sixthiterationlogs | [Closed] It Hurts When I Do This

Entry tags:

[Closed] It Hurts When I Do This

WHO: Nida
WHERE: At Beverly Crusher's House
WHEN: Wee Hours of Feb 2nd
OPEN TO: Beverly Crusher
WARNINGS: Deep Emotional Pain, Referenced Death, Intentional Injury

It's been hard to keep going. Since what he'd seen up there in the shrine he'd been holding back. Sure, Billy's words, Jason's disgust, they had done a lot for him. They had gotten him a bit better. Gotten him functional at least. But the village? It... it hadn't felt right, being here. It hadn't been good, every minute where he forced a smile, pretended he was okay, that he was making it. Hiding his pain and loathing from Rinoa. Even avoiding talking about it with Seifer, instead redirecting to what he could manage.

Distance, silence. That was what he'd been seeking, and why he'd gone to the rooftops. Climbed out of his bedroom window so his housemates wouldn't know, worked his way to the roof, and to make sure he didn't wake them, took a running leap from it to the next house. No one lived there, so he could tromp around if he wanted to without an issue. In the darkness of the night he moved to cross over the roof, staring into the darkness of the night sky before sitting down on the edge. Stars. Not his stars, not the stars they had buried his family under. The stars he'd grown up under. This wasn't...

This wasn't his home. This was just where he'd ended up. And he wasn't proud of that.

It's stupid what he does next. Can't help how much it hurts and he doesn't think it's right to hurt like this. Emotions weren't exactly a thing he was supposed to deal with like this. What he needed was just a little outside pain to reflect the inside. Just a little sting. So he pushes off of the roof. The plan was just to land a little bad, some string in the muscles, and so he actively ignored letting his color-based ability kicking in. Instead when he falls his feet hit a rock and even as he rolls forward out of it he knows he's done something bad to his ankle.

With a groan he pulls himself to his feet and leans against the house he's landed by. Uses it as a support as he hobbles his way up the stairs. Wanda lived here, right? She would be able to help him back to his house. Or help him find the doctor he supposed.

How was he supposed to know, as he knocked on the door, that this just happened to be here Beverly Crusher lived?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Beverly and Jean-Luc haven't been back in the village for long at this point. They've had a rough time since his memory played through that shrine. Luckily, it only played to a few of them, rather than the entire population, but it was still more than enough trauma for Jean-Luc to have to relive. And it was more than enough for Beverly to realize the true meaning of it, as well.

With Wanda no longer in the house with them, the four extra rooms have also felt incredibly empty. It would be worse if they weren't sharing a room, though in cases like tonight, it would be easier if she didn't have to worry about waking Jean-Luc if she moved. Luckily for Nida, Beverly is awake enough to hear the knock at the door. Trying not to wake Jean-Luc, she carefully gets out of bed, wrapping her winter coat around her for warmth, she pads down the hall to the door. She isn't really sure what she's expecting when she pulls open the door, but seeing Nida on the other side looking distinctly worse for wear is definitely not it.

"Nida?" She forgoes the question of what he's doing here and instead opts for opening the door wider and ushering him inside. "Come in and tell me what happened." Whether it's the doctor in her or the mothering side doesn't really matter at this point. All she cares about is that he is obviously hurt and she would rather not let him stay that way if she can help it.

"Doctor Crusher?" Nida asks right back, shocked to see her there. That wasn't... He thought Wanda...

Well, no matter, he supposed. The point was to get Wanda's help to get him back to his house where he might actually try messaging Beverly, or maybe get help finding her. This was a lot quicker if he had to be honest.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here," he admitted as he leaned against the doorframe for support to limp in, wincing each time weight fell on his left side. The pain was enough that he might fall over if he didn't have the training to just deal with it. As it was, he just got himself far enough inside to lean against a stretch of wall so she could close the door.

"Took a little tumble. I'm pretty sure there's nothing broken, but my ankle really doesn't want weight put on it."

Just ignore the green scrubs he's wearing under his peacoat. Clearly they didn't mean he easily could have prevented such an injury.

"Sorry to wake you up so late, Doc. It wasn't going to hold my weight back home, and I'm only two doors down from you."

