From: Kenneth Field (envision_at_fidalgo.net)
Date: Thu Jun 28 2007 - 14:40:34 PDT
"O' Sinner Man"
(continues from Rahul's "Birthing Pains")
Location: GS-2
Stardate: 2.70628.1415
Scene: CNS Center, Mowree's Office
Time Index: prior to the collapse of the Wormhole
Whoever had fashioned the Counselor Corp had mandated that no CNS
officer should ever attempt to "shrink" himself. If doctors make the
worst patients, it was clear that Counselors run a close second.
Given that, Kane had ordered and Kat had made the order more of an
imperative suggestion, that he get his Bajoran/Scott posterior down to
the offices of the GATE's only Caitian Counselor, Lt. Jg. Mowree
Nurunyon.
Gene had nothing against Nurunyon. He was competent, emotionally
suited to work with humanoids, while most of his kind were not, and he
played a wicked game of Parisi Squares. But felinoids liked their
creature comforts, and though Gene was aware that Mowree's office was
a bit out of the ordinary, he had not realized just how odd it really
was.
"Come in, Commander," the furry Counselor called from a large
upholstered bowl set into the deck toward the back of his office.
Mowree lay on his back, only the soles of his feet showing over
the rim of the bowl couch. The office was sunny, with splashes of
gold and yellow and bronze on the walls. For Gene it was a bit warm,
but not uncomfortable unless he planned on strenuous exercise.
Birdsong was piped into the room as well as bits of scent that
suggested the Savannah on CAITIA PRIME on a warm day. Gene wore
civvies, having not yet been given the option to return to duty.
Mowree laid aside a PADD he'd been pecking away at with one claw and
sat up.
"How are you feeling today, Commander?" the leonine counselor asked.
"Sore," Gene admitted, "and irritable."
"Certainly to be expected, considering the circumstances."
The circumstances.
He bristled for no reason he could think of. Gorman had given his
approval of the skin grafts, but pointed out that scarring had
occurred as he'd predicted. Where new skin met old skin that had not
been flayed, ridge lines of scar tissue had built up all over
McInnis's body. Jeff had encouraged him to stay active, even if it
hurt because the scar tissue would break down and become more pliable,
more flexible that way. Otherwise it could harden and actually
inhibit movement in some places like the hands. He'd been right about
the pain, and it was not like he hadn't encountered pain before.
But this was different.
Pain caused by action one chose was one thing. Pain caused by
accident or even design in the case of warfare was a logical
expectation. Pain as the result of torture ... that was something
else again. Try as he might, he could not shake the feeling that all
of it was unfair. And that seemed the source of his irritability. It
seemed like everyone pissed him off.
"Look, I seem to have one good nerve left, and everyone wants to
jump on it," he made an effort at a joke.
Mowree didn't quite get it, or chose to ignore it.
"Talk about that for a bit," he gestured toward a place for Gene
to sit opposite him on the bowl couch.
Gene scowled and let himself down carefully, avoiding the sudden
movements that would cause his skin to pull and tear.
--------------------- =/\=
Scene: McInnis/Bonviva Quarters
Time Index: that morning
Xana had fed Dahlia, showered, dressed and was nearly out the door
before Gene dragged into the living room.
"Morning," she said with a hopeful smile.
"Yeah," he nodded and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"What are you doing today?"
"I dunno," Gene mumbled wearily.
"You have a message from the Center, confirming your appointment
with Nurunyon. Don't forget," she said, trying to be helpful and
knowing she just wasn't.
"Not sure I'm up to that yet," Gene ran a hand through hair that
had grown longer during his convalescence. "Thought I might sit for
awhile. Maybe listen to some music. Read a book. I don't know.
Something will come to me."
"As obnoxious as the man is, Kane did make it an order, love."
"Then he can come down here and drag my butt down there!" Gene's
fury was white-hot and then done just as fast.
Xana swallowed. Dahlia in her arms got quiet at the sound of her
Daddy's voice big and angry in the room. He immediately felt like
three kinds of stupid, but he was too proud ... and then he wasn't.
"Sorry," he turned away and went back to the bedroom.
