Solace
Posted on May 31st, 2008 by T'Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

T’Kirr and Ian Blackthorne

The door chimed–a brief, soft sound all-encompassing in the otherwise silence. T’Kirr knew who it was, even without the gentle empathic probing she could feel from the other side of the door. Ian and she had arranged to meet previously. With the minimal effort of one calm and collected, T’Kirr’s chest expanded slightly.

“Come in.”

T’Kirr opened her eyes to the muted burgundy tones of her dimly lit quarters. It was suddenly awash with light from the corridor, and the silhouette of Ian’s form stepped inside. She had been tentative in approaching him and asking for his advice. Her outburst on Joran III disturbed her greatly. Logically, she had no reason to react so strongly towards Romulan mind probes. They weren’t harmful, and mild when compared to the quadrant’s worst–but after contemplation, T’Kirr knew her extreme reaction was due to her previous assault by Dugahn. She had come to Ian as a companion telepath in hopes he could generate other ideas as to how to remedy her condition. When he had asked her about meditation, she had replied that standard methods had done little in restoring her confidence, and he had offered to help her.

Now that he was here, however, T’Kirr was unexpectedly nervous. It bubbled up from the well of her soul, but she quickly slowed it to a simmer. He wasn’t going to hurt her. There was no one she trusted more. Besides, it was he who had saved her from Dugahn’s damage, wasn’t it?

Ian stepped softly, almost afraid to disturb the quiet of the room. The light of a single candle pierced the darkness with resolute intensity, casting flickering shades of orange on T’Kirr’s face as she looked at him. “Hey there… how are you?” he almost whispered.

“I’m fine,” she replied automatically, matching his volume. She blinked once slowly, chastising herself and trying again in a more intimate tone. “You know how I am. I’m grateful for your help, effective or not.”

He sat down on the floor opposite her, the candle between them. “I’ll do what I can, but you’re flying lead on this one. I have your wing though.”

The corner of her mouth twitched a bit at Ian’s reference. The contrast of the candlelight on his face struck T’Kirr with an image of the far past. Rarely did she have others sit with her in meditation. This man was not Vulcan, yet he exuded a particular familiarity she couldn’t attach to any member of her race. Perhaps she had been away from home for too long. Then again, despite how much Vulcan meant to her, it lacked a quality she found every day on board the Atlantis.

She was home.

“All right. Let’s begin.”

T’Kirr extended her open hands palm down towards Ian, framing the candle. He took her invitation and clasped them, palms up. Mental link strengthened, she looked into Ian’s blue eyes, now dark in the flickering light, before closing her own and drawing in a cleansing breath. Pushing away one last bit of hesitation, T’Kirr turned inward and thought back to the incident that haunted her, buried by the fragile span of time a mere few days could construct as an emotional buffer. She could feel Ian politely on the edge of her mind, and when she invited him to follow, he immediately obliged.

Soft-edged angles and contrasts manifested around them, forming into the office-like space of her past. The two guards were there, flanking the desk of the man she didn’t even have a name for. The ‘pleasantries’ had already been dispensed, as T’Kirr had little care for them. She recalled the nervousness had started when the man began asking questions suggesting a close relationship with Ian. She had felt ashamed for losing her cool when surprised by the turn of the interrogation.

“So they knew, right at the start. That would startle anyone, having a personal detail like that laid bare on the table.”

His unspoken gentle words of encouragement led her thoughts to the probes that lay gleaming on the corner of the desk, menacing not so much in presence as in implication. Why did they disturb her so? The pain from an earlier encounter, an invasion into her mind that did cause pain manifested itself, and logic seemed to evaporate from the horizon of her consciousness.

I don’t know anything!

T’Kirr’s own, desperate words echoed through her mind. She had fallen back, was restrained. Why didn’t the man believe her? The hold on her panic began to slip.

“Steady, T’Kirr. Rely on your training, and look back on this event with logical detachment. Analyze and dissect it.” Ian’s eyes were still closed, but he was sweating as he strained to fortify her control, lending her strength and force of will.

Struggling to realize the pain for what it was, T’Kirr forced several deep breaths, detaching herself from the memory, more and more until she felt stable. Physical pain was external, controllable. Mental pain was something else entirely. Her mind embodied her very essence. Her psychical shell, toughened by years of training and decades of practical experience, acted as an outward filter. If this barrier were penetrated, a Vulcan’s intimate, fragile mind was vulnerable. She had experienced the pain of such an attack, and felt helpless as to preventing another.

