Haunting These Halls, Climbing These Walls That I Never Knew Were There

Posted on 09 May 2019 @ 12:50am by Ensign Callin Mastrel & Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant

3,117 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Episode 17 - Crystal of Life
Location: USS Galileo-A - Deck 3, Counseling Office
Timeline: MD -02, 1500 hours

[ON]

Normally, the thought of his periodic psych evals didn't bother Callin very much. There was enough self reflection in his life that he was quite sure his mind was healthy, his focus sound, his way of life stable and well within acceptable norms for his people. Usually he walked into these meetings with a grin and a few jokes to share, leaving a few minutes early with the counselor assured that he was fine until the next scheduled check in. Callin respected the healers of the mind quite a bit, was not intimidated by them, and never worried that he'd fail some psychological test.

That was normally the case, but then again Callin had never had to report for duty before to someone he'd had a strange encounter with the first time they'd met. Outside of the counselor's office, the young man paused and thought back to his encounter with a certain Romulan member of the crew. He had a few moments to spare, to try to put things into perspective.

It had been interesting to say the least, making Callin play out that meeting many a times in his head even after he'd been pulled off for courier duty for the last few months. How much of what he'd sensed that day in the lab, while making quips about space dust and storage lockers, had been real and how much of it had been...well, wishful thinking on his part? There had been some awkwardness on both of their parts, he thought, though how much of that had been from Callin saying the wrong thing had grown in his retelling to himself. His cheeks turned a slight shade of red that didn't fade just yet, and Callin gathered himself. Some questions might be better off unanswered, and if that wasn't a sign of how awkward the scientist was about this check in, nothing else could be. Since when did he not want to know the answer to something?

Before he could let himself waste anymore time thinking in circles, Callin reached out and pressed the door chime, "Ensign Mastrel, here for my check in."

On the other side of the door panel, said Romulan Counselor had been cleaning up the refreshments from his last counseling session. For that reason only, Lake ir-Llantrisant walked to the doorway, rather than simply unlocking the door by saying enter aloud. The double-doors slid apart, revealing a Lake with his uniform sleeves rolled up, his jacket open down the front, and a dirty cup and saucer between his hands. When Lake's dark eyes landed on Callin Mastrel, his every conscious thought was burned to ash by an overwhelming heat. In a single heartbeat, Lake was scared, and he was angry, and he was sad, and he was horny, because Callin looked an awful lot like his dead husband, Kellin Nertlinge.

"Are you... alive?" Lake asked at a whisper, either because of the resemblance to Kellin or because Lake hadn't seen Callin since their emotional first meeting aboard the USS Schofield.

"I think so?" Callin's awkward grin showed his confusion over the question. "I suppose it depends on your definition." He took a breath, looked up into the Romulan's dark gaze, and was treated to a shocking wellspring of emotions coming from the man that it sent Callin back to their first meeting too. "It's nice to see you again, Counselor."

At that, Lake could only think to say, "Uhm?" He frowned at Callin. His eyes maintained an open expression of curiosity and intrigue, but Lake had developed a certain type of frown when he was thinking too much. "Uhm," Lake said again, and he took a hurried step backwards. Remembering where he was, Lake stepped back again to allow Callin plenty of space to walk into the counseling office. Raising an arm, Lake swept it towards the centre of the compartment as a gesture to welcome Callin inside, because still all Lake could say was, "Uhm."

With one eyebrow lifted and a pointed look at the tongue-tied Romulan, Callin walked in to the office. "Something must be wrong with my memory," he said, sounding utterly serious as he found himself a seat, just taking a guess before claiming his perch, and looked up at Lake, though he paused for a long moment before continuing the thought. Black eyes stared, and Callin's expression was quite flat. He crossed his arms over his chest first and leaned back.

Then, he couldn't help it, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in an involuntary smile before he could squash it, and delivered his little joke, "I don't remember you being quite so...loquacious...when we met before." No, he remembered some fun banter, possibly some innuendo, and then something that had come out of nowhere that had turned everything...well, as awkward as this felt. His smile slipped, probably as much to do with his own preconceptions as anything else, "Have I done something to offend you, Lieutenant? If so, I'm sorry, but if you prefer I speak to another counselor-?"

Shaking his head, Lake interjected with a, "No, Ensign, No. You've done nothing wrong." Lake took a deep breath, and he said, "I apologize. My mind was still entangled on my last patient..." --He lied-- "I am here for you now. Can I offer you any refreshments?" He took this offer as an opportunity to put himself well out of arm's reach of Callin. Lake crossed the compartment to stand beside the replicator, way way on the other side of the room.

With a shrug of his shoulders, Callin followed Lake's example and switched away from the confusion he felt, "Um, I wouldn't mind a cup of swix tea please. Thank you." His eyes bored into Lake's back though as he wondered just what was going on. He tried to make himself sound as warm and friendly as usual, "Congratulations, by the way, on the promotion to the senior staff, Counselor. Looks like it comes with a much bigger office than a storage locker."

