JP: Ens. Talia Ohnari + Ens. Nolen Hobart — Shoring Up, Part II
Nolen Hobart
((Interior, Sickbay, Deck 3, USS Arrow, Freecloud Orbit))
Ohnari: It can…but I am pretty good at shielding, filtering out what's me and what's those around me…
It made sense. He was easily overwhelmed. She knew he was half Betazoid, based off his medical chart, as well as brief conversations they'd had. Several things started to click into place. And she had the strongest desire to hug the man and tell him she understood. Which would only increase the awkwardness that he was entrenched in, so she refrained. For now.
Ohnari: Nolen?
Entrenched in the actual trench in the room, too, he looked up at her. Away from his work, and the task of confirming serial numbers. He was jealous of her ability to control the flow, and silently reprimanded himself for his inability to do so.
Hobart: Yeah, doc?
Ohnari: Do you think maybe it would be alright if I helped with your emotional shielding…? Forgive me for overstepping, but it seems to me you…well you feel too much.
Nolen stopped what he was doing, and sat up, his feet still stuck inside the trench. His face turned beet red. Could she tell when he was reading her emotions? Was it uncomfortable? Was it a violation? It wasn’t anything he could turn off. He’d always seen the feelings of others as an intrusion of his mind, but never imagined how it could be interpreted by the person doing the feeling.
Hobart: I… uh, I didn’t mean to intrude.
Holding up her hands, she smiled gently.
Ohnari: What I meant was…your empathic shielding, it isn't as strong as you'd like. Do you feel like you are bombarded with others emotions? Like sometimes you can't tell if it's your feelings or someone else's?
His face softened, and a lump formed in his throat. This’d be two doctors in one week telling him about himself, but they were more than just counselors air-dropped in by Starfleet for routine, brief, impersonal visits by the roaming Medical Corps. They were his crewmates. He had to trust them, and they had to trust him. As much as it might hurt. And as much as it might scare him, it was almost mathematical. There wasn’t much of a choice, there.
Hobart: ::sigh:: Yeah, constantly. When I was a kid… ::hesitation:: …I asked my dad to get them to lobotomize me. Snip away the paracortex. Just make it stop, you know? ::weak smile:: They don’t do that. Not in the Federation, at least.
Talia wanted to proceed with caution. Empathic and telepathic overload was a sensitive subject. Growing up, her mother had noticed when she herself was getting overwhelmed. A lot of strong feelings in a small space. It used to scare her. She would hide beneath her bed with her eyes closed and fingers in her ears, rocking back and forth. That's when the lessons started.
Ohnari: ::raising her eyebrow:: Trust me?
The question caught Nolen off guard, and he recoiled slightly at the thought in his head, put to words. He knew she was an empath, not a telepath, but distrust was something he could pick up on, too. Stand-offishness. Having grown up around only one other reader for most of his life, and harboring a fair amount of resentment towards her, Nolen wasn’t in the habit of checking his own emotions, shielding himself against prying minds. This ship, his new home, by comparison was practically chock full. Had Ohnari been reading him like a book? Could he trust her? Wrong question: Did he have any choice but to trust her? He relaxed his shoulders.
Hobart: Yeah, okay. What, uh… what are you going to do?
Ohnari: ::deadpan:: Exploratory surgery, of course.
She smirked, to soften the playful barb.
Hobart: It’s just that Commander R’Ariel had a thing she wanted to try, but it sounded like it would have hurt her. I don’t want you to get hurt, either. Anybody, really.
He was kind. Overwhelmed and worried about others. All previous teasing evaporated.
Ohnari: No pain for either of us, maybe a little awkward and uncomfortable, but you tell me when you want to stop.
Nolen checked his tricorder, and marked his progress. Closing the device, he pulled his feet out of the trench and rose, carefully traversing the room to meet Talia. Setting the tricorder down on the biobed by the rest of his gear, he leaned against the furniture and folded his arms, an expectant look on his face.
