beverly crusher, md (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ethnobotany) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ten_fwd2015-11-06 12:38 pm
ethnobotany) wrote in ten_fwd2015-11-06 12:38 pm
Entry tags:
it's the only way i can escape }{ OPEN
(( 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.
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.
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When she called his name he continued to pretend like he hadn't seen her in her state of upset. "Oh. Hullo Dr. Crusher." He gave her a quirk of a smile. "How are you doing?"
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"I'll let you know," she answers softly. Those simple words say enough as to how terribly she's actually doing. "How are you? Am I interrupting your playing?"
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"Nah. I was just fiddling around. And I'm doing pretty good." His eyes lit up and a bit of dippy smile appeared on his face. "Someone I know showed up on the ship in the last round of people appearing. I didn't think anyone I knew who knew me would ever show up here."
Apparently they're a very important sort of someone, from his expression.
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"Who is it?" she finally asks, curiosity winning.
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"His name is Phoenix. He's the future version of a lover of mine that I'm still seeing in the future. Sort of on and off... open relationship thing," He paused, strumming a few notes. "It's really kinda weird."
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"Phoenix," she muses curiously. "Wouldn't happen to be the one I met in sickbay the other day, would it?" The man who apparently knows even Beverly's future by a hundred years.
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If she likes, she can hear all about the two of them.
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Considering how old Alec's hinted at being, knowing him since he was eight is a long time.
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"It's interesting. Different because of the age difference. It's exciting that way."
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The age difference thing, though... that's something she understands now. "I've been getting that with just my friends here. And my son. I can imagine having a lover who's a different age makes things... more interesting."
Of course, her mind immediately goes to Jean-Luc and she can't help but imagine--
She banishes the thought very, very quickly. She might be older and perhaps more capable of handling that relationship, but he is much younger and that means he is likely less capable now. The idea is absolutely not an option. She can't even entertain it. Besides, she doesn't belong here. Who knows when Q might whisk her back away? Jean-Luc doesn't deserve heartache like that.
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Alec's ears just turned bright red. Right up to the tips. And he can't look at her for a moment.
"He's taller than me for starters," he complained a bit. "We were the same height."
But Alec does understand Dr. Crusher's problems and does empathize with her, having had similar issues in the past.
"How have things been getting on with people here for you? They look like they're doing ... alright."
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"That's a shame," she teases. "I can imagine that makes things difficult if you're not sitting down."
Or lying down. Basically, kissing while standing must take getting used to like that.
"It's... better than it was. I think we're all adjusting as best we can. They seem to be handling me as Chief Medical Officer." She pauses. Well, it isn't as though Alec can't tell, after all. "At least when I'm not as obviously traumatized as I am right now."
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Just a lot of kissing.
The red turns brighter as his mind wanders off into that direction. He's turning into a grand distraction, isn't he?
"Yeees... it does give him a bit of an unfair advantage." Also the fact that Phoenix is just stronger and able to pin... wait... far too much information there.
"You're Doctor Crusher. You belong on this Enterprise. No matter what shape or form," he said confidently before softening. "And speaking as someone who's really good at repressing stuff, you're probably going about it a lot healthier than I am. At least you're admitting you've got issues."
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Until he reminds her of why she's here in the first place. She huffs out a soft breath, something like a derisive snort. "If you call being unable to properly deal with trauma while fighting flashbacks and nightmares healthy, then I guess I am." It could be worse and she supposes she isn't giving herself enough credit. All the same, it's been difficult to handle the sudden onslaught.
As for belonging here... "I don't know. I really don't know." Maybe some version of her belongs here, but not... not this one. Not when her being here means the other one might be in Zelien. That version could survive the Borg. She doesn't doubt that. But that woman doesn't deserve to have to survive Zelien.
No one does.