Accidental Terror Triggers

Posted on Wed 6th May, 2026 @ 2:23am by Lieutenant Wyndon Rapisarta MD & Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Makila i'Hartelhai

2,635 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: [TIE-IN] - Backposts (From the Ashes)
Location: Sickbay

Trauma is hell on Earth. Trauma resolved is a gift from the gods. --Peter A. Levine

The agreed upon time was approaching, and Wyndon had prepared a general proposal on his PADD for the research that he wanted to have the young Dr. i'Hartelhai's opinion on. He was scheduled to meet her after her last appointment, and was slowly walking towards the medical library.

Makila waved at her patient and "uhtra akden hwio!"

The other older Romulan woman simply laughed, waving back and calling "Khnai'ra maenek, bedah."

Rounding the corner, Wyndon froze, the words sending a grey cast over his vision. Narrowing his visual field to a sliver of light, with pulsating darkness at the edges of it. Simple words were more than enough to affect the doctor in a way he was not expecting. His eyes dilated and pure atavistic fear.

It hasn't been delivered in this sing song a tone that the prisoners have been subjected to but it was enough that the syllables were said in a female voice to send him falling blindly into Terror. His mind screamed a negative, even as his voice was stuck in his throat.

Makila not been maintaining her Shields adequately as she often did these days because of her lack of training in the mental arts. When the waves of pure panic washed over her she found herself caught up. Unable to escape, her eyes pinned while she stared, her mind attempting to disengage, but being unable due to the force of the emotion.

Even as he flattened himself against the wall behind him seeking an escape route from the Romulan in front of him he looked into her eyes. Violet? A trickle of awareness that this wasn’t real entered his conciousness, but he could no more do anything about that than he could breathe at the present moment. None of the guards had violet eyes, had they brought in someone new? A new trick to unsettle him into revealing the secrets the Federation held, not that a doctor had the secrets nor the access codes to get into anything important yet still here he was. “Please I don't know anything. I'm not privy to the Command Staff decisions.” Wyndon’s voice broke as he spoke…sliding himself into the space between the plant and the great desk, attempting to become as small a target as possible.

A touch on her elbow was enough to startle Makila into a squeak, but it drew her back to the here and now. Unsure how much time had passed as she'd been so caught in his spiraling anxiety that she'd been unable to move. Violet eyes lit on the technician who'd stumbled upon her and she offered a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"I need you to go get Dr. Graves. Quietly, but immediately and bring him here. Tell him it's an emergency. Go!" The technician ran, as the tone of her voice left no alternative but to do what she said.

Makila's head was pounding, but she stayed in the doorway barring anyone's entrance into the library. Hopefully, Dr. Graves would come with all haste, as she'd never declared an emergency before.

Paul's computer chimed as he dictated chart notes from his most recent patient's session. He paused and answered the message. "Yes, Deosha?"

"Doctor, I've received a message from Technician Nylas. He says you're needed for an emergency in the medical library."

What could possibly happen in the medical library? Paul wondered. "Thanks, Deosha. I'm on my way. Tell him I'll be there in a couple of minutes. Cancel my appointments for the next two hours; I'll let you know if this will take any longer than that." Paul collected his version of a Starfleet medikit and hurried out of his office at a brisk walk. He took the stairs up a flight to where the library was and headed toward it.

He felt the raw terror as he neared the library, and it quickened his steps. He shielded the best he could and was relieved to see Dr. i'Hartelhai at the entrance to the library, keeping passersby out. Thankfully, she wasn't the one broadcasting.

"Hello, Makila. What's the situation?" he asked. Paul glanced past her, to see someone wedged in between a potted plant and a desk. Whoever it was looked ashen with fear.

The relief in her face was almost painful to look at as she raised her eyes from the floor. "I am not completely certain, Paul. I was supposed to be meeting Dr. Rapisarta regarding some of the research I was doing for the Xir'Kai. He had a proposition for me, research-wise, that we were going to discuss. I was just sending off my last patient of the day and..." she gestured to the man in the corner with both hands. Her lips were pale and she was clearly still feeling the effects of his fear.

"This is Dr. Rapisarta?" Paul asked. "I haven't met him yet," he explained. "Duty in Ops gives me odd hours."

