Zach

Posted on Sat 28th Jul, 2018 @ 9:52am by Commander Paul Graves PsyD

449 words; about a 2 minute read

MD3, 1200 hours

There is a difference between males from Earth and males from Betazed. Males from Betazed cry unashamedly if they feel grief. The only time when you don't do that is when you are in a position of authority and must present a calm demeanor or if you want to appear professional in front of co-workers. Generally, though, on my planet, everyone knows you're grieving, anyway, so there is little point in hiding the outward signs of it.

Soon after Eddie Hunt told me of Zach's death, I made sure he would be all right and then went straight back to my house. My house, where I'd figured on inviting Zach over for drinks when Hermes arrived. Except he wasn't on it. And then life got busy with Hermes' and Samurai's crews both on the station. And then the pirates attacked our fighter wing, and finding out which ship Zach was actually commanding got shoved to the back burner in the crush of things needing my more immediate attention. It never, ever crossed my mind that he would have died. He survived the illness that struck him and Horatio after they returned from the Bretagne., and I took it for granted that he had a long life ahead of him. Hell, I took it for granted that they both had long lives ahead of them, Horatio's depression notwithstanding.

And now they are both gone, and I miss them terribly. A childish part of me wants them back yet knows that cannot happen. All I can do is move forward--just as I told Riko McCord.

I am much more comfortable being the person who listens to mourners than mourns, myself. You would think a trained psychologist would know how to handle it, what to do--yet I find myself just as much at a loss as anyone else. I want to tell Mikaela all about it, but that feels awkward because she came in as Zach's replacement, and I'd bet good money that Horatio told her about feeling unable to trust Zach--whether he explained to her why or not. I just--no. I could talk to Chlamydia; she always gives good advice. But--no. She would bring out the tea. This evening I want alcohol, not tea. One of the other counselors in my department? Four Deities, no! I want to talk to another man--a man I know as a friend, not a counselor who will just tell me the same things I would tell any patient who walked through my door.

Hm. Yes, I think I know whom to speak to now, if he would be willing.

 

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