Pick me up off of the desert, feed me water, walk me through the hills
Wait on 'til the sun shines upon us, as we cross the haunted hill
The time flies by like some beetle buzzing by in a hot summer day among blooming flowers and spinning bees as if there was nothing more exciting to happen.
Noel hates that. It's what will bring him back to the place he sort of hated and people he most definitely hated. But he's not what one would take as ungrateful. On the contrary. He's more thankful than one can imagine because the people he hates also is the ones who gave him second chance at life and didn't give up on talents and skills that were blooming inside the man.
And he wasn't late in life yet where he'd decline the chance he got.
But he could be happier if he truly wanted instead of moping about until he flew out in the vast space and did his tasks and went on patrols.
But that was after he literally fought sandstorms on vast desert land among other troopers and skipped many rockets that zipped past his left flank and bloomed into fascinating fireballs upon meeting dried out sand or random rock.
He's swept through all the dust dancing in the sky fearlessly and calculating narrowly avoiding another incoming from other side and looped above the scaredy bush waiting for rain to come so it could once again blow up all the pent up energy into thick green leaves and as the puddle at its roots turned into river stream sway into the winds.
The man wasn't numb yet. He's done more than once was predicted upon his health. Noel always did more than was told he could. And so far it's been fantastic.
After one fight was done he got his rewards and took off to have next one. Only that wasn't of enemy looming in the distance.
Rainstorms of another time and life and different crafter he borrowed to dance along the lightning strikes and booms of thunder. He let his bottled up emotions run free while the thunderstorms unveiled their rage upon him and land below. And there he let his rivulets of impulse swirl like raindrops within black clouds allowing a moment of serenity flow through his veins like liquor from his secret cabinet.
The flying has always been in his blood and if only he was a bird. If only he was like one of those kids that had actual wings growing out of their shoulder blades. But Noel was not that kind.
He had little memories from the place he came from but the ones he had were always filled with thrill that came from flying or using his ability to make jumps from tree to tree to chase Nate around the woods.
Their leader always let them have some fun and since they were boys it usually included some activity which brought out their unusual abilities and secretly held as a training.
But why'd he be attached to those memories and not any other? Well to say the least who'd want to remember the gruesome part.
Tortured and continuous mind control and among that psychological programming or reactions control. They all went through worst and came out the best.
And for that part while morbid in more ways than dog could scratch itself came to use either in war or simple job. Nate was more the guy who was taken for job because of his different skill set. Their small group of kids from hell was known to share weird abilities that regular folk feared of but to them it was all they had to be free and still maintain food on the table and roof above their heads.
But then happened this girl who made their lives so different but also more exciting. Or maybe they kinda grew up into next phase and that was just how life was. As almost adults they were faced with new challenges and more things to avoid of than average teen could imagine for their future.
In reality things always take their own turn and rarely lets something go smooth. Noel found it the hardest. Maybe Nate too but the young man was never too vocal about it.
And there he noticed the most change from the time before they were teens. He noticed feelings a lot new to him than anything else. So they kept up pretending it was all what life upon adulthood brought and dealt with it.
Only after Samara incident he came back to the thoughts about it and realized what it was. Sadly enough it was too late. Things had changed so drastically he no longer knew what was what and with that came the responsibility of becoming a man of his own and doing the right things.
Responsibility was a strange thing. It kept bringing things in new light and fresh meaning to what once was just games and laughter.
So he changed. First thing that changed the most was the planning for each step of the day and what consequences came with that action and how to do things differently. Sure some things didn't change much but others he had to adapt completely new way. And it also brought more thinking outside the box.
Like dressing up and getting out of bed. Never before in his life Noel had cast a second thought of those simple things. Like breathing. For almost two years he was breathing through a tube and first half of that time he had to be assisted with that.
Then he had to take serious planning of every single movement and separate the stuff he could do by himself and what he needed help with.
Of course it took him years to be able to lessen that strategic thinking on the daily life aspect but then it had trained him become excellent strategist in war and in training tasks.
Like all he learned during his rehab time he could assign to some tactical task and solve the issue in seconds. As if it came naturally. Which in a way was exactly that.
When you commit to a path
I guess you were on your own
Follow your dreams to a place, a space, the grace that takes you home
Noel glanced at the calendar thing and crossed off another day. So much old memories and feelings came back as the assignment was nearing the end.
And so much new came to bugger him. Most were Nate related since he missed his buddy so badly it almost hurt. Well it did hurt actually. Not just that but real pain strike from his back and there came another strategic planning.
Problem was hiding within his spinal cord which was firing electrical sparks throughout his nervous system. As it was body's central nervous system host his spine was responsible for correct signals to be carried where needed to maintain certain functions. In Noel's case everything was badly mangled and nothing was the way it was supposed to be.