He wasn't wrong about Wanda once living here. It's just that Wanda had shared a house with someone who had come to think of her as a daughter. Not that Beverly doesn't adopt everyone she cares about.

As soon as he gets inside and she has a better look at him, she slides into place at his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and one of hers around his waist. "I'll help support your weight. Let's get you to the couch so I can take a look at your ankle."

She isn't about to press him for more details. This is enough for her to go on and whatever he was doing isn't her business. Besides, for all she knows, his culture could be like Klingon culture and violent intimate liaisons could be a way of showing pleasure.

For now, though, she gets him to the couch, lowering him carefully down and making sure his ankle is resting up on the comfortable surface.

"That's all right. I'd rather be woken up now than later on down the line when your injury is much worse." There's a silver lining buried here, at least. "Let me grab something I can use for bandaging, in case I need to wrap it. How does it feel? What kind of pain is it?"

She's strong for her size, and that earns a surprised little noise from Nida. At least, though, she's so kind as to help.

Halfway to the couch the first tickle starts in his nose. Oh. So... yeah, Wanda definitely lives here. His free hand comes up to press firmly against the base of his nose, hoping to drive the tickle away.

"Going to warn you now," he says, voice a bit nasal, "not sick. Just allergic to dogs. I'll try to keep it together."

And then he's being lowered to the couch. Fun. He lays back, arm over his face and nose tucked into the crook of his elbow.

"Pain in the ankle itself, nothing in the leg or foot except from the general throb," he says as he considers it. "Not sharp, so not a break. A lot less of said pain now that I don't have weight on it. Given it was sustained from a twist after a fall, I'm betting it's just a sprain, but I expect you can evaluate that better."

The words are all muffled, but clearly this is a guy used to reporting minute details about injuries. Which of course speaks to a great deal of them or medical training. And as he didn't have much to go on with the whole fatigue thing, it's probably more the injuries.

That is one thing she hasn't exactly been very forthcoming about. For all that Starfleet's, and the Enterprise, main mission is exploration, the organization itself is technically military. Even as a doctor, she has undergone all of the training Starfleet has to offer and that includes fitness training. She might not be keeping up quite as well as normal, but she's definitely not letting her training slide that much.

"Don't hold it in," she says firmly. "Sneezes are better out than in." And if there's anything else that comes with it, they have towels and the like.

For now, though she grabs pieces of cloth she can use for bandages. If it really is a sprain, he won't need a splint of any kind, but a little extra support never hurt. She is grateful for the details, as they save her a bit of guesswork. However, she does have to take stock of the physical injury herself, which won't be too pleasant for him, and does naturally involve getting any shoe off his foot. Fortunately, it's quick and her diagnosis is much the same as his.

"I'd say you're right. Feels like a sprain to me. You got off lucky." It could have been much worse, though she doesn't point that out. "I'm going to wrap your ankle for support. You won't need much, but you will need to make sure to keep your weight off of it for a while and keep it elevated. The less weight on it until it heals, the better."

"Lucky," he agrees, or at least he says a word that says he agrees, but his voice doesn't agree. Not at all. Maybe it would have been better if it was a bit worse because frankly he didn't want to be doing this, he didn't want to not be able to do something in a way that it felt like he could manage.

Maybe he should have broken his leg instead. But he doesn't say that. Just lets her inspect the thing and holds back on the bitterness. Not that he could keep the darkness from hie eyes.

She gives him a pointed look as she works on his ankle. "Yes, lucky," she says firmly, her voice clicking into a tone she doesn't use much here. It's her CMO voice, one that means she won't take an argument. "Now I expect you to let this heal or I'll put you on bedrest and daily checkups."

No one should think she won't do it, either. She's had long enough dealing with Klingons and other stubborn patients.

"And if that isn't it..." Here her voice turns a bit more concerned. "I do want to make sure you're okay. More than just physically." Something is very obviously wrong. Unfortunately, she doesn't know him well enough to figure out what.

Frankly, he'd like to see her try. But really, the fact is that he flinches a little at her tone. Because honestly, there is enough training of obedience to doctors from being a mercenary. It's a sort of behavior that you have to come to terms with in his line of work. When that tone happens, you deal with it.

"Like anyone is okay right now," Nida grumbles.

