Summary: Zaharis calls his sub-heads to the office to come clean about himself and to talk about the Carina.
Date: 47 ACH
Related Logs: Too many to count.

Chief Medical Officers Office Genesis - Deck 13
47 ACH 6285 Souls

The office of the Chief Medical Officer is a small room, used mostly for consultations and review of sensitive patient materials than the paperwork of the Medical department, which goes through the Naval Administrative offices. Still somehow it has file cabinets along one wall stuffed full of papers, two chairs in front of a desk behind which a large leather chair is set. On the desk sits a computer terminal.
Sitting on the file cabinet is a Rod of Asclepius carved from two different types of wood. The rod is made from lighter wood, while the snake is darker. The eye of the snake is inlayed with tiny crystals so that it sparkles in the light. It stands on a smallish pedestal with a legend: Do no harm to thyself nor to others.

That time has rolled around. Thad presumably had some sudden surgery to do. Zaharis is at his desk with several identical folders marked 'Carina' on them. Though his focus is not on the folders as he waits for the lead people to make their way in.

And there's an extra chair to accomodate everyone.

Eve makes her way in with the rest, moving behind a chair to stand there until she's invited to sit by the CMO. She wears her normal pleasant smile on her lips, though her eyes are shadowed as if she could beneift from a few dozen more consecutive hours of rack time. "Sir." She greets quietly, studying Zaharis' face as she's apt to do.

Making his way into the office, Craven takes a moment to look around before making his way over towards the chair. There's a flash of a smile towards Zaharis, followed by a nod, "Sir." Then, he's moving to slip into one of those chairs, heading turning enough to nod to the others.

Reighner arrives from sickbay proper. He's unusually taciturn, and his demeanor is guarded, but he nods once to acknowledge Zaharis. He assumes a seat and crosses his legs, leg to knee, and laces his fingers around the propped knee.

Zaharis motions people to sit, and begins without any small talk. "You see couple of folders on my desk here. They're important, but before we get there, there's something more important for me to say to you. You're not the first I've talked to. You're not going to be the last. But you are people that occupy certain positions in this bay, and you deserve to hear this straight from me." He pauses and rests his arms on the desk. "Most noted I was out of the office recently. Some of you know I was on AIQ. Fewer of you know exactly why. It was because over a nine day period I had developed a pattern of abuse of a stimulant and a barbiturate, which I broke and then admitted to command. While I was out I kept sitting in front of my laptop trying to draft out what I would say to you all after command made their decision. I kept stopping and putting it off. I should not have. So I'm just going to talk to you without the index cards, if you'll give me a few minutes to speak."

Eve shifts around to take her seat, apparently the last to do so. She folds herself into the chair, obediently falling quiet to give Zaharis the respect he's due. Its clear she still thinks highly of the man, despite the man's infraction, but she's had longer to deal with the news than most.

There's a slight arch of Craven's brow at this confession from Zaharis, but for the moment, the Medic remains quiet. There's a slight smile upon his lips and he brings his hands to his lap, folding them together.

This does not seem to be new news for Reighner as well, but he seems to have the opposite opinion than Eve, judging from his expression — lips drawn in a tight line, eyebrows flattened and lowered.

Zaharis then talks. "When I was thirteen years old I had a drug problem. I was sixteen when I broke it, by grace of intervention and factors that even after all this time I still struggle to understand. When I joined the military I disclosed it the day I enlisted. It's been in my file ever since. I have never lied to the fleet about it, and I have never hidden anything."

"For twenty years, since I was sixteen years old, I had been completely and totally clean. For the nineteen years I have served the military, I had not violated the trust of my commanders, my instructors, my peers, or my subordinates. For twelve of those years I was a licensed substance abuse counselor, on-base and off on Picon. It was something I felt I had a responsibility and a desire to do."

"I wanted you to know all that, but not because it's a defence. Things got out of control because I let them get out of control, period. I am not proud of myself. There is nothing excusable about what happened and there is absolutely no-one to blame but me. Only a small part of this is ever about the person it happens to. What it should be about and what it has to be about is you and everyone else to whom I owe a huge responsibility."

"I told the Commander and the XO exactly what happened. I did not ask for leniency. I submitted a report of what I would have done had it been someone other than me. Command made a decision that I know was extremely difficult, and it was not a decision of instant forgiveness or of laxness. It was not a decision that gives me the right to pretend nothing happened. I am not under a delusion that I don't have trust to earn back. Not only from command but from you. I did something that I stood in front of you and begged you not to do to your own selves. I remember having listened to this once myself, from a commander I had years ago. I remember how hurt and pissed off I felt, and I am ashamed of myself to be here doing the same to you."

"I'm not asking for your sympathy. I don't have the right to do that. I can't regain lost faith just through my words, that's not the point of this. The point is to say that I was wrong. That this was completely and utterly my fault. And that I am sorry. And that I ask — not demand, but ask — for your forgiveness. Not right now, just listening to this, but one day when I have taken enough action to show you that these aren't empty words. That my dedication to you, to this ship, to this fleet, and to what we are here to do is unshaken. If I can't do that, it will be my failing."

Listening to this, Craven allows his eyebrow to remain arched upwards and he adds a slight cant of his head that. There's a slight moment in which he's quiet and then he's allowing his hands to uncross from his lap, hands rubbing lightly on his legs, "Sir, if I may ask a question?"

Reighner tilts his chin up a couple of inches, but otherwise, he doesn't betray any particular emotion.

Zaharis nods to Craven. "Yes, Lieutenant."

