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

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?
Posted by… suppressed (4) by the Post Ghost! 👻

(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

Rollin’s smile softened, losing some of its edge in favor of something quieter—less stage light, more candle flame.

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it? People think Starfleet’s about the glory shots—the crisp uniforms, the stirring speeches, the perfectly timed beam-out before the warp core goes critical.”

He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing in something between fond amusement and recognition.

“But you and I both know it’s more often about the grit. The stubborn souls who stay when every sane instinct says ‘go.’ The ones who weather the impossible not because it’s safe or glamorous, but because they can’t quite stomach the idea of leaving their people to face it alone.”

He let that hang there for a moment before adding, almost conspiratorially,

“I’ve always thought it takes a certain kind of beautiful madness to call that home.”

Janna beamed behind the lip of her mug. Yes, beautiful madness indeed. He might even be correct in saying she stayed to not leave them alone, though it might have been more precise to say she stayed in a different capacity so that others had the choice to stay.

A sip of his drink, then an arch of a brow.

“And as for glamour? Darling, I’ve seen the transporter room carpets after a diplomatic delegation departs. Nothing glamorous survives that. What does survive—what keeps pulling me back—is exactly what you said: the draw you can’t explain to anyone who’s never stood in it.”

He set his glass down, leaning forward just enough to match her posture without mirroring it.

“So yes… I’d say we’re in very good company indeed.”

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

Eyes alight, she moved her cup to the coffee table and drew in a deep breath. Leaning back and resting her arm across her lap, Kingston took him in. She didn’t read him so precisely as she had accidentally tried to earlier, but she let herself absorb the nuances, the spaces between the more obvious emotions.

“And that is why I think we must be careful, you and I, and the others on my team. Those of us who care in the day-to-day for the mental well being of a crew have to simultaneously be in it with them, as well as just enough outside to offer perspective. I suspect you will have an easier time of it then myself but…”

She leaned forward again, her gaze was intense. “Be careful Rollin. You want to be here with us, but you specifically took yourself out of our equation. You wield an influence you are very aware of- be sure you don’t get too enthralled with the fun that you forget that people still have to throw themselves towards the fire in a moment’s notice. Complacency will not serve anyone here, the least of which yourself.”

~Janna Kingston, CNS

Rollin set his mug down with deliberate care, and when he spoke, the usual sparkle was gone from his voice.

“My dear Counselor,” he began, steady but not sharp, “we are new friends, so I know you meant no harm—but your words have cut deeper than you realize.”

It was the shift beneath the surface that struck Janna first, and then his words rolled over her. Her heart sank. It was inevitable that sometimes she was going to misstep. She was a fallible person and was not going to get it right every time, nor did she ever expect to. Besides, this was not an evaluation. Did she want him to be cautious? yes? Of course. But there were many ways to convey something and this time it landed with a thud rather than being a simple nudge.

The smile he offered was small and sad, carrying more history than humor.
“I have lost and hurt as fiercely as I have loved and laughed. I’ve watched cadets—children, really—snatched from this life before they’d had their first taste of it. I’ve seen officers scarred beyond recognition—some on the outside, most on the inside—never again the people they once were. I’ve buried captains in their prime, including my Jo, gone in an instant, their futures unwritten. I have lost ships full of friends, lovers, and strangers I’d yet to meet. And through it all, I have known exactly what the uniform asks, and the fires those who wear it must walk through.”

He brushed at the corner of one eye, voice softening.
“I may have stepped out of Starfleet, but not out of the equation. I choose to be here—to bring light, laughter, and, when it’s possible, love—to these officers and crew. Every one of them deserves to feel seen, to be reminded there’s joy in the galaxy, especially this far from anyone who might love them at home.”

He leaned back, the easy glint sliding back into his eyes like it had never left.
“I’ve been called many things—most of them deserved. But complacent?” His smile warmed, playful again. “Never.”

An almost too casual beat, and with all his previous theatricality intact, “And if you doubt me, I have a Romulan disruptor behind the bar that says otherwise.”

He didn’t elaborate—just let the words linger, leaving it entirely unclear whether the joke was in the grin… or in the truth.

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

There was a tension between instincts, practicality and knowledge. In this case, she only knew about Rollin what he had offered her thus far, and stilll chs chided herself for underestimating the depth of his commitment. She would not do so again.

A small frown graced her lips but Janna’s gaze never wavered. She breathed in the truth he had laid down for her, and she let it settle into her. With a small nod, she leaned forward, reaching a hand out, an offering, a correction. He might have reverted back to his more carefree demeanour, but Janna

“Please forgive my error. You’re right, we’re new friends. As such, we’re still learning about what is okay and what is not. Thank you for letting me know the truth, rather than brushing it off as others might of. It matters to me that I understand the right things about people in the right way.” She smiled ever so softly. “And sometimes it gets a bit messy.”

~Janna Kingston, CNS

Rollin looked down at the offered hand for only a heartbeat before taking it gently in both of his own. His palms were warm, his grip unhurried, and when he spoke again the usual lilt in his voice had softened into something steady and sincere.

“My dear Counselor,” he said, giving the lightest squeeze, “there’s nothing to forgive. You gave me an honest moment, I gave you one in return—messy, perhaps, but I’ve never trusted anything that came without a little mess. It’s how we find out who we’re really dealing with.”

His smile deepened, no longer hiding behind performance, and a glint of quiet recognition passed between them. “I see you, Janna Kingston. Not just the uniform, not just the title. And I think you see me—not just the robes and the grin.”

He released her hand, leaning back in his chair with a slow exhale, the earlier tension dissolving like mist. The silence between them was comfortable now, edged only with the faintest spark of mischief as his brow lifted.

“So… do you think I’m fit for duty?”

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