Awkward Decisions

Posted on Thu 1st Mar, 2018 @ 3:18pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Commander Mikaela Locke

1,389 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: A Phaser as Deadly as a Candlestick
Location: CO's Ready Room
Timeline: After Senior Staff Meeting

Paul decided, after thinking about it, to give Mikaela Locke at least 35 minutes before appearing at the CO's office door after the meeting in which she had announced Col. Drake's death. Firstly, he was conscious of how fast 30 minutes could fly by, and the last thing he wanted was to seem eager for the meeting; he wasn't. Secondly, if she was in the mood to be a stickler for punctuality, being five minutes late wouldn't waste too much of her time.

He didn't know which office to look for her in and so tried Drake's ready room first, since that would acknowledge her new position. Seeking her in the XO's office next would be a simple enough matter. Paul pressed the chime.

Mikaela Locke had been stood in, what she still thought of as, Horatio Drake's office for about ten minutes. She hadn't yet dared move or touch anything. Somehow it didn't seem quite right. It felt a strange position to be in. On one hand, as the new station commander, it was her office - and yet, she knew that the position was only temporary. Sooner or later, someone else would lay claim to it.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the door chime. "Come in," she called, turning towards the door to see Paul Graves entering.

"Commander," she smiled and nodded formally, before exhaling and shaking her head a little, looking in the direction of the Drake's desk and chair. "What a mess."

"It certainly is," Paul agreed. He smiled back at her and then sighed. "I wish I had some insight to give you as to what was going on in Horatio's head, but I am mystified as to why he would try to apprehend a criminal personally. The last session we had together, he mentioned feeling some lingering anxiety after his experience aboard the Bretagne. I thought he left the session feeling better, but I begin to wonder if that was only subjective."

"I don't know," Mikaela replied. "I don't know what was going on with him." She turned back to Paul, and shook her head again. "I though I knew him, you know?" she offered, meekly, "But, whatever happened to him in the last few months..." She paused, forcing herself, once again to fight back the emotions that were all-too-easily coming to the surface. "Let's just say, I don't think he was the man I thought he was." She gave a half-laugh, under her breath, and turned back towards the vacant chair behind the desk. "The danger of putting people on pedestals, I guess."

"Losing his husband messed Horatio up quite a lot," Paul said. "He felt a lot of anger, guilt, and regret over Patrick's death. He never said as much to me, but it was evident. It colored everything he thought and did, even though he had no direct hand in his husband's death. I know, when I first came here, it ate at him."

She swallowed and then sighed heavily. She blinked a couple of times, ensuring the tears that were welling up had gone before she turned back to Paul.

"Anyway," she continued, her cheerier disposition obviously false, "We have much to do - where did you want to start?"

"With you, first," Paul replied. "It's all right for you to cry in front of me, you know. I feel everything you're not letting out, along with what I feel, myself."

Mikaela smiled, genuinely sympathetic. "I'm sorry," she said with a half-smile. "I'm not trying to project anything on to you. My whole life has been one long training course in not showing that I care."

"Don't be," Paul said. "One of your best friends has died. Of course you want to cry. I want to cry. I just spent the last half hour in my office, staring at nothing, letting tears roll down the sides of my nose."

She stopped and took a deep breath as a steeled expression came over her face. "My dad left my mum when I was six," she said. "It devastated her. I had to be the strong one - for her..." Her voice tailed off, clearly not wanting to talk about that particular memory anymore. "I still feel it. Like I have to be the strong one for everyone else - especially now. What are we doing here, commander?" she asked with a tone that clearly suggested that portion of the conversation was finished.

Paul looked back at Mikaela. "I asked to meet with you because I wondered how we should handle the task of clearing Horatio's quarters. I was going to offer to do that. Normally, I think it's done by close friends. That gives them a time to come to terms with the death and to grieve. I would say that you and Warrant Officer Winchester were Horatio's closest friends here. But Winchester transferred out, and I think you are going to be extremely busy adjusting to command duties." He paused. "I don't think anyone of lower rank than senior staff should do this. I've never been to Horatio's quarters, but I know he had a drinking problem, though he hid it well from me. I would rather if this could be handled with some discretion. If you were planning to tackle Horatio's quarters yourself, would you consider letting me help?"

Mikaela breathed a long, heavy sigh. "To be honest, with all the other stuff going on, I hadn't even gotten that far in my thinking," she admitted. "But you're right. From what I understand, when the autopsy is complete, the colonel's body is to be transported back to Earth. He'll be buried next to Patrick." She paused and smiled a little, perhaps finally, there, Horatio Drake would find some peace. She wasn't sure whether she believed in an afterlife or not, but, if there was one, she hoped they would finally be together. And finally be at peace. "As far as I know," she continued, "No one from the family is planning on coming out here." She paused, just for a second to process the options, before nodding affirmatively. "Which means it should be us." She opened her hands and gestured to the desk and then wider to the room around them. "It seems ruthless," she observed, "I don't know how long one is supposed to wait - out of respect, I mean."

"Is there ever a right time?" Paul asked. "I used to have a patient who was married to a hoarder. She began cleaning house the moment her husband died--and she loved him. It was freeing, for her. The question is, are you ready? Would you rather take a day or two, get used to the idea of Horatio being gone, first? Touch the familiar things? Remember good times you spent with him before packing all those things away? There is no one correct way to do this, Mikaela, only the correct way for you."

Mikaela paused in thought for a few seconds. "Actually," she finally began, resolutely, "I don't think this should be about me. Yes, he was murdered, but the circumstances that led to that are far from clear cut. I think we both agree he should never have been on that transport?" she continued. "That being the case, Command are going to want to know what led to that decision. We've both admitted we didn't know what was going on with him: Did we fail him? Did Starfleet fail him? Right now, I think the correct thing to do is clear his office and his quarters and see if we can find anything that helps us piece that together - for his sake, as well as ours."

"I agree, Horatio should never have been on that transport," Paul said. "But that was his decision to make. Yes, regulations state that a CO should delegate such things, and you were right to lodge an objection. But regs don't oblige a CO to delegate the leadership of away missions; they're just strongly advised to. Otherwise, James Kirk would have been court-martialed multiple times." He studied Mikaela for a moment. "What I sense from you is that you want answers, and yes, I want them, too."

"In that case," she replied, "Shall we begin here?"

 

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