A talk with a friend

Posted on Tue 23rd Oct, 2018 @ 6:38pm by Lieutenant Colonel Brooklyn Wellington & Commander Paul Graves PsyD

2,560 words; about a 13 minute read

Mission: Oblivion
Location: Tivoli Gardens, Deck 1554
Timeline: MD-15

Paul had decided to take a tour of the Riverwalk after his workday. It had been filled with meetings--command staff meeting that morning, meeting with the senior medical staff soon afterward to discuss medical patients needing psych consults, and meetings with a couple of the counselors in his department to do their performance reviews that afternoon. Paul was meetinged out. A walk along the River was definitely in order, with maybe a stop at one or two of the food carts along the way.

He purchased some aloo tikka at one of the carts and nibbled on the potato pancake flavored with tamarind chutney and yogurt as he walked. The yogurt cooled the heat of the Indian spices and made the snack delicious. He was just wiping his hands clean on the napkin and debating whether he should buy another one when he caught sight of a familiar, dark-haired woman who merged onto the path ahead of him.

Brooklyn Wellington. Paul debated catching up with her. He'd discussed her with Dhuro Lanis, and the surgeon had seemed to feel that she was having an easier time recovering, now that he'd been able to treat the pain in her arm. So he didn't really have a burning reason to accost her, Paul thought--except that he did enjoy her company, and it had been ages since he'd seen her at the gym.

Why not? Besides, they were out in public, so this couldn't turn into a counseling session unless she wanted it to. Decision made, Paul walked toward her more swiftly until he came alongside her. "Brooklyn?"

Brooklyn seemed to always find comfort in the Gardens--as if it could transport her away from her problems--if only it were so simple. Hearing the familiar voice of Paul, she turned to look at the counselor. "Hello Paul," she smiled faintly as she slowed her steps to allow him to catch up. "What brings you to the Gardens?"

"The end of a long day," Paul said. "That and hunger pangs." He tossed his used napkin into a nearby trash can. "Being out of the infirmary agrees with you," he said. "Have you gotten back into a cockpit yet?"

He didn't ask her how she was feeling; he already knew. Her arm was a lot less painful. As for her emotions, he kept polite shields up and didn't probe beyond the same surface awareness he had of everyone.

"Thank you, and no," she said simply. Though she hid it, the topic bothered her--the very core of her being was being a pilot, and now she had nightmares even being near a Valkyrie Class Fighter.

"I was stunned when I found out how badly you'd been hurt," Paul said. "The report came across my desk, and I could hardly believe it. What you did took guts; I just wish it hadn't taken them so literally."

"Just part of the job, Paul," she said solemnly. She wasn't really sure if it was meant for Paul or herself. She knew if she didn't get up flying again soon her job would be gone, as well as her career. "So, is this a counseling session?

"We're in public," Paul said, "so no, this isn't a counseling session. This is just one friend telling another that he's thankful she made it out of a dangerous situation alive and sorry that her comrades couldn't have made it out with her. And I know it was part of your job. Someday it could be part of my job to order you or someone else to do similar to what you just did--and the thought of that makes me feel sick, but I can't let that prevent me from doing it if I must."

Brooklyn was silent for a moment--she initially wished she hadn't made it out alive, but then she met Khellian and she was hopeful for the future. Yet one hurdle was holding her back and that was being spooked. It was something that affected many pilots who underwent something disastrous, often causing PTSD within them--Brooklyn had seen it plenty of times during the Dominion War. Not everyone recovered. "So it sounds like you want a Command of your own someday," Brooklyn questioned, trying to keep the focus off of her.

"Maybe," Paul said. "I don't yearn for it the way some officers do. Being second officer has widened my perspective. It occurred to me that I could easily get into a rut being Chief Counselor. Command does offer more of a challenge and a chance to grow, which is why I accepted the second officer position--but I think I am more introverted than is best for command. I have to have times to step back and think, and command doesn't offer that."

"The key is to think small. If you think about how large your command is, you'll panic or get stressed. So you tackle one issue or person at a time," Brooklyn advised. "By the way, it is good to talk with you again, as it's seemed to be forever since we last spoke."

