Interlude: Jessica Yamada

Brockton Bay is a mess.

That's all that can be said about this place really. From top to bottom from the moment she stepped off the plane; all she could think of was how many little things had screwed up one after the other, piece by piece until all that was available was an enormous pile of crap, burgeoning out of its very thin cage and threatening to to just explode across...everywhere else.

There'd been an anonymous request that had gotten her to come down here here.

This wasn't an official assignment per-se. The psychologists employed by the PRT weren't able to pick and choose where they were posted.

In truth when she requested to be able to go, she half expected to have the request denied. When it wasn't she was somewhat pleasantly surprised.

She wasn't supposed to know, so she didn't, but she suspected it was Miss Militia that had made the call.

Mainly because of all the people here she remembered getting along with miss Militia the most whenever they shared a posting.

The fact that she'd done so anonymously did make her raise an eyebrow a bit. But had determined that it was to more easilly hide that she'd been the one to call her for the Ward. Not many people took it well that someone would ask a professional to see them.

She wasn't sure if she should shake her hand for doing the right thing, or shake her head in disappointment that it had taken her this long.

She'd been given some preliminary information about, and had been asked by name to look into, the newest Ward, Taylor Rose Hebert; AKA: Ashburn. There hadn't been any specifics. She thought at the time the 'anonymous source' was just being succinct.

Now she was seeing that it was in fact, heavily downplayed to either not scare her off or have her bring the whole PRT board of internal affairs down on this hell hole.

The Wards here had no psychological evaluator. That was the very first thing she noticed. She noticed it even before she left her previous posting. She sent a request up the chain for the most recent psych evaluations of the Brockton Bay Wards. That should have been available back in the main records kept and backed up in every major PRT HQ. They were updated Yearly.

The most recent went back almost three or four years. And now she suspected that had been curious enough for someone up above that her request for permission to take some time to see a new Ward that they approved it just to say another PRT psychologist had been present here far more recently than four years prior just incase someone else deigned to look a little closer.

Before she'd left, she had she had believed it to be a mistake, an oversight. Such things happened all the time and with all the bureaucratic red tape that normally had to be sifted through on a daily basis things like this tended to fall through the cracks given the normal levels of autonomy the PRT directors were offered.

So she'd discreetly made some inquiries to see if she could get in contact with a psychologist that had been cycled through the Bay. See if her colleague would be willing to give her his impressions of the Wards, or the Protectorate members that Taylor would be working with here. To start building a potential profile on the girl.

Long and short is that every Ward and protectorate member in the Bay had been listed as to be attending a private psychologist.

And that raised her suspicions; enough so that when she arrived she decided to not immediately head to the PRT building. If her suspicions proved to be true then she didn't want anyone to try and start covering tracks now because of her arrival.

While it certainly wasn't uncommon for Wards or Protectorate members to choose to see their own doctors. It was rare for all of them to be seeing a privately paid professional. Especially considering a common fear among capes that people outside of their 'job' might not be able to fully understand the troubles the cape life brought. PRT paid psychologists spent years of extra courses and study in order to receive more specialized training to try and help Parahumans; especially those of the Master or Thinker classes. So while not uncommon to see a cape trusting a doctor outside of the PRT it wasn't exactly normal either.

All of them. As far as she knew, was something unheard of.

So she looked them up by phone call just before leaving.

She found, as far as she could tell, that none of the three out of the four doctors on the list that had been willing to at least confirm the names of their patients; had never had any record of either the Wards or the Protectorate seeing a doctor.

That meant that Piggot, either out of a need to shave a bit of the expenses off the budget, or some other motive had the Wards and the Protectorate members sitting here, without the aid of an on hand PRT trained psychological evaluator to turn to should they so choose.

That alone violated at least three laws that she knew of and an uncountable number of PRT regulations; enough to make numerous heads roll.

Couple that with various news reports going back a few years that demonstrated Wards of the Bay openly getting into parahuman fights in the street, called in as backup against E88, merchants and even Lung once. The thought that they'd done so; gone into a life or death situation without even the option of a readily accessible medical professional willing to help them afterwards was enough for her to decide to hell with talking with Piggot or Armsmaster to try and clear this up.

She sent her complaints and all the evidence therein up the chain of command back to New York HQ.

To Legend.

She knew he of all people would do everything in his power to look into this once he got wind of it. He'd be just as angry as she was.

