A/N: Hey Guys, Just wanted to take a minute to thank those of you who are still following the story- here's a few decent chapters as a compensatory update for taking a while. I hope you're still enjoying it, if you are, please let me know as always I love to hear your thoughts ;)
28
Tentative
Kirk slammed his fist into the table. His jaw set.
The latest report fielded no extra information on the situation and he had no idea where to take the investigation next. His sole lead was dead and his only other chance at the truth was restricted to quarters, with Bones keeping a close eye. It was weeks since the Enterprise had been hijacked and its crew members had disappeared in the darkness. And now Starfleet were breathing down his neck for answers.
Spock sat opposite Kirk, an eyebrow raised, "Captain, it is irrational to project your anger onto pieces of furniture."
Kirk glared in Spock's direction, saying nothing.
"Perhaps you would find it useful to share your thoughts."
Jim gave the Vulcan a look, who responded with an almost imperceptible shoulder shrug.
"It does not affect me. I merely aimed to replicate that method which Doctor McCoy employs when you are in, as you say, 'a mood'."
"I'm not in a mood."
"Contrary Captain, I believe you are. It is in the ship's best interests for this problem to be solved. What are your current options?"
"Gee Spock. There aren't many options. I have a dead witness, who might be a victim or a culprit, or both. Another who's been practically isolated for weeks. A crew member with a perfect record who apparently masterminded an operation to practically disable the ship, kidnap a fellow crew member and sell them on the intergalactic slave market, all with the help of a disgraced ex-crewman who was a woman beater. I've followed the leads but there are hundreds of blank spaces. With no one in the brig talking, and all recording devices having been disabled, we're completely in the dark. What am I supposed to tell command?"
Spock was quiet, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were reading something in front of him.
"It may be that one of our only options would be to pay Doctor McCoy another visit."
McCoy reached into his desk drawer, removing something and flicking it in the direction of the doorway. The small round object flew across the room and was caught deftly by its intended target.
"No way, Jim. Not today."
"But Bones, you don't even know what I'm going to say."
"Don't need to, kid."
"Come on, Bones."
"Nope, it's always bad news when you or the pointy-eared hobgoblin show up."
"That statement, Doctor, is quite unsupported by evidence." Spock appeared around the doorway.
McCoy scowled, "Unsupported my ass. Try me. What do you two actually want?"
McCoy eyed them suspiciously, finally placing his PADD down on the desk. Kirk jumped round the chair in front of the desk, lounging in it. Spock stood, hands folded in his usual manner.
Kirk placed the stressball that had been thrown at him upon the desk. "That's a new one."
McCoy smirked, "M'Benga got some. I think he knew I might be needing them."
"I do not believe that is their intended purpose, Doctor."
"No? Well, that's a mighty shame." McCoy returned his gaze to the two in his office, "Out with it, I haven't got all day. Some of us actually work."
Spock opened his mouth, ready with a retort, but the Captain stepped in, his expression serious.
"Bones, I need to speak to O'Neil."
McCoy looked long and hard at his friend. Analysing the balances, the pros and cons. The needs of each. His first instinct was to decline, but, if Jim had come to ask again then he must be desperate.
He shook his head, "Jim, she's just not quite there. It's getting better, but she—"
"Please Bones, I wouldn't ask if I didn't need it. Even Spock doesn't have another suggestion."
McCoy failed to hide his incredulity at Jim's admission, glancing in Spock's direction. The Vulcan inclined his head, validating the fact. The doctor hesitated, it wasn't Spock's way to support such a request against him without necessity.
"Look. If I move too quick it might never come out. If she feels threatened there's no telling what will happen. I can't risk it. Not yet."
"Doctor, it is imperative—"
McCoy gave them a silencing look, quelling even the Vulcan.
"I didn't say never. If she still doesn't share anything by the end of the week, I'll reconsider. But I have a feeling she's almost ready."
"Very well, that is fair."
Kirk looked slightly dismayed, but he swallowed his disappointment and nodded.
"Thanks, Bones."
"Now get out, the both of you."
Kirk grinned and Spock merely raised a brow. As they left, the small ball was again volleyed in the direction of the door.
Spock caught it without looking. He spared it a glance as he left the office, taking it with him.
