Off-shoot of Daddy's Girl. Not super original, but hey. A twist on Artemi's session with Dr. Po.


Testing the Waters

Dr. Raphael was a very handsome man in his early thirties with thick-lashed green eyes and swept–back black hair. He smiled at Minerva as she entered; it was a beautiful smile. It wasn't returned.

Ignoring her hostility, he dove straight in. "Your father tells me you've been travelling a lot lately. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"For pleasure?"

"Most definitely," she smirked.

Dr. Raphael raised his eyebrows. "Care to expand on that, Minerva?"

"Not particularly, Doctor."

He jotted something down in his notebook. "Do you feel compelled to travel? To wander? Or are you going with particular goals in mind?"

"With a particular goal, yes. And, to set the record straight, not that it is any of your business, I don't wander. I always return to the same place."

The psychiatrist looked up from his notes. "That's not what your father said. He said he'd received a credit card bill listing a different location every other week."

"Yes, that's because he did."

"But then..." The doctor frowned. "You caught connecting flights from the other cities. Paid with cash?"

"Golly, aren't you clever." Minerva was bored and looked it.

"Where do you go?" Raphael asked.

"Nowhere you'll ever have heard of."

"And you go for pleasure?"

"I think we've covered that already, but yes. Especially lately."

"And what's your poison then, Minerva? Shopping? Drugs? Meditation retreats? A lesbian lover?"

"How salacious. I'm flattered. But wrong on all counts, I'm afraid, Doctor."

"Come now, Minerva, this is a confidential session. Sometimes what we like is not always good for us. If there is something you want to share-"

"If I wanted to share, don't you think I would have done it by now?"

"Not necessarily. You are a smart girl; you might think it below you to confide in a simple doctor like myself."

"You've never said a truer word."

He sighed. "Minerva, you are sixteen years old. That's a difficult age. You're going to have a lot of questions and be faced with a lot of choices and I am here to help you."

"And therein the problem lays, Doctor. I am not in need of help. But I appreciate the thought, all the same." She smiled condescendingly at him.

Raphael was not used to being snubbed by his patients. Especially not the female ones. As a younger girl Minerva had been wilful and prone to tantrums, but always a little in awe of his pretty smile and soft voice. Her father had been over the moon at just this small achievement; she had sent all her previous psychiatrists running screaming. With Raphael, she had whined and complained and played games but had never rebuffed him completely. It seemed, however, that sometime in the past four years she had grown up and out grown his charm.

"Please, Minerva, you used to trust me. We used to get along."

She laughed. "Correction, Doctor, I used to be an insolent child and you were a pretty man who paid just enough attention to me to make me behave. We flattered each other's vanity, but we never trusted, never mind liked, one another."

"You say you used to be a child. You're an adult now, then, Minerva?"

She smiled, as though at some secret joke. "As often as any of us are," she told him.

"Why do you feel the need to hide your destination from your father?" Raphael tried a different tact.

"I don't. He just doesn't feel like asking."

"Do you think he would judge you?"

"Very much so. But he wouldn't be the only one."

"Does the idea of your father's judgement frighten you?"

She snorted. "Not in the least."

"Is there anyone whose opinion matters to you?"

"Yes."

"Whose?"

Minerva cocked her head to the right, eyeing Raphael speculatively. "I've changed my mind," she said abruptly. "I am going to tell you."

The doctor's ears perked up.

"I go to Ireland on my trips. I go to visit my lover. He's the bodyguard to the teenage heir of an Irish criminal empire who has only recently returned from a jaunt through space and time. My lover is nearly seven foot tall, technically forty-eight years old, give or take about a decade, and could kill you seven different ways with his bare hands before you had time to realise what was happening. He is also makes a wonderful linguine alle vongole. His opinion matters to me."

Dr. Raphael sighed, closing his notebook. "Alright, Minerva, you've made your point. You don't feel like sharing. You have my number, though, if you ever change your mind."

"You don't believe me?" Minerva asked, her lips twisting into a mocking little grin.

"No, I don't believe you. You didn't expect me to believe that story, did you?"

"No," she shook her head, "I didn't. But I thought I'd share it anyway. Always good to test the waters." And, with that, she swept out of his office.