Not a Headcase
Not a Headcase
Summary: Nigel manages to visit Eve instead of the Taproom, and more headshrinking ensues.
Date: 12 ACH
Related Logs: Mind Games

Sickbay Genesis - Deck 13
11 ACH 6735 Souls

The medical facility is large enough to hold a few dozen beds. Each bed is set with a curtain for privacy, a chair near the bed and any monitoring or medical aids needed. A nurses desk sits at the front near the hatch and a surgery area, Medical Officers area and supplies are on the far wall behind the desk. Nurses, doctors and medics man this area at any time day or night. Visiting hours are usually kept to the day and evening schedules, unless stated otherwise by medical staff.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Nigel Medical Charts Memorial Board Wireless 1492

Exits: [CMO] CMOs Office [O] Corridor
[PO] Psychiatry Office [RW] Recovery Ward

Special: +lhelp - Local Help Available

You knock on the door to Psychiatry Office.

Eve comes in from Psychiatry Office.
Eve has arrived.

Nigel is pacing outside the Psychiatry office, his coveralls unzipped and the top half tied around his waist with his sleeves.

The door the the psychiatry office opens, Evelyn sticking her head out, but keeping the door mostly closed. "I'm sorry, I'm in a session, is this some sort of emergency…?"

Nigel looks up as Eve pokes her head out, his eyes red-rimmed and his fists clenched at his sides. "I just… I need to talk. I can wait." He starts stumbling backwards towards the waiting area, falling into a chair. "Sorry." With his elbows going to his knees, he hangs his head and begins pushing his hands all through his hair obsessively.

Eve presses her lips together into a thin line, then gives a curt nod of her head. "Of course, Nigel. Just give me a moment." She then slips back into the office, closing the door with a quiet snick.

Eve leaves for Psychiatry Office [PO].
Eve has left.

Eve comes in from Psychiatry Office.
Eve has arrived.

Micah comes in from Psychiatry Office.
Micah has arrived.

Micah steps out of the psyche's office briskly, and makes his way out of the medbay.

Eve lets Micah depart her office first, pushing the doorway further open and sweeping a hand back towards. "C'mon in." She murmurs softly to Nigel, offering the obviously distraught man a warm, soft smile.

Nigel is back to pacing, no longer sitting in the chair he was when Eve last saw him. His red-rimmed eyes are on the ceiling, but when the door opens he glances in its direction with a jerk. As he looks over Micah, his expression twists into something aggressive, but he doesn't say anything. When Eve speaks, he wipes the look from his face and nods, then moves in that direction.

Micah smirks at Nigel.

Micah leaves for Corridor 13B [O].
Micah has left.

You head towards Psychiatry Office.
Psychiatry Office Genesis - Deck 13
11 ACH 6735 Souls

This room is decorated in a deep, rich green color. Some plants are in pots here, including one climbing Ivy on a small trellis which stretches up the side of a wooden bookcase set against one wall, filled with textbooks. There is a desk in front of a few file cabinets in the corner of the room farthest from the door, while opposite the bookshelves there is a comfortable looking leather reclining setee with a large leather chair next to it with an unobtrusive table nearby with a box of disposable tissues on it.
----< Condition Three - Duty Area >----—-
Contents: Nigel

Exits: [O] Out

Eve comes in from Sickbay.
Eve has arrived.

Eve closes the door quietly behind them, trading one situation for another like the situation is as easy as switching on a light switch. "What happened…?" She starts quietly, not bothering to offer coffee or any other pleasantries. Her arm sweeps out, indicating the seatee.

Nigel's jaw is tight, his lips drawn in a line as his nostrils flare. He drops into the settee, ending up in much the same position as he did in the waiting area: elbows to knees, hands running through his hair. "That idiot pilot who just came out is a frakking hypocrite and a jerk, you know that? You should put that in his file: acute hypocritisis or whatever the medical term is for someone who throws around words like 'crazies' for people who happen to sit on this couch." He stops pushing his hands around his head and sits up straighter to look at Eve, finally getting around to answering her question. "After… it happened. I got shitfaced and went to work and the cap— the major caught me. She sent me back to my bunk and told me to sleep it off but said if it happened again she'd stick me in the brig and I don't wanna go to the brig but I don't know how to deal with any of this and Lily's working and I'm a frakking disappointment and everyone's dead and I just want to drink myself to death and I can't stay here but there's nowhere to go AWOL—" And about here it just starts becoming incomprehensible.

