Warning: masturbation, choking, medical kink.
"Helena?" She heard a raspy deep voice from his office. "Come in."
Helena's shawl was drawn across her arm, her free hand carrying her work bag. She bought it to look like her sister, bought it at the same store. Kathelyn would have scoffed at the idea of Helena seeing her therapist again after so many years of doing well. Helena finally finished her graduate studies and even found work. Helena was further away from Kathelyn. But now, her influence was creeping again.
"Hi, Dr. James." Helena accepted his instruction to sit across from him on his leather couch. Helena cringed at the feeling. Was this how her clients felt?
"It's nice seeing you, Helena. How have you been?"
"I'm," Helena started, wanting nothing more than to ignore the feeling of shame, that was engulfing her, to stay in her pelvic region, where it belonged. "I don't think I'm doing very good."
Dr. James knew her. He knew her better than she knew herself sometimes and it scared Helena. To be so exposed to someone she had seen since her high school years until the last year of her baccalaureate, made her feel like she was naked in a crowd of fully clothed people. All from Shinra. He knew she wasn't doing well. "What's going on for you right now?"
Helena's eyes watered. "I just… I have a new position now."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah. I'm working with Shinra still and… it's not going well." Helena rubbed at her face with the roughened palms of her hands. She was retiling her bathroom. She was doing it on her own.
"I'm having these thoughts about my client that I know I shouldn't. It's not happening in session. I just… I know I shouldn't." Go down there, shame! Stay!
"Helena," Dr. James leaned forward, "you know better than anyone that thoughts are going to do their thing. Thoughts are thoughts."
"I just want to be a good therapist!"
"What does that mean to you? Compassionate? Someone who engages in self-care? Professional? I am noticing all these things from you at this moment. Have you spoken to your supervisor about this?"
"You're doing just fine."
"I did. She thinks much like you."
Helena let out a prolonged sigh through her nose. "I know the thoughts get stronger when I feel connected to him. He's… very complex and I just want to be there for him." She wanted to feel understood through her work with him, but she refused to add to the sorrows of Dr. James.
"I hear you. But we need to also differentiate ourselves from our clients." Dr. James flipped through his notes before continuing, "And you know your thoughts get stronger without your medication."
"I have been doing so much better."
"You're right. I'm wondering if you want to try it again. Just for now. Just to try it out." His signature was a disaster made of loops and scribbles. His prescription was no better.
Just for now¸ Helena hung onto those words as she walked out of his office, head hung low.
Helena looked at her phone that was buzzing in her bag frantically. She noticed it was buzzing during her session but did her best to ignore it. It was the secretary of the SOLDIER mental health clinic. Helena's heart sank. "Hello?"
"Hi, Helena! Where are you? Have you forgotten?"
Oh no, he changed his appointment. "I'll be right there!"
Helena reached her office, the wind nearly catching her, her breath heaving in her chest. He stood up from the seat in the waiting area. "I'm so sorry," she managed between breaths, cheeks reddened from either her lack of cardio these days or absolute embarrassment.
"I was the one who changed the appointment."
"Well, I'm here!" Helena shrugged off the feeling creeping across her burning chest, with cheer, moving her into her therapist mode.
Sephiroth observed the clinician open the door, suppressing her chest's quickened movements, fearful it would eventually cave in. Helena invited him to sit on the chair meant for him, just for him. Her hair was displaced, curls diffused and wet from sweat. It was cold out, but her exertion was enough to have her pores swell. Her make-up was runny too, shiny.
"You can take a moment. I'm missing a meeting. I should thank you."
Helena laughed; it reminded Sephiroth of something all too familiar – fake. "Well, I think I'll be fine to start."
Helena sat on her seat, noting the acid look on Sephiroth's face. The morning offering no reprise to her increasing want to please her client, Helena continued. "I know we have been working on skills-."
"I wanted to apologize in person," Sephiroth interrupted. "I have been very unlike myself lately. I removed my PICC line. And changed our appointments for when I'm not in therapy with Hojo."
Helena's heart ballooned in her throat. "I… Well, thank you for apologizing. I can see how it must have been stressful for you to be so close to Hojo."
Sephiroth crossed his leg with such ease Helena became jealous. "I want our time together to be as productive as possible."
Helena's heart skipped a beat. Sephiroth smirked at the discomfort.
"Absolutely. What would you think would be helpful to work on today?" Helena's pen tapped on the side arm of her chair, absentmindedly twisting her chair back and forth. Sephiroth watched as Helena succumbed to his command.
Sephiroth leaned over and ruffled in a briefcase. "I brought a notebook."
Helena tried her best to avoid smiling – calmly approaching the sign of validation. "And what did you find?"
"I wrote a note." Sephiroth pondered on the words. "You saw me with Genesis last week."
"I did."
"I hurt him. Physically." Sephiroth said somberly. Helena picked up on the change of body language and thought against bringing it forward, putting it on display. He won't respond very well.
"And you're afraid it will happen again," Helena reiterated.
"I felt something in me. Something I thought was kept in cages." Sephiroth laughed, "Why am I telling you all of this?"
"You're in therapy. You've been in therapy before. You know the drill."
"I not so certain that is why. The clients you've had in the past, were they all like this?"
Helena adjusted her shoulders. "Some were very open. They want to make their sessions productive." He's saying it's you. He's saying you're too interrogative.
"I nearly killed him. Genesis. He… Well, he really enjoys Emma's company."
Helena swallowed her heart finally, dropping low into her acidic stomach. She knew the feeling. She knew… "Do you want to talk about your relationship with Genesis?"
Sephiroth's gaze gently graced Helena's unwound posture. "I think that might be… Productive."
