Good Coffee and Mental Unpacking
Posted on Thu Apr 24th, 2025 @ 6:41am by Lieutenant Amelia Johansen & Commander Saul Whitford
2,808 words; about a 14 minute read
Mission:
The Campaign for Coridan
Location: Dr. Johansen's Office, USS Unicorn
Timeline: 1 Day after "Unlikely Friendships"
Amelia was currently the ship's psychiatrist and for the moment the only counselor on board the Unicorn as well. She put in a lot of extra work to get to the know the crew on a more personal level so that she could watch for signs of distress. She had concerns for both the Starfleet crew and the MACO division as well, for slightly different reasons. While it was the war with the Romulans that was not only wearing everyone down just by the fact that it had been a gruesome war, Amelia was well aware than any kind of long term stress could make just about anything else that might be going on in one's life that much more difficult to cope with.
She was sitting in her office when Whitford rang the chime. He hadn't quite planned on attending the Counsellor's Office, but following his encounter with Reese and T'shir the night before, he thought it best to check in, and talk some things out. The Martian had realised for some time he wasn't quite himself. Leaning against the doorjam, he waited for the Johansen to either acknowledge him or shoo him away.
At the sound of the chime, Amelia got up from her desk and opened the door to see Commander Whitford standing there. "Hi there, Commander. Come on in," Amelia said with a cheerful smile. "I'm not sure why the door was closed. I must have forgotten to open it back up when I was finished dictating some reports. Are you staying a while? I do have a coffee maker in here, and I think we have some juice if you'd like something to drink."
'I'll not say no to a coffee, ever,' Whitford replied with an answering smile. Stepping through the door, he looked around the space. 'They've given you a nice place here, Counsellor. Or Doctor? I know you're a psychiatrist, just want to address you correctly.' Standing near the door, he felt a little awkward, not quite knowing the protocol to follow.
"Amelia works," she said with a smile before walking over to the quaint coffee machine that she kept in her office. She grabbed two cups and tapped the control to begin pouring. "Unless you're uncomfortable with that, then I'll answer to doctor, counselor, lieutenant, whatever you prefer. But I prefer Amelia, especially in here."
She handed the commander his cup of coffee. "Do you take cream or sugar?" She asked.
'Neither for me,' Whitford replied eagerly, 'I've never particularly enjoyed cream in my coffee.' He nodded in the direction of the coffee machine. 'Is that an antique, Amelia?' he asked, test-driving her name. Whitford found that he was comfortable enough to go with her suggestion. 'I'm surprised they let it come aboard.'
Amelia took a seat in one of the extra guest chairs, rather than behind the desk and glanced over her shoulder at the coffee maker. "Not exactly, I don't think anyway. It's a drip brew, but the machine is perfectly safe. If you want good coffee, Dr. Coleman and I both got you covered down here in the medical wing. Stop by anytime. We don't bite, and sometimes we even have candy."
Amelia took a sip of her coffee, appreciating the burn of it being just a little too hot to drink at first. She leaned back in her chair and gave him a look that was somehow disarming and showed concern at the same time.
"So, what's been on your plate this week? Keeping busy, or have things slowed down some?" She asked.
'I think things have slowed down from category four to category three hurricane,' Whitford smiled, taking a seat. Taking a deep swig of the coffee Amelia had given him, he appreciated the taste. 'That is damn good,' he said before picking up his thread. 'When I came aboard it was as Lieutenant and Chief Armoury Officer. It's been barely a few weeks and I've been moved up to First Officer as well. It's ... ' he hesitated, then ploughed on, 'it's enough to make your head spin, really.'
"That really is," Amelia agreed. "Even during peace time, I would think that big jump in responsibilities would be a lot to process," she added with a serious nod. "To add to it, you've had to manage all of this with a war going on. And not just any war, Earth doesn't really have much experience a war on this scale. We're still learning who and what is out here, and there isn't a good way to try and understand our enemy."
Hunched forward in his seat, Whitford pulled a thoughtful expression as he nodded in response. 'Yes, I suppose that's a part of it as well. Huge personal change set against the backdrop of a war we never really thought we'd have to fight.' He gave a small smile, 'not even after the Xindi. Certainly, this isn't why I signed up for Starfleet either. I might man the weapons, but I do believe in is mission statement to explore and further our knowledge of what's out there. This is ... very different.'
"How are you processing the difference? Are you processing the difference?" Amelia asked.
