Doctor to Doctor, Part 2 of 2

Posted on 12 Nov 2018 @ 2:18pm by Commander Marisa Wyatt & Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant

2,155 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Episode 17 - Crystal of Life
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 3, Counseling Office
Timeline: MD -180 - 1026 hours

Previously on "Doctor to Doctor, Part 1 of 2"…

Lake nodded at that offer slowly, and he admitted, "I could use that. I could use a friend." --He crossed his legs, folding his left ankle over his right knee-- "Aside from Commander Blake, maybe Allyndra, I'm still finding my way with the senior staff. I don't know if there's cliques or if we're all free-floating particles."

"Many on the senior staff were friends on the old Galileo," Marisa said. "So they naturally gravitate to each other. Some...seem to be looking for companionship." She shook her head. "I don't have any friends here, either." Not yet, anyway. "I'd be happy to be your friend." She gave him a wicked smile. "We already know each other's darkest secret, so we've got that between us."

"Precisely," Lake replied. The curl of his lips and the bounce in his tone gave away how overly-amused he was by this prospect. "We already know the things we hate about ourselves," Lake said. "All that remains to be seen is if we have any interests in common? Anything at all?"

And now the conclusion:


[ON]

Marisa leaned forward. "So, what do you like to do?"

Lake scrunched his face up, because he always found that question hard to answer. As boldly as he could go, Lake admitted, "I like to fight. I could eat for days. I only like shore leave when it's for culinary tourism. I dance. I write plays," and he shrugged, not sure what else to add.

"What sort of dancing?" she asked.

Again, Lake paused before answering. He squinted at Marisa and really had to think about it. All he could come up with was, "Interpretive?," and he punctuated that thought with a shrug. "I don't perform, I never trained," Lake said to offer some little clarification. "Music moves me. I dance to move. Do you dance?"

Marisa nodded. "Latin ballroom, folk dance, belly dancing, and I use music to exercise. Usually on the holodeck or in my quarters."

"An impressive array of styles, surely," Lake replied authentically, especially considering his own style never got much past grinding and shaking. He took a sip from his iced tea again, but found he had emptied the glass. "And all of them human. How did you learn to dance?" he asked.

"When my family moved to earth, my cousins danced at parties. Mostly folk dances, but some of them liked to salsa. So, I learned from them at first. Then I took classes. The styles I enjoy are an outcropping of that. Now, I practice on the holodeck when I have the time."

Nodding slightly, Lake listened to Marisa sharing more about herself in a single statement than she had done alone with him in the past. "I'm curious about what gets in your way?" Lake asked. "What doesn't let you dance on the holodeck?"

"Time, mostly. And I got a little...sidetracked when we returned to Earth." She shrugged. "I really need a block of about two hours to keep in practice, and there's always something else vying for my time."

"What do you expect," Lake asked, following her lead, "will be the greatest demand on your time aboard this ship? Certainly you lead the largest, most prominent department of this crew..."

"Only when we run into something that needs science," Marisa countered. "And that won't be every day. So I expect we'll either be really busy, or we'll have plenty of time on our hands. My biggest task will be to give everyone enough to keep their interest during the slow times. That's why I've set up labs for personal research--when they're not needed."

"What's worked for you before?" Lake asked, referring to Marisa's previous experiences as a department head. "Civilian scientists... (Areinnye, even some Starfleet specialists)... don't understand the way Starfleet operates. The way we have to flex our personal research around the starship's missions. How do you get them all facing in the right direction?"

"By focusing on the work," Marisa said. "If the labs are just about the scientific research or whatever task is at hand, it's easier to be on the same page. Outside of science, they can be Starfleet or civilian."

"What happens when the task at hand is in dispute?" Lake asked, at this, he spoke with his hand moving about for emphasis. He spoke from the experience of previous patients, and from his personal knowledge of one of Galileo's previous Science Chiefs. "When they all want the same resources," Lake supposed, "or when they can't put aside their personal research to attend to the ship's mission?"

"Then they lose the privilege of working on a personal project," she said. "It's a privilege, not a right. And if there are arguments about who does and does not deserve to work on a project, they will be reminded that those who are specialists get priority. After that, it's on a rotation basis. I try to be as fair as I can, but I cannot promise that everyone will get to work on every prject. That's a waste of resources. Those who are not needed for one project will likely be chosen for the next."

She wondered what led to his question, but wasn't sure she wanted to know. "I've taught at universities. I've worked on archaeological sites. If you want to be treated like a professional, you act like a professional. If not, there are always test tubes and petrie dishes that need to be cleaned and labs that need to be sterilized."

Lake had to laugh at the reversal of Marisa's punchline. It was a solid, round belly laugh. After a final smirk, he composed himself again, and he said, "I'll be sure to remember that when I start proposing my own research projects." --Shaking his head to put that thought aside, Lake went on-- "What kinds of team start activities do you have in mind?"

