RP: Therapy, Pt 5 Who: Alec & Roger When: February 13th, 2009 (morning; slightly backdated) Where: Alec's Private Practice on Victory Road What: Roger's fifth therapy session Warnings: Language
He'd pled his case considerably when seated opposite Samantha. He wasn't stupid, after all. And if anyone knew Roger as well as he did at this point, they'd have agreed with him. Which was probably why Roger was on the roster again in the first place for today. First thing.
The situation had been simple, as he'd explained. Yes, Roger had made a complete and total arse of himself. Had led Alec, of all people, to completely lose his shit. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been that upset... and yet.
And yet, Roger was in desperate need of help, and not the kind that Samantha was threatening to push on him. No, rehab would make him retreat further into himself. He'd fake his way out of it and would likely be dead before anyone would have expected from a drug overdose. No. He needed to stay in therapy. Much as he hated to admit it-- and a part of him genuinely did-- Roger had been making progress. If he let go of that now just because of Roger's little temper tantrum... he would have been a disgrace to his profession.
Which was why he was in his office new, brewing a pot of lavender tea, two teacups already set out on the table between his chair and Roger's sofa.
***
The repercussions of the disastrous session (which, in Roger's opinion, continued to get progressively worse) had been surprisingly brief and with little commotion. Samantha never spoke to Roger; instead she sent a two sentence letter via owl containing hers, and both the captain and the Pride's owner unanimous decision that Roger go on indefinite leave to focus on his health.
Focus on his health. Right.
He'd certainly spent the weekend 'focusing on his health' and every bar and club within walking, tubing and (while still sober) apparating distance possible. The two girls from the previous week were more than willing to keep Roger company. The idea to skip the session kept Roger in bed; Alec had said if he wanted to miss a session all that he'd need to do is call Greta. Going to these things didn't matter anymore when you were unofficially fired. And yet, bleary eyed and clutching an overpriced latte, Roger walked into Alec's office, comforted by the scent of lavender. His eyes lingered on the extra tea cup by the couch.
"Tea?"
***
"Yes," he nodded. "Tea indeed." Taking in a long breath, he held it for a few seconds before letting it out.
"I have to admit," he started slowly. "I wasn't sure if you were actually going to show up." Then again, he also hadn't known if Samantha had spoken to him in the first place about what had happened. Probably not. But one never knew, after all.
Looking down to see his teapot start to whistle, he watched it boil for a long while before grabbing the handle and walking over to the table to pour hot water for them both. "You know, I really lobbied hard to make sure that you could come back."
***
Crossing the room in several strides, a small smile slid onto his lips. He stopped at the couch and picked up the tea cup, wrapping the small object in both hands. Roger didn't reply to the comment of not showing up; hell, he'd barely even made it in today. The little cup felt cool, sturdy and oddly fragile in his hands, giving him a strangely comforted feeling.
The pot's cheerful whistle alerted Roger to the readied tea and he placed the cup back onto the surface of the table. "Thanks." Roger didn't make a distinction if his thanks was for the tea, Alec's effort or both.
***
Moving to take a seat, he sighed, picking up his own cup to take a sip. "It's my job." Whether he was talking about pleading his case to Samantha or making tea to make him more comfortable was left just as vague as Roger's brief acknowledgement. Raising one shoulder in a half-shrug, he nodded to him.
"Anything you want to talk about?" Like maybe the drugs Nora had asked Alec about disposing off? He wasn't stupid. "Anything at all."
***
Roger seized the cup and cradled it with both palms pressing against the hot ceramic. Or burned the skin in a tingling, not unpleasant sort of way. The scent of lavender wafted in his nose and he breathed deeply.
"Well," Roger pressed closed mouth to the edge of the tea cup, letting the heat sear his lips for a brief moment before pulling back. The skin pulsed lightly from the traces of heat transferred to the skin. "I've been removed from the starting lineup. Indefinitely." His blue eyes remained downcast though he spoke matter-of-factly. "To focus on my health."
***
… that was not good news, the news genuinely concerning him, Alec for once letting it show on his face. Quidditch was one of the few things Roger gave a shit about. If someone took that away… what was he left with?
"Indefinitely… until I give the order and declare that you're recovered enough?" He fell quiet for a moment. "I will say right now that I don't think it's a good idea. Unless... your habits were affecting your performance?" He kind of assumed that wasn't the case.
***
"I don't know. They - she - didn't say. Just the decision was made by my agent, captain, and the owner. Since it's to 'focus on my health'," Roger didn't bother to hide his disbelief. "I would think perhaps." Finally, he took a long sip of the tea, mentally disappointed the lavender tea purchased from the grocery didn't taste as good as this. "No," he placed the teacup down, hands feeling strangely chilled removed from the heat source. "I would never take anything before a match if I could help it."
***
Alec slowly nodded. "Right." That was… less than ideal. He couldn't, in good conscience, call Samantha to tell her that. Not while Roger was still like this. If he could do that and have him continue to come to therapy regardless… he wished he could trust Roger in any genuine capacity.
"Yeah, I know you wouldn't. I was mainly thinking about… chronic consequences."
***
"My reaction times were the same, and as far as I know interception and goal percentage was not affected. No, it's... too much of a risk. To the team." Roger sighed deeply, wishing he didn't understand why it had to be this way. Wishing he'd felt something beyond a quiet sense of loss. Upon receiving the letter he'd read it several times in complete silence, standing completely still. He'd not reacted beyond throwing it in the fire and going about his day, even if he'd forced his mind to stay on track. Roger refused to let the shock of the loss take root in any visible way.
***
"I'm sorry." He meant that sincerely, Alec's gaze momentarily downcast as he took another quiet sip of his tea.
"How have you been coping with it?" He paused. Roger didn't cope with things, generally. "Which is to say… how have you been avoiding… coping with this?"
***
Roger shrugged softly. There wasn't anything to be done at this point, just continue to move on.
"Well, I guess I'll have a lot more free time. I can practice - with the reserves." He grimaced, as though training with the reserves was insulting. "So I'm just going to keep my daily schedule: runs, swimming, the usual. Probably read more." Trying to be more social, though Alec didn't need to know that; Nora would have told her lover about the drugs and being questioned on that subject wasn't something Roger wanted to deal with today - or ever really.