Eve gets that little 'aha' look to her features, at least that explains the aggressive look given to Micah as he entered. "Its alright, Nigel. You're here now and we'll talk through this. But first you just need to calm down, take a deep breath, and ease up on your poor hair before you're bald." She says quietly, folding herself into the chair next to the seatee, not offering physical comfort by way of touch, but proximity.

Nigel pushes a fist over his eyes, knuckles digging into the sockets briefly. He purses his lips to keep them from quivering, his chin growing taut as he sucks in a haggard breath through his nostrils. He repeats this a few times, bitten nails digging into the cushion of the settee. "Can't you just give me some kind of tranquilizer or sedative or something? I just want to be numb."

Eve leans forward slightly, "That's not the way to go about this. I know it hurts, Nigel. I know its hard to deal, but we have to go through these emotions, not just push them away. If we don't deal with them, they just fester and manifest in hurtful ways later down the road."

"Then fix me," Nigel pleads, returning his hands to his face. "All I ever was to my parents was a disappointment. High school, I barely graduated. College, I flunked out of and ended up in rehab. Then I had to write home saying I was transferred to the Genesis and demoted, and that's - that's the last they ever heard from me. Now they're dead, and the last thing they ever heard from me was that I'd frakked up. Again. Again and again and again." He brings a fist to his mouth, biting into the knuckle to choke back a sob.

Eve folds her hands together almost as in prayer, pressing the steepled fingers to her lips. "Its not that simple, Nigel. I can't just flip a switch and solve all your problems. First, you need to calm down. No one is a failure. You're taking important steps here, coming in, talking to me. We'll work through it all together, one piece at a time, okay? Right now, the big picture is overwhelming, but if we break it down into pieces, they become easier to manage, alright?"

Nigel reflects on Eve's words for a moment, taking his knuckle out from between his teeth without loosening their grip, creating a welt with little broken blood vessels where he bit. He goes silent, visibly trying to calm himself down, then speaks. "How do we break it down?"

Eve smiles reassuringly, "Little by little. First, I need you to understand that the drinking doesn't just affect you. Especially when you show up on duty under the influence. It can cause accidents, and that's one thing we certainly can't afford right now."

"That's why I'm here," Nigel states defensively, pushing a hand - just one - through his hair. "I came here instead of the Taproom. I don't want to go to the brig, and I don't want Lily upset with me." He swallows dryly. "But I can't come here all the time, I know that. I'm not a headcase. I'm not." His defensive tone resurfaces.

Not that headcase is any better than Micah's previous usage of the term 'crazies', but Evelyn doesn't outwardly react to that. "No. You're not, Nigel. You're just dealing with a great loss. But whether its here, or when I'm off duty, I'm always willing to talk. Just know I have obligations, too." She shifts a bit in her chair, easing forward to the edge of it. "One thing you have to realize, is that parents love their children. No matter what. And the fact that you're trying to do right now? They would be proud to know that. You're not a disappointment unless you choose to be a disappointment."

Nigel runs a thumb along the arch of one brow, green eyes shut as he just sits and breathes for a few moments. After a while, he lets go of a ragged sigh and looks up at Evelyn, evenly. "But that's just it. I know they loved me. But I basically told them to frak off with their unconditional love by constantly screwing up. I caused them so much worry and heartache, I know it. I'll never get to apologize, and they'll never get to know that I made this giant leap of improvement by," he laughs out a harsh sound, "walking int othe psych's office instead of the bar." He makes a 'big deal' finger-twirl in the air.

"The key is, you make your amends how you can now. You have Lily left, so you now do right by her. Every day you are faced by choices, what you lack is the clarity to make the right one. We're going to work through this, and help you make healthier choices, alright?" Evelyn's tone is soft and comforting. "One small step at a time."

The psych's mention of Lily elicits a slow, comprehending nod. "Okay. All right. What's the first step, then?" It's as though Nigel believes that by following some sort of routine as prescribed by a doctor, he will become miraculously 'fixed.'

Eve eases back into her chair, settling into the leather confines. "Well. We can start with the picture I asked you to draw me. Did you have time?" The question is posed lightly, as given the circumstances were his answer to be 'no', it wouldn't be judged unfavorably.