McCoy grumbled, "Green blooded son of a—"
Lizzie's first steps into the lab were tentative.
The lights flashed on expectantly as they detected her presence in the large open space. She stood inside the doorway cataloguing every detail of the room. Nothing had changed, it was exactly as it had been on the afternoon she'd left it, minus the flashing blue lights.
She never had found out why the code had gone off.
The early hour of the morning had left the lab abandoned, there wasn't a soul in sight. Lizzie passed through the reception, reaching for her green coat on the peg. Looking at it closely, she ran a thumb over the embroidery, as if trying to reclaim some piece of herself. She pulled it on slowly, fumbling with the poppers. When they were done up she smoothed the dark green material down.
With PADD in hand Lizzie slowly circled the laboratory, painstakingly taking in every detail. She started in the transfusion lab, eyes running over the blood products, checking the analysers. The soft background noise they made was constant, familiar. Following the edge of the benches she checked and rechecked everything. On reaching the end of the bench a pipette lay abandoned on the side, frowning, she picked it up and placed it in its holder.
She continued on, following a path around the entire complex, fixing tiny little things that were amiss. She knew every machine and its job. Lizzie felt a warm relief fall over her with every passing second. She was in control here. She knew what was what, exactly. Every little thing had its place and she knew it. She moved on. The sound of the running incubator filled the microbiology lab. The microscopes that were dotted around the room almost unmoved. Lizzie found herself drawn to them.
She pulled up a reference microscope slide and slid it onto the stage, clicking it into place. She turned it on and moved the slide efficiently into view, adjusting the focus she looked down the eyepiece. As the light shone in her eye, Lizzie identified the little pink rods all gathered together. She recalled the steps to complete the type of stain she could see below. Pulling off the slide she found another and another, each time checking and proving to herself that she knew every what, why and how.
For now convinced, she replaced the slides and turned off the scope.
Having rounded off her tour in immunology, Lizzie reached for the pocket of her coat where she kept real pens and markers and spare styluses. Pulling out a stylus she tapped on the screen of her PADD. She pulled up the stock lists and checked them, everything seemed correct, but she hadn't checked it for weeks. A lot of things could change in that time.
Pulling up files on her PADD she found the main stock cupboard and began checking everything. The cupboard was in disarray. Reagents were tucked in random corners and piled high, petri dishes were strewn across shelves. Lizzie sighed at the sight, feeling slightly uneasy. She pulled up the copy of the stock list ready to annotate it before opening up a second page, ready to note a new list of things that were needed.
Time passed quickly as Lizzie went steadily through the cupboard, pulling things down and out. Checking expiry dates, noting stock levels and rearranging and restoring order to the wrecked cupboard. As she looked up from replacing the last box, she took in the neatly standing rows around her. Satisfied, she replaced the stylus in the pocket of her coat and took the PADD with her to her office.
She hadn't yet been in there and Lizzie felt the tingling of nerves creep over her as she watched the door slide open. The nerves were quickly forgotten as horror washed over her, the state her office had been left in was revealed. There were PADDS littered across the desk. Plates and mugs were dotted across the floor. There were even some of her journals removed from their shelves and left spread eagled on the floor. You could barely see any of the surfaces in the room.
Lizzie knelt on the floor carefully scooping up the journals, the pages of research and reports flicking as she gently closed the paper books. Running her thumb down the spine had a calming effect, as if the book could take away her problems. She took the time to pause for a minute. Having replaced it on the shelf she got to work on the rest of the room, grimacing at the old plates and shoving them into the replicator for reprocessing. Cleaning and dusting all the surfaces, she piled the PADDS high on the desk—she'd never seen so many in the room before. She could tell by the QC pile that Starfleet Medical wouldn't be happy about their late reports. She'd be lucky if she didn't have to take the hit.
Having straightened out the room Lizzie struggled not to pick up the PADDS and start working through the reports.
You're not cleared, so they'd never be accepted anyway.
Instead, Lizzie pulled out the blanket from her desk drawer and grabbed one of the journals down from the shelf. Taking the armchair in the corner, she nestled down, dimming the lights slightly and began to read.
