Lt Alex Storm - The Weight of Words

[Karen Morris]

(( Primary Sickbay, Deck 7 – USS Artemis-A ))

Alex had asked Roy to come around to her side of the biobed, and as he did, her breath hitched twice.  She steadied it and looked him directly in the eyes.

Storm:  Please don’t talk to me like a doctor.  

Her eyes closed briefly, then opened again.

Storm:  I know I need one, but I need to hear this from a friend.

He didn’t move.  Not an inch!  Not for several seconds.  Her hands tightened on the edge of the biobed, but they loosened just a little when he grabbed a rolling stool and situated it in front of her.  His posture shifted, softened.

Bancroft: Alright. Right now, I’m just Roy – not the man with the scanner. ::a beat:: Yes. Plainly. You’re going to lose something no matter what.

His tone softened with it.  She swallowed.

Bancroft: Your back is going to heal, Alex. But it isn’t going to go back to the way it was before. Some of the scarring will stay. Some of the sensation may take time to come back fully – and some of it may come back differently than it was before.

Alex’s chest visibly rose and fell.  She nodded, and her mouth began to open with a question.

Bancroft: And before you ask – yes, that’s allowed to upset you.

Her eyes widened and blinked twice.

Storm:  You’re giving me permission to be angry?

The moment it escaped her lips, she realized how indignant it sounded.  She buried her face against her shoulder. 

Bancroft: No. I mean that, Alex. You’re allowed to hate this. You’re allowed to be angry about it. You’re allowed to think it’s unfair and cruel and ::searching for words:: deeply inconvenient. ::a slight exhale:: That isn’t vanity – that’s grief.

His words poured over her, like a salve.  When she was able, Alex lifted her head and again met his eyes.  Even then, her chin trembled - almost imperceptibly--but she felt it. Color rose on her cheeks.

Storm:  Then why does it feel shameful?  

His gaze wouldn’t let her go.  He sat up straighter and met her eyes unflinchingly.

Bancroft: I want you to listen – really listen – to what I’m about to say. ‘Changed’ is not the same thing as ‘ruined.’ You do not have to love the scars. You do not have to find them meaningful or noble or beautiful. You do not have to make peace with them on anyone else’s schedule. ::beat:: But you do need to know that they do not make you less whole.

Her lips pressed hard into that familiar thin line.

Storm:  Roy…

Her voice caught, and her volume dropped to a breathy whisper.

Storm:  You can say that I’m not less whole… but that doesn’t change how I feel.  

   Here.  Now.  

Bancroft: Response.

She bit at her lip, but held his gaze, her eyes pleading.

For the first time since the accident, she wasn’t trying to hide it.

Storm:  Maybe I’m not, but I feel broken, marred, damaged.

Her eyes asked a corollary question.

Bancroft:  Response

With each of his words, Alex’s face softened.  Her shoulders relaxed, and the pressure across her chest eased.

Storm:  Really?

The weight of his words needed time to settle. Then, only three words were necessary.

Storm: Thank you, Roy.  

She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

Storm:  It doesn’t change the ache… but it helps.  ::wrinkling her nose:: Just a little. 

Bancroft:  Response

~*~

Tags / TBC!

~*~

Lt Alex Storm

Tactical Officer

USS Artemis

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