[JP] Commander Valen Carys & Mikali sh'Shar - Discovering New Oceans (Part IV)

[Quinn Reynolds]

((Counselling Suite, Iana Station))

Valen: I know this isn't easy. Have a few moments, take a few deep breaths.

A few moments seemed like an impossible ask. Last session she was told to give up her promise to Benna, and this session, she was being told to give up her career, as well.

Madness. It was madness. There was no way this was going to work out in her favour; giving up the promise had been almost impossible for her, but this?

She almost left. Almost got up and just walked right out of the room—already dark thoughts churned in her head about what a mistake all of this was—but summoning her inner reserve of stubbornness, and knowing that if she left it would be much worse than anything she could do or say, Mikali stayed put.

Took a few slow, deep breaths.

Calm.

Ish.

Valen: All right. That's a lot to unpack, but I think we need to make some definitive statements. 

Much of what she had suspected had been confirmed by Mikali's tirade, that the Andorian was hanging her entire happiness and future on a fanciful, ephemeral dream. She took a breath, and then spoke evenly and slowly, giving each statement space to breathe and sink in. 

Valen: A Starfleet career doesn't define your worth as a person. It doesn't guarantee you'll find meaning in your day to day life. It won't grant you custody of your daughter. ::She paused, leaning forward a little.:: My concern here is you've created a belief that returning to Starfleet means everything else in your life will fall into place, and you're worthless if it doesn't happen. That's not just wrong, it's a recipe for disaster, so we need to pause and find a different plan for your future.

Every part of her screamed that this was wrong. That this was a bad, harmful, potentially ruinous course of action that would bring further destruction and misery her way.

Carys, however, had been right about everything so far. Everything that had a definitive answer. The effect of her un-promising Benna was still not yet known in its entirety, but most everything else had been at least okay.

But this. This hurt more than the loss of her eye. More than pain. It burned in her chest, seizing her muscles, pressing her throat closed, filling her brain with a flood of fear and anxiety and raw panic.

Mikali fought very hard to keep her tone even and flat.

sh'Shar: I know that none of this guarantees anything. It's... it's only a chance, Carys. I'm not asking for certainty. I'm just asking for a chance to roll the dice. I know that the odds are low, I just... I just literally have no other options.

Valen: You keep saying that, Mikali, but it's not true.

She used her liar's brain, the part of her personality that could say things she did not feel and did not want, to exercise a hypothetical.

sh'Shar: So walk me through it. I leave the course and whatever support and stability I have here, upending my whole life again, and I go back to being exactly what I was before. The courts won't listen to my appeals, because they didn't before, so Benna is just as far away as she ever was. I can't get a fulfilling job that lets me make the difference, because I couldn't get one before, and anything I try now has an additional black mark: "Enrolled in a one-year Starfleet program to fix her career, spent half of it in hospital, bombed out after two months." It seems like I'm right back where I started. Worse, even, as I'm just confirming that I'm as unreliable as I ever was. It doesn't seem like this makes me happier, or more stable, and it certainly doesn't make my life more fulfilling or impress the Andorian courts. Who will bring up me leaving and the breaking of the promise to Benna as proof I'm unreliable. Last but not least... there's now not even a remotely possible path to achieving either of my primary goals, so I have to deal with that hopeless crushing feeling too. So... why? What am I missing?

The counsellor let that sit for a moment, nodding to herself as she processed everything Mikali had said. The visceral reaction—even stronger than the request to undo her promise to her daughter—doubled-down on every concern Carys had that the Andorian had made a return to Starfleet the linchpin of her self-worth. That for all she said she was only asking for a chance, her world was on the verge of collapse at the mere hint it wasn't a possibility. It wasn't a healthy focus, and another example of how the woman looked for shortcuts to her problems and struggled to make realistic, long-term goals. 

When the Bajoran spoke again, it was in soft, even tones. 

Valen: When did I tell you to leave the program? ::She raised her eyebrows, a faint, kind smile clinging to the corners of her mouth.:: ReachOut is a rehabilitation program for a person, not a career. Our goal is to help you to find a way to move past your difficulties and live a fulfilling life.

sh'Shar held up a finger.

sh'Shar: But you said— ::Her voice trailed off.:: Actually, I don't remember the... exact phrase... but I thought you said, I thought you meant... ::She squinted her eye closed.:: I thought you meant leaving the program.

Carys shook her head. It was something they could work on, unpicking the associations she had forged with Starfleet—that the only career of worth was the fleet, that to regain access to her daughter she had to be in the uniform. Few things could be further from the truth, but the counsellor could see how she'd got there. Starfleet was full of the kind of people she wanted to be. Emotionally, Mikali had barely developed from that runaway child of twenty-five years ago, and it was easy for her to conclude that being successful in Starfleet would mean success in the rest of her life.

sh'Shar: I'm just... on the verge of a major freak-out here, and I'm s-sorry. I thought you were kicking me out. ::She forced a shakey, weak smile.:: In my defense, I did just get out of long-term recovery with a brain problem.

Valen: ::She smiled.:: I can give you that.

sh'Shar: So... okay. If I can stick with the program, then... ::A lightbulb went on in her head. Slowly, carefully, as though scared of the implications, Mikali decided to risk it.:: This isn't like the Benna thing, is it? It's not that you want me to withdraw immediately, tonight. You just want me to have a backup option, one that I would find meaning in, if... if the Starfleet hearing goes bad. Just... another option. Right?

Valen: I'm saying you should be prepared to accept that Starfleet isn't a good fit for you, and that's not a failing on your part. You're trying to recapture the past, but the problem is that while it had its good moments, ultimately it was a past that wasn't kind to you. ::She paused.:: So I think it's time to look forward and build something new, and that's what ReachOut is about. We know that most of the people who pass through our doors aren't going to return to Starfleet, so we've established partnerships with organisations and employers willing to offer a chance, who can give you the same thing you have here— 

Carys glanced down at her PADD. A few taps and she summoned some notes from their last session, reading from the screen.

Valen: —work that's challenging but not overwhelming, where you feel like you're making a difference, your co-workers and kind and supportive and don't pity you, and where you're treated as though you have value and your opinion matters. ::She looked back up with a faint smile.:: That's how you described what you're doing now, and this isn't Starfleet. If the most important thing to you is Benna, then you should consider shifting your goal toward a civilian position on or near Andoria. It's more achievable, more likely to give you the opportunities to build the bridges you need to build, to forge the connections you need to make, and give you an environment in which you feel supported and valued.

It was still difficult to process and digest. Mikali had tried so many different things in the six years spent blowing around the Alpha quadrant that she had almost given up on everything else. She'd tried so many things, all to rejection or failure, it didn't seem right. It didn't seem smart.

Still, what Carys was telling her felt right. The position she was describing, this hypothetical idea, was definitely closer to what she wanted. And if someone made Mikali choose between service in Starfleet and Benna, that choice was so easy it wasn't even a choice. Starfleet was an enriching and useful thing, yes; it allowed her to fly and was the source of many good memories which she would like to make more of, but ultimately for her, at this point, her primary motivation was Benna.

But still. What kind of position would cater for her like that? She'd tried a whole bunch of civilian work and it never worked out for her.

sh'Shar: I actually hate Andoria. When you've spent prison time in a place, you tend to not want to go back voluntarily. Plus, that was where I relapsed, and... and I don't want to go back there unless I have to. There's nothing for me there that can't be somewhere else.

TBC

--

Mikali sh'Shar

Civilian

ReachOut Project

O238704AT0

&

Commander Valen Carys 

Anthropologist and Clinical Psychologist

USS Gorkon

T238401QR0