Things Past – Night Terrors & Sweet Dreams
by Commander Rakka & Lieutenant JG Petro
Post Details
Rakka was in the White Place again--the place of the dead. She walked aimlessly, nothing but white above and below her and on all sides. Occasionally she picked up a blood trail, which would eventually lead to a small child, a Nausicaan girl-child, dressed in rags and throat eternally coursing with blood from a ragged knife-wound. Rakka knew she would never stop seeing them--those dead girls with the wide, wide eyes. It didn't make any difference if she apologized. They just looked at her, and she at them, and she moved on.
"Is it true?" a deep male voice spoke up behind her. Her brother, his throat, too, still bleeding. "They say you murdered our father as well."
Rakka turned to face him. It still filled her with dread to look on the face of one of her childhood bogeymen, but he had no power over her anymore, and she refused to look away.
~Fear is weakness. Weakness is failure.~
"'Murder' is not really the right word," she replied. "Have you not seen him here?"
"Not yet. Others have. What's left of him"
"Perhaps he avoids you for fear of humiliation," Rakka suggested. "What Nausicaan could stand up straight after being beaten by his own female?"
"Don't flatter yourself!" her brother spat, blood bubbling and spattering as he spoke. "You killed him like a coward, with your Starfleet arsenal behind you."
"I would have--and could have--destroyed him with my own hands," she retorted. "But his swift elimination was more important than my personal satisfaction."
"I suppose you think you're free now."
"Yes. That is what I think."
Her brother began to laugh, mockingly, gratingly. He raised a hand and pointed.
Rakka turned to see what he was pointing at. A charred, shambling mound of cooked flesh limped toward her. As it grew closer she recognized the shining black eyes still set deep in its blackened skull.
"Father," she whispered. "You lose."
The thing slowly shook its head and began to raise an arm. The clawlike hand gripped a bunch of gore-clotted hair from which dangled a dripping object. Rakka fell to her knees. Her father held the head of Petro.
================
Rakka snapped awake with a great animal howl, the images still dancing in front of her vision. The room was dark; she was squeezed under a desk in Petro's living room.
"Petro!" she yelped. "PETRO!"
The sound of Rakka calling, no screaming her name jolted her from her slumber. Petro jumped out of bed and nearly landed at the doorway. It was dark. She looked around for where Rakka was and for a moment thought that she might have been dreaming. "Lights, low." she said. The room illuminated in a soft dawn glow. She saw Rakka under her desk.
"Rakka." Petro said, quickly going to her friend and kneeling. She reached out and placed a hand on either side of Rakka's face. The look in her friends eyes frightened her. "I'm here, I'm here." she said.
Rakka took hold of her friend's soft pajamas and pulled her close, weeping. "God, oh, god..." she breathed. "I'll never let anyone hurt you, never never...."
"You had a bad dream." Petro realized. "Come out of there, tell me about it." she coaxed. How in the world Rakka got under the diminuative desk she'll never figure out. She waited until Rakka had disentangled herself and got her to sit on the couch. No easy task to do with a scared and protective Naausican.
Petro went to the replicator and ordered their usual drinks, and handed the larger mug to Rakka, who's hands were still shaking. Petro had never seen her like this before.
"I'm here." she said again, trying to reassure her friend. "I'm safe." She knew Rakka wasn't scared for herself. She was scared for her.
Rakka gripped the mug tightly. "I-I-I'm sorry for waking you," she stammered. "This is why I don't... I mean, I never could... really have a roommate. I used to have a lot of... bad dreams... all the time... when my father was alive. But I guess he's... still sort of... haunting me."
"It's alright." Petro said. "Everyone has bad dreams. Maybe if you tell me about them it will help." She rested her hand on Rakka's arm and smiled.
Rakka looked down at her little friend through blurred eyes and wondered how she could possibly talk about the White Place... how she could possibly tell Petro, or anyone, about the place where she met and conversed with those she'd killed. The children with their big eyes and slit throats--Petro couldn't know about them, or she'd never look at her with that sweet, trusting smile ever again.
"Just bad things... ugly things," the Nausicaan finally breathed into her hot chocolate. "Things I'm afraid of. My father."
"Just your father?" Petro asked. There seemed to be more to her night terrors than just her father. She had talked about them before, left the station because of him to protect her. Even still, there had to be more. "He's just one person."
