[JP] Mikali sh'Shar & Commander Valen Carys - There Is No Coming to Consciousness Without Pain (Part I)
David Adams
((Counselling Suite, Iana Station, Day 121 of 365))
At the appointed hour, Mikali waited until the counsellor’s suite was free, a wooden box held firmly in both hands and her mechanic’s PADD strapped to her hip.
Nerves began to creep back into her once more, as they typically did before visits to the Counselling Suite. Worries and fears about her adequacy, concerns about the upcoming session, worries about what might be in her future. Her foot tapped unconsciously on the deck, her leg shaking until she pressed down on the box a little, physically stopping the tremble. The PADD stopped vibrating.
Everything was going to be okay. She idly fiddled with the freshly installed control on the side of her head. It wasn’t complicated, just three states, but it gave her fingers something to do while she waited.
She didn’t have to wait much longer. The door to Carys’ counselling room hissed open, and the Bajoran stepped through it. As always, she was far from prim and proper, sleeves rolled up and collar unfastened, though the look was a little different. Somewhere between sessions, the Starfleet staff attached to Iana station had adopted Starfleet’s newest uniform style, and Carys sported blue shoulders instead of the familiar quilted grey.
Valen: Mikali? Would you like to come in?
Definitely. Standing, sh’Shar checked everything was okay, and then headed on in, the wooden box held comfortably in front of her with both hands, posture more formal than it usually was. She didn’t sit immediately, but instead remained standing, holding the box firmly.
sh’Shar: Thank you for seeing me again, as is our custom.
Carys paused at the serious tone of Mikali’s voice and remained standing as well. The counsellor looked at her patient for a moment, the fine chains of her silver earring swinging with a curious quirk of her head. Something was going on, and she wasn’t sure what.
Valen: This is new.
New to her as well. Mikali kept her back straight, heels together. Her posture remained formal, but her voice softened. Carys probably needed an explanation as to what was going on.
sh’Shar: Um. I have a present for you, but it’s kinda... giving it is a bit formalised. Ritualised. Not a big deal, just don’t act too weird. Okay?
Valen: I’m Bajoran. ::She smiled in faint amusement.:: We’re big fans of ritual.
So many rituals. Mikali had even learned a few while in prison.
sh’Shar: Works for me. ::She cleared her throat, then, antenna coming together on top of her head, voice resuming its formal intonation.:: Commander Valen Carys. This is for you. A craft of my own creation.
Mikali held out the wooden box, made of Palanon oak with a bronze latch. This one was the smallest of the three. It fit comfortably into her palm. The counsellor’s expression of mild curiosity remained, a small smile on her lips, a light dancing in her eyes, and she accepted the offering. Mikali’s ritual foreign to her, she held it in her hands, waiting for a prompt.
Valen: Thank you. May I ask what it’s for?
sh’Shar: Your assistance over the last few months has been invaluable. What you’ve asked of me was difficult, but when is anything worth doing ever easy? The next nine months are going to be even harder for me, harder than anything I’ve ever done. I wanted to give you something to show you I... appreciate you taking in a pilot with a busted wing and giving her a chance to see if she could still fly.
Mikali pressed on the top, it slowly opened, spring-loaded. Inside was the necklace she’d made, the thin chain neatly looped around a wooden dowel, the vial containing the sliver of metal delicately held by wound wire and intricately hand-crafted wings, one dark, one light.
sh’Shar: That little thing in the middle there is the bit of metal that scratched up the prosthetic eye and caused all the recent drama. The last piece of the USS Independence-A. I wanted to give it to you like this, because... because it’s something you can show your other patients, or yourself if you ever need a reminder.
Carys looked up to her, dark eyebrows raised. A curious gift, and one she didn’t quite understand the purpose or meaning of. Despite the formality, Mikali managed a small smile.
sh’Shar: Small problems cause big problems further on. But fix something small early and...that’s all it ever is.
Valen: This is very thoughtful, Mikali, thank you. ::She picked up the small pendant, turning it back and forth in her fingers.:: Where did you learn to do this?
It was somewhat shameful to explain, but she did her best.
sh’Shar: Smuggling is... a long, boring job. You basically have to crawl along at low warp, in the quiet, empty parts of space. You want to be as slow as reasonably possible, warp 3 or so, leaving as little a warp trail as you can. That leaves a lot of time to develop personal skills. The crew taught each other, or read books, and Xhard was more than happy to charge us a premium for tools. And books. And whatever else he could get away with billing us for. I sang, I made stuff, I... did other things.
At the explanation, Carys dipped her gaze to look at the pendant again, shifting it to catch the rays of artificial sunlight streaming in from the equally artificial skylight. She looked pensive for a few moments, then seemed to remember where she was and looked back up to the Andorian with a faint smile.
sh’Shar: ::Smiling,:: I’m just glad you like it. It’s the message on the back, the stuff about being the sum of our choices and whatnot, that I’ve been thinking about, and I wanted to give you something to thank you for all your effort with me. ::The smile faltered.:: I know I’m not easy to get along with most of the time.
Valen: It might surprise you to know you’re not the most challenging patient I’ve ever had.
With a quirk of an eyebrow and a small grin, the counsellor closed the case and placed it down on the small table beside her chair, next to her PADD and a steaming cup of raktajino. Easing into the seat, she leaned back and crossed her legs, inviting Mikali to sit with a gesture toward the sofa.
Mikali was, indeed, genuinely surprised by this. It was difficult to imagine Carys coming into contact with someone worse than her; she felt as though she were right on the knife edge of tolerable. So anyone worse than her would, by definition, be worse.
A sudden thought occurred to her. Was she proud of this? The thought of being “just the worst” evoked a strange feeling of... almost fondness within her, along with a surge of shame. But where was the first part coming from?
No time to think about it.
sh’Shar: Well, I... ::She fumbled for words.:: I am-am actually surprised, yes. ::She sat finally, carefully sliding into the empty chair, thinking that over.:: Counselling challenges aside, would you say that I... am difficult to get along with? Or that I could be considered a “difficult person”? A... “problem”? Terms of that nature?
Valen: What do you think?
Mikali squirmed uncomfortably, thoughts tumbling around in her head too fast to be voiced.
sh’Shar: Um. Well, in the past, before I enlisted, the answer from most was “Yes”. And after I enlisted, the answer was “Yes, but...”, as though I had redeeming qualities that could make up for the yes, or ameliorate it somewhat. And now... I don’t know. I guess I’m kind of shooting for a... “No, but”. I’ll never be perfect, I’m realistic enough to understand that... but I really do want to be better.
Carys nodded, reaching for her PADD. She left it in her lap for now, no notes to take just yet, and laced her fingers together.
Valen: No one’s perfect. ::Her eyebrows twitched at some inner joke.:: Tell me what you imagine that looks like? This version of yourself; how does her average day go? How does she deal with challenges?
TBC
--
Mikali sh'Shar
Civilian
ReachOut Project
O238704AT0
&
Commander Valen Carys
Anthropologist and Clinical Psychologist
USS Gorkon
T238401QR0