entrancelogs | ( closed ) I love coffee, I love tea...

Entry tags:

( closed ) I love coffee, I love tea...

Who: Darcy Lewis and Dr. Bedelia Du Maurier
Where: Coffee Shop
When: July 9th.
Rating: PG-13, possibly due to subject matter.
Summary: Bedelia comes to visit the coffee shop, chatting ensues.

The Story:

Blake was gone, but it hadn't been normal. The process had rattled her and left her wondering a lot about this place and what else the Queens might be hiding. It was amazing how everything was starting to really wear on her. It was becoming a pattern, her not hanging out in the coffee shop as much as she used to, but maybe it was time to change that. She'd practically moved in over the past few days, crashing in the back room when she wasn't out front.

It wasn't uncommon for people to wander in and out of the coffee shop, just like it wasn't weird for someone to hop behind the counter. With the whole no money thing, she was more than okay with blurring the lines between employee and customer. However, when she could be behind the counter, she was. Easier containment of potential messes - especially after Ray had taken it upon himself to supe up her machines. She's wiping down the steam wand when she looks up, words flowing from her lips before she even puts together who's standing there. A side effect of a tired brain.

"What can I ge-- oh hey, I know you. You're the new doc on the scene."

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Bedelia stops abruptly in the middle of reaching out for the back of a chair at the counter. She had recognized the young woman she'd been speaking to over the network as soon as she'd come in. Darcy, as she recalled. But Darcy had seemed preoccupied, and she hadn't imagined she would be noticed before taking a seat. Strange to be jumpy in a place like this, but perhaps it was a side effect of Darcy's mood, which seemed to filling the shop with a kind of frantic melancholy.

She meets Darcy's eyes and smiles toothlessly, letting her hand fall to its intended place at the back of the stool and swinging a hip around to seat herself. "Yes, we've spoken. You were kind enough to direct me to this coffee shop, so I thought I would stop by." Her eyes take less than a second to look Darcy over. "I hope this isn't a bad time."

"Right, totally. Glad you found it." She gives a little wave of her hand, dropping the bar rag on the counter behind her. "No such thing as bad timing when it comes to this place." Which is a lie, if she were in the mood to be truthful... But today is not that day. Fingers splay on the bar in front of her when she turns back around, a soft smile in place. "So, what can I get you on this fine day?"

It's fine, she's fine, everything's fine. It's been a few months since the big 2 year anniversary blow out and Blake's perma-death was manageable. Nothing to see here in terms of concerns, move along. /cough

"Just a cappuccino, please."

Darcy is managing, it's clear. Something she is accustomed to. What's bothering her, making her movements and facial expressions so exaggeratedly pleasant is, for the most part, being kept at bay. At least for the moment. People who deal with crises, and are used to being a beacon of light in a dark world, develop coping mechanisms that allow them to stay that way, no matter how much damage it may do internally.

This isn't her office, Bedelia knows. It isn't a place to be picking people apart and pointing out what she finds. But this young woman did reach out to her over the network with much the same look sitting behind her eyes as she has now. Willfully present. Forcibly calm.

"So. How are you holding up, Darcy?" She smiles down at her own hands resting on the bar. "You had seemed as though you were...spread a bit thin, when we spoke last."

"One cappuccino coming up." That was a simple enough order, at least a lot simpler than figuring out how to answer that question. It was easier to just stay busy rather than sit down and think about everything long enough. Last time she did that, she didn't leave the room she'd commandeered on the first floor for about a week. When Jane, Natasha, and Pepper had all gone within the span of a week or so. And now it seemed to be starting again, another influx of people that had been here before, another death, and the beginning of the losses.

"I'm good, the whole spreading thin thing is totally my fault. We've been a little busy in the lab and moving things around. Between that a few other things, my schedule's just been jam-packed. It's fine though, I'm fine." T o t a l l y f i n e. Don't mind her while she focuses on re-wiping down the steam wand that's already clean.

"I see." Bedelia places her hands on the counter and interlaces her fingers. She watches Darcy's back as she busies herself with clearly perfunctory tasks. She shouldn't pry. It's not what Darcy will be expecting and it would be rude to start making assumptions. Yet she is making them. It is difficult not to. A skill she cannot turn off easily. She lets a few seconds of silence pass between them before she decides to speak.

"We all have mantras, I think. They can be, at times, the only thing that gets us through the day. Sometimes if we say them enough, we can even convince ourselves that they are true." She speaks with some hesitation, the natural deliberate cadence of her voice exaggerated. She doesn't want to slip into the businesslike tone she adopts with some of her patients. "It sounds like a mantra. You're fine. It's fine. Do you find it helps you to say that?"