She also added a postscript in that evidence that she was sending copies of what she'd found to the Youth League...just incase the pencil pushers of the PRT up top decided to 'Take it under review'

She could almost hear that high little whistle of a falling bomb creeping closer and closer. Like an old World War two movie.

Which was all well and good in her eyes.

If a child as emotionally damaged and violent as Sophia Hess was able to get away without a single visit to or from a trained Psychoanalyst or a single appointment of treatment then Piggot should be criminally charged as far as she was concerned.

It would happen. Either quietly or with a big splash to spin the hell out of it. But it would happen. This was too much negligence and too much raw stupidity to be overlooked. Especially if she had any pull in her years working for the PRT and Ms. Brown specifically.

It would take a month, maybe two while records were double checked, evidence was compiled and spies implanted to verify and check things out. But when shit hit the fan it would do so in a way that had that woman thrown out to the street at best. Or in a jail cell if there was a good god left on this earth somewhere.

She couldn't do anything for now. Not really. Not without tipping her hand and making Piggot start cleaning up her act. If she did it fast and effectively enough the review board would back off the Youth League would find nothing and Piggot would just fall back into her old habits when the coast was clear. No need for anyone up top to go stirring the pot and the bad PR if they didn't have to.

So for now she was keeping away from Ms. Hebert; unfortunately. She'd help and serve the Wards far better by getting them a director that actually gave a damn about their well-being or at the very least was competent at their damn job than going in guns blazing to help one, possibly two of them and give Piggot even the slightest chance to keep her position as the one giving them their marching orders.

But she wasn't being idle really. She was currently occupied bending several canons of medical ethics.

The door to the room opened. She smiled thinly; trying to portray comfort, ease, calm, or a simple greeting in the expression at the sight of the downtrodden girl walking in.

"Hello Ms. Barnes."

This is Emma Barnes...She is as much a patient as she is the tool Yamada was currently utilizing to shatter numerous medical ethics into several pieces, using her and the information she provided; to draw up as much of a comprehensive profile as she could.

The subject being of course Taylor Rose Hebert.

So far, the profile she'd drawn, illustrated quite simply that, unless Taylor Hebert was the single most well adjusted individual on the face of this earth- the girl needed to see a professional. At the very least she needed an individual to talk to.

Yamada considered herself a good doctor. And like all good doctors, she prided herself on her ability to not judge her patient, on her capacity to take information, dissect it and utilize it for the betterment of those that came under her care.

Still, even she found herself hard pressed to not place blame. Not on Emma. Not really. Her actions were reprehensible and egregious. But were born out of a twisted view of the world, thrown at her after a very traumatic moment at the very impressionable age of thirteen.

Perhaps she could place the blame on Sophia. But just as Emma was damaged, she had just as much reason to believe Sophia might have been damaged the same way at an even more impressionable age.

No. She didn't blame Emma, or even Sophia. They were children. They were supposed to be stupid.

What was the excuse of all the adults? Or of whomever may have harmed Sophia in the first place?

What excuse did Piggot have? Or Mr. Barnes, whom she had half a mind to call the local CPA to declare him as an unfit parent? What excuse did either one of these people have for not trying to get these children much needed professional help after one demonstrated such violent tendencies and the other was very nearly the victim of one of the most heinous crimes that could occur to any individual.

That is where she laid the blame for this. Either out of sheer stupidity, ineptitude or negligence the adults were the ones she pointed the finger at.

As for how she was here now. After reading up on the incident report involving Taylor Hebert both from police records and medical ones she quickly found that two of the perpetrators, Emma Barnes and Maddison Clements were brought up on charges.

When Sophia Hess' name was brought up, she was not surprised there were no charges. No doubt the PRT, or perhaps more accurately to say, Piggot, was trying to burry this as deep as possible for a multitude of reasons.

Sophia was beyond her reach for now, similarly to Taylor.

A little more reading through the evidence had turned up something very interesting.

Emma Barnes used to be Taylor Heberts best friend.

When the plea bargain was struck; One year in county juvenile detention, nine months suspended from any academic institution, the remaining three to be served in addition to six months in community service and mandatory bi-weekly therapy until the doctor declared that there was no further need for the patients attendance; she'd taken the opportunity for what it was.

Emma shuffled into the room taking a seat across from her. "Hey."

The woman leaned back in her chair, her pen never moving from its place on the notepad resting on her hip.

"Have you considered what we spoke of last time?"

The girl flinched. She had.