It didn't take long before she was dozing in the chair, hands slack, book teetering on the edge of her knees.
"You're sure it's her?"
"Oh yeah, Ginger's definitely been in there. You never saw anything so neat. It was as if Spock had been on a rampage in there. Besides, Mike's great, but he was never going to win tidiest guy of the year. And I'm no neat freak myself."
"That much is for certain," McCoy bit at M'Benga's reply.
M'Benga chose to ignore the comment, "The PADDS were stacked on the desk by type. Who else does that? I love Ginger as much as the next person, but I wouldn't be caught dead doing that. Come to think of it, I've not seen her do it before, maybe she normally keeps them somewhere else?"
"Yeah, it's called completing them M'Benga. Maybe if you tried it sometime—"
"I didn't come here for a nag, Chief." McCoy wrinkled his nose at the nickname. "Just thought you'd want to know."
M'Benga stood up, not waiting to be dismissed, if the CMO wanted him he'd be able to find him.
McCoy sighed as M'Benga left and he began tapping at his PADD.
"You wanna tell me what you were up to last night?"
McCoy wasn't beating around the bush. Lizzie eyed him a little apprehensively, technically she hadn't been cleared for duty and technically she supposed she shouldn't have been in there. But she'd wanted to. She'd been ready too.
"A bit of cleaning."
"And that didn't happen to be in the lab did it?"
"It might have been."
Leonard clenched his jaw, the muscles tensing in frustration. Lizzie wasn't sure if it was aimed at her or not. Anxiety began bubbling just below the surface, worried she'd upset him.
"It was in an awful state. You should have seen it. I only went in to look. I couldn't sleep and it seemed like a good idea at the time," Lizzie blurted.
"Whoa. Slow down there," McCoy held out his hand, relaxing his posture. "Do you think it was a bad idea now?"
Looking at him puzzled Lizzie wasn't sure what he wanted her to say. So she was just honest, "No."
"Then it's not something we need to worry about anymore."
A rush of relief fell over Lizzie. She calmed knowing he wasn't annoyed at her.
"But don't think I've forgotten that you said you couldn't sleep."
He was fishing for answers, and again, Lizzie wasn't sure what to say. She waited for him to go on.
He rolled his eyes at her silence. "This thing we're doing, it's called talking and it's a two way street, darlin'. So what's wrong?"
She tried to form words to express how she felt. But there wasn't any eloquent or simple way to explain. Lizzie felt all the things she could say get stuck in her throat. Trying to form coherent sentences had become an impossible task and her only option became to squeeze out the few words she could manage.
"They're back, Len. And I can't get rid of them."
McCoy furrowed his brow, "The nightmares? But you told me they were getting better."
"They were—they are—I mean," Lizzie sighed and tried again, "Sometimes they're better sometimes they're not. It just happens that last night they weren't."
McCoy had picked up a PADD and was scrolling through something. Lizzie didn't need to see it to know it was her patient record.
"Leonard, its fine. I just go somewhere else for a bit and then try again."
He glanced up from his PADD and arched a brow, "You just go somewhere else? In the middle of the night."
That's what you took out of that sentence?
"Yes. Like last night I went to the lab—which I was fine with by the way. I've missed my office, yours is nice," she looked around, "but it's just not the same."
Lizzie left out the fact that she'd been wandering the entire ship again during her more sleepless nights. She found that when she was restless the distraction helped. Scotty had been on gamma shifts again recently, so she'd spent quite a while down there. The Scot was good to talk to, about all sorts, not just work things and machines but also stuff from home: stories and the like. She hadn't used the Jeffries tubes as much as before, but she didn't find she was afraid of them like the transporter room, so she'd kipped in them one night after paying Scotty a visit. Recently she'd found sleeping in random places easier than her own quarters.
The doctor watched her from over his PADD. He seemed to know she was keeping things back from him.
"Alright, so you went back, what did you do?"
"Just checked the guys hadn't broken anything. Cleaned my office. Took a stock list. Had a nap." She purposefully mumbled towards the end of the sentence, trying to hide her words.
"You are aware you haven't been cleared for duty?"
"Perfectly. I didn't do anything."
"You said you took a stock list."
She had failed miserably in her attempt at muffling the words.
