Chapter Three

                “Now, are you going to let me in or not?” I heard a familiar voice shout in a whisper. Can someone shout whispering? I guess so. I just stared ahead of me at the wall across from the couch I was sitting on. My mind started to work again, but my body was still in shock. I guess that happens when you get attacked.

                “Yes, please do come in, doctor.” I heard Spock say. “She is sitting on the couch, very much in shock still, I am afraid.”

                I noticed when the two men had entered the room, but I continued to stare ahead, my body not willing to give into my mind’s desires just yet.

                “So, you gonna tell me why you didn’t just take her to Med Bay, Spock? I mean Jesus, she’s sitting there consciously catatonic.” The doctor exclaimed as he moved over in front of me, then started to speak softly. “Hey there, Aila, we met earlier, I’m Dr. McCoy. I’m going to clean you up a bit first, okay?” He sounded so attentive, so gentle, it made me feel more at ease.

                “Okay.” I replied in a whisper. Still reeling from what was going through my head. When he held a cloth to my face I winced slightly at the contact, but then yielded to his deft hands as they continued to wipe the blood from my face. He then scanned me over with a tri-corder and sighed in relief, presumably not finding any serious injuries.

                He stood up after he finished cleaning my face and giving me a hypospray. I started to feel more relaxed, must have been a mild sedative. I could feel my shoulders relax into the back of the couch and a yawn escape from my lips, but I still did not sleep.

                In hushed tones I could hear Dr. McCoy and Spock speaking again. “You knew her name? How?” Spock quietly demanded of Dr. McCoy.

                “She was at the bar with her friend, whom I happen to like and had to leave at Kirk’s apartment by the way. She seemed fine when she hailed a cab…”He let his voice trail off even quieter.

                “When I found her she was being attacked by a cadet. It was strange. She wasn’t fighting him off. She was standing completely still. After I had pulled the cadet off her and the authorities came to take him away, I asked her why she hadn’t fought him, even though it appeared that she at least had started to, she simply said ‘they like it when you fight’. What did she mean by that?” Spock asked the doctor in a cold low voice.

                I could hear the gasp Dr. McCoy offered before he replied to Spock. “Spock, this cadet, she’s been attacked before, and by the state of her shock, and what she said to you, her previous encounter, though I’d wager it was more than one, had to have been pretty brutal.” Spock merely offered a low growl in response.

                “Spock, I have to ask…did she…was she…oh god, was she clothed when you found her being attacked?”

                “Yes, Doctor, she was indeed clothed. She is wearing the same garment now as she was when I found her.” Spock replied pointedly.

                “Well, small mercy that.” The doctor said, mostly to himself. “And when you found her…did it appear that she had been…uh…taken advantage of?” He asked uncomfortably. “I mean, I didn’t find anything with the scans…but..” He trailed off again.

                “Doctor, I did not sense that she had been sexually assaulted to the fullest extent if that is what you are attempting to inquire.” Spock said stonily, a bit louder.

                “Thank heaven for that. It was probably best that you didn’t take her to Med Bay then, she might have gone into a worse state of shock being around so many people. Another thing, she needs to be watched tonight, and she needs to rest. She might seem calm and pliable right now, but that’s gonna change.”

                “What do you suggest, Dr. McCoy?” Spock asked.

                “Well, Spock, it would seem the logical thing to do here is to have you watch her until tomorrow morning, in which case she will probably need to testify that the other cadet attacked her.” Dr. McCoy said, using a sarcastic emphasis on the word logical.

                “For once, Dr. McCoy, I am inclined to agree with you.” Spock replied, yielding to the doctor’s logic. “Although, perhaps, it might seem prudent that you inform her friend, the one you were with, about the events and request that she be prepared to offer assistance if possible.”

                “Well, she seems fine, just makes sure she sleeps tonight. If that’s all, I’ll be going home and nursing off this hypo induced hangover I had to administer to myself prior to coming here.” McCoy replied, moving to the door. “I’m serious, Spock, keep a close eye on her.”

                “Good night, Dr. McCoy. I appreciate your assistance in regard to this rather delicate situation.” Spock returned, closing the door he had apparently opened.

                As I sat relaxed back into the couch my body started to finally agree to obey my mind. I didn’t cry though. I merely stood up and noticed that Spock was in front of me once more.

