Drowning sorrows

Posted on 30 Jan 2015 @ 5:32pm by Lieutenant Oren Idris Ph.D. & Lieutenant JG Grayson Jones

2,911 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Episode 07 - Sojourn
Location: SB84 - Bar/Grayson's Temporary Quarters
Timeline: MD41 - 2250

[ON]

After his encounter with Pieter, Oren felt like he was in a daze, floating from one task to the next, one encounter to another, only half-aware of his surroundings. Seeing a therapist felt out of the question at that point, so Oren desperately tried to find ways to focus himself on his surroundings. He worked, but with his job focusing on the past rather than the present he found himself more often than not indulging in far away fantasies and idle fancies.

No, Oren needed a person. The first to come to mind was Ellsworth, but considering his consciously poor treatment of the boy, Oren didn't feel ready to confront him or his feelings. The next to come to mind, a much safer option, was Grayson. Finding him proved to be easy enough as the computer sent him to the nearest bar on the base.

This was true, after the loss of his father, Grayson had spent many a night in a bar on the Starbase. Becoming somewhat of a regular, most of the bar staff knew his usual drink order, which had become more sever than his usual colourful cocktail mix. Now his was a large vodka with a dash of lemonade. His gaze now hardly lifted from the bar, no longer tempted by the flesh that quite often made itself available to him. Grayson had gone numb and only the fire of the vodka made him feel something these days, not that anyone would know, while at work he hid it very well behind a forced smile which was becoming harder to keep.

"What do we have here?" Oren said, walking up towards the bar after spotting Grayson. It was still relatively early so finding the lone Trill among the few patrons hadn't been too difficult. He glanced between the drink in Grayson's hand and the slightly glazed look in his friend's eyes, but didn't comment. "You can officially stop drinking yourself into a stupor, I'm back."

Grayson gave a genuine smile. "A sight for sore eyes! Oren!" Grayson went to give him a hug. "Maybe this is the time to start drinking then," he joked, giving a little laugh that just managed to escape the corner of his mouth.

Returning the hug readily, Oren felt warm at the much needed physical affection. "Maybe you're right," he agreed. Glancing at the nearby bartender, Oren ordered them both a round, a brandy for himself and whatever Grayson was drinking. "How bad?" he asked instead of the usual 'Are you alright?'. Clearly, Grayson wasn't.

"Loss, pain...all par for the course it would seem. You?" Grayson was beginning to know Oren well enough that something was a miss with him as well.

"Depression, self-hatred," Oren supplied, taking a long drink from his glass once it arrived.

"So, at least on my part...not much has changed." Grayson chuckled, downing his previous drink and starting his fresh one.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Oren asked, leaning on the bar to look at Grayson more closely. He looked worn out, and not the way he usually did after a long shift in Engineering, but worn out from the inside.

"Not yet, few more of these. Haven't gotten to the point where I can without crying." He took a moment to compose himself, trying to hold back the tears that had begun to well in his eyes. "How about you? What is on you mind? How did everything go while you were away?"

"Depressing. My parents are in a box in my office," Oren said, the honesty feeling good. He'd always enjoyed Grayson's company. There were no big expectation and he could just be himself.

Without a word, Grayson just went over and gave Oren a hug. In the first time since the accident, he uttered the words, "My father is dead as well. No box though or anything. Nothing left to put anywhere though," Grayson wiped a tear, "I'm just a little lost."

Not letting Grayson fully detangle himself from Oren, the blonde pulled him back into another hug. "I'm so sorry," he said against his cheek. "When?" he asked once he pulled away.

"Just a few days ago." Grayson sniffed, holding back some tears.

"I'm sorry," Oren repeated, his voice filled with sympathy. Although his own parents' death had been decades ago (Oren had only retained the hope of their survival for a few years after their disappearance), Oren knew how much a fresh wound like that could hurt. He also knew that the pain itself could be an oddly selfish thing, not focused on the demise of the person in question, but on the regret of so many things unsaid and the sadness of being left alone.

"What do you need?" he asked, resting one hand on Grayson's arm.

"Just a friend," Grayson replied still somewhat enjoying the touch of another, "I haven't really spoken about it to anyone. Just kept a smile on my face and kept going. Your my friend though...I couldn't have hidden it even if I wanted to."

"No, you couldn't," Oren agreed with a sad smile. "You shouldn't." Patting Grayson's arm once more, Oren took up the drink he'd left on the bar. "I know you'll roll your eyes at me for this but, maybe you should see a counselor? Sitting here and drinking can only help so much."

"Oren, you know I don't get on with them all the time. They have a way of pulling things out I put behind me a long time ago. Plus, alcohol is more fun." He giggled. "I'm just glad you are here. But seriously, are you ok?"

