it's the only way i can escape }{ OPEN

[ethnobotany]

(( OOC: potential content warnings all over this for mentions of horror game content, telepathic violation, telepathic control of another, sexual harassment, death, etc. Basically, the doctor is not having a good month. ))


The only good thing to have come of Zelien was the ability to deal with horrific and traumatizing events as they happened. Afterwards is another story. Beverly had thought that being able to deal with the events themselves meant that she could deal with everything Q conjured up for them because it was over. She thought she would be fine.

She was wrong. She was so wrong.

The thing Zelien had yet to teach her was how to deal with the aftereffects of trauma. The nightmares flare again, worse than what Q had offered them recently, and even shadows make her twitchy. Memories, fears, anything traumatic that her mind could conjure up, it did. People might not want to be around her this month. She startles at the slightest movement and sometimes her instinct is self-defense, protection, because her mind remembers Zelien and the cultists, the soldiers who jeered, leered, called, and harassed.

The nightmares have her wrestling with the sheets, memories of Jev the Ullian -- was that his name? Have they been here yet? Does she need to prepare for that? -- or Ronin, different contexts, but both violations of her mental self. Of course, both lead to other nightmares of her husband's dead body or some Victorian man about 35 years old not only forcing her into his bed, but forcing her to enjoy it. Sometimes Wesley dies in place of Jack and she wakes up sobbing. Sometimes Jean-Luc's lifeless body haunts her, the Borg come in to take over the ship yet again, or the entire crew is systematically murdered to torment her. The last to die is always Jean-Luc because her subconscious mind knows that his death will haunt her the most. These and others cause her to bolt out of her quarters in the dead of night out of sheer, blind panic, heading for somewhere she can feel safe.

Most of the time, she can be found in a corner of the Arboretum. Here, she is either asleep, though it's a fitful sleep that she wakes easily from and often in a state of terror; sitting with her hands over her ears and eyes squeezed shut against that feeling of panic; or sitting with her knees tucked up to her chin and a dead look to her eyes while she stares straight ahead. When she isn't there, she might be in the holodeck, using a program of an open meadow. No walls or buildings will be in sight, not even that new cabin that she would so love normally. She remembers so clearly those buildings on that campus, remembers the sights and sounds and smells of the acid. Stomach acid. Like the buildings were alive and trying to eat them all. At least the meadow means nothing will be eating her alive. When she isn't in either of those places, she's likely in the gym, practicing Mok'bara to meditate and calm her nerves. Intruders might want to make their presence known before they startle her. Beverly is back to being twitchy and that means nothing good will come of it. What she needs are distractions, as many as possible, and people who are willing to work with her trauma.

She'll get better over the course of the month, but in the beginning and middle, she is not doing well at all.

Comments

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

Regardless of her twitchiness, there was not a lot of things you could do to a man who's dead. Bob preferred to be in the Arboretum. For one, the flowers are actually real here. For another, he has some experience, given the hard winters of where he grew up and lived most of his life.

He bent down to rub the cabbage leaves, before looking over at her when she jerks away. "Hello, Doctor," he greeted her, louder than he might have if she was waking normally, but otherwise utterly not acknowledging her mental state.

[ethnobotany]

It's a good thing he does announce himself so well. It's also a good thing that she's curled up in a corner, not asleep and not with her hands over her ears. She peers up at him, as though trying to decide if she's seen him before or not.

"Hello," she answers slowly. It takes her a minute, but then her nature kicks in. "Is there... can I help you with something?"

[bob_fraser_rcmp]

He smiles. "I may have a strange case of deja vu, Doctor," he remarks. She asked him the same when she first arrived. "I could make you some bark tea, if you like."

[general_chang]

General Chang tends to move quietly as a rule and he's not concerned with setting the Doctor off. He's slightly more interested in her performing the Mok'bara, but not surprised. The Klingon security officer explained that much.

He noticed she was far too tense.

[ethnobotany]

He would probably be surprised to find out that the Worf of her time has also taught her to wield a bat'leth. She doesn't do it often, but she knows how.

As it is, she isn't immediately aware that someone is watching. As soon as she is, she wheels to face him, hands stretched out in front of herself. "Hello?" she calls cautiously, her experiences in Zelien tainting her ability to be friendly.

[general_chang]

Possibly, though Chang's mood varies on that what he expects from Starfleet. He looks at her, probing her, but not aggressive. Not that might mean all that much in view of how he looks and how tense Beverly is.