Rakka sniffed and sipped at her mug, the sweet, hot chocolate slowly easing the burning in her throat. "Was," she corrected. "Now that he's dead, I don't really have to worry about anyone... looking for me... anymore. But... still... the dreams. My father visits me. My brother, too. He was... dead... a long time ago. They're like ghosts... lurking around, haunting me, when they should be gone. I wonder if there's some... medication... that can stop dreams....."
Petro nodded. "Dream therapy has been around since earth's twentieth century. I'm sure the doctor can find something to help you." She paused for a moment and took a sip of her own hot chocolate. "Ghosts can't hurt you unless you let them," she said, "you stood up to your father in life, why not stand up to him in your dreams? Be in control. Remember the strong woman that you are."
"That's the thing about dreams..... I can't seem to get any control."
"Hmm." Petro thought about it. She didn't know much about dreams. She rarely had them. "What was this dream about?" she asked again, hoping that her friend could trust her enough to confide in her. "You said your brother and father were there. Where? What happened? What did they say?"
"It's a dead place," Rakka replied carefully. "A white place. I dream about it often. People in my life... who are dead... they're always there. Remember Ensign Riley? I see him there sometimes, and it's... not so bad. But my brother and my father... and others... well... they're just angry and mean. I don't really remember a lot of what they say. I guess I was really scared because... you were killed. But you aren't. You don't belong in that place. So it's not real--it can't be, right?"
Petro gently took Rakka's hand and placed it on her own chest. "You can feel my beating heart." she said, "you can tell that I'm breathing. This is real." Petro said, looking into her friends eyes. "That other place. That place where dead people walk and talk is just a dream. It's not real. I'm alive and I'm here."
Rakka breathed deeply as she felt her friend's heart beating. "Can I stay here?" she blurted out suddenly. "I don't want my own quarters anymore. I mean, if you need your space I understand.... after all, I... I'm not an easy person to live with...."
"Of course you can stay here." Petro said, getting up to sit on her knees. She set her cup down on the table and looked at her friend face to face. "You can stay here as long as you like."
"Only if you're really, really sure!" Rakka said. "If I bother you, please tell me. I'm... well... messy... but I don't really have many things to mess up. And I don't want to disrupt your privacy--if you want to be alone, I'll leave, and... if there is ever... well.... someone you want to be alone with, I can go away....."
Petro sat, a little confused. Did she want to stay or didn't she? "Rakka, I'm sure you can stay. I don't care if you're messy or neat." She paused and looked serious for a moment. "There is someone that I would like to be alone with from time to time." She lowered her eyes. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable about it is something I've been considering for a while but never had the courage."
Rakka felt her heart drop a little. Here it came, just as she'd feared--Petro was going to have a boyfriend and leave her behind. "I... oh. Okay. I don't know if I can help you with.... courage.... but I... I'm sure anyone would want to be with you."
"I wondered for a while." Petro said, picking up her mug and taking a sip. "We have a lot in common. Not that good with people, low self esteem and, well, sometimes I wondered if this person could ever tolerate someone as petite as me." She looked up at Rakka and smiled. "Could you?"
Rakka stared dumbly. "Could I what? Tolerate... your size? Haven't I always liked you?"
"I've always thought so." Petro said. "Could you stand to spend time alone with me?"
The Nausicaan cocked her head. "What do you mean? We're alone now."
Petro smiled. "You are the one I'm talking about."
Rakka blinked. For a moment she had no idea what Petro was getting at--yet were already best friends, weren't they? And then a very dim, slightly flickering light bulb illuminated, and she felt a quivering warmth spread over her from we chest outward. "You mean like... you want to be... like... together... in a romance kind of way?"
Petro shrugged. "I don't know much about romance or whatever, but yes. In that kind of way."
Rakka shifted her jaw back and forth. Was this possible? Of course Petro was her favorite person in the world, but.... this? She thought about couples in love, sitting in restaurants together, cuddling, whispering things at each other, giggling, blushing, giving off so many pheromones that she was surprised other people couldn't smell them. Would that be them? Could it?
"Is that... allowed?" she whispered.
"Allowed?" Petro asked. For her she considered Rakka her best friend and confidant. Why wouldn't it be allowed for the two of them to spend time alone or to have some kind of romantic relationship? She wasn't sure what the rules were in that regard, but neither was the others superior and they didn't serve in the same area. "I don't think there's a regulation against it."
