Kitty was frustrated as she entered sickbay. Her brief meeting with Captain Wallace had left her a bit angry. She pushed her hair back away from her face as she entered. Her green-brown eyes a bit ablaze. She saw him sitting in his office and sighed. Varl and herself had not been off to the best of starts either, but at least he cared about what happened to her, she thought. And he was acting therapist for the moment. There was no better time for an appointment than the present, she thought to herself.
"Good afternoon, Commander," Dr. Varl said as she entered the office. "What can I do for you today? I'm handling both mind and body these days."
"Care to handle my mind today, doc?" she asked, with a gentle half-smile.
"Let me get out my electrodes," Varl said, smirking.
She returned the smirk and then sighed. "I just don't know what to do about Captain Wallace. He has a distinct dislike for me and no matter what I do, he isn't going to change that view point . . . " she said with the frustration evident in her voice. "If I weren't needed here so badly, I would speak to Admiral Stelk about transferring me from this posting. Personality conflicts with the Commanding Officer are not going to make my job any easier . . ."
"The Captain's not the easiest person to get along with, and he's got his own issues to deal with too," Varl replied, recalling his own review of Wallace's medical profile. "I wouldn't take it entirely personally. But I do understand that you are frustrated. You were sent here to do a job and you aren't able to do it as effectively as you would like. I'm not in the chain of command, so I would be out of place to advise you on this matter. My advice is to follow the chain of command if you are truly experiencing difficulties of this nature. But I suspect that Wallace isn't entirely the issue here."
"Actually Wallace is the issue," she said taking a seat in a chair. "He basically doesn't like me because he thinks I have had it easy getting to my position. He thinks being a diplomat is a cushy assignment . . . That I don't know combat," she replied. "I was on the Command Track before my . . . Before the death of my children . . . And during the Dominion War I did covert ops for awhile - which is not listed in my file, by the way . . . I have seen people die and I have had to kill a few people in my time . . . Grant you, he couldn't know this. Not too many people do, but for him to make that judgment against me is hard for me to take. I don't understand it . . . I need cooperation if I am going to do my job right and efficiently."
"Bring that to his attention," Varl suggested. "The man isn't entirely unreasonable. Deveraux's always been a miscreant, but Wallace still keeps him on his staff because he knows Paul is one of the best science officers around. Tarik came here from ten years' worth of rear-echelon assignments that kept him behind a desk on meaningless duties--he wasn't even the first choice for this assignment! But once he proved himself to Wallace he's done well too. Captain Wallace is the kind of man for whom results are paramount. If he sees you can do the job--that you are indeed the Real Deal--he'll back off. Until then, you'll have to demonstrate that to him. This station has, however, gotten a reputation in recent months for turning around an officer's career, and the top brass sees that. Which may be why they sent you here."
"Only I get the feeling that if I don't show I can kick some ass, he'll always look at me as one of those officers. The ones who don't know what its all about . . . And I get the feeling from him that unless one can fight or has fought, they have not proven themselves worthy in his eyes . . . What do I have to do? Kick his ass to prove I can fight like the rest? Or go out and fight on the front lines just to prove I'm one of the fighters?" The frustration was showing more with each sentence and the thoughts behind it.
"I am a medical officer. I still believe that 'first do no harm' is the paramount directive of the physician, and will not fight unless it is to defend the life of a patient. But I would like to believe that I have performed my duty to the best of my ability. If more people are walking out of Sickbay than are being carried out of it in body bags, I've done my job. If the G'Kar sign the treaty--which they have--and the Mullurans come to the table then you've done your job. And that is what really matters! Our duty is to Starfleet and the Federation, not to any individual officer. Never forget that!"
She was quiet for a moment, before looking at him. "I realize that my duty is to Starfleet," she replied. "If I didn't, I wouldn't still be here. Starfleet is my life and what keeps me going . . . Without my duty to Starfleet . . . Well, there would be nothing of me," she said. "Getting the job done is what matters to me. It matters to me very much . . . I just wish that I had a Commanding Officer that didn't have the mind set Wallace does about Diplomatic Officers . . . I mean, I can work around that. If I didn't think I could I would have put in for a transfer and let someone else take control of this situation . . . But I know, just like Starfleet knows, I am the best person for this job. I am dedicated to bringing this war to an end if I can . . . That's what I ultimately care about . . ." She sighed. "I guess I just can't get over the fact that Wallace doesn't like me because I am a diplomatic officer . . . I mean, first it was my past, and now this . . . The man is just finding things wrong with me . . ."
"The point I'm making is that Wallace values officers beyond their ability to fight. If you truly think this is a personal problem, then confront him. And if by action or omission of action he's keeping you from doing your job, then you need to go up the chain of command. That's always risky, as you know. Make sure you have your ducks in a row before you do that--and don't go off half-cocked!"
She sighed again and this time turned her gaze away. "Oh, Wallace won't keep me from doing my job . . . That I'm sure of . . . He just doesn't like me . . . Go figure . . . And I have already confronted him. Unless something happens where I miraculously prove myself to him somehow, this is how things are going to be . . ." She pushed her hair away from her face again. "I guess I just have to accept that and move on . . . Its just figuring out how . . ."
"You'll get the treaties concluded, and the Admiralty will see the results, even if Wallace doesn't. He probably resents you being brought in because he feels he's being undercut by Command. Wallace and Command have never gotten along, and perhaps that's blinded his judgment a bit. Do your job, and prevent me from having to do mine more than necessary, and that's what counts. The fact that you've saved thousands of combatants and civilians on both sides from untold suffering will speak for itself."
She nodded, but didn't meet his eyes. "At least I'm saving some lives," she said distantly, as her mind wandered to the two precious lives that she couldn't save. "I need a drink . . ."
