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After wiping her cheeks and eyes before blowing her nose with the torn piece of pillowcase. She let her eyes drift shut, holding a palm to her forehead with the elbow resting on her knee.

"When it comes out I feel like I just emptied who whole self by shooting it out my nose..."

There was a slight smirk that made it to the surface and managed to hover for a time.

"...You really should try an Andorian, then. Maddeningly complex compared to what you're used to I'd imagine. Or myself for that matter. I once spoke with a Jem'Hadar Third during the proving runs of the Daedalus. Took him prisoner and I got assigned to keep an eye on him. Had some wonderful conversations. Didn't have a clue about any of this sort of thing. I think we learned a lot about each other's culture. Found many similarities in our methods, Romulan and his. After a while we came to terms with each other. I certainly admired his focus and drive, even when wounded. Pity though, when we returned him in exchange for one of our own, they executed him and opened fire on us. He was only a couple years from being an Honored Elder. I guess he must have known what was coming... Must be nice to be so at peace with it."

There was a moment where she wanted nothing to do with another humanoid soul, let alone anything else living, but that wall lasted for all of the blink of an eye. The Romulan wrapped her arms around Raynor as tight as she could, her nails even digging in a bit, but they were far from sharp. Wings clipped and talons too, Jiseth simply cried into his shoulder until she had lost all track of time. She just wanted this river of sour emotions out of her.

Eventually she pulled back enough to breathe what felt like frigid air compared to the warmth from their closeness. After several somewhat embarrassingly loud sniffles, she gave speaking a try though her voice was waivering greatly.

"I'd hate to know what my reputation is in that department... Could go to Risa and catch clit anytime I wanted, but there's no... Nothing like this. Those girls just want to have fun all the time and stars forbid you try to express something other than happiness for even a second... Sometimes I think the Vulcans are on to something... Fewer germs, fewer hurt feelings..."

Jiseth knew he was right and that just caused the green blood to rush to her cheeks faster as her anger began swelling. So much so she grabbed the pillow from under her and covers her face with it to muffle her own scream. There was the silent hope that a strong hand would come down and smother her into stillness, but to no avail. Both hands clenched on it, they began tugging in opposite directions and eventually tore the pillow in half.

Tossing both halves off their respective sides of the bed and sitting up, Jiseth reached for the PADD resting in its holder near the headboard. There was a litany of swearings under her breathe like a growl, some in English and some in Romulan. After powering up the device she searched a serial number that she had long ago memorized by heart. A profile appeared and very quietly Jiseth took in some deep breathes before hitting starting the video recording.

"...Hey, Zero... If you're heart has started beating again umm... I'm alive. I didn't die 748 Sol's ago when I was listed MIA, so uh... Surprise. I... I've been in hospital for 743 of those days and lost the lower half of my legs. They gave me artificial ones, but the doctor was a hack. Lightyears behind you in skill. Anyway... I just-I... I wanted you to know I'm okay. Stuck on Starbase Columbus, I probably shouldn't even be contact you, but... I hope Ghost is okay. Gavin's probably going to tell you not to contact me and that's fair... I hope whatever you're doing umm I hope you're happy. Good bye, E'lev..."

By now there were streams coming down from her eyes as she sent off the message. Pulling her knees to her chest, she flung the PADD to the end of the bed, and began sobbing nearly uncontrollably. Her thighs muffled herself much less effectively than the pillow did.

She managed a smirk at first. It truly would be a waste if Raynor got snipped and surgically migrated to her side of things. Like a lion shaved of its mane. At least he could still acquire a vice of hers if not comfort from humanoid closeness or drink. Jiseth's expression went blank when the conversation went to Zero.

"Honorable... Tsh! Then why do I feel like such a bloody coward?"

She drew both hands up and cover here eyes with her palms while her middle and ring fingers traced along the ridges of her forehead.

"It's not like it was planned obsolescence, that I was just good enough until someone with higher intelligence quotient came along... Or with working limbs... My grandfather used to tell me not to feel like we were hiding on Earth... He didn't want us to feel inferior while living among humans... Like we were wrong for even existing... And if we let that happen, the whole reason we left Romulus would be forgotten... When those bastard cadets wrecked my shuttle on the way to the Moon, I spent days floating around in the cold wondering if I should just be left to die... I was still the XO of Nova Squad... I still flew that son of a bitch back to Earth... I still dropped an Intrepid-class through an atmosphere and landed, twice in the same day...  I still flew that scum-shovel Sternbach-class like it was a fighter even though it was an obese dog on the best of days... I pulled that woman out of the god damn box those wretched, self-righteous whores at Starfleet Medical put her in... I'm not going to be left here on this god damn station like some idle school girl to just sit around and behave... No! I'm not going to keep coming out of the walls like a ghost when people least expect it... One day she'll see I'm no longer MIA, she'll see which ship I'm on, and she'll have a choice to make. I'm not going to make it for her!"