***
Alec slowly nodded. Fantastic. Well, it was unlikely that they'd get anywhere if Roger was going to keep acting like this.
"We're really not going to get anywhere if we continue to act out Titanic." In this case, Roger was both the iceberg, and the ship simultaneously. "If you don't want to talk to me about this openly… maybe you could pick another topic you'd be more willing to talk honestly about?"
***
"Alec I don't know." He sighed again while shifting uncomfortably. "I... don't mean to be difficult I just... don't really know." Roger couldn't put into words just what he was feeling. "I just want winter to be over with, honestly. I hate the cold. At least the warm weather would make all this bearable." At least then he could aimlessly wander London and not have to think about Cho or Nora or how everyone either hated him, pitied him or thought he was a fuck up.
***
"I know." He sighed. The worst part of this was the fact that Alec knew that Roger didn't mean to do any of this. He couldn't help how fucked up he was.
"Is there anything I can do to put you at ease? Anything to make this easier for you?"
It had to be absolutely miserable to be be in Roger's head all the time. He couldn't imagine what it had to be like for him. "You know what I think? The one bright side here? I'm pretty sure that you hate yourself more than anyone else does." A beat. "Even Dora."
***
The observation of Dora's strong feelings on Roger gained Alec a wry grin and a small chuckle.
"Well, if I'm going to be a piece of shit I might as well be the best at it." At least no one could say he wasn't consistent with his relentless pursuit of absolute perfection. After a moment or two Roger revisited Alec's question. "No I don't really want anything." He looked down thoughtfully into the cup. "You know I bought some lavender tea. Yours is better."
***
"Luckily there are countless people that still love and care about you. Then again..." he sighed, keeping his attention on his cup for a moment, "that probably only makes it harder." Taking a long sip, his gaze returned to Roger. "Doesn't it."
His comment about the lavender tea, though, made him smile, a soft chuckle leaving him. "Well, it is imported. I'll ask my aunt to send some more next time. Give you part of my stock. I'm almost through what I have right now, anyway. Wouldn't be any trouble."
***
"It does," Roger admitted with red cheeks. "I know it shouldn't, but it does. I just really... wish they wouldn't." Keeping people at comfortable distances always worked well for him. At school the distance won popularity in his favor and during his younger adult years various friends and even fans who enjoyed talking to the illusive chaser. "Probably some clinical diagnosis on that I'm sure."
Why was Alec being so nice? Roger observed him curiously, as though his pale eyes could x-ray the man's mind and reveal his true intentions. "Well, if the lavender fields are as nice as you say I'm sure she won't miss a few extra branches missing."
***
He nodded. Alec could write a fucking dissertation on this man's psychological profile. All the more reason not to. "Avoidant Personality Disorder." Roger wanted to know what was in his file, right? If he wanted to know more, he could always ask. But he'd have to ask first.
The last time had been a disaster. But Roger needed help. The last thing he needed was to make this harder, to push him further into his shell when he was already down. Besides. Nora was hoping to patch things up. Roger needed to know, much as he hated it, perhaps, that people cared about him. Maybe if they suffocated him with love and affection he'd eventually get used to it.
If only it was that easy.
He chuckled at his comment, taking another sip. "I agree. They really are lovely. Might actually head out there this weekend and just bring some back then."
***
"Ah," Roger replied softly. "I've heard that before. Or that I'm highly avoidant. I think someone wrote it up in some narrative in some rag somewhere. Pretty sure it's another common complaint friends and lovers have had as well." He drained the last bit of tea, and smiled down to the cup. "It's odd, I dread being around others and yet when others stopped coming around I wanted nothing more than to have them contact me. I liked the inclusion even if I never included myself. At school it was easy to always be included but now..." He broke off with a shrug and pinched the cup between his thumb and forefinger, careful to keep the balance.
He smiled at the idea of lavender fields in Germany, sure they would be a wonderful sight. With Alec's offer, Roger thanked him. At the very least this would guarantee another meeting.
***
"Doesn't only mean you avoid other people. Self-imposed social isolation, sure, but also anxiety in social situations... feelings of inadequacy... self-loathing... mistrust..." He shrugged. And that was only off the top of his head.
Listening to Roger, he slowly nodded. It made sense, of course. "It's nice to feel wanted if you don't have to give anything in return. You pushed people away because they were asking you to be too emotionally open. You wanted them just close enough… just not that close."
He was quiet for a long moment, Alec considering the space before him before draining the last of his tea. "I'm not going to give up on you. I don't care how many books of mine you destroy or burn." Refilling his own cup, he nodded to the one perched in between Roger's fingers. "More?"
***
That all sounded very much like him. Too much. The pressure built up painfully in the neck muscles as so often happened when stressed. Even knowing all these aspects it was hard to hear them from another's perspective.
The corners of Roger's mouth twitched into a smile and his chest felt painfully full, which was better than the void that had taken root since the letter on Friday. "Thanks... I mean it." He looked up to Alec, feeling as though words were not enough. How could he make the other man feel the incredible rush of gratitude he felt? A part of Roger lamented the inadequacy of his actions. "I don't know why I'm like this. Nothing 'bad' ever happened to me. I wasn't mistreated, or abused or bullied. I... really don't know when everything became too much."
It was true: Roger had gone so far into the woods that he couldn't find the path back out again. He'd always been avoidant and prone to bouts of intellectual brooding but nothing on this level. Only in the last few years had he withdrawn so severely. At least in the past he could go out and enjoy a pint with his friends before heading home early.
"Hmm, yeah, if you don't mind. If you're going to make me talk I'll probably not want to get a sore throat."
***
It was truly astonishing. Almost like he knew that Roger wouldn't be able to handle the things in his file, being psychoanalyzed so openly. Well, at least he couldn't say he was shocked.
"Yeah. Of course." He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. "And I think you know that it goes beyond it being my job." He'd always liked Roger, had always viewed him as a friend over the years. What had happened in recent years… well. It was rare that fame didn't get to a person sooner or later. Either way-- even considering the last few months-- he didn't blame him in the least. And then of course there was the fact of his age. "I know you don't. Most psychological disorders… bloom around the age of twenty-five."
Chuckling at his comment, Alec refilled his cup. "Maybe one day the three of us can go down to Heidelberg together and have some while overlooking those aforementioned lavender fields."
