Burn To Ash: A Star Trek Fanfiction (Spock x OC)

Chapter 7

When I woke up the next morning, the Medbay was devoid of patients. I stretched, and left to go to mine and Lucille's quarters to get dressed. I did so in the span of about five minutes. I figured maybe if I was quick about it, I could ditch mine and McCoy's appointment.

I made my way down to the cafeteria and sat down at mine and Spock's table, eating faster than I usually did. Suddenly, a voice rang out.

"Miss Evans?" the voice said, deep and slightly husky. My stomach sank as I realized who it was.

"That you, Doctor?"

"Correct. I believe we have an appointment this morning, Miss Evans," McCoy said, suddenly emerging from behind a wall that separated mine and Spock's table from the bridge crew's table. I internally grimaced.

"That we do, Doctor."

"Go ahead and finish your breakfast. We'll go to my office. Take your time," he said calmly, getting a coffee from himself. I did as I was told and after I had eaten, we were on our way to McCoy's office.

McCoy's office was very simple-looking, with white walls and a desk with some chairs. We both sat down, and we sat in silence for a bit.

"Alright, let's get this ball rolling," McCoy said, bringing out a PADD which he kept in his desk. I drummed my fingers on the arms of my chair. McCoy studied me for a moment.

"You're not liking this, are you?" he asked.

"Is one plus one equal to two, Doctor?" I replied, rubbing my temples slightly. McCoy studied me for another moment.

"Your information mentioned that you had seen a therapist when you were in the Academy. Did you like her?" he asked. I exhaled, long and deep, before burying my face in my hands.

"I'll take that as a no, then. Why didn't you like her?"

"Because she was a condescending, judgmental, confidentiality-breaking hag," I replied, disgust flowing in every part of my body. McCoy's eyes went wide, and he looked pretty ticked.

"She...broke confidentiality?"

"Yep. Heard her gossiping about my nightmares to some boyfriend of hers. I walked in on them kissing and talking before my appointment. Haven't gone to therapy since," I replied. McCoy huffed.

"I despise those kinds of people. They completely disgrace the profession!" McCoy said, waving his hands around. He took a deep breath, collected himself, then poured himself a glass of whiskey from a bottle he kept in his desk. 

"What we're going to do today is lay out some groundwork. First, since apparently it was too complicated for your other therapist even though it's a basic tenet of the profession, whatever you talk about in here with me will not leave here. I won't even tell the Captain. The only time I will tell anyone about our sessions is when I have cause to believe that you could potentially hurt yourself, or someone else. You understand?" he asked. I nodded. 

"Second, I'm not going to put you on medication right away. I think it's important that we figure out some healthy coping mechanisms first before we try medication. I say this because there's a chance you can become addicted to it, and addiction and PTSD are a bad combination; I've seen it in many people throughout my career, and it isn't pretty. I also think that you staying away from caffeine and alcohol would be a good idea, at least for right now, for this reason. I'm not saying medication is never an option, just that I don't want to try it right now. You understand?" he asked again. I nodded again. The sound of footsteps throughout the ship soon came to my ears, and we ended my first therapy meeting. I went to the bridge, and McCoy to the Medbay.