TBC/ Cleo & Barnes

Posted on 24 Apr 2020 @ 6:52am by Lieutenant James Barnes & Lieutenant JG Cleopatra McCaine PhD

2,445 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: M-17: Blood Moon Rising
Location: tbc
Timeline: tbc

[ON]

Glad to be back at Deep Space Five, where there was at least something approximating civilization, and with R&R days to burn, Cleo had no hesitation in heading onto the space station in search of some drink that couldn't be shook off, some company that couldn't be programmed, but firstly, food that didn't come out of replicator. And Deep Space Five had plenty of that. Even if the ingredients themselves were replicated, it was cooking by hand that made every experience, every dish unique. There were plenty of restaurants on the promenade, but she knew from their last stop that there was just as much creativity going on on a smaller scale at the bottom of the promenade, where the shops gave way to the park and arboretum, mimicking open space for the residents. As well as open spaces, and living plants, and a few small shops with the Bajoran temple, there were the food carts. Only half a dozen, but they were amazing.

Today she joined the early lunchtime queue at Galactic Gourmet to Go. It had an eclectic mix of deliberately fusion cuisine - Hasperat burritos, and Targ hot dogs and Denobulan Shrimp Kebab. There was plenty of people who felt the same way, so she happily stepped into the queue behind a very tall, dark haired human, or human like, man who obviously liked to spend time working out. He was, to use a phrase, stacked.

"But is the hasperat properly spicy?" Jim asked, to no one in particular as he stared at the menu. The place had been recommended for someone that cared more for home cooking - especially for someone that didn't cook. He was looking more for something Terran in flavor and profile. Something that would remind him of home. He guessed one of the few good things about living on Earth - nobody knew anything about El Aurian cuisine and, with the total destruction of his homeworld there wasn't much to be done to recreate it. Like much of his culture.

Except...he'd grown to think of Earth as his culture now. He sighed, he wasn't sure the hasperat would be properly briny and spicy so he decided against it. All the while resisting the urge to turn to the woman behind him who was obviously enjoying the "view". Nah...

"What do you think? What sounds good to you?" he asked, turning so that she could see the front was as equally marvelous as the back. Why spend all that time in the gym if not to have his work appreciated?

She didn't waste the opportunity to appreciate the lines of his body, barely visible under the tight shirt. Then she raised "You keep feeding me lines like that, I'll be having beefcake in short order."

"Odd," Jim said, turning back to the front and taking a step forward as the line advanced. "I don't see 'beefcake' on the menu. At least," he said with a grin and a wink, "not theirs."

"Well," Cleo purred, "If you're ordering for lunch, I recommend the Enolian Teryaki. I like something a little salty and ready to go."

"Ah, I'm more of a crusty and salty kind of guy," Jim said with a shrug. "Been around a while."

It was always humorous the way Terrans reacted to his age...as if there was something wise and venerable about being nearly three hundred years old. His mother would be more than happy to disabuse them of that notion, at least where Jim was concerned. But, since the Federation was pretty much run by Terran conceit, he got to get away with it.

"I do hope so," She took a step into his personal space, "Fresh meat is always a nice treat, but I do prefer something a bit more... well hung."

Barnes took a step back as the line moved forward. He smiled as he glanced over his shoulder at the line. "Considering how forward you are," he said, leaning forward to keep his voice low. "You must be a counselor. So either you're conducting an experiment to see how people react to brazen forwardness or you truly are emotionally shallow." He shrugged, "The former is interesting, the latter...isn't. I've had my share of...empty calories...long ago and I'm afraid now I judge all potential partners against my mother. How do you think you'd stack up there?"

"You have carnal knowledge of your mother?" Cleo raised an eyebrow. "Freud would eat you for breakfast."

"Oh, gods, no," James said, shaking his head. "Please tell me you're not a Freudian. Then maybe I might not want to point out what his response to your 'eat him for breakfast' insinuates your own Elektra complex."

