When the Story Is Not Finished

Posted on Sat 28th Jul, 2018 @ 9:52am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD & Lieutenant Commander Lanis Dhuro MD

1,420 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Oblivion
Location: Paul Graves' Home, deck 1552
Timeline: MD3, 1900 hours

Good-byes hurt the most when the story is not finished. --Unknown

Dhuro Lanis appeared at Paul's front door with a bottle of Kanar Noir under one arm. Paul blinked at the sight of a Bajoran who had lived through the Resistance carrying a Cardassian wine but made no comment. "Thanks for coming, Lanis. Come on in," he said, stepping aside so the doctor could enter.

"Looks lived-in," Lanis commented as he glanced about the foyer while Paul shut the door. "I always wondered what it would have been like if Irel and I had ever lived during normal times and owned a house."

"You were parents, right? It would have been a mess," Paul said with a faint grin as Lanis snorted at him.

"Nonsense! I'd have made our children get up at the crack of dawn to clean their rooms!" Both men laughed. "So what is this about Commander Hunt dying?" Lanis asked.

"Apparently it's true; his brother Eddie told me earlier today; he's bought the casino. I came home and looked up the news report. Freak accident," Paul said as he led Lanis into the den. "So, beer and whiskey, or whiskey and beer?"

"Does it matter?" Lanis set the bottle of Noir down on the coffee table.

"If you want to wind up unconscious on the floor, beer and whiskey," Paul explained. "If you want to walk out under your own power, whiskey and beer."

"Oh! I guess we'll start with the whiskey, then," Lanis said.

"Is Gentleman Jack fine with you?"

Lanis shrugged. "I've no idea. Pour 'em up. Are we talking the real stuff or synthehol?"

"Whichever you'd like," Paul said.

"Synthehol," Lanis replied. "I'm not officially on call tonight, but unofficially, I'm always on call. The Noir is special. It's helped me through a bad evening, a time or two."

Paul nodded. "I understand." He ordered two synth-whiskies from the replicator and set them on the table along with bowls of popcorn and a platter of sandwiches and hasperat.

Lanis picked up his drink and sipped from it. "Smooth," he said. He leaned his head to one side. "Aren't you seeing Commander Locke?"

Paul eyed him. "Are we that obvious? We've only gone out for coffee a time or two after work."

"That's all? Prophets, you Betazoids move slowly."

"No, we don't," Paul said, "but in too many ways, I'm her direct report. There are abuse of power and appearance of favoritism issues that I'd rather not entangle Mikaela or myself in without considerable thought and preparation. It could damage her career if we get too publicly involved."

Lanis nodded. "True. Is that why you're talking to me about this and not Mikaela?"

"I'm talking to you because you're a friend and because I wanted a guys' night, Lanis," Paul shot back. "In case you haven't noticed, both Captain Suzuki and Mikaela are women. So's Chlamydia. So's Riko McCord--though I barely know her. I don't think Gaden ever knew Zach, and you did. It's not just Zach, either; it's Horatio, too. I've lost two of my best male friends in a matter of months, and now I feel... Bereft. Lost. Stunned. Surely you felt like that and worse when Irel died, as if a vital part of you wasn't there anymore?"

"Oh, yes," Lanis said quietly. He sipped from his whiskey and set the glass down. "How badly is this affecting you?"

"I feel like I want to withdraw from everything and shut down--but I can't; there's too much to get done. The thought of going out and constructing new relationships makes me feel frozen inside, like applying for a new job after you've just lost the good one you had and loved for several years."

"There's always too much to get done," Lanis retorted. "Take a day or two, and withdraw all you like. I'm sure you've got the leave accumulated. It's natural to withdraw for a while when you lose someone. Hell, Horatio took a good six months to a year, didn't he?"

"Losing two good friends is not quite the same thing as losing your husband."

Lanis leveled a gaze at Paul. "You and I know better than that."

Paul frowned and then sighed. "I guess you're right. I think what hurts the worst is that, with both of them, there was so much unfinished. Horatio never really healed from losing Patrick, never learned to love again. Zachary never got to fully regain Horatio's trust--there was an issue between them; apparently, Horatio has a high-ranking uncle who's a manipulative jerk, and he tried to use Zachary to spy on Horatio by threatening Zachary's career."

Lanis snorted. "Sounds like a real piece of work."

"Apparently he is," Paul said. "Part of me hopes I never meet him; the other part hopes I do, just to see to what extent my perception matches theirs."

Lanis shook his head. "You're well enough out of it, Paul."

"Oh, I'm sure I am. It's just a sorry mess, is all--for both of them. They never got the chance to rebuild."

Lanis eyed him. "You don't want to know my opinion of that."

"You disagree?" Paul asked.

"We all have many chances to rebuild; the chances start immediately after the destruction happens. But how many of us overlook those chances?"

Paul leaned his head to one side. "You know better than I that healing takes time. The pain has to diminish, first, before reality can bring perspective and forgiveness--either of self or others."

"And if it never does?" Lanis retorted.

"Some things never do diminish--but they become less immediately raw. If they didn't, I would still be devastated over my friend Rhys, whose suicidal depression I completely missed--and you would still be finding the loss of your wife unbearable."

Then minutes slid by, and then an hour.

Lanis handed Paul a small glass of the Kanar Noir. Paul had heard that black kanar was extremely viscous and sickeningly sweet. This stuff wasn't. It had the same viscosity as normal wine but went down with quite a kick. "Cripes, Lanis, if I'd known how strong this is, I'd have had you serve it first." Paul leaned against the back of the sofa and cradled the Noir glass in one hand.

"That's why I served only a little bit."

"Uh-huh." Paul glanced at him. "So there is no woman you're interested in at the moment?" he asked.

"Not really," Lanis said and then sipped from his own glass. He gave a satisfied grin at the taste. "There aren't too many Bajoran women who are sixty some-odd years old living on this station."

"Maybe not, but what about that Bajoran lady who runs Signs of the Prophets?" Paul asked. "You're both surviving spouses. She's interested in your people's faith, and so are you."

"My son is about the same age as that nice Bajoran lady who runs Signs of the Prophets," Lanis said. "Thanks for the suggestion, but no."

"Not even to just go out for raktajino or something?" Paul prodded. "It wouldn't kill you."

Lanis snorted. "The raktajino might, and then there she'd be, sitting at one of those little spindly tables in a coffee shop, with me splatted face-down across from her, and my 20-oz. cup spilled everywhere."

Paul choked back laughter. "You are no fun, Lanis."

"Good! I'm not trying to be. So how are things with you and Commander Locke?"

"Do you really think I'm not going to notice you trying to change the subject?"

"Do you really think I'm not going to notice you evading the question?" Lanis retorted.

Paul rolled his eyes at the Bajoran surgeon. "Mikaela and I are fine. In fact, we went out to Orchids and Jazz a couple of days ago. We haven't been able to see each other much lately because we're both busy with work."

"So get unbusy. Time waits for no one. I'm sure Kai Opaka said something like that once, and anything she said is good advice."

Paul sipped from his glass of Noir. "If she in fact said it."

"It's still good advice."

"It is," Paul agreed. He spun the stem of his glass between his fingers and watched the Noir swirl about in the bowl of the glass. Light danced upon the wine's surface like the stars of a galaxy spinning into its gravity well. He raised it in a toast. "To good friends, well remembered."

Lanis clinked his glass against Paul's. "And to good friends yet to be found."

 

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