Joint Log | Captain Ivanova, Lt Cmdr Neyes - "I'm Only Human" - I/II

Posted on Thu Oct 2nd, 2014 @ 10:56pm by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova & Commander Tristan Neyes PhD.

1,824 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Are You Touched?

The observation lounge was always empty in the wee hours of the morning, always had been since she'd first come aboard the Vindicator what seemed like so very long ago. Rochelle had learned as much while walking the ship during her endless fights with insomnia. Insomnia always won. The current night was no different in that respect. As the clock struck two, she sat and watched the stars slowly pass by, the glow of the planet below illuminating what little she could see of the rest of her great ship. Each twinkle in the velvet darkness brought with it a promise, a blanket of a memories she seemed to easily identify with as her eyes swept over them one by precious one. The roses were gone and tucked away, the teapot emptied and recycled along with it's cup, the lounge permissions overridden by her command code and Rochelle had been left to relative solitude.

"I didn't think you'd come so soon, figured you wouldn't get the message until morning and we'd do this somewhere more..." Her head shook and she shrugged as she continued to watch the heavens, "conventional?" It seemed like the right word. With the lights off in the lounge she couldn't be sure who it really was that stood there silently watching her. It didn't feel like Almar, his eyes were always intense as if he waited for a moment where he'd need to rush in and save her. They weren't Vlimar's, his gaze was full of want and passion and desire. No, the eyes that watched her were gentle, concerned and serene.

She'd finally made the decision to jump, to give Tristan the full access into her circle and her thoughts that he'd desired from day one. What she hadn't expected was for him to check his messages so late or be eager enough to leave the sanctity of sleep. In many ways she felt sorry for not having waited for the morning to drop her little note.

The light of the stars and the planet lined the contours of her face and body, capturing the copper of her hair as she turned to face him, "So how does this start, what do I do?" Before him stood a woman that was far from defeated, she stood strong enough to meet the battle raging inside her head on. Finally.

Neyes stood facing her as they'd both come into the observation lounge from opposite sides. Her message had struck a tone with him he wasn't able to ignore, and had requested what he would never refuse. Rochelle had become something more than a job, if that was ever what she was, and she represented him on this ship. He wanted to help her as much as he wanted a place in her crew.

"Well," he said softly, "we already started. What do you want to talk about?"

"Everything." Rochelle sighed, rubbing her palms along the legs of her jeans. "The Whydah, Landon... Everything." It was a lot to swallow and a lot more to bring herself to purge. Each piece of knowledge had been held and locked away for so long it was almost as if it was now scared to face the light of day. She knew she'd have to give it that final shove out of the nest, and she was ready.

Moving out of the dimly lit viewing area, he approached the replicator at the back of the room, and entered a command into the panel next to it. A shimmering sound broke the palatable silence of the room, and Tristan took a mug out of the dispenser. "Can I get you something?"

"Tea, cocoa, whatever." She replied, finding a chair and depositing herself in it. Her fingers drummed across the table in a slow beat, her perfectly manicured nails clacking as they met the fine glass top.

Neyes sat back down across from her in one of the lounge's comfortable chairs, an amenity he was grateful for at such an early hour. He'd managed to put on his uniform, but his hair was hastily fashioned. Setting the cocoa down on the small table between them, he took a drink of his raktajino. His soft eyes scanned and moved over her wary form. Rochelle was defiant to the core, and he patiently waited for her to break down the barrier she'd erected around herself.

"Let's start with the Whydah. Tell me about that." He offered, his voice casual, like they were having a perfectly normal conversation.

"Thank you." Rochelle's fingers wrapped around the warm mug of cocoa and drew it to her, tucking her knees up to her chest. Being little had its advantages, mainly surrounding her ability to get comfortable just about anywhere. The Whydah, however, had not been a situation anyone could have been comfortable in. Her eyes closed as she took a sip of her drink, the memories of the station coming back to her as if they'd all occurred mere minutes ago. "The Griffin had pulled in to port, was supposed to be a break while we took on supplies and cargo." Her words started slow, soft, hushed as if speaking them caused physical pain. She wove the story, explaining everything from the way she'd known Logan and Andrea were just starting their relationship, how she'd happily turned a blind eye to their budding romance and how she'd seen them enjoying one another's company on the balcony over looking the rest of the promenade below.

