RP Dolorous

[Dr. Kallie Reed]

[div style="background-color:purple;border-top:purple 4px outset;border-left:purple 4px inset;border-right:purple 4px outset;border-bottom:purple 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:purple 4px inset;border-left:purple 4px outset;border-right:purple 4px inset;border-bottom:purple 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]
[font color=purple]DATE: 1989
LOCATION: L-14
ASSETS: Dr. Kallie Reed; Dr. Alvis Holt, “Oblivion”
EQUIPMENT: None
PURPOSE: Just a quick visit[/font]

It was the end of Kallie’s very first week at the Anomaly Containment Foundation, or the ACF for short. She was still working on that one. She was also still working on memorizing the layout for the psych wing, which was proving more difficult than your average office wing. There was no rhyme or reason to the spacing between the rooms, or even to who was assigned to what office. Hopefully, that was something she could lean on them a bit, and see if they could at least remedy the order of the offices. They should, bare minimum, be alphabetical.

Finally, she found the door she was looking for. Dr. A. Holt. She nervously waited outside the door for a moment, then she took a deep breath and let the nerves go. Nervousness was a trick of the mind. It was easy enough to overcome. After all, Carter was always telling her–

A sharp pain lanced through her chest and she tried not to cry on the spot. She placed one hand over her chest and breathed in a shaky breath. She breathed it out. Grief was, unfortunately, not a trick of the mind. It was real, and potent, and it devoured everything else in its wake. Kallie choked as her throat started to close up, and she leaned against the wall. She took her glasses off and put them in her coat pocket, to keep them from being stained with tears if she did start crying. It took her a long moment to regain control, and the whole time she just leaned against the wall next to the door.

When she was able to breathe freely again, she pushed away from the wall and dug her glasses back out. Her hands still shook slightly as she put them back on her face. She turned to the door, trying to paste a relatively pleasant smile on her face. But she couldn’t. She knew that this was a new job, and you were supposed to spend the first week, at least, pretending you were nice and kind and understanding.

The truth was Kallie couldn’t give a fuck about smiling right then. It had been less than two weeks since her husband had been killed by that… thing, and less than a week since she had started the job. Everything had happened fast, but Kallie was sure she had made the right choice in choosing to join the ACF. She just wasn’t sure yet when that right choice would appear.

She knocked on the door, sighing softly.[font color=purple] “Hello, Dr. Holt? My name is Dr. Kallie Reed, I was told to come and speak to you about some files.”[/font color]

She opened it, not bothering to crack it open slowly. She simply swung it open and stepped forward.
[/div][/div][/div]

 

[Reyn]

[div style="background-color:white;padding:4px;margin:auto;color:#212121;font-size:14px;font-family:'Quicksand', sans-serif;"][div style="background-image:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(175,171,168,1), rgba(115,35,49,1));padding:4px;height:100%;"][div style="background-color:white"][div][font color="ffffff"][attr="style","background-image:url([MEDIA=imgur]CCKnG4A[/MEDIA]"][/font][div style="padding:16px;"][font color="ffffff"][div][attr="style","height:30px;"][div][attr="style","color:#732331;font-size:180%;font-family:'Megrim',sans-serif;text-align:left;display:inline;float:left;"][font color="732331"]Staying Afloat[/font][div][attr="style","display:inline;color:transparent"]...[/div][/div][div][attr="style","background-image:url([MEDIA=imgur]Is0zbpL[/MEDIA] center;background-repeat:repeat-x; float: none;overflow: hidden;height:100%;"][/div][/div][/font]
The plastic chair was digging into his back, even through the thick sweater he was wearing. Alvis was starting to regret not taking up the offer to trade with Doctor Rivera across the hall- her chair, though a garish red, at least had some sort of cushioning. For some reason, he had decided to prioritise aesthetics over comfort- or, more specifically, his patients' comfort over his own. It would seem a little imbalanced to have one large desk chair and another tiny plastic thing. No, it was far better for everything to be uniform, even if that did mean things looked a little clinical and felt a little painful. Besides, he wasn't meant to be using the office like that anyway.

