Working it Through

Posted on 21 Dec 2012 @ 8:43am by
Edited on on 21 Dec 2012 @ 11:40am

2,976 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: Episode 02 - Resupply
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 2, Ltjg Stone's quarters
Timeline: MD 15 2020 hours

[ON]

Jeremy stared at the desk at the right corner of the screen, his jaw clenched and hands shoved deep into the pouch of his sweatshirt. Several beads of sweat flowed down his temples but he refused to wipe them away as he leaned away from the screen. His gaze shifted around the room, but not at the screen. Barely noticed, his leg bounced as realized he couldn't lean back any further.

"Jeremy," a voice said from the screen. The tone of the voice could best be described as exasperated, with just a little touch of irritation. To Jeremy the tone was normal. It's the way it normally sounds when he hears it. "Jeremy, you need to look at me."

"You're interrupting my schedule," Jeremy muttered, staring at the right corner of the screen. "You told me to make a schedule and keep it, now you're interrupting it." He hunched his shoulders and clenched his jaw tighter. He shoved his hands further into the pouch. "I'm supposed to be working out at this time."

"No," the voice said, "This is the time for your appointment. You put it into your calendar. At least you said you did."

"Yes, well, I was busy when you commed. In fact, I should get back to what I was doing. What I was busy with." He didn't recognize it, but he came across as petulant, as childish and temperamental. That wasn't the image he wanted displayed, but rather one of cool aloofness. He wanted it to be a lesson. He's had a lot of them, why can't he turn around and give one or more out?

Jeremy wasn't looking at the screen, so didn't see Mulgrew's jaw clench for several seconds. "Jeremy, I've already told you I'm not apologizing for what happened. I was in the middle of a session with another client at the time you commed. It was not appropriate to put them on hold for you."

Now Jeremy turned in his chair so that he wasn't even looking in the direction of the screen. "That's not what you said before," he muttered as he stared across his quarters to the small gym area he'd set up.

"Jeremy, we both know that-"

"You said you'd be available when I needed you! You said you'd be there but you weren't! I needed you and you yelled at me and turned off the comms and you weren't there when I needed you!"

The exasperation was back, tinged with much more irritation. "Jeremy, I didn't yell at you. I never raised my voice. Something obviously has you agitated-"

"You called Dr. McFarlan on me! You had him yell at me for you! That's the same thing." He forced himself to look away from the screen, to keep from seeing Mulgrew. He turned the chair so that he sat perpendicular to the desk and the screen. He hunched in the chair, his leg bouncing even more as he contemplated turning away entirely, to stare out the window at the gold lit scene. "I didn't want to leave. I told you I wanted to stay but you made me go. I was happy there. People liked me there and didn't form hate clubs behind my back and..." he forced himself to stop talking. He was not talking to Mulgrew. He wanted Mulgrew to know how it felt to be ignored when he wanted something.

"Jeremy, please finish what you were saying. Hate clubs and what?"

He wasn't sure his jaw could clench any tighter so he clenched his fists instead. "No," he said. "You've interrupted my schedule. I'm going to end this comm and go back to my schedule. You can't expect me to just be available whenever you want. I have other...things to do."

"And you know I'm just going to comm right back. I'll keep doing that until we're done here. Why don't you decide how much of your evening you're willing to part with and what you're not."

"That's not fair," he said, missing the whine. "You blocked me when I tried calling back, but you won't let me block you. That's a double standard and it's not fair."

"I'm here now and I'm trying to help you. What do you mean they're forming hate clubs?"

"I don't want to talk about it. It's not important." He began to swivel in the chair, staring at the heavy bag. He wanted to get back to it. He wasn't done getting the rage out yet.

"Alright, well, if you don't want to talk, let's just review things then. McFarlan tells me that you still haven't got a refill on your medications and you still haven't told me that you've scheduled regular therapy sessions there on the Galileo."

He swung back around so that he at least faced the screen, but he didn't look at it. He shoved his hands further into his pouch. "They call me a soup nazi. I don't' understand this thing about nazi so I looked it up. They were horrible people who killed millions because of stupid beliefs that they weren't good enough to be alive. This is what they call me! Those people in the Hate Lt. Stone club! And people on the ship!" He lowered his head and tried not to bite his lip. "I'm going to contact Chief and see if he'll let me have my position back. With his help I can get a transfer back there. They like me there. They don't form hate clubs and call me 'soup nazi' there. I don't even know why they're saying that. Soup nazi? What, I'm supposed to hate soup. I don't hate soup. I think I like soup" He stopped, shaking his head. "There are some soups on the list of foods I'm told I like."

