Fragments Of Their Souls

Posted on Wed Apr 29th, 2026 @ 9:19pm by Captain Malcom Llwyedd & Lieutenant Jackson Smith & Ensign Abigail Gordon

3,498 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Flashbacks and Side Quests
Location: Holosuite

[ON]

Back and forth, Abigail paced in her room, almost enough to make a furrow in the carpeting. Her footsteps not making a sound due to the luxurious floor covering. She had been worrying as to when she should approach Jackson. She'd not been able to find him. Well, he was a busy person, and she had been busy as well. Now, though, Abigail wanted to talk to him, and it was time to make the time to accomplish that.

She sent a message to Jackson, "Hi there, it's Abigail. Would you meet with me at the holodeck? I'd like to um see how you are doing?"

She quickly sent off the message, feeling her cheeks blush. Maybe Abigail shouldn't have done this, but, well. She had to know, right? She'd only had a glimpse of him at that party at Malcom's home, and that was that. She got pulled in a different direction and left that party.

Jackson's PADD chimed quietly in the Intelligence suite, pulling his attention away from a dense report on the Valkyrie's hull stress patterns. He scanned the sender and the content, a slow, appreciative smile spreading across his face.

He quickly typed out a response, his usual charm acting as an immediate, subtle defense:

"Abi, that's a welcome thought. I'm glad you reached out. Yes, I'd like to meet. Just let me know when it works best for you. - Jackson"

He paused, rereading the message. It was casual, direct, and effectively shifted the control of the schedule back to her, all while acknowledging her concern. He sent it and immediately felt a slight tension in his shoulders ease. The honest, uncomplicated presence of Abigail was a dangerous but necessary distraction.

"How about in an hour? And dress in civvies, please? I don't plan on being in uniform when I plan to do some walking, Abi."

Abigail wasn't certain just what sort of scenery they would be walking in; maybe Jackson would have a suggestion. She'll find out when he meets with her.

Jackson received the follow-up message from Abi and quickly responded, his own plans immediately adjusting to her request for casual attire and an earlier time.

"An hour works perfectly. Civvies it is—I always prefer those to the gray anyway. See you in Holodeck 4 at 1800. I have a scenic coastline hike near San Francisco in mind. Looking forward to it. - Jackson"

Jackson paused, a familiar ache of nostalgia hitting him as he finalized the program settings. He was deliberately choosing the cliff trails overlooking the Pacific near the city, a quiet, almost forgotten spot from his youth—a sanctuary he'd sought out during the rougher patches of his early life. It was a place that felt like his. He wouldn't share the significance with Abi, not yet, but the simple act of recreating the memory was a small, unconscious act of showing her a genuine part of himself. He closed his PADD, making a mental note to pull up the program settings before he left the Intelligence Suite.

A soft smile appeared when Abi saw the return message. A walk along the scenic coast of San Francisco. That was a beautiful place. She dressed appropriately, with comfortable shoes for walking, black cargo pants, and a light blue long-sleeve V-neck tee shirt.

Abigail arrived in front of the holo-suite on the dot to await Jackson's arrival. She was a little bit nervous; she didn't know why. Perhaps it was still the hints of what happened in the lounge; it sort of made her feel alien.

Jackson arrived shortly after, his pace quickening as he saw Abigail already waiting. A smile touched his lips. "It is good to see you," he said simply, motioning for her to follow as he stepped through the door.

He moved to the activation panel, his movements practiced. He entered the command code, and instantly, the sterile grid of the holodeck dissolved. The space transformed into the lustrous landscape of the California cliffs. They stood on a small, winding dirt path that overlooked the vast Pacific, the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks below a visceral, calming sound. The crisp, salty scent of the ocean drifted on a mild breeze.

Jackson turned to face Abigail, his expression relaxed as he took in the familiar, reconstructed vista. "What do you think?" he asked.

Abigail's eyes widened. It was just as beautiful as when she had first seen it when she was at the academy. A lonely cry of a seagull above caused her to look up, its wings catching the eddies of the wind as it floated effortlessly in the sky. Her black curls drifted back away from her shoulders, the wind teasing them.

"It is magnificent," turning her emerald green gaze back towards Jackson, smiling softly. "This is your favorite place?"