"Oh my, you have the sass of a Romulan teenager. Are you sure we didn't go to secondary school together?"

Her cheeks winced slightly as her jaw tightened. There were some spots that felt like they had become solid granite. The physical therapists did only a little from time to time. Her last proper massage was given by Zero. The coincidence that Raynor should bring her up was less than amusing.

"...A bit. Yeah, it's... It's sore, but it's helping... I dunno. Surely she's over it by now. Moved on. Probably figured the only reason that I was listed MIA was that the explosion didn't leave a corpse to bury... Hnnnngh, okay, easy... Not so much pressure on the sides, please... I must admit, I could kill for a foot rub which, in light of my inability to feel jack all, makes these phantom pains all the more unbearable. Plus, I never thought I'd live with the shame of saying it's been years since I've gotten laid..."

Drawing in a long breath, she exhaled it slowly.

"Wouldn't mind a cigar right about now... I keep shying away from those things because she didn't think they were healthy in the slightest and wanted me to quit them... So I did... It would be nice to at least see her one more time... Probably at a distance... I think her brain would break if she saw I was alive... Hell, that business with the Catian? That insane woman had bottles upon bottles littered all over her office... She must have drank the commissary dry at least twice over... I don't even want to know what this has done to her... Would you?"

USS Juno

A long, rather satisfied, smirk tugged at the right side of her lips as Raynor laughed. At the very least she could do that for a friend. She tried to put their surroundings out of her mind as she closed her eyes. The amount of pleasant memories of medical facilities had been drowned out by the poor ones in recent years.

She missed popping in and seeing Henriks caring for patients as if they were family. Zero may have had the bedside manner of a Tal Shiar interrogator, but she was effective and treated each case as her own personal mental challenge. Raynor could build someone up or brutally crush them. Either way, he certainly made an art of it, though she found the former far more endearing of a Klingon. Truth be told, she loved all three of them greatly. The damning thing about it, however, was how much she hated herself for it.

You couldn't just leave them well enough alone, could you? You just had to meddle in their lives. Create bonds just to break them. Not even let them burn, no, let time do the dirty work. That part of their heart withering away.

"Sure, but realize... I don't feel anything along my shins. Around the knees, I can feel the pressure, but they're not sensitive. Almost numb. Maybe an inch or two above that is where things are actually normal."

"Tsh, and what? Just grease you up and try to catch you? Oh yeah, he's a big guy, but you just can't grab hold of the slippery bastard. Aw damn, he's like a loose pig on the promenade!"

There must have been few emergencies in the sector of space for a medical facility to have open space. Jiseth was not quite up to date with current affairs or politics. Wars came and went like the breeze and the only real difference was what color would rain down from metal clouds high above a planet. Romulans and Klingons shared at least one thing: the baleful green of disruptors.

"I generally don't if people feel they have to ask, but..."

She laid the book on the small tray table whose arm was currently swung out away from the bed which was then covered by her hat. Her sandals came off as well as she slipped onto the mattress and put her head back against the large pillows.

"...Luckily for me these things aren't detachable so it's not like you can take them and run off."

Jiseth felt a touch odd wearing such a large had indoors far from direct sunlight. It gave little distraction, however, to the sound of her own legs. Her easy stride felt more like marching. Constant and purposeful rather than graceful. She had been quite fond of her ability to sneak up on people and now that seemed to be a distant memory.

For a moment she tensed up at the sight of the Medical Ward sign. She knew Zero was stationed elsewhere, but she had also spent more than enough time confined to a bed. Such a place was generally the last she wanted to be in. Even so, the Romulan trusted this Klingon enough to see where this was going and what mad idea had taken root in his head.

"Could have gone to the hangar if you wanted to get me an oil change."

With a head tilt and an eyebrow raised, she scarfed down as much of the dessert as she could before leaving a few slips of latinum on the table. For a society that touted how it abolished money, there always seemed to be a great deal of gratitude in receiving gratuity. Plus the waiter had been quite adequate with their drinks so he deserved a little something in her mind.

As she stood, Jiseth made sure her legs would cooperate. There was a quick checklist she had made for herself, as pilots always seemed to need one for everything, testing the movements of her toes and ankles. Taking care not to forget the book or glasses, they were held one in each hand. Sliding up next to Raynor, her right arm hooked around his left.

"Alright, lead the way."

"Yes!"

Jiseth's response was as quick, but not loud enough to carry. It was more of a hiss than anything. She set her fork down with a click against the plate and guzzled down her glass of water as fast as she could.

