[BACKSIM] JP - Ens. Chevalier & Ens. Max Whitlock - It’s ok to see a therapist, part 1

[CPT Arianus]

(( Jaseb’s room, Quarter 0712, USS Artemis-A )) ((Two days before ceremony))

The only source of light in the ensign's quarters came from a solitary lamp. Its dim glow barely reached the far corners of the room, casting everything in a soft, muted light. Despite the lack of brightness, Jaseb found comfort in the shadows and obscurity that surrounded him. As the days passed, he started to lose track of time, but the tranquility of the dimly lit space eased his mind. The rhythmic sounds of the ship, the gentle creaking of the hull as it responded to the Bajoran sun, the intermittent beeping of the computer on the table, and the quiet mechanical hum of his prosthetic arm and the leg he was painstakingly crafting all contributed to the unique symphony of his surroundings. Each sound was a reminder of his artistry as he meticulously worked to create a new limb to replace the one provided by Starfleet.

He watched the work of the servo, which did not want to work as it should. Jaseb meticulously examined the input and output, read hundreds of lines of the program, which controlled the translation of his nerve impulse into the language of cybernetics, analyzing and deciphering thoughts into physical movement.

But servo still refused to obey the commands, almost as if it had a mind of its own and was forming its own opinions.

oO Like one unnamed ensign, don't you think? Oo

Chevalier: ::whispers:: Shut up…

Ensign moved away from the table and looked at his Academy diploma and Good Conduct Award certificate, which were marginally illuminated by the lamp's light.

It seemed like yesterday when he left the Academy full of hopes and dreams. And he did when he took the ribbon from Captain MacKenzie. Good Conduct. He. It was laughable. What was "Good Conduct" about him?

Reprimanded for behavior unbecoming by Dakora. Almost got killed on Betazed, where he left all those faithful guys and girls to die in a suicide mission he helped to plan with that traitor, Nieran. Couldn’t save Artemis from that Empress, whatever her name was. There was no need to mention his last injury during shore leave, stupid SHORE LEAVE. He just messed up everything he touched. He could not even die in a dignified, heroic way, as was expected of him as Elthari. He survived. Crippled, depressed, hopeless wreck who was trying to be okay and normal on the outside when there was a nuclear holocaust happening on the inside.

Jaseb turned back to the table and gazed at his reflection in the darkened screen of the computer monitor. He wanted to feel something, anything, even fear, anger, pain…

But none of it touched him, everything was so far away, incomprehensible. He logically knew he hate himself, he was logically upset with himself for becoming such a disappointment. He couldn't breathe because he saw, he felt the pain he felt on Betazed and Bajor when he knew he was going to die when he was supposed to die… but those feelings were gone after a couple of seconds because something in him was reconciled with him dying.

Where he should feel something was just a dark, deep hole taking everything from him, while keeping telling him it was okay.

Ensign pushed himself up from the table, his emotions boiling over as he turned to confront the wall. The urge to lash out and feel something, anything, was overwhelming, but his injured leg gave out beneath him, replacing the anticipated pain in his hand with the jarring impact of the fall.

Chevalier: Damien! Damien, I need help!

Silence was his only answer.

Chevalier: Damien!

Jaseb bit his lip. Of course, Damien didn't answer. Why should he? Jaseb always told him he didn't need him. He yelled at him, he was mean to him. In his better days he was giving him silent treatment. Why would the only person who loved him for who he was respond after he treated him like a piece of dirty rag?

Chevalier rolled onto his back and looked around. He moved closer to the bookcase by the wall, grabbed one of the shelves, and braced himself against the bookcase, at least helping himself to kneel. He groped for a higher shelf and leaned against it to stand up. He turned around. He limped the two steps back to the table, leaned against the chair, grabbed the wall so it wouldn't slide under him, and sat down again.

He looked at the PADD, which was lying next to the computer, already collecting a layer of dust. Medical evaluation from lieutenant Sadar. How absurd it seemed to him at the time when he heard her words then. But she was right. He needed help.

He grabbed the PADD, unlocked the report, and clicked on the link inside to schedule a meeting with the ship's counselor. As he flipped through the days and times that Commander Jashkaa had available, he stared at the endless line of already occupied slots.

oO Who would have expected that, after our last mission, um, Jaseb? Oo

Jaseb found one free slot, nine days from today. He clicked on the slot to reserve a season and gazed at an intake form, which probably should have helped Jashkaa evaluate the problems he felt he needed help with.

I feel alone in my struggle…

oO Strongly agree. Oo

I struggle with my daily tasks…

oO Strongly agree. Oo

I feel like I can’t go on…

oO Strongly agree. Oo

After selecting the third answer, the form vanished from the screen. Jaseb paused to read the text that materialized, attempting to comprehend.

oO If You Are In Crisis, Please Seek Help Immediately.

Below are some options for immediate support. Oo

Jaseb paused and set the PADD down gently on the table. Glancing at the computer screen, he reached out and tapped on the keyboard, awakening the dormant machine. With a few precise keystrokes, he initiated a video call, and the emblem of the Federation's medical division appeared on the screen, somewhat incongruous with its surroundings. Just as he was about to dismiss the call, a line of text below the emblem caught his eye.

oO If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. If you do not know how to start, just say… I need help. Oo

The Federation logo disappeared and was replaced by the face of a man in a medical division uniform. Jaseb gasped.

Chevalier: I…I need help.


(( Counsellor’s Office, USS Gorkon ))

It had been a long while since Max had spent any time in his office aboard the USS Gorkon, considering their ongoing mission, but today, he was back and freshly given a clean bill of health from the medical team.

Debriefing was clear on his mind, as was getting a few moments to destress from the traumatic experience of his first away mission. He sat in the plush chair in his office and absently flicked open the monitor on his desk computer, seeing a message there. Someone called Chevalier? 

He loaded up his PADD and checked the ship's dossier, there was no mention of an officer of that name, he scratched his head in puzzlement before replying. It must be a lifeline call he realised. He’d signed up for the program recently, there had been a shortage of counselling staff in the fleet, so he signed up to help crew from other vessels.

Whitlock: Hello there, I’m Ensign Maximilian Whitlock of the USS Gorkon, who may you be? Can I be of assistance? Everything we discuss is confidential of course Ensign.

Jaseb gazed at the figure of the young counselor, pondering his words. Well, perhaps sharing just a name wouldn't do any harm, he mused.
Chevalier: I’m… Jaseb. I need…help.

TBC

-- Ensign Jaseb Chevalier

Operations Officer

U.S.S. Artemis-A

A240009JC1

&

Ensign Maximilian Whitlock

Counsellor

USS Gorkon

G240101MW3