***
Disorder. Fuck he hated that word. It made him feel dirty and damaged. As though this had been the results of his own mistakes and completely preventable. A disorder belonged to the shifty person on the Tube or a drifter begging for change wearing filthy rags. Not to a sports star famed for his mental abilities. Someone like him should be completely in control of his mind and yet Roger's had betrayed him.
"Twenty five huh?" Sounded about right. It was around that age life stopped feeling like a shower under pleasant water. Instead the temperature was hot - too hot - and Roger had been unable to turn it down; the only course of action was to stand in the steam and burn or hide and deal with the occasional splash. "Rather shit, that one. Life let's you enjoy it for a quarter then turns around and decides to fuck about?"
With a nod of thanks, Roger considered for a moment. "Yeah, one day perhaps." It was a nice, open, noncommittal answer that seemed just solid enough that Roger was known for. It drove reporters and Samantha equally up the wall.
***
"Just biology. Certainly not your mother's fault." Sure, upbringing played a role, but in this instance, there had been a combination of factors. More than likely, Roger's father deserved worse than what he'd gotten, that was for sure. Then again, just living as part of a two-parent household was hardly ever enough. It certainly hadn't been enough for him. Fucking pureblood bastards that his parents were.
He slowly nodded at Roger's question, offering a soft shrug. "The only thing you can really do is keep fighting it."
It would be nice. One day, maybe. It would take a couple of small miracles… but if it could happen, it would be a nice goal to work toward. "What can I do to best help you? I can try any number of things, obviously, but they won't work if you don't want them to. So… some of this is on you." He was doing his best to extend an olive branch, but it was up to Roger to take it.
***
While the notion his lack of mental soundness wasn't the fault of his mother was a comforting feeling, at the same time it made Roger feel worse; it was as though he'd failed himself. He should have been able to prevent this. If only he'd worked harder, trained his brain and kept it more mentally agile.
Roger looked up to Alec, feeling as though he'd aged a hundred years.. if he didn't have his mind what else was left? "Just...I don't know. Help me understand. How this happened.. Why it did. It's not supposed to happen to someone like me." Roger's voice broke and he lurched forward, feeling sick. This these things didn't happen to the Quidditch star, the math genius, or a Ravenclaw.
***
Fucking hell. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Roger looking this vulnerable ever before, Alec shaking his head as he leaned forward, as if hoping to metaphorically meet him in the middle.
"This isn't your fault, Roger. This is a matter of biology. Genetics. An awful fucking bout of bad luck. You should have never had to deal with this. No one deserves the shit you're going through. But... as Thomas Henry Huxley himself stated in Evolution and Ethics... nature is amoral. It doesn't care about any of us. And it shows. Everyone is a fucked up in their own ways. You were just dealt a really bad fucking hand. Worse than most. That doesn't make you a bad person. It makes you an incredible person if you're able to be good in spite of what your body is putting you through right now. Because most people don't have to deal with this shite. And it's anything but fair to you, that you have to fight where others can go through life never knowing what this feels like. But if you can get through this... you can get through anything."
***
The closeness of Alec's voice told Roger the man had moved to sit closer but instead of drawing back he remained motionless, hands clasped tightly together while staring at the floor, not wanting to show his face.
"I know it's not my fault, I just... I tried Alec." Roger pleaded softly. "You have no idea the lengths I took; my mind is my keep where nothing can threaten me. I took so many precautions, even with the drugs. I researched all the side effects, the observed damage and ways to combat it. I... How could it turn on me?"
Alec's explanation of biology, while appreciated, didn't fully comfort Roger. Somewhere down the road he'd screwed up and caused this. He had to. His mind - the true essence of Roger - wouldn't have done this to himself.
Finally, Roger looked up, frowning, thinking. "How do I getting over this? It's a disease right? There has to be a way to undo the damage." He licked his lips eagerly. "What do you think it is? If we know we can fix it."
***
"Roger, there is nothing you could have done to prevent this. I wish there was. I wish I could give you... memory exercises to help contain this… but it's not like that."
Alec had never had to tell someone they had a terminal illness, to make a diagnosis that would ruin them forever. He helped people. But here, looking at Roger, he couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't what it felt like. The knot in his gut, the feeling of… guilt, in a way, as though, if he weren't here to give him the news, Roger would have never had to hear it.
"These disorders you're dealing with. They're things that have probably affected you for a long time now, only to get considerably worse in recent years." He wasn't even sure how Roger would function, how Roger would feel if he didn't constantly feel like a prisoner in his own mind. "They're deeply ingrained, maladaptive patterns of behavior. They're deeply ingrained and difficult to treat. And the treatments vary... widely from disorder to disorder. And in your case, they seem... to overlap, like they've become so enmeshed that... if we try to combat one, it'll require us to combat all of it."
Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes for a long moment. He couldn't help it. Roger seemed dangerously delicate right now, as though any misstep on his part could be fatal. It was a miracle he hadn't started sweating yet, Alec putting his glasses back on. "We have... options. Treatments can be genuinely emotionally draining, as they'll ask you to be willing to put your guard down. I know that's not easy. On the bright side... some of the symptoms you're dealing with can be managed with medication, which would make it easier to try and deal with everything else." On what was more or less a fucking laundry list of symptoms he was facing. At least medication would help him deal with the depression, anxiety, and symptoms of psychosis he was dealing with.
"My point is that this is going to be difficult. But I imagine you already know that. I don't envy your position by any means… but if you're willing to work with me, and you're willing to work on yourself, there's a lot we can do." He'd just need to trust him.
***
Somehow he'd known Alec wouldn't - couldn't - fix this. Roger was well aware of the mind's power over the body, how at the base of it all everything he felt, knew and observed was nothing more than the firing of electronic signals and chemical reactions. But it all felt so real. He was real. The disorders made him a real person even if they stole his life at the same time.
The blue eyes lit up at the possibility of treatment. Hadn't Alec offered to 'help him' at the hospital? Wasn't he able to go into the minds of others and remove the damage? The possibility both terrified and elated Roger; he might lose this version of himself, but it had to be better than disappearing completely.
"I already have medication." Legally prescribed, though Roger didn't always use it in legal ways. "I could keep taking it and working on... whatever this is. What is it?" He sat up a little straighter, no longer feeling the crushing weight on his shoulders.
