It's Something to Overcome

Posted on 27 Feb 2026 @ 1:24am by Lieutenant Commander Camila Di Pasquale & Lieutenant Commander Joey Geisler

5,018 words; about a 25 minute read

Mission: Epitaph
Location: Personal Quarters
Timeline: July 15, 2390 || 1700 Hours

It had been a few days since the real Joey and Harvey had been on the ship, but while Camila had seen and briefed and been debriefed by Harvey, she had yet to see Joey beyond seeing her in Medical. Now she headed to her former Assistant Chief's quarters with a large bag in her hand. No longer the Assistant Chief of Security, but now the Chief of Intelligence and a power in her own right.

She stopped in front of the door where Joey and Harvey spent their time with their twins and dogs, their personal domain and where Joey was recovering from her ordeal. She had heard what had happened, but she couldn't imagine what Joey had been through. With a sigh, she tapped the chime and had the computer announce who it as.

Joey sat curled into the corner of the couch, one arm draped protectively along the back of it while Alison and Jameson sat on the floor in front of her, utterly absorbed in the animated movie playing on the padd propped between them. Crumbs from their snack had already begun forming a small constellation on the carpet, but for once, Joey didn’t have the heart—or the energy—to fuss about it.

The soft chime of the door cut through the soundtrack, followed immediately by the computer’s calm announcement: “Lieutenant Commander Camila di Pasquale.”

Joey’s head lifted at once. Her pulse gave a small, involuntary jump. She smoothed a hand over the front of her shirt, trying to tame the faint tremor in her fingers, then cleared her throat quietly so the twins wouldn’t notice. “Come in,” she called, voice steadying as she straightened her posture. Her gaze remained fixed on the door, bracing herself for the first real conversation with Camila since being back.

Camila entered their quarters wearing a pair of faded blue jeans with rips in the knees, a t-shirt that said "My Other T-Shirt is in the Recycler" and she wore a pair of white cross trainer tennis shoes. The outfit had been chosen with care to help set Joey at ease and meet her in an environment that she was comfortable with.

She gave a smile as she saw Joey with the twins on the couch and stepped forward. "Hey," she said. "I just wanted to come see you."

Joey’s expression softened the moment Camila stepped inside. She shifted a little on the couch, careful not to disturb the twins on the floor, then offered her former Chief a warm, genuine smile. “Hey,” she echoed, lifting a hand to gesture toward the nearest chair. “Come on in. Make yourself comfortable.”

Alison glanced back briefly at Camila, lifting a hand full of goldfish crackers in her direction. Either the little girl didn't remember what happened on the flight deck, or she was forgiving her. Jameson looked away from the movie briefly to smile at their guest while Rico and Pequeno opted to remain where they were. In their minds, all was well.

Joey let the small moment reassure her before turning her attention fully back to Camila. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked, voice gentle but steady. “Water, tea… anything?”

"Anything without caffeine would be good, thank you," Camila said as she accepted a cracker from Allison. "Thank you, too, sweetheart." She gave Jameson a return smile before she headed over to the couch, giving a glance to the dogs. "I've brought a few things for the kids."

Joey rose to her feet and moved to the replicator to get two glasses of fruit‑infused water, then returned back to set them on the coffee table. When she straightened again, she offered her a warm smile—one touched with genuine appreciation. “You didn’t have to bring them anything,” she said gently.

Her gaze flicked to the twins, who were still happily absorbed in their movie, then back to Camila as she sat back down. “But they’ll love whatever you brought. You can give it to them whenever you’re ready.”

"Thank you, Joey," the ombre haired woman said as she pulled out four stuffed animals, a monkey, bear, rabbit and kitty, the bear and monkey wearing Command red while the rabbit and kitty wore Medical blue. "They can have all four, or share with Rico and Pequeno."

Alison’s eyes went wide first, then Jameson’s, both pairs of blue‑green eyes flicking from the plush animals to Joey as if awaiting official clearance. Joey’s smile deepened, soft and reassuring, and she gave them a small nod.

