Should I Stay or Should I Go? - Part III

Posted on Mon 30th Apr, 2018 @ 11:20pm by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Commander Mikaela Locke

1,774 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Brushfires
Location: Chief Counsellor's Office
Timeline: 2 Days Until Decision

Mikaela Locke hovered outside Counsellor Graves' office door.

She was no longer sure why she felt the same pang of anxiety, here. Paul Graves had long since become more than the station's counsellor, he had become a trusted colleague and he had become a friend. Part of her wondered whether, one day, they might even be more than that, although that seemed increasingly unlikely. Despite his general warmth and friendliness, he had given no indication that he was interested in her beyond professional courtesy. It seemed even less likely, now that she was making plans to leave the station.

Captain Suzuki had asked that she take a week to mull it over, rather than accept her resignation straight away, and, while the 'offer' had irritated her initially, it had given her time to take a step back and review her decision, a few days removed from the highly emotive events surrounding Horatio Drake's death.

It had also given her the opportunity to consult with a (very) small group of people that she trusted, in order to try and externalise at least some of what she had been feeling. Others, perhaps, would call it 'personal growth', in this instance she called it 'necessity'.

She pressed the chime and the doors slid open immediately - she suspected because Graves knew she was there - and she entered the office.

Paul moved toward the door as it opened. "Hey," he said, his lips curving into a smile despite all his promises to himself that he would maintain a strictly businesslike demeanor. "It's good to see you. Come on in and have a seat." He gestured toward the sofa, chairs, and coffee table rather than toward his desk.

Something in him relaxed just at being in her presence. With Drake and Hunt gone there were only two people now on the station with whom he truly felt that he could let go and not be 'on' all the time: Chlamydia Addams was one and Mikaela Locke the other. He wasn't well enough acquainted with Captain Suzuki yet to say how close they might become. "I'm up for tea and ... nut bars. Lots of nut bars. Can I get you anything, Mikaela?"

"Coffee, please," she responded with a quizzical smile, as she moved across the office to the chair that he had indicated. "Black and sweet. Oh, and no nut bars," she added quickly. "Definitely no nut bars..." she continued, almost under her breath. She enjoyed Graves' idiosyncrasies, but sometimes she just had no idea where his mind was. It was almost a sense of randomness hit him every so often. Although, perhaps, as someone who had to keep such close control over her mind, randomness was something that she would never completely understand.

"I doubt you would like them, anyway," Paul said as he entered Mikaela's coffee request into his office replicator. "Nut bars are something my people eat after we've had to do a lot of intense psionic work, rather like recharging batteries with protein and sugar. They're very sticky and sickeningly sweet--unless you're psychically tired, and then they taste like the most wonderful food you could possibly imagine. That's when we devour them. When we notice how godawful sweet they are, we know we've had enough."

He ordered a plate of "Grandma's nut bars" and breakfast tea and brought everything to where Mikaela sat. Paul handed Mikaela her coffee and then plucked a nut bar off the plate as he sat down. "I do apologize for my manners, but I'm going to be eating in front of you. So how do you like working with Captain Suzuki?" Then he bit into the nut bar and chewed as he listened to her.

“She’s fine,” Mikaela replied, clutching at her coffee mug. “A bit of a stickler for detail, but that’s cool - I am too.” She glanced across at him, slightly bemused, as he bit into a second nut bar, and wondered if he was completely crazy, or if she was for even considering asking the question that was really on her mind.

“Paul, can I ask you a personal question?” Her voice quivered slightly.

Paul's gaze snapped immediately to her. The uncertainty in Mikaela's voice only echoed what he felt from her--the uncertainty of someone about to dive off a cliff into waters of unknown depth or take a scary risk.

"You may," he said. "If I don't want to answer, I'll say so."

“Would you miss me if I left the station?”

The uneaten chunk of nut bar fell from Paul's suddenly nerveless fingers, back onto the plate as he stared at Mikaela in stunned surprise. "Leave? You're thinking of leaving? I--Yes, Mikaela, I'd miss you very much." He paused, debating if he should admit more. "I'm--not just saying that to be polite, either. I like you a lot more than on just a professional level."

