Session Two: Leading Us Along

Helena's hand hovered on the doorknob for a moment, long-held feelings of inferiority sinking in. Helena let out a long breath that was pent up in her diaphragm, letting it out slowly and methodically. She twisted the knob, a knob that was different from her doorknob, she made a mental note in a panic.

"Hi, Helena! Come in!" Her supervisor (a doctoral degree holding, passionate and driven, early thirty-something) cheerfully invited her.

Helena smiled forcefully. "You wanted to see me?"

Mauve adjusted some papers, in the midst of storing her written notes appropriately. "I did. How are things?"

Helena sat across from her, on the other side of her office-standard desk. "I think the session went well."

Mauve tapped her desk with her pen, studying her supervisee with care. "I know; I read your session note. Did you get the case conceptualization done yet?"

"I'm working on it now. I'm just not entirely sure what he wants yet." Helena attempted to cross her legs out of habit but decided the struggle against her rounded frame and injured IT band was not worth it.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that the SOLDIER department wants him ready to participate in fighting the war without killing his own." Mauve pulled back from the desk, shifting her weight, placing the pen behind her ear.

"I'll make a note of that," Helena said above a whisper, feeling the imposition. "I know I'm seeing him again next week."

Mauve snickered, "he's made a few appointments with admin. Seems like he feels comfortable with you."

"I think that was the whole point as to why I'm here." Helena was a counsellor for a small clinic developed by Shinra for employees who were receiving nothing more than a few sessions. Helena loved her job. This, this was stressing her. This was tearing her apart. There were feelings suddenly emerging. Regret? Anger? Revulsion towards her client? Guilt for feeling this way? "I just don't feel like I belong, to be frank."

"Hey. It's normal. PhDs are a bunch of assholes. We need to be to be where we are. Doesn't make it right, but you definitely belong. You're hungry. You're compassionate towards your clients. Sephiroth knew this. Or he would not rebook – for that, I'm certain," Mauve reassured gently. "Just make sure you get me that conceptualization and plan, and you are golden for the rest of the week."

Helena nodded. "I'll get that done by Friday."

Helena looked at the clock on her desk, time disappeared before her and she realized it was now Friday. She would clock in and clock out, eight-to-four like everyone else in her department, but in total and utter silence. Her team ostracised her, knowing they could have easily gotten the coveted position of treating the great Sephiroth, cementing their position as a supervisor once the man could walk amongst the living without wishing they were all dead.

Helena shook her head. "What's wrong with me," she whispered to herself, blurred vision distorting the words on her screen. She was clearly very upset at the whole situation and felt a certain pang between her ribcage that, she knew, would develop into a panic attack. This was all too much. The pressure of handling a ticking timebomb, or the thought that he was a timebomb, to begin with, was causing her world to swirl into a mess of client reported and therapist observed.

"Knock, knock!" Mauve pushed open Helena's office door, another reason her team despised her, and leaned up against the frame. "I see you got the conceptualization and plan in."

Helena swallowed bile before answering, "Yup, all done."

"Great! Any plans for the weekend?"

"I have a housewarming to go to. Emma, my lawyer friend, got a condo in Sector 3."

"Well, enjoy! Take a load off before next week."

Helena took those words to heart as she powered down her computer, stored her notes in a locked cabinet, and rolled herself in her shawl. It was winter in the great smoky Midgar. It rarely snowed, but this year the city would stall time and time again due to the snowfall. Helena found it funny – this was nothing compared to the snow she got as a child living in rural Junon. She made a comment to that effect during a staff meeting but it fell onto muted breaths and dead stares. She didn't belong, she knew it well.

The snow was puffy and wet on the ground making Helena's boots work for their worth. Her mother bought them when she received news of Helena's promotion. She knew her mother was proud even though she rarely would express the words. Helena came from a long line of solid women who rarely shared their inner workings. Which made Helena very confused as to why she was opening up to her new client so much. Sephiroth seemed to pull out information from her like it was mind-bending interrogations, sharp jabs of sodium thiopental, and a small droplet of water falling from a short height in the background driving her completely mad.