Oren gave a small, bitter laugh. "No, not really. I should probably see a counselor, but I can't bring myself to," he admitted, swirling the brandy in his glass.

"We should go together, lessen the pain and impending torture," Grayson joked as he all but downed the drink infront of him, the effects beginning to take their toll.

"I probably should've gone earlier, but I don't think it's really helping me."

"Shouldn't we all have," Grayson retorted with a deadpan tone to his voice, "This is why we have bars and excellent bar tenders to keep us going. Atleast for me, it numbs things a little until I am ready to deal with it again."

Oren nodded, sipping from his glass. It wasn't the same thing in his case, but he didn't feel like going into it, especially not with Grayson when he was toeing the line of sobriety. "What else have you been doing since I've been gone?"

"Keeping busy, working on the ship, a few little side projects...being here." Grayson sulked, masking the numerous calls of condolence he received from various dignitaries, political minded people. Each one more tedious than the last, bringing with it more bad memories and more tears. "You?"

"Mostly avoiding everyone," Oren admitted, still leaning on the bar. "I needed to take some time, gather my thoughts," he explained as vaguely as possible.

"Slowly reintroduce yourself to the world? Yeah, I get that."

"To be completely honest, it didn't really feel like a month since I disappeared," Oren admitted, ordering another round for them with a wave of his hand. "I'm a little embarrassed about it, but I think I needed it."

"No need to feel embarrassed Oren, I totally understand it. If the ship weren't leaving in a few days, I'd be doing the same. Best I can do is disappear into the bottom of this drink," Grayson sympathised as he downed the last of his drink, "and into my temporary quarters here...which I think I will need to do shortly before the drink gets the better of me." Not that he wasn't enjoying Oren's company, he could just feel some old emotions pulling on his heart strings again, be it from the drink, the pain, the loneliness he felt or a mixture of them all. Grayson didn't want to take the risk, nor feel the spurn of rebuked advances, again.

"I think you need to consider doing it now, you're dangerously wobbly on that chair," Oren warned, reaching over to place a hand on Grayson's shoulder in hopes of stabilizing him.

"That would be a good idea," Grayson laughed. "Come with me? I've missed you."

Oren gave him a look of mock-offense. "You don't think I'd let you walk around like that all by yourself, do you?" he asked rhetorically, downing the rest of his drink and pushing himself off the bar.

Half letting himself collapse into Oren and wanting a hug at the same time, Grayson managed to get out a "Thank you," before letting a tear roll down his cheek. "Deck 64, Section 25, Room 11."

"Really? Deck 64? Thank goodness they have turbolifts," Oren commented, wrapping Grayson's arm around his shoulder after the short hug. He did him the courtesy of not commenting on the tears. Alcohol made a lot of people weepy and, considering Grayson's current emotional state, it made sense for him to want to cry. If anything, it would make him feel better.

He led the Trill into the turbolift, leaning him against the wall gently. "There you go," Oren grinned in support. He was feeling a little lightheaded as well, but nowhere near as much as his friend. "How do you feel?" He ran his hands over Grayson's arms in what he hoped was a soothing way.

"Better thank you." Grayson couldn't help but smile, Oren's presence and touch warmed him.

Oren smiled back. "Good," he said with a nod. When the turbolift stopped, Oren hooked Grayson's arm under his and led him out into the corridor. Checking to make sure he was leading him in the right direction, he was happy to find Grayson's quarters quickly.

"Here we are, " Oren announced, letting Grayson use his access code to get them inside.

"Coming in?" Grayson asked gleefully, unsure what the response would be. He hoped Oren would come in, he didn't feel like being alone that night. "I think I have a bottle of something that could act as a night cap and finish the evening off for us?"

Oren nodded despite the nagging voice telling him it may not be the brightest idea. "Sure," he said in agreement. He walked in after Grayson, taking a quick look around.

"Make yourself at home! Kick off your shoes. Plenty of space in here, not like on the ship, right?" Grayson stated as he started his hostly duties, bringing back a bottle of Scottish Whisky and two glasses, his own shoes were already off and his shirt only half buttoned. Not that he could remember if he had done that, that they had came undone in the lift or at some point that the bar. "Whisky?"

"Yes, please," Oren said with an enthusiastic smile. Sitting back on the couch, Oren lifted his arms above his head and did a full body stretch to loosen some of the tension that had gathered in his limbs.

"I like to see you smile." Grayson said as he approached with now two full looking glasses. He wished he could just curl in beside him, but resisted for now, he knew he would make a wrong move...not that he wasn't being oblivious in how he was feeling. Hopefully this time Oren would pick up on it, Grayson hoped...understood it as a long shot, but hoped none the less.

