Ways In, Ways Out
Ways In, Ways Out
Summary: Zaharis goes for his Regas-mandated psych eval with Eve.
Date: 43 ACH
Related Logs: Confession is Good for the Soul
Players:
Eve..Zaharis..

Psychiatry Office Genesis - Deck 13
42 ACH 6285 Souls


This room is decorated in a deep, rich green color. Some plants are in pots here, including one climbing Ivy on a small trellis which stretches up the side of a wooden bookcase set against one wall, filled with textbooks. There is a desk in front of a few file cabinets in the corner of the room farthest from the door, while opposite the bookshelves there is a comfortable looking leather reclining setee with a large leather chair next to it with an unobtrusive table nearby with a box of disposable tissues on it.


The office is quiet, but Evelyn is here. She's been staring at the same spot on the wall for some time now. Her desk chair is tilted backwards, her arms folded over her chest. Its Zaharis' file that sits on her blotter now. Its Zaharis' file she doesn't really want to look at. The door is open.

Booked ahead of time, Zaharis is only about two or three minutes late for the appointment. In off-duties, he made his way through Sickbay without answering any curious looks, heading into Eve's office with a light rap of his knuckles on the doorframe.

Eve snaps back into the here and now at the sound of the knock, but she doesn't pop to her feet. "Major…" Her voice almost sounds like a soft humm, her head hitching towards the coffee pot. "When I meant a drinking partner.." She she lets that sentence trail off, then asks. "Want a cup? Brewed on of my last remaining pots, just special."

Zaharis raises an eyebrow at her trail-off. "Sure. Coffee's good." He sits down in the first place that seems appropriate, not used to being on this side of a desk in Sickbay. A pack of cigarettes is dug from a pocket and set down so they don't end up crushed.

Eve shifts then from her chair, filling a mug for both him and herself. "Smoking again?" She asks, slipping a cup infront of him before going to retrieve the garish plastic ashtray he had sent up from central distribution which seems like a decade ago.

Zaharis' hand pauses. He seems a little uncomfortable with this whole eval thing, considering her question. Is that part of it? "Yeah, I guess so."

Eve notices the pause. In these four walls, it pays to notice everything. "I'm really not that scary, am I Major?" She asks, before drinking noisely from her cup. She moves back around her desk to retake her chair, sinking into it with a satisfied sigh. "Three days since my last cup of coffee. I wonder what the chances are of finding a planet fully populated by coffee beans…" She flashes Zaharis a smile, swivelling in her chair until she fully faces him. "Doctor to doctor. I'm only here to help."

"I'm here for an evaluation," Zaharis corrects her, gently. He lights his cigarette and settles back in his chair. "However that works. The last one I had was a long time ago." A short drag on the smoke and he pulls the ashtray closer. "I assume command's letting me be the one to tell you exactly /why/ I'm here for an evaluation."

Eve pauses a moment as she goes to take another drink of her coffee, watching Zaharis for a moment over the rim of her cup. "So you're here for the full song and dance, then, instead of just a sounding board. Alright, Sir. Why are you here?"

"Because just after the PAS incident I began self-prescribing an amphetamine. Baxadrin." Zaharis replies, ashing his cigarette. "A day or two later when I couldn't handle the crashes I also self-prescribed seronol, a barbiturate. And it just got worse from there. I increased my own dosage instead of stopping when it became apparent that I was getting dependent on them. When we found the Persius I stole from their supplies and lied on the forms. Finally when I did stop I did the detox off-ship, on the Carina. That was three days ago." Another flick of the cigarette into the ashtray and he looks directly at her.

Eve reaches forward to flip open his file, thumbing a few pages up to something that stood out in his history and physical. She reads quickly. "Alright." Is all she says to that for the time being. Her gaze lifts to find his again, unflinching at the directness of her CMO. "Now what?"

Zaharis gives her a slightly amused look. "Commander wants an evaluation. I came. Your turn."

Eve shakes her head slightly. "No. Now you tell me. What you're going to do." Her voice is even, neither admonishing nor accepting. Neither positive or negative, she's painfully…neutral.

Zaharis takes a short drag off his cigarette. "Well. There's a few things they want me to do while I'm on AIQ, then…professionally, we'll have to see." He frowns faintly at that, but goes on. "And personally, I have a lot of work to do on myself."

If only this were a conversation held over a glass of booze instead of coffee that despite all its graces, just doesn't seem to be doing the trick. "Tell me about it?" Evelyn's tone is firm in the request. "The long of it."

"Of which part?" Zaharis asks for the clarification, lifting the cigarette for another drag.

Eve waggles her finger at him, a bit of smile returning to her lips. "Now. Behave. I can write 'uncooperative' on my special form here.." She drags one out of a desk drawer and pats it down next to his file. "Start personal. We'll work to professional."

Zaharis frowns slightly. "It was just a question, Lieutenant." He doesn't look at the form, shifting in the chair in a manner that's becoming uncomfortable again. "Well, you have my file in front of you. I don't really have to tell you that it wasn't the first offence in my life; it was a relapse. I'm a drug addict, have been since I was thirteen. And I'm old enough and know myself well enough not to lie and just declare that it'll never happen again, or any of those delusions. There's no end of the path for a drug addict, just steps. I had to sit in my bunk last night, contemplate the fact that I might be thrown out of the military for this, and ask myself whether or not I honestly cared if I stayed sober or not. I came to the conclusion that yes. I do care. It's a fight that's been part of me for 23 years and yes, I wish to keep fighting it."

