Part Five: Confrontation
Posted on Wed Jun 24th, 2020 @ 3:20am by Lieutenant JG Vecon Fick
Edited on on Fri Jul 10th, 2020 @ 5:49pm
Death in Paradise
Location: Vecon home, Risa
Timeline: After "Part Four"
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. Fick wanted to show K’Laus everything it seemed. Although, most of the places that Fick took him were out of the way and void of tourists. They spent their nights on pristine beaches in quiet coves.
Fick’s family continued to be hospitable. Jeslia more than Milos. Milos continued to remain scarce. When he was home he was holded up in his office and bedroom. He did not join them for meals, but they would see him briefly each morning at breakfast. Jeslia worked as well, also putting her away from the home during much of the day, leaving Fick and K’Laus access to the house and surrounding gardens.
One morning Fick stood, right before his father was ready to walk out the door and put himself in Milos’ path. “Hey! We haven’t seen much of you. I found out you got a promotion from Mom. Congratulations!”
“Thank you, Fick,” Milos said in surprise. “It has kept me very busy. There is a lot of planning to do for the next planting season.” He looked around the room for just a moment like he was feeling the trapped that Fick was keeping him.
“Hey, you know, K’Laus and I were talking and I mentioned Bajor and I thought it might be nice to go there someday. Maybe you could recommend some places we could visit.”
When Fick said “Bajor”, Milos reacted like he had been slapped in the face. His whole body stiffened, but it wasn’t stiffening of fear. It was readiness, like he was readying himself for battle. His steel blue eyes focused hard on Fick. “I don’t think so. Most of the places I would have known were probably destroyed in the war.” His tone was firm, obviously hoping that his statement would put an end to the conversation.
Fick pretended this wasn’t happening and grinned. “Awww… I’m sure there are a few places left, or maybe some they’ve rebuilt. It wouldn’t hurt to just look,” Fick suggested hopefully. “You could make a list and I’ll look.”
Milos stepped to the right and Fick followed his movement, continuing to block his path. He tried the other direction. Fick, again, stepped in the way. “Son!” Milos finally said in the loudest tone he’d spoken since they had arrived. “I have to go to work. Besides, I can’t answer your questions. Bajor is for Bajorians…” He pushed past Fick and made his way to the front door, slamming it in his wake.
Fick looked over his shoulder at K’Laus. His mother had already gone to work. “Well then. That was special and I’m pretty sure he’s Bajoran. If he’s not, he lied to me.” Fick chuckled.
“Maybe it was not meant about him,” replied K’Laus. “You’re not fully Bajoran and in case you have not noticed, nothing about me screams praise the prophets,” added K’Laus. “The Bajorans are a fairly nice people, especially if you are not Cardassian. However, there are radical extremist who very much would like to to see a self-governing independent Bajor with a population that was Bajoran,” noted the Klingon.
Fick looked at K’Laus like he hadn’t thought of that before, which he hadn’t. He tipped his head a little, mulling over the Klingon’s words. “I honestly don’t know anything about Bajorians. I wish I did. I mean I know what they teach at the Academy, but I don’t really know what it means to be Bajoran. I’ve talked a little to Ayan, he’s the new doctor’s boyfriend or husband or something… but he tried to explain some things to me. They seem kinda… more religious than some. Do you think he meant that by coming here and being with mom that he thinks that he’s no longer Bajoran? Or were you saying he’s a racist?” The last question was more of a joke than a real question.
“Your father studies and spends his time in the company of plants, Fick,” replied the Klingon somewhat sharply with wit. “I hardly think he has the temperament to be hostile let alone racist” added K’Laus. “Perhaps, your father is simply homesick. Bajorans seem to have a strong connection with Bajor even when they are several generations removed from having lived on Bajoran soil. There are many species and societies that have historically been known to act and feel the same.”
Fick nodded, looking thoughtful, then he frowned. “But if he’s homesick why is he all mad about it? Why won’t he talk about it? I mean, it’s not like it’s hard to have a conversation for a few moments about it. I wasn’t being mean to him, was I?” He looked at K’Laus, actually concerned. Fick understood that he had a habit of just speaking his mind and not really thinking about how his words might make someone feel.
The Klingon shook his head. “No,” he said swiftly trying to reassure his boyfriend. “No, I do not believe you were being mean nor is your want for a conversation unreasonable” stated K’Laus. “However, I do not know your father well enough to understand his motives and actions. I do not know why he will not talk to you or tell you himself whether he is home sick or not...it confuses me as much as it confuses you, Fick,” added the Klingon.
--Two days later--
Finally, Fick decided it was time to have an actual conversation with his father and not just bait the man in an attempt to get him to talk. He waited up, late into the night and long after everyone else had gone to sleep, until Milos arrived home from work. He had made himself comfortable in his father’s office, knowing that he would go there first when he came home. He had thought some about what he was going to say, how he was going to bring up the topic. He was worried that if he confronted his father in the same fashion that he had already, that Milos would just shut down on him and the whole exercise would be pointless.
In the late hours Fick heard the front door opened, followed by the soft sounds of his father getting settled in after work. Fick stayed where he was and waited. The light was on in the room, as he wasn’t trying to give his father a heart attack as well. Although, when Milos entered the office he was still surprised the light was on and even more surprised to see Fick sitting there.
Their eyes met. Milos offered a little smile. “Up a little late, aren’t you?” Milos asked softly. “Can’t sleep? Something on your mind? Both?” He set a stack of slender files on the desk, looking Fick over as he did.
Fick returned the smile. “Both. How was work? You had to work late… is this how it is all the time? Do you get any sleep anymore?” Fick’s tone was not like the one before. He expressed concerned instead of taunts.
Milos nodded and sat down in the chair behind the desk. He had brought a hot cup of tea or coffee with him. “It was busy and no. It’s not like this all the time, but I’ve been transitioning into this new position and things require a little extra work right now. I stayed late tonight because I do not go in tomorrow at all.”
Fick nodded as well. “I understand how that can be. I’m really glad you got a promotion. Look, Dad… I’m sorry about the other day…” Fick started.
Milos cut him short. “You don’t have to apologize. I understand. It must seem very strange to never hear me talk about my birthplace, but believe me Fick it isn’t something that you want to hear about from me.”
“But that’s just it, Dad. I do want to hear about it from you. I’d like to know why other Bajorians avoid me. When the older Bajorans hear my name they all look at me funny and no one will tell me anything. I just… I just want to know why, Dad,” Fick implored. “I get that you didn’t have a good time. I get that it was probably more traumatic than anything I can imagine. I’ve been fortunate enough to never have been oppressed like that or even come close to it, but I’m part of you. Bajor is also in my blood. I want to know.”
“You are a very capable learner. You have always done well in school. There are more than enough places for you to do all sorts of research,” Milos said, sorting through some papers on his desk and occassionally looking at Fick. “I believe that the big fancy starship that you fly has an extensive database.”
Fick sighed. “I’ve already read all of that. I know the story of the Bajorn people… and I know about the occupation… and I know about all the Prophets and such… but what I don’t know is why did you come to Risa? Why did you leave Bajor? Why haven’t you gone back to Bajor and why do you act like it just doesn’t exist?”
Milos looked over the edge of the paper he was holding at his son for a long moment, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, shaking his head slowly. “Is that how you see it?
Fick nodded. “That’s how I see it. It’s hard to see it any other way when you never talk about it. I understand that it might not be something that you particularly want to talk about. I’m sure those memories are painful and traumatic and I can’t even imagine, but… I’m your son.” Fick reached across the surface of the desk to take his father’s hand for a moment. “And I’m asking you to tell me. Please.”
To be continued…