That was all the permission they needed.

Alison scooped up the rabbit and bear, hugging them to her chest with a delighted little squeak. Jameson grabbed the monkey and kitty, murmuring a shy but earnest “’Ank you,” while Alison chimed in with her own cheerful, “Tank you, Titi!”.

Joey’s heart warmed at the sight of them immediately snuggling their new treasures. “Thank you,” she echoed to Camila, her voice touched with genuine gratitude. “These are perfect. And I can promise you—they’re not going to want to share with the dogs. Rico and Pequeno are out of luck this time.”

"You're welcome, kids," Camila said with a smile, watching both them and Joey as she accepted the fruit water and took a seat. "I'll make sure to get some for the next time. Would you and Harvey like some, too?"

Joey eased back into her spot on the couch, fingers curling around her glass as she took a small sip. The cool water helped settle her, and she let a smile tug at her lips. “It would be sweet,” she admitted, glancing toward the twins, who were already deeply attached to their new plush companions. “But let’s be honest—if you brought ones for Harvey and me, the kids would stake their claim on them before we even got a chance.”

Her tone held a quiet humor, but when she looked back at Camila, the lightness softened into something more sincere. She really looked at her—past the casual clothes, past the easy smile, searching for the truth beneath it. “How are you doing, Camila?” she asked gently. “Really.”

Camila laughed at the comment about the kids claiming their parents stuffed toys. "You aren't wrong." She paused and took a sip of her juice and inwardly wished it were whiskey as she considered her friends question. "I'm doing okay. I haven't had to fight Harvey for any new protocols being approved. How about you?"

Joey let the question sit for a moment, her fingers tracing the condensation on her glass as she gathered her thoughts. Physically, she was… fine. Healing. Eating more, resting when she could. But that wasn’t what Camila was really asking, and they both knew it. “I’m… okay,” she said slowly, choosing the word with care. “Physically, at least. I still need to put a little weight back on, and the doctors want me resting more than I’d like.”

She exhaled through her nose, a quiet, tired sound.

“But the rest of it… I’m not sleeping well. And when I do, it’s not great. Nightmares.” Her gaze drifted briefly to the twins—safe, content, blissfully unaware—before returning to Camila. “It’s getting better, just… not as fast as I would like.”

She shifted, settling more comfortably against the couch. “I’m going to take some time off from my duties,” she admitted, voice soft but steady. “I need to get my head on straight before I go back to making decisions that affect the whole ship.”

"I wish that I could go back and change things, Joey," Camila said after a moment. "I wanted to tear the Ensign that let you go off on your own a new ass after I got back and found everything out, but...it just seems like more work. You are more important than that, to both the ship and to your husband and children. You know that I'll be here for you in any way you need me. Have you thought about resigning?"

Joey set her glass aside and reached out, her fingers curling gently around Camila’s hand. The squeeze she gave was soft but steady—reassurance, not dismissal. “I’m glad you didn’t tear into the Ensign,” she said quietly. “What happened wasn’t their fault. And it wasn’t yours either.”

She let out a slow breath, eyes dropping for a moment before lifting again. “My background is Security heavy. You know that. I’ve spent years trusting my instincts, and that day… I didn’t feel like there was any danger. That’s on me.” Her mouth tightened just a fraction. “Well—me, and D’rimo for having such a stupid plan in the first place.” A hint of dry humor flickered through her voice, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

She shifted, thumb brushing lightly over the back of Camila’s hand. “And… I’d be lying if I said the thought of resigning never crossed my mind. Everything that happened—it shakes you. Makes you question things.”

Her gaze steadied, clear and resolute. “But no. I’m not resigning. I just need some time off. Time to get my head straight, get back on my feet, and make sure I’m the person my family—and this ship—deserve.”

She offered a small, warm smile. “I’ll get there. Just… not today.”