"I didn't do anything with it though," Lizzie was slightly exaggerated. There was no harm in doing a stock list.
"Mhmm," McCoy didn't sound convinced, "I'm upping the dose of your hyposprays for now and we'll see if that makes any difference. Drop by tonight."
Lizzie tried not to groan, the meds had given her headaches and the dose had only just gotten low enough to mean that she hadn't had to suffer from the damned things any more.
"Lizzie?"
"Yes. I'll drop by tonight," she refrained from adding happy? to the end of the sentence, instead contenting herself to say it mentally.
McCoy scanned her as if to make sure she wasn't lying.
"I'm not Jim. I do as you say."
McCoy pulled a face, "Most of the time."
"Nobody's perfect."
She almost got a chuckle for her trouble. McCoy went to wrap the session up.
"Alright. I think that's everything, unless there's anything else you want to ask?"
Lizzie felt the weight on her increase. It was another subtle invitation, an opportunity to open up. To talk. She wanted to up and run. To leave and not have to say anything. But the pressure was rising with the guilt and Lizzie found herself wanting to share. She just wasn't sure what to say or how to say it.
There was an exhausting stretch of uncomfortable silence.
She took the plunge.
"I know that you need to know. And I'm going to try. But you need to know I don't remember everything."
"Lizzie, are you sure you want to do this, and it's not because you think others need it?"
She nodded, not trusting words.
"Do you want to go and do this somewhere else?"
"Here's fine."
"Are you sure? Because I don't have sole control of this room. You understand?"
She understood. What she said could be taken. It wouldn't necessarily be protected by confidentiality, because the footage could be accessed by other security clearances on board. Lizzie was relying on that, because she knew that she had set the stage and now she had to walk the boards. If she moved rooms she could back out, and if it wasn't recorded, Lizzie couldn't guarantee she'd recall everything again, or whether she'd be able to repeat any or all of it again. And that was okay.
She reached for his hand. She didn't know whose benefit the action was for.
"They need it."
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and nodded in understanding. McCoy noticed the determined look the woman across from him had. Her face was set and he could see her steeling herself to go to the places she fought so hard to escape from. The doctor had a burning desire to protect her, he didn't want her to have to relive it. Yet, he was about to sit by and allow it to happen. He locked the door silently.
And so it began.
Lizzie sat and talked and talked. It felt like hours. The long hesitancy and stagnant pauses. Gentle prompts from Leonard helped give her a sense of direction. But he never interrupted. And didn't question. At times, Lizzie found herself struggling to recall things with clarity. The events blurred and spun into a web rather than a single line. But the general events were conveyed coherently enough and they filled in a picture with the right shape and colour, if not the fine details that others would normally associate with the woman. Lizzie struggled through the end of the recount, stuttering as she spoke about Sanders. She felt cold as she remembered the rain on her skin.
As she finished she found she was shivering, staring at the desk in front of her. She didn't move and didn't speak of anything else. Her story somewhat complete. She felt the weight of a blanket placed around her. She didn't force it off. The contact was welcome now, as she tried to force out the cold. Tracks formed on her face as silent tears slipped down her cheeks.
When he walked in the briefing room McCoy was faced by Jim and Spock. He could see from across the room that Jim was jigging his foot up and down, Spock sat ram-rod straight as always, hands clasped in front of him on the desk.
"So you've seen it?"
McCoy had been torn in informing the others that O'Neil had finally had it out with the events leading up to Trouvadore. A sense of duty to her privacy and the years of working with ethics had fought against Starfleet's demands for him to follow the chain of command.
He sat across from them, putting his coffee mug between them, feeling at odds with the atmosphere of the room.
"Bones," Kirk acknowledged, but his friend was quiet, not his usual storm of energy.
McCoy was immediately guarded, "What is it?"
"It is concerned with the footage that contains the Lieutenant's version of events."
McCoy looked at them both. No shit. "Well? Out with it, man."
"It has confirmed a number of our theories. It implicates Crewman Stills in the murder of Corpsman Sanders."
Leonard was still chilled by Lizzie's admission. It had been suspected, but every member of the crew had hoped against hope that it wasn't true. And now it was out in the open, trust had been rent in two and Lauren Stills had turned against her own crew.
