Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn - Places to Exist

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Bryce Tagren-Quinn

Jun 1, 2022, 11:36:17 PMJun 1
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((Cordina Valley, Mindirra Mountain Range, Palanon))

The campfire roared as Meidra shared some of her story. 

Sirin: But that isn’t the story I was going to tell. Um, my very first mission was my favorite. Because we met an entity in space who was alone and confused and though it accidentally drained the life support of an old ship, it wasn’t evil. It was just - looking for a safe place to exist. And that is what we are all doing, if you think bout it - we just want a safe place. ::drinks:: We found it a home and I’m proud of that. And now I have a home with all of you and I’m proud of that too.

That resonated with Bry. 

A safe place to exist. A place to call home. A place to find purpose, meaning. 

He couldn’t help but smile at her from over the waving flames, the darkness serving as a soft border around them. 

((Earth… Years Ago))

A stretcher came blazing in, pushing through the crowded hallway with command and urgency. Flanking it were medical personnel, immediately routing the bed’s occupant to the appropriate space tucked to the side while the demands for a physician were announced over the heads of others. Calls were made in advance by the EMTs to ensure the OR space was available. Transport by way of teleportation devices was not an option as systems were down. 

The arena was one of frenzy, but of discipline. Of coordination. Of organized chaos. Flexible, nimble, precise. Ready.

Blood on the floor. Screams pervading, bursting in the air. The smell of sweat and sanitizing wipes wafting about.

The ears that caught the sounds were aware but plunged ahead, unfazed. They couldn’t be rattled by it or else be paralyzed from taking action. 

Tagren-Quinn: Is that OR cleared yet?

Green eyes flashed up to the dark-haired nurse, who just rapidly read through the notes drafted by the emergency transport. Bry inspected the mangled leg that laid twitching before them, trousers soaked in blood. The abdomen of the man was punched through, revealing a gruesome sight that left a wailing individual screaming, fighting to make her way in their direction. The charge nurse stopped them before they could break through.

The sound of a loved one crying out desperately penetrated the soul. It was haunting, ripping. 

It sounded like a heart breaking. 

Gexena: Yes, it’s ready.

It was all work that night. No lulls, no quick encounters in the supply closet. They were left meticulously trying to stabilize a doomed man, communicating the details to his wife after the battle was lost, as short and concise and blunt as they were. It almost seemed impersonal, but it was clear. To the point, leaving no room for misunderstandings. 

She only blinked in disbelief.

Woman: ::quivering, frantic, disbelief, eyes wide and shimmering:: Bu-but he was just… I need to… 

Bry mentioned something about a grief counselor, only to have her collapse to the floor before him, tugging on his scrub pant legs. Sobs wracked her body and didn’t let go.

Hecouldn’tbegone. Hecouldn’tbegone. Nonononono.

Life forever changed. An individual who had a life irrevocably intertwined with another lost a piece of themselves that evening.

Later, in the lounge when Gexena moved from behind to wrap her arms around him at the lockers, Bry flinched slightly…

Gexena: ::softly:: It was a long night.

She reasoned, snuggling her face tenderly against his shoulder, kissing it. He stood a second, closing his eyes, breathing deeply, before unexpectedly stepping gently out of her embrace. 

Tagren-Quinn: I can’t do this anymore.

He looked wrecked, torn.

She gazed up to him with those sparkling dark eyes, face unguarded and showing love and concern. A hand rested on his chest as she took a step towards him. Close, lips inching up to his. 

Gexena: You’ve been doing well, Bry. You wouldn’t be here if…

Tagren-Quinn: No, I… ::deep breath:: I mean us. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not fair to you, to me… you deserve better. I can’t be who you need me to be. I’m… I’m sorry. 

The woman, that man's wife pouring all her grief onto that floor shook him just as…

((Cordina Valley, Mindirra Mountain Range, Palanon))

...the sounds of an incoming storm rattled him awake in the present. 

A safe place to exist. A place to belong. A place with purpose. 

Sitting up quickly, Bryce scrambled to collect his belongings as the party prepared to teleport to the cabins. He was shoving things in his pack and hastily disassembling his tent, rain beating down on him and the group, as Cory coordinated with the Gorkon on the logistics and details. 

Sleep still clouded his eyes, dreams thick and foggy, as the blue light sparkled about them. 

Seconds later, they were dumped into their new location and he almost vomited. Not from the alcohol; he had stopped long before it reached a critical level. No, the sudden burst of energy, being jarred from sleep, being wet and the impromptu teleportation… it was just a shock to the system. 

Stoyer:  OK, that was fun.

Bryce blinked and winced.

Sirin: I’m guessing that is sarcasm.

Stoyer:  I am getting a shower and changing before packing my gear away.

Sirin: Not a bad idea. We all probably need to get into dry clothes.

Tagren-Quinn: Yeah… um, same.

Tahna: Yeah, I’m going to change into something dry. 

Stoyer: Response

A hand flew to Bryce’s stomach as he shivered and watched the other man rip off his shirt in one quick motion and head to what was presumably one of the bedrooms. Meidra and Tahna walked towards empty rooms too, leaving the doctor alone with his scattered thoughts. After a breath, he trudged forward as well, selecting a room off to the side, flicked on the light and closed the door. Before he knew it, he was in the shower. 

Warm water. Real water, seemingly washing away the pain left by the lack of sleep, the rain, the dreams. The memories.

When he stepped out a little later, dressed in pajama pant bottoms, fuzzy slippers, and a t-shirt with a blanket draped around him, he saw that Tahna was already preparing something. 

Tahna: Hot deka tea, anyone?

Sirin: I would enjoy a cup, thank you.

He nodded slowly and dropped into a seat at the island, stifling a yawn and gave Tahna a small smile. 

Tagren-Quinn: That would be fabulous. Thank you. 

Stoyer: Response

Leaning forward with his elbow on the counter, his fingertips pinched at his lowered face as Tahna moved to boil some water and pull out some mugs. 

Tahna: Thanks for coordinating the cabin evacuation, Cory.

Tagren-Quinn: Yeah, it was quick thinking and action. Very appreciative. 

He had recalled their time at the riverbed, thinking about the potential flooding. He admired the other man’s ability to move to a solution as valiantly as he did. It told him more about the people he was serving with, and it made him more comfortable. 

Trust was slowly building. 

Stoyer: Response

Sirin: It is fortunate that we had somewhere to go. This storm looks like it will be going for awhile.

Stoyer/Tahna: Response

Tagren-Quinn: I was pleasantly surprised by the water… er, I mean the water, the showers. Not… not the rain. Geez. The forecast didn’t indicate anything about rain.

Stoyer/Tahna/Sirin: Response

He chuckled groggily, shook his head at himself and stood, tugging on the edges of the blanket. 

Tagren-Quinn: Hey Tahna, let me know if I can help with any of that… tea really does sound fantastic right now. 

Stoyer/Tahna/Sirin: Response

Tagren-Quinn: Has anyone ever visited these cabins before? ::he suspected maybe so, but…:: They looked well stocked and… spacious. And, oh, look at that fireplace!

Stoyer/Tahna/Sirin: Response


Ensign Bryce Tagren-Quinn, M.D.
Medical Officer
USS Gorkon (NCC-82293)


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