AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
If you missed yesterday's updates, or today's Chapter 36, you'll definitely want to read them.
I hope you enjoy! Don't forget to let me know what you think!
11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111
If either Kathryn or Chakotay had wanted a distraction, at that very moment, to give them time to think about their reactions, Carol had read their thoughts and immediately granted them their wishes.
The problem was, Daryl knew that her reaction wasn't for anyone else's benefit. And whatever numbness or paralysis he felt while trying to process what he'd heard was simply going to have to wait while he tried to help her—because the cry she let go, when it all sunk in, echoed through sickbay.
It wasn't the same kind of panic attack that had come with the claustrophobia. The reaction was one of absolute and sheer terror—the kind that could only come from very deep-seated trauma. The kind of trauma that they'd simply never had the tools or the time to deal with.
Everyone there that had spoken to Carol knew that she had a string of losses behind her, but they didn't know, in the same way Daryl did, what that really meant.
His soul vibrated with the sound of her cry.
"No…no…no…no…no…" she repeated. She crawled backward. She crab-walked. What she was looking for, it was impossible to tell. Some way to hide. To make herself small. Daryl understood, immediately, what was happening. "I can't," she threw in for good measure to break up the loud rejection of what the doctor had said. "Please—no…"
"Get that forcefield down!" Daryl barked.
"Until I'm certain that there's no threat…" the doctor started.
"Then put up a bigger fuckin' forcefield that has me in it and take that one down!" Daryl barked. "I might not be able to knock your ass out, but I'll sure as shit rewire your fuckin' control panel if you don't let me in the damned forcefield!"
Chakotay said something to the doctor. Daryl didn't hear the words over Carol's screaming that she couldn't do this. It couldn't be happening. It couldn't be real. She'd found, with her back against the biobed, the place on the floor where she could make herself the smallest, and she covered her face and somewhat covered her ears like she could block out reality.
As soon as the forcefield sizzled out of existence, Daryl ran into it and hit the ground hard enough that his knees ached with his decision. He pulled her into him and ignored the fact that she fought him. At that precise moment, he knew she wasn't fighting him. Not really. She was fighting what he'd been trying to contend with for years—what had grown with each and every compounding loss and injustice she'd suffered.
"It's OK," he offered. "I got'cha. I got'cha. You're OK. It's safe. You're safe here."
His repetition calmed her just a little. Maybe it was the feeling of being wrapped in his arms that calmed her. He didn't care that he was uncomfortable, he simply did his best to pull her to him and hold her tightly. The screaming, at least, gave way to pathetic sobs.
"Please," she begged. "Please…no…please…"
The doctor stepped closer, then, and Daryl became aware that he must have let Kathryn's forcefield down upon realizing that there was no longer a threat to the women in the atmosphere surrounding them. Kathryn stepped closer, as well. Kes had returned, and Chakotay closed in on them.
They were all too close, maybe.
"Backup! Let her breathe!" Daryl barked at all of them. He ignored the fact that he was likely smothering her as he held her tightly against him, but she'd stopped fighting him, so he assumed she was finding some comfort in that. He worried, though, that she was too deep in her trauma to deal with the audience that was forming around her.
"I would request a twenty-four-hour period of time to give everyone the opportunity to consider their reactions without the initial shock of discovery. However, at that time, if the captain and Carol do not wish to carry the pregnancies to term," the doctor offered, very much solemnly, "then I can terminate the pregnancies upon request."
Carol's shrieked "no" was every bit as loud as her first protests and she fought against Daryl for a second before relaxing back into him. His ears were ringing. He was too close to the source of her screaming, but she hadn't meant to hurt him or bother anyone.
"Please…" she continued to sob pathetically. He didn't know what to do. He didn't even know how he felt except that he wanted the pain to stop for her. He wanted the pain that it was causing him to stop.
"You don't know what the hell she's seen," Daryl said. "What the hell she's been through. You gotta—help her. Please."
Kes brought the doctor something and the EMH came close, kneeling down next to them. He held out the hypospray to administer it, but Carol saw it coming and protested loudly as she fought—clearly prepared to do her best to escape the hologram, and Daryl, if necessary, in whatever way possible.
Daryl held her tighter, silently apologizing to her because he was sure that his hold on her was hard and probably uncomfortable. He would apologize to her for every one of the possible bruises later, when the crisis was over.