Every patient was different. Everyone knew that. Every patient required a different tactic, a different method. Based off of their particular circumstances; different patients required different 'tactics'

With the Wards; it was very much on their own terms, on their own time. They shared if they wanted to share. They weren't (or at least she) didn't force them to speak at all if they chose not to. If they wished to take the hour session to catch a nap on the long chair; she allowed that.

Here though she had to be a little more aggressive. Often times...criminals (much as she flinched when she thought of any child as such) that had any psychological condition would never allow themselves to admit that there was a problem. Something that they had to be forced to do before any kind of repair or healing could ever have a hope to begin.

She wasn't used to it. She didn't like it. She prefered the Wards and allowing her patients to come to her. To Want to speak. It made her patients so much more...true.

Comfortable or not; that does not mean she can't do it...or isn't equally good at it.

"You're wrong." She said needing a moment to square her shoulders and glare at her.

Yamada expected that really. Truth be told, while Psychology was an imperfect science; sane people (Whom Emma Barnes largely was outside of the rather skewed world view) only responded in a handful of ways.

With Yamada, whom had been trying over the course of this past month to strip her of that world view, to demonstrate the faults in the logic, the gaps in meaning. Taking time to point out the various ways a binary world simply did not exist; there were only three ways Emma could have ever responded.

The most unlikely for someone of her age and education; partial acceptance.

The ideal would be total acceptance that she was wrong. But again that was the ideal. And life just loved to keep shaking things up.

The most likely of the three, and thus the easiest to handle; was simple denial.

"How so?" She asked.

"People are just strong or weak! The strong do control the weak! If you're strong you live, if you're weak you die! How else would you explain Lung ruling over the ABB? Kaiser over the Empire! They're just a single person but they're strong so other capes follow them. And even before capes there were just normal human Gangsters! Predators that kept everyone in line!"

"Or even the President if you put it like that." Yamada cut in smiling. "He's just one person leading the United States right?"

The girl floundered, losing steam. Caught off guard by Yamada's quick agreement. "Well...Yeah I guess. The strongest are at the top. The weak are at the bottom. That's it. That's how the world is supposed to work! Taylor was weak. Sophia was strong. And she sai-I'm strong too! I wasn't going to let Taylor keep dragging me down and keep me weak. I wasn't gonna be like her."

She refrained the urge to sigh in sadness...

Still...As expected.

Emma's whole reasoning was simple. As confessed, she didn't want to be like Taylor. At least; not the Taylor she consciously portrayed and convinced herself was the one standing in front of her.

But more than that; she saw how Taylor shattered with her mother's death. She saw Mr. Hebert wither under it as well. And as far as she could gather with her limited resources here, he did not get back up as well as he should have.

Emma had seen how it was during the summer that she was attacked and almost raped by ABB neophytes that Taylor was recovering back to her old self.

She feared somewhere in her mind; like any little girl feared. And her greatest fear was that this would break her, that she would break like Taylor had been broken after her mothers death. And that unlike Taylor who stood back up, that she would be like Mr. Hebert. The one that stumbled; that fell...that kept on reverting to the state he'd been right after Ms. Hebert's death. The one who in her eyes kept being weak.

She was terrified of the thought that she wasn't strong like Taylor. That she would just be Mr. Hebert. Stuck in a rut. Unable to escape.

And ultimately, that led her to do what she did to Taylor as the simplest of methods the human mind had to establish its security...its...dominance for lack of a better term.

She denied what she saw. Denied that Taylor was recovering. Chose to look only at the girl that had wept after her mothers' death and then done as much as possible to tear her down. To keep her down. It was the simplest most brutal social behavior. To establish dominance over those perceived as weaker. To perceive the self as stronger by having the power to tear them down.

Simple. Animalistic. Primal. Predatory.

The girl didn't like how Taylor made her feel weak. Most likely, before Taylor had returned from that Summer camp, Emma had just wished to hug her friend. Take comfort as most people would after such a traumatic ordeal.

But Taylor wasn't there.

And Sophia was.

And so the door was left open. And with her discussions with Sophia while Taylor was away she latched onto what brought her greatest relief. This wholly new world view of Prey and Predator. The weak and the strong. And with the belief that her previous impulses in seeking comfort were a weakness, and that if she gave into said impulses she would be weak, she targeted Taylor as a way to make herself feel strong.

Because if she's strong. Then nothing can hurt her.

It was the illusion of strength that allowed her to cope. Little more.

Inside...she was weaker than ever before.

It was no wonder she wanted to deny Yamada's words. To say she was wrong.

To do otherwise would be to face her deepest fears. To see that she could still be hurt. That the events at that alley could happen again.