"Further it confirms that Sanders, although playing his part in the removal of the Lieutenant from the ship, did in fact change loyalties, although his motives remain unclear. We have also come to realise that O'Neil was drugged for her kidnapping.
"From our own research the events on board the ship have been cleared up significantly, with Mercier being responsible for the technical malfunctions on board. It appears he used his knowledge of the ship to his advantage and Stills utilised his skills to allow her plan to work. It would seem that we still do not know the motivations for Stills' actions."
With the conversation turning again to follow Lizzie's recount, Leonard tuned out. He knew the rest, he'd heard it first hand, and it wasn't a wonder that Lizzie was suffering from nightmares. She'd been drugged in dark spaces, had things thrown at her, been carted around in a shuttle, beaten and tied up, locked in a cage with no less than a predator. She'd skirted toxic plants and to top it off she'd been cornered and watched someone die in front of her while her own life was at risk.
"Hold up a minute. What was that last bit?" McCoy was pulled back to the conversation when something caught his ear. Spock repeated himself.
"The admirals will want the footage as evidence to be used in the court-martials."
Kirk was shifting in his seat, having remained silent the entire time McCoy had been in the room. And it became clear to Leonard it was out of guilt. His initial confusion turned to anger.
"Wait, what?! Jim, you can't just share this footage willy-nilly. It's private. If you share this with the Admiralty they can do what they damn well please. Lizzie did it so that you could both see it. But I didn't allow her to sacrifice her privacy for you two, just for you to do that to her."
"Doctor, it is not a case of wanting to. It is required. There is no other testimony against the individuals concerned."
McCoy ignored Spock, incensed that they'd betray a patient's trust. They'd come to him for help and he'd obliged them, despite everything.
"It doesn't matter. You can't go broadcasting this. If you do, they'll require her to stand at a court-martial, and she's made it abundantly clear she doesn't want to relive it again."
"Bones, they can use the video as evidence, she doesn't need to be there in person."
McCoy was fire, "You know as well as I that as long as she's breathing they'll do what they god damn please."
"Doctor, your feelings are misplaced. We can put forward a case—"
"No way, I didn't put medical ethics on the line, the oath I swore, for you two to throw that girl under the bus. You do this Jim, and you can find a new CMO."
Lizzie was in the mess hall queuing for the replicator. It was very busy, people were meeting from all over the ship. Some were in civvies clearly on their day off, others were winding down from the day shift, while some were catching coffee before the evening shift.
Her eyes roamed from table to table, people watching. Everyone in the room had a reason to be there, Lizzie found it almost funny how everyone on the ship had structure to their lives while she didn't. She spent her days floating, barely registering the time. She knocked back and forth across the ship, whether it was eating, or meeting Maria or going to sickbay. But she didn't have a purpose anymore, she felt like a deadweight. She just wanted everything back. She wanted her life back.
Maybe McCoy will let me back soon. There's no reason to keep me away forever.
Maria had appeared next to her in the standard issue blue dress. Her hair coming loose from its short ponytail, the only tell-tale sign she'd just come off shift. She was receiving a few glares from those behind them in the queue for jumping the line, it made Lizzie slightly uncomfortable, but they were going to be sharing food.
"Hi Maria."
"So, what's occurring?"
"Literally nothing," Lizzie tried not to roll her eyes at her enthusiastic friend.
"Fair play. I think I nearly punched someone just to have something to do today. It's been so slow. You know I didn't have a single engineer today, I don't know what Scotty did to them, but I've had none."
They shuffled further down the queue.
"Well I never. That must be a record."
"You know, I think it could be, I'll have to ask Chris."
"So what're we having? I thought maybe pizza?"
"Ooh yes. I'm starving," Maria began rattling off every food under the sun.
Lizzie laughed, "Slow down, I don't think the replicator could handle all of that."
"I probably couldn't either if I'm honest. How about potato wedges?"
Lizzie nodded, "You'll have to get the cookies, I'm fairly sure McCoy still hasn't put them back on my list."
She pulled a disgusted look at his misdemeanour.
Maria gasped, "I'll get M'Benga on it. That's savage."
"I know, it's been weeks."