Craven's giving a slight nod towards Zaharis, "Thank you sir." He pauses long enough to inhale softly, before releasing the breath, "Are you done, sir? As in, I trust this incident is behind you?" Another pause and he finally allows the brow to lower, "And if so, are you getting help for it?"

Eve likely could answer this question. But this is Zaharis' show, and its important for him to voice it himself. Evelyn just sits back a bit in her chair, so she can include the others in her eyeline, studying them now as much as the CMO.

"I am done with it," Zaharis replies to Craven, "In the sense that I acknowledge it and I have been over and over every second of what happened. I know now what the triggers were that I ignored when it was happening. To your second question, yes I am."

There's another nod from Craven and he's giving a quick smile, "Good enough, then." His hands clasp back together in his lap and he seems to be content to move on.

Eve is making mental notes, of course, from the lines of Reighner's face to the easy acceptance of Craven. Zaharis is getting the lion's share of her attention, however, finally saying, "The important thing here, at least to me, is that you didn't hide from it. From us."

"As I said, I'm not going to up and pretend this makes everything shiny and pretty." Zaharis pulls the identical black folders together on the desk. "It's just groundwork." Three of the folders are set out, one for each of them. "This is a copy of a proposal to renovate and expand the Carina's medical facilities, based on what engineering thinks is feasible and what supplies we have available, mostly from the Persius. What I need each of you to do is take it, look at the plans, and submit any critiques you have, since you will all be looking at this from different angles."

There's a nod to Eve, but Craven doesn't say anything further. He doesn't seem displeased about anything and when the folders are laid out, he's taking the one for himself and immediately opens it up so that he can give a cursory scan to what's inside.

Eve takes hers as well, flipping it open to glance inside. "I was talking a few things out with Doctor Reighner earlier…" She nods vaguely to the man sitting there beside her, as one hand pats at the top of her head in search of her glasses only to find them clipped to her collar instead. They're clicked open and settled on her nose as she peers at the proposal. "I thought about starting a grief support group down there. For civilians and fleet personnel alike. I think that an neutral setting for military folks would help them open up and it would also alleviate my case load of people who don't necessarily require one on one attention.."

Craven continues to review the material and he's remaining quiet for the moment, letting Eve and Zaharis banter about grief support.

Zaharis has a legal pad open for notes, and as Eve starts to talk he makes a small bullet and scribbles. "And how do you see that working with regards to group directors? Would it only be you, or would you be training civilian personnel?"

Eve rewets her lips as she reads, then pauses to peer over the top of her folder to Zaharis. "It would actually work better if I wasn't involved at all. It would merely take a moderator or two, depending on the size of the groups involved. I could train three or four civilians. They'd need a place to meet, as well. Preferably away from alcohol and other distractions." So taking over the Sports bar during off hours is right out.

Zaharis nods, writing a couple more notes. "You don't think that holding meetings at the clinic itself would work? After they finish the extra rooms, that is."

Eve flips through to where the layout pages are shown, pulling that octagonal page forward to the front. "It /might/, but that's not necessarily neutral. Walking in to the clinic might make some people feel as if they are afflicted some how. What about adding a seperate entrance here?" She holds up the diagram and stabs a finger at it, "Or does the hotel down there have a conference room?"

Zaharis gives Eve a slight nod at her comment about the clinic. He can understand that. His eyes squint slightly as he looks where she's pointing, and he glances down at his own diagram. "We could do that. I'm not sure about the hotel, only been there once. Lieutenant, can you make it your business to either take a look around the Carina for a suitable place, or delegate the responsibility? And let me know within the next two days."

Eve smiles a bit. "Refuse a chance to slip down to the Carina for a few days under the guise of recon work? I would be a fool to pass up that opportunity, sir. Might take more like three days. Just to, you know, be certain." She teases lightly. The folder is layed back in her lap, the paper she removed is reshuffled back into the packet of information where it belonged. "Will the clinic be a fully operational medical hub? Or will civilians need to be brought up here for more serious matters?"

"The Persius had a good deal of functioning diagnostic equipment, which you can see the full list of on the manifest in the back," Zaharis replies after he finishes writing. "Most of it will be given to the Carina. Advanced labwork will have to be done here. As for care capability they will be able to handle most of it…" He details out what they can't and can't handle, which isn't perfect but it's the best they can do. "Anything more serious than that will need to be assessed case by case to be brought here."

Eve gives a nod to that, flipping to the manifest as if she's back in school and the teacher has told her to flip to a page in one of her textbooks. She only recognizes a portion of what's listed there, drawing a definite line where her education branched off medical and strayed towards metaphysical. Her portion of today's show has been concluded.

Closing the folder, Craven 'hrrms' softly before shifting his gaze upwards to Zaharis, "Mind if I pop over to the Carina and check something before I give you a recommendation, sir?"

"It will take you some time to review the entire thing." Zaharis closes his own folder. "You can submit your critiques through memo or to me personally." He nods to Craven. "Anything done on the Carina with regards to this project will not count against your shore leave. Note down on the boards your in and out time and that it's for this project. If there is nothing else for now, you're dismissed."

Rising to his feet, Craven gives a slight nod of his head, "Aye aye, sir." He comes to attention and snaps off a quick salute before turning and making his way out of the office.

Craven leaves for Sickbay [o].
Craven has left.

Eve flips her folder closed, rising to her feet. "Thank you sir." Though for what, precisely, is left unclear.

Zaharis gives Eve a slight nod. "Be well, Lieutenant." He turns his chair back to his computer as they file out.

Eve leaves for Sickbay [o].
Eve has left.

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