He heard the door hiss shut, and he lay back down on the bed. The
bed he hadn't slept in last night. He'd lain there, all right. But
he hadn't slept. He couldn't close his eyes. Whenever he closed his
eyes, he smelled blood.
-------------------- =/\=
Scene: Mowree's Office
"How do you feel about that conversation with your wife?" Mowree asked.
"How did I feel?" Gene repeated incredulously. "How did I feel?"
Mowree did not move, except that his eyes narrowed, what he'd once
described to Gene as "hunter fix." Gene felt suddenly like a small
mammal in the brush. He scooted up onto the lip of the bowl away from
the Caitian.
"Yes, how did you feel?"
"Like I wanted to break something, and I couldn't."
"Why?"
"Because I'm ... because it's already broken."
Mowree nodded to himself. Yes, Gene had caught the Freudian slip,
as well. He was wounded, but he wasn't stupid. And if the big cat
even mentioned it, he was going to punch him right in the nose. But
he didn't. Say anything.
-------------------- =/\=
Scene: Promenade outside the Bajoran Temple
Out of uniform, he was just another Bajoran on the station. He
could get very close to the Temple without being spotted, without
having to explain anything to anyone. He'd heard what Xana had done.
He wasn't sure how he felt about that yet. He'd managed over the
years to work around the Prophets. And now that he'd apparently met
them, well, something was different. It had to be. Right? The
Prophets were real, and he'd met them before, too, though none of them
had looked like anything but people he already knew. Maybe he'd just
hallucinated the whole thing.
He wanted someone to tell him what had happened. Someone to make
sense of it all. It was clear that Xana was unwelcome in the Temple.
And he wasn't sure he was either. He was sure that they would all
look at him as unworthy of having met the Prophets. He wasn't even a
believer. He'd just been raised that way. What was it Tim Layne had
said about something similar? Pearls before swine, he'd said. He
couldn't remember what he'd said that in reference to, but Gene
understood the allusion just fine anyway.
He was the swine. That was all he needed to know.
Gene McInnis turned and walked slowly away, having never gotten
any closer to the Temple.
-------------------- =/\=
Scene: Mowree's Office
"I don't have to tell you," Mowree began.
"Then don't," Gene snapped. "I know what you're going to say.
That my emotions will be unpredictable for awhile. You can't say how
long. That I need to stay physically active, keep myself on a
schedule. Don't allow myself to stay in bed all day. That I
shouldn't make critical decisions at this time. That I should be ...
kind ... to myself."
Mowree nodded with a careful smile.
"I know I'm not myself, Mowree. I know that. I just don't know
who it is I am. And I don't want to hurt Xana any more. Why am I so
angry?"
"You know the answer to that better than I do," the Caitian
replied. "Perhaps we can figure it out together. We need to keep
meeting. Is there someplace you'd rather talk? Some place you feel
more comfortable?"
"I'll think about that," Gene said, suddenly a little more
animated now that he knew he was leaving.
Xana would ask him how it went when she got home after picking up
Dahlia at the daycare center. He didn't have an answer for her. So
he didn't go home until he was sure she'd be asleep.
She was in bed when he got home. He sat on the couch and dialed
up a book that sat open and unread on his lap as he stared at the wall
at the place his katana had hung. Hannibal had it. It was part of an
investigation. He couldn't tell Gene when he'd get it back.
"The sword is the soul of the samurai," he whispered at last.
His soul was missing.
Xana had been lightly sleeping in their bedroom -- napping,
really, in between tossing and turning. At one point during her
tossing and turning, she saw a peek of light from under the door.
Rubbing her weary eyes she looked over at the chrono display and
frowned.
Sighing, she got up out of bed, slipped into her robe and slippers
and padded out to the living room. Angus, the ever loyal dog, yawned
and lumbered behind her as she made her way out of the bedroom. Bel,
the fiercely independent cat, opened up one eye as Xana moved around,
decided it wasn't important and went back to sleep.
The fact that Xana was deeply envious of the cat said volumes
about the amount of sleep she was getting lately.
By the time she got to the living room, her eyes were clear enough
to see Gene staring at the wall where the sword had been. She
wondered what he was thinking about and was about to ask, but decided
against it. She figured it couldn't be anything good. At least not
about her -- she was the one who took the sword after all.