Definitely not what she's expecting, although surprising her isn't really as hard as she likes to think it is nowadays. And to be fair, she'll take this kind of surprise over, say, people turning into animals again or dealing with angels and demons Mansion wide. Although, those surprises at least bopped along to be one and done. Unlike a therapy surprise, depending.

She wasn't completely oblivious, though. People always tended to default to their trade and she was honestly far from okay. She'd worked through this kind of thing before and got to the next level of coping. There was always more to do and random drama to focus on that might not revolve around events. Somehow that kind of stuff always stung more when it hit the fan. Her motions pause a little with the question, not really sure how to answer it. "It's how Jane and I get through some things, so yeah. I guess it's a mantra. Everything's fine until it's not." And when she says it's not, then it's probably past the actual point of no longer being anything remotely resembling fine. Rather than continue on that, she focuses her energy on the design for the cappuccino before depositing it in front of Bedelia. "Things bogging people down around here tend to make for a massive mood boner killer that you don't really bounce back from. So, easier to just move on and try to not get hung up on every single thing that happens. People die, people leave, some people don't come back. It's the cost of making friends around here." Welp. That came out a little more negative Nancy than she'd planned. She'll just cover it up with a little shrug and a smile.

Bedelia smiles toothlessly back at Darcy as she wraps her hands around the coffee mug in front of her. She cannot pretend the young woman doesn't amuse her. Darcy talks like no one she has ever met before, and she has had patients with multiple personality disorder, paranoid delusions, and schizophrenia. It's not unwelcome, though, meeting someone who speaks plainly, even if they aren't saying everything they're thinking.

She lifts the cup to her lips, tilting her head briefly to admire the drink's design before taking a sip. Darcy makes a more than passable cappuccino. She'll have to be careful not to upset her, so that she can continue to come here in the future.

She lets the silence linger as she slowly sets the cup down and watches the liquid settle. "Who was it that died, Darcy?" She says finally, voice barely a whisper, the appropriate amount of compassion playing on her face. "Who left and didn't come back?"

And there it is.

The rag she'd picked up to toy with it long forgotten as a whole new wave of emotions come crashing down on her. She hadn't expected this, that level of attentiveness and basically balls to just call it like it was. Everything about her movements still, not having the pleasure of at least letting this happen with her back towards the other woman. A single tear works its way past her strongly formed barriers, a shaky breath managing to escape. Rather than speaking right away, she pulls her phone out of her pocket, lighting it up so the lock screen is visible - a single photo filling the screen. One she hadn't had the heart to change yet. Darcy manages to gather herself enough to speak, including saying a name she hasn't tried to say in the past few weeks. "Blake, most recently. That's-- he's... That's him. Among others. People die, people leave, new people show up." But, his hurt the most. Just like she wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle losing Steve. The thought feels like it's showing on her face, but she doesn't care.

She takes the opportunity to leave the phone on the counter and grab a fresh rag to dab at her face. This wasn't her style, the whole sobbing mess thing. So, it was time to attempt to compose herself so she didn't have a full breakdown again in the coffee shop for a death that wasn't her own.

Bedelia takes the phone by its edges and brings it closer, so she can see the man Darcy is talking about, the man that has her crying in this coffee shop in the middle of the day. Their expressions play at being serious--model-esque faces exaggerated into absurdity. They look like kindred spirits.

"I'm very sorry." She says finally, sliding the phone back toward Darcy. "There is so much loss here, I'm finding. It makes sense that you've developed coping mechanisms. But they can't always work, can they? What they are is all they are--things that help us cope so we can function on our most basic levels. They don't help us accept or move on, they don't help us deal with the long-term ramifications."

Bedelia takes another sip of her coffee. She keeps her eyes off of Darcy, leaving her a small bit of privacy to dab the tears from her face. Darcy is already composing herself, only allowing a few seconds of true feeling to leak out before rebuilding that wall again. She's practiced at this. But walls age and erode with time. They crumble from the pressure of holding in so much.

"If I may ask--have you taken a day off, Darcy, since he left? Have you taken even a moment to stop moving, to be alone?"

Her walls had cracked once and it hadn't been pretty. She'd set herself up in a room on the first floor away from everyone and just hid for a few days. Or, she'd been somewhat alone if she didn't count Blake crashing her pity party. But, she'd been better after a few weeks. That wasn't something she'd done with this death because life had to go on.