"I have several, but I'm always open to what the people in my department want to do," she said. "There's the aquaponics lab that will need a lot of tending until it gets going, and I want to talk to the Captain about adding hydroponics to the mix. Plus with all the new data we'll be receiving, astrometrics and the planetary sciences teams will have a lot to work with. I'm also going to encourage everyone to cross-train while they have more free time." She leaned forward, one eyebrow raised. "What about you? Do you have any plans for your counselors?"

Lake's gaze blurred somewhere into the middle distance, as he pondered over his own half-formed thoughts on the matter of a team-start. He scraped his teeth across his lower lip and he squinted twice, before he shook his head from side to side. "I haven't decided," Lake replied, and he sounded disappointing with himself. "The Captain wants evaluations on every member of the crew and a good 40% won't give us anything more than name, rank, and serial number," Lake said in an intonation that implied you know what it's like to be considered more dreaded than an enemy interrogator.

"Once that's behind us," Lake said, "I'd like to spend some quality time with the team. Verity has layers upon hidden layers, I can't see how deep they go; and LuAnn presents as an open book, which I can't bring myself to trust. I want to take them outside their comfort zone, maybe put them under a little stress to facilitate a meaningful interaction or two. I was thinking a murder mystery holonovel in a heavily medical or Starfleet setting? Or an evening of axe throwing?"

The last comment made Marisa laugh out loud. "I don't know LuAnn or Verity, so I can't speak on what they're like, but I think a murder mystery or axe throwing could be a lot of fun." She shook her head. "I don't miss the mandatory evaluations at all. Have you tried cornering them in the lounge? I had to do that a couple of times."

Tilting his head back, Lake looked to the ceiling and breathed out a puff of air between closed lips. As much as it was a pantomime of exhaustion, it came from a place of truth. "I don't have the stamina for that. I'll give it a try once I've identified the priority crewmembers, but I can't chase the whole ship around," Lake said, sounding frustrated by his own limits as much as the crew's stigma around mental health. "For now, I'm handing out a lot of condition fitness for duty declarations. Fit for duty with strings," Lake said, and then he smiled at Marisa pointedly.

She raised an eyebrow at Lake. "I'm in a better mental state than I was when we last met. Are you?"

Lake didn't answer that. But he blinked. He did blink. "I'm getting a sense of who you are as a Department Head," Lake impassively said. "I think you have the capabilities to lead the science department well. As for Marisa" --he shook his head slightly-- "I have no idea who she is."

"Not in one interview," Marisa countered. "And you didn't answer my question."

This time he wasn't trying to be difficult, but Lake didn't answer right away. He squinted at her, struggling to put Marisa in context with his life for the past few months. "How long ago--" he started to say, but his mind drifted. "When did we last..." Although they had served together aboard Schofield, it had been for one mission, and they had hardly seen one another after Lake had been rescued from his captors on the planet. And before that had been Earth, which was all before much of Lake's crew aboard Starbase Seventy Four had been quarantined and lost.

His face went slack.

"Ah," Lake said. "Oh, my state of mind is worse. Much, much worse."

Marisa watched him silently for several moments. "I thought so. You're running away from yourself so fast I don't think you've taken time to breathe." She smiled sympathetically. "What can I do to help? Unofficially, that is."

"Tell me what I need," Lake asked of Marisa. His dark eyes were filled with irony; he knew what he asked was nigh-impossible. At the same time, there was an edge of desperation in his voice. "I don't know what I need," he said. "My husband, my ex, he got killed. My mentor got killed. Half my friends are dead... It feels like fire under my skin, and my energy levels are all over the place..."

"What you need is to forgive. Forgive yourself, your ex, and Starfleet. Forgive the death, forgive the pain," she said. "I'm not asking you to forget, but to let go of the pain, the anger, the betrayal. Allow yourself to begin to heal. That's what you need."

Shaking his head slowly, Lake could only focus his eyes on the middle distance between Marisa and himself once again. He didn't know how to respond to her words; he didn't fully understood what her words meant to him. "I don't-- I don't know how," Lake said, trying to acknowledge her perspective while admitting it was baffling to him. He looked to her with a soft expectation she would understand the context. "Where I grew up, emotional control wasn't valued. It wasn't taught. The only time emotional control mattered was when it came to loyalty to the state. If I'm not angry and scared, what can I believe in instead?"

Marisa had an academic understanding of Romulan culture, but she had a personal understanding of how their cousins dealt with emotions. "Where I grew up, emotional control was demanded, but I was too human, and too rebellious, to follow along. It was hard for a while, but I believe I'm in a better place for me." She smiled softly. "I'm even starting to forgive the Klingons on Kreanus. I can't promise complete success for either of us, but I'm willing to give it a try, and I'm willing to work with you to see if we can find a path for you as well."

His lips pursed together, Lake's breathing and heart-rate had increased incrementally, and his eyes took on the look of a hunted animal. This hadn't been the first time that Lake had bared his soul while he had been counseling another, but it was uncommon for his patient to see him, to really see him as Marisa could. Clearly, she could see more than the parts he was choosing to expose. "I would... appreciate that," Lake said, pushing through his discomfort with genuine thanks. "I would like to try."


[OFF]

Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo-A

Lieutenant Marisa Sandoval
Chief Science Officer
USS Galileo-A

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