Christine gulped down the last of her cafeteria coffee and sprinted up the stairs.

She was late. Somehow everywhere she went this week she had been late.

The hall was long and poorly lit. More light streamed in from the windows at the end than came from the old ceiling fixtures. The sunlight reflected brightly up into her eyes from the uneven tiles that marked the hall as late 21st century.

She read the numbers aloud as she walked quickly up the hall, "827, 829, 835. 835?" She stopped suddenly looking around in confusion, "Where'n the hell's 831?"

She looked left and right up the hall, looked behind her on the opposite wall, getting no help from the stony faces of the grand paintings interspersed along the hall.

She walked up the hall another 5 or 6 meters and there was another hall that ran perpendicular, but looked in every way identical to this one.

Now 15 minutes late she walked down this hall, cursing under her breath, "It's a goddamned maze in here!"

Shortly she came to another intersection in the hall. This one ran parallel to the first. Taking a chance that the missing rooms were on this side she darted down the hall and immediately found her room.

"Oh I see," she commented to herself sarcastically, "831 is between 833 and 830A, I should have known!"

She didn't quite quell the growl of frustration as she reached for the archaic doorknob and opened the door.

It did not creak as she had been sure it would. It would have been fitting, in this run down old relic to have to meet some crusty old Freud quoting codger with a creaky old door.

The room inside was surprisingly modern. Who ever had decorated it had gone to great lengths to make it appear larger than it was. It was bright and open and immediately the woman felt very comfortable.

A small sound behind the door revealed a second surprise. Her counselor moved easily into view, holding a steaming cup of fragrant tea in hand. He was Deltan.

He wore a long flowing white garment that gave the immediate impression of a Tibetan monk. He turned and smiled at the woman easily and gestured to the couches across the room.

"Have a seat, Christine Chapel. I am Amlarda'an. Most people call me Don." He smiled again.

As she sat in the far corner of the couch she noticed a cup of rich dark coffee on the table, steaming hot.

He nodded to her indicating that it was hers. She raised a curious eyebrow and picked up the cup. "You're not going to warn of the evils of caffeine?"

From his sleeve produced an electronic pad with practiced ease and reviewed it, "It is not on our agenda for today, however if you would like to add it.." he looked up at her. There was a twinkle in his eyes. He was teasing.

She laughed, instantly comfortable with him. "No, thank you Amlarda'an. I just want to take care of business and get back to my school work."

"Very well then, let us get down to business." He reached to a low table behind the couch and produced a small stack of things that he deposited in Christine's lap.

"What's this?"

"These are the tools that we are going to use to help you get well again. A journal, which I will not read even if you ask me to. You are required to use a stylus of your choice to mark in it. I have included some with different colors as well if you are artistically inclined."

She opened the book while he was speaking, ran her fingers over the creamy white sheets. They felt impossibly smooth.

"There is a sensor in the cover that will indicate to my monitoring software whether you have entered anything in it. Your contract will require that you use this journal once every 24 hours at a minimum. I don't care if you just put a single dot of ink on the page, you have to open it and do it every day. Do you understand this?" His easy demeanor had somehow shifted to fatherly authoritarian.

She nodded.

"This is a handheld audio recording device. I want you to record things in it for our discussion. Things you think of in the middle of the night or between classes." He showed her how to record. "You can also use it as an emergency communicator, if you need to speak to me immediately. Although I don't believe we'll be needing crisis counseling, will we?"

She snorted disgustedly, "I don't know. You're the expert, you tell me." She was still irked that George had insisted she do this.

The tall thin man stared at her for a long time, neither offended nor amused.

She began to regret her flippancy. He was only doing his job after all. Her anger was better directed at George than at this man who was employed by Starfleet's CMO to help her.

"Interesting response." He finally broke the silence. "Hmm." He made a note to himself on his pad then looked up at her and spoke again as if there had been no lapse at all.

"In the beginning you will meet with me for one hour 3 days a week. If you must miss a session you will tell me at least one hour in advance. Anything less than that had better involve a supernova or you will be considered in violation of your contract. Do you understand?" She nodded again. "Violations of your contract will be reviewed by your sponsor-"

"You mean George Birdseye."

"Yes, I mean George. He's been very clear about the fact that if you don't do this you will be expelled from medical school. This is a copy of your contract. Please keep it somewhere safe. It is our commitment to one another that we will work together to help you get back to what you'd rather be doing. Agreed?" She nodded reading over the electronic pad he had given her.

"Lastly, you will have assignments to work on, as you would in any class. If you do the work you get back to work sooner. But if you don't do the work, you don't get out of counseling. Got it? Good. Now, for tomorrow, come prepared to tell me why you're coming to visit me."

"What?!" She sounded exasperated, "You've got my damn file, you know why I'm here."

He smiled sweetly and rose. He walked to the door as if he hadn't heard her and opened it. "No, Christine. I've read your file and I know why you were ordered to be here. I want you to tell me why you're coming."

She blinked. What an odd man.

She gathered her things, leaving the coffee untouched and left the room. The door closed quietly behind her.

She stood there for a long time trying to understand what had just happened.

Finally, deciding it didn't really matter she smiled to herself and moved out into the sunlight.

This was going to be all right.