                “Umm…can I use the bathroom?” I asked weakly, deliberately avoiding eye contact with him. I felt naked, weak, and ashamed.

                “Yes, it is the second door to your left down that hall.” He said, pointing in the correct direction.

                I walked in the direction he pointed and went into the bathroom. As I looked at myself in the mirror I sagged internally. What a night this had been. The first time I decide to go out and look at what happened. And how weak I must have seemed to have been standing there not fighting when Spock found me. My lip was cut and my face was bruised. My hair was tangled in a mess, still braided, but ratty, and my eyes were still red from recent tears. Yes, I was ashamed to look as I did in present company.

                I turned on the faucet and thanked the powers that be for actual water. I used the running water to wash my face and the hand towel hanging to my left to dry it. Next I took my braid out, running my fingers through it to untangle the strands, letting it fall in cascading wavy curls over my shoulders, not bothering to even put it up again. Why should I? Spock had already seen me in the most involuntarily compromising situation possible, might as well see my sacred hair. Nothing about me could be sacred anymore. It had taken me a long time to view myself as sacred again since..since before.

                Finished, I opened the bathroom door to hear the tail end of a conversation. I stopped, not wanting to intrude.

                “She is safe here, now mother. What perplexes me is why she did not fight. Why did she allow this vile human male attack her in such a manner? Dr. McCoy attempted to, I believe, explain, but I submit, I fail to understand the logic. When I inquired to her as the reason she refused to fight, she simply stated ‘they like it when you fight’ and did not offer to elaborate, not that I suppose she could in the state she was in.”

                “Son, you must understand, humans tend to do illogical things. Keep her safe and make her feel comfortable in your presence for now. You may become uncomfortable, but allow her this. Do not pry too much, for she may not want to talk just yet, but allow her the opportunity to tell you. And, by no means, touch her first, not that you would, but also, do not shy away from her touch, should she reach out to you. It would be…unwise.”

                “Mother, I fail to understand why it would be unwise to allow her to touch me, especially as you remind me, a Vulcan, not to initiate physical contact with her.”

                “Because, you could further upset her. That is why I remind you. Knowing full well you would never initiate physical contact, I would have thought you would understand when I have to remind a Vulcan not to touch someone it is desperately important not to do so. In any case, it is late, my son. Contact me again and let me know how the events transpire after tonight. I love you, good night.”

                “I will contact you at the earliest convince, mother. Have a pleasant evening.”

                Spock turned around and saw me standing in the bathroom doorway.

                “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to intrude.” I said, flushing with embarrassment.

                “Apologies are unnecessary. Am I correct in assuming you do not wish to sleep right away?” Spock asked, and if he wasn’t Vulcan I would say his voice rang with compassion.

                I walked out of the bathroom and headed into the kitchen where he was at. Noticing the table in the corner I made my way to a chair there. Better to get this over with now, I knew he was going to ask questions, and I knew I was going to have to talk tomorrow. Tonight would be like a practice run of sorts.

                “Would you care for some tea?”

                “Tea sounds great, thanks.” Another few moments of silence passed between us as he turned around to prepare the tea, not replicating it. He brought over two cups of tea, balancing them perfectly so not a drop spilled on his way to the table. Steam was still rising from the cups as he placed them on the table, one in front of me, and one in front of the seat he took. “This smells nice, thank you,”

                “Are you willing to converse about the events of tonight?” He asked, disregarding my thanks, a Vulcan trait no doubt.

                “Not really like I have a choice, I’m going to tomorrow anyway.” I say, then look at my tea and decide to try and drink it, although it looks hot still.

                “No, you will most likely need to testify tomorrow. It would prove the most effective method at removing the cadet who attacked you from the academy.” Spock replied, not even looking up at me from his cup.

                I spent the next ten minutes drinking tea and telling him the events of the night, starting at the bar because it just seemed easier to start there. He listened, not making a sound, but his eyes focused on me. It was surprisingly easy to talk to him, until we got to the point where he found me.

                “And well, you know the rest, you came up and found me.”

                “Yes. I feel I must repeat my earlier query; why did you not fight back? I ask simply because I have had the opportunity to read your academic record, and like in every other class, you were the top of your hand to hand combat class as well. Logically, you could have easily fought him off, yet you chose not to.” He had to remember to ask that, didn’t he? He expected a simple, logical explanation, but there wasn’t one I could give. Nothing of what I could say would sound the least bit logical.

