Things That Go Bump in the Night

Posted on Thu Jun 24th, 2010 @ 10:30pm by Lieutenant JG Callaigh Roland & Commander Dietrich Reinhart

Mission: Welcome to Archa IV
Location: Outside Reinhart's quarters ... wherever -those- are. Apparently deck 1. >.> ... <.<
Timeline: erm .. late.

::ON::

Footsteps down the corridor were the by the pink bunny slippers adorned with small yellow bows between the plush ears upon her feet. A lot of things about the Jackal had been different than what Callaigh was used to, but the only one that truly troubled her was how little space there was to explore when she couldn't coax sleep to come to her in the middle of the night. Recinching her robe tightly, she continued her amble down the corridor trying to lose herself in thought ... or at least drive thought out with exhaustion. The newness of the ship coupled by the distinctly different design kept her from losing herself completely though and had it not been for that she'd never have noticed the sounds. Muffled, certainly, but there was no mistaking the feeling that accompanied them. The rabbit ears flopped now as her speed increased; she let the sense of wrongness draw her like a homing beacon and stopped outside a door. The sounds were still muted, but slightly louder and she wasn't sure if she should ring the chime or knock loudly or just burst in until the occupant cried out loudly. Confusion settled once she realized two things simultaneously. There was no other presence in the room aside from the form in the bed and her own ... and she'd just unwittingly barged in to the XO's personal quarters. "Commander!" Her movements were purposeful yet cautious; it was unwise to get within reach of someone in the throes of unsettled sleep.

The Commander tossed violently in his sleep. His hands moving quickly around, seemingly wrestling with himself. The dreams were powerful, his memories so vivid.

"Whaaaat is that?" One of them pointed. "You sick...!"

The Ferengi did not get to finish his thought as Lieutenant Reinhart's instincts kicked in. At this point, his attackers were within arm length, and Dietrich was effectively holding a club. Leaping upwards, he swung his rifle wildly at the three little men. The rifle's butt struck one in the side of the head, and blood squirted out of the temple. The man fell to the ground, gripping his head. Dietrich paused and looked at him, only remembering that there were two more intruders when he felt them try to grab his rifle. Reinhart gripped it harder, trying to pull the gun to his chest when he heard the hiss of the other Ferengi's disruptor, and the heat of a nearby blast on his right shoulder.

Instinctively, he grabbed his shoulder and started moaning in pain, feeling it still. He was just operated on a few days ago, and the real pain was still very much there. "You bastard," he shouted in his sleep. "Fracking Ferengi!"
His face winced as he literally tossed around, holding the heavily scarred shoulder until he....

Wham!

His flipping finally hit a wall that was previously not there, and Dietrich lunged from his bed instinctively and tackled the object to the floor. The dream sequence still in place, the Commander straddled the person, pinning Callaigh to the deck. Dietrich, breathing heavily and eyes wide awake, looked around cautiously. Realizing he was on top of a friendly face, Dietrich quickly put his hand on her mouth as he peered over his bed towards his quarter's hatch.

"They're here," he whispered.

Cal shook her head beneath his hand and tried to will him to realize he was safe, in his quarters and thankful that he'd at least registered the new face as not being foe. When he showed no sign of removing his hand from her mouth, she did the only thing she could think of. Her tongue shot out from between her lips and she licked his palm, giving him a stern look.

Dietrich felt the wet on his hand, which is when he broke his stare from the door, focusing on the woman beneath him. Roland, he thought. A quick survey of the small quarters showed him he was not on the Carthage anymore. In fact, he was not anywhere remotely near the Carthage. Blinking a few times, he relaxed his grip on her arms and moved his hand from her lips before sitting up. Still breathing hard, sweat quickly beading on his forehead, the Commander looked down at the counselor and tried to calm down. His face went red, and he collapsed. "Another one," he said between sobs. "I can't get..."

"Get what?" she asked him quietly as she disentangled herself from him and moved off to his side. Her arm throbbed slightly from where it had taken the brunt of the pressure and she rubbed it quickly to speed up the returning blood flow.

"Get rid of them..." A gentle stream of tears rolled off his cheeks and onto the carpeted deck.

Of all the ways she'd intended on spending this night, it was not here, with a distraught, naked XO she didn't know aside from a file. Initial shock and discomfort was quickly forgotten in light of his reaction. She reached over, grabbing his blanket from the bed and draping it around him then resumed her spot beside him. "Commander," she tilted her head toward him, trying to catch his eye. "It's okay, now, wherever you were, you're okay now." In a manner of speaking anyway. She'd never had this situation in her office and wasn't exactly sure what protocol would require so she risked a light touch on his shoulder. "How often do you .. wake up like this? In distress, I mean." She didn't need him to misunderstand her for talking about his lack of attire.

"I haven't slept well since that night without drugs," he admitted. "The doctor on the starbase offered me a sleeping aid that knocks me out," he said into her. "It doesn't always work," he said, crying into her shoulder. The pain may go away in his shoulder, eventually, or so said the Doctor, but the fear would always be there. Why the hell does this happen to me, he thought to himself. The nightmares, the twisted stomach, the fear every time he leaves a 'safe' place.

"Dim lights," Reinhart ordered, as the fluorescent lights slowly powered.

