I Ain't Got the Time, You Know My Daddy Thinks I'm Fine

Posted on 14 Jun 2012 @ 2:29pm by Lieutenant Commander Chauncey Remington III (KIA) & Lieutenant JG Brayden White Ph.D.

6,067 words; about a 30 minute read

Mission: Episode 01 - Project Sienna
Location: USS Galileo - Deck 3, Counseling Office
Timeline: MD06 - 1600 hours

[ON]

Brayden was sitting in what he'd started thinking of as his session chair - the high-backed, deep cushioned one across from the couch so many of the crew seemed drawn to sit on. A bowl of mangoes on one knee, his PADD propped on the other, running through his notes from his previous interaction with Remington before the appointed time. Half of him expected the Chief Operations Officer to send a last minute memo that he was unavailable, or simply not show at all, but at exactly 1600, Remington appeared in the open doorway. "Will. Glad you could make it. Come inside. Take a seat wherever you want."

Will stepped inside, looking as much the pristine Starfleet officer as ever. "Counselor," he said with a nod, walking over to join the doctor and sit down across from him. He gestured invitingly, "Stamp away."

For a moment, Brayden was quiet, a little disappointed in the automatic belittling and antagonism. Did it have to start right away? The man couldn't just build up to it a little bit? "Brayden," he reminded Will gently. "Please." He placed the bowl of fruit on the coffee table between them, "Mango? Water? Coffee? Anything before we start? I know you just finished a shift."

"If you're trying to make me comfortable," Will replied with apparent sincerity, "I really am more comfortable with titles than first names, they seem too familiar for my liking." He waved his hand at the offered fruit. "No, thank you. And no, you may start when you like."

"All right." He sat back, "Tell me why you are uncomfortable with familiarity."

Will raised an eyebrow. He thought it an unusual first question. "Why should I be comfortable with indiscriminate familiarity?" he countered.

'Start when you like,' he'd said. Not very likely, Brayden thought. "Why, indeed, but it wasn't a judgement. Just a question," he returned with a studious, neutral expression.

"I see no reason to open up to every person I meet, that is all. I've not had any harrowing experiences as a child or anything like that."

"I didn't say you had," Brayden said calmly. "Is your childhood something you wish to discuss?"

"No."

Apparently, their previous discussion about how his antagonism only complicated and elongated this process hadn't stuck with the commander. Or it had, and this was his way of making sure he kept Brayden's attention. "If you wish to another time." He rolled his hand in gesture as if to say, 'feel free'. He'd tried conversation. He'd tried giving Will the opportunity to design his own way of having this talk. Neither had worked. Perhaps a different kind of tactic, one a little more in line with the way Operations ran? He'd prepared for that eventuality, even though he'd been hoping he'd be able to avoid it. He wanted to get to know the crew, so that he could actually find a way to be assistance of them down the road. Well, he'd get to know Remington this way, as well, he reasoned. If the man would participate. He picked up his PADD and rested it against his knee so the screen was hidden from view, resting his fingers over it. "Let's try something very straight-forward. I'm going to ask you the basic evaluation questions with no frills. You can answer between one and five; one being 'always', five being 'never'. Does that sound expedient?"

"Will I get my certificate of mental health?" Will asked in all serious, though that was hardly a professional term.

"I'll be able to certify that you participated in your evaluation," Brayden told him. "Are you prepared to answer truthfully the following questions, as they are required by Starfleet protocol?"

"Very well," the commander declared with a sigh.

Brayden nodded, looking at his PADD screen. "Do you make use of an outlet, other than work, in which you express your daily emotions?" He looked up after he asked the question, his expression one of neutral interest.

"Two," Will said in an obviously careless way, as if he'd been asked the time.

"Do you seek out emotional support from others?"

"Four."

"Do you actively seek out the information required to understand your situation?"

"One." His tone seemed to say that should be obvious.

"Do you try to spend time unwinding with friends and loved ones?"

"Three."

"Do you develop strategies to keep yourself on track professionally and personally?"

That one earned a pause from the commander. Then at length, "One."

"Do you set goals to help improve shipboard concerns and situations?"

