Aftershock - Closed

[Dr. James Campbell]

James didn't mean to jump when Chase came up behind him and put hit hands on his shoulders. Despite the thick book on his lap, he had heard his husband come down the stairs. He hadn't meant to jump, but he had, accidentally losing his place in the book.

"Jamie," Chase had said, sounding tired and hurt, but mostly tired, "Jamie, it's almost three in the morning. Why aren't you in bed?"

"I couldn't sleep. I figured I'd do some reading instead." The excuse had sounded lame, even to him.

"Can you even tell me what you were reading?" James didn't have to answer, they both knew anyway. The blond man had walked around the couch and sat beside him, pulling the book off his lap. "Jamie, you're not here lately. I understand why you don't want me to use my power, but you have to let someone help. Talk to Sean, talk to someone." He slowly wrapped his arm around him, afraid of startling him again.

"Did you tell my mom when the bandages were coming off? Do you talk about me with my family?" Yes, that had been sitting in his mind for a few days now, but it wasn't what was bothering him, really. And they both knew it.

Chase shook his head and hugged tighter. "I only told her because she asked how you were doing. She called to ask what colors Niko liked so she could knit him a sweater before it gets cold. But she was worried about you. And...I am too."

James sunk against him, quiet, and tried to pretend that everything was normal.

The next day--really the same day, but at a more reasonable time--with Chase hovering around behind him, he'd scheduled a time to see Sean.

*****

James flexed his fingers experimentally. Yes, he could still feel the slight tug as the skin closest to his hairline scars stretched. His hands were healed, supposedly, but he could still feel where the glass had been. Just like he could still feel the bastard in his head, making him do things he didn't want to do.

Almost like how he was hesitating in front of his friend's office door. He didn't want to talk to Sean about it, partially because he feared he already knew the diagnosis. This... whatever it was, James didn't feel ready to face it. But he had promised Chase he would go, so he did.

He knocked softly on the door to the office, hoping that Sean wasn't in, and he could just go.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Hammel had slowly grown closer to status quo since the attacks. Security remained on heightened alert, the students spread rumors about how James had injured his hands and about why some of the procedures had changed, and Claude and Sean had meetings with other staff occasionally about the situation at hand. There had initially been an investigation, but no news had come of it recently, and it had been written off for anti-meta bias, the same way black on black crimes were given low priority.

In the aftermath of the attack, Sean had begun spending more time with Josh, to keep an eye on his friend and to check in with him; the telepath had also begun engaging in some other activities on the side that were less than necessarily proper or official sanctioned. And there was always his research.

After the assault James had suffered, Sean had given Chase the name and contact information for his colleague in Boston, but to his knowledge, he’d never been contacted. This had concerned the psychiatrist, as there was a limited window of safety in healing mental trauma, before the scarring set in. James had passed that window.

However, when his friend and colleague had requested time alone with him, he had cleared his schedule. If James needed his help, he would do whatever was in his power to aid him. Thus in preparation of the appointment, he had brewed tea and had a mug of coffee for James, should he prefer that, and had ordered pastries from his favorite bakery in town, as he had a feeling that the two of them could use the glucose boost by the end of their meeting.

Hearing the knock, and sensing the man outside his door, Sean moved to his armchair by the sofa, setting out their food. “Come in, James.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

Chase had wanted to contact Sean's friend in Boston, but James had managed to convince him not to. (It had taken every bargaining trick he'd learned in the past four years to do it though.) He didn't want to see a stranger about this. He didn't want to let anyone new in. It was bad enough that all of the staff and most of the students at Hammel knew at least something about what happened to him. He could feel eyes on him wherever he went, and he knew they were pitying him.

He entered the office just as quietly as he had knocked, carefully closing the door behind him. James's mouth quirked into a slight smile that was gone in an instant at the smell of the coffee. Admittedly, he sometimes worried that he drank too much coffee and had too much caffeine in his system, but he wasn't about to give it up.

He didn't go for the coffee just then, or the pastries. Instead, he just sat down at the far end of the couch, unconsciously putting as much space as possible between himself and Sean. James twisted his wedding band around his finger a few times and finally asked, "How does this work?"