***
He had no idea what on earth had contributed to a shift in Roger's mindset just then, why he suddenly seemed far more hopeful than he had before, but Alec wasn't about to look a gifthorse in the mouth.
"If it's all right with you, I might want to look at that list and see if we can't improve whatever cocktail of substance they've currently got you on. That's step one." Lord only knew whatever they were prescribing him wasn't fucking doing its job sufficiently.
He was reluctant to go into this, and Alec took a long moment to put his thoughts together. "We're dealing with… Asperger's Syndrome, part of which has likely contributed to savant syndrome, avoidant personality, schizoid personality, paranoid personality, and narcissistic personality. These... names can be misleading. Schizoid, for example, has nothing to do with schizophrenia despite the frequent misattributed association between the two. Obviously I go into more detail in your file regarding what specific symptoms you present with... but judging by how you responded to me just listing a handful of those earlier... I'm not sure if it would be the best idea to go into more detail. Now, muggle treatments for this are vastly behind what we've been able to do in my field, which is good news."
Taking a sip of his tea, he continued. "You need to understand that these treatments are potentially dangerous. There is a vetting period of four weeks usually before I'm allowed anywhere near your head. I've been seeing you for two weeks, and while I'd be willing to count that as part of the four, it would require you to be exceptionally open with me. Childhood traumas especially. Your feelings about your father, your deepest, darkest thoughts about your home life when you were younger, and so on. Because… your head is going to be… difficult to navigate, and I'm going to need to know exactly what I'm looking for." Which might prove more challenging if he didn't know precisely what issues they were hoping to fix. But a part of Alec was fairly certain that, however repressed they might have been, Roger knew what issues he had that were the most concerning to him and those around him.
"I can tell you more about what goes into what I do, of course, but I would need you to be sure that this is how you want to get better. Because… the sanctity of the mind is something I take very seriously in this profession. Sessions like these are… taxing on both parties. It would probably require several weeks of sessions. And while you'll probably see quite a bit of improvement, you'll be rather fatigued after each one, and it's vital that we continue to meet over this period. Because… it does require that you want to get better. There is nothing so dangerous to both of us as a hyper-resistant mind. If I can't immediately find my way out, for whatever reason, and you start putting up your defenses, your mind will literally fight the intrusion." He let that sink in for a moment. "Both of us could die." A concern that was largely, well… Roger-centric.
***
Roger shrugged, it wouldn't be too terribly hard to gather up the various pharmaceuticals prescribed to him by Muggle doctors who didn't ask too many questions; like why they were glaringly obvious consistency errors in Roger's NHS information. He listened quietly to Alec's diagnosis, each disorder like a punch to the gut.
"Heh, I'm a bit of a mess huh?" Roger remarked hollowly, looking to the cup of untouched tea. That was, what he assumed, only the tip of the iceberg. How did things get this bad? How did he fail to see the signs and stop all this from taking over? Surely there had to be something. The exceptional talent in math had always been there for as long as Roger could remember; same with the awkward, unsure feelings when interacting with others. Over time it had become so easy to slip into the role he needed and recharge alone at night while walking the halls of Hogwarts or relaxing in the Prefects bathroom. In the silence Roger could be himself... Which never felt too different. Honestly it didn't feel like much beyond a quiet, comforting void.
The knowledge they'd only been in two weeks of sessions surprised Roger more than the diagnosis. Given all the progress - or lack thereof - he'd expected a month. Time and relatively, what a bitch. He'd been perfectly content with letting Alec prod around in his mind until he asked for the impossible: full and complete truth. The notion slipped down Roger's stomach like an ice cube and settled uncomfortably near the bottom.
"I...I can't." He stammered automatically. "You know what to look for, right? You know these things. You have it written down. You can just get rid of the parts that are affecting me." Above all Roger feared he would come out of this a completely different person. What if he lost his ability to understand math? The whole universe - a veil of numbers and absolute truths he could slip behind when the world was too much - might get taken away. The pale blue eyes stared at Alec, curious. "How can the mind kill another? Psychokinesis isn't real."
***
"If you need to write about it and tell me that way, that works, too. Or… record your thoughts. But if you don't open up to me, and I go in there, I might never come back out. It would put both of us in serious danger." He sighed. "If we have to work up to that, I'm willing to wait until you're comfortable. But it obviously depends on whether or not you're willing to wait for that." And Roger seemed to be itching to get out of his skin as it was, disorder after disorder fighting for dominance in his mind.
"You know that everything you tell me is held in complete confidence. If I breathe so much as a word of what you've told me to anyone else… well, you know what they do to underage wizards who practice magic. The Ministry just knows. It's like they have eyes on me at all times. I don't know if that makes you feel more comfortable, but I'm willing to do just about anything to accomplish that. Fuck, if you need to drink or be on drugs, I'm willing to let you do that in a controlled environment under my supervision."
Finishing the rest of his tea, he promptly refilled it with a sigh.
"It's… complicated. I imagine your brain would look something like a… library." Dilapidated, maybe. But. Well. Still. "Or walls and walls of file cabinets if not books. Consider how big your average Quidditch pitch is and multiply that by at least twenty. And that's for a child's, barely-developed mind. You have… a lot going on in there. So yours would be not only more complex to navigate but also… larger than your… average… bear… brain. Because you're smart as hell. So… let's consider something simple. Like the fact that you've come to like lavender tea. If I was to do anything with that fact alone, I'd have to not only seek out that section of your brain that governs your personal history-- which would include our sessions, the time you've spent drinking it by yourself-- but also your sensory memories. All of this is delicate, difficult, strenuous work. And what I just mentioned is only the tip of the iceberg. It's an extremely specialized profession. You won't find amateurs in it."
A beat, Alec taking another sip. "On the one hand, I can tell you that if I deliberately touched anything you hadn't authorized, I'd be sent to Azkaban faster than you can say Quidditch. On the other, I have colleagues. None locally, but I know all of the people who do what I do since there are so few of us. So if you'd like to do this with someone else, I would obviously understand."
***
The idea of Alec walking around in Roger's mind was such a puzzling concept. Mentally he pictured a miniature version of the man before him wandering rows of an old, dimly lit library. Of course that was impossible; memory and the soul were not tangible things one could take a stroll through. Alec offered for another to do the deed and Roger shook his head firmly.