Hobart: As long as you’re sure. ::nodding:: Okay, so. What do I do? Eyes open? Closed?
He did his best not to sound or feel skeptical. If it worked for her, if it worked for others, why shouldn’t it work for him? Unless he was too old, unless this was something that had to be taught when a mind was young, pliable. He did his best not to let that thought fester, too.
The urge to tease was strong. But, she didn't need to be empathically inclined to see he was nervous. And he was trusting her with something that was deeply uncomfortable for him. She held out her hand and gestured towards the CMO office.
Ohnari: Follow me. And remember, this is just an exercise, and if you don't like it? We stop. And maybe find something else.
Nolen looked around at his equipment. He didn’t like the idea of leaving his work unfinished, but imagined this was the sort of thing that would feel like it took longer than it did. The nightmares always did.
Hobart: Alright, on your lead.
Talia stepped into the dark office, and flipped on a very specific set of lights. The heat lamps were a soft, almost too dim illumination, but for their purposes it would be enough. Besides, the warmth would be comforting. For a moment, she remembered her mother. She brought a tiny toddling Talia to a quiet spot in their sunny garden. The warmth was there to remind her of her place in the world, and that she wasn't so lost in it. Aboard a Starship? The lamps would have to do.
Ohnari: Did you know my parents were civilians who volunteered in the Dominion wars?
Nolen had been making mental notes about the heat lamps and what sort of conduit gauge they required when she asked the question, so it took a moment to register. But once it did a ripple of discomfort shot up his spine.
Hobart: No, I didn’t. What kind of volunteers?
The story was long, confusing, and oftentimes incredibly inaccurate, depending on who was telling it, but still. She loved it.
Ohnari: How they met actually. My mother was in medical school, and my father hoped to become an archeologist, before the war. When it came to their little corner of space, they joined up with a private civilian freedom fighter that was a converted old freighter. After the war, the crew kind of migrated to a small, empty farm on the Haliian homeworld. Very complicated story shortened, I grew up with many chosen siblings who experienced various levels of PTSD. For any empath, it could get scary. This, ::she gestured to the floor, as she herself took a seat:: is how my mother helped me.
Nolen sat down across from her, folding his feet under his legs. With no idea where any of this was headed, he tried to relax.
Hobart: Ready.
Ohnari: Alright, close your eyes. And don't worry, I never bite without invitation.
She cracked open her eyelid to see if he caught the joke, trying to break up the tension. A chuckle whispered through his nostrils.
Ohnari: Now, pick your very favorite color. ::clearing her throat:: also bear with me…I was six when she started this…::straightening back up:: now, imagine that you are that color. Your feelings, your thoughts, all that is you, is that color.
Nolen pulled himself away from imagining the amusingly sardonic Dr. Ohnari as a precocious six-year-old to reflect on colors. It felt strange to be using techniques designed for small children, but he kept his discomfort to a minimum by reminding himself of their mutually assured embarrassment, should word of this escape the room. A deep red flashed to his mind, muddied and dark. That was it. The color had always pleased him as much as its name reflected his sense of a life on Relva VIII.
Hobart: Maroon.
Ohnari: For me? It's blue. So, I am blue. You, are maroon. Now, you are feeling both. We don't look blue and maroon, do we?
There in the heat-lamped room mapped onto the contours of his mind, Hobart saw them both, her calm, practiced manner a bright blue; his apprehension a muddled burgundy. At the edges of her, there was a faint sense of something harsh. A rage. But it was his, not hers. His resentment. He cocked his head, and tried to focus more on her “blue,” to avoid getting lost in something unpleasant.
Hobart: Yeah, I think I get it. ::pause:: You didn’t become a doctor just for the uniform color, did you?
Talia snorted. She appreciated he was trying.
TBC
———
Ensign Talia Ohnari, MD
USS Arrow
C239205ME0
and
Ensign Nolen Hobart
Engineering Officer
USS Arrow (NCC-69829)
A240001NH3