Unbearable Vulnerabilities [18+] (Part 2 of 5)
Posted on 30 Apr 2019 @ 9:56pm by Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant & Lieutenant JG Matthew Plumeri
2,385 words; about a 12 minute read
Mission:
Episode 17 - Crystal of Life
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 3, Counseling Office
Timeline: Various
Previously on “Unbearable Vulnerabilities” [18+] (Part 1 of 5)…
He opened his eyes – he had stopped breathing and he gasped for air, sucking it in and letting it out in a surprised fashion. He took another breath and tried to relax and forgot he wasn’t saying anything today.
“What do I want to talk about? No, no no…that won’t do at all. It’s what you want to talk about. Let’s talk about that and get through this yeah?” he said. Hiding as best as he could his feelings that were slathered in contempt.
"You have this--" Lake started to say, and then he course-corrected with, “I'm sorry, you have this backwards." Despite the words of apology, Lake couldn't shake the condescension from his voice. Although Lake was no telepath, he could certainly observe the disruptions in Matt's breathing among other micro-aggressions in what he had said. "I talk to my counselor about what I want to talk about," Lake affirmed, "Not you. ...Are you telling me you don't have one project, one goal, one relationships you're feeling stuck on?"
“Stuck on? That'll be the day. Counselor let me make it clear, I don’t want to be here. Yeah, ok, maybe I have some issues. I’m selective on who I share my personal issues with. I don’t trust you. I don’t like the way you look at me or the way you talk to me. And if I open up to you about something then I give you the leverage. And that…Counselor…that isn’t going to happen. I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. I don’t like the fact that you told the Captain or the XO that I need to be here because you lied to them to get me here. So…I’m here. And I’ll be here for the required number of sessions. I’m keeping my concerns to myself thank you very much.”
And now the continuation…
[ON]
At that, Lake couldn't help himself. He held himself to a certain standard of professional comportment. It could get in the way of Lake appearing warm or approachable, admittedly. Lake preferred to come across as clinical to avoid any associations with the days when Starfleet counselors traipsed around a starship making vague pronouncements, while wearing catsuits and sundresses. Of course, in practice, he wasn't always successful in presenting this professional facade. He allowed himself plenty of room for error in his perfect imperfection -- and yet, he considered it a particular failure when he smiled at Matt with absolute smugness.
"You're saying that you don't want to share your concerns with me," Lake responded, "and yet, what I'm hearing is that you're feeling stuck in your relationship with me, and you're feeling stuck in your relationship with Starfleet's documented expectations for its officers' mental health fitness for duty. So, I win."
And the rest of the session pretty much went like that. Matt tried to keep his mouth shut and he denied he had any problem. All the while he pulled away further from the Counselor. When the session was finally over, he found the nearest lavatory and vomited he felt so sick. Splashing water on his face and calming himself down he felt the torrent of emotions, like a raging river, just under the surface.
Timeline: Four weeks ago
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 3, Counseling Office
Matthew kept his eyes on the floor. The room felt tense to him. Like he was trapped or caged. It was another Counseling session. Matt had to hand it to Lake though, that damn Romulan! He would-not-give-up! The Counselor put up with this for weeks now. And he kept coming back for more. As Matt thought about that he realized an unpleasant similarity.
He and Lake were the same in this one regard; neither one of them were willing to give up. It was an eerie and unpleasant notion. Matthew thought of himself as the one that would never give up. He did have that reputation and the track record to prove it. But to meet someone else that had that quality, despite the uncomfortableness of it, was rather unsettling.
Matt was working out in the gym more and more. Pushing his body and working it. The pain and the exhaustion from the gym felt good. In a weird way. Because at least he felt something, and he knew that it was real. Going home with aching muscles and then stopping by sickbay for analgesic cream to ease the soreness – those were real. His addiction to the holodeck pornos wasn’t healthy and he knew it.
“Look” he broke the silence that was deafening the room, “What do you want from me? What do I have to do? I just want this to end. You’re not going to break me and you know it. I do my damn job…and I go home alone. I go to the gym alone. I go to sleep alone and I wake up alone. There’s nothing there you’re going to find. You know that you can end these sessions. Why won’t you?” Matt asked at the end. He felt his face grow hot and a panic rose in him. He thought of the damn Romulan as Lake. He even called him that in his mind. The Great Lord Romulan of his High Haughtiness. Matt had said too much.
"I'm going to find nothing?" Lake asked, echoing Matt's words back at him. The relentless audacity of Matt's statement elicited an equal and opposite response. Lake had spoken in a blatantly challenging tone; the words had practically come out of him as an incredulous scoff. "Too late. None of the behaviours you described are consistent with the behaviour of an engaged Starfleet officer. Worse than that, none of the behaviours you described are consistent with your own behaviour patterns from before your assignment to Galileo.
"The very fact your even asking to be released from these sessions," Lake said in mounting frustration, "is questionable in itself. All I'm asking of you is to share a hot drink and spend an hour in conversation with me. How can you be trusted to boldly go as a Starfleet officer if you're afraid of a simple conversation?"
Now the Counselor was attacking his commitment and his service maybe even his loyalty to Starfleet. Lake’s tone was abrasive and accusatory – Matthew heard it that way at least. It grated on him and he was feeling more and more cornered and boxed in. It felt to him like there was no one on ‘his side’. He did his job, he thought he did it well, he didn’t bother anyone, he didn’t sleep around and now this. Now this. He had taken just about as much as he was gonna take from this pointy-eared bastard. The loneliness and the isolation was finally catching up and he was tired of this. He decided to do something about it.
