Tea Therapy
Posted on 30 Nov 2021 @ 3:44pm by Major Minka Mazur, MD (*) & Loukianos Melanthio MD-Ph.D
Edited on on 23 Dec 2021 @ 9:45pm
Mission:
M2 - Sanctuary
Location: Counseling Suites
Timeline: MD 10 - 1305HRS
3127 words - 6.3 OF Standard Post Measure
Loukianos stood at the window of his office, watching as a quartet of workbee pods drifted past in a single file upwards along the long axis of the station. From his limited understanding after only being here a few days, the auxiliary shuttlebay was at the lower end of this section of the station so there was the somewhat regular activity of craft outside his window. Not that he was complaining. It was a welcome distraction from the silent glow of the planet Obsidian they orbited.
Around him was the office appointed to him by the Starfleet Chief Medical Officer, a woman he’d met only briefly. Captain DeHavilland’s warning that she was an abrupt woman had been a world-class understatement. He’d witnessed her bedside manner with a Starfleet Security Officer that had broken his arm breaking up a bar fight on the promenade. While nothing she said was technically wrong from the perspective of a Physician, it was all about how she said it. But that wasn’t what surprised him about her the most. It was the uniform - he’d heard of Marine Physician’s but they were said to be the proverbial Unicorn. Yet here was looking at one of them in the flesh.
Doctor Mazur offered him a curt greeting, told him where his office was and asked him to take all civilian appointments as well as the overflow Starfleet one’s, if time allowed. Loukianos didn’t mind, he just thought there’d be more to it. At least from the woman he was supposed to be managed by. But he wasn’t one to let something so trivial get under skin. He’d dealt with far worse, both professionally and clinically. Major Mazur’s attitude didn’t even move the proverbial needle in comparison.
She had given him plush accommodations though. His clinical space and office space on Obsidian Command was actually thrice as big as it had been in San Francisco where he’d effectively been in a converted storage closet. Here he had ample of room to stretch out and offer his patients a few different areas to relax. Being comfortable was easily one of the most important starting points to any therapy. But with the space as large as it was, it quickly made him wish he’d brought a few more of his personal affects. Things he’d put into storage on Earth as he hadn’t wanted to cart them across the quadrant. So he’d spent a bit of latinum on the promenade buying a few extra items to give the space a bit more ambiance.
Loukianos felt much more comfortable in the space now and while it didn’t quite feel like home just yet, he was starting to find a rhythm with it. Like any new place, it took time to acclimate but he had a good feeling about Obsidian Command. The feeling that, despite the size and grandeur of it all, he was valued here.
Already he’d seen more than a fair share of patients, the first of whom he’d seen only a few hours after he’d arrived. His personal affects were still in his bags and he was sitting through sessions with new faces. It was, for lack of a better term, a trial by fire. And, in all honesty, it was driven by fire. He wasn’t dealing with the trials and tribulations of a civilian crew that was worried about the success or failure of their local business, or their love lives, he was dealing with a civilian population that had survived a major disaster.
It was the first time he’d heard about it. He’d had no idea that Obsidian Command had vanished under mysterious circumstances, and then came back. No clue that they’d been attacked and that many had died. He’d had to go up and see the memorial wall in the Environmental Ring to really hammer the point home and since then he’d consumed every report, FNN article and otherwise that he could get his hands on to understand exactly what happened to this station. So he could help.
It only served to sell him on the cause. He was determined now to be of use to OC, to be the resource these civilians (and Starfleet) needed to get through this. The vestiges of a conflict like the one they’d lived through could take years to properly confront and work through; sometimes it was that long before the symptoms of that trauma even manifested. That meant he had his work cut out for him, and he was eager for the challenge. To test his technique and challenge his understandings. He’d worked with a few Starfleet personnel who’d survived very tragic episodes in their service, but they’d been sporadic over the years. He’d never had a concentrated dose, so to say. He was ready.
He had almost let himself get worked up about it - to get excited. He might have been a Psychiatrist but he was still human. He was ashamed to admit it took him longer than it should have for him to realize that he was getting excitement from their misery, and humbled himself quickly. This wasn’t about him. This was about the people that needed his help. Yes, the experience would make him a better Doctor and therapist, but he couldn’t lose sight of the reality of it all. He was a healer. Hard stop.
Even now, watching the work bee’s drift past he had to once more check his own emotions and intentions and refocus his mind. With a sigh, he turned away and walked to the replicator. He returned to his desk a few moments later bearing a tray with a cast iron pot and set it down to make a cup of tea. He rummaged in his desk for the tin and was just scooping the dried leaves into the infuser when his door chime rang. Confused for a moment, he checked the watch on the inside of his wrist and frowned. He didn’t have an appointment for another hour and a half.
“You may come in,” he called out.
