The First Steps Back

Posted on 10 Feb 2026 @ 10:13pm by Lieutenant Commander Joey Geisler & Lieutenant T’Mari Rael

3,248 words; about a 16 minute read

Mission: Epitaph
Location: Geisler Quarters
Timeline: July 10, 2390 || 1300 hours

T’Mari walked along the corridor towards the Geisler quarters, she hadn’t really expected Joey to come to see her given what she’d been through. Not all patients wanted to be seen visiting a Counsellor, it made some feel it was a sign of weakness. Joey was a strong woman, but what she’d been through would break anyone, T’Mari wanted nothing more than to help her regain what she’d lost. Arriving outside the door she pressed the chime and waited for an invite to enter.

Inside the quarters, Joey sat on the floor with Alison and Jameson, watching as the twins babbled happily at one another over a pile of soft blocks. Rico and Pequeno were curled up nearby, both dogs dozing lightly in the warm, quiet space.

The sudden chime cut through the calm.

Joey stiffened.

Her gaze flicked toward the door, uncertainty tightening her chest. She didn’t call out—not this time. Instead, she rose carefully to her feet, brushing her hands against her pants as she moved toward the entrance.

“Computer,” she said, her voice low but steady enough. “Who's at the door?”

Both dogs lifted their heads immediately, ears pricked, bodies alert to the shift in her tone.

“Lieutenant T’Mari Rael,” the computer replied.

Some of the tension eased from Joey’s shoulders, though not all of it. She drew in a slow breath, reached for the manual release, and opened the door herself. “Lieutenant Rael,” she greeted, offering a polite nod. Her voice was calm, but there was a guarded edge beneath it. “What can I do for you?”

T’Mari had felt that emotions from outside the door, she offered a calming and warm smile. “I apologise for startling you Commander, I thought I’d drop by and see how you are.”

Joey hesitated for a moment, weighing her response before she finally stepped back from the doorway. She gestured inward with a small motion of her hand, giving T’Mari room to enter. Inside these walls, she knew every sound, every shadow, every possible exit. Rico and Pequeno had already risen from their resting spots, watching the newcomer with quiet vigilance, but not hostility. Their presence alone grounded her.

“It’s alright,” she said as the door closed behind T’Mari. “You didn’t startle me… not really. Just wasn’t expecting anyone.”

She drew in a slow breath, letting it out as she moved a little farther into the room, her eyes drifting briefly toward the twins before returning to the counselor. “I’m… doing the best I can, all things considered.” The honesty came with a small shrug. “Still having trouble sleeping. That part hasn’t changed.”

Her fingers brushed lightly along the back of a nearby chair—another small anchor point in familiar territory. “But I’ve been reading more,” she added, her tone softening. “And focusing on the kids. On my family. It helps keep my mind busy.”

T’Mari nodded. “Family is important, your children ground you. Both you and Harvey have been through so much, I can’t even imagine what it must have been like. I wish I’d have sensed something was off, but there just wasn’t anything out of place to grasp.”

Joey let out a quiet breath, her gaze drifting toward the twins again before returning to T’Mari. “Honestly… missing something wouldn’t have been unusual,” she said, her voice steady but tired. “Those clones were essentially us. Me and Harvey. They knew how to act like us, how to think like us. They were built to blend in.”

She shook her head slightly, not in accusation but in resignation. “There wasn’t much for anyone to sense.”

With that, she moved toward the couch, her steps slow but purposeful. She sank down onto the cushions with a soft sigh, leaning back as though the weight of everything she’d been carrying settled a little heavier for a moment. “It’s not your fault,” she added, softer now. “None of us saw it coming.”

“I guess not” T’Mari added as she followed taking a seat in a chair. “With everything that’s happened it’s not surprising that you find comfort here with your children. I would like to talk about what happened to you, but preferably not in-front of them, it’s not for their young ears to hear so that can wait for now.”

Joey’s eyes drifted toward the twins again—Alison tugging gently at her brother’s sleeve, Jameson responding with a delighted squeal. The sight softened her expression, but only for a moment. She looked back to T’Mari, drawing in a slow, steadying breath. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I’m not trying to avoid it forever.”

Her fingers curled loosely together in her lap, a small tell of the tension she was trying to keep contained. “It’s just… I’m not ready to go into all of it yet. I’m still trying to make sense of it myself.” Her voice wavered, but she didn’t shy away from the truth. “I know I need to talk about it—for me, and for them.” She nodded toward the twins. “But every time I start to think about it, really think about it… it puts me right back there.”

T’Mari nodded. “I understand, and I know it’s going to be difficult for you to face that, but the sooner you face it the sooner we can start putting you onto the road to recovery. We both know it’s not going to be quick, and right now I’m more worried about you developing ptsd.” She paused giving the children a smile before looking back at Joey. “As I said I’m not going to push you into anything, but I would like to come and see you again when the children aren’t at home. Not everyone wants to be in a Counsellor’s office and you need the comforts of home right now.”

