Disclaimer:
I don't own Janeway, Chakotay, etc. I'm not using this for money. Yatsa, Yatsa, and Yatsa.
Claimer:
I own the characters of: Ireland Elizabeth Janeway, Jamison Rose Janeway, Moira Kady Janeway, Justin Chakotay Janeway, Cristin Hughes Janeway, K'Atja Lexi Torres, G'Iovanna Ava Torres, S'Kyler James Paris, Thomas Eugene Paris Junior, Kenji Hallen Kim, and Annique Nelle Kim. I also own Justin Hughes Janeway, Nikolai Lucas Pavlik, and Eliza Delaney-Richards.
ETC:
I think some one said that they thought Harry being married to Seven would make the story better, so I'll clarify. Annika is Seven of Nine. The children grew up being told to call her Annika, so that's what they call her. The adults call her Seven.
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The Depths of My Darkness
Part One
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In the immortal words of Scrooge – Bah Humbug! You have to see the insanity of Christmas here! ARGHH! Believe me listening to Aunt Lanna's whining is not fun. Especially since she's Klingon. Isn't she NOT supposed to whine?!?! One of these days…
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"Eirtae!" Mam yells.
I'm in trouble…"What?"
"Where's Moi and Jami?"
"Good question!" God, I LOVE copping an attitude. Nothing's better then that.
Mam walks into my room, "Watch that tone, young lady!"
"I'm not a lady and I'm not young. Moira and Jamison are young. J.C. and Cristy are young. I am a teen girl."
"What is wrong with you? Are you sick again?"
"Nope."
Mam taps her foot, waiting for me to explain.
"Come on, Mam. You know I don't like the fuss everyone makes! Because there's like a thousand holidays to plan for and everyone just kills their rations on stuff no one's gonna use!"
"You never really liked Christmas." She sits down on my bed.
I feel a sappy 'heart-to-heart' coming on. What is with her?
"Why don't you like Christmas?"
"'Coz I don't." Did I mention that on the earth calendar I was born December twenty-fifth?
"Real answer, Ireland Elizabeth."
Jeez, she used my name… "I don't know Mam! Maybe it has to do with Justie! Do you realize that this is the fifteenth Christmas that has passed? Unless you count the one we were born on then that's the sixteenth, but…"
"Eirtae! Calm down!"
Bingo. "Can I please just go to the holo-deck now?"
"No. We're going to discuss this. This time you aren't running off to the holo-deck. You've been there too much lately."
So what if I spent like…a hundred hours in the holo-deck?
"What is with you and the holo-deck? Anytime a serious issue comes up, you go running there. Straight to the music and the games. Like it's all that's keeping you alive."
"I like it alright. It's better then the insanity of this ship! Have you seen what Aunt Lanna's getting Uncle Tommy?"
"Nice try. I want an answer, Missy."
I look at her; "I just want some quiet for once. Maybe I'll feel Justie again. I miss him."
"As you should, he was your twin." She's playing with my hair…
"Stop." I push her hand away, "I'm going to find some place quiet on this god-forsaken ship and think." I get up and walk into the living room, "Hark, how I want to get some sleep…hummm…"
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Well, that was pleasant! Now just have to get past…
"Hey, Eirtae! Wait up!" Atex yells.
ARGH…One day…Just one of quiet and solitude…Is that really too much to ask?
"What, Atex?"
"Oh, quit your whining!"
"Shut up, ya' self." I reply walking fast.
"What's the matter with you? You aren't usually this humbug-ish!"
"I'm tired, I'm cranky, I miss Justin Hughes, and I want some quiet." I replied, glaring at her.
"Oh. I'll leave you alone."
There is a god.
I turn the corner and jump onto the Lift, before Anva can say anything.
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I walk onto the holo-deck, and call out, "Computer, run program I-E-J-Oh-four-eight-eight-alpha-one."
The program begins running and I look around. It's a simple one, made by Kenny and I, a few years ago. It's a house from the year twenty-oh-one. It's got two floors. On the first floor are the living room and a bathroom and a kitchen and a playroom and so on. Upstairs are a bunch of bedrooms – one for me, one for Kenny, one for Anva and Atex, one for my sisters, etc. Trust me, this house is big! But it's cozy and warm.
I plop down on the couch, "Replicate clothing. Account zero-one-one-eight-six-alpha-nine-four-seven-one. Sweater, oversized, turtleneck, ribbed, white. Pants, hunter green, stretch style." They appear before me and I change into them. I pull the ponytail holder out of my hair and undo the French braid. I pull my hair up the way I like it – a ponytail with a piece of hair around the base so you can't see the holder.
