as you are

mission day: 1434 time: 9:15 location: control room status: open

With all the power fluctuations, Carina felt as if she was working overtime. It didn’t surprise her that the communications system was hit the hardest, but she wished that she could catch a break. First the telemetry system, then all the computers in the control room. Now, as she slept the night before, the communications between the control room and the rest of the ship had been knocked out. It wasn’t exactly a simple repair, and she expected to be in the control room until at least lunch. At least the repairs gave her something to do.

She couldn’t help but think of the fluctuations as an omen. They couldn’t listen to the message to stay away, so they were getting another warning. There were too many happening too frequently for this to be a coincidence. Even now, she didn’t feel comfortable bringing this up to the rest of the crew. Even if it was another a sign, another reason to stay far away from the planet they had travelled so long to reach, she wasn’t sure they would turn around. Half of her crew members had a death wish, and she knew that she just had to live with that fact.

Of course, it was asking for too much to have an hour alone in the control room. With everything that had gone wrong in the past day, it made sense that someone else had to come in. Whether it was to check on another system or to start repairs, she shouldn’t have been surprised. “Morning,” she mumbled, not even looking back at who entered. It was nothing against her crew, but she wanted to finish this repair before something else inevitably went wrong.

It seemed not even a walk with their morning coffee could shake off this strange bad mood Marisol had woken up in. Honestly, they weren’t sure why they’d even tried to salvage the day- it had immediately been one of those that left them feeling weak in ways they weren’t comfortable with, ways they swore to themselves they’d never feel again. 

It was something about control, wasn’t it? Having it, or the illusion of it at least was fine until the exact moment it slipped through your fingers... No wonder everyone was on edge. It was hard not to see this as evidence of a mistake, especially when so many of them were scientists, taught or naturally inclined to seek the reasons behind the phenomena they encountered every day. In any case, Marisol’s usual lap around the shuttle was doing nothing to distract them from the same prying questions that occupied everyone’s mind.

They jumped just slightly at Bell’s greeting, if only because they were distracted by the barrage of thoughts and feelings they were grappling with just now. “Morning,” they answered, sounding distracted despite their best efforts. They’d intended to just pass through, especially because they were still jittery and nervous and a bit nauseous from how they’d woken up. Zero gravity hardly seemed like the best way to address any of that, and their colleague seemed busy... it was probably for the best if Marisol didn’t bother her. But just as they moved to pass by, they thought differently. They turned back to her and offered a flicker of a smile, too nervous to be their usual expression.

“Can I uh... help you with anything? I mean... I couldn’t provide any technical knowledge of course, but I am great at holding things...”

Mission Day: 1434

Time: 14:02

Location: Sick Bay 

Closed Starter to @amodesol​

The previous cycle had been one of worrying. By the time this one had rolled in, Emma’s urge to panic during any given conversation had subsided. Or, well, she liked to think that she was feeling better. Whatever was going on with the power did not sound particularly appealing, but she could distance her panic from the problem. This did not seem like her problem to fix; if anyone needed anything of her, she was happy to help, but that was about as far as it went.

She entered the sick bay, hoping to find Marisol in there. It was a good first choice to check. Lunch had not taken a full hour, so she had been inspired to pop in for a visit. She did feel weird about spontaneous visitations without cause, but there was nothing the rules strictly against such a thing… Increased morale or something.

“I hope that I’m not bothering you or anything…” She was not exactly sorry for coming in to say hi. “But I don’t know if I’ve actually had a substantial conversation with anybody in a few days,” Emma said, fighting not to make the frustrated expression that was fighting to make itself known. It wouldn’t even be bad if they did not want to talk. After the last few years, Emma liked to think that she and the doctor had established a solid rapport. Conversations made sense, and so did silences. “Up for some good, old-fashioned nerd talk, or should I just sit in the corner quietly?” It was supposed to be a joke, but she imagined that they knew by now that Emma’s jokes were hardly ever worth writing home about.

Marisol hadn’t quite been feeling like themselves today. They’d woken up feeling nauseous for the first time in years- and when they recalled the last reason they’d had to feel sick so early in the morning... well, it left them feeling... weird, to say the least. They’d felt wrong, empty, and worst of all drained of the energy they relied on so much to carry them through difficult times. They’d avoided conversation and even eye contact with everyone, which was pretty odd for them, but with the way everyone was reacting to the new malfunctions on the ship it wasn’t surprising that no one had noticed.