"I haven't gotten out much lately," Paul admitted. "Between the two jobs, my life stays busy. It's good to see you, too; I really have missed talking to you in the gym. I'd have come to see you more in the infirmary, but I didn't want to confuse the issue of being a counselor with being a friend."

"I understand," Brooklyn replied simply. "How are things with you and Commander Locke, by the way?"

Paul chuckled. "Mikaela's in the middle of writing a very involved research paper that she wants to get published. If she still has hair after she finishes the thing, it will be a miracle."

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that," Brooklyn managed to grin. Even at her level she never had to publish research papers but she remembered dreading them during the Academy. "Well, if she does pull all of her hair out, they can grow more...I least I think they can. If they can grow a fully functional bio-synthetic arm then they can do just about anything."

Paul laughed. "Hm! I wonder if you ever have to shampoo bio-synthetic hair? I doubt you have to cut it. The idea has merit!" He walked with Brooklyn in companionable silence for a few minutes and then glanced at her. "So we've covered my non-existent love life. I hope yours is better than mine's been lately. And how is your arm doing? I can tell it's not as painful as it was the last time I saw you."

"No, it's better since Dr. Dhuro managed to fix the arm," Brooklyn stated, rubbing her arm absently. "Apparently the wound had developed scar tissue or something along those lines causing it to heal wrong, so he injected some nanites into me and they seemed to have repaired the damage. And...yes, I have met someone new...but not because of the arm. I was out running here in the Gardens and tripped, breaking my ankle in the process. He healed the break for me."

"Oh, excellent!" Paul said, "--that he healed it, not that you broke it. I wonder if I've met him." Paul tried to think who the doctor was in Tivoli Gardens and if there was more than one. "I remember there was something unusual about a doctor down here, but I've forgotten what."

"His name is Khellian s'Siedhri--he's Romulan, but there's nothing really unusual about him," Brooklyn said as they walked.

"He must have been worried sick about you," Paul said. He fell silent for a moment and then glanced at her. "I know you'll probably say I shouldn't thank you for doing your job, but I thank you, anyway, and I'll hope that that enemy pilot was a lone rogue."

"I'm being thanked a lot lately for doing my job," she replied, remaining silent on the subject of the pilot she fought. He may physically be dead but his voice and actions still haunted her. She didn't want to talk about what happened in the hanger as such things could lead to a pilot being permanently grounded for safety reasons. And if she couldn't fly, she would no longer be allowed to hold the position of CAG--a thought she dreaded more than anything else. Hell Paul's an empath, he probably already knows you're hiding something, she thought to herself. She stopped walking and closed here eyes, not believing what she was about to say but the need to tell someone was getting overwhelming. "I'm scared, Paul," she admitted in a shaking voice.

"I'd worry about you if you weren't," Paul said. "Do you want to talk about it here or maybe come by my house or office? I live on the next deck up."

"Let's talk here. It's more peaceful for me here, but this is just as friends. The last thing I need is to be grounded," Brooklyn replied sternly.

Paul nodded. "Understood. What causes you to feel uneasy?"

"Well," Brooklyn began. "It's being near the fighters--especially the Valkyries. It seems like every time I close my eyes, I can hear the voice of the pilot I fought against, and I relive the final moments of the battle where I rammed his fighter. I get scared to the point that I get emotional and can't stop shaking for several minutes."

Paul opened himself to Brooklyn's feelings as she spoke. "What does the enemy pilot say when you remember the final moments of your attack?"

Brooklyn shrugged, "Just his final transmission before I caught him off guard about it's my time to die."

"Arrogant, much?" Paul said with a snort. "Considering that he had already killed eight of our fighter pilots, I think he's done more than enough damage. Don't let his memory steal your joy, Brooklyn." He fell silent and walked alongside her for a bit before speaking. "Can you even stand to get into a cockpit?"

Brooklyn shook her head. "No, I haven't tried yet since I'm still considered light duty, but am expected to be cleared for full duty any day now. But if I can't overcome this, then my career as a pilot is over--maybe that's part of what's scaring me the most."

