A/N I own nothing. Mass Effect is owned by Bioware
I am not going to lie: this chapter was hard to write. The main reason is that trauma affect everyone differently and I was mindful of you, the readers, when I wrote this. I didn't want this to be overwhelmingly dark but I wanted to give a decent amount of backstory as a set up for the full disclosure which is coming soon. The hardest part of this chapter was trying to not put too much in but then knowing what to take out. As I said, this was not an easy chapter. Either way, I hope that I didn't disappoint with it.
Comments:
frankieu – I know, paperwork is a form of torture.
Artyom-Dreizehn: Glad you enjoyed it. Yeah, the MC is playing a lot of catch up seeing as he only has two years.
dekuton – I am glad you enjoy it. There will be more nicknames that come up through the story for different characters.
Glrasshopper – Ask and you shall receive. Actually, it was coincidental but isn't it great how those things work out sometimes?
sGuesty Guest – You are not far wrong with some of it. But two years is not a whole heap of time in business so eezo is better sold at this stage.
Guest - Thanks
Hope you all enjoy!
…
CHAPTER 6 – FACING DEMONS
The Hidden Enterprise was turning out a little how I expected it so far. A ship larger than a frigate, smaller than a cruiser with an undersized mass effect core. The sublight thrusters were apparently standard for a freighter this size, according to Sel, but they felt like they were too small to push it at a speed that I was hoping for. All told it meant that I was going to be doing some major refits on this tug boat once I had the credits to it.
I sat in the CIC which, unlike the turian designed Normandy, was in the same space as the pilot. The 'cockpit' where the pilot sat was not what a standard human cockpit would look like. It was more like a sea faring naval vessel from home, in that it was about halfway along the ship and slightly raised so that the viewports could see everything in a three-sixty field of view. It wasn't quite large enough for me to think of it as a bridge. It was large enough to be both a CIC and a pilot station but considering that this ship was running with a total crew of five and only a max of four would fit in the cockpit, 'bridge' just seemed too much for this little freighter.
I took a look at the console in front of me. Something I had noticed about the holographic consoles in the game was that they were extremely fuzzy and had always looked like they would cause a headache just by staring at them. Reading them looked impossible. In real life, they were a lot clearer. They were not quite as visible as the terminal screen I had in my personal room. The OLD, or organic light display, was basically just a really, really clear TV screen. All holo displays were not as clear in their quality but they took up less headspace.
The holo display I had here was a much smaller version of the galaxy map that the Normandy has in its CIC. It wasn't as detailed when it was on stand-by but it was able to bring up all planets and systems when I typed them in.
Speaking of which, I thought for a moment about the information that Manuel had planted into my head: the location of eight eezo asteroids. Almost instantly I had the coordinates, as clear as if I had memorised them all by heart. I brought up the coordinates screen on the navigation display and typed four of them in randomly. I was really happy that I had Ely teach me how to use this. Otherwise I would have just felt stupid and useless. Different galaxy or not, I kinda figured it would be odd if I knew nothing about how the tech works here. Thankfully some of it was pretty basic. For example, the navigation console. I could figure out how to input coordinates without any difficulty. Other parts were beyond my comprehension
I looked at my four options in front of me. Yeah… I had no idea what to do next.
"VI," I called out. "Calculate which of these coordinates is the fastest to get to and arrange them in order of time required to travel, shortest to longest. Set start point for each journey as Citadel."
A pleasant female voice spoke back. "Affirmative."
Aleria looked over at me with a sly smile. "That's an awfully feminine voice you have there, Mr Neilson," she said coyly. "And here I was thinking that you only needed my voice to keep you interested."
I shook my head at the playful maiden's words. "Well, one day you might leave me," I deadpanned. "If that happens then I thought I would need a backup plan. But that reminds me; VI, accept new designation Holly."
"New designation Holly accepted, Captain Neilson."
Aleria raised her brow ridge appraisingly. "Holly?"
