Private Yacht Rock

[Judah Dashiell]

BAN-SATIR II

Tannor Grene​

Eyes squinted from behind sunglasses as he stared over the glittering waters. Dressed casually in swim trunks and a white undershirt, a fishing rod in hand, it didn't look like any therapy session one would expect. Judah had tried for months to get the good Doctor out on a boat - there was no reason to be in a stuffy room talking about feelings when there was an entire galaxy full of amazing sights to do the same thing. Fishing was just an added bonus and frankly. even as the patient, Judah suspected Doctor Grene could use a break. A chance to get some sun and stretch the legs.

Leaning back, the old salvager smoothly cast out into the ocean, the yacht on a slow trawl as it bobbed in the water. They were on Ban-Satiir II, the planet where he would make his new home. It was an agriworld with a corporate resort - the richest of the corporate sector often had vacation homes on some of the islands. It would be closer to his grandchildren and closer to his goals. A quieter pace he was certain he needed.

"Can't believe I got you out here Doc. Guess my pestering wore you down. Must have got tired of me asking." Judah paused, thinking a moment. "How's the land of therapy? I'm sure the state of the galaxy is keeping you busy."

 

[Tannor Grene]

The sea possessed a rhythm that offices never could. Tannor stood near the rail for a quiet moment before settling into one of the deck chairs, his own fishing rod resting comfortably across his knees. He had made no grand claims of being an accomplished fisherman. In truth, his line had spent considerably more time in the water than anything had spent on the hook. That, however, appeared to trouble him remarkably little. The breeze carried the scent of salt across the deck, tempering the warmth of the afternoon sun. Waves lapped softly against the hull as the yacht drifted along its patient course, the sort of sound that asked nothing of anyone fortunate enough to hear it.

At Judah's remark, the corner of Tannor's mouth lifted into the faintest suggestion of amusement. "I wouldn't say you wore me down," he replied, his tone carrying its usual measured calm. "Though your persistence has certainly been....clinically impressive."

His gaze wandered briefly toward the shimmering horizon before returning to the older salvager. "I suspect that this was less about convincing me to leave the office," he continued, "and more about convincing yourself that conversations don't require one. In truth I don't disagree." A small movement of his wrist adjusted the line almost absentmindedly before he settled back again. "There is something about open water that discourages unnecessary urgency," he said. "People often find silence less uncomfortable when there's somewhere for their eyes to rest."

His attention lingered on the float bobbing lazily atop the water. "As for the state of therapy...." A quiet breath escaped him, touched with dry humor. "Business remains regrettably stable. People continue to experience grief, uncertainty, family conflict, moral injury, identity crises. And every so often someone insists that the most appropriate place for a therapeutic session is a fishing boat." The hint of a smile became just perceptible before settling away again. "I've learned not to dismiss unusual requests too quickly."

His gaze shifted back to Judah, studying him with the same quiet attentiveness that so often filled the space between questions. "I'm curious. What was it that finally convinced you it was time to stop searching for the next place and start belonging to one?"

Tag: Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

Working on setting up a second line to cast, Judah chuckled at the mention of his persistence.

"Clinically impressive? That might be a first for me. Do note that in my chart, I feel it is some sort of achievement."

Of course right after that, the good doctor had to spin the desire to be out on the water into some type of psychological need. The only downside to a therapist so far was they tended to see the therapy speak in everything instead of just taking the moment of face value.

"Not quite that deep Doc. More or less I wanted to see if you would actually do it. Now here we are, enjoying a lovely day on the ocean. Living a little. Relaxing a little. Working a little. A fair compromise in my opinion."

He paused for a moment, putting a severed shrimp head onto his hook.

"As for the eyes to rest, I can stare at you if you so desire for the session, just to prove a point. Although I think that could be unnerving for both of us."

Reaching back, he smoothly cast the second line into the waters. A bit of jiggling of the line as he let it out, before putting it into a holder on the side of the boat. Gaze looked at Tannor Grene once more.

"Belonging to what now Doc? You mean my decision to buy a house? I would say the driving factor is my grandchildren cannot have a swing set on a space station."

 

[Tannor Grene]

The faintest trace of amusement lingered at the corners of Tannor's expression. Judah's talent for sidestepping a philosophical question without actually avoiding it had become familiar enough that it no longer surprised him. "I'll make a note," he said dryly. "'Displays persistent optimism. Successfully convinced therapist to conduct a session aboard a fishing vessel.'" His eyes drifted briefly toward the calm water. "...'Believes outdoor environments are an acceptable substitute for office furniture.'" The line was delivered so evenly that it was difficult to tell whether he was joking until the corner of his mouth betrayed him with the slightest hint of a smile.

At the suggestion of maintaining unwavering eye contact throughout the session, Tannor regarded him for a thoughtful beat. "I think the fish would begin to feel self-conscious." The silence that followed was companionable rather than empty, filled by the quiet splash of the wake and the occasional click of the reels.

When Judah answered his question about belonging with something as straightforward as a swing set, Tannor didn't immediately redirect him back toward something more abstract. Instead, he nodded once, thoughtfully. "That's a remarkably practical answer." His gaze settled on the older man again. "And one that I suspect that you genuinely believe. But I've noticed something over the years." He rested one hand lightly against the rod balanced across his knees. "People almost never make life-changing decisions for the reasons they tell themselves first."

His attention wandered briefly toward the distant shoreline, where green met sea beneath the afternoon sun. "Children have a curious way of changing our relationship with time," he said quietly. "They make us think less about where we've been and more about what we'll leave behind." He looked back to Judah. "So let me ask it a different way." A faint breeze stirred the brim of his hat. "When your grandchildren are grown..." he said, "what do you hope they'll remember about coming here?"

Tag: Judah Dashiell

 

[Judah Dashiell]

"I didn't think moving to a quieter neighborhood was a massive life altering event.”

To him, it wasn't much of a big deal. Quieter location. Closer to family. Closer to the goals he was trying to align for his business. Just a way to tuck away and focus on what was important without flying half-way through the 'verse daily.

“Good question.”

Going silent for a long moment, Judah checked one of his reels, picking it out of the holder and starting to feel backwards in an attempt to catch something.

“I want them to remember a feeling of being loved unconditionally. Fond memories of everyday activities they will tell long after I've left this mortal plane.”

Testing the line and not feeling anything on the other end just yet, reel was returned to its place on the bow as he thought more.

“You know the saying…society grows great when men plant trees under whose shade they'll never sit.” He paused for only a moment, figuring the Doctor had probably heard something similar. “I was busy planting trees when Makai was a kid. Didn't get to enjoy fatherhood as much considering the business and the stuff with his Ma. Survival mode.”

Shoulders shrugged.

"I'm not atoning for anything. I consider it more...hm, a service to the next generation. If I can gently guide the grandchildren or assist the kids in watching them, taking some pressure off their shoulders, then its worth moving and putting some things aside."

Tannor Grene