"You knew there would be a period of adjustment again. There always is. Let's focus on how you're settling into your new duties."

"No," he said, shaking his head and turning away again. "I don't want to talk about that. I..." he started to scratch his head out of frustration but stopped himself, making sure to keep his hands shoved into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

"Of course not," Mulgrew said, his tone beyond exasperation now. "Have you been keeping in mind all the things we talked about? Saying things like 'please' and 'thank you'?"

Jeremy sneered at that. "Useless waste of time." He muttered.

A sigh from the comm panel. "Jeremy we-"

"I've been doing it but it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter what I say none of it's good enough!" He was almost to the point of shouting but had to draw himself back. "I've tried. I left myself notes. I...I remind myself. 'Thank you for having a conversation'. 'Please do your job correctly and efficiently.' But they don't care! All they care about is..." He stopped and turned back to the desk. He put his head in his hands, forgetting to keep them hidden, forgetting the blood soaked wraps on each one. Forgetting that he knew what they would look like when he took the wraps off. He'd been staring at the splattered blood on the bag every time he turned away from the comm panel.

Mulgrew remained silent, but on the screen he could be seen leaning in, his brows knitted together as he stared at the dark stains on the wraps.

"They don't care about how much I tried! I did a good arrest on that crewman and the Commander just decided it was bad because it was me! I could be okay with it if he hated me because of me, but it's because of my record, that's the only thing it can be. He hadn't even met me before he decided I was worthless! And the Lieutenant tricked me into think she was nice and that she could be my friend. But then a few hours later she's yelling at me about classified nosebleed statistics! Who classifies what members of the crew are getting nosebleeds? Then she was going to take my PADD away! I know that's what she wanted. I could see her reaching for it...trying to snatch it away and she knew it was a medical thing and it helps me but she was going to take it away!" He started to breathe shallow as his heart rate increased. "There's nothing I can do if she told me to give it to her because she's a superior officer and if I didn't do what she ordered then there would be more problems and I'll be stuck in the room again and they'll close the doors and I won't be able to get out! She'll make me give her my PADD but then say it was my choice and it won't be because...

And the doors here! They won't stay open. I have to put something in front of them to keep them open and that's not right and things aren't in their proper place and there's nothing I can do about that either!" He began tapping his thumbs against his forehead, leaving indentations slathered with drying blood. It had the grisly effect of a bloody third eye. "They say it's because they weren't meant to stay open, that it was a problem before and they fixed it but then say they can't go back to what caused the problem because it was a mistake! So now I'm locked in this room with a chair out of place or a door closed and it's...they don't care! I'm trying, I really am, Doctor! I'm trying hard. I haven't yelled at anybody here...except the Commander and the Crewman but that was only because she made me so upset and then he said that I wasn't competent to do an investigation and...I've been trying! My department hates me even thought I've been extraordinarily nice to them but because I'm not the old guy who let them get away with everything they hate me. They call me 'soup nazi' and they say that Holliday is going to get rid me of me soon and I know that's true because he just overrides everything I do. He doesn't care that I can do this job, he only cares about what my record says and he's determined I'm worthless so I can't even do my job because he'll just undo everything. And she tried to take away my PADD and..."

He shook his head, his body trembling as his thumbs kept up the relentless tattoo against his forehead.

"Jeremy," Mulgrew said softly. "You need to calm yourself now. You're holding onto things that you need to let go. What did you do to your hands?"

"I tried to call you!" he said, nearly shouting. He kept building up as he spoke, until he was shouting at the end. "I tried! I had all this...stuff building up inside and you said you'd be there for me when I needed you and I tried to call you and you wouldn't take my calls! I had to do something...I had all this anger and rage because they think that...they said that..." Finally his body spasmed and he looked up at the comm panel. "No! I'm not going to talk about what they said! Just...they shouldn't have said it and now I'm angry and I can't put a stop to it. I can't...I just...I tried and..."

"Jeremy, what did you do?" Mulgrew asked from across the subspace channel.