"All submerging your problems in alcohol will do is preserve them for later," Varl said. "Just be careful--on all counts!"
She nodded. "But at least submerging them mutes the pain for awhile . . . and that's all that I want . . ." The frustration had left and in its place was a deep sadness. Her job for the moment was done. Her problems with Wallace were actually minor personality conflicts . . . But the loss of her children she had never gotten over. That pain was always with her as soon as her mind became unoccupied by the moment.
"Have you considered adopting children?" Varl asked, getting to the heart of the matter. "I know your children can never be replaced, but there are an awful lot of orphans from the fighting, and I think it would do both you and one of these kids a world of good."
She nodded with the understanding of what he was trying to do. "Its a good idea, doc, but . . . I just can't right now . . . That might change eventually, but right now I can't be responsible for anymore children . . . I lost my two angels," she said, tears misting her eyes. "I . . . can't imagine holding any children that aren't them . . . It would feel . . . Like a betrayal, for lack of a better word . . ." she said trying to explain it.
"Don't betray your own life with mourning," Varl cautioned. "Whether you do or not is your own choosing. But I'm sure that they are watching you from whatever afterlife you care to believe in, and are very sad for their mother torturing herself like this. They would want you to be happy."
She wiped away a stray tear that had fallen from her eyes. "I don't know how to be happy any longer," she replied softly, her green-brown eyes turing red as more tears misted them. "They made me happy and gave me a reason to celebrate the day . . . Now, all I have is my work . . . The pain of losing them is just as fresh as the day it happened . . . That day my ability to be happy died. It died along with them . . ."
He watched as her thumb traced the opposite wrist feeling the raised scar there.
"The source of your happiness died, not the ability to be happy. You'll find it again--and I say that as your doctor and your friend!" Varl said as he took her hand. "As for this, just keep in mind that while you're still breathing there are still options, and still ways to break free of your pain. Start making some friends and finding activities outside of work. It won't be a betrayal of your children's love. It will be the fulfillment of their wishes for you."
She sniffed as she tried to get in control of her tears. Thinking about her children always seemed to reduce her to tears. "I best I can say is I will think about it," she replied. "I can't do more than that, Mikarsh . . . I'm not ready to do more than that . . ."
"Just keep it in mind. You can't work forever. Your career can and will let you down--and I think that's what's really at the heart of the problem here. Because of Wallace's obstinate nature you feel as though your one bulwark against the pain you feel is failing. So you turn to drinking, but that's never more than a temporary solution and has problems of its own. At some point you need to find other ways to find fulfillment, or you will destroy yourself. And then who will keep the wars from happening?"
"Maybe destruction is the ultimate goal . . ." she said. "I won't destroy myself quickly, so maybe I am just doing it slowly . . ." She sighed and shook her head, still fighting off the tears. "I always had a strong desire to be a mother . . . When I had my children all my desires were at their fruition . . . Then that was taken from me . . ." she said. "As you know, I tried taking my own life. Its in my file. I would be lying if I said that I don't think about dying every day. I do. But I won't take my own life now . . . I am beyond that. I just either feel pain, or nothing at all . . . How can I find happiness again with so little to work with? And no desire, except to end the pain . . . If there was a way to end the pain I feel, I would do it. But the only way I know of is death, and as much as I want that, I won't force it . . . So I drown it in alcohol . . . So unless you know of something I can do or take to end this pain, I am stuck in a holding pattern until it runs its course . . . If it ever does . . ."
"Dead at 30, buried at 120...I've seen that a lot. You're walking dead already at the rate you're going. I'm giving you all the suggestions that medicine and practical living can offer, but the ultimate course of action to resolve this is up to you," Varl replied. "In the meantime, I'm going to prescribe hexapenthreol, a new neurological stimulant. It should help you break out of your dysthemic cycle. But drugs are only part of the solution! You are going to have to take affirmative steps to ensure a complete recovery."
"I can't promise anything, doc, but I'll see if your medication works . . ." she replied.
"You'll want to limit your alcohol intake while on this medication to no more than three drinks a day. Otherwise you can end up with some rather nasty side effects, including kidney and liver failure."
"I don't know if I can do that . . ." she said, not knowing how she would cope without a way to dull the pain. She usually drank more than three drinks a day on the days she drank. which were quite often . . . Except when she was working. That was always the exception to the rule . . . She was always at her best then . . . Focused . . . Focused on something other than the fact her children were dead.
"The hexapenthreol may actually reduce your desire to drink," Varl said, carefully not thinking about the fact that it was used also in the treatment of recovering substance abusers. "Take it once a day, first thing in the morning, and you should feel much better. Not perfect, but better than you are now."
"How long does it take for the full affect to kick in?" she asked, "And is the success rate really good with this drug for hybrids like myself?" She knew some of these drugs were iffy. They didn't always work with certain body chemistries.
"About a week. The success rate in all known sentient species is about 85%, except in Klingons who are fatally allergic to hexapenthreol. Because you are a hybrid I will have to monitor you more closely, so I'm going to note that you're to report to Sickbay twice a week now."
Kitty nodded. "I'll be there," she said.
"Good! I'll be looking for you!"
She got the medication from Dr. Varl and stood to leave. "Thanks, Doc," she said. She didn't have high hopes for this medication. She had been placed on several over the last three years and nothing had helped her to date.
Varl watched as she left. I hope it does work, for her sake, he thought...
As Kitty walked to her temporary quarters, she still felt that resounding emptiness within herself, followed by the pain. As she entered, she looked at the medication.
Well, I don't start taking it until tomorrow morning, she thought, as she went to pour herself a drink.