She looked at him. "You obviously know nothing about ancient theories of psychoanalysis. That doesn't indicate anything to do with an Elektra complex, as that's an issue with the phallic stage, whereas picking up comments about eating someone for breakfast indicated a complete lack of understanding of the oral stage and oral fixation, and other pre gential stages of psychosexual development theory - which was debunked two hundred years ago and then some. " She sniffed. "Its why of all the all historic theories I prefer Kleinian theory: object permanence and attachment were just starting to get into the real science, and she was grossly underestimated for her time. But if we're going to get psychosexual I find it more telling that you assume flirting makes a person emotionally shallow. I think there's a story there."

"Okay, okay," Barnes said, holding up his hands in a surrender/placating gesture. "I get it, you're a counselor. Only a counselor would be that passionate in defending psychological theories. Tell you what, join me for lunch and I'll let you know part of the story of being emotionally shallow. Deal?"

"Done." She said instantly. "But don't leave anything out. Omissions just delay growth."

"My parents would certainly love it if I experienced some 'growth' that led to maturity, well, my younger brother as well," Barnes said. "And my older brothers. At least one sister-in-law as well. My niece Dhara would hate it though. I'm her favorite uncle," he said with a proud swagger. He noticed he was next in line and began scouting out possible seating for them. After placing his order and getting his order number he stepped aside while the counselor placed hers.

Cleo gave hers and then joined him standing back from the food cart whilst the two bolian busily assembled orders. "I'm guessing Dhara hasn't reached puberty yet?"

"Ouch, Counselor," Jim said grabbing at his chest. "It was that feeling right there that you just stomped all over. Adults can like me. They just usually are too...adult. But no, she's only six. Or seven? Human years are so weird."

She arched an eyebrow. "Ah, now that's a statement deliberately engineered to provoke attention. And definitely shows issues around attachment. I could get very Kleinian, if you keep that up."

"Talk to my Mom, everything I do is designed to provoke attention, but do you want a conversation or do you want to analyze? I'll be glad for the former and will continue to fail to make an appointment for the later." Jim said shaking his head.

The cook called their orders and they took his hazperat tacos and her Bolian shrimp tempura over to one of the picnic tables. "You were going to tell me why you don't like flirting."

"I'm not sure that I dislike flirting, I mean, it's not just about getting sexual. But, shallow and meaningless sexual encounters?" He shrugged. "I've been there before and, well, it reminds me of those times. Times of cheap sex, drugs, alcohol and...anger and loss. And being lost. If not for my dad, I'm not sure I'd be alive today or...well...if I was, then probably just another wasted soul in the galaxy. But he was able to see pass all the crap I was doing and to who I should have been." He took a deep breath. "Probably not enough context for you, but to begin with. I'm a recovering addict. I came to Starfleet because, well, I was clean long enough to bypass their rules when I would never be able to follow my Dad into police work. My history with the police department just wouldn't allow it."

She popped a piece of tempura into her mouth and chewed for a moment, whilst she contemplated. "What makes an encounter meaningless?"

"This is certainly spicy," Jim said around a mouthful of his burrito. "But, to answer your question. Using the other person only as a means of satisfying your own selfishness."

She nodded sympathetically, "That's a very hostile motive to apply to those who flirt. You have had bad experiences socially?"

"You ever meet an orphan turned addict that didn't?" Jim asked with a shrug. "In the world of addicts, selfishness is the only thing that matters. You think you care about another person but, that's the drug talking. An addict will choose their addiction over anything else, including someone they 'desperately' love. Because the addiction is everything. Satisfying that addiction is everything. Learning to move past selfishness is hard and difficult, but necessary if a person wants to recover. And that means rejecting meaningless 'relationships'."

Cleo picked up another piece of tempura, bit it in half and chewed thoughtfully. "How do you know the relationship is meaningless if you refuse to even begin it. You seem to be prejudging fairly common social interaction that begin one, before the relationship actually occurs."