I shrugged. "It's from an old science fiction program that dates back long before we humans had mass effect tech. I loved that show."
Aleria laughed and turned back to her task of weaving through the incoming traffic. "So where are we headed for our maiden voyage?" she asked, her voice curious.
My console pinged and the coordinates came on as I asked. I highlighted the first one which brought up a few options. One of them was 'send to'. I selected that and sent it to the pilot's chair. "We will go here first," I said. "Then we can see if we have the correct information." I figured it was easier to pretend that I had been given a lead than saying that a celestial being planted the information into my head.
Aleria looked at the coordinates and did something on her screen. "Looks like we will get there in approximately eighty-seven hours," she remarked casually as she steered the ship towards the appropriate mass relay. "Three jumps by relay that will only take about twelve hours, then a nice long FTL trip into space that isn't necessarily uncharted, but at the very least ignored due to the fact that it is more than twenty light years away from a relay point." She turned back to face me with a grin. "You know how to take a girl to the nicest places."
I gave a small grunt of amusement. "Take us out then, Miss N'Tavis," I said, standing up from my station and moving behind her. This being my first time and all, I wanted to be able to look out the forward viewport with the pilot when we reached the relay. If for no other reason than to say that I had done it.
It took nearly an hour to get to the relay. When we were about halfway I got a report from Sel down in the engine room, saying that the eezo drive core was running within acceptable limits. Ely cut through saying that they were going to make it better, much to Aleria's amusement and Sel's verbal chagrin. They were still arguing when I shut off the intercom.
The relay was truly impressive. Too bad it was the design of a race of genocidal biotechnic murderbots. The spinning glow of the core was visible a long time before the main structure was discernible against the black background of space. Sure enough, it looked vaguely similar to a rounded tuning fork with uneven tines. Another thing that the games got right.
"Thirty seconds to relay, boss," Aleria called out. "Moving towards it now, mass effect drive engaging."
The blue core of the relay started spinning faster as we approached, the ship turning to run parallel with the large alien tines.
I suddenly felt both slightly apprehensive and slightly excited as a stream of blue light streaked out of the relay core and engulfed the ship. A few moments later, a blinding flash and a slight tugging sensation was all it took. We were thousands of light years away.
The journey had officially started.
We were underway for about six hours when I decided to head off to my room for some sleep. Aleria had set the autopilot to take as at FTL to the next relay, where we were going to arrive in about five more hours, so she was off having a nap. Sel and Ely were in the engine room doing their best to squeeze every bit of juice they could think of out of the drive core and make the ship run more efficiently. Hectar was calibrating the geological sensor suite, trying to fine tune it for accurate readings. There was nothing for me to do.
It was about then that things started to go wrong for me.
I had set my bedding up on the floor next to the bed. Two weeks of staying in hotels hadn't helped me readjust to anything so like a mattress yet. I felt a little bit like Edmond Dantes from the Count of Monte Cristo, who slept on a stone floor after his release from prison. Granted, he was there for thirteen years and I was only nine months, not to mention he was a fictional character, but it made me feel a little better having a reference to compare to.
My 'mattress' consisted of a thick rug and was joined by a thin pillow and thin blanket. I had made some progress at least. When I first started at the hotel, I hadn't even used the pillow. Like I said: progress.
I still bought a proper bed for myself, holding out hope that I would be able to get back in the habit of proper sleep eventually. At the moment it was more of a decoration than anything, but also gave me something to hide my sleeping arrangements behind. I didn't want one of my crew to walk in unannounced and see it. Not because I was embarrassed. I just didn't want any awkward questions.
Anyway, I was lying down in my bed, preparing to have a sleep. I was actually quite comfortable, despite my sleeping circumstances. The red symbol on my door, showing that it was locked, was dimmed down by Holly to better facilitate sleep.
Then I turned the lights off.
