A Very Professional Consultation

Posted on Sat 6th Jul, 2019 @ 4:25pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD

1,786 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: A Diplomatic Affair
Location: The Graves, Tivoli Gardens
Timeline: MD-5, 1900 hours

In the gloaming, a skeletally thin Human of unusual height, dressed in a black ao dai embroidered with deepest purple in abstract geometric designs, appeared at the front door of the home of Paul Graves, a noted psychiatrist and psychologist. She pressed the door-bell and waited.

Paul heard the door-chime as it was transmitted to the audio pick-up in his home office. Chlamydia must have arrived, he thought and got up from his desk. It was a surprise and a pleasure that she had requested to see him outside of duty hours. Paul went to his front door and opened it.

"Chlamydia, come on in," Paul said and stepped aside so she could. "That is a beautiful outfit."

"Thank you, Paul," Addams answered, stepping over the threshold at his invitation. "It was a present from a patient who was grateful I'd saved her dignity. And, speaking of presents," She revealed a bottle of wine. "Chateau Picard, 2386. Which, I have been told, was a very good year for European rosés." She extended the bottle in his direction and winked. "My family loves to jibe me about my love for 'candy wines,' so I thought I would share with someone who doesn't know how girly they are."

"Or care," Paul said. "Thank you so much! I'll put this in the refrigerator to chill, and we can enjoy it in about half an hour." He accepted the wine bottle and gestured for Chlamydia to follow him into the kitchen, where he put the bottle in to chill.

"All right--if you were someone I didn't know well, I'd take you into my study. But since I do know you, would you rather sit here at the kitchen table, in the den, or in the study?"

Chlamydia crossed her arms under her minimal breasts and looked out the window. "I seem to recall you have a lovely back yard. Do you, perhaps, have some Adirondack chairs or some equivalent?"

"I have no idea what those are, so 'equivalent' will work," Paul said. "We'll have a nice view of the angel trumpet trees, which are blooming like crazy." He led Chlamydia out the back door and onto the rear patio. Two teak lawn chairs sat at right angles to each other, with a table between them. A branch of a flowering plant with muted red blooms grew out of a tall pot on the ground behind the table, the flowers making a pleasing contrast with the beige stone of the house. He didn't press her to talk. She had meditative sensibilities--at least, in Paul's estimation, and he thought she might prefer to enjoy the yard for a bit before speaking.

Addams took her seat, looking out at the trees. "Plants having wanton intimacies. How delightful."

At that remark, Paul burst into a shaking fit of laughter. "I will never be able to look at those trees without laughing myself silly, now," he said.

Chlamydia smirked. "You had not realized it? These lignant ladies, advertising their fertility, enticing Cupid's furry little messengers to take their lettres Françaises to their paramours? Truly, it is no wonder my sister had to find fascination in a lobster-man from Maine."

"Of course I realized it!" Paul gasped, still laughing, "but plant reproduction is not usually on my mind when I'm admiring the flowers." He took a deep breath to calm the hilarity and smiled. "Which sister is interested in this crustacean gatherer? Or perhaps the more important question is, why is she interested in him?"

"Purulence," Chlamydia said, waving a hand dismissively. "And who knows why she does anything? She has always followed the fife of her own piper. I adore her to pieces, but I don't understand her in the slightest. But I didn't actually come to exchange family gossip. I wish to consult with you about a patient."

"And here I was, hoping it was for my charm and good looks," Paul said, amused. His expression turned serious, however, and he gestured for Chlamydia to proceed. "What is the situation with your patient?"

"I had a patient come and see me today about being fit for a biosynthetic prosthesis. During our discussion, he exhibited symptoms of survivor guilt, complicated by the fact that it was his wife who'd died; he apparently had... likely still has... what some might consider old-fashioned ideas about being responsible for her safety and happiness. At the end of our visit, I recommended he come and visit you." Addams paused. "Has he?"

"Yes, he has," Paul said. "He must have seen you early this morning, because he scheduled the appointment earlier today. I saw him this afternoon. Interesting patient. Usually, they try to avoid me at all costs, but he came by without hesitation."

Chlamydia sighed, ran her hands down her thighs. "Paul, there are... things... about me, about my family, that I can not explain. Not that I don't want to; I can't. I don't know what the explanations are."

