Wallowing

Posted on Tue Nov 8th, 2016 @ 7:24am by Captain Charybdis MacGregor

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Taking Chances
Location: USS Bonne Chance, Deck 3, Forward Observation Room
Timeline: 2265

Watching the stars slide by in the Port Observation Room on Deck Three, Charybdis was trying to be at peace, but it wasn't working. She was upset... but the one whom she would turn to in such moments was the primary cause of the distress. She had friends to turn to... but she could not really discuss this issue with them. After all, most did not know of her disdain for the Vulcans, and even if they did, it was rooted deeply and required considerable explanation to fully grasp.

She considered that she had to tell Fiona eventually, and she wondered how her fiery friend would react. Letting out her secrets did not seem to be the best of ideas, here of late... not that she seemingly had made that choice on her own, but apparently wherever in her subconscious she lurked the original Charybdis had certainly thought so.

Not for the first time Char wondered if it was the dead Vulcan girl's brain engrams trying to get her killed. At least, she assumed the original Charybdis was dead... if she was not there was certainly no way that Char could ever reach her and rescue her, and even if she could, would she not be a mindless shell? She disliked the idea of a portion of her own consciousness being so decidedly against her, and she mused that perhaps she might want to learn to meditate after all to contact the disparate portions and fragments of her mind to convince them all to work as a whole.

Patrick knew her... he knew her better than anyone, and according to him he had seen her dreams, which were nightmares to her. How could he lecture her about Vulcans if he knew? She took another drink... surprisingly, the home brewed bourbon was not so bad. She had no idea why she had become possessed of the urge to drink liquor after duty, but it had been there in the back of her mind, so she had simply shrugged and accepted it. She was off duty, after all, and her time was her own today. And while she did not usually drink save for special occasions this evening she found herself putting down most of a bottle.

When they had come alongside the Vulcans she had just wanted to avoid them, but he had insisted. When he had lectured her she had expressed herself. He had dismissed it, and in doing so he had dismissed her feelings. Casually. No compassion, no understanding, just orders. She supposed this would be more the nature of their relationship now, and it hurt her to realize that as she poured another drink.

She had tried to play the part... he had not asked her to pretend to be the stereotypical Vulcan, but neither had he looked into her eyes and told her to be herself. When she had slipped... because he made her happy... he had looked so disappointed, and sent her to the bridge. She had held herself in check... she had been proud of that. And she had held herself in check for her entire bridge shift as well. She had even held herself together while she thought and waited to see if he would come look for her to speak with her. But that had not happened.

It was the first time that her faith in him had been shaken, and she was completely lost... for the first time in a long time she did not know what to do.

It seemed unlikely that he would track her down at this point... likely he would not know how to use the sensors like she would, and that was assuming his desire to do so. He had not returned to the bridge... he had not called for her... it seemed she was on her own tonight. She gathered up the bottle and her glass, and departed the observation room. Selune was right to come here... it was good for solitude. But now she wanted guaranteed privacy to do what was inevitably coming next.

She was questioning her choices... but then, how many choices did she have? She could hear Scylla laughing at her in her imagination... he held all of the cards. She had given him power over her, and while he had been sweet and gentle at first, here were the first few tugs on the leash. The voice that she knew to be the Tal Shiar training inside of her told her that she had been a fool to follow her heart, and now was where it began to change. Now was where she would begin to see his true colors, and it was beginning to look like she would not care for it at all.

She climbed the access ladder back to Deck two, to deposit the nearly empty bottle and glass back in Science Lab Delta, then she took the turbolift to Deck Five. She was a bit tipsy by her reckoning, stone drunk by anyone else's reckoning and it would not do to fall down an access ladder in her condition. As the lift deposited her on Deck Five, she walked instinctively to Patricks's quarters, then stopped.

She did not know where he was, or what he was doing or what he was thinking... all that she did know was that she was upset. She leaned her head against the cool metal of the door and touched it with her fingertips. She longed for him, but she was afraid to seek him out. There was the distinct likelihood that he was angry with her, and even coming to the realizations that she had, she still wanted him to care for her. It all confused her, and it hurt, and she did not know what to do, so she followed the basest of instincts and sought somewhere private.

She sniffled... he would find her if he wanted her. According to him he could smell her three decks away, and he could hear her she supposed just as well. She wandered toward her own quarters, shoulders slumped and head hung low. She did not wish to be alone, but perhaps it was for the best to accept that sometimes she would be. The fresh and exciting affair was over, and he had made her into his functionary. He would call for her when he wanted something and leave her to occupy herself when not.

Wandering into her quarters... her empty, antiseptic quarters the vulcanoid vixen laid down on the bed, curled up tightly into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest and she cried. She did not even have her body pillow... it too was in Patrick's quarters, and she did not want to go there. Instead she would curl up here for the night, and in the morning she would report for duty, and bottle up her feelings and pretend nothing was wrong.

That was what he wanted, it seemed, and she had no choice but to give him just that.

But for tonight, she wept alone.

 

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