"No. No, there isn't any way...I just wouldn't trust someone else." Letting Alec get this far had been extremely difficult and uncomfortable but starting over with someone - a complete stranger - wasn't something Roger wanted to do. This was something he wouldn't run from, his mind was the most important part of him: the only thing that mattered. He took a long, steadying breath as the seconds stretched between them.
"I... Let's begin. And," the red tint returned to his cheeks. "Doc, don't let me get off topic. You know I do that to distract from the question. If I start to drift just... Pull me back, okay?"
***
For a moment Alec sat, genuinely astonished. A part of him had always thought that, if given the option to talk with a stranger instead of with him, Roger wouldn't even hesitate, running from Alec's office as if chased out by a fucking Norwegian Ridgeback.
He wouldn't trust anyone else?
There weren't a lot of things that could astonish Alec to the point of words failing him, but this was definitely one of them. What the hell had he done right? Merlin's ballsack, Alec could cry from relief at Roger's willingness to get help-- hell, to let him be the one to provide the help, no less.
"That… really means a lot. Thank you, Roger."
Chuckling at his question, Alec nodded, an affectionate smile coloring his features. "You're right. I do know that." Hell, the fact that he was willing to admit that openly… that could bode especially well. "Well, if we get to anything that makes you uncomfortable… we'll move onto another topic and hold off on that one until you feel ready. You just need to tell me that it's too soon, and I'll respect that." Quiet for a moment, Alec took a sip of his tea. "I'd like to start with something that probably goes… a good bit deeper than expected. It might be the most important topic. We'll see." He cleared his throat. If Roger was supposed to be open with him, full disclosure, then he'd offer him the same. "Talk to me… about your father. I can't imagine it was easy for either of you, with him not around." He meant his mother, of course, but Roger knew that.
***
Roger grinned back at Alec after the man thanked him. When words didn't work gestures never failed to help him get the point across.
Alec's question of Roger's father hit him with cold dread and he sat back into the couch; at least he hadn't gone straight to the throat and asked about Cho. Picking up the now lukewarm tea, he shrugged softly.
"I mean, it's like a said before: there isn't much to tell. He was long gone before I was born. Mum never really talked about him and if she did it was indifferent and matter-of-factly. I only learned about him on my own during a Muggles study lesson when we were to research a noted Muggle." Roger took a sip of the disappointingly cool tea. "I passed off my reason to research him as my interest in sports and the challenge of finding someone who wasn't very famous."
Roger paused, looking at Alec. Surely the man had reasons to ask.
***
He knew it had to be a difficult topic, but childhood experiences were the most formative, and his father's absence in his life was a notable one, which would likewise have affected his relationship with his mother.
"Sure, but facts are one thing. How you feel about them is another thing entirely." Refilling Roger's cup from the self-heating kettle on the table, he sat back, taking a sip of his own.
"How come?" A beat. "Did you ever resent him for not being there?"
***
"I guess..." Roger started uneasily, giving a nod of thanks for the reheated tea. "I guess I don't resent him for not being there - it was honestly probably for the best - but that he just... left mum. Simply said 'a baby will ruin my career. Here is money, get rid of the problem' and that was that." He nearly drained the tea in one deep gulp. "Mum told him to get fucked and never speak to her again. I have no idea if he tried." He placed the teacup down. "I do know once his career ended suddenly that was when he decided to not abandon this woman he knocked up. So, yeah," his voice, while trying it's best to remain neutral, took on a disgusted tone. "I rather don't like what he did to mum. She didn't deserve it, even if it takes two people to make a baby."
***
"Well," Alec began slowly, taking a sip of his tea, "no one should be punished for being sexually active if all parties consent. John Stuart Mill was the one who said that we ought to have three liberties. The freedom of thoughts and opinions, the freedom to unite provided that all parties are old enough and consent, and the freedom to pursue one's tastes, regardless of what anyone else happens to think, so long as no one comes to harm as a result."
In other words, there wasn't a single part of him that thought his mother deserving of any judgment. "I imagine you wouldn't do the same to woman." He quieted for a long moment. "When was the first time you learned that other children have… two parents? Some with considerable more time. Or… even ones with nannies." Did he resent them, too, for having what he didn't? "Did you ever wish you had a father? And-- I don't mean him. I mean a decent one, a good man. Someone who loved your mother and treated both of you right."
***
At the very least Alec understood, even if he'd quoted a man Roger was unfamiliar with. He made a mental note to go to the library and look up Mill's writings once they finished for the day.
A brief flicker of disgust lit up his features. "No. If I were in the same position I'd not abandon her or the child. If she doesn't want to be with me that's fine, and if-" His voice wavered slightly. "If she didn't want me involved I could understand but I will always be there to help if she wants it." Despite the current popular opinion Roger was a selfish asshole who ran through women, he was a surprisingly staunch supporter of women's rights.
"When did I know?" The question took Roger by surprise. "I... Well I always knew. You see mummies and daddies out with their children. I don't think I ever made a fuss about it. I'm sure mum explained that a family could be any combination of people. There was a stretch when I was staying with my grandparents though I don't know why." A mental picture of a very young Roger swam in his subconscious. He couldn't have been older than six or seven, with a tangle of dark hair clutching a stuffed owl and looking out the window. It was grey and raining.
Apparently he'd looked out this window many times as his Gran called from somewhere off in the distance and the low rumble of his Grandpa's voice mentioned 'at the window again'.
"It was just something I accepted. I guess...I don't know. I'm not close with the Weasleys, but I always liked their father. I'd see him at the Ministry or at the company picnics with his kids. He seemed so devoted. I knew there are good dads out there but him... he's a great father." The admiration for the head of the Weasley clan shone through the warmth in Roger's voice.
***
"Yeah, he's a good guy. Katie's good friends with those boys through Quidditch, of course. I imagine you'd have to be half a saint to raise seven kids on a one-person salary and have the house never feel any less warm for it." A part of him couldn't imagine manage even half than that, but, well. Maybe someday. "How do you think things might have been different for you if you'd had someone like him as a father?"
It couldn't be an easy question to answer, Alec falling silent for a long moment. "I have two parents. Didn't mean much in terms of parenting. They have to be good ones."
