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rpg_palace2005-07-12 12:44 am
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The Doctor will see you now.

Harry fidgeted in the chair, aimlessly flipping through a copy of a Parenting magazine, idly musing that not one of the babies in it was half as cute as Ariene before tossing the magazine back onto the table, smirking as Dwayne jumped at the sound. He'd adamantly refused to have Dwayne in the room with him during the appointment, and the shadow had reluctantly agreed to staying in the waiting room after a brief sweep of the office, which Harry was willing to call a fairly major victory. He looked at the clock again and tried not to sigh too loudly. Should have known better than to come this early.
The office door and a man stepped out wearing worn jeans and a grey shirt. "Sarah, call Dr. Foster and confirm our meeting, will you?" He turned and walked to Harry with a smile and his hand held out. "You must be Mr. Sinclair. I'm Dr. Stewart, but you may call me Patrick if you wish."
Harry stood and shook the man's hand, unable to keep from smiling back. "Harry, please. Call me Mister Sinclair, you'll only get that one started up again," he sighed, nodding his head towards Dwayne. "Is it all right if he does a quick scan of your office? He'll bugger off after that... doesn't have to touch anything either."
Patrick frowned slightly, than nodded. "If it would make you feel better, but I assure you all appointments are kept strictly confidential. I don't record anything without my patient's knowledge." He waved them to the inner office.
"He's not worried about you recording anything on me, he's worried about there being someone hiding in your office waiting to put a knife through my gut," Harry said mildly, watching as Dwayne did a quick visual scan of the room, nodded and left. "Sorry. Can't shake him. Tried. Thanks for seeing me."
"A knife thru your gut?" Patrick's eyebrow rose as he sat at his desk. "Does that happen often to you? And please, it was no bother to fit you in."
"Only once so far, but you know these pesky shadow types... happens once, they think it'll happen again," Harry sighed. "Hazards of falling in love with a Royal- get one of those things shackled to your hip."
"I see. Well, Harry. Why don't you tell me why you're here? Can I offer you anything to drink before we start?"
"No, I'm okay, thanks." Harry settled in the chair. "I'm not here for myself. Is that okay?"
"It makes things a little more difficult when I'm not talking to the person requiring my help, but it has happened before. You are here for a friend? Loved one? And should I assume they do not know of your visit?”
"Both friend and loved one. He doesn't know I'm here, but I told his lover that I'd be looking to do this. He's stubborn, and I hope this doesn't turn into a complete waste of your time, but in my totally useless and non-professional opinion, he'd benefit from someone like you. And I don't think I can convince him to give it a try if I can't tell him that I've at least talked to you," Harry shrugged, feeling a little awkward.
"Understood." A faint smile appeared on Patrick's face. "Take a deep breath Harry. Take as much time as you need, and however it's easiest for you. Tell me how I can help your friend."
"Okay." Harry did as he was told, relaxing as much as he could and trying to figure out how to explain this. "I've known him for... god. Eight years. I retrieved him, personally, and I convinced my boss to keep him on instead of selling his contract out. We became lovers about a year after that... but there always seemed to be something off. Something just wasn't right- he was too deferential- too subservient, you know? I pushed him. A lot, I knew there was something he needed to get out. He told me, finally, 'though he sure never volunteered any information without me pushing... but I couldn't just let it stay. Maybe I should have left it to a pro- I offered, I tried, even before I knew what happened. He refused outright, wouldn't hear of it. Tried to tell me it was nothing."
"But something said that there was something. Was there anything besides that feeling? Did he show any physical signs? Shying away from people or situations? Seeming nervous or anxious about certain topics of conversation?"
"Pretty much yeah. And...okay, sexually, he was just off, you know? He seemed totally unaware of the concept of mutual pleasure- I'm not even talking submissive. Submissive I've seen, and I've seen bottom-only's, believe me. He did not understand the concept of seeking pleasure for himself. Only for me. That's what I mean by off." Harry explained.
"About how long do you think it took for you to get him to tell you what happened? And when you pushed, did he always react the same? Was he angry or frightened? And if I may ask, who initiated the physical relationship between you two?"