Jackson's mind flashed back to his youth: running along this very path, his heart pounding, overwhelmed by the dread he was trying to outrun. He absently brushed his hand across the rough leaves of a coastal sagebrush just off the side of the path, grounding himself in the present. He could feel the ghost of that urgency, panic, and overwhelming dread that had always pushed him along as he sought refuge, fleeing from the darkness. He closed his eyes and let those turbulent feelings fall away, letting a brief smile play upon his face as he knew what lay ahead.

He looked up at Abigail, and his breath caught slightly. She was framed perfectly by the wind and the sun—a picturesque portrayal of nature's ease.

"This?" he replied, his voice soft. "No, not my favorite place. This is just the path." He flashed a quick grin, dispelling the momentary solemnity. "Come, the best part isn't much farther." Jackson turned and quickly started making his way further down the path.

She caught the flicker of something in Jackson's eyes, saw the gentle brushing of his hand across the feathery wisps of the sage. It was as if he were grounding himself. Perhaps that was what the scent of the sage represented to him. She knew it did for her, Abi pulling off a sprig of the sage, taking in its scent, before she followed after Jackson. She noted that he was dressed comfortably for this walk and was eager to see what was at the end, which he considered to be his favorite place.

"I truly love this area," Abi commented, gazing around, her eyes catching the orange and black wings of a monarch butterfly, then a few others that could be seen. She was also keeping an eye out for Jackson to stay on track.

Jackson led her along the well-worn dirt path for another five minutes. The trail narrowed, and the cliff face became steeper, blocking the view of the open ocean. Just as the path seemed to end at a dense, low cluster of chaparral, Jackson stopped and pushed aside a thick screen of brush. Behind it, a narrow, shadowed opening appeared—a tight crevice between two large boulders.

"Watch your step here," he murmured, slipping sideways into the gap.

Abi followed, the rock walls pressing close on either side, forcing her to move carefully. The air immediately grew cooler and held a richer scent of damp earth and moss. The crevice wound downward for about twenty feet before abruptly opening onto a wide, sheltered inlet.

It was breathtaking. The secluded shore was a crescent of sand and smooth, dark stone, protected from the open ocean by rocky bluffs. The water here was calm, clear, and perfectly peaceful. The waves, which had been crashing violently against the outer cliffs, merely sighed as they met the shore of the inlet.

Directly ahead, at the base of the tallest bluff, was a dark, broad opening in the stone—a cave, mysterious and wonderful. The mouth of the cave led through the bluff, and as they watched, a wave receded, revealing the sun streaming through the opening on the far side. The sunlight hit the water-covered rocks inside, causing them to glitter magically in a kaleidoscopic play of light.

Jackson stopped, letting the sound of the water fill the quiet. He took a deep, satisfied breath.

"This," he said, turning to Abigail, his smile now genuine and unguarded, "this is my favorite place."

His eyes drifted back to the cave entrance. "It was shown to me by my si.., a friend," he added, the word feeling inadequate, yet necessary, officially, he didn't have a sister.

A brief, sharp memory flashed through him: the cave entrance, but viewed through the haze of agonizing pain. He was younger, his left side screaming from the deep, jagged cuts from the knife fight he had been forced into with a gang member. The friend—the girl he considered his sister—had brought him here, away from the concrete darkness of the city, to recover physically and mentally. It had been the first time he had truly hurt someone, leaving a boy bleeding and possibly dying. The isolation of this inlet had been his first real sanctuary from the life he was trapped in.

Jackson's hand drifted to his side, where he still had the scars of that day. He shook the memory off, and Jackson stepped off the dirt path and onto the smooth stones of the inlet shore. "It's the only place I know where the rest of the world genuinely stops," he finished, offering her his hand to navigate the last slippery step to the sand. "Come on."

Abigail was grateful for Jackson's strong, steady hand in helping her get to the sand. She had felt the sole of her shoe slipping, and a quick flash of falling unceremoniously to the small beach in front of Jackson burst through her mind. She gripped his hand tightly, feeling relieved by the solidness of the ground beneath her feet. A world away from the world, turning to look at where they had come from. Still holding his hand.

"This--is amazing," she softly uttered. Turning to regard Jackson. "You had a sister? I know you changed your wording to say friend, a sister."Abigail stated. "Someone who is close to you, an adopted person, can still call the person a sister. Or a brother-" Abigail, thinking of having adopted a friend she had known when she was young and had grown up with.

She had noticed the slight grimace of pain Jackson had given and the gentle rub he had done on his rib. "Are you okay?"

Jackson nodded, his expression smoothing into a practiced mask of calm. "Yeah, I am good," he insisted. He walked across the sand, the tide beginning its slow, rhythmic crawl toward their feet. "She was a close friend. Basically, an older sister."

Internally, Jackson felt the friction of the lies Starfleet had woven into his record. His official file was a masterpiece of blandness: a normal upbringing in a mid-range Terran city, supportive parents, a clean school record. The reality—the knife fights, the gang initiations, the nights spent hiding in this very cave to let his wounds knit—was a ghost that haunted the edges of his mind.

"She would bring me here when things would get to be too much," he admitted, his voice barely audible over the surf. "It helped."

He turned toward a large, jagged rock that sat like a silent sentinel as the water began to swirl around its base. He quickly untied his boots and removed his socks, placing both up on the dry sand. He winked at Abi and moved out into the water. With the muscle memory of a boy who had spent a hundred afternoons here, he leaped up onto its surface, his feet finding perfect purchase. He reached his hand back down toward Abi, the sunlight from the far end of the cave tunnel catching the water and reflecting a shimmering, golden light across his face.

"It's worth it, trust me," he said, his eyes inviting her to share the view from the top.

She had taken her shoes off, Abigail eager to feel the water upon her feet. Her eyes filled with wonder at the scenery. It was so beautiful, and for a brief moment, she was transfixed by the golden light playing upon his face. Stepping into the water, she reveled in feeling it caress her feet. She waded towards where Jackson was and took his hand, grateful for his assistance. She managed with his assistance to climb up, finding herself next to him.

Jackson smiled, feeling the welcome warmth of Abi next to him on the narrow ledge. Instead of looking out toward the open horizon, he sat facing the rugged cliffside of the inlet. He motioned with a slight tilt of his head, inviting her to look exactly where he was focused.

As the sun began its slow descent, it aligned perfectly with the jagged mouth of the sea cave. The light peeked through the tunnel that cut straight through the heart of the cliff to the open water on the other side, creating a brilliant, concentrated corridor of fire. The rising tide lapped at both ends of the passage, and as the waves surged, the sunbeams kissed the wet, jagged rocks within, making them sparkle like a hoard of scattered emeralds and gold.

"This is where I would come," Jackson said, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper, "when the darkness would become too much."

The rhythmic sound of the water echoing through the stone chamber seemed to pull the tension from his shoulders. For a moment, the weight of his past deeds and the lies in his file felt a million light-years away.

The view was so beautiful, Abigail giving out a quick intake of breath, then a quiet "This is so wonderous, and magical." leaning her head against Jackson's shoulder, as she gazed outward in the direction he was looking.

The way the light danced upon the waves and the rising tide made Abi want to visit the very spot that this holoprogram was based upon. Shyly she murmured,

"If we have the chance, would you show this to me, whenever we get back to Earth?" Abi said, feeling her cheeks heat up at her bold request.

"U-unless my being shown would be intrusive." Which isn't what she would like to be.

Jackson stared into the cave, lost in the brilliance of the shimmering gold. A few moments passed as he contemplated the weight of her request. Could he go back? The silence of the inlet seemed to wait for his answer, the only sound the rhythmic pulse of the tide.

"It would not be intrusive," he said, his voice steady and sincere. He offered her a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "You are more than welcome to come with me the next time I go."

"I would love that very much," Abigail responded with a warm smile.

"And -" she was hesitant for a moment, then Abigail asked, "Have you ever traveled upon an old-fashioned train? A locomotive?"

He looked at her, his expression one of genuine, amused confusion.

"Those are definitely English words, but I have no idea what you're talking about," he admitted, letting out a light, rhythmic chuckle. He shifted his weight, leaning back slightly on his hands. "But it sounds like a lovely time. Please, tell me all about this... 'locomotive.'"

