Tu Me Manques
Summary: Dr. Archibald Hopper spends Tuesday afternoons helping a young kindergarten teacher coping with her own eventual death. The smell of tulips lingers heavily in his office. Archie (Jiminy)/OC
Disclaimer: Soon to be a hefty fic.
Chapter 1: A Cup of Peppermint Tea
The rain had come down in a light drizzle that seemed to pause on each half hour. It seemed almost too perfect and scheduled. Nothing had seemed this amusingly routine since Emma Swan had come to town. Henry Mills, a once model student and one of his patients had become more increasingly truant and the quiet doctor was having a harder time reaching out to him. If she was a good influence on the town, Dr. Hopper had yet to see anything good come of her appearance. He'd reserve judgment for now, of course. Miss Swan hadn't been in Storybrooke very long and Henry was probably still adjusting to the idea of having his birth-mother in his life. His adoptive mother didn't seem very cooperative and her very hostile hold on Henry's treatment was also grating on the therapist. It was an explanation for things, albeit not a very good one. Things would work themselves out, Archie quietly murmured to himself. Wouldn't they? Some form of normalcy would settle down and things would become as routine as this rainfall was. Perhaps that was the sign being shown to him on this grey, dreary winter day.
On and off, Archibald Hopper watched the droplets gently tap against the windows of his office. It was still bitterly cold, yet the drops didn't turn to ice. A wonder. Holding a bone colored mug in his hands, he stared into the green liquid. Peppermint tea seemed appropriate for such a day like this. It was soothing. The heat from the mug warmed his hands while he waited for his last appointment to arrive. Today was a rainy Tuesday. He had mused about routine earlier, but now he couldn't help but wonder if the rain was also going to match the mood of this final patient. Setting down the mug, Archie reached for the notebook in front of him. He had a bit of time before she got here to remind himself of who exactly he was dealing with.
She was stubborn and difficult. Difficult was a word he often wrote in his notes about her. There was notation of a lack of cooperation, an unwillingness to connect with others, and a physical illness that made reference to a file. At the corner of the first page, bent over, was Dr. Hopper's quick scrawling that read "coping with the end". The patient met with him once a week and it was vital that they made progression, but it seemed like they weren't getting anywhere. Either she was doing her best to sabotage their sessions or she was truly in need of guidance. Archibald wasn't going to consider giving up on her. It was far too early and even so, it would take a lot more to scare him off. It'd take more than a dragon from Henry's book to frighten him. He paged through his notes and took a slow sip of the peppermint tea. Just as he did so, it seemed to summon a downpour. As the rain fell, the door to his office opened. There stood a diminutive woman. She was four feet tall, maybe with some extra added inches. The file in Archibald's desk read four feet with four inches. Her chestnut brown hair was cut in a pixie-style. It was manageable, likely for a purpose.
It was the her that the therapist had been reading about. The her that he had been awaiting. The final appointment of the day. She was soaked through and trying her best not to track water into the office.
"Sorry." Her soft voice feigned friendliness and bit with irritability. "It's pissing buckets."
The five minutes that the small, young woman had taken to leave her car and travel to the office had been the downpour that Archie had watched only moments before. She had been caught in it. Yes, it had "pissed buckets" all over her and now it was going to be an interesting start to their session. He didn't have a towel, but there was a nice throw blanket over the couch.
"Miss Maia, You're early." He kept his voice soft and took hold of the throw. "Come in. Dry off."
"As I tell my class, it is better to be early because you are promised to be on time. To be on time means you could be late. You know me by now, Hopper. Quit the Miss Maia stuff, please. How many sessions have we had by now? It's Cherise." Grudgingly, she took the throw blanket and wrapped herself in it while trying to dry herself off. She made soft sighing noises of discontent as she did.
Her tone was already unpleasant. Dread was starting to fill Archie as the little woman tried to dry herself off. She was already so bitter, yet she was so young. Someone would argue that someone so young shouldn't be holed up in his office, but he would beg to differ. Once she was reasonably dry, she sat herself on the far end of the couch. Cherise couldn't have been further away from Archie if they were on different continents. Cherise Maia certainly knew how to make things difficult and it was a wonder he didn't write an entire speech on moments like this. He had done his best to make his office an inviting place, hadn't he? The greenery was comforting. He had books! There were even toys hidden away that Henry knew to find. What was he doing wrong? The two sat in absolute silence while the woman straightened her yellow dress, finding faults with every fold on her clothing. Her dark chocolate eyes kept to themselves and ignored the therapist and the room. Taking that cue, Archie flipped to a clean notebook page.
