Author's Note: Here's the longest chapter I've written yet for this fic :) I actually parts of it quite a few times...annoying as Hell lol. Oh well, I hope you enjoy it!
"Did you apologize?"
Margaery gave Dr. Mills a blank stare and remained silent. She had been seeing this particular therapist once a week for the past four months. While she had held off finding someone as long as possible, it had only been a matter of time before her mother had realized Margaery wasn't seeing anyone. Needless to say, Margaery caved rather quickly after that.
It wasn't as though she had a problem seeing a therapist; Margaery just didn't necessarily see the need half the time. It was moments like this, however, when she knew there was a reason her parents and medical doctors thought she would benefit from the one on one sharing time. Mills tended to bring certain aspects of Margaery's life to the forefront that she herself would normally never consider or want to consider.
"Margaery, you with me over there?" Mills chuckled, once more getting Margaery's attention.
"Yeah, sorry," she replied quickly, stretching her back along the incredibly comfortable couch.
"Of course you are," Mills agreed, a smirk on her lips. "So did you?
Margaery forced a smile. "Did I what?"
"Apologize to the man you hit." Mills gave her a hard stare while leaning forward, and Margaery tried not to cower under the intense gaze. She widened her own eyes in what Margaery assumed was the picture of innocence.
"Well of course I did," she finally replied, gesturing wildly in effort to seem more dedicated to the whole apology thing. She realized she probably looked like a moron, but perhaps the flailing limbs would distract the doctor from pushing further. It was a ridiculous notion really, considering Mills wasn't a complete idiot.
"Mhmm right…did you though? Did you really?"
Margaery knew her face was probably turning red. "I mean, I think I did?"
"You think?"
"Yeah…maybe not?" Margaery sighed and ran both hands through her hair before placing her chin in her palms and offered up a sheepish grin. "Probably not…"
"That's what I thought," Mills responded, jotting something down on her clipboard.
"To be perfectly fair," Margaery cried defensively, still trying to smile through the awkwardness, "he was being a complete pig! He came into my place of employment and was sexually harassing me! He made some very inappropriate comments about me and what I should do for him, and did I mention he was a complete pig?"
Mills nodded. "You did, yes.
"Good because he was! And I don't think it's fair that I should be the one to apologize. I felt attacked, so I initiated in what I, and possibly all of womankind, would deem a proportional response." Margaery took a breath and leaned back into the incredibly comfy couch.
Mills raised an eyebrow. "And by proportional response, you mean –"
"If a person acts a certain way, there has to be a certain type of response…like in the West Wing! Did you ever watch that show?" Mills nodded. "That plane was attacked with the President's doctor buddy who had just had a baby and so he wanted to respond in an equal manner. None of that "oh let's not hurt anyone, we don't need vengeance" crap." Margaery folded her arms across her chest and leaned back. It was hardly the best argument she had ever made, but she figured it got the point across. Apparently, she had figured wrong.
"Yes, but in the end, did President Bartlett give into his anger and order for what he considered a proportional response, or did he follow the advice of his advisors and reign himself back?"
Margaery clenched her jaw. Yeah, definitely not her best argument.
"It's different."
"Of course it is." Mills sighed and Margaery watched as a few more notes were put down before the doctor looked back at her, one eyebrow raised. Both women sat in silence for a few minutes before finally Margaery gave in and raised her arms in the air in resignation.
"What do you mean "of course?" What even is that?" she asked. Margaery knew she was getting frustrated; she generally did when meeting with Mills. "He was rude. I hit him. The end."
"He used words; you used actions," Mills pointed out.
Margaery rolled her eyes in disbelief. "So what…I have to wait for a guy to actually touch me before I defend myself?"
"Of course not," the doctor informed her, shaking her head. "Not if you really feel threatened by someone." She paused and Margaery waited silently for her to get to whatever point both women knew was coming.
"So did you feel threatened by this guy? That your safety was in question and the only way to protect yourself was through breaking a man's nose? Because if you sit there and look me in the eye telling me that's the case, I will believe you. We can move on to some other topic of your choice. But if you can't say that…well then nut up or shut up buttercup; we're in business."
Margaery looked away, twirling a thick strand of hair tightly against her head behind one ear. She knew Mills wasn't mad at her or trying to make her feel bad, but it really did suck when she pulled crap like this – honesty – what a pain in the ass… Of course, Margaery didn't think she was in danger. Happy was there. She knew he would have stopped anything from happening, and in all honesty, Margaery didn't really get the vibe from Tig he would actually follow through with his comments.
Well, if she had been a more pleasant and willing participant, he probably would have been all too pleased to engage, but he had only been making stupid comments. Unwanted and gross maybe, but overall? Harmless.
"I should apologize," Margaery finally admitted, sorting her thoughts out in her mind. She glanced out the window, not yet entirely sure she believed what she had just said.
"Should you?" Mills asked. "Don't you dare unless you're going to mean it, Sweetie. Otherwise it's crap and a waste of everyone's time. We've talked about this. Just because something is socially expected, does not mean you're required to participate."
Margaery nodded. She had grown up apologizing for everything and to everyone whether something was her fault or not. Mills had been working with her to get over that little automatic reaction ever since they started meeting. Margaery felt more than a little gleeful knowing that her mother wasn't too impressed with this particular exercise.
"No. Yeah, I mean," she replied with a little more force. "I should apologize."
Mills gave Margaery a smile. "For what?" she prodded. Margaery was familiar with this exercise as well. It wasn't enough in Mills' mind for Margaery to show remorse; there had to be specific reasons for it. And Lord help her if they weren't good reasons.
"That Tig was hurt," Margaery clarified.