"I've thought about it, too, but.." The ombre haired woman looked down at the hand on the back of hers. The hand of someone she had let down. The hand of someone that still called her a friend. Someone to protect. She swallowed. "My instinct is to protect. To be trusted." She paused and her voice was barely a whisper. "To be appreciated."

Joey’s fingers tightened around Camila’s hand, the squeeze warm and deliberate—an anchor, not a consolation.

“Camila,” she said softly, waiting until the other woman lifted her eyes. “I trust you. With my life. And with theirs.” She nodded toward the twins, curled up with their new plush companions, blissfully unaware of the weight in the room. “There aren’t many people I can say that about. And you are appreciated. By me. By Harvey. By the crew, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.” Her smile was small but sincere. “People rely on you more than you realize.”

Joey leaned back slightly, still holding on, still steady. “Your instincts—to protect, to be someone others can trust—they’re good instincts. They’re why you’re here. Why you matter.”

Her voice softened even further. “Don’t doubt that. Not for a second.”

Camila looked at the hand squeezing hers and then back up to the woman doing it. "Thank you, Joey." She gave a smile. "So, what's your next steps? Counseling? Therapy? Hula dancing and surfing?"

“Yes,” Joey said simply.

There was no hesitation in it—just quiet honesty. Healing wasn’t going to be something she muscled through alone, and she knew that now. Counseling, therapy, whatever it took… she’d take the steps. For herself. For her family. For the people who still trusted her.

Her smile warmed a little as she added, “Definitely the surfing and hula dancing.”

Camila looked at the chrono calendar and did a bit of math before she looked back at Joey. "In fact, in a month, I'm going to make a cake that will bring out your inner fat girl and send her wiggling to it like it's the end all, be all of fat girl cakes, and it will be all yours."

Joey couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face—soft at first, then blooming into something brighter as she imagined whatever decadent creation Camila had in mind. She reached for her water again, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Well,” she said, voice warm with genuine appreciation, “I will gladly accept a cake like that… and enjoy every single bite.”

She tilted her head, giving Camila a look that was equal parts fond and teasing. “But only if you’re there to enjoy it with me. I’m not tackling the end‑all, be‑all of fat‑girl cakes alone.”

Her smile lingered, the moment easing something tight in her chest.

The ombre haired woman saw the change and her smile grew a little and a flicker sparked in her eyes. "If you think I'm going to use my finely honed skills to track down the ultimate fat girl cake and not take part in eating it, you are wrong." She gave a laugh.

Joey’s smile lingered, soft and warm, as she watched the spark in Camila’s eyes. For a moment she simply took her in—her friend, her colleague, someone who had been carrying her own weight through all of this. The doctor’s words drifted through her mind, reminding her that healing wasn’t just about rest and therapy; it was also about facing the pieces of the aftermath head‑on.

She drew a slow breath, settling back against the couch as she studied Camila with quiet intent. “I’m glad you’ll be there to help me eat it,” she said, amusement threading gently through her voice. Then her expression shifted—still gentle, but more focused. “Hey… while we’re talking about everything.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against her glass before she looked fully at Camila again. “Do you want a formal debriefing?” she asked. “Have you gotten one from Harvey yet?”

The question wasn’t sharp or official—just steady.

"Gamma Command hasn't debriefed you already?" Camila asked in surprise as they had practically taken over the investigation. "Harvey debriefed me. I would assume that he or Gamma Command had debriefed you."

Joey nodded, the motion small but certain. She shifted her glass between her hands for a moment before answering. “They did,” she said quietly. “Gamma Command got their debriefing out of me already.”

A breath slipped out of her—half sigh, half release. “It was… hard. Harder than I expected, honestly.” Her gaze drifted briefly toward the twins, then back to Camila. “Talking about it is supposed to help, and maybe it will. But it doesn’t make any of it easy, and I thought you might want the same chance. To talk it through. Maybe it will help us both.”