"Two," the answer seemed to come more easily that time. But there was a certain undertone to his attitude that suggested he was merely giving the doctor what he wanted.

Brayden looked up from the screen where he'd been about to ask the next question and held Will's eyes for a moment. "Truthful responses," he reminded the commander, holding his tone as neutral as his expression. It wasn't as easy as it looked; he preferred engaging with others. But that was part of what made the operations officer uncomfortable. "There are no wrong answers; only true and false." He looked back down at the screen where a little bar was flickering. "Do you have any answers you'd like to change before we continue? Glass of water?"

"I am a Starfleet officer," Will reminded Brayden sternly, "I always tell the truth as my duty demands."

"On to the next then?" Brayden asked, unruffled. "Do you try to do your personal best given the constraints of the situation?"

"One," came the matter-of-fact reply.

"No doubt," Brayden murmured. "Do you feel able to communicate your personal needs to others?"

Will seemed to be growing weary of this questioning, though Brayden's 'no doubt' caused the operations officer to smile to himself. "Of course... when I choose to."

Brayden paused a moment, pleased that the man had decided that an attempt at communicating beyond 'yes' and 'no' was worthwhile after all, then nodded, "How often do you find your thoughts are consumed by stressful situations?"

"Never mind what I choose to think," Will replied tersely but still polite.

"Hm?" Brayden asked. "I didn't ask what exactly you thought. Only whether you spent time thinking about stressful situations or memories."

"As much as anyone, I'm sure."

"How much would you say that anyone thinks of it?"

"Probably too much, counselor, now I suggest you move on before I have another such memory to think about."

Brayden couldn't stop the slight smile that curved his lips. He wondered if Will ever heard the things he said and wondered what on earth had made him say them? "As you wish," he murmured, with a little lift of his brows, "How often do you find reasons to laugh?"

"Whenever something amuses me." He had decided to drop the number system, it annoyed him though he was not quite sure why.

"Do you spend time thinking of ways that you can change your situation to make it better?"

"I'm a Starfleet officer, that's enough for me. If I improve it will be through promotion."

Brayden watched him for a long moment. "Do you ever think about how fortunate you are when compared with those in other, perhaps more dire or devastating, situations?"

"I was in the Dominion War, counselor," Will reminded him.

"So you were, Commander," the Australian agreed. "But you don't want to talk about that, so I'm left with the now. Do you think about how fortunate you are?"

"Every time I visit a planet with suffering people, I think of it."

Brayden inclined his head, accepting the answer, and looked back at his PADD. "When faced with a distasteful or stressful situation, do you avoid facing it?"

Will did not give a quick shot answer as he had with most of the others. He stopped and looked Brayden squarely in the eye. "That depends on whether or not there is something worthwhile at the end of it."

"Hm." Brayden maintained the eye contact easily. Battles of wills were something he was very, very familiar with. "So I'll just note 'sometimes' then, shall I?"

"If you like..." Not sure whether he made his point or not, Will leaned back again.

"Unless you'd like to clarify the point," Brayden invited him.

"No."

He waited a moment to see whether anything more was forthcoming, but Will had apparently retreated behind his taciturn wall. "All right," Brayden murmured, "on we go, then. New section. When others want to help you, you reject their offers of assistance. Yes, no, or sometimes?"

"Enough, doctor." Will crossed his arms with a displeased look. "This is going nowhere and I grow tired of it. Let me ask a question now. Have you found any indication that I am unfit for duty?"