And they’d spent all day in their office at sick bay, busying themselves for a while with some work - organizing their notes, updating patient files, scheduling check-ups and heath regimens... But all it took to shatter their calm was one misstep- they were somehow suddenly unfamiliar in this room they had spent the last four years in, and their hip caught a table, jarring them and sending their carefully organized files to the ground. Marisol froze, for just a moment, staring down at the incredible mess of paperwork all face down, a pool of manila and white blankness staring back at them. 

It began with a simple thought- I can’t see what I’m dealing with here... And somehow that blossomed into- I’m only seeing this from one side... I’m missing something... And then it became obvious that they weren’t thinking about the papers anymore. They quickly scooped them up into a reasonably neat stack and carried them to the desk, intending to reorganize them immediately, to distract themselves from the encroaching thoughts that were bound to be both unhelpful and unsettling. But by the time they sat down, it was already too late...

By the time Emma entered, it had to be at least an entire hour since they’d sat down... Marisol wasn’t entirely sure because their thoughts had suddenly been so consumed with thoughts of the mission, the problems on the ship, and what the warning could have possibly meant. They knew very well it was a terrible idea to dwell on things they couldn’t possibly change, and yet... They looked up, half startled, when she came in, hands that were until recently shaking now folded gently on top of a still disordered stack of files before them.

“I’d love to talk,” they said, almost immediately, offering a little smile to cover up the anxiety that was beginning to eat away at them a bit. Marisol took this as the opportunity it clearly was- a chance to distract themselves from all that was bothering them. To perhaps forget, for a moment, where they were and what was happening to them right now, to get lost in another person as they so loved to do. “I think a good conversation is just what I need right now,” they admitted with a bit of a relieved sigh, feeling some of the tension lift already. “Anything in particular you were thinking about?”

The little bit of pressure they pressed against his shoulder was comforting in a way he wasn’t expecting, something about the gesture familiar in a very distant way, not something he could place, but something he was grateful for nonetheless. And the smile they gave him told him that they understood what he was thinking beneath his words. He frowned as their smile fell away, though. If there was one thing they hated, it was seeing Marisol in any sort of pain. It was a rare sight, indeed, so when it did happen, it hit him even harder, and just now he understood it better than ever, feeling much the same himself. He understood what they were saying, better than they probably knew, because no matter how much fear and anger he had at the message and the vote, Horatio wondered if that they were missing something. It was a thought that he had expressed to Carina earlier, and now he had to think of it again. That maybe they were interpreting the message wrong, or there was something else to it that had gotten lost in the mix.

There was something about seeing someone he cared about in pain, real fear in their eyes as they looked back at him, that made his own thoughts come into laser focus, some of his own anxiety over they situation falling away from a second, in favor of trying to help Marisol.

“I know… it really does feel like there might be something else to this. I just have no clue how we’re supposed to know when we’re essentially cut off from the rest of the universe. I mean, who knows how long ago earth even sent that message to us. For all we know, there could be another on its way to us,” he said shaking his head slightly at the thought. “But also, I’ve been thinking about the possibility… that maybe stay away means something else. Maybe it doesn’t mean that they’re going to do anything to us if we do keep going, but maybe it means they’re just as afraid as we are. They’re afraid of us.”

The double-edged sword of being forthcoming about one’s emotions was of course that sometimes they were answered in ways that couldn’t really be emotionally prepared for. Even considering all the possibilities, all the outcomes of the conversation, Marisol was still blindsided, somehow, by the revelation Ray shared. And they were used to dealing with and fighting back some pretty serious emotions for the benefit of others, but this was something they’d never felt before, and so it was impossible to conceal.

There was surprise and... fear...? The idea that someone could view them as a negative force in the universe... it had simply never crossed their mind before... Marisol had never been on the wrong side of things- they’d never come to conquer anyone, only to save people that desperately needed saving... They’d never gone anywhere before where they hadn’t been wanted. Their expression shifted from one of anxiety to something conflicted; horrified, wounded, confused, but mostly so desperate for answers. They had so much desire to do the right thing, it was like a gnawing hunger.

Marisol’s hand slipped gradually from Horatio’s shoulder, and then they placed it over their own heart, attempting to ease the real physical pain they felt there. With their other hand they leaned a bit on the counter beside them, where their coffee remained untouched.

