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

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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.

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Merlin has been around a very long time. He has seen so much, but for him, the one thing that is always unique, the one thing that kept him from being a bored immortal idiot, was the people he knew, and cared about. And Beverly had, by small graces and professional and caring actions, gotten to that place. It was no wild romance or bossom friendship, but he cared, and so he did his best to be there for her, even if he could do little else.

When she spoke, this day after so many, it took him a moment to realize, and to respond, and his smile was warm, and gentle.

"You are welcome, milady. Sorrow is a weight that weighs us all down in on way or another. But sharing it, no matter how little, seems to me to enable the weight to be carried easier." he paused.

"Which is to say, really, that I like helping my friends, when i can, how I can, and you are one."

"Sorrow," Beverly murmurs softly, turning the cup around in her hands. That's part of it, sure, but there's so much more to her state of mind. It's complicated to go through, more so to even think about trying to explain. For a few minutes, she just sits there, barely managing a smile as it sinks in that he considers her a friend. Her. Not just her other self.

"I prefer to have friends who will do that for others and let me do the same in turn," she replies finally. "Sometimes it's almost impossible to even find the words to share the weight. Sometimes... it's just too horrific. Not being able to sleep because of it is hard enough."

It's like being trapped in her own mind and this is not a feeling she's ever really had before. Or at least she doesn't remember it well. She suspects this was what it was like after Jev the Ullian, but she remembers the aftereffects, not whatever it was that he made her see. So remembering exactly what her dreams hold and the memories is what truly terrifies her.

"Sometimes... it's not sorrow at all."

"Of course. Sometimes... there is no way to share the weight with words, or actions, sometimes, all you have it... being." Being there, being supportive, being... just you.

Merlin cocked his head to the side, and nodded slightly. "Feelings blend, and turn, and twist." His words were soft, and quiet, but there.

"It is an honor to simply share thy life. No words are necessary if they weigh too much."

he paused, then spoke again. "About the not sleeping, however, that... I may be able to help, milady." He would not offer if he could not see the strain, hear it in her voice. He would not offer unless he was hopeful he was not intruding.

Merlin certainly seems to understand far more than Beverly had anticipated. Perhaps that's why they get along so well, why he's been so supportive during this time. It's wonderful to have someone who understands, but at the same time, Beverly is truly sorry that anyone has gone through anything close to what she has.

"That's it exactly," she agrees softly. "Sometimes I want to scream with it and sometimes I just... I can't find the words to express it." Even if she did, she would never want to burden anyone else with these memories, these images, these dreams. They're bad enough for her.

However, he begins to talk about a cure for her sleepless nights and she can't help looking at him now with a mixture of curiosity and longing. "You could? What is it?"

Merlin nibbled one lip, looking as nervous as he ever did. "It is not a permanent cure, and there is a limit to how much it can be taken but... there is a magical potion, one made most carefully, that I could brew, and that could temporarily relieve you of your dreams and nightmares. You would sleep deep and rested the nights you took it. And it would be safe to do so, well, one day in three, yes." He nodded.

"There is a price, One you might not be willing to pay."

Of course there's a price. Everything has some sort of price.

Beverly gazes at him a little more warily this time, but she nods slowly. "What kind of price?" Just asking doesn't mean she's agreeing. If she doesn't like the idea, she can say no now and nothing will have happened.

His voice was gentle, and almost shy when he spoke. "It involves me using my power, my magic, to interpose a barrier between you and the results of dark memories and traumas, but the price, well, is that I would to an extent also see those traumas and memories. I would have no way to not do so, and if they are intimate, they may expose such things to my mind." He swallowed and shook his head.

"I would ne'er use such a thing against you, nor any person. But you should know what you are getting into."

Beverly opens her mouth to reply but stops herself, forcing herself to think that through. She does trust him, trusts that he won't go spilling her dark secrets, but there's more to it. For a few seconds she just breathes and thinks.

"I trust you," she says slowly. "But what I'm worried about isn't just the terrible things I've been through. It's also the fact that I come from a version of this reality's future. I know things that these people cannot know. So, please. I have to know that you won't say anything about any of those events. That's... all I really care about."

Merlin nodded slowly in return, but his answer was swift and sure. "Aye, milady, and surely so. I will tell nothing of thy secrets. " He paused. "Anything that concerns me, I will discuss with you, but I trust your counsel, milady, and will tell none other."

Such was his way.

Beverly lets out a slow breath and nods. There are few people she would trust with this. Merlin is one of them.

"Thank you," she says softly. "I think that's a fair price to pay. If it's all right with you, I'd like to try this."