Do you mean, besides the wanton antagonism, clear and obvious avoidance issues, and deliberate undermining of the evaluation process? he wondered. Brayden tapped the screen to hide the notes and scraped his hand back through his hair on a sigh. "Lieutenant Commander Remington," he smiled a little, shaking his head. "I wouldn't try to tell you how to fix a console or manage a duty shift. I know, frankly, almost nothing about what you do for this ship, besides the fact that somehow your department is responsible for keeping everyone else about their business. And because your job is that important and because I'm willing to give you personally the benefit of the doubt, I am going to force myself to overlook your lack of basic civility and finish your evaluation." He cleared his throat, "I am a human being. Not a punching bag to take out your frustration on. Not any other counselor you've come across in your life who wasted your time or pissed you off. My job right now is to use the extensive training I've received in psychology to evaluate your capacity for interacting with other crew members and maintaining competent service on this ship. I tried to accomplish this with simple conversation and you refused, after outright avoiding the entire process to begin with. Then I went out of my way to formulate a means by which we could accomplish this very simple protocol in thirty eight questions that would require as little explanative input from you as possible because I recognized your discomfort with that means of communication. You have made it through thirteen. If you really lack the discipline and patience to sit and answer twenty-eight basic questions about your health and performance, then yes. I'm afraid we may have reached an indication to that effect. I hope that that is not the case. I do not want to take that step; I really don't. There is nothing I want less, which I hope is obvious by the lengths to find ways to make this mandatory situation palatable for you. But there's only so many ways I can go about this and letting you simply not participate is, unfortunately for you, not one of them. So, can we continue?" he asked.

"I'm well aware of what your job is, doctor," Will replied, "I've probably known more counselors than you have. I fail to see how asking these questions will tell you anything you can't already figure out for yourself. I'm not that complicated. And if you can, then this is just a formality and therefore superfluous. Is that the case, counselor?"

Brayden laughed outright, a wide grin peeling across his face. Between growing up in a house with a neuroscientist for a father and all his erstwhile 'aunts and uncles' in psychology, psychotherapy, and neuroscience orbiting their home, his medical school full of hundreds of people in training or internships in the fields of psychology, his own internships... the idea that anyone not committed or in the field of counseling could have been exposed to more therapists and counselors than him, especially a military man who was younger than him, was blisteringly impossible. "Sorry," he apologized, rubbing his fingers along his scruffy jawline. "That was just... funny. I really doubt you've known more counselors than I have, although I do appreciate the attempt to put yourself in a tactical position. I bet you're good at chess." He cleared his throat, shaking his head. "No. To answer your question: it is neither a formality nor is it superfluous. This is me giving you an opportunity to show that you are, in fact, capable of interacting with your fellow crew members, forming logical decisions in stressful situations, and behaving rationally in general. Because so far, you haven't demonstrated that to me. In fact, it's almost as though you've been going out of your way to prove the opposite." He leaned forward, "I don't think you're complicated, Mister Remington. You're interesting, certainly, but no more complex than any other human. I think if you really wanted this to get this over with, you'd have come in here the first time, soldiered through a little conversation, and been done. Instead, you fight at every turn. Now - why that is - that's interesting. Why would a decorated officer put his hard-earned career at risk over one simple conversation that has happened, as he says himself, so very many times before?"

Will wore a frown, looking quite unamused. "If you can't figure all that out yourself, counselor, I don't think you're as good as you think you are. Move on with your questions, please." He had returned to a taciturn demeanor as he waited for Brayden.

"Educate me," he said simply. "If you know why, I'd love to hear the reason."

"I think we had best move on with our questions."

"We will," he promised, "and I appreciate your sudden interest in the evaluation I worked out especially for you. But since you elected to take a break in the proceedings, it might be worth talking about this for a moment before moving on. Why would you risk all your accomplishments, your history with Starfleet, over one hour with a civilian counselor?"

Will smiled and shook his head. "Oh no, counselor. I won't be dragged into one of those. You let me worry about my career."

"I'm not worried about your career. I'm concerned about you. The only reason I bring up your job is because it seems to mean a lot to you. Does it?"

"Naturally."

"So what's so bad about sitting here and talking to me for a relatively short amount of time that it makes losing that worth the risk?"

"Are you threatening to declare me unfit for duty if I don't?"

Brayden spread his hands, palm out, "I'm asking you why you are so averse to talking about yourself."

"With all due respect, counselor, because you've done nothing to earn my trust. My life and feelings and thoughts are not little candies I hand out to everyone with a sweet tooth."

"With all due respect, commander, you haven't given me much of a chance," Brayden answered. "I'm not looking to snack on you."

