Lieutenant (jg) Teles Ghimir sat in his small office.  His shift was nearly over, so the Cardassian ship’s counselor of the USS Culver City was sorting patient files for the next day’s appointments.  Fortunately, it looked like while he did have a number of appointments, they should – in theory, at least – all be fairly straightforward; a few cases of homesickness among some of the younger crew, a petty officer with a gambling problem, and a couple of people working through phobias.

Ghimir was just finishing the second-to-last file when his door chimed.  “Yes?  Come in!” He called.

The door swished open, and Lieutenant Commander Varyn K’lev walked in.  Ghimir stood quickly, surprised to see his commanding officer.  “Oh!  Hello, Captain.  I didn’t think we had a session today,” he checked his calendar, just to make certain;  sure enough, K’lev didn’t appear on the day’s appointment list, “what can I do for you?”

“I know it’s right at the end of your day, Teles,” K’lev said apologetically, “but I was wondering if you had a moment to talk?”

Ghimir nodded, motioning to a couple of nearby chairs.  “Of course!”  He took a moment to consider K’lev’s body language; something was clearly weighing on the Orion’s mind, so he grabbed a PADD to take session notes before he sat down in one of the chairs.

K’lev sat, offering Ghimir a grateful smile.  “Thanks,” he said, his face that of one trying to order their thoughts.

“Of course, Varyn,” Ghimir replied kindly; under a standing rule that Ghimir had put into place, once sessions started rank was left at the door, to keep the sessions casual and encourage honest discussion.  “What’s on your mind?”

“Did you hear about the Blythe?”

Ghimir nodded; while K’lev hadn’t had a chance to do an all-hands briefing on the subject, the ship’s rumor mill had quickly guaranteed that everyone knew.  “I did.  Is that why we were at red alert for a while?” he asked, already knowing that an affirmative answer was at least partially true.

“Yeah.  Apparently the Consortium had a couple more, and we got to hunt one down,” K’lev answered.

Ghimir made a note on the PADD.  “Sounds like that prospect excited you,” he said observantly.  “You said, ‘we got to’.”  He elaborated.

K’lev nodded.  “Enough that it scares me, especially in hindsight.”

“How so?”

“I mean, I’ve never liked the idea of people with power victimizing people without, or hurting people who didn’t deserve it.  And yet, even after Captain Tyler said that the Slivin had handled the shuttle that shot Blythe down, pretty much right up until we captured the other dampener-armed shuttle, I couldn’t help but imagine how satisfying it’d be to watch it explode under our phasers.  Then it had a friend show up while we were docking it, and I considered blowing that one up, too, before we captured it.”

Ghimir nodded sagely, making some notes.  “Why do you think you felt that way?” he asked.

“Captain Tyler had invoked General Order 13, because of the threat these shuttles presented.”

“That’s a legal justification, Varyn, but it doesn’t answer my question.  Why do you think you felt excited by the idea of blowing those shuttles up?”

K’lev took a breath.  “I mean, I was angry.  Angry and feeling vulnerable; Blythe’s a sister of ours, and we worked so well together during Rhontaka.  So when I found out she’d been downed, I dunno, I wanted revenge.”

Ghimir smiled; now they were getting somewhere.  “That’s totally natural.  So, why didn’t you blow them up?  What stopped you?”

“Well, Ophelia came up with an idea to capture the dampener-armed one, and for the other – well, for both, really – it just didn’t feel right to take the shot.”  K’lev shrugged.  “But I still thought about it.”

Ghimir leaned forward, setting the PADD on the armrest of his chair.  “Wanting revenge is natural, and equating vengeance and justice is an easy mistake when you want the first one.  But what matters is, when you had the chance to take revenge, you chose justice instead.  You chose not to take the shot, even though you had it.  You chose to spare lives instead of taking them, when the choice was entirely and exclusively yours.  And the fact that thinking of it is bothering you, says that you aren’t a bad person; I’d be worried if the thought didn’t bother you, and my advice is to make sure that you don’t get to a point where it doesn’t.”

K’lev nodded, smiling in relief.  “Thanks, Teles.”

Ghimir smiled widely, settling back in the chair once more.  “Of course!  And while I’ve got you, how are things going adapting to…?” he trailed off, indicating the metal outer plating that formed part of K’lev’s prosthetic.

K’lev touched it with two fingers, their tips skating over the metal.  “Well, I’m not scaring myself every time I look in the mirror anymore, so that’s something I guess.  It still doesn’t quite feel normal, though; I know it’s part of me now – both the plating and the eye – but it doesn’t quite feel like me again yet, you know?”

Ghimir nodded, making another note; he’d planned to ask about that during his next formal session with K’lev, but the timing presented an opportunity for an additional check-in there.  “These things take time; it’s only been a few weeks, really, so it makes sense that it doesn’t feel like you yet.  But I’m glad to hear that the mirror isn’t so frightening anymore, that’s a step in the right direction.  Are there any concerns you have about your prosthetic?”

K’lev shook his head.  “No, it’s working just fine from a technical standpoint; just need to work through getting used to it.”

Ghimir took another note.  “That’s excellent news!  Is there anything else that you wanted to talk about?”

“No, that was really it,” K’lev replied.  “Thanks for taking the time to hear me out, Teles, especially right at the end of your day.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Ghimir responded, standing.

With that, K’lev stood, shook Ghimir’s hand, and left the room, his steps lighter than they were when he had entered with some of the weight on his mind lifted and some direction for the future.  Ghimir quickly filed the notes from the impromptu session, then took a few minutes to straighten up his office before he headed out for the ship’s night.