"Hey! Welcome, welcome!" Emma called out from the balcony, drink in hand and cheeks red from either the cold of winter or the warmth of her drink.

How did I get here? "Hey! I'll meet you up there."

Helena walked up the few flights of stairs to the open front door. She could hear a voice, smooth as Mideel rum. Oh no… Genesis reared the corner, stumbling on Helena who was taking off her boots. She smiled faintly and as genuinely as she could muster. Emma was clearly busy with her ex again – making Helena's stomach churn. Genesis was sporting a small laceration on his neck that was healing quite nicely, Helena noted. Genesis was speaking with someone from the kitchen who was not answering back. Hopefully out of malice.

Helena knew Emma would carry some tequila for just her dear friend in the kitchen. She didn't think that where Genesis would be, SOLDIER was bound to find her. She came face-to-face, or chest-to-face, with a smartly dressed Sephiroth. She took in the sight, cheeks blushed with embarrassment, lips tight in a pained grimace.

"Helena…," he began before Helena threw up a hand in defeat.

"It's okay," Helena assured, taking in the sight one more time before turning to her boots at the door. He was wearing the satin shirt he was wearing in their session; Helena thought that was funny. He must think of your session highly, then.

"Please," Sephiroth followed her, "you don't need to leave."

"It's okay. Honest. You just have a good time," she meant it sincerely, which startled her.

Sephiroth was in the middle of saying something before Helena closed the door. She was so incredibly humiliated by the entire interaction that she carried it in her shower and now in bed after a few shots of tequila later. She slammed her head into her pillow in disgust, trying to shake the image out of her head. He was wearing those black pants too. She turned over, she played her next session in her head – a soothing act of preparation for the absolute shitshow she knew would face her next Tuesday. She closed her eyes. Just tell him he looked good.

Her eyes shot open. "What?" She said to the empty shadows in the corner of her room.

Just remind him of the consent form: it's going to happen that you'll see each other.

"That's what I thought."

Helena looked at the clock on her bedside. It was Tuesday, seven-forty-three. She opened her computer and she was at her desk. Just remind him of the consent form. She looked at her door and then back at her clock. Her world swirled, looking at the number of emails waiting for her.

It was eight-o-five now she saw on her computer screen. He's not coming. Helena sighed, deciding to answer another email thread that needed her attention; boring office drama. She wondered if SOLDIER had to deal with this kind of bullshit on the daily? She knew they were a bunch of basket cases who loved to instigate to the point of hearing about battles in the training room and Hojo at the helm of healing their (self-inflicted) wounds.

"Come in," Helena called out to the knock at the door, half paying attention to the time.

"I apologize, I was so certain it was at eight-thirty," Sephiroth said, hanging up his jacket on the back of her door.

"It's okay," Helena babbled, "I just wanted to remind you of the consent form."

"What?"

"Nothing. We'll talk about that later. I heard you were the punctual kind of SOLDIER," Helena let loose with a joke, the voices in her mind embittered by his presence.

Sephiroth chuckled; more of a short breath through his nose, Helena's inner commentary was in full swing. "You don't have to give me the whole session, I know I'm late and I want to respect your time."

"Thank you and these things happen. Want to talk about how we can help?"

Sephiroth crossed his arms on his open chest. It was the first time she noticed his shirt was unbuttoned to his last rib. Helena swallowed, "is that a PICC line?" Helena's outbursts were getting too close to home, she noticed. Again, she swallowed down bile.

Sephiroth pointed to the tube coming from his chest, adjusting the tape absentmindedly. "Yes. That's why I'm late. So, no, you can't help."

Hojo.

"You wanted to talk to me about the consent form?"

Helena snapped her eyes that were burrowing a hole down Sephiroth's chest, figuring out Mako filled his veins more than actual blood. "It's about Emma's housewarming on Friday," Helena started.