James' parents had sent him to a behavioral therapist when he was younger, when his power had manifested. But that hadn't lasted too long, as it hadn't helped much, and at that point his parents really couldn't afford it anyway. Since then, his only experience with psychiatry had been on television. And he doubted it worked that way.

And, in the back of his mind, James wasn't entirely sure why he was sitting there. What good would it do? He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to answer questions. But he also didn't want to disappoint Chase. James knew he hadn't been himself since the attack, and Chase and Niko deserved better.

They were why he was here.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean, too, was a caffeine addict, which is why he believed in both its medicine properties and its potential as a motivator. With the coffee there, James had something he appreciated and in which he could take comfort, and the caffeine would surely be put to good use; Sean had been engaged in these sessions for some twenty-seven years now, and he knew how draining they could become.

He didn’t take personally how James edged away from him, putting distance between them; it was to be expected. After all, James had come here at least partially under duress, either from Chase’s insistence, or from a feeling of obligation, either to himself or to his family. Given those conditions, it didn’t matter that they were friends and watched baseball games together, or that James had been spending time with Sean since he had been a student. In fact, that might undermine the scenario, since subconsciously James could relate this back to when he’d first been at Hammel against his will. The mind was a complicated, sensitive beast.

The telepath settled in his chair and reached for a pastry, taking a bite and swallowing before he answered the question. “It depends. Do you want to tell me what the problem is? Or do you want me to guess? If you want to tell me the problem, you take your time and we’ll talk about it, followed by trying to come up with the best course of action. If you want me to guess, I usually don’t need more than two.” With James, today, he needed one. Sean knew what this was about. Deciding on the appropriate course of action would be more difficult, given the scarring that the telepath was worried had set in. If it had, their options were limited, particularly if James remained traumatized by psychic powers.

[Dr. James Campbell]

James...really did not want to say what the problem was. Years ago, he'd given up WebMD because he kept diagnosing himself with different diseases, both mental and physical. It was as if the site preyed on him, knowing that it could offer just enough information to convince him that he had acquired some dreadful illness, and it was going to slowly kill him. It had been different this morning, because he had searched for one thing in particular, knowing (and dreading) what he would find. And the sites he had found outlined what he was experiencing quite clearly, neatly grouping the symptoms into three groups: Re-experiencing, avoidance, and hyper-arousal. And he had at least two symptoms from each category.

He didn't want to say it, but he absolutely didn't want to hear Sean say "post", "traumatic" or "stress" in any combination.

So, in an attempt to stave off what he feared was inevitable, James started talking. "I can't sleep at night." That was the most benign thing on his list of problems. "It's not unusual, for me, but usually I can do something like reorganize my bookshelf and I'll feel better and sleep. That started a few weeks ago." And he hadn't had a full night's sleep since. When he did sleep, it was as if something was haunting his dreams.

James crossed his arms, trying to look casual and calm. "And I'm jumpy. Jumpier than usual." To the point where he was flinching when Chase touched him, sometimes even when he knew it was coming. If whatever Sean decided this was had anything to do with the amount it interfered with James' life, it was something serious. There was more, but he didn't know how to word how detached he felt, or the random bouts of anxiety over the tiniest thing, the things Chase used to help him work out.

"I'm trying." James mumbled. More than anything else, he didn't want to have someone in his head again.

And the threat of that scared him more than an actual discussion about what was wrong. With a sigh, James reached for the coffee. If he was going to make it through this session, he would need it. "I'm curious. What were you going to guess?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean set the pastry down on a napkin, and he leaned in slightly to listen as James explained the situation. He didn’t lean so far as to crowd him, although it was possible James might grow uncomfortable regardless, given the trauma. It quietly enraged Sean for his friend to suffer such a setback, as though James didn’t experience enough problems with his OCD and how jittery and uncomfortable he was in situations the rest of them took for granted as normal. To then lose one of the few safe harbors he had by now fearing his own spouse.