“I never considered that,” they admitted, seeming a bit pale as they spoke, lips a bit dry in the recycled air of the ship. “I hope that’s not the case...” They glanced away from Ray momentarily to glance at some of the plants in the room, which calmed them a bit. Touching one would probably do them wonders... But first they looked back at their friend and slipped their shaky hand into his, which seemed relatively still by comparison.

She trusted most of the people on this ship, Dr. Velasquez among them, easily, and without reservation. She had no reason not to trust them, and it felt good to know that they felt the same, that they trusted her ability to do her job right. 

     “I think speculation is dangerous,” she said, trying not to sound unnecessarily terse about it, though by this point she’d heard enough people trying to guess at what the message meant, or why it had been sent, or what the circumstances surrounding it were, that she couldn’t help but tense a little at the question. She’d said the same thing to the Commander, earlier: making assumptions about the message wouldn’t give them a magical cure-all answer. And sure, it was only human nature to be curious, to make guesses, but…

But she couldn’t help but feel like trying to guess closed them off from other possibilities. And that felt like it might impair all of their judgement when it came to deciding what to do.

     “We’ve got no way of knowing why they want us to stay away. If it’s a threat or a warning or something else altogether. I know that doesn’t help but… it doesn’t hurt, either, to keep an open mind, right?”

Somehow that hadn’t been the answer Marisol had been looking for, which was an odd feeling... different from the surreal way their head was spinning at the idea of this message. They were silent for a few long moments as they processed Serra’s response, and quieted some of the buzzing thoughts that seemed too fearful or irrational. 

It was harder to do this way, they found, in the middle of space with plenty of time and opportunity to make a decision. They were much better under the gun, in the midst of the action where the window was much smaller, when the need was urgent. Maybe that was part of the reason they didn’t feel more afraid... maybe they missed the rush of danger, somehow...

"I wouldn’t say that considering the possibilities would close my mind off to the others...” they explained finally, choosing their words carefully. “I just want to know what I’m dealing with... I want to be prepared for anything... And so I ask myself- what could happen? And what is likely to happen?”

They paused again, considering some of their most trying challenges of the past- was what they were proposing now really the best way to go about this? Perhaps they were misunderstanding something fundamental about this situation- maybe it wouldn’t at all be like it had been on Earth. Maybe they were completely out of their depth after all, and their suggestions could get them all killed.

Marisol had to shake their head again to clear away the unhelpful panic and conjecture. They reminded themselves that they were a scientist, that they wanted to know the truth of everything, that they had enough experience to trust themselves and their own judgement. Their brow furrowed half from concentration, half from confusion as they tried to talk through it a bit more.

Dr. Máximo Romero ( the pilgrim ) ;

     A mentor of Marisol’s in their global health efforts, formerly an Army surgeon, as well as a medical liaison for the UN. They shared a similar passion for helping people that made them fast and enthusiastic friends, especially because they met when they suddenly became surgical partners in the field, in the middle of a refugee crisis in Southeastern Asia during which people were subject to extreme violence, and even genocide, as well as various other health concerns. They worked together extremely well as a team, and Máximo was an excellent teacher and friend, truly eager to help them learn and succeed alongside him.

     Máximo and Marisol traveled together for about five years, responding to various calls for aid worldwide, and they truly loved their work and the easy companionship they felt with him. He was a great spiritual force in their life, as he also came from a Catholic background, but didn’t quite follow the Church blindly, as he had been raised to. He was also a deep intellectual, and enjoyed musing on all of life’s biggest questions, and the questions of life and faith were some he and Marisol often enjoyed discussing in the late night, in many foreign lands. He offered, once, to bring them along on their next adventure- it was an invitation, to keep doing what they’d been doing since they’d met, and it was a tempting one… but Marisol wanted more.

     Despite the odd hours and the ever-fluctuating distance, Máximo was one that they kept very close contact with after they went their separate ways. They also sent each other actual written letters, and care packages, and frequently called one another when they had time (neither of them minding the odd hours that those calls tended to come in). He was, in fact, one of the last people Marisol had direct contact with from Earth, when they were still close enough to receive messages promptly. He took the time to commend what they were doing, and to wish them luck, and when Marisol said goodbye, they did so feeling hopeful for their future, and that of humankind, the way they always felt while working with him.

