TIME WARP: Everything I Love Gets Ruined [Sean]

Sean Neville had been working at Hammel for a couple of years, and it became easier with each passing day. No longer the “new psychiatrist,” and with several achievements under his belt, he had settled into an effective routine. There were still moments when he missed life in New York or the variety that came with private practice, but he did so much good here that the thoughts were mostly fleeting. Primarily, he missed his friends, but he had a healthy social circle here.

The aspect of his job that he enjoyed the most was the freedom to speak with students as they needed him. He scheduled weekly appointments for the students who required that structure, but he also talked with anyone who walked through his door, as long as he wasn’t otherwise occupied.

As such, he was used to drop-ins and the telltale knock on his door. Hearing that, and sensing the presence behind his door, coupled with the surface thoughts to grant him the identity of the visitor, he called out, “Come in, David.”

The psychiatrist had received the memo about the boy’s naming preference, and he would never call someone by a name they didn’t want. While Sean had several liberal leanings, and identified as a hippie and radical, he also didn’t think that naming a child River was the best idea. The fact that the boy didn’t want to use that name was evidence for that. “And please, make yourself comfortable.”

One of the benefits of working at Hammel was that Sean never had to conceal his powers. He didn’t advertise his powers and didn’t put on the routine of the Great and Powerful Oz, but he also did nothing to hide that he was a telepath. It came up in conversation often, and if asked directly, he answered honestly. He also utilized his powers in practical ways during his work, and he didn’t stop whatever rumors circulated about him. Only if they instilled fear did he get involved and offer correction.

The psychiatrist didn’t want anyone to be afraid of him. Even if his job required discipline at times, he wasn’t a frightening person. And he’d had more than enough of that as a teenager.

When David entered his office, he smiled at the boy. He was about to offer that he take any seat he wanted in the office, either in front of his desk or near the back in the more comfortable area, but David sat down before he could do so. He appeared somewhat ill-at-ease, but that was a common enough reaction, given that the boy had sought out Sean of his own volition.

Something obviously had to be on his mind.

“We can talk about anything you want,” Sean assured the boy. “What do you want to start with?”

Since the boy was avoiding eye contact, Sean didn’t stare at him intently. The psychiatrist did watch the boy’s mannerisms, taking in how he sat, his facial expressions, his posture, his gestures...but he didn’t keep his gaze razor sharp and focused on David’s eyes. At the same time, he didn’t look away. Rather, if the boy chose to look over, then they could make eye contact, since the psychiatrist did try to be both polite and professional in his interactions with students. David was being somewhat coy and indecisive, but that was typical enough with the students.

They weren’t like his patients from private practice, who paid for his time and tended to be a bit more direct. That was fine; he was here all day and at the disposal of anyone who needed him. For the moment, this meant that he was

“You don’t like what you can do,” Sean repeated. Then, from context, he understood that to mean his powers. That earned a nod of understanding and a sympathetic expression from the psychiatrist. When he had been David’s age, he had likewise been displeased with his powers, since he couldn’t have a moment of peace and the other students were wary of him.

Of course, he’d had a trainer that showed him the inherent value of his powers. And, disconcerting as telepathy might be to non-psychics, it was still very different from what he knew David could do. “Have you spoken to your trainer about them?”

That was always where Sean’s thoughts went first, due to his relationship with his own trainer. “I’ve found coolness is different for everyone,” he added.

Coolness was subjective and unquantifiable. It also was a low priority in Sean’s life and had been even as a teenager; he’d had far greater concerns when he had been David’s age. However, he had spent time with enough teenagers, both during his residency and private practice, and now at Hammel, to understand the effect of peer pressure. That was why he worked as hard as he could to help students perceive it for themselves, free from the judgment of others.

It wasn’t always an easy task.

The psychiatrist nodded affirmatively. “I do.” He kept up-to-date on the student’s records, and that included information about their abilities. He tended to keep tabs on other psychics, and then on anyone he believed might be in need of his services. Sean met the boy’s eyes as he continued, “And I’m sure your power can be difficult at times.”

