Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you to Fameanon for helping me write this.
Shija spent her first week getting oriented in her new role, and she found the work satisfying in a way she had not experienced in the convent. Her father had never outwardly spoken any displeasure at her joining a religious order, especially not one so dedicated to serving others, but she knew in her heart of hearts that he would have preferred her to be married, and to a Vulcan man at that. She had definitely considered that path when she was younger, dreamt of it even, but she felt called to serve others in a way being a wife wouldn't allow her to do.
A wave of shame washed over her as she thought back to those last weeks in the convent with her fellow sisters. They had been expecting the bishop and had cleaned their simple surroundings to the point where every surface was spotless, and she remembered feeling an unusual amount of emotion leading up to the visit. Her dreams had been wild, and it was hard to concentrate on her prayers during services. The bishop's entrance into their space had made her skin feel far too warm, and her thoughts dwelled on him in the most inappropriate manner during his stay.
She turned her thoughts away from that shame and took a deep breath. Today was the last interview she had scheduled to hire her own staff, and she had already picked up two promising young medical students to work alongside her.
Unfortunately for her, the last interview was a bust. It was a man who looked good on paper but when he showed up, he presented as something of a jerk. He obviously felt he was too good to be interviewed by her and kept asking if the real boss was going to be coming to ask questions soon. She thanked him for his time and sent him packing. This was a dream job, and she wasn't going to have it tainted by jerk behavior. She was going to get to work with one of her, well, people. She'd never really considered it, but she'd never spent a load of time with the Vulcan side of the family. So far she really liked Dr. Strom, and his friend was curious and attentive. She wondered with idle curiosity if maybe everything she had been looking for was actually found on Vulcan. It was so hard to say, since she wasn't sure she fit exactly anywhere.
Just then, Strom entered her office. "HR tells me you have hired your support staff, is this accurate?"
She looked up at him. "Yes, sir. I'm ready to hit the ground running if you are." The moment she said it, she saw the confusion in his eyes. Just like when she came home from school with a mouthful of teenage slang and spoke with her father, who was way more Vulcan than she could ever hope to be. "That means I am ready and excited," she added with a shy embarrassment.
"Ah, I see," Strom said, the words stiffer than he meant them. "Our first assignment today is going to be doing rounds in the psychiatric ward. The doctor there has requested that a neurologist aid her in some research related to post traumatic stress injuries."
Shija nodded. "I'll bring a PADD."
"All of the other neurologists have declined her request, with our department being new it is logical to assume that this is the perfect time for us to take on such projects." Strom motioned for her to join him, and she obeyed.
Once they were near the ward, she spoke again. "I agree with your logic, and since the Dominion War, there has been an influx of people that have been deeply scarred on many levels." She fell in step beside him, since to walk behind him would be a sign of romantic intentions, that much she did know about her heritage. Her dad used to get triggered by mom in some of the most unusual ways, it never made sense to her, but she was glad to have the knowledge now.
Strom remembered the Dominion War. He was sidelined due to advanced age, but he did what he could in the home hospitals around Vulcan so younger, more capable doctors coud take on the brunt of service. Now he had the opportunity to be of real service. "The doctor has not made clear what she is hoping to attain from us, and I am not well versed in these maladies, as it is not something Vulcans typically suffer from. However, I am interested in any way that we can help alleviate suffering."
He opened the door to the psych ward so she could enter before him, and they walked into the quiet lobby in tandem, Shija matching his stride perfectly. Perhaps she did not mean to, but it pleased him that she knew to walk beside him and not behind; it alleviated the need for any awkward conversations.
The woman at the front desk saw them approach and offered a wry smile. "Dr. Strom and...I'm sorry, I don't know your name?"
"Shija Malone," his assistant replied in a subdued tone, and the two women shook hands. "May I ask where Dr. Cardwell is?"
The woman's smile grew tense. "She's in her office, about to do rounds. I would say good luck, but...well, I shouldn't gossip. You have working eyes, you'll see what I mean."
Strom simply raised an eyebrow and nodded once the receptionist buzzed them back, and Shija walked with him down quiet corridors, until they were in front of a door marked Dr. Hester Cardwell.
Strom knocked on the door since he saw no other mode to gain access. It was unusual not to have someone opening the door. He heard a cold, crisp voice bid them enter.
He opened the door and let Shija enter first, and then him. Standing stick straight behind the desk, in a black and gray suit, her hair pulled back severely like a Vulcan woman, was the tall slender Dr. Hester Cardwell. She was eyeing several PADDs intently, but then cast her gaze down her nose at the two Vulcans in front of her.
