ALetter to Allyndra

Posted on 26 Aug 2014 @ 11:26am by Commander Andreus Kohl

760 words; about a 4 minute read

Timeline: Early on MD 08

[ON]

I'm laying here. I'm laying in my bunk and I can't even close my eyes anymore. I can hear it. I can hear the sound of my heart beating. Or, I suppose, it's the sound of my blood pumping through the blood vessels in my ears, in my neck, in my head. Whatever it is, I can hear my heart. I can hear what it's saying. There's no sense in closing my eyes. I can't sleep anymore. I can't stop thinking long enough to sleep. I can hear it. I know what I have to say.

"Computer," I say, "begin recording a communique to Lieutenant Commander Allyndra."

The computer chimes, and I look at my LCARS display. I say:

"Allyndra.

I hope this message finds you well. With you, I can't guess if this message will appear out of nowhere, like a bolt of lightning from the dark, or if you knew this message was a long time coming. I trust you will understand its contents in either case.

Respectfully, I must withdraw my offer of duty hours in Sickbay. I have to step away from practicing medicine. For now. I have to stop. For now. Now, don't get me wrong. If the red lights are flashing and bodies are dropping, I'll be there for you. If a mysterious space plague strikes -and Lieutenant Stace allows it - I'll work double-shifts in Sickbay again. I'll be the scalpel in your back pocket. I will.

I only hope my skills won't dull while I'm sitting back there. I am going to miss it, you know. I never knew what I wanted to do with myself in Starfleet. At some point, back home, Starfleet became the goal. Living a life in service was a given. It didn't matter where or to whom overly much. I was going to serve somewhere. Somehow... I don't really remember, I latched onto Starfleet in particular. But I never knew what I was to do in Starfleet. They said I could do anything I wanted to do, be anyone I wanted to be, but I never felt like I was anyone until I was facilitating a body's rehabilitation...

But I have my ego. I have my career. And you have an entire compliment of medicos again. I've been peeking at the personnel reports, and your Sickbay is filling right up. Mott is out of quarantine and you've received all of the transfers you needed. You don't need me. Not truly. But it isn't- it isn't about that. I know, I do know, even if you had too many bodies to physically fit in Sickbay, you would still welcome me gladly.

It's about...

What is it about...?

It's about Elijah. Elijah was right.

Hearing myself through his ears, it made me sound like an unbalanced person. I've taken on too much. I've over-committed myself, and now I lay in bed, and I make lists of all the things I should be doing. These are things I know I won't have time to do, because I've already scheduled every hour of every day, and yet I can't stop thinking about them. Between science and medicine and social obligations, I've committed myself, and now when I should be sleeping, I'm worrying about all the things I haven't done. You'd think we have enough problems between the mines and the tribbes to worry about, I wouldn't need to invent imaginary ones of my own. I'm wearing myself down, mentally, emotionally and physically. I've hurt myself again. My recovery has taken a backslide. I'm pushing too far, too fast.

It's gotten so bad, I feel like I'm not connecting with anyone. There have been moments, here or there, but no solid connections. I'm flitting from appointment to appointment, and I'm not stopping to appreciated the people around me. I think I'm feeling lonely. The Science department is so sprawling, it doesn't feel like a team. Don't get me wrong, there are people I like, people I have history with, but it's been different since I returned from that last shore leave. There was a time I had friends aboard Galileo. People to be close to, people I couldn't get through the day without speaking with or seeing once or twice. ...I haven't seen Victarion in days. ...But I don't want to talk about that.

I need to stop.

And then I need to start again.

But slower this time. Slower."

[OFF]

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