The doors sighed open and he heard his guest’s feet enter the room, but he was focused on his pot of tea and didn’t look up until he was done. He suspected he knew who it was going to be, but when he looked up he saw he was dead wrong.
“Doctor Mazur,” he said with genuine surprise. “You’re not who I expected.”
“Am I interrupting an appointment?” She asked, “There was no one in the system listed.”
“No, not at all,” he replied. He didn’t need to explain to her who he’d been expecting. “Please. Have a seat. Can I offer you a cup of tea?”
Doctor Mazur’s face twitched slightly, like she was caught between two facades. “I… could use a cup of tea,” she managed tightly though she didn’t sit.
“I’ll just get another cup,” he answered quietly, slyly nudging the lock button on his door. It was clear his guest wasn’t here for a business discussion. As he walked to the replicator to get another he said, “How far along are you now, Major?”
“Seven and a half months,” she answered, rubbing her stomach. “The last two are always the worst,” she added.
Loukianos set the spare cup on the tray, then gestured to the far left hand side of his office, “Please. Have a seat on the couch. Put your feet up. I’ll serve the tea,” he gestured.
Minka nodded and walked that way as he followed with the tray and set it down on the coffee table by the couch under the viewport. Doctor Mazur sat down gingerly on it and then turned, putting her feet up and bracing along the side by the bulkhead. Loukianos poured the tea and offered her a cup.
“Thanks,” she muttered.
“Oolong, from a little shop in San Francisco,” he smiled, pouring himself a cup and then sitting back in the chair he was starting to prefer.
They drank quietly for a few moments making no more sound than the quiet sipping of their tea. He tried to clear his head and focus on Doctor Mazur’s body language, subtle as it was at the moment. It was clear she wasn’t quite right as he couldn’t square the hard-nosed, abrupt and cold authoritarian he’d seen in the Infirmary to the quiet, pensive woman drinking her tea on his couch.
“Is this your version of therapy, Doctor Melanthio?” Minka finally asked.
He shrugged, “You seem like you could use… just a quiet moment. I’m sure your life and your job are very busy. I can understand that. Moments like these are rare. Best to enjoy them when you can.”
She turned back to look at him and again he got the impression she was caught between two worlds before she responded with a slight smile and nod. “Thank you,” she replied quietly.
He just raised his cup in toast and drank on.
Another silence fell between them, this one far more protracted than before. It was clear that Minka had long ago finished her tea and Loukianos was far too experienced to dare offer more. Whatever state she’d found herself in was one of deep thought and introspection. He might have been in the room physically, but to his patient he was a million light years away. Nothing he could do or so would be the right thing; he would just have to wait it out. So he did, pouring himself another cup quietly.
“Do you ever have nightmares, Doctor Melanthio?”
“Yes,” he replied flatly. There was no need to outline what his were. “Every sentient species has a version.”
She glanced back at him, “Do they ever recur? The same thing over and over again?”
He nodded, “They do. When I’m tired, or stressed, or both,” he replied slowly.
“In your dreams… is it something that happened, or just… something scary?”
He smiled patiently, “The individual dream experience varies greatly by individual, and by species. No two are alike. Nor is there any meaning to them. But…” he trailed off thoughtfully, “Regardless of the content of the dreams, the recurrence tells us that there is something else that needs addressing. The recurring dreams are more like a symptom of another trauma.”
She sighed slowly, and reached out to put the cup down on the tray. “Can this be confidential from this point forward, Doctor?” She asked, “I’d rather not speak of this with any of the Starfleet Counseling staff.”
Loukianos smiled thoughtfully back, “It’s been that way since you walked in.”
She managed a smile and then turned away, pawing tears from her eyes somewhat suddenly. He just waited to let her speak, but remarked to himself how that hard-edged exterior he’d witnessed before had seemed to melt before him. Loukianos realized that his assessment that she looked caught between two facades before was spot on. He was seeing the subtitles in the expressions of a woman who clearly crafted a facade for her professional life that was at odds with the person she truly was - the person he was seeing now.
“Would you be willing to tell me about your last dream? Was it last night?” Loukianos asked patiently.
“… it was just a little while ago,” she replied quietly, “I haven’t been sleeping well. I laid down on the couch in my office to rest my feet and… I fell asleep… and went right back to the dream,” she replied, now staring out at space rather than at him as she began to tell him exactly what happened in her dreams and what the reality had been.
Minka again gently pawed tears out of her eyes as Loukianos sat there thoughtfully chewing on what she’d said. Unfortunately for her, mental health wasn’t as finite as the physical, though it could have daunting affects on it. There was no diagnostic tool to figure out what was truly ailing her. It was going to take time, patience and participation to confront the issues that were creating this subconscious manifestation. But even without believing that dreams had hidden meanings, the theme’s spoke to a very basic fear everyone had. The fear of loss.