Turning back towards Callin, Lake carried a cup and saucer of swix tea in one hand as well as a bottle of fermented iced tea for himself. Lake nodded only once, almost humbly, at Callin's offer of congratulations. "Thank you, Ensign. Our mission aboard Schofield was... fraught," Lake said, his voice cracked when he said it, and he struggled for the most appropriate choice of words. Certainly, Lake's brief and confusing flirtation with Callin had come at a time when Lake was in the deep end of his grief for his ex-husband. Still, none of that could compare with Lake's near-death experience among the away team to Pleione. Setting down the beverages on an end table, Lake admitted, "I was built for a life of this comfort. I can't say I'm going to miss that utility closet now that Schofield has completed its final voyage."

Nodding his thanks for the drink, Callin took the saucer and cup carefully with both hands, brought it up to his face to inhale the aromatic steam and close his eyes for a moment seemingly with satisfaction. He listened though, and now with more than just his ears. He didn't actively go probing through Lake's mind, that was a serious breach of etiquette after all, but listening to the emotions behind the words was a way for him to build trust in the counselor. He had to trust his therapist, right?

Callin's eyes snapped open and focused on Lake's, a bit more round and wide than usual. Heat began to rise in the Betazoid's face as well. "I uh, I was sorry to be pulled away from that," he began, trying to use conversation to cover. Like many of his people though Callin didn't have a talent for dissembling. He'd heard of the legendary passions of the Romulan people, but this was...How could Lake sit there seeming so calm and controlled when so much was raging within him? Uncomfortable familiarity, desire, loss, anger, embarrassment, pain, and more but all mixed together, as if one feeling couldn't possibly be there without the next as contradictory as it seemed. Callin almost lost the train of his own thoughts, "I had a lot of unanswered questions when I left the Schofield. And not just about life existing where it should not."

Thankful for the distraction from his own self-reflection, Lake figuratively leaned in to the conversational thread Callin had left dangling. Before responding, Lake perched himself on one of the arm chairs and gradually eased back into the seat. He looked to Callin, drinking in those facial features that so peculiarly reminded Lake of Kellin. In a couple of heartbeats, he compartmentalized that sensation and followed his curiosity. "Which question, would you say," Lake asked pensively, "clamoured for the most attention in your thoughts?"

Before he answered, Callin took a sip of his tea, though his eyes didn't leave Lake's. He could sense once more that feeling of familiarity coming from the man, could feel it being suppressed as well which only heightened Callin's curiosity. He wanted to know why.

"Well, some of it I've talked about with chaplains," Callin said slowly. "The nature of life and death in the universe. Existence in the face of certain destruction, being powerless to do anything about it. But the other part..." He set down his tea on the table once more and leaned forward in his chair, and while his voice stayed steady this time Callin was nervous. "I don't think a chaplain could have answered my questions about you."

Rolling his shoulders back, Lake affected professional bemusement in his tone when he asked, "About me?" He smirked. For all of Lake's concerns about how he seemed to Callin, he hadn't really put much thought into what Callin must actually be thinking. "You're probably right about that," Lake said. "No one can really answer questions about me, except for me." He spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, opening himself up to questioning.

"Well, for starters," Callin began, not smiling himself though he felt the urge to again, "You were the first Romulan I've met...still the only one in fact...and as a researcher I am very much interested to know more about your people." That was true, he was fascinated by the chance he might find out more about the enigmatic race. Plus, Lake had been quite amusing when they'd met so any kind of interview was likely to be entertaining too, so he thought. Callin leaned back in his chair, glanced at his tea, and wondered if he should go on. "And, well, there was how we met and..." He trailed off casting a sidelong glance Lake's way, finished quietly, "...and what I've felt coming from you. Then, and now."

Lake chose to overlook the curiosity about his species, given he was getting to an age where he'd spent longer in the Federation than on Romulus. Leaning forward in his chair, Lake said, "Tell me more about what you've felt coming from me." He looked Callin dead-on, unblinkingly. "Describe what you've felt," Lake asked. His own curiosity was piqued by what this would tell him about Callin's abilities, let alone what he was about to discover about himself.

"Okay," Callin looked back into Lake's stare, lifted his chin ever so slightly, and did his best not to flinch away as he spoke. It was easier though, permission to be as honest as he wished he could be around people. "I want to start by saying I haven't intentionally gone digging around in your head though." The way his mouth twisted at the idea showed just how distasteful he found the concept. "But I can't help but sense some things no different from say how you probably know how to read the body language of your patients, just maybe a little bit easier." Callin wanted to make sure Lake didn't get the wrong impression of him from this so it was important he led with the disclaimer.

