Author's Notes: Friction is beta'd and edited by waiting4morning. Some chapters include footnotes containing helpful information for the reader such as acronym definitions. This story is rated Teen for mild language, sexual suggestion, and non-graphic violence.
Friction - Chapter One
Lighting jumped from cloud to cloud in a gray sky over Port Hanshan. The storm had been building up for hours and by Naveed's estimate, it would soon overtake the industrial spaceport. He stood watching its course silently from a window in his upper-level office, wishing it was the warm rain of Kahje approaching and not the freezing sleet of Noveria. He watched the hypnotic rhythm of his breath on the glass and concentrated on calling forth a more pleasant atmosphere from his past.
Sun. Light breaks through the clouds in the distance. Smell of wet earth and exotic flowers. Laughter echoes in the distance. A child. Female. Warm light across the shoulders. Small hands beckon from a hollow tree. A game. Through the portal and into endless green.
A clap of thunder brought Naveed's consciousness hurtling back to the present; chill winds, icy water, and an empty room. He re-filed his memory and turned away from the scene outside to take a seat at his desk. A quick glance to his console told him it was time to start preparing for his next patient. She would be arriving soon, and he hadn't even reviewed her files yet. His slim fingers brought her info up on the screen, and his dark eyes scanned the profile carefully. Once he finished his review, he picked up a small recorder from his desk and held the active button.
"New archive. Patient name: Blair Hodges," he began, "female human, twenty-six galactic-standard years of age." He paused in his note-taking to scroll down the profile.
"Trauma survivor: starship crash at age nineteen. Father died in the accident; she sustained severe injuries. Left arm was amputated and replaced with a bionic prosthesis. Patient reports nerve damage to injured shoulder, resulting in desensitization. However, more immediate concerns include nightmares and 'after-shock' syndrome. Patient experiences phantom pain in absent limb, painkillers proven ineffective in the past." Naveed's fine eyeridges crinkled in hesitation before he added a final note. "Patient wishes to pursue alternative treatment."
The recorder's orange light blinked out as he removed his thumb. With a thoughtful sigh, he leaned back into his chair and stared through the skylight at the roiling clouds above. He considered the trauma patients he'd dealt with in the past, and how none of them had suffered the bodily repercussions presented by his newest case. Most bionic candidates needed months of physical therapy to adapt to their cybernetic modifications, and even once that was achieved, they still required a lifetime of maintenance. Lifestyle choices often had to be altered as well, and the changes were usually accompanied by depression. Add in the complications of phantom pain and a lost relative, and he had a very precarious situation to work with.
The drell glanced back to study the face on his console. If her records were right, the accident would have been seven years ago. That was a long time to live with nightmares, waking and otherwise. He straightened in his seat and checked her chart for a list of medications. A handful of predictable painkillers and anti-depressants were present, but it appeared that all had stopped with the exception of a single SSRI prescribed for anxiety. The corners of his segmented mouth turned down in concern as he noted periodic increases in the dosage of the drug. Sixty milligrams a day was the maximum therapeutic dose in humans, and the chart indicated his patient was already on such a regimen. He pinched his brow and pressed the speaker button on the comm device at the edge of his desk.
"Tara, have we received patient records from a Dr. Tunston on Blair Hodges yet?"
"No, sir," a pleasant asari voice replied, "Should I send another request?"
"If they don't come by the end then day then please do," Naveed instructed. "I want to know why she was allowed to discontinue treatment so abruptly."
"Very well, sir. Oh, your patient has just entered the lobby. Should I send her in?"
"No, thank you. I'd like to receive her myself."
He shut off his monitor and placed the recorder back in his desk drawer. Using an interface on the wall, he closed the window panels and skylight overhead. Normally he left them open, believing that Noveria's pristine sky promoted a sense of peace in his patients, but with the day's weather being as it was, it was hardly an appropriate backdrop. With a short pause to straighten his jacket, he activated the door to the lobby and disappeared through it.
.oO-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Oo.
When he entered the lobby, Naveed found his patient seated on a couch opposite the admissions desk. Her face was turned away from him, displaying a head of short-cropped brown hair. She wore plain clothes in shades of gray and green, with a sturdy pair of boots on her feet. They were small feet, accompanied by small hands. Blair was a petite human.