"He did. He came to me. But I was the one who had to steer the encounter towards being a mutual one. It took..." Harry let out a long breath, trying to remember. "A good few months after we started sleeping together. I tried to get him to top me, and his reaction... well, he was pretty much horrified at the idea. But not in an 'I'm a bottom, and I don't do that' way. It felt different. He passed it off for a bit, then he got pissed and angry about it, and then it started making him cry. I probably shouldn't have pushed- but, well, I knew I loved him at that point, and I couldn't just fuck him and forget about the other stuff. It was twisting him inside, keeping it all in. So I pushed. That's when he told me. A few months later, after all that." Harry's voice softened, remembering Karl in tears, insisting nothing was wrong. The look on his face as he finally told him, expecting to be sent away.
"And what did he tell you?" Patrick's voice was quiet. "How did he tell you? And what happened after he told?" He got up, going to a small table and poured a glass of water out for Harry, setting it in front of him before sitting back down.
"It didn't come out all at once. Bits at a time, over a long time. But when he first told me, I think he was just too exhausted from fighting it, from it being obvious that something was wrong, and him not able to keep it hidden anymore. The first time, he told me. Told me that he'd been abused, made it clear that the abuse was sexual, and absolutely refused to tell me who it was. I think he thought that just getting it out once, saying it out loud would make an end on it. I'll admit to being naive enough that I thought so too," Harry added.
"How soon after were you proven wrong? Did no one else suspect there was anything bothering your friend?"
Harry frowned. "How do you mean no one else?" he asked, not answering the other part yet.
"Well, you worked together, with others. Did no one wonder about how your friend acted? When he was with others, did they not question his behavior, with regards to the submissive nature?"
Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. He wasn't like that in every way. He very quickly took the position of my second in command, well before we became lovers, and it was clear to everyone that he deserved the promotion. If they questioned it, it was never brought up to me. And my boss didn't want him hired in the first place, so he was pretty much left to me from the start. For the rest, it was maybe a night or two later. We were in the woods, out on retrieval, and he started dreaming. I couldn't wake him up- not for ages. He was looking at me, but he wasn't there. And he didn't see me."
"Tell me about the dream. From the beginning. Were you already awake or did he wake you up?"
"I was awake. I was watching him sleep, then something changed. He looked afraid, and he started awake- well, I thought he was awake. He looked at me with complete and total fear in his eyes. He kept apologizing over and over again, calling me Sir, begging me not to put him in the box. Promising to be good, to be better. That he 'knew his place'," Harry gritted his teeth over the familiar phrase.
"Knew his place. He said that often, didn't he? Was the first time that night, or had he said it when he first told you?"
"He never told me that before when he was just himself. Only in the dream. And he said it a lot. I imagine he heard it a lot."
"Did he...this is difficult to explain but, was he able to adapt you into his dream? Did he...if you were to mention someone that he knew after he met you, would he not know the name, or would he place the person in his dream reality?"
"He saw me as the abuser, most of the time. Usually, eventually, I'd be able to get him to really focus on me, he'd realize that something was wrong, that I wasn't the man, and that would start to bring him out. But when he was in, deep in, all that was real was what was going on at the time and age he was at the dream. If I mentioned something that had taken place two weeks after the event he was reliving, he didn't know it."
"How many dreams did you witness? Over how long a period?"
"I couldn't tell you how many. Honestly, I don't know, other than a lot. I... this probably doesn't sound very good," Harry admitted. "I used the dreams to find out what had happened to him. The things he wouldn't tell me, couldn't say. I'd ask him questions, get him to explain things. He told me pretty much everything. Except his name. I think he'd been conditioned not to ever use it. Even when I asked him, when he thought I was his abuser, he'd never say the name. And the first year was the worst. After that, it got better, and they were rarer. Eventually, they didn't happen, or if they did, not with me there."
Patrick was silent for a moment. "Harry, I know this may be the hardest part for you. I trust me when I say nothing will leave this room. You notice I haven't made notes of any kind. You can trust me. Tell me what he dreamed. As much as you can, however you can."
"Christ," Harry breathed, overwhelmed at even the idea of where to begin. "Patrick, I don't know even how to start. This wasn't just a bad summer with a live in uncle who hurt him, or an encounter with an older boyfriend. It's years of encounters. Hour after hour of nightmare, reliving memories. It's not a matter of trust; it's a matter of scale."
"How many years? Did he ever tell you who Sir was?"
Harry paused a moment before answering, his voice very quiet when he did. "Fifteen. It started when he was ten, right up until the day before I retrieved him. And I know the name now. Only very recently, when this all came up again. But I'm not going to tell you. It's his wish to not do anything to him, legally, and if I tell you, you'll have to."
