Posted by 1st Lieutenant Emberlee Atkins (Pilot) in Counseling Visit

Posted by Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel Andrew McIntyre (CNS) in Counseling Visit

Posted by 1st Lieutenant Emberlee Atkins (Pilot) in Counseling Visit
Posted by… suppressed (2) by the Post Ghost! 👻
After finishing in Sickbay, Emberlee headed to the counseling offices for her chat with the counselor. She never really knew what to say during these sessions. Very little bothered her, and if she needed something, she would call her brother or her twin.

Atkins

The soft ambient hum of the ship’s environmental systems filled the counseling office aboard the USS Chimera. Warm lighting reflected off polished wood accents and dark LCARS panels, a deliberate attempt to make the room feel less clinical and more human.
Lieutenant Junior Grade Samuel McIntyre sat behind his desk reviewing a PADD filled with crew wellness reports. A steaming mug of coffee rested near his right hand while another screen displayed updated medical recovery statuses from Sickbay. Calm. Organized. Professional.
The chime at the office door sounded.
“Enter.”
The doors parted and 1st Lieutenant Emberlee stepped inside. Sam glanced up from the report, immediately reading the body language most counselors learned to spot before a word was spoken. Controlled posture. Alert eyes. Not nervous exactly… just guarded.
He stood out of habit and respect.
“Lieutenant Emberlee. Good to see you. Have a seat wherever you’re comfortable.”
The office offered two standard chairs near the desk, but also a couch and a pair of lounge seats closer to the viewport overlooking the streaking stars at warp.
Sam picked up his coffee again but didn’t drink from it yet.
“I heard Sickbay finally released you. That either means you’re healthy again… or Doctor Grady got tired of looking at you.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, intentionally low pressure. No interrogation. No psych evaluation tone. Just conversation.
He leaned back slightly in his chair.
“You already know this isn’t an interrogation either. We talk. That’s about it.”

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

Emberlee took a seat “Little column A, little column B.” She said maintaining the controlled posture that defined who she was. She had to be in control when she was in the cockpit. One wrong move could kill her or someone else. She gave McIntyre a wry smile “Yes, I know this isn’t an interrogation. I keep most of my life very close to the vest.” She said locking eyes with the counselor “Where should we start?”

Atkins (Pilot)

Samuel McIntyre offered a small, understanding smile as he settled back in his chair. There was nothing clinical or confrontational in his posture. If anything, he appeared relaxed, content to let the conversation move at whatever pace Lieutenant Emberlee found comfortable.
“That’s entirely your choice, Lieutenant.”
He folded his hands loosely in his lap.
“You’d be surprised how many people sit in that chair and ask me the exact same question.”
Emberlee chuckled “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me that you get asked that question.” She said settling back into the chair.

A hint of amusement touched his expression.
“Most assume counselors have some grand plan or secret list of questions. The truth is that the best conversations usually begin wherever the person across from me feels most comfortable.”
His gaze remained steady but not intrusive.
“You mentioned keeping most of your life close to the vest. That’s not uncommon among pilots, security officers, command officers—people who spend a great deal of time carrying responsibility for others.”
He paused for a moment.
“So perhaps we start there.”
Samuel tilted his head slightly.
“Not with what you keep hidden, but why you feel the need to keep it hidden.”
Emberlee had been asked this multiple times by multiple people “I keep things hidden because they are things that other people either could not handle or it’s confidential. Think of it as a background that is mostly redacted because of security concerns and confidentiality.” She said “That’s what you see when you look at my data… a lot of redaction.

There was no judgment in the question, only curiosity.
“Was there a point in your life when you learned that being guarded was necessary? Or has that simply always been who you are?”
The counselor leaned back slightly.

Emberlee chuckled “I grew up in a house with nine siblings. There were simply no secrets in the house. One of my siblings would have seen what had happened or they would buckle under the ‘Mom’ stare from our mother. I also have a twin sister, Echo. And she wouldn’t let me keep secrets” Emberlee thought for a moment “I would have to say that the holding things back really started after one mission went sideways and the subsequent investigation taught me that some things are better just left unsaid.”

” And before you answer, know that there isn’t a right response. If you’d rather talk about your family, your career, your time in Starfleet, your goals, or even what brought you into my office today, that’s perfectly fine too.”
A faint smile returned.
“This conversation belongs to you, Lieutenant. I’m just helping steer, not plotting the course.”

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera

Emberlee gave him an honest look “I’m here because Star Fleet insists on onboarding conversations before I can start work. So no offense to you…this is more of a mandatory visit than a casual “Hey can I talk to you for a few minutes” visit.” She was very straightforward “Now that doesn’t mean, you won’t see me outside your door with the second kind of visit. I know when I need to get someone else involved.” She said just as straightforwardly.

Atkins (pilot)

McIntyre listened without interruption.
Years of counseling had taught him that sometimes the most important thing he could do was simply allow someone to explain themselves without immediately dissecting every statement.
When Emberlee finished, he nodded slowly.
“None taken.”
There was a faint smile on his face.
“If I’m being honest, Lieutenant, I’d be more concerned if you weren’t aware this meeting was mandatory.”
His expression softened slightly.
“And for what it’s worth, I appreciate the distinction. The fact that you’re sitting here because Starfleet requires it doesn’t bother me. The fact that you’re willing to admit you know when to seek help tells me considerably more about you than this meeting being mandatory.”
He considered her comments about her family.
“Nine siblings and a twin sister.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“I grew up with far fewer people in my home, and even that felt crowded at times.”
He could easily imagine what she described.
“A household like that would teach a person very quickly that privacy and secrecy are two very different things.”
Then he shifted back toward the more serious part of her answer.
“The mission.”
He didn’t ask what the mission was.
The immediate tightening in her wording when she referenced it had been obvious.
“What’s interesting is that you didn’t say the mission taught you not to trust people.”
His voice remained conversational.
“You said the investigation taught you some things were better left unsaid.”
Samuel rested an elbow on the arm of his chair.
“Those aren’t the same lesson.”
His eyes met hers.
“One is about people. The other is about consequences.”
He let that sit for a moment.
“My guess—and it is only a guess—is that whatever happened, you learned that words have weight. Information has weight. Once something is spoken aloud, it stops belonging entirely to the person who said it.”
He shrugged lightly.
“Starfleet isn’t exactly a place that disproves that lesson.”
Another brief silence followed.
“You know, most people who walk into this office try very hard to convince me they’re fine.”
A faint grin appeared.
“You haven’t done that once.”
His tone wasn’t accusatory. If anything, it sounded approving.
“You’ve told me you’re private. You’ve told me your record is heavily redacted. You’ve admitted that a mission affected how you deal with information. You’ve openly stated you’re only here because regulations require it.”
He spread his hands slightly.
“That’s actually a fairly honest introduction.”
McIntyre leaned back.
“So let me ask a different question.”
His voice grew thoughtful.
“When you’re not in a cockpit, not on duty, not carrying classified information, and not being Lieutenant Emberlee…”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Who are you?”

Lieutenant Jr. Grade Samuel A. McIntyre
CNS USS Chimera