Almost immediately, my mind transported me back into the dungeon. Chained to a concrete floor unable to see anything other than the light coming from a crack in the sole door. My head wouldn't shut off. I kept recalling the long periods of silence and I knew, I just knew, that there was going to be someone coming through the door ready to beat me again. Footsteps were heading down the hallway, bringing with it my tormentors and the promise of more pain. Maybe the whips, or possibly the branding iron and the welder. Please, on all that is holy, whatever it was, don't let it be the hook again!
I almost yelled out to the VI, Holly, to turn the lights on. Immediately my room became flooded with light and I was able to take in my surroundings. I sat with my head in my hands waiting for my heartrate to slow down and the slight headache that sprung up to go away. I couldn't help it but I was breathing hard like I had just gone for a run.
Where the hell did that come from? I asked myself as I looked around the room, trying to reassure myself that my torture was over and taking a few deep slow breaths. Once I had managed to settle myself I slowly lay back down and called for Holly to turn off the lights.
The face of the man leered down at me. His bushy beard nearly blocked out his mouth but the crinkling around his eyes told me there was nothing pleasant coming my way for this. Another man, this one wearing a blue paper suit, like I had to wear in the infectious disease ward at the hospital during a security sit, over his clothes was standing behind him, holding a tray in front of him.
The first man reached back and threw a vicious backhand that wrenched my head to the side and made my jaw pop.
"Now," he growled, his voice excitedly malicious in a way that made my skin crawl. "We get to see how much pain it takes to make you cry."
The man in the blue paper suit and I got to see the tools he had on his tray.
"LIGHTS!" I roared, throwing myself out of my bed and sliding back into the wall. My heart was pounding and the headache was back. I was breathing hard again and I felt frantic.
I put my head back in my hands as I tried to sort through my feelings. Rage, coupled with a sickness in my stomach, apprehension, a little fear, anticipation of horrible events, shame at my own weakness… all of it swirling inside me and threatening to send me into either another murderous state or a crumpled ball on the cool metal deck.
I sat there breathing slowly until my nerves calmed down slightly.
Honestly, once I had calmed down a little, I mostly felt angry but also a little confused. Angry with myself for letting the memories haunt me. Angry with the scum that had tortured me. Angry that I couldn't get to sleep. Confused that I had not been able to fall asleep here but I had been able to at least fall asleep in a quiet Citadel hotel room. It was all a weird jumble of emotions that I was struggling with and I had no idea how to handle it. It was one thing having the bad dreams, but this time, I hadn't even gotten to the falling asleep stage yet.
When I was in the cell I had had one goal: to get free and kill everyone that had made me suffer. I had succeeded… violently but with much pain on my end. All the people that had done this to me were dead. I still felt a little sick about those last few when I pictured what I did.
So why was my mind sending me back to that dungeon when I was sitting in this perfectly safe room?
I got up and sat on the edge of the bed. I was still tired but any chance at sleep seemed to elude me. Maybe some music would help calm me down. I had not actually just sat and listened to music since I got here. The only music I had actually heard was the generic elevator music and the jingles that were played through the sound speakers in the shopping districts.
"Holly, I said facing the ceiling. "Play some random music from Earth."
A random song I had never heard before came piping through the speakers in my room. The volume was at an easy level, the beat was fast and the tempo was upbeat. It sounded very similar to the pop music that I had heard on the radio back home.
I think I lasted all of thirty seconds.
"Holly, turn it off!" I yelled. I stumbled over to my little bathroom and stood in front of the sink. I was shaking and the reflection in the mirror was pale. Sweat was pouring from my forehead and I was gasping for air. I turned on the tap, rolled up my sleeves up past my elbows and started splashing my face with cold water. After a minute or so I turned off the water, grabbed the hand towel and held it to my face, blocking the room out.