"Okay, I respect that." Patrick took a deep breath. "Tell me one dream Harry. Or even one incident. The one haunted you the most. "
"It doesn't matter how I feel- this is about helping him," Harry protested. "I don't want this to keep happening like it is; I don't want his lover or him to go through what he and I did."
"Is that why you're here now? Cause it's starting up again?" Patrick leaned forward. "What happened to bring this back up?"
"He ran into this guy- who, by the way, he despises beyond measure- and it turned out the other guy had been abused as well, as a kid and into his twenties. And they had... guess it was a bit of a moment. He admitted things to this guy he can't stand that he's never been able to tell anyone but me. And that upset him a hella lot. He came to me, and he decided it was time to tell his lover, and someone else we knew, particularly since the person had bad stuff that had happened to them as well. And I think, like before, he thought he'd find solace in the telling. That it'd make it okay. But the dreams are starting up again. His lover came to me, told me they are. There's nothing quite as horrifying as having the man you love look into your eyes and know that they're seeing the man who raped them for over a decade. That they think it's you. Seeing that fear in their eyes... it's too much. For both of them- they shouldn't have to go through that again. He was too stubborn to get help when it was us. I'm praying that he'll do it now."
"Tell me what his lover's having to listen to. Live thru. Tell me what's going to haunt his lover."
"The look of fear in his eyes. Though it's worse when his eyes go dead. Hearing him wake out of sleep screaming his head off. The times he was put into a trunk for hours. Days even. Begging to be shown his place. Pleading for him not to play 'the games'." Harry stared forward, remembering all of it.
"Tell me about the trunk, Harry."
"There were three of them. As he grew. He'd force him into it as long as he could fit at all. It wasn't air tight, but it was close. He'd hurt him, badly, then lock him in there. He'd pass out from lack of air, but it wouldn't kill him, obviously. There was something else... a shot. Something he gave him, kept him still, but he still saw everything, felt everything. Just couldn't struggle or fight. Not that he really did, but I suppose that was for when he really wanted him compliant."
"When did his eyes go dead? Where was he when that happened?"
"I think it was offering sex. And he just... bleak servitude. There wasn't anyone there behind his eyes, just a body on his hands and knees..." Harry bit his lip hard. "I don't want to remember that. Please?"
"Okay, you don't have to. Let's back away from that. You're doing fine, Harry. Why don't you take a drink of water, compose yourself."
Harry nodded, draining about half the glass of water. "I don't even know if he'll talk to you or not. This might be a big waste of your time. And he might kick me arse for coming in the first place."
"But at least the effort was made. That's important." Patrick rubbed his face. "I don't like to use definite, so I'm going to say I think I can help your friend. The problem is getting him to admit he needs the help and to come and see me. But we can try. I'll give you my card." He opened a drawer, taking out a card. Flipping it over, he wrote on the back. "I'm giving you my personal number. Any time, day or night. Give it to him. See if he'll come to me." Patrick handed the card over. "Do you have any questions, things he might ask that you want answers for?"
Harry furrowed his brow, then shook his head. "I don't think so. Should he bring his lover with him, if I can get him to come, or does he need to come alone?"
"If he would feel better, safer, with his lover, have him come as well. If needed I could go to him, if that would ease things."
"It might. It's not like his place is a safe haven from remembering or discussing all this, what with the dreams," Harry sighed. "I really do appreciate this. I knew I wasn't helping him enough when I was with him, but it was the best I could manage. I wish he'd been willing to get help then, and I hope he'll decide to get help now."
"From what it sounds like, Harry, you did rather a lot for him. In fact, you did the most important thing. You stayed after you learned what happened."
"He didn't think I would. Fully expected me to walk out on him. Even tried to push me away. Didn't work. Not for those reasons, anyway," Harry added, the last a soft murmur. "I'll let you know if it's a no-go," he said, finishing the water and standing up.
"I hope it won't be. I'll wait on your call either way." Patrick stood, holding his hand out. "You're a good friend, Harry.
Harry shook his hand, cheeks pinking a little. "He's worth it. Thanks, Patrick, I'll be in touch." He nodded and walked to the door, taking a deep breath and grinning at Dwayne. "See? Nothing happened. Bloody paranoid..." his voice drifted off as they left the outer office.