"It is a sedative, Carol," the doctor offered. "A mild sedative."
She made clear her dislike of the idea of trusting him with the hypospray. She kicked in his direction as a response, and Daryl was glad that he was out of the way of her feet. He was also glad that the EMH, though he looked disgruntled to be treated that way, wasn't able to be truly injured.
"Won't hurt nothing?" Daryl asked.
"It will help return Carol's pulse and breathing rate to normal," the doctor said. "It will help even out her blood pressure. It will affect her in no adverse way."
"Hear that?" Daryl asked. "Listen—you gotta. I'm sorry—want to or not? You gotta. We can talk about this—all damn day if you want. All night. But—you gotta breathe an' not have a stroke on me. I'm sorry…"
Daryl held her, baring her neck to the doctor. He almost felt like he was trying to hold a wild animal instead of the woman that he loved. Her reaction to everything was entirely visceral and Daryl knew that, in all reality, they would likely spend much of the day and night discussing things. The first step, though, was getting her to a place where she could at least venture back out of the darkness inside of her—the place where all her losses haunted her.
Carol cried out, but Daryl knew it was more in frustration than pain. As the sedative entered her body, though, and she relaxed into his arms, her sobbing softened to a less hysterical cry. It became the steady, dragon-teared cry of a woman who was dealing with a heavy sadness.
Daryl mopped at her face with his hand, and he thanked Kes when the young Ocampan produced handkerchiefs for him.
Carol's audience—now people he could recognize as those who were concerned for her—started to close in again. Daryl glanced around at them even as Carol did. Whether they meant to react in such a way or not, Kathryn was visibly shedding tears and Chakotay had wrapped his arms around her.
"It can't be real," Carol said, through her tears.
"I don't think the doctor would say it as a lie or a joke," Daryl offered. It wasn't reality for him, either. In no way had he accepted what the doctor had said entirely, but something in him made it more important for him to make it real for Carol than it was to make it real for himself.
"I assure you," the doctor offered, still kneeling near them, "that I've explored this as thoroughly as I can. As soon as a I recognized the pattern of the heartbeat in the life signs, I began to wonder about the possibility. It was only the captain's inclusion in the equation that kept me denying the possibility for so long."
Carol was relaxing. She was red-eyed and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Every now and again her face drew up again as she cried a little more, but she was relaxing.
"It can't be," she promised him, shaking her head.
"Kes, could you bring me the fetal heart monitor? The tricorder readout may be less effective," the doctor said. "Mr. Dixon, do you think we could get Carol off the floor and onto the biobed?"
Whether Carol wanted to leave the floor or not, Daryl didn't stop to ask. Catching her bridal style, he heaved her up and deposited her onto the bed. He stepped close enough, though, that she could simply curl herself back into him rather than stretching out. As she curled into him, her head resting against his shoulder, he hugged her and rubbed his hands over her body. It was clear that exposing herself, even by stretching out, was leaving her feeling too vulnerable at the moment.
When Kes brought the doctor what he asked for, he spent a moment at the portable computer console that she rolled over and then came toward Carol with a disc of some sort. Carol did her best to move away from him and Daryl held her. Carol was normally fascinated with everything that they had and did on the ship. At the moment, though, that fascination was gone.
"It is a fetal monitor," the doctor said, softening his tone to a level that Daryl had never heard from him before. "It won't hurt you or…anything." Carol relaxed a little. "I'll need you to—lie back. Relax. It'll be good for you. Nothing is going to happen that will harm you in any way."
Slowly, Carol consented to this. She laid back, but held tight to Daryl's arm. He moved her hand just enough to hold her hand. Without even the need to disrupt her clothing, the doctor rested the disc on her body and activated it with some kind of switch. At the touch of a button on his computer, a sound immediately issued forth.
It was a sound that made Carol start to cry again, so Daryl leaned and kissed her face—soggy and wet despite his mopping it frequently with the handkerchiefs, and absolutely salty.
"No…" Carol breathed out. "No—I can't…"
"Can't what?" Daryl asked.
"I can't—do this," Carol said. "I can't—do it. I can't—have a baby. There can't be a baby."