This was one of the many reasons that he felt psychics owed the rest of the world extra care; this was one of the reasons he had to track down Gabriel and find a way to stop him. The police investigation had gone cold, which implied corruption, and only further underscored the supreme unfairness in the entire situation. But that was a matter for another time, when James wasn’t sitting here in his office, asking for help.

“I know you are, and you’re doing fine.” He didn’t want to patronize the other man; he simply wanted to encourage him. Sean understood why James wouldn’t want to be telepathically prompted, and thus he kept his mind firmly to himself, relying on the clumsier tools of verbal and tonal cues and body language.

When given the opportunity to say his piece, he took the time to choose his words carefully, dropping a sugar cube into his tea and stirring before he answered. “The mind is very complex, and as strong as it is, it’s also sensitive, and the slightest wrong touch can make it curl into itself for protection.” The sugar was long stirred into his tea, but he still didn’t take a sip. “It scars easily, and it remembers, even if that memory is dissociated from our concept of memory, a physical instinct rather than a concrete event, although it’s possible to experience both. It’s worse with psychic attacks, because the mind then wants to avoid what can help heal it, for fear of a second attack and more damage.”

The telepath set down his spoon beside the pastry on his napkin, and he kept eye contact with James, speaking gently. “You’ve suffered a psychically-induced trauma, and you’ve been mentally scarred by it. It’s festered these past weeks.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

"I know you are, and you're doing fine."

James tried to listen to Sean had to say after that. And in all fairness, he knew he'd been scarred by the trauma. But the thought of it "festering" troubled him. And it had gotten worse, over the past few weeks it had gone from quiet, numb worry to constant anxiety. When he'd talked to Morgan about what had happened to his hand, yes he had been twitchy, but he hadn't felt this...scared wasn't the right word, but it was the best one. He didn't like thinking about it, but yes, it had gotten worse.

He had Chase. He had Niko. With his family, his support system, shouldn't he be getting better? Even though he hadn't talked to anyone about it yet, shouldn't he be getting better?

"I'm not doing fine, though." James gripped the mug of coffee tightly, as if holding on to it would help keep him grounded. "I get that there's scarring. I've done research on it and I wasn't expecting to just walk away, but..." What had he been expecting? "I just thought it would start getting better, with time. I thought that was how it worked. But instead I can't sleep, and I'm sure Niko's figured out that something's wrong with me, but I suddenly don't know how to talk to him, particularly how to explain that the place that is supposed to be keeping him safe wasn't able to protect me from an attack. We haven't told him exactly what happened, and I don't think we can." He was nine, and he was supposed to feel safe at school.

They were all supposed to feel safe at school.

He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. He was worried about what kind of effect all this would have on Niko. The poor kid had been through too much instability in his life already. He didn't deserve a foster father who couldn't connect with him. "How do I fix it? Is there any way I can just....forget everything, and go back to the way we were?" No, even he knew that request was too much. "Is there a way I can make it so I don't freak out when Chase touches me, at least?" It would be a start.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“I’m sorry to say that time heals all wounds isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Not when it came to PTSD and other forms of trauma; no, in those situations, early intervention was best, lest the mind turn gangrenous.

“You can forget it in five minutes,” Sean told him honestly, taking another sip of his tea. That was one of his specialties, after all. Yet the pause in his explanation indicated that there was a “but” to follow, and lo and behold, he added, “but that won’t make everything go back to the way it was. This sort of event is interconnected with memories from the past weeks, overshadowing everything. To lose this memory would be like an itch you can’t quite reach, knowing that there was something, simply because you’d have to lose too many other memories to tie up loose ends. Additionally, too many people know to keep it under wraps, and so you’ll be confronted with the knowledge, and then you’ll inevitably be angry that you lost the memory because you will be constantly reminded of its existence. You’ll still have a psychic vulnerability, because the scarring to your mental defenses is similar to that of a physical scar; you might not remember how it happened, but it’s still there.”

The psychiatrist didn’t like to be the bearer of bad news, but he wanted James to be fully informed of possible treatment for this trauma. This was also the reason he had advocated for immediate intervention, to prevent the troubles the other man had experienced the past weeks and the long road ahead of him.