"I'm a private man, what's so wrong with that? It's a rare person who hears me say anything about myself. I see no reason it shouldn't be that way. I'm hardly antisocial."

"I'm glad to hear that, but that isn't what you've demonstrated," Brayden explained calmly. "Can you see how your actions might be misinterpreted?"

"No, doctor. I may not have demonstrated it to you, but I'm also not about to explain my personal life just to reassure you that I talk to people aboard this ship."

"And you felt that I would ask you to explain your personal life?" Brayden asked. "That any humanization of a person in my position would somehow put your privacy at risk?"

"But you have, doctor."

"And you felt like the most responsible action you could take in the face of one man asking you questions you didn't like was to just ignore and avoid him? Rather than saying, 'hey, not really something I'd like to talk about. How about another topic?'"

"How about another topic then?" Will countered, "Let's finish those questions."

Brayden inclined his head and accepted the change. The only way to show that communicating verbally about what he felt comfortable with or not was going to work was to show it in action. "So we left off on fourteen. When others want to help you, you reject their offers of assistance. Yes, no, or sometimes?"

"That would depend on whether or not they're helpful, now wouldn't it?"

"A fair point. Let's assume this occurs before you know whether they'll be helpful or not."

Will frowned. "I would determine whether it was or not," he replied.

"How?" Brayden asked, genuinely interested in Will's methods.

Will's frown deepened. "Really, counselor," he said, "Don't you have other questions to ask? I wouldn't be a Lieutenant Commander if I needed help problem-solving like some Academy-fresh ensign."

"And your impression is that my questions are... what? Designed with the implication that you need help? They're only questions; there's no ulterior motive. If you don't want to answer, that's one thing, but I was actually just asking how you'd go about figuring that out."

"No, I don't want to answer," he replied, a bit matter-of-fact in tone. "If you don't think I need help, then you should give me that stamp and let me go." He waved a hand dismissively. "What is the next question?"

Brayden lifted his brows for his moment, made a note, and went on, "Do you ever find yourself acting recklessly in reaction to or avoidance of your problems?"

Will smirked at that, as if the question were amusing. "Not that I know of," he said.

Brayden nodded, watching the bars and lines shift at the top of his screen. Truth, through and through, despite the attitude. That was something at least. "When dealing with stressful situations, do you seek out those who can aid you or do you seek to solve the issue on your own?"

"Your questions are growing redundant, doctor," Will commented out of hand, "As I said before, that depends on whether they are actually helpful. If I can solve it myself just as well, they aren't really all that helpful, are they?"

Brayden watched Will as he made his answer. He was deflecting, but that was telling on its own. Brayden was not the greatest champion of this method of evaluation, but he'd been trying to find something that would be acceptable to Remington's personality. Even that effort seemed wasted as the man seemed determined to undermine the system. The questions were supposed to hit at the same issues from different angles; that was their purpose. He looked back at the screen, "When there's a great deal of stress in your life, do you seek out leisure activities? Hobbies or socializing?"

The commander's voice created a wall without purchase or opening every time Brayden probed too far. His personal life was off limits, that was the declaration he made when he spoke thus. Whatever insight Brayden gained into Will would needs come from insight. "I deal with my stress." His grey eyes were cool, but they were always like that, it was the lack of unworried, unhurried light that made them so stark now, tempered by determination. One could almost see him building his walls higher and thicker just as his words grew shorter and thinner.

"And I appreciate that, but for the purposes of the evaluation, I need you to answer the question you're asked."

"I said I have my ways of dealing with stress, doctor."

Brayden smiled, breathing centered and neutral expression fixed. "Do you seek out leisure activities - yes or no."

"Of course I seek them sometimes," he said vaguely.

Not so hard, was that? "How often do you find yourself arguing with other crew members?"

"Only when I'm with the counseling division."

Brayden bit back a laugh. Strike that. It wasn't similar to being on the receiving end of the teenage hostility of his daughters. It was exactly like. Belligerent, immature, and outright hostility to provoke a reaction. "When you talk to others, do you try to consider things from their points of view?" he asked, returning to the questions with no further reaction than the amusement.

