Holding A Mirror: Part 1/2

Posted on Sun Apr 26th, 2026 @ 7:52pm by Lieutenant Colonel Jesse Moriarty & Lieutenant JG Constance 'Connie' Montoya

1,822 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Counsellor's Office
Timeline: Early 2389

Jesse pressed the chime, frowning slightly as he tugged his dark grey jumper into a neater line. He had kept his word and returned as per Connie's suggestion. But he....was a little nervous with it. He had seen a few counsellors over the years and it had taken some time to get himself fully under control from the PTSD. The idea that she wanted him to try and loosen that grip? It was unnerving.

"Enter," Connie said, standing when he entered. She didn't wear her uniform, having taken a leaf from his book with how he presented himself. She wore a skirt and a blouse, her hair slightly curled but pinned back. She gestured to the teapot and two cups. "Warm tea?"

"Good start," Jesse gave a small, half smile as he moved inside, moving to help himself to a seat this time rather than waiting. "I bet you even remember how I like it."

She chuckled at that, nodding as she poured it. "I was taught to be a good host, from a young age," she said, playfully. She offered it over to him once she had added the sugar and milk, meeting his eyes. "Remembering how one likes their tea was part of that education."

"Is it an important life skill?" he asked as he took the cup. There was no sarcasm in it, it was a genuine question.

"Not really," she said softly, her eyes gentle as she moved to pour her own. "But it is still a skill I have. I don't think it is really important...but it isn't wasted either."

"I...have not had anywhere to host until...3 years ago on the USS Prudence," Jesse murmured, almost to himself, as a realisation.

She looked at him with interest at him saying that, settling down in her chair. "How was it before? Within Starfleet, I mean?" she asked, opening up the conversation for that.

"Cramped," he replied, with no small amount of dry humour. "When I enlisted, it was barracks. When I became an officer, it was more private, but I still ended up sharing a room with another officer through my Lieutenant years, due to space. It wasn't until I became XO on the Prudence that I finally got my own room," he paused, looking into his tea with a frown. "I...think it was the first since I was a kid."

"How was it?" she asked, sipping her own tea as she studied him. "Having your own room after so many years of...hearing someone else breathe?"

"Strange," Jesse admitted quietly. He'd learning long ago that there were only two real tactics when it came to counselling. Tell the truth or be economical with it. "The quiet was...deafening."

She nodded, considering it for a moment, her eyes on him. "How did you adjust?" she asked, before a small smile came to her. "Did you adjust?"

"I played a lot of music when I had to stay in," he shook his head before sipping his tea with a slight frown. "Still do. But I don't spend that much time there. There's work...training...checking up on the barracks."

"But when you are alone there...in silence...what happens?" she asked, not pushing as much as...putting the question out there. To see if he'd answer.

"It feels unnatural," Jesse shrugged lightly with a slight frown, sitting back with his cup resting on a knee. "Like I'm waiting for the hammer to fall."

She nodded, accepting the words before she studied his face. "And what do you do then?" she asked, pushing gently. To see if he'd lead her down this lane.

"Leave," he replied bluntly but honestly, even shrugging lightly with how used to it he was. "There's always somewhere to climb or run."

Connie watched him, nodding before she sipped her tea. She wondered if he ever had felt settled in his own space. She somehow doubted it. "Not everyone's good with silence," she said, after a moment. She had known many people who weren't. "And you're someone who has spent the majority of your adult life with people in your personal space."

"You get used to it," he shook his head with a frown, sitting back with a sigh. "The hardest bit is not having a choice who you're bunking with. There's always one arsehole out there that no one wants to be with."

"How did you deal with that? The ones you did not want to be close to, yet you were," she said as she looked at him, searching his face.

"Grin and bear it...that's the phrase, right?" Jesse pulled a leg up to rest his foot on his knee, wrapping his hands around his cup. "It's part of the deal when you join the Forces."

"It is the phrase...not entirely sure how healthy it is," she said but with a small nod, accepting it. He was an intelligent man, sensitive in his own way. Not...in an obvious way. But she could see how he had worked his entire career. "I know you said you felt you had to become an officer, in order to...survive," she used the phrasing deliberately, paraphrasing what he had said but wanting to see if he'd challenge her on it. "But did you want to?"

