Ambivalence
"I saw him again today. Him and the others, I mean. Doing the usual whole hero spiel, ya know, saving the day and whatnot. For the most part I was fine with being in the near vicinity before the nausea kicked in. On top of that these odd feelings of longing have started to spring up, and now I'm even more confused than I was before."
Sighing, I leaned back into my seat by the window and cast a quick glance over my left shoulder out it into the streets as a random car passed by outside. I had purposely decided to leave out that along with the longing was this odd sense of dejection that had come with it, making me feel as though I was constantly suffocating without the benefit of being able to black out.
As much as I so badly wanted to lay everything right on the table at the moment, there was a limit to how much I could expose about myself in one sitting.
The scent of warm, roasted coffee beans wafted through the air and filled the space of the diner. I inhaled the inviting smell, which succeeded in sharpening my senses and refocuses my attention back to the plaid shirted woman before me.
I watched as she silently evaluated me over the brim of her spectacles. The gaze was inquisitive, but not protruding in a way that would give rise to the idea that I was being critiqued or ostracized in any way. If anything it related a feeling of casualness.
Disregarding her appearance though, I suppose a more formal way of introducing her would be to refer to her as Dr. Lacey Gibbs: my off the clock unofficial therapist. In less official terminology, she's the nice lady that was kind enough to sit here and listen to my crazed ramblings about hot flashes and bouts of nausea.
For about three weeks now we had convened like this over the weekend. Dr. Lacey would venture from her office in the inner-city to come and meet me here in this local diner located in the less industrial parts of Jump City.
The diner in question was this tiny family run establishment that had this sort of comforting, homely detached feel to it. It was the kind of setting that lulled you into thinking you were hanging out in a cozy, smalltime town somewhere, and not a bustling mecca of a city.
Dr. Lacey was a friend of my high school guidance counselor. I was recommended to her after the issues with my situation grew a bit out of the spectrum of my counselor's expertise to adequately handle. Being the fact that I was a high school student and didn't have the necessary funds to pay for proper sessions, she delegated me to a close friend of hers that would see me for the brief portions of her lunch hour for absolutely free.
Well…that wasn't entirely true. I'm sure that if I told them, my parents would gladly have paid for these sessions. I was working off of a bit of deceit here with everyone involved, but it wasn't because I intentionally wanted to lie to them.
This…this thing, issue, problem, whatever it was that I had was too embarrassing for me to have my parents know about. I also didn't want them to worry about me, especially not after everything they've done to support me up till this point. This was my problem and I wanted to sort it out as best I could alone. At least while it was still somewhat manageable.
Dr. Lacey shifted slightly in her chair and pushed back a stray strand of black hair that hung in her face as she readjusted her gaze on me. A brief silence hung in the air between us as she sat, appearing to reaffirm something with herself, before finally opening her mouth to speak.
"You seem to be suffering from a form of anxiety disorder."
I blinked, mildly surprised. "Anxiety?"
"Yes, namely a panic disorder," she stated matter of factly. "You've described several afflictions attributed to it. Nausea, bouts of uneasiness and worry, possibly moments of feeling like you're choking or being suffocated."
My eyebrows rose as I subconsciously reached out and gripped the corner of the table. I hadn't said anything about the suffocating feelings I'd recently been experiencing. How could she have possibly guessed that as an option without the proper info?
"There is a problem, however," she continued, snapping my attention back onto her. "Panic disorders are incredibly random, and can strike a person at any given time. From what you've told me that does not seem to be the case with you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, yours seems to be quite particular. It only appears to react to a specific stimulate that only seems to trigger whenever you come into contact with-er…"
"Agent Green?"
A smile cracked her lips. "Yes, Agent Green."
Agent Green was the agreed upon alias for that person. Referring to him by his actual name always stirred up this odd sort of tingle in my gut, though a certain part of me felt as if he would've been thrilled to rather be known as that than is real name.
