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.
no subject
But this...this could surpass the Valley of the Jedi. She could surpass her Master, something inconceivable before she arrived here. She was unusually loyal for a Dark Jedi - but the thought had indeed occurred: what could she become?
And she loathed the idea of letting the question go.
"Yet I am still a product of mine. Slowly, my powers return to me. It will take time, but I will restore myself - and then we, you and I, we can destroy this Q. I will need your help, your knowledge."
She stalked around her, trying to reach out with the Force, trying to reach into her mind. "You do not require security," she said, then hastily followed it with more words in the likely case it failed. "I am no threat to you. After all, did I not just say I required your aid? You should not hide behind mere guards."
no subject
"I'm sorry to disappoint," she says, her tone biting as she stands her ground, "but I won't be helping you. And you might say you're no threat, but with the way you're acting, you've got 'threat' written all over."
Her muscles strain, ready to fight if she needs to defend herself. Much as Beverly dislikes Q, she dislikes the idea of destroying any sort of lifeform, no matter the situation. She would never give of herself, her time, or her knowledge to hurt another.
no subject
She sighed, theatrically.
"Doctor, you have seen what I can do. Were I threatening you, I would make it very clear. Were I a threat to you, well."
She smiled, almost sweetly, but then the words came, coldly. "My power may be vastly diminished here - for now - but if I wished to be a threat to you, or anybody of this crew, they would have been murdered in their beds by now."
She was not theatrical like Vader. There was nothing about a trail of devastation about her. She was precise, and merciless.
"My task is to free us. I cannot control this vessel, so that requires us all - I do not ask you to like me, but when the time comes, will you aid in the effort to throw off our shackles?"
no subject
"The more you say, the less likely I am to trust what you're saying. But whatever the case, I'm not going to argue this. You will get no help from me."
Her tone is final and she gives the woman a glare before turning to brush past her. This is more than she wants to deal with. Ever, but especially today.
no subject
"I gave you honesty, doctor. I will have to achieve my goals alone. Remember that, when the time comes."
And the smile she gives her has no warmth. Only dark promise.
no subject
"Oh believe me. I will."
With a glare as icy as her voice, she finally pulls away, as roughly as she needs to, and makes her way quickly out. She can't get away quickly enough.