Lost in the Echo

Posted on Fri May 15th, 2015 @ 11:57pm by

Mission: Ill Tidings
Location: SB 332, Counseling Suites

Bert leaned as far back in his chair as he could, nearly mirroring his patient lying back on the couch across from him. Hands folded over his chest as he watched the same wall that she did, he listened to her breathing- the hitch of nearly speaking- the sharp intake of air that signaled her frustration as she again didn't say what she needed to. When she began to fidget with her feet against the arm of his sofa, he finally glanced in her direction. "It doesn't have to be today, Amie.." he sighed softly. She threw a pillow in response. "That's actually not why they're called throw pillows.."

"I want to!" she nearly roared as another pillow was launched at the wall. Twisting up into a sitting position, the teen immediately started picking at the edge of the long striped socks that stuck out of her boots. It was a tell that signaled her anxiety reaching it's breaking point- usually two steps only two steps away from when she'd start shaking and cussing and weeping openly. It was also where the psychologists on her previous station had stopped their sessions short and told her parents to take her home.

Engels had read those files and all of their lengthy suggestions on medications to be given, therapies to be administered and various measures to be taken to coddle the girl into a safe, blank space far away from her trauma. In the real world, though, there was no safety net set up to keep away bad thoughts. No magic pill to undo what'd been done. There was recovery- when you were ready for it- and there was mourning. Right now, Amie Pratt was still solidly stuck in mourning where she'd spent the last two years courting a memory that she couldn't let go of. She'd been told to, instructed on how to go about doing so, ordered to, demanded of, but not understood. In that mess of weapons fire and smoke, blood and flames was the last memory of a brother that she'd never see again.

No matter how much a professional could dissect the scene and sanitize it, harden emotions to the moment, explain away the dangers of life in space, point out strengths and weaknesses to guard against the future, there was more that one couldn't do. You couldn't give it all back. Or wave a magic wand and simply fix what was broken. Every single shred of ground won was raced on the legs of a willing patient ready to heal or reason or work through. Without a person ready to heal, it was a waiting game spent bolstering hope and listening, supporting, encouraging.

What she wanted, Bert already knew. He'd seen the picture that Amie had brought in at one point of a smiling blonde haired toddler, pink cheeked and toothy. That he couldn't give her back: no one could. She could still feel the way that child fit into her arms when he hugged her. Or the way his hair stuck to his face when he woke up from naps, groggy eyed and grumpy from naps. She knew how his hair smelled. What his favorite song was. How he never slept with the blankets over his feet and a hundred other things that neither of her parents knew because their work always pulled them away. Shell worked with security and until coming board Starbase 332 had a the daunting task of managing a brig on a different station. She'd taken a hefty cut in prestige to come to 332 where her time on shift and position were considerably less in order to be there for her remaining child. Her husband Stan was unable to do the same, but had secured a matching position on the same station. They were there with Amie now, bu it wasn't what she needed. Who she needed was her brother, but that was only part of the problem.

There were deeper layers that Amie didn't even acknowledge. Anger at her parents for not being there. Anger at herself for being afraid- and freezing in that fear. Anger at the pirates. And then there was the blame that she'd assigned herself and others. The guilt of surviving. She claimed that she felt secure, but that was a lie that Bert had seen in action No matter what part of the station they could walk through together, her eyes were always scanning, ears straining for cues that an attack was incoming. Even then, though, her eyes went to the children. Any child. She'd position herself, bouncing on her toes, ready, to spring into action if she had to in order to protect them. That was what gave Bert hope that she could still be reached- that medication wasn't needed to lock her down from the intensity of her reactions. She was ready to be the hero of anybody's story- he just needed to redirect that energy so she could save herself.

"Come on, kid, let's walk.." He told her as he got to his feet . "You know that I think better on the go."

As usual Amie fell in beside them, her too big sweater hanging loosely off thin shoulders. She scowled as the door opened and her parent's faces came into view, immediately trained on them with equal parts wariness and hope.

"Are we done for the day?" her mother asked, quickly standing to meet them.

"No, we're just strolling, ma'am, thank you. If it's easier for you both, I can escort her back to your quarters after we're done?" It was unsaid that he'd call them later and fill them in on what he thought was the best course of action for the three days until their next visit. Voicing anything of the sort in front of Amie only further distanced her from where they needed her to be.

Stan nodded, but said nothing. He never did, but his gaze had weight that spoke volumes to Bert as he watched them leave.

For some time they walked in silence: it was habit. Look around the great big beams that arced and soared overhead. Peer out the windows in the waiting area. Skirt the long rows of offices belonging to doctor this and specialist that until they reached the edge of the dedicated medical areas and enter the common row. From there Amie would perk up some in anticipation of the game. After a few moments, Bert would found the target of the day and pointed to a dark haired woman in red. "Her.." he said as covertly as he could.

