Participants:
| Scene Title | The New You |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Elle Bishop has her first session with licensed psychiatric care provider Dr. Sheridan. |
| Date | August 29, 2010 |
Temporary Psychiatric Office
Bella was, simply put, quite shocked when she received a call from the Institute. Of course, she should have known better than to suppose that the fall of Staten Island Hospital would spell the end of that organization. They were a branch, nothing more, and it was the Institute that warned her not to go into work once the place went dark. Still, she had had this irrational hope that her time with them was over. That her contract was somehow ended with the end of Project Icarus. That she could walk away.
Faustian deals never work that way.
At least this time, they are asking her to do the thing she was trained for. No more muddling through gene sequencing, no more forcing work on brilliant interns and then plundering their results. No more syringes. Not yet at least. Dr. Sheridan is a head shrinker again.
That the head she's been given is, according to its previous diagnoses, unshrinkable is… problematic. But Bella will do her best. At least she is helping someone again.
The room that they have been provided is not all she could hope for. It lacks the ease and comfort of her studio apartment office (now abandoned). It's a featureless room lit by overhead fluorescents, under which sit a couch and two chairs, one of the latter occupied by Bella herself, dressed in a skirt suit, with a pad of paper and pen resting at the arm. The couch and chair are, at least, well cushioned. The buzz of the light overhead really won't do. She must find a better space. But she'll have to wait for that.
As she's waiting, right now, on her newest client.
Elle Bishop doesn't know how to feel about going to a shrink. What should she talk about? What should she avoid talking about? The little electric blonde has no clue, just that Desmond seems to genuinely want to help her get her life back on track. Thing are confusing for the woman right now, with recent revelations about her life and the lies she's been living. Add to that having to babysit a guy who is even crazier than her, her hatred for the Company, and many other factors, and Elle has not been having a very good time with life, the universe, and everything.
She isn't even sure if she wants to do this whole therapy thing. But it certainly can't hurt, can it? Still, she'll be certain to keep any mutinous thoughts to herself. No need to get into any more trouble than she's already in.
Elle is dressed in a black knee-length skirt, complete with a nicely cut red tank top and some killer red heels. She looks almost like something out of a 50's pinup poster. Her excuse is that she just returned from taking care of some business for said crazy fellow. Right on time, the door opens, and the woman peeks in, staring up at that buzzing light for a moment, before turning blue eyes down to Bella herself.
A small wave is offered to the woman. "I'm not late, am I?"
Bella lifts her eyes to Elle, a smile offered, a hand motioning 'come in, come in'. She gets to her feet as she waits for Elle to enter properly, adopting a certain loose kind of decorum, fingers lacing before her. "Right on time," she assures her, "it's really very good to see you again, Elle. It's been… almost a year?" a little more than a year and a month, in fact, "different circumstances, different setting. And different people, I'll wager. Please, have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." Her eyes lift to the lights buzzing overhead, "or as comfortable as you can manage. I will get a better office for future meetings, I promise. This was all rather short notice."
The little blonde slips the door closed behind her, leaning against it for a moment. "Right around a year, yes." She tilts her head to one side, before moving over to a couch and flopping down on it, running a hand through her hair. "And very different circumstances and setting…" She glances about, raising her eyes up to that bussing light, before looking back down to Bella, offering a small smile. "It's okay. A lot of things are short notice, these days." She begins to fidget.
Bella retakes her seat. She looks composed, but her mind is working away. This is very much not the Elle she remembers. She lacks the hostility, the facade, the insolence that Bella is, as a mental health practitioner, not unused to, but hates to deal with. Something has clearly shifted. Probably having everything to do with why Elle was sent to her at all. Unkind though the thought may be, Bella cannot be somewhat glad of whatever trauma has shaken Elle in this way. It will certainly make her easier to work with. Or so Bella hopes.
"A lot of things? We can talk about anything in here, anything at all, and it will all be strictly private. But I wouldn't mind," Bella says, leaning forward, attention firmly on the blonde, "starting with 'short notice'. What has happened recently? Why, for example, do you imagine you've been asked to see me?"
Elle leans against the couch, hugging herself as she peers up at the ceiling. She offers a slow nod toward Bella, a small frown turning the corners of her lip downward. "Well…there's a lot of things that have happened recently." It feels so strange, coming here to talk to someone about her problems. She's almost literally never done this before. "I met Mortimer Alex Jack, and sent him off to…well, us. Desmond approached me…and we talked."
