ᴄᴀᴛʀᴀ ʀᴀɪɴʙᴏᴡꜰɪꜱᴛ-ᴍᴇᴏᴡᴍᴇᴏᴡ (hisses) wrote in valloic, @ 2021-01-01 09:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, she-ra: catra, ₴ inactive: dan torrance |
WHO: Dan & Catra
WHAT: Paying a visit to Dan that ends up in fatherly wisdom
WHERE: The Snooze Room
WHEN: A couple days before the New Year
WARNINGS: Mentions of previous substance abuse and language
STATUS: Complete
He wasn’t sure why, but it had been a pretty busy morning thus far - maybe because it was winter, cold and flu season, that meant walk-ins were pretty common though the scheduled appointments had been ticking up too. Time went quickly, however, and the first time Dan actually got to sit it was in the breakroom, over coffee and a bagel slathered in cream cheese - he had charting and notes to do though so it didn’t last long, and he was back taking vitals, blood tests, urine samples collected; the stethoscope got good use too, and his last patient provided a symphony of pronounced crackles in the lungs when she breathed in and out - sounded like pneumonia to him, but he couldn’t make diagnoses so everything went off to the doctor to look at and he’d handle what came after. And so on and so forth, until his shift was almost done and he was looking forward to dropping his scrubs at the bedroom door (well, not really, he wasn’t the type to leave clothes lying around) and hop into the shower. But still, miles to go before we slept - he even managed something of a bounce in his step, wearing unfashionable but comfortable sneakers, and that stethoscope around his neck (it continued to be shiny, since he hardly ever took off the rhinestone clips that had been given to him by Claire). He was armed with the usual equipment, penlight and actual retractable pen, some medical tape, scissors, the kitchen sink. It was all in an organizer in his scrub pockets, and he tried to not lose the penlight often even if it happened occasionally because that was the nurse’s curse - losing penlights to the void. Heading out into the waiting room, he glanced at the scheduler to see if there were any walk-ins. Lo and behold. Was that - someone he recognized? And recently introduced to the glory of Starbucks? Sure, it wasn’t all that great in the scheme of things and he knew of many other coffee shops, better ones that were local, but it was sort of a rite of passage to try a frappe or a caramel macchiato or one of those cream cheese bites that Dan would probably murder someone for. “Hey Catra,” he smiled warmly, foldable clipboard in hand. “What brings you in?” Yep. It was Catra, reminding herself again why the hell she was here; sporting that oversized hoodie over the Horde uniform she hadn’t bothered ditching yet, hands in her pocket and donning the look of a moody teenager. It was still cold as shit outside but finding a more suitable coat was something she refused to do - mostly because she also refused to spend a lot of time outside while it was like this. A few odd errands here and there were the exception. This being one of them. It was a bit of a leap for her to come here, toying with the idea of seeking out a little assistance with certain issues. But considering she already hit rock bottom, well. What harm could it do that she hadn’t already done to herself? Dan also wasn’t like, the worst or anything. It was a mostly measured risk. “Hey,” Catra greeted with a lazy hand wave, her tail relatively still but the tip of it was somewhat curled. That meant she was in a friendly kind of mood. She didn’t look too terrible, either. The sleep she managed to capture with Adora was somehow restful, and she didn’t know if it was the fatigue finally hitting her like a freight train or if it was - you know. Old comforts, the presence of the person she once considered home. Whatever the reason, she needed to pull herself together. “Got a minute?” “Yeah, of course. Come on back.” Dan didn’t see any injuries, nothing broken or bleeding - maybe it was a cold or sinus problem, but she sounded fine. So he deduced that the Snooze Room was probably an appropriate place - if it was something else Catra was here for, he could show her to one of the exam rooms instead. First, however, he turned and led her to his niche area - it was pretty much exactly what it said on the tin, a room that was the complete opposite of stark white and clinical; the furniture was cozy, the walls painted blue (that wasn’t an accident - blue was a color that promoted calm and relaxation) and the temperature was controlled to a degree perfectly conducive to a comfortable sleep. Definitely warmer than outside, but programmed to account for the dip in temperature the body experienced during slumber. The furniture was cozy too, the lighting dim - there was a dresser, a couple chairs, and of course the bed that was like falling into a