At least Carol was calm enough, despite her tears, that Daryl felt he could talk to her. He felt that there could be some discussion and rationalization, even if it was rationalization through the lens of compound traumas.
Still, he felt his whole body tense upon hearing things so plainly said. It hadn't sunk in for him. Perhaps, for Carol, it was already more of a reality than it was for him. He felt a tightness in his chest as he tried to slowly accept it—for her sake and for the long hours that were coming.
"It's already there," Daryl offered. "It's already there," he repeated, when she shook her head at him.
"I am programmed to do what's best for my patient," the EMH offered, maintaining the seriousness and softness to his tone that he'd used earlier. He removed the disc and the earlier sound stopped. "It is clear that Carol is in significant distress. I am programmed to suggest a wait period, during which time she can carefully consider her options, but if it's determined that it would be in her best interest, I can terminate the pregnancy at this stage."
"No," Carol said, sucking in a breath with a small sound of that earlier hysteria. Daryl shushed her quickly. He didn't want it to get out of hand. More sedation would only knock her out—not allow her to deal with things in a state of artificial calm like the one they'd done their best to create now.
"You don't want that, it ain't gonna happen, OK? It ain't gonna happen," Daryl assured her.
"Carol," Kathryn said, stepping over to the biobed to stand beside Daryl. She reached a hand out to touch Carol, and Carol didn't shrink away from her touch. "Nobody is going to make you do anything that you don't want to do. We're all here to support you."
Carol seemed significantly calmed by that for a second. She mopped at her face and Daryl offered her a soggy handkerchief before Kes's small hand appeared around him, from behind him, and exchanged the soggy ones for dry ones.
They were, truly, all there to offer support. Even Carol clearly felt that in that instant.
"I can't lose…again," Carol said sincerely, her voice not dotted with the hiccupping sobs as it had been before. She shook her head at him. "I can't. Not again. And now there's no way around it because—I can't let him…I can't do that…but if I don't…there's no way around it. And I don't think I can, Daryl. I don't think I'm strong enough to do it again."
Daryl's heart seized almost painfully in his chest. For a split second, his breathing caught and he wondered if that was what the start of a heart attack might feel like.
He nodded at her. He ghosted his hands over her. She was healthy and fine. There was nothing wrong with her, at the moment, physically. She was strong—the strongest person he'd ever known—and she could pull through things that he was certain would have killed any other normal person. And, if they'd ever been in a place where they could get help before, they were in a better place now. They were three hundred years in the future, and she could work through some of what she'd been through safely.
And Daryl didn't miss the slightest shift—as she realized she was surrounded by people who genuinely cared for her, for no other reason than because she was a good person and they chose to genuinely care for her—from her insistence that she absolutely could not do what lie ahead of her to the concern that she might not be able to do it.
"I think—you forgot one way to look at this," Daryl said. Carol looked at him. That was enough for now. "You talked about—loss, and I understand why you would think about that. I do. With everything. Sophia and Henry—even Lizzie and Mika. But—what if it don't go that way? What if—you don't lose here? What if this one is…one you get to keep? Forever."
Carol frowned sincerely.
"What if it's not?" She asked.
Daryl nodded his understanding.
"But it's already here," Daryl offered. "You heard it. Don't you think—my idea sounds better?"
Daryl didn't know if Carol realized it, but she slowly calmed completely. The suggestion sounded so good to her, in fact, that her body naturally responded to it.
"At least think about that," Daryl offered softly. He swallowed against the churning in his gut. There would be time to deal with that. One crisis at a time—and this was more important than any jiggly feelings his gut was offering him. He wiped at Carol's face again and she accepted the kiss he offered her. She returned it with some hunger. "Hey—at least it's gonna grow up with built-in playmates," Daryl offered, with a smile, when the kiss broke.
Carol smiled at the idea. It was the first smile he'd seen so far. It didn't mean they were entirely out of the woods, because he knew that trauma simply didn't work that way, but it meant that she was making steps in a positive direction.
When Daryl turned to see the reaction of the others, though—those who had stood in solidarity to offer support to Carol in whatever way they could—he realized that there was much more to be considered as they all moved forward. And maybe he wasn't the only one who hadn't quite let reality sink in yet.
He had never seen anyone quite so pale as Kathryn was when she reached her hand out to hold onto the side of the biobed at Daryl's mention of playmates.