As if finally hearing what was being said, Jeremy spasmed again and quickly shoved his hands back into his pocket, making as if Mulgrew didn't see them. "I'm not....I'm not..." he frowned as he thought about it and decided that it had to be true. "I'm not trying to harm myself. I'm trying to stop from being angry and there's nothing that can help and you won't help because you won't even take my calls. And Lieutenant Coleman won't help because she's mad that I found out about classified nosebleed data and what color to paint her office. Doctor McFarlan yells at me when he calls and it's just...I'm trying to do better and be better and do this, because I can do it but everyone thinks it so damned funny, that it's such a damn joke!"

"Jeremy," Mulgrew said, trying to get through but knowing the distance made it near impossible. Jeremy was winding up to something but where it ended, Mulgrew wouldn't know. "Jeremy, I want you to think about what you're saying, think about what you're doing. This isn't a healthy pattern. We've worked on that, don't blow it now."

"THEY SAID I LIKED BEING TORTURED!" he finally did scream. "That I was a Cardassian sympathizer and must have liked being tortured!"

Mulgrew fell silent, the shock of just him hearing that statement was upsetting, but he knew what it must have been for Jeremy to be confronted with it. But he also had to disbelief it. Nobody could be that misguided, nobody could be that cruel. He couldn't deny that Jeremy was extremely agitated so something must have happened. How long was Jeremy fighting the bag? Judging from the bloodied bandages, it must have been a while. "Jeremy I want you to stop for a moment. I want you to do the breathing exercises because you're just getting worked up all over again."

Jeremy's lips trembled as he was trying not to give into the frustration that filled him from the moment it came out of Kiwoski's mouth. "Why...why would he even say that? I made a mistake! I thought he said...it was a mistake! and if he had just told me it was a mistake I would have fixed it...I did fix it but why? Why call me a Cardassian sympathizer? It was a mistake and I admitted it. I...I just didn't hear him correctly I asked him and....he didn't need to say that. I said I made a mistake, I asked for it to be fixed but he didn't need to do that! And Holliday! Holliday thought it was funny! I saw him smirking about it, about how worthless I am! I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt him so bad but I couldn't because Holliday was laughing about it! And if I did hurt him, I proved him right; I told them all how worthless I am"

Jeremy stared at the screen, almost as broken as a child in a tragedy. "Why, Doctor? What have I done to deserve that?"

Mulgrew stared from the screen. It was not something he could immediately wrap his mind around. It had been some time since he saw Jeremy this agitated, this upset. He rocked in the chair, swinging it back and forth, his hands shoved firmly into his sweatshirt so that the evidence of his rage and frustration was out of sight. Getting Jeremy to medical wasn't going to happen for some time. Just to get him to calm down would take some time. But, even worse, what Jeremy told him next, Mulgrew knew his therapy was set back, perhaps by as much as a year.

"I want to forget this! I want it gone! I don't want to remember hearing it or feeling that way or seeing people laugh about it. I can't remember what foods I like; I can't remember what size shoes I wear. I can't even remember what my wife looks like, why do I have to remember this! Why would you want me to? I'm not going to take the medication, Doctor. I'm not putting this down in my PADD. I want it gone! I don't want to remember any of it! You say forgetting is a problem, a curse, a sickness. But..." Jeremy stared down at the desk, shaking his head while his frustration and rage leaked out of his eyes. "I won't remember any of this. If I can't have good stuff, I won't have the bad stuff. I'm going to bed, Doctor. I'm not going to follow any of my routine, I'm not going to do any of the stuff you want me to do to 'get healthy'. I'm just going to go lie down and wait to forget."

"Jeremy, wait, please don't think like that. You're making such great progress! Jeremy-"

Whatever he might have said next was cut off and Jeremy depowered the comm panel then ordered it to silent mode. He got up and turned. The only concession he made to anything was kicking off his shoes as he went to the bedroom and crawled onto the bed, atop the covers. He grabbed the third pillow and hugged it to his chest, biting the end so there was no chance his screams - or sobs - could be heard outside the room. Then he ordered the bedroom door closed and locked and the lights to be extinguished until 0300. As he lay in darkness, knowing he couldn't get out, he felt the panic starting, felt the fear and anxiety growing from a small pebble in his stomach until soon, but not soon enough, he was sweating and shaking and jumping at every sound - trying to tell himself it was just the beating of his heart and not the footsteps of his captors down the hall. Somewhere along the way, he became worried, then anxious because there as something...something that happened...something that he forgot about.

[OFF]

LTjg Jeremy Stone
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
U.S.S. Galileo

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