"You are Dr. Strom and Nurse-slash-Doctor of Nursing Shija," the human woman said without a shred of emotion. "While I am grateful you have taken time to do rounds with me, presumably with the intention of aiding me in healing these people, let me make something very clear. These people are not amusements, nor are their emotions and the lack of control of said emotions a joke or something to be sneered at. They are sick people who will receive good and compassionate care. The moment I think you or anyone around you isn't here for that, or willing to provide them the proper kind of care, then we are done here. Do you understand?"
Strom found her most unusual, and raised one eyebrow as he folded his hands behind his back. He understood her meaning. "I am a professional, Dr. Cardwell, as is my assistant. We did not become medical professionals to ignore the suffering of our fellow beings, but to provide the best possible care for them." He raised the ta'al. "We come to serve."
Shija didn't know what kind of unemotional pissing contest this was, but it was a lot, and so when Strom raised the ta'al, it caught her off guard. Still, she matched him to show she was on his team all the way. "Come to serve…" she said, but more mumbled because she wasn't used to such displays.
Dr. Cardwell nodded stiffly at the nurse, her face impassive as she gathered her things. "Your professionalism and service is appreciated, Dr. Strom and...shall I refer to you as doctor?" She set her cold gaze on Shija, who suddenly felt like she had been called into the principal's office in grade school. This was certainly a no-nonsense sort of woman, and she was beginning to see why the receptionist had wished them luck.
"Nurse Shija is fine," she mumbled, and Dr. Cardwell frowned, something unreadable flashing in her clear gray eyes. This woman hates me, she thought to herself, and she set her stride to match her mentor's once Dr. Cardwell led them out the door.
"I must admit, it is...fortunate to have someone of your caliber working with us, Dr. Strom," the doctor said neutrally, though Shija thought she felt something akin to relief as Dr. Cardwell sized the Vulcan up. She wasn't sure what to make of it, and it was gone as soon as she glimpsed it.
Strom didn't react to the small flattery other than to move in such a way that he was shoulder to shoulder with the female doctor, once again due to etiquette reasons. He placed his hands behind his back, carefully folding them so no chance encounter with her or his assistant could embarrass him, since arriving here and being so much younger he was at his peak in all things, but after being so old for so long he wasn't in total control just yet.
"Yale, Harvard, and even two semesters at the VSA on Vulcan," he stated, having gone into detail in her file to discover the depth of her education and research. "Two near nominations for Nobel awards, and a fellowship at the Interspecies Medical Exchange three years running. So logic dictates that it is I that should be honored at the opportunity to be a small part of your research." There was no condescension or patronizing tone in his statement; to him it was simple fact, one his ego didn't mind saying. "In fact, I found it curious that you would take a position at this hospital when MD Anderson, Cleveland Clinic, and John's Hopkins – all venerable establishments well over 300 years old – offered you a much better position."
He turned to the first room they stopped in, and gently frowned with his eyebrows furrowed at a person who seemed to be a shadow of himself. It was odd to Strom; he could see almost the outline of a great Starfleet officer in the shell of a broken man. He was wearing paper garments, and Strom could see that anything harmful had been removed from his room. This was a man in pain. He'd seen something like this on Vulcan, men and woman broken by their pon farr, who had lived but wished they had not. It was something like that, only much darker, as he saw terror in the patient's frozen eyes. He turned his attention back to the doctor, and waited patiently like he was a student in medical school doing rounds with the doctor in charge.
Without a word, Dr. Cardwell handed him a PADD, presumably with the man's medical history, and waited for him to read it. He handed the information to Shija once he had been briefed on the patient, and his new human colleague left him in the doorway, slowly approaching the man.
"Good afternoon, Louis," she said crisply. "I have some friends here with me today who are going to help me help you, alright?"
The man looked at her mournfully, then nodded in apparent understanding.
She nodded to Strom, watching the interaction with hawk-like eyes as he took a turn.
"Lieutenant Louis Igwe," the Vulcan said gently, nodding to the man. "My name is Dr. Strom and I am a neurologist at this institution. May I inquire into your health and well-being this afternoon?"
The chin of the lieutenant began to shake and wobble. He gave Hester a look of desperation. "Plea...please don't make me talk…don't…" He started to sob.
Strom approached and got down on one knee before him, so he was at eye level. 'I…" he was going to try techniques he learned at the Interspecies Medical Exchange, where Yuris, his chosen brother, had taught him. "I had a brother once, a long time ago," Strom began in a soft, even voice. "His name was Yuris."