"Hello," he says back.

[radishearring]

Luna had been in the Arboretum quite often outside of classes since the nightmares were almost eating her alive emotionally. The manor had invaded and given how recent it all was (at least it felt that way) the effects on the young witch were at its worst and most painful (which made her recovery even slower). But in an attempt at pretending everything was fine she had her sketchbook and was working on a project,"Wonder how an herb garden would work in a place like this?" she muses aloud.

But she knew if the Death Eaters were to find her she could fight back even with a bad wrist.

Her eyes however spoke another and much darker tale.

[ethnobotany]

It's one of the rare times that Beverly is curled up to watch the plants rather than curled up in fear. When she hears someone nearby, she manages to glance over, almost listlessly, but with a small amount of interest.

"That depends on what you would want to do with one," she answers. "I don't... think it would be a bad idea."

[radishearring]

Luna opened the sketchbook to a very rough idea,"Small scale I'm thinking, just enough to lend other magic users in need of herbs and the like a hand." she explained. But next to the herb garden was a sketch of a 1960s inspired top and matching earrings, showing another side of the girl. "Helped out on and off with one at school." thinking of Hogwarts.

Arboretum

[treadswater]

Annie is usually at a loss with other people's traumas, or so she thinks. She knows victors, in some general trends, and she knows those she's lived with, and she knows herself. She's getting to know Beverly, but it's still so much guesswork.

But.

Beverly is her friend, so Annie tries. She treats the woman as normal, where she can. Trying to pull her out of the nightmare her brain has settled itself into. They have their gardening project, which makes it easier to interact with the woman without being too pushy.

At least, so Annie hopes.

But then sometimes all Annie knows is to be pushy, in her way. Try and drag a person back to something like the here and now and plans. So one day, once she's done some measurements of the peonies, she flops down near Beverly. Not quite next to, but near.

"If, um. If you wanted some distraction, I could use some advice. On a good thing," she adds.

[ethnobotany]

Beverly has greatly appreciated the distractions Annie has provided her. At this point, she knows she hasn't been the greatest company, but the fact that Annie is even trying means the world to her.

Beverly is still trying to adjust to being like this, to living a life and being a person who can be triggered like this. She's never been before, but apparently Zelien did more of a number on her than she had known at the time. Coming to terms with everything she experienced there and the Borg in her universe and now coming here to this one has been hard. Nothing is easy anymore and with the nightmares come the flashbacks.

The trauma.

The pain.

The utter and controlling fear.

As Annie flops down, Beverly shifts, letting one of her arms open a little bit. She wouldn't mind being tactile with Annie, but that depends on Annie's feelings towards hugs today.

"What kind of advice?" she asks, her tone curious, though her voice is soft.

[element_wizard]

Since Phoenix showed up, Alec's head has been a bit on the flipped side. But Phoenix tended to do that to him. Having a moment to himself, he'd not exactly escaped - but sort of did - to the Arboretum with his guitar like instrument. It was only an escape in that he knew - they both knew - that Alec needed his own space and if he stuck around Phoenix too much before they sorted everything out, Alec'd be following him around like a love-sick puppy.

Which is kinda depressing.

But he's not going to think about that one.

He does spot Beverly as he crossed the way and frowned briefly, then he continued a little bit past her and plopped down in a spot that he could see her without turning his head but without looking directly at her. Pulling the instrument around he started to tune it, humming "American Pie" softly as he did so.

[ethnobotany]

It takes her a minute to notice that anyone else is nearby. The sound of music draws her, catching her attention, and she glances over to see who it is. The face is familiar, welcome. She can handle seeing him.

"...Alec?" she calls after a few minutes, when he has paused and she isn't in danger of interrupting anything.

Gym!

[fishermansweater]

It's been eleven years since Finnick won the Hunger Games. Eleven years, but he's still as tall, athletic, and physically capable as he always was. Not just because of natural skill, but because of training. Hard training, exercise, practice: swimming, running, sparring with the other victors, and the simple daily exertion of fishing and sailing kept him fit and practiced, and he used those skills every year as a mentor. Training for the Quarter Quell had only honed what were already sharp abilities.

Since he got here, his opportunities for training have been less extensive, but he's been using the gym and starting to use the holodeck. He spends time most days in the martial arts training ares in the gym, working on techniques he's picked up in the martial arts classes he's started, combining them with the brutal, effective style he'd learned as a child.

