A Paragon of Dejection

Posted on 25 Mar 2015 @ 9:48pm by Lieutenant Oren Idris Ph.D.

4,149 words; about a 21 minute read

Mission: Episode 08 - NIMBUS
Location: USS Galileo, Deck 7, Observation Lounge
Timeline: MD -02, 1430hrs

[ON]

It was late in the day when Oren realised he had other responsibilities besides self-pity and telling his problems to strangers. To make matters worse, the added responsibility was one he had chosen for himself, after deciding that his relatively light workload on the Galileo wasn't enough to keep him interested in his field. So, weeks ago, Oren had finally accepted one of the numerous offers he'd gotten over the years to be an adjunct professor at the University of Betazed, his alma mater. Now that decision was coming back to haunt him.

His memory was jogged when a memo popped up on Oren's work paDD, alerting him of the fact that he had to schedule a class for the only student on the ship who had signed up for his course - Wintrow Paragon.

Wintrow, on his part, had retired to the observation deck after a long shift. He loved to look out at the stars. Preferably, from a smaller craft like a shuttle, or a fighter but since he had no other alternatives, the observation deck would have to do.

The teenager stood leaning on the railing, his face almost pressed against the cool glass, a dreamy look in his eyes as he just stared outside, seemingly far away with his thoughts.

Finding him there was easy enough for Oren and he felt bad about breaking him out of the little trance he seemed to be in. Glad that the Observation seemed to have no other visitors, at least not those that looked like they'd be staying, he spoke out to the youth.

"Cadet Paragon?" Oren said, pulling lightly at his uniform, hoping he looked presentable after the day he'd had.

Startled by the interruption, Wintrow turned. "I'm he," he confirmed, straightening a little. "Can I help you sir?"

Oren blinked, unused to such a title, but recovered quickly. "Yes, my name is Dr. Oren Idris. You signed up for Family, Household and Society?"

"Could be," Wintrow replied as he recovered, "might be a while ago sir, I honestly don't remember." He picked up on the confusion and furrowed his brows. "Why are you confused, or uncertain?"

Great, another Betazoid. Oren tried not to frown and his face gave a slight twitch instead. "It's just how I am. Uncertain, by nature," he admitted. He looked down at the paDD he'd brought with him. "You are definitely in the class," he told him.

"I don't doubt you sir, nor am I questioning it." The boy looked away. "My memory is sketchy lately."

Oren frowned, watching him. "Are you okay?" he asked, taking a few steps towards him but keeping a respectful distance. He leaned back on the table, setting the paDD down on it and resting his hands in front of him.

"Not really," the youth replied vaguely, "but I'll manage." He turned fully. "What was the course about again?"

"It's about the social institutions and symbolic meaning of families and households across different cultures. I mostly focus on the predominant cultures of the UFP, as well as the Klingons, Cardassians, Romulans etc," Oren explained. Tilting his head to the side, he observed the cadet. As he'd learned of his new pupil's name, it wasn't hard to connect it to something and Oren quickly realised that this was the Wintrow that Ellsworth slept with. The only thing that crossed Oren's mind was how young the boy was and that reminded him of how young Ellsworth was.

"That sounds interesting," Wintrow answered, sitting down opposite of Oren, linking his hands before him on the table. Dark eyes regarded the man, who looked so youthful. How could someone so young looking, be three-quarters of a decade old? "We're dealing with Klingons these upcoming games," he continued, "why not start there?"

"Well," Oren began, reaching up to push his bangs out of the way with one hand as he scrolled through his paDD with the other, taking a seat. "I think that's probably best, but I wanted our first meeting to be us going over the syllabus and letting you know how we'll be conducting this course. You're my only student on the Galileo so the circumstances are a little unique," he explained, giving Wintrow a small smile.

"Anyway that works best for you sir," Wintrow replied easily, "I'm flexible." He tilted his head. "Your only student? Really?" He smiled lightly. "Well...I suppose I'm used to that because all my other classes are pretty much one on one too."