They pulled in front of the replicator, packaging everything into boxes, as technically you were only supposed to eat in the hall. As soon as they were done they rushed back to their quarters, unloading the tupperware onto the small table.
Maria threw on some comfy clothes while Lizzie set up the holovid. They curled up on the sofa munching on the hot pizza as the video started playing.
It was a comedy and they laughed voraciously. The cliché's so awful they became unduly funny. They rolled about on the sofa in fits. Beginning to laugh at the fits of giggles rather than the actual film.
Lizzie savoured the feeling of laughing so hard it almost hurt.
Having calmed down enough to eat again, they began on the cookies. They tapped them together as they said "cheers," yet again enjoying another giggle. Lizzie appreciated every bite, and it was all the better for being with a friend.
They settled into the rest of the film, cuddling comfortably watching the scenes unfold. Lizzie was immersed, until it came to a chase scene that sent her adrenaline spiking, leaving her breathless and sending her heartbeat rushing. Lizzie stiffened where she sat, taking some deep breaths. Maria barely took a moment to notice the change.
"Lizzie, what's wrong?"
"I'm good," she was forcing her breathing back to normal.
"Come here."
Maria pulled her closer, giving her a hug. Lizzie let out a final shaky breath and hugged back. Maria let her out of the hug, but they stayed close leaning on one another for the rest of the film.
When it finished the pair smiled and sat for a little, watching the credits scroll. Lizzie stretched, something scraping at the edge of her mind.
She quickly sat up off the sofa. Pulling on her shoes. "I nearly forgot, I've got to go. McCoy's requested my presence again."
"Wait a sec, I'll come with."
"It'll only be a minute and then I'll come back."
Maria was reaching for the boots by her door, "Even more reason to come."
Lizzie conceded, there was no argument to be had with Maria.
They chattered as they made their way down the deck, Maria bringing up some of the inventive things she and Braddock had been getting up to on shift earlier that day. Apparently the doctors had been awol and Chapel was on shift now so there hadn't really been any supervisors in an empty sickbay. Lizzie knew first hand that was a recipe for total disaster, but it also meant a lot of fun could be had.
It turns out there had been a minor war launched across the bay in the early morning, Maria reckoned everyone had been up for it since Doctor McCoy wasn't on shift till beta. Lizzie could imagine the scene, and she was reliably informed that Kimathi had turned a blind eye and M'Benga had coincidentally 'dropped by' from the lab with Mike.
Their talk died down as they reached sickbay so as not to reveal any of the facts. They walked across the bay which was still quiet, only occupied by a science officer and red shirt. The women approached the nurses' station where Chapel was charting.
Maria hissed, "Chris, is that an engineer?"
Chris flicked an eye up from her chart, "No, security."
"Yes! We're on a streak! Maybe Scotty locked them all up?"
Christine finished with the chart and gave the pair her full attention, "We might be on a streak, but you probably just jinxed it, Mendoles."
Maria to grimaces as Christine used her surname in mock seriousness. "Please, never, ever do that again. Ever."
The head nurse smiled and picked up the next PADD, tapping in details. "What're you two doing here anyway?"
It was Lizzie's turn, "I was ordered to 'drop by tonight'. You seen McCoy?"
"Not yet. Something's keeping him," she looked pointedly at the ceiling, "He said he'd be down soon."
"Looks like he could be two minutes or an hour, Mar. You may as well go back. If I leave he'll only chase me down later at some ungodly hour. I'll wait in his office."
Maria gave a little pout, "Okay. Fine. But I'm going to give him hell for this."
Lizzie shrugged, "It could be weeks till you catch the same shift together."
"It could be, but nobody said anything about being on shift," Maria smirked.
They waved goodbye and Maria watched as Lizzie disappeared down the connection corridor. She turned to Christine.
"You know how many times she's gone in there this week?"
"Lost count. But she's definitely slept in there at least a few times."
Maria looked thoughtful, "I think she goes where she feels safe, you know? I know a few other places she goes as well, but it sounds like this is one of the most common."
Christine had put her chart down. "He's almost always in a better mood when she's nearby."
Maria hummed. They talked quietly in the corner. Eventually Maria left, returning to her own quarters.