He raised a hand and three fingers to emphasize, "Three things seemed to stand out the most to me. I wondered if I offended you somehow? Because I could swear there is animosity, something I'm being blamed for and I'd really like to figure out what that is." Callin took a breath, kept his eyes steady though they tightened a bit, "That's come through clear a couple of times. Secondly, most of what I'm getting know would make me worried if I was the counselor. Call me impertinent, I'm sure it's on my record somewhere already, but are you okay, Lieutenant?"

It didn't take Lake very long to answer. After hardly a single heartbeat's consideration, he could recognize exactly what Callin Mastrel was talking about. Lake sat back in his chair and he cupped the left side of his own chin with one of his hands. Taking a breath in, Lake let his mouth hang open to answer. "I resent you. I resent you for leaving. I resent you for not loving me. I resent your youth. I resent you for dying."

Lake spread his arms as if to ask, is that it? Is that enough? "I resent you. For dying," Lake insisted, emphasizing every word in the statement. "So... no. Of course I'm not okay."

"That makes sense," Callin's trademark response was a bit weak, and he'd long since looked away from the barrage. That explained the third thing, the desire he was going to leave unsaid. This was starting to come together for him, the loss Lake had revealed. Gods, but it was so painful, it was amazing that Lake wasn't tearing the room to pieces - and maybe someone who reminded him of his loss along with it.

Callin looked back finally, black eyes very large and definitely wet. When he spoke "I'm so sorry for your loss, Lieuten- I mean, Lake. What was their name?" Callin leaned forward to set down his cup for now and focused in on the counselor. He'd deal with a nagging sense of guilt in the back of his head later, after he tried to help.

"He doesn't-- it doesn't matter," Lake said quickly. He shook his head as he said it, distracting himself by running a finger around the lip of his bottle. He took a sip of the tea. "I hardly think about him anymore," Lake admitted to himself, as much as to Callin. "I don't know-- I don't know when that happened, but I don't wake up thinking about him anymore. My patient's problems don't remind me of him anymore ...until they have his-- have your face."

Finally he understood, and the truth had turned out to be far worse than Callin had imagined. The conflicts he'd sensed, feelings of pain, fear, loss were in the past but Callin's presence was like tearing off a scab. There were fresher wounds too. With this much sharing, such openness, Callin could feel it beneath the surface - new pain, new fear. This man had been through too much tragedy. Callin's guilt was growing.

"I'm sorry to make you remember all of this, especially since you were getting better," Callin said softly. He had become very still, face half-turned away as if to spare the man the sight of him. He had forgotten the whole reason for coming here now and suddenly stood to go while at the same time he slammed shut the connection between them, shut down his feelings like turning off a light. It made him a little dizzy, and as he got up the room spun around sickeningly. Callin clutched the back of his chair and squeezed his eyes shut. The vertigo came from an old illness, and it would pass eventually, this wasn't just shutting himself off to Lake's feelings. Callin's voice was dull as he stumbled into a walk around the table and past the counselor, "I think I should go before I make it any worse for you."

"I'm not," Lake said sternly, "a Vulcan." He worked hard to keep himself small. He held his face tightly to keep a sneer, and any snark, in check. "I don't need to take a sick day because I'm feeling a feeling. In the words of a woman much wiser than me, I love feeling feelings. I may be messy, and I may make you uncomfortable, but I can serve my duty." --Lake cleared his throat-- "I'm here for you."

Callin paused close-by, and looked taken aback at first, a stunned look in his eyes. This is what he got when he blocked out everything he could sense from others, drawing the wrong conclusions. Sure, confronting those conflicting emotions coming from Lake was difficult but if he'd waited another minute to back away he probably wouldn't have made the blunder. "Now I am sorry."

Then a small smile came to his face, and though he swayed slightly his warmer nature returned, "I was the one who asked, and you've been more honest with me than I ever expected. It is very much appreciated, Lieutenant." He reached out his mind and his hand, it wasn't too far in either case, and briefly patted the Counselor's shoulder while he made himself confront those emotions that had been expressed, "I respect that a lot, and however you make me feel, well, that's my responsibility." He broadened his grin a bit more, gestured with his hand taken from Lake's shoulder as if offering a different path they could take, "Well, I bet I've just proven I'm definitely not cut out for your job! Hopefully I'm not failing to convince you of my readiness."

Looking up at Callin, Lake remarked, "You've shown me compassion, Ensign. That only shows me you're supremely qualified to serve as a Starfleet officer." Lake stared at Callin --stared right at him-- and took a pause to let that assessment sink in. Cocking an eyebrow at Callin, Lake asked, "What would make you think you're not ready for duty?"

Callin held the gaze easily enough, but it was because he didn't really notice this time as he stood there in the middle of the office. His attention was turned inward. He agreed with the assessment, but still he wondered about himself and his capabilities. Finally he sat back down. "Well..."

[OFF]

Lieutenant Lake ir-Llantrisant
Chief Counselor
USS Galileo-A

Ensign Callin Mastrel
Science Officer
USS Galileo-A

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