She frowns. "God, it's so hard to think of where to start…um…" She rubs at her forehead for a moment, before looking up to Bella. "I found out recently that a large majority of my life has been a total lie, enhanced with memory alteration and removal. All my life, I was told that my mom had abandoned my dad and I. That she walked out before I could even remember her."
Then, she turns her eyes down. "I just found out that was a lie. She was killed at Arthur Petrelli's hand…and instead of letting me cope with my mother's death in my own way, my father had Charles Deveaux erase all of my memories. All I have is a picture and a video of my first birthday to remember her by…" She frowns again. "And then, my birthday has been a lie for lord knows how long. It's not in June like I've thought, it's September 17th. They even erased my birthday."
Bella listens, brow furrowed very slightly, a show of mixed sympathy and attention. She reacts just enough to demonstrate that she recognizes how hard this must be, though not so much as to imply she could ever really understand. She nods gently as Elle goes on, making no move to take up the notepad and pen. That is for later. Right now, Elle needs to talk without feeling like she's being interviewed or interrogated.
"How did it feel, seeing that video for the first time?" Bella asks. She has to start with small things. Asking 'how does finding out your life is a lie make you feel' is… sort of broad. There is unlikely to be any single emotional response that covers all of what is going on in Elle's mind.
Elle leans against the couch, hugging herself as she peers up at the ceiling. She offers a slow nod toward Bella, a small frown turning the corners of her lip downward. "Well…there's a lot of things that have happened recently." It feels so strange, coming here to talk to someone about her problems. She's almost literally never done this before. "I met Mortimer Alex Jack, and sent him off to…well, us. Desmond approached me…and we talked."
She frowns. "God, it's so hard to think of where to start…um…" She rubs at her forehead for a moment, before looking up to Bella. "I found out recently that a large majority of my life has been a total lie, enhanced with memory alteration and removal. All my life, I was told that my mom had abandoned my dad and I. That she walked out before I could even remember her."
Then, she turns her eyes down. "I just found out that was a lie. She was killed at Arthur Petrelli's hand…and instead of letting me cope with my mother's death in my own way, my father had Charles Deveaux erase all of my memories. All I have is a picture and a video of my first birthday to remember her by…" She frowns again. "And then, my birthday has been a lie for lord knows how long. It's not in June like I've thought, it's September 17th. They even erased my birthday."
Bella listens, brow furrowed very slightly, a show of mixed sympathy and attention. She reacts just enough to demonstrate that she recognizes how hard this must be, though not so much as to imply she could ever really understand. She nods gently as Elle goes on, making no move to take up the notepad and pen. That is for later. Right now, Elle needs to talk without feeling like she's being interviewed or interrogated.
"How did it feel, seeing that video for the first time?" Bella asks. She has to start with small things. Asking 'how does finding out your life is a lie make you feel' is… sort of broad. There is unlikely to be any single emotional response that covers all of what is going on in Elle's mind.
"It felt…heartbreaking. Like…I think my body and some part of my mind remembers her." Elle frowns, drawing one leg up to her chest and hugging it, her chin resting on her knee. "It made me miss her, even though I don't remember anything about her. I…I've been wondering if I ever ate pancakes with her, or if we ever built sandcastles together. I want to know what she was like. All I have to go on is what my Dad has told me…and I don't know if I can trust him any more."
If this is a performance, then Bella would be willing to give Elle a standing ovation. Bella hopes dearly that it is not, though, since rebuilding someone from shattered pieces is still, in the end, more likely a success then trying to navigate a web of deception. This is Elle Bishop, infamous sociopath? Tragedy is a cure that only Fate can prescribe.
"You're at the start of a long, difficult road," Bella says, seriously, "I won't pull punches on that regard. But I will tell you that, as long as you are willing to talk to me and work with me, I'll do my best to see you safely down it. I'd like us to set some immediate goals, just to get us started, to give us a direction. Tell me, what do you want out of therapy? That's the most important thing from the get-go. How do you want to change? What needs changing?"
The blonde stares down at the ground, frowning. Thankfully, this isn't a performance. This is Elle, in a rare and horribly vulnerable moment, feeling like she has nowhere else to turn. "I want— I'm really not sure exactly what I want out of this. I want to get over these obstacles, I guess? I've never really felt so…alone as I do now." She looks at the ground. "I want to be able to function without Daddy around to back me up."
"Independence," Bella suggests, "but not loneliness. That's a difficult thing for anyone to achieve. They seem to ask different things of us, those principles. But here, in this room -" a slight smile, "until we get a better one - with me, we are interested solely in helping you get there. In clearing the obstacles you describe. And the first step is identifying them. So, Elle…
"What do you feel is in your way? Feelings, people, circumstances… don't doubt yourself, don't second guess yourself, just say what's on your mind. And don't worry, yet, about how to overcome them. That comes later."
