DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2013 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
It started after the Psi 2000 virus.
Wait. Do I want to say that? Because itÕs not true. Is that really how I want to start this little confessional?
It started when Roger disappeared.
That sounds better, right? More reasonable? Who wouldnÕt need a little help through that?
ItÕs not true, though.
It started during University—all the stress. No, not then, earlier, the tension of making perfect grades, of being the flawless daughter of parents who were pillars of the community.
Yes, thatÕs when it started. If IÕm honest. See, I donÕt talk about that part of my life. DonÕt let on that my parents could have bought my way into any school even if I hadnÕt had the grades to get there on my own.
I never wanted their help. Tried to do everything myself. Put a lot of pressure on shoulders not very well equipped to handle it.
ThatÕs when I started.
Stims to keep going. Sedatives to come down. One of the reasons I went into biochem: I had an interest in the way chemicals affected biology. And I liked the access we had to base materials.
To say I ran my own drug lab would be an exaggeration. I never sold any, never gave any away. I only made enough for myself.
To share would have been to give my secret away.
To cease to be perfect.
WhatÕs that? Do I do it still? Oh, hell no. Starfleet keeps a close eye on the base materials.
Starfleet does not, however, keep a close eye on the medicines that routinely get destroyed on this ship every time we have a close call with an irritated alien. Or rather, they donÕt keep an eye on them once I report them compromised and destroyed—destroyed meaning stashed in my pocket or desk if itÕs a drug that interests me.
DonÕt look at me that way. IÕm not the only one who does it, you know. Other nurses do it, too. Some of the doctors, as well. YouÕre not any different—you just prefer to drown out the voices in your head with Kentucky bourbon instead of meds.
What? YouÕre a damn lush and you think my using drugs occasionally is a problem?
Oh, my mistake. YouÕre only occasionally a lush. Well, then, if itÕs not a problem for you, why is it a problem for me, Mister Every Once in a While?
Besides, weÕre not the only ones with pressure valves that are questionable. Look at the captain, with his women and his risk taking. Do you think other captains routinely lead landing parties the way he does? IÕve checked the injury reports for the other starships—what? ItÕs open info in the medical database. Kirk is an overachiever, my darling.
Oh, quit looking at me like that. IÕm not saying I think less of him. IÕm just saying we all find our own ways to cope.
Spock? Why do you always have to bring him up?
Well, he meditates. No, all right, itÕs ostensibly benign. Build your soul and all that, but really, itÕs just an escape hatch like all the rest of us. HeÕs checking out, even if itÕs a more positive way to do it then slamming a hypo in your arm or throwing back a belt of hooch or getting shot up on first contact.
Yes, or nearly getting your manhood cut off by opening relations with the wrong species. Are you ever going to let Kirk live that down? As I remember it, you were pretty interested in their medical officer. Oh, you were, too.
No, I was not jealous. I could give two shits what you do. Okay, well when you do that, I actually do care. Ohhh, yes, that...that certainly is worth being interested in.
Wait, what did you say? Stop that, I canÕt think when you do that. What did you just say?
You want us to stop...this? Oh, you want us to stop...the coping mechanisms.
Toots, has it occurred to you that a coping mechanism may be all this is?
No, I did not say that just to make you mad and distract you from us quitting. Besides, you without whiskey? Not going to happen.
You what? You lov—
I know IÕm supposed to say it back.
No IÕm not thinking about Spock. IÕm thinking about how you canÕt tell me to give up something thatÕs gotten me through life since I was fifteen and then tell me you love me.
I donÕt know if I love you back, okay?
No, I donÕt think IÕd know if I did if I werenÕt on drugs. IÕm not on drugs right now.
Okay, yes, thatÕs a lie. But youÕve got an empty glass on the nightstand, Mister Pot.
ThatÕs ridiculous. You canÕt make me choose you or them.
YouÕre making me choose you or them?
I did not tell you all this just to have you force me into some idiotic either/or scenario. I told you because IÕm sick of hiding the truth from you—and because I thought you could handle it. Because...youÕre as screwed up as I am.
You are, too. Possibly even more screwed up.
God, why did I even bother?
No, I wonÕt come back to bed.
What? You canÕt be serious? The CMO does not manage inventory.
Fine. Watch all you want. I can quit anytime. DonÕt be surprised if that bottle you keep in your office goes missing. Or maybe isnÕt full of booze anymore.
What? Only you get to play this game?
Watch my step? Watch my goddamn step? You watch my step. Right out of this room.
Oh and Len, you should ask the captain how I got on his ship. It wasnÕt my fast-talking that did it. Daddy talked to someone who talked to an admiral. Daddy can talk to lots of people. People, say, in Savannah, who hold the note on that house youÕre barely scraping payments on?
Yeah, you did tell me about that. You were really drunk at the time.
All IÕm saying is, you might not want to tick me off too much.
Oh, that did it. Careful, lover, youÕve had a lot to drink.
Yeah, well I fucking hate you, too.
Mmm, right here? On the floor? What is it with you and the angry sex?
Well, I improvised. I thought you might like the poor little rich girl angle. And you do drink too much.
No, I donÕt do drugs. Imbecile. ItÕs called role-playing for a reason.
This floor is cold. No, sore knees do not make up for a freezing backside. Let me up.
Yes, I really did look up the captainÕs injury report. Yes, it really is the highest of any starship captain.
Yes, maybe you should.