Nigel begins unzipping his coveralls the rest of the way, which merely cover his fatigues. He leaves them pooled around his form on the settee, then shifts his weight to lift himself up so he can fumble around in his back pocket. Pulling out a folded piece of drawing paper, he hands it off to Eve. When unfolded, the charcoal image of Nigel's own face is immediately recognizable. His neck and shoulders, too - bare save for one small detail. A tiny woman stands upon his left shoulder, her features obscured by the lack of detail that charcoal affords. It is plainly evident that she has her hands cupped to her mouth as she tilts her head upward, towards Nigel's face, as though trying to gain his attention by yelling. The look in his eyes is oblivious. "I did that before the attacks," he informs her, zipping his coveralls back up halfway, keeping the upper half tied around his waist.

Eve studies the drawing she's provided, eyes filtering over it but likely not missing any of the details, its after several long silent moments before her eyes lift back to to his face. "You have a great talent, Nigel." She says simply, letting her brain categorize all the markers of the image he drew. "Who's the woman?" She asks.

Nigel scratches at the back of his head, settling back into the setee with a slouch. "Lily," he answers simply, the barest hint of a smile flickering over his features. A mere blip.

Eve treats the piece of paper reverently, "Your voice of reason. This is good, Nigel. But why isn't he paying attention?" She asks quietly, dissociating the man in the picture form Nigel directly, but the coorelation is plain.

Nigel frowns slightly, leaning over to see if he can glimpse of the picture, as if needing a reminder. "He's - I don't know. Watching a woman walk by, maybe." Back to his old tricks, he settles himself into the cushions once more. "Or maybe he's heard what she's yelling at him several times before. Maybe he knows it by heart."

Eve obligingly turns the picture slightly so he can peer at it again, though not enough that she loses sight of it. "What do you think would happen, if he just turned his head, and paid attention?"

"All would be right with the world," Nigel answers flippantly, putting a hand to his cheek and rubbing. "He probably wouldn't frak up as much, and he could probably hold it together a lot better than… this." He slumps further, moving the hand from his cheek to his eyes, covering the top half of his face. "Lily - she's got everything together. She knows how to compartmentalize, how to hold herself back, how to… gods, she's perfect. She just got promoted to Lieutenent JG, you know? For keeping her head cool in a crisis and saving a bunch of people. If it were me, stuck in the Pandora? I'd be dead, and so would everyone else whose lives depended on me." He pauses, then lets his hand drop, shooting a mildly astonished gaze at Eve. He clearly didn't mean to get that detailed.

As the OR heats up outside, Eve glances up, watching shadows scurry across the blinds and muffled voices shouting medical jargon. "What you're lacking is confidence in yourself, Nigel. You /can/ do the right thing, its just not perhaps the easiest. Its easy to slip away now, into the bottle, and deal with the consequences later. But those days are over, you don't have that luxury any more. We all have to work together, to protect our race. Protect your sister, Nigel. You may not realize it, but she needs you. And you /can/ do this."

Nigel's eyes likewise go to the blinds as things pick up in the hospital around them, and he loses a bit of focus because of it. "Lily doesn't need anyone," he laments with a shake of his head. "She didn't need me when she announced she was going to join the Navy. I followed her because I needed /her/. And now - you should see the way she's kept it together, mothering me while dealing with work at the same time. If she needed me, /she'd/ be the one coming to me in tears, instead of the other way around." He grits his teeth, pounds his fist on his thigh, and exclaims, "What I need to do is stop being so weak."

Eve delicately folds his picture along the same crease lines that were required to get it down into his pocket. "Maybe." Her eyes flick up to meet his. "She needed someone to help." She shifts forward to the edge of her seat again, "You're not weak, you're human Nigel. You just need a better way to deal with your issues." She holds up the folded paper, "Another one, for next time." Seems the doctor just might have a clue as to what that way might be.

Nigel purses his lips again, rising to his feet. He hangs his head, kicking his feet at the carpet a few times before untying the sleeves from his waist and slipping back into his coveralls all the way. He doesn't zip them up, though. "All right," he mumbles, offering a bare nod. "Thanks for talking to me. Even if it is your job." He turns, heading towards the door.

Eve rises from her seat as he does. "Its not just my job, Nigel." She says softly, likely there's a good deal of passion and general want to help people that comes along with it.

Nigel blows out a breath, his shoulders falling slightly as he does so. Then he's out the door.

You head towards Sickbay.

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