cloud. He always washed and changed the sheets regularly, especially after use, and the throw pillows this time were a nice blue velvet adorned with snowflake patterns. “Make yourself comfortable?” he said, setting the clipboard down on top of the dresser. “And welcome to the Snooze Room. We have actual exam rooms too, if that’s what you’re here for,” he added. Oh. Right. The Snooze Room. Dan mentioned this. And, okay - the setting worked with what she was interested in talking about, so it fit. “This is weirdly homey,” she mumbled, eyes drinking in the interior. “Thanks for seeing me. Not here for an exam though, it’s not like it’ll tell me anything I don’t already know.” Catra hadn’t suffered from any broken bones and the body aches from her scuffle with the clones was ebbing. Her weight was a work in progress. It wasn’t as if she was skeletal or anything - she figured with things like cheese fries existing she’d get to where she needed to in a few weeks. She’d handle it. Came with the territory of transition from war conditions to life in Vallo, anyway. She settled for one of the chairs, folding her legs into herself. “People actually sleep here?” she asked, gesturing to the bed. “Do you watch them sleep? Because that’d be creepy.” “I change the pillows depending on the season or holidays,” Dan chuckled a little, also sitting in one of the chairs, adjusting the long sleeves of the shirt he wore under his scrubs, pushing them up above his elbows. “I think that sort of helps make it homey. But no, I don’t watch people sleep.” Sometimes he’d keep his mind lassoed with theirs while they slept, so ensure that everything was peaceful and no nightmares crept in - but actually observing the rapid eye movement, no. Not happening. “People do sleep here though. It’s part of my skill set, to help with that,” he said. Sure, they called him Doctor Sleep and maybe it came about because of the big sleep, and how he assisted those on their way out, but it applied to regular sleep too. Versatility, and all that. “I have - well, psychic powers, shall we say. Powers of the mind. We call it the Shining, where I’m from.” He had a lot of raw power (nobody shines like you, Dick once told him) but hadn’t really grown up honing those abilities, or being trained. The lockbox trick was something special taught to him by Dick when he was a kid haunted by ghosts (not everyone who Shined knew it - Rose had been around for centuries and seemed surprised by it, when he tried to use it on her), but beyond that, he mostly drank and did drugs to suppress what he’d been born with. What ran in his family. He’d only been using these gifts in his hospice work since he got sober. Here in Vallo, he was using them even more, in a variety of ways, which was - well, Dick would have said it’s about time, Danny. Yeah, Catra figured there’d be some kind of weird magic trick behind it - seemed like the norm around here, and it was the same deal back on Etheria. Didn’t mean she was comfortable with it, and she wasn’t stupid to think that these kind of powers were all bad but the taste for it turned sour when she was very young. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, gathering her messy mane of hair from one side and pooling it over the other shoulder. Her hands kept busy with it, stroking through the ends slowly over and over. An outlet for her nerves, or something. “The sleeping part. I’m used to war and not at all how this place is so - sleeping with an eye open, or barely sleeping because I’ve done shitty things in the name of winning is what I’ve been doing. For awhile. And I’m tired.” She winced. Catra had a conscience and it sucked, okay - it was difficult not obsessing over every decision that led to regrets. They’d been eating away at her like acid from the inside for too long now. “It just started to get a little better. It helps if I -” Ugh. She bit her tongue for a second. “If I sleep with someone or something familiar. I just need to figure out not to be completely dependent on that.” Adora could be sent back home any second or eventually decide to tell her to fuck off and Catra wouldn’t (and couldn’t) blame her for that. So she was preparing, in case. Most of the people who came in here, who sought assistance with sleep, were wary of telepathy - Dan was a gentle psychic hand in that regard, and he certainly didn’t force people to do anything they weren’t comfortable with. So. He’d see how that went. Naps in the Snooze Room were completely voluntary - he usually recommended them when someone was just so sleep deprived it was difficult to think straight, and then when they felt refreshed they’d go from there. But Catra seemed like she’d slept recently, at least, so that was good. He could give her some tips and tricks to try to keep it up. “That’s pretty common,” he