"You're not my only student overall, but all of the students that signed up are in distance courses, so it's different," Oren clarified, trying not to feel too awkward with being referred to as 'sir', but his awkwardness seemed to transform into a nervous energy, making his fidget in his seat just a little bit. "I will be transferring the syllabus to your personal paDD, and at the end of each lecture I will also give you the required reading material for the next class."

"I'll do my best to get it all done," Wintrow promised, studying him for several seconds. "You don't like being called sir, do you?" he suddenly asked, feeling a little guilty about not asking first.

Looking up, Oren thought he should probably have been more surprised by the invasion of his mind and thoughts. As it was, he simply felt agitated, wondering if it was the norm for young Betazoids to probe the minds of the people they meet moments after meeting them. "Uh...no, I suppose I don't. I'm not used to it," Oren replied finally.
"It's only a form of being polite," the young hybrid explained patiently, "and my dad taught me to be polite and respectful to anyone older than me."

"My parents taught me the same but I seldom run into anyone older than me anymore, especially on Federation ships," Oren explained, smiling. He turned his attention back to the paDD in front of him. "Alright..." he trailed off on the last syllable, running his finger over the screen. "Well, if we went through the syllabus properly, then we wouldn't get to Klingons in a month, so I suggest we simply do the introductory and general concepts first, and then we jump to Klingons after that. What do you think?" Considering Wintrow was the only student he met with face to face, he saw no harm in letting him have a little more freedom.

"Works for me," Wintrow replied, "how long until we get to the Klingons then, because we'll be arriving in two days, right?" He didn't sound as confident as he looked, his voice taking on a note of uncertainty.

"Don't worry. I'll set up some simulations on the holodeck for us to go through," Oren explained. "Do you know anything about Klingons?" he asked curiously.

After a few seconds of thought, Wintrow shook his head. "Beyond that they're scary, very aggressive and extremely honour bound, no not really," he answered timidly, "do you?"

Oren schooled his expression expertly to make sure Wintrow wouldn't be able to tell just how adorable he thought he was at that moment. As someone of his age and experience, Oren found Wintrow's summary incredibly innocent, bordering on sweet. "I'm an anthropologist, and I have some experience with Klingons," Oren said instead of what he thought. In fact, the first thing that went through his mind at the timid look on Wintrow's face was how different Ellsworth was from him, considering they were basically the same age. Wintrow just seemed so much younger.

"Your assertion is half-correct. They're really not as frightening as they might seem when you just meet them. They're intimidating though, especially if you're small." He shrugged his own shoulders to emphasise his own lack of bulk.

"I'm small," Wintrow added, gesturing at his own slight figure, "and not very...courageous either. They'd just swat me aside, or pretend I'm not there."

"You're young, so they'll probably pretend you're not there unless you bring attention to yourself. They do like to toy with people who look like we do, though. I've found that it's best to stand your ground and, if you must say something back, make sure it doesn't involve their mother. Or Kahless. Or Qo'nos. Or targ mating rituals, that one never ends well," Oren explained, shaking his head at the last.

"I don't know any of that anyway," the boy replied softly, "and I know quite well how not to draw attention. Just don't look at them and they won't notice you right?" He looked down at his hands. "I'm good at being quiet."

Oren frowned at the display, watching the boy. He felt there was a deeper meaning to his words but knew better than to push for anything. Who was he to Wintrow anyway? There was no reason for the young man to talk to him. "You don't need to be quiet all the time," Oren said kindly. "And sometimes they notice, even if you look away," he added, knowing it was true from experience. The same had been told to him and his classmates as children when the Cardassians came for their little inspections in the school. Don't make a sound, and they'll go away, they said.

"I'm a cadet sir, what am I to them? Insignificant for sure, and I'm a halfblood, so probably unworthy of their attention to begin with. My blood is 'impure' so to speak." How of he'd heard his stepmother or half brother say that to him, he'd lost count.

