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Aberrant: Stargate Universe - Settling In


Noah Weston

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"You don't have anything to worry about on that end" he said, relieved she hadn't freaked out. "I just wish I could get rid this 'gift' or whatever you want to call it."

He paused again. He didn't really know Olivia, so he wasn't sure if she'd appreciate unsolicited advice but something inside him needed to say something. "Doctor. Olivia, I don't want to pry or seem pushy or anything, but if what you feel," He was stumbling for words and was clearly self concious. "I mean, not everyone get a chance at love, or to be loved. If you really care about this guy then maybe you should put the past in the past and see if he feels the same way?" He looked sad for a moment and held up his hands before she could speak. "Sorry! sorry, that's my Deanna Troi moment for the day. Last thing I need to do is run off the closest thing I have to a friend around here."

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There was a surge of anger, quickly repressed. It disappeared with surprising speed, as if Olivia was good at swallowing emotions. "If it were about my emotions, or my love, I'd be fine," she said. "But I've done things that I don't know that he'll forgive me for. We haven't really talked... much... yet."

She shifted slightly in her chair. "Sometimes, the past doesn't stay where it belongs."

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Noah shifted uncomfortably. He hadn't meant to get so personal and jam his foot so thoroughly into his own mouth. His awkwardness was apparent. "Tell me about it," he said quietly at Olivia's last comment. There was an awkward silence for a moment while the both of them were lost in their own thoughts before Noah spoke again.

"So. What passes for entertainment around here?" He said trying to swing the conversation back to a less personal topic.

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Hatchins had asked that. Olivia ignored the creeping sensation that gave her and said, "I'm the wrong person to ask. Most of my free time is spent studying or writing." She felt a thread of discomfort as she admitted to the writing; she hadn't told anyone about that yet.

"There's a ping pong table somewhere, lots of people spend time in the gym... the usual for a base."

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"Huh," Noah grunted and looked less than thrilled at the prospects of the macho soldier posturing that passed for entertainment on most military bases. "I guess I'll just have to amuse myself. Um wait, that came out wrong..." Noah blushed. "I just meant I'll give me a lot of time to brush up on my musical skills."

"you asked earlier what I play. My mom was a music teacher and she taught me the piano and how to sing. I taught myself how to play the guitar, the bass guitar and the drums. I'm not really a professional but when I was younger I wanted to be a rock star." Noah said a little self consiously. "What kind of writing do you like to do?"

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"You should meet my brother, though he favors rap over more acoustic forms of music," Olivia said, smiling. "You might be able to convince him to goof around... though he's in Berkeley, so it'd have to be on leave or something. He's the musical one in the family - gets it from his mother, while I can't carry a tune at all. Which is weird, because Mom has a great voice, and most of her family has been in their church's gospel groups. And there's nothing wrong with being a rock star - Wakiki's still trying to break into the rap scene. He has a small local following in the San Fran area, but he still has a day job."

She was avoiding talking about her writing, and with effort, she stopped. "I mostly write reports for the brass," she said. "Though I'm actually reading more reports now than writing them. And... I'm dabbling with some fictional stuff. Just playing around, really."

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"Rap? It's not my favorite style of music but I appreciate the poetic spirit of the style," Noah smiled. "I'm glad to hear your brother is making it, sort of."

"You know, most people can carry a tune, it's just they've never been taught how to sing properly. If you want I can give you a few quick lessons."

"And writing? That's cool. Sometimes I wish I was smarter. When I write reports I always feel like a moron."

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"I can try," Olivia said. "Wakiki tried to show me in the past, but I just couldn't seem to get the knack of it. Maybe after the Artifact, I'll have more talent in that area." Olivia rolled her eyes. "Goodness knows, I'm due more than I got."

She stopped and flushed, her dark skin darkening a bit more. "I'm sorry, that sounded really ungrateful. I just sometimes feel shortchanged by the Artifact. I feel like others got more impressive powers, while I got some really subtle things that aren't that great in the field once people start shooting."

Olivia stopped and smiled a bit. "You know, have you tried writing a report since the Artifact? It might work better for you now. I know my writing ability improved because of the Artifact."

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Noah watched Olivia as she talked and noticed something revealing. When she talked about others she was animated and outgoing, excited almost, but that all changed when she talked about herself. She was down on herself about everything, holding herself to a standard that no human being could possibly measure up to and in a flash in insight Noah realized they were more alike than he'd previously thought. he understood know that telling he she wasn't a loser wasn't going to change how she felt about herself.

"You know it's funny but I'd give just about anything to be smarter. Killing is easy, anyone can do it. But genius is a true gift," he said to the Doctor. "I wish I had your ability, to remember, to sense things. You know they say you can hear what's going on anywhere in the SGC? That's just about the most awesome thing I've heard! I'm betting Command considers you to be the most valuable member of your team."

"Me on the other hand, I'm pretty mundane by comparison. You know the docs were more excited by my Telempathic ability then the super strength or super sexy routine? That should tell you something."