"I don't know. I've never met him either." Makila took a breath and physically shook herself so that she could rejoin reality. Tapping her PADD she pulled up a picture of the man. Glancing from the photo, to the man she nodded "Yes, that's him."

"Let me see if I can get him more aware of the present," Paul said. He knelt down in front of the other man and looked him over to see if he had anything obvious on his person that might be dangerous. such as a stylus or a scalpel. Not finding anything and not sensing a desire on Rapisarta's part to conceal anything, Paul spoke to him in a low, quiet voice.

"Dr. Rapisarta? I'm Dr. Graves. You look like you're very frightened right now. Will you let me help you?"

"Wyndon Rapisarta, MD. Serial number SM3912359." His closed eyes didn't allow him to see that it was a Starfleet doctor speaking to him. The arm was raised to protect himself from the voices and he whispered further "I don't have access to command decisions."

"That's fine," Paul told him, "they're very much overrated." He paused a moment. "Would you do me a favor, Doctor? Would you open your eyes and tell me what you see? It's safe for you to put your hand down. No one will hurt you here."

That wasn't the normal reply for that, and he was jolted by the alteration in what he remembered and what was happening. The roaring in his ears reduced slightly and he cracked an eyeball for a moment. His vision was still dark at the edges and glittered with sparkles. Nothing was currently visible to him. Shaking his head silently, he closed his eyes again.

"Can you tell me what you're hearing?" Paul asked. He knew he had gotten through a tiny bit; he'd felt the man's puzzlement at not getting the response he'd expected.

Another unusual question, and not the typical repertoire of the Tal'Shiar. It was enough that he took a breath and didn't get the whiff of unwashed bodies and blood, but rather that of antiseptic and greenery. "I...don't" Wyndon's voice shook and then steadied when he repeated "I don't hear anything..."

Paul drummed his fingers against the desk and glanced at Rapisarta to see if he reacted. Then he turned to Makila and mouthed the words, Make noise.. A moment later, he gestured with one hand brushing upward against his throat and moving away from his lips in a graceful wave. "Can you sing?" he whispered to Makila.

Sing? Makila nodded a slow affirmative, she could sing though she didn't often consider the benefits of doing so. Licking her lips twice, she thought furiously. It took a moment to find a song in her mind that would fit the setting, and more importantly was set in English. A rihan song would destroy this attempt to calm the man. A soft, tentative alto emerged after a moment of soft humming to find the tone the song began upon. "Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray. Down by the the walls of warping, where I met a sailor gay. Conversing with a young lass who seemed to be in pain. Saying William, when you go I fear you'll nae'er return again..."

Paul smiled to himself. It sounded like a song out of an Earth medieval festival, but it was understated and eldritch. He looked at Dr. Rapisarta's face to see the man's reaction.

That was so wrong it rocked him like a physical blow, and the scent of lemon exploded in his nose as the tree he was hiding behind gave off a lemony scent when he damaged the leaves. "No. No...This is all wrong..." he whispered more to himself than those watching, and cracked an eyelid to see what he had in his hand. The broad leaf, leaking a pale green sap onto his fingers was not a part of that memory, and the world began to right itself by a bare millimeter.

Good, they were making headway. "What are you hearing, Doctor?" Paul asked and drummed his fingers again as Makila sang.

"I don't...I don't understand." The swirling blackness that usually surrounded pain and burning now gave way to the blue of the office carpet and the silver of deck plating. He felt...adrift, but the drifting of his mind was blissfully, mercifully free of pain. He didn't understand.

"It's a therapeutic technique for helping people recover from memory flashbacks," Paul said to Dr. Rapisarta. "Five things you see, four that you hear, three that you feel, two you can smell, and one that you taste. Is this method familiar to you at all?"

Five things you can see. The memories of those first days of therapy intruded on his consciousness in a wave. A female voice in his memory, quiet but insistent that he would need to be able to manage it on his own someday. The someday was always dripping in doubt, in uncertainty that he'd ever be able to right his world.

Can't see anything with closed eyes.

So, with a great deal of hesitation on his part, he opened his eyes. They swam with glitter and motes of light until he could see the two people looking at him. One he recognized, faintly from looking her up. The other he did not, but it was the male voice that was doing the therapeutic techniques, so he guessed Psychiatry. He'd bitten his tongue, he noted, tasting blood and anxiety as sharp as the iron.

