Left Unsaid

Posted on Dec 19, 2017 @ 4:20pm by Lieutenant Commander Aerdan Jos
Edited on on Dec 19, 2017 @ 4:21pm

Mission: Fear Itself

"Left Unsaid"

(Continued from "The Survivors")
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Location: USS Phoenix
Stardate: 2.1712.1250
Scene: CMO's office.

~*~
"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."
~ Martin Luther King Jr.
~*~

She looked tired.

The darkness hanging around her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, the faintly breathy quality to her voice. Tired.

Was anyone surprised? Eve Dalziel has been pulling overtime to wrap things up following the attack of the phobophage, and she had barely made a dent in the number of cases she should be tending to. There were those confused and mourning the deaths, those who were still prey to the fear that had gripped them and those with deeper issues. Her staff was stretched thin and just as tired as she was.

She sighed, slumping down into the chair opposite of the Chief Medical officer, soundlessly trying to wave away an offered cup of tea before finally relenting and sipping it.

"I could lace it with caffeine and vitamin supplements if you like?" Dr. Jos offered softly, not actually advocating for that route - but not denying it either.

The tea was tart and tangy. It was good. "That's alright. I have some sleep coming to me."

"We don't need to go through reports now." the Andorian offered. It was actually the fourth time he had offered to forgo the formality over the past day. He wasn't looking forward to it any more than she was.

Eve let the smell of citrus and spice waft over her before she spoke, letting the steam of the tea fill her sinuses and beat back the hints of an oncoming headache.

"No. Gotta get this off my plate or else I won't want to rest."

Dr. Jos gave a slow nod of understanding. Oh he knew that feeling, a little too well - everything that hangs over one's head. "So, where do we start?" Her ball, her move, he was just following along and playing backup.

"I need you to sign off on my crew assessment following the murders as well as the ongoing treatment plan for the crew." She pushed two PADDs towards him - familiar ones, official copies of the drafts sent hours sooner.

Fortunately professional behavior was the rule between them. The reports were already read. No wasting time in absorbing details. Now it was just time for questions and final approvals. He pushed stylus to PADD and immediately signed the former, pushing it back in one smooth move. The latter he retained.

"I noticed you stuck to a purely medical treatment plan for the aftereffects of the phobophage's affect on the crew at large." He murmured, questioning.

Eve shook her head slowly. "I couldn't come up with a treatment plan that fit every individual on this ship. In fact I'd be surprised if the counseling plan for one officer would match any other."

Aerdan let his antennae curl forwards and bob, an assent that slowly followed with one pensive nod of his head. "Do you have any lingering concerns?"

If there was ever a leading question, if was the words that he just left the CMO's mouth.

"Of course I do." She sighed and set the tea cup down, leaning forward and trapping her hands in front of her before they gestured wildly on their own. "Grief. Confusion. Anger... it will take everyone a long time to process what just happened."

"Fear?" He queried gently.

"Let's hope that doesn't come up again." She countered.

They had banished the phobophage, it was gone - the crew was free of the murderous monster. That should mean they were safe from the fears that plagued them while the creature was still on the loose.

Wishful thinking. When were they truly ever safe?

Silence fell between the two. An awkward, uncomfortable lack of words as each officer's eyes met and they searched for something meaningful to assure the other.

"What would have happened if it attacked someone who had no fear?" Aerdan finally asked, his words sounding like coins dropping into a wishing well.

Eve blinked, and leaned back, unsure of how to respond. "Everyone has fear. Everyone. It's a natural part of life."

"Fear enough to die from?" He countered, openly, with honest curiosity.

She took in a long, deep breath, trying to untangle that idea in her own mind, without any great revelation. She could admit - at least to herself - that she held a few deep seated fears that could have been her undoing where she in the wrong place at the wrong time. She wanted to say yes, but in admitted yes she was also implicitly admitting that everyone might be broken and ultimately unfixable. That the noble goal of counseling was, in the end, futile.

"I don't know. Perhaps if nothing else there is the fear of death." She offered carefully, like a bather testing the waters with a toe.