"Well... I didn't mean in terms of regulations, but... I don't really know. What is generally 'accepted' by... people... I guess. But we have both already sort of... broken the rules of our species... so maybe we don't need to worry about what's acceptable. Anyway... well, if we were to... what would change? I mean... how do you want things to be... different... than they are now?"
Petro shrugged and let out a little laugh. "I don't know." She smiled. "I think I know less about relationships than you do." She thought about some of the conversations she had with other people. She observed others in a couple and how they acted but wasn't sure how that applied to them. She considered the way that Isha had talked to her and had invited her back to her quarters. She wasn't sure what for as things didn't follow in that direction. "I guess we'll have to find out."
Rakka set down her mug and hugged her knees to her chest, considering all that her friend had said. If Petro didn't know what she wanted from a relationship, what was she asking of her?
"I..... I guess I'm not sure how to give you an answer," the Nausicaan stammered, "since I don't really understand... what the question is. You say you want to be alone with me, and we are alone, and... I-I-I'm just confused!"
Petro was starting to feel giddy, and sleepy. "I think what I'm asking is, what you asked before. That you stay here, with me." She set her cold mug down, stretched and yawned. "Maybe we should get some sleep and we can think better in the morning."
"Sure... that's fine," Rakka said hesitantly. She hadn't been sure that more sleep was in the cards for her after her nightmare but she was certain now, after this discussion, that she would be wide awake the rest of the night. She waited until Petro had taken both mugs and headed back to the replicator before asking one of the thousand questions that had arisen in her:
"Does this mean you don't want... a boyfriend?"
"I wouldn't know what to do with one." Petro answered as she returned. "Do you want to sleep in the bed or out here?"
Rakka stopped breathing for a moment. Here was a question that only demanded more questions. "I... I don't think I'd fit in your bed," she finally managed.
Petro laughed, realizing that she was right. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. I'm going to have to requisition some alternate sleeping arrangements." She turned and looked under the desk. "I'm not sure that sleeping there is the best place."
"You don't need to make any arrangements for me," Rakka assured her. "I always sleep on the floor. Beds feel... strange... to me."
Petro nodded. "If you change your mind, just let me know." She turned and walked back to her room. At the doorway she stopped and turned. "Good night Rakka."
"Good night, Petro," Rakka whispered back.
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by Commander Rakka & Lieutenant JG Petro
Post Details
| Title | Night Terrors & Sweet Dreams | |
| Mission | Things Past | |
| Author(s) | Commander Rakka & Lieutenant JG Petro | |
| Posted | Sat Oct 20, 2012 @ 11:06pm | |
| Location | Petro's quarters | |
| Timeline | SD60, 0300h |
"Is it true?" a deep male voice spoke up behind her. Her brother, his throat, too, still bleeding. "They say you murdered our father as well."
Rakka turned to face him. It still filled her with dread to look on the face of one of her childhood bogeymen, but he had no power over her anymore, and she refused to look away.
~Fear is weakness. Weakness is failure.~
"'Murder' is not really the right word," she replied. "Have you not seen him here?"
"Not yet. Others have. What's left of him"
"Perhaps he avoids you for fear of humiliation," Rakka suggested. "What Nausicaan could stand up straight after being beaten by his own female?"
"Don't flatter yourself!" her brother spat, blood bubbling and spattering as he spoke. "You killed him like a coward, with your Starfleet arsenal behind you."
"I would have--and could have--destroyed him with my own hands," she retorted. "But his swift elimination was more important than my personal satisfaction."
"I suppose you think you're free now."
"Yes. That is what I think."
Her brother began to laugh, mockingly, gratingly. He raised a hand and pointed.
Rakka turned to see what he was pointing at. A charred, shambling mound of cooked flesh limped toward her. As it grew closer she recognized the shining black eyes still set deep in its blackened skull.
"Father," she whispered. "You lose."
The thing slowly shook its head and began to raise an arm. The clawlike hand gripped a bunch of gore-clotted hair from which dangled a dripping object. Rakka fell to her knees. Her father held the head of Petro.
================
Rakka snapped awake with a great animal howl, the images still dancing in front of her vision. The room was dark; she was squeezed under a desk in Petro's living room.
"Petro!" she yelped. "PETRO!"