"Oh, she's a spy for the Cardassians.." Amie answered quickly. "She's here with plans to disperse a secret nerve agent to the unsuspecting populace."

"And he's her contact?" he asked of the dark haired man that she greeted at a nearby bench with a kiss to his cheek.

Amie sighed, shaking her hands as they passed by. "No, he's the civilian she's fallen in love during her time spent here. She's terribly torn about the decision to kill us all since it means his death, too."

"Clearly she's gutted.." Bert laughed as the pair exchanged another kiss. "Here's to hoping that we'll all live through the day. Next up is.. him. In the orange jacket."

She studied the next target for a moment, watched him nearly drop a disposable cup of something hot and dark on himself and nervously look around to see if anyone saw the fumble. "Black market antique smuggler and world class fighter jock. He's got mad skills with the ladies.."

"All that and a case of the dropsies? Impressive." Bert started scanning the area ahead of time for his next mark. As much as it seemed like a game that she was playing, sometimes, some ways she'd let him have another little piece of the puzzle in the form of her observations. She'd find some person that resonated with her for whatever reason and start to talk, unawares, of vulnerable spaces within her.

"His pants are stuffed with relics that he slipped in past security. Of course he's nervous! You don't think that's his real butt, do you?" Pausing to readjust her sweater in a reflective panel, Amie frowned when she looked up and saw a pair of small polished patent leather shoes trudging through the crowd warily. She traced upwards in the reflection to see a young girl following after a woman who resembled her strongly. She watched as the girl reached up and tugged at the back of her mother's tunic only to be shaken off and ignored. Amie took a deep breath. The child stopped and stood there. She saw her tiny feet shuffle where she stood, her hands balling up and releasing several times as she saw the mother continue to walk on. Before Bert could notice, Amie was on the charge.

"HEY!"

Bert spun around- so did the mother and just about every other head in the room. There was Amie with the kid on her hip and a terrible gleam in her eyes that'd have surely killed the woman where she stood if looks could kill. The mother took a hesitant step towards Amie, clearly unsure of exactly what was going on except that her crying kid was bolstered up on this strange teen's hip instead of trailing along behind her.

"Just like that.." Amie told her, snapping her fingers. "Just like that and they're gone. Every time you turn away.. Every time you make her less important that your work, your friends, your life you lose her. And one day she'll be gone. If you're lucky it'll be because she's tired of your bull and has gone off to make her own life. If you're not, you'll spend every day stuck on how you messed up because some freak hauls your kid off and you never see her again. Just. Like. That. And it's over. Your life means nothing after that. It's worth nothing. You're nothing. She's everything and you're blind to that. You don't deserve her.."

Bert had already taken in the nuances in Amie's posture- the way her jaw was locked to a point that she had to force every word through gritted teeth- the set in her eyes and knew that she wasn't all there right then. Part of her was lingering too close to memory that was trying to swallow her whole. Having worked with her enough to know her boundaries, he set both hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly. "Amie Rae.." he said low, close to her ear. "This is Starbase 332. You're on the Promenade right now.." She twitched under his hands and tried to roll him off, adamantly sticking to her anger too much to pull back to reality without help.

"Nonono it's her fault. She's never here. She's supposed to be, but she's always called in. She never says no to them, just us because we're not the priority. We're never first." Only half aware that Bert had snaked his arm around hers and ever so gently laid his palm over Amie's and laced their fingers together, she didn't entirely notice that her grip on the little girl had loosened to the point that she was beginning to let go.

"She was gone a lot, yes, and you were left to care for Bailey. He was such a tiny thing, wasn't he?" With his other hand he touched her elbow, re-positioning it to the side away from her body. "He fit into your arm just so, didn't he?" Just like that her attention snapped from the woman and the little girl to the reimagined weight on her arm. She let her grip weaken entirely and Bert was able to extract the girl from Amie's arms completely.

"Bailey.." she whispered so sweetly, so reverently that it hurt Bert's heart to hear it.

Once the girl was safely back into her mother's arms, Bert steered Amie by the arm- the arm that was stiff as if holding her brother- back towards his office. There were plenty of people wanting to voice questions or concerns, but he held out a hand and said not a thing, leading the teen who was dancing and humming to her dead brother back through the maze of offices towards the counseling suites. It was going to be an ugly awakening- worse than the last- but it had to be done. and sooner than later, he'd have to find a way to help Amie decide that she could survive letting Bailey go.

---------------

Lt. Bertram Engels, Jr (PNPC for Dr. Kaya Innis)
Counselor
SB332

and

Amie Rae Pratt (NPC)