Floundering

Posted on Wed Jul 10th, 2024 @ 3:39pm by Oliver Lucas & Evelyn Reynolds

Mission: Shackles
Location: Medical Training Lab
Timeline: Between "Fractures" & "Shackles"
2087 words - 4.2 OF Standard Post Measure

"I don't remember assigning you extra work."

There was a tired resignation to Evelyn's tone as she stood in the doorway to the training lab and just watched her prize student preoccupy himself. As far as coping mechanisms went, she couldn't really fault him, not if her expectation was that he took her example and ran with it. Communication hadn't been Evie's strong point since the notion of linear time had reasserted itself, not when most of her energy had been poured into controlling the paranoia that was making it difficult for her to sleep at night, much less perform her duties. Being told there was no ongoing threat of being yanked away to alternate timelines wasn't enough to stave off the compulsion to remain alert for the possibility, not when it hammered home that the entire reason you were even on the ship was because of an attempt to rewrite your reality to fit a political agenda that was only too happy to view you as an acceptable sacrifice.

Turned out, compartmentalising her trauma hadn't worked.

It had taken her hours on the first day to work up the courage to leave her quarters, dressed up as an attempt to rest and recuperate. Now, whilst technically at work, she had barely left her office and had been uncharacteristically willing to let Lonn handle most of the minor cases that came in. If she wasn't honest, she didn't really know how long Oliver had been buried in his own preoccupation, hadn't been perhaps the most receptive to his efforts to draw her out of her head, but her arrival now was intentional enough to spark hope. Somewhere, amidst her own calamity, the urge to make sure he was okay had finally floated to the surface.

"Couldn't sleep." The young man didn't turn to face her straight away, concentrating on some piece of medical experimentation that could just have easily been read about in a book or report. He took his time over finishing what he was doing before finally looking up with tired eyes. Since the reality-splitting misadventure it had been a challenge readjusting his implants back to a normal state again - hence the lack of sleep and preoccupation.

"So I gathered."

By now, it was easily justifiable to say that Evelyn Reynolds normally went out of her way to appear in control. A rigid work ethic coupled with stubbornness that exceeded even the usual range for being considered excessive typically did the trick, at least when it came to the levels of composure she expected of herself within view of public scrutiny. The astute, or at least anyone invested enough to really study her, could sometimes pick up on the slight hint of frayed edges but even then, Evie closed herself off to discussions about her own well-being. A lot of it was pride; the rest of it was the ongoing, relentless panic of losing her grip entirely if she started focusing on how far over the precipice she was actually dangling.

It made her appearance now almost alien. Out of work attire, clad in blue jeans and a loose-fitting sweater that draped towards one side, the doctor couldn't have made it clearer that she wasn't there in any official capacity. Without work as a refuge, she was likewise making no effort to mask her own exhaustion, not seeming in the least bit concerned with the comparative disarray of her loose hair. In her hand, a PADD swung loosely, the only indication of professional concern, which very quickly translated to a far more personal investment as she stepped into the room and moved to stand beside him, setting the PADD where both could see. On it, the information Lonn had brought to her attention about Oliver's private attempts to sort out the problems with his implants rather than seek assistance. Chastising him for not coming to her would have been hypocritical even by Evelyn's standards; she knew exactly how unavailable she'd been.

"Want to talk about it?"

"The lack of sleep? Or the weird post-apocalyptic sort-of-evil version of me we met a few weeks ago?" he asked, finally turning his face towards her. Oliver followed the question with a tired shrug. "I don't have the monopoly on personal trauma," he said, habitually touching the implants behind his ear. "Mostly, no. I don't want to talk about it...but medically speaking, I know what you're going to say."

The very faintest of smiles betrayed a vulnerability that was rare. "I don't think there's much I can say without glaring hypocrisy." A shuddered breath was further confession, indicative that Evelyn had still been holding in her tension despite the increasing possibility that she'd come here to do more than just lecture. "You've been having trouble with your implants?" This much, the information on the PADD revealed, at least as a suggestion given the amount of continual adjustment the reports documented. "I...should have done more to help recalibrate them. I didn't intend to just vanish, but I..." Her brow flickered with uncertainty.

Evelyn Reynolds didn't flounder for words; she was floundering now.

"Nobody ever intended for anything..." he said, a half-sigh escaping. Exasperated and tired, Oliver leaned heavily on the console; in a strange twist of irony almost mirroring the woman in front of him who was still faintly favouring her leg. "Some things, they just...happen." There was a deeper subtext to that response. One of long-restrained emotion and avoided topics. "And we do our best to keep going without dealing with them."

"Not everything is easily resolved." With some effort, Evelyn hoisted herself up onto the training bed and tucked her hands beneath her knees as she hunched forward in thought. It allowed her to seek a view of his face, which she did despite his best intentions to remain withdrawn. "That doesn't really excuse a doctor for hiding though." She studied his profile for a moment, the first attempt at considering something outside her own headspace since the artifact had been dealt with. "Perhaps it's better if we talk about it, given avoiding it hasn't helped much."

