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Topic: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor (Read 208 times) previous topic - next topic

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  • P.C. Haring
  • [*][*]
  • Beware a Vulcan who smiles.
CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor
Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | U.S.S. Theurgy] Attn: @Griff

Hathev pushed off her knees and slid back to sit on the floor.  The clarity would not come.  She had been attempting meditation for the past three hours forty two minutes and twelve seconds.  In all that time, she had been unsuccessful in calming her thoughts to say nothing about finding her logical center again.

Emotional control and suppression had been difficult in her younger years, but with the guidance of a counselor of her own, she had developed techniques that proved successful in fulfilling her needs.  Ever since, those techniques had been honed, refined, perfected and had never failed to return her to her center.

Until now.

She had not been aboard ship nearly as long as the original Theurgy crew and already she was feeling the stress and pressure of duty aboard this ship. 


It hit her like a nerve pinch and she pulled her legs in to rest her chin on her knees as she contemplated her own mental state.  The emotional transference from her mind meld with Cross remained still and after this long, she had her suspicions.  In the past, she would have called upon Triss, spoken with her over a cup of coffee while the two sat on their couch.  Now that was no longer possible.  Logic dictated that Triss had perished in the attack on Paris.  Even if she had not, logic also dictated that Triss had been informed that Hathev had perished with the destruction of the Bellerophon.  To say nothing of the loss of Kireil, the continued tension with Saren, and now the death of so many innocents in Paris.

This is unacceptable, she told herself. You are Vulcan.  You are trained, disciplined, logical.  You must find your control.  You have time honored techniques to address your needs.

Time honored techniques that are not working at present.

Logic dictated she needed to find a new approach.  Through her department, she was responsible for the mental health of every individual aboard the Theurgy and she could not permit herself to become impaired to the point that it would prove detrimental to her duties.  If she were dealing with one of the crew, she would recommend them to speak with someone in her department. 

Logic dictated that she seek similar treatment.  She needed to speak with someone.  Under normal circumstances, she would seek assistance from outside the ship.  During her time on Starbase 313, a measurable subset of her patients were transients come to her from starships in dock.  Ship's counselors, captains, and other crew who felt they could not get the support they needed from within their posted vessel.

It seemed now that she was to become one of those people.  There was a certain logic to it, she knew, though she had not anticipated such a need to arise this soon after coming aboard.  However, given the current circumstances, seeking a counselor at a Federation outpost was not possible.  She could look to the Theurgy's current allies for support.  However she was not aware of any qualified counselor anywhere in the Klingon empire.  This left her with but one reliable alternative.  She would need to seek support from within the ship.  There was only one aboard in whom she could place her trust on this matter.  She did not share a professional confidentiality as anyone's patient aboard ship but given the circumstances it would be logical to expect a certain level of discretion with her confidant.

She leaned forward and blew out her meditation lamp as she reached for her communicator badge.

"Hathev to Cross.  I apologize for the lateness of the hour.  May I see you?  I require..." Her voice trailed off as the choice of words hit her with a sense of inaccuracy.  "I would welcome the opportunity to be in your presence."
Lt. Commander Hathev - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] - The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #1
[Lieutenant Commander Cross | Cross's Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring


Battle was coming. For much of the night, Cross had that thought ever-present on his mind, conscious of the steep odds that the Theurgy might be facing upon dropping out of slipstream the following day. He'd done everything he could to prepare the Theurgy's considerable complement of weapons, had checked that all the tactical staff were ready, had even scheduled a tactical meeting the next morning. Cross had done everything he could, mostly to continue ignoring the frustration and anger he felt at losing Ranaan and Kai. There were no other preparations to make.

Still, knowing that he (and everyone else) might be dead tomorrow weighed heavily on Cross's mind. Fear and anxiety rumbled constantly even as he had a shower, stripped off and slipped into bed. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally slipped into slumber...and thus, when he was woken suddenly by the comm scarely an hour after falling asleep, Cross was quite ready to throttle the caller.