"Wintrow," Oren said softly, slipping out of formality for the moment. "Your blood isn't impure. Being a hybrid doesn't make you any less than anyone else. Your blood doesn't matter, your heart and your actions are what makes you who you are. It's what makes us all who we are, no matter what species we are."

"I know..." The two words were a bare whisper, "but that means nothing to someone who values honour, blood, and family." He looked up at the El-Aurian. "The only family I have left is a grandfather I barely know."

"Klingons value more than blood, and family itself is about a lot more things than blood. Klingons have rituals where they bond together, becoming brothers and sisters, without having blood ties. Also, in my experience, honour tends to be a very subjective thing, even among Klingons," Oren explained in an understanding tone. "For what it's worth, I was always regarded with respect by the Klingons I've met, and I don't have any family."

"You don't?" The younger man's eyes widened in surprise. "But surely...there's family somewhere? You mean you don't even have a family of your own yet?" As he said it, he bit his lip and looked away. "I'm sorry...that was rude..."

"A little, but I forgive you," Oren said quickly. Though the comment did hurt, the El Aurian didn't want the boy to feel bad about it. "No, I don't have any family. My parents died when I was very young. I do have a grandmother, but she never wanted me and I have no idea where she is, or if she is even alive anymore." His voice was sad, but calm. "As for my own...well...it just hasn't happened. Not yet, but I suppose I'm still too young anyway." Oren didn't really believe that, as he figured he should've had an offer of starting a family with someone so far. At least, he reasoned he should've met someone he shared a real connection with by now.

Feeling the sadness, as keenly as if it were his own, Wintrow slowly got up and walked around the table, then just simply wrapped his arms around the man. Shy as he might be, he felt the man just needed a hug.

Oren blinked under the sudden show of affection. To his benefit, he didn't pull away, simply letting Wintrow act, knowing that, as a Betazoid, he probably couldn't help himself. Instead, he tried to relax into it, wrapping his arm gently around the younger man. Though, as much as he hated to admit it, the hug felt good and Oren tried his best not to get too teary eyed by the random act of kindness.

Though he had offered the hug, Wintrow flinched detectably at being touched in return and he let go immediately, taking a single step back. "You felt so sad," the boy whispered as he returned to his seat. "I can only get some of what you feel, but the sadness was so strong..." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Im sure you'll find someone. Just..." He faltered, sighing deeply. "Just as I will....some day...if at all..."

"I'm sure you will. You're a very kindhearted young man," Oren told him, watching him carefully. "You should be careful though," he added gently. "Some people might take advantage of that." His thoughts turned to Ellsworth once again, although he didn't consider himself taken advantage of. If anything, he'd given his affections freely and should have anticipated the idea of rejection. The fact that he had trusted Ellsworth to accept and return them had been more than foolish.

The boy nodded in understanding. "I'll try to be careful, but being taken advantage of doesn't necessarily come from having been kind to someone." Again there was that undertone that there was more to his words than he was letting on. He leaned forward on the table, resting his chin on his linked hands. "Why are you too young?" he then asked, "you don't look your age, but you don't look underage to me."

Oren nodded at Wintrow's first comment, knowing it to be true all too well. At the second question, he raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. "Well...by El Aurian law, I am still a minor. We aren't considered adults until we turn one hundred years old. It's more of a social thing than physical or emotional," he explained, going by his own understanding of what little he knew of his own culture. "I was emancipated though. I wanted to help in the war effort, so I got emancipated to join Starfleet as an enlisted nurse."

"Well...if you're emancipated, then you're not too young are you?" He tilted his head slightly in curiosity, making his dark eyes catch a stray ray of light, making them appear blue-er than before. "I mean....I started on a starship as a captain's yeoman when I was seventeen...some might consider that too young."