He didn't like that; mainly because talking about things was out of his comfort zone. But also he didn't like it because she was almost certainly right. It took a few seconds of fidgeting for him to mumble out a response. "I think we both know what the problem is." He furtively reached out and put a hand on hers, where it nestled under her leg. "We're colleagues. You're my teacher, in some ways. But it's not just that, is it?"

There was little point in trying to be evasive any longer, such had been Evie's entire point and equally applied to her own tendency to rely heavily on inference to fill in the gaps for her. She was still less rehearsed than she would have liked, which boiled down to a conflict in competing impulses. One, an almost-indoctrinated sense of propriety that sympathised with Oliver's own reservations, the other deriving too much impetuous from a scientific proclivity to poke and prod at things just to revel in the rush of unchartered exploration. The emotional burden attached to it made it even more complicated and as she sat staring down at her lap, Evelyn found herself leaning towards a need to apply context before she could really answer him properly. Less of a confession, perhaps, than a simple act of trust that permitted him a more direct explanation of her recent history than her eloquently woven hints had provided.

"I don't know if I would classify that as a problem," she started softly, still averting her eyes. "Unless it causes you distress. My last relationship, the one I abruptly ended when it became apparent where I fell on his list of priorities and how much that actually bothered me, was with my Executive Officer." Finally, Evelyn looked up. "And this isn't Starfleet. We're commanded by a man married to his own engineer."

She hadn't meant to pause then but, studying his face, Evelyn lapsed into private reverie. It wasn't that she didn't understand the complexities, though when it came to figuring out Oliver's stance it was never easy to tell if he was personally uncomfortable or just concerned that others would be. Eventually, the tumble of her thoughts produced another spark of spontaneity and she found herself saying, "I've known Jack for years, dated him at least twice officially, and yet when push came to shove, he sided with Starfleet. That will never change. I had known you for all of a day when you climbed inside a sleeping bag to keep me from freezing to death. It's been quite a journey to accept that, over the course of my career, I haven't met many who would have even noticed my need, let alone put themselves out to assist. That's the trouble with being overly ambitious; you wind up surrounded by ladder climbers."

"I'm...sorry." He said finally, processing all that she was saying. "That he didn't really see you for what you are." His mouth twitched slightly, noting the irony of being an outcast for most of his adult life: having craved the sort of career and education that Evelyn had had, it was clear the grass wasn't all that greener. He wondered silently if she actually felt the reverse, and would have preferred a more isolated lifestyle like his own. "But I am glad you aren't like that. You see people for who they are. Like me."

It was a kindness Evelyn wasn't sure she necessarily deserved. Her career had mattered to her, she'd used Starfleet more as a means to an end given the resources it provided and the opportunities that exceeded what a private venture might have been able to offer. In that sense, she wasn't married to the idea that it was an infallible system deserving of blind loyalty and rank progression had merely been a sugary coating that increased her potential in her field. Unlocking the secrets of diseases that wiped out entire communities had a noble ring to it but as much as she was driven by a compulsion to heal, Evelyn was self-aware enough to know that motivation didn't come without some arrogance. In that sense, she was nothing like Oliver, who seemed to struggle to place himself as any kind of priority, much less a higher one.

She curled her fingers around his and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"What I'm trying to say is that I've not known many people as selfless and genuinely kind as you, Oliver." Once again, Evie's gaze dipped low. "I've certainly never had any show interest in me."

His eyes locked on to the cool fingers wrapping around his hand. All manner of things ran through his mind; selflessness and kindness were not among them. A flash of himself - his future self - rose in his thoughts for a moment, reminding him of the consequence of being selfless and kind: an unrecognisable shadow of who he was. He didn't want that. And if that meant changing path towards being what he wanted...taking what he wanted...

"Evelyn..." he murmured, leaning into her. His eyes pulled from their hands and to her face. "I see you too."

A flutter of excited anticipation was familiar. Under the circumstances, Evelyn might have argued with herself about the inappropriateness of it if she had even half a mind to cling to a failing charade. Masks were only effective if they remained unbroken and recent events had only proven the potency of trauma as a reshaping tool. Defiance pushed back against her sense of propriety, angry at the futility of being nice and responsible in a universe that continually refused to make it worthwhile. More than anything, she was tired; of being in control, of calling the shots, of making the important decisions. Rather than pull against the undeniable sensation of magnetism, her shoulders relaxed into it as her forehead found Oliver's. Oblivion didn't sound like such a terrible destination provided you had good company along the way.

"I may need you to keep reminding me," she murmured, eyes closed. The mingle of breath at such close proximity was enough of a sensory distraction that there was no specific point where Evelyn became aware of his lips' slow exploration of her own. All she knew was hopelessness and the one tiny sliver of reprieve that might save her from it.