Bad Memories

by Satin Ragdoll

I need a drink. A good stiff one. Maybe two. I thought I had put it behind me. You know, excorcised this personal demon. After all, it's been years. But you know what they say: bad memories never die, they just go underground.

I've had a lot of experience with that. Wrap it up, lock it away, and forget it. I'm a doctor, if we don't all do that in some respect, we're toast. Too much grief and loss, not to mention blood and broken bones. It's something I know well. Too well.

This is different, however. As shallow as this is gonna sound, this time I'm the one that went through the trauma. Not another patient, me. Blasted bearded Vulcan! Kae'at k'lasa is no laughing matter. Spock had to help me, and it took all my courage to let him into my head. His counterpart really messed me up. I kept flashing back, having nightmares. My work suffered and my friendship with Spock suffered. For a little while I couldn't even stand being in the same room with him. As much as it shames me, I was scared of him.

Despite that, I let him help me. He went inside my head and saw it all. My fear, my shame, the stupid blaming myself that I had let my guard down. It was stupid, especially in a place like that, but it was Spock for Heaven's sake! Well, a version of him, at least. I learned the difference the hard way. It was the difference between a scalpel and a rusty razor blade.

Anyway, the point is, Spock saw it all. Felt it all. That's why I can hardly believe he did what he did. I know it was neccessary, I know it was logical, I know it was war if he didn't. But...I just can't get past my own experience on this.

Kae'at k'lasa, or forced mind-meld, for those who don't speak Vulcan, hurts! It's mind rape, as crude as that sounds, and is just as much a violation as physical rape. Me, I'm a tough old bird. But even I knew that I was no match for Spock's counterpart. I didn't fight. I didn't fight, and it still hurt. But I didn't scream. This tough old bird didn't scream. Valeris...Valeris screamed. She screamed, and she's Vulcan. Full blooded Vulcan.

I had seen how angry Spock had been at her. Spock's counterpart hadn't been angry, just serious and curious and...hungry. So hungry. If he would've had one ounce less of control, I would have been convulsing on the floor, mindless. I saw that he had done that once before, and not by accident, either. But hunger isn't anger, it isn't wrath. I just have to wonder what our Spock actually did to her.

So, I'm going to have me a stiff drink when this is all over. Plus, I'm probably going to have to take some of those red anti-nightmare pills tonight. Maybe tomorrow night, too. Maybe the whole blasted week.