"I'm glad you find honesty amusing, counselor," Will noted, "Of course I consider things from their point of view. What question is that now?"

"Nineteen," Brayden reported, watching the waves on the screen. Still and calm. Yet he knew that was a blatant falsehood. Which meant the commander thought he was more empathetic than he was. Interesting. "Do you find yourself offering unsolicited advice?"

"I'm pretty sure you've asked a good deal more than that, didn't you say there were only twenty-four? And no, I don't. Is this helping you at all, doctor?"

"The point I keep trying to explain is that this isn't for me. You won't let me do the evaluation the easy way, so I'm forced to constrain myself to certified questions. I may have asked more to ascertain clearer answers, but we've just now reached number twenty." He paused, glancing up from the PADD. "And I said twenty-eight. Impatient, are we?"

"I have duties," Will said simply, "This mission does not leave me a great deal of free time. What's the next question?"

Brayden nodded, looking back to his screen. He wondered if Remington was aware of what a fine line he was walking. Either way, it wasn't Brayden's job to make that call. He could only advise, and he was glad of that. The next two questions felt almost pointless to ask, as he'd already seen the answers to both, but procedure was procedure. "Do you end a conversation before you feel you have really grasped what the other person is trying to convey?"

Will smiled at Brayden, "Doctor, I don't think you were quite truthful with me before. You're asking a lot of questions and I get the distinct sense that you've already decided on some of the answers. If that's the case, you really don't need me to answer these questions. But I'll answer the question if you like. Yes, I do." He waited to see what Brayden had to say to that.

Brayden merely watched the commander, neutral and listening, until the answer was availed. He entered it and moved on to the next without comment. "Do you feel anxious in situations where you're expected to share your emotions?"

"Oh, terribly," Will replied, looking emotional, "And then I'm conflicted, doctor, you know? I'm anxious about showing my emotions, but how can I show I'm anxious not to show them without showing them? Anxiousness is an emotion, isn't it? When you've seen half the counselors in Starfleet, it makes you self-conscious like you wouldn't believe." Brayden's sensors showed a mix of things as he spoke, flunctuating as if the commander's words were true, but only in part.

Brayden watched the performance with his same interested, non-judgmental expression. In a way, it was a relief to see the commander poking fun at the process instead of remaining stolidly aggressive towards it. He found himself curious if the act made it easier to communicate whatever sense of truth was hidden beneath it. Belittling his own anxiousness to take away its power? If that was the case... well. It could work. Different strokes for different folks; everyone had their own way of coping. As long as Remington was coping; that was the key. And of that, Brayden couldn't be sure, although the performance did reassure him somewhat. At least there was more to the man than his wall of defiance. "True enough," Brayden agreed quietly and honestly; he'd been the subject of shrinking practically since he'd been born. His siblings had reacted to that contact brain picking by entering completely disparate fields. Brayden had disappeared into the oceans for a while and then decided to fight fire with fire. And use it to help instead of diagnose. He knew very, very well the hell that counselors could put a person through. He did his level best not to be the counselors he'd so despised growing up.

"What do you want to know about now, Doctor?" Will asked, sounding almost eager to share his entire life story and lay his mind bare for the counselor's inspection, "My horrible childhood? The time I lost a bet with a Ferengi? My failed relationship with a klingon pirate captain? The toe I stubbed while leaving the Bank of Bolius after my dear rich uncle died?"

Brayden had already said more than once that this wasn't about what he, himself, wanted; a counselor's office was for the patient's use. An evaluation was an opportunity for the crew member to get things off their chest and mind and then get back to work. He was finished repeating himself for the sake of a man who was clearly not interested in hearing that fact, or indeed anything that he was likely to say. Regardless of whether this attitude was, as Remington had stated, specifically reserved for people in Brayden's position or not - it was a show of immaturity and disrespect - neither of those had any place on a Starfleet starship. Every individual carried too much responsibility to let petty personality conflicts unbalance the operation. And while he was privately interested in the sudden tactical switch, Brayden remained still and listening as the previously steady lines on his PADD swooped and dove; he didn't need the sensors to tell him the man in front of him was putting on an act. And so he said nothing, just listened intently and waited to discover whether Remington was going to continue his one man show, whether there was actually anything he honestly wanted to begin dealing with, or whether they could move on to the next question.