Gene, never taking his eyes off the spot on the wall where the
sword had been, said to his wife, "You shouldn't be up."
"Neither should you," Xana replied.
"I don't have work in the morning," he pointed out.
"I don't sleep well when you're not there." Sighing Xana folded
her arms and looked across the room at her husband.
"I go away all the time."
"There's a difference between going away for a mission and being
home and not in bed."
Gene still looked at the wall. "I don't know when I'm coming to bed."
Xana bit her lip. She figured this would happen, he was going to
start distancing himself from her. He was, on some level, blaming
her. And for all his deeply passionate counselor talk about
forgiveness and understanding, she knew that Gene McInnis simply
couldn't forgive people for what he considered to be huge
transgressions.
At some point, she feared, Gene was going to take stock of his
life. She knew that, from experience, that often happened within the
course of depression. And when Gene took stock of his life he was
going to realize, as she had, that when he hit these areas of
depression that it was often due to her. Sophie Lovelace and the
ACHERON. Pax Federatio and the EIDOLON. The missing sword was just
the latest symbol of what had gone wrong.
She wanted to help him, she desperately wanted him to get out of
this mess. Even if, as she feared, he would hate her in the end.
"Do you want your pillow out here then?" she asked.
Even that didn't get Gene to stop staring at the wall. "The
pillows from the sofa are fine."
Without another word, Xana turned around and went back to bed.
=/\=
Scene: Ambassador Bonviva's Office
{{Ambassador Bonviva, expect a visit from Representative Mikayla
sometime in the next week to discuss your...situation.}}
It was the third or fourth or maybe even fifth time she listened
to that message and it didn't sound any better after repeating. Xana
sighed and sat back in her chair and considered the situation. She
was in it pretty deep. And despite her known talent for being able to
talk herself out of any situation, even she feared that she couldn't
get out of this.
Which was really a shame because she liked her job.
And it was another reason for her to hate Kane, since she
suspected he was behind this. Maybe she could get a large dart board
and put his picture in the middle. Or better yet, set up a target
practice on the holodeck, she used to be a pretty good shooter due to
her days in Security...
[[Ambassador, a Lt. Jg. Mowree Nurunyon is here to see you,]]
Ben, her intern, called out interrupting her train of murderous
thoughts towards the CO.
"Send him in," she replied as she turned off the message from the
Federation Council.
Mowree walked carefully into the Ambassador's office. He was
very much aware that he was out of his element here. Not to mention
the last time he was here, he thought the Ambassador was going to hurt
him.
Yes, best to move carefully in times like these. "Ambassador
Bonviva," the Caitan began, "thank you for agreeing to see me."
Xana nodded and smiled. "Thank you for agreeing to come to my
office. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?" Indicating
the candy bowl on the desk she offered, "And please help yourself to a
cookie or candy, if you wish."
Mowree blinked his round eyes and shook his head as he carefully
lowered himself to a chair. Although the Ambassador had done her best
to create a comfortable environment here, the furniture was still too
small for him. Such was the life of a Caitian. "I'm fine, thank
you." He paused for a moment and asked softly, "You know why I'm
here?"
"You're here, I imagine, to discuss with me in whatever limited
fashion you can, my husband's state of being," Xana replied.
"That is one way of putting it," Mowree nodded. "And even though
you're married, I cannot discuss the specifics of his treatments with
you."
"I understand."
Mowree nodded and waited a bit. His bright pink tongue was caught
between his sharp teeth as he seemed to be pondering something. "The
Counseling Center not only is here to assist military personnel but
the civillian population too."
Xana sat back in her chair studying the aCNS, bringing her fingers
together in a prayer motion. "Are you suggesting I get counseling,
Lieutenant?"
"I'm merely offering it up in case you feel you need it," Mowree
carefully replied.
"Counselors from what I remember of my days in SFA," Xana said
carefully, "are especially trained to deal with counseling their own,
as well as senior officers. But...it's different to have the
civillian wife of your boss come in to discuss her problems." Xana
became lost in her own thoughts for a moment before shaking her head
and leaning forward onto the desk again. "I thank you for the offer,
but I do not think I'll be visiting the Counseling Center. Unless, of
course, you think it would help Gene with his treatments."
