Session #2

Posted on Mon 4th Dec, 2017 @ 10:18pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Colonel Horatio Drake

1,913 words; about a 10 minute read

Mission: A Phaser as Deadly as a Candlestick
Location: Deck 83: Chief Counsellor's Office
Timeline: MD-01: TBC

Naturally or not, Drake had developed a lot of resentment towards Counsellors since the loss of Patrick. He put it down to having to jump through so many of their hoops in order to return to active duty. Whether this was the case or just a story he told himself, he'd probably never truthfully know the answer to. Presently he found himself, once again, sitting across from Vanguard's Chief Counsellor, in his office. He had grown to have a lot of respect, almost admiration, for the officer sitting across from him. In mere months he had risen to take on the challenges and duties of a Second Officer and had handled them exceptionally well. In the absence of both Drake and Hunt he had kept things ticking over nicely on the station.

Drake thought that this session wouldn't happen for a number of months down the line and he knew Graves was rather surprised when he requested another session. However today he didn't want to discuss his past, but rather the more recent events that had transpired some weeks ago.

"It's good to see you, Colonel," Paul said and shook hands with Drake. "Can I get you some coffee, tea, or something before we start?"

Drake's estimation was right; Paul was surprised that Drake had asked for the session--yet he also wasn't. Paul hadn't had a lot of contact with Drake lately, but when they both happened to be in Ops together, Drake exuded a feeling of anxiety and mild fear. Not anything work-threatening, just a distinct unease, the sort of feeling he might get from someone who had seen a scary holo-drama just before bedtime and was still rattled by it.

"Coffee, please..." Drake hesitated as he remembered that he had already sunk quite a few already today and was starting to feel the effects of it. "Actually, nothing for me, thank you." He shifted in his chair and crossed his right leg over his left.

"All right. Just speak up if you want anything." Paul ordered a cup of steaming Twining's Christmas Tea from the replicator and set it on his desk. "What's on your mind, Colonel?" he asked.

"Well" He cleared his throat. "I seem to be having some issues in getting to grips with what happened on the Bretagne. I'm getting some pretty strong imagery in my head of events. Events that may or may not have actually happened. I've already checked with Dr. Addams and it would appear there is nothing physiologically wrong with me."

"I've noticed you've been...jumpy, lately," Paul said. "I only know the general overview of what you encountered on that ship, and just that sounds horrific enough. Just to reassure you even more, if what you're experiencing are actual memories, then no, nothing would appear abnormal on your neurological scans."

"The thing is, I've witnessed far worse events that what happened on the Bretagne. I've had to come to terms with living with some of the more horrific stuff and have followed Starfleet training both before and after such events and it's always worked. I don't understand why this seems to be effecting me so much?" He hated it but these events were forcing him to open up... something that, normally, he would not do.

Paul blinked. "Honestly, Colonel, I would be a nervous wreck if I were you. I can't even imagine what could be 'far worse' than finding yourself trapped on a derelict starship whose entire crew had killed each other in more or less gruesome ways--unless it was something violent that took place all around you. That would be worse. I'm not at all surprised that you're here. I'm astounded that you've adjusted as well as you have."

"I've experienced battle before, as many in Starfleet have. I've been involved in bloody and savage conflicts where the fear of death is ever present and every action or inaction can result in either your death or the death of those around you. I've fought enemies who, if they caught you, would inflict far worse things than death. All that being said, and despite how horrific the scenes must have been on the Bretagne, when they happened... that was just it, they had already happened. We were, effectively, only walking through a graveyard. Despite it being disturbing, there should have been no feeling of fear present."

He shifted in his chair, an indication that his mind was shifting direction as well. "I've since come to learn from Dr. Addams that the fear we experienced was, most probably, manufactured by the pathogen. Yet that feeling won't leave me, despite the pathogen being long gone."

Paul nodded. "Being in the middle of mass, life-or-death combat is a far different thing than walking through the scene of a mass murder, even though, quantitatively, they amount to the same thing--a lot of people dying violently. You don't have time to think during the combat; it's either fight or die. But during a walk-through of a mass-murder scene, you have time to be shocked, sickened, to empathize, to feel horror. You have time for all of these feelings to sink in and fill you with extreme unease. There is a part of the humanoid brain that ascribes an almost mystical significance to horror. People do not want to move into a home where a murder has been committed. There is no logical reason for that; the home will have been thoroughly cleaned and the body long since interred or cremated. But the discomfort remains. I suspect, for example, that you, no more than I, want to ever go back down to section 49-Alpha." Paul grimaced. "Even I don't know if it is true empathy or not; there's debate about it on Betazed. But sometimes you feel as if the very walls of a place where suffering has occurred must have a psychic imprint of it."

