'Absence From Those We Love...'

Posted on Wed 1st Aug, 2012 @ 5:36am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Colonel Horatio Drake

1,272 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: http://sb109.sim-station.net/index.php/sim/missions/id/2
Location: Chief Counsellor's Office: Deck 83
Timeline: Day 1: 1000 Hours

ON:

Over three hours had passed since the briefing, and Ashton now had a task to perform. Leaving his Ready Room granted him some level of relief... the constant interruptions had started getting to him. Having been out of Starfleet for over a year and now being thrust right back into the fray was a little daunting. Naturally, he couldn't allow that to be seen by his next appointment.

Ashton hadn't wanted to come back to Starfleet... it seemed to him his entire career had been just an illusion and, since the death of Patrick, he had been able to see them for what they really were. Hiding behind the unshakeable morals and ethics was an organisation that was as morally grey as the Tal Shiar... justifying every action. Just as the Tal Shiar justify every action, with the protection of the empire... so Starfleet justifies with it being the 'morally right' thing. In his experience it usually wasn't for the other side.

Despite all of this, he found himself back in Starfleet. Better the enemy that you know, was what he was constantly reminding himself of. As part of his rehabilitation programme he had needed to get the sign-off from many counselors... all of which he had tricked... his true intentions were never revealed and his told them exactly what they wanted to hear.

His new Chief Counselor no doubt had access to his records, and it was his job now to quell any thoughts this officer had of inviting him to a 'session.' Better to nip it in the bud. This hadn't stopped him standing outside his office for three minutes, considering what he was going to say.

At last, he pressed the chime.

One of the nice things about his office, Paul thought, was that it contained a sofa. Whenever he got tired of sitting at his desk, he could stretch out on the sofa with his PADD to read psych profiles or dictate reports. He tried not to make a regular habit of that; it encouraged a feeling of casualness that he felt was inconsistent with getting his work done. But every once in a while, especially after a long staff meeting, he liked to indulge himself.

He sat on the couch, legs stretched out in front of him. A recording of a harpsichord composition performed by Salet of Vulcan teased at his ears as he read through the personnel files of the senior staff--what files he'd been able to access..

The door chime didn't sound at all like the feather-quill plucking of harpsichord strings, and Paul blinked at the sound of it.

"Pianissimo," Paul said to the computer and rose to his feet. Instantly, the music quieted to something just barely audible. "Come in," he called out as he went to the door.

Lt. Colonel Drake stood in the doorway. "Come in, Colonel," Paul said and stepped aside for his CO to enter. Somehow, he hadn't expected to see Drake professionally so soon--and he wasn't sure he was ready to see him, given his conversation with Brian Windsong earlier. He still wasn't sure what to make of Windsong's comments about Drake and hoped they wouldn't colour his thinking when talking to Drake in person.

"Ah, Lieutenant, very pleased to meet you. How are you settling in?" Drake tried not to give the impression of being agitated but needed to put this new Counselor in his place and, hopefully, never come back here.

Drake was on edge for some reason, Paul thought. He noted it but asked no questions. Let the man reveal things in his own good time. "Have a seat, sir," he invited. "May I get you anything?"

"No, thank you" Drake swept his hand in a motion that he hoped indicated that he was declining both the seat and the refreshment.

"Lieutenant..." He didn't address him as Counsellor intentionally. "... No doubt, by now you've read my file and are aware of my history and the fact that I have been on compassionate leave for just over a year. I've come here to let you know that I am fine and have been, obviously, deemed fit for duty."

He shifted his weight onto his right foot.

"As such, I don't need you contacting me requesting any sort of session or discussion as I won't be attending. Do we understand, Lieutenant?" He cleared his throat, hoping it might add to the finality of what he had said.

Paul blinked once. Good lord, Windong wasn't kidding, he thought. He eyed Drake, waiting to see if the man had anything further to add. When Drake remained silent, Paul spoke.

"What I think, sir," he said slowly, "is that you've just shown your hand. You need counseling, but you don't want it, aren't ready for it." He gave Drake a frank look. "Unfortunately, Fleet regs stipulate that you do need to meet with me at least once a month. I have to be able to honestly assess your fitness for command on a continuing basis. I'm inclined to agree that you are fit--for work. But there is a lot more to life than just work, Colonel."

"Perhaps for you... but for me there isn't, Lieutenant. Your opinion is that I need counseling; however I disagree with that evaluation. If I decide to come to your sessions, it'll be on my terms only, and nothing will be discussed that isn't regarding Starfleet. Need I remind you that Starbase Protector is at the arse end of nowhere... a report by a junior counselor, damning a Lieutenant Colonel whose uncle just happens to be a Rear-Admiral may easily be overlooked"

Absently, Paul shifted into the same defensive posture that Drake had assumed. Anger and an abrupt self-disappointment flooded over him. Paul fought it off and purposely relaxed his body. He gazed straight back at Drake.

Had he just threatened a fellow Officer? No... it wasn't a threat... he was just pointing out that any efforts to try and psychologically assess him would be futile. He never thought that he would use his uncle as a bargaining chip... suddenly every defence that he had ever put up to justify his rank and argue that his uncle had no part to play in it, just seemed like an exercise in futility. Of course he had been in the background pulling the strings.

"I am not a junior counselor, Colonel," Paul replied evenly. "I am Chief Counselor of this starbase. If anyone thought they were assigning a doormat here, they picked the wrong man. My job and my desire is to help you heal, sir--but I'm aware that that can happen only in its own time; it cannot be rushed. So come visit me, and speak of Starfleet all you like for as long as you like--but visit me."

"I..." Drake had barely got the first syllable off his tongue when the comm. sounded.

"Ops to Colonel Drake." The sound of a nondescript crewman was heard throughout the quarters.

"Drake here," he replied, off-put that he had not finished the argument.

"Sir, I think you had better come up here... we're getting some very strange readings from the expanse."

"On my way." He cut the channel abruptly.

Truth be told the kindness and honesty of the Counselor's last words had struck a chord with Drake... what chord, he didn't yet know... but a chord none the less. He wanted to carry on this conversation and do it now.

"Lieutenant, would you mind joining me please?" he asked.

OFF

Col. Ashton Drake
Commanding Officer
Starbase Protector

Lt.(jg) Paul Graves
Chief Counselor
Starbase Protector

 

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