Eve leans back in her chair, away from the forms and away from his file, but of course she drags her cup of coffee with me. "Now tell me what you're not feeding everyone else."

"What would you like to know?" Zaharis taps the cigarette against the tray again. "How much I hate myself? How aware I am that not a single person I talk to really understands a word I'm saying? How tired I am of getting virtuous lectures from virtuous people? How much this utterly sucks? They're all valid."

Eve looks like she very much wants to comment on that, the crack in her professional veneer quickly spackled closed again. Its not her place to give commentary. Only questions, evaluations, assessments. "What was detox like? Beyond the physical."

Zaharis raises a brow when she just moves on, but he goes on with her. "Waking up from detox…" He says, after a moment or two of smoking his cigarette. "…is the moment where it all comes down on you exactly how much you have completely and totally frakked up everything…/everything/ you've spent every sober second of your life working for. It was one of the desperate moments I have ever felt."

Its her job to pick out the details that need attention, and gloss over those that don't. When he admits, they move on. When he glitches, Eve pauses to gnaw at it. Here, she choses to gnaw. "So. What outweighs what? The way you feel on the drugs, or the never getting to feel that way again?"

Zaharis shakes his head slightly. "I don't understand your question."

Eve purses her lips slightly, brain working to reform the question. "Do you want the drugs. Or do you want your life."

Zaharis finally looks away from her. Not down, just away. "I'm supposed to say I want my life. That's what a normal person says. That's what a 'cured' person says. But I'm a drug addict, Lieutenant, and things aren't that beautifully, morally easy. If they were I would never have relapsed in the first place, as I could have just 'Chosen Life' or whatever that stupid slogan is they use in those programs where none of the counselors have ever had an addiction in their lives. I want my life but that doesn't explain how I am what I am or why I'm sitting here right now having nearly thrown it all away for a handful of pills. My body and my mind still crave them sometimes. Yes, sometimes I do want the drugs…gods sometimes I want them more than anything else. And I'm not supposed to say that but that's an addict's truth. It's what I have to accept in order to say yes, I want my life. I don't want to be hopeless. I don't want to be out of control. I don't want to be what I am when I'm high. I want to be something more than 'the junkie'. That's what I want."

Eve gives a brief nod of her head, "Good." In truth, she looks a touch relieved. "That's all I need for today, Major." She leans forward, picking up a pen and scribbling something quickly. "Once a week. That is my suggestion to your superior. That I'll see you once a week. Do you have any issue with that, sir?"

"No," Zaharis replies. "But I do have a question."

Eve gives a brief nod of her head. "By all means." She continues scribbling for a moment, but then looks up expectantly.

"Are you an addict or an alcoholic?" Zaharis' tone isn't mean-spirited. But nor is it seeking some blithe answer.

Eve lifts her pen, gaze leveled across her desk at Zaharis. With her thumb, its clicked closed. "You would have me lie, and say yes, as that's the only reason I could truly understand you. Or would you have me tell the truth, and say no, so you could toss away all my good intentions and training and scoff saying 'She simply doesn't get it'. But how about I meet you in the middle, Jesse? I wake up every day, and think about going to the head. Stringing myself up in the shower. Ending it. Because it would be easier. I sit and think immoral things about my patients, because the physical is easier then the mental. Because the truth is, none of us are perfect. None of us pristine in our virtousness. But maybe, just maybe, we could benefit from talking to another person who will simply just listen."

"You're being unfair to me," Zaharis replies, simply. "Someone who's never thrown their lives away over drugs or booze has an automatic mindset. Morality. Judgments. They think it should be easy, even while they say they know it's not because the psych books say it's not. And while they try not to show it they're clinical. But you always know. Seeing that in someone's eyes hurts, El-Tee." He exhales slowly. "I've been in those kind of thoughts before. I've tried to actually do it. Didn't succeed, obviously. Man, it sucked." He gives her a slight smirk. "But I understand that. I'll meet you on that path as well as I can." He starts to stand. "Regas wanted a copy of your evaluation, if you don't mind."

Eve runs a hand down her face. "Frankly, frak the books, sir. Maybe this will be a learning experience for us both." She looks back to her papers, a set to her jaw as she clicks the pen back open. "This will be on the Commander's desk first thing in the morning." For once, she gets to send him out of -her- office. With a lot less grr of rank, of course.

Zaharis drums his fingers on the back of the chair. "Mmm. Maybe." He pauses a moment. "I'm writing something for Regas. A proposal for a dedicated sobriety program. If you want, I could use help."

Eve glances back up, her eyes starting to pinch as she's not using her reading glasses. Again. Headache surely follow. "I would like that very much. And maybe down the road, something for anger management. If only to annoy the marines."

Zaharis snorts. "Chemical castration, I keep telling them. Anyway, put an icepack on your eyes, the headache will be gone in no time." He's a doctor, the squinting is noticeable.

Eve finds her smile again, though its faint. "Icepack. I will." No 'thank you' in case it might be misconstrued.

Zaharis is clearly tempted to keep trying to take care of her, as is his professional reflex. But he's forcibly off-duty and so damps it back down. "Talk to you later, Lieutenant." And turns to go.

Eve mutters at her papers as she signs off on his scheduled therapy times of once a week. "Yes you will."

You head towards Sickbay.

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