Abruptly, the enormity of what he was admitting to hit Paul, and his gaze met hers. "I haven't been willing to admit that," he said slowly. "I was concerned that it would damage our working relationship and our professional reputations. Why--do you want to leave?"

She smiled. She was grateful that he had been honest with her - the unspoken thing between them finally out in the open, at least partially. But it also made her decision harder.

“I don’t know,” she finally said, dropping her gaze so it no longer met his. After a moment or two of silence, she recounted the events of five days ago, where she had handed in her resignation, only to have it refused by Captain Suzuki.

“I thought a clean slate would be the way to go...” she concluded, “You know, after... everything.” The word hung in the air. One word that represented all the grief, sorrow, anger, frustration and uncertainty that had overwhelmed her in the last few days. “But I just don’t know anymore.”

She looked up again, and met his gaze, but didn’t say anything else. The silence consumed them and neither spoke for some time.

"I'm sure it can't be easy for you to stay here," Paul said at last. "You were probably Horatio's best friend on this station, aside from Chief Winchester. If you're anything like me, I'll bet it's difficult not to imagine him sitting in certain places, hearing his voice at unexpected moments." He shook his head. "Every time I go into the Ready Room it's a shock if I see Captain Suzuki sitting behind the desk and all of Horatio's familiar things gone." He glanced back at her and took another bite of nut bar, chewing it until he could swallow. "I have a feeling that's not entirely what's bothering you, though."

"I do miss him," Mikaela replied, "And I have nothing against Captain Suzuki - from what I can make out she's a good fit for the station." She paused. "I just can't shake the feeling that Colonel Drake's death was, somehow, my fault - and instead of taking the wrap for that, I've been promoted. I've been rewarded," she emphasised. "How can I face the rest of the crew, knowing that?" she asked, her hands open. "How can I face you..?" Her voice drifted off, as she completed the thought, "How can I face myself?"

Paul thought about what she said for a moment and then asked, "What could you have controlled of the situation before Horatio left with the Marines?"

"I don't know," she repeated. "I've been over the scenario what feels like a million times and I can't see how I could have changed it, I just know that I should have done." She dropped her head again, her eyes focussed on the floor. "I should have been the one on that ship," she said, "That was my role. It was my job: to protect the colonel. He's dead because I didn't do my job, and I get promoted for it?"

Paul thought about that. "No," he said after a moment, "it was not your job to protect Horatio. It was the job of those closest to Horatio to protect him, and that means the marines he brought along. That said, I've watched the footage from that incident several times. It's frustrating, because I can't sense anyone's emotions from the footage. I'm really having to pay close attention to body language.

"What I've concluded from watching it is--that woman was prepared to kill anyone who came after her purse, and she was actively evading the marines' attempts to restrain her hands. Something was going on with Horatio, too. He kept looking off in a direction where no one stood, the way a person does who wants confirmation of something. As you might look at me from across a room, and the expression on your face might ask, without words, is this the spot? Just before he reached for the bag, Horatio gave a quick nod--the way you or I would to indicate we understand something. He reached for the bag, and then the perp killed him."

Paul sighed. "I can't say whether Horatio was delusional, suffering from hallucinations, or what; he never mentioned any such concerns to me. But whatever he was listening to or getting confirmation from in that video--I suspect it is what impelled him to go after the killer himself. And I don't think there's a person in the world who Horatio would have allowed to prevent him from doing what he set out to do, that day."

"Yeah," Mikaela said, looking up again, "Other people have told me that too - and I guess I know it's true... Doesn't make it any easier though." She paused for a few moments before standing up. "I ought to go," she said, "I don't know if I'm going to be here next week, but in the meantime, I have a stack of admin to get through."

She began to head towards the door, before she paused, just about level with Graves. "What time do you get off tonight?" she asked.

"1700 hours," Paul said. "Why?"

"How about a drink? Just casual," she added quickly. "Say, 'Orchids and Jazz' at twenty-one hundred?"

Several responses flitted through his mind, not the least of which was, You have an interesting idea of 'casual!' What he said was, "I'd like that. I'll come by your quarters about 2045, and we can walk there together. "

"Great," Mikaela smiled, "I'll see you there."

And with that she left the counsellor's office, thinking, perhaps for the first time she had made some progress in her decision-making.

 

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