"Scolded"
Emptiness is a complex thing. The meaning of it never truly hits you until you've seen the opposite end of the spectrum. I mean, there's a reason that absence makes the heart grow fonder; Human beings can only understand things to the point of their relative significance. It's just our nature. We've built our entire self on our experiences and what we've been taught- We're just not capable of fully comprehending beyond that.
Think about it. On a shelf, is a glass really void of something? Or do we only notice it's empty once it's been filled and drained?
Did we really hate being alone before we had our first relationship? Or did we only feel that dull, stinging pain after we knew what it felt like to be loved, only to lose it?
Hell, maybe I'm wrong, but it's hard not to think about that kind of thing when you're floating in a tin can through vast amounts of pure, black, depressing, empty void. I mean, how do you even wrap your head around that much space? Light years and light years of just nothing. Everything I'd ever know; each face, each vast plain of seemingly endless land, or awe-inspiring spaceship- nothing, nothing could even come close to comparing to that amount of just absence of anything.
Really makes you think.
And not in a good way.
The familiar 'woosh' of the door brought me out of my thoughts, and I quickly straightened from my position against the glass to face its source.
A dark haired, medium sized woman entered the observation room. I recognized her. Deep, chestnut curls were done above her head, and her soft but structured face held seemingly pupil-less orbs.
She donned a lavender jumpsuit that complimented her slightly olive complexion nicely, and her posture screamed professional. That is, until her eyes found mine. Then, she hesitated in her steps, before giving me a sharp, seemingly unconscious nod, and her stance slackened to a more friendly one. The smile that grew on her face, though small, seemed wholeheartedly natural. I chalked that up to her just being overly-nice by nature. A characteristic which I was probably just lacking enough of to find her demeanor a little silly.
Nonetheless, I tried to return her smile with a half-pleasant look.
"Counselor Troi," I spoke. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Deanna's top lip curled slightly, showing me a flash of pearly teeth. She then responded in an accent I had never really placed down.
British maybe?
That was probably it, but I didn't know her well enough to actually ask or confirm what accent she'd based her English off of.
"Doctor Crusher sent me, actually." Her words had been spoken in the slow, melodic tone that one would use while amusing a child.
I inwardly winced. Doctor Beverley Crusher was more or less my boss. The disdain must of shown on my face because Troi paused for a moment. Then, the corners of her lips quirked up be-musingly and she casually paced towards me, stopping about five feet short of where I stood and continued.
"She seemed to be under the impression that you've been," Her brow arched slightly. "Purposefully avoiding your duties recently?" The words were spoken as more of an inquiry than a recollection.
My jaw set in place. The motion was more out of defeat than frustration, but both were somewhat prevalent. "I suppose you're here to deliver me to her then?"
"Not exactly." Deanna took two short steps up to me, resting her hand on my upper arm. "You haven't been making any of your appointments, Rheid."
I tensed at the contact, and then even more so at her statement. I mouthed something along the lines of 'ah' before averting my gaze. I didn't want to face the concern that rested on her features. Her eyes always did that little softening thing when she was worried, and that level of genuine emotion tended to make my resolve falter.
So, my eyes remained trained on the floor.
"About that-" I started.
"I'm not asking for excuses." Troi reassured, "I just want to let you know that if something's going on..." She trailed off.
Against my better judgement, my attention flicked back up to her face. Deanna gave my arm a slight squeeze and her face warmed. Damn it.
"I don't bite. And I'd be happy to talk with you".
Damn it.
"I, uh.." I swallowed. "I'll keep that in mind, Counselor."
Deanna Troi all but beamed at that.
"That's all I ask." She said. Her hand dropped from my side to meet her other palm behind her back, both now neatly tucked out of view. The white-collared stance found its way back into her form.
"Now, will you see yourself back to your post willingly, Doctor, or must I escort you there?" Her tone was light, but unwavering.
My hands went up in mock surrender. "Message received, Counselor. I know the way."
Deanna nodded curtly, but didn't move to leave.