He still did, though. Things had been going wrong, recently- or, perhaps they always had, and he had only just realised. It was about two years ago since the first colleague had confided in him, since he started offering therapy under the table for those who needed it. It was an open secret in this wing, but they kept it well from everyone else- unless, of course, they wanted to make a referral. So far, nobody had found him out.

At least, nobody who could remember.

His backache and paperwork were interrupted by a sound at the door- footsteps down the hall, a knock, a voice, then the door swinging open. The woman who greeted him seemed more than a little worse for wear. He hadn't seen her before, but he had heard her name- Kallie Reed, one of the new researchers. Workplace stress, then? Depressive mood worsened by having to adjust to a new professional role? No, it didn't seem like that.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Ah, hello, Doctor Reed."[/div] He smiled politely, [div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Do come in. Can I make you some tea?"[/div]

 

[Dr. Kallie Reed]

[div style="background-color:purple;border-top:purple 4px outset;border-left:purple 4px inset;border-right:purple 4px outset;border-bottom:purple 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:purple 4px inset;border-left:purple 4px outset;border-right:purple 4px inset;border-bottom:purple 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]
His voice was soft and determinably male, but otherwise unremarkable. He had a hint of an accent, one that Kallie couldn’t place off the top of her head. It was weird hearing it echo in her own head, especially given his mouth didn’t move at all.

Kallie stepped into the room and took a quick look around. Finding the room to be a very average office, she closed the door behind her. She had seen the lock on it, but they had told her that Dr. Holt was rather docile. In fact, most of the staff had no idea why they bothered putting a lock on the door to begin with.

She took a step forward into the room and nodded gratefully in Dr. Holt’s direction.[font color=purple] “I would appreciate that, yes. And, you can just call me Kallie. We’re colleagues, no need for the extra formalities.”[/font color]

She moved slowly through the room, her heels clicking softly as she did so. Although she had given up the suit jacket and pleated skirt for a pair of grey slacks and a black turtleneck sweater, she hadn’t quite managed to give up the heeled oxfords yet. The pair she was wearing was the same pair that had been splattered with blood just two weeks earlier when they had been–

She stopped moving, closing her eyes. She counted to three, then took a breath in. Waited till four, and breathed out. Then she opened her eyes again and gave that shaky and ever-so-fake smile. If she pretended she was okay, and like she wasn't drowning in grief and guilt, if she pretended like she wasn’t screaming in her head, like her mind was simply an audio track of sobs and screams, then she would be okay. That’s what she had always believed. As a psychiatrist, she knew that was wrong. She knew it was. But it was how she was choosing to go about it.

[/div][/div][/div]

 

[Reyn]

[div style="background-color:white;padding:4px;margin:auto;color:#212121;font-size:14px;font-family:Quicksand;, sans-serif;"][div style="background-image:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(175,171,168,1), rgba(115,35,49,1));padding:4px;height:100%;"][div style="background-color:white;"][div][font color="ffffff"][attr="style","background-image:url([MEDIA=imgur]CCKnG4A[/MEDIA]"][/font][div style="padding:16px;"]He didn't need to read her mind to figure out what was going on. Nobody in the department would; hell, he didn't know if anyone would. It was a shame to see someone like this, it really was, but it was hardly uncommon. At least she came to the right place; there were people in this organisation who would eat you alive if you showed even a glimpse of vulnerability, and quite what that would do to Doctor Reed- sorry, to Kallie, he didn't want to know.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Of course; I apologise."[/div] He said, [div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Please, have a seat, try to make yourself comfortable. Is chamomile alright?"[/div]

He had others, of course, but they were mostly caffeinated black tea blends- adding stimulants to the picture before him would hardly make things better, no matter how mild. Besides, he hadn't made himself a cup this afternoon, and it was already quarter-past one. Perhaps it would help if they drank the same thing.