Drake nodded, as much as he wanted to argue the point, he simply couldn't - the Chief Counsellor's logic was infallible. "I understand." He said, matter-of-factly. "So, given this may be the root cause of the problem - how do I go about resolving it?"

"Well, it helps that you're no longer on the Bretagne or exposed to the pathogen," Paul said. "If there is some lingering effect from the pathogen that the medscanners can't detect, it should diminish with time. But if what you're experiencing is discomfort because of how you felt during both experiences, it will help you to explore what you're feeling and to question why you're feeling that way. I don't say to over-analyze it, but to be aware of what you feel and to acknowledge what you feel. A lot of what I feel about 49-Alpha, for instance, is anger--and I don't think I'm alone in that.

"I bring it up instead of the Bretagne because my feelings about it are...complicated, and I suspect yours are, too. The Bretagne situation is perhaps more blameless and thus easier to face."

Thoughts of Patrick came hurtling back to him and he could feel himself starting down a road that had long ago been blocked off - he applied the mental brakes. Truth be told, he hadn't experienced death first hand in a number of years - the higher up the ranks one gets, the more detached one gets from it. Had experiencing and being around so much death recently triggered other memories? The dreams were certainly starting to get more vivid. He decided that this wasn't the time to bring it up - he wasn't quite ready to face those demons yet.

Instead he replaced his puzzled and worried expression with that fake, hollow smile he had polished so well over the years. He sat upright and tugged on his tunic, back in full officer mode. "Commander, I think you're absolutely right. The loss of the Bretagne was both senseless and blameless, I think that has actually affected me more than I care to admit. The loss of so many personnel for no reason at all is difficult for me to fathom. I think I simply have to face up to what happened on both the ship and forty-nine alpha and attempt to put it behind me."

Paul rode the roller-coaster of Drake's emotions from deep dip to level flat-line. The levelness was so flat as to seem devoid of feeling. It reminded him of how Drake had felt at their first meeting, and Paul realized with some gladness that Drake had in fact improved since Vanguard's initial recommissioning. Drake was healing, but he was not completely there, yet.

Paul looked directly at him. "That really won't do, Horatio. The time for bullshitting yourself is over. You cannot come into this office and just say to me what you think I want to hear. That's not how counseling works. You have to dig; that's why being counseled is so hard and why people are so uncomfortable with it. What are you really feeling?"

For a moment Drake's expression remained stunned. The last time anyone had been that direct with him was his Drill Instructor in basic training. Immediately his Marine training kicked in, he knew it was the wrong move as soon as he started. "Commander, you'll kindly remember who you're talking..." He cut himself off and looked away, rubbing his face.

"I'm talking to my patient," Paul told him calmly.

"I don't know... OK? I just don't know what the problem is. I don't know why this is affecting me so much! I just can't believe that an entire starship's complement was wiped out for no reason!"... They never got to say goodbye to their loved ones. Bingo... that was what this was all about. They never got the chance to say goodbye. He had said enough for this session and was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. These were feelings he had to explore on his own.

"I feel as if you figured something out," Paul said. "Does it help?"

He stared vacantly into the corner of the room as if the meaning behind the universe was somewhere to be found there. His tone of voice changed dramatically from the former to a softer, calmer voice. "Yes, I think it may well have Paul." He looked the Counsellor in the eyes. "I think I need some time to process what I'm feeling. Give me some time and we'll reconvene in a couple of weeks."

Something had happened, Paul thought. For one of the few times in their association, Drake wasn't trying to hide something or avoid discussing something. Paul nodded. "Good idea. I'll put you on my schedule for two weeks from now, same day and time, and if you have to reschedule, just let Deosha know." Paul looked back at Drake. "And...whatever you figured out, I'm glad it was a good thing."

He nodded slowly, barely listening to what Paul had just said. He felt as though he was on a precipice, peering down into utter darkness. The road he had been travelling along was at an end and it was time to face the music, he knew this time had been a long time coming. He just had to ensure that, through the darkness, his light remained lit.

Col. Horatio Drake
Commanding Officer

Lt. Cmdr. Paul Graves PsyD
Chief Counselor, Second Officer

 

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