Client ID: S-01-01
Risk assessment: Client reported that time spent in Mako sessions with the Research and Development department increased feelings of anger and assisted with aggressive behaviours. Since client has observed this change, client has used introspective resources to assist in reducing effects. Client is not a risk for harm to others.
Client Summary: Client reported wanting to explore "productive" behaviours in session. Client reported that a current relationship with a friend is not conducive to his aggravation. This relationship is viewed as harmful, both emotionally and physically.
Interventions Used: Continuing building rapport with client. Client seemed skeptical of therapist's compassion. Client and therapist worked on supportive problem-solving with interacting with his friend. Therapist and client discussed writing a letter to friend and burn the note.
Next Session?: Client would like to continue journalling on his relationship and work on session.
Helena finished her note and decided to call the other woman. It was now four. She would be about to finish up her paperwork.
"Hey there, girl! How's it going?" She was always so cheerful. It was painful.
"I'm okay and you?" Liar.
"I'm good! You don't sound so good." Emma had a grasp on emotions that made Helena wonder why she wasn't a therapist. Lawyers are like therapists, no?
"I had a session with my therapist this morning and nearly missed my appointment with my client… It's been a morning."
"Your therapist?"
"Well, my psychiatrist."
"Oh no… I'm sorry. You worked so hard at getting better."
"Yeah, well… It was long overdue. I'm not the fresh-out-of-school therapist I once was.."
"I remember you when we were working on Hojo's team. All of a sudden, you were just killing it. I'm surprised you're a therapist now."
"It was meant to be, I guess."
Sephiroth's desk was filled with perfectly neat and stacked papers. One to be signed, one that had been signed, and one he wanted to burn on Lazard's desk. He lived in order and yet felt like his life was increasingly becoming chaotic. Genesis. Lately, his outbursts were just as frequent as his. Genesis was under plenty of stress, Sephiroth's guilt was abundant – a feeling he thought was long gone. Not since he accidentally killed a GRP-mutated mouse by crushing it under the weight of his grasp. He had been careful with his hands ever since.
He wondered if he should explore that in session. His tongue audibly snapped between his teeth, scoffing at the idea of his therapy sessions. He had been so open, so raw with the woman he had seldom been with anyone else except for… Genesis.
He couldn't understand what he saw in the lawyer. She was very plain, very unalluring; qualities he said were what attracted him to Sephiroth. It seemed all untrue now. He was attracted to the idea of allure. Sephiroth knew he was perfectly constructed to appear alien and yet so familiar. Shinra was navigating a new world now that the war was in its last throes. He thought a family would be nice for only a brief moment before realizing he was in a well-oiled machine, bulldozing the market, creating a SOLDIER that was becoming a household name.
Should he be writing this? Sephiroth lingered on the black, leather-bound notebook sitting in his drawer. "Have you considered journalling? You know, keeping track of what you're thinking." Her words seemed to follow him around wherever there was a moment to let his mind wander. "Just notice your breath." Yes, he was noticing. He noticed what she was wearing today: jeans and a beige silk shirt, long enough to cover the edges of her forearm. He noticed she was tightly wound up like the toys he imagined his comrades would have grown up with, with loving and doting families. Tiny little soldiers. Does she have a family? Did she have toys growing up?
She was alluring. In the sense that he wanted to know her as much as she drew out of him. He wanted to have something on her. Oh, but he did. "I know you from somewhere," Sephiroth threw his head back, surprised he couldn't quite pinpoint the image of the woman in his memory – organized files, painstakingly kept organized. Helena.
His hands made quick work of his shirt – a button-up that Shinra thought would add to the image of a domesticated SOLDIER. His mind was wandering again. To the image of a small, rounded red-haired woman, adjusting her glasses to peer at him better. She had very kind eyes. Very open.
Fingers caressed his collarbone, then he became furious at the gentle touch. His finger dug into the healing wound where the line once lay. He tore it out the morning of the session, after a clean incision, long tubes following blood and Mako fragments. He liked it. He liked to feel… something, anything. The dull sensation wasn't enough. He unhooked his belt and wrapped it around his neck. He had done this before - with Genesis. The rush as blood ceased its free-flowing access to his brain made his body feel. Genesis's mouth wrapped around his cock as he pulled, harder and then climaxed like he had never had before.
He imaged the red hair in his grasp, filling it like the blood of a small mouse. Red hair. Helena's soft voice hummed against his neck, her teeth gnawing at flesh not often tasted. "I know you want this," He could imagine her saying, softly in his ear, watching as he pulled even tighter on the belt.
He imagined her hand, trailing down his chest, giving particular attention to the open wound. So soft. So caring. Her hand moved slowly, suddenly becoming uncertain. She needed to hear it. "I want this," his voice hoarse and nothing above a whisper so as to not alert his secretary.
Sephiroth watched as the therapist unzipped his pants, pulling at her hair in an act of superiority. She needed to know her place. She needed to let him be in charge. Her thumb gently rubbed at the tip, precum soaking her manicured hands. He oddly liked that about her – coiffed but lived in absolute chaos. "I thrive in chaos, you know," she laughed. "But we'll work at finding connections. You and I."
His eyesight began to waiver as she pulsated the shaft, taking the time to not avoid the sensitive round of his tip. His hand tugged at the curls that bounced in an effort to please. She smiled in his thoughts. She was enjoying herself. He was enjoying himself.
He silently climaxed, cumming on his hand just as the air was sucked completely out of him. He cleaned with a tissue box on his desk, meant for décor rather than actual use. Except for now, he mused. As he was tying his belt around his hips he wondered: should I be journalling about this?