The little blonde is quiet for a very long moment, the gears of her mind turning slowly. She runs a hand through her hair, and suddenly lays back on the couch, as if reclining will make these things easier to think of, easier to say. For a long while, she simply stares up at the ceiling, a thoughtful frown on her face. When she does speak, it's in a low mumble, just barely loud enough to be heard.
"I feel like I need to find out about all of the lies. If there are more, which I somehow have a feeling there are. I feel like, as long as I don't know the entire truth, I can't get better again. I don't need to remember it, per se…I just need to know it." She pauses, taking a soft breath. "I feel…alone right now. I'm working for the Institute, but I'm still with the Company right now…and it's been lonely, because I really don't want to be around the Company any longer…but I'm not a full part of the Institute until whatever they're planning happens."
This is not Bella's time to fish for information, but there is a definite urge to immediate inquire 'what are they planning'? Of course, the fact that Elle uses the word 'whatever' means that she is not the person to ask. Inquiries must wait 'til later. Bella makes mental note.
"I myself am still technically a Company employee as well," Bella says, smiling wryly, "but the Institute has been where all my real work has happened since my induction. I know what you're going through there, at least, so feel free to speak about that, knowing that I have a perspective on it. As for the lies… I can't help you discover them, but I can help you come to terms with them. Remember, there are some parts of you that remain entirely true, entirely your own, and those are the very parts that will help you establish your independence. Truth or lie, who you are is something you can define. And if that is what we need to do, that is just what we'll work towards."
"I think it's mostly a lack of people to truly relate with. I mean, I have Odessa, but…it's hard to relate to her some times. Then, I have Warren, the crazy inventor that Harper and Broome have me looking after…" The mention of Warren seems to transition into a new topic for Elle. "Speaking of him…I'm just supposed to be watching him. Making sure he doesn't go crazy or cause any damage. I should be able to keep myself from developing feelings for him…but I have. Aside from being royally fucked in the head, he's almost…lovable." She frowns.
"I think that I need to figure out who I am…I really don't know any more." The electric blonde sighs, rubbing a hand over her forehead.
"This is the trouble with having your whole life tied up in your work," Bella says, and her smile is tinged with knowing, "people inside of our professional life we have to retain professional relations with. People outside, because of what we do, can never really know us. But we can have meaningful relationships, as long as we're clear sighted about them. So… that gives us two things to work on. Who you are to yourself, and who you are to other people," the psychiatrist tilts her head, "let's start there then. Who is Elle? What do you know about her?"
"To other people? I'm…a mask. I don't like showing my emotions. It's easier to show them a happy face than it is to show them that I'm on the verge of tears." Elle frowns quietly. "I'm fake, I guess? The only emotions I do show is when I'm pissed off, or when I'm in a good mood." She closes her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "To me…I don't know, really. I used to define myself by the fact that Daddy was the Director of the Company. He was the most important thing in my life up until a few weeks ago. Then, that string snapped, and I've tried to cut him out of my life. Now…I don't know. I've always been my job."
Bella's job is to sympathize and guide, not empathize. This is therapy, not a group support session. But she ID's all too well at this moment, which makes her job all the harder. Well… it might. It might also permit her insight. But it's a dangerous line to toe.
"Now, stop me if I'm assuming too much, but," Bella begins, keeping her cool, preserving her own mask, "it seems as if the maintenance of what you call your 'mask' is what you need to function. And so, when you said earlier that you want to be able to function, but are right now finding it hard… that suggests to me that your mask is getting harder to maintain. That, without the stable 'you' behind it, the mask has started to slip.
"Now…" she taps her forefingers together, "what we need to consider is that the 'you' that is really you is more in what's between your mask and your job. You are more the rift that is opening up. This… disturbance, this unsettling of your identity, can be recast as an opportunity to capture a sense of self that doesn't merely depends on what you do and what you show others. Creating a 'you' will not only help you do your job again, help you interact with others, it will also grant you more stability when forced out of those contexts."
"To other people? I'm…a mask. I don't like showing my emotions. It's easier to show them a happy face than it is to show them that I'm on the verge of tears." Elle frowns quietly. "I'm fake, I guess? The only emotions I do show is when I'm pissed off, or when I'm in a good mood." She closes her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. "To me…I don't know, really. I used to define myself by the fact that Daddy was the Director of the Company. He was the most important thing in my life up until a few weeks ago. Then, that string snapped, and I've tried to cut him out of my life. Now…I don't know. I've always been my job."