"Experience, Counselor, experience. Such as, I don't need to go into a bar to know that it's not a place I should be."

She nodded. It was something she saw a lot with addictions. The recovery got as far as abstinance and then stalled, the addiction still controlling them, restricting what they could and could not do in order to avoid the demon on their should. "Is that what your counsellor tells you?"

"Counselor?" Barnes asked with a short laugh. "What counselor? I'm security, Counselor, we avoid counselors like germophobes avoid the Dernalition plague." The joke being, of course, that the only harmful outcome of contracting the Dernalition plague, for those who are not Dernalition, is a mild case of discolored spots on the back of the hands. Completely harmless, yet still enough to create great fear in germophobes.

"That's not very mature. Sounds to me like your recovery is barely started, and your avoiding the people who can help you over the line?" She finished her last piece of tempura and opened her water bottle. "You posted here?"

"You know, with that charming chairside manner, I just bet you've got clients lined around the deck to see you," Barnes said, shaking his head. "My recovery is going along just fine, for a very long time, because I have people whom I trust and can confide in, or call, when I need some extra help. Those calls are few and far between now, but back in the day, they were necessary several times a day or even hour. But Mom and Dad, they've done an amazing job of helping me to get back on track." He looked at his finished meal and shrugged. "As for your other question, I'm on a layover actually, moving from one assignment to the other. Ship's here for a few days and I'm taking advantage of the downtime. You?"

"That was a neat deflect. Please answer the question." Cleo could find out. There weren't many el-aurians in the fleet. But she'd rather not have to make a fuss.

"Wow, you really don't ever turn it off do you?" Jim asked. "But since I'm not sure how much further we can go with my recovery - which you believe to be immature and mishandled - I'm going to assume you mean my assignment. I'm attached to the Phoenix. At least, I was until, I think, my psyche eval comes up lacking." He said the last with a smile and wink.

At the mention of the Phoenix, Cleo sighed a little internally. There were lines even she wouldn't cross. "It still does, as long as I see you on a regular basis. And as for how far it will go? I admit, it may go to nowhere. But as long as you aren't trying. So will you." She balled up her napkin and lobbed it gently into a recycling bin close by. "I'll expect you in my office no later than 48 hours after departure. Deck 4."

"Uh, huh," Jim said as he sat back in his seat. "And the basis for these orders would be?"

"Admission that recovery has stalled, and admission that you're avoiding treatment. That's a dangerous combination for someone who gets in stressful situations. I won't be doing my job if I don't keep an eye on you."

Jim nodded as he sat forward, arms propped on the table in front of him. "Well, Counselor, I have no reason to like you and, honestly, at this point, a lot of reasons to not like you so I'm not sure why I'm bothering with this advice. Except, my job is to keep people from harm, even if it's the self-inflicted variety. You could issue that order, which I'm clearly going to ignore because, quite honestly, you and I? We're never going to have a therapeutic relationship. Now, your next option will to be to try to force me relieved of duty or file a complaint with the CO...both of which is going to seriously call your judgement into question. If that's how you want to play this, especially as your introduction to this assignment, then be my guest. I've given you all the warning I'm inclined to give."

He grabbed his tray and detritus and stood. "Have a good day, Counselor," he said.

She watched him stalk away. Given his earlier avoidance, she expected the lashing out and let him walk away. She'd tack him down on the manifest and add the incident to his notes. Maybe a few days of stewing would have him comeback. Not to her, that was possible, but improbable, but certainly to arrange something with a locum. A lot could be done remotely afterall. And if not, well, that was his decision. Not one that would be appreciated by a promotions board, but she could respect it. "Well, at least the next tour won't be boring..." she frowned. She'd better head back to work.

Lt Cleopatra McCaine
Counselor
USS Phoenix

Lt. James Barnes
Security Chief

 

RSS Feed