fandom_clinic | FH Clinic [3/27]

Ivanova was looking like she hadn't slept in a few days and her eyes were bloodshot when she walked into the clinic for her appointment with ~~Queen Susan~~ Dr. Pevensie.

[[Poke me on AIM at godsentmeinakilt.]]

"Ivanova? Lord, come in and sit down." Susan opened up her office and studied Ivanova with concern. "What's happened?"

"I just haven't gotten much sleep lately," she said, rubbing her eyes as she took a seat. "Bad weekend. I'll be fine after a few REM cycles."

Some part of her realised that going to her therapist was not the best place to avoid sympathy. But the rest was hoping she wouldn't be as nice as everyone else would or she would want to start crying again.

"Why haven't you gotten any sleep? Bad scheduling, something else?" Susan frowned. "Do you need a sleeping pill to help you over this?" Ivanova's nightmares were enough of a concern that she didn't want to prescribe anything, but she was beginning to wonder if she'd have to.

"Not nightmares," she replied shortly. "I just didn't sleep well." Crying herself to sleep would do that. "And you know how I feel about drugs."

"I do," Susan sighed. "What else is going on with you, Ivanova? How are things with Tonks?"

Ivanova pinched the bridge of her nose briefly. "She's leaving, so it doesn't really matter, does it?" Her voice cracked, belying her nonchalant tone.

Susan reached under the coffee table and handed over a box of Kleenex. "Of course it matters. How you end a relationship has as great an impact as the relationship itself."

Ivanova took the box automatically, but didn't take any. "Neither of us want it to end. When we're together it's like we have all the time in world, nothing to do but just be together. And then I'm alone and I remember that it's almost over." She swallowed hard. "And then she goes and does something stupid that makes me fall in love with her all over again," she said, her voice getting harsher.

Susan studied Ivanova carefully. "You've never said-- does Tonks *have* to stay in her country, after she's called home? Is there any way you can join her there later?"

"I suppose I could," Ivanova replied with a small smile. "If I resigned my commission, gave up my career, tried to make a living two hundred and fifty years in the past. It would have ended eventually, I know that. It was just . . . it was going to be eventually."

Susan nodded thoughtfully. "That is a lot to give up for someone, especially at your new age. And the immediacy of her leaving makes this more difficult for you." She studied Ivanova carefully. "I could tell you, you'll get over this, but that's never quite the truth. But it will hurt less, since the only thing separating you is distance and time."

"'In our line of work, you could spend a lifetime wondering if everyone you care about is going to be taken away from you forever'," Ivanova murmured, remembering what Pip had told her today. "'That the last thing they'd want you to do is to ruin your life because of them'. Words that never help but always have to be said."

"That's ridiculous."

Susan is now looking at Ivanova very firmly. "It precludes so many things. Free will. Change in the future. And the possibility that the loved one would be willing to accept that there are some sacrifices which can not be repaid, merely appreciated."

"Free will?" Ivanova snorted. "If we both had free will we really would have all the time in the world. She has her orders and I have mine. And never the twain shall meet."

"Ivanova-- never is a very long time." Susan shook her head. "And free will means you can make choices. Not that the world will always make it easy." She paused, then said, "Has Tonks said anything about how she feels about your incipient parting?"

Said? Not so much. Time for some vague wording. "She feels the same as I do. We're going to miss each other, badly. But like I said, we don't talk about it much when we're together."

"One way of dealing with loss is to put it in context," Susan said gently. "To know what your partner's going to be doing without you, and that they know how you're going to cope, makes it easier to endure a separation. It's less of an amputation, more of a gradual pulling away. And if you're resigned to this parting, that's something you ought to do for yourself."

Ivanova nodded. "That makes sense. I'll . . . we'll talk. I should know the details. Even if she is walking away from me into a war." Her throat felt less raw now and it was easier to talk.

"Especially so you don't imagine worst-case scenarios that might have a low possibilty of coming true." Susan bit her lip. "Not that you'd be Russian about this at all."

She opened up Susan's dream diary. "We didn't have a chance to look at this before. Is there anywhere you want me to start?"

The Russian comment actually got Ivanova to crack a smile.

"No, nowhere in particular," she replied.

"Right, then." Susan opened the journal randomly, and found this entry (http://suzotchka.livejournal.com/8929.html#cutid1).

Slowly, she read it aloud, and finished with, "...trapped by the thorns that cut into my wrists and ankles."

She raised her eyes to Ivanova. "Right, then. That's a rather frightening nightmare. Is that typical of many of your dreams? And who was the woman who disappeared there?"

"No, no it wasn't very typical," Ivanova replied slowly, wrapping one arm around her ribs almost defensively. "And the woman . . . I think it was," she swallowed. "Talia."

Nodding very slowly, Susan said, "Your lover who was suborned by the Corps."

Ivanova nodded. "Yeah. That Talia."

The Corps is mother, the Corps is father. It was a catchy slogan.

"Vines are supposed to be a symbol for life, for growth--but also restraint. Do they have any personal meaning for you, any resonance beyond the obvious?"

"I've never dreamed of vines before. I don't usually dream about plants or nature at all, so I couldn't say." She frowned. "I had been ~~getting dirty with Blair~~ planting seeds with Blair before I went to bed. To give it a very obvious meaning."

"The outcome of a new enterprise leading to being trapped?" Susan cocked her head. "But Talia was in the middle of it. And it happened as you turned for home. Something in the past, perhaps, with Talia, being repeated?"

"I never want anything like that to happen again," Ivanova replied shortly. "It was everything I hated and feared suddenly manifesting themselves in the woman I had finally let myself love. They destroyed her." She paused. "Talia . . . turned into Tonks. And then Tonks turned into the Talia I last saw. If something like that happened . . ."

"Is it a valid fear? Is there anything in Tonks' world, that could turn her against you like that, against her will?" Susan tapped a pencil on the journal. "Or is it just a symptom, of a fear of being abandoned?"

"I don't know about her world, but Tonks is . . . stronger than Talia was." Admitting she was afraid of anything? Not her favourite thing in the world. "It could be the second," she admitted reluctantly.

"And that's a reasonable fear, given your experience." Susan's voice softened. "But it doesn't have to be a murder of crows and strangling vines, to be left behind. No matter how much it hurts." She looked at the entry again, then asked, "Does anything stand out for you about this? Anything that was strange, out of context?"

"Well, having a witch scream PsiCorps propoganda at me did seem a bit odd," she murmured, a bit sarcastically.

FH Clinic [3/27]

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