one day it could get better, maybe it could get better

[demonspawn]

WHO: Dr. Frederick Chilton & Terry Ward.
WHERE: Chilton's office.
WHEN: 07/03, late afternoon.
WHAT: Psychology and stuff!!!
WARNINGS: TBA.


[ Terry still remembers that one time Dr. Frederick Chilton tried to convince him to wear a really ugly shirt in a gym full of high school kids that all reminded him of antagonists from his early pubescent years. His impression of the man is a little mixed, but the truth is, now that he's survived a handful of months at school, he's starting to get serious about this psychology stuff -- more than that, now that he's using Mitch's "secret technique" to keep his powers in check, genuinely investing in his normalcy (his coping skills, beyond self-hatred and repression) seems like a good idea.

So he looks up the good doctor's place of business and takes the bus over after class.

There's no one in the waiting room when he gets there, so he heads over to the office door and knocks twice before letting himself in. ]

Hello?

Comments

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Suite 106 wasn't as lavish as his Baltimore domain, with its remembered soaring ceilings and neoclassical architecture, but Chilton had managed a decent replication. Turn of the century maps lined his walls in golden frames, met with anachronistic Greco-Roman inspired Renaissance art. The area was brightly lit, but heavy with cobalt blue and gold. The room breathes hungrily.

Chilton looked up, as Terry allowed himself in. He blinked one -- then the name returned to him. Terry Ward. Fascinating insinuations of fear manifestation, that's what they had discussed before. There was the stint at the high school, and he recalled that neither were motivated to motivate wayward minds. The younger man had an intensity to him, a stark and sharp demeanor -- perhaps the coping behavior of his talents.]

Mr. Ward.

[Chilton rose him his seat, smiling.]

Please, come in. You're looking well. Would you like to take a seat? There's the chair, the sedan.

[demonspawn]

[ It was too bright for his taste. He'd take the artificial stuff over the natural light anytime, but he felt exposed when everything was so illuminated. He wasn't sure when he started to feel safer in the darkness. It made his shoulders tense a little as he entered the room, shutting the door behind him and lingering there just a beat before wandering deeper into the doctor's lair.

The place seemed pretentious to him. Uncomfortable. A bit stifling. He wondered if that's on purpose. Glancing between his options for seating, he finally chose the chair, setting his messenger bag down on the floor as he sat. ]

Hi, Dr. C. [ He exhaled, trying not to come off as awkward as he felt. ] Are you busy? 'Cause if you're not, I figured we could talk.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Simply some paperwork. [He gestured at his pineApple computer, the folders lined to its left -- files containing observations on the psyche of his current patients, and all obscured from passing view.] But it isn't anything that requires urgency.

[He lingered a glance on Terry's face; the question of what brought the young man to his office crisped upon his lips. What talk, what conversation. Eventually, he smiled.]

All right, then, what is it you'd like to discuss?

[Personal concerns seemed obvious, but he wanted Terry to command that part of the conversation.]

[demonspawn]

[ At least he wasn't interrupting anything. He probably should've called ahead -- but this was a little more impulsive than he generally likes to be. There was just a certain pressure he felt to maintain this normalcy he'd managed. To make it more stable. This was an opportunity to invest in his academic choices, and to help himself. There was a lot he should've probably talked to someone about ages ago.

But first thing's first. He had to start somewhere. Spilling his guts was not on the immediate docket. ]

You're a psychiatrist. I'm studying psychology -- you know, for the sake of having semi-normal interests outside of my demonic powers. [ He exhaled again. Words. Words were always so hard. ] So. Yeah. I guess you could say I'm looking for a little guidance.

[slightlyoffchilt]

[Chilton raised a single eyebrow -- and the curve of his smile beneath it sharpened. A little guidance. While Chilton typically disdained the position of teacher (Will Graham would probably attest), the imbued compliment of Terry Ward coming to him, inquiring for his mentorship, his guiding expertise.

It was like syrup down his spine. Tiptoed gratification.]

Do you know your area of interest? Within the field, I mean.

[Leaning forward, Chilton slid his hands over his desk, palms down.]

Given your -- ah, skill set, I presume you've thought about employing controlled exposure techniques? Therapeutically.

[demonspawn]

[ This wasn't his first time at the rodeo either. He'd sought out mentors before -- mentors of the psychiatric persuasion, even. And it had taken him time to get to this point, where he felt like it was worth investing in that kind of relationship again. Not that Dr. Chilton seemed like the type of man that was one hundred percent above board, but that was just the kind of teacher he needed. It wouldn't work with someone who hung a halo on the wall next to their degree.

After all, Terrance Ward was not your average student. ]

Supposedly, there's a point in my life where I can control it good enough to make a career out of that. Which is probably better than the alternative of growing up to be a supervillain. [ Therapist, Abby had said. He still had trouble picturing it. ] I dunno if I'd call it an area of interest, exactly, but phobias are what I know. Like, really know.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Intimately.

[Chilton nodded, situating himself into this information. It was a logical use of Terry Ward's talents -- careful, measured exposure therapy could provide unparalleled value. It was in some ways a step softer (as Terry would have control over the phobic manifestations) and in some ways more aggressive (as the patient would come literally face to face with their trauma).]

