Chapter Text
Session notes: Rodimus was referred to me by a contact at the TA. He completed a residential program there last week and was marked by the TA as needing ongoing support. He did not consent to his records from the TA being passed on to me, so all I know is that he is a 22-year-old elemental whose specific ability is to summon fire. I have no experience working with elementals in a therapeutic setting, but my human subjects research has shown elemental abilities tend to be one of the least inherently traumatizing of the known Outlier powers. Goal for this session is to establish trust and determine what Rodimus is looking to gain from therapy. That is, if he has an opinion, considering that these sessions are mandated by the TA indefinitely.
Rung looked around his office one last time as he rose from his seat. Everything, of course, was perfectly in order. His model ships were lined up on a freshly dusted shelf, office supplies were all in their designated corners, and the scant file he’d received for his new patient was safely tucked away.
Rung opened the door – the wooden door, he noticed for the first time. He hid his cringe. If this went well, it wouldn’t be an issue.
“Rodimus?” he called to the young man who was sitting in the waiting room, hands tucked in pockets, staring down a stack of magazines on a side table as his leg jiggled with nerves.
He turned towards Rung too fast, the movement too jerky for someone who hadn’t been well and truly disassociated from their surroundings. When he saw Rung, he climbed to his feet.
Rung took his usual seat at his desk, turning his chair towards the rest of the room. Rodimus perched himself on the couch, briefly clasping his hands in his lap and then tucking them under his thighs.
“How are you feeling today, Rodimus?”
“Fine. Y’know. Great, actually. You?”
“I am quite well, thank you for asking,” Rung said. “As you know, my name is Rung. You were referred to me by the TA.”
Rodimus nodded, shoulders taking on a defensive hunch. Rung internalized his frown.
“How did you find your stay there?”
“Informative,” Rodimus replied, still not looking at Rung.
Rung relaxed his own shoulders, taking as nonthreatening of a pose as possible. “Why do you think you’re here, Rodimus?”
“So they can keep an eye on me.”
“That’s not how I would characterize things,” Rung said. Rodimus looked up then to give Rung an openly disbelieving glance. “First of all, our sessions are completely confidential. Nothing that you discuss here will be accessible by anyone from the TA.”
“Don’t you work for them?” Rodimus interjected, voice flat.
Rung tried to hide his concern at the indication of how thoroughly Rodimus distrusted him – that Rodimus thought he would lie about such an essential detail. “I used to,” Rung said. “But I found that our views and priorities diverged, and my current relationship with them is that of a community consultant. The only contact I have with the TA is when they refer patients to me.”
Rodimus’s nod still seemed skeptical. Rung guessed that only time and consistent sincerity would be enough to get Rodimus to believe him.
“The only exception to the confidentiality of our sessions is true of any therapeutic relationship: if what I hear in these sessions convinces me that you intend to harm yourself or others, I will have to notify the proper authorities,” Rung said. “Do you have any questions about that?”
Rodimus shook his head.
“The second aspect of what you said that I’d like to touch on is the actual purpose of these sessions. The TA wants you to be safe, but I’m not here to “keep an eye on you.” I’m here to work with you to integrate the things you learned at the TA into your everyday life and try to make it so that your ability doesn’t act to your detriment ever again.”
Rodimus looked up again. “How do you know about that?”
“I don’t know anything about you, Rodimus. I made the assumption that you entered the TA’s program because you’d struggled with your ability in the past. Forgive me if I was wrong, or if I overstepped.”
“No, you’re right,” Rodimus said. Rung gave him a moment to elaborate, but he didn’t.
“Would you like to talk about that? We don’t have to.”
“I don’t know,” said Rodimus. “Honestly, I don’t know if I want to be here at all.”
“Okay,” said Rung. “In that case, how would you feel if we took the focus off of you and discussed some of the most successful proactive strategies my clients have used to control and live with their abilities? You can let me know if anything sounds promising.”
“Let’s do that.”
“Alright,” said Rung. He bent to get out a document he’d drawn up with the mental and physical strategies that he knew people used to cope with their outlier abilities. He snuck an appraising glance at Rodimus as he moved. Rodimus had taken his hands out of his pockets at some point and was wringing them together, squeezing one palm in a quick tempo. He looked like he might be a little more comfortable in the session if he had something to fidget with. The wall of model ships sat right behind Rung, always ready to be disassembled and reassembled. But the last person aside from Rung who had touched those ships was…
No, the model ships were off limits. Rung made a note to acquire some new fidget toys and then handed Rodimus a copy of the sheet.
End of session notes: Patient is amenable to continuing sessions but appears reluctant to fully engage. His obvious distrust of the TA concerns me, and I can only hope that this distrust is unfounded.
The elevator doors are going to open. There will be a young man about Drift’s age on the elevator. For some reason he’ll stay on the elevator, even though Drift is going up from the bottom floor. The elevator is going to get stuck between floors two and three, and the other man is going to wind up in a panic attack that Drift won’t be able to talk him down from.
Drift has no idea what’s going to happen if he doesn’t get on the elevator.
Drift stepped onto the elevator.