Callaigh made a mental note to find out what Reinhart was taking. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders instinctively, surprised by how noticable his rapid heartbeat was. "Sir," she tried to maintain some professionalism for no other reason then she wasn't sure what else to do. "Would you like to talk about it?" Maybe that would help ease his mind; give him a handle on separating it from reality now that he was awake.

"My last tour of duty," he started, "the Carthage," he added. He stumbled with his words, his hands holding his face up. Somewhat muffled by his breathing, "we were ambushed by Ferengi." Thinking that she had to know that he was a fighter pilot, if she looked at his record at all, he figured he would skip most of the details and say: "it was the first time I saw the person I killed."

The XO pulled his head around to look at the counselor's face, "I was trying to protect the crew." It was all he could muster before his eyes watered again.

"Alright, here we go," she said, sitting him straight up and using the corner of his blanket to wipe gently at the corners of his eyes. "I need you to close your eyes and take a deep breath, or four, Sir." Cal gave him a moment to gather himself emotionally. Hell at this point, she needed him to, or else she was going to have a difficult time seperating the feelings she was getting from him, from her own. "These memories, do they only come when you're asleep? And are they always so ... vivid?"

"They are always vivid," he said. "I won't get the mind wipe," he said forcefully, as if it had been suggested before. Gritting his teeth, he mumbled, "No one is touching my head."

Well there went that suggestion. Not that she blamed him; the idea of such a thing turned her stomach but in severe cases, it may do more good than not.

"I get them during the day too, sometimes. Not as often," Dietrich said as the tears finally dried up. His voice solemn, very quiet, "away missions are tough. I've been on three of them since that day. And I haven't ever been able to look at a Ferengi the same. I only feel hatred."

Counselor mode kicked in full force. "Sir, do you feel that this in any way impedes your ability to carry out your duties?" It wasn't just concern for an innocent Ferengi who found himself on the wrong side of the XO, but for Reinhart himself if the line between real and remembered blurred too much to be seen. "And, may I ask, which part of the away mission is the most difficult for you?"

"I do my job well," he said, not fully answering the question. He pointed to his Dress Uniform, which was complete with medals and ribbons and pretty bass. He fought during the Breen Assault on Earth as only a pilot in training. The Battle of Cardasia. Battle Group Omega to stop the Scimitar. He spent a long time flying in squadrons that hunted pirates. He spent a long time in the service, and did what the Federation asked him to do. "They haven't suggested I quit," he offered as an answer. He waited a minute, contemplating, figuring out what was the difficult part. "The first part, the getting on the transport pad. That's the hardest. It's where I don't know what I am getting into, no matter how familiar I am to it."

"And this aversion to transporters; that isn't something you were prone to previously?" Callaing drew her legs up beneath her and gave him a bit of room now that he didn't look like he was in immediate danger of falling over. "And, while I have no problem believing that anyone has suggested you quit, is it something that you've considered?"

"Yes, to both," the pilot responded quietly.

She nodded, watching him. "I'm sure you've been told this, but for what you've gone through, everything you're feeling now is completely normal. Your psyche has to catch up to your body in the healing process, and unfortunately, those wounds take much longer to heal and the scars don't ever tend to fade." That may not have sounded helpful but she had no intention of lying to him. She'd read his file, and while most of the specifics were left out flagged files weren't made that way at random. Her mind turned back to the transporter comment. "Do you often not feel safe, or is it just when you're part of an away team?"

"Away teams only. I don't get that way usually. It's just when I go somewhere," he let that sentence fade with sigh. "I just don't like them. I've never really been trained for them. And in my experience, nothing usually goes right with them."

He looked at the time. 0114 Hours. Holy hell, how the hell have I only been asleep for two hours. It feels like I was reliving that whole day! Dietrich clambered up on the bed, accidentally dropping the blanket, which lead to a blush and a very quick retrieval of the blanket. "Doctor, we can do this another time, if you want. I know you're probably tired," he suggested, feeling the fatigue himself.

Of course he'd want his sleep. The counselor mentally chided herself for even starting this with him this late at night. "If you're sure you'll be okay," she hesitated coming to her feet. "You should know, Commander, that any time you need or want to talk, my door is always open."

"Right," he said, still looking down at the floor. "Thank you, Doctor," Dietrich offered. "You really didn't need to see that." The man watched as she took her leave.

Somehow, Cal got the feeling he wasn't talking about the dropped blanket and offered him a sympathetic smile. It wasn't until she was in the hall and on her way back to her quarters that she glanced down and realized her bunny slippers were missing. "Ohhh," she groaned in exasperation. Maybe the Commander would return them to her - preferably during shift hours - and it would give them a reason to talk further. She surely wasn't going back for them tonight.

"Lights off," he ordered, sitting on his bed and looking at the door. I am in a different place now. I am doing it right. Easy going, low stress. That's what the first girl said. Galactic South, 11th fleet. That's the new frontier force. And it's easy, right? The stressed, fatigued Commander sighed to himself, followed by breathing.

He never moved again that night, looking at the door. His breathing was shallow. His eyes wide open. "Never again will someone hurt me or my crew."

::OFF::
___________________________________
This disturbing post is brought to you by:

Lt. Callaigh Roland
Chief Counselor

Lt. Cmdr. Dietrich Reinhart
Executive Officer & Chief Flight Control Officer
USS Jackal