Maybe she'll be able to sleep enough to start coping.

"Very well. Let me know when you are ready to sleep. I will need to be there for a few moments to prepare the spell, but then I will leave the room. and the rest will happen at a distance, so to speak." He smiled, almost shyly again.

"We begin whenever you are ready."

Beverly takes that in thoughtfully. On the one hand, she would really like to sleep now. But on the other, it would be better not to just jump into something.

"Let me... finish my tea and then we can try it," she finally says. It's a compromise with herself. The fastest she can make it happen without leaping in, so to speak. So once she finishes her tea, she nods to him again and manages to stand.

"All right. I'm ready. I suppose I'll have to take you to my quarters to make this work, won't I?" Her lips twist upwards -- her tone was joking, even though the question is a serious one.

"Of course." Merlin bowed his head to her and smiled, then when she stood, the tea makings rose and winkled to the side, folding, as it were, out and out of sight.

He nodded to her once more, and stood himself, and smiled a little. "I suppose so. For the beginning I need to be near where you will start toward sleep."

He chuckled at her words. "I'll be the soul of discretion, milady." And he touched her arm, and then with one hand on her arm, faded from view.

"I am here, in-between the light and the dark."

She barely has enough time to touch his hand with her own, her way of showing her appreciation and affection for his friendship. Beverly is a tactile person; showing how much she cares through touch is just what she does. Knowing that he's still there is comforting, in a way. She may appear as though she is alone, but she isn't. Not really.

She manages a smile in return. "If I didn't already think you were a gentleman, this might just do it," she teases gently before she turns and heads for her quarters.

It isn't that long a trip and soon enough, the doors are hissing open. She leaves the lights on dim so as not to alert her son to her return. He's in his room, she remembers, though there's a flash of wrongness that courses through her at the memory of Wesley being here. He should be at the Academy by now. But a lot of things should have happened by now.

She shakes herself inwardly a little, wondering if Merlin could sense any of that, and heads for her bedroom. Once inside, she lets the door hiss shut and exhales slowly. "All right. This is where I will be sleeping. What's next?"

Merlin chuckled, a ghost of a sound as he accompanied her. "We can't have that, now. Remember, I am a villain, or a dastard, or some such. Something, something, danger zone, as an odd young man once said."

He chuckled again, and quietly accompanied her.

He faded into view in her room, eyes on her. The turmoil was obvious, and he shook his head, worried about her, yet. Some wounds were hard to shake.

"Merely, for me to begin the spell, then make myself scarce, as a gentleman should, so you can finish getting ready for bed." His smile was a little teasing as he swept to her bed, and gently touched the side of it.

From inside his clothing came a small pouch, and out of it, a small herb. "Willowbark. An old remedy, useful in groundings. I have the rest of the cutting in my room, and the living plant hiding in the Arboretum. This way, the spell is connected between us, and to the life hub of this place."

This night, Merlin and life itself will step in on Beverly's side. It is a war he has no intention of losing.

From his mouth, then spilled old words, ancient ones, and his hands glowed as he set the herb near her bed. Merlin called on life, and magic, and they responded. Far off in the Arboretum a wind without wind ruffled the plants, and they seemed almost to whisper, Life sitting up and noticing as an old ally called it once more.

For a moment, he looked taller, more powerful, as if the colors of the rainbow and of light itself flowed through him, and were part of him. Age and years faded, and the image of a younger man, even more handsome, more powerful stood within his image for as moment, then slowly, as the glow spread over her bed, then faded, so did that image, and it was the Merlin who had been talking to her who turned to her.

"The preparation is done, milady." He smiled warmly. "YOU may, ah, prepare thyself when you wish. I will sense when you began to sleep, from my room. Then will the rest of the spell flow. Any questions?"

"Then I promise never to reveal your secret," Beverly teases softly. It's definitely a good sign that she can joke even the tiniest bit. Merlin has that effect on her.

She doesn't move from the center of the room when he begins to do his spell. For the time being, she just watches, listening to what he says and occasionally nodding. It makes sense, insomuch as anything "magical" makes sense to her. If she compartmentalizes it and thinks of it like a special ability, like John Doe's healing ability, then she can sort it out. Anything else and she'll be grumping around about magic like Doctor McCoy did in Zelien.

A flash of sorrow hits her. She misses him. There's no telling how things are for him right now. Any of them. She only knows about Fatima and that's because she's here.

Shaking herself inwardly, she turns when he calls to her again. She had taken in the image when things changed around him, but it will be a while before her mind properly processes that. Instead, she focuses on his words.