It was a damn fucking shame his mother had been too busy putting food on the table to be around for young Roger. "Did you ever wish your mum could have been around more? I can't imagine that it's easy not blaming your father for the situation he left her with." It was, after all, his fucking fault she couldn't be around in the first place.
***
Roger honestly couldn't imagine just how the Weasley clan had managed to remain so rich in family and love despite being so poor. He admired their children: always keeping their heads high despite the whispers and occasional jeers about the state of their clothing or obviously hand-me-down items. Despite coming from the same socio-economic status, Roger had been able to hide his poverty from his peers and never spoke of his mother's struggle, instead pretending she'd always been the secretary to this director or that department head.
"Well, I'm not sure. It didn't seem to help the Weasleys money-wise having two parents." He frowned at the overly harsh observation. Alec's hypothetical question triggered his defense mechanism. However, Alec commented on his own parents, piquing Roger's interest. "Yours... Weren't good?" It felt awkward to ask such a personal question. Of course there were terrible parents out there, though Roger secretly defaulted to the idea two parents equaled a loving environment.
Another shrug in response, Roger looked to the tea cup and traced the rim with an index finger. Hopefully it would vibrate and produce a pleasing sound. "Sure, I suppose? I just wish she hadn't needed to work so much. Over time though I really came to enjoy being alone."
***
He shook his head. "They were working off of one income." Just like his mother had been. "Their mother was able to stay home. That's what I meant." He hadn't been able to have a parent stay home. Latch-key kids never grew up entirely well-adjusted.
His question didn't particularly surprise Alec. It was a personal, yes, but that had been rather deliberate on his part.
"These… conversations tend to flow a lot more when I give pieces of myself, too." A sacrifice he's forced to make sometimes. But with Roger it feels well-deserved. It helped him open up more. That mattered here. He cleared his throat. "But yeah. They were… distant. We're not the most traditional pureblood family-- not even part of the sacred twenty-eight, not that that mattered to them-- but we were traditional enough. They're so… fucking proud that McGonagall would have been an Urquhart if she hadn't kept her maiden name. Braggarts. Try to pretend they have more money than they do. Purer blood. Judge… everyone around them. And they were terrible parents. Didn't matter to them. They procreated for the purpose of continuing the pure bloodline. Their precious pureblood son had to fit into a wee little box. And I didn't. They're both bloody alcoholics. Both believe in the capital punishment of children. My arse was still blue the day I boarded the train to Hogwarts."
His gaze had dropped while he'd been talking, Alec only noticing just then as his eyes found Roger's again. "What made you change your mind?"
***
So Alec was a traditional Pureblood. Somehow that seemed to fit even if the other man didn't behave in the way Roger stereotyped Slytherin purebloods. Sure there were others: Abbott, Bones, Shafiq and Weasley that weren't scummy or old fashioned about the purity of one's blood, though his mother's warnings during the first Wizarding War and his own experience during the second still called for alarm when interacting with someone of pureblood ancestry.
"McGonagall?" She and Alec were related? The blue eyes studied Alec's features, unable to detect physical similarities he'd come to know over the years from his favorite professor. That wasn't important, though, as Alec continued on, explaining in surprisingly raw detail just what type of upbringing he had. Roger felt incredibly foolish sitting on the couch before a man who'd suffered real abuse and neglect at the hands of those who were supposed to protect Alec.
How dare he sit here with such banal problems? Roger felt incredibly embarrassed.
Once more the silence stretched out before them, Roger unsure how to navigate the rubble of truth strewn before them. Alec, ever the professional, continued on with his work. Another question. But Roger found himself at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to respond and closed it, looking away.
"Alec I'm so sorry." The reply was barely above a whisper. "I didn't know."
***
"Yeah. she married my great-uncle."
Right. Alec had forgotten that most people didn't go through this sort of thing. As far as he'd been concerned, Roger had had it far worse. Absentee parents… then again, he couldn't quite decide if he'd rather have had his father or no father at all. It wasn't like he'd really known anything else.
He grabbed his tea to take a sip only to find the cup disappointingly empty, a frown coloring his features. Heaving a great sigh, he reached for the pot to pour himself more tea. Also empty. Fantastic. Getting up, it took him a few strides to reach his tea station to make more. Roger had barely touched his, but it didn't matter. What Roger wouldn't have, he'd have finished up by noon.
"It's not that bad. I'm happy now. Don't really… talk to my parents. Better that way." Turning to Roger, he shook his head. "You're dealing with worse right now."
***
"I don't know, mate, yours sounds much more damaging in the long run. I can't even remember mum even physically punishing me." Of course it had happened, but so infrequently and without extreme action to have been memorable. "I mean, when it comes down to it I'm just some out of touch sports star with that's a bit fucked in the head. You've had real trauma." Deflecting this onto Alec helped relieved the sense of embarrassment Roger felt sitting here whining about his absent parents.
***
He couldn't help it, he laughed. "I… found my own coping skills. Like I said, we're all fucked up in our own ways. All pain is relative. I was just fucking spanked a bit harder than most. That's one bloody thing, and I don't even have that to deal with that anymore. It's just… residue. Dirt on my shoes." Turning to look at him, he smiled. "I want you to get to that place, too."
It was just going to be a good bit harder for him. Precisely because he was steeped in crap right now, and boatloads of it.
"You're dealing with more than me. I'm serious. The only genetic fuckups I'm dealing with are the fact that my blood is fucking mud. And..." He set the pot on again, walking back to his seat with a sigh. "Fact is, we're going to have to get you to start believing that you're worth anything. Anything at all. Worth… caring about, worth fighting for, worth… staying alive. Gotta work on that self-hatred. Part of that is recognizing that you've been through a lot of shit. Your brain is gonna try to talk you out of it. Don't let it. I'm telling you right now that it's wrong and that it lies to you. A lot. It's part of what we're here to fix. You need to stop trusting your brain and start fighting it back into shape. Because you're worth that effort and more."
***
Ah, the self worth speech again. Merlin did the subject make Roger so bloody uncomfortable. He shifted restlessly in his seat, feeling entirely too exposed while the man whom he'd had a near physical altercation spoke highly of him. It made Roger nauseous.
"Erm, right. I know." He replied awkwardly, feeling the uncomfortable notion of being scrutinized under a microscope. "Let's, ah, get back on topic." Or at the very least away from this repulsive topic; he didn't want a cheerleader.