Micah Fremont ( the shield ) ; 

     Director of a youth health and safety initiative in New York City that Marisol began volunteering for during college. The two of them worked together for a number of years, and became naturally and easily close, sharing many of the same perspectives and goals. Micah was an ex-gang member turned youth educator after the gang-related death of his younger brother. He was an important support system for Marisol during their declining relationship with Héctor, and often expressed concern for her well-being. He even went so far as to offer them his protection, which they politely refused each time it was brought up.

     After their divorce, however, things seemed to slam into fast forward. Micah confessed that he had feelings for them, and had for quite some time. Marisol wasn’t in any state of mind to be able to return those feelings, or even to understand their own. And as a result, their relationship dynamic changed… it became less easy for them to keep each other’s company, and they responded by throwing themselves into their schooling as a distraction. They just drifted apart, especially after Marisol left New York to begin their global health efforts. They’ve exchanged communications since, and are back on friendly terms.

She wasn’t surprised by the sound a voice in her ear, not anymore, not after enough people had come to talk to her – to ask her advice, or to make sure she was alright, or to distract her from the task at hand. The doctor was among the better options, as far as the crew went, and Serra appreciated the way they glided through the air as if it were effortless, out of the corner of her eye.

    “You’re about the third to ask,” she said, glancing over at them, doing her best to smile a bit. “I don’t mind at all, so long as you don’t mind that I’m a bit distracted.”

She nodded towards the screen in front of her, line after line of equations running overtop of the vague diagram she’d laid out for what the path should look like until she managed to get the numbers to line up, a blueprint of what she was going for.

    “Let me guess,” she said, her voice patient and neutral. “You want to know what it looks like, if we turn around? What we have to do, how it’ll go?”

Marisol was relieved to know they weren’t bothering her- sometimes the idea that they were annoying someone became one of those invasive and inescapable thoughts that sharpened the edge of their anxiety. And in a situation like this, when they were already having a hard time controlling their body’s varied reactions to the troublesome news, it was nice to have a reason to relax. They found it straightforward, in the lieutenant’s company; Serra had always been easy to talk to, somehow.

Their eyes couldn’t help but follow the line of Murray’s gaze to the console where she worked out complicated strings of math that were honestly dizzying. As smart as they were, Marisol knew they’d never understand what she was calculating, as patient as she would inevitably be in explaining the trajectory of the spacecraft… This just wasn’t their world… After a moment of considering silence, they shook their head gently, hair trailing buoyantly behind in the suspension of zero-g.

“I trust you to take us safely home when the time comes,” they said carefully, noncommittally (they’d always been better at putting their faith in people, rather than numbers). The truth was, they hadn’t had a gut punch reaction that had told them the right thing to do… They didn’t know yet how to best serve the mission and the people that were a part of it… They needed more information. 

When he heard the sound of someone else entering the life support lab, his tension had shout through the roof. Luckily, though, he was greeted with the one person he felt truly, really could understand everything that he was feeling. It was almost amazing what even just seeing Marisol could do for him when he was particularly stressed or upset on the ship. Something about their familiarity, being able to be around someone who he had known and been close with on earth, it was grounding in a way that being around no one else on the ship was. So he was thankful that they had found him now. And even more thankful when Marisol suggested coffee, knowing that he probably looked as exhausted and ragged as he felt. 

If there was one thing that he missed, generally, about being back on earth, one thing that he hadn’t anticipated missing, not even in the back recesses of his mind, it was being touched. Horatio had never been a particularly physical person. Of course, as a child, his mother was always supremely touchy feely, but it had never been something he had thought about. With Adrienne and Pierce, they were both much more free with the physical affection, the casual touches and kisses almost uncomfortable to Horatio at first. But they soon became so engrained in his mind as something necessary, something that he so unconsciously needed and loved, that once he had suddenly been faced with the loneliness of space, he had realized how much he really had depended on it all. Today was a day that he missed it even more than usual. And so when Marisol reappeared with the coffee for both of them, but first took him into a warm embrace, comforting, secure, he felt a little bit like all of the walls were tumbling down at once.