He can spend hours here, and he does, but today he's only halfway through his workout when he sees Beverly approach. It's a sign that she's not at her best that she doesn't seem to notice him. He hadn't known she was a martial artist; whatever she's practicing looks more meditative than combative, but he can see the potential in it.

He starts his cool-down, keeping a wary eye on Beverly, and it's only some time later he actually approaches her, his bare arms still glistening with sweat.

"Hey, Beverly."

[ethnobotany]

Beverly has learned a few Klingon things over the years, mostly Mok'bara, but she can wield a bat'leth if she needs to. Luckily for everyone, she does not actually have a weapon with her or things would likely be worse than they already are. Right now, she doesn't want to fight; she wants to meditate herself into a sense of calm. Or at least try.

She doesn't notice Finnick's presence until he speaks and fortunately, she has finished the latest sequence and is pausing before beginning again. His voice is calm and familiar enough not to upset her. He is right that she is far from her best. The haunted look to her eyes is back, the one she had worn when they had first met. At least this time they know each other better and will hopefully not set each other off.

"Hi. Finnick. I didn't realize you were in here."

Obviously.

Arboretum

[dark_lady_sariss]

The Arboretum had quickly become part of her plans. There was life here, quite a lot of it - and she was certain she could draw on it. If she were to restore her connection to the dark side, it would begin here, and she could twist the life here to her will.

At least, that was her desperate hope. The irony of the emotion was not lost on her.

She came across the physician, and regarded her coldly. There was something about this one. A pain she felt she could use.

"Ah, Doctor. What a...pleasant surprise." And the brief smile that crossed her face had nothing to do with pleasantness.

[ethnobotany]

The funny thing about this doctor is that, even though she might be in quite a lot of pain right now, she's hard to control, difficult to manipulate. At least without pulling on her ties to people, her fear of loss. She doesn't intimidate easily, not even in this mindset. Perhaps especially in this mindset. Zelien hardened her quite a bit and after those nightmares her mindset right now is mostly fight.

Regardless, she is wary when anyone approaches and she eyes this woman she barely knows. "Hello," she says slowly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Gym, early month

[youwillbe]

The ghosts really did a number on Yoda. The thing about Charon and then Zelien was that for all it had been nearly a year since everything went so wrong, he'd scarcely had a moment to truly consider what had happened. And Q had brought him face to face with all the children he had taught. All the children who had been cut down without standing a chance. Even the grown ones had scarcely stood one.

He'd only known Beverly briefly in Zelien, but he remembered her meditation. And he suspects it may work better than his still varieties under the circumstances.

It is rude to interrupt someone in the midst of meditation, so he once again waits for a natural break in the rhythm before getting her attention. "Join you, may I?"

[ethnobotany]

They seem to do this a lot, don't they? Beverly is aware of him this time, but only because she hasn't yet found any semblance of balance and calm. When he finally speaks, she's just shifted out of her meditation, the memories flooding back into her mind, much as she tries to push them away. Still, she manages a tight smile.

"Of course. I should have known you would find me. We seem to have a habit of meeting like this."

Aboretum

[lost_singularity]

DJ wasn't a stranger to disrupted and horrible sleeps - being a victim of trauma himself. At times in the dead of night he could be found with his guitar up in the Arboretum, taking solace in the plant life and solitude. On the occasion he could be found taking brief naps in places around the ship as well - but tonight he was wide awake.

He was looking for a comfortable spot to settle when he had spotted Beverly in a quiet corner. She looked ragged and pale and didn't look like she was resting well at all. DJ didn't need to have empathy to know and understand what she was going through. He didn't know the how's or the why's but he could understand. He had recognized the kind woman from the funeral party and decided to at least try and return some of that kindness.

From one wounded soul to another.

The tall lanky man sat, settling with his guitar in his lap and data PADD by his leg. He also had a thermos of green tea with him - one of his favorite drinks to relax. He also made sure to sit at a comfortable distance outside of flail range in case she awoke suddenly. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her.

He strummed at the strings very quietly as he sat - eyes closed. He wanted to be there to comfort - as well as in his own way, protect.

[ethnobotany]

Beverly isn't exactly asleep, but her mind isn't entirely in the Arboretum, either. She's far away, beyond a barrier that she has to claw her back back from. The quiet strumming of strings is what catches her attention at first. It takes her a few long minutes to pull herself out of her thoughts, to bring herself to a point where she can look for the source.