"How have you been feeling today?" His voice was softened and a bit cheery.
"I'm fine, thank you." It was the stock answer. Cherise was a ball buster. Archie quickly scribbled down his expectations of the session, then looked back over the young woman. Was she really fine? She looked a bit pale from rushing in from the rain. Opening his mouth, the woman stared at him.
"Ask me again, Hopper. Oh, I dare you. The answer is I'm fine."
That was the final answer, then. I'm fine. Hostile, but fine. Then she really wasn't fine. There was something to be pitied about the woman who sat before him. Uncooperative and trying to hide away from his eyes, perhaps even the eyes of the world. It would be only appropriate that she would be trying to get to an appointment that she needed to be at only to have it rain upon her. Now she was wet, cold, and sitting here answering questions she didn't exactly want to answer. No wonder she wanted to have things over with. Letting out a sigh, Archie tapped his pencil on the notebook. How are you feeling wasn't the best question to ask.
"How about…you ask me a question?"
Cherise folded her arms and balled herself up as much as possible. Her legs dangled from the sofa as she narrowed her gaze.
"What's your catch, doc?"
"I know you're not comfortable here so…I want to make you feel a little more comfortable. If it comes at a shock, Cherise, I actually care about how you're doing." The words were slow and gently coaxing.
"That's disturbing. Someone caring about a dying girl. I hope you mean on a professional level."
She'd do anything to dodge questions. Her dark gaze, filled with a strange sort of childish wonder met with Archie's. It weakened and became more docile. An unspoken promise of ceasefire occurred. Her words had been enraging enough, though. Archie felt his shoulders tense immediately and he had to shut his eyes.
"Do you honestly believe you are incapable of being cared about?"
There was a bitter, hurt noise from the woman as the rain slowed to a stop for the moment. The strange noise seemed to be a laugh. Allowing his eyes to open and letting himself watch the woman, he noticed she had started to stare at one of the paintings hanging on the wall. It was of flowers, blooming around a sword. He had always found it so empowering and once found himself mesmerized by it. It had struck a cord in this patient.
"I think…if people know what's good for them, they wouldn't get attached."
"What do you mean?"
In retrospect, a better choice of words could have been used. Yet she seemed calm or even resigned as she explained herself. "People do two things. They either pity me or they really want to know me. If you pity a sick person…then it's your own fault. I don't want pity. If you really want to know me…why do you want that burden when you know you're going to have to let go?"
Cherise Maia suffered from a terminal kidney disease. The medications had stunt her growth and, in her own words at their first session, "wrecked her insides". She had earned some sort of respect for suffering so long. Each day was painful, yet she pushed on and made no fuss. Cherise didn't feel as if the world owed her anything. She was on the constant attack when it came to discussing her feelings or how to improve things. In her eyes, she was getting by alright. Or at least, that was how she came across.
"And you hate pity, I'm aware. But what about the people who really want to get to know you?"
"I'm saving them a fat lot of trouble, doc."
Cherise removed the now-soaked throw from her shoulders now that she wouldn't ruin the leather sofa. Closing her eyes and giving a defiant shake of the head, the noted difficult patient snorted. Feeling a headache starting to form in the back of his head, Dr. Hopper reached for his cup of peppermint tea and let himself digest the information. So they had gotten off to a running start and had started to repeatedly hit a brick wall. It was a normal appointment with Miss Cherise Maia and helping her come to terms with a terminal illness. If there was anything good that came from this, her being soaked meant that he could smell her perfume from where he sat. It was the smell of tulips, which was more welcomed now during a winter rain. It brightened the office, which was so strange coming from such a bitter woman. For one so angry and bitter, she had an occupation that one would only attribute to a happy person. Even her clothes looked happy.
"You'd take no comfort in knowing people care about you? What about your job?" Maybe Archie was onto something. The right kinds of questions asked at certain times would be what worked. Looking at the slowly-dying Cherise, the therapist quietly offered her a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. He hadn't expected her to accept. Stunning the poor man into shock, she gave a polite nod and took a small glass. She took little sips. It was probably because she couldn't have a lot of liquids. He knew that and he wasn't about to drone on like a mother-figure. She was a woman and in control of her condition. In his opinion, she wasn't self destructive. She was tragic, yes. What kind of person thought of others wasting their time when it came to getting to know them? Two years was still time enough, even if it was a rough estimate. There was something just hidden behind the walls of ice that the woman named Cherise had put into place.
