Posted by Civilian Rollin (Lounge Host) in Psychiatry Suite - Psych Eval - Wouldn’t You Want to Peer Into This?

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Janna Kingston (Counsellor) in Psychiatry Suite - Psych Eval - Wouldn’t You Want to Peer Into This?

(snip)

Rollin’s lips curved—not into his usual theatrical beam, nor even into the soft smile of camaraderie, but into something sly and slow and very Rollin.

“A question from a counselor,” he mused, cradling his half-drunk mug like a crystal ball. “Now that sounds like the beginning of either a soul-baring journey… or a very long evening.”

Kingston chuckled. “Keep in mind I do have a schedule to keep, so if we open any boxes we can’t close before I need to go, then we’ll tuck it away until next time, yes?” An invitation, an opening. Not for her to pick him apart, but for them to share and connect now and again. The age old question of ‘who counsels the counsellor’ was easily answered by ‘other counsellors’. That is how it worked in practice. Therapists saw therapists whose job it was to work with other therapists. They had excellent BS metres, after all. She naturally had the other members of her team she could talk to, but sometimes it was nice to have a skilled and knowledgable person outside of the chain of command to help be a necessary reflection.

His fingers traced the rim of the cup, thoughtful. Not stalling—savoring.

“You know,” he said after a beat, eyes flicking back to hers, “when I first started down the counselor track, someone told me the job was about asking the right questions. But the ones I remember—the ones that cracked me open—were never the right ones.”

He tilted his head.

“They were strange ones. Gentle. Off-center. The kind that slipped under your defenses before you even realized the conversation had begun.”

A soft chuckle.

“So if you’d like to ask—ask. I won’t run. But I reserve the right to answer sideways.”

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.

An easy shrug, a half-smirk. Janna knew his words held truth. “The key to asking the right questions is not asking the ones with obvious answers.”

“I suppose now that we’ve established your career history in Starfleet, I can tuck some of those curiosities away for later. And I understand deeply how the listening and helping can be a part of our personalities, our natural gifts. But why come back to a Starfleet vessel to bring your gift? You still have to exist within our rules, our structures. You might be a civilian but you still have to abide by the aspects of the Uniform Code that apply to you. So… why come here? You could have your very own place where you make all the rules and no one can say otherwise. Why here? Other than to possibly rub your new freedom in the faces of those that unsuccessfully tried to contain you.”

~Janna Kingston, CNS

Rollin tilted his head, that sly smile deepening into something more bemused—less performance, more confession.

“Oh, darling, if I wanted to rub it in, I’d have opened a lounge just outside the gates of Starfleet Command,” he said, swirling the last of his drink like a fortune he wasn’t quite ready to read. “Happy hour at four, heartbreak at five, existential crisis at six. First one’s always free.”

But then he stilled—just a touch. A sliver of quiet wedging itself gently into the corner of his posture. When he spoke again, the voice was no less playful, but there was an undertow to it now. Something deeper. Older.

“The truth?” A shrug. “All my great loves wore the uniform.”

Janna braced her elbow on the arm of the chair, leaning forward just enough to rest her chin atop her hand. She watched him with more than just an analytical brain geared towards observation, letting herself fall into a moment of being the Learner. She was always open to learning from the person across from her and some days those lessons were the most profound

His eyes flicked upward—not dramatic, but pointed. Present.

“They were command and science, security and stars-in-their-eyes. I loved them for their discipline and their danger. Their impossible devotion to something bigger than themselves.” A breath. “They broke my heart in the most beautiful ways.”

A beat.

“So naturally, if one is to go looking for the next great love…” He gestured around the room with one elegant hand, “…one must return to where they most often bloom.”

She smiled, understanding.

He leaned back slightly, the sparkle in his eye not dimmed, just burnished.

“It’s not about uniforms or rules or replicator rations. It’s about proximity to purpose. This,” he said, tapping his chest lightly, “whatever this ‘gift’ is, only really matters when it’s near people trying to do something noble. Even if they get it spectacularly wrong sometimes.”

Then, wry again, but not unkind:

“And if I ever do open that fully autonomous, rule-free lounge? I’d still want a crew full of Starfleet misfits to wander in. I’m a bit of a tragic cliché that way.”

-Rollin
Just Rollin. That’s quite enough, Darling.

She chuckled. “Yes, I can see that about you,” she said, as earnest as she was amused. But the amusement was not at him, but at the confluence of cultures, experiences and dreams that was a starship. “I would say you most definitely came to the right place. This ship, its mission. It asks such unusual things of those bound to it. Sometimes we forget how extraordinary it really is because we’ve been in it so long. We don’t remember what it was to be on the outside looking in.”

Her chin shifted to lean into her index finger, the edge of her thumb tracing a line back and forth across the underside of her chin. Thinking. Considering. “I’ve never been able to quite explain the draw of it, Starfleet I mean, to my mothers. They both respect my choice and accept that this is where I am happy, where I feel fulfilled, ut one definitely dislikes it more than the other,” she said with a chuckle. “It’s rare to find someone who understands the appeal, but it also not blinded by the presumed glamour they see from a distance.” No, there was no glamour in this work, her career. It was a good thing she wasn’t overly ambitious either. If so, she would have had to request a transfer years ago. But she loved it here and had no intention of going anywhere if she could help it.

“Then again, I’m one of those that stay when good sense says get the hell out,” Janna said with a laugh. “I like to think if that makes me a little crazy then I’m in good company and they need someone on the inside who gets it.” The smirk that played on her lips was not self-depricating, but accepting of the inherent contradictions of her life.

~Janna Kingston, CNS