Time of unknown length passed. I don't have a clue if it was still the same day or if a full week had passed. I hadn't been able to sleep at all for however long this had been going on. Occasionally someone walked through the door and gave me a sip of water or a piece of bread. They had to feed me as I couldn't do it while my hands were chained to a point in the ceiling. More often than not they punched me in the stomach as they left, making me vomit back up what they had given me. They never said a word. They just entered, did their thing and left. I am not sure I would have been able to hear them anyway. The only thing I could hear was that bloody music at nightclub volumes playing over and over and over…
I pulled the towel down from my face and stared at the mirror. The sickness in my gut transformed into pure fury that demanded to be released. Those dickless wads had stolen music from me too!
With a roar, I whirled around and punched the wall over and over again. I grabbed the towel rail and with a jerk, snapped the fixture from the wall and started to smash anything within reach; the wall, the toilet, the sink. Luckily all three of those things were made of metal and were only left with scuff marks and dents. The mirror wasn't nearly as lucky as the shards of broken tempered glass littered the floor and the sink. I threw the metal hand rail through the bedroom where it hit the far wall and landed with a sharp clunk. Then I went back to the sink, feeling empty again as the fury subsided, leaving me with a broken bathroom and split knuckles.
I turned the water back on and started to wash the blood from my newly abused hands down the drain. As I did a knock came at my door and a familiar sounding voice came muffled through it.
Now I felt awash with guilt. Aleria had been asleep and now she was awake because I couldn't control myself. Man, I was a selfish prick.
"Holly, unlock the door," I called out, splashing water on my face again to try refresh myself.
The door opened up out of view of my little bathroom with a soft hiss.
"Hey, boss, everything all right in here?" Aleria called out, her voice sounding concerned.
I winced as I picked up the towel and shook the glass off it. I had woken her up and she came to ask if I was OK. She had every right to be more annoyed than she currently sounded. She deserved better than to work for me. It just made me feel worse about this whole situation.
"I am fine, Aleria," I called out, anxious to let her go back to sleep as I press the towel back to my face. I hear her footsteps coming closer. "I am so sorry for waking you up," I continue, my voice muffled by the hand towel. "It won't happen again."
There was a soft gasp nearby. "Goddess!"
I wince a little again as I realise she can now see the state of my bathroom. "Yeah, I know," I said grimly, pulling the towel away from my face and looking at the damage around the small room. "I will clean it up later."
Then I looked at her for the first time since she came into my room. She wasn't looking at the broken glass or the snapped towel rail.
She was staring at my arms.
I followed her gaze and looked at my arms. At the maze of white scars and myriad of small shiny burns that went all the way up both forearms. The large savage scars that circled both my wrists and trailed partially up the backs of my hands. The smaller lines across my fingers that spoke of other, more specific damage.
I realised suddenly that she had never seen these scars before, except for the ones on my fingers and my face. I had always worn long sleeved shirts anytime I wasn't alone. I even slept in them. In the two weeks since I had got here the only one that had seen even some of my scars past my hands had been the hanar tailor and it had probably been too polite to say anything about them. But this was Aleria's first time, and I had woken her up to see them. That just made me feel worse. I knew that it was likely that the others would see the scars at some point, but not under these circumstances. Certainly not when I was going through… whatever this was.
I started to reach up to unroll my sleeves back down my arms. Almost before I noticed her move, Aleria was by my side, gently holding my left forearm up for her inspection.
"By Athame," she breathed, softly. "What happened to you?"
I pulled softly against her hand, not managing to remove my arm from her grip. "Nothing good," I replied stiffly. I didn't really want to get into this.
Her hands traced their way up my arm reaching the border of my sleeve. "How far does it go?" she asked, beginning to tug at the material to expose more.
Only to stop when my right hand clamped her inquisitive fingers tightly, preventing further access. I firmly, but not roughly, pulled her hand away from my arm and rolled my sleeves back down. I looked in her eyes. There was no judgement there at all. Only concern.
I let out a slow sigh. "All the way," I finally replied softly. I moved past her and went back into the bedroom proper. I walked over to where the towel rail had landed and picked it up. I couldn't put it back on; the arms had snapped through. I sighed again and threw the metal rod into the bin that was discretely placed in a wall culvert. I could feel Aleria's eyes burning into me before I turned around and saw her. She hadn't moved from the entrance of my bathroom. I wasn't sure what was going through her mind but could see that there were several emotions fighting for control on her face.