The sound of Rakka calling, no screaming her name jolted her from her slumber. Petro jumped out of bed and nearly landed at the doorway. It was dark. She looked around for where Rakka was and for a moment thought that she might have been dreaming. "Lights, low." she said. The room illuminated in a soft dawn glow. She saw Rakka under her desk.
"Rakka." Petro said, quickly going to her friend and kneeling. She reached out and placed a hand on either side of Rakka's face. The look in her friends eyes frightened her. "I'm here, I'm here." she said.
Rakka took hold of her friend's soft pajamas and pulled her close, weeping. "God, oh, god..." she breathed. "I'll never let anyone hurt you, never never...."
"You had a bad dream." Petro realized. "Come out of there, tell me about it." she coaxed. How in the world Rakka got under the diminuative desk she'll never figure out. She waited until Rakka had disentangled herself and got her to sit on the couch. No easy task to do with a scared and protective Naausican.
Petro went to the replicator and ordered their usual drinks, and handed the larger mug to Rakka, who's hands were still shaking. Petro had never seen her like this before.
"I'm here." she said again, trying to reassure her friend. "I'm safe." She knew Rakka wasn't scared for herself. She was scared for her.
Rakka gripped the mug tightly. "I-I-I'm sorry for waking you," she stammered. "This is why I don't... I mean, I never could... really have a roommate. I used to have a lot of... bad dreams... all the time... when my father was alive. But I guess he's... still sort of... haunting me."
"It's alright." Petro said. "Everyone has bad dreams. Maybe if you tell me about them it will help." She rested her hand on Rakka's arm and smiled.
Rakka looked down at her little friend through blurred eyes and wondered how she could possibly talk about the White Place... how she could possibly tell Petro, or anyone, about the place where she met and conversed with those she'd killed. The children with their big eyes and slit throats--Petro couldn't know about them, or she'd never look at her with that sweet, trusting smile ever again.
"Just bad things... ugly things," the Nausicaan finally breathed into her hot chocolate. "Things I'm afraid of. My father."
"Just your father?" Petro asked. There seemed to be more to her night terrors than just her father. She had talked about them before, left the station because of him to protect her. Even still, there had to be more. "He's just one person."
Rakka sniffed and sipped at her mug, the sweet, hot chocolate slowly easing the burning in her throat. "Was," she corrected. "Now that he's dead, I don't really have to worry about anyone... looking for me... anymore. But... still... the dreams. My father visits me. My brother, too. He was... dead... a long time ago. They're like ghosts... lurking around, haunting me, when they should be gone. I wonder if there's some... medication... that can stop dreams....."
Petro nodded. "Dream therapy has been around since earth's twentieth century. I'm sure the doctor can find something to help you." She paused for a moment and took a sip of her own hot chocolate. "Ghosts can't hurt you unless you let them," she said, "you stood up to your father in life, why not stand up to him in your dreams? Be in control. Remember the strong woman that you are."
"That's the thing about dreams..... I can't seem to get any control."
"Hmm." Petro thought about it. She didn't know much about dreams. She rarely had them. "What was this dream about?" she asked again, hoping that her friend could trust her enough to confide in her. "You said your brother and father were there. Where? What happened? What did they say?"
"It's a dead place," Rakka replied carefully. "A white place. I dream about it often. People in my life... who are dead... they're always there. Remember Ensign Riley? I see him there sometimes, and it's... not so bad. But my brother and my father... and others... well... they're just angry and mean. I don't really remember a lot of what they say. I guess I was really scared because... you were killed. But you aren't. You don't belong in that place. So it's not real--it can't be, right?"
Petro gently took Rakka's hand and placed it on her own chest. "You can feel my beating heart." she said, "you can tell that I'm breathing. This is real." Petro said, looking into her friends eyes. "That other place. That place where dead people walk and talk is just a dream. It's not real. I'm alive and I'm here."
Rakka breathed deeply as she felt her friend's heart beating. "Can I stay here?" she blurted out suddenly. "I don't want my own quarters anymore. I mean, if you need your space I understand.... after all, I... I'm not an easy person to live with...."
"Of course you can stay here." Petro said, getting up to sit on her knees. She set her cup down on the table and looked at her friend face to face. "You can stay here as long as you like."
"Only if you're really, really sure!" Rakka said. "If I bother you, please tell me. I'm... well... messy... but I don't really have many things to mess up. And I don't want to disrupt your privacy--if you want to be alone, I'll leave, and... if there is ever... well.... someone you want to be alone with, I can go away....."