I sigh and get up. I guess I'll let you in on my little secret. In the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, there was this psychological disorder. You might know of it – it was called cutting. It's when 'someone cuts themselves in order to relieve pressures of stress, peers, etc.'. Don't ya' love the textbook versions? They make it sound like a bad thing! Well, actually it kinda is, but it's addictive. (The Doctor would murder me if he knew about this, but do to my advanced knowledge of computers, I can erase his memory of healing me of injuries.)
Hidden in the back of the cabinet under the bathroom sink is a razor blade. I take it and walk upstairs to my bedroom. It's the only place I really feel safe. I hope I can take a copy of the program with me when we leave Voyager.
No! Get a grip, Eirtae…God, I'm so tired.
"Well this has been a great day…" I sigh, and lock my door. I pull up my sweater, and look at my stomach. I pick up the razor and slid it across my skin. Nothing.
"Goddamnit." I breath, "Computer. Turn off safety protocols. I-E-J-Six-Four-One-One-Alpha-Omega-Three-Beta."
"Safety protocols are turned off."
I pull the razor across my stomach, and watch as cut is left behind. A little too deep, but nothing a dermal regenerator can't fix. Blood drips out onto my pants, and I know they are ruined, but this feels so good… I do it again, and this time I know that I'll be making a trip to the Doctor and then erasing memory. And once more I do it again, this time shallower.
"Ireland!"
Aw shit…That ain't good…
"Papa!" Is it just me or is it getting darker?
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Opening my eyes, I'm hit with the brightest lights in the universe. Wait a second…Please tell that was dream. A horrible, untrue dream. I sit up and look around.
DAMN SHIT FUCK CRAP! Sickbay. I'm in trouble. Yes, siree. Maybe if I sneak away…
I jump off the bio-bed and head for the door.
"Hold it, Eirtae!"
This is soo not fair. I turn around and come face to face with Mam, Papa, The Doctor, Uncle Harry, Auntie Annika Aunt Lanna, and Uncle Tommy. I'm deadmeat.
"I was just going to…umm…umm…"
"Sit down, first off." Papa says, his tone wavering as if he were going to cry but holding back.
"Alright." I look around and then sit down on the bio-bed I had previously occupied.
Uncle Tommy looks at me, as the doctor walks over to check my cuts. Guess they were deeper then I thought.
"You cut yourself badly, Ireland." Uncle Tommy says, "Those three cuts were pretty deep and there were a few others that you managed to open when you were struggling against us."
"I did what now?"
"You don't remember?"
"No." I look at The Doctor.
"You were somewhat coherent when your father got you in here, and you weren't very happy. You struggled against us for a good while. I couldn't even sedate you because you would smack me away. It took your parents, Seven, B'Elanna, Tom, Harry, Tuvok, Samantha, and Naomi to hold you down before I could give you something and restrain you."
I nod, pretending to be upset. Truthfully, I coulda handled it. I'm not incompetent.
"How long, Ireland?" Aunt Lanna asks.
"How long what?"
She sighs, "How long have you been cutting yourself? We could probably count each of the scars and the healing cuts but we don't know how many you used a regenerator for."
I look from adult to adult, judging how much space is between them. I'm relatively small, I could…
"Don't even think about it, Ireland." Papa says, "Tuvok is outside with Allen. You'd never make it past them."
"Since I was twelve."
"Four years." Auntie Annika says. I guess she's trying to process it.
"Why?" Mam asks, finally speaking up.
I sigh and sit back, playing with the scab on one cut, "I dunno." I pick a piece of the scab off.
"Ireland…" Papa warns.
"Or what?" I pick off another piece.
"If we have to hold your arms down, we will." Uncle Harry says.
"And he speaks!" I love having an attitude…or have I mentioned that before?
Mam leans her hands on the bio-bed, "Ireland Elizabeth, please just stop with the attitude. We just want to know what we need to know, so we can help you."
"Ha! If you want to help me, let me go back to our cabin and go back to bed. Not make me sit here, listening to your stupid adult talk about problems, because I know it's coming! So lay it on, Mother! I know you want to start so bring it on!"
I hear a hissing sound and I know that the Doctor in his infinite wisdom has decided to sedate me again. At least I can sleep now…
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To Be Continued…
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J Cassie Jamie J
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