"How long ago?" she finally asked softly.
I didn't have to guess what she meant. "Not long enough, apparently," I replied, not looking her in the eye.
I moved over and sat down on the edge of the bed. I wasn't sure that I wasn't to talk about this. Scratch that; I knew I didn't want to talk about this. At the same time, I didn't want to keep it all bundled in to fester inside of me. If there was anything I had learned about at all before I went through hell it was that if issues were not addressed, they became bigger issues. Trying to sort out pain early on was better than burying it. The same was true for wrongs between people; if a problem isn't resolved early then it can grow to the point where full resolution is much more difficult. Kind of like if a wound is left untreated it can become infected and is harder to heal.
Knowing this didn't make me want to talk about it anymore than I currently did, which was not at all. Still, Aleria was possibly the person I felt closest to on my crew, if for no other reason that her normal bubbly nature. Between that and the genuine concern that was almost palpably radiating from her, I felt that it might actually be safe for me to talk a little.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw her look around the room a little more. From her position in the bathroom door she had direct line of sight to the bedding I had lying on the floor.
"How long ago did you get out?" she asked softly, apparently having put two and two together.
"Something like fifteen or sixteen days ago," I said quietly.
"Is that all?" she sounded shocked but I still didn't look her in the face. For a moment I was impressed at how well the translators were able to put across verbally transmitted emotions. "It's not even been three weeks! What are you doing here, not in some hospital getting treatment?"
I shook my head slowly. "There is too much to do," I said softly, knowing that there was no way to explain what I was doing here. Not at this stage anyway.
"Too much to do?" she sounded confused and perplexed. "What do you mean?"
I just shook my head. Now was not the time for that. Even in my current state I was at least in control enough to know that.
I guess that she decided to accept my silence on to that question for now because after a moment she moved on to another question. "Was it the batarians?"
I gave a very small snort at the question. "No, everything done to me was done by humans."
"What? Humans did that to you?"
I sighed, closed my eyes and fell back on my bed. "If a few scratches on my arms was all they did then I wouldn't complain."
There was silence, except for a few tentative footsteps as I heard Aleria move closer towards the bed. Towards me. She stopped right next to the bed. If I stretched out with my foot I could probably touch her.
"You know," she began, sounding hesitant, "my mother… her older sister, she is a counsellor. She did a lot of different things but one of the things that she worked as directly for nearly a century was helping people who had been rescued from slavery. They were people who had suffered trauma she was helping to reintegrate into normal society again. She often talked about it with me and helped me see what people are going through and how to help them. She used to tell me that with my cheerful nature I would be a natural counsellor myself if I wanted to head that way."
She paused for a moment. I opened an eye and looked at her. She was biting her bottom lip nervously. As she looked at me. "If you would like, I could organise for you to speak to her," she continued, clearly uncertain. "Try to help you deal with… everything."
I stare at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. "I wasn't a slave," I eventually say, not really sure of what to think.
"Maybe not," she conceded. "But you have clearly been through a lot. She may be able to help."
I think it over for a long moment. "I will consider it," I said after at least a full minute. "But the work comes first."
She looked a little exasperated. "Why? What is so important that you won't stop for treatment?"
I give out a long sigh and close my eye. "That is something I can't tell you yet," I said, dismissively. "But I promise that it will make sense later."
She is silent for a long moment. Then the bed shifts as she sits down on the edge, near me but not too close. "Can…" she halts. I looked over at her, with both eyes this time. She looked like she really wants to ask something but is clearly nervous. "Can I… uh…"
"See more scars?" I finish, looking her directly in the face.
She looked so nervous that I thought if I touched her arm she might just bolt out the door, but she nods.
