Grief will always reside within you
Posted on Wed Mar 18th, 2026 @ 3:14am by Lieutenant Ralen Trellis & Lieutenant Commander Devon Hunt
2,245 words; about a 11 minute read
Mission:
Flight Of The Valkyries
Location: Counselor's Office
Devon found himself passing through the doors of the counselor's offices. Officially, he had been reassigned to the Tokyo. Though he did have a few doubts since his children would now going to be without both parents. But he kept telling himself that this was indeed for the best. There were moments, that he was calm, but out of nowhere a wave of sadness, followed by anger, would come over him. At night, he could hardly get in any reasonable amount of sleep. The last thing, he needed to at this time was to be walking around in a zombielike state. He needed to be focused and at his best. Otherwise, he would get himself or someone else killed. Taking a seat on the couch in the lobby, Hunt waited to be called in for his scheduled appointment.
Counselor Ralen Trellis reviewed the appointment schedule on his PADD, noting the next name with particular attention. Devon Hunt - recently reassigned to the Tokyo following the loss of his wife at Starbase 234. Two young children now without their mother. The memorial service had shown a man barely holding himself together for their sake.
Ralen set the PADD aside and stepped out into the lobby. He observed Devon for a beat before calling out to him. It seemed like the Security Chief's posture was rigid despite the casual setting - the kind of forced composure that took constant effort to maintain.
"Devon," Ralen said simply, deliberately using his first name rather than rank. He'd found that formality often created barriers people didn't need when they were already struggling. "Come on in."
He gestured toward his office - a space deliberately designed to feel more like a living room than a medical facility. Comfortable seating, warm lighting, no desk creating artificial distance between them.
Once Devon settled into one of the chairs, Ralen took the seat across from him, leaning back in a relaxed posture. Not the rigid professional stance some counselors preferred, but something more approachable. More human.
"So," Ralen said, his tone conversational rather than clinical, "The past few weeks have been hell. The battle, the memorial, suddenly being reassigned to a new ship while trying to keep things together for your kids." The Trill started. "So I'm not going to insult your intelligence by asking 'how are you doing' when we both know the answer to that is 'terrible." He concluded.
A slight, sympathetic smile crossed his spotted features. "So instead, I'll just ask how are you holding up today?"
Staring at Ralen briefly, Devon smiled. "That's honestly the best thing that has been said to me, since this nightmare began. I'm not fine in the least bit. Yet, I'm expected to just push through it."
Ralen nodded, leaning forward slightly but keeping his posture relaxed. "Yeah. That expectation is brutal, isn't it? Everyone looking at you like you should just... function. Be a good parent. Do your job. Process your grief on your own time." He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"The thing is, nobody actually knows how to handle something like this. So they default to expecting you to be strong. To hold it together. Because if you fall apart, it forces them to confront how fragile everything actually is." Ralen was careful in how he phrased his words. He had decided a while ago that he would not use his prior hosts lives as a conversation piece with his patients. They were coming to Ralen Trellis for counseling. Not the various hosts that he now happened to carry within him. Ralen didn't want to make the situation about him, but he also didn't want to pretend as if he didn't understand.
"I'm not going to tell you that I know exactly what you're going through," Trellis continued. "I haven't lost a spouse. But I have seen..." he hesitated, measuring his words against the experience of Jaret, his prior host that was a combat veteran, but who also suffered from PTSD.
Ralen chose to remain committed to honesty, "I've seen people trying to keep functioning after experiencing something that should have broken them. And the common thread is that everyone expects them to just push through it."
He met Devon's eyes directly. "That's not actually possible, by the way. You can't just push through losing your wife and watching thousands of people die and being reassigned to a new ship." He said gradually.
"So when I ask how you're holding up," Trellis said quietly, "I'm not asking you to pretend you're fine. I'm asking what it actually feels like to be in your head right now."
When Devon first entered the office, he had every intention on sharing his feelings. Then he sat down and didn't want to say a thing. Now he wanted to share again. His feelings being all over the place like was something that he wasn't used to. And he didn't like it in the least bit.
"I don't feel good at all," Hunt admitted. "The general census that I am supposed to make things better for everyone. Yet, I can't even do that for myself."
Going silent again, the Commander thought about his next words carefully. "Everyday I feel like a failure on all fronts. I failed my wife, failed my children who no longer have a mother and I failed my crew on Starbase 234. Logically, I am aware that everything that happened is outside of my control. But the feeling is still there."
Trellis stood up as Devon spoke, moving to the replicator in the corner of his office. "Coffee, hot. Caramel cream with sugar," he said, then glanced back at Devon. "Want anything?"
He didn't wait for an answer before continuing, his movements casual as he retrieved his cup. "That feeling you're describing - the one where logically you know it's not your fault, but emotionally you still feel like you failed everyone?" He took a sip and returned to his seat, settling in with the mug cradled in both hands.
"That's grief, Devon. It doesn't show up as just sadness. Sometimes it comes as anger. Sometimes as guilt. Sometimes as this overwhelming sense that you should have done something different, even when there was nothing you could have done."
Trellis leaned back, his tone remaining conversational. "And it doesn't follow a schedule. You'll feel okay for an hour, then suddenly you're drowning again. You'll think you're handling things, then something small - a smell, a sound, a random memory - will hit you like a phaser blast."
