Harper Gray ♦ ♢ ♦ Harley Quinn (revyaharley) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2014-08-12 17:56:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | aaron lawrence, harper gray |
Who: Harper Gray & Aaron Lawrence
What: Another session. But who is the doctor and who is the patient?
When: Wednesday, August 13th 2014 (late afternoon)
Where: Kirby Forensic Psychiatric Center (NYC)
Warnings: TBD?
Harper was having a rough week. Her research was not going well, at least as far as conclusive results go. She wasn’t sure why, things just weren’t coming together like she wanted them to, and in her more fragile, irrational state of mind she’d taken to blaming Harley. It was virtually impossible to get any real work done with the criminally insane Harley Quinn chattering away in the back of her head, babbling nonsense and god - that laughing - it drove her nuts. Some of her less open minded colleagues might argue that she already was nuts, and that was exactly the sort of attitude she was actively fighting against in her ongoing discovery of the reincarnated brain. Harper didn’t have the patience for that brand of thinking or ignorance in the field she specialized in, especially when it already hit so close to home. If they knew the truth about her, they would all think she was crazy. But she had kept her reincarnate status a well guarded secret from everyone… everyone except one.
Aaron Lawrence. A patient of hers, and certainly one of her most difficult ones. She’d been seeing him for over six weeks now, and while she was frustrated at their overall lack of progress, she was no less intrigued by him. There was something about him, something nagging at her in the back of her skull like an itch she couldn’t quite reach, something that had been present from their very first meeting. At one of their first sessions together, she’d told him her deepest, darkest secret: she’d told him she was a reincarnate on a whim, and while she’d immediately regretted it, what troubled her more was why. Why had she opened up to him like that? She’d done so recklessly, with no thought to the consequences, and shortly afterward he’d pulled down her office ceiling’s water sprinklers. The session had ended up abruptly, and ever since, Harper had tried to be extra careful around him. No smiles, no inappropriate laughter, no reckless confessions. The self control was harder than she’d anticipated.
There were still slip ups, and eventually, after six weeks their sessions became dangerously more personal. She found herself participating more with him rather than simply facilitating conversation by asking him questions. It was a dangerous ledge she was teetering on, but part of Harper didn’t care. She’d come to enjoy their talks, as fucked up as that was, and while her research wasn’t exactly getting anywhere it was certainly becoming more complicated, and that excited her as well as distracted. Harley was driving her up the wall and she was getting scrutiny from her colleagues about her methods as well as her increasingly irate attitude toward everything, so Harper had come to view these sessions with Aaron as a brief sanctuary for her remaining sanity.(The mere fact that she thought of a session with a patient as a sanctuary for her own sanity should have been the first clue that she was already a little more then off the rails.) During their sessions she didn’t have to pretend to be someone else, she could just be herself, which was someone she recognized less every day (and Harley recognized more and more). Today, however, was one of those very bad days where Harper was feeling particularly unhinged, furious and frustrated with the suffocating patriarchy of this damn hospital and as the door to her office opened Harper had just thrown a book at the wall with a loud shriek.