Paul nodded. "Like a woman who can stand in a fire and not be burned?" he asked, referring to the stained-glass panel in the front door of Chlamydia's home.

"An excellent example, yes." She was silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath. "Or how I know precisely the moment a patient has died, and am... aware... of living things in my vicinity."

"Ah," Paul said. "So you noticed her, too."

Chlamydia looked up sharply. "Too? Elaborate, please."

"When the patient you referred to me came to my office--Lt. Briggs--I spoke with him. I couldn't see her or hear her, but she was very much present, the emotional connection between the two of them was evident to me. He told me what she was doing, and it was consistent with the emotional output I sensed. I knew where she was at all times but couldn't interact with her directly; all interaction had to be mediated through him. Lt. Briggs identified her as his late wife, Victoria. Nothing in our session was inconsistent with that assertion. From that point on I opted to treat Lt. Briggs' sessions as couple's counseling, because he wanted her there, and she wanted to be there. I think she very much wants to be able to communicate on her own."

Paul gave Chlamydia a sidelong glance. "I don't plan to mention this supernatural aspect of his sessions in my official reports on the lieutenant--though I will keep unofficial documentation in case it is ever needed to help him. I could mention his wife's presence in official reports on Betazed and be believed, but I don't think Starfleet brass are ready for it. Telling anyone he has a companion spirit could kill his career. Foolish, really; it's actually an advantage in a security officer--a second set of eyes and ears."

"She spoke to him? You could perceive her emotions?!" Chlamydia looked shocked. "Paul, ghosts don't behave that way. If she were a ghost, I shouldn't have been able to perceive her, you shouldn't have been able to perceive her. If it were that simple, would we have gone through all the rigmarole with the séance?"

"'Ghost' is the only vocabulary I have for what she appears to be," Paul said. "If you know of a more precise term, please tell me. And I agree--Victoria is far more present than the traditional ghost is. What I typically think of as a ghost is a psychic echo of strong feelings or trauma that a person experienced during life, which repeat endlessly or when circumstances match the events or emotions that power it--such as occurred with the murder victim from the seance.

"I would expect a 'ghost' of Victoria Briggs to haunt their quarters on the Typhoon, where she died and had previously known happiness. Mrs. Briggs, instead, is able to interact in a limited way in real time. As Lt. Briggs and I spoke her emotions altered, which indicated to me that she was following our conversation. It felt exactly as if a third person were in the room. The conclusion I draw from it is that she wants to be with her husband as much as he wants to be with her. Thus--couple's counseling and not just grief counseling. They both need to let her go. I've elected to speculate no deeper into the metaphysics of it than that."

Chlamydia stood and walked a few paces away, her body language radiating frustration. "I don't know what a ghost is. I do know how they behave. They're silent. They don't have emotions. They don't show up in my awareness. So. We must ask the next question: if she is not a ghost, what is she? Are we absolutely certain she's actually dead?"

Paul blinked. "Chlamydia, ghosts are nothing but emotion. Without emotion their experiences wouldn't pain them or tie them to particular places. Without emotions, they couldn't exist. But I agree with you--ghosts do not exhibit current emotions." He let out a breath. "As for Victoria Briggs, she was declared dead on a Starfleet ship. I have to believe that their doctors were competent to recognize death and to know when a patient is past resuscitation. She was given a burial in space--shot out a torpedo tube a year ago. Even if she was somehow alive then, she ought to be dead by now."

Then Paul's eyes widened, and he went still. "However, I did ask Lt. Briggs what you asked me about Lt. Michaels' mother--whether he'd interacted with her remains. The explosion was the last time Lt. Briggs saw his wife alive. After that, he was in surgery and had a lengthy recovery period. He never looked at his wife's body in the morgue--and enough of her was left that he could have. He held her in his arms after the explosion, until the EMTs arrived. Frankly, it is strange to me that he didn't look, but perhaps he didn't want to remember her as a corpse."

Addams walked back to the table. "I need a PADD," she demanded. "I'd've brought my own, but I thought I was just going to share my observations with you about his lack of release."

"Feel free to share those, anyway," Paul said. "Why don't you come inside, and we can pour the wine and get you a PADD at the same time?"

 

RSS Feed

Comments (1)