James’s other question was more feasible, although that, too, would require work on everyone’s part. Sean set down his tea cup and replied, “Assuming that you don’t want a quick fix, there certainly is. The mind is remarkable in its ability to adapt, and you can condition yourself to all sorts of associations and stimuli. You’re associating your husband with your attacker on a subconscious level, which is being elevated by your feelings of vulnerability. If you want a quicker fix, the options are more limited.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes when Sean said he could forget in five minutes. But just as quickly, James remembered why that was possible. This was Sean, after all. He didn't want the memory removed, because that would involve someone going into his head and messing with it. And hadn't he had enough of that?

Plus, all of what Sean said. That too.

"I don't want to forget. I want it so it never happened." But that wasn't going to happen. Even Sean couldn't change that.

And really, James didn't want the "quick fix." He wanted it all to go away. But since that wasn't going to happen, he would have to do this right. Well, from here on out, he was going to do this right. "Right" would have been going to Sean the next day, or actually calling his friend from Boston. He'd had a chance to handle this the right way, but had been too afraid to do it. James had managed to convince Chase to let him deal with it on his own terms, and they all knew how well that worked out. He'd started to call, more than once, but he'd ended up just hanging up the phone instead.

"How can I stop?" James grip on the mug tightened even more, his knuckles turning white with pressure. "He can tell. He knows that when I shy away from him I'm doing it because of that jackass..." His voice trailed off as he thought about it. It was that look on Chase's face that had finally convinced him to call Sean. "I don't want to keep pushing him away." James had always been a family man, and not being able to connect, not being there like he used to be killed him.

Finally realizing he was close to breaking the handle off the mug, he loosened his grip and started running his fingers around the rim of it, the same way Chase had run his finger around the rim of a wine glass to make it resonate, much to Niko's delight and James' annoyance. But even if it meant he had to put up with the high-pitched tone of resonating glass, he would give anything to have that kind of family dinner again. Anything to have that security.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean was aware of that, not from his telepathy, not from knowing James perfectly, or even from understanding the nature of trauma or his psychiatric training. It was human nature to want to press the “redo” button after experiencing a terrible event. The advent of video games perhaps made that desire more of an expectation in the younger generation, but it was a primal urge, that desire to get another chance. Stories were filled with plots based upon the notion of second chance. It was the other side of the coin that made humans want to press “freeze” in order to experience a happy moment forever. Unfortunately, even time manipulators couldn’t control the flow indefinitely, and as neither Sean nor James had such ability, this wasn’t an option. Sympathetically, he told the other man, “I know, and I wish I could do that for you.”

James looked as though he was going to strangle his mug; fortunately, Sean didn’t keep his good china at the school, for obvious reasons. The telepath wouldn’t patronize the other man and tell him to relax, as that was easier said than done. Instead he kept an eye on his hands, lest James break the mug and glass go flying, possibly cutting up his fingers again. Beyond that, he sipped his tea and concentrated on the other man’s question.

“It’s a slow process of slightly modifying your behavior and pushing your comfort levels. When you feel yourself shying away, catch yourself and then let him near you. But treat it like an Evangelical date: no hanky panky, nothing even close. That will be a while yet. And for his part, and I’m sure he’s already doing this, he isn’t to use his powers. You should also verbalize your anxiety, telling him rather than trying to shield him; although that might be more difficult in the short term, it’s better in the long run.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

Hanky panky? James blushed a deep red at that. They hadn't... not since before the attack. He and Chase still slept in the same bed, when James could sleep and when he didn't just pass out on the couch from sheer exhaustion. But even then, he sometimes woke up in a blind panic, because Chase moved in his sleep and put his arm around him. It used to be comforting to wake up to that, now it caused a panic attack.

"We haven't..." Okay, so maybe talking to someone else would have been a good idea. Sean knew them. "That's pretty much what we've doing. Chase hasn't used used his power on me since that day, right after when I called him. I pushed him away." Chase had reacted to the situation the same way he always did when James was upset about something, and he'd freaked out. And now, he really wished he hadn't. He knew it didn't work that way, but if he could have gone back and let him in then, maybe they wouldn't be having problems now. Maybe then James wouldn't be afraid of the one person he trusted over everyone else.

