THE ZANZA CINEMATIC UNIVERSE PRESENTS: KATRINA CORNWELL.
influenced heavily by headcanons and canon divergence, of star trek, by zanza.
SHE/THEY / 27 / MOUNTAIN TIME
carrd. memes. headcanons. character study.
you might notice i’ve got a lot of blogs! that means i do hop around a lot, but i typically have a pretty narrow focus on one or two. this does lead to the others having sporadic activity, sometimes i’ll do one thing a month on a blog, sometimes i’ll do more, sometimes i’ll do less if this bothers you, please don’t feel obligated to stick around. we’re just here to have a good time and i’ve figured out a system that’s working pretty well for me. if you have interest in writing with any of my muses at all, let me know! even if i haven’t been active on them in a while, i can promise that your interest in them will wake them up. if you want to stay in contact in general, mutuals can add me on discord at zanza cinematic universe#4185.
BLOGS UNDER THE CUT.
MULTIMUSES.
2000s TEEN DRAMAS.
MEDICAL DRAMAS.
ORPHAN BLACK.
STAR TREK.
THE WEST WING.
SINGLE MUSES.
B’ELANNA TORRES, star trek: voyager.
CASSIE LANG, mixed 616 / mcu.
EMILY THORNE / AMANDA CLARKE, abc’s revenge.
EVELYN ABBOTT, a quiet place.
IVY LYNN, nbc’s smash.
KATRINA CORNWELL, star trek discovery.
LAUREN BLOOM, nbc’s new amsterdam.
LORELAI GILMORE, wb’s gilmore girls.
LILY HOUGHTON, disney’s jungle cruise.
MELLIE GRANT, abc’s scandal.
NIC NEVIN, fox’s the resident.
SEVEN OF NINE, star trek: voyager + star trek: picard.
SHAWN SPENCER, usa’s psych.
UNA CHIN-RILEY, star trek.
STARTER CALL. post discovery season two. specify muse(s) if you’re a multi, feel free to message for plotting!
the torpedo in the hull of the enterprise was detonated and the admiral was still in the room, and yet she was saved — she was transported out and to sickbay at the very last second. her injuries were severe, and in an unusual move she allowed the burn scars to be healed. during her recovery she helped to craft the cover story regarding what had happened to discovery and offered her own testimony regarding the events that had taken place. as soon as she had progressed far enough in healing, including a mandated leave, she resumed command of the washington and keeps in regular contact with chris, una, and others who were aboard during the events (especially considering she was in command for a short time) - those who know the truth - in order to keep herself from feeling so completely alone in her knowledge.
STARTER CALL. post discovery season two. specify muse(s) if you’re a multi, feel free to message for plotting!
the torpedo in the hull of the enterprise was detonated and the admiral was still in the room, and yet she was saved — she was transported out and to sickbay at the very last second. her injuries were severe, and in an unusual move she allowed the burn scars to be healed. during her recovery she helped to craft the cover story regarding what had happened to discovery and offered her own testimony regarding the events that had taken place. as soon as she had progressed far enough in healing, including a mandated leave, she resumed command of the washington and keeps in regular contact with chris, una, and others who were aboard during the events (especially considering she was in command for a short time) - those who know the truth - in order to keep herself from feeling so completely alone in her knowledge.
He knows she’s tired, he also knows that she’s fighting, and she’s fighting hard. Gabriel knows she’s using every ounce of strength she has to cling to him. He hates seeing her like this. Hate’s that she’s having to fight to stay alive, hell awake even right now. They’re both terrified. He does not want to lose her, he can’t lose her. He wants to chuckle at her response to his, but by the time he can mutter anything, they’re in sickbay. Culber is rushing over to them and Gabriel is still reluctant to let Katrina out of his arms. “I promise, it’s really me Kat, you’re alright.” He tells her as Hugh is practically prying the admiral out of his arms. He doesn’t leave her side as they get her ready for transport, and telling what he at least knows is wrong with Katrina.
her condition is worrying, katrina’s not even a medical doctor and she’s perfectly aware of that. hell, it’s something she’s known since waking up — however unclear her thoughts in general might be. the clarity regarding the gravity of her injuries is startling and entirely concerning — and kat’s certain that gabriel’s downplaying it for her sake, but he’s easy enough to read. even half-conscious, she knows him well enough to sense the nervous energy rolling off him. “okay,” she murmurs quietly, an uncharacteristic interest in arguing overriding any fight she might be tempted to offer — she doesn’t have the energy to do anything but take him at his word. “wh... what’s the nearest starbase?” a pause as she swallows hard, looking him up and down, “you know you’ve got to stay here, gabriel. you’ve got a mission, discovery’s your ship, you’ve got... got to stay here,”
today’s angst brought to you by the letter ‘c’, as in @georgiov keeps saying ‘concept’ then proceeding to hurt me, and i have to retaliate with 2k word responses that take all day. prompted by:
it’s been a long time since she’s come anywhere near letting her guard down. the war’s over, and yet she’s surrounded by walls that she can’t quite bear to let fall. they’re keeping out the brunt of all she’s faced. the friends she’s lost — the loved ones. the pain, both emotional and physical, that’s been endured, but not quite faced. from a clinical perspective, she knows it’s unhealthy. things will only grow more difficult to deal with the longer she puts them off — but the idea of facing down all that pain? it’s…. difficult to imagine just how everything might feel when it all comes crashing down. though, she notes that ‘impossible’ feels like a vaguely more appropriate word.
