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

[ships_counselor]

Deanna -- as one who spends all her days talking to a plethora of people about their lives, days and feelings, or in organizing several other counselors who do the same and then report back to her on just as many people each -- is incredibly selective when choosing to talk about her own inner worlds. Which is, very likely, less a reflection of her job and more on of her upbringing, when the first two decades of her life, if was as easy as simply leaving her mind open.

That no one can hear her now, save Tenzen, or Will, very, very rarely, isn't such a burden these many years later.


There was a soft breath that pushed out between her lips, neither sigh or huff, when Beverly's hand found hers and wrapped fingers around her one thin, long, delicate ones. Deanna wrapping her own fingers back, holding on just as warmly, and watching their hands together for a long moment.

"I am glad. I didn't want you to feel you forced to--" To be her friend? To play a part that might not fit? That she might have outgrown in the time she was gone, or that someone else might have grown into, or even that perhaps in the time between where she was and where Beverly was they might have drifted. Potentially, time could change so much.

"To take part in anything you didn't feel you wanted to with anyone here." Except that was still oblique. Politic. Polite.

It amends softly. Not so much an apology, as a confession. An admission. "With me."


She contents herself, in her deepest dark, curled up moments of her bed, when wondering, or at her desk, going over the newest circulation of losses or gains in new crew, with the hope that any of their main crew -- the ship's original Beverly Crusher chief among them -- is safe somewhere. That she was not switched to the world that the Beverly beside her came from, and well aware, that even if she was, that blame lay on Q, and not on either of them.

[ethnobotany]

Beverly's immediate and instinctive response is to give Deanna's hand a tight squeeze. No, she never felt forced to keep a friendship. If anything, she had worried that she would be forcing others to keep friendships with her. She's had a rough year, though her time on the Enterprise has been better than expected. So far, she has had the time to cope with what has happened to her. At least up until Q's Halloween prank.

However, she is very grateful that Deanna seems willing and happy to keep their friendship going.

Beverly's expression softens further at Deanna's last words, that admission that is far more personal than expected, but happily so. A moment passes before Beverly leans closer, gently wrapping her free arm around her friend's back and pulling her into a hug. Apparently, asking for her friend and getting the chance to really talk with Deanna, rather than skirt her issues and troublesome experiences all the time, has really been the best thing for her. Beverly hopes that it is a good thing for Deanna, too.

"I don't think I could ever be forced into a relationship with one of my best friends," she responds softly, resting her head against Deanna's soft curls. "I had honestly worried that I was pushing a friendship on you. Sometimes it's hard for me to tell what my other self did or said, how far her friendships reached. I didn't want to force anything on anyone else in turn. But I wouldn't give up your friendship for anything in any universe."

[ships_counselor]

Deanna is grateful that Beverly is the one who makes the move, since she'd been careful since walking up on Beverly in such a precarious state, mentally and emotionally, and not wanting to pressure her, but it is returned without even a seconds pause, folding her arms around Beverly and hugging her back. The gratitude and relief all but radiating off of her. Or more that it was, except into the imperceptible silence and space around them.

But they didn't need that. She could feel it for both of them, from both of them.

"You have not, and could not, have done such a thing," Deanna said, into Beverly's shoulder. "You were a dear friend already to me, and you had counted me as such as well. I could not simply assume that everything might have stayed the same, no matter how much I might wish it at this time -- nor did I wish to push you in any personal way while all of this was already going on."

She wouldn't want Beverly to feel she could be as selfish as to place this over that either, which was even hard to even consider getting into words. She hadn't even thought it as clearly until this second. Her calling was one of selflessness in pursuit of helping other people to be as balanced as possible in themselves, she never could have counted her need in this as greater than the needs Beverly wounded heart and psyche carried when she came in.

Deanna tucked the last words Beverly said deep inside her being as she closed her eyes and hugged her friend, almost sad, only for the briefest flash, that Beverly could not simply feel in her mind and her heart how much those few words had mattered to Deanna's own mind and heart.

[ethnobotany]

When Beverly had first arrived here in this timeline, Deanna had been the first person with whom she had begun to believe in this reality. Jean-Luc had been the first with whom she had felt safe, but the more time she has spent with Deanna, either as friends or as counselor and patient, the more she has grown to realize that this is real and she is safe. These people are safe. Deanna is is safe. Deanna is an anchor and a comfort that few others could be.

Beverly gives Deanna a gentle squeeze with both arms, wanting nothing more than to hold her friend tightly. They have a lot to get through, a lot to worry with and figure out. This is something they can do. They have done it before; Beverly has no doubts that they will make it through everything again.

"I... wasn't in the frame of mind for a long time," she admits, "to handle much more than the day to day. But now I can. You have been a rock for me, Deanna, through all of this time. It's high time I offered the same to you. No matter what happens, I'll be here for you. So don't hesitate to come looking for me, all right? Doctor's orders."

It's a gentle tease at the end, but she means it. Anytime, day or night, Beverly wants to be the friend for Deanna that Deanna has been for her. Never would Beverly ever accuse Deanna of being selfish and it's partially that knowledge that has Beverly making this offer. Deanna has needs, as a person, as much as Beverly does. Those needs should be met and if Beverly can offer the friendship ones, then she absolutely will.