The irritation vanished almost instantly upon hearing Hathev's voice. Cross didn't understand the connection he had with the counselor, even after their ill-advised mind meld, but even he could recognise the plaintive tone of her voice. Besides, Cross wanted the company. Needed the company. Apparently, so did she.

"That's fine, come on over," he said, unable to keep the fatigue from his voice and wincing. Repressing a groan, he got up and tossed the blanket away, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "I'd like to see you too."

It was only then that Cross wondered if Hathev wanted a more physical sort of company. It was a pleasant thought, but as he got up and pulled on a loose shirt and some comfortable pants, he scolded himself to grow the fuck up. If she did, great. If not, great. Let things happen and don't be an idiot about it.
[Lieutenant Commander Cross |  Chief Tactical Officer ]

[Petty Officer 3rd Class Lillee t'Jellaieu |  Chief Support Craft Pilot | CONN ]

  • P.C. Haring
  • [*][*]
  • Beware a Vulcan who smiles.
Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] - The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #2
[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Hathev's Quarters | Deck 10 | Vector 02 | U.S.S. Theurgy] Attn: @Griff

Hathev closed her eyes and sighed releasing tension at the sound of Cross's voice over the comm.  Not only was he willing to see her, but he desired to see her.  It would not do to show up at his door in her mediation robe, for all the good it was providing her.  No.  She desired something more casual.

The three piece set was the most logical choice in its warmth, comfort, and appearance.  The original had been a gift from Triss a few years back on the anniversary of their marriage and Hathev had immediately become attached to it.  The original had been the first thing she had packed when she left for Starbase 84 and had, of course been lost when the Bellerophon had been destroyed. 

She had, however, memorized its design, material, and composition, and had programmed it into the Theurgy replicator systems.  With that, and some assistance from Thea to address some inconsistencies, Hathev had managed to replicate a replacement set which was nearly identical to the one she had lost.  It seemed appropriate that this be her choice given the news of the past few days. 

It is logical to mourn the loss of a spouse, even one from whom you are estranged, even one who thought you to be deceased before her own death, she reminded herself.

She slid her feet into the slippers and crossed to the replicator.  At her command two steaming mugs appeared, which she took by their handles and pulled towards her.

Thus prepared for her long overdue visit with Cross, she stepped into the center of the room.  It would not do to be seen crossing three decks and a vector for all to see and wonder.  Tonight, she needed discretion as she did not know how late she might be calling on Cross.

"Thea," she instructed. "Please lock onto me and initiate site to site transport to Deck 7 on Vector 01"

She felt a gentle tingle as the transporter beam took her, and the sight of her quarters faded out as 

[Lt. Cmdr. Hathev | Corridors | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | U.S.S. Theurgy]

the corridors leading to Cross's quarters faded in.  Thea had placed her just a section away from her destination.  The corridor was vacant, making her short journey simple and without interruption.  She stopped at the door, extended a finger from it's grip on the mug and pressed the chime.

((OOC - Hathev's wardrobe for the night))
  • Last Edit: January 03, 2021, 04:34:58 AM by P.C. Haring
Lt. Commander Hathev - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] - The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #3
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring
[Show/Hide]Cross had began moving the moment the commlink with Hathev had closed, all thoughts of the coming battle pushed form his mind as he tried to tidy his quarters in anticipation of her arrival. The mess on the table was his primary concern, the various PADDs, dishes, and clutter needing to be dealt with. The PADDs he scooped up and deposited in a stack on the desk in his bedroom before returning to the table to tackle the remaining debris.