He picked up a data pad from a cradle mounted on the wall outside his office and strode forward to greet her. "Miss Hodges?"
She looked up at him quickly, and his breath caught in surprise at what he found staring back at him. Twin images of his own face reflected off the copper-colored lenses of a pair of antique aviators. They rested on a slightly-freckled nose over thin, colorless lips. Long bangs framed her narrow face.
"You ready for me?" she piped up.
He smiled and gestured toward his office. "Right this way. Tara, hold my calls please. If those records come in I'd like them forwarded to my console."
Naveed escorted Blair to his office and gave her a moment to look around before taking his customary chair and extending an introduction. "I'm Dr. Naveed Eldrani and I want to thank you for coming, Miss Hodges. Please sit anywhere you like and feel free to simply call me Naveed." He watched her make a slow circle of the room before choosing a white loveseat not far from him. She daintily shuffled one leg over the other and folded her hands in her lap. Her prosthetic arm rested atop her natural one as if to hide it, and he decided to try a small exercise to test his theory.
"I hope you won't mind my asking," he said softly, "but could you please remove your glasses?"
"Oh," the human started self-consciously, "no problem."
She slid them off her face and placed them on the coffee table in front of her. Hazel-green eyes rose to meet his in apology. "Sorry. I know it'd kind of rude to wear dark glasses in public, but I like the way they look."
"That's quite alright. Are they very old?"
"They are, but I still prefer them to all the newer tech with scanners and such. At least when it comes to day-to-day wear. It's hard to improve on a classic."
Naveed leaned forward in his chair. "I noticed how you placed them on the table just now. Are you right-handed, Miss Hodges?"
She glanced at the aviators and back up to him quickly. He could see the spark of intelligence that flashed in her eyes. "Yeah. Does that matter?"
"Not really," he assured her, "I am merely curious as to which of your limbs is your primary. I imagine it must have been difficult to master the cybernetics of an off-hand."
A tiny change in her focus suggested she was suspicious of his answer, but she simply shrugged. "I was taking in-patient PT for a month and out-patient for another five. The therapists told me my progress was normal…only ones who ever get through it quickly are biotics."
Naveed nodded. "Because they already have experience working with nuero-systems that do not exist naturally in your species."
"Yeah…I don't envy them though. Being a biotic comes with its own problems."
"That it does, but it's your problems that are of concern to me, Blair. I've gone over your profile and I understand you experience pain, but you're listed as having quit your prescription for it. Why is that?"
"It didn't work," she replied briskly. "Every time I went back in to see Tunston he'd just try to give me more meds like I was some of kind of pill-popping junkie. I was tired of wasting money and getting nowhere, so I quit him."
"Stopping a regimen that way can be dangerous Blair, especially when you are no longer under supervision."
"I know, but it'd have happened eventually anyway. I was running out of cash. Most of what my father left me went into this." She lifted her prosthesis pointedly.
Naveed frowned. "How have you been coping all this time?"
"I haven't been. That's why I'm here," she countered. "I'll be at work fixing a shuttle and suddenly drop my tools because I get a cramp. Sometimes I'll wake up at 2am to stabbing pain, but when I look down to see what's causing it, my flesh and blood isn't there. Just metal and plastic and nothing to band-aid."
"Your chart says you wanted to try alternative treatments. Have you sought that kind of help before?"
"I've done acupuncture and EPT, but I had to quit the latter because I kept shocking people."
The drell's eyeridges rose curiously. "Static shock you mean?"
"Yes. I've had problems with it ever since I got my prosthesis and brain port chip installed. Even with my anti-static sleeve I seem to carry a lot of charge."
"That must prove difficult in your line of work."
"I just have to be careful is all. The amount of energy I give off is negligible in equipment the size of the shuttles, but I used to break small-appliances on occasion. Alarm clocks, remotes - things like that. I modified my bionic to include a grounding device, so it's not such a big deal anymore."
"As long as you remember to use it," Naveed added with a smile.
"And I do. I feel the shocks myself, and trust me, you get tired of them when they occur upwards of a dozen times a day."
"I can imagine, and I'm glad you have found a solution for it. Now, about these nightmares. How often do they occur?"
"Maybe once or twice a week. Between them and the phantom pain I don't get a lot of sleep."
"What do you see in these dreams, Blair? Flashbacks of your accident?"