The one person he was supposed to trust, that is.

"He knows when I'm anxious. He's always known, and we were at a point where I didn't have to say anything if I was feeling stressed. Chase just knows and he was always able to fix me." Sometimes, he'd wondered if it was fair, letting Chase take so much responsibility for his well-being. But they were good for each other, or they had been. "...I wish I could shield him from it. Him, and Niko, and Ginny." James finally paused and took a sip of his coffee, not even bothering to put the sugar in like he usually did. "I could handle anything but this. It's like he took them from me." It shouldn't be that way. He knew his family was there for him, but he was the one who was gone. "I'm sorry. That's not right either."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean knew that already, although he also knew better than to say so. He sensed it from both men, and beyond that, he knew them, knew basic human nature, and understood that James would feel anxious at best and repulsed at worst by the thought. He also knew that Chase wouldn’t insist. He had merely said so to let James know that a lack of any intimacy – not merely sex, but kissing, handholding, brief caresses – was a fine place to draw a boundary. At this stage, he shouldn’t force himself to do more than grow comfortable in Chase’s presence; he could work on the rest in stages.

He listened patiently to the other man’s explanations while sipping his tea. He then rested the fingers of one hand on the underside of the cup, feeling the warmth contrasted with the smoothness of the porcelain. “I wrote an article for the APA on treating recovery from psychic attacks the same way we treat recovery from rape. I’m telling you this now because I want you to understand how everything you’re feeling is to be expected, even if it’s foreign and frustrating.”

Sean realized that it was easier for him to say that, as he had no family to lose, and if Gabriel had tried this with him, he would have brought his mental shields down on him so hard that the younger man wouldn’t have woken from his coma for two days.

He continued. “There’s a difference between letting someone be aware of a matter and actually talking about it. You’re going to need to be verbal, rather than letting him sense it.” The telepath could write a book about his personal experiences with that distinction.

He shook his head, indicating that the other man need not apologize for the sentiment. “He drove a wedge between you and the rest of the world, particularly between you and the rest of your family. That’s what he wanted to do, after he got the information he wanted, and so it’s fine to feel that way. It’s overcoming the wedge you need to focus on now, because it’s there. And really, don’t apologize unless you plan to punch me in the face and steal my wallet.” He added that last bit in hopes of calming James a bit, but also because he wished to make it known that he didn’t want to hear apologies this afternoon. The other man could speak as needed without fear of reprisal.

[Dr. James Campbell]

He blanched at the comparison of psychic attacks to rape. Yes, he felt violated. Of course he did. Someone had gotten into his head, threatened his son, and used his body to put kids in danger and mutilate his hands. That kind of violation... okay, maybe it made a little sense to approach the victims the same way. James didn't like to think of himself as a victim, though. "Okay...." But was there anything really to say to that in response?

Part of the problem was that James didn't have any mental shields. He couldn't defend himself against psychics, and never had been able to. There was a point where he had tried to learn, and had been practicing to the point he could throw off a particularly weak telepath, but then he'd met Chase. And he'd never had to worry about shielding himself from the man.

Once again, he felt like Sean was just repeating what he already knew. Yes, there was a wedge between him and his family. Otherwise he wouldn't be sitting here. James grimaced, "It was just a picture frame." Of course, that was bullshit. "I've broken things before. I break things all the time." That was also bullshit. He was careful with everything, particularly the things that meant that much to him, like his photographs. "I just don't feel like it should bother me this much. It was a picture. We replaced it." Chase had printed out another copy the next day, and found a set of matching frames, one for that, one for another picture of them with Niko and Milo. For some reason, they had stayed on his desk at home. He knew it wasn't likely that Gabriel would attack him again. After all, he'd served her purpose, hadn't he? Gabriel had already seen his files; he was of no use now. But still James kept them at home, where the were comparatively safe.