"No, I wasn't offering it up for your husband's sake, but your
own," the Caitian said. "There is no easy way out of the emotions
that come up after a traumatic experience. And people often find it
helpful to have someone discuss things with. I couldn't treat you,
myself, since it would be a conflict of interest. But there are many
other qualified counselors you could go to."
"I know," Xana smiled, "I visited a few when I was CO, as you no
doubt know."
Mowree waited a moment before filling in the silence. "But you
don't wish to see one now?"
Several different thoughts and emotions flittered through Xana
then -- her feelings of inevitability when Gene would just be honest
about blaming her, hope that somehow Gene would get through it, and
wondering what this would do to them as a family. "Someday...when
Gene figures out the reality of his situation, of why he's ended up
like this...I imagine that I'll need someone to talk to. But for now,
no thank you, but I will try and muddle through this on my own."
-------------------- =/\=
Scene: Promenade outside the Bajoran Temple
Time Index: just before the incidents portrayed in "Desolation"
"Welcome, my son," a prylar blessed him as he approached the Temple. "It is good to see you again."
Gene stopped dead in his tracks. It had taken every ounce of will to come this close to the Temple. He hadn't expected to be recognized at all.
"You thought we would not notice you?" the prylar smiled. "All of the children of BAJOR are known. Some more than others."
"Maybe now is not a good time," Gene tried to back away.
The prylar touched him on the arm.
"Now is always a good time," the prylar told him. "You have need of this. We are here."
"But my wife ...," he trailed off.
"She is not here," the prylar observed knowingly. "Her soul is her business, though she would be welcome here if she found the need, despite her actions. You, however, are a child of BAJOR. I knew you back when your mother used to send you with food for the monks at the monastery above Cor' Danah. I'm a bit older now," the man smiled, "but my memory is good."
It had been his home town of a sort, Cor' Danah was, nestled in the Tinuviel Valley. He'd been barely ten when he'd run food to the monks.
"Do I know you?" he asked.
"No," the prylar shook his head. "But we knew you. We followed your career. The Abbot of Tinuviel told us to keep an eye on you all those years ago. And we have. You have need. You are wounded to your very core, and no doctor can cure what truly ails you."
"What is that?" Gene wondered if the man really knew or was just spouting lines.
"You've lost your soul," the prylar smiled. "Perhaps we can help you find it."
-------------------- =/\=
NRPG: Sarah, thank you for your undeniable contribution to this post. One of the reasons I've written with the FRPG for so long was for the chance to work with writers of this caliber. I know it's all supposed to be "just fun." But this is honestly the only place I've ever worked with characters that developed as detailed lives as these. I've ceased thinking of Gene as "mine," and I hope he doesn't hate me too much for foisting all this misery off on him.
This post occurs just prior to Jerome's "Desolation," and places Gene in the Temple in time for history to be made. Jerome, I am impressed by your willingness to wreak havoc on the universe. Other than Chance, I've never seen anyone decimate as much real estate as you! LOL.
Rahul and Joy, I hope Kat's okay, but I didn't get into that with this post, thinking you had plans in that area. Steve, Chance and Jasmina, I hope to see more from you soon.
Gene is not going to recover suddenly from all this. He will be involved, but "walking wounded" for some time to come, in case any of you wish to explore with him. And feel free to write to me outside the game for suggestions or observations. My house is your house.
-------------------- =/\=
this post brought to you by:
Sarah Albertini-Bond serendipity77_at_gmail.com
Ambassador Xana Bonviva
Federation Ambassador
GATEWAY STATION - 2
=/\= and =/\=
Kenneth Field
envision_at_fidalgo.net
aka Commander Gene McInnis
CNS/GS-2
aka Lt. JG Mowree Nurunyon
aCNS/GS-2
aka Tomas' Alexei Vukovic
Former Chief of Staff to Ambassador Xana Bonviva
currently with the BORG
aka Maury R. Tee
Professor of English (Retired)
Proprietor of "Impulse Drives,"
a little shop of horrors
GS-2, Promenade
"I start fighting a war, you're definitely gonna see something new." Malcolm Reynolds -- "Serenity"
From HyperNews_at_youth.net
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