"I know," she says softly. "But that's all the more reason for all of us to stick together. Especially with all of the memories that have been swirling around lately." Hers had been pleasant, but she seems to have been in the minority with that.

Memories. Things he didn't want to remember, things he hadn't remembered before this. It'd been better that way. And it hurt right now to even have them.

"I'm not trained to be a team player."

In spite of everything, Beverly isn't surprised to hear that. A little saddened, but not surprised.

"Maybe that's one thing your organization could learn from mine," she says, wishing again that the villages had at least one trained counselor around. "Leaning on others isn't a weakness, nor is letting them lean on you. It's part of what makes us stronger in the end."

"Garden had different training tracts. Intel and infiltration don't really need to work with others well," Nida says, a bit distant as he admits to it. "I was supposed to be alone on jobs. A whole Garden of students, and I got to be alone because you know, go in alone, get what they need, come back."

It hurts actually. To realize how much he'd been isolated, whether it was intended or not. Of course it's still upset. He's angry over what all he saw.

"I don't think Starfleet worked that way with spies," she says carefully. "We always knew what was at stake, but we also always knew who we could rely on. Being isolated never does anyone any favors in the long run. Sure, it probably does make you better at your singular job, but... that's not how we as people are wired to be. Humans, Betazoids, Vulcans... a Vulcan will tell you they don't have emotions, only logic, but I think even they would feel the sting of isolation."

"It made me more useful," Nida countered, his voice sharp and beyond angry. His hands set at his sides and grip tightly. "Just broken little kids set as broken little tools. Melt them down in the forge, rebuild them to your specifications. Don't worry about the trauma, don't worry about the PTSD and how the orphans don't have anyone to turn to but other broken kids and instructors who don't give a damn because they're just more hammers to beat you into shape."

"Which doesn't help you cope as a person," Beverly agrees gently. The more she hears about his life before coming here, the less she likes it. Starfleet is hardly perfect, but they at least have plenty of rules and protocols in place to help their officers as sentient beings, not to keep their usefulness.

"It isn't much, but you're away from that now. There are more people here who do care about your well-being. For what it's worth, I do. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

"You would be here whether you cared or not. Doctors do that. They have those oaths," Nida counters, annoyed that she might even suggest that. Kadowaki was there for them too, because they needed their bodies taken care of. But no one cared about their mental health.

"Adults always say they care. Empty fucking words."

"I'd make a very poor doctor if I were only here because it's my job," she says, her voice a little tight. She manages to keep the full brunt of her emotions at bay and out of her voice. They aren't aimed at him. She is angry at the doctors in his life who have made him feel this way, who haven't been very good at practicing their craft.

"When I was very little, I lost my parents in a disaster," she begins slowly. "My grandmother did everything she knew how with the medical supplies available. When those ran out and the number of casualties in the disaster kept rising, she learned about medicinal herbs, so she could use those to save lives. She taught me everything she knew and she was my inspiration for becoming a healer."

For a moment, Beverly pauses, pursing her lips as she looks over her wrapping job one more time.

"I'm sorry that other doctors haven't been good practitioners in your experience. I'd love to give them a piece of my mind." She wouldn't hesitate, either, not after everything she has seen in her life and everything he seems to have been put through. "For now, though... why don't we get you back to your house?" She doubts he will willingly stay the night here and she may as well help him get to somewhere he might actually rest.

Clearly Beverly doesn't notice it, the way Nida almost shuts down at the reference to her parents. She keeps talking and it doesn't matter because Beverly has hit upon a magic word. One that gets him looking up at her, pain in his eyes more and obvious. Anything she had to say about medical professionals had been lost.

"A disaster? I wish it had been a disaster. I would give anything if my parents had died in some disaster that gave me a purpose. But mine got shot. Executed. So good for you, that yours... That you didn't have to... That..."

His throat is too tight, he can't breathe, he can't even stop the tears. It feels like he's been holding back for year, even if the memories only came back with the shrine. Sorry, Beverly, but it just hurts and he's been trying to avoid that for so long.

And maybe there was a bit more behind his injury than he'd said.