The little Captain's hands grew cold and her fingers trembled as she spoke of the bomber that dropped to his knees and set off the incendiary device that blew up most of the promenade... That had set her friends flying and threw her into the floor. "I saw him grab for her and then they were both gone and all there was in their place with dust and smoke and people screaming. I couldn't do anything to save or protect them and when I found out how badly injured they'd been..." Her head shook and she chewed her lower lip, "I felt helpless... We'd had several Atlantean delegates aboard because Will had been injured in a work accident. They suited up and went into the rubble to pull people out, myself included. I haven't been able to sleep since."

Tristan watched her recall the obviously harrowing memory. Her words slipped in and out of the confident foundation she forced on herself as Captain, imperceptibly giving the occasional intake of breath chance to belie her inner struggle. Her fierce and indomitable character shed away, revealing someone real and unique. Neyes took a sip and held a moment before asking her another question, "And the bombing is the reason you can't sleep? What was your initial reaction to it?"

She nodded, "Sometimes as soon as I close my eyes I'll see flashes of it. Of faces, bodies, the explosion, the suicide bomber. Something's always there." These were things she hadn't even told Andrea, Logan knew... She was sure he knew, but then again Logan knew everything just by looking at someone. It was had always been as if the man could read souls, as if the fabled magic of his Maori ancestors had settled itself deep in his bones. Amelia hadn't called him the Witchdoctor for naught. The point still remained that this was the first time she'd come to verbalize the darkness that had cast itself over her.

Rochelle's forearms rested on her knees, the mug still held in her hands and providing warmth as she tilted her head and considered his question. It all came back to her hot and fast, flooding her senses as if it had been on call and waiting for just such an occasion.

"Pain." She began her reply, the heaviness of her lashes once more hiding her eyes from him. In her mind, the initial roar of the explosion was gone and had been replaced by the shrieks of klaxons and people. Rochelle had been slow to roll over from where she'd landed on her stomach because of how disoriented she'd been. Mention of her injuries simply wasn't necessary, the physical pain had been healed easily enough -- it was the psychological trauma that refused to die. "And then I realized that Andrea and Logan were gone, Hell... The entire balcony was gone and it went downhill from there. Panic because I couldn't find them and couldn't move, shock because of everything that had happened, desperation because panic just wouldn't go away and there was absolutely nothing I could do. I was terrified." Her head shook as she remembered all of it, her chest aching in psychosomatic response to the memory of being unable to breathe between the shards of fiberglass dust ripping at her lungs and the myriad of broken ribs and collarbone. They'd been nothing compared to what had been inflicted on Andrea and Logan. "I guess what's why they call them terrorists. That's what they do best."

A couple images of similar experiences bubbled to the surface of Neyes' mind as he listened to Rochelle describe the onslaught she witnessed. There was nothing more jarring that seeing someone insert themselves and their issues into your life with the force of an explosive, giving their own life to ruin yours. Tristan struggled with the demons of his previous hosts, just as Rochelle struggled with her own. There was always some small measure of reassurance that, no matter how real they seemed to Tristan, those memories belonged to someone long taken by history. In Rochelle's case, there was no escaping the ghosts that haunted her past. She would have no choice but to face them if she stopped running.

"You've mentioned your friends, the terrorist, yourself, and a feeling of helplessness. Helplessness is caused by actual or perceived inability. What would you have done, if you hadn't felt helpless?"

"I don't know... Maybe if I moved faster I could have stopped the bomber or pulled Andrea and Logan away from the edge of that balcony and run a bit further from the blast. I saw him, could see what he was about to do, but I just stood there frozen to the spot." Rochelle's eyes reopened as if a light bulb had clicked on inside her pretty little head, "This is where I'm supposed to realize that there's nothing I could have done, right? I've had this conversation with myself quite a few times over the last couple years where I sit there and try to convince myself that no matter what there's nothing I could have done to prevent the attack." She shrugged, the cocoa sloshing in her mug as if to accentuate her point. "I don't know or understand why I can't grasp that."


--- to be continued in II/II ---

Captain Rochelle Ivanova
Commanding Officer
USS VINDICATOR, NCC-78213-E

&

Lt. Commander Tristan Neyes, PhD.
Chief Counseling Officer
USS VINDICATOR

 

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