***
"This is one of the topics." And a bloody well important one, at that. "Like I said before, we can table it for now. But I think that you'll find that we'll keep coming up against this wall sooner or later. The point is," and here the pot began to whistle again, Alec getting up to retrieve it, "we're going to need to figure out why you hate yourself so damn much. Because your lack of self-worth is weaved into your personality so tightly that without some points of origin it will be impossible to eradicate bit by bit. It would require me to go into your head every day for the rest of your life, if not more. And that's assuming normal wizard life expectancy."
As uncomfortable as it made him, Roger was going to have to realize, sooner rather than later, that this was at the core of most of his issues.
***
"I don't hate myself," Roger replied defensively, his body language matching his tone with crossed arms. "I'm really - I mean I was - fairly successful in my career and I'm talented in mathematics in a way most aren't. Believe it or not I don't spend my days moping about how depressed I am. I hate it when people do that."
Indeed, outward displays of strong depressive emotions in public made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, awkward and often embarrassed. He'd seen plenty of crying fits in the Ravenclaw common room during exam time and not known what to do beyond wish that person would just stop.
"Besides, I've been feeling pretty good about life in general barring these past few months. But even then the sadness is busy just background noise."
***
"No, you bottle your feelings up and try to bury them. Your career..." He shook his head. "That's not the area of concern here. Nor is your intellect. This has to do with your personal relationships."
Because, really, that's wherein the issue lay. He knew he was smart, knew he was good at his job... those weren't the weak spots in the least.
"Did you ever think you didn't deserve your mother?" Because Roger spent all of his time talking about her acting like she could do no wrong. "Didn't deserve a decent father?"
***
Roger heaved a large sigh. Personal relationships, the ones he worked so hard to maintain and keep at a comfortable distance. He'd began to respond when Alec moved onto another topic. Sweet Rowena.
"Deserve...her? I don't know," Roger replied truthfully, taking a brief pause to ponder the situation. "She didn't deserve to struggle, and she definitely wasn't perfect. She lost her temper with me plenty of times but...I dunno, maybe she did deserve a..." How could he phrase this? "I was very sick as a kid. It may not seem like it now, but for years my health was very unstable. I mean it couldn't have been easy being in her situation and have chronically ill child."
***
"You mentioned before that you felt like you were an unnecessary burden upon your mother in a lot of ways. That you've deal with a lot of guilt... well. Still are, probably."
Just how much of a guilt, shame-riddled mess he was, however, remained to be seen. This well ran deep, that was for sure.
"Do you blame yourself for being a sick child? Feel guilty at all for your body failing you and your mother?"
***
"I mean," Fuck, this was hard. Roger looked around, anywhere but at Alec. "I didn't really understand my body or power the mind had over it. It wouldn't be productive to lament the illnesses of a sick child who is even unaware of their own being." He paused, worrying his bottom lip. "I understand it now, hence why I pay my mother back even though she won't accept the money. I mean," Roger smirked, taking a sip of tea. "She can't refuse it if I hide it before leaving."
***
"Right," he nodded, the motion slow and contemplative. "But… the crux of the matter is that you didn't know those things. And while you may be able to look back now and logically come to the conclusion you just told me… you weren't capable of that level of reasoning back when you were experiencing these things."
Taking a long sip of his tea, Alec considered how to best put it. There really was no convenient answer there.
"I can look back at what happened to me, and my present self can rationalize that no damage was done. But that's me belittling the suffering that I went through back then. Just like you do. Because… my past self was not capable of reasoning that my parents were deeply misguided in their methods, that their warped values were being taken out on me through no fault of my own. Back then, I thought it was my fault that they were doing these things. That I was an intrinsically horrible child who had to somehow deserve it. So I can look back now and say that I know it wasn't my fault, and be done with it, but I'll be ignoring my ten-year-old self. Who does need to be cared for and loved as much as anyone else.
"We all have… our past selves within us. Think of humans like… an infinite number of babushka dolls, all nested, one within the other. And, as more layers are added, you'll find that they effectively hide the ones that came before. Of course. But the surface self is a lie. One would have to acknowledge the cross-section of the doll to find the whole self. So… I don't know how old you were, obviously, but there are parts of yourself that you're either ashamed of, or scared of, or resent. That you don't want to be there, because it's an inconvenience to you right now. And those feelings are valid. But those parts of you deserve care as much as we do now. Because it's the echoes of the damage done to them that we feel today." He cleared his throat. "You'll have to forgive the metaphor. But I struggled to find a better way to put it."
***
"But that me doesn't exist anymore." Roger insisted. "That sick child doesn't exist because as an adult I'm not ill anymore." It had taken countless months - hell possibly cumulatively years - of his young life, examinations, potions, needles, two surgeries and endless medication and even then Roger's immune system never fully recovered; he still ran a higher risk of infection or catching an illness than the average person.
"Perhaps as a child I was frustrated by my situation." And he had been, very much so. "But dwelling on it now would be a waste of time because I'm not that person."
***
"Perhaps not, but the after-effects of that persist. Like… a stone, when skipped across a lake, leaves ripples in its wake even after it's long gone."
Alec sighed, shaking his head. This was impossible. He wasn't sure if the other man was willfully trying to pretend that he wasn't understanding what he was saying, or if he genuinely didn't understand, which-- given his considerable intellect-- was rather hard for Alec to believe about Roger.
"I am no longer being beaten, yes? That me doesn't exist anymore because as an adult I am no longer in the care of my parents. That doesn't mean that the fact that it happened left a lasting impact. Guilt and shame and loneliness and envy are all emotions that trail us. You can't shed them like a snake might shed its skin; it's not a past life, long gone and forgotten. The scars acquired in childhood, if never dealt with, are still raw. Your mind just does a good job of hiding them. Now, obviously I don't know what factors in your childhood are responsible for the issues you have now. I can only try to conjecture and lead you this way or that way in the hopes that it might… jog a resistant, repressed memory. My point is that-- and, again, this is just an example-- if a part of you now still resents your childhood self because of the trouble your being ill caused your mother, then you are still that person. Not substantially. But you are. Maybe… a quarter of a percent of you. Doesn't matter how small the amount. We still need to bring that quarter of a percent to the surface so you can deal with it in a constructive, healthy way."
