I want a new drug...

Posted on Sun Jul 12th, 2015 @ 12:57pm by Lieutenant Arnon Barak MD, PsyD & Sergeant Amarylis Beckinsale

1,731 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Deadly Diplomacy
Location: Arnon Barak's Office
Timeline: Current

ON

Arnon sat across from Amarylis Beckinsale. They had been sitting and saying nothing for several minutes.

"Sergeant," Arnon said. "Do you think that you have a drug problem?"

"No. I was forced to. I kicked it once, i'll kick it again." Amarylis scoffed crossing her arms looking away from the counsellor.

"Have you started attending the 12-step meeting that we have on the ship?" Arnon asked. "You aren't the only one on this ship with substance abuse issues you know. That would be a good place to start. You know as well as I do that while I can help you to certain extent, your fellow addicts will be able to help you more than I can."

"I'm not an addict!" Amarylis exclaimed insulted by the councillor's comments. "I WAS an addict but I'm not now. I don't need any stupid cuddle sessions, or story time or anything. I'm not addicted." She began to fidget with her hands as she grew restless. A bead of sweat ran down her forehead.

"The thing with being an addict is that you never stop being addict," Arnon said. "The only question is whether you're using or not. If you didn't learn that the first time you got sober then you didn't really get sober."

Amarylis reached into her uniform retrieving a necklace pulling it from neck and throwing it the the counsellor's torso. "That's five years, five YEARS! You tell me I'm a failure now."

"If you were five years sober," Arnon said. "Then you know you start over from zero when you use again. And I assume that the age on your file is correct and that you are not an adolescent. Throw something else at me or raise your hand to me and this session ends and we start from scratch tomorrow."

Amarylis began to sob. "Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I feel disgusted, ashamed of what I just did? My career is probably over. Everything I did, worked for, fought for, sweat for! GONE." Her rage sent her into a full blown crying fit as she curled herself into a ball on the chair hiding her face behind her knees. "I screwed up bad."

Arnon let Amarylis sit in silence for a moment before he spoke. He handed her a box of tissues.

"Now," Arnon said. "Now we can move forward. There are at least three meetings a week, one for each shift. Will you agree to attend all three for the time being? I'll make sure you have permission to do so."

"Mmhmm." Amarylis nodded in agreement.

"You're a strong young woman, Sergeant," Arnon said. "Just take this one step at a time. Would you be willing to talk to me a bit about what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Amarylis asked apprehensively.

Arnon tread cautiously.

"Well," he said, gently and carefully. "I was wondering if we might discuss what event or events in your life instigated this relapse. If you are more comfortable doing that in meetings with people who have been through what you have been through, I will forgo this line of discussion...for the moment. At some point we will need to discuss at least what kinds of things you are discussing in recovery, without violating anyone's trust. I'll need to get an idea of how ready to return to duty you are."

Amarylis bowed her head down as she struggled to remembered what exactly had happened. The details were fuzzy. She felt as if the memories were there but she could not recall them. Maybe she was just reaching for something that wasn't there. "I don't know. I mean, there's Alexandra's death. I don't handle loss all that well you know." She began to fidget with her fingers and play with strands of her hair.

"No one really handles loss well," Arnon said. "We all just muddle through as best we can. How did losing Commander Vance make you feel. I realize it seems as though that question should have an obvious answer, but I'm interested in specifics. Angry, enraged, sad, depressed, scared? You can choose more than one and feel free to bring up an emotion I haven't mentioned, provided it accurately describes your feelings regarding Alexandra Vance."

Feelings? You mean the tempest of emotion that has clouded me since that evil bitch took her from me? How the hell can I just describe that? Amarylis thought to herself as she struggled to maintain a grip on her thoughts. And then as if caught in the eye of the storm, in a time when the winds, rain calmed and the destruction turned to a moment of serene clarity. "Anger." Was all she could mutter.

"That's a start," Arnon replied. "Angry is normal. Do you still feel angry about it? Or have other feelings come up?"

Amarylis slowly rose her head to Arnon, her eyes following the slow ascension. She snarled as she stared at the counsellor filled with eyes of hatred. "There is only anger." she said in a deep tone mimicking her feelings.