Bella's job is to sympathize and guide, not empathize. This is therapy, not a group support session. But she ID's all too well at this moment, which makes her job all the harder. Well… it might. It might also permit her insight. But it's a dangerous line to toe.
"Now, stop me if I'm assuming too much, but," Bella begins, keeping her cool, preserving her own mask, "it seems as if the maintenance of what you call your 'mask' is what you need to function. And so, when you said earlier that you want to be able to function, but are right now finding it hard… that suggests to me that your mask is getting harder to maintain. That, without the stable 'you' behind it, the mask has started to slip.
"Now…" she taps her forefingers together, "what we need to consider is that the 'you' that is really you is more in what's between your mask and your job. You are more the rift that is opening up. This… disturbance, this unsettling of your identity, can be recast as an opportunity to capture a sense of self that doesn't merely depends on what you do and what you show others. Creating a 'you' will not only help you do your job again, help you interact with others, it will also grant you more stability when forced out of those contexts."
The little blonde continues to recline against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as Bella speaks. Once the woman is finished with her suggestions, Elle tilts her head to one side. "How do I do that, though? I mean…I know about myself, and all, but how do you turn that into who you are?" A glance is cast over to Bella as the little woman runs a hand through her hair.
"The experience of self is already there, you're already having it," Bella says, her cool blue gaze remaining on Elle's face almost the whole time, only briefly tracing the path of her hands, gestures that may have some meaning, however small, if Bella can decode them, "what you know about yourself… that's the content of identity. The form, though, the structure, that's something we will be working on together. But we can start with what you've got, the pieces you're starting with. So… with no pressure to making sense…"
The redhead arches a single brow. "Who is Elle? How would you describe her?"
Tilting her head toward the redhead, Elle arches a brow. "Elle is…" She pauses for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling. "Umm…I'm a bitch?" She frowns. "I'm…a hunter. It's what I do best. Um…I like to shop, and I love shoes." She frowns, staring up at the ceiling. "Usually, when I'm being nice, I'm really only pretending to be."
Bella's lips twitch into a smile as Elle self-attributes. "What's a bitch, if that's what Elle is? What qualities comprise 'bitchiness'?"
The woman blinks a few times, glancing down to Bella. "I'm not…nice. I mean…while I'm acting nice to people's faces, I'm thinking of ways to take them down or something. Or I don't even act nice, and I end up either being cruel to their faces, or outright attacking them." She heaves a soft sigh. "There are very few people I even truly like.
"Why is it you feel driven to 'take people down'?" Bella presses, no judgment discernible in her tone (though something doesn't need to be there to be imagined, and heard), "what feelings do you experience before being cruel? Before attacking someone?"
There's silence for a long moment as Elle considers those questions. "I want to knock them down before they can knock me down." She's quiet once more, frowning at the ceiling. "I don't want to give them the chance to even think about knocking me down first…" She lets out a soft sigh, shaking her head. "So I'm mean to them, or attack them…"
"If being a 'bitch' is really central to your identity, or at least one of the components you use to imagine yourself," Bella says, retaining her smoothness and composure, "and if your 'bitchiness' is about pre-empting harm coming from others… you are still stuck with an identity that exists only in the perceived relations with other people. Effectiveness of your method aside, you're still depending on the presumed positions of others to determine your own self and behavior. I think that's an orientation we should try and shift you away from. You can still be a bitch, but you should at least be your own bitch."
Once again, there is thoughtful silence from Elle's end as she stares up at the textured tiles of the ceiling, as if counting each individual dip in each tile. "I don't want it to be central to my personality, I don't think." She frowns. "I don't want to be a bitch. I want to be Elle Bishop. Not her father's daughter. Not the crazy woman everyone thinks I am." Then, she sits up, crossing her legs indian-style as she peers over at Bella. "It's just that sometimes…I don't know, I worry that everyone is out to get me?"
A shrug rolls over her shoulders as she idly pokes at a button in the couch cushion. "That might be the paranoid delusions part of me talking, though."
"Well, luckily," Bella says, smiling at a slant, "we have medication for that sort of thing. Anti-psychotics might take the edge off. Not a serious dose, just enough to sift the pure delusion from the occasionally perfectly valid suspicions that are part of your job. The fact is, with the tampering you've suffered thanks to the liberal hand of the Company, it's hard to say what chemical imbalances you might actually be suffering from. But we'll work towards some proper regimen as you and I interact and I get a better sense of your symptomology. For now… I think we should start to take a serious inventory of who you are, and who you'd rather be, and see if we can't start making that shift. Like I said, this can be turned into an opportunity. You have a license for a new life. You shouldn't be afraid to seize that chance."
