Posted by Lieutenant Commander Sharah Fayth (Chief Star Fleet Medical Officer) in Tenkiller’s House- Tipping Point, Day 2

Posted by Captain Eela Dasca (Lt. Governor) in Tenkiller’s House- Tipping Point, Day 2

Posted by Major General Charles Tenkiller (Vice-Commander, Colonial Customs and Defense Agency) in Tenkiller’s House- Tipping Point, Day 2
Posted by… suppressed (1) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(snip)

Yavia turned and Sharah had to put a hand on her arm. She could feel the sudden hurt, disbelief, and incredulity rising in the Deltan woman and then her immediate focus on Charles.

Charles looked at her; a combination of concern, hesitant guilt, and some irritation on his face. “Our concern was your safety. As for consequences for you… I will say no, I didn’t think of rhe personal fallout for you. And for that, I am sorry.” He turned and began walking towards the den and the sanctuary that was his studio, but he stopped and turned and fixed Eela with a look that was hard to decipher. “But somewhere in this colony, someone is in a bad spot. Maybe like yours, maybe not. And they’re gonna see this. And maybe it will give them push they need to ask for help.” and he turned and walked out of view.

Yavia followed him. If he shut the door she would leave him be, otherwise she would stay with him. She understood Eela was spirling but it was also uncalled for. Charles’ hurt was like a knife to both women. Sharah grabbed his hand and slipped an arm around him, love and support, but she knew he needed to step away from the room and she let him, knowing Yavia was with him.

She caught him right before he entered the studio. He looked back and gave her a sad smile and just shook his head. He reached out, squeezed her hand, and then stepped through and shut the door.

She hurt him, that much Eela knew. Why did her mouth have to run so much faster than her brain? Every damn time! How many arguments had escalated unnecessarily because she struggled to maintain a filter? She dropped her gaze, her shoulders slumping, even as the anger sat there, still wanting its say.

Sharah moved over and touched the back of Eela’s hand briefly while she breathed in deep and exhaled, reaching for that deep reserve. And on that exhale was a wave of peace and safety that was tangible. “That is all we have been thinking of Eela. We can discuss at length the personal and professional reasons for it all, but…” Then she took her hand and led her down the stairs. She paused before the last door on the left and scanned her hand on the wall. A door opened leading down. At the bottom was a gym. Every thing she could possibly want, including a large heavy bag. “You want to hit and throw things, let’s do that. Be angry Eela, get it out.” Because Sharah knew how overwhelming it could be.

Sharah

Tenkiller

Eela let Sharah lead her and went silently, trying to process what all this meant. She moved towards the heavy bag, her fingertips tracing the familiar form. She had spent many a time during her physical training over the years, honing her body and her combat skills. Yes, she had been a psychologist and a therapist, but she had never been weak and unassuming the way some might think. Yes, she preferred to use words to solve problems, but for four decades she could be in the thick of whatever was happening on her assignments and never feel like a liability.

Unlike now.

“I don’t know how,” Eela whispered, the guilt weight on her more than she thought possible, almost overriding the anger. Arguing with Cory always felt like a very separate thing from her interactions with others, but was it really?

“My anger has felt so dangerous. I feel dangerous. Unstable. I don’t trust my anger because…” Eela fought to take a deep breath. “It only ever made things worse. I thought I had moved past it here on Oed, but that was just another lie I told myself.” She couldn’t even deal with the fact that her daughter and Roger both knew there was more going on ninety light years away.

~Eela

“Anger is not dangerous it is how you use it that dictates. Down here you are safe to lash out. This room has holoprojectors. Request glasses, vases, pillows, baseball bats, whatever you want, darts and a target. Put his picture on the heavy bag. This is a safe way to be angry. Lash out Eela. What he did was wrong! And he shouldn’t get away with it. It shouldn’t be under the rug and hidden. He doesn’t deserve the courtesy. Your kids deserve to know YOU are not the bad guy. You have the right to protect yourself. I know you aren’t really angry at all of us. Be angry at Cory for causing this to happen.” She pointed at the bag, “Hit it, scream at it, throw things. Let your anger exhaust.”

Sharah

Tenkiller

One hand on the bag, Eela rested her forehead against the smooth surface, careful not to lean her full weight on it. While it was sturdy, she didn’t want to risk losing her balance (well, her physical balance).

The cognitive dissonance happening in her mind was painful. Everything was at war, so much so that it was hard to know what the truth was. As a clinician she had worked with people countless times to deal with emotions that were difficult. She knew that emotions themselves had no power but it was the thoughts and actions interlocked with them that determined positive or negative outcomes. So why couldn’t she see that here? Why couldn’t accept it for herself? That her anger, her rage was a legitimate feeling? Perhaps it was because she couldn’t identify the specific thought attached to the anger, and thus couldn’t attach herself to the action?

What thought was involved then? How did Cory factor in? And then it was there like a tiny whisper. She could feel how she hurt Charles, and in turn Yavia and Sharah and the words traipsed through her mind tinged with that disgust that had become so familiar. “You really are a heartless b!tch now, aren’t you?” A heartless person who caused others pain. Who couldn’t control her emotions and unleashed them on those she cared about. Here she was having been taken in by people who were supposed to be her friends, her family and this was how she repaid them?