Will seemed content with his little jab. He watched the doctor with interest, one eyebrow rising slightly. Whatever he was thinking his actions would accomplish, he didn't try and explain himself, or continue, but waited for the doctor to speak.

Brayden smiled slightly in the silence and let it stretch on for a little bit before issuing question twenty-three. "When you feel that a friend or fellow crew-member is making a poor decision, what course of action do you take?"

Though he appeared content to wait as long as the doctor liked, Will answered the next question easily enough with hardly a hiccup on Brayden's scanner. "I explain as much to them, of course."

Brayden nodded slightly. "Do you find that you present yourself in ways that are very different from who you really are?"

"No." That was a half-truth answer too, if the fluctuations were accurate. He did not elaborate though but instead lay back on the couch and slipped his hands behind his head, closing his eyes rather than look at the ceiling.

Brayden made a note of the answer and the postural change and linked the detection to the note. There was no point fighting the point at the moment. He'd need to review his notes and the scans for the session and come up with a reasonable report and plan of action. Twenty-five, "Do you find that you are able to motivate yourself to complete unpleasant but necessary tasks?"

"I wouldn't be a Lieutenant Commander if I couldn't," he told Brayden absently. "Aren't I exempt from the questions that are prerequisites to being in Starfleet this long, this successfully, with a near-perfect service record and more commendations than some admirals can boast? If you want to diagnose me with something so badly, doctor, then make it a superiority complex or something and have done with it. I'm an excellent officer and I've served Starfleet above and beyond the call of duty for years. I'm a model officer. Shall I keep going or is that convincingly egotistical?" He raised a hand before the doctor could reply. "I know, I know, you don't want to diagnose me with anything. So I've heard."

And yet here you are fighting tooth and nail against a necessary task that is unpleasant to you, Brayden thought with an internal sigh. He'd watched Remington actively as he'd spoken. "Have you?" he asked quietly, after a few moments of silence had passed.

"You said so yourself. You're not here for you, you're here for me."

"So I am," Brayden murmured. Nice to know you were listening even if you didn't believe it, he added silently. "Did you have anything you wanted to add? I'm afraid I didn't get the impression of an egotistical disorder from that list; then again, I've seen your record."

Will snorted. "So you can't call me egotistical because I'm right?" he asked, "You really think I am a model Starfleet officer?"

Brayden issued a low humming sound; what made a model Starfleet officer? In his opinion, a model officer would have been someone who represented the best aspects of the Federation: someone who was dedicated to a life of exploration and learning, devoted to improving themselves and honing their skills, whose thoughts and actions were based in logic first and then guided by conscience, who could think their way critically through any puzzle. Someone who was intelligent, patient, unashamed, open-minded, consistently in search of wisdom, open to other cultures and the unfamiliar beliefs of others. And they would never be ruled by their own egos; their life would not revolve around pride, commendations, competition, or service records. They would be secure in their individuality and unthreatened by the excellence of others. A being dedicated to peaceful exploration, helping others, and living out the best qualities of themselves for the betterment of all. It didn't exactly describe Remington to a T. Then again, Brayden had always avoided being an officer. He was rather fond of his own less than valiant traits. "Do you really think that you are?" he asked thoughtfully.

"If I did, I wouldn't be," Will replied, hardly having to think of the answer. He seemed more comfortable talking about that, earnestly speaking as if he had something worth saying at last. "Everyone has room for improvement, but it's not that which makes a model officer. It's being the officer every young ensign looks up to, so it's for them to decide what I am, not me. But if you think I'm close enough, if you look at my service record, see what I've accomplished, what I've experienced, then concerns about my suitability for duty seem paltry, even if I'm not a model officer. I know you counselors are supposed to be concerned with the well-being of the crew but sometimes that concern overrules everything else. You could better spend your time with officers who need your help rather than with someone like me." All through his little speech, he remained calm, sounding the very voice of reason.