"You do know your anxiety can be treated, right?" Paul said. "It doesn't have to sideline you or your career, so don't let it."

"By what?" Brooklyn asked, stopping to look at Paul. "Medication? No thanks. I don't want to be dependent on meds in order to do my job."

Paul shook his head. "The treatment works best when it's a combination of therapy with medication," Paul said. "I won't force medication on anyone who doesn't want it and is competent to make that choice; I don't want you to become dependent on anything, either. But you might find it helpful to take something to reduce anxiety enough to allow you to function. Or you might need help sleeping. It's up to you. I'm only letting you know it's an option that works best along with treatment to help you think through and become desensitized to the fear."

She thought about the sleeping issue. She hadn't really had an issue sleeping when she was with Khellian. But alone, sleep often eluded her. "Fine," she said, crossing her arms. "Just give me the damn pills."

"What do you need pills to do?" Paul asked. "And before we go any farther with talking about medication, I should tell you now that anything I prescribe for you will have to go on your medical record. It's too dangerous for them not to be entered."

"Then it's not happening," Brooklyn snapped sternly.

"All right, no meds--but I think you're underestimating your superiors' willingness to give you time to recover, if you would let them know you need the help." Paul fell silent a moment to gather his thoughts. "Would you tell me what happens when you feel afraid, what triggers it?" he asked.

"Like I said. I'm fine until I get near a fighter and then I begin to shake and have flashbacks," Brooklyn replied, beginning to walk again.

Paul nodded and resumed walking with her. Birds twittered overhead in tree branches, and the starbase's cooling system sent a rather good imitation of a cool breeze their way. "And? Something about that experience reached into the core of your being and pressed one of your buttons--hard."

"What do you expect from ramming another fighter at light speed?" Brooklyn snapped. She closed her eyes and sighed. "Sorry, Paul. I've been shot down, tortured, plenty of dogfights, and I've endured it all...but this time...I don't know it's different. Maybe I'm getting too old for this," she shrugged.

"I would expect the mother of all headaches," Paul said lightly, "which I think you got." He paused a moment and went on. "I am sorry to bring this up, but--when you were being tortured, did your captors taunt you?"

"They were Breen--of course they did. What does that have to do with anything?" Brooklyn questioned.

"I was mainly trying to figure out if there was a difference between what the Breen did to you over a period of time and what the enemy fighter pilot did to you in a few minutes," Paul said. "Somehow, that pilot got past your defenses in a way the Breen apparently didn't. It's difficult to determine if the pilot simply re-awakened feelings of powerlessness that you may have felt during your capture, or if what the pilot caused you to feel is unrelated to what the Breen did."

"You mean other than that SOB killing eight of my pilots?" Brooklyn asked with a raised eyebrow. "I care deeply for the men and women that serve under me from Major Cassidy to the newest deck crewman....but I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe you're right. I never liked feeling powerless."

Paul nodded. "Who does?" He glanced at her. "But losing those eight pilots makes you feel angry, not terrified. Do you remember what you felt when you rammed the other fighter craft?"

Brooklyn shook her head. "Other than a sharp pain followed by blackness? Before that...I don't know...anger, fear, and yet a sense of duty I suppose."

"Did the black box recorder survive your collision?" Paul asked. "I'd like to listen to it. It would help me to acquaint myself with the enemy pilot."

"Sure. I'll get you access to it. It's sitting down in Hanger Maintenance at the moment," Brooklyn shrugged.

"Thank you," Paul said. "How do you want to do this? We're going to have to meet together regularly for about three months if I'm to be able to help you. It might be better done in private, but that's up to you. If being out here in a natural setting is more comfortable for you than sitting in an office, I can certainly understand that. I can't deny I enjoy the change of scenery."

"Three months?" Brooklyn questioned before pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine, let's just meet in your office. I'd hate for someone to get the wrong idea about us if they spotted us coming here on a regular basis," she added with a grin.

Paul snickered. "Yeah. Your Romulan doctor and Mikaela might team up, and that would be bad!"

 

RSS Feed