Maybe he clung onto them a little too tight for that brief moment, a little longer than was necessary, but when they pulled back, still keeping a hand on his shoulder, grounding him even in the artificial gravity of the life support lab, he felt a little bit sturdier. Horatio gave them a rather weak smile. “I’ve had better days, you know. But I’m trying not to think about it too hard. There’s no point when we all know the way things are going to go,” he shrugged, as if they were talking about the non-existent weather. That was a lie, anyway. It was all he was thinking about, and the longer he thought, the harder it was to keep away that little sprig of hope that maybe they would turn around now, as unlikely as he knew that was. He wished it was only fear that he was feeling. That would’ve been a million times easier.

“How about you, though? Holding up alright?” he asked after a second, finally reaching for the dark sludge that passed as coffee in space. He’d almost gotten used to the taste after four years.

Marisol considered him quietly, serious as they took in all they could about him from his tone of voice to the way he held onto them just a little longer than he ever had before. They’d dealt with people living in all manner of unfortunate circumstances- and every time, no matter what trouble they were in, the most difficult part for them emotionally was the moment they realized how dire things were. It was scary, to face something so massive, so overpowering either conceptually or physically, or both that it could be a matter of life or death. It wasn’t something anyone ever wanted to deal with, but it was the kind of life Marisol had chosen; talking people back up from the depths of despair, which seemed insurmountable. 

It wasn’t easy work- it was like climbing out of a pit when the only light to be seen was a mere pinprick, when the walls were steep and covered in muck so thick that it both slowed the ascent and threatened to drag back down to the bottom, to bury and smother. But the reward of breathing fresh air and of feeling the sunlight on aching skin, it was all worth it... Lifting people out of the mire, and watching them taste freedom again... there was nothing else like it. And Marisol wanted nothing more than to relieve people of their pain... in each of those moments they would have done anything at all to heal them with their touch alone. This moment was no different.

They found themselves gently pressing with their thumb into the muscle of Horatio’s shoulder where their hand rested, just above his collarbone. It had been unconsciously done, but it was a perfect mimicry of a comforting gesture their mother had extended to them when they were young, one they’d used countless times since then with many patients, without ever realizing its origin, until now. As much as the sentimental feeling of that hit them, Marisol couldn’t let it distract them now. They offered a comforting smile in response to his words, not entirely believing their calm and reasonable delivery, but knowing from experience that it was best not to press him to talk about it. He’d inevitably vent about it when he was ready, but no sooner. Now, it was a time for them to soften the discussion of it with a little vulnerability of their own, one that was probably unexpected.

Valerio “Vali” Mendoza ( the testament ) ;

     A youth Marisol first encountered during a program they helped to set up in Guadalajara, Mexico that rehabilitated high-risk drug addicts. Vali had been compelled through violence and manipulation to work for a major drug cartel that had control of the area at the time. He had lost three siblings and countless friends to this cartel, so when they threatened his family’s business and personal safety, he reluctantly joined them and subsequently became addicted to heroin. Marisol supervised the treatment of physical symptoms in patients affiliated with the program for the first few months, and assisted with some therapeutic efforts, which is how they met.      Valerio was difficult at first, subject to some of the worst withdrawal symptoms, especially the spikes of depression and agitation. But despite this, or perhaps because Marisol could see and understand how much he was suffering, they didn’t give up on him. It took a number of months, but by the time Marisol was ready to move on to their next humanitarian project, he had become quite the success story. The two of them had gotten very close and kept in contact after Marisol left Mexico, and last they heard Vali was working as a tattoo artist, and volunteering for the very program that had rehabilitated him. 

Héctor Cardozo ( the disaster ) ;      ( cw ;  abuse, miscarriage mention )

     Marisol’s ex-husband, and the would-be father of their child. They met him in their first year of college, and at first their arrangement was one of friendship and casual sex. He was a part of a group of friends she used to go out to bars with, and they’d inevitably take him back to their apartment, or he’d take them to his. Héctorhad a leather jacket and a motorcycle, and he was always smoking and fiddling with a pocket knife, a storybook picture of a bad boy that was just dangerous enough to draw their attention… When they began officially dating, that was when the problems really started- he was manipulative, temperamental, and controlling, but he was also charismatic and capable of convincing them to stay (a shared talent among many perpetrators of abuse). They got married in a simple courthouse ceremony a few weeks after Marisol found out they were pregnant, and divorced shortly after their recovery from the beating that resulted in their miscarriage, approximately five months later.