Kero sat staring blankly at her PADD. It must have been five minutes since she said, "Computer start recording."
How long had it been since she last set foot in the bar? And who did she have to meet first out of all the people? The counselor, who happens to be a Betazoid of course. There is something about being next to someone who you know can read you. You start thinking of the things you don't want them to know about as a by-product of thinking you better not think those things in their company.
Did Katriel pick up on anything?
When Aravissa went away to speak to the other officer a few tables ahead, Kero felt like her heart stopped beating. Now the attention was entirely on her. She made an attempt at a conversation with a Vulcan to try and sway that attention, which failed. Vulcans aren't necessarily chatty. It just wasn't working out. Kero left before unwelcome questions came her way.
And now she was left with a pre-debrief report to record. What would she say? Where would she start? Kero laid back on the bed and threw the PADD on top of it, resigned. The entire mission was a mess – heavy accusations about things she wasn't even aware of were raised against her.
A tear ran down the left side of the Captain's face, as she clenched her bed sheets into her fist. Images from her past flashed in front of her eyes… That passion, that care, which were quickly swallowed by fear and guilt. Above all, that feeling of betrayal. How could she not know? How did she not realise?
"Computer – Kero managed to finally utter with a broken voice – where is Commander Katriel Sedai?"
"Katriel Sedai is in her quarters." The computer confirmed.
Kero motioned towards the communicator on her bedside table, but suddenly stopped, her hand hovering over the badge for moments that seemed like minutes. The half Klingon suddenly burst in tears and retreated in her own arms. She laid like that for the rest of the sleepless night.
Kero adjusted the top of her uniform. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, hoping she managed to hide those slightly darker hues under her sleep-deprived eyes with her make-up.
The doors hissed as she walked out of her room. A few steps to the left was the turbolift. While waiting somewhat impatiently, she brushed off her skirt. Hm... She could really murder for a Raktajino.
Finally the elevator doors hissed open. Kero looked back up and stepped in.
"Oh, hello counselor", she said after recognising Katriel Sedai's persona.
You've got to be kidding me.
Katriel barely glanced up at the shifting-open turbolift doors, just enough to identify Kero standing there, before looking back at whatever she was studying on her PADD.
"Hello, Captain," she replied in an even tone. "Going down, I take it?"
"Yes, I thought I'd have a drink at the bar." Replied Kero while trying to keep her cool.
There you go, she's not even paying attention to you, counselors don't just go around scanning minds.
Kero took a deep breath and silently stood in the turbolift waiting for her destination. Usually she would have at least cracked a joke, but she wasn't in that state of mind. She stared at the turbolift's entrance and her mind started to wander to what happened in her last mission once more, almost forgetting where she was.
She blinked when the reality hit her once more – she was standing into a turbolift alone with a Betazoid. Her heart started to race in apprehension when she realised she had shed a shy tear. Kero shifted her body slightly and changed the direction of her gaze to try and hide the side of her face where the tear had fallen.
She won't be needing to read your mind if you don't act normal...
Whatever was on her PADD wasn't quite interesting enough to completely distract Katriel from the slightly deteriorating Captain that was sharing the turbolift with her.
It was a fairly frequent dilemma that passed her way, actually, having to choose whether or not to say something to someone in distress. Between struggling to respect others' right to privacy and share only what information they wanted to share, and ... well, her job and her innate desire to relieve other people's stresses, it was easily a decision she had to make on too regular a basis.
Katriel's lips pursed as Kero's posture shifted. It was too much this time.
"Captain, this may seem like a stupid question, but ... are you well?"
"Why are you asking?"
Wow, that was defensive. Loosen up.
Kero made an effort to at least look towards the counselor. She was caught despite her best efforts.
"It's just a fly in the eye."
Of course, Kero, there would be flies in a turbolift, with the advanced systems of a Starbase and all the medical technology we now have to make sure people don't get sick. Not.
Kero looked away, her lip quivered. She knew she gave it away right in that instant. An officer with her medical and scientific background wouldn't say something like that. Her mind was flailing.
She could give up the act or call onto her Klingon side and start to be aggressive like she always does to hide when she can't handle something... and then blame it all on being "half Klingon" and hating it.
Kero looked Katriel straight in the eyes.
"Tell me what to do Katriel. I don't know. And I am terrified."
The counselor considered Kero for an extended moment or two, the humming of the turbolift remained the only sound. Then she half-cleared her throat.
"I have ... or, well, had ... a tapestry in my office, once. It had an Andorian parable scripted onto it, a short tale of a young boy who meets the wise village elder."
Katriel's tone was measured patience as she went off on this seeming tangent.
"The boy asks the elder to tell him the saddest, most despairing story that ever existed. But the village elder simply replies that he cannot. 'I can only tell you the saddest story that I know,' the elder explained. 'For the most despairing tales are borne silently and alone by their players. They are never to hear the ear of another, and that is why they are truly sad.' "
She waited a moment and ventured a glance towards the half-Klingon Captain. "Does that help?"
Kero remained silent pondering on what Katriel had just said.
The turbolift doors hissed open. They had arrived at the bar. The Captain was somewhat worried about looking at the exit, just in case someone else was there and would have spotted her facial expression. She motioned towards the exit, looking at the pavement.
"Kat-Counselor. I am going to get a Raktajino. Were you fully booked up today?"
"My schedule is fairly light today, actually," her tone remained steady.
"Would you prefer to take some time and come by my office later today, or shall I accompany you to the lounge?"
She looked equally prepared for either response.
Kero stopped in her tracks. While she hadn't thought of it when she decided to go to the bar rather than using the replicator, now she was worried that in her current state of mind everyone would read her. She felt extremely exposed.
The Captain was never one to ask for help. Her First Officer always reminded her of that. She stepped back into the turbolift.
"I think I'll just go grab one from my room. Maybe call me when you have some spare time? I'll come to the office."
"As an alternative," the counselor decided to venture the suggestion.
"Several of the common areas in the counseling wing have food and drink replicators available. There's one not far from my own office."
Sometimes it was worth pushing your luck.
That was a very attractive proposition for Kero, who felt she didn't have much fight left. Accepting it however meant that she'd have to face the source of her trouble. Her head told her to go with the counselor. Her heart told her to hide far and away. All the while she felt like someone had stabbed her in the stomach.
Do this before you change your mind.
Kero looked at Katriel briefly, before averting her gaze to look towards the wall behind the Betazoid. Since she came back to the Starbase she tried to avoid the counselor, to prevent her, or anyone, to figure anything out.
Now she hoped words weren't needed, because she didn't have the strength to utter, "I'll go with you."
"Glad to hear it, Captain." Katriel nodded a little and, after ensuring Kero was safely away from the turbo's entrance, she raised her voice.
"Medical deck C, please."
The turbolift doors swished shut and they were on their way again. A couple moments of electronic humming ensued in the absence of conversation.
"Please don't fret, Captain," she finally spoke, tapping her PADD in a gentle rhythm against her leg, the contents of which were long forgotten. "We don't have to talk about anything you really don't wish to discuss."