I stare at her for a long moment, fighting against myself. The emotions are coming back again, the anger that I have to supress, the desire to be alone, the need to be helped. Just plain wanting the pain of it all to go away. And a small nugget inside me knew that kicking her out so that I could be alone wasn't going to make things any better.
"So," I said slowly. "What you are saying is you want me to take my clothes off for you. That's a bit forward, isn't it Miss N'Tavis?"
"No!" she exclaimed immediately. "That's not…" She stopped, seeing the slight quirk at the corner of my mouth.
"Did… did you just make a joke about this?" she asked incredulously.
I shrugged. "I used to be able to joke about that sort of thing," I replied, hearing the justification in my voice. "My old job taught me that sometimes the easiest way through the dark times was to laugh about it."
She looked sceptical. "What work did you do before… everything?"
I hesitate for a moment, before trying to answer. I figure that honesty might actually help me here. Just not complete honesty. "I was a prison guard," I said.
She looked shocked. "Really?"
I cocked an eyebrow at her. "Why so surprised?"
She shook her head. "I just hadn't really considered that from the impression I got from you. But now that you mention it," she gives me a long steady look, "I think I could see you guarding criminals."
I give a grunt of amusement. "Well, I honestly probably wasn't a very good prison guard," I state casually. "Not that I did anything wrong but I was just pretty casual about things. I got more sexual advances from the prisoners than I got threats…"
Aleria gave a small snort of amusement. "I could see that," she said. A moment later she froze, realising what she had just said and blushing a dark plum colour. "Sorry, talk about inappropriate timing."
I waved off the apology. "Don't be sorry for making a joke," I assured her. "I once had to try and save someone's life when they collapsed at work. There were about seven of us guards trying to save this prisoner's life for about an hour before the doctors were able to come and declare him dead. A couple of the other guards were making jokes about his death before he was officially declared dead. They didn't stop making jokes after he had officially died either."
She looked shocked again. "How could anyone be so callous?" she asked in disbelief.
I shrugged again. "It's the environment of the workplace," I said evenly. "Guards had to deal daily with people threatening to kill them, kill their kids, rape their wives, fight off gangsters, stop people killing themselves or those around them. Try dealing with a paranoid schizophrenic who is hearing voices saying that they have to kill everyone around them and eat them and come out of it completely unchanged. Because of this environment, we humans tend to develop what we call a dark sense of humour, where we joke about things such as death and other bad things. It's a coping mechanism. I don't know enough about the other races to know if there is anything similar or not. Maybe the krogan do it but I can't really see any of the others doing it."
"I… see," she said. She looked at me closely. "And you were able to make a joke, kind of like you did, uh, before?"
I cocked my head at her in surprise. I hadn't even noticed it. "I guess so."
She beamed brightly. "That's good!" she exclaimed. "My aunt said that if someone is able to return to behaviours that they did before the trauma it was a sign of improvement. Any small step was to be considered progress."
I consider that for a moment. I guess I can be happy with that idea. It still didn't make me look forward to going back to sleep. The idea of turning the lights off and going back to bed fills me with trepidation.
Aleria sees my face change and immediately puts her hand on my arm. "Hey, stay with me," she said, her voice soothing. She looks at me, staring intently. "So, back to my earlier question: can I see?"
I still don't know if I want this yet. "I don't know if you will handle it," I said softly, trying to dissuade her. "Or if you will be able to see me the same as before."
She shook her head. "I don't care," she declared resolutely. "I… I want to see."
I stared at her for a long moment. I had no idea what was happening but after everything that had happened so far, I was still in a state of mental flux. Slowly I sat back up and pulled off my shirt.
I watched her face the entire time as the material revealed more and more of my torso. As it did, her face got more and more pale. The plum from her earlier blush was replaced to a very faint lilac colour. I dropped the shirt on the bed and waited for her to respond.
She sat forward slightly, mouth open, her face a perfect picture of horrified. She reached out a tentative hand to the large scar on my right shoulder. The scar was almost in the shape of a jagged circle about the size of her palm.
"What…" she began, before shutting her mouth.