It had been something that circulated in the back of my mind every now and then, but to now remember that these symptoms had only surfaced after a chance encounter and interaction with a certain famous green changeling put something's into perspective. There were times when I thought about him. Mostly when I felt troubled by something. Was it odd to miss an absolute stranger? Honestly, miss them all. People I didn't know, and for some tireless reason felt indebted to for some reason.
It was a lot to take in, but not yet something I was fully ready to accept.
"Are you absolutely certain?" I asked, searching her eyes for any sort of waver in resolve.
Dr. Lacey's face became contemplative. "Just so you know anxiety disorders can be transferred genetically through the bloodline. Do you know if any sort of similar symptoms run through your family?"
I shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm adopted."
"Well that returns us to my original conclusion then."
That's what I was afraid of. In some ways I felt as though some metaphorical sky representing security was tumbling down around me as I accepted this new information.
"So how do I get over this? You can't prescribe me any sort of medication, can you?"
She offered me a somber smile. "Afraid not. That would be incredibly illegal on my part, not to mention dangerous since, by all technical terms and law, this isn't an actual evaluation. I'm merely offering you my opinion, and nothing more."
I sighed, absentmindedly running a hand through my blonde hair. I expected as much. Dr. Lacey watched my reaction with a steady disposition.
"May I ask just how well you two know each other?" she questioned me.
My memory immediately flashed back to images from that day.
"Not well at all," I answered. "It wasn't until that day that I first met him, but despite that he was so adamant that he somehow knew me, even though there's no possible way it could be true."
"But he still claims some type of connection between the two of you, correct?" She grew still for a moment. "Do you know what immersion therapy is? It's a psychology technique used out on individuals with fears and phobias, but those with anxiety and stress can benefit from it as well. The key is for you to confront the source of your apprehension head on, albeit slowly, while using the exposure to gradually become accustomed to it. You start out by teaching yourself to relax and adjust to its presence."
"And by it, you mean, Agent Green, Doc?"
She nodded. "From the stories you've told me of your encounter with him, he doesn't seem the type that would be against meeting up with you to discuss your problem. Maybe together the two of you could get to the bottom of things."
"I'm not so sure about that, Doc. I feel terrible enough just catching glimpses of him from afar. Not to mention I'm not sure how far a conversation with someone who thinks you're somebody else could go before you start suspecting the other of lying, or being outright crazy."
"It was just a thought," Dr. Lacey replied, casting a glance at her watch and then making to rise to her feet. "Anyway, that's about all I can manage with you today. I need to be on my way back to the office now. "Next Saturday, right?"
I nodded and stood to meet her, reaching down to grab my bag as she was bending down to pick up her black purse.
"Thanks for taking the time to see me again," I was saying as we both made for the front door of the diner.
We exited outside the small building and into the warm, early afternoon air of the city. Dr. Lacey headed towards the small parking lot where her car was parked while I made for the sidewalk and down the direction of the where the nearest bus stop was located.
Just as I was nearing out of earshot, I heard Dr. Lacey calling out to me.
"Tamara."
I turned to look back. "Yes?"
She was hovering outside the driver's side of her car, hand on the door. "I know you aren't particularly fond of the idea, but I think you should give some thought to what I said and maybe initiate some sort of meeting between the two of you. He is a hero after all. Helping civilians in need is what he does for a living."
Not entirely sure what to say, I gave the slightest of nods to her and turned to be on my way. Set up some kind of meeting, huh? I wasn't too sure about that.
If I felt downright sick to my stomach from a distance, what would happen if I was actually close enough to make eye contact? I gripped my bag tighter as a slight wave of panic passed over my heart. I think that was enough confirmation to say I was frightened of the idea.
Despite the brewing notions of uneasiness and hesitation, I couldn't quite rule out Dr. Lacey's advice. If I couldn't confront him directly, maybe there was someone else close to him that I could.
A/N: This is my first venture into the TT fandom. I've been sitting on this incomplete idea for a while now, and finally decided to give it a go. Although the introduction chapter isn't as strong as I would've liked it to be, I think it still serves its purpose in striking moderate intrigue for what's to come.