truthfully, katrina isn’t sure she’s really felt anything but rage, hurt, or indescribable sadness in the last year. there’ve been moments where she’s tried — and tried hard — to allow herself to experience more positive emotions. to love, and feel joy, and hope. and each had backfired, leaving her worse off in the end. drained, and even nearer to empty than she’d been before.
but now, here she is. the peace accords are through, the armistice complete. there are no more ceremonies. the funerals are over ( and she’s spoken at so many, somehow managing to maintain her composure throughout ). now the federation is on the way to rebuilding, and working toward peace; so perhaps she ought to do the same. to find some way to pick up the pieces of herself, and start anew. but what if she doesn’t want to? what if leaving behind all she’s lost proves too difficult? and just how is a person supposed to move forward, anyhow? one might think she knows the answer, having helped countless officers move past their own losses and traumas — but when it comes to her own, she’s at a loss ( perhaps it’s true what they say about how difficult it can be to follow your own advice ).
it’s wearily that such thoughts lead her home. it’s an oddly comforting thing, knowing one place in the universe feels so absolute, and unchangeable — despite all the bad and hardships that’ve kept her away for so long. it’s foreign, too, though. peace is strange. the absence of a cause to fight so completely for, to keep her mind so thoroughly occupied that the emptiness can’t creep in. but now that’s all she feels: empty. the losses have left her gutted. hollow. a shell of the person she used to be. she’ll have to preserve, kat knows that much, and professionalism does the job. being lost in her work is enough distraction, and she does well enough at maintaining normalcy in that part of her life. her professional life isn’t the problem, though. she knows that it’s personally where the worst of her wounds lie. and that’s what prompts her to distract herself.
eyes drift to the bookshelf that holds such a prominent place among her personal effects. real, hardcover books have always fascinated her — the experience of reading far more tactile with something so sturdy in your hands. there’s smell, touch, and even the words themselves feel different than when they’re read from a digital screen. and getting lost in another universe feels pretty good right about now. she steers away from one of the many volumes left behind by her sister ( a love of different worlds, of books, and stories, and potential, had helped steer them both to starfleet — it’d made sense that when andrea had passed what feels like lifetimes ago now, that her most treasured books had been left to kat ).
instead, she chooses something light — so as to avoid dwelling on yet another unshakable loss. after a while though, it’s not quite enough. her mind continues to wander, and despite her best attempts to avoid it, she feels compelled to dwell in the past. lips part ever so slightly as she readjusts, eyes drifting around the living space that….. had once seemed less dull. more full of light, and life, and laughter. perhaps it’s truly all in her mind, the way things have changed. the ghosts that seem to linger, and the way she’s so entirely unsure of whether she’d prefer to be haunted by them, or to somehow set them free. tonight, though? she’ll allow herself to be haunted.
slowly, katrina rises, and it’s as if she’s carried by instinct to the shelves that house one of her most treasured possessions. she supposes it’s something of a ghost itself, ( or…. maybe just a shrine to one ). there’s a thin layer of dust atop the ancient device — a visual indication of how long she’s been away, and how little she’s touched it since placing it so carefully in the place she’d so deliberately chosen. the shelf above the music player houses the records that’d come with it, genres varying, all once cared for so lovingly by a person who’d cherished kat just as dearly.
she finds it’s difficult to really feel anything beyond the most basic acknowledgment of what she ought to feel. it’s damn frustrating, but at the same time? there’s something relieving about it. fingers brush lightly along the cases so dutifully protecting each sleeve, and she finds herself wishing vaguely that she’d been able to similarly protect their previous owner — irrational as placing any bit of the blame on herself might be. it’s a moment before she’s able to pick one, and it briefly occurs to her that it might be a fucking awful idea, but she’s desperate. desperate to feel. desperate to remember. and in a moment of sheer irony that accompanies that wish, her mind flickers back to the message that had accompanied the delivery of the crate so filled with ghosts ( memories, and pain, and ghosts ). katrina can so vividly recall the way the holo philippa had recorded had so distinctly mentioned this song.
it’s heavy handed, and clumsy, the process of setting things up — yet it’s handled with the utmost care. it’s been a long time, since the day philippa had helped her learn how to operate the record player, ( another memory that had come to her so vividly upon the receipt of the other woman’s will and testament ). it all feels like another lifetime now, the way they’d laughed, and danced, and the way dancing had lead to more laughter, and joy, and reaffirmation of how fiercely they’d loved each other. loved. it’s not a word that’s really crossed her mind until now, and it’s with that word that katrina feels the first pang of grief ( and, oddly, elation at the fact that she’s feeling anything at all ) begin to really hit her.
the next comes with the selected song itself, and the memories it brings with it.
she’s suddenly entombed by guilt. guilt over how long it’s taken her to really grieve, over leaving so much left unsaid. so many things. and her heart aches as mind drifts back to the present, the song nearing its end with her having heard so little of it ( there’s guilt about that, too, somehow ). kat finds herself surprised as a smile slowly slides across her lips, despite her grief. an indication, at least, that she’s able to acknowledge the joy behind the memories. that’s something. then, before she knows it, her eyes sting. it’s not entirely surprising, considering the lyrics that accompany the moment.