Finally, James gave Sean a rueful smile. Yeah, like he could get away with punching the older man. "I think if I attempted that there would be less apologizing and more being snapped in half like a twig." He knew Sean wouldn't hurt him, but if the other man was going to make jokes, he would too.

Neither of them were funny.

He took a deep breath and gulped down some more of the coffee. He didn't know how many cups of the stuff he had drank that day, and for once he didn't care about the side-effects of caffeine over-consumption. As he thought about what Sean had said, he realized that one of his questions hadn't been answered. "How am I supposed to tell Niko what happened to me? I don't want him to be afraid of other Metas." Up until that point, he and Chase had been trying to avoid the topic entirely.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean had a very different perspective on psychic powers than James did, which was part and parcel of being a psychic himself. It wounded him to see psychic powers abused this way, because it hurt the collective, and it lead to the pain and trauma James was experiencing now. Gabriel never should have been allowed to graduate, but that had been out of his hands; still, he felt responsible.

“It wasn’t just a picture frame and it wasn’t just a picture.” Sean wouldn’t let the other man beat himself up this afternoon. “It was representative of your family, and you know that. He knew that. If you tell yourself you should be able to do this or that, you’ll only make yourself worse by feeling like you’re failing at another set of standards.” He wouldn’t even touch the claim that James broke things constantly, as they both knew that wasn’t true.

The other man was thinking loudly, which is how Sean knew that the replacements hadn’t left home yet. Although he wanted to reassure James, he also didn’t want him to feel as though he was being scrutinized more than he was, nor did he want to wave his powers in the other man’s face. So he let it go.

They both knew that Sean wouldn’t hurt another person, particularly not a friend; he was more likely to buy another wallet than anything else. But at least James had made an attempt at humor, and that was…something.

Parenting advice. That wasn’t Sean’s strongest suit, given that he’d never been lucky enough to settle down and have children of his own. He could tell the other man what constituted psychological abuse and give him a list of what he absolutely shouldn’t do, but beyond that, parenting was still trial and error. Contemplating the question for a moment, he tried to remember what he’d been like at nine and then compensated for the forty-plus year time difference. He then replied, “I’d try to handle it the same way you caution him about strangers, although I know this is far more personal. Tell him that, unfortunately, there are bad people out there, and that since some people are meta, some bad people are going to be meta, but it doesn’t mean that all meta-humans are bad, and that it doesn’t make him bad just for being meta. Then tell him that one of those bad people hurt you but that all of the adults are going to make sure it doesn’t happen again. That he’s safe with both of you, with all of us.”

[Dr. James Campbell]

"I am failing them. I'm going through the motions. Last night Chase said it's like I wasn't there at all. And I'm not. I'm there, but it's like watching a Korean soap opera. You know what's going on, or mostly do, but the details and the meaning aren't there." There was no way for him to really describe how isolated he felt in his own home. Sometimes he forced it, cooking with Niko and watching baseball with Chase. Maybe, if he pretended hard enough that everything was normal, he would get it all back. Or so he hoped, at least. But those were the nights he couldn't sleep, when he worried if he would be forcing it for the rest of his life.

Sometimes James was sick to his stomach with fear that he'd never be back, and his family would spend the rest of their lives compromising, pretending that they were happy and normal too, for his sake.

It helped, it really did that Sean didn't say anything about James' thoughts. They were supposed to be private, and if he'd had his way, he would have been able to keep them private. It was bad enough that he couldn't make himself be eloquent enough to describe his problems, but for Sean to hear his unedited, jumbled thoughts was even worse. And bad jokes....okay, that was actually pretty par the course for James. He wasn't as funny as he believed himself to be, and right now he wasn't even trying.

"And what if he asks me to promise?" That had always been one of James' nightmares: Ginny asking him to promise to keep her safe, and not being able to live up to it. Thankfully, it had never occurred to her to ask that before she was old enough to know that he couldn't promise it. Not in this world. But Niko was still young, maybe he still thought his dads could do anything. (James was certain he thought it of Chase.) "It doesn't feel right promising that we can keep him safe. Chase can, maybe. You can. I can't. I can't defend him from this psycho."