I hesitated, but wearily fell into steps that brought me out the door despite myself. The woman's eyes followed me until the entrance closed in another 'woosh' behind me.
Pausing for a moment, my eyes drifted to the observation room now at my back. I grimaced. Deanna had seemed genuinely happy at the prospect of me confiding in her. Of course, I didn't actually plan on doing that, but that didn't mean I felt all that great about misleading her. She was... Well, she was trying to help. Even if she barely knew me, she felt the need to go out of her way and offer me what she could. Which was even more reason to decline her offer. Counselor Troi was good people. You don't put that kind of baggage on someone like that.
So, with some effort, I turned away, and begrudgingly willed my feet to move for sick-bay, where a very ticked off Doctor Crusher was likely waiting for me.
I made good time for someone walking to their possible death. A mere seven minutes, and I'd found myself outside the door, and it only took two more of me pacing the hall in front of it for me to finally work up the nerve to actually go inside. The second I entered, cold blue eyes fixed on me, and Beverly Crusher crossed her arms.
Doctor Crusher, though only average height and build, could be an incredibly intimidating woman. With pale skin, sharp features and fiery red hair- She somehow held the energy of both a favoured aunt and a cutthroat business woman. It was kind of freaky, actually. That, combined with her piercing blue uniform, steely gaze, and the witness-less sick-bay we now both faced each other in, and I was understandably a little nervous to be facing her.
"Uh," I began, lamely. "What's up, Doc?"
She didn't blink.
I waited to see if my expert humour would be, at the very least acknowledged.
Her head tilted expectedly, and she tapped her foot on the ground a few times.
Everyone's a critic.
"Look," I started. My head turned, but that didn't stop me from feeling the less-than-friendly energy she was giving off.
"I know what you're going to say, and I'm sorry- I have the reports you asked for, I've filed the request for the tricorders, I just-"
"Doctor Korvinn." She interjected, a hard emphasis on each word. I had to work not to physically cringe. I managed it.
Barely.
Beverly's next words came out even and powerful.
"When you were assigned to my staff, you were given a responsibility. And, while you've undoubtedly been completing the more technical aspects of that, you seem to simply disappear at even the slightest glimpse of an actual patient- Which, might I remind you, is completely unreasonable and unprofessional."
I went to speak.
That received a sharp, unimpressed look.
I promptly shut my mouth again.
"If you hadn't wanted to actually do this job, then you should not of accepted the position. I did not go out of my way to have you assigned to me to gain a secretary. I did it because you are one of, if not the most promising doctor Starfleet has ever seen at your age."
I almost laughed.
"So," My boss prompted. "Are you planning on telling me why the hell you're so determined to neglect your duties recently?"
There was a heavy silence. A few times I moved to speak, I really did. But, my throat just clamped up. It was a predicament that, despite my best efforts, lead to my face mildly resembling a fish gasping for air for a few moments.
A sigh drifted from Beverly's throat. Her posture relaxed and her facial features followed suit, though the frown remained. She looked tired.
"Rheid, I-"
A shrill sounding 'chirp!' rang through the room, followed quickly by a "Doctor Crusher."
It was a familiar voice- I found myself playing a silent game of 'Guess Who?' for a lot longer than I should have, before promptly giving myself an internal slap to the face. The Doctor's hand moved with a swift, likely reflexive, tap of her badge.
"Captain?" She replied.
"You're needed on the Bridge."
The woman took a deep breath, giving me a sidelong glance. Her voice did little to reflect that hesitation, though.
"On my way."
She didn't receive a response. I doubt she needed one.
Doctor Crusher turned to face me as silence blanketed the room.
"Beverly, listen I-"
She put up her hand.
"I don't need excuses, Korvinn." Her tone held far less venom than before, but still held its firmness, "I need you to ask yourself why you're really here. I know you have more than enough skill for Starfleet," She said. "The question is if you have the heart for it."
That... Hurt a little.
She moved to leave the room, but stopped and turned to me.
"I expect to see you here first thing tomorrow."
And, with that, she walked out of Sick Bay.
Leaving me there.
Alone.
Damn It.