Mercy, Mercy Me (Part 3)
Posted on Thu Aug 29th, 2024 @ 12:22am by Lieutenant Akira Kogami & Lieutenant JG Eradaar Ezazzan & Lieutenant JG Julia Araala
Edited on on Thu Aug 29th, 2024 @ 12:24am
1,950 words; about a 10 minute read
Mission:
I-402
Timeline: After 'Mercy, Mercy Me (Part 2)'
Previously, on Star Trek: Missouri:
She looked over at Eradaar. "Alright, you want a story? I'll tell you a story. Fortuna XV, about four years ago; I was Assistant Chief of Security on the Itasca, and we were out investigating an anomaly that had disrupted mining operations on the surface. the Chief Of Security- fucking womanizer, I swear- he'd come down with a case of Correllian Flu, so he's holed up in his cabin, hacking his lungs out while I'm getting switched in last minute to head our security detail on the away team.
"Anyways, we beam down to the surface, probably spend four to five hours dicking around in the mines trying to find this thing- and mind you, it's like 105 degrees down there, so we're sweating our asses off trying to find this thing that we're not 100% sure even exists, getting caked in dust and whatever nasty shit you tend to find getting kicked up in a mineshaft, and at least three of our guys passed out from heat stroke and had to be beamed back- but I'm veering off topic, so let's get back to the stuff you probably actually wanna hear.
And now, the continuation:
"So we're getting ready to wrap this whole thing up- we're hot, we're tired, we haven't found this damn thing, if it even exists at all- and right as the Captain's about to tap his combadge and arrange for a beamout, we hear it- this deep, guttural roar emanating from one of the lesser-used mine shafts. Of course, we're still obligated to try and locate this anomaly, so we reluctantly unpack all our equipment and start making our way down the mine shaft to investigate the noise. It's dark, it's cramped, we can barely see more than three feet in front of us without the palm beacon, and did I mention it was hot? Because I must've lost 15 pounds just trying to navigate that stupid tunnel, I swear...
"So, we finally reach this chamber where things start to spread out; and as I'm busy looking around, I see this flash of red light coming from right behind the captain; my security instincts kick in, and I jump in front of the Captain to protect him from whatever it is that's about to hit him. And the next thing I know..."
Her voice trailed off. Her lip was quivering, as if she were recollecting a painful memory.
Eradaar’s expression softened further as she listened to Akira’s story, sensing the depth of pain behind each word. When Akira’s voice trailed off, Eradaar gently placed a hand on her uninjured wrist, offering silent support. "You’ve been through more than most, Akira. I’m here to help, no matter how long it takes."
"...The next thing I know," Akira continued, her voice lacking the enthusiasm it had been just a few minutes earlier. "I wake up in sickbay; Doctors there inform me that the away team had encountered some sort of cave monster, and that was what had tried to attack the Captain before I intervened. According to reports, the creature that they encountered was covered in these quills that were packing some kind of bio-toxin. The only thing I can think of is that I somehow must've gotten pricked by those quills when it swatted me out of the way, because I came down with a nasty imuno-virus that put me out for five whole days- the doctor's say my heart stopped at least twice while I was out and I had to be resuscitated. When I finally came to, the doctors informed me that the infection had spread to my... reproductive organs; out of growing concern that it could spread and shut down several other of my other vital functions, the doctors were forced to..."
It was at that point that Akira lost all control of herself and broke down in tears.
"God dammit... God fucking dammit..."
As Akira broke down, Eradaar felt a wave of empathy wash over her. She moved closer, gently taking Akira's hand in her own, her touch firm yet comforting.
"Akira," she began softly, her voice steady and warm. "What you’ve endured is unimaginable, and it’s okay to feel this pain. You don't have to carry it alone anymore."
Eradaar took a deep breath, maintaining a steady, compassionate gaze. "You’ve shown incredible strength, not just in what you did that day, but in surviving the aftermath. The fact that you’re still here, still fighting, is a testament to your resilience. But now, it's time to allow yourself to heal—to process this trauma, not just bury it."
She paused, giving Akira space to breathe and collect herself, all while keeping a gentle hold on her hand. "We can work through this together, at your pace. Whether it’s talking, finding ways to cope, or just sitting in silence—I’m here for you. You’re not alone, and you don’t have to face this pain by yourself anymore."
Eradaar’s voice remained calm, her words imbued with sincerity. "You’ve saved others, Akira. Let me help you now."
She stayed close, her presence unwavering, ready to support Akira through whatever came next.
Akira sniffled. "Four years; four fucking years I've been trying to put that incident behind me! I must've gone through at least a dozen different counselors, and could any of them ever relate to what I was going through? Of course not! All I ever got was a bunch of empty fucking condolences and claims that they "got" me... were they the fucking ones losing their ability to have children? I don't fucking think so-!"