The tears were still flowing freely from Louis' eyes, but the fact that a Vulcan was on his knees before him got his attention, and he shifted from looking at the female doctor to Strom. "W-what was h-he like?"
"He was unusual for a Vulcan." Strom continued in that gentle voice, much like Yuris would have done. "He was very gentle, and for a long time, he was very misunderstood by all, including me. He had the ability to, just by touch, understand people and their feelings."
"And th-they didn't have to say bad things?" he whimpered, like a child almost.
"No," Strom said softly. "He protected their minds with his, and held back pain."
The man was in awe of this simple story. "C-can…you do that?"
The doctor allowed himself a small smile. "Perhaps, when you are prepared and ready. Such things are better when you can trust. I will earn your trust."
Louis swallowed thickly, his tears slowly drying. "How?"
"We begin by speaking to one another. I am Strom, I come from Vulcan. I lived in a city called Ra'al." He raised his eyebrows. "Can you tell me where you come from?"
"Lunar base, I'm….a moon baby."
As the conversation went on it was everything Shija could do not to cry. Tender was not an adjective she would ever ascribe to a Vulcan, but the deft kindness of how Strom handled what could have become a terrible situation made her breathless. Still, she was making notes as things progressed because now she had a sense that this was going to be historically significant someday.
Shija continued her notetaking as the short meeting progressed, and she saw Dr. Cardwell's posture relax slightly. She hoped the doctor realized Strom was not going to hurt her patient or disrespect him.
Strom slowly reached out and hovered his hand over Louis' hand. "Louis, is it alright if I touch your hand? I'd like to try something, if you are agreeable to it."
The man hesitated. "What are you going to d-do?"
"I am going to see if you can feel my emotions. I'd like to see if my calm can affect you, and help you feel better. Would that be acceptable?"
Louis pondered it. "I-If I don't like it, will you stop?"
"Of course," he replied gently. "I am here to help you. This won't hurt, I promise."
Louis allowed him to touch his hand, and Shija suppressed a gasp. Even in her own family, such displays were very private. She could only recall a handful of occasions where her father touched her in any sort of affectionate way, and not out of necessity or in service to educating her in her comparatively limited mental abilities.
Hester stood there watching the most tender man-to-man interactions she had ever witnessed in her life. While she wasn't sure what she expected from a Vulcan – any Vulcan, let alone a male – it wasn't this. Louis was one of her longest termed patients and rarely reacted well to anyone, but Strom had come in hard and cold with all things, and then just practically turned into a nurturing well of empathy. She could have fainted with surprise.
When Louis agreed to let Strom touch his hand, she had no clue what might happen next, but she found it captivating. She'd never seen a Vulcan physically touch anyone.
Just as Strom touched Louis' palm, serenity like a cool wind washed over the room. Her patient had been like a clenched fist for years, and suddenly all the fine lines, and indents in his face smoothed. Her jaw dropped.
"Are you well?" Strom asked, barely touching the man's palm.
"I feel amazing," he said with gentle confidence. He looked at Hester, "I feel like my old self, like I was back on the Excelsior before the war. It's odd, I can feel you near my mind, Dr. Strom, but not like…in it, more like you're holding my mind like a baby."
Strom nodded, his lips twitching upward in amusement. "That is one way to put it." He closed his eyes. All the horrors of the war were playing in his mind, and he saw the faces of the Jem'Hadar that haunted his nightmares. The memories were disjointed and chaotic, but so ingrained in the mind that it was no wonder he was tortured.
"This is not a fix, Loius, but I can aid you in segmenting off your memories to allow you to function while you go through the counseling and healing process."
"Yes!" Louis said eagerly, and then looked at Dr. Cardwell. "Can we?"
"I think this is a good start, Louis, but I need to do more research before I commit to any course of treatment," she replied, her voice gentle. Strom retreated, standing once he withdrew his hands, and yet Louis did not return to the vacant shell he was before. There was still a glimmer of humanity there, and Hester nodded in thanks as she led them to their next patient.
"I didn't mean to rain on your parade there, doctor," she said as they moved down the hall. Strom frowned, but Shija spoke up.
"She means she didn't want to spoil your plans."
The Vulcan nodded, and Hester's expression warmed slightly. "I am ethically obligated to research any course of treatment. I'm sure you understand. This is standard procedure, but I think the results we saw today are quite promising. I thank you for this unique insight."
Strom nodded, his expression distant as he thought back to a time when that treatment would have gotten his medical license revoked. How things had changed.