New boss, older memories

[Evan Coleman]

(Post dated to Evan's first day)

The squelch of Evan's shoes had finally settled down, and his clothes had gotten to the point where they might have charitably been considered dry. At least he'd backed his forms up online: the paper copies Mrs. Morgenstern had sent him were irretrievably soaked and likely furnishing the koi with some marvelous edible novelty at that very moment. Hopefully Dr. Neville wouldn't mind if he needed a moment to print them out again.

Dr. Neville. Hoo boy, Dr. Neville.

When Evan had first arrived as a student, Dr. Neville had been a monolithic presence in an incredibly turbulent new world. During the course of their mandated sessions (starting outside, but gradually working towards having the school in range of Evan's abilities), he had cursed at, sobbed on, laughed at, spat on, been indifferent to, shrieked at, and on one very memorable occasion vomited at the shoes of Dr. Neville, who the whole time had managed to maintain a saintly degree of patience and composure. It wasn't just with Evan, either: everyone seemed to have a Dr. Neville story or twenty, and at no point had anyone brought up him losing his temper with a student, or being anything other than patient.

And now, ten years after those sessions, he was coming back to work for the guy. Life was a funny thing.

As he walked through the main building up to the offices, he anxiously tried to recall the exact details of their email exchange. His Hammel cover letter had been just one in a sea of applications he'd sent out over the course of senior year at UChicago, but he seemed to recall being visibly earnest about his desire to come back and gain some work experience at his alma mater. Sean's response had been cordial, promising to look into it, and a week later he'd written back to say that yes, they could swing having an assistant counselor in the budget. The Tonto to his Lone Ranger, or the bumbling movie Watson to his Sherlock, Evan had thought to himself upon reading this. Snark aside, he was thrilled. For a recently graduated senior with three summer's worth of practical experience, this was an absolute godsend.

The only sticking point was, how much did Dr. Neville remember of him? His email hadn't indicated much more than a generalized cordiality, and there was still the question of the extent of his duties at Hammel. Would he be hyper-supervised, or left to his own devices? What would be the process for referring students?

Evan would have likely spent further seconds, minutes, hours worrying, but he'd found it. Dr. Neville's office door, portal to a student's sanity and a recent graduate's new job. Abandon some hope, ye who enter here, but not too much, for ye shall still be receiving thy paycheck from this man. And he can read minds.

I wonder if it's too late to join the circus?

Grinning abashedly to himself, Evan knocked.

"Dr. Neville? It's Evan, the new assistant counselor. May I come in?"

(For telepathy purposes: this is why is clothes are wet: hammelinstitute.proboards.com/index.cgi?action=display&board=pondarchive&thread=19738&page=1)

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had an excellent memory. It was a double-edged sword, as it served him well in his daily life, but it also meant that he was haunted by encounters he picked form other people’s minds, sometimes long after those individuals had forgotten.

In addition to his memory, the psychiatrist also kept careful notes of sessions past. Even if the students had long graduated, those files remained under lock and key, available in case he had need of them in the future.

As a result, he remembered Evan Coleman well. Besides, it had only been four years since the young man had graduated Hammel, off to college to pursue higher education and find his path in life. Sean did not look forward to the day on which he could no longer remember students who had graduated only four years prior. He hoped that day was decades away, if it came at all.

The email he received from Evan had been surprising, although not entirely so. He wasn’t surprised that the young man had found his interest in counseling, given his background and his powers and their history together. He had been somewhat surprised that he would want to jump into it so quickly, since that limited his options in terms of professional growth and licensing. However, on Evan’s behalf, he had spoken at length with Yvette about positions and budgeting, and then had sent over paperwork and information about employment.

This was the day that Evan was supposed to begin. It was the summer lull before classes returned, and Sean had gone out of his way to be at Hammel that day, in order to greet the young man and show him the ropes. Thus, he was in his office when he sensed Evan’s familiar mental presence, before hearing the knock and the familiar voice call out to him.

The telepath replied, “Please come in, Evan. You can make yourself comfortable.”

[Evan Coleman]

Evan hadn't spent a load of time in Dr. Neville's office proper. Most of their meetings had been walks on the outskirts of campus, and later around the school grounds, but never within his actual office. Sean's office was a nexus of a lot of clashing personalities, student and teacher alike, and the area had been a bit much for Evan to just be able to sit around. Even now, and despite all of the progress he'd made, he had to repress a Pavalovian shudder whenever he came into this wing of the building.

And there he was, sitting behind the desk. Granite-faced and eagle-eyed on the outside, granite crags and eagle-ice matrices on the inside. Evan tried not to look too hard, but it still struck him how much Dr. Neville's exterior matched the interior.

"Um, good morning Dr. Neville," he began, sitting down across from him, "I just wanted to say in person, thank you so much for giving me this opportunity, and, well, I'd like to get started with whatever you need as soon as possible. What do you need me to do? I, ah, also tripped and lost the paperwork you sent me in the koi pond outside, but it's all filled out and backed up online so I can print you new copy as soon as you need it. Or send you the PDF's. Whichever."