Cross' head jerked up as the door chime sounded, the clutter on the table which he had been frantically tidying momentarily forgotten. Hathev has arrived sooner than he had expected, adding acute pang of frantic urgency to the former hybrid's movements as he scooped up the last of the clutter, shoved it into the replicator and growled the word "Recycle" at the machine, a small voice in the back of Cross' mind hoping there had been nothing important among the various things which had just been reduced to reusable energy. As the replicator took care of the last of the mess, Cross quickly crossed the room and keyed the controls to his bedroom door, causing the doors to hiss shut and thus hide his unmade bed from view.

"Haja!" Cross let out the second growl, this time an oath as he hopped briefly on one foot, teeth gritted as he inwardly cursed both his stubbed toe and the offending chair. He just hoped Hathev couldn't hear the noise in the corridors.


Cross limped the last few paces to the door and jabbed hurriedly at the keypad, too late realizing the force he had used as he heard a soft crunch. His gaze shifted to the keypad, where his metallic index finger had cracked the button to open the door. He was still staring at the cracked keypad when the doors hissed open, admitting an unexpected scent. Cross' eyes shifted to beyond the door, taking in the casually dressed Hathev and the twin mugs she held. His pale blue eyes stared for a moment as the former hybrid tried to think if he'd ever seen her dressed in such a manner. The soft looking fabric of her clothing looked far more comfortable than the stern and almost severe style of uniform she preferred, especially when paired with the slippers which currently adorned her feet.

Cross realized he was staring and shook himself back to the moment, the right side of his mouth curving upward slightly as he chuckled at his own reaction. "Uh, hi," Cross said by way of an awkward greeting, the Vulcan still feeling a bit flustered from his frantic cleaning. "You look... great."

Smooth as ever, Cross...

It was then that he realized that Hather had likely arrived via transporter to avoid being seen walking the corridors in her current attire. It would explain how she'd arrived at his door so quickly. Hastily stepping back, Cross motioned for her to step inside. "Please, come in!"

Cross had the sudden realization that he hadn't seen Hathev for nearly three weeks, not since their date. In all the commotion aboard the ship, the former hybrid had had little time to do much besides eat, sleep, attend meetings and run tactical scenarios within his department in anticipation of the battle which had occupied his thoughts just a few minutes previous. And, for the past 24 hours, worrying about Blue Tiran. The realization brought with it a pang of guilt at not having made time to see Hathev, especially after the great effort the Theurgy's Chief Counsellor had made to help him... and after what had happened in the disastrous aftermath of those efforts...

"I wasn't expecting to hear form you at this hour, though I'm... happy to see you," Cross admitted as he glanced sideways at the diminutive Vulcan as he gestured for her to sit on the sofa. "Is everything alright?" He thought about apologizing for not having made time to see her in the past weeks, though he suspected that any effort to do so would likely be brushed off as illogical.

Kardasi Translation:
Haja - Fuck
  • Last Edit: January 07, 2021, 04:44:43 AM by Fife

  • P.C. Haring
  • [*][*]
  • Beware a Vulcan who smiles.
Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] - The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #4
[ Lt. Cmdr Hathev| Cross's Personal Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Fife 

"Greetings," Hathev replied. 

Her breath caught in her chest at the sight of him and it took more effort than she had expected, to keep her emotions at bay.  They hadn't seen each other outside of their duties in a few weeks and Illogical though it was, she realized she missed him.  Even just standing in his presence brought welcome support to her unfocused psyche

"Thank you," she said when he complimented her appearance.  "It was my desire for it to meet your approval."

The words felt awkward as soon as the left her mouth.  If she were human she would have just said 'I'm glad you like it'.  Why could she just not say that?  Was being g lad too much of an emotion for her?  Did she even know what it was like to be glad?  Was she always so stilted? 

Is that what drove the wedge between us, Triss?  Help me to understand so I do not repeat my mistake.

She accepted his invitation to enter and she took in his quarters for the first time as she had not had occasion to enter them until now.  They weren't so dissimilar from her own, although the décor was different for obvious reasons. 