Joey shook her head slowly, more at herself than at T’Mari. She knew the counselor was right. As much as she wanted to avoid the memories, bury them, pretend they didn’t claw at her in the quiet moments… talking about it was the only way forward. For her. For Harvey. For the twins.

She pushed herself up from the couch and gestured toward the dining table. “We can talk here,” she said, her tone gentle but resolute. The table was far enough that the twins’ curious ears wouldn’t catch much, but close enough that Joey could keep them in her line of sight—something she wasn’t willing to compromise on.

She moved toward the table, pulling out a chair and settling into it with a quiet exhale. The familiar space helped steady her nerves, even if only a little.

“You don’t have to worry about them hearing anything,” she added, glancing toward Alison and Jameson as they continued to play, blissfully unaware of the heaviness in the room. “They’re occupied, and we’ll keep our voices low.”

Joey looked back to T’Mari, offering a small, polite nod toward the replicator. “Would you like something to drink before we start?”

T’Mari nodded. “A cold lemonade would be lovely, but I can get it. Would you like me to bring you something?”

Joey offered a small nod in acknowledgment, already pulling her chair in a little closer to the table. “Hot tea,” she said, her voice calm but carrying a hint of that lingering tension beneath it. “With lemon and sugar, please.”

She settled into her seat as she spoke, folding her hands loosely on the tabletop. The position gave her a clear view of the twins across the room—still playing, still safe—and that alone eased her shoulders just a fraction.

“Thank you,” she added quietly.

“Not a problem” T’Mari replied as she got up and headed over to the replicator. Ordering their drinks she returned with both setting Joey’s tea down in-front of her. Putting down her own glass she took her seat. “Tell me about what happened.”

Joey wrapped her hands around the warm cup, letting the heat seep into her palms. She drew in a deep breath—slow, deliberate—and released it just as slowly, as if preparing herself for a plunge into cold water. “Alright…” she murmured, more to herself than to T’Mari.

Her gaze drifted briefly toward the twins, reassuring herself that they were still safe, still laughing softly over their toys. Only then did she look back at the counselor.

“It started on Razmena,” she began, her voice low but steady. “One minute I was walking... going to see what information the woman had… the next, someone came up to me from behind. I didn’t even get a chance to react before something hit me. Hard.”

She swallowed, her fingers tightening slightly around the cup. “The person who went back to the ship with you and the others—that wasn’t me. That was the clone.”

The word felt heavy, bitter, but she forced herself to continue.

“I woke up in some kind of room. My arms were restrained above my head, and I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe at first.” Her jaw tightened at the memory. “And then he showed up. A Selemat. I never learned his name then, but… he became a major presence in everything that happened after.”

Joey paused, drawing another slow breath as she steadied herself, her eyes flicking once more toward her children before returning to T’Mari. “That’s how it started," she whispered, needing a moment as tears began to well in her eyes.

“It’s okay” T’Mari offered a calming, caring nod of her head and a smile. “You’re doing great. I’m not going to push for much from you today, just a start that’s all. We’ll take it slow.” She paused. “To be honest the clone was good, she gave us…me, no reason to doubt her. I wish she had, but there wasn’t anything. All I do know is that in the end it was her own feelings towards the twins that made her surrender.”

Joey’s eyes flashed—sharp, hot anger sparking through them before she forced it back down. It was gone as quickly as it came, but the tension it left behind lingered in her shoulders.

“Her feelings toward them,” Joey echoed quietly, though there was nothing soft in her tone. “When she tried to flee the ship… she was going to take my children with her.”

Her jaw tightened, the memory clearly hitting a raw nerve.

“They went through things no child their age should ever have to endure because of her. And the only reason they’re doing as well as they are is because they’re young. Resilient.” She glanced toward the twins—still laughing, still blissfully unaware of the weight hanging in the air. “I’m grateful for that every single day.”

Joey drew in a slow breath, steadying herself before she continued. “And I’ll be honest with you,” she said, meeting T’Mari’s eyes without flinching. “I want to see her. The clone. I know it won’t change what happened, but… I need to look her in the eye. To show her she didn't win. That none of them did.”

T’Mari nodded. “I can understand that from a psychological standpoint I think it could benefit you, but it could also make you feel worse. I’ll agree to it on the grounds that I’m there with you, I don’t have to be in the room as long as I can observe you both.”

Joey sat quietly for a moment, weighing T’Mari’s words. Part of her wanted the counselor there—someone trained to keep her grounded if things spiraled. Another part of her wasn’t sure she wanted anyone witnessing what might come out of that meeting. But one thing she was certain of was that Camila would need to be involved. There was no scenario where she faced the clone without Security present.

She nodded slowly. “I understand,” she said, her voice low but steady. “And you’re right… it could help. Or it could make everything worse. I honestly don’t know which way it’ll go.”

Her fingers tapped lightly against her cup before she stilled them. “I want Camila to be there, too. She’s the one who’ll make sure things stay as controlled as possible.” Joey drew in a breath, letting it out in a measured exhale. “I’ll get in touch with her and see about setting up a meeting, then let you know.”