Evan wasn't bluffing his thanks. The chance to work at Hammel was one that he valued highly, both from a professional standpoint, as a point of discussion for master's and Ph.D applications, and . . . well, and for purely personal reasons. All those other jobs and internships he'd applied to were probably all well and good, but those were all unknowns, misty what-ifs that might have been worthwhile and practical work or might have been messes. Hammel was solid. Hammel was something he honestly believed in.

Now if he could only stop being so freaking nervous . . .

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean didn’t bite.

That was a constant throughout the decades that people had been afraid of, or intimidated by, him. He didn’t bite. Even with all of his authority, he had never yelled at a student (as opposed to raising his voice in order to be heard over a chaotic situation). He didn’t bite, he didn’t yell, and he held quite strongly to his Oath to First Do No Harm.

He also treated students quite differently from how he treated other staff members. He could play cards with students, have tea parties with students, give trusted students his phone number to contact him during emergencies, participate in extracurricular activities with students, and in one notable case, give a student somewhere to live. However, he carefully maintained professional boundaries. He was always “Doctor Neville” or “Doc” to students, from the moment they came under his care until graduation or later.

Unless they became coworkers.

“Good morning, Evan,” he returned the younger man’s greeting with a slight nod of his head. “You’re welcome to call me ‘Sean’, since we’re working together now.” The telepath informed all staff members of that privilege. It didn’t matter how great the age difference between them, or whether they were former patients, protégées or students themselves. If they were to have any sort of working relationship, the ability for egalitarian forms of address had to exist.

His manners were interrupted by the revelation that the younger man had dropped all of the sent paperwork into the koi pond, which did explain Evan’s damp appearance. “Can I get you a towel?”

The younger man could always fill out the paperwork again; Hammel didn’t want for available printers.

[Evan Coleman]

Evan felt a half-smile slide onto his face at that. Sean? THAT would be a bit of a gear shift.

"Ah, no thank you Dr. Nev- I mean, Sean. Thanks, but I'm fine. I'll be able to dry myself off in a bit. I mostly just wanted to come in and report for duty, as it were. I know I'm coming on as more of an assistant than anything else, so I just wanted to make sure that I've got down how you'll be wanting me to proceed around here. Will you be wanting to assign me students, or should I be keeping my door open to everyone? Under what circumstances should I refer students to you versus try to work with them myself? Should I sit in on some of your sessions (at your discretion, of course) or will you be wanting to sit in on mine? Things like that. I just want to make sure I'm doing what you want me to do here."

All of those questions that Evan had felt impudent asking over email came rushing out here, but he felt a strange calm coming over him. This was happening, he was NOT teetering on any ledges, and he was going to get his orders and go about them as best as he damn well could. He didn't want to seem importunate, but he'd found from experience with past internships that most supervisors preferred to have a subordinate ask questions immediately, the better to avoid awkward or disorienting mistakes. It had been a disorienting lesson for Evan to learn: he'd always been shy to reveal incomprehension or to pester his superiors for fear of being an annoyance. He'd gradually consoled himself with the wry acknowledgment that if he had to be an annoyance, he'd be an annoyance that got his damn job done without blowing anything or anyone up.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean accepted that with a single nod, since he couldn’t force Evan to accept a towel and dry himself in the office, nor did he have any interest in doing so. The younger man was an adult, with the ability to determine his needs at any given moment.

Thus, the psychiatrist moved on when Evan did, to address the questions that the empath had about the mental health procedures at Hammel. Teasing out job duties could be difficult, particularly since Sean, over the years, had acquired so many hats not listed under his official job title. “I hope you don’t mind if I take those questions out of order.”

In terms of orientation, Sean found it easier to address a few of the later ones first. “I’ll give you a list of the students with whom I’m currently meeting. Any of those students who stop by need to be sent to me. Likewise, any student who has an official psychiatric diagnosis or required psychiatric medication needs to go to me both for ethical reasons as well as for liability.” While some psychiatrists had arrangements where they wrote scripts without therapy meetings themselves, Sean was not one of them. He insisted on offering talk therapy and check in appointments as well as medication to those who required it.

“Until you have the proper degrees and licenses, there are legal limitations on what you can do. That was in the paperwork.” He strove for organization, so he had sent that along, and he would print out those guidelines again using one of the school printers. “But having an open door policy is for the best. Students sometimes need to talk in the heat of the moment, and they slip in between classes. The rule of thumb for referrals is if what they need crosses the threshold from ‘wanting to talk and get some advice’ into a diagnostic realm or a persistent course of action, but we’ll have plenty of time to discuss specific students as they arise.”

As for the rest of the procedures, Sean explained, “I’ll be in and out to check on you, which will include sitting in on a few of your sessions. We’ll have standard weekly meetings on Fridays to check in about work direction, and then any other meetings as they arise, particularly if you have a difficult session. I want you to feel comfortable talking about it.” Most people didn’t benefit from bottling up their thoughts and feelings; moreover, he and Evan had a preexisting relationship, and he remembered how the young man could be.