"Here's the thing about that failure feeling," Trellis continued. "You're beating yourself up. Carrying this penance like if you just feel bad enough, if you punish yourself enough, somehow that will make things right." He met Devon's eyes directly. "But what's the endpoint? When will you have suffered enough? When will the penance be paid?"
He took another drink of coffee, giving Devon space to process.
"No, thank you to the drink," the security chief answered. "You're correct about everything you mentioned. Besides coming here, what do I need to do to get past this?"
"I'm going to tell you something you probably don't want to hear," he said with more directness. "You don't get past this. That's not how grief works."
He let that sit for a moment before continuing.
"The idea that you're supposed to 'get past' losing your wife, watching thousands of people die, having your entire world upended - that's a false expectation. And it sets you up to feel like you're failing when you're not magically better after a few weeks or months." Trellis took another sip of coffee.
"What actually happens is this: the grief becomes part of you. It doesn't go away. It doesn't shrink. But over time, you learn to carry it. You build your life around it instead of trying to push through it."
Like Jaret carried his war. . .except he let it consume and minimize him, not the other way around Ralen thought to himself while Devon processed what he was saying.
"Eventually - and only you'll know when - you'll find the capacity to talk about your wife without it completely destroying you. You'll be able to remember the good things without drowning in the loss. You'll learn how to function as a father and an officer while carrying this weight."
"So when you ask what you need to do to get past this - the answer is you need to stop trying to get past it. Start learning how to live with it, because Grief will always reside within you." He said
Sitting back in his seat, Hunt allowed the words to sink. Learning how to live with what happened was through it. There was no going around. But to sit with it and simply allow time to heel. "And how do I be there for my children?"
Trellis took another slow drink of his coffee, considering the question. "You be honest with them," he said finally. "Age-appropriate honest, but honest. Kids know when you're pretending everything's fine. They can feel it. And when you fake being okay, it teaches them they're supposed to fake it too."
He shifted in his seat, wrapping both hands around his mug. "That doesn't mean breaking down in front of them constantly. But it means saying 'Daddy's sad today because I miss Mommy' instead of pretending the grief isn't there. It means letting them see that it's okay to feel bad about what happened."
"The hard part is that their grief won't look like yours," Ralen continued. "Kids process loss differently at different ages. One might get angry and act out. Another might get quiet and withdrawn. They might seem fine for weeks and then suddenly fall apart over something small that reminded them of their mother."
"Some practical things that help," Ralen added. "Maintain routines where you can - kids need structure when everything else feels unstable. Let them talk about their mother when they want to. Don't avoid mentioning her because you're afraid it'll upset them - they're already upset. And accept that you're going to mess this up sometimes. You'll say the wrong thing or handle a situation badly. That's inevitable."
Trellis met Devon's eyes directly. "But showing up, even imperfectly, is better than trying to be the perfect grieving father who has all the answers. Because you don't have all the answers. None of us do." He took a final drink of his coffee, the irony not lost on him that he was dispensing wisdom that he should be following himself.
I'm sitting here giving advice on processing grief when I still don't know how to separate my own trauma from Jaret's. Still don't know if enjoying combat makes me a monster or just an echo of a broken warrior the Trill thought to himself somewhat bitterly.
"Thank you for the advice. I really needed to hear this. Handling this all wrong was my biggest fear. Somehow, making the loss of their mother even worse. But this is a process with level, good days and bad days ahead." Leaning forward, he thought about the last question that weighed heavily on his mind. Going back to the Captain's offer of allowing the Jasmine and Anthony to remain on the ship with him.
Initially, Devon had planned on shipping his children back to Earth with his family. But he honestly wondered if they would better mentally with him here on the Tokyo. But the danger of being in an inevitable battle with the iconians was a risk.
"One other thing," the Commander spoke up. "I have a decision to make on whether to keep my children on the Tokyo with me or send them home to Earth with my parents. There is no place safer in the Federation. But I do feel that they should be here with me. But this ship isn't safe for them entirely."
Trellis set his coffee mug down on the armrest, his expression growing more serious. This wasn't a question with a comfortable answer. "To be direct. . .I don't believe children belong on warships," he said bluntly. "Never have. The Galaxy-class ships with their families aboard, the civilian sections on starbases - that all made sense when Starfleet's primary mission was exploration and diplomacy."
He gestured vaguely toward the bulkhead, toward the ship beyond. "But we're not explorers anymore. We're combatants. And the Tokyo is a combat carrier that's been in multiple engagements where we've taken critical damage. Where people have died."
Where I've killed people. Where I've sent others to die. Ralen thought intrusively.
"That said," The Counselor continued, "Earth isn't necessarily safer anymore. The Heralds can open gateways anywhere, anytime. Starbase 234 was supposed to be secure. Look how that turned out." He said to the Security Chief.
"So this becomes a question only you can answer, if the war gets worse, if the Federation starts losing badly, where do you want your children to be?" He picked up his coffee again. "There's no right answer, Devon. Just the answer you can live with."
Thinking of the response from the counselor. Devon had a moment of clarity. Nowhere was entirely safe. Yes, there was some places that were more secure than others. But nothing was one hundred percent safe. "Thank you for your time."
End
Lt. Commander Devon Hunt
Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Tokyo
Lieutenant Ralen Trellis
Counsellor
USS Tokyo
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