"It took a very long time for them to calibrate and drinking causes all sorts of problems with how they interpret signals. They get confused, I feel pain. I think the best rate I was able to accomplish was a half bottle of wine over the course of three hours. You know what's crap? This is the very first time I regret anything that involves you. I shouldn't have opened my mouth about this stupid liquid stuff, but we used to do it all the time. It was fun. Comforting. I miss it. Don't you?"

There was a sudden shocked pause as another bite neared her lips and her mouth hung open. She tilted her head away with eyes squinting towards him as she lowered her fork. The timing was perhaps not the best for this meeting, but all the same, she was glad he could at least attend.

"So... You're leaving?"

There was an unpleasant tingling, almost like an itch, where her flesh met circuits. She might have to slow down the wine consumption even further before the artificial limbs began losing function. A normal person might lose their sense of balance and wobble as they walked, but for Jiseth it'd be like trying to walk on stilts with her knees. She winced a few times as she spoke even though she was adamantly trying not to show any signs of discomfort with the phantom pains starting to return as well.

"I guess a familiar setting woul-wouldn't hurt. It's a big decision. Guess-ow... Guess I have reason to invade that backwater cesspool after all if it means getting to socialize with my token Klingon friend. Only a slight inconvenience. Kind of like these glorified pain sticks I have to walk with. Whatever you do, don't lose an arm or leg to a bat'leth."

She gave a nod to his offer and downed the second glass of water. Unfortunately, the cybernetic limbs did not react well to the inhibiting effects of alcohol, but she was not about to let Raynor in on that fact. Romulans were as much about posturing as they were about stabbing someone in the back. When the waiter returned he simply left the water pitcher at the table as well as the bottle of wine from which she was drinking. To be polite, she ordered a plate of strawberry cheesecake from the menu that had been sitting in front of her the whole time and handed it off to get it out of the way.

"Well... There's a Defiant-class docked here. Could have some fun with that. USS Monitor I believe it's called. Strange, wasn't that the name of a Terran submarine? Hardly a stealthy ship without a cloaking device. Brash and gaudy little things. It's like a cowboy decided to ditch his single horsepower lifestyle and go scampering about in a 700 horsepower Lamborghini with missile launchers. I think I might have found something that suits my tastes-oh, speak of the devil."

Her face admittedly brightened up when her small dessert plate arrived. Garnished with red lines of syrup and a strawberry on top, it might have well have been blood and the heart of an enemy festooning her piece of cake the way she was grinning.

"I think you've suffered enough from my sad stories, tell me of yours. What terrible fate has befallen such a noble warrior?"

"I guess that's the problem. I have no idea. I've spent my whole adult life with orders to follow. Fighting in a war against the Federation that had no battles. No monuments. Just casualties. I widowed Zero at our first kiss."

Taking another long sip of wine, Jiseth took hold of the almost untouched glass of water and downed the whole thing. Rubbing the bridge of her nose with her free hand, she drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"...I want to go out on a lake and fish like I did when I was a child. A cool morning with plenty of fog drifting over the water and sunrise slowly becoming day. Run along the bank. Go for a swim and just float there in the afternoon light. Unfortunately, these new legs are like concrete stilettos and half as buoyant."

There was a tired expression on her face as she sat upright while the waiter refilled her water glass.

"Imagine you're staring at a tree. It bears many fruits and in them you can see all your possible futures. You could be a lawyer, or a doctor, or a philosopher. You could be a great warrior or a play write. As you try to pick, the fruits begin to wither and grow rotten and one by one they fall away leaving fewer and fewer for you to pick. That's how I feel right now."

The Romulan eyed him for a moment. She understood what he meant, but the wording seemed a touch inaccurate. For all intents and purposes she still was very much gone. As far as she knew her official Starfleet record still stated MIA. Perhaps for the better. At the very least she would recognize the effort and raised her glass accordingly with a slight bow of her head. The sip was more bitter sweet than she was expecting, emotionally anyway.

"I thought about coming up with a new name and identity. Easy enough considering all the refugees milling around the Federation, but really... I've been taking note of all the families on this station. I miss mine. Truly, I do. How much grief I must have put them through. I'm thinking perhaps it's better I stay dead. Zero can do better than a plucky pilot with mood swings that would make Mount St Helens feel better about itself. Besides..."

She took a second, longer sip of the wine.

"...That Gavin fellow probably created a long list of suitors for her. Surely someone made the cut by now. You know, the nurses used to sometimes bring in flowers and small gifts because I was their only patient who never had any family visitors. Just Starfleet officials and armed guards. I got used to the solitude well enough, I mean it was better than prison. Managed to become quite familiar with the various soap operas on the subspace broadcasts. They're so melodramatic and vapid, but when you're stuck in a bed unable to move and some sick-minded Rear Admiral puts the remote out of reach, there's not much you can do about it. Want to know what the happiest moment I have of the last two years? The first time I was able to get from the bed to the bathroom and sit on the bloody toilet. The nurses made a cake for the occasion."