This whole mess was different and not really a situation she'd ever come across. It was hard to talk to people about it because her relationship with Blake had been so unique and so very them. Darcy's tempted to call Bedelia out on the apparent surprise therapy session, but as much as she may not want to admit it - she needed it. She needed the help to get through this. And this was about the only way it was going to happen.

"No. I don't know that I want to, not yet." It's honest and definitely looks bad, but she didn't know how to start with this.

Bedelia nods. She can't say it's difficult to understand Darcy's motivation for staying busy. While some people shut down in times of grief or change, others move into modes of hyperactivity, forcing their minds to stay focused on whatever menial tasks they can come up with. It would be hypocritical of her to say anything against it. When she'd first arrived here she'd decided to restart her psychiatry practice almost immediately, because it was easier to stay busy, than to think about the ramifications of being here.

Even outside her office, most of her dealings with others seem to veer toward the therapeutic. She jumps at every opportunity to speak to people she finds sitting alone, slowly parsing out their troubles whether they asked for it or not. She hasn't spent a day entirely alone. She doesn't know what that would feel like.

"We all deal with loss in our own ways," she says quietly. "But it is important not to take on more than you can handle right now. You have to allow yourself some time to breath, even just for a moment. Are your other friends aware of what's happened?" Darcy seems like one of those people who accumulates friends like it's nothing. Someone who can just be in the world and people stick to her like flies in honey. What an odd burden it must be.

It's incredibly difficult to hold back a bark of laughter that's nipping to escape. Even just for a moment echoes in her mind. This place wasn't exactly designed to allow for the whole breathing thing sometimes. She always felt like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop, hadn't even really dealt with her own death beyond crying on Steve. It still haunts her every once in awhile when she sleeps, sensations and smells flooding her system. Phantom pains that are long repaired.

If she actually took the time to tell Bedelia everything she'd been through in her 2+ years here, telling her to breathe wouldn't probably be the actual response. "In a way, yes. Although I haven't -- I don't need to chuck my crap on top of their crap right now." Not with the recent wave of people from home and Wonderland being Wonderland. Yes, she could probably call just about anyone and have a shoulder, but it was an odd place to put herself. She was normally the shoulder, not the other way around. At least, not until everything she'd shoved in a pretty little box was ready to explode.

Not the best way to handle things, but she'd never had to deal with some of this shit before.

Bedelia can see the incredulity on Darcy's face that follows her words. Things are always more complicated than they seem, she knows. It is entirely possible her friends are similarly affected by the happenings that seem to never stop here. And Darcy is acutely aware that her problems just a few among hundreds. It is a common feeling, particularly with those who are accustomed to considering other people's feelings over their own.

It is why people used to pay a great deal to come into her home, sit in her office, and state their problems to someone who is essentially a stranger. Her feelings needn't be considered. It's easier that way.

Bedelia nods, tilting her wrist to check the time on her watch. "Then let me propose something. I have an appointment in a few moments, but I would like for us to talk again. I want you to tell me about Blake. He must have been a very good person to have so affected your life. I would like to hear more about him." With that, she gently pushes her half-finished coffee to the edge of the counter, and stands. She moves to turn, but stops, and places her and on the counter, meeting Darcy's eyes.

"Or you could tell me about your job here, or about what you ate for breakfast. It really doesn't matter. I would like you to come to my office, and we will talk about whatever you like. Does that sound possible?"

One of the weirdest blessing and curses in her life was her internship. Working with complex ideas of galaxies and universes beyond universes tended to dwarf her own problems pretty well. Between that and definitely focusing on other people's needs, she let herself get pushed aside.

And of course her biggest moment, the biggest difficulty she's really had since arriving here happened to coincide with the arrival of a psychiatrist. It was almost like Wonderland knew what was going to happen and felt the need to prepare. She swallows hard at the idea of talking about Blake, that single use of the past tense that really drives it home. He's gone. And in an almost bitter twist, his last network post was terrifyingly accurate. That a part of him was always going to be here. That he got to stay by any means necessary.

She's incredibly grateful that Bedelia is already on the move because she can already feel herself losing what little control she had on her emotions. Something that was already exceedingly difficult given how often she wore her heart on her sleeve for the world to see. "Ok, yeah. That's -- I'll stop by. T...Thanks." She doesn't wait for anything else, gesturing at the cup with a small smile - grabbing it and quickly depositing it behind the bar before slipping away into the back room. As soon as her back connects with the door, she's quickly sliding to the floor and letting it all out. Okay, she'd follow up with Bedelia soon. Just not today.

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( closed ) I love coffee, I love tea...

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