[JP] Commander Valen Carys & Mikali sh'Shar - Uglier Ways (Part I)
David Adams
((Counselling Suite, Iana Station, Day 7 of 365))
One week down.
Mikali sh'Shar had counted off her first week of her programme, and it had been... far less strenuous than she had anticipated, despite the mostly self-imposed workload. She had drank in the challenge. Fixing shuttles was difficult but rewarding. Fixing worker bees was a necessary task and someone had to do it, even if it was rough, hard going sometimes.
Now came the difficult, bitter pill that she always struggled with. Not because it was hard, but because it was so easy. So relaxing. So calming and often, in her experience, so effective.
Counselling.
sh'Shar had, for all of her life, been cagey and guarded. She hated counselling because it worked; it made her feel safe, made her open up, made her tell people things that she would never otherwise tell them, and for years, decades, that had been everything that she dreaded and avoided.
But the program did not make counselling mandatory, simply readily available. That simple nudge, the framing of the help as a choice completely at the participant's discretion, made it both easier and harder.
Easier, because she wasn't being told to do it, so the natural stubbornness that helped her as much as it hurt her was more easily squashed. This was her decision and there were no consequences for not going. No punishments.
Harder, because for the very first time in her entire life, Mikali sh'Shar was voluntarily and without being ordered to, going to counselling of her own volition.
The notion terrified her.
She arrived half an hour early. Checked her hair (it was fine). She checked her clothes (they were fine). She checked her nails (some hydraulic fluid dug in under one hand, which was fixed and made perfect). Shoes (fine). Belt (why wouldn't that be fine?). Then, out of procrastination options, she checked again. Then there was nothing more to check.
So, when the time was right, five minutes early or so, she pressed the chime to the door.
Valen: It's open.
Mikali took a breath, swallowed down the spike of worry and anxiety that spiked through her, then stepped through the open door. The woman's office didn't look like one at all; much rather it resembled someone's living room. A skylight mimicking genuine daylight replaced the normal overhead lighting, and it even warmed the skin when caught in its rays. Soft chairs and a sofa sat around a coffee table, with a crystal jug and glasses on a tray in its centre. Fresh flowers — or excellent artificial ones — bloomed in a vase upon a small desk set to one side of the room. Bajoran art and calligraphy decorated the walls, though the sculptures dotted around the room had a broader spectrum of origin, and included an abstract Benzite piece and some Rodulan basotile.
sh'Shar: Good evening, I'm Mikali sh'Shar. I'm here for the appointment?
Valen: Come on in, help yourself to a seat. I'm Commander Valen Carys, feel free to call me Carys.
The slim woman smiled and beckoned her inside, gesturing toward a seat near the centre of the room. The teal-collared uniform and pips on her collar marked her out as a Starfleet Commander, but there was something decidedly informal about the way she presented herself; sleeves rolled up, collar unfastened to below the hollow of her neck, jacket left to hang open. The fine chains of her traditional silver earring — a d'ja pagh — hung in loops from her right ear, swinging back and forth as she moved.
sh'Shar: Thank you, I will.
Mikali took a seat, breathing a little faster than it probably should be.
Valen: Do you want something to drink? ::She made her way toward the replicator, pausing beside it.:: I discovered a raktajino blend lurking in the Gorkon's replicator banks a while ago, and I still can't get enough of it.
Something to drink...
sh'Shar: ::Firmly,:: Just water, ice cold. Thank you. ::Realising the suddenness and confrontational nature of her answer, she immediately moderated her tone.:: Sorry. Um. Water is fine.
Nervousness made her pushy. Mikali took a breath and let it out slowly. Carys threw a quick smile her way, ordered her Klingon coffee and a glass of cool water from the replicator, and made her way to the comfortable chairs. She passed the Andorian her drink and then, mug in hand, the counsellor eased herself into a seat, PADD balanced on the top of her crossed leg. She offered a warm smile across the space between them, fully aware of her client's nerves. Few people rolled up to their counselling sessions without some anxiety, especially when they were in a rehabilitation program.
Valen: So before we start, there's a few station-keeping points. These sessions are confidential; I don't report back to your superiors or the program administrators. With your permission, I can let your doctor know you've had counselling, so they have a full picture of your health, but I won't reveal the contents of our sessions. ::She lifted her hands and gestured to the room.:: What you tell me in here stays in here, unless I believe there's a serious risk to your wellbeing or the wellbeing of others. Would you like to ask me any questions about that?
Mikali digested all of that. Pretty standard stuff.
sh'Shar: You can let them know if you want, and yes, all of that is fine. I have no questions.
Wait, no, there was one thing.
sh'Shar: I... would like to tell you about my past, which will involve some actions which are criminal under various codes. Some of which were never actioned, and some of which I was a minor for so would not reasonably be charged, most are both. Nothing bad. I understand you're a mandatory reporter, and there are a lot of penal codes out there in the galaxy, but for Federation law, the statute of limitations has passed for all of them. Regardless, I'd still like to talk about them, if you're okay with that.
There was a faint ripple of something under the counsellor's smile, hard to identify under the professional demeanour. Sympathy, maybe. The counsellor was old enough to have lived through the end of the Occupation, or perhaps she'd known a delinquent's life herself at some point. Whatever it was, she kept it to herself; it wasn't helpful or appropriate to offer one's own life up as an example.
Valen: I am.
sh'Shar: Okay.
Carys nodded and with a small shuffle, got herself comfortable in her chair. With a couple of taps on her PADD, she opened up a blank record for note-taking and looked across the room to the Andorian. Where else to begin, but the start?
Valen: Why don't we start with you telling me what brought you here today?
sh'Shar: Oh. Uh. Sure. ::She ran a hand through her hair, fingertips brushing over her left antenna.:: I'm 35, I'm a former Starfleet Lieutenant, and now I'm with the ReachOut program, the new one that's just started. I, uh...
It was difficult to know where to begin. Mikali wanted to impress this person, this total stranger, but didn't even really know why. A sudden urgency grew within her, something driven by fear, culminating in a simple urge: lie to her.
But she didn't. Her antenna drooped down to her head.
sh'Shar: I'm an addict. I've been clean for six years, eight months, handful of days or so. Before that I was clean for... eleven years or so. I wasn't really tracking it at that point. But... six years ago I hit a low point, and I made a very stupid mistake. So now I'm here.
Carys nodded, much of that information already noted in the referral. But it was always useful to hear someone explain the situation in their own terms, see where they placed the emphasis and what they skimmed over, listen to how they told the story of their life.
Valen: Can you tell me how you got from there to here?
There to here...
TBC
--
Mikali sh'Shar
Civilian
ReachOut Project
O238704AT0
&
Commander Valen Carys
Anthropologist and Clinical Psychologist
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0