"It is," her voice trailed off as she struggled with the right word, her Vulcan logic fighting with  a desire to better express her thoughts.  "It is...good to see you too. I apologize once again for the lateness of the hour and am grateful for the accommodation especially given the crisis into which, we are about to enter."

She handed one of the steaming mugs of coffee to Cross as she sat down and took a sip of her own. 

"I should also apologize for the prolonged hiatus since our evening together.  As you might imagine my schedule has been filled with my duties to the crew's health during their convalescence at Aldea."

A stinging sensation in her eye drew her attention.  No.  She would not cry.  It was illogical to show this emotion.  Death was a natural end to life.  She would not allow grief to overcome her. Yet... despite that undeniable logic, the grief that filled her...felt...appropriate.

She took a tentative sip of her drink.

She was procrastinating, she knew.  Logically she understood.  Her patients often chose to speak about a troubling topic as doing so would force them to perceive it as more as reality than imagined.    As a Vulcan and a mental health practitioner, she knew better.  She understood the logic and no amount of avoidance could alter the reality she faced.

"To answer your question more directly, I am not 'all right' this evening.  I have reason to believe Triss was in Paris."

A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Lt. Commander Hathev - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] - The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #5
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring
[Show/Hide]Cross was relieved that Hathev seemed not to notice his flustered discomfort as he greeted her, though a slight green tinge rose in his cheeks as the diminutive counsellor informed him of her desire that her outfit meet his approval. Cross was struck silent by that remark, the former hybrid unable to recall a time where someone had hoped for his approval outside of departmental duties. He didn't think it had ever happened otherwise, especially not in regards to someone's clothing.

Cross pushed those thoughts aside as Hathev stepped into his quarters, the doors hissing shut behind her. He saw her cast her gaze around the room, taking in the new environment in which she found herself, and his eyes reflexively followed her gaze. A person would need to be feeling quite generous to describe Cross' quarters as anything other than spartan. The small table in the corner held nothing aside from his meditation lamp, the shelves set into the bulkhead housed a collection of plants including three orchids, one of which Cross had "liberated" from the arboretum, and the table sat bare after his frantic cleaning. No artwork dressed the walls, no photographs adorned the shelves. Cross suddenly feared that she might find his quarters lacking, though after a moment's consideration he suspected that a Vulcan might approve of such sparse decoration. Doubtless they'd find some way to attribute it to logic.

He was pulled back to the moment as Hathev spoke again, his pale eyes turning back to her as she admitted it was good to see him, then apologized once more for the lateness of the hour.

"Please, don't apologize. I don't mind the company, and I don't care about the time. As I said, I'm happy to see you." Cross directed a small smile at Hathev as she handed him one of the mugs she carried before seating herself. He accepted it and gave the mug an exploratory sniff as he joined her on the couch, glad to find the mug contained coffee rather than the horrific Vulcan tea Hathev had tried to give him once upon a time.

"I should also apologize for the prolonged hiatus since our evening together..."

Cross couldn't help but smile at the Vulcan as she apologized again, taking a sip of the coffee as she spoke. He was about to comment on her having apologized again when he noticed that something seemed off about her, though he couldn't quite place it. Hathev had seemed different from her usual self during the evening they had gone of their date, Cross having attributed it to a holdover form the disastrous mind meld which, though a failure as far it's intention, had brought the two of them closer together. Tonight was different, however. The change wasn't only in her mannerism, but something else. A tightness in her jaw? Around her eyes? Hathev took a sip of her drink as he studied her, an slight aspect of concern entering his gaze as he waited for her to speak again. He did not have to wait long.

Hathev continued, answering his question. No, she was not all right. Those words caused the concern in Cross' pale eyes to grow, even as Hathev continued. She had reason to believe Triss was in Paris.

"Haja..." Cross muttered, the expletive having escaped his lips before he could stop himself. He saw a single tear roll down Hathev's cheek, the sight telling him how deeply she must be feeling the blow of such news. The two of them had never discussed Triss, though Cross of course knew some of their history, having witnessed snippets of it through Hathev's own eyes while their minds rocked back and forth like a drunken fiend during the failed meld. Those memories had been filled with sadness, pain and loss. If Triss had been in Paris...