This is what Cory would have her believe. She was a cruel person who deserved to be alone.

But she knew herself to be a kind and compassionate person. She was building a wonderful life here not because she was good at her job (which was was fantastic at, thank you very much), but because she had opened herself up and allowed her heart to fill again, one person at a time. Kenzo, Sharah, Karilan, Jal’na, Jonathan, and now Charles and Yavia too. And then there was Dash, who made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Dash Jones, with his shameless subtle flirting and eye crinkling smile. He hadn’t seen the other sides of her yet, but she wanted him to. Very much. But the thought of hurting him, even with her words, was almost unbearable.

“I don’t want to be angry, Sharah. I’m so tired of being angry!” She pushed herself off the bag and felt the weariness of six years of having her world get smaller and smaller. People going off and living their lives. So had she. But had she? It kept her busy, kept her from confronting anything, kept her away from the input that felt more and more crushing. “Before Oed, the only people I felt safe with were Caridee and Roger. I had no one else, certainly no other friends. But coming here, meeting all of you, everything feels possible again. But the anger pushes people away, Sharah. I want to invite people closer, not push them away.”

~Eela

Sharah nodded, “I know you don’t want to be angry, Eela. But you are. You have been told over and over that your anger is wrong. From your doctors and therapists and the one person who should have helped you fight that monster. I stead he became the puppet master of the monster. He’s abusive, Eela. Not you, him. Anger like you are feeling doesn’t go away by suppressing it. It needs a safe outlet.” Sharah moved into her field of vision and stared hard at her. “It is time, Eela for you to say you are done with him and step back into the light. He got in your head and set down roots, but he’s gone now. You need to fully transplant your self, don’t leave even a to y fallen leaf there. You need to stand tall and say enough is enough and mean it. Not because you are Lt Gov, not because you are Cpt Dasca, but because you are Eela Dasca, person and worthy in your own right. Stop letting the lies he planted to control you ha e power.” Sharah touched the back of her hand briefly. “It is not easy, but it’s time.”

Sharah

It was the first time anyone had labelled Cory’s behaviour. Abusive. The word felt so strong that Eela actually took a step back, her eyes wide. Sure, if she stepped outside of the situation (not only the scene at her apartment but all the lead up before then too) she could point out the patterns of emotional manipulation to someone else. But that hadn’t applied to her. Of course not, don’t be silly.

But reality was smack dab in her face and there was nowhere to run to, nowhere to flee. She was always seeking safety, and apparently so was her anger. The strange part was that the places she had felt the most safe were the ones where there was the most risk. No, taking those risks, especially with her life, felt comfortable. It wasn’t the same as safety.

Blowing out a breath, Eela said nothing as she turned away, her hand once again brushing the kick bag. In this holographic space where she could take whatever action she wanted Eela knew one thing for certain: she couldn’t enact violence on Cory, not even a photo of him. It wasn’t her, and in her mind violence begot violence. If she wanted to be done with it all, she had to change the entire script.

On the other side of the room she had a small table generated lined with glasses turned upside down. Eela took one tentatively and held it at her side. One glass for every lie, for every disappointment, for every loss that swallowed her. She threw the glass in a tentative motion, testing the waters as it were. It cracked and broke in large pieces when it hit the wall. She blew out a breath and reached for another, throwing it with more force. Pieces shattered against the wall, falling to the floor. Eela grabbed another, and another, and another, throwing harder each time, assigning something specific to each one. The loss of her ship. The 232 members of who crew who died in that last battle. Her broken back. Her mucked up brain. Her stolen Starfleet career, her captain’s chair. The lack of dignity of some smart ass admiral telling her she wasn’t fit for active ship duty while she was still doing physical rehab in the hospital and trying to walk properly (that jerk got two glasses).

On and on it went and Eela barely paused, barely registered the twisting motion she was doing with her body, nor the wrenching motion that was entirely the reverse of when Cory had grabbed her. She just kept having the computer add more glasses. Eela didn’t even register the one where she actually let out a scream of frustration.

Finally she stopped, holding one last glass, her chest heaving and an exhaustion she couldn’t even name washed over her, even as something had shifted. It wasn’t lighter exactly, but it was defiant. It was more fully that moment where she had signed the restraining order. It had seeped into her. Eela lifted the glass in her hand and threw it with less force, whispering, “I miss my son.”

She stood there staring at the pile of glass (and was it ever a pile!) and the sum total of so many things that had gone wrong. A part of her wanted to sink to the floor, disappear into the mat, but no, she stood there staring at the shards of her life, or rather the pieces she no longer needed, that no longer served. It wasn’t going to remove her regrets, or make everything better, but it was a start.

Eela rolled her shoulders back and winced. Her right shoulder hurt, as did her back. “Jal’na’s going to cheer me on and then give me hell, I just know it,” she said, her tone far lighter, if not as amused as the words might have otherwise come out.

~Eela