right for someone. If you need your armour, Mateo, no one should judge you for that.”

He met Mateo’s eyes and held them for a split second, a small, slightly lopsided smile coming to him. “Thank you for…letting me see past it, for a moment. I appreciate the trust.”

Mateo looked away at first, not out of dismissal, but because he wasn’t used to being thanked for something so personal. The silence that followed wasn’t cold—it was contemplative, as if he were still adjusting to the strange shape of vulnerability hanging between them. He picked at the hem of his sleeve, fingers twitching once before stilling, a subtle grounding gesture he likely didn’t realize he was doing.

“Yeah, well…” he murmured, eyes still a little distant as he tried to find the right tone—something honest, but not too revealing. “I didn’t really mean to.” A small huff of breath passed through his nose, something between a laugh and an exhale. “But I guess that doesn’t make it any less real.”

He finally glanced back at Temas, just briefly, then away again, but there was a trace of something softer in his expression. “You’re easy to talk to,” he added, and then immediately regretted it, because it felt too direct, too open. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly on the floor like the change in posture might somehow take back the words. “Don’t let that go to your head.”

Mateo rose to his feet with quiet efficiency, smoothing down the front of his uniform out of habit more than necessity. The cool air of the lab felt sharper now that he was standing, as if reminding him of the world outside this brief moment. Still, something about him had shifted—just enough to notice. He wasn’t retreating. Not yet.

Temas watched him before he looked at his crate, carefully closing it. He still held the book though and put it on the console, letting it rest there. He didn't adjust his clothes, instead watching Mateo with a thoughtful look at his face before he smiled. "Can't help it, it's one of the biggest compliments I've ever had," he said, raising an eyebrow. And it had been. Not for the words, but for what was behind them. Mateo kept people at a distance by default. Opening up, especially emotionally, was hard for him. And yet he had with him. He had opened up and talked, out of his own free will, because somehow Temas had brought it out in him. And he couldn't think of a greater compliment than that. No matter what people said.

"Maybe...if you borrow this book, we could meet up and...talk about it?" he asked, motioning to the book. An opening he hoped wouldn't be too daunting for the man. A subject to talk about, a shield for Mateo to use if he wanted. If he needed.

For a moment, Mateo said nothing. The invitation—so simple on the surface—settled over him like an unexpected shift in gravity. It wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming, just... noticeable. A quiet pressure in his chest, an awareness that this was the sort of thing most people probably didn’t think twice about. Borrow the book. Meet up. Talk. But Temas wasn’t just offering a follow-up discussion. He was offering a thread, a continuation, a return. Mateo wasn’t used to people asking for more of him—not like this, not gently, not without an expectation buried in the tone. That alone made it feel different. Made Temas feel different. Again.

He shifted on his feet, gaze flicking briefly to the book on the console before returning to Temas, who hadn’t looked away. The expression on his face wasn’t expectant—it was hopeful, maybe, but not pushy. It wasn’t a trap, wasn’t bait. Still, the part of Mateo that counted exits and backup plans couldn’t help but register the movement of the crate lid, the gentle hum of the lab equipment, the soft buzz of the environmental controls. He was still in control, if he needed to be. No one was making him say anything. That realization—oddly—made it easier to speak.

“I’m not... always great at follow-through,” Mateo said at last, the words awkward but true. “Social stuff, I mean. People. I usually mess it up or... just vanish before it gets too complicated.” His mouth tugged slightly to one side, not quite a smile, but not far from it. “But if I say yes now, I mean it.” He glanced again at the book, and then picked it up with a kind of reverence, fingers brushing the cover like it might vanish if he touched it too quickly. “So... yeah. I’d like that.”

He didn’t meet Temas’s gaze right away, instead looking at the book again as if it held the perfect excuse for his heart to be racing. “I mean, I don’t know if I’ll have anything smart to say about it,” he added, clearing his throat. “Might just show up and talk about how I liked the font or the smell of the pages.” It was a deflection, but a soft one. There was no barbed edge to it. Just nerves, and a kind of sincerity he wasn’t used to giving away without someone dragging it out of him first.