"I think you're coming back now," Paul said. "Would you like some water?"

Only if I can drown in it came the bitter thought as his hand came up to wipe away blood from the corner of his mouth. The look in his eyes was bleak and blank, hauntingly so as his eyes darted from Doctor to Doctor. Wyndon then nodded faintly.

"I'll see if I can sneak some past the librarian," Paul said with the air of doing something forbidden. "I'll be right back." It was a deliberate means of leaving Rapisarta alone with Makila, to learn that she wouldn't bite. She was probably the least frightening Romulan on 109 and thus a good person for him to start learning to trust. Besides, they were supposed to begin working together, Makila had said.

The young doctor was quiet for a moment, before she settled into a cross legged seated position across from the man who was still curled behind the plant. Her open expression and the faint echo of pain that knitted her eyebrows she hoped made her a less threatening person than the memory that he'd run from a bare hour ago. "Hi"

"Hi" he answered, unable to do anything else in the grasp of the moment but return the greeting.

"That's not exactly how I pictured us meeting, sir." Makila quipped, fear sweat drying on the back of her neck making her shiver.

The tiny huff of air that left him might have been a laugh, if the mood had been any less tense between them. The young woman was absolutely right, this was not at all how he'd imagined their meeting either. Closing his eyes, Wyndon took a shaky breath, and exhaled it in a manner that caused his shoulders to drop.

"Now that the ice is broken...I don't suppose we should pick up where we intended to take the conversation?" Makila's suggestion was quiet, but offered him a way out of his still palpable embarrassment.

"If you can find my PADD...." he gestured to the floor around him eloquently. He'd dropped it at some point and hadnt heard it skitter away into the darkness.

"Computer raise floor level lights 20%" there was a faint glow that started at the level of the baseboard decking and illuminated the dark corners of the library faintly. Makilas sharp eyes noticed the other doctor's pallor, and caused her to wonder if she should make some excuse to run a scanner over him. "Do you see it?"

"I cant see clearly yet" the man admitted though the blackness was receding he couldnt really focus. "I've never been good in dim light."

Makila made a rude sound and picked a scanner up from the deep pockets of her labcoat. She ran it over his head and body with a practiced ease. "It never occurred to you that such a thing isn't normal in this century?" She scolded him, exasperation clear in her tone.

"I'd never thought about it at all." Wyndon retorted, indignance in his voice which was a gigantic step away from the pure terror that had resided there before. He didn't acknowledge her point, aloud though he knew she'd see it in his face so close to him.

The library door hissed open, and Paul returned with three water bottles, two of which he handed to Makila and Wyndon. "Dealing with flashbacks is thirsty work," he said to them both. "How are you feeling now, Dr. Rapisarta?"

"Mortified" he answered honestly with the particular kind of self deprecation that was easy and clearly practiced.

Paul smiled at him and fought not to chuckle. "That is completely normal. May I help you up?"

Taking a pull from the water bottle allowed the man to finally unclench the muscles in his back and sides gone tight from stress. Then, hand trembling he reached up his left hand to clasp Paul's.

Paul provided a steadying hand so Wyndon could get his feet under him and stand.

"I gather I'm going to be seeing more of you, Commander?" Wyndon's voice was resigned, hinting at a deeper disquiet in his soul than had been visible initially.

"If you want to. I'm never going to tell you no," Paul said. "It's clear you've already had counseling for this, and you've had the training; it's just that something reminded you of your past and it caught you unawares. It happens. I don't think you're in imminent danger of becoming a basket case. I'm certainly available if you want to talk about what happened to you, and we can do a refresher of your training, if you like, but I'm not going to require you to see me every week. Maybe we follow up in about a month?"

"That's probably a good plan" The resignation hadn't left his voice, but it was laced with understanding. His situation was best aided with support, rather than without it.


*uhtra akden hwio. See you Later.
* Khnai'ra maenek, bedah." Thank you doctor, goodbye.

R: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElWddM8hqcU&list=RDGMEMYH9CUrFO7CfLJpaD7UR85wVMElWddM8hqcU&index=2

 

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