T’Mari nodded. “That’s fine. As long as you’re sure you really want to face her. She’s going to throw everything in your face, and make you doubt yourself. I’m not trying to put you off, I understand your reasons for wanting to speak to her but I don’t want to see you hurt anymore.”

Joey let the words settle, her gaze drifting briefly toward the her cup before returning to T’Mari. There was no hesitation this time—just a quiet certainty beneath the fatigue. “I know,” she said softly. “I’m not naïve about what she’ll try to do. She knows me... my weaknesses, my doubts. She’ll use every bit of it if she can.”

Her fingers tightened around her cup for a moment, then relaxed. “But I’m prepared to deal with that when the time comes.”

T’Mari smiled. “I know, you're stronger than you think Joey, and you're going to need every bit of it, but you have Harvey and your children to keep you strong.”

Joey let a small, tired smile tug at the corner of her mouth. “I do,” she agreed quietly. “Harvey, the twins… they’re my anchor. And I’m lucky enough to have a few people on the crew who’ve been checking in on me too. It helps more than they probably realize.”

She shifted slightly in her chair, the tension in her shoulders easing just a fraction as she met T’Mari’s eyes. “I know I’m not doing this alone,” she added, her voice soft but certain.

A beat passed before she continued, more thoughtful now. “Would you like to keep seeing me? For more sessions, I mean. I think… it might be good for me to have someone to talk to as I work through all of this.”

T’Mari smiled relieved to hear Joey ask for more sessions. “I think that would be a very good idea, plus I’d like to see you through this. Being a Counsellor has it rewards when you can see people back to a state of happiness.”

Joey let her gaze drift down to the table for a moment, her thoughts turning inward. “I don’t know what Gamma Command is going to want,” she admitted quietly. “They might insist I talk to one of their counselors… and if they do, I’ll deal with it.” A small shrug followed, weary but accepting. “But if it’s up to me, I’d rather keep working with you. You already know some of the situation, and I don’t have the energy to start over completely with someone else.”

She rubbed her thumb along the rim of her cup, the motion slow and absent. “I won’t pretend I want to talk about any of this,” she added, her voice softening. “But I know what happens if I don’t. I’ve seen what ignoring trauma can do to people. I won’t let that happen to me… or let it affect the people I love.”

Her eyes lifted to T’Mari again, and fatigue tugged visibly at the edges of her expression—heavy, persistent, impossible to hide now. “Have we done enough for today,” she asked gently, “or do you think we should keep going a little longer?”

“I think you could use a break for today” T’Mari smiled warmly. “I’ll be more than happy to be the one you talk to, I’ll recommend it on my report and hopefully you won’t get a call to see anyone else. In the meantime, relax and enjoy your family time, don’t feel pushed into returning to your duties for a little while yet. If you need to work, then just a few hours, no long shifts.”

Joey let out a slow breath, some of the tension in her shoulders easing as T’Mari spoke. She offered the counselor a small, genuine smile—one of the first she’d managed in what felt like ages. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For… all of this. For listening. For not pushing. For just being here.” Her fingers brushed the edge of her teacup before she looked back up, steadier now. “I’ve decided to take a little time off. Really take it. I need to heal, and I need to focus on my family for a while.”

Her gaze drifted toward the twins, still happily absorbed in their own little world, and something warm flickered in her expression. “They deserve the best version of me,” she continued, “and I’m going to get back to that. I will. When I come back to duty, it’ll be better than ever.”

She met T’Mari’s eyes again, gratitude clear in her voice. “And I’m glad you’ll be part of helping me get there.”

“It’s my pleasure, as a Counsellor helping people back to a state of happiness is reward enough for me,” T’Mari smiled. “Helping you, and Harvey move past what’s happened will benefit everyone.”

"It's nice knowing we have this kind of support, and I thank you for coming to see me," Joey said, then took another sip of her tea. "When would you like our next appointment to be? I'm certainly hoping to be able to come to you next time."

“Whenever you feel the need, if not before hand let’s say same time next week? If you need a particular time just let me know and I’ll organise it.” T’Mari smiled warmly.

Joey nodded, the motion slow but certain. “Same time next week works,” she said, her voice softer now, the fatigue catching up with her. She offered T’Mari a small, appreciative smile—one that carried both gratitude and relief. Her gaze drifted briefly toward the twins, then back to the counselor. “I’ll be in touch if anything comes up before then. Otherwise… I’ll see you next week.”

T’Mari nodded as she stood ready to leave. “I’ll get you through this, that I promise you.”

The taller woman felt the words settle in a way that reached deeper than she expected. T’Mari didn’t offer empty reassurance—she never had—and Joey knew it. That sincerity, that steady presence, was something she hadn’t realized she’d been leaning on until now.

Joey gave a slow, grateful nod. “I know you will,” she said quietly. “And with your help… and with the people I care about standing with me… I know I’m going to be okay.”

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