Chapter 85 Wild Horses
When Sharon returned to sickbay, she found Kara alone and huddled under the concealing blanket. "Kara," she tentatively called, the form shifted, but otherwise didn't respond. She stood staring down for a few more moments, gathering her courage and words about her before taking hold of the cover and flipping it totally off the bed and its occupant.
"What the frak you doing?" Starbuck demanded, her voice rough as she twisted over with a glare.
"That's my question to you," Sharon snapped, her dark features almost scornful. "Since when do you cower like a scared kid just because of a bad dream? So much for the fearless, hotshot pilot, huh?"
"Shut up!" Starbuck snarled, coming to her feet just inches from Athena. "What would a Cylon know about it. All you've got is programming. Just erase what you don't want to remember, right?"
As the taller woman leaned menacingly into her space, Sharon held her ground, ignoring the tightening in her belly in reaction to the anger that emanated from the taut face so close to her.
"It doesn't work like that. I can't just do a wipe and forget," she said. "And I know a little something about nightmares. The men of Pegasus taught me all about them and how it feels to be helpless and—" she broke off, wetting her lips as the remembered trauma left her dry-mouthed.
Sharon saw understanding flush away the anger on Kara's face as she averted her eyes before saying in a tight voice, "I forgot," then looked back at Sharon and said, "Look, I'm sorry, I just…" The blonde gave a shake of her head, shame creasing her brow as her lips curled. "Lee…but then it's not… I can't…can't face him. Cause you're right. I'm a screw-up…and now a frakkin' coward."
"Damn it, Kara. How many times do we have to tell you that it's not your fault. And what you're going through…that's normal, too," she said, exasperation making her sharp. She grimaced at her own words, knowing better than most how empty they were in the face of the feelings that an attack dredged up. And how much worse Kara's experiences were, especially when they hammered at a self-image already damaged by a childhood of cruelty.
Sinking down on the edge of the bed, Kara rubbed her hands along the material of her pants. "Don't know what I'm doing… I mean, I remember what happened, sort of. Tigh and…the gun. Lee…But I don't really remember doing it." She raised fear-laced eyes to Sharon's, "What if they did something to me on New Caprica. Brainwashed me or…whatever. What if the next person I try to shoot is the Admiral or the President? Like Boomer."
Athena flinched at the other Sharon's name, yet considered Kara's concerns carefully before answering, "It's not the same. You're not a Cylon. And look how many times you've been alone with the Admiral or President. You've had plenty of opportunities to hurt them, and you haven't," she pointed out, then was relieved to see some of the fear in the green eyes ease.
"Yeah, I guess," Kara said, then gave a harsh laugh. "You know, I was feeling better. Thought maybe there was something to this talking Laura kept making me do. Now, I'm right frakkin' back to where I started. Grounded and back to the brig."
Sharon's gaze narrowed as she asked, "Who said you're going to the brig?"
Again Starbuck laughed, the sound filled with bitter defeat. "I hit the XO. Pulled a gun on a superior officer. Tried to-to… Frak! What's it matter. I proved, once again, that I'm dangerous and deranged. What do you think they're going to do?" Kara dug her fingers into her thighs, feeling the pain as the barely healed scars on her one leg started oozing red through the fabric of her pants.
As Sharon saw what Kara was doing, she angrily slapped her hands aside. "Stop it!" she yelled at the bent head, desperate to get through to her. "Stop hurting yourself. It doesn't solve anything. Or do you just like to see your own blood, huh? Is that it? Are you getting off on the pain. Cause I gotta tell you, it's getting old and it hurts the rest of us, too."
"What do you want from me?" cried Kara, abruptly rising and putting distance between the two of them before she turned and shouted, "I tried! And it didn't make a frakkin' difference. It's in my head," tapping her forehead, "whenever I close my eyes. The drugs helped and I could sleep. Now frakkin' Cottle won't give me anymore, won't even let me drink. So, what the frak am I suppose to do?" Kara clasped her arms to herself, obviously trying to keep Sharon from seeing the way they trembled.
"Talk to me, Kara. Tell me about the nightmares, it might help."
"Only thing that would help would be having Leoben chained to a wall so I could take my time tearing him apart. I'd demonstrate my destiny to the bastard as I ripped his balls off." She punctuated her words by picking up the fork from her untouched lunch tray and stabbing at the thin sandwich until she'd reduced the meal to crumbs and tattered pieces.
