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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"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.
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"We begin whenever you are ready."
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"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.
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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."
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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?"
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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?"
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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."
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"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."
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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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"It really is quite lovely. I can imagine it makes the days less lonely." Would for her, anyway. That's the void her plants fill. The void that people like Jean-Luc, Annie, Finnick, and Fatima fill.
"So... I guess I should make sure my nightmares didn't traumatize you too badly last night," she jokes quietly, nudging open the door to questions about those nightmares and her experiences.
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"I am well. You have been through much, milady, darkness and pain, sadness and loss, tortures and war. And now, to face a past like this one? I wish I could somehow make things more right for you."
Which, you know, he might be working on, in his own way.
"Do you wish to talk about your past? Some of what you have been through seems such that most would hardly be able to bear it."
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"I guess now you understand why I asked you to keep it between us," she starts slowly. "It isn't as though I can tell anyone that I know when and how this Enterprise will be traded for the next, never mind the Borg. They've met the Borg by this point, but they haven't met the Borg." Locutus hasn't become an entity yet. She could tell the moment she laid eyes on Jean-Luc.
"I guess we could start from the beginning, unless you're curious about something in specific?"
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He sighed, shaking his head, and reached for one of her hands, gently clasping it for a moment in sympathy and support. "These universes are changed, and changing still, more and more. I have seen entire courses of history set on their ears here. And yet, I do not know if that was why we are here, or if there is another reason beyond Q was bored." Which was entirely not a happy making reason.
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"I remember it like it was yesterday. 2354. My son Wesley was five years old. Our marriage was five years old. Jean-Luc came himself to tell me the news because he was one of my closest friends. Sometimes I can still picture it, how it felt and exactly how the scene went as he told me. Jack, my husband and his best friend, had been killed in the line of duty and the responsibility was his."
Hence her difficult and confusing relationship with the ship's captain, made all the more difficult by her temporal displacement. As if they didn't have enough between them before she was brought here. Her eyes glaze over as she loses herself to the memories, talking through them as if she still sees them play out before her eyes.
"I remember sobbing into his shoulder. I felt as though a part of me had died with him. I remember having to tell Wesley that his father wouldn't be coming home again, realizing that he had picked it up from what Jean-Luc had said, before I even tried. For a long time afterwards, I could feel a deep and desperate darkness, like a weight was trying to choke me, cut me off. How could I live without Jack? How could I do anything at all? But it was Wesley, crying at night - Wesley who so thoroughly depended on me for his survival - that brought me out of that darkness. If something happened to him, I would never forgive myself.
"And so we survived until 2364, when I heard that the new Enterprise-D was looking for a Chief Medical Officer for her maiden voyages. As soon as I heard who would be her captain, I put in for a transfer to that position. I knew Jean-Luc and he still was a good friend, despite the awkwardness and the pain hanging between us. I had forgiven him long ago, though I knew he hadn't forgiven himself."
Awkwardness and pain that still hang between them, especially now. Blinking, Beverly lets her gaze return to Merlin's, pausing to let him digest what she's told him so far.
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And in that time, he had rarely seen one do so well as she was doing. She carried herself, and others, even in the darkest hours. As when she had thought of Fatima during her own trials. She was, though she would never say it, and he would never trivialize her accomplishments by calling her such, a hero.
Merlin nodded, and sighed. He admired how she had managed to make her way through it. And how she still stood. "A hard situation for you all. A strange one, too." He blew out a long breath, remembering those images and feelings, and how she had felt, then, and how her nightmare had felt, now.
"You have carried this weight, for a long time. And you have not broken." His words were soft, gentle, sure, and the look in his eyes was sure as well. She yet managed to hold on. "An amazing, and hard, beginning."
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Instead, she simply nods and searches for how to continue.
"I was transferred to Starfleet Medical that second year and then I requested a return to the Enterprise the following year. While I was gone, they encountered the Borg for the first time. Then I returned and at the end of that year, 2366 into 2367, the Borg returned. You probably saw something in my nightmares about that. About... Jean-Luc and Locutus. The Borg used him against us, against the entire Quadrant and the Federation itself. In my time, he still bears those scars, both the physical and emotional ones. It's... difficult--" For lack of a better word. "--to know what should be coming, should already have happened, and know that I can't say anything about it."
Not just because of Starfleet's rules and regulations, but also because... how would she even begin to tell them? How could she say she knows that the Borg will strip so many people of their very selves, including their captain?
"It will be an extremely trying time for all of us when it happens in this timeline. But it does... change certain people. For the better, I think. It gives them new perspectives. I just hope it works the same here."
The only question now is how long will they have to wait?
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"Do you think, then, that it is something that must happen?"
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It's such a headache already. Beverly lifts a hand to her temple.
"That's what I've been trying to figure out for so long. It's hard, though. I've never been able to really talk about it yet. Normally, I would talk it over with Deanna, but... she's from this timeline, not mine. I can't taint her understanding and knowledge of the future."
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