At the look in her therapist's eyes, Margaery cocked her head and frowned. "What?"
Mills shrugged and raised her eyebrows. "You're sorry he felt pain, but who or what caused his pain Margaery?"
"Me, I know, but –"
"No buts here. You did that. You made that choice to injure someone and cause them – what?" Mills looked down at her notes and then back toward Margaery. "A level 7 amount of pain. Tell me, when did you realize you had hurt him?"
"He said so," she replied. What the heck was the point here?
"You didn't even realize you had caused serious injury until he stated so. Why not?" Margaery was feeling more uncomfortable by the second.
"I don't know, I mean, I tried to clean up the blood. Does that count?"
"You were more worried about the mess than the person? Margaery, he said "Ow ow oh God my nose" –"
"He didn't say that," Margaery murmured with a huff.
"Okay, but then when he told you he was hurting, what was the first though that went through your mind? The very first thing?"
Margaery remained silent. It wasn't as if she couldn't remember, because obviously she could. It had been only a couple of days previous and she, herself, had broken someone's nose. Yeah…she definitely knew what had been going through her mind. Margaery, however, did have a sneaking suspicion that Mills also knew about what she had been thinking. If that was the case, Margaery wasn't particularly eager to voice those thoughts. Shame was not a pretty color on anyone.
"Margaery."
She looked up at Mills.
"You're bleeding, Margaery…your lip." Margaery brought her good hand up to the side of her mouth and pressed her fingers to her lip. She frowned at the wet feeling and the sight of blood as she pulled her fingers away. She really needed to put a stop to this particular habit. It was only a matter of time before she completely destroyed her bottom lip.
"Are you okay?" Mills asked, holding out a kleenex.
Margaery blinked a few times and gave her a confused smile, bringing the tissue to her mouth in order to stop the bleeding. "Of course I'm okay," she replied. "I'm always okay. You know that."
The therapist shook her head, a resigned smile on her face. "You may not be hurting, but that doesn't mean you're okay. You're allowed to be upset when you are injured. Pain isn't a prerequisite here for feeling upset."
Margaery nodded and turned to look out the window again. She glanced briefly at the clock overhead. Twenty minutes to go…good lord. The two women sat in silence for a few minutes, something for which Margaery was grateful. Mills had learned by now that sometimes this particular patient needed quiet to gather her thoughts into a cognizant response or even just collect herself into a more stable mindset. Margaery wasn't one who liked showing any kind of weakness.
After the short breather, Margaery heard Mills clear her throat and looked up. "How's your family doing? Any word from them?"
Margaery shrugged. "I spoke with my mom the day this happened, two days ago. She was how she always is. They still want me to move…they want it bad enough, they'll help pay for it. My dad even set me up with a job interview outside of Stockton…Charming, I think. It's a formality, of course…if Dad called it in, it's already mine. That's what they do though. Everything needs to be easy for me."
"And that bothers you."
Margaery laughed and checked the Kleenex still pressed against her lip. Seeing that the blood had stopped, she tossed it into the trash and looked back over to Mills. "What do you think?"
"Fair enough," Mills replied, taking a few more notes. "What's the job?"
"That's part of what's so annoying! It's a fulltime spot at the library – Children's Lead and everything! It's perfect…" Maragaery sighed. It really was ideal, but God was she loathe to admit it.
"Your field."
Margaery nodded.
"Fulltime means benefits."
Margaery nodded again.
"Better hours than the diner and closer to your one nonwork friend – Tara, yes?"
Margaery nodded a third time. She knew how childish she must seem to an outside observer. Boohoo, her parents were too helpful and cared too much, and now she had a job offer for a position despite the incredibly competitive nature of her field…what hardships! Would it really be so bad to accept the job?
"Would it really be so bad to accept the job?" Margaery could have screamed as Mills voiced the question that had been ringing in her own mind for the past two weeks.
"Of course not," she moaned in response, flinging her hair over one shoulder. "Logically, it's perfect. I know networking is a thing. I know everyone does it, and I know it's freaking huge in my field, but that doesn't make it feel any less like giving in!"
"Giving in to what?"
"I left home to be on my own and figure my own crap out. And now I'm just supposed to go crawling back? There is nothing wrong with my job; there is nothing wrong with being a waitress," she stated emphatically.
"Of course not. But how many years of college did you pay for?"
"Six, but –"
"What level education did you reach?"
"I have my Master's, but –"
"How bored are you at the diner?"
"Very, but –"
"And how many times have you injured yourself at this job in the past month in comparison to the year at your library position back home?"
That gave Margaery pause. She didn't know the exact numbers off of the top of her head, but it would be easy enough to check her records back home. But even without counting them all out, however, she knew the difference had to be rather large. The library didn't have stoves, ovens, coffee, or knives for her to worry about. And the dress code there had allowed her to cover up her legs in thick slacks to prevent bumps and bruises.
"Sounds to me that there really isn't much of a choice here," Mills stated, setting her notes flat on her lap. Margaery clenched her jaw and looked down at her broken hand in annoyance.
"We've talked about this too. There is nothing wrong with accepting help – especially when it is freely given and it's for something that would make you so much happier. Because it would, you know…make you happier. And let's be real, I googled your address, because I can, and you do live in an absolute shit neighborhood. If I were your mom, I would also be super invested in getting you out – and that wouldn't change if you were Superman."
Margaery snorted in response.
"Well?"
She raised one eyebrow. "Well what?"
Mills gave her an unimpressed stare and closed Margaery's file with a sigh.
Margaery returned the sigh with a groan and nodded. "Yeah…yeah I know." Mills was right, as she generally was. There really wasn't much of a choice at all.