Elle nods slowly, still frowning as she watches Bella speak. Drugs? At one point in her life, she would have refused, reasoned that she had spent enough time being drugged as a child, and didn't need any more drugs now. But that was the old her. This new her wants help. Wants to keep herself from falling into the same traps and habits with the Institute that she fell into with the Company.
Daddy isn't going to be around to help her forever, after all.
Finally, Elle's head bobs slowly in a nod. "I…I would like to try the medication. It can't hurt, can it?" She's somewhat quiet as she says this, turning her eyes down to the ground.
"Well," Bella says, brows lowering to indicate the seriousness of the proposition, an implicit contradiction of Elle's hopefulness even before she outright says, "there are a number of options, and some of them do have detrimental side effects. I would certainly want to start you on a small dose of a standard anti-psychotic. I'm thinking olanzapine, no more than three milligrams. You'd have to be vigilant about noticing side effects. Any dizziness, development of any fidgets, or paradoxical reactions - an increase in irritation or aggressiveness - would need to be noticed early on…
"But there are more cutting edge treatments, ones that, considering we operate in a legal grey area, are available to us despite they haven't been approved by the fuddy duddies at the FDA," the redhead continues, "more specifically I'm thinking of cannabidiol, one of the active compounds in cannabis sativa. The side effects are negligible in comparison to other atypical antipsychotics, and tests suggest it has been very useful in treating the psychotic symptoms of acute schizophrenia, of which paranoid delusion is one."
Bella smiles, a touch of apology in her expression, "I'm sorry if that sounds overwhelming… suffice it to say, you have options, we just need to explore them with care."
The little blonde leans forward, listening intentently to the explanation Bella offers. Her brows shoot up high at the mention of cannabidiol, tilting her head to one side. After a moment, she raises a hand, for a moment, then leans a bit closer. "So…you want to start me on medical marijuana or something?" She can't help but be slightly amused by this, even if it is just a compound that is derrived from cannabis sativa.
Then, she leans back, spreading her arms in a helpless motion. "I put myself in your capable hands. I'll go along with whatever you would be willing to recommend."
Bella nods, "I appreciate your confidence," she says, sounding genuinely grateful, "rather than risk the adverse effects of olanzapine, I'm going to write you a script for a hybrid strain of cannabis sativa first off. I'd suggest vaporization for intake. Less lung damage, longer lasting effects. I'll make sure your health plan will cover it, since vaporizors go for hundreds of dollars.
"Now, there are other active ingredients in marijuana, and paranoia can be a side effect of it. It's just much easier to get ahold of than raw cannabidiol. If it turns out that the raw hybrid doesn't treat your symptoms effectively, or impairs your performance, we can switch to the cannabidiol in solution."
Bella has dug into her pocket, extracting a prescription pad, taking a pen to it. A few scrawls later, she tugs it free and offers the paper to Elle. "Every morning, using the dosage in grams as written here. One more in the afternoon if you feel you need it. See if it takes the edge off."
Well. Actual medical marijuana, and Elle gets a prescription for it. She reaches out and takes this, looking it over for a long moment, before her eyes raise to Bella. She can't help but grin ever-so-slightly. "I have to admit," she murmurs, chuckling, "that this is kind-of awesome. I don't think I've ever tried that." She smiles slightly.
Then, the script is tucked away into her purse, and a small smile is offered to Bella. "Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Sheridan, and on such short notice. I really look forward to working with you more." She runs a hand through her hair. "I…I think I'm going to try and talk to my father. See if…if he will give me all of the truth, instead of having to get information about my life from Desmond…"
Bella gets to her feet, offering her hand in a parting shake. "My pleasure, Elle. I hope it helps. And please, call me Bella, if you feel comfortable," she dips her head, "we can meet again as soon as you'd like. It might help to convene after speaking with your father. Just keep in mind, this is a chance to be a new you. Don't allow your old ties to redefine you," she smiles, "I have confidence, though, that you won't."
The little blonde stands, shouldering her purse and reaching out to take Bella's hand, offering it a shake. "I'll give you a call once I've had the chance to speak to him…probably next week some time?" She squeezes Bella's hand, a small gesture of her gratefulness. "Thank you again, Bella. I'm going to do my best to grab this chance and not let it go…" She smiles, then. "Have a good day." Then, she turns, her heels clicking on the floor as she makes her way out of the office.