It was starting to intrigue Archie now. Not only as her psychiatrist, but now as a person. What was so important that this tiny slip of a woman had to be so bitter and angry? Was it her shortened life? Was it the cruel hand fate dealt her? What was it? He waited for her to answer.
"What comfort? It doesn't phase me. Nothing much does but that job of mine. Is it too sickening to wake up because you like your job? I like children. They're wonderful and sincere when they're at this age. It's when they're older they're liable to break your heart. It's so important to teach them well right now. That's my job. My joy. That's what keeps me looking forward to the time I do have left. So if someone cares, that's nice. They could put that energy into raising money for the animal shelter or putting together something nice for the town. All of that care for a girl who will only live two years? Me? Really. It's why I'll stop them now and say…no thanks." She set the glass down. It was still fairly full. Maybe she was pacing herself. Maybe she was making herself angry already. Maybe Archie should have picked his next words a bit more carefully, but he had already found they had slipped out.
"And if they decided to care about you and do good things at the same time?"
Cherise shot a dirty look at her therapist. "Because getting anyone in Storybrooke to do something completely selfless is that easy. Getting their parents to volunteer to help serve cookies for school functions is pulling teeth enough, doc. We don't even ask for them to bake them. How do you explain that to a six-year-old? It's tough. So I do what I can to keep them stuck in a world of wonder and whimsy. When you're six, you should be thinking about dreams and silly things like catching fireflies or fighting the invisible dragons in your head. You should be…making wishes. Sure, I teach them to be practical too. Wishes don't come true without work. But everything starts with a wish…a dream. They're in kindergarten, doc. Someone has to let the little dreamers sleep a little bit longer. It's too soon to let them see what we know. Let them be children just a little longer."
Cherise had abandoned her drink to take to her feet and start to pace around her office. A fire had been lit within her and it was foreign to Archie. He was content to sit in his chair and take mental notes. She really cared about these children and he had riled a tiny, sickly woman enough to set her on a verbal rampage through his office. He did it once before, only it was more in defense. He never got her to explain an action before. Now he couldn't get her to stop. In this strange game of mental chess, Cherise had to win. Archie still had to make a move that made it seem like he was playing for keeps, but he knew when to surrender the king. It wasn't just time to make that move yet. Looking over the frames of his glasses, he watched Cherise stomp her foot into the rug. She was wearing mary-janes and didn't even wear heels to hide her height difference. It was charming, but it really did add a sort of youthful look to her.
"Son of a bitch, I have to keep those kids thinking positive and doing good things. I have to keep them on track and prepared for the first track. A good foundation for life is the primary grades, Hopper. That keeps me alive right now. I have two years. I have two more classes to teach. Two more years of children. Two groups to make sure they're okay. Not just in education, but I need to make sure they're alright because there's something wrong with us folks in Storybrooke and you know it. I have to make sure we have a generation of good kids growing up! It's on me! Damned if I'll fail any of those little darlings! They need me. That's my borrowed time! I love those little ones!" In her rage, she had scrambled for something to throw. It had been a figurine Archie had received as a present. He wasn't sure when or for what, just that it had been one of the numerous presents from friends that he had in his office. Normally, it sat benignly on the coffee table. It was unassuming and looked like it came from some foreign country. The little figure had went flying at the floral print that had been admired not long before. Hitting the corner of the frame just so, the entire picture came down.
Cherise stood wide-eyed at the damage she had caused. Had she truly smashed a frame and shattered the glass? It looked like there was only one crack. The figure had survived unscathed. Kneeling down and cradling the tiny object, she sighed. "…I'm sorry. I…That was unforgivable!" Her tone immediately changed. The bitter tone was gone and she sounded more like a frightened child. Archie slowly rose from his chair to survey the damage. A new frame would be needed. A trip to Mr. Clark's would be required, that was all. It was a dollar store frame and he could afford the upgrade to a drug store frame, he reckoned.
The woman's hands shook. They were pale, bruised, and thin. Holding out the figure to Archie, she gently placed the object in his hands. His fingers gently brushed over her knuckles as he accepted the item back. They were so cold. Icy. Was she always so cold? His office was more on the warm side, but that felt more like death. It was unnerving and made him pause to stare at Cherise a few moments longer while she calmed herself down.
"It's only a frame. I can replace it." He finally whispered as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Do you feel better? Now that you don't have that all bottled up inside of your head?"
