the passenger ep of ds9 did things to my brain so now in addition to making a rewrite of distant voices i’m making a rewrite of the passenger for the same reason of putting it into a plural julian perspective. something about being “possessed” while already plural yet being unaware of both… deeply compelling
so while i’m here i want to share some of what i’ve written for the opening because i quite like it. there’s nothing distinctly plural about it yet but i wanted to write this to get the tone down
Fingers clench around his throat, nails piercing his skin. He can’t inhale or exhale to cry out as the smoke suppresses more and more.
“Make—”
Those eyes stare right into his own, reaching to the back of his mind and clawing at the folds of his brain. He resists the urge to spasm and tuck in his head at the itch.
“—me—”
His nerves tingle with electricity, while adrenaline pumps through his system, wasted. Julian can’t calculate any means of retaliation or escape. His mind is a void when he needs it the most. Only the throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears fills the gaps between the alien’s words.
“—live.”
The pressure fades from his neck, and the alien’s hand slips away. Yet those eyes don’t let go of Julian’s gaze, even as the alien breathes his last sigh. But as he does, no life drains from his face. Death is already inscribed in every feature.
This is not the first time he’s watched a patient die, but it doesn’t lessen any of the effect on him. The aura of death is contagious, and he stares quietly at the tricorder, which confirms what he already knows just by looking.
No matter his own fear or this man’s crimes, Julian is still a doctor. “I couldn’t save this one,” he whispers, folding the tricorder away.
…
A shiver runs through Julian’s body. His mind is oddly quiet. No remarks or plans of action run through his thoughts. He’s fully present in the moment and absent all the same. Something is off but he can’t place what exactly.
“Are you with me, Doctor?” A hand touches his shoulder.
“Hmm?” Julian looks up at Kira behind him. “Oh, yes,” he stutters, breaking eye contact with her quickly.
She stands to her feet. “Come on. We have to get this ship back to the station and we don’t have any time to lose.”
“Of course, sir,” he says. He follows after her, absentmindedly stroking the marks on his neck.