"Most of the time, yeah. I hear the ship klaxons going off and my dad yelling something I can't understand. Then I'm knocked off my feet and can't breathe. Something is on top of me, and it won't let me get free. I usually wake up when I start to smell my skin burning."
Naveed's eyes narrowed. "Burning? That wasn't mentioned in your log."
"I have chemical burns on my bad shoulder and across the top of my back." The human raised her hand and tapped the injured areas. "Here and here."
"May I see them?"
She shrugged again and sat up. He traded his chair for her loveseat and observed quietly as she unzipped her top and slid it over her torso. The fabric caught in a bunch under her chin, but despite being tempted to offer assistance, he waited for her to maneuver it off on her own. The shirt finally came free in a cloud of fluffed hair. Blair folded the top and placed it next to her glasses.
The bubbled, discolored scars of her injuries stood out in stark contrast from the rest of her smooth, peach skin, and the interface where her prosthesis met her body was cleanly defined by a plastic surgical band. Only a small portion of her upper body was marked by burns, and they appeared to have healed well, but that didn't stop Naveed from hesitating before touching her gently. To his surprise, the texture of her skin was rough but not rigid. It still dimpled under the pressure from his finger tips, and he could see goose bumps rising from the cold.
"Thank you, you may put your shirt back on now," he said as he withdrew his hand, "I will add this to your notes. Is there anything else like this that I should know about?"
She pulled her shirt back on then shook her head. "I think that's about it, doc."
Naveed retrieved his data pad from his chair and made notations. When he was done, he sat down next to Blair again.
"I'm very pleased you chose to come here today Blair, because I believe that I am in a unique position to help you." He paused a moment and considered. "How much do you know about my people?"
"Not much. You're the first drell I've ever met."
"Ah, then perhaps I should explain. My people believe a very distinct separation of the vessel - your body, and the soul - your heart and mind. As a psychologist, my main role is to assist you in creating a healthy meeting of these two things. Ours is not so much a medical science as a social one. We do not treat disease or simple injury, but entire sapient beings, and I am of the mind that to do that, both the body and soul must be taken into account. Without one or the other, you are incomplete - disconnected. While the connection still exists in you, Blair, it is very disharmonious."
He appeared to have the woman's attention, and since she hadn't interjected yet, he decided to continue.
"Your body and soul are out of synch; your vessel relives memories that your mind knows are long past, and your soul suffers because of this. My people, the drell, relive memories at will, in perfect detail, but can dismiss them at will as well. To avoid reliving a memory, we simply do not think about it. You however, have no control over the memories that haunt your dreams and the phantom pains that plague your body. There is something I would like to try with you to help remedy your situation, but let me be frank in acknowledging that it is unconventional and does not work for all patients."
"What do you want to do?" she asked curiously.
"I'd like to separate your body and soul connection intentionally; that you may form a new one."
She blinked and laughed nervously. "Exactly what does that mean?"
"Have you ever considered hypnotherapy?"
"Hypnotherapy? Are you saying you want to put me under?"
"I want to relive your memories with you, and help you determine what is causing the…friction, for lack of a better word, between your body and soul. If you are still feeling pain from a limb that isn't there and losing sleep to bad dreams, then something in your connection is clearly defective. If the connection cannot be repaired, reestablishing a new one may be required. As an engineer you might compare it to a system reboot."
"That's ridiculous," Blair said. "Computer systems are based on numbers and hard science; there are no rules to navigating 'spiritual connections' or whatever you want to call it."
"You're absolutely correct - there are no rules, and that's why this treatment is unconventional. So, too, it requires a great degree of trust to be present between the parties involved. If you are uncomfortable with this option, then I will not push it any further. I would however, like to discuss reducing your SSRI intake."
"That's a lot more reasonable," Blair agreed. "The only thing I really take it for anymore is flying. I might work on shuttles, but I still freak out when I leave the ground on one."
Naveed wrapped up their session and escorted his patient back to the lobby.
"You can contact me at this number," he said as he clicked at his omni-tool. "Please feel free to call if you have any questions or concerns before your next visit."
"Thanks," the woman said as she put on her aviators.
"I believe this has been a productive session, Miss Hodges. I look forward to seeing you again next week."
SSRI - Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, a class of anti-depressant/anti-anxiety medication