First was the fact his cord wasn't completely severed upon his body meeting the ground but rather crunched. Turned out that particularly strong electric current hitting his body when the fence exploded and all the rooftop sensors went off by adding more into all the electricity hitting him did major damage to natural ones. When the general force field came on adding second explosion to the mix it severely hit Noel and completely deleted any electric spark that naturally happened in human nerves and that switched of any nerve impulse that was in his body and blew him off the building as the force field exploded not just with impulse but energy that was stored in it.
Phasers usually did such trouble but in less way. At least against living things.
His body was a mess and while he technically fell to his certain death he maintained his life. What was supposed to happen if all nerves in one's body becomes dead he didn't really know but one thing was clear it would bring something very tragic.
So not just his nervous system was off but also the natural pathways of said impulses were off. Mostly because falling from such height made his bones literally crumble. Not all but mostly his back and head. The knee part was only because he landed with one leg bent under the weight of his body and kinetic energy.
Not that he was any scientist to completely understand all the kibble he was thrown at upon awakening from his comatose state.
The sleep did good though. Long years of that sleep and his body managed to heal enough to restore some order. Many years later and he was able to stand up and even walk some distances. And feel some part of his body as well as coordinate his movements.
Coordination was still in works but so far he exceeded all expectations that was cast on him.
So some people came to his aid as part of the same Gala event charity organization that was eager to find people like him and offer another chance at being humans and become useful to greater good.
It left the soldier once again thoughtful of the upcoming event. He could try avoiding it by playing some health card however in vain. The committee had already said he's as good as he could be and while possibly not the most sane he was deemed to be acceptable for attending. And there was a small medal waiting to be hooked on his lapel for being great example in general population eyes as someone who's gone from hopeless case to shiny war hero.
And he couldn't say it didn't bring a passing gleam to his eye at such compliment for trying to fix his own past mistake. And as the Admiral patted his shoulder lightly but pointedly for being a good boy it indeed brought a smidge of pride poking in his side as if saying "well done pal"
And why not to allow himself moment of accomplishment while sipping on his whiskey. It kinda made the gloom step back and something else replace the spot for approximately few hours before he passed out on his bed.
Some would say he's crazy folk. And he rarely spend time mingling with his peers at the common room. They were just as miserable in normal stuff but once seated in their small cabins of Raptors and holding control sticks in their hands ready to strike the opponent became best of the best. And they could hold their liquor equally proud. But when it came to dare games nobody could hold it as smoothly as their Lieutenant Allison and not wear a single ruffled feather the next day. That also was one tiny thing he was feeling grateful for. Obviously hangovers in the fleet wasn't what anyone wanted to suffer from and mostly because being miserable that way would bring only more troubles for training and possible fights.
Therefore nobody asked for trying out drinking the guy however most newbies felt the honor in doing so until they did the popular challenge game with him they didn't fully count accepted. To Noel it seemed as popular thing to pass the time before bedtime among fleet members and staff. Not only them but for many careers similar. He'd seen many policemen and doctors passing their shift endings that way and in one way he saw it as a way to celebrate one more day conquered.
What was drinking for him though he was yet to discover because while his mood mostly depend on his meds and past experiences that still haunted his dreams and waking hours he didn't consider himself as active PTSD case. As for depression and it affects he hadn't dared to ask his counselor. Not that he tried much in that field. Most sessions he just played possum and was let go fast enough.
The whole medical aspect of his service made Lieutenant think it was mostly for somebody's comfort than actual help. On the Enterprise it was obligatory to have all kinds of medical personnel onboard and while little of them ever encountered it he knew it was a comforting effect on himself.
Some days he needed a doctor to help with prescription medication and some days with his physical challenges. Most days he just did what he liked best- flew a ship and self medicated with his drinks. On rare days he went as far as showing his skills to common room before crawling back to his dark room to finish the day with two more bottles and happily passed out for next day.
It was sort of routine and over time he lost the track of days if not for the calendar he religiously crossed off as one passed.
And here was it. The thing with the man. He didn't do well with the routine the life on a spaceship brought. And he didn't do well with each day being same as the previous one.
There was hiding the true danger of being Noel "Narcho" Allison in a nutshell. Because from rebellious street boy with colorful days and equally colorful nature suddenly being dropped off into closed off space full of droning tasks and nothing much to pass the free time was pretty much a shock to the system and all mental abilities and generally led to some unused energy to be collected over time. There always was this possibility it would burst out and cause chaos and whatnot to everyone around. And ultimately his life being thrown into some other stuff he probably shouldn't ever come to know.
It used to be like that.
I said, let me tell you, I'm ready to fly
I survived through rainstorms, sandstorms
I fought the war, now it's time to go home
It's time to go home
It's time to go home