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Lt. Mirra Ezo - Forever changed

Sal Taybrim

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((Main Sickbay - Starbase 118))
::Mirra had reluctantly left Tyler's side, so she could order the necessary tests in order to get him discharged. It was strictly precaution, but had they not reached Tyler when they did, things could have ended very differently. Being blown through the wreckage into the deep cold of space, was more of a common occurrence in the lives of Starfleet officers than one would think. So, tests it was. Besides, the longer he was confined to bed, the more likely he would get the actual rest he desperately needed. She finalized the order in the computer, and sat back, staring aimlessly at the terminal in front of her. She was tired. No, she was exhausted. Both physically, and emotionally. Her empathic senses had been battered so thoroughly, she wasn't entirely sure there wouldn't be lasting damage. Her shoulders hunched involuntarily as unwelcome memories came bubbling to the surface. The mission...the suicidal mission, had been hell. Everyone felt it, the Sickbay of the now destroyed Albion had been filled with it, the dark, cold, fear. So thick it was as if it was being pumped through the air-vents. Looking down, she became distracted by the shaking of her left hand. When had that started...? She hadn't left Sickbay once since they returned. Tyler knew it, and had called her on it. He said she should go home. She had amazing staff and support doctors, he said that her staying was unnecessary. 
He was right, of course. She had what she thought of as a "dream team". Now even more complete with the addition of Dr. Phrik. Despite their...creative first encounter, Mirra was pleased he chose to accept Sal's offer. Like any good department head, she had done her research. He was a brilliant and talented surgeon, he had a finesse about him, that was noted heavily in remarks by his superiors. As was his...unique bedside manner. Which she had already noted, much to her amusement. He wasn't cruel per-say, just...direct. Very direct. Considering some of the more colorful patients that came through Sickbay...he'd fit in perfectly.  So when she caught sight of Junior Lieutenant Taelon walking by with a trolley of mechanical arms, heading towards Tatash' room, she stopped herself from following. Taelon was a uniquely brilliant scientist. His enthusiasm, and raw talent, was second to none that she had ever encountered, which, was why she sought him out to be the one who would be in charge of prosthetics. And considering Dr. Phrik was already planning on following up with Tatash...his direct, and realism would be well matched to ensure whichever replacement was chosen, was the right one. 
The shaking of her left hand was consistent, making a fist would only relieve the tremors for a short time before they'd return. It had to be due to the lack of proper sleep...or the fact that she hadn't had a real meal in...well she couldn't remember when. Glancing at the confirmation on the terminal, she realized the tests she ordered would take awhile to be completed, and then the results to return. It was enough time for her to go to her quarters for a shower and a change of uniform. Walking back by his room, Mirra saw Tyler had fallen back asleep. Good. She wouldn't disturb him. Catching the eye of one of the nurses, she relayed that she would be going home for a bit, but she'd be back soon. The look of relief on the nurses face was confirmation enough for her. They had been worried, and she made them that way. A small pang of guilt rippled through her, she quickly banished it and gave a small smile and wave of parting before heading out.::
((((Brief timeskip - Mirra's quarters - Starbase 118)))) 
::Getting back to her quarters had been uneventful. It was a nice change of pace from the last few days. Finally stepping in, it struck her. The familiar smell of the incense and meditation candles, the haphazard array of medical journals she had left on the table, a small ceramic cup that had been painted for her by Tyva Dal still sat next to the journals. The contents long gone, but the barest of stains from the tea she had sipped while reading remained. The tremors in her left hand increased, her whole arm now succumbing to the minuscule movements. Over the course of this last mission...some part of her never expected to see her quarters ever again. The realization slid up her spine, leaving a chill and goosebumps along her flesh in it's wake. That was the bare truth of it. She expected to die out there. Her whole body began to shake, she hadn't died, not physically anyways. But..a small part of her somehow never returned from the Albion...until now. 
Her breath became quick, and labored. With wooden legs, she hobbled over to her meditation area. Her hands shook so badly, she was unable to light either candle or incense. The tears came, coursing down her face. Rivers of pent up emotion that burst through the haphazardly constructed barriers. A sob tore through her, bringing her to knees as the proverbial flood gates burst through. Memories of the Albion, the Avalon, the countless death certificates signed, the number of catastrophic injuries that some would never recover fully from. Tatash, coding on her table. Tyler, half frozen and gasping for precious oxygen. Theo's burned hands, Aitas broken ribs, Taelon's bloody and broken face, the swirling faces of crewman lost assaulted her senses. Eyes open or closed the images remained the same. 
Somehow she managed to reach her bathroom before the retching started. Clinging to the cool metal of the receptacle, she gasped through the retching as everything over the past several days came pouring out along with the small amount of tea, toast, and the thoughtfully crafted catalana swirls from Lt. Kro. After a small eternity, the retching and dry heaves subsided. Breathing heavily, she slid down to the floor. Her sodden cheek laid against the cool tile of the bathroom floor. The tremors had begun to fade, only small little quakes remained. She had fallen apart spectacularly, it had come on sudden and unexpected, but...it was over. Curling into herself, she lay on the cool floor, utterly spent physically, and emotionally. The release had been brutal, cathartic, and completely necessary. She wasn't sure when, or for how long, but she had fallen asleep, curled up on the floor of her bathroom while the world continued on around her. She only became aware of that fact when she was jolted awake suddenly by the familiar voice of Theo.::
Whittaker: =/\= Whittaker to Senior Staff. Report to.... =/\= :: he looked down at the docking information. :: =/\= ... Main Hangar Bay, Docking Port Sixteen Baker for immediate deployment. We are taking our new auxiliary vessel for a shakedown cruise. =/\ = 
::Sitting up, she looked around, momentarily confused. Then the events of last night came seeping in. She nervously laughed at herself. Big, bad CMO curled up and crying on the bathroom floor. Shaking her head at the enormity of it all, she stood slowly, her aching muscles protesting their repose on the hard, unforgiving cold of the floor. She had slept there all night, and she was acutely aware of that fact with each new creak or pain from her joints. Sighing heavily, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked...terrible. But beyond the swollen puffy eyes, tear stained cheeks, and crisscross impression on her forehead from the bathmat that had been her pillow, she looked alive. And that, was everything. Giving her reflection a small smile, she stripped off her crumpled uniform and stepped into the shower. She had a hanger bay to report to after all...
Lieutenant Mirra Ezo, MD
Chief Medical Officer 
Starbase 118 Ops
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