Meanwhile on the less violent fish ship....

[save_the_souls]

Who: The Blue Fish Crew & Any Visitors
Broadcast: MAYBE
Action: SS Blue Fish
When: Beginning of July

[So in the past month, Aang & Katara may or may not have become an item, Sokka finished off all of puberty in under a week, Allen remained stuck in the puberty still, Toph won strangest pilot award briefly before she had to give it up to a pony, Hawke sassed everything and finally itemized with Anders, Beverly acquired a Starfleet issued puppy, and it turned out the cook is a flipping disney princess. Quite a time for the Blue Fish crew!]

[Well, it's time to check in with them again: AKA IT'S A MINGLE EVERYONE]

Comments

[dancingmd]

[Fortunately or unfortunately, she takes that "you" to be a general one, not one specifically applying to her.]

There's hardly anything "normal" about this fleet. Try not to compare yourself so much to everyone else, to what you think is their definition of normal because I guarantee you we as a group will never reach a consensus on that. Besides, everyone here has some sort of baggage, whether they talk about it or not. You've just got to focus on taking care of you.

[catamite]

But they all still just... talk all the time, and watch. I don't--

[a frustrated noise in his throat turns into a pathetic hiccup.]

I'm not used to it. I, like... try to keep smiling and stuff, and try not to bother anybody, and pretend like it's okay... but I can't keep doing it all the time.

[dancingmd]

[That little hiccup... be careful, Nel, or she's going to cry too.]

You shouldn't have to, and you don't, not around me at least. If you don't want to smile, then don't. If you want to cry, then cry. And if you just want to sit in silence, that's okay too.

[catamite]

But it's stupid, and I'm not supposed to-- ugh.

[another frustrated, disgusted noise, and he brings up balled-up hands to either side of his head and crunches his eyes closed. he's letting too much of what's stuck up in his head out, it's messy, but he can't make it stop.]

I'm sorry. I just... keep doing this. And getting people upset... and making people really mad...

[dancingmd]

Oh no, no, no, Nel. [Gently, but firmly, she moves his fists away from his head and folds his hands into hers.] It's not stupid. It's not stupid at all.

[catamite]

Yes it is. I can't-- everything is just all messed up now.

[he lets her take his hands because he's not about to fight her. not physically, anyway. with his arms kept away from his face, tears just leak pathetically down his face with nothing to stop them.]

... I'm a mess. Can't even sleep in my own bed...

[and his voice finally just breaks over the last word. curling up where he's at, his shoulders hunch up with the effort to keep his sobs tight and quiet in his chest.]

[dancingmd]

[Finally, she cracks as well and releases his hands in order to wrap him up in a hug. Part of her worries that this might be the wrong thing to do, but she doesn't know what else to say, if words are really any help at this point. So she doesn't try anymore. Instead, she just keeps stroking his hair and lets him cry.]

[catamite]

[at least he's not well versed in what the professional boundaries between doctor and patient are supposed to be, so he doesn't know any better.

it's just that someone in the world is going so far as to wrap their arms around him and give him a hug. it opens up the ache in his chest, and--with a pang--it makes him think of the last couple of people willing to do that. he maybe hadn't realized how much he missed them, until right then.

it all adds up to him just wrapping himself up into a small, sad shape as he cries--as if maybe he could just wrestle all of the pieces together tight enough to make it stop. if he could just dam up all the gaps, all of these ugly tears and messy sobs would stop pouring out.]

[dancingmd]

[Professional or not, the hug seems to be doing Nel some good. Without entirely realizing that's she's doing it, she's rocking him a little as well, as her own eyes start tearing up in sympathy.]

It's okay, I'm here.

[catamite]

[he can't remember the last time that he was allowed to just cry like this. it's uncomfortable and embarrassing, but something at least feels a little lighter deep in his chest when he finally begins to catch his breath. he can't keep up that kind of emotional momentum forever, and he grapples for control again as soon as he can manage.

he finally forces everything down toward sad hiccups instead of muffled sobs, and uncurls enough to talk--his voice still strained and wet.]

Ugh... gross...

[dancingmd]

[A couple of sympathetic chuckles escape her at that and she lets go of him in order to fetch him some tissues, surreptitiously wiping her own eyes first. After handing him the box, she sits in her chair again, still next to him, but giving him some space if he wants it.]

Better?

[catamite]

[balancing the box on his knees, hunkered over it with his shoulders still shrugged up in that way that makes him seem smaller, he just squishes a couple of tissues onto his eyes.

and he silently shrugs. he doesn't know if he'd use the word better.]

[dancingmd]

[She reaches over and pats his hand. That's okay. Having a good cry is important, but it's not always enough.]

What do you want to do now?

[catamite]

I want a drink.

[and he laughs pathetically, a little bit. but he still means it.]

[dancingmd]

[She smiles sadly at that.]

I promise, I will get started on the synthehol as soon as I can.

[catamite]

[he wads up the tissues in his hands and straightens up, taking a deep breath to try and pull himself together.] Okay.

[his eyes are still a little leaky and his nose is red, but he's trying.]

How long... do you think it will take?

[dancingmd]

[And she'll politely pretend not to notice the leaky eyes and red nose.]

I can't give you an exact timeline yet. I think I have most of the necessary ingredients, but I'll need some different equipment before I can start.

[A slight frown appears as she stops and debates with herself. She really should not offer this, but seeing as there is no way she is giving him any sleeping pills right now anyway and he certainly can't keep going with no sleep while she takes the time to build what she needs...]

Have you ever had a hot milk toddy?

[catamite]

[the despair is just beginning to sink in again, because when you're dangling on the precarious end of a chemical rope, any little bit of waiting feels impossible.

but the question sounds enough like an offer of something presumably helpful, that it buoys him just enough.

looking tentatively hopeful, he shakes his head.]

[dancingmd]

[Oh god, he's so heartbreaking.]

It's a drink that I've used it in the past to help me get to sleep. I could make you some, before you go try to go to bed...

[catamite]

Oh yeah? ...What's in it?

[dancingmd]

Milk and some honey and nutmeg and a little bit of brandy. Admittedly it probably won't taste exactly right with the ingredients we have here, but if it helps you get to sleep... well, we can try it, even if it won't be a permanent solution.

[catamite]

Oh...

[he gets quiet for a second, as he thinks about it.

and when he does finally smile a little bit, it's of the embarrassed, painfully wistful kind.]

...My mom used to make us something like that, I think.

[dancingmd]

[How many times can a space mom's heart break, I ask you?

This heartbreak is personally familiar to her, however, as she lost both her parents at a young age. Oftentimes it's the little reminders that hit you the hardest.]

My Nana did too. I've always found it comforting, when I'm stressed or far away from home.

[catamite]

[he nods a little--still looking exhausted and mentally wrung-out, but having some parting thing to look forward to helps.]

...That sounds nice. I'd like that.

[dancingmd]

[She reaches out again and rests her hand gently on his.]

Good. I have a few things I need to finish up first, but you can wait in here if you want, and then we'll go back to the kitchen. Sound like a plan?