How did one overcome the dread of something feared far more than death?

“Fear can be an ally and a source of strength. It’s perfectly logical to fear that which can kill you, but not that which is harmless.”

T’Kirr attempted to hold on to Ian’s thoughts, but thinking logically was the last thing T’Kirr felt capable of. She couldn’t let go of that horrible night in her quarters. Dugahn had searched her mind for the information he had needed, just like the mind probes would have done. It was illogical to fear this, as it didn’t threaten her sense of self. It had, however, been followed up by a rather intentional crushing of her core, an attempt to snuff out her consciousness and keep her from ever waking up. It was this memory that plagued her, that overwhelmed her in whatever direction she tried to go.

Ian seemed to sense her struggle with logic and surprised her with a sudden change in technique. “Try dissolving these images into somewhere safe, a place in your memories where no harm can come to you. You’ll remove their power over you.”

Feeling the need to retreat, T’Kirr complied readily. The fear itself began to melt away, being forced out through the cracks. It seeped into the sand until there was nothing left of it, and the calm panorama of nothingness stretched out in every direction. There, a spot in the distance, was the ancient city of Surkanar–close enough to get to if she needed it, but far enough away as to not invade but the outskirts of her desert sanctuary. Deep reds saturated the sky above, her favorite time of day. She took in a deep, comforting breath of the dry air.

“A bit warm and arid, but then again, it’s not my safe place, now is it? Vulcan.”

“I… haven’t remembered this place in some time. I wonder why it came to me now.” T’Kirr felt nervous, but no longer overwhelmed. She thought her anxiety to be partly due to having Ian there with her in a place she’d never associated at all with her life aboard Atlantis. It was a haven from her distant past, one she felt a new-found desire to show Ian. “Perhaps I can take you here someday.”

“I’d like that, especially given it’s significance to you. Tell me more about it.”

T’Kirr reveled in the pause of their search, focusing on the small distant city. “My parents still live there. They live right on the edge. I used to look out my window across this expanse, before I was allowed to run it.” She turned her gaze in the other direction, out across the flatness that was only occasionally interrupted by a butte and its long shadow. “When I was older, I would come out on cool nights and see how far I could go without stopping.” She sensed Ian’s amusement, and the two of them gazed out at the unstirring calm in companionable silence. Her mind began to ponder lightly on her situation. “I’m… not supposed to feel fear. This is very difficult for me… especially sharing this insecurity with you.”

“My understanding of Vulcan psychology is that you do feel, with far more intensity than most, but suppress. So the emotions are there, just contained and controlled. If they escape and are not intentionally released, then it’s natural to seek help reigning them in again.”

It was her turn to be intrigued. “Your understanding is quite accurate, and more insightful than I would give most credit for. You are describing my problem exactly–it’s not suppressed when it should be.” T’Kirr felt oddly free, open in her discussion of emotion with him, as if speaking to another Vulcan. It was refreshing, and she found herself looking forward to more of it. She was also curious, however, as to how he would explain her comparing the two very different races of Betazoid and Vulcan, one outwardly very emotional and the other not, as being so similar.

They stood watching the sunset, its rays causing the crescent of T’Kuht to glow just above the horizon. Eridani sank lower and lower as T’Kirr contemplated, and an uneasy thought occurred to her, one she was hesitant to present. “Do you think my fear is related to what others have been feeling about what you did to Marcus?”

“It’s possible, but even at the subconscious you understand the difference. One act was born out of logical necessity, and the other with murderous intent.”

“Yes, that again is my point–I’m having trouble separating the harmless nature of Romulan mind probes from the coma-inducing damage done to me. I know they’re different, but they’re still connected. Perhaps the human aversion to your actions is due to the illogical connection between the two?”

“When your thoughts have always been exclusively your own, the notion of sharing them involuntarily, even painlessly, is abhorrent.”

T’Kirr accepted this, looking about her recluse as if committing it to memory. “I have to resolve this.”

“Then now that you’ve identified the source of your fear, you must face it.”

“What if it overwhelms me again?” T’Kirr hugged her arms to herself. “What if it’s too much?”

“Impossible. You’re stronger than that, and I’ve seen you conquer far worse.”

“But… I don’t feel strong.”
“That doesn’t change the reality that you are.”

