Distorted Corners of Nostalgic Minds

Posted on Wed Feb 18th, 2009 @ 8:23pm by Lieutenant JG Lucy Carter

1,000 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Citadel Prime
Location: Office of the Chief Counselor, USS Archimedes
Timeline: Current

If there was one thing that Commander Rowena Arkham had complete and utter disdain for, it was the notion of psychology and the misguided practice of psychologists. She was an intelligence officer by trade, and a damned good one if she did say so herself -- and she so very often did -- and she understood that all things, whatever they may be, had their shades of grey, but the notion that one could ascertain them through merely observation and instinct without certainty and substantial evidence made her skittish -- it was simply not the way things were supposed to work.

As Catherine often said, and had said once more when at breakfast Arkham announced her intention to get her psychological exam over and done with today, "Never has a profession been so decried by someone who needed it so badly."

As she continued eating and never missing a beat, she pointed out that the good Dr. Halsey talked quite a bit of smack about prostitutes -- a comment that had earned her a cold glare and the silent treatment for the remainder of the morning, but was still completely worth it. They bickered frequently, and it was only rarely that old Rowena Arkham got to win -- and when she did, she would savor it for as long as she could do so in good conscience, consequences and retribution and the fact that she knew full well that she would be thoroughly routed in the next skirmish be damned.

Strolling into the sickbay, Arkham was pleased with the degree of activity she saw going on -- it was nice, after a seemingly endless period of being docked, that things were finally beginning to seem like they were running smoothly -- hopefully, she thought, it would stay this way at Citadel Prime; recent news from the Nagasaki had made her skeptical of that on good days, and downright worried on others. Arriving at the office of the Chief Counselor, Ensign Carter, Arkham knocked politely on the doorframe.

"Well, let's get this over with, Ensign," the Executive Officer rasped gruffly, rubbing her sore jaw as she took a seat opposite the desk at which the younger officer was seated, "We're getting close to the Citadel Sectors and my time is rather limited nowadays. And I'm sure yours is as well."

"Hello, Executive Officer, Arkham and congratulations on your recent promotion" said Carter, rising to her feet and offering the other woman a chair. She again noticed the terrible injury on her jaw and briefly wondered why she didn't use a dermal regenerator to close the wound properly.

Arkham smirked a little, taking a seat in the chair offered to her by the young officer. She was beginning to regret this already. "Thank you, Ensign. I must say that it came as quite a surprise. But we both know that I'm not here to discuss my promotion with you."

"Thank you for coming to see me for your evaluation. I will get on with the questions as required by Starfleet." She reminded her of the confidentiality of the situation and the need for complete honesty.

Carter asked the first two questions then paused briefly before asking the third, concerned what the reaction might be. "Do you ever have feelings of anger or uncontrollable rage or periods of intense sadness?"

Arkham smirked a little, and with one dark eyebrow --the left-- cocked, she gave off a look of great gravity. She had noted the pause between the first two questions -- which Arkham had answered with a rather quick and curt answers -- and the third; clearly the young counselor was afraid of provoking such a reaction in the older officer.

Fixing the young officer in her steady cobalt gaze --made all the more intimidating by that milky and unseeing left eye-- she rasped simply, "At the age of 37, I lost half my face. I think I'd be more concerned about my state of mind if I didn't feel such things, Ensign."

"I can't imagine how difficult that was for you" said Carter, with genuine sympathy. "You must be in a lot of pain. I take it you have sought the medical advice of many a doctor in the past. Is there really no more permanent solution other than your constant surgery?"

Arkham sighed, readjusting her ruined jaw, an action that was accompanied by the loud crack of bone shifting position. Smirking as much as her ruined jaw would allow, Arkham said, "Oh, I suppose that there are always options, Ensign. A biological implant may have been promising. But you know, Ensign, I have a bit of a...nickname here in the Fleet, and you're probably not old enough to be aware of such things. They call me the 'Arkham Horror'...why, Ensign, should I feel the need to hide what I am?"

Carter didn't bat an eyelid as she noted down all the responses on her PADD. The other mandatory questions were met with similar, "off pat" answers and Carter was sure she was being assessed herself. She knew this interview was never going to be easy and was surprised at her own professionalism. She is just a person, Lucy - she kept reminding herself.

"Well thank you for coming to see me today" Carter said after an awkward silence. She got to her feet and put her PADD on her desk. She looked at Arkham without blinking and said, quite genuinely "if you feel you ever need to talk about anything, please do feel free to visit me at any time of the day or night."

Arkham nodded curtly. She did appreciate the Counselor's offer, even if they both knew full well that Arkham -- ever stoic and cold -- would never take her up on the offer. Exiting the office, Arkham sighed a little, smirking. She wondered for a moment if Dr. Ellard could see her now, and if she'd ever forgive her for how the years had changed her.

 

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