"A few, yes," she admits. "I was wondering if you might be willing to do this for Luna and perhaps for my friend Fatima. I don't know if either of them would take you up on it, but I know Fatima in particular could use it." And she might trust Merlin since Beverly obviously does. "Second... is there anything I can do in return. This is... a rather large favor you're doing me. Several, in fact. I don't want to take advantage of your kindness."

Merlin smiled softly to that. "Of course, milady, an they know and agree to the cost. I do not wish any to enter into this not knowing what privacy they give up." Such mistakes he had made in the past, quick acting without thinking. Such mistakes yet haunted him.

"I have met both of them, and Luna indeed, I have pondered something similar. Fatima... I did not think would let me so close. Nor did I know she had such issues." His brief impression of Fatima was that he should not bother her.

Merlin shook his head. "I do not know of any such thing. IN truth, being able to feel useful and relevant ages after my prime is a gift I welcome. Your world here has so much that replaces the skills and abilities I have wielded all mine life. To actually have something to offer? And for it to be wanted? It means more than you might know."

"Of course," Beverly agrees with a quick nod. She would never think of doing anything like this without the express permission of the person involved. It just wouldn't work. Fatima might not initially be all right with the idea, but Beverly has a feeling that once Merlin reveals his connection to her, Fatima will be more agreeable.

Either way, it isn't a matter of persuasion. Not in the least.

"I met Fatima in Zelien. She's... become something of a daughter to me. We've been through a lot together. If you say you're a friend of mine, she might be more agreeable towards you." Which is probably more than she should say at the moment. Everyone knows that they came from the same place at least. They are, and always will be, connected.

Her smile warms just slightly, enough to show her fondness and gratitude towards him. "Well, if that ever changes, let me know. Until then... I don't have any other questions." She's a little curious about what he'll see of her memories and hopes that nothing she shows him will be too difficult for him to stomach.

"Ah. I hope that she will accept, and if not, that she finds another remedy. Would you rather I approached her first, or you?" He waved a hand toward her bed. "After you have a chance to sample the medicine, of course."

His eyes danced, and warmed.

"Now, then, with no questions, I do believe that it is time to say good evening, and, milady. Have a good night. Doctor's orders."

He twisted a hand and spoke softly, bowing to her as a shimmer opened up behind him, showing Ten Forward. "Should something not good happen, I'll be near." With a final bow, he stepped farther back, and then was gone.

(( ooc: content warnings for a lot of traumatic events, physical and telepathic violation, death, etc ))

Beverly doesn't need to turn over that question for long before she reaches an answer. "I will. She'll probably take it better coming from me first." Beverly doesn't know how many people Fatima knows here, but she's certain that Fatima will be more amenable to the idea if it comes from her rather than someone else.

"Thank you," she says quickly, before he leaves. "I really appreciate this." It means more to her than she can say at the moment and she hopes that it really will be powerful enough to work.

Once he has left and the room is quiet again, Beverly begins the process of getting ready for bed. She chooses her nightgown, ties her hair up with the pink ribbon she likes so much, and finally slips into bed. Settling down, she feels the familiar fear of nightmares and dreams, though she does her best to suppress it.

Eventually, she slips into sleep and then Merlin will begin to see what plagues her so deeply. Even if she doesn't see the dreams and memories this time, Merlin will. Things that she can't remember twist around in her subconscious mind. Things like the vision Jev the Ullian gave her when he telepathically violated her mind or the 17 days the Enterprise-D spent in the timeloop. The latter wasn't particularly traumatic except for the ship exploding time and time again. Things like getting trapped in a collapsing warp bubble universe made from her fear of losing people. Jack's death, her fear of losing Wesley, losing Odan. Ronin taking control of her mind so he could use her body to keep himself alive. Making her enjoy it.

The Borg. Seeing Jean-Luc as Locutus. There is no mistaking that face, despite the Borg devices on it. The Borg crashing into sickbay on the Enterprise-E, a sickbay that looks decidedly different from the one Merlin knows here. The uniforms on the officers are like the one Beverly has here, unlike any of the ones the Starfleet officers in this timeline wear.

And, of course, not to be forgotten, Zelien, the place where all of her nightmares and trauma turned into catastrophic PTSD. Between the cultists and being trapped on the college campus, it's bad enough. But there are memories of a lab full of giant frogs that turn into a nightmare of those great dane-sized frogs getting up and poisoning everyone. Not to mention the walls of the dorm turning into a stomach cavity, complete with stomach acid eating through everything inside and forcing the residents to flee outside. The sound of the heartbeats all around. Watching a young Doctor McCoy and Ensign Chekov climbing up out of their own graves.