T’Kirr didn’t know if it was the remnants of the setting sun that caused a glow about them, or something else. She knew she couldn’t do this alone, and she stepped forward and hugged Ian. While his faith in her was invaluable, she knew it was up to her to get past this.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

Without further hesitation, T’Kirr pulled further inward, seeking the source of that which plagued her. The fresh, heated environment dimmed and finally winked out. Suddenly, she was blinded by a familiar sunlight, but its accompanying warmth never came. The expanse of sand was replaced by a frozen sea, glistening from the harsh rays. It was an odd sight.

“Ian?”

“I’m with you.”

Yes, he was there. T’Kirr hugged him close. “It’s so cold.” She looked down. They weren’t standing on the ice, but a small island almost swallowed by it. Squinting up in the sky, T’Kirr saw bluish specters whipping about at the corners of her vision. When she looked, they disappeared, only to tease her from another direction. Whispers permeated the air, just beyond understanding. “Why is it so cold?”

Ian held her tighter. “Perhaps as a representation of your fear and lack of control over it. You prefer the desert of Vulcan, yet your innermost thoughts are freezing.”

That made sense. The ghostly images and sounds weren’t to fear… they were a part of her. The cold was foreign, and that’s what she concentrated on. T’Kirr suddenly gasped as the temperature dropped further. It was like the cold held sentience and was fighting back.

Out of weariness and frustration, T’Kirr cried out to the emptiness. “I’m not afraid anymore!”

Ice seared at her temples, as if the cold metal of the Romulan mind probes were being pressed to her head, shocking her with a surge of fear. The whispers strengthened into murmurs and distant shouts, and the specters became frenzied.

It was a senseless, unrealistic pain. A phantom pain. T’Kirr had lived too long and experienced too much to let an irrational fear control her. She still had so much to see and learn. While a desire to experience and taste the unknown was not part of her heritage of cataloging and moving on, it was something their journeys aboard Atlantis had instilled in her. She had accomplished so much, helped save countless lives, made a difference. The crew relied on her. Her friends believed in her.

Ian believed in her.

The icy numbness disappeared.

Everything glowed white, overpowering her senses, then it all came in a rush. An ocean roared to life then went calm. Whispered tones became melodic, the specters prismatic and comforting. Sand shifted below their feet, but most of all, the shivering cold was gone and all was peaceful.

T’Kirr opened her eyes.

The room was dark, the same as before. Only Ian’s sweat-laden face was prominent, lit by flickering candlelight. He opened his eyes a moment later and looked at her, squeezing her hands reassuringly. “You did it,” he whispered with a tired voice.

T’Kirr sighed, satisfied with accomplishment. “I did. We did.” She stared into the candle flame for a moment, then met his gaze again. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but give yourself the lion’s share of the credit. That was your battle to fight and you won it. I just had your wing.” His words carried a sense of pride in what she had achieved.

Nodding, T’Kirr let go of his hands and stretched her back. “I’ll sleep well tonight. What about you?”

“I’m sure of it,” came his reply as he arched his back, cracking it several times.

The candle caught T’Kirr’s eye again, and she noticed it was much shorter than before. “Computer, what time is it?”

“Zero two thirty-four.”

Blinking, T’Kirr looked at Ian, who shrugged. “So it took seven hours. I would have sat here all night if necessary.”

“It’s fortunate you didn’t have to.” Her tone and demeanor had turned imperious. “You would have been useless in the morning.”

Ian chuckled. “I still might be, but that’s why I keep Shelev around.”
“Yes, because he’s much more useful than you sleep-deprived.”

“He has his moments.” Ian stood, stretching again, his legs grateful to be unfolded. T’Kirr blew the candle out and followed, setting it on a shelf. “But I’d better go so we don’t have to hope he has one.”

T’Kirr gazed up at him in the now feeble starlight from the windows behind her, her right brow twitching in amusement. She then stepped forward and gave him a hug, savoring the physical contact, noting how different it felt from the one earlier as his arms encircled her. His friendship meant so much to her. Head back, she looked into his eyes, breathing in his scent, and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

As their lips met, Ian brushed her mind as well, sharing the kiss in a way that non-telepaths could only comprehend as something akin to two people singing a four-part harmony. The physical sensations and emotions that she felt were magnified as Ian’s were experienced in tandem with her own. Several long moments later, she found his fingertips lingering on her cheek as they pulled apart, eyes opening into almost hungry gazes.

His breath slightly quickened, Ian licked his lips and flashed a smile. “Good night, T’Kirr.”

Sighing contentedly, T’Kirr laid her hand on his chest until he backed out of reach toward the door, his fingertips lightly trailing on her cheek as he went. “Good night.”