"Hathev..." Cross said, his voice a low rumble as he reached to wipe the tear form her cheek, only realising halfway through the gesture that he was using his left hand. Letting the metallic appendage drop, he shifted where he sat, turning sideways to face her on the couch, and repeated the gesture with his right, a brief awareness of her blossoming in his mind during the short moment he wiped away the solitary tear. "Hathev, I'm so sorry." The words sounded weak in his ears, inadequate. She had lost someone dear to her, even if they had grown apart long ago. She had lost her family in a more permanent sense than estrangement. The video clip of the Thaloron bomb replayed in his mind's eye. Paris had been reduced to an irradiated wasteland, people vaporized where they stood, reduced to ash. "I know we haven't really spoken about what we saw during the meld but... well..." Cross struggled to find the words he wanted, the former hybrid having never been suited to these sorts of situations, despite how often he seemed to find himself in them of late. "I know how much she... how much Triss... meant to you. I'm so sorry, Hathev."

Cross suspected she had come to him this evening because he knew about her history with Triss, knew the pain and the loss. It seemed cruel and unfair to her that the one person aboard the ship who knew of such things was also, quite possibly, the least qualified person aboard the ship to help her deal with what she was feeling. The fact that he had been up most of the previous night helping Blue through similar issues made Cross once again wonder why everyone around him seemed to suffer, though admittedly this time it was through no fault of his. "Are you sure she was in Paris? Is it possible she was somewhere else?" Cross felt the urge to hold Hathev and let her cry it out, as he had done in her ruined office in the aftermath of the meld disaster, but given that Hathev was lamenting the loss of her ex-wife, he wasn't sure such a gesture would be appropriate, or indeed welcome.

Cross was momentarily taken by the thought that he might be lucky to have never had any sort of family. It meant that he would likely never experience the sort of loss Blue and Hathev were both dealing with.

"Is there anything I can do?" The question was genuine, both in the fact that he wanted to help her, and in that he had no idea how to do so. Seren might have been able to help, but the insufferable counsellor was in stasis, just like Ducote. What would that idiot have asked Cross in this sort of situation? "Do you... want to talk about it?"

Kardasi Translation:
Haja - Fuck
  • Last Edit: January 13, 2021, 11:38:14 PM by Fife

  • P.C. Haring
  • [*][*]
  • Beware a Vulcan who smiles.
Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] - The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #6
[ Lt. Cmdr Hathev| Cross's Personal Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @Fife 
Her hand found his wrist as he wiped the tear from her cheek and she gently held his hand to her face while leaning her head into his palm as she closed her eyes.   His awareness, his concern for her, his strength of will ebbed into her conscious thought and she drew it into her, allowing it to strengthen her own composure.  It might have been a violation, but she suspected Cross would not object and even as she opened herself up to him verbally, she tamped down with her mental discipline doing her part to ensure there would be no backlash to either of them.  In all, the contact lasted five seconds before she gently pulled away, breaking the shallow psychic connection.  But as she pulled away, in deference to his comfort, she felt the emptiness take her again.

She heard his response, his expression of regret and sorrow, his question about how certain she was of Triss's whereabouts, what he could do and, most importantly... if she wanted to discuss.

"You are free to decline without judgment from me," she started.   "But I would welcome your embrace."

She slid over on the couch a few centimeters closer, not so close that she would invade his personal space, but close enough that if he did welcome her, she could lean to her side and rest her head on his chest.  Triss had been especially fond of this form of 'cuddling' and she had never understood the desire for it...until now.

"I cannot be completely certain of Triss's fate.   Our last correspondence came a few hours before the Ballerophon engaged the Theurgy.   She sent me a subspace message notifying me that she had accepted a prestigious fellowship in Paris."  She paused to gather herself.   "She described the rigors of the program as 'almost Vulcan' in nature and was planning to live in Paris for the duration.   The fellowship was to take the better part of a year and she was to start immediately."