‘take my hand, take my whole life too,’ apt words — fitting.
it’s a moment, she knows, before the song will finish, but katrina feels a little more prepared to let her walls down — but before she can really give the idea the thought it deserves, there’s a small noise that she knows is abnormal, she knows she’d heard it though, it’d been distinctive, following the final lyrics. instinctively, kat takes a step back, hoping beyond hope she hasn’t somehow damaged this most precious of objects — and that’s when she spots the hidden compartment, its opening only waiting for further investigation. her hesitation is palpable, heavy in the air as she feels her heart begin to race. had this this been the real reason philippa had mentioned this specific song in her message?
( guilt returns as she wonders whether she shouldn’t have waited so long to begin to confront her emotions ).
swallowing hard, katrina extends a slightly trembling hand to investigate more fully. she’s gentle as she pulls at the loosened edges, and she can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as it slides out easily to reveal its secrets. she hesitates again, unsure whether she’s ready for what could very well be the last contact she’ll ever have with her philippa. but then she moves, without really thinking, because she knows she’ll end up stuck if she thinks. hand wraps around the object hidden within, and eyes shut as kat pulls it out. taking a deep breath, eyes open as she simultaneously opens her hand to reveal a small box. it could be any number of things but…. something in the way she feels her breath hitch in her throat, and her heart sink offers some confirmation.
empty hand reaches out to steady her as she sinks to the ground. hell, she doesn’t even know that this is what she suspects and still her reaction is so…. dramatic. uncontrollable. it’s a moment before she manages to catch her breath, but it’s more akin to hyperventilation than any healthy breath pattern, and katrina wills herself to relax, talks herself through breathing and relaxation exercises until her breathing regulates. it’s only then that she really looks at the box — it’s simple, but still exquisite in its craftsmanship. that fact is unsurprising, considering the woman it comes from, and that thought brings a small smile back to her face. but it’s only brief, as katrina wills herself to settle into a more comfortable position, though she’s still seated on the ground. it feels sensible, above losing her footing for a second time.
and then she opens it.
and her face falls.
it’s as if her emotions all hit her at once.
it dawns on her then, the wracking sobs that’ve begun to shake her entire frame.
philippa’s gone, and katrina’s left alone. all the losses of this war leave her gutted, but none more significantly than this. it just hasn’t settled in just how monumental the loss is until now. they’d discussed marriage, of course, more than once — but the timing had never been right. there had always been some reason why it wouldn’t work, or some excuse to put it off. it’s only now that each and every one of those excuses and reasons seems so entirely ridiculous. funny, what a lack of options makes clear.
it’s a long time that katrina sits there and cries — so long that she doesn’t know how long it’s been. once she’s able to really breathe, she does her best to dry her eyes and really look at ring. it’s….. beautiful. simple, like the box, but truly beautiful. stunning, really. breath hitches in her throat again as kat reaches up to wipe the remaining tears from her face. it’s then that she pulls the ring from where it’s so safely been held for….. god knows how long ( she’s sure she can genuinely feel her heart crumbling sitting here, thinking about what might’ve been, and all she’s lost ).
for a moment, she contemplates putting it on; seeing what it looks like — what it feels like — having that potential. but she doesn’t have that potential. that future’s gone now, so she doesn’t. instead she returns it to the box, and slowly rises to her feet. katrina’s shaky at first, and standing is difficult, but she does it. she stands, and moves the needle on the record player to restart the song. then she places the open box on the same shelf that holds all the medals and awards she’s earned throughout her career.
it feels like a fitting place to hold what’s left of her heart, after all.
instead of killing characters off at random for shock value, may i propose a hip new trend: keeping characters alive at random for shock value. by all logic, this character should be dead. there’s no possible explanation for how they continue to shuffle ‘round this mortal coil. maybe we literally saw them die onscreen back in the passe era of shock value deaths. and yet, there they are. alive before our eyeballs.
He gave her a cold look……how she had so easily psychoanalyzed him was both threatening to him, and curious. Was he really that transparent than an organic can tell him what he was thinking….
Or was she part Betazoid?
All these thoughts were running a thousand frame-rates a second as he spoke to her.
“ I have many things on my mind. Although I’m curious to know how you know what might be going on in my circuitry….”
lips press up slightly, for a moment, before expression settles into a practiced mask of neutral professionalism.
“i’m good at my job. or --- rather, i was. you pick up on a few things after decades spent as a mental health practitioner, even if you choose to step away.” sometimes she misses it, but it’s rare she allows herself to regret anything. good or bad. “turns out there are plenty of fundamental similarities to how people work, no matter who they are,”