Anxiety, too. The spectrum of anxiety, from phobias to delusions, to mild anxious behavior. You could focus on all of that. [A beat.] Of course, the latter would rely more on your ability to instruct cognitive behavior therapy, more than what you'd need of the other technique. But it's prudent to know your direction.

[He sat back in his chair. His eyes watched Terry.]

I only know of your power in the abstract -- what you'd told me, essentially. A demonstration would be required before we could stop speaking in only the abstract.

[demonspawn]

[ It's all a harmless exercise in considering the possibilities until that last suggestion -- a requirement, the doctor says, for a demonstration. Immediately, tension rises in Terry's shoulders, his eyebrows drawing together as he stares across the desk at Chilton with something like defensiveness. Not like the man said anything outrageous -- it makes sense. If Terry wants help using his ability in this field -- if he wants help accepting himself -- it would be reasonable for the man to understand the extent of his powers.

But he'll never feel comfortable unleashing the demon inside him on another person. And that's what has to happen. It has to be a living, breathing being. Someone with thoughts and feelings. He can't pretend or fake some equivalent. ]

A demonstration on who?

[ The defensiveness finds his voice against his will. ]

You?

[slightlyoffchilt]

Well -- [Chilton hadn't anticipated that as an ideal outcome. He was a narcissist by nature, and yet paradoxically dissuaded from self-analysis; Chilton did not necessarily acknowledge his own depth of fears. He didn't face the darker panic dwelling deeper within his brain. The fear of rejection, the fear of failure. The terror that all his power and prestige meant nothing, that it was all dust to the wind. Some part of his brain understood these concepts and how they related to his psyche, but the cogent repression defied processing.

He would thus be exposing himself.]

-- I hadn't intended me, but if you haven't any other volunteers at the moment. I suppose, why not?

[His ego would not allow this to dissolve. Terry's defensiveness reads as a challenge to Chilton.]

How -- how does it begin?

[demonspawn]

[ Terry had done some serious psychological damage in his day -- with people he considered to be made of stronger stuff than the man sitting in front of him. Soldiers and superheroes. That kind of crowd. This guy was pretentious art and tie bars and notepads. The risk for actually hurting him, maybe even permanently, was real. He didn't like that. He didn't like the fact that he was genuinely considering it even, for the sake of his own progress.

It felt selfish. ]

It doesn't just start. It's always happening. This whole time, I've already been keeping myself from just automatically reading your mind and pulling the fears out of it.

[ He had incredible self-control. That was one thing he would take credit for. All lapses aside, he spent almost every waking moment trying to reign himself in. To keep the demon from feeding. He prevented himself from giving into his very nature, to do the thing that was most natural for him. No wonder he was always so unsociable, so angry. ]

The second I let go, I'd know. I'd know what you're afraid of, and my powers -- [ A separate entity in his mind. As if he was possessed and not the demon himself. ] -- they'd want me to change. To show you what I saw. And there's no guarantee that I'd even be able to stop.

[slightlyoffchilt]

Right now? In this moment?

[That surprised him; he hadn't calculated on Terry's power being so compulsory, like a matter of invasive thought processes. Perhaps it truly illuminated Chilton's nature, when it was clear he assumed something, some ability as incredible as Terry Ward's, was at its backbone within the man's control. Perhaps the impulse to engage it was the struggle, Chilton had thought. Perhaps the behavior to indulge was the battlefield. Perhaps it was after the spark, that slipper slope, that Terry had to catch himself before something unfortunate happened.

But it was, in actuality, the initial spark that Terry drew conflict with.]

Before we -- ah, proceed. Before I expose my psyche to you in any way, shape, or form. I'd like to know what coping mechanisms you've already practiced. Like you said, Terry, no guarantee that you'd be able to stop -- that is indeed a dire situation.

[If it's a preemptive battle that Terry's fighting, then Chilton would have to reevaluate his entire prognosis.]

[demonspawn]

[ If he were really being honest with himself -- accepting, maybe, of what he actually is and how much it is a part of him -- then maybe he wouldn't even describe his abilities as superpowers. It was more a side-effect of his very existence. In the same way that a human body was always breathing, always metabolizing whatever morsels of food were in its belly, he too was always sensing people's fears, always hungering for them. A biological kind of black magic.

But he struggled to acknowledge that. It was easier to think of his powers as evil. He'd hurt a lot of people. He couldn't come to terms with the fact that this was just what he was. Like any other predator in nature, compelled to hunt by evolution. People needed to be afraid. They needed their nightmares. But he didn't want that responsibility.

In the moment, he was staring hard at Dr. Chilton, eying him from across that impressive desk. The man seemed unsure. That was fair. Facing your own worst fears wasn't a small task. He'd crippled people before. Driven them insane. ]

You just have to trust that I can talk myself down. [ Not reassuring, given that Terry hardly trusted himself. ] I haven't let go in a long time, so I can't promise anything.

[ The demon had hungered for months now. But maybe they wouldn't have to rely on Terry's self-control alone. ]

Are you armed at all? Do you have a gun or something useful in this office besides all the pretentious art?