Down the Hatch

Posted on 29 Sep 2009 @ 5:40pm by Colonel Stadi Andrus

1,434 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: M2: Aggressive Negotiations
Location: Flight Control Officer's Quarters
Timeline: Current

CJ sat slumped in the corner of his quarters, the top half of his uniform cast unceremoniously on the floor, one shoe off and one barely on. Above him, the screen of the computer panel was still illuminated, listing a priority personal message from Starfleet Command. The message kindly informed Lieutenant Junior Grade Curtiss James DeHavilland, son of Commander Zari DeHavilland that the afore mentioned officer had tragically been killed in an accident aboard the USS Archibald three days previous. It offered the condolences of the entire Starfleet family, but somehow it hardly seemed enough.

It had been three hours since he'd received the message, and he'd hardly moved. He didn't want to, the only movements he had made in the last three hours were the steady up and down motions of his left hand lifting a dusty old bottle of brown liquid to his lips and setting it back down. At this point, the strong liquid didn't even burn on the way down. It was strange. He couldn't feel anything about his body, his arms, his legs, even his own skin yet, his was in pain; excruciating pain. What did it matter anymore? He was the only DeHavilland left. His father was gone, and now his mother was gone. What if he never had any children, what if he never met anyone who wanted them with him. He would go to his grave, the last of his house. The pain of it was unbearable.

He took another long draught of the bottle and set it down empty, knocking it away with his left hand and sending it skittering across the room. As he watched it roll away, he was suddenly upset to see it go, and found himself in desperate need of replacement. He rolled himself over and got to his feet carefully, tripping over his shirt and a few other scattered personal items before hitting the wall next to his bookshelves, steadying himself for a moment before reaching into the small cabinets and pulling out a much larger bottle, filled with clear liquid. He pulled the stopper out and tossed it unceremoniously across the room before tilting it upwards and chugging several gulps down. The burn of the vodka stung his throat, a different feeling than the bourbon, and he pulled the bottle away, grateful for the feeling distracting him from the deeper issues at hand. He turned to his right and saw the computer screen still alive and started shaking with anger. In his fury he grabbed a nearby brass sextant and chucked it heartily at the screen. The heavy object made solid contact with the panel and continued through the glass into the innards with a startling report and sizzle of computer components.

CJ didn't flinch, he just took another heavy gulp from his bottle stumbled to the window, looking out at the space beyond, wishing in that moment that he could break open the window and float away. As if his self-deprecating thoughts had been cast out to the crew at large, his door chime rang.

"Piss off." he said quietly, putting the bottle back to his lips and downing enough to sterilize a small Sick Bay. He slammed the bottle down on the pane of the view port as the chime rang again. He ignored it. The chime rang a third time, and this time CJ threw his bottle of vodka hard across the room, making contact with the door and sending what had been contained within the glass all over the door and carpet. Angry with himself for wasting his booze, he stumbled back to the cabinet and pulled out one of five remaining bottles, this time of the Mexican variety. As he stepped away from the cabinet and turned the bottle over in his mouth, the door to his quarters slid open of their own accord and he stared blankly back at his guest over the lip of his bottle before slowly pulling it down.

"What?" he said after a heavy gulp.

Melanie stepped through the threshold of the door and over the broken glass. She went directly to him and gently removed the bottle from his hand. Melanie knew exactly how he was feeling, she had just lost someone too.

"No more." She whispered. Melanie had could feel his pain mixed in with her own and he wasn't going to find the solution to this pain at the bottom of a bottle, no more than she was going to find the solution to her pain by killing the one she knew was responsible for Talar's death.

CJ blinked stupidly at her, not sure how to deal with the woman that had just taken his pain medicine. Did he knock down this stranger to his quarters, or did he embrace this beautiful woman and friend and pour himself out.

"No more?" he whispered, pulling his lips across his teeth to keep his emotions in check, "That's the problem... no more..." he said, looking down in disgust and wavering on the spot.

Melanie opened her mind and tried to comfort him. "Let me help you...please CJ...."

CJ shook his head and cast her off, stepping through his broken bottle and out into the corridor, tripping on the slick carpet and crashing into the opposing wall with a loud thud.

She stumbled back as he pushed his way passed her. She watched him fall and swore. Looking around, Melanie ran to the nearby med station and grabbed the medkit. Melanie went back and knelt down next to him and went to work.

The gash on his head was hard to repair because of the amount of alcohol he had consumed but she was able to fix it. Melanie prepped the hypospray with medication that would counter the alcohol and wake him up.

"Come on CJ...I can't carry you back to your quarters...you have to help me out here." Melanie said softly.

CJ shook his head and crumpled to the floor, his stomach churning from the alcohol and whatever Melanie and hit him with. Trying to contain his stomach he thumped his head against the bulkhead and slid back to the floor, shaking. It wasn't worth even trying.

Melanie grabbed the hypospray again and gave him an anti-nauseant. She took him by the face and made him look at her. "Look at me CJ....I'm here...don't make me pull CMO on you...I can't carry you back into your quarters...come with me...please." She said quietly.

With a groan, CJ tried to get to his feet, but his legs felt like pudding. As he slipped and fell back to the deck, he started laughing hysterically.

"CJ?" Melanie looked frightened, she had seen many things but this was not a reaction that she was expecting from him and she was debating doing a site to site transport to sickbay.

He shook his head, still laughing, but tears streaming down his face all the while. "The floor's moving." he choked.

"I am not surprised with the amount of alcohol that you consumed...but if you don't want people to start talking...or asking if you are going to fly the ship drunk...I suggest that we move back to your quarters...or I take you to sickbay...your choice."

CJ giggled harder, "Taking my back to your place already." he laughed, leaning heavily into her as he tried to stand again. "I accept."

"I may be Betazoid but I am not that kind of girl." She moved him back to his quarters and let him fall unceremoniously on the floor.

"You will sleep this off before anything like that happens...and I highly doubt you will remember this..." She crouched down near him after bringing the medkit back with her. Melanie heard the door close and was thankful that no one had seen him this way.

"Mmmm. You're so soft." he muttered, curling up with the blankets strewn on the floor before passing out completely.

Melanie sighed and rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. She went to the replicator and grabbed cup of tea and curled up on the couch. She would wait for him to sleep it off and then she would deal with the after effects. The things that she did for her friends...

Melanie Hemmingway
Chief Medical Officer
USS Freedom

Curtiss 'CJ' DeHavilland
Chief Flight Controller
USS Freedom

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