The Rain

Posted on Mon Jun 30th, 2025 @ 2:47pm by Lieutenant JG Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil

1,498 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Character Backstories
Location: Bainet, Haiti, Earth
Timeline: 5 April 2385 - Late Evening

The rain came steady against the window slats, the sound of the water gathering in deep pools along the eaves, slipping along in rivulets before its inevitable return to ground. It was nature's music in an otherwise empty kitchen.

Jean-Baptiste sat at the small table, shoulders drawn in tight, his hands wrapped around a chipped brown mug of steaming te jenjanm. The scent of fresh ginger and lime curled invisibly in the air, sharp and earthy.

Judeline moved quietly beside him, her robe sleeves brushing against the countertop as she prepared another pot. She hovered close, her watchfulness almost as tangible as her touch.

Pierre-Henri leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed, collar slightly askew from a long day of meetings and little respite. His eyes softened when they landed on his on, but they remained sharp around the edges--typical for a father who reserved judgment. Watching, waiting.

JB took a slow sip of his tea. The warmth failed to chase-out the chill inside of him. He set the mug down and ran a hand across his face.

"They locked us down in the dorms after the attack," he began, voice low, rough around the edges. "Said it was for our safety. Nobody really knew what was happening. The channels were a mess." He drew a breath. "When they finally let us out, I... I tried to reach Jacq. She's a pilot so they just reassigned her--no graduation, nothing at all."

"Where is she?" inquired Judeline, a note of concern in her voice.

"Titan Station--defense squadron."

Judeline's fingers brushed over the back of his hand like a soft anchor.

"I tried to get to her before she left. Security intervened," he said, pausing to catch a breath that seemed not to come easy.

Pierre-Henri's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean they intervened?"

JB raised his eyes, meeting his father's gaze. "I lost my temper." His eyes dropped, shame tightening in his shoulders. "Struck an officer. They arrested me on the spot."

Pierre-Henri's brows drew together, but he didn't say anything.

JB exhaled sharply, like he was trying to clear something lodged in his chest. "Admiral Spyvee stepped in. He knew exactly who I was. He mentioned both of you. Said something about introducing you." His gaze meandered upward, looking from one face to the other.

Pierre-Henri's expression shifted at the mention of Spyvee. There was something old and familiar that seemed to register in his eyes, like happy memories that hadn't been recalled in eons.

"They offered me a way out," JB continued. "Intelligence. Specialized training as a field analyst. I'd continue my final year of studies at the Academy, but I'd be part of an off-campus program too. They framed it as a chance to redirect myself--to serve differently." His fingers curled around the mug again. It had cooled somewhat in the time that had passed but JB couldn't be sure if it was the cool air of the kitchen or the the chill he felt between himself and his parents.

"It feels like a cage disguised as a second chance. Or maybe the other way around. I can't tell." He paused, the words dragging him down like a slow undertow.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye to her," he added, his voice low as a whisper. "I don't even know if she would've listened. I don't know if she wanted me to try."

Judeline sat down beside him, the hem of her robe rustling against her bare ankles. She turned his hand palm-up, her thumb tracing the calluses across his knuckles. "Ou se pitit mwen," she murmured. ("You are my child.") "You are my son before you are anyone else's soldier or officer or anything. You do not have to decide alone."

Pierre-Henri stepped forward, placing one hand firmly on JB's other shoulder. "Spyvee is a good man. But Jean-Ba, his world is not always kind to gentle hearts," he said, his voice tired and hoarse. "I know you think you have to carry this alone. But you don't."

JB closed his eyes, leaning more into their warmth.

When he finally looked up again, his eyes were red, though no tears had yet fallen. "They're waiting for an answer. I don't know if I'm ready to give them one."

Pierre-Henri squeezed his shoulder. "Then let them wait. Tonight, you are home. And you are with us."

Judeline's thumb paused on his palm, still and sure. "Rest first. The choice will come clearer in the morning," she said softly. "We will face it together."

A shuddering breath escaped JB's lungs as he nodded.

Outside, the rain beat on in its gentle and relentless way. Perhaps it would keep the world at bay for a little longer.


* * *


The rain slackened after midnight, turning from a steady percussion on the tin eaves to a reluctant whisper, thin and infrequent. Jean-Baptiste stepped out onto the rooftop terrace barefoot, carrying the data PADD like a relic he wasn't sure he ought to touch.

The air smelled of wet clay and woodsmoke drifting up from somewhere farther down the hill. The bay lay beyond in the dark, a black expanse broken only by scattershot lanterns on returning fishing skiffs. The old iron railing gleamed under the weak, artificial glow of a security floodlight, as if someone had taken a blade to the night and left only its bones.

He sat on a low cement ledge, the PADD resting on his knees. He hadn't bothered to change clothes, the damp still clinging to his trousers and cuffs from earlier. A few strands of hair curled against his forehead, wet with sweat or rain--it's didn't really matter.

He thought of the dinner table below, the chipped ceramic mugs, his mother's eyes soft with the worry she tried and and failed to hide. His father's long silences, as if the words might poison the air if he set them loose from behind his lips.

In the hush of the rooftop, he finally touched the playback icon.

Jacqueline's face appeared on the small screen, slightly off-center, her hair swept back as if she'd been in a hurry. Even in stillness, there was motion in her. A woman made of flight paths and afterburn, of sudden dawn departures.

She hesitated before she spoke. A small crease had formed above her brow. Her eyes darting off-screen, then returning to him as if she could see through the device:

"JB... I don't know if this will reach you before I leave. I don't know if you'll even want to hear it.

They gave me orders, and I took them. I didn't hesitate because I couldn't. You know what we signed up for. You know the line between duty and love has always been narrower than a blade.

You were never a safety net for me. You were a horizon. You made me think there might be another way to live, to serve, that wasn't just flight plans and grey skies.

But I have to go where they need me--especially after today. And I need you to become who you're meant to be, too. Even if that means you can't follow me this time.

I didn't want to say goodbye in person. Because if I saw you--really saw you--I wouldn't have left."

She stopped, her mouth twitching like she wanted to say more but had lost the language for it. Her fingers rose as if to reach for him, then fell back out of frame.

"Find your way, JB. I'll be somewhere out there, hoping you do."

The recording ended. The night folded back around him like a cloak.

He set the PADD beside him on the ledge. Rested his elbows on his knees. Watched the dark roll and shift over the water like a slow animal.

He felt the thin place inside his chest where something old and tender had once lived. Felt it collapse in on itself, wordless.

A dog barked in the distance, the sound bouncing off the wet concrete. Somewhere below, a rooster let out a confused, hoarse cry at the hour.

Jean-Baptiste rubbed his palms together, leaned forward, and pressed his forehead to his hands.

He stayed like that a long while.

The quiet wasn't gentle. It pressed close, unrelenting, like the sea on black rocks.

And in that hush, he knew she had been right: if he had seen her face, if he had been able to touch her shoulder at that hangar, he might have given up the future entirely. In a strange way, not reaching her had cost him that same future.

He felt the night breathing around him. Heard the soft pulse of his blood.

Somewhere inside that ache, a choice was forming.

But, for now, he stayed where he was.

Listening to the rain returning in light, hesitant drips across the tiles. Watching the horizon continuing to hold its silent line.


* * *


Cadet Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil
Starfleet Academy
Earth

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