Eradaar's heart ached for Akira as she listened to her outpouring of raw pain and frustration. The Gorn understood, on some level, the deep wound of loss and the frustration that no one could truly grasp what you’d been through. It wasn’t about simply hearing the words, but understanding the weight they carried.
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Eradaar squeezed Akira's hand gently, her voice calm but resonating with a deep empathy. "Akira, I can't claim to know exactly what you're going through—no one can. What happened to you is something no one should ever have to face, and the pain you're feeling is valid. It’s not fair, and it's not something that should be brushed off or dismissed. I won't pretend to understand completely, but I can be here with you, in this moment, feeling it with you."
She paused, her eyes meeting Akira's with unwavering sincerity. "You're right; no one else has lived your pain. But what I can offer is a space where your pain is heard, where it's not diminished or dismissed. I won't give you empty words or platitudes because you deserve more than that. You deserve to be seen for the incredible person you are—someone who faced unimaginable circumstances and still found the strength to keep going."
Eradaar's voice softened further, but there was a firmness in her tone as she continued. "I know that the loss of your ability to have children is a grief that can't be easily consoled, and I won't try to. But I can stand with you as you navigate that grief. It's okay to be angry, it's okay to be frustrated, and it's okay to feel lost. But you don't have to go through it alone."
She gently released Akira's hand, only to place both of hers on Akira’s shoulders, a grounding gesture meant to reassure. "You're not alone, Akira. Not here, not now. And as long as you need me, I'll be right here with you, helping you find a way forward—one step at a time."
Eradaar let her hands rest for a moment longer before pulling back, giving Akira the space to react however she needed to, whether that meant crying, screaming, or simply sitting in silence. Whatever came next, Eradaar was ready to support her.
"Like I haven't heard that before," Akira scoffed, evidently skeptical of Eradaar's sincerity.
Eradaar nodded slowly, taking in Akira’s skepticism without any sign of offense. She understood the weight behind those words, the exhaustion that came from hearing well-meaning reassurances that often rang hollow.
"I get it," Eradaar said softly, her tone sincere. "You've been let down by people who didn’t truly listen or understand. It’s easy to say the right words, but it’s another thing entirely to follow through on them."
She leaned back slightly, giving Akira a bit more space, but kept her gaze steady and warm. "I won’t pretend to have all the answers, and I won’t make promises I can’t keep. What I can offer is my presence and my willingness to walk alongside you, wherever that path may lead."
Eradaar took a deep breath, her voice firm but gentle. "You don’t have to trust me right away, Akira. Trust is something that’s earned, not given freely. So, I’ll show up, consistently, whether that means listening, talking, or just being here in silence. No expectations, no pressure—just me, here with you, however you need."
An eerie silence settled over the ward as Akira mulled over Eradaar's words. It was hard to say what was going through her head at that very moment- perhaps she'd never fully come to trust Eradaar, or the next Counselor, or the Counselor after that... But perhaps there still lay a chance that the walls she had built up around her heart were beginning to crumble.
Eradaar listened intently, her expression remaining calm and understanding despite Akira's outburst. She took a deep breath, ensuring her response was measured and sincere.
"I understand why you'd feel that way, Akira," she began softly. "It's frustrating and exhausting to pour your heart out only to feel unheard or misunderstood. I'm sorry that previous experiences have left you feeling this way."
She paused, allowing her words to sink in, her gaze steady and empathetic. "My approach might be different, and I can't promise that I'll have all the answers or that things will change overnight. But what I can offer is a genuine willingness to listen and to support you in whatever way you need."
Eradaar gave a small, reassuring nod. "Healing isn't linear, and trust takes time. I'm here to walk alongside you, to respect your pace, and to be a consistent presence you can rely on. Whether you choose to open up now or later, know that I'm committed to being here for you without judgment or expectation."
She placed a gentle hand on Akira's shoulder, a grounding gesture meant to convey solidarity. "Whenever you're ready, we'll take the next step together. Until then, take all the time you need. You're not alone in this."
With that, Eradaar offered a warm, understanding smile, leaving space for Akira to process her feelings, while reaffirming her support and presence. A moment later, she released Akira's shoulder, and spoke softly.
"I think this has been a very productive meeting today," Eradaar said soothingly. "I'm sure if you choose to persist in these meetings, we can continue this delicate path of healing for you. I won't pressure you. This is entirely your decision."
She sat back, leaving the option open for Akira to leave and end the meeting, but remaining seated just in case more affirmations were needed.
Lieutenant JG Eradaar Ezazzan
Chief Counselor
USS Missouri
Lieutenant JG Julia Araala
Chief Medical Officer
USS Missouri
Lieutenant Akira Kogami
Chief Security Officer
USS Missouri
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