Finally, he looked up again, this time holding Temas’s gaze a little longer than he had before. Not long, but enough. “Thanks,” he said, the word clipped but honest. For the book, for the offer, for not making a big deal out of any of it. Then, quieter—more to himself than to Temas—he added, “I think I’m glad you asked.”

Temas watched him with surprise before he smiled, looking down almost embarrassed as he went to the crate. "If you had said no, I would have found another excuse for us to talk again," he finally admitted and glanced at him, heat rising to his cheeks. "Just because...I've enjoyed this. Talking with you." He had also liked how he had mentioned the smell of the pages, one of Temas' favourite things about the antique books. "I'll...this crate is bigger than I remembered it being. I should...send someone to bring it to me, rather than throw my back out trying to carry it myself."

Mateo ducked his head slightly at Temas’s confession, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck in a traitorous rush. He was grateful Temas wasn’t looking at him directly when he said it, because nothing in the galaxy could have kept the blush from blooming across his cheeks. Somehow, knowing Temas would have found another excuse to keep talking to him made the air feel warmer, heavier, in a way that wasn't entirely uncomfortable—just unfamiliar.

He cleared his throat quietly and stepped toward the console where the crate sat, schooling his expression back into something neutral—or trying to. The console’s cool metal met his knuckles as he tapped it lightly, a quiet, grounding contrast to the warmth still lingering on his skin. "Don't worry about it," Mateo said, his voice softer than usual. "I'll arrange for it to be delivered to your classroom."

He didn’t say he’d see to it personally—didn’t need to. He just knew, without fully understanding why, that he wanted the excuse. Wanted to stay tethered a little longer to something that felt this different, this confusingly... good. Maybe if he stayed busy, stayed useful, he wouldn’t have to figure out why the idea of walking away felt a little too heavy right now. It wasn’t about the crate. It was about the feeling—this rare, tentative connection he wasn’t ready to let slip away.

"Thank you," Temas said and looked at him, taking a deeper breath before he started to move to the door. He stopped, turning to look at Mateo, just to watch him for a moment. Unsure what to say, but that was okay. It was okay not to always know what to say. "I'll...see you later then, Mateo. Enjoy the scent of the book..." he grinned and pulled away, tapping the wall by the door before he went out, leaving Mateo behind.

Mateo didn’t move at first after the doors whispered shut behind Temas. The lab felt too still, too quiet in the absence of him. He stared at the spot where Temas had stood, his mind curiously blank and yet buzzing at the same time. Part of him expected the old instinct to kick in—the one that urged him to pull back, to tuck the encounter away and bury it under sarcasm or distraction. But it didn’t come, not this time. Instead, he stood there, awkward and uncertain, cradling the fragile warmth Temas had left behind like something precious he didn’t quite know how to hold.

His gaze dropped to the book resting on the console, the hardback catching the sterile lab light in muted reds and browns. Mateo reached out, fingertips brushing the worn spine, and a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding slipped from between his lips. Enjoy the scent of the book, Temas had said. The memory of it—the grin, the easy teasing—made Mateo’s chest tighten in a way that felt dangerously close to hope. He curled his fingers around the book, grounding himself against the surge of unfamiliar emotion. It’s just a book, he told himself, but somehow he knew it wasn’t. Not really. Not anymore.

He tucked the volume carefully against his side and finally let himself move, a small, private smile ghosting at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t know what would come of this—if anything would. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know. All he knew, standing there in the soft hum of the lab, was that for the first time in a long while, the idea of later didn’t terrify him. It felt... possible.

[OFF]

---

Temas Latham
Civilian Teacher
USS Fenrir
[PNPC - Hanlon]

&

Crewman Mateo Gardel
Medical Science Specialist
USS Fenrir

 

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