He made an 'aw shucks' expression, and shrugged. 'I don't think I am, if I'm honest.' Whitford leaned back and explained, 'I was having a conversation earlier with our Vulcan Sub-Commander, T'shir. She's an interesting person,' he easily admitted, 'she mentioned that if Vulcan crews find an inefficiency they study it to find out how best to deal with it.' He shrugged, coffee forgotten, 'I don't know the first thing about mental health or going about this ... so I thought I'd come to an expert.'
Amelia gave Saul a warm smile. "I appreciate that."
"As for Vulcan crews. Most Vulcan spend the greater part of their adolescence in practices meant to subdue and suppress emotional responses. I don't know about you, but I think most of us who were raised on Earth had pretty much the opposite experience, good or bad," she pointed out.
"We're different," She continued. "That's not to say we don't know how to suppress our emotions. There is a lot of necessary compartmentalization that humans do when put under pressure. I'm sure you've found yourself doing that a lot lately. But at some point we usually get to a point where we have to start unboxing. And it's pretty common in times like these - when that flight or fight response starts to wear off a person might feel like that pressure cooker is going to explode, or the box that's been holding everything in is starting to fall apart."
"Anything sounding familiar?" She asked.
'The box, maybe,' Whitford admitted, nodding at the analogy. 'I don't feel like I'm going to explode, like a cooker. I do feel worn down and a bit frayed at the edges.' He sighed, 'there's not really been a lot of time for unboxing as it were. At the moment, I feel like the next thing could be the thing that tips me over, you know. Not towards a breakdown exactly, but to shutting down just to cope.'
"Shutting down to cope, is that something that has worked for you in the past?" Amelia asked.
Blowing out a breath, he squinted as he tried to recall and shook his head. 'Actually, I'm not sure I've ever had to. Aside from filial disappointment in my joining Earth Starfleet, and occasional run-ins with Nausicaans, I'm not sure I've ever had to sustain this much pressure for this long a time.' He shrugged, 'I'll fully admit as a junior officer I'd blow off steam fairly hard off-duty, but with my position being what it is now, well, that's not really an option. So it's all being boxed up.'
Amelia grinned at the commander. "If you could do anything you wanted, no consequences, right now, what would it be?"
He blushed in response, shuffled in his seat. 'I, uh, that's probably not for polite company.' Whitford paused, then carried on, 'I'd settle for a night on the town, some good drinks, prefereably strong, and then some dancing late in to the night.' He flashed a smile. 'That would be ideal right now.'
"Why don't you give yourself a night off and fight a little spot on Coridan to do just that?" Amelia suggested. "I'm sure the locals have some recommendations. People need a reprieve during times like these. And these moments of quiet only come when they come - we don't get to choose. You have to take advantage of them when they are here."
Shifting in his seat he thought about the proposal. 'A pass would be great. Especially as it's quiet. But if I go, one of the others has to stay here, you know how it is. Not sure that taking another's place sits too well.'
"You take turns. Everyone needs a break. You need to give yourself the same permission your give your crew to to take some time off," Amelia stated. "It's not only good for you, it's good for the crew. Let me give you a metaphor."
"When the cabin starts to lose oxygen, you have to put your own mask on first, or you won't be able to help anyone else with theirs. It's a habit of senior officers, parents, certain personality types to always put everyone else first, but when you do that, it's not just yourself that you are hurting. It can be the people that you are trying to help, your job performance, your relationships that can all take a hit, because you are trying to do all the things when you aren't at your best."
Whitford sat a moment as he considered her words. She was right about his personality type. He would put others before himself, even if it would eventually wreck him. Eventually he nodded, and broke into a rueful smile. 'You're right, of course. I should look after myself, otherwise I'll be useless to others. Some R-and-R will do wonders ...'
"Yes it will," Amelia agreed. "And I'm sure the fort will hold itself down just fine without you for a night."
He flashed a smile, 'I hope so, I'll need my bunk after a night out.' His expression turned serious. 'Thank you for talking this through - I'm sure my issues aren't as serious as some of the others, but I've appreciated your time.'
"Anytime. My door is always open. Even if you just want a cup of coffee sometime," Amelia replied gently.
'Oh, you may not want to make that offer,' Whitford laughed, 'your coffee is the best I've tasted aboard, you'll never be rid of me.' He nodded a quick bob of the head. 'But I'll take it in to consideration, thank you. If there's anything the department needs as well, I'll try and rustle up some requisitions for you.'