She notices with the tightness of his voice and how he struggles with getting his words out. Her expression softens, turning sympathetic. Knowing how he and Seifer have been, how closed and distant they tend to keep themselves, she hesitates for a few seconds. When it becomes clear that Nida won't be gathering himself anytime soon, she shifts position. Carefully, she loops one arm around his shoulders and if he will let her, she slides her other one around to hold him close.

"I am so sorry," she says fervently, her voice thick with emotion and understanding. "You've been through hell."

There are so many other things she could say, but none of them feel like anything more than empty words at this point. She can't promise to make his life better and even if she could, he probably wouldn't believe her. All she can do is try to offer him the support and comfort that he has clearly been denied all his life.

Not all his life. He had parents once, when he was small. Practically two lifetimes ago in some senses. Some part of him says he should push away. That she doesn't get it, that she doesn't care. The rest of him just can't stop. Too much of the kid who watched them die at the surface, too much trying not to be the weapon he was made. Which leaves him in the middle, torn between two extremes and hurting for both of them.

He lets himself be held and that's a step in the right direction properly. So are the tears that he currently feels ashamed of.

"They just wanted... just wanted to help," he says, his voice small and yeah, he sounds about broken to talk about it.

Beverly doesn't push it, doesn't do anything more than what she has already offered. Any sudden moves, anything more than just the simple act of holding Nida might scare him away. She fully expects that he will push away once the initial wave of emotion passes and he has more control over himself. When that moment comes, she will let him, unwilling to push him too far. She knows the damage that would do to him and doesn't want to risk it.

So for now, she simply holds him, letting the steadiness of her heartbeat and the support of her arms around him be as much of a comfort to him as they possibly can be.

"What was done to you and to them is inexcusable," she says softly. "You have every right to be upset by this." And she isn't about to move until he shows signs of wanting escape, despite what he might think of her. She will do what she can to help him, in whatever form that might take.

Yeah, people keep saying that, and Nida's almost starting to believe it. He's almost starting to believe they might be right, and it's not just his anger. The tears do stop in time, but he doesn't pull back. Not right away.

"My parents were rebels. Sort of. They fought to free their home from an oppressive force. And were publicly shot. They made me watch. No trial, just summary execution. And I told myself that it was okay, after I watched it. That it was okay and I would do the same."

Beverly wishes she could say she's surprised by his words. In truth, she isn't surprised at all. This sort of thing has happened all throughout Earth history and through plenty of other planets' histories as well. It isn't just a failing of humankind, although human history is riddled enough with it.

"Rebel or not, oppressive government or not, that sort of 'execution' is brutal and unacceptable. Nothing makes it okay and I wish it wasn't as common as it is among worlds."

It's especially awful that they punished the child, an innocent who was just caught in the middle.

"Regardless... they never should have made you watch it." And it sets her blood on fire to hear that they had.

"I get why they did. It's a good tactic. It helped cow the populous. Make them think twice about fighting back, because their kids could be me."

It's the resignation and understanding that hurts the most he thinks. Yeah, there's the pain, the forgetting, but nothing hurts more than knowing he could have been like those people. That he is like those people. That he was made to be those people. And it is an ache he can't get rid of.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't... I shouldn't put this on other people. The ones who saw it were bad enough."

"That doesn't make it right," she says quietly, taking in how he says it all. His tone and word choice suggest he knows all too well how this really goes. Beverly doesn't like that he has needed to learn that, but it does explain a lot.

"It's all right. Everyone needs someone to support them and I don't mind at all."

But she won't push it. Whatever Nida is comfortable with is fine with her. She will just continue to be there for him and hope that one day she can show him that she really does care about him.

"Will you let me help you get back to your house?"

Maybe his bigger issue is showing that vulnerability. That he's that weak. He was supposes to be stronger than this, to be immune to this. Apparently he was wrong. Which is why he doesn't speak up again, not until the offer is made.

"Yeah. I mean, if I stay here my housemates will worry. I'm only two doors down, if that's okay."

"More than okay," she says gently, pushing herself to her feet. Grabbing a coat and sliding on a pair of shoes, she makes her way back to Nida's side, ready to help him hobble back. "Let's get you back so you can rest."

"Thanks," he says, getting to his feet to let her guide him. And yeah, he gets an arm around her shoulders again. Really, he's appreciative that they're of a height with each other. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you tonight."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Closed] It Hurts When I Do This

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

good ftb