Both women turned as the curtain was pulled aside and Cottle entered. Though he probably noticed the tension between them, he apparently chose to ignore it.
Pointing a finger towards the bed, "Ok, Captain, let's check that incision of yours," he said.
[ I I I I I ]
Cottle watched as Starbuck hesitated. It looked like she was going to protest, but then she dropped the utensil and sullenly complied, returning to the bed and laying back against the pillows. That's when he noticed the stain darkening the material of her cargos.
"Now what the frak you do?" he growled. Then, as Kara stared fixedly at the ceiling, "Alright, get 'em off and let me see for myself," he ordered, glaring until his recalcitrant patient unfastened her pants and, shifting her hips, slid them awkwardly down to expose the red-smeared flesh of her upper thigh.
Looking from the reopened wounds back to her face, Cottle grunted. Without saying anything further, he opened the side stand drawer and removed several items. With rough hands, unmindful of what discomfort he might be causing, he wiped the reopened cuts clean, and then dressed them with a gauze pad and tape. With a snap, he removed the gloves he'd donned and set them aside as she shimmied her trousers back up.
"Ok, let's have a look-see at what other havoc you've wreaked on my fine work." He lifted her tanks high enough to give access to the bandage beneath. Peeling back the tape, he made short work of confirming that this incision at least was still in good shape.
As he reattached the bandage in place, "We done now?" Kara sourly asked, gaze still fixed above her head.
"Nope." Cottle saw her finally look at him as he pulled the stethoscope from his pocket and placed it on her ribcage just above the bandage.
"That's frakkin' cold," she muttered.
He gave her a knowing smirk as he moved it further up her chest. "Breathe in… Again..." Tucking the scope back in his pocket, he let her tug her tanks back down. "Right. Good lung sounds. All your hollering didn't mess up my work."
This time, when her eyes flicked to his and away, he saw the anger had been replaced by shame and…maybe fear? Mentally shaking his head, he was thankful that he'd taken the last couple of hours poring over what few medical sources he still had at hand. He'd gotten some useful information, especially about the dream episodes that were plaguing his problem patient. Now all he had to do was get Thrace to listen.
Right. About as easy as getting an asteroid to change course by asking it nicely.
As Kara swung herself around to sit on the edge, Cottle looked over to where Athena was silently watching, and he raised a bushy eyebrow at her. Her slight headshake told him that she'd not made much progress. Not surprising, especially after what he'd learned from his reading.
Turning back to Starbuck, he said, "Your little episode earlier struck me as odd, even for you. So, I did some research. Found a few interesting ideas about what's going on inside that thick skull of your." He watched as Thrace tensed again.
"It was just a frakkin' nightmare, everyone has them," she repressively said.
"Not everyone tries to kill themselves over a nightmare," Athena spoke up. "so, shut up and just listen for a change. Maybe the Doc found something that can help."
Kara's eyes met Sharon's dark ones before dropping. "Fine. What did you find out about my little freak out?" She crossed her arms, pretending to not care.
"What you've been having aren't nightmares per se, instead, something called night-terrors," Cottle said. He wasn't surprised when he noted her perplexed expression, he'd only vaguely heard about them himself before coming across several references.
"Terror, mare," Starbuck said. "Can't say I see that it matters what you call it."
"Dreams and nightmares are the unconscious mind's way of processing things during the dream cycle, and they happen during the REM part of sleep. Rapid eye movements… Night-terrors now, they usually occurs before REM. Sleepwalking's closely related. The subjects of both are unaware of their actions even though they might appear awake to others. And it can be very difficult to truly wake a person in this state. The subject frequently doesn't remember anything that happened during the episode, and yet the panic experienced is more extreme than that of nightmares, thus the name night-terror." He watched Starbuck frown as she absorbed his words.
She finally gave a shrug and said, "Still don't see why it matters."
"Kara, don't you see?" Athena leaned forward from the edge of her own bed. "This explains what happened. You said it yourself, it was like you weren't even the one doing it. Don't you understand what the Doc said, you were still asleep, just reacting to whatever visions were terrorizing you."
"Yeah…well maybe." She didn't sound very convinced to Cottle.
Shaking a yellow-stained finger at his patient, "You listen to her, Captain. You're not crazy…well, no more than before. Sides, you don't want to let the frakkin' Cylons win." He saw a bit of the old Starbuck defiance light her eyes and mentally nodded before continuing, "Not much really known about these night-terrors, just that they can be brought on by stress and anxiety. Usual treatment includes counseling, stress therapy and, in some cases, anti-anxiety drugs. Drugs are out, ain't got 'em and the side effects would prevent you from flying."
