A/N: Just a little thing to tide us over between chapters of Bostanai. As many of you know, I love doing my minor character pairings and reading into body language and little gestures. This ficlet uses the Rostov and Kelly headcanons I developed in Musings on a Dead Stop. Rostov is so easy to bend into a pairing because he might actually be the elusive everyman that romantic comedies try so hard to nail down. Bless his soul, and those cute little dimples too.

Next time: Archer/Trip slash? I think so.

Musings on Vox Sola

Rostov/Kelly

Crewman Michael Rostov had never paid much attention to movie nights until she had joined his team.

It seemed to be a constant in the universe. Planets revolved around their stars, Enterprise pressed on through the dimensionless ether of space, and Commander Tucker always picked the most asinine films to showcase every Monday night.

He'd seen Wages of Fear dozens of times already. His roommate at MIT was a classic film buff, and that often meant that he would bring out data modules and force Michael to sit through the criterion collection's commentary of movies that hadn't been interesting when they first aired fifty years ago, and sure as hell weren't that interesting now. But somehow they had endured the test of time through world wars and desolation, so that warranted his respect at least partially.

Michael didn't hate a lot of things, but he detested French cinema. From his perspective, it was all snooty elitists in berets trouncing about Parisian boulevards and speaking rapidly in breathy tones, as if it was their sole goal to make things difficult to the people who made the subtitles. Perhaps it was his wont as a Russian expatriate to abhor the French, but he didn't like to dwell on it very much.

What had consumed his thoughts for much of the past month was not a movie or engineering concept, but a beautiful young lady that had just been promoted to alpha shift. Crewman Jacqueline Kelly was an astrometrics specialist by trade, which had translated fairly well into their department when she had enlisted two years prior.

Having been born and raised in the Bronx, she conducted herself with the sort of no nonsense attitude that Michael had come to expect from none other than Chief himself. However, unlike Commander Tucker, her skin was ebony and her eyes were the color of fine European chocolate. She wore her hair tied back in a low ponytail, much like a majority of the female crewmen did, and she always smelled faintly of vanilla. Not to mention that she was rumored to have incredible skills wielding the hyperspanner.

Rostov was immediately smitten.

She seemed a little standoffish at first, preferring to focus on her work than socialize, but eventually she had warmed up to the well intentioned goofball. They had enjoyed many a supper together in the company of fellow crewmen from engineering, and Michael had even enlisted her help for a few of his legendary pranks, but they had yet to make anything official. With any luck, that would change tonight.

He'd meant to be spontaneous in his suggestion to escort her to the movie. At the beginning of their shift, he had broached the subject and was pleased that she seemed enthused about the idea. Nevertheless, as the day continued and they immersed themselves in upgrades to the engines, movie night was all but forgotten.

"We're going to have to sit in the back," he says to her as he descends the staircase to the bottom level. The strained tone of his speech betrayed his anxiety that she had forgotten about her promise, or worse yet, was deliberately leading him on because she didn't want to go with him.

Kelly didn't even look up at him. Her eyes were trained on the controls before her as she adjusted measurements for the intake valves on the impulse drive. "One minute," she replies, her voice saccharinely sweet.

"I hate missing the beginning," he confesses, although it's a blatant lie. Michael is beginning to grow frustrated with what he perceives to be her purposeful attempts to evade him. He lays his hands on the rungs of the ladder, prepared to climb atop the engine to reach her.

"It's on the computer. You can watch it whenever you want." When she glances back to him, he's relieved to see her eyes flash with mischief.

"It's not the same, Jackie. I don't want to go back and watch the beginning when I know how it ends," he grouses, pretending to swoon in mock distress. After working the film up to her by relaying Tucker's reactions to it, he hoped he hadn't let her on to the fact that he'd already seen it. There was a part near the end that always made him cry. He had childishly planned ahead for the moment where he could console his paramour; although it was more likely that she would wind up holding him after everything was said and done.

An alarm goes off on the screen before her. Laughter cut short, she concludes, "The power just went off on D deck, cargo bay two. The lighting grid's down."

Like hell he was going to let his chance at romance get away from him. "It's probably just a blown relay. Leave it for the night shift!"

Having come from beta shift, and earlier than that from gamma, Jacqueline was indignant to have jokes made at her colleagues' expense. "If it's just a blown relay, it'll take you ten minutes to fix."

He catches the flashlight she throws him, followed by a scanner. "Here, the comm's out too."

Noticing how amused she appeared at the entire situation, Michael decided that he couldn't be angry. He respected her too much for her devotion to her work. This was the very same woman that had worked her way through university waiting tables and had eventually graduated top of her class. He certainly couldn't say the same.

Whistling to himself as he makes his way down to the pertinent deck, Rostov begins to think fondly forward to unwinding with Jacqueline during the movie.

-0-

His curiosity had again proven to be his downfall. Seconds before being the first victim of the strange gelatinous creature that had taken up residence in the cargo bay, he had opened his communicator to report an odd sort of intruder.

It had been twenty minutes since Jacqueline sent him out on a mission, and five minutes since she had been ready to leave for movie night. She had even stepped into the bathroom to freshen up, taking the time to fluff her hair and apply a bit more of her signature perfume.

"Engineering," she answers the hail. When there's no response, she rolls her eyes. "Michael, is that you?"

In the background, there's a faint noise that sounds suspiciously like the trickling of fluid. It takes her a few seconds to realize that this can't be one of his pranks, because the bumbling idiot she had grown to know and love couldn't possibly be this cryptic.

Taking a flashlight for herself, she begins the trek down to cargo bay two.

-0-

Being a part of the creature was almost like an out of body experience. He's completely aware of his surroundings, but unable to respond. In the back of his mind, he knows that there's someone else in the room with him, and they're saying, "There's some sort of life form in here!"

He recognizes the voice instantly, feeling illogically comforted by the presence of his friend. A few moments later, she's panicked. "It's got Rostov, sir! He's conscious, but he can't—"

Rostov. That was who he was. For a second it had slipped his mind. There's a gasp, then the monster lurches as it takes hold of its next target.

He's barely clinging on to consciousness now. Everything he sees through his slit eyelids appears to be shimmering, as if he's in a lucid dream. He's connected to Jacqueline now, and because he's having difficulty connecting cause with consequence, he feels irreverently pleased about this. He can sense her thoughts, and suspects that she can sense hers, too. And although they can't escape, at least they're surrounded within and without each other.

It was sure to be a splendid sort of discovery.