Petro sat, a little confused. Did she want to stay or didn't she? "Rakka, I'm sure you can stay. I don't care if you're messy or neat." She paused and looked serious for a moment. "There is someone that I would like to be alone with from time to time." She lowered her eyes. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable about it is something I've been considering for a while but never had the courage."
Rakka felt her heart drop a little. Here it came, just as she'd feared--Petro was going to have a boyfriend and leave her behind. "I... oh. Okay. I don't know if I can help you with.... courage.... but I... I'm sure anyone would want to be with you."
"I wondered for a while." Petro said, picking up her mug and taking a sip. "We have a lot in common. Not that good with people, low self esteem and, well, sometimes I wondered if this person could ever tolerate someone as petite as me." She looked up at Rakka and smiled. "Could you?"
Rakka stared dumbly. "Could I what? Tolerate... your size? Haven't I always liked you?"
"I've always thought so." Petro said. "Could you stand to spend time alone with me?"
The Nausicaan cocked her head. "What do you mean? We're alone now."
Petro smiled. "You are the one I'm talking about."
Rakka blinked. For a moment she had no idea what Petro was getting at--yet were already best friends, weren't they? And then a very dim, slightly flickering light bulb illuminated, and she felt a quivering warmth spread over her from we chest outward. "You mean like... you want to be... like... together... in a romance kind of way?"
Petro shrugged. "I don't know much about romance or whatever, but yes. In that kind of way."
Rakka shifted her jaw back and forth. Was this possible? Of course Petro was her favorite person in the world, but.... this? She thought about couples in love, sitting in restaurants together, cuddling, whispering things at each other, giggling, blushing, giving off so many pheromones that she was surprised other people couldn't smell them. Would that be them? Could it?
"Is that... allowed?" she whispered.
"Allowed?" Petro asked. For her she considered Rakka her best friend and confidant. Why wouldn't it be allowed for the two of them to spend time alone or to have some kind of romantic relationship? She wasn't sure what the rules were in that regard, but neither was the others superior and they didn't serve in the same area. "I don't think there's a regulation against it."
"Well... I didn't mean in terms of regulations, but... I don't really know. What is generally 'accepted' by... people... I guess. But we have both already sort of... broken the rules of our species... so maybe we don't need to worry about what's acceptable. Anyway... well, if we were to... what would change? I mean... how do you want things to be... different... than they are now?"
Petro shrugged and let out a little laugh. "I don't know." She smiled. "I think I know less about relationships than you do." She thought about some of the conversations she had with other people. She observed others in a couple and how they acted but wasn't sure how that applied to them. She considered the way that Isha had talked to her and had invited her back to her quarters. She wasn't sure what for as things didn't follow in that direction. "I guess we'll have to find out."
Rakka set down her mug and hugged her knees to her chest, considering all that her friend had said. If Petro didn't know what she wanted from a relationship, what was she asking of her?
"I..... I guess I'm not sure how to give you an answer," the Nausicaan stammered, "since I don't really understand... what the question is. You say you want to be alone with me, and we are alone, and... I-I-I'm just confused!"
Petro was starting to feel giddy, and sleepy. "I think what I'm asking is, what you asked before. That you stay here, with me." She set her cold mug down, stretched and yawned. "Maybe we should get some sleep and we can think better in the morning."
"Sure... that's fine," Rakka said hesitantly. She hadn't been sure that more sleep was in the cards for her after her nightmare but she was certain now, after this discussion, that she would be wide awake the rest of the night. She waited until Petro had taken both mugs and headed back to the replicator before asking one of the thousand questions that had arisen in her:
"Does this mean you don't want... a boyfriend?"
"I wouldn't know what to do with one." Petro answered as she returned. "Do you want to sleep in the bed or out here?"
Rakka stopped breathing for a moment. Here was a question that only demanded more questions. "I... I don't think I'd fit in your bed," she finally managed.
Petro laughed, realizing that she was right. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. I'm going to have to requisition some alternate sleeping arrangements." She turned and looked under the desk. "I'm not sure that sleeping there is the best place."
"You don't need to make any arrangements for me," Rakka assured her. "I always sleep on the floor. Beds feel... strange... to me."
Petro nodded. "If you change your mind, just let me know." She turned and walked back to her room. At the doorway she stopped and turned. "Good night Rakka."
"Good night, Petro," Rakka whispered back.
=============