“Look at me,” she shook her head, “I’m a Marine. I’ve faced down all sorts and didn’t bat an eyelash. I spent four years at FOB Firewalker, toe to toe with the Tholians. I’m tougher than this.”
“Were your husband and children with you at Firewalker?” Loukianos asked curiously, suspecting he knew the answer to that.
“No. We… we weren’t married yet. I was at Marine command when I found out we were pregnant. I had Ada in San Francisco.”
“Probably the safest place in all the Federation,” Loukianos nodded.
Minka turned back to look at him as if he’d just said something profound. “I’m not… they’re safe here.”
“Are they?” Loukianos asked with a casual shrug, trying to push the topic slightly. “The station’s been attacked. People were killed and its my understanding we aren’t entirely sure who it was that perpetrated it all. Maybe they’re still here. Maybe they’re not. It’s a bit uncertain isn’t it?”
She shook her head, “No. No, it’s not uncertain. There’s a full battalion of Marines, a fully staffed Security Department and a Command Flagship out there,” she said, gesturing to the glass and the distant profile of the Alexander which hadn’t left OC space. “This is the safest place in the sector,” she said, her normal growl resurfacing quickly.
Loukianos smiled slightly back, “Then why are you worried?” He asked quietly.
“I… I’m not worried. You… you said you were…” she trailed off, closing her eyes for a moment to understand what Melanthio was doing. She heaved a sigh and set her head back against the bulkhead in defeat. “I’m not worried…” she admitted finally. “I’m terrified.”
“Of what?” He asked softly.
“Of losing them,” she replied equally as softly. “Of being where I can’t help them… like I couldn’t when the station was attacked…” she said, closing her eyes again. Loukianos let the silence build between them, waiting for Minka to push when she was ready. “I thought Ptolemy and Ada were gone. That the power losses had suffocated them in our quarters, and there’d been nothing I could do about it.”
He nodded sagely. Fear of loss and helplessness were hardly new emotions for anyone to feel, especially not someone as rigid and used to control as Minka. Letting go simply wasn’t a part of her character and even with intense therapy, it might never be. “How did they survive?” He asked.
She pawed away a few more silent tears and cleared her throat, “Ptolemy put Ada in the emergency suit I thought he was crazy for buying… he would have had one too if I hadn’t thrown a fit. But he got to an emergency suit and probably would have suffocated if Commander Zayne hadn’t been there to help him,” she replied, “I should have just let him buy the second suit,” she sniffed.
“So, what I’m hearing is that Ptolemy isn’t helpless. That he doesn’t wander this station waiting for you to take care of his every need?”
Minka looked at him now with a confused look, mixed with irritation. “What?”
He smiled, “Ptolemy saved himself, and his daughter. Without you.”
“Yes. He’d die before letting anything happen to Ada.”
“Exactly. Which is what he did, yes? Nearly died, but saved Ada?”
“… yes.”
“Without you,” Loukianos added.
Minka just stared back at him, lost for words.
“You see, it’s not only you that can look out for your family. You’re not alone in this fight. Ptolemy is more than capable, clearly. You are not the sole person responsible for the safety of your family,” he explained patiently. Obviously he knew she knew that but personalities like her didn’t accept that as reality oftentimes. They needed to be confronted with the truth that - the universe wasn’t revolving around them, the burden could be shared.
“… you don’t understand, Doctor,” she replied with a shake of her head.
“What does Ptolemy think?” Melanthio countered. “Of your feelings? Of your nightmares? Of your belief that only you can save your family if something goes wrong?” He asked carefully, not allowing any tone of accusation or confrontation color his question.
“I haven’t… I don’t want to worry him. He’s worried enough for Ada, and for the baby,” she said, caressing her belly for a moment. “He can’t be worried about me too.”
“Why?” Melanthio asked. “What will happen to Ptolemy if he has to bear another worry?” He asked.
Minka just looked back at him again, once more without a response.
Loukianos smiled gently, “To have and to hold, in sickness and in health… did you take this, or a similar, oath with your husband?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“It wasn’t: to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, only in approved circumstances. Correct?”
“Yes,” she repeated.
Loukianos gave a simple shrug, “I think that is the most logical place to start the healing process,” he smiled patiently. “If you’re more comfortable discussing it with him here, in this setting, I’m happy to see you both,” he added. “But, in my professional opinion, you and I will make very little progress together until you have the support of your husband. You can’t just heal in here and go back out there. The healing must continue. At work and at home. It’s by no means a quick fix.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit that was the truth, she knew he was right. Frustrated at the reality and with herself for not allowing herself to see it, she thunked her head right back against the bulkhead and closed her eyes once more.
There wasn’t much more for Loukianos to say, so he simply leaned forward and poured them both another cup of tea, saving the dregs for his own cup. She looked over as he was finishing and slowly turned to take the cup he offered.