Jesse fell silent at the question, frowning as he looked into his tea, his eyes intense with it. "I...wanted to protect my position," he replied carefully. "There's something...comfortable about being enlisted. You do what you're told, when you're told. You watch your back, and the person's next to you. No debates, no second guessing. Until you do second guess. And then it gets messy. If you want control, you become an officer. If you want purpose, you become enlisted."

"And now?" she asked, wanting him to think about the journey...about where he was now versus where he had been. If the fit was better now.

"I'm not like the others," Jesse replied with absolute certainty on the matter, shaking his head with a slight frown. "I started off from somewhere just...too different. But I've worked just as hard to get here. And I work just as hard now I am here. I get the job done, and I don't forget the cost to my people along the way."

"You don't need to be a carbon copy of others," she said as she gave a small nod in agreement. "And...it is a good quality in an officer, in a leader. Remembering the cost."

"I...never expected to be made up to CO here though," he admitted openly, shaking his head with a frown.

Connie smiled gently at that, taking a deeper breath. "I am not surprised personally," she admitted and there was warmth in it. "The Colonel had set it up but...I think he recognised that a detachtment like this needed a...younger eye."

"Sometimes, it seems like my whole career has been an....accident," he shrugged with it though, as if it were of no real consequence either way.

"And yet...here you are. In charge of a detachment of troopers," she said, her voice soft as she looked at him. Quiet. Thoughtful, but there was a firmness underneath it as well. "Not just leading them, but in charge of their wellbeing."

"That's the bit I like," Moriarty replied quietly, setting his cup carefully on the table. "Not the wondering if I made the right call bit, or the worrying if they'll all make it back bit....but the making sure they're okay part. Helping them become the best of who they can be."

She met his eyes, holding them for a long moment before she looked down, into her own drink. A small smile was on her lips at that. "Well, if it makes you feel better...from what I hear, you are good at that," she said and then put her own drink down. "What becomes difficult though? With that?"

"When it doesn't go well," he replied bluntly, seeing no point in avoiding the question. "When there's casualties, and you're left to wonder, if you'd have made another call, it'd been different. When you try and bolster someone but they just don't respond."

Connie watched him for a long moment, the corner of her mouth tightening just a fraction at the blunt honesty. It made a difference, to her anyway. "That tells me you care about them as people, not pieces on a board," she said quietly. "But it also sounds like you are holding yourself responsible for every outcome you do not like." Her eyes stayed on his, not looking away. "What do you usually tell yourself, afterwards, when you are replaying those calls?" She was tested if he used logic, or if it...stayed with him, emotionally.

His frown deepened as he tried to think on it. It was hard to grasp after the fact. "I go through all the other options, all the other routes that could have been taken...whether it would have been better in hindsight."

"And what is the conclusion? Most times?" she asked, eyes on him before she reached to refill their tea.

"Oh, there's always a better solution in hindsight," Jesse shook his head as he looked to her with an arched eyebrow. "You know that."

Connie gave a small smile, putting the pot dowm. "I do," she said, letting out a soft breath. "And usually, I find it days later...late at night..."

"So why are you asking me questions you know the answer to?" he asked bluntly, but with no sore feeling. He couldn't work out if it was because she thought he was fragile or was testing his honesty....so he asked.

"Because I know my answers to them. But I don't know how you process things, what you carry with you and what you leave behind," she replied just as bluntly, watching him. "I wanted to make sure you weren't beating yourself up when things went south."

"It's our job to," he replied firmly, shaking his head with a slight frown. "If not us, then who? It's the only way to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It is your job to learn, yes. But also recognise that you can only do so much with the information you have at the time," she countered as she met his eyes. "Learn from it, but don't carry it like a chain."

"Someone has to remember them," Jesse replied quietly, looking down with a frown as his fingertips plucked invisible dust from his trouser leg.

"The outcome...or the dead?" Connie said as she looked at him, serious as she sat back a little in her chair.

"Both," Jesse replied shortly, his lips shifting as if he'd just tasted something unpleasant.

TBC:

Lt. jg Connie Montoya
Counsellor
USS Guinevere

Lt. Colonel Jesse Moriarty
CO, Federation Ground Forces
USS Guinevere

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