Oren's smile faded slightly, but didn't disappear. He looked down at his glass and the amber liquid within, thinking. Maybe it was a bad idea to come to Grayson's room. "I know you do," he said, hoping Grayson understood the meaning of the words. "I care for you a lot, Grayson."

Admitting that felt important, because Oren didn't want Grayson to feel like he didn't have any feelings for him. "You're drunk," he added, "Don't do something you can't take back when you're sober."

"You know how I feel, how I've always felt Oren. I need someone right now, I don't have anyone left in the world." At this Grayson started letting the tears silently roll down from his eyes. It was the first time he had said it aloud, admitted it. He was alone. "Yes I may be drunk, doesn't change the fact I care for you, something about you makes me happy, feel comfortable." He flopped down beside Oren, his glass on the table, his head in his hands. "I'm just a failure. Scared. Lonely. Failure."

Oren sighed, guilt ripping through his insides at the sight of Grayson's prone figure. Reaching over out of instinct, he slid his hand over the Trill's back. "Grayson," he said softly. "You're not a failure." With his other hand, Oren pressed it against Grayson's chest to pull him back to rest on the back of the couch.

"You're not all alone. I'm right here with you and I'm not going anywhere. Okay?" Scooting closer to him, Oren put his arm around Grayson's shoulders, hoping he sounded as sincere in his willingness to help as he felt.

Grayson managed to sniffle back an "Okay," through the flood. He cuddled in a little, fighting back his former temptations still. What was it about Oren that made him feel this way? Even in mid sob, he wanted to reach out and kiss him, in his drunken and slightly warped mind by the past few days events, he felt like that would make it all better. It was the only close relationship he had known between himself and others, an intimate one.

Pressing his lips against Grayson's temple, Oren made soft, soothing sounds as he stroked his back. "I know everything hurts now, and you're scared, but everything will be okay. I promise," he whispered.

The kiss caused conflict in Grayson, he was thankful for the touch, the comfort, but the other side of him wanted more. In one of the few times that would ever happen in his life, he was stunned into silence. It was like the two sides of him that were in constant conflict, the friendly and romantic Grayson had given up their fights for control. In one fail swoop, he lifted his glass, finished it and proceeded to top up his own, then Oren's. He felt each sparkle that remained in his eye, leave.

Oren watched Grayson drink with a worried look. "Maybe you should pace yourself," he suggested calmly, hoping he wouldn't get the wrong idea. After all, Oren had to claim to Grayson or anything he chose to do. He was just worried he wasn't in the right state of mind to be drinking like this.

"Oren," Grayson started with an honest tone, "between this," he lifted his drink, "and having someone in there," with his drinking arm, he pointed to the bedroom, "I don't feel much of anything right now. I need to feel. Or have this all be a dream. If you want, you can go. Thank you though for coming with and helping me out. I am sorry about your loss as well." Grayson was pushing when he knew he shouldn't be, practically slamming shut all the doors in his mind he had opened and taking a phaser to them to weld them shut. He began to stumble towards the bedroom.

Oren felt helpless, watching Grayson. Conflicted, he was at a loss for what to do. If he left, he would feel like he was abandoning his friend, one of the few real ones he felt he'd made during his stay on the Galileo. But if he followed him, Oren feared he might be giving him the wrong signal, making a promise he knew he couldn't live up to.

In the end, as the doors of Grayson's bedroom slid shut, Oren let out a frustrated sigh, burying his face in his hands. Between the alcohol in his system and the emotional trip coming back to reality as he called it, Oren began to second guess his decision. Maybe he should've just sent in his resignation and gone away. Maybe changed his name or gotten a different job. Anything seemed preferable to the mess he was making now.

He knew, deep down, that what was happening wasn't truly his fault, but he couldn't help but feel responsible for adding to Grayson's pain. It would just be so much easier if he felt what other people felt, how they felt it. He would return Grayson's affection wholeheartedly and then all of this pain wouldn't hurt so much.

But no, life and fate seemed to have other plans for him. He felt destined to constantly do the wrong thing, no matter how much he tried to do right.

Suddenly feeling tired with the emotional weight, Oren decided to just stretch himself out on the couch. He just needed to lay there for a bit and think, preferably sober up before making the long trek to his own quarters, thirty decks up. Relaxing on the couch, Oren stared up at the ceiling, wondering what fresh hell tomorrow might bring. If these last few days of coming back were any indication, a tiny sliver of his mind hoped he wouldn't wake up in the morning.

With that hope, he eventually drifted off into a fitful sleep.

[OFF]

Lieutenant JG Grayson Jones
Assistant Chief Engineering Officer
USS Galileo

Oren Idris, Ph.D.
Archaeologist/Anthropologist
USS Galileo

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