"You didn't have to leave."

"It's completely up to you who you want to tell or where you want to be. It's going to happen that we'll see each other in the small circles that is Shinra. But I felt like it was right for me to leave. And I'm okay with that."

Sephiroth nodded slowly, eyes piercing through Helena's forehead. What's going on in there?

"So, what would you like to work on? I know that Lazard has clear ideas as to why you're here. But I want to hear it from you." Helena suddenly materialized a pen. Where did this come from?

"I just don't want this anger anymore. I don't want others to be fearful of me." Sephiroth's hands ran through his hair, bangs falling into place.

"Do you think people are scared of you?"

"Yes. You are."

"Sephiroth, it takes a lot for me to be scared. I'm not scared of you."

Sephiroth's lips curled at the thought of Helena's clients throwing fits in her office. Helena knew there were a few that did; but Sephiroth, she doubted, would be one of them.

"This was by design though," Sephiroth said.

"I'm sure it is. Shinra has a lot at stake in your image."

Sephiroth perceived for the first time a small table with tissues and a geometric decoration. He picked up the small dodecahedron, something Helena picked up in a market. He moved it in his hands, light refracting off the chrome finish into Helena's eyes. She was suddenly nervous.

"I could throw this, you know. At you."

"I know," Helena responded, pretending to be calm reminding herself of the fact that she didn't think he would be the first client to throw something at her. Why did you even have that to begin with? Shoulda, coulda, woulda.

"Has anyone ever hurt you?" Sephiroth asked, fingers now tracing the sides as menacingly as Helena perceived it to be.

"Physically? Not really."

"Emotionally?" Sephiroth placed the object in front of him, allowing Helena to pick it up and place it back on the side table. It was a power move; Sephiroth knew Helena wasn't one to frighten.

"I guess we all have been at one point. How about you?"

"Yes," Sephiroth aguishly drew out the letters forming into words on his tongue.

"Was it Genesis?"

Sephiroth laughed and bit his lip in anger. "Where did you get your degree?"

"I thought it didn't bother you where I got my degree," Helena attempted to dissipate the tense air through the vents. "I don't want to press you. This isn't an interrogation."

"What else are we supposed to talk about?"

"Does Jazz calm you?"

"You're going to prescribe me Jazz?" Sephiroth's eyes met Helena, and Helena held his glare with such compassion that his PICC line hurt.

"Want to listen to my new record? It isn't Jazz but it's a goodie." Helena placed the record on the top, placing the needle down with care. The air was replaced with a sorrowful melody, heartbroken and tired.

"A string quartet," Sephiroth said matter-of-factly.

"He's a composer that used to live in my building. He lost his wife and then his daughter. I think he's retired in Mideel." Her sister, Kathelyn, got her the record when she heard of the happenstance. But Helena wasn't going to share that with him.

"I suppose you can say he experienced emotional harm."

Helena smiled with profound hurt. "Let's just take a moment to listen. Notice your breath. Notice how the sound lands on your ear." Helena closed her eyes as she noticed her client falling into the violin strings, eyes softened and resting on his hands on his lap. "It might be relaxing even. Just stay present. Stay with me."

Client ID: S-01-01

Therapist: Helena Menninger

Client Summary: Therapist reviewed consent form, in particular, a confidentiality clause after therapist met client in public. Client appeared to have understood the consent form. Client reported that he was emotionally hurt at one point but did not report who or when. Client reported that exercise/intervention used was helpful and would like to focus on more interventions like this to help defuse from anger.

Interventions Used: Building on therapeutic rapport. Present-moment awareness exercise.

Therapist Observations: Angry but responded well to exercises used. Therapist observed positive impact.

Next session?: Client reported that the exercise was calming and would like to try it on his own. Therapist and client to review calming exercises and defusion skills.


A/N: I am trying to pump these chapters so I'm relevant :/ I hope y'all are enjoying this as much as I am.

Song of the morning: Vitamin R (Leading Us Along) by Chevelle