Once she finds it, she watches for a few minutes longer, letting her mind ease and attempting not to give into the urge to run again. It's okay. She's just damaged, but it's okay. It's okay. This isn't Zelien. The Borg aren't here. The entire ship isn't dead.

It's okay.

After quite a while, she finally manages to voice something, however small it is: "What... what are you playing?"

All Over

[themerlin]

At some point in the month, she might notice she occasionally had a shadow. Not following her, or intruding, most of the time, but there, sometimes with food and tea, sometimes just nearby and reading. Merlin is one who understands trauma. Two thousand years of wars, torture, and both the best and worst of mankind can teach that. But escaping it? That's a hard one, even for a wizard.

And so, tea, and biscuits, and possibly good books, are nearby, along with the occasional floating treatise on this or that form of medicine or magic.

[ethnobotany]

Beverly does notice that shadow and there are not words for how much she appreciates what Merlin is doing for her. This silent support makes it easier for her to cope with what she's gone through and the memories that are being pulled up. It makes it easier for her to bear and want to talk about.

She trusts him and that says a lot.

Today's tea and biscuits are just what she needed. She's curled up in her corner of the Arboretum with the cup clutched between both hands, as though this is her lifeline of the day. To her credit, she has been eating the biscuits as well, just not as easily as drinking the tea.

Eventually, she lowers the cup and glances at one of the people who has helped her cope the most so far. "Thank you. This is... helping."

[ships_counselor]

In the long run, it's a battle between two different things.

One, that as a friend, she can only watch so much before feeling the need to do something and two, that as the Ship's Counselor, she can only wait so long before she would be required to do something professionally if the current issues have ability to impact the crew or any patients negatively as well. Together they tangle a knot in her heart, and have her following Beverly's presence even when they are vast distances apart.

Gentle, unobtrusive , like a temperature gauge more than a record. There are up and downs. Spikes that make her want to go running to Beverly at the oddest times of day or night, but Deanna knows she has to let Beverly choose for herself. Whether she comes to see her in her office. How she decides to heal. Whether she decides to let it out, to talk to anyone. It doesn't make it easy, but it is something Deanna knows. Reminders herself of.

But it doesn't mean, this patient unobtrusive waiting and watching, that she can do nothing at all.

Her hands are not tied, and friendship has it's own rules and exceptions, as well.




Which is why Deanna walks quietly through a gorgeous, billowing, blowing meadow toward her friend and sits down by her quietly. Without speaking a word, demanding anything of her, but unable to stay away, because her heart cannot leave Beverly to feel she has to face anything alone. Not ghosts, or nightmares, memories or her own mind.

She only sits down quietly, settling her more flowy off hours outfit, and runs her fingers gently through the grass.

[ethnobotany]

A part of Beverly had known that she should talk to Deanna, that she would eventually be required to talk to Deanna simply because of how terribly this whole thing has affected her. There is no guarantee that she will be fit for duty much longer, especially if these nightmares and flashbacks keep going. Beverly has been caught in a terribly spiral, a cycle wherein she tries desperately to do the right thing, but her morals and duty war terribly with each other and her memories until she has no choice but to find somewhere quiet, somewhere she can think. Or somewhere she can keep herself occupied, run herself down to her bones so she doesn't overthink anything.

When Deanna finds her today, Beverly's knees are tucked up to her chin and her arms are wrapped around her knees. Everything in her body language and her emotions suggests that she is experiencing a state of shock brought on by nightmares and pure, simple exhaustion. She hasn't had a single restful night of sleep since this ordeal began and she doesn't see any coming for quite some time.

More than anything else, it's the sight of the flowy outfit that catches Beverly's attention. Her awareness of things outside the tremors of her mind is lacking today, but for Deanna, she can pull herself somewhat together. If anything, she looks comparable to how she had looked during their first meeting in this timeline, haunted eyes and tension all throughout her body. Very little can help her, she thinks.

However, now that Deanna has arrived, there is hope.

For a minute, Beverly remains silent, attempting to corral her thoughts into something that can be given to someone else in something of a coherent manner. She takes a breath -- inhale deeply, exhale slowly -- and then glances at the grass under Deanna's fingers.

"Can I ask for my friend today and not my Counselor?" she asks quietly, having decided which one she needs most of all. Not that the off-duty outfit lends itself to anything but the friend being there, but for Beverly to ask means a great deal. It means she knows what she needs and is asking for that help.

She is reaching out and that is a monumental step for anyone.