assured. “I think we have a few folks here who have been involved with fighting in wars. How about I give you a Better Sleep checklist - “ He opened one of the drawers, and in it he had a stack of brochures (well, it was more like a flier, he guessed?) because it helped to have something tangible instead of attempting to memorize everything. “You can try the things listed here. Keep your room quiet and dark, stick to a fall asleep and waking up schedule, only use your bed for sleep and sex, no smoking or drinking before bed, things like that.” A lot of people thought drinking themselves into a coma helped, and while alcohol made a person feel sleepy, as their body processed the alcohol it actually meant they’d wake up more easily. “And also try some magnesium supplements. It’s good for helping people fall asleep and stay asleep. If none of that works, I can refer you to a sleep therapist here in Vallo, if you’re open to that.” Brochures. Of course he had brochures. Catra was learning quickly that Dan really was a total dork - though she had guessed it the first time they had a conversation over the network and he had typed out The Snooze Room at her. She took the paperwork, and maybe coughed awkwardly into her fist at the sex part because haha, what? Nah, she wasn’t twelve - moving on now. “All that sounds easy when you say it,” she mumbled, reaching out for one of his reading materials to review. Maybe it could be. Maybe her brain wasn’t totally broken. “Aren’t you the sleep therapist, anyway? How’d you even get into this sort of profession - I get being in the medical field, but.” Her hand gestured vaguely as she tried to come up with the words. “Sleep is just so...specific.” The medics she’s dealt with have been pretty cut and dry - patch up soldiers, move along like an assembly line. Pretty basic care. There were some specialties scattered about depending on the species but nothing like this. “I’m not trained as a therapist, but psychic powers sort of mean that you’re familiar with how the brain works,” Dan said (and come on, these fliers were sort of cute - they had little clouds printed on them and a joke, what do scuba divers wear in bed? A snore-kel!) because - well, maybe he really was a dork. No ‘maybe’ about it, fine, he’d acquiesce to that. But he wore the title proudly - better than being the hot garbage fire he was before, a drunk beating people’s faces in with pool sticks or his fists. Anyway. “I’m actually in my second semester of nursing school, after completing the nursing assistant program,” he added. How he got into this seemed like a long story - he’d try to be as concise as possible. It also made him think of how he’d been in Vallo for almost a year and how far he’d come, everything that had happened. Insane to consider, really. Time passed with the speed of a bullet from a gun. “I used to work in hospice. Helped people not feel so scared, on their way out. Helped them feel heard so they passed on with dignity. But then when this clinic opened, I thought - maybe I could still help people rest but in a different way. And do general nursing work. So here I am,” he shrugged casually. Seemed a wild ride some days, especially considering all that went on here. “But other than the sleep issues, you’re settling in okay?” Catra blinked like that. On their way out - oh. “You helped people die?” she blurted, a little high-pitched. “I don’t mean to sound like a total douche and I get that it’s mercy but that’s so depressing. Bet you’re more fucked up in the head than you look, dude.” And if that’s the case, he held it together pretty well despite it. She was a little bit jealous. “I’m fine, though,” she went on to answer half-truthfully, plucking at the fabric of her hoodie with her claws. “I’m not alone, so - the company helps. Patched things up, sorta, with the person that comes from my world too.” Adora hadn’t said the words I forgive you, but that was expected. Catra had to earn that. “There’s not a whole lot of action happening here and that’s a good and bad thing all at once?” She rubbed her blue eye with a sigh. “I’m too tired to do jack shit but it also makes me restless. I can’t win.” She was also trying to figure out ways to fix how shitty she’d been for the past three years, though she doubted Dan had specific flyers on how to make up for war crimes. Or almost destroying reality that one time out of pure spite mixed in with something of mental breakdown. “The action comes and goes,” Dan said. “There will be monsters popping up in the forest, and we have defense teams but sometimes there’s a lot going on. Or other strange things happen - it just depends. Vallo is rarely calm for long.” And during those times he worked long hours at the clinic, to help treat injured folks - he didn’t mind that though, this was why he