[ships_counselor]

It's a long journey, there is no doubt in that. Not just started, and not just about to end, but this is a good moment in it, for a varied definition of good. Maybe a true one more than a specifically good one. Raw, and honest, and real, in those best true ways.

Deanna pulled back, without letting go. Only pulling far enough back to be able to see Beverly's face. "It was what you needed. Being here was such a shock after what you'd come from, and then even more doubly so when you were thrust to those you knew but in an even more problematic fashion than you ever could have guessed."

It was a kind smile. Amused, not in itself, but specifically for Beverly's benefit. "I believe your plate was a little full then."

"But," she continued, with a gentle squeeze of her arms and a smile, slightly more amused for herself, and Beverly's teasing. "I promise to remember that now, should I need it, that your door is always open, and that I have been ordered to use it when that need is happening."

[ethnobotany]

For Beverly, this journey may never end. Not now. Not if she is returned to Zelien. Not even if she is returned to her timeline. She will always have some part of this experience following her. Not necessarily just the trauma, either. A lot of people have come and and gone in her life in each place. A lot of events have happened to her, both good and bad, and it has all shaped the person she is now. She just has to work through what she has learned, experienced, and how she has grown. It has been difficult so far, but Beverly is nothing if not strong and resilient.

Besides, she's had a wonderful support system in each place. What she wouldn't do without people to adopt or people who have adopted her in turn, she doesn't know.

"It's less problematic while I have people around to care for, now that I'm more in the mindset to cope with it." She's finally settled into the knowledge, the realization, that survival isn't something she has to fight for. And that knowledge is real. This situation is real. That's something huge to her. "For what it's worth, I'm glad I was brought here. The timing could have been better, but it's given me a chance to enjoy life again. Everyone should have that opportunity." Her arms tighten slightly around Deanna and she smiles warmly. "That goes for you, too. What do you think, the next opportunity, we take a little shore leave together?"

Beverly certainly could use the time away from everything, especially the reminders. She can imagine that Deanna could use it, too.

[ships_counselor]

Such was, truly, life. Nothing ended, and neither of them would be the one to step away from this life which constantly brought more itself. They knew so very intimately the costs, the risks, and the rewards, and were lucky. To have each other, someone to lean on in the bad and the good. Deanna hoped wherever the original version of friend was that she, too, had found someone she could rely on, trust, be her weakest and strongest with without any fear.

Deanna found herself pleased, even glad herself for the admission of Beverly's feelings and thoughts. The growth and steps towards relief and joy at having some modicum of peace, even in her turmoil. This place, which did not assail her as the other. Did not hear so much more trauma upon her bruised mind or heart as being there might have every day still.

Her smile was pronouncement before her words as Beverly's invitation "I would very much like that and I think we both deserve some relaxation, surrounded in simple bliss. You know," her grin turn subtle and almost mischevious. "I have no yet planned in a time for a midnight swim. It's a particular kind of perfection that the holodeck can't even begin to create in all it's wonder."

[ethnobotany]

Beverly simply hoped that her other self had found herself in a more agreeable place and time than the two options she remembered. At the moment, all she has is hope and that will have to be enough.

Deanna's mischievous smile doesn't go unnoticed and it brings with it a muted reflection from Beverly. Muted at first, yes, though it grows, spreads, until it nearly mirrors her friend's. "Is that an invitation or a demand?" she teases without regret. "I think I might be able to schedule in some time for that if you decide you want to do that particular endeavor."

It might even be fun. Beverly hasn't had real fun like that in what feels like years. It might be good for her to kick back and cut loose again. What better time than with a friend like Deanna?

[ships_counselor]

"I think I heard something about it being a short mandated leave of absence," Deanna's smile struggled not to become a far brighter version of itself. Teasing joy, tufted entirely on affection, brightening the whole of her black eyes. "Something about the necessities of shore leave to temper the rigors of constant hard work that consistantly exceeds the required work day, solvents of breaks with unstressful rest for extended trauma, and the importance of relaxation for positive outlook. Your counselor might know something about it--"

That smile was cracking slightly. "I can have her get you a copy of those orders when I see her again."

As though she wasn't here, and had left. Another body, another person, when Beverly asked only for her friend.

[ethnobotany]

Beverly's smile brightens, crawling across her face like a painter's brush across canvas. Lopsided, in some respects, but plenty warm and welcoming. And happy, as she has not been recently. She isn't yet up to her normal self and won't be for a while, but this is doing her wonders. She owes Deanna great deal, as counselor and friend.

"Would you? I'm not sure I remember that specific set of orders," she teases back. "And when you do, name your time and place and I'll be there."

She would do a great deal for Deanna and not just because she knows her counselor and friend would find a way to convince her for her own good. What Deanna offers her is peace of mind, support, a friend in this difficult transition. And shore leave? Well, she really would be a hypocrite if she denied herself that after all the years of nagging Jean-Luc, wouldn't she?