"I appreciate that. I think the hardest part hasn't even started yet, unfortunately," the counselor replied. "I think we're good for now, but we know to take what we can when we can. You never know how long these things might last."
He nodded, smile disappearing as quickly as it came. Whitford pulled out the small medallion from around his neck. 'Well, see, you never know. But for me there's an underlying faith that Saint Christopher will intervene on our behalf, and God will provide. Or, you know, resourceful Armoury officers.'
"You didn't mention you were a person of faith before," Amelia noted. "One's faith can also be very grounding in these times of upheaval."
'Well it waxes and wanes, if you know what I mean,' Whitford said with a small smile. 'At the moment it's waxing.' He pointed towards the silver medallion. 'Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travelers. It's my abuela's influence. We visited her in Argentina as often as possible - she ensured I got my Catholic upbringing, much to the chagrin of my parents. When I entered Starfleet, she gave me the medallion, said Saint Christopher would watch over me always.'
"That's really nice. A piece of your grandmother to keep with you as well," Amelia replied. "And I'm sure you aren't alone, turning to faith right now. I believe there is saying that goes way back - 'There are no atheists in foxholes.'"
'No that's true,' Whitford replied, wondering if she counted herself amongst them. 'It's a comfort at the moment, like I said. The Chaplain has been quite wonderful. But of course, faith is faith because it can't be proven - there's no way for us to know whether this is what we should be doing, never an answer either way. So occasionally, it can be as much of a hindrance as a help.'
"I believe in the Catholic church the Saints are known for their good works in addition to their miracles," Amilia opined. "I think as long as it isn't an excuse for inaction or for waiting for something to happen it can be helpful. The point is still to keep moving forward in some way."
'Moving forward is key in any aspect of your life,' Whitford smiled, his burden already beginning to lift during the course of this conversation. It simply felt good to talk out his issues. 'I think if a person stagnates it drags them down, they get into a rut, and it's difficult to get out of.'
"Newton's first law!" Amelia replied cheerfully. "An object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion. One of my favorites. You know my great-grandmother - she's in excellent health for her age, and she rarely lets anyone do anything for her, like physical chores and things. She says that when you stop doing things and 'get down' - that's what she says, 'get down' then you'll never get back up, and that's what makes people get old. And she doesn't plan on getting old." Amelia laughed with fondness at the memory as she told the story.
Chuckling as he listened to the story, Whitford delighted in Amelia's laugh. 'She sounds like a formidable woman - not unlike my abuela. No-one dares crosses her, and she still keeps the same routine she's had since I was a kid. Up at the crack of dawn, exercise, then the day's work. Incredible woman.'
"She does sound pretty incredible," Amelia agreed. "Such an incredible time for them to have lived through too. Can you imagine what it was like to see the world as you know it change so rapidly?"
'Not at all - thought to them it must have just seemed like living life,' Whitford said with a smile. 'No doubt we'll look back at our own lives once we get to their age and wonder at all the changes that have happened - especially since Enterprise was launched. Not sure anyone's really witnessed as much change as has happened since Archer went out in a very long time.'
"I suppose you have a point," Amelia conceded. "I guess I get stuck thinking on where could we possibly even go from here. What's beyond the universe we are already exploring?"
'It's not a bad thing to think about,' Whitford replied kindly. 'And someone has to ask those questions - but I'll leave that to philosophers and scientists. I'm much more a nuts and bolts guy. So long as I have concrete tasks, I can keep myself happy, for the most part. Find meaning in the work.'
"They do say that the secret to happiness is to be present in the moment. Find joy in the now - not in what was, or what will be. So, you might be on to something, there," Amelia replied with a friendly wink.
He blushed slightly at the wink, then blew out an indrawn breath, and slapped his thighs, 'well ... I better get going. You've given me a lot to think about, Amelia.' He grinned, 'and thank you for it - I'll be bearing them in mind over the coming days and weeks.'
"Of course." Amelia stood up to see the Commander out. "Happy to help anytime."
'Til next time then,' Whitford gave a wave as he made for the door. 'And let me know if you need anything from me.'
"Will do. Have a great rest of your day. And take that time off," Amelia reminded him.
Commander Saul Whitford
Executive and Chief Armory Officer
Unicorn NX-151
Lieutenant Amelia Johansen M.D.
Psychiatrist
Unicorn NX-151
RSS Feed