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Shards of Oneself

Posted on Mon Oct 24th, 2016 @ 7:43pm by Lieutenant Nal Rehu MD

Mission: 863
Location: Deck 2 - Nah Rehu's Quarters
Timeline: Shortly after Fun With Phasers

The black combat boots were unlaced and kicked off, the sweaty socks were slipped off, and the white v-neck tee was the next article of clothing to be shed and dropped onto the bathroom floor. Nal Rehu pulled at the black belt of his olive green cargo pants, and pulled the faux leather from the loops in one quick jerk. The belt was dropped onto the pile, followed by the cargo pants, and then the undershorts.

“Computer start shower, fourty-nine degrees cee,” Nal called out as he leaned against the washbasin and glanced at himself in the mirror. He had studied his features, and he came to the conclusion that he looked exhausted. The normally vibrant gray eyes didn’t seem as vibrant at the moment. “Maybe, it’s because you just did a bunch of killing on the holodeck,” he mumbled aloud. He knew the shower would do him good, it always did, and it would rejuvenate him.

Once the computer beeped, he stepped into the stall and stood under the showerhead, allowing the hot water to cascade down his lithe form. He sighed in relief at how good it actually felt to be standing there. He closed his eyes and just stood there, allowing the hot water to do it’s magic. He knew most liked the convenience of a sonic shower, but not him. A sonic shower was good in a pinch, but nothing beat the soothing affects of hot water. But more than that, Romulans couldn’t really handle the sounds of a Starfleet designed sonic shower. With hearing that was slightly better than humans, the ‘whine’ of a sonic shower was bothersome.

He let the water fall down his body as he kept his eyes closed, his mind wandered to the holodeck and to the rigorous program that Temple had put him through. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, the fact he didn’t hesitate to kill, or the fact he didn’t hesitate to ‘kill’ Temple. His Romulan blood had coursed fiercely through his veins as he attacked the various aliens and then the Borg drones. He had tried to shed that part of him for the past five years, but it seemed it was still there. He certainly never wanted to turn his back on his heritage or his baser instincts, but was he trying to hard to fit in with humans? Was he trying to become human?

His eyes opened and went wide at that revelation, he snarled and spit as if that thought was worth the expulsion of his saliva. “You are not a human D’Nal tr’Rehu,” he snarled, using his given name. Five years ago, after his sentence of expulsion from the Empire was handed down, he was stripped of his given and family name. Now, he just went by Nal Rehu. The stripped down name seemed weak; unworthy of his Romulan heritage. “Hwi whoi (You messed up)…” he said out loud in his native tongue.

Breathing out a sigh he reached for the soap and cleaned up the perspiration that formed during his ‘killing’ spree. “Computer raise temperature of shower to sixty cee,” he called out. Nal felt the abrupt change; the water was past scalding now. He took the washcloth and used it roughly, scrubbing his skin hard until the soft green tinted skin was rubbed raw, but it wasn’t enough. He washed his hair and stepped out, calling for the computer to shut the water off. He reached for the dark purple towel that hung from a metallic rack, and as he was drying off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He saw the raw, green tinged skin. This wasn’t the first time he had taken out his anger on his own body, he also knew it wouldn’t be the last.

His gray eyes stared at the reflection looking back. Nal’s breathing grew heavy, he turned fully to face his own reflection. “Face it, you are no longer Rihan!” and with that, he roared as his fist met the mirrored glass. The mirror splintered into hundreds of pieces but didn’t not fall from it’s casing. “IMIRRHLHHSE!” he wrung his left hand to shake out the pain. Mean gashes of green crossed his knuckles, but he didn’t care because he finally felt something, he had become to accustomed to the numbness.

As his breathing slowed, he realized what he had done and he backed up in horror only to be stopped by the cold, duranium bulkhead. He slid down slowly, and as soon as his rear came in contact with the deck, he drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees.

He buried his head in his arms… and cried…

 

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