Sage’s breaths came in ragged, desperate counts, “1…2…3…4…5 and exhale,” he whispered, clutching the edges of the sofa. It had become his lifeline. He sought solace in these rhythmic breaths whenever the conversation veered into dangerous waters.

But now, it wasn’t just a coping mechanism but a crutch, a lifebuoy in a sea of turmoil.

A voice, tinged with both concern and exasperation, pierced the air, “Are you resorting to breathing again? We’ve talked about this.”

Sage’s reply was sharp, almost evil, “No, it’s all you do. Talk!” His eyes snapped open as he rose, his voice laced with frustration, “Talking won’t fix this.” He pointed towards the door, his voice cracking, “It won’t…”

“What won’t it do, Lieutenant?” The Counselor pressed, undeterred, “You’ve stopped here week after week. It’s been…”

“I know how long it’s been. I was there, remember?” Sage’s voice trembled, tears threatening to spill. “It changes nothing. It won’t bring them back.”

“You can’t bear this alone…” the Counselor spoke but was interrupted.

“It wasn’t your hand on that phaser!” His words thundered, fists clenched, “You didn’t forget to check the settings!” He was nearly shouting now. “I did!” He exclaimed.

He sank back into the sofa, his voice a fragile whisper, “She was thirteen, just a child. One moment, she was there, and then…” The words hung heavy, his face etched with sorrow. “I didn’t know the weapon was set to…” he paused.  

He started to breathe again, but something was different this time. “One, check the phaser charge; breathe,” he took a breath.

“Two set the power level and breathe,” he took a breath.

“Three, aim, breathe,” he took another breath. 

“Four, breathe,” the tempo of his voice increased rapidly. 

“Five, Breathe.”

I mean, we’re trained for this, right?” he looked past the Counselor as if he was pleading with someone else in the room. 

“You couldn’t have known, Sage,” the Counselor’s voice held a gentle reassurance.

In the large open area behind the sofa, he could see Captain Naris at the very moment her daughter had died.  Her expression and the pain in her eyes burned into his mind. It was a punishment that would forever haunt him. 

“Grace,” he stammered, his words trailing off, unable to complete the sentence. “I turned to my left, and there stood the Captain. I was paralyzed. She had battled with such determination. That ship was her soul. She wouldn’t desert it.”

As Sage recounted the incident, a cold shiver ran down his spine, and his heart pounded in his chest. He could feel the weight of every breath, each inhalation dragging him back to that fateful moment.

“You understand, don’t you?” He asked, moving to the Captain’s figure.

Before the Counselor could respond, he continued, the words tumbling out, “But at that moment, I saw it. She’d lost everything. All she had was gone. Just like that… Naris surrendered to death,” he looked right into Naris’ eyes. It was almost like she was standing there.

“So your Captain fell before your eyes,” the Counselor stood up, walking over to him.   The Counselor placed a hand on his shoulder, saying, “I wish I had answers, but I don’t. A dozen more people are waiting outside, all with the same wounds. Honestly, there aren’t enough Counselors in the entire Federation to handle this. We’ve all witnessed devastation on an unimaginable scale. Every ship carries hearts just as heavy as yours.” The timer chimed softly on her desk.

“This was important,” she said, her smile gentle but weary, “difficult but important.”  It was a breakthrough, one that she had hoped would happen.  It was a small but vital step in the healing process.  

The soft chime of the timer on the Counselor’s desk seemed to echo through the room, a gentle reminder that time moved forward, even when wounds remained fresh. Sage couldn’t help but wonder if this moment would be the turning point he so desperately needed.

Two weeks later, Sage materialized in Transporter Room 1 aboard the USS Dragonfly, the familiar hum of the transporter dissipating around him. As the particles solidified, he met the warm gaze of the ship’s Counselor, Massi Evet. They exchanged a glance that spoke volumes, a silent acknowledgment of the storms they both weathered.

“Mas,” Sage greeted her with a soft smile, his voice carrying a mixture of gratitude and relief. Her presence had been a pillar of support in a stormy sea. She had been his life raft. With most of the Senior Staff having passed on or moved to other assignments, Massi was one of the few who understood what happened here.  She got it.

Massi’s eyes held an understanding gaze, her voice tender, “Sage, it’s good to see you.”

He stepped forward, surrounding her in a heartfelt embrace. It was a simple gesture, a profound connection forged through shared pain and the weight of their respective responsibilities. At that moment, the embrace spoke of trust, of finding solace in each other’s presence.

“Sage,” Massi said softly, her hand resting on his arm, “we’ll face this together. Neither of us is alone in this.”

He nodded, grateful for her steadfast support. At that moment, amidst the quiet hum of the transporter room, they both knew they were stronger together than apart. They were all that remained.  They were comrades in arms, bound by the heavy burden. The strength of their friendship was a source of light in the darkness that loomed over them both.