Powers with destructive potential, like David’s, nearly always created distress at first. It was a matter of adjustment.

Adjustment primarily came from a positive relationship with one’s trainer. However, given David’s somewhat evasive answer about whether he’d discussed it with his trainer, it appeared that might be deficient. It was unfortunate, as Sean was an advocate of relying on trainers for everything even tangentially related to powers. That was how he had survived his time at Hammel and become the man he was today. “Do you feel comfortable telling me what you’ve discussed with your trainer?” He asked. He didn’t want the boy to feel on the spot, but the context would prove helpful.

Sean’s impression of a trainer’s duties differed from David’s, which was due to his own close relationship with his trainer when he’d been a student. His trainer had been a mentor and had helped him with all aspects of life and all facets of his power, everything tangentially related to the telepathy, rather than simply teaching him to construct mental shields. It was a more holistic approach, one that the psychiatrist advocated, even though he had no authority over training programs.

Sean listened to what David described had been his discussion with his trainer. Nothing sounded out of the ordinary to him, and he thought that perhaps, if he gave his trainer the chance, he could help him. However, if he believed that his issue was more psychological or emotional in nature, the psychiatrist was happy to help him in any way that he could. There were limitations, since he wasn’t a trainer himself. “I can listen and try to help,” he said, because he wanted the boy to know that off the bat.

“However, controlling powers does take time, and having power slips when you’re young is quite typical.” At the boy’s age, Sean had had very little control over his telepathy, and that had been typical for his stage of training as well.

Sean pursed his lips together in thought, once David had admitted what, precisely, concerned him about the absence of control. This went beyond the existential reality of destructive powers, the realization that one might hurt another person unconsciously. He was prepared to give a pep talk about that, since he had been in a similar position. Not precisely the same, since David’s power was physical and the psychiatrist’s was purely mental, but similar enough.

Instead, this was a far more concrete and tangible problem. One that, were their positions reversed, Sean would still want to discuss with his trainer to rectify as quickly as possible.

At the same time, the psychiatrist understood the importance of preserving cherished childhood comfort objects.

Unfortunately, Sean wasn’t an expert on physical powers. Most mental powers, absent dream walking, weren’t active while asleep. That made this difficult, and it meant it was out of his immediate base of knowledge. What he could do was offer David comfort while brainstorming aloud. And he nudged the box of tissues on his desk closer to the boy, surreptitiously letting him dry his eyes if he wished.

“How do you feel about power suppression?” Sean wasn’t particularly keen on it, but he acknowledge that there were times when it was necessary for mental health. “We could talk to one of the suppressors and ask them to suppress you at night before you go to sleep. It should wear off by the morning, but it would solve the problem in the short term. At least until your trainer can help you learn better control.”

Sean wouldn’t make David use the tissues if he didn’t want to. The psychiatrist was used to students putting on false bravado in his office; there was much social stigma against crying, particularly against teenagers and males crying. But he tried to make his office a safe space, which included experiencing emotions and having physical reactions without fear of judgment.

Sean didn’t often advocate power suppression; in fact, he advocated against using it as a form of discipline, because in many situations he considered it to be cruel. It was also a stopgap solution, insufficient for long-term power training and too reminiscent of attempts to turn meta-human children “normal” by removing what distinguished them from baseline humans. However, there were valid reasons for using power suppression in the short-term, particularly when it was used consensually.

And if it happened to help David sleep at night and would wear off by morning, then he thought it was a reasonable solution, in the short-term. David certainly wouldn’t be the only student in Sean’s tenure at Hammel to make use of that option.

As such, he shook his head to reassure the boy. “It shouldn’t be, no. We could make a standing appointment with one of the power suppressors to help you at night. It takes only a minute or so, and returns naturally, so you wouldn’t be hurt, and neither would the person facilitating this. Although this wouldn’t be a permanent solution.”

He had to stress that point.