"A butcher's hook," I answered her unfinished question. I twisted slightly to show my back, and the matching scar there. "It went through both sides."
She looked like she was going to either faint or vomit as she dragged her hand back. She tore her eyes away and looked down. She focussed on a large shiny spot on the left side of my stomach, surrounded by a myriad of other lines and pits.
"A brand mark," I supplied, my voice surprisingly calm. "They used a welder's torch to heat up a cattle brand with their symbol then branded me with it. That was the only time they did my stomach. They did do my back a few times."
She started to look unsteady so I put my shirt back on. I had no idea of what I was supposed to feel right now. In all honesty, I had no real single feeling. My emotions were just a kaleidoscope of mixed sensations. I was feeling rage, sickness, vindication, emptiness, an odd sense of serenity, and weirdest of all, a small amount of relief that I had been able to share at least a small part of this.
"Who did this to you?" she whispered.
I shrugged my shoulders. "It doesn't matter," I replied.
Her mouth dropped open in shock. "How could it not matter? What's stopping those monsters from doing this again?"
I felt the edges of a vicious, almost evil, smile tugging at the edges of my mouth. "Because they're all dead." I can't help but feel a little amount of satisfaction, but an echo of self-disgust runs through my stomach at the same time.
"How?" she asked, looking bewildered.
I felt my smile become a little wilder. "I killed them. Every last one of them."
"Oh." She looked surprised for a second, before her face turned into one of understanding, compassion and a little bit of awe. "Well that explains how you are doing so well."
I looked towards my damaged bathroom. "I get the feeling that my towel rail doesn't agree. And I haven't had a night free of nightmares since I got out."
"Maybe so," she replied calmly. "But some victims that my aunt told me about were unable to even be around other people without having episodes. Others were completely catatonic for months. You seem to function normally around others. I think it is because you managed to kill them."
I couldn't help frowning at her. "What do you mean?"
Her face turned thoughtful, having finally regained her normal colouring. "My aunt told me that about one group of ex-slaves," she said. "It was a few turians and a couple of asari. They had managed to escape by killing their slave owner and his staff that had mistreated them. When they were back in normal society it was shown that they were able to function better than the others who were repatriated because they had been able to hurt their abusers. It gave them a sense of regaining their power that had been taken by their captivity. They were no longer helpless and the people that had hurt them were not able to hurt them anymore because they were dead. They still had some effect such as lack of sleep but their day to day functions were above expectations. At least, that's what my aunt said. I didn't really understand it at the time, but I think I do better now, after talking to you."
I took that in silence, comparing it to my current situation. I had never really been around anyone that had gone through anything similar to what I went through, so there was nothing I could really add to that. I guess in some way it made sense.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Aleria cut into my thoughts.
I shook my head. "I don't know. What is there to say? I was betrayed, kept in a dungeon for nine months and tortured, I watched them kill the only person that mattered to me in the end and when I was finally able to, I broke my restraints and killed them all. Now I can't sleep because being in this room feels like being back in that dungeon. And I can't listen to music because apparently those dicks ruined that for me too. That's all."
She looked around my quarters. "This place reminds you of your captivity?" she asked.
I shrug, looking around. "When the lights are off. The weird thing is that I wasn't affected by that when I was on the Citadel. But here it is too quiet and dark."
Her face turned thoughtful. "I think that is easily solvable. There is lots of light and sound on the Citadel. Even in apartments, where the sound is muted, there are the lights of the nebula, aircars and the Citadel itself which prevent it from being completely dark. It was the lights and sounds that helped you stop being there. This room," she gestured around my quarters, "has neither of those things and reminded you more of your time in captivity. Maybe only dim the lights to a comfortable level?"
It was as good a suggestion as any, I had to admit. "Thank you," I said. After this whole conversation, I was starting feel worn out. Like a deep, tired in the bones, feeling. I had opened up a lot here and it was taking a lot out of me. Looking at Aleria I could see she was nearly as tired as I was. It made me feel guilty all over again as I remembered she had been sleeping before I had woken her up.