Brayden considered reiterating the point that if Remington weren't so actively trying to keep his attention by acting out, he might easily have been on his way in a matter of minutes. Instead, he'd elected to shine a light on aspects of his personality that were - frankly - dangerous in someone with his level of responsibility. But he'd said as much already and repetition was not useful in situations like this. Instead, Brayden simply smiled. "I appreciate your concern over my use of my time, but let's just stay focused on your well-being for the moment and leave the other officers for their appointments. Yes?"

"Of course," Will replied, though he didn't sound so accepting as his words implied. "What's your next question?"

Brayden glanced back at his PADD and scanned down to number twenty-six. "You are having a problem with an officer in your department who you consider a friend. They have been standing you up lately for off-duty plans you have made together, and have begun to withdraw from their work as well. How would you likely approach the situation the next time you do manage to see your friend?"

"I feel like I'm back in 'Basics of Command One-Oh-One' with Lieutenant Mercer," Will commented dryly, "You look a bit like him, minus the ridiculous mustache. I would talk to him, of course."

Brayden waited patiently and when it appeared there was nothing else Will intended to add, he tilted his head to the side, "I'm afraid I need an answer that's a little more specific."

"It's as specific as the question, doctor," Will countered, "If I consider him a friend, I know him well, and if I know him well the way I approach him is based on what I know of him. What I say to one person is not the same as what I say to another, even to solve the same problem."

Explaining to Remington that the point of the question was to engage an officer's creative thinking skills and gain an insight into the personalities of those they surrounded themselves with would have undermined the results of the question. So Brayden smiled a little, warming his expression a bit and nodded, "A fair point. In this instance, I'd encourage you to think creatively and attempt to be better than the test."

Will gave a slight sigh. Of course. "I would find out what's wrong. An officer does not suddenly become unreliable without good reason. Once I know, I can help him through his problem and get him back on track."

"Mm. And - again thinking creatively - how would you go about helping him through his problem?"

"That depends on what the problem is and how much I could help. If it's a personal problem, and I'm his friend, I can help him through it. If it's work related, I can fix whatever the issue is. If it's mental, why, I could send him to you, Counselor." He frowned to himself, "Why? How would you solve such a problem? Besides taking them in here for a counseling session."

"Oh, definitely, I would just bring them in here. The room does most of the work for me," Brayden murmured as he input Will's reply into his PADD. It was interesting that he'd separated personal and work from mental; as though one's state of mind, mental wellness, or sense of perspective had nothing to do with the rest of their actions. Another reaction to botched counseling sessions in his past? He glanced up and met Will's eyes, "But you see, I've taken this test before. I can't just give you the answers I gave. Ready for the next?"

"Yes," Will said, smiling to himself, "You know I've taken tests like this before too. What do you want to know now?"

"Do you currently have any personal or professional goals relating to acquiring new skills or seeking out more challenging pursuits for yourself?"

"I train on the holodeck regularly. I familiarize myself with hundreds of schematics from Starfleet. I am up to date on reports from Command."

Brayden considered him for a moment, then nodded, "Are you happy, Will?"

Will gave the good doctor an incredulous look. "At the moment?"

"At the moment," Brayden allowed. "Or in general."

"At the moment, not particularly. In general, yes. That sounds like an excellent last question."

"It's the last one on the test, certainly," Brayden said with a lift of his brows. Although a very unsatisfactory final answer. "If you're satisfied with your responses, you're welcome to leave. Thank you for your time."

Will stood up and straightened his uniform, giving the doctor a polite nod. "Good day, counselor." Without another word, he turned and strode out of the counselor's office.

"Good day, lieutenant commander." Brayden watched as Will left and the door closed behind him. He turned off the truth-assessment program, logged the audio recording, notes, and assessment files into the secured note database and set the PADD aside. And then took a deep cleansing breath, lay down on the floor, and shut his eyes, letting go of his concerns and tension and releasing into his current moment of silence.

[OFF]
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Lt. Cmdr. Chauncey William Remington III
Chief Operations Officer
USS Galileo

LT JG (Pr) Brayden White Ph.D.
Counselor
USS Galileo

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