She took in a ragged breath as the emotional toll pushed back on her discipline.  

"In some ways, Cross, you knew more about what she meant to me than I did.  Up until our meld, I was not in touch with my emotions, my...feelings for her and could not express them.  Now..." she felt another tear slide down her face.  "Now it is too late and even though I no longer desired to continue our relationship, I find myself regretting the loss none the less."
Lt. Commander Hathev - [Show/Hide]

Re: CH02: S [D03|0200] The Counselor's Counselor
Reply #7
[ Lt. Cmdr. Cross | Personal Quarters | Deck 07 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ] Attn: @P.C. Haring
[Show/Hide]"You are free to decline without judgement from me," Hathev said, having placed her hand on his wrist for only a moment, though Cross found himself savouring the brief contact. "But I would welcome your embrace." She slid closer to him on the couch, though maintained a careful distance. Cross supposed it was likely she did not wish to seem to be invading his space should her turn her down.


It was, quite possibly, the most Vulcan manner in which Cross could imagine someone asking for a hug, and yet the fact that she was asking it of him made Cross wonder exactly how much she was hurting, how much she mourned Triss' death.

Cross placed his coffee on the table before he reached out to her. He gently placed his arms around her, shifting the position in which he sat as she leaned sideways against him and rested her head against his chest. He rested his left hand on her shoulder. His right hand he lightly rested on her forearm, careful to keep the fabric of her sleeve between them. She was obviously in a vulnerable state, the fact made apparent both in her mannerisms and in the brief awareness he had had of her while they had touched. He did not want to intrude, should she wish to keep the exact extent of her sorrow to herself. He would leave such a decision up to her.

He listened in silence as she spoke, admitting that she could not be certain of Triss' fate before explaining the nature of the last message she had received from her wife before coming aboard the Theurgy. He could tell by the ragged intake of breath that she was battling with her own emotions as she thought about that message and the woman who had sent it. He could not only hear her breathing betray those emotions, but feel the unsteady way in which she drew the air in, leaning against him as she was. Cross tilted his head forward and let his cheek rest on the top of her head as he let her continue uninterrupted.

He blinked in surprise as she confided that she believed he knew more about what Triss had meant to her than she did, the grieving counsellor admitting that she had not been able to feel or, indeed, express those emotions to Triss. Cross wondered how difficult that must have been for the two. A Human, emotional and fully feeling every single thought and emotion that flitted through her head, and a Vulcan, cold, logical and restrained. Cross didn't have to try too hard to imagine it, having been immersed in a full awareness of the situation only weeks before. The pain and emotion Hathev felt was far stronger than a Human would experience, but Hathev's training had prevented her from being fully aware of the depth of those feelings at the time.

Now, in the aftermath of the meld, she was perhaps being overwhelmed by them. She spoke of regretting the loss of Triss, even as she claimed to have no longer desired to continue the relationship. Cross released her forearm and raised his hand to gently stroke the side of her face, the backs of his fingers coming away wet as they brushed against a new tear. Cross made no comment, instead simply brushing the moisture away from her face, an awareness of Hathev blooming inside his mind as he did so. That brief awareness brought with it the pain, regret, sorrow and loss which filled her. The sensation of those emotions caused Cross' jaw to tighten, not due to any sort of conflict within him but rather in frustration at the fact that he didn't know what to do.

"Tell me about her." Cross suggested, his normally gruff voice low and soft. "About Triss. It might help to talk about her." Cross had no idea if that were true. He had never lost any family, as he had never had one, and so the former hybrid was simply grasping at straws. "It can't have been easy for a Vulcan and a Human to build a relationship. How did you meet? What was she like?"
  • Last Edit: Today at 01:03:13 AM by Fife