With seedlings underway and some of the hardscaping installed, Faye glanced at the layout and smiled. There was something so very satisfying about seeing the thing you have envisioned taking shape. More than just another science area, this would be a refuge for the crew, for her. While she often chose to not remember her time at the Santa Clara Treatment Centre, Faye had learned many important things aside from just her diagnosis. She had learned coping skills that had, in part, allowed her to withstand the torture inflicted by the Tal Shiar. What they couldn’t have known from her humming through the pain was that in her dreamworld of her mind, she walked lush garden paths filled with beautifully scented flowers, ducking her head under overgrown vines that covered pergolas and arches.

While she wasn’t trying to recreate that here, what she was trying to create was the feeling it had invoked. Faye was trying to fabricate a sense of peace in the hopes that it would manifest the actual feeling. She would probably agree that it was a bad idea to place all her hopes on one project, but she had no other hobbies, and someone like her with BPD needed positive outlets and ways to connect to people in ways that wouldn’t create stress.

In short, Faye was counting on this garden to help her find her way here. Because, if there was anything that was true, it was that the Manhattan was the first place n a long time that felt even remotely like it could be home. That terrified her, because she knew how easily she could lose it. But she figured that if she gave something to the ship and her crewmates, along with her continued therapy and personal work, she might once and for all find her way forward without so much drama.

Moving to the raised beds, Calloway gathered the drip tubing that would be buried into the top layer of the beds in order to water the plants in very specific and resource-mindful ways.

~Faye Calloway, Data Specialist