Alvis stood up, slowly and purposefully, to go and make her tea.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Is everything okay, Kallie?"[/div]

He knew the answer. They both did. The question was more a formality than anything else.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Would you like to talk about it?"[/div]

 

[Dr. Kallie Reed]

[div style="background-color:purple;border-top:purple 4px outset;border-left:purple 4px inset;border-right:purple 4px outset;border-bottom:purple 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:purple 4px inset;border-left:purple 4px outset;border-right:purple 4px inset;border-bottom:purple 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]
[font color=purple] “Chamomile sounds lovely. I like most teas, with the exception of fruit teas.”[/font color] She took a seat and smiled weakly. Then, he asked if she was okay and if she wanted to talk about it. Was it that obvious? She thought she’d been putting up a good show, that she wasn’t so obviously traumatized.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Not for a long moment. And then, she said,[font color=purple] “I suppose I’m… not okay. But I don’t want to impose, Dr. Holt. I really did just come for the files. Dr. Kline asked me to– I mean. Is it really okay that I, I wouldn’t want to impose.”[/font color]

Even though it was just her first week, she had heard some of the other psychiatrists talking about needing to visit Dr. Holt. Even though they never really said why, she had started to put it together, and his offer only confirmed what she thought might be the case. He was possibly offering therapy sessions under the table.

[/div][/div][/div]

 

[Reyn]

[div style="background-color:white;padding:4px;margin:auto;color:#212121;font-size:14px;font-family:Quicksand;"][div style="background-image:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(175,171,168,1), rgba(115,35,49,1));padding:4px;height:100%;"][div style="background-color:white;"][div][font color="ffffff"][attr="style","background-image:url([MEDIA=imgur]CCKnG4A[/MEDIA]"][/font][div style="padding:16px;"][div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Ah, I am much the same- though, I admit, I am partial to a lemon tea from time to time. The rest, I find a little too sweet."[/div]

He flicked on the electric kettle- standard-issue laboratory equipment that had been 'loaned' to him after making sure there were no traces of any anomalous substances left within. It had just been used for water, he had been assured, but he couldn't be too careful. For the first few weeks, he used it only for his own tea, until he knew for certain that it was safe. The last thing he wanted was to make anyone sick.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Nonsense- you aren't imposing at all."[/div] He said, almost dismissively, [div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"If you need a more- ah, clinical reason to stay, then you can't be working like this- especially not with the sort of thing we're expected to manage here."[/div]

The mugs were, unlike the kettle, quite nice-looking. Glazed stoneware- handmade, it seemed, though not by Alvis. Pottery had been something he wanted to learn, but he doubted he'd be getting clearance to leave for any classes, and he doubted even more that they'd spare the budget for on-site frivolities like that. He placed a teabag into each and poured the water over them.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"And, if you need a personal reason to stay, then I'll tell you- I'd feel much worse letting you leave in this state than any amount of inconvenience could cause."[/div]

He set the mugs down on a drawer-turned-coffee-table, then set himself down on a chair facing hers.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"You don't have to talk if you're not comfortable, but I'd like you to at least sit down for a bit, alright?"[/div]

 

[Dr. Kallie Reed]

[div style="background-color:purple;border-top:purple 4px outset;border-left:purple 4px inset;border-right:purple 4px outset;border-bottom:purple 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:purple 4px inset;border-left:purple 4px outset;border-right:purple 4px inset;border-bottom:purple 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]
Kallie looked at the mug with a bit of apprehension. Not because of the tea, mind you, but because of the idea of talking about what was going on in her head. Still, she fiddled with the handle of the mug and then looked up at the man across from her. His grey eyes were practically the same grey as his hair, but there was a softness about them. Maybe she was imagining that due to the sound of his voice, but she felt like she wasn’t. His eyes were… kind of pretty, actually.

[font color=purple] “Well, when you put it that way, I suppose it would be better for both myself and this department if I wasn’t… in such a state.”[/font color] She looked away from his face and sighed, ruffling her short dark hair. The cut of it was still just the slightest bit uneven after she had chopped it all off during her panic attack. [font color=purple] “I should probably start at the beginning, then. This needs some context.”[/font color]

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, mug in her hands, feeling the warmth of it. It was almost too hot to be held, but it reminded her that she was somewhere in the present, and not falling into the memories. [font color=purple] “My husband and I… we were falling apart before I came here. Our marriage was falling apart. We were trying to work things out, but then… then I brought home that stupid record player. It killed Carter. And by extension, I killed Carter.”[/font color]

[/div][/div][/div]

 

[Reyn]

