"Can you help me? I can't sleep again. I keep waking up and pacing the floor." -- Anon Guest
Rescue Humans come with their own rewards. They also come with their own detriments. Such as chronic anxiety and sleep issues. The flip side is the hyper-vigilance that has saved far too many to be counted by now. So periodic interruptions to the rest cycle are a small price to pay.
With that in mind, Companion Thark kept any and all reprimands to themself and achieved enough consciousness to function. "Do you need a cuddlemate, a listener, or a dose of theobromine?" Those were the usual go-to's. Theobromine dosage at Ship's Night required an escort to keep the monsters in the dark away.
Human imagination was both a wonderous and terrifying thing. Human Dez had a fantastic imagination. Alas, the Deregger fear-based news cycles had trained him to imagine every worst possible thing.
He was getting better, but this was not one of the good days. Nights. Whatever.
"I'm not sure. Maybe a combo? Start with the calming theobromine and -uh- t-talk for a little?"
Ah. It was going to be one of those nights. Thark sent a message that the Captain would read first thing in Ship's Morning. Their human was going to need an extended rest period, again.
A small price to pay.
At least they remembered to put on a laxcoat before stumbling from their bedchamber, hand in the Human's hand. Not everyone was prepared for the sight of Thark's wattles at flakk-off in the morning.
"It's been a year," said Dez. "And when I realised that, I just... I c-can't... It's all c-c-come back, you know? How it was, how I used t-to be? And I d-dreamed about being b-b-b--" Tears.
"It's natural to have those fears," soothed Thark. "It's easy to believe, sometimes, that a better life is a dream or a fantasy than the reality. And since it's--" they checked their chronometer, "Half-past two in the morning... I cannot dredge up any reassurance that your experiences with us are real."
"Because that's what a fff-fantasy would say," at least Dez was self-aware enough to smirk at that illogic. "It was a cruel world. It's left marks."
"Sometimes those marks twinge," acknowledged Thark. They took the safe position far away from Dez's powdered chocolate and it's dangerous theobromine particulates. The ceremony of hot chocolate was always fascinating. From the boiling of the water -just enough to dissolve the powder- to the heating of the milk, to the gentle spooning of one to the other and vice versa.
It smelled delicious, but Thark knew that it was a deceptive poison for themself. The taste was not worth the subsequent week in intensive care as the Mediks carefully flushed the toxins from their system.
"I know y'all warn me when we're headed for a D-Deregger system. And yes, I hide in my soft nook the entire time. You k-keep me safe from them. And sss-sometimes? I wonder if that doesn't cost someone else a space on board."
"The problematic systems all have increased security measures on their -ah- cogniscent resources." A polite term for 'slaves'. "We could not rescue anyone else if we tried. The good news is, this trade circuit should make us enough Time to pay for some technology that will help us try. Would you like to help others like you?"
"[NAMED DEITY], yes! Gosh. I might be a quivering ball of nerves and hangups in a t-trenchcoat, but I know what it's like in those p-places. I may not be good at it, but I can at least show them it www-won't hurt." Dez was shaking like, to use his own words, a little wet dog. The determination was there all the same. "I have two kind hands. I can help."
"With consent," Thark clarified automatically.
"With consent." Through the adding of the marshmallows, to the topping of the cream, and the addition of even more powdered chocolate, the artistry of Hot Chocolate was done. Dez took a hearty chug, and licked cream off his mustache. He wrapped his hands around the mug and sighed a long sigh. "Powers, I hate being this scared for this long."
He was definitely going to need a cuddle-buddy tonight. Thark was warm and soft and fluffy and Dez gave amazing flakking scritchies as a form of payback.
A long night, but perhaps one baby step's worth of progress.
A small price to pay.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Teamarbeit]
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