"I guess I do." She mused softly. Her voice reminded him of a playful puff of breeze when she was calm like this. When there was no malice, she was an entirely different person. Easing himself down onto the floor beside her, Archibald faced his decompressed patient. The smell of tulips was more pronounced with his closeness and it was a little intoxicating. The more he could smell, the closer he wanted to be. It was the want of warm weather, he told himself. Everyone was so tired of rain and snow, including himself. What he wouldn't give to be in a garden with tulips right this second. The carpet beneath the two of them was slightly reminiscent of a soft patch of grass, so it wasn't a far stretch. With the greenery, Archie could pretend they were in a garden instead of a stuffy office.
Cherise cleared her throat. "About the…comfort in people. It's just… I'm alone. Well. Sort of. I do things. I have…activities. You know. Keep me occupied between dialysis and work. And sleeping. I have acquaintances. Nothing lasting."
Archie had closed his eyes and lost himself in the scent, though he did quietly answer his patient. "You don't have anything lasting because you don't try or because nothing happens?"
"A little of both. I don't make an effort and nothing happens. I'd don't make an effort because I…" She stopped herself to stare at the discarded little figure by her therapist's feet, almost trying to place feelings into it. Maybe she was trying to siphon strength from it. It wasn't working out, either way. Gritting her teeth and throwing her head back, she let out a groan. "Truthfully? I'm going to break someone's heart when I die. I'd like to do as little damage as possible. I can't stop everyone from getting attached. One of my students is going to find out eventually. I can't stop that. But if I can stop others from getting attached…it'd be nice to have less than five people crying when I die. Like you. You're stuck with me until you think I can handle this. It's going to be two years. You can learn a lot about a person in two years."
You could get attached to a person in two years. Even in a professional relationship, you could find yourself missing someone. One day, Archie would be waiting for Cherise to walk in the door and she wouldn't be there. He'd be looking through his notebook about her and wondering if he did right by her. Was he doing right even now? Could he ever know? They would be questions he'd ask until the sessions were through. When the final puffs of the perfume faded from their final session, he would still ask those questions. He didn't like it. Archie felt the dark pangs weigh heavily upon him. There were other souls that depended on him. Here was one that was slowly fading away. His lips suddenly parted and blurted out the first thing on his mind.
"That's morbid, Ch-"
"I have to think about it. I have two years to live…at the most. Not at the least."
Archie opened his eyes to look at Cherise. She was staring back. Inquisitive brown eyes that never matched her threats or angry remarks were hurt and shuddered, almost on the verge of tears. Her entire body still shook from her outburst. "Dr. Hopper." She was pleading with him. Softly, she was whispering. "Reality's sake. I might not have the full two. I have to think about this stuff."
"Y-You're right. Yes. You do have to think about it. But you have a right to be selfish. To desire companionship. You can't do this alone. You can't face this alone. You can't deny yourself things because you want to be noble. We can cope, Cherise. You…have to live what life you have left." It was something that Dr. Hopper didn't want to think about. A patient's death. Even if Cherise's time with him was to prepare herself for her own death and coping, perhaps it would be filled with some self discovery as well.
What would he do if he had a little less than two years to live? Two Christmases. Two Thanksgivings. Two summers. Two spring-times to enjoy planting in his garden.
He'd spend it with Pongo and Marco, of course. He'd talk with Henry for as long as he can.
Then he'd watch the changing colors of the leaves. The snow.
Live life. To say it and actually do it were two entirely different things. That's why Cherise was here. Coping and doing. An amazing young woman who would never have the chance to do the things most people would. She had no family. She had few friends. She had her joy of her job. She had a few constants in her life; her impending demise, her height, dialysis three times a week and Tuesday afternoons with Archie Hopper.
Such was life.
"Your tea is getting cold." Cherise wouldn't answer Archie's previous lecture. He was right and she knew it. All she could do was regard him with a tiny nod. It was her way of saying I'll be better. If she could act upon it would remain to be seen. They sat still for a few silent, strained moments before the red-haired doctor spoke while straightening his shirt out.
"We still have forty-five minutes."
"Yeah. Guess I better think of more stuff to talk about." Cherise quipped in return.
It was going to be an interesting appointment. She was off the topic now and she didn't want to think of companionship or, dare think about it, friends. A relationship was too much for Cherise to fathom so Archie struck the suggestion from his mind. She didn't have enough time to establish something like that and she'd be completely against it. Small friendships. He'd have to suggest it next time she was more open. There was such a brief window of opportunity to reach out to Cherise.
That was why she was so difficult.
Archie wasn't sure if a challenge was a good thing anymore, but he was certain he was up to it. Of course, if she kept wearing that perfume around him, he was going to lose his mind again. He'd be right back in the garden in his mind and his troublesome patient would be right there next to him, where time couldn't touch her.