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"It's easy to admire what you don't have," Olivia said with a smile. It faded a little as she confessed, "When I first heard about what the other Specialists were gaining, all their physical abilities, I thought I'd develop something like that in time. And when I didn't, it was like... when I was younger, I was put it in a situation where I felt helpless. I wasn't physically strong enough to stop it."

Olivia's gaze had gone distant and her voice had developed a careful flat tone. "All I really wanted from my transformation was to feel safe, in my own skin. No one here, at least none of the guys, understand what it means to feel like that."

She sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to unload on you." He could feel her sadness, and plain frustration as she finished, "You were just listening, I guess."

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"I do," Noah said quietly. He didn't elaborate but Olivia could clearly see the pain on his face. It didn't last long but there was no mistaking that expression, it's one she'd seen a million times in the mirror. "It doesn't help though, the super powers."

"I'm consisdered an excellent marksman and I've been trained to kill people with my bare hands. I still don't feel safe or comfortable in my own skin most of the time," He looked up at her and gave her a sad smile, sighed and shifted in his seat. "Don't worry about unloading on me. Like I said before, I'm good at keeping secrets."

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Noah seemed lost in thought for several long moments before he answered Olivia. "Military School is harsh if you don't fit in. I was hospitalized for a month and a half when I was 16 in what the school board labeled a 'prank'. I was beaten within an inch of my life and...stuff."

He closed his eyes momentarily, lost to unpleasant unpleasant memories. "I thought joining the Marines would help. If I became a big tough Marine then no one could hurt me like that again and I'd feel better. it just doesn't work that way."

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This wasn't helping. Becoming a specialist had offered her hope that she'd become strong and safe. Hearing someone, a freakin' Marine no less, telling her that she was doomed to never be safe in her own skin depressed her. Noah could feel the gloom settling over her, even as she spoke again.

"I'm sorry to hear that you went through that. I wasn't hospitalized, which was the only saving grace of that night," she sighed, her eyes still going distant. "No one should be treated that way." Her gaze returned to him as she considered the world of possibilities covered by the words 'and stuff'. Perhaps they had more in common than she'd first thought. But there was no good way to ask it, so she didn't.

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Noah felt her mood darken. He knew something bad had happened to her, maybe it was still happening to her, he wasn't sure but he didn't want her to think he thought life was hopeless.

"What I meant was that no one else can make me feel better about myself but me. Ever since...that night, I've struggled to put it in the past. Some days suck and I want to hide away, isolate myself, and other days it's not so bad."

He took a deep, purifying breath, held it for a moment and let it out. his mood changing, becoming less dark. "I could give you one of the shiny happy lines my therapist gave me in counceling but every time he spouted that new aged, crystal waving crap I wanted to punch him in the face so I'll spare you," he said with a half smile. "But something he said struck me. He said that until I deal with the memories and feeling and put them in their rightful place I'd never feel fully safe. So that's what I try to do."

"You know what else helps?" He said conspiratorily. "Punching bags. Nothing gets rid of tension and agression faster than kicking the crap out of a big leather bag filled with stuffing. It may not solve the problem but even just reseasing all that tense energy can make a world of difference"

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Olivia listened, but he didn't feel any change in her mood or any sense of acceptance. "I never saw a therapist," she confessed. "I just told someone about it for the first time recently. And I don't like violence. I'm not sure how much pounding on a bag would actually help my mood."

Now Noah felt her mood shift slightly; anger flared a bit as she said, "I'm not sure where the 'rightful place' for these memories and feelings would be. I can't imagine anywhere in my head where I'd feel after putting them there. I don't even begin to guess what that'd feel like or where that would be. Where is the 'rightful place' for something that twisted your perception of life around?"

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"I can't answer that for you. I wish I could, but I'm still trying to figure it out for myself," He confessed honestly "Seeing my therapist was helpful just to talk about it even if he was a bit of a douche."

"As for the bag, it's not about violence but a about physical exertion. Carrying all that nervous energy, stress, and tension takes a physical toll on you. You don't want to hit the heavy bag? Try running or swimming or something like that. It's not an instant fix but you'll be amazed at how much better you'll feel just getting rid of that energy. Although the bags will let you work out your anger without actually getting all primal on someone."

"You know, any time you need to unload, I'll give you an ear. That is unless you've got someone else you can rely on. I know I can use a friend and I feel like I can trust you"

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Olivia fell silent, looking away from Noah for a moment. "I'll think about the bag, and the exercise." After a second, she shook off the strange mood and shot him a bemused grin. "The only thing I hate worse than violence is exercise, though, so I'm not sure I can do it."

She sagged back into her chair a bit more, clasping her hands over her stomach. She wasn't quite relaxed now, but she wasn't ready to run from the room either. "Thanks," Olivia replied to his offer to talk. "And the same to you. I don't mind listening to others."

She looked curious suddenly, and her emotions matched. "What is it like being able to sense emotions? Like seeing? Or does it feel tactile, yet not?"

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