"Like that's really going to happen anytime soon anyways," he heard her mutter as she stared at her clasped hands.
"Sooner than you think." When she looked up questioningly, "Your side needs a couple weeks yet to completely heal and you need to put on some weight. Regain the muscle mass you've lost." Wagging a finger at her now, "If you've followed doctor's orders by the time your sides fully healed, I expect to be able to tell the Admiral that you're cleared for flight duty." He smirked at her surprise.
"But…these night-terrors?"
"You planning on taking a nap while out on CAP?"
"No, but—"
"Well then it's not a problem. The President and Admiral's already said they'd take my recommendation. That just leave Apollo for you to convince."
Watching the play of emotions roll over the expressive face of the young woman, Cottle shook his head at the folly of youth and love, especially the frakked up relationship between Apollo and Starbuck. Thankful that fixing that mess was not in his job description, he turned to Athena and said, "I think one more night here and I can kick the two of you out of my hair." Trusting that the Raptor pilot had gotten his message, he left to go check on the two knuckledraggers that Ishay was currently patching up.
[ I I I I I ]
Watching the doctor saunter away, "Is he frakkin' with me?" Kara asked, confusion, disbelief…and hope flickering on and off her face.
"Like Cottle would joke about your medical status," Sharon said. "The Doc doesn't play games when it comes to his job, you know that."
"Yeah, but…the dreams—or whatever the frak they are—and the gun. I know I took the Colonel's gun. I tried to…" Kara put her head in her hands as if attempting to force her thoughts to make sense. "Frak! I don't know what I was trying to do."
Sharon moved to stand in front of Kara and reached to pull her hands down so she could force the green eyes to look at her. But, as she touched the white knuckles, Kara recoiled with a gasped, "Don't!"
As Sharon took a half step back and splayed her hands out to the side to show Kara that she wasn't going to touch her again, she said, "Damnit Kara, talk to me! What is it? You know I'm not going to hurt you," frustration leaking into her voice at the unexpected reaction.
"I know… I know that. It's just…"
"Just what? Come on, out with it," she said, almost pleading as she moved forward again and knelt before her friend, catching her distraught eyes.
"I was remembering. Cottle said people don't, but I do… It's the same each time. Bits and pieces. Flashes." Kara broke her gaze away to stare down at her palms as she turned them up.
"What do you see?" Sharon softly prompted.
"Hands. It's always hands." She held up her hands to Sharon, then clenched them into fists that dropped to her side. "I th-think their Sam's at f-first. He's touching me and it good, you know," she raised her eyes and Athena nodded in understanding and for her to continue. "Then his…the…hands change. They're cold and the skin…" Athena saw Kara swallow convulsively, then visibly force herself to continue, "the skin comes off. And they're metal fingers. They hurt. My back and…down there." Wrapping her arms around herself, Kara tried to control the shaking as she stared into Sharon's darkly sympathetic eyes. "I can't get away from them. They just keep hurting me…taunting me with caresses then shredding my skin. I just had to make it stop."
Sharon wished she had a degree in psychiatry, or half a dozen. She felt overwhelmed by Kara's need and was desperate to find the right thing to say or do to help her. Working on gut instinct alone, she slowly lifted her hands, fingers spread, palms towards Kara and waited, never letting her eyes leave the traumatized ones across from her. Slowly Kara raised her own until they were a bare inch from Athena's. They remained poised, not touching, for another moment then Kara hesitantly pressed palm to palm and curled her fingers. As Sharon interlaced their fingers, she felt the moist heat of Kara's fear and gave a reassuring squeeze.
"You can do this, Kara. You're stronger than any nightmare—or night-terror."
Holding eyes and hands with her friend, Kara listened and felt the stir of defiance. Cottle was right. She couldn't let the frakkers beat her. Not again. Starbuck knew how to twist a losing hand into a winning play, and by-gods she was tired of fighting those that were on her side. It was time for payback and she couldn't do that moping in sickbay.
"Ok. Fine. Just remember, no complaining about my bitching to you."
"Bitch to me all you want, Starbuck. Just don't expect me to sing you lullabies to sleep."
Both women grinned as they visualized Athena crooning Starbuck a bedtime tune. As the grins faded, neither acknowledged the underlying sadness the image brought up of incomplete families: a child lost from one and a mother's acceptance never known by the other.