Eight Legs of Doom [Sean]

As a telepath, Sean had never had to worry about predators of the animal kingdom. Yes, there was the occasional bear and shark attack one read about in the newspaper, but those were remote concerns. Beyond that, he was simply a fifty-plus-year-old omnivore. Heart disease or cancer was far more likely to do him in than an animal attack.

He certainly had no fear of spiders. There were a couple of varieties poisonous to humans, but the likelihood of encountering one in this area of the world was slim at best. His comfort with spiders was no less than his general vague discomfort with animals as a whole; they warranted no more concern than any other creature. He even tried to capture them alive if they appeared in his house, so he could release them alive into his backyard.

Then again, Sean didn’t have the ability to turn into a tiny creature, one that was smaller than his own fingernail. There were no size issues at work where his powers were concerned; all of his vulnerabilities were purely mental, just as his powers were. That warranted a different perspective.

The psychiatrist was surprised to hear the mental chorus of spider followed by Caroline dashing into his office as though she was being chased. Immediately, he set down his pen and rose from his desk. “Caroline?” He asked, concerned. “Whatever is the matter?”

Sean was not a trainer; he had almost no experience with training powers, and only some experience with side effects. Those were typically the realms of Chase and Clarisse respectively. His primary experience, beyond trying to guide psychic students because they shared a similar frame of reference, was aiding students in whatever emotional or psychological side-effects they might experience.

It certainly made sense that Caroline would be afraid of spiders, beyond the typical human aversion to the creatures. Turning into a ladybug meant that she would view them as a predator, and that they were inherently dangerous. He also knew she had some difficulty perceiving size as a side-effect, which was to be expected.

Unsure where she had seen the spider, or what type it was, he took the middle road, offering her a blanket assurance. “It won’t eat you.” Moving from behind the desk to where she leaned against the front, he offered his arms to her for an embrace. “I promise I won’t let it eat you,” he added.

If he could find out where she had seen the spider, he could take it outside and release it back into the wild. Then it would cause her no further distress; out of sight, out of mind.

Sean safely enfolded her in his arms and held her tightly. He tried to use the embrace to demonstrate that she was safe from any perceived or actual danger, and that she would be perfectly fine. The psychiatrist tried to make his office a safe space generally, and most certainly, he tried to be a safe person. Especially for vulnerable students. Especially for ones of whom he was exceedingly fond. Like Caroline.

“How big was it?” While he didn’t want her to focus too much on the incident, he did want to know what to look for, so he could remove it from the building, or have it removed for them.

“However large it is, I promise it won’t find its way into this office.”

While that was not a promise he could make in the most objective sense; spiders were small and could fit in crevices and cracks. But it was unlikely that the spider would make its way into his office so quickly, considering her very fast heartbeat which he could feel against his chest.

No matter how large the spider might appear, it was certainly no match for human legs. Certainly not ones running like a bat out of Hell.

Unsurprisingly, she only repeated how big it was without giving details. Given how frightened Caroline had been of it, Sean didn’t expect too coherent a response, although it had been worth asking. But the other detail was more peculiar.

Brown...hair?

Granted, Sean was not an arachnologist, but he was fairly sure that spiders didn’t have hair in the same sense as it was typically used by humans. Even if it did, people usually said spiders, or other frightful creatures were hairy, rather than describing what type of hair it had.

It was such peculiar phrasing that the psychiatrist began to wonder if they were having a language barrier problem without realizing it. As such, he lowered his mental shields a fraction.

Amber’s name immediately popped into his head. Followed by a judgment about how it was horrifying that there was someone who was inwardly a spider roaming around, and how dangerous that was.

Intermingled was a thought about how safe she felt, and inwardly Sean smiled. It was quite heartening to know she felt that way, even if that knowledge had to take a backseat to the problem at hand.

“Amber was the spider?” He asked. He kept his voice gentle, but he thought they were making progress now.

Her forceful proclamation that she wanted to live immediately caused Sean to give her a light squeeze, all the while tightening his arms around her. “I keep my promises,” he assured her, adopting a soothing tone. “Under no circumstances will she eat you.” He disliked misgendering Amber, but since he hadn’t outed himself to anyone else, he had to respect the pronouns befitting the situation.

Of course, learning that she was afraid of Amber presented different problems. Although he could still guarantee that she wouldn’t be eaten, this wasn’t a size matter. It also wasn’t a matter as simple as bringing the spider outside and releasing it into the courtyard.

It made logical sense that she would be afraid of the boy, given the inherent perspective she had due to her shapeshifted form. Granted, it wasn’t a matter to which the psychiatrist has given a great deal of thought, because it didn’t often come up in his work, and certainly not in his personal life, but it made sense.

It also meant that, at a later time, they would have to resolve this in one of two ways: either confrontation and mediation, or the passive route of Caroline ignoring Amber until this fear passed or the older boy graduated. From their conversations, he knew that Amber didn’t relish shapeshifting any more than Caroline herself did.

Sean also recognized that this wasn’t the time to mention that. Instead, he said, “Nobody will eat you. Ladybug or not, spider or not.” With another squeeze, he asked, “Do you want to come sit with me on the sofa for a little while?”

Sean could sense that she didn’t want to let go. While he didn’t have children of his own, he did have a fair amount of experience with other students, with other protégés, with his nephew, with Josh and other past partners. Even though he was hardly in the prime of his life these days, he was confident enough that they could pull off walking from one end of the office to the other without having to completely break the embrace.

It would simply require a bit of maneuvering.

Keeping one arm quite firmly around her, he pushed off from the desk to stand more freely. He then used his arm, and the embrace itself, to move them both in the direction of the sofa. Fortunately, his office wasn’t so large that they had to walk for very long before reaching the other end and the sofa contained therein.

Once reaching the sofa, Sean sat down, and he gently encouraged her to sit beside him, to lean on him if she wanted to continue to do so. As soon as it was convenient, he wrapped his other arm around her again, to complete the circle of the embrace.

“Everything will be all right,” he told her, his voice gentle. “Nobody will hurt you. Nobody can hurt you here.”

Because Sean had lowered his mental shields a bit, and because Caroline was in such close proximity, he heard the mental litany of transgressions. It was familiar enough to him, both from personal experience and from exposure to other people. The guilt was reminiscent of Josh, most keenly – simply because of the guilt that Josh experienced on a daily basis, over every wrong, real or perceived.

Caroline’s self-reflection was far more grounded in reality. And while she often struck him as a bit of a late bloomer, still innocent and inexperienced, and in many ways, uninterested in some of the experiences often associated with her age, she was going about self-reflection in the proper way. It was admirable.

The need for confession was reminiscent of Sean himself at her age. Back when he had still believed and had gone to Mass every Sunday and had spoken with the priest to confess all of his sins, although those had been so complicated. Not every sin was his to confess, but he had tried his best. And he had carefully catalogued all of them in order to aid that goal.

If she found it cathartic, he wouldn’t dissuade her from doing so this Sunday.

He also wouldn’t interject that he was sure Amber would forgive her, if she did get around to apologizing.

“You’re welcome,” he said instead, offering another squeeze. “I hope you know that you can come to me for anything. I’ll be here for you.”