Arnon nodded.

"It's natural to hold on to your angry feelings when someone you love dies," Arnon said. "Doing so keeps you from experiencing the other feelings associated with loss. Sadness hurts, and holding on to anger seems to hold off the pain of sadness, the pain of loss, the emptiness that one can when someone you love is no longer in your life. All the more when the person you love has died. What about the death of Commander Vance makes you feel angry?"

The answer was so simple yet Amarylis found it difficult to find the words. There was so much, she could write an encyclopedia, but through all that had happened. Between all the pages, the spine that held this anger together was one singular root. Morat

"I can feel your rage," Arnon said. "But, if I may be so bold, bottling it up is what led you back to alcohol and narcotics. Perhaps it is time you faced your feelings."

Amarylis snickered. "Oh, I plan on it."

Arnon looked at her.

"When I suggested that it was time to confront your feelings," he said. "I meant your feelings, not what you consider the source of them. I would guess that you have plenty of experience lashing out at who and what you think has harmed you. What you have little experience confronting the feelings themselves."

"The only thing I feel out there is recoil." Amarylis quipped as she smirked at the thought of those who had crossed her scope.

"I don't think that's true," Arnon replied. "I think that's how you hide from your real feelings. I also think that's what led you towards falling off the wagon. The truth is that you cannot escape your feelings. They are always with you. If you face them, you can deal with them on your own terms. If not, your feelings control you."

"You may be a head shrink, but you have no idea who I am." Amarylis responded sharply in a lowered tone.

"How convenient," Arnon replied. "I don't understand you. No one understands you, and therefore they can't help you and you get an excuse not to change. Everyone is unique, but do you honestly think that you are so unique and no one can even come close to understanding you?"

"I didn't say no one understands me." Amarylis replied back sharply. "I said you don't. But if you think you are so all knowing tell me, how much actual combat have you even seen?"

"First of all," Arnon replied. "I have never and will never claim to be all-knowing...well, maybe in jest, but never seriously. Secondly, I was a private medical contractor for Starfleet and the Starfleet Marine Corps through all twenty odd years of the Cardassian Border Wars and again during the Federation-Klingon War and Dominion War. I served in forward area medical units in both conflicts. The demands of my job would at times call me out into the field. I've been shot at and at times I've shot back. I also spent three years with the Cardassian Reconstruction effort. So with all due respect, I've seen more war than you have. Of course the real truth is that you are unwilling to face your feelings and you are using an imagined superiority over me as an excuse to avoid them. If I am wrong then please enlighten me."

"Gladly. Because if you really understood me." She leaned in towards the counsellor glaring him in the eye. "You would know I don't hold myself above anyone. Marines are a team, Marines are only as good as their weakest link. Marines work as one, for the common goal and no man or woman is better then the other. I'm sorry I disrespected you sir, but I don't think this is going anywhere. Let's call it a day?"

"No man or woman is better than another," Arnon replied. "Except for Amarylis Beckensale who plays by her own set of rules and everyone else be damned. I'm okay with ending for today. I'll see you next week. Same time work for you?"

"Do I have a choice?" Amarylis shot back sarcastically.

"You always have a choice, Sergeant," Arnon responded. "As long as you are willing to accept the consequences. In this case, your progress towards returning to duty will become stalled. If you continue be non-compliant you will likely be involuntarily separated from the Marine Corps and returned to civilian life. The ball is entirely in your court."

"Whatever, just call me next time you need me." Amarylis replied dismissively getting up to leave the room.

"I'll do that, Sergeant," Arnon said.

Arnon watched Beckinsale leave. He shook his head. So much anger, such a dark outlook on life. Some of that came of her profession, but Arnon had counselled other marines, including special operations marines. The healthy ones learned to compartmentalize. Work was work and home was home. This was, of course, more difficult if you had no life outside of your work. Commander Vance seemed to be the sum total of the sergeant's life outside of work and with Vance gone, Beckinsale seemed to floating adrift on a sea of rage.

OFF

Lieutenant Arnon Barak MD, PsyD
Chief Counselor

Sergeant Amarylis Beckinsale
Marine Sniper

 

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