"I'm more than willing to listen, Joey," Camila said. "I just...don't have much to talk about."

Joey studied her for a long moment, the quiet stretching just enough to feel intentional rather than heavy. She shifted slightly, brushing a hand over her knee before meeting Camila’s eyes again. “You might not think you do,” she said gently, “but I don’t actually know what happened while I was gone.”

Her voice stayed soft, steady—an invitation, not pressure.

“My clone got my memories,” she continued, a faint crease forming between her brows, “but I didn’t get hers. I don’t know what she did, what she said, how she acted… any of it.”

She exhaled slowly, the admission carrying a hint of vulnerability. “Maybe I should know. Maybe it would help.”

Her gaze held Camila’s, open and earnest. “So… what happened while I was gone?”

Now Camila felt even worse and it showed on her face. "I didn't think...I'm sorry, Joey," she said as she collected her thoughts.

"After Razmena, we were hunting down leads for the series of attacks that D'Rimo was doing and thought it was pirates. When we found the and the wreckage of Unity, I elected to go undercover to chase the pirates to their sources. Except I didn't find pirates. I found several planets that were full of starving colonists because the Federation no longer has the resources to support them."

"We went to Mellon and that's where I met Harvey's former Yeoman, Emily Carter and her family. They invited us to dinner and that same night, D'Rimo showed up with this side's D'Rimo's head in a box and tossed it on the table before he killed her father."

The Security Chief shook her head to get that images out of it before she continued. "We got taken prisoner to haul ore, but managed to escape and made it back to the ship. I briefed the Commodore and he let me put together a plan of attack to take D'Rimo out and that's where everything went wrong."

She paused again as she thought about all the lives and ships that had been lost as a result of the failed, yet successful attack. "The clones gave D'Rimo the edge and we lost five ships and he still tried to get to the Bajoran wormhole to attack it with tricobalts to get back to his universe. That's where things start to meld back together again and we're here and now."

Joey didn’t interrupt once. She sat very still, her fingers curled loosely around her glass, her eyes fixed on Camila with a quiet intensity that never wavered. Every piece of the story hit her differently—some parts like a punch, others like a slow, sinking weight in her chest.

The starving colonies… the wreckage… the head in a box… Emily’s father.

That one hurt the most.

When Camila finished, Joey drew in a slow breath, letting it settle before she spoke. Her voice was low, steady, but threaded with something darker beneath the surface. “Emily…” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “Losing her father like that… to him…” Her jaw tightened, the muscle there flexing once. “No one should have to see something like that.”

She set her glass down, hands coming together loosely in her lap as she looked back at Camila—really looked, taking in the guilt, the weight, the exhaustion.

“I’m not going to lie to you,” she said quietly. “When I realized what he’d done… Unity, the countless lives he'd taken, hurting Harvey, what he put me through…” Her eyes darkened, not with fear, but with something far more controlled. “I wanted to take D’Rimo out myself. I wanted to watch the life leave his eyes.”

"I wanted to be the one to blow him apart in space," Camila admitted after a moment. "I have a lot of unresolved things to deal with. What was the worst part for you?"

Joey didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted toward the twins—still curled up with their new plush animals, still blissfully unaware of how close they’d come to losing her. The sight steadied her, even as it tightened something deep in her chest.

When she finally looked back at Camila, her expression was open, honest in a way she didn’t often allow herself to be. “The worst part?” she echoed softly. “It wasn’t the pain. Or the fear. Or even him.”

She drew in a slow breath, letting it settle before she continued. “It was not knowing if I’d ever see my family again,” she said, voice low but steady. “Not knowing if I’d ever get to hold my children, or talk to Harvey, or even just… exist in the same room with those I care about.”

"I remember when you first joined the Black Hawk," Camila said. "So full of fire, resolve and utter determination. I never would have pegged you for a mother-type, or a wife, but I've seen you use that same fire and resolve to keep your family safe. I admire you, Joey. Your children and Harvey are very lucky to have you, too."