And also that...for the better part of two years she had all but tortured her one time friend. A friend whom, in all likelihood was a far truer friend than the equally damaged Sophia Hess.

It would mean to take herself back. Back to the alley. Back to the lowest point of her life so she could actually begin to heal. Not just repress.

But she was her doctor. She was here to make her patients better and sometimes unfortunately that was not equivalent with making them feel better.

Yamada smiled trying to portray easy acceptance as she pulled out her next card. "Then...if that is true...then The Endbringers are right to kill us all. Down to the last man, woman, and child."

She froze and Yamada could almost see the cogs grind to a halt in her mind. "What?"

"If the strong rule over the weak and if only they deserve to live and the weak deserve to die; If predator can consume and destroy prey under the natural rule of the world...then that would make the Endbringers the greatest Predators of all. The Apex of the Food Chain. And they have every right to kill us all as they see fit."

Her face scrunched up. "They're not human!" She fired back.

She nodded. "I see. So only humans apply then do they?"

"Yes."

She allowed the silence to fill the room, knowing Emma would soon try to fill it, to speak her justifications aloud. To give them a voice. To try and reassure herself.

And that would give Yamada another opening.

She was proven right.

"She never even tried to fight back." She hissed tears beginning to leak from her eyes. Pure anger making her cry more than any real emotion as indoctrination warred with logic. "Not once! Even a freaking dog tries to bite once if they know they're gonna be hurt! But not once! How is that not weak!? I'm not like her! I fought! I fought him! I did it and I beat him! I'm better than her! She's not stronger than me! I wasn't raped and destroyed! She was!" Her voice was a shrill shriek by the end of her rant.

She breathed deep breaths of air through flared nostrils. "She never fought. Not once."

Yamada opened her mouth to speak when suddenly, like an epiphany; the perfect sentence came to her. A way to break through the shell of self justification in a swift, clean...cruel stroke.

It twisted her stomach. But she reminded herself it was ultimately for the best.

"Then...if that is true." She tentatively began; A voice in the back of her mind recoiled with personal disgust at what she was about to do, the wound she was about to inflict.

She almost stopped.

But no. She couldn't. The first rule of psychology. A mistake of a moment of a session could cost the patient months. She felt that was especially true here given Emma's fixation on weakness; perceived or otherwise.

Better to not back down.

It was for the best...She had to hurt the child sitting in front of her. Destroy what was so twisted and damaged here so something better can come out of it.

"What you're saying is Emma that; if you wouldn't have fought...or that if the man that attempted to...assault you had managed to overpower you; if he would have been stronger. If you would have been the Prey that night...then would that mean he would be fully within his rights to have done it? That it would have been ok for him to have done what he wanted to do to you? After all, then he was the strong one and deserved to live. And by your logic, you would have been the weakling, and deserved to die in that alley, bloodied, beaten, and violated. Just for being weak."

The girl went deathly pale before looking vaguely green.

Yamada felt her gut twist a little harder.

Emma swallowed thickly, the lump working its way in her throat as she tried to swallow, the pallor of her skin making her look sickly. Yamada was almost afraid she was about to throw up over the floor.

She shook her head, slowly at first then with more vigor. "N-No! I-I…" She bit her lip. And then it was there. That moment when, somewhere in her mind the young woman finally reached the inevitable conclusion that something had to give. Either she was willing to admit she was wrong. Or she would simply have to admit that had the tables been turned, it would have been perfectly alright for her attempted rapist to have succeeded.

There were only a handful of lunatics on earth that would not make the obvious choice. Emma, she was sure, was not one of them.

Yamada watched it all play out behind the glass sheen of Emma's tear filled eyes.

She began hyperventilating, tears brimming in her gaze as her convictions cracked a little further, her hands going to her hair and letting out a frustrated growl, or a clenched teeth shriek. Yamada felt her heart go out to the girl. She was damaged. She needed help. No doubt about that.

The anger was still there, visible in a rigid posture, the sharp breathing, and arms that trembled as they gripped the sides of her chair now but the expression was shifting, changing with thoughts in a mind trying to come to grips with her situation.

Finally, it settled and the look that appeared on her features was close enough to what she wished to achieve.

It wasn't guilt it wasn't sadness. It could never be so simple, could never switch so easily. She'd believe it to be fake, or an indicator to a far worse diagnosis if such were the case. It wasn't the emotions she was looking for. It was just...

Despondency.