got into medicine in the first place. He was more of that kind, and didn’t really want to be out there fighting. He twisted his wedding ring, around on his finger - the observation about his head made him chuckle a little. “I’m plenty fucked up in the head,” he agreed. It was refreshing, almost, to have someone tell him that - most everyone thought he was always like this. Mild-mannered and quiet, willing to blend into the wallpaper and go through his routine. They knew he’d been an alcoholic because he ran the AA meetings but they didn’t know what a violent drunk he’d actually been, a dog without a leash. “You know - childhood trauma. I’m here now also making up for a lot of bad shit. I have a debt to repay.” And after he died to save Abra, after the Overlook showed up here to torment him and his loved ones, Dan finally thought he’d gotten there. That he could just rest some, and try to be happy for once. Well, that sparked a little hope for some excitement. Catra didn’t have plans to be a domesticated house cat - she still had that itch, wanting to sink her claws deep into something until it was shredded to ribbons. Maybe her brain was a little broken, always seeking out a form of destruction. She didn’t really know. But she did find his admittance refreshing, too - she needed to see imperfections that weren’t just her own, even if she wasn’t privy to Dan’s list of sins. “Entertain me,” she proposed, resting her elbow on the armchair as her cheek leaned into her knuckles. “How does someone make up for ‘a lot of bad shit’? I’d imagine it varies on what you’ve done - and you don’t even look like someone who’d kick a puppy.” Obviously, looks can be deceiving and blah blah. Catra didn’t look like much either besides constantly pissy. “Kinda curious to know what’s the one big bad thing you regret the most.” Now that was a question - Dan had a pretty long list of regrets, it was hard to narrow it all down. “I hurt a lot of people, got into a lot of bar fights. Was arrested plenty of times,” he continued twisting the ring around his finger, not really a nervous gesture - though he guessed some of it was calming, somehow. A reminder of all he had here. “I regret what happened when I hit rock bottom. I went home with this woman, didn’t know her name. We were both drunk and high, passed out after going at each other. I woke up to vomit-stained sheets, her beside me. I left pretty quick though. She apparently had a baby too but I needed cash so I stole what she had." And he hadn't even done much for that kid with his sagging diaper - just placed the thing on the filthy bed with a bag of Cheez-Its, then robbed his mother blind. Not his proudest moment, no. “But in a way - I had to hit rock bottom, to crawl back out,” he went on. “I think the first way to start making up for bad shit is to accept that you did it. That there are parts of you that aren’t good, that may feel tempted to do that shit again. But you can make the choice to help others, instead of hurting them. And you get to decide what to do with those parts, that may not be wholly good. To feed them or not.” Oh, yikes. That was bad. That was bad and sad in a way that Catra hadn’t expected - and, look, she wasn’t judging or anything. Just surprised. “Oh,” she unhelpfully breathed out. His was an example of a very different way to do one hell of a damage, that was for sure. Dan’s words were taken into consideration, though - which was a fucking miracle considering she was total shit at listening to other people. “I thought I had hit rock bottom once,” she began. “Then I just took a shovel and dug myself a deeper hole, just to - I don’t really know. Prove that I could?” A shoulder lifted into a shrug. “Or prove that all I was capable of doing was to be worse than I was.” Catra had a list of wrongs she kept tally of. Her conscience wouldn’t allow anything else. She had kidnapped people, raided villages, lied and manipulated, invaded a whole kingdom - even almost broke the world. She could sum it all up by saying the worst thing that she had ever done was everything she’d done to Adora. And now the poor idiot was stuck here with her, having a tough time sleeping too unless Catra was by her side. Wasn’t that just several shades of fucked up? “The person I hurt the most in - well, everything - thinks we can fix things,” she poured on out. Why she was even rambling to him, Catra hadn’t much of a clue aside from the fact that he seemed willing to listen and wouldn’t judge her too harshly. And she obviously needed help but wasn’t sure how to even ask. “I have no idea where to even start. I’m scared I’ll mess things up. Again.” “It’s okay to be scared.” Dan had been scared too - he’d been terrified, and after getting a verbal smackdown from Dick’s spirit (like he was Dan’s conscience, fucking Jiminy