Joey’s smile warmed, soft but full, the kind that reached her eyes even after everything she’d been through.She let Camila’s words settle in her chest for a moment—unexpected, sincere, and exactly the kind of affirmation she hadn’t realized she needed. “Thank you,” she said quietly, the gratitude unmistakable. “But don’t forget something important in all of that.”

Her voice gentled, carrying a warmth that was reserved for only a handful of people in her life. “We’re lucky to have you, too. Me, the kids, Harvey… all of us.”

She glanced toward the twins, who were still watching a movie with their new plush companions, then back to Camila with a smile. “You’re an amazing Titi to them. They adore you. And you’re a damn good colleague—one of the best this crew has.”

Her expression softened even further, sincerity shining through. “But more than that… you’re an incredible woman and friend. One I’m so grateful to have in my life. I hope you know that. I love you, Camila. I mean that. You have become a part of my family. "

The ombre haired woman knew that Joey meant every word, but she couldn't bring herself to believe them as they applied to herself. She gave a warm smile she didn't feel and nodded. "I'll always be that, Joey," she said. "I just don't think I'm much of an officer anymore."

The taller woman's brows drew together, not in judgment but in quiet concern. She studied Camila for a long moment—the forced smile, the way her shoulders dipped just slightly, the tone that didn’t match the words.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, steady, and unmistakably sincere. There was no accusation in the question, no disbelief—just genuine curiosity and care. Joey leaned in a little, her expression open, inviting her friend to be honest. “You’ve been through your own version of hell, but that doesn’t erase who you are or what you’ve done," she said, hoping to hold Camila’s gaze. She let the silence stretch just enough to show she meant every word. “So tell me… what’s making you think you’re not much of an officer anymore?”

Camila sighed. "All I wanted to do is keep people safe," she said softly. "Yet, every time I turn around, someone has died, been kidnapped, cloned, or been killed on my watch. Every night, I go back to my quarters and try to wash the blood off my hands, but it's on there forever. Nothing can remove that stain."

Joey shook her head immediately, the motion firm but full of quiet compassion. She shifted closer, her voice low and steady as she answered. “Camila… no. That’s not how any of this works.”

She looked to her twins, then to Camila, hoping the words she was going to speak would land.

“You’re the Chief of Security, not a god. You can’t control every decision people make, or every variable in a situation. You couldn’t have known what would happen on Razmena any more than I could have known what would happen when I sent my team back to the runabout. That was my call. My choice.”

Her tone softened, but the conviction didn’t waver.

“Being in Security… being in Starfleet at all… it comes with all sorts of danger. With risk. Especially here in the Gamma Quadrant. We become aware of that the day we put on the uniform. We do everything we can to protect people, but we can’t predict every outcome. No one can.”

She reached out, resting a steadying hand on Camila’s arm.

“You don’t have blood on your hands, Camila. You have responsibility. You have weight. You have grief. But you are not responsible for every terrible thing that happens. You didn’t cause any of those deaths. You didn’t cause the kidnappings. You didn’t cause the clones.”

Her voice gentled even further.

“You’re carrying guilt for things you couldn’t possibly control. And you don’t have to carry it alone.”

"I know," Camila said. "It just isn't that easy, but enough about me. What do you say we take the kids and dogs and head down to recreation. I have ten latinum slips that says I can take you at pickleball."

Joey blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone—and by how tempting it actually sounded. The idea of leaving her quarters still made something in her chest tighten; she hadn’t stepped beyond these walls since sickbay released her, and part of her wasn’t sure she was ready.

But then she looked at Camila. Really looked.

If there was anyone in the quadrant she trusted to keep her and her family safe, it was the woman sitting beside her. And maybe… maybe taking one small step back into the world wouldn’t be the worst thing.

A slow smile tugged at Joey’s lips as she nodded. “Alright,” she said, a hint of challenge warming her voice. “You’re on.”