He'd said this wouldn't be easy, and by fucking god, he'd meant it.
***
"I just... Don't see why I have to deal with it." His body language closed off further by wrapping his arms tightly around himself. "I don't - I'm not - that person anymore." Unfurling from himself, Roger instinctively reached for the blue squishy ball resting in its predictable place on the table next to the couch. "And if I hadn't been that person I would probably be very different from who I am today. That struggle and the experiences created the ripples on pond you described, the very struggle and contradictions the person I am now emerged to distill such a specific form."
***
"Yes. Unfortunately that person that you are today is coping with a good deal of shit that you shouldn't have to. So we need to trace the source." He sighed.
"I know this isn't easy. None of it is. It's not meant to be. That's why I said that you could tell me that if you find a topic too uncomfortable to address just yet, we can move onto something different." Taking a slow sip from his tea, he considered where they were at, how nervous Roger seemed.
"You have two options. You're free to go if you want… or you can pick a topic you'd like to talk about. Something you think is pertinent and emotionally important for you to talk about, but… not something so intrusive that you shut down." Merlin, Roger was like a fucking computer. If only there was some way to reboot him, do a factory reset and just clear the viruses out as easily as one did with muggle computers. That would be the fucking day, Alec unable to stop himself from thinking back to an extraction he'd done on a muggle-born witch whose head had been a fucking computer. He hadn't even gone home that night, just going to the library to do research on muggle computers until he realized that there were fucking birds chirping. That had been a shit night.
***
Roger sighed, looking down at the squishy ball clutched in his hand. "I'm sorry. You're right. This is... obviously too close." Too close to what? To his core, perhaps? To the random memories buried deep under the surface never to be seen but leaving subtle traces of their destruction behind? "Let's... Let's go back. It was easier before we started to dig too deep into me."
Maybe it was better they called it a day. Learning he suffered from multiple mental deficiencies had been taxing. Leaning forward, Roger buried his face in his hands, feeling utterly drained. This wasn't supposed to happen.
***
"Don't apologize; you did nothing wrong."
Looking at the sight of the near-broken man in front of him, Alec took in a deep breath, just holding it there for a while.
"Roger," he started slowly, "as much as I genuinely admire and appreciate your dedication, we don't want to completely overwhelm you, either. You've already done a lot today, and I can honestly tell you that I'm both impressed with your progress and proud of what you were able to do today. There's no shame in knowing your limits. So… my request of you for the rest of the night… and possibly until you next see me, if you decide that it's warranted… is to practice self-care. I don't know what that looks like for you, whether it's a good book, a bubble bath, tea, time spent with your cats, Chinese take-out, trashy muggle television… but I want you to indulge in it tonight.
"Now…" he cleared his throat, "I'd obviously prefer it if we could steer clear of illicit substances, but if you do decide that you absolutely need to use something of the sort, I'd like you to try to know your limits. Set those up from the beginning before you start and not let yourself change your mind after the fact, call a friend if you need to… fuck, call me if you need to, at least a have a medical license. I certainly won't judge you. But I would argue that… uppers may not be in your best interest tonight. Do something you enjoy and let yourself relax in as… healthy a way as you can."
***
His fingers parted to reveal the pale blue eyes peering at Alec, studying the man. The expression remained unreadable though inwardly Roger felt torn between wanting to accept and forcefully reject Alec's praise. It didn't settle right and he couldn't understand why. Not knowing frustrated Roger more than this entire situation at hand. Not knowing was not something a Ravenclaw would ever accept.
When illicit drugs were mentioned, the fingers snapped shut following a groan. "Fuck, she told you." It wasn't a question. "Well, she took it, probably trashed it." Honestly, the cocaine had been very pure and the notion that Nora simply threw away something so difficult to find caused a dull ache of longing. At the very least sell the stuff. "Well, I had plenty of uppers over the weekend, to be honest." Admitting the drug use felt oddly freeing and the hands dropped the hands from his face. "I was probably just going to sleep, really. It was a long weekend."
***
"No. I surmised after she texted me to ask me how she could successfully and safely dispose of cocaine. But..." He fought the urge to smile. "Roger, I'm not an idiot. She wouldn't have needed to text me in the first place. I've done this for enough years to know when someone uses. My remarks wouldn't have changed even if she hadn't texted me."
Clearing his throat, he sighed. "It's not like I'm a fucking saint. I needed things to help me get through my medical training on some nights, too. I just care about you being safe about it."
And honest. But… in a way, he was genuinely grateful that this did come out. At least now Roger could stop lying to the both of them about it.
"Sleep sounds good. But thinking about self-care options is probably a good idea. I don't care if that means taking a bubble bath while you have a glass of wine and read a book while Enya is playing, I just care that it's relaxing and… as healthy and safe a reward as possible after one of these sessions. Because they are taxing, and I know that."
***
Not that Roger had expected for anyone, certainly not Alec, to believe the lie he told the world about the drugs, though it did frustrate him that the other man hadn't even pretended to buy into the illusion. At least Pride fans were buying into it for now.
"I, oh for fuck's sake, mate." Roger laughed genuinely, the amusement lighting up his features to briefly reveal a different person. "That's not me at all." He giggled. "Though a hot bath sounds fantastic. I've only really taken showers." He used to bathe with Nora; it was rarely sexual. Just two people lying in a hot bath surrounded by bubbles and booze letting the weight of the world soak from their bodies. "I probably will read. I've been really backed up." He'd never gotten around to those quarterlies Quin had sent. The sudden realization faded the happiness from his face into the neutral mask so often shown to the world.
Roger placed the squishy ball back in its resting place and stood.
"Erm, see you soon then?"
***
Alec grinned at the sudden shift in demeanor from him, a soft shrug leaving him. He just knew what his own self-care routine was. And, lord only knew, he didn't want Roger's self-care routine to be what he'd been worried it was. At least his vice wouldn't bloody well kill him. Well. He didn't think, anyway.
"Not for me to know or judge," he grinned, "but a hot bath never hurt anyone." Well. That probably wasn't true, what with muggles and their electricity. "Rarely, anyway. Beside the point."
Taking a long sip of his tea, his smile was comfortable, easy, Alec's nod slow before he looked up at Roger. "Yeah."