Cricket), who advised him to put the money back, he wasn’t sure he could ever crawl out of that hole he’d been in. At that time he was even worse off than his father had been when he was at his alcoholic low point, considering Dan had no steady job and no friends, no social life to speak of. No support system, to help him turn his life around - not until he met Billy, who took a chance on him. But here he was now and he was proof that you could pay off the debt. Even the score a little. That you could reach a point in your life where you didn’t close your eyes and see all their faces, the faces of the ones you’d hurt in the past. “I guess you just start - together?” he suggested. “Being afraid isn’t an excuse to not do it though. Won’t know what’ll happen until you try.” He was right, fear wasn’t an excuse - even if there was a part of her that still wanted to bolt, because running was ten times easier than owning up to everything. Easier than looking Adora in the eye, acknowledging that she had done those things. Catra couldn’t justify them no matter how hurt she’d been. She very clearly had a fuuuuck sort of expression, hand dragging down her face in resignation. Together, yeah. As skittish as she was, she at least knew Adora meant what she’d said about wanting to fix this. Whatever this was anymore. “Sorry,” Catra groaned and sunk into the chair. Her tail lashed like a whip, irritable. Not at him - at herself. “I didn’t mean to word vomit on you like that. I honestly really did come here for the stupid sleep advice. I’m usually just surrounded by the goody-two-shoes type that don’t...get it, I guess?” He smiled a little wryly at that. “There are a lot of hero types here too,” Dan agreed. “But no one’s perfect and I’m sure they have their own regrets.” Or at least, he assumed - must be one hell of a life, to go through it when everything was picture perfect rainbow unicorn shit. Not to mention completely unrealistic. “Either way, I definitely get it.” Because early adulthood had been a shitstorm for him, and he’d taken a lot of people down with it - that was why he helped others now. A way to cope with a lot of things, not only the dreary hopelessness that was his childhood but also his inability to save his father. Not that he could have, as any therapist would tell him - that wasn’t on the shoulders of his five-year-old self. But sometimes he had trouble believing it. “And you don’t need to apologize. I’m here for word vomit anytime, plus stupid sleep advice. Let me know how it goes?” Dan hoped her zzzz’s would improve. However, he was equipped with some other tricks of the trade if not. Ughhhh. Catra audibly ugh’d. “Only because you asked so nicely,” she rolled her eyes, but hopefully he didn’t take it personally - it was all bark, no bite. Heatless. Dan was too nice for someone with those kinds of skeletons in his closet. She highly doubted she’d ever get to his level, but. The whole point was to try to be better than her current mess of a state. She languidly rose from the chair, limbs stretching and bones popping because she’s practically a cat and that’s what they do. “I think all this means we’re friends, sort of? And friends treat friends to edible things. I know you mentioned you don’t drink so that’s off the table.” Now she had a good idea as to why that was. Her arms crossed, hips cocked to the side. “Those cake pops from the other day were pretty good? But you can suggest some other place and I’ll buy.” Ah, yes, the cake pops from Starbucks. They were good, but the look on Catra’s face when they were presented as a ball of cake rather than a slice or entire cake was pretty priceless. Dan was sure he could think of something else for her to try, something she never had before. He also stood up, grabbing his clipboard and was prepared to walk her out, even if she knew the way - but still. He’d also go about his rounds, see what was next on the nursing agenda. “Milkshakes?” he suggested. “Maybe a good cheeseburger. There’s this diner called The Grease Bucket. You might be into it.” Wouldn’t break the bank either - he didn’t want to insist they go to some fancy place with shit like a charcuterie, also known as meat and cheese on a tray, artfully arranged. Catra’s face twisted into something that could be described as both amusement and disgust. “With a name like that? God, yeah, sure - I already feel the heartburn coming along,” she chuckled, the sound all gravel and with a touch of exhaustion. She walked alongside him and, oddly, her tail may have tickled his arm - on accident, maybe. The thing had a mind of its own but it often expressed a lot despite her efforts to shove it all down and make snarly noises instead. “Hit me up whenever you wanna redeem the milkshake and burger thing - I do know what those are.” Thanks, Google. |