Knowing I

Posted on 22 May 2013 @ 3:20am by

1,856 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Episode 03 - Frontier
Location: USS Galileo: LTjg Liyar's Quarters
Timeline: MD6 0700

ON:

Arm cradled close to his body, Liyar flexed his fingers stiffly. He could still feel the cracked underlayer of blood that hadn't been fully scrubbed off. His tolerance level for sickbay, doctors and staff poking and prodding at him had come to an end. Maenad's presence helped, marginally, to soothe him, but it did not take away the prickly ire he felt at being smothered. Like the instinctive creature he often was, limping off into a dark corner to tend to his own wounds in privacy sounded like a very good idea. What he had, was the opposite. An anxious Maenad at his side and the bright fluorescent lighting up above. He trudged down the halls into the turbolift, painkiller hazed and grumpy.

Maenad led her Vulcan friend slowly down the corridor and into the turbolift. She ignored the eyes of passing crewmen like they weren't even there, and clutched Liyar's left arm with both of hers. She said nothing because there was nothing left to be said. The tenderness in her touch and the gentleness on her cheeks and and eyes communicated everything. He was lucky to have both arms at all, and she was lucky to have her best friend whole; once again Kohl and his medical team had performed a miracle.

"Deck two," she said quietly. She looked up at Liyar and gave him a reserved smile. She rubbed the top of his left hand in hers, thinking that this morning could have started a lot worse. It could have been a funeral or a search and rescue operation. Worse, they could have had to have dug out a team of corpses. She didn't want to think about that.

For Liyar, the majority of his expedition remained a total blur, from the time of the collapse until Maenad had shown up in sickbay. Snapshots of images flashed in his memory. At this point, it was all he could remember. Rocks, crumbling, being hunted by some thing. He wasn't scared then and he wasn't scared now. He was angry, enraged. Weakened and deformed, he'd been unable to protect their team well enough. For the longest time, Liyar said nothing. Maenad did not deserve anger, but anger and exhaustion and helplessness whirled inside of him. His inward shields were shredded, his mind as useful as a strainer. He was limp spaghetti, winding, endless, purposeless. He breathed in deeply, his chest rising and falling as he fought to regain his sense of self from his mind, spinning wheels in the wind. Upturned pikes, scorched grass, burning skies. The doors opened. He remained still, uncertain if he could trust himself to move.

Liyar remained when Maenad started to lead them outside. She felt resistance on her grip to him. She turned around and could see that his eyes were dark and bloodshot. His chest heaved. It pained her to see him this way. She turned to look up at him and pressed the panel to close the doors, to give Liyar his privacy. "Come on," she encouraged him as easily as she could. "I am here with you." She gave him a careful tug and tried to smile. "Let's go back to your quarters, where you can rest."

He tensed up, his expression stormy and alien. He brushed past her to press the open-door button with his proper hand and when he turned around, the Liyar she recognized stared back at her wearily. It seemed like only yesterday that their positions had been reversed. He gave her hand a small squeeze, near her wrist. "I am pleased that you came," he said when he unstuck his throat. He was still uncertain as to how or why, but he could not fault her timing. He felt like he was a tiny pindrop suspended on a string above a volcano. Maenad was one of the few things keeping him steady, balanced. The doors opened again.

"You came for me when I was hurt," she reminded him. "I wanted to make sure you were okay." Maenad didn't tell him, not yet, what had happened - how she knew something was wrong. About the terrifying feeling she had suddenly had that had also woken her up. She would once they were settled inside.

He had, she was right. But he had known. He had been aware. How was she? Did Kohl communicate with her amidst the flurry of movement and pain? He must have missed it. And yet, he could not help but wonder how Kohl knew to contact her. Did he say something to Kohl? It was troubling. What could he have possibly said? He let Maenad guide them to his quarters, stark and empty as they'd been the day before, and let himself be gently nudged onto the bed.