"Holly," I called looking at the ceiling. No reason to look up to talk to the ships VI but for some reason I did it anyway, as if I was looking for a person to talk to. "Once we approach the relay, drop us out of FTL and keep us at station keeping two hundred thousand kilometres away from it. And make sure that there is nothing in our way that will collide with us. We don't want to do anything that will jeopardise the safety of the crew or the ship. We will hold there for five hours. If anyone asks say that it is to ensure that the whole crew has time for proper R&R before we make the next relay jump."
"Acknowledged, Captain Neilson," the synthetic female voice came through the speakers.
Aleria sent me a small, tired smile. "Thank you," she said. "Now, I need to get back to my beauty sleep."
She turned gracefully and headed back to the door but stopped just before she palmed it open. She turned back to face me.
"I'm sorry that they murdered your… partner," she said softly.
She turned back to the door but before she could open it I interrupted, sadness and anger lurching back in my stomach and pushing back the exhaustion temporarily. "They didn't murder my wife," I murmured softly from my seat on the bed. "They killed my son."
She stiffened and whirled back to face me, horror etched all over her pretty purple features.
"They murdered your child?" she whispered.
I laid back and closed my eyes, as if trying to warden off the emotions that were now threatening to spill out. I honestly had no idea if I would cry or scream until my throat was torn to shreds or simply go back to destroying my quarters. It was a pretty close three-way split. Fury, anguish and fear were battling for supremacy in my chest and I was trying hard to suppress all of it. It wasn't going well; I felt like I was going to explode.
"Yeah," I said, my voice croaky. "They killed him. They tortured him first, then they killed him. Right in front of me."
I let out a shaky breath. "His name was Jason."
I heard a thunk and opened my eyes. Craning my head, I could see that Aleria had collapsed onto her knees and was crying. I got up and walked over to her, helping her to stand up. We walked shakily together back towards the bed and sat down. Then I went and got her a cup of water from the sink. She accepted it with a shaky hand.
"I'm sorry," she gave a self-deprecating laugh. "You are the one that lost so much and yet I can't help crying."
I let out a quavering breath. "Don't worry, I have shed plenty of tears about it all already," I confessed. "Bringing it all up again like this… I might just let some more out."
She gave a shaky laugh. That caused me to smile a little. For some reason that made her laugh more. Before I knew it, we were both laughing. I had no idea what was funny but somehow, I couldn't stop, even when the tears that had been threatening to spill finally overflowed down my cheeks. We both had tears streaming down our faces and yet we both were laughing so hard that I was bent over and she was holding her sides.
We finally managed to stop laughing and wiped our wet faces. I gave one final chuckle. "Bugger me, I needed that," I said.
"What?" Aleria asked, wiping her own now plum-coloured face. "Bug you?"
I gave another chuckle. "No, no. It's just an old human saying," I said, shaking my head in amusement. "It's just an exclamation that we use to emphasise the next part of the sentence."
"I see," she said.
We sat on the edge of the bed in an awkward silence. I had no idea what to say. I just wanted to go to bed but I didn't really want to go through the whole round of bad mind-twisted self-torture again.
"Please, don't leave tonight," I whisper, barely loud enough for my asari pilot to hear. "Take the bed and I will sleep on the floor but I don't want to be alone tonight."
She flushed darker purple at the request. After a moment, she bit her lip and nodded.
I got back under the sheets I had placed on the floor and Aleria climbed onto the bed, pulling the duvet over herself. The lights were dimmed to about a quarter of normal and I lay there, waiting to see what would happen.
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Satisfied, and more than I little relieved, I rolled over and closed my eyes, falling asleep listening to the faint sound of an asari maiden breathing only a few feet away.
...
A/N Follow/Favourite/Review as you choose. Constructive criticism is appreciated. Trolls are ignored.
Now Jason has been revealed. Hope that wasn't a disappointing revelation!