The other occupant looked like he was around Drift’s age and just nodded when Drift pressed the button for the fifth floor. “Left my wallet up there,” he explained, even though Drift tried his best not to give him an enquiring look at his choice to stay on the elevator.
Drift didn’t know what to say. The visions never showed him anything helpful.
The doors closed and the car started to move. The level indicated on the screen began to rise – two, three – and then the floor dropped away.
The drop was just a few inches, but Drift stumbled as he hit the displaced ground and caught himself on a railing just as the lights went out.
The car was pitch dark even though it was the middle of the day. On instinct, Drift reached for his phone to use it as a flashlight. His companion was silent in the darkness.
He clicked the flashlight on and tried to push the doors open. They refused to budge, even when he dug his fingers as far as he could into the seam.
Next, he pointed the light at the door controls. Sure enough, one of the darkened buttons was labeled “Help”. There was a phone number underneath it.
The other passenger was seated, leaning against the wall. He’d probably fallen when the elevator dropped.
“Are you hurt?” Drift asked as he dials the Help number. The other passenger shook his head, the motion jerky around shallow breaths.
That’s all Drift could do before someone answered the phone. He still had the flashlight on, pointed awkwardly at the wall as he listened.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Drift said. He sat down cross-legged on the floor because it felt too awkward to stay standing. The other passenger had his head tucked between his knees, fingers threaded together behind his neck. Drift looked away as he spoke. “This number was listed under help in an elevator that, uh, that I’m stuck in.”
“This is building security at Mederi Commons,” said the person at the other end of the line.
“Yeah, that’s where I am. Building 2,” Drift said. “Between floors 2 and 3, I think. The power’s out in here, so I’m a little worried.”
“Someone’s on their way to check it out right now,” the person said. “Can I have your number to call you with updates?”
Drift gave it.
“Would you like to stay on the line while you wait?”
“No need for that, actually. Let me know if anything changes,” Drift said.
“Sure thing.”
“Thanks.”
Drift hung up and turned his attention to the other passenger in the corner. His breathing was hitching and he hadn’t moved from his tight curl against the wall. Drift put his phone on the floor between them so that it illuminated the center of the car like some kind of bizarre campfire.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked softly.
The other passenger took a few moments to compose himself to respond, battling hard for some semblance of control. “Keep talking?” he said in a hoarse whisper.
“Okay. That’s easy enough. My name is Drift, I’m here because my therapist’s office is in this building.”
The other passenger looked like he was gearing up to speak again, so Drift paused. “Rodimus,” he said. “Me too.”
“Good you meet you, Rodimus. I wish it were under better circumstances,” he said. “I’ll keep talking, and you let me know if you need anything, or if I should switch topics, okay?”
Rodimus nodded shakily, hands still clasped together at the back of his neck.
“I’ve been going to these yoga classes at the martial arts studio I just switched to,” he said. “They’re doing a series about chakras. Chakras are points on your body that are associated with certain feelings and types of perception. Stop me if you want to – I had a friend walk out of the room when I was trying to tell him about this, and even Rung – my therapist – doesn’t seem to like it much.” There was no way to know if Rodimus would find this as comforting as Drift did.
Rodimus didn’t tell him to stop. When Drift looked his way, he was still curled painfully tight around himself, but he was looking at Drift. His breathing was shaky, but a little better than it had started.
Drift found himself describing half-remembered details from yoga class, demonstrating the locations of the chakras by touching their locations on his own body, as he’d seen the instructor do. It calmed and centered him, tense as the situation was, and he hoped that some of the feeling was reaching Rodimus.
Both of them jumped when Drift’s phone vibrated on the floor. Drift picked it up, careful to keep the light from shining on Rodimus, and answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hi there, I just wanted to warn you that we’ll be turning the power back on now. The controls will have reset, so you’ll need to press the button for the floor you want.”
“Okay, thanks,” Drift said. To Rodimus, he said, “They’re going to turn the power back on.”
Seconds later, the lights turned back on. Drift reached up and pressed the number 5 and felt the elevator start to move. “It seems like it’s working now,” he said. He snuck a glance over at Rodimus, who had climbed to his feet and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was looking down at the elevator floor, shoulders still hunched.
The door slid open. “Aaaand we’re good,” Drift said into his phone, gesturing for Rodimus to step off before him. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Thanks for your patience,” the security person said, reminding Drift that he was so late for his session. He hung up the phone and started down the hall toward Rung’s office.
Rodimus followed him. “Could you please…not tell Rung what happened?” he asked, the words quiet.
Drift stopped walking. “You know Rung?” Then the words clicked with what Rodimus had said in the elevator. “Wait, he’s your therapist too?”
Rodimus had been looking away, but he met Drift’s eyes at that. They both knew the same thing: Rung’s specialty was Outliers.
Drift had never met another outlier before. Was it rude to ask Rodimus what he could do? He realized then that asking that question would lead to him having to respond in kind, so he didn’t. Instead he said, “Of course I won’t tell him.”
“Thanks.” Rodimus’s gaze slid away again.
“Would you like a hