Drunken Confessions

Posted on Mon Feb 3rd, 2025 @ 7:52pm by Lieutenant Adrianna Baciami
Edited on on Mon Feb 3rd, 2025 @ 8:50pm

1,862 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Stars Around the Well
Timeline: Past

The cantina in Freecloud was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of cheap alcohol and the distant hum of a malfunctioning jukebox. Adrianna sighed as she hauled Vance’s arm over her shoulder, his weight pressing down heavily as she steered him towards his quarters in the Pendragon as it was closer than his place. She'd stayed sober, knowing that StarFleet were watching her a bit more closely these days.

He had drunk far too much, a rare indulgence, but the mission had gone well, and the crew had been in high spirits. Vance, however, had pushed himself past mere celebration, slurring his words and struggling to remain upright. Clearly returning to where his sister had been killed had hit him harder than he had expected.

She muttered a string of Italian curses under her breath as she keyed in the door code and manoeuvred him inside. He staggered towards the bed before collapsing onto it with a graceless thud, his head bouncing slightly against the pillow, taking her with him as she lost balance.

Adrianna shook her head standing up, to properly put him to bed– she couldn't stay, she had to check in with her handler. She pulled off his boots and loosened the fastenings of his jacket knowing that she wouldn't be able to manhandle him into taking it off completely. "You're a mess, amore mio," she murmured, not expecting a reply.

Ade grabbed a bucket from just outside of the door that had been used for a leak not too far away that was now fixed. She placed it near his bed and got him a glass of water and two aspirin.

But as she reached for the blanket to throw over him, Vance shifted, his expression softening in sleep. Then, to her surprise, he started speaking– mumbling in that half-conscious way of a man lost between dreams and reality.

"Lutz… mate… I’ve fallen for her," he muttered, his brow furrowing slightly as if even in sleep, the thought troubled him. "Not just… y'know… a fling or a joke. It’s different. It’s her."

Adrianna froze, her fingers tightening around the fabric of the blanket, her features softening into a smile.

"I can’t keep running forever," Vance continued, his words thick with exhaustion but laced with something raw– something honest, "Thinking about… settling down. Normal life. Zai’ll help. He knows places… off the grid. Somewhere we could just be." He exhaled deeply, his voice dipping into something almost wistful, "with her– she brings out the best in me. Something I thought I'd lost."

Adrianna swallowed hard, a lump forming in her throat. She hadn't expected this– not from the man she’d spent months shadowing, the smuggler captain with a reputation for being untouchable, emotionally and otherwise. Sure, they had appeared friends– the best of friends, and she had fallen for him in the process– they'd tried to make it work, but they just never managed to kiss or truly confess feelings. In truth they were a couple, but a strange one.

She brushed a few stray strands of hair from his forehead, letting her touch linger just a second too long. He had no idea she was Starfleet, no idea who she really was. And yet, in this moment, in the slurred confessions of a drunken dreamer, she saw the man beneath the mask. The man who wanted more than the life he’d built for himself.

The man who, if things were different, might have been hers– well, they would have been in a different year at the academy, but she always thought that somehow they would have found each other. Perhaps she was just a love struck woman.

Steeling herself, Adrianna pulled the blanket over him properly, smoothing it down before stepping back. She couldn't let this change anything– not yet. She had yet to find a way that would mean that she could keep in touch with her family and just disappear with him.

"Sleep well, Vance," she whispered, placing a feather-light kiss on his forehead, knowing he wouldn't remember this in the morning. And yet, part of her wished he would.

Adrianna should have left. She should have turned away, let the moment pass, and buried whatever this was deep enough that it couldn’t touch her. But Vance shifted again, his arm falling lazily across the bed, his lips parting as he continued speaking to his invisible friend, Lutz.

"Y’know, mate… she’s fire," he murmured, his voice slow, thick with sleep. "Sharp as hell. Too sharp for me, probably. She walks into a room, and suddenly it’s hers– like everyone else is just waiting for her to decide what happens next." He huffed a quiet, breathy laugh, the sound oddly fond, "And she’s trouble. Beautiful, impossible trouble. But behind those brown eyes– in the moments when it is just us– she's so vulnerable."

Adrianna swallowed, her chest tightening.

"She makes me think," Vance went on, shifting slightly, "Makes me feel. It’s not just the way she moves, or how she looks at me like she’s already figured out my next three moves. It’s… it’s her." He sighed, the sound almost defeated, "I don’t want to lose her, Lutz. But I might if I don't ask her. And I don't think… I don't think I could live without–."

Adrianna barely breathed, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.

Then he said it.

"She could tell me she was a murderer or Starfleet, and I’d love her."

The words hit her like a fist to the ribs. She actually took a step back, as if she could physically escape the weight of them. He had no idea– none– no idea about just how close he was to the truth.

Vance let out a quiet chuckle, half-muttered, "Wouldn't even blink. Just tell her she’s got a shit taste in career choices and marry her anyway."

Adrianna’s throat tightened. She had spent months trying to fool herself into thinking this was just a mission, playing a role, embedding herself so deeply into this life but, sometimes, she wasn’t sure where the act ended and she began.

But this? This was real.

He loved her.

Maybe not in the morning, when the hangover set in and the memory of this night slipped away like sand through his fingers. Maybe not when reality came crashing back in, and she remained just another piece of the puzzle in whatever game he thought he was playing.

But tonight, in the haze of drink and dreams, he loved her and had confessed it.

She had no idea what to do with that.

Adrianna sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at him, at the man who had unknowingly just unravelled her entire existence with a few slurred words that he wouldn't remember.

She could have walked away; she should have walked away. Let him sleep. Pretend this never happened. But the weight of the secret she had carried for months and months pressed down on her, heavier now than ever before. He had just said it– he could love her no matter what, even if she was Starfleet.

And for once, she wanted to believe him.

She exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her forehead before lowering it to rest lightly on his arm. "You're not going to remember this," she murmured, almost to herself, "So, maybe this is the only time I’ll ever be able to say it."

Vance remained still, lost in sleep, his brow relaxed now, the tension that so often lined his face momentarily gone.

She swallowed. Then, softly– so softly– she said it.

"I'm Starfleet Intelligence,” the words tasted foreign, dangerous, even here, in the quiet safety of his room, "I was sent to investigate you, to find out what you were up to, who you were dealing with." She let out a hollow laugh. "I was meant to get close, gain your trust. Madonna, I did, didn't I?"

She let herself trace the inside of his wrist with her thumb, a touch so light it could have been imagined.

"I tried to keep my distance. I told myself it was just the job, but then you had to go and be… you," she smiled faintly, shaking her head, "You weren’t supposed to be this– good. You weren’t supposed to make me feel things. And yet, here we are."

Her chest tightened.

"I fell in love with you, Vance," The words came out in a whisper, barely louder than the sound of his breathing, "somewhere between the lies, the jobs and the late nights, I stopped pretending. I didn’t– I don't– know how to fix it without breaking everything. I don't want to lose you."

She hesitated, knowing she should stop but there was one more thing, one last truth she owed him– even if he would never hear it.

"My name isn't Adrianna Reggimi," she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost fragile, "It’s Adrianna Baciami."

She had spent so long hiding, weaving lies over truths, burying parts of herself so deep she almost forgot they were there. But not tonight. Tonight, in this small, dimly lit room, she was just her.

She ran a hand through her hair, exhaling slowly. "You’ll wake up tomorrow with a headache and no memory of this," she murmured, "And I’ll reluctantly pretend it never happened. Just like always."

For a moment, she let herself imagine a different reality– one where she wasn’t undercover, where he wasn’t a smuggler, where they weren’t standing on opposite sides of a war neither of them had chosen.

Then she stood, gently pulling the blanket up over his shoulders, leaving a feather-light kiss on his cheek.

"Buonanotte, Capitano, Amore mio," she whispered. Then, before she could lose her nerve, she turned towards the door, her heart pounding as if trying to beat its way out of her chest. She had said too much, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t remember.

Then she saw it. A shift in the shadows. A presence she should have sensed earlier.

Her blood ran cold.

Lutz.

He was leaning against the door frame, half-shrouded in darkness, arms crossed over his chest. His expression was unreadable, but the sharpness in his gaze told her everything she needed to know.

He had heard everything.

For a long, painful moment, neither of them spoke. Then, in a low, measured voice, Lutz said, "Step outside. Now."

It wasn’t a request.

Adrianna swallowed hard, her pulse racing as she cast one last glance at Vance. He was still dead to the world, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing just feet away.

Squaring her shoulders, she silently made her way to the door, feeling Lutz’s presence like a shadow at her back. The moment the door slid shut behind them, he turned on her, pinning her with his forearm over her throat.

"Start talking," he ordered, voice low but firm, "And don’t even think about lying to me."

 

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