Looking towards Jackson, Abigail thought for a moment as to how to explain the aspect of a locomotive.

"The best way for me to tell you about them. it is said a picture is worth a thousand words," she held out her hands.
"Computer, give me access to my photo file of a locomotive, 1880's, patterned after Abigail Gordon's family picture; file 42."

A small book appeared in her outstretched hands, Abigail opening it up to where there is an image of herself, in a simple work dress from the Civil War era, along with her were her parents, her three brothers, dressed in period costume.
Her dress was dark blue, with a bonnet upon her head.

Behind them was the engine of the locomotive, run by steam. The color of the main engine was glossy black, with gold trim, and the cover over the area where the engineer stood was red in color. In the image, a cloud of steam had been captured coming from the smoke stack.

"It's better to experience it physically. Later on, I could take you on a journey via the holodeck. If you so desire." Abigail said, having a beaming smile as she looked up from the photo to Jackson.

Jackson moved in closer, his shoulder brushing against hers as he looked at the photograph. To a man who had spent his life surrounded by warp cores and sleek hulls, the machine in the picture looked impossibly heavy, a literal iron beast of glossy black and gold, venting a captured ghost of white steam into the sky.

But Jackson’s eyes only briefly lingered on the engine. They locked instead on the faces in the foreground. He saw a younger Abigail, her bonnet casting a soft shadow over a face filled with light, flanked by brothers who looked at the camera with a protective, easy camaraderie. He could practically feel the warmth of the scene, a sense of genuine love and belonging that radiated from the old-fashioned paper.

The pit in his stomach grew, a familiar, hollow ache. For a split second, he saw a stark reflection of everything he hadn't had, a "normal" childhood where memories were treasures rather than scars to be buried.

He glanced up at her, catching the twinkle in her eyes as she shared this fragment of her soul with him. It was a gift, and he knew it. Jackson leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping into a quiet, focused intimacy.

"Please," he murmured, his hazel eyes betraying a momentary, sharp flicker of sorrow and a deep-seated hunger to understand this world of hers. Then, it was quickly covered with genuine curiosity. "Tell me more about your childhood. What was it like?"

At first, Abigail was hesitant to share her own family's past and how it was for her, compared to those whom she'd come across. Her life seemed almost perfect, unlike a few who had spoken of their lost six hours. It made her feel a little bit isolated. It seemed that how dare she have a nice family situation and was raised in what appeared to be idyllic surroundings.

She had noticed the pained expression in Jackson's eyes, and knew some what he shared with her from his past. Still, though, he did look interested in hearing about her childhood. And so she shared her past. Just little tidbits, things that were funny, things that she had done, little accidents caused by her klutziness, like the one with the cake, which ended up on her head by sheer accident.

"I had dropped something on the floor, in my haste to get back to frosting the rest of the cake, I hit the edge of the pan I was using to frost it on. It sent the cake flying. I tried to catch it, and instead, much to my chagrin, I ended up wearing the cake. And it was such a lovely chocolate cake! Ian, my other brothers, James, and Artemus decided to pluck some of the cake off of me, not to let it go to waste. That was their reasoning."

Giving a giggle, Abigail showed the image to Jackson, the image that her parents had taken. And she had a hat of cake and some of it on her shoulders. With icing on her face. And her brothers 'helping' her get the cake off her.

Jackson chuckled, the sound deep and resonant as he studied the picture. The tightness that usually lived in his shoulders seemed to evaporate, and his lips turned into a genuine, effortless smile that reached all the way to his eyes. It was a balm to his soul to witness the raw, messy beauty of her family, a glimpse into a life where the only "attacks" came from brothers wanting a piece of cake.

"You absolutely have to tell me more," he said, his voice warm and inviting as he settled back against the smooth stone, his gaze never leaving her. "I have a feeling I’m going to need the full history of the Gordon family antics if I’m going to keep up with you."

Abigail beamed, leaning back as the first stars of the holoprogram began to twinkle above the mouth of the cave, ready to dive into the next story.

[OFF]

Ensign Abigail Gordon
Nurse
USS Firebird NCC-88298


Lieutenant Jackson Smith
Chief Flight Control Officer / Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Firebird NCC-88298

 

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