They reached his quarters and went inside. She led him to his bedroom and eased him onto the side his bed. "Let's take this off," she rubbed the cuff of his uniform jacket between two fingers, but it was the right side that was bloody and ruined. Maenad raised his left arm so that it was straight, at about the height of her shoulder. "Take your arm out of the sleeve, and head out of the neck" she instructed him, "and lean your right shoulder forward." Once he had complied, and the jacket was now only on the right right shoulder and arm, she licked her lips. "I promise, I will be careful," she said, though only her eyes smiled. She climbed up onto the bed next to him, after kicking off her shoes, and went around to his injured side. Her consciousness flickered as she again had to absorb the sight of all his blood. It was a deep forest green now, long since hardened, and parts of the sleeve had stiffened along with it. "Just be still," she whispered from just behind him. With both hands, she bunched the uniform in her hands, and carefully brought it up to the top of arm. "Tell me if I hurt you," she whispered, then began to ever so slowly guide it down his arm, easing it over the tender spots, and trying her best not to put any pressure or any tension on him. After a careful minute or two, it was off, and she dropped it on the floor.

Liyar's fingers curled, but he gave no indication of pain, his face smooth. He complied with her requests and leaned into her, allowing her to quickly remove the uniform jacket. Vague, dizzy impressions of her consciousness wafted from her fingertips, gentle and calm. He looked down at his bloody arm and amended that. Almost calm. Having her there made it easier. It was an oddly intimate gesture. He could have, of course, removed the uniform himself. He shifted under her and let her tug it the rest of the way, obviously unconcerned with that.

She unzipped his tunic and repeated the same process, though she helped him with both arms because of its snug fit. She set the bloodied purple tunic on the floor with the sullied jacket. She had never seen a shirtless Vulcan before. She couldn't help but cast her eyes over him for a few seconds. She knew that Liyar was in shape, but she had no idea that his muscles were as toned as this. She smirked; Liyar's personality didn't match his impressions. "Where are your pajamas?" she asked him.

His eyes lightened and he seemed almost to be amused at something, but it evaporated as the bigger question floated along his mental brainpan. "What is pajamas?" he asked, genuinely confused by the strange phrasing. It broke the spell of awkward intensity. It would not do well to ruminate on such things.

Maenad quietly snorted outwardly, smiling. "Where are your t-shirts, Liyar. What do you wear to bed?" she got up and picked the pile of ruined clothes off the floor.

Liyar pointed over to a drawer. "The top one." He moved to sit up again, feeling far too uncomfortable having Maenad traipse around his room and collect his clothing like an attendant. His head hit the pillow as his brain decided that the ceiling spun far too quickly. He would try again... later.

She deposited the sullied uniform in a replicator and had it dematerialised, then went to the drawer he'd pointed to. She removed a yellow t-shirt and went back to the bed. "Here," she said quietly. Very carefully, she slipped his bad arm through first, and pulled the shirt up to his shoulder. He was able to put the rest on by himself, and she watched, availing herself to assist if he needed. "Now lay down," she said softly. Maenad pulled back a corner of his covers, indicating that he should have gotten under them. Once she decided he was comfortable, she put her hand on his forehead, and pushed away at some stray hairs. "I was very worried about you," she told him.

He stared up at her, looking for all the world like he was lost. He squeezed his eyes shut. So many spinny things. Maenad was very nice. She cared about him, he could feel it in her fingertips. He opened one eye, peering up at her, and put his right hand on her wrist. "How did you know? To come?"

"I..." she started, but then stopped herself. Telling him she had a feeling seemed like the worst possible thing to say, but she would be lying if she'd said something else. "I don't know," she tried. "I was asleep, and I jolted awake. It was like the worst nightmare I've ever had, the feeling I had when I woke up. I just knew something was wrong. The computer said you were off the ship. It told me you were going to sickbay, and I," she looked down at herself and her lacklustre dress of a half-open tunic, without underclothes, and her bare feet. She started laughing at herself. "And I threw this on." She shook her head. "I know it's ridiculous, but it happened."

Reliant on drugs in the wake of his disastrous control over simple biological processes, the rest of his visible skin was bruised and battered, as if he'd had a particularly rough ke-ta-yatar session. Liyar slowly and painstakingly propped himself up against the headboard, listening to her recount what happened. How many times in his own life had he said something similar to what she'd told him? How many times had he been brushed off? "You knew something was wrong," he said, not in any skeptical way. "You felt me?" he asked. He reached over and took her zipper between his fingers, sliding it up all the way to her collar. "There." His lips quirked slightly. "No longer lacklustre. I do not believe I can help you with the matter of shoes, however."

OFF:

Lieutenant (JG) Maenad Panne
Chief Science Officer, SSC
USS Galileo

Lieutenant (JG) Liyar
Diplomatic Officer, VDF/SDD
USS Galileo

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