“You question my commitment, my ability and loyalty?” he said is a remarkably even tone. The anger and the hate in him grew and he was overcharged. He exploded by standing up quickly from the couch and swatting a vase with an orchid in it as one would swat a handball. It sent the object sailing into a wall.
“FUCK YOU!! FUUCK YOOUU!!”, he swore and cursed at the man and overturned the coffee table in the room. He was so mad, so angry. If he lost his commission and was booted from the crew or locked in the brig – what future did he have then?
He started swearing and the UT (universal translator) was unable to accurately keep up with the tirade. He was so angry and his accent was so thick now. It always got thick when he was pissed and that made him even more pissed because he thought it made him sound stupid. Fontalan wasn’t all that elegant like Standard was. And the UT was missing key words. He pulled the COMM badge off his chest and threw it hard against the wall.
Then he got in Lake’s face and yelled in Fontalan, "VAFFANCULO! Perché continui ad attaccarmi? Tu non sai nulla di me. Come ero prima di arrivare qui su Galileo. VAFFANCULO! Non hai idea del cazzo!! E cancella quel sorriso Romulano bastardi da quella dannata faccia. Non mi interessa se sei un tenente. Vaffanculo! Asino!! Ti prenderò a calci in culo così in fretta e lontano che non avrai bisogno di curvatura per arrivare dove sono un vero asino! Voi Consiglieri siete tutti uguali! Imma kicka yoo ass soo haaard you notta needa woorp driivaa to fly tru space! Vaffanculo!"
Given the relentless vitriol being spat in his face, Lake visibly recoiled from Matthew's aggressive stance. His broad frame curling in on itself, he crossed his arms over his chest and he sank deeper into the arm chair. Lake made no attempt to offer a verbal defense, though. Staring right at Matt, Lake's eyes showed no sign of fear. Rather, his dark eyes were wide, drinking in the sight of Matt's unleashed anger. Lake's expression was open with unmitigated fascination, and delight, and twisted pride when he watched Matthew move to kick out with his booted feet.
He kicked the wall and then the couch, his temper got the better of him and his blood was full on boil. He felt trapped and there was no where to turn to. How had he gotten here? He was confused and the raw emotions had to dissipate. What had happened? How had life taken such a wrong turn? He looked at his right hand and it was cut from either the wall or hitting something.
He leaned against the wall, now literally in the corner of the office. He was confused and he was tired of hating the Counselor. Again, he didn’t know why he disliked him the most. He let out a long sigh as the wave of anger passed.
He slid to the floor, leaning against the wall. Tired, so tired. Tears, hot and unwelcome stung his eyes. He hung his head. It wasn’t enough and more tears came. He covered his face with the crook of his arm.
He remembered the time his pet dog died. Othello, a great big Siberian Husky dog all the way from Earth had died at the age of 15. A long life for a pooch. But OH! OH, how it hurt! On the way back from the veterinarian, his dad met him on the walk home. Seeing that Matt was alone, no dog at his side running with tongue hanging out and tail high, his best friend. Matt’s dad knew his son was hurting. On a busy street, surrounded by people, his father said to him, Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it. He had a good cry there.
For some reason that instant in time came to mind. Overwhelmed by emotion and unable to hide his loneliness and feelings of isolation and abandonment; the tears came. When the uncontrolled sobbing gave him a break he said quietly, "Please. Stop. Let me go."
Lake didn't say anything at first. He had stood up from his chair and he had crossed to the other side of the room. His expression had gone solemn, and even then, mostly impassive. Without explanation, he opened a panel in the bulkhead to retrieve the small medikit and he held it low by his side. Lake carried the medical equipment with the same familiarity of a child and his teddy bear.
Slowly, Lake closed the physical distance between himself and Matthew. The emotional distance would take more time, more effort, than a handful of steps. Keeping a couple of metres away from the sobbing man, Lake took a similar posture as Matthew. He pressed his shoulder into the bulkhead and he crouched to the floor, lowering his face into Matt's eye-line. Lake rested the side of his head against the bulkhead, and he asked, "Let you go? Where would you go?"
Matt felt thoroughly embarrassed. The long journey to the Latari system was taking its toll on him. Under normal circumstances, he easily made friends. But what he wanted was something more. And that was not so easy this time around. The tears were hot and genuine. He remained hiding his face in the crook of his arm a moment longer. He tried to dry his eyes a little as the intense emotional wave passed. He couldn’t bring himself to look at ir-Llantrisant. Ashamed that his temper and his emotions got the better of him. He knew that Lake was a few meters away and sitting on the floor. Matt saw his COMM badge and reached for it. His right hand bloodied, he picked up the communications device and saw that it was damaged. He let it drop to the floor, wiped the blood from his hand and onto the dark part of his uniform. He would have to speak in Standard now. His accent was thick, and it made him feel self-conscious.
“I don’t have anyplace to go. I’ve never been good at being alone. Not for long periods of time. Not like this.” He closed he eyes, revealing his face as he leaned his head against the bulkhead. His cheeks were wet. He dried them with a quick wipe on his sleeve. The feeling of being against the walls and in the corner felt reassuring now. There was nowhere else to go, and he was tired of running. He sighed. And in that sigh was sorrow and pain and exhaustion. His breathing was labored; he still was weighted down – this was just a lull in the storm.
[OFF]
To Be Continued
Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo-A
&
LTJG. Matthew Plumeri
Science Officer - Astrometrics/Historian
USS Galileo-A
NCC-80010
RSS Feed
Back to Top