"To be honest, I don't feel too young. I feel too old," Oren admitted. In the back of his mind, he knew this really wasn't the type of conversation you should have with your pupil, but it felt nice to talk to someone. "It's a strange feeling I'm not sure I can put into words." It felt like fighting against your very nature constantly, trying not to be too naive because you should know better but trying not to be cynical because such an outlook felt toxic. Constantly opening yourself up to people only to be disappointed and rejected in some way, all while trying to remain positive that it wasn't your fault and that was simply how some people were.

"I know what you mean," Wintrow replied in a whisper. "I know I'm not....who I'm supposed to be. An old soul, but emotionally behind. I hear the whispers, but they think I won't hear them."

Oren nodded, but didn't understand completely. He knew his form of empathy, this strange aura he seemed to exhibit, was something completely different from say, Deltans or Betazoids, so he knew their own experiences could never be explained either.

"Who do you think you're supposed to be?" he asked, that sentences having caught his ear.

"A regular nineteen year old," Wintrow answered flatly, "aren't teenagers normally a little rebellious, testing the waters and going out and go on dates and all that? I don't do any of that..."

Oren smiled. "Well, not all teenagers do that. It all depends on your upbringing," he shrugged. "Is there something you always wanted to do but thought you couldn't? Or weren't allowed to?" Oren's parents had indulged him extensively (while they could) so, when his teenage years had finally rolled around, he hadn't felt himself lacking any freedoms, or control. His own rebelliousness had been mostly turned against himself, trying to fight against who he really was instead of learning to live with it.

"I was never allowed to leave the farm," Wintrow answered softly, "never allowed to go off on my own. My brother was always there, watching me..." He swallowed. "Or making me do things.... I don't know if there's anything I've always wanted to do, except to fly or go sailing. I feel very distressed if I can't fly. The worst for me is to be grounded, for medical reasons."

"Then I think you are a regular nineteen year old, because you're on your own, flying. I think you should give yourself more credit," Oren told him, leaning back in his seat to look at the boy in front of him. It was obvious by the way he sat and spoke that he'd been through more than one would expect. He definitely needed some encouragement and Oren could empathise with him. It was difficult, feeling different because you actually were. Sometimes the differences were obvious, and not only in your head.

"How do I give myself credit? I know I'm a good pilot...it's everything else I'm not so sure about. I have few friends, but only one my age. I never had any friends sir, because I was never allowed to go out and make them. My brother made sure of that, bullying any potential friend away, and my stepmother made sure I stayed indoors. I was never allowed to go places after school and if I was but a minute late, I was grounded. Or worse."

Leaning forward to cross his arms on the desk between them, Oren looked Wintrow in the eye, his own filled with sympathy. "But none of that is your fault. What your family did to you." He swallowed, blinking to keep the tears from his eyes at the thought of someone being put through such treatment. "It was monstrous, and had nothing to do with you, or who and what you are. It was them, acting their aggression out on someone innocent, and vulnerable."

"But, all that you've accomplished since then," Oren went on. "That's who you are. Even if you might've had help from someone, it still took a lot of guts to devote yourself to something a little bigger than yourself."

"But who am I?" Wintrow asked desperately, "I don't know who I am anymore. I can't distinguish anymore...I don't want to be a victim, but I am...I don't want to be scared of people, but I am. I want shelter, and love, but I can't bear to be touched... I'm branded, and yet I can't bear to have the mark removed. So who and what am I?"

Oren sighed slowly at the outburst from the boy, feeling helpless. He wanted to reach out and comfort him but knew better. Instead, he stood up and slowly made his way to sit on the chair right next to Wintrow, close but keeping his distance. "Wintrow," he began softly. "No one can tell you who are. Hell, I'm not sure who and what I am," he admitted solemnly. "You have to figure it out for yourself, and it takes a long time. It doesn't mean you're less than anyone else, you just need a little help getting where you want to be."