Any of it alone would be traumatic. But together? It's little wonder why she's been having trouble sleeping after Q brought it all back with his Halloween prank.

His power wrapped around her, shielding her from those disturbing dreams, those emotions, those thoughts. And Merlin, Merlin sat up, remembering, feeling them, seeing and hearing it as if he had lived it himself. His eyes were dark and he sipped tea as he stood vanguard all the night, his power a gentle warmth, a calming zone, wrapping around the mind that he had sword to shield, and letting her have this night without harm, without pain.

Merlin would remember what he had seen, and felt, all his long life, and would remember the strength that it had taken to live it, and survive it. It would only add to his admiration of her. He resolved to do this for her as often as he could, and find ways to free her of having to rely on only his strength to keep her from this nightmare.

When morning came, She would find tea nearby, still steaming, with crumpets, and jam, and nothing else to remark on the night.

Whatever that spell was supposed to do, it worked. Beverly sleeps better than she has in a while as Merlin takes on her trauma for her. Perhaps now he might be able to understand her better, understand why she's been having terrible flashbacks. But even beyond that, why she's been so worried and closed-lipped about her experiences since she arrived here. Some of the things she's been through that are coming up or should have happened by now... How can she even begin to explain about them? Even without Starfleet's protocols, it would be impossible for her to tell any of them that their captain will be taken by the Borg, stripped of his personality and individuality, and turned into one of them. A special drone.

There is so much she wishes so desperately that she could talk about. But she can't. She doesn't even dare talk about it with Deanna, her counselor. A part of her wants to try a new counselor just so she can admit to things, but the idea of therapy with anyone but Deanna while Deanna is still available is inconceivable to her.

So here she has been, trapped in her own mind and her own trauma. Until tonight.

When she wakes in the morning, she stirs slowly, pulling herself out of a deep and restful sleep. As she swings her legs out of bed, her eyes fall upon the tea and crumpets and a smile crosses her face. Merlin is a gentleman, at least to her. She appreciates this and everything he has done for her.

Once she's had that breakfast and changed into her uniform, she will make her way out to try to find him.

Merlin felt and saw, and heard and dreamed those dreams. He recalled them now, as she did, and he felt the horror of pre-knowledge, of past knowledge given such new weight. The pain of losses, and horrors, almost unconscionable, and his heart broke for her. She must be aided, whatever the cost, and so he watched, the night whole, and in the morning, he found his way to the arboretum once more, where he dined on a simple snack much like the one left in her rooms. Tea, crumpets, and perhaps an addition of a few cheeses, not quite like he remembered them, but close enough.

Today, of all days, he wore not a Federation civilian outfit. Instead, his robes hung around him. Robes of fur and woven wool, hand-made and hand earned, wrapped around him, and leather boots, double thick, held his feet. His hood fell over his face as he sipped tea, there in the arboretum, and stared off into space.

And if perchance, there was a small bluebird that occasionally came over to sing near him, well, that was unlikely to have anything to do with him, yes?

Merlin smiled, then, and nodded gravely to the bird. He had seen the night through, and he had found himself rising to the challenge. He hoped he would not fail this woman of merit and honor so dear,

She was worth not failing.

It's funny but unsurprising that she finds him in the Arboreturm the next morning. This is one of Beverly's favorite places to be and the place where they had run into each other last night. She'd had a feeling that he would be here again.

She takes note of his new attire, though she decides not to comment on it. Whatever makes him feel most comfortable as long as she doesn't have to hear about how the fur was acquired. He has done her a great service; it would be petty of her to ruin it now.

Instead, she stops close by, watching the bird for a few moments before she approaches fully. "Thank you," she says softly. "That was the best night of sleep I have had all month." Probably longer than even that, but she doesn't really want to dwell. "I see you have a friend today." Meaning the bird.

Merlin smiled to her and rose as she approached, then bowed to her, eyes warm. "Greetings, milady, and you are welcome." His smile was gentle as he surveyed her.

"I'm glad it worked for you, and gave you a night of solace. "

Merlin glanced aside at his bird friend, and smiled again. "It seems so. I think he may have absconded from the starbase we just visited, or are visiting... or whichever that is." He sometimes lost track of the outside. His realm was here now, and tending to these people who he had taken as his own.

He tweetled softly, and the bird perked up, peered at Beverly, then hop-flew to her, hovering as if inspecting her, tweetling softly in greeting, even holding still close up before shooting off again.

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