The Dews Drew Quivering and Chill

Posted on Mon 16th Jan, 2017 @ 7:25pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD
Edited on on Sat 6th Jan, 2018 @ 6:36am

2,241 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night
Location: Dr. Addams'office
Timeline: After Graves' appointment with Michaels

Paul arrived in Sickbay a few minutes before he was scheduled to meet with Dr. Addams. After a few moments in the waiting room he wished he had arrived with no time to spare. His shields were already unraveled from his session with Lt. Michaels, so surrounding himself with sick people did not help. He couldn't get far enough away from the migraine patient fast enough. Someone else had stomach flu, and the third patient he noticed was sitting very quietly, with eyes closed, enduring...a kidney stone, Paul surmised. He told the yeoman he would be out in the corridor, where a wall at least separated him from the migraine and the kidney stone patients. Despite that, he was nowhere near done reconstructing his shields when the corpsman called his name and escorted him to Addams' office.

"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Addams. Hello, Thing," Paul said.

"Enter freely, and of your own will," The pale physician said, without looking up from her reading for a moment. When she reached the end of a paragraph, Addams looked up. "Ah, Doctor Graves! I had forgotten we had an appointment. Would you like some tea? I find it helps, having something to fiddle with in the awkward moments of a conversation."

Paul blinked at her invitation. "Ah, jestral, please," he told her. "Reading something interesting?"

"It turns out," Addams said, rising and going to the replicator, "I am a board-certified prenatal genetic surgeon. I was attempting to discover why." She directed her attention to the replicator. "Tea service for three," she instructed. "Hot, two pots; Jestral, and Black Death."

"I'm startled that you don't know why," Paul said. He wracked his brain for what he could remember about Addams off the top of his head and recalled something. "Did that happen during the three months you don't remember?"

"It appears to be related," Addams said, picking up the silver platter which had appeared in the replicator. The platter held three teacups in the shape of skulls with the tops removed, and cheerful ribbon bows attached to the handles; a pink ceramic cow creamer; a tarnished silver sugar bowl full of cubes, complete with tongs; Another skull, this one lidded, acting as a teapot; and a second teapot in the shape of a cartoon witch's tower. The Doctor carried the platter to her desk. She picked up the witch's tower pot first, filled one of the mugs with Jestral tea as she talked. "But you called this meeting for something on your mind, Doctor. What can I help you with? Sugar?"

Paul was so distracted by Addams' macabre taste in tea services that he didn't answer immediately. "What? Oh! Ah, two lumps, please. Where did you find this tea service? I've never seen anything like it. Is it from your childhood?" It all had the look of whimsical--if horrifying-- items much loved.

Addams smiled. "Bits and pieces from the family cabinets. My family has lived in the same house for... several generations." She set the tower pot down, used the tongs to drop two sugar cubes into the cup she'd filled, and set it on his side of the desk. "Help yourself to the cream," she instructed.

"Thank you," Paul said. He waited for Addams to fill her own teacup and then sipped at his Jestral tea. He let the steaming liquid rush down his throat and waited a few seconds for the calming effect to settle over him before returning his gaze to Addams' slender, pale face. "I have a patient with...secrets," he said. "I've learned of one, but I have the sense that there are more. The one I've learned of has been in place since at least the date that this person entered Starfleet. To make him comfortable I'm conducting our counseling sessions in a circuitous way. He tells me lies mingled with truth, and I distinguish one from the other as he speaks."

Addams dropped four sugars and one bounce of milk into the third cup and set it aside. "And these secrets... are they, do you believe, the sort of thing which would amount to fraud, or a danger to anyone other than the patient?"

"Not fraud. I am uncertain how much of a danger he poses. My patient shows signs of post-traumatic stress. I'm sitting here downing Jestral tea as if it were water because the hidden truth upsetting my patient the most is the manner of his mother's death." At Addams' look, Paul went on. "She did not die in an accident, as his family history states. She was murdered. My patient knows it, saw it happen, and was too young to rescue her."

"Goodness," Addams said, leaning back in her chair and picking up her own mug of tea. She sniffed it and smiled appreciatively. "And did the patient have the opportunity to interact with his mother post-mortem? To wash the corpse, or to dress it?" The Zeta Reticulan spider known as Thing climbed from behind the desk onto its top and moved over to the third teacup. It grasped the handle, its little finger raised politely.

With great effort, Paul did not cough up the tea he'd just swallowed. "No," he said firmly. "I can only surmise the exact circumstances, but the emotional impression I have is 'one moment there, the next moment nothing.' Given the...cover story I suspect a car bomb, but it could be any sudden event."

Addams nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of her tea. "A shame. Interacting with the physicality of death can often soften the psychic blow. To truly experience that one's loved one is gone can lead to an accelerated acceptance; keeps doubts away from the mind." She took another sip of tea.

"What puzzles me more are the lies," Paul said. "Lies inherently baffle me in the first place--but these have gone on for a very long time. They're like a cloak my patient wraps himself in. I sought assistance from the LCARS, and it described to me--among other possibilities--a concept that doesn't exist on Betazed, something called witness protection, in which witnesses to crimes are given false identities. Most people in witness protection are in fact criminals, the computer says, but that obviously cannot apply to my patient because of his age at his mother's death."

