trans_9 | Selective Memory

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Selective Memory

It happened again. One day, Katara had her head filled with the thoughts of a person, someone she cared deeply about, someone that meant a lot to her-and the next they were gone, and Katara was left with an empty feeling. Unlike the last time, though, Katara didn't just feel like they were parts of her memory: this felt like a big chunk, like something had been ripped out of her mind. Now she stared at her hand a moment, then at her chest. She felt like she didn't know what to do with herself, as if this missing memory was something that hadn't just affected her time on the ship but her purpose, a part of her.

She started to run, but she didn't really have a destination in mind. She had had to keep running toward a place where she could get rid of this feeling, but she didn't know how to do it. None of her training or assurances or good feelings were with her right now. She felt as if she were bordering on hysteria and heartache at the same, and finally, she stopped, her muscles locking and threw up. She retched, bringing herself back, and felt horrible, but at least now she had a destination. She ran toward the medbay, her hair messy and her body trembling.

She didn't know who was here, but she opened her mouth to speak involuntary.

"I think I need to-I don't feel very-"

And then her eyes started to fill with tears and she coughed and coughed, crying still. She needed to lie down or something, she wasn't sure what, but she was in pain and felt sick and couldn't explain why.

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Oooh, that was a familiar voice.

Aeneas was feeling better, to some degree. His wounds were healing well and his mind was beginning to piece things together, bit by bit, bringing his sanity back with it. Aeneas had been thinking clearer the past few days that he’d been in several years.

…Though recently things had grown murky again. Perhaps Katara’s sudden illness had something to do with it?

The creature wriggled out of his cot, hobbling as quickly as he could towards the fallen human female that he’d grown to know far too well, crouching by her side, cradling her in his weak arms and resting his neck comfortingly over her shoulders. He’d wasn’t sure what was wrong with her—Aeneas wasn’t familiar with any sort of illness that made one cough up digestive fluids, or how this was even physically possible—but clearly she was distressed, and therefore needed calming before anything could be done to treat her.

Again, it was the least he could do.

Something had been bothering Sheeana too. Other Memory kept trying to tell her something, but when it did, it was distorted babbling in a language she didn't understand. She felt as if she were forgetting something important, some duty she had to attend to.

It was not a comfortable feeling for a Reverend Mother, used to having perfect recall of her memories.

She'd heard her student cry out, smelled stomach-water being heaved onto the deck in stinky chunks. She hurried to follow her, finding her in Aeneas's arms, obviously distressed.

Distressed was putting it kindly: Katara was a ball of emotions, and she had no idea why. She did feel sick, but it wasn't s sickness just based on the physical body somehow: she felt like she was being torn apart, like there was something aching inside that she couldn't talk about in any coherent words. She was trembling now, and was happy when she felt another presence by her side: it was soft, familiar, and she exhaled, leaning towards the person.

Aeneas. The tears fell more, but she was comforted, and she pressed her cheek against the fur, sobbing softly. She sensed Sheeana there, but she didn't look up. She was a little ashamed her teacher to see her this way, but she couldn't stop.

He broke into a deep, rumbling purr, throat vibrating against the back of Katara’s neck as he pulled her closer. The alien’s gaze traveled towards the looming figure of another, one that he didn’t recognize at first until he caught those blue-within-blue irises staring back.

Sheeana. Yes, she was there when—hmm, well he knew she was related to Katara somehow, wasn’t she?—the point being, Katara needed as much help as she could get, and other than what he was doing now Aeneas had absolutely no clue how to handle this. His eyes showed his worry, but otherwise his purr refused to falter.

’Help me.’

Sheeana responded silently to the silent plea, holding herself aloof. She could comfort Katara in a moment (though Aeneas seemed to have this well in hand), first she had to make sure this wasn't an immediate danger.

Who knew how well this would work on alien physiology...But there was no time to think about it. "What happened?" She said with the full power of the Voice of Command.

Katara moved at the sound of the Voice. Somehow, she didn't want Sheeana using it on Aeneas: he would answer her questions, she knew that. She held up a hand, taking her face from being buried in his fur.

"Sister, its..." Alright wouldn't work, that was a flat out lie. Nothing felt alright. "It's not Aeneas, its just me, you don't have to use the..."

But the words wouldn't come. The reassuring words, the compassion, the idealism just felt too forced, too hard for her to struggle with, and so she turned from her teacher, feeling ashamed. "I shouldn't be...like this. I don't know why."

How odd. Aeneas never recalled hearing a human with a voice like that, though he already knew that Sheeana had a way with mimicking—and—

His mind and body suddenly seemed to react, involuntarily giving into her demands. Katara’s pleas echoed in the background of his consciousness; the rest acted on its own.

“I was sleeping, and Katara came in and became distressed and ill,” the alien explained with a blank face and a calm voice, though his ears twitched with some amount of suppressed fear at Sheeana’s control, “I held her and am continuing to console in this manner.”

The question sufficiently answered, Aeneas blinked forcefully and looked about, confused. What had just—?

Almost as soon as Jean had heard the young girl's voice, she was at her side. Reaching out, Jean wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders and began to steer her toward one of the beds. She didn't even need to use her telepathy to figure out that Katara was distressed, it was that evident. "What's wrong Katara?" she asked, keeping her voice soft and soothing.

Sheeana had to be far more cautious with the ship's nonhuman members. The discipline of reading tics worked much too differently. There were strange muscles, stranger expressions, emotions that had no human analogue.

She was surprised the Voice worked on him. "I'm sorry about that, Aeneas. I'll explain that later. I had to make sure you weren't the one who'd upset Katara."...who she joined in the group ritual of giving comfort to now, draping a smooth, dark and dry arm around Katara's shoulders and touching the alien's feathery one. "Something effected me too. I cannot access Other Memory as clearly.

The Nightmare King again?

No... Other Memory told her. ...Something far clorghalfirr lunkin trehipskark'lgn.%^&! She would have to piece this together for herself.

With the touch of her teacher, Katara felt further ashamed, but that changed nothing. She still was crying, her heart still felt like it was going to explode in her chest, and now, in the midst of all this, she knew who else was missing right now: family. Specifically, the only blood family she had on the ship. She didn't know where Sokka was, or what he was feeling, and could remember they'd been fighting the last few days, bot none of that mattered now. He knew that even seeing Sheeana with her might touch off another fight, but Sheeana was here, had known somehow that she was here in med bay.

"He helps," Katara replied softly to Sheeana, and hugged Aeneas. "He always helps."

She cleared throat. "Please, can someone get Sokka? I need him."

Edited 2010-03-25 12:13 (UTC)

Katara shook her head. She didn't know what was wrong, that was the problem, but she did feel sick, so that at least gave her a reason to be here. It helped that Jean was here, she'd helped her in the past after the Yeerk incident. That was supposed to be a punishment, but Katara had actually found it engaging, and enjoyed watching Jean work.

"I feel sick," Katara murmured, gasping a little. "Like...like something was just pulled right out of me and my body's reacting. I don;t know how to explain it, I just..."

And she gagged here, looking at Jean. "A basin, please."

Jean's gaze immediately moved around the room, searching for a basin. Last thing she really wanted was to clean up vomit off of herself. The nearest basin was several feet away though, and so Jean concentrated on it and suddenly it quickly shot through the air towards them. Grabbing it, Jean held it out for Katara with one hand and soothed her hair away from her face with another.

"Is this something that happened because of the misson?" Was it possible the Nightmare King was still affecting people? She'd thought he'd been defeated, but without peering into Katara's mind, she was going on what little information she had.

She would normally have been astounded by the basin flying thorough the air, but right now she grabbed at it with relish. As she retched, she started to try and recall bits and pieces of what was taken from her, but it was like running straight into a brick wall. Nothing helped: her meditation failed her and her Bene Gesserit mind training couldn't help either. She had felt like this before, a memory of someone that faded in her head. At that time, she remembered feeling sad and calmly reflecting with Sheeana about what could have happen, like she was being blocked off.

This time, however, it was a feeling of sadness, anger, pain and longing all bundled into one burning feeling she couldn't place. The only thing that could come close to describing it was feeling like memories being ripped out, a memory that was so precious and genuine that even if the mind forgot, the body didn't.

"Jean, please," Katara said, her shoulders locked together. "I know you can see into minds. Please...what is happening to me?"

Once again Jean soothed Katara's hair away from her face with a compassionate sweep of her hand. She sighed softly, feeling bad for her. "Are you sure you want me to read your mind?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowing a little bit. "It won't hurt, but it can be an invasive process..."

"Please," Katara said, swaying slightly. "It's...not something I would normally ask, and I know my teacher wouldn't want it but...I don't know why I'm reacting this way. I feel like I'm being ripped apart."

She wished she could explain herself better, but this feeling was too intense to ignore."

"Here sit," Jean said directing Katara to a chair, she didn't want the poor girl to fall over or anything. "Alright, I'll do it." Jean sighed and sank down infront of Katara and reached out, cupping her face between her hands gently. Staring intently into Katara's eyes, she focused,and before long she was shifting through the girl's thoughts and memories.

Her eyebrows drew together as she she suddenly brushed against what she could only consider empty space. She pushed a little harder, trying to see if the empty spots of memory were perhaps buried deeper in the girl's subconcious. But there was nothing, it was like the memories had been plucked right out of Katara's mind. And Jean could find no clues as to who might have been responsible.

Katara was quiet for a moment as she stared into Jean Grey's eyes. Good sense told her what she was trying not to think about: that this thing that was happening to her had no answer because she couldn't find it. Katara remembered that feeling, and knew that whatever she was forgetting now was big, important to her, and now lost.

She clenched her fists, and the tears came now, falling faster, but she had no answer to why they'd come in the first place. She wanted to tell Jean she was grateful but the words wouldn't come: she was just feeling nothing but frustration right now.

"You can't see, can you?" Katara said, sounding defeated. "I don't think Stacy wants you to. This happened to me before, it just never hit me this way. I've...had memories taken away."

"Hey." was all he said as he came in. "I came as soon as I heard something had happened."

It wasn't quite true.. he'd had a migraine all day, like the ones he got whenever miss martian had tried to probe his mind (it was cool, he'd asked her to). He'd been headed this way anyway to see if they could help at all, but when he heard about her collapse... well, suddenly it was just that much more urgent.

Jamie figured it was time to go to the medbay and have his leg checked out - just as a precaution. It felt perfectly fine to him, but he didn't particularly want to run the risk of re-injuring it by doing something stupid. He'd never hear the end of it if he did. Hopefully everything was fine, though, and he could simply get through the exam and head back to the City to work on the cleanup.

All thoughts of his leg went out of his head, however, when he saw Katara. Something was clearly not right here, and a worried look appeared on his face. Hurrying his steps, he headed over to see if he could help.

"Katara! Are ye all right?"

Katara looked up. It was an adult man, one she was sure she had never met before, but there was something very familiar about him. Temporarily forgetting about her weakening limbs, she moved closer, gazing at him intently. When she made the connection, she was definitely shocked.

"Static?! Is that you?"

In answer, Katara grabbed for the basin and upchucked again, making sure to clean out any excess liquid. She took a labored breath, then looked up. She had been hoping for her brother, wherever he was, but having Jamie here was just as helpful. She hated seeing him so concerned when in the back of her mind she remembered he was probably here because of his leg. She'd been pretty insistent about him getting it treated.

So in typical Katara fashion she ignored her pain and concentrated on his. That, and well, it was a good distraction for her at this moment.

"Y-you're the one with the bad leg, you tell me," Katara said weakly. "Have you been getting treatment on it?"

Sokka ducked his head into the medbay, glancing around for a moment before his eyes settled on Katara. He hurried across the room towards his sister, skidding to a stop at the sight of the basin and her distressed demeanor.

"Katara, what's wrong? There was a message on the omnicomms..." He frowned, glancing around the room for a minute. He'd been feeling a sense of unease himself, his mind trying to remember that he was missing something, but he wasn't sure what.

Katara shook her head. It felt like whatever this was had gotten worse. The message from...from...from who? Katara closed her eyes, clenching her fists. She understood all too well what was happening and why: she was starting to lose the memories of the people she'd met, but it had never done this to her before. She couldn't even remember who had brought the basin.

"Sokka," she mumbled miserably, "I'm forgetting something but I don't know what it is. You have to be feeling this way too. Why is this happening? What are we forgetting. My chest hurts."

Her heart hurt, but that wouldn't have made sense to Sokka so she left that out.

Static raised an eyebrow at her comment. It took a minute to click; he'd gotten used to his new age, but she hadn't seen it yet. "The one and only. I got aged up by Ben for the whole Nightmare fiasco. My powers are better this way. Haven't gotten around to asking him to fix it yet."

"But, that's not the point. The hell happened to you?"

"You...aged?!" Katara definitely had to remember that she was the one feeling lousy, and a moment later she did when she had to grab frantically for the basin and heaved into it yet again. She moaned, leaning her head against the basin to feel the temporary relief of the cold metal. "It looks good on you," she muttered, "but then I figured you'd make a handsome man anyway."

She lifted her head, backing herself against some pillows. "Sick," she said, "but I feel like its more than that. I feel like I'm losing some memories, like I'm losing a precious part of myself, and I don't know why, but I feel like my body is mourning it."

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Selective Memory

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