LT Aine Sherlock - Is That Strange?

[Aine Sherlock]

((The Blue Sparkler - San Francisco District - Starbase 118 Ops))

Sherlock: So you see, I can open up a bit. Given the right setting. I just don't do well with official counselling sessions, sorry.

It was a genuine apology. Aine never meant to be difficult in that aspect. She had no problem writing reports, but when it came to counselling or official interviews and investigations, she had a natural resistance.

Yael:  No apologies.  I get it.  The office, it’s convenient, but it can feel like an interrogation when you’re on the other side of the table.  It feels too formal, sometimes.

There was a pause as another round of drinks arrived and Aine quickly downed the rest of number two.

Yael:  We can meet anywhere.  Somewhere over a meal, or the holodeck.  Your quarters, even.  Anywhere you’re comfortable.  There’s no rule that says you have to sit at my desk.

She gave Ashely a nod as she took just a sip of her third drink so as not to spill.

Sherlock: So ::long pause:: your turn.

Yael:  ::absent mindedly::  My turn?  ::pausing, contemplating::  Ahh.  I suppose this *is* a two-way warp.  It’s only fair.

Sherlock: It would be nice, but...it's not required.

She didn't want him to feel as if she'd trapped him in some way. But it did seem just a courtesy. Still, she knew very little about most of the officer's she'd be serving with and what better way to know someone than by their stories?

Yael:  Well… I’ve never *formally* died.  No Q encounters to speak of.  ::pausing, an eyebrow rose::  That I know of.  ::he paused, then dove in::  But I’ve come close twice now.  Terra Primes leader broke my bones.  Lots of bones.  Nothing like a TBI to make you appreciate *not* having a TBI.  I was blinded in this eye, didn’t know if I’d get that back.

As Ashely lifted a hand to his eye, Aine pointed to the side of her head. They were definitely on the same page when it came to their prior injuries.

Yael:  Thankfully it’s still improving.  ::he meant his sight::  That was… bad.  But I’m physically healing.  The physical boundaries aren’t the biggest issue, in my mind.  The body breaks, you heal, you break, you heal.  You get a finger sliced off by a homicidal maniac and then it gets mailed to your CO before a two day adventure in sadism before your crew locats you, you heal.  Bones knit back together, but your *mind*, that never fits together again.  And you realize what they really mean when they say you have to find a “New Normal.”  ::pausing, he set his eyes on her, then held up his index finger::  That was the first time.

Aine's eyes widened. It was quite a lot in one shot. And losing a finger like that? Barbaric. She couldn't really imagine someone quite that cruel, and she'd seen slavers who fed the deceased bodies of their slaves to power the machines the slaves were building, a vicious cycle itself.

Sherlock: That sounds like more than enough for anyone.

Yael:  This probably *wasn’t* the smartest location to have us meet.  It’s self sabotage, I’m rational enough to see it.  You tell yourself you can control it, it’s fine, you’re a perfectly in-control adult person with adult responsibilities and rational thought processes and *supposedly* effective coping mechanisms.  Then you’re on your third specialty drink, reminding yourself that alcoholics have *really* terrible impulse control, but by then it’s *way* too late.

They both looked at their drinks before taking a heavy swig. He wasn't wrong. Aine tended to save her drinking for when she had no official duties imminent. She never considered it to be a problem. But moderation may be in her future. She set her drink down in an affirmative manner.

Sherlock: Doesn't have to be that way. But I see what you mean. ::gesturing for him to continue::

Yael:  I also killed a man by kicking him in the head.  Purely a trained reaction.  Still not sure if I’m processing that.  The monks on Mount Seleya said my natural aversion to violence was in direct conflict with my life experience, and that my chaotic internal feelings were a predictable reaction when polar opposite truths attempt to exist in the same katra at the same time.

Aine reflected on what he'd just said. In a way, she felt that he felt he was outside the norm. She couldn't be sure though. But she could relate.

Sherlock: When I was younger, I used to get into a lot of fights. We'd go into the nearest city, me and the boys. ::rolling her eyes at how she normally avoided the next point:: We'd go to drink, underage. Anyways, the city girls always like the country boys and since I was a country girl, they always started stuff with me. Not once did I ever want to hurt someone maliciously. It's not in me.

Yael: ?

Sherlock: Then Starfleet happened. Within seventy-two hours of graduating, I was stuck on a planet of slavers. We were trying to rescue a freighter crew. I won't bore you with all the details of it all. Thing is, we ended up in a battle. Four of us against who knows how many of them. It was shoot and scoot for a couple hours. I killed twelve people that day.

Yael: ?

Sherlock: Twelve that I know for sure. There was so much going on, there's no way to know an exact number. But twelve I remember clearly. I'd never killed anyone before. It was like all the training just took over. But I leave it at that. I don't think about it, I don't dwell on it. I don't know if that's normal or not. Or maybe I'm just weird that way. But you know what does really haunt me from that mission?

Yael: ?

She paused to think. The image of the Engineer in a gold collar, laying there. Blood dripping profusely from his severed arm. The way he stared off, body in shock. The way he came too suddenly and yelled out for his brother.

Sherlock: Someone on my crew getting injured. As we talked about before, I don't care so much what happens to me, but I can't live with myself if I don't do everything I can to help others. Even if that means taking a life. It's like, so long as the reason is just, I'm fine. Is that strange?

She wasn't sure if this was to sympathize with Ashley, or just to offer a different perspective. Maybe it was neither. But it was something she'd never spoken about before. The closest she ever came was speaking to her protege Ensign Martin when he'd randomly asked if she'd killed anyone before. It was an off colored question, and one no one should ever just ask. But when it was, she was more shocked that it didn't bother her at the time more than anything.

Yael: ?

tag/TBC

Lieutenant Aine Sherlock

Tactical Officer

StarBase 118 Ops

R239712AS0