"Ah," Addams said. "Yes, there is that possibility. The computer left out the other major category of those who receive witness protection packages: vulnerable witnesses." She took a sip of tea, gathering her thoughts. Thing dropped from the handle of its cup, the tea within half gone. Addams glanced at it, picked up a long, narrow spoon from the platter, and set it beside Thing's cup as she spoke. "The program, as the name suggests, was originally created to protect witnesses. You see, on Earth, there was once a great deal of what was termed 'organized crime,' which was something like the Orion Syndicate, but arising within societies and preying on the neighbors."

"No, the computer didn't leave anything out; I'm simply not boring you with the details of all it said," Paul told her.

Thing played with the spoon for a moment, pushing it back and forth. The bowl of the spoon was in the shape of a sugar skull, with three holes suggesting eye sockets and a nose, and the serrated leading edge teeth. When it had arranged the spoon to its satisfaction, Thing shook its index finger and pointed at the skull shaped pot. "Ah," Addams said, though it was unclear if the comment was directed at Thing or Graves. "Too much milk? Do forgive me." She picked up the pot and refilled Thing's cup.

Paul nodded. "On Betazed we have to rely on bodyguards or putting such witnesses into hiding." He took a deep swallow of his tea and felt calmer by the minute. He set his mug down. "Hm. So one or both of my patient's parents, most likely. I'm quite sure he knows which--if either of them were criminals at all."

"Putting the witness into hiding is what witness protection is," Addams noted. "It is also possible," she said, sitting back in her chair once more as Thing resumed its grip on its cup, "that the family was not involved in such a criminal society. That they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, and saw something the criminals would have preferred they not."

"True, but that's rare," Paul agreed. "And there must be some ongoing danger or the fear of it for the protection to still be in place," Paul said. "From what I understand, people in the program can leave it at any time, yet my patient has chosen not to." Paul sighed. "If my patient is actually in the program, and this isn't all mere supposition. But it makes sense, and it fits with what I am feeling."

Paul leaned back and sighed. "I came to you for two reasons--First, I'm uncertain how to write the psych report. Certainly, I can lie on paper as well as any human could, and my words will be believed because I'm a Betazoid. But should I lie? To what extent should I lie or admit to lying? I've never faced this issue before. Obviously, I won't cast any doubts on my patient's identity, but what's causing his emotional distress is inconsistent with his recorded history, even though that history does involve a milder version of the trauma."

Addams took a sip of her tea, looking thoughtful. "I believe, if it were I who were writing the report, I would stick to the facts, rather than speculation. You need no more record your impressions of the patient's truthfulness than you need record the color of his socks. 'Patient X came in; we discussed the death of his mother, about which he seemed to harbor lasting distress.'"

"For me, my impression of his truthfulness is a fact that I would normally include," Paul said. "If I were on Betazed it would be considered odd if I left that out." He fell silent, considering the situation and what Addams had said. "But I am not there. And I can use my very Terran name to advantage," he said slowly. "Misdirection, omission...People see what they expect to see. To me, it's a very thin tissue to use, to conceal the situation, but it might work." He glanced at Thing. "Is that how you do it?"

Thing simply busied itself with the spoon, stirring its tea. Addams, however, spoke. "If it truly is not a matter of fraud, and the patient presents no danger to others because of it, it is better to proceed with discretion. What you do not commit to the record cannot be leaked."

Paul could feel agreement to his query from the disembodied hand, even though there was nothing else of it to see. "Thank you both, then; I'll proceed that way." He gave Addams an embarrassed look. "The other reason I asked to see you is that I was rattled from the session and needed to...talk about it with another person. I do apologize for taking up your time. I know you're terribly busy."

Addams snorted with amusement. "I am more an administrator than anything else these days; it is good to be of use to another. Besides, we who give care must always prioritize self-care. When we, as Enlightened Master Kong wrote, seek compassion for all living things, we must begin the search by finding compassion for ourselves."

"That is often the most difficult part of wisdom for a person to learn," Paul said. "So seldom do we think we deserve it."

He picked up his teacup and drank the rest of his jestral tea before it could grow cold. Then he paused and studied his cup for a moment and raised an eyebrow at it. "How interesting. The skull on my teacup has a deviated septum, but Thing's doesn't. They're all different." He pointed at the teapot. "I'm pretty sure that one's male. This other one is female...This is brilliant! Not at all the sort of thing I would buy for myself, but I like that the designers went into such detail."

Addams smiled. "Given the predilections of my family, I would not be surprised if they were modeled on some relative; Great-uncle Crowleigh or Great-aunt Witchypoo. By the time I started using them, no one even knew who had made them. They were just... there, in the china cabinet."

Paul had to restrain himself from dropping his teacup as if it were a fire-heated rock. 'Modeled after' does not mean 'is,' he reminded himself. "Whatever the case, I admire the artist."

"As do I," Addams said. She gazed at the cup in her hand, as if looking for family resemblance, then finished her tea. "Was there anything else, Doctor?"

"Nothing that would warrant me interrupting more of your day," Paul said and stood to leave. "Thank you for your help, Dr. Addams. Perhaps we might get together sometime outside of work?"

"I look forward to the occasion," Addams said, standing as well. Thing, its teacup now empty, dropped away from the mug handle and offered Graves a congenial farewell wave of its index and middle fingers.

 

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