"I don't know how..." Wintrow had never asked for help. He'd been so afraid before that he had never told anyone what his brother had done, or his stepmother. He was just a clumsy boy, and thats what he'd started to believe. "I never told anyone," he continued timidly, "not even doctors when they tried to press the issue. I haven't spoken to anyone about Rigel either, I don't know how." Sure, he'd spoken to counsellors before, and he didn't mind it, but he was afraid to reach out. Afraid to cause trouble for someone else.

Reaching up, Oren discreetly wiped a small tear that was slowly starting to make it's way down his cheek. He knew in the back of his mind that he wasn't in the most stable emotional state himself to handle such a conversation with someone, but his instinct to help overrode those thoughts. "Wintrow, I know it's hard to tell people how you really feel, but counselors want to help. Not just because it's their job but because they want to help people feel better," he explained, keeping his voice as soothing as he could. Feeling bad for the struggle he could clearly see in the young man, Oren leaned a little towards him. "Listen, Wintrow, I don't know what happened to you." But Oren could definitely make a guess from what little he could piece together from their talk. "But I know it was bad and it's hurting you more keeping it inside like this. I think the kindest thing you could do for yourself is to talk to someone. Whoever you want, a counselor, a friend, me even. I'll listen if you want to tell me anything. It won't go any further than us."

Wintrow hesitated, the indecision clearly visible in his dark eyes and on his pale face. After a few long seconds he nodded minutely and in a hushed tone told him about his family. But he did not tell him anything about what happened on Rigel; he just wasn't ready to talk about that. He indicated something had transpired but that was all he would say, stating only that the counsellor knew about it and that he wasn't ready. "I don't want to burden you," he added slowly, the tears now making tracks down his cheeks, dripping onto the table. He wondered, if he would ever be able to give it all a place and leave it behind.

Oren listened, the tightness in his throat and chest increasing with every word Wintrow spoke, momentarily regretting the offer to help. But as the story grew in brutality and sorrow, the regret dissipated and Oren felt a small feeling of happiness with giving the boy someone to confide in, if only to lessen the weight he no doubt felt, transferring it to Oren. As he finished, Oren looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. There was definitely something to be said about how much your knowledge of someones past influenced your image of them.

"You're not burdening me," he told him, his voice shaky with emotion as he tried to keep himself steady, both physically and emotionally. "I only wish I could do something to help you now." Oren wanted to reach out and touch him, make him feel that there was someone else there, with him, that he wasn't all alone. But he held himself back, not wanting to make things worse for the poor boy who no doubt felt extremely vulnerable after revealing so much of himself.

"There's nothing you can do," Wintrow whispered, feeling drained, "except...maybe help me get home? I don't think I can find my way now, and I don't want to be left alone. But I'm so tired...so tired of it all."

Oren felt nervous at Wintrow's words, but said nothing for now, fearing that he may have misunderstood their meaning. After all, just because he often thought of suicide as a blessed release doesn't mean other people did. "Alright," he agreed, slowly standing up. He took a small step forward to help Wintrow, but then stepped back, fearing that he might be crowding him.

"It's okay," Wintrow permitted, trembling as he got to his feet. "I need help..."

Nodding, Oren tentatively reached out for him, letting him know before he placed his arm around his small body to help him up. "Which deck are your quarters on?"

"Uh....six, I think," the boy replied, "my roommate is Cadet Saalm." He leaned heavily against Oren, appearing almost as if he'd had way too much to drink. "Thank you.... for listening but please sir...don't tell anyone else." The shame would be too much to bear.

"Of course I won't tell anyone," Oren assured him, helping him out. "But, for what it's worth, I think you should talk to one of the counselors, but only when you feel ready. Okay?"

"When I'm ready," Wintrow promised him.

[OFF]

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

Cadet SO Wintrow Paragon
Support craft pilot
USS Galileo
[PNPC T'Vanna]

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