But she could work with that. She could work with that and continue to pull her along. Pulling her back to where she had to be, mentally, as best she could. Both to help the hurt and damaged young woman that had crawled out of that alleyway and was sitting in front of her today and to help the young woman that had been damaged and hurt by her betrayal.

Could she treat Taylor without treating Emma? Yes. Could she do it without utilizing the knowledge she gained from her sessions here? Most definitely. As far as medical ethics, this was dangerously toeing the line at best, outright breaking them at worst.

But she just wouldn't be fast enough if she did that.

And that was always the problem wasn't it? There just wasn't enough time. There just was never enough time, or resources, or funding or anything.

Doubly so now...if her suspicions of the approval for her little…venture held true. If she was just allowed to come here so some guy at a desk could stamp a paper that let him say requirement met so someone else could say that they were obeying the letter of the law…

Yeah...the letter of the law. The spirit of it took a beating every time though.

She and the others came and went like the tide. Often just as her potential patients felt they could trust her and speak to her. And every time she returned she'd see them again. See those same walls, those same issues hiding behind the walls and would just have to ignore it. Like everything else. Tuck it into a corner and pray it doesn't do more harm as time goes on and she's cycled to another jurisdiction, to another group of teenagers and adults that didn't want to talk, didn't want the stigma, didn't want to just change to some new stranger that they didn't trust, or an old friend they hadn't seen in so long that they didn't want to start off the conversations with heavy baggage.

Or they just felt they didn't need the help.

She wanted to do something for once; not just go through the motions.

Here in Brockton Bay, arguably one of the worst places under the PRT and Protectorate's eyes; she would have the time to help at least one person. The PRT was already so lax with the Bay, what with the absurd villain to hero ratio and the tanking economy, there just wasn't enough incentive to really dig in their heels. Not like New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles.

With the investigation, the media storm that would brew and the Youth League looking in, no one would want to make any wrong moves. And pulling out the one that had provided the tip, reassigning her to a different location would look bad, no matter how standard it was.

At least she thought so. The PRT is ruled by its PR. They had to; for the money and reliance on normal human politicians. Good PR means happy politicians and more funding.

She would be allowed to stay...they'd have to...she hoped anyway.

She could admit that. Half of it was 'strategy'...the other half was coming up with it as it came. And the last is just being taken on hope and faith.

She just wanted to actually have the time to do some good here; some time to help. To not just be cycled out for the next psychologist on the plane. Perhaps it would just be Miss Taylor who she could help, using the knowledge gained here to treat and help the girl more effectively. To have something of a profile to base her questions off of rather than the usual two or three months that were spent just getting the patient to even talk about themselves freely enough to even begin to build a profile about them.

She hoped so. She truly did wish to help Miss Taylor even without having met her.

Perhaps though…perhaps it would be just Emma. Perhaps that would be her only contribution here; the girl whom she was genuinely using as a tool, as much as she was trying to treat.

She hoped not. But she could live with such if that was all she could accomplish. At least fixing one half of this equation. She'd never be able to fix their friendship of course. Such a thing was beyond her capacity even if it had been her wish. No. That would depend entirely on who Emma truly was once the worst of her was washed away and how forgiving...or damaged...Taylor would be.

But...closure-that curious commodity that so many people needed but so few people ever had a chance to grasp-was certainly something that may very well be needed Taylor's part. If not an apology then at the very least an explanation.

It was the bare minimum the girl probably deserved. If she was even able to offer the chance of such a thing to happen she could hold that as a victory.

Still that was a hope for the future. For now, she was still far from that point. Because she can still see Emma's face. Still see the emotion there. Something echoing and resembling loss to her eye.

Its not sorrow she can see there. Its not guilt. Its not horror or penitence.

Its not...remorse.

Not yet...

It will do for now.

"May I be excused?" The young woman croaked, her voice pitching to a high note for a moment.

Jessica paused, allowed herself to seem as though she thought it over.

But her answer was already decided. "Its against the rules Emma."

"I...Please?" The girl sobbed. The 'please' emerging as a half choked mess.

She allowed herself to look sad. "Alright. But you have to promise to consider what we've talked about over the weekend, okay? Even when you go home."

She nodded, not bringing her head up to meet her gaze.

Yamada looked at the guard standing behind a plexiglass door and nodded.

With a buzz, the door was opened and Emma Barnes was escorted out.

Yamada wasted no time in picking up her cell and making a phone call.

The girl would be seeing her father in a few days and she would rather the man not inadvertently cause more harm than good in his misguided attempts to help.