<USS Avalon> "Confliction"
- From: "Brad Ruder" <groundzero@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: avalon@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Sat, 19 Feb 2005 22:25:04 -0800
"Confliction"
by Commander Javan Sierra
& Senior Lieutenant Elissabeth Marksbury
He'd heard of her issue. It was a damning issue to be sure. The loss of a crewmember and teammate is hard, but one must shut off those emotions and press on. Life doesn't stop because someone falls in the line of duty. Hell, Javan thought, he'd lost more people under his command than he could count and it did nothing but make it all the more easier the next time. Insensitive, people would say. Screw them, what did they know about real combat?
The doors parted and he stepped into the sterile environment. Marching over to her, he slowed and leaned casually against the wall that started as the rounding enclosure of the surgical bay. "How are you holding up?" Javan asked, compassion - the most he could muster - lining his chisled features.
She hadn't been asleep, only been lying there silently, listening to the sounds around her. She'd heard him approach and had been pretty sure by the confident gait that she knew who it was. "And how is one supposed to answer that question?"
"Depends on the situation. You lost someone under your command. While I know it comes with the territory and have accepted that, I just wanted to make sure that you do to. After all, I can't have an emotional wreck running an area of the security department. So, I ask again, how are you holding up?" Javan fought a losing battle with himself and folded his arms, content to stare her down almost antagonistically.
"Each one of us know what we sign up for when we put this uniform on every day. Soldiers die, Commander, it is a part of life." There was no ire or malice, just resignation.
Javan leveled his gaze, "And soldiers like to play games too, Lieutenant. Tell me how you really feel."
"I feel responsible."
"Go on..."
"No thank you, Counselor, I'm sure I'll get my fill of sessions after this. If you are coming to inquire as to whether or not I am fit to return to my duties once I'm released here, then the answer is yes. And, in fact, I have been ordered to return to them. Was there anything else, sir?" Why did Sierra bring out this side of her, that aggressive side that erased her usually calm demeanor? And to be forced into a confrontation while lying on her back was nearly too much. In fact, she was contemplating standing, just so that she could not be taken as weak. Or be pitied. Or be questioned about whether or not she knew how to move on and do her job.
"Do you know what your problem is, Lieutenant?" Javan was trying not to lose his patience. "You think that you have to be strong all the time. You don't. As a matter of fact, it's healthy to break down and sob uncontrollably about something every now and then. And, yes, you'll be seeing our counselor after this. I'll make sure of that."
She sat up, not even attempting to move slowly. And then she stood and glared at the man intruding upon her few moments of privacy. "You do - not - know - me, Commander. I do not believe you should assume you know what my problems are. How do you know I've cried? How do you know I've not cried? You don't. Do you know how many men I've lost beside me? Do you know how many I've lost under my command? Do you? Do you know how many times I've stared death in the eyes? No, you don't, and until you find out, I would appreciate you keeping your assumptions to yourself." She was not yelling and by golly she was determined not to, but it was getting really damned hard.
He rolled his eyes, "Save your passionate speeches for someone who gives a fuck. All I care about is the fact that you get over this. Whether you admit to crying or not, that isn't my problem. Get it out of your system and move on. John Forester isn't coming back no matter how many tears you shed or prayers you say." He took a step towards her, "Mourn all you want while you're in this room. When you check in to start your next shift, make sure it's gone. Intelligence doesn't dabble in self-pity or facades of perfection. You understand me, Lieutenant?"
"And what, pray tell, has led you to believe that I would ever be incapable of doing my job? Whenever have I been less than professional, sir? Would you please tell me why you have come into my room with thinly veiled agression and began making demands and accusations? I would sure the hell like to know."
"Too many times have I seen 'professionals' buckle under the pressure of a real mission. None of this 'I'm behind the desk and safe' bull shit. Exposed to real life, real hunger, real death, they fold. They fold and become incapable of doing their job." He took a breath, "A stiff reminder of their duty as Starfleet officers usually does them good."
"I am not one of those, Commander, and if you would start looking at me as an equal who has been around the proverbial block once or twice, you might see that. I am many things, but I am not weak."
He smiled that sarcastic smile, "I see you as an equal, Lieutenant, that's why I'm here. You have to start realizing that there is no strong, there is no weak, there is only one thing: balance. That is Starfleet. You swim that perfect medium. You do not get attached."
"And just how would you know, sir, whether or not I am 'attached' to anything?"
"I'm Betazoid, Lieutenant. A well-trained one."
"And I've been intensely trained for blocking telepaths. Even well-trained ones. You will get only my surface thoughts."
"Maybe that's all I need?" Javan looked at her, letting the hidden meaning of the words linger, and then turned on his heel and marched towards the door. He stopped as they parted for his exit. "Lieutenant, make sure you see Ms. McKinsley before reporting back to duty. I'll be looking for her report on you."
"Bull shit."
"That's an order, Lieutenant."
It took all the self-control that she could possibly muster to keep from lashing out at him in some way physical. That man was so... infuriating didn't even begin to describe it. He was cocky and confident way beyond actual reasoning and her thoughts were venomous, Compensating for something, you arrogant bastard? Go ahead and read that.
"Compensating? Yes, I suppose, compensating for the slack in the department." Javan glared daggers at her.
"You are a petty man, Commander. A very petty man, having to come here visiting me in sickbay to make sure I'm not any sort of threat to you and the perfect little world you've attempted to build. I would appreciate it if you would just leave me the hell alone."
Javan shook his head, "See it however you want, Princess. Petty? No. Looking out for Starfleet interest and personnel, yes. Maybe next time you'll look out for Starfleet interest and personnel and we'll have one less spot in the morgue occupied." He narrowed his eyes again.
The words seemed to knock the breath out of chest and the fight from her eyes. "That was incredibly low, Commander. Even for you," she said softly.
Maybe he had crossed the line, but it didn't matter. "The truth hurts."
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