[div style="background-color:white;padding:4px;margin:auto;color:#212121;font-size:14px;font-family:Quicksand;"][div style="background-image:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(175,171,168,1), rgba(115,35,49,1));padding:4px;height:100%;"][div style="background-color:white;"][div][font color="ffffff"][attr="style","background-image:url([MEDIA=imgur]CCKnG4A[/MEDIA]"][/font][div style="padding:16px;"]He met her eyes with a sympathetic gaze, but didn't emote much past that. A tumultuous marriage, ending in death-via-anomaly; he could imagine the sorts of thing that were going through her mind, and none of them were good. Any guilt she felt before would no doubt be compounded and focused on the eventual outcome- if things had gone differently, if she had gone differently, she thought he would still be there- be that emotionally in the marriage, or literally in the end.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"I can tell this wasn't your fault, Kallie."[/div]

Alvis took a sip of his tea mid-sentence- a benefit of being able to speak telepathically.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"What I want to know is what it would take for you to believe that."[/div]

 

[Dr. Kallie Reed]

[div style="background-color:purple;border-top:purple 4px outset;border-left:purple 4px inset;border-right:purple 4px outset;border-bottom:purple 4px inset;"][div style="border-top:purple 4px inset;border-left:purple 4px outset;border-right:purple 4px inset;border-bottom:purple 4px outset;"][div style="background-color:white;color:black;padding:15px;font-family:courier new;"]
[font color=purple] “I know that… that it’s not really my fault. There’s no way I could have known that turntable was anomalous. He didn’t die by intention. And I can reconcile that in my mind, eventually. That will be part of the healing process. I will eventually accept it as fact and move on. But I am guilty in… other ways.”[/font color] She paused there, licking her lower lip in a quick motion. She looked up at the man with a careful eye, as though considering how much to tell him.

Then, finally, she chose to trust him.[font color=purple] “No, my guilt, it comes from the fact that I… I didn’t care enough about it. It hurt, he was someone I cared about, but I… I didn’t feel nearly enough grief for his death. I feel like I recovered emotionally from it very quickly. By his funeral, I don’t think that I will be… I don’t think I’ll be the grieving widow everyone expects me to be, and I don’t know how to feel about that fact other than guilty.”[/font color]

There, she paused for real, to let him take all of what she said in. She felt bad, dropping this on someone. It was a lot, and even if he had offered to hear her out and talk to her, she still felt like she was overstepping.

[/div][/div][/div]

 

[Reyn]

[div style="background-color:white;padding:4px;margin:auto;color:#212121;font-size:14px;font-family:Quicksand;"][div style="background-image:linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(175,171,168,1), rgba(115,35,49,1));padding:4px;height:100%;"][div style="background-color:white;"][div][font color="ffffff"][attr="style","background-image:url([MEDIA=imgur]CCKnG4A[/MEDIA]"][/font][div style="padding:16px;"][div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Well, you certainly seem emotional about it now. I think-"[/div]

He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"-We all process grief differently, even for people close to us. There's this pervasive idea that there's a correct way to grieve, that everyone should feel nothing but sadness, with no sort of complexity whatsoever, but the truth is... well, it's a type of trauma, isn't it? You know how many different reactions to trauma there are- truth is, there's no one way to grieve. Everyone takes things differently."[/div]

A slight frown crossed his face as he took another sip from his tea. He was talking a lot, he noted- but he didn't try to stop himself. This was a common habit of his. Every time he had a point, he felt the need to word it in as many ways as possible, making sure the other person understood. After all, Alvis was very used to people understanding him immediately, due to certain factors he couldn't exercise in a setting like this. The temptation to force his ideas onto people had mostly subsided, but the fear of being misunderstood most certainly had not. He wondered how long it would take for him to get over that one, and he continued to talk regardless.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"Besides-"[/div]

He paused again, seemingly unsure of whether to continue.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"-You said your relationship wasn't perfect- and it was recently that you had these feelings. You're trying to process both at once- it's understandable that they'd interfere with each other. I just... I just want you to know that you're doing okay. There's no wrong way to feel about this, as long as-"[/div]

He paused.

Smiled.

[div][attr="style","opacity:50%;display:inline"]"-Well, as long as you understand that you're not at fault. For any of this."[/div]