"I'll have you know that I know the commander of this ship if you cheat," the ombre haired woman joked.

Joey let out a warm, genuine laugh as she pushed herself up from the couch. “Oh, please. There’s no chance of me cheating,” she said, amusement dancing in her voice. “Mostly because I’ve never actually played pickleball before now. You’d spot my terrible form from a kilometer away.”

She crossed the room toward the twins’ things, pulling out a small bag and beginning to tuck items inside—snacks, juice pouches, a couple of toys to keep them occupied, and the inevitable spare set of clothes every parent learned to carry. The familiar rhythm of preparing for an outing felt oddly comforting to her.

Camila watched her with a grin as she came to her feet to help. "You're just trying to lure me into a false sense of security, but I am Security. You can't fool me because I've never played it, either."

The taller woman slung the strap of the twins’ bag over her shoulder, a grin tugging at her mouth as she watched Camila join in the packing effort. “Oh, trust me,” she said, laughter warming her voice, “there is zero chance of me luring you into anything. I’m just hoping no one’s around to watch the two of us run in circles chasing a tiny ball.”

She paused long enough to glance toward the twins—who were absolutely the type to grab the ball and sprint off with it like it was treasure. “Or to watch them steal it and run laps around the court while we pretend we’re in control.”

Her grin widened as she zipped the bag closed. “Either way, it’s going to be chaos. And honestly… I think I could use a little chaos that doesn’t involve clones or kidnappings.”

Camila laughed at the thought of the twins running after the balls. "You're likely right and after the new upgrades I'm having put in place, that will never happen again."

The taller of the two women retrieved two leashes, then clipped them onto Rico and Pequeño’s collars, giving both dogs a gentle pat before straightening. She turned toward her friend. “Upgrades, huh?” she asked, her tone light but edged with genuine interest. “Explain a bit more… if you can.”

It wasn’t a demand—just an open door. Joey trusted Camila with her family’s safety, and if there were changes being made to keep anything like this from happening again, to her or anyone else on the crew, she wanted to understand them.

"Biometric readers, DNA testing, cross referencing biosignatures and a few other things," Camila said, deliberately being vague while giving the bare bones of it. "Harvey finally let me run a bit wild."

Joey paused with the leashes in hand, taking in both the words and the careful way Camila delivered them. She understood the vagueness—especially when it came to anything involving her. After everything that had happened, she didn't blame Camila for keeping the details tight.

She offered her friend a small, understanding smile. “I get why you’re keeping it broad,” she said gently. “And honestly… it makes sense. Especially right now.”

She clipped the last leash securely, giving Rico a soft scratch behind the ears before straightening again. “But if you ever need help with any of it—running tests, checking protocols, whatever—I’m here.” Her tone stayed warm, not pushy. “Even if I know I’m probably not the first person anyone’s going to trust with something that important.”

There was no bitterness in the admission, just quiet realism.

"I appreciate it," Camila said. "You have enough on your plate right now, though. I will, however, take any offers of friendship that still exist on this ship."

Joey’s expression softened, a warm smile tugging at her lips as she stepped closer, the dogs’ leashes gathered loosely in her hand. “You’ll always have that,” she said gently. “My friendship is here to stay.”

There was a steadiness in her voice—quiet, but sure. Even with the lingering wariness in her chest, even with the part of her that still wasn’t entirely ready to step back into the world, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: when Camila was around, she and her family were safe.

“Now come on,” Joey added, a spark of something lighter flickering through her eyes. “Let’s go have some fun before I overthink this and change my mind.”

Rico and Pequeño wagged their tails as if they understood the shift, and Joey let out a soft breath—nervous, but ready.

“Lead the way, Titi," she said, taking Alison's hand with her free one while Jameson moved over to take Camila's.

Camila gave a bright, warm, heartfelt smile when she felt little Jameson's hand in her. She gave it a gentle squeeze and headed out. "It's too late to back out now. This is only the beginning."

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