"Is that true?" He asked plainly, tipping his head to one side, antennae going up. "All the victims had something in their past - something the phobophage latched on to."

"Maybe it was going fore the easiest meals first?" Counselor Dalziel offered, partially as the Devil's advocate and partially as a pessimistic worldview. If asked she'd only admit to the former.

Aerdan wouldn't deny it - but he didn't confirm it either. Truth was he didn't know what demons the crew held behind their expressions. Only what medical ailments they suffered in their career. He could intuit some things - but not everything.

Eve leaned forward, watching her companion carefully. His antennae twined very slowly together as if trying to untangle answers from a confusing situation. Answers she hadn't found yet - and she was guessing neither had he.

"Sofia?" She ventured a guess. She had been his aCMO, and he had been the first to find her dead and sift through the autopsy notes. Even with a purely professional relationship that sort of trauma left scars.

"I can't stop thinking about her..." He started.

"I know you were close." She replied in a trained tone.

"We weren't." He cut her off. Aerdan raised his ice-blue eyes to meet hers, his tone was stiff and controlled. "She was on this ship for a year and we barely had a conversation that went beyond relief reports and staff meetings."

That should have made her passing better. It didn't.

It made it so much worse.

"And...?" Dalziel prompted gently.

"And what?" Aerdan shook his head gently, letting out a wound up sigh of tension. "She died, the end."

"If it was the end we wouldn't be talking about it." She reminded him.

Her eyes locked with his. For all of his politeness, his generally pleasant demeanor, Aerdan was a very stubborn person underneath that nice bedside manner. And she wasn't about to let him slip away.

He let his antennae curl downwards until the tips rested just above his snowy hair.

"We were all aware of her background - at least the broad strokes. Not the specifics. And did we ever talk about it? Did she ever talk about it?" His quiet voice was sharp and staccato.

The next words came out of Eve's mouth like rain from an overfull gutter "We were respecting her privacy."

"And then she died. The end." He repeated.

This time the words were soft and sent a chill down Eve's spine.

"I don't think it's healthy" Or fair. She wanted to say fair, but left it off. "To blame ourselves for what the phobophage did to her."

"I don't want to blame anyone." He replied back, a tone of bitter honesty in his voice. "Not you." Truth. But it damn well didn't stop him from blaming himself.

"Not you either." She paused, fixing him with a no-nonsense stare. "Do you need me to exonerate you?"

Aerdan shook his head in a choppy little movement. "No. I can't change the past."

"Do you have an idea for changing the future?" She turned the question around.

Aerdan paused, lifting his chin a little higher, letting the faces of his crewmates - the senior staff - flash through his mind before he spoke.

"How much don't we talk about?" His gaze bored into her eyes and he tapped the desk in front of him with a single finger. "How much do good officers on this crew keep hidden inside. Telling themselves that we can't talk about it and that they don't fear anything until it's too late?"

Until it's too damn late, and someone ends up dead.

Eve ghosted a little pale. The admonishment was perceptive and cutting even if it wasn't leveled at her.

"That will take a long time to address." She started, without denying the importance of the statement.

The logistics were staggering, especially considering all the crew had been through.

"Then we'd better get started." Aerdan handed the second PADD back, bearing a much less enthusiastic signature than the first one. "You should sleep first." She added gently, with a gentle ripple of compassion.

She looked up and for the first time all conversation she saw her exhaustion reflected in him. The dark navy circles under his eyes, the drooping antennae, the slumping shoulders.

He looked tired.

"Do me a favor?" She asked, slowly standing.

"Name it." He returned gently.

"Sleep tonight. Meet me for breakfast tomorrow - we'll brainstorm some more on this topic." Logic prevailed. Rest first, save the world - or at least the crew - tomorrow.

Aerdan smiled, a soft expression with a single nod of his antennae. "It's a deal."

~*~
NRPG - And I hop back in with a really dark post >.< Sure you guys want me back? ;-)
~*~

Jamie LeBlanc
Lt. Commander Aerdan Jos
Chief Medical Officer
USS Phoenix

"Why do we fly? Because we have dreamt of it for so long that we must"

~Julian Beck