[Evan Coleman]

Evan nodded as Sean wheeled off the job description. Okay, all of this sounded right and proper. Definitely didn't want to step on the doctor's toes or bounce around with his patients, obviously; even putting aside professional courtesy and the vast gulf in rank and experience, Dr. Neville's work was intensely personalized to the given student he was seeing. Evan was in no way qualified to stick his nose in there. Ditto with any attempts at psychiatry: if the beginning of wisdom was realizing you knew nothing, Evan was quite close to psychiatric wisdom in that he realized he only had a theoretical understanding of proper diagnostic process and should in no way be prescribing pills.

Open door policy sounded just fine to him, too. Hammel had its own undulating social fabric and it had doubtless changed dramatically since last he was there. Working as a source of advice would allow him to see that fabric from the ground up, and potentially gain a better understanding of mapping out routines or particular mental pathologies (was that a term? Well, he liked it, so he was sticking with it).

And . . . okay, meetings sounded good. A few flashbacks to ten years ago, perhaps, but it would definitely be for the best to keep Dr. Neville appraised of how individual students were faring, in case he felt that he needed to step in. Only one question, then, and hopefully not too much of a faux pas.

"If I may ask, sir, when you say 'sitting in', do you mean physically, or mentally? Because I'm certainly comfortable with either."

Having a telepath for a boss might have sounded scarier than having one for a therapist, but Evan rather thought this could be advantageous. It would be less of a stress-rush to know that Dr. Neville was present and observing him in a given session without having to keep himself from checking his body language for approbation or displeasure. Selfish? Perhaps, but Evan was no stranger to the concept of stage fright and what it could do to the inexperienced.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Although Sean didn’t go out of his way to read other people’s thoughts, he still heard a bit, particularly when at work. He didn’t keep his mental shields raised to the exclusion of all else when at Hammel, because he had learned how best to work without utter peace and quiet, and he was often needed via his telepathic sense. As such, he could hear Evan’s internal assessment of the job duties and their potential dynamic. His confidence in the younger man was already paying off, although Sean expected nothing else from Evan.

He knew that the empath would approach this with the seriousness it required.

The meeting schedule would be easy to maintain. The psychiatrist’s entire professional life consisted of meetings. Sessions with students, faculty meetings, advisory meetings with the Student Activities Council, detention sessions, peer mediation, his volunteering at the LGBT Youth Center...he could easily fit Evan’s supervision and assessments into that master mental calendar.

“For the sessions, it will be both.” The existence of his telepathy gave them the option to choose between the two. Sean would use his best judgment, depending on the individual with whom Evan met, as well as the period in the younger man’s professional timeline. “The first will be in person, and then we’ll adapt from there.”

The psychiatrist shifted slightly in his chair, as his back was beginning to feel a bit discomfited. “Do you have other questions? I’m here as an open book.” Professionally.

[Evan Coleman]

Evan was about to reply, when a stray sliver of golden-brown confidence washed through his nostrils. Confidence? He wasn't catching himself feeling particularly confident right now.

"I think that's just about it, sir. Thank you for . . ."

Ohhhh, it was Dr. Neville that was projecting that. Well, that made more sense.

". . . for giving me this opportunity, again. I'll pop back in with the forms in . . ."

Wait, what was he confident about? Was this a general thing? Well, duh, Dr. Neville/Sean had always seemed pretty confident from where he was standing, but there was something about this particular whiff that was different. It wasn't so much welling as it was pointed . . . huh . . .

". . . a few minutes, and if there's anything else you need me to do . . ."

Seriously, what was that? Had Evan reminded him of something? Was he thinking about something else? Was his breakfast disagreeing with him? THAT DIDN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE.

". . . I am, of course, more than happy to do it. Barring all else, I look forward to our first meeting."

It wasn't until his foot was halfway out the door that Evan realized that perhaps, just perhaps Dr. Neville's confidence might have been directed at him. Jubilant throngs filled the streets of EvanTopia as the king declared that day a national holiday. Evan caught himself smiling, ever so slightly.

"Thank you again, si . . . Sean," he grinned, turning around.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean wouldn’t force Evan to ask further questions. The telepath thought that the information he had sent before the younger man had come up was comprehensive enough, and he trusted that Evan would ask him for help should anything arise. There would be plenty of time for further discussions once the empath had managed to settle in.

“In that case, your office has been set up. It isn’t huge, but Yvette is in charge of space allocution. At least it’s nearby.” Being nearby would make Evan’s job easier, and, by virtue of that, would make Sean’s supervision easier as well.

In time for their first meeting, the psychiatrist would have a set of files ready. And, just in case, he would make sure that Evan had a towel or two in his office, should he need them in the future.

Sean, of course, heard Evan’s inner monologue, although he didn’t comment on any of it. In time, he believed that the younger man would gain a level of self-confidence on par with what the telepath felt for him. It would take a few meetings and some time in his position, but they had the entire next school year ahead of them.

“You’re very welcome, Evan,” Sean replied, giving the younger man a smaller smile of his own. “I’ll see you at our first meeting.”