                I just stared at him. Giving silence for a moment before I whispered, “Because they like it when you fight.”  I didn’t look up at him. I didn’t know what else to say, it was the truth after all.

                “What do you infer by that, Ms. Mor?” Spock asks, keeping rank out of the conversation, thankfully, because I hadn’t used it at all with him tonight. I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to address him with his rank, not out of disrespect, but because I was so down into my self-loathing, I couldn’t even think of myself as a person, let alone a Starfleet cadet. “Ms. Mor?” Spock asks again, retrieving me from my self-loathing for a moment and causing me to meet his eyes.

                “Because, they do. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of me fighting him. He was bigger, stronger, and had me trapped.” I raised my voice this time, getting angry, it didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “Sorry, I didn’t intend disrespect.” I said, softer, lowering my eyes once more.

                “Ms. Mor, I have not taken offense at your level of voice, it is completely natural for a human in your situation to express anger. But, if you could, please, who is this ‘they’ that you so obscurely refer to?”  

                Silence.

                “Ms. Mor?”

                This time I looked up again at him, and decided why the heck not? He’s already seen me like this, what difference does it make now?

                “The ones before.” I paused, waiting to see if he would make another attempt to ask me who I was talking about. He didn’t. “I-I was attacked before. It-uh-it was much worse than the one you interrupted. I fought back, but there were two men, the harder I fought the more they wanted me-or so it seemed. When I realized this, I stopped fighting them, they had gotten what they wanted. They continued to try to get me to fight them, even more, but when they realized I wasn’t fighting anymore, they just left.” I was still looking in his eyes as I said this, amazingly enough, recalling the incident as clearly as if it had just happened, but tears started forming.

                “Ms. Mor, if you would not object, I would like to try a mind-meld, as I am unable to determine exactly what you are saying.” He said, coolly but softly at the same time. I just nodded. He motioned to follow him to the living room.

                We sat down across from each other, Indian style. “I am going to place my fingers on your psi points and begin. Do not fight what you feel entering your mind, please.” I nodded to him again and closed my eyes as his fingers softly touched my face and he whispered, “my mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts. Our minds are melding; our minds are one.”

                I felt the gentle push into my mind just as he described, and tried my best to relax into it, not fighting the voluntary intrusion.

                Good, do not fight it. I am going to attempt to see the memories of which you have described. Start to think of them so that they will come easier and I do not have to search your entire mind.  I heard him say in my head. I thought of the most recent memory of attack and he saw it too. I recalled my anger, my fear, and I also felt a hot surge of rage from him as he watched recent events.

I thought back to the attack just before I graduated high school early, I was walking home late from school. It was dark, I had been at school finishing up my last essay of the year. Then suddenly I was pulled into a dark alleyway between the café and local bar by two men. He watched my memory replay just as I did. I could feel my own emotions from that memory, the ones I felt now as I was watching it again, and I could feel what he felt as he witnessed the atrocity in front of him. Pure unadulterated fury, and then sympathy. He delved even further in my mind. I winced in pain.

There was a wall. A visible wall. Someone has placed a block in your memories. He said. I can remove it, if you wish, but it may be painful. I mentally nodded to him, and whispered the equivalent of understanding, giving him permission to do this. I wanted to know what was blocked. Was this wall what was preventing me from knowing anything before I was eight years old? Yes. I heard him answer the question in my thoughts.

Slowly and, as he had anticipated, painfully, the wall started to crumble. When it finally fell a whirlwind of memories flew by. They flew by much too fast for me to understand. But I saw glimpses of things I did not know. The last thing I saw before the whirlwind stopped was a woman’s face, and the one scene I could never understand. My nightmare.

Spock pulled out of mind then, rather abruptly and I gasped out loud. I put my hands on either side of my head and pressed a bit, starting to get a headache.

“I apologize, I did not anticipate what I saw, and I did not intend to cause you pain. It should dissipate soon.” Spock said in a clipped voice, standing up. “You should rest now. I will gather a blanket and pillow for you, you may sleep on the couch.” He walked away.

What the hell just happened? And why did I suddenly feel a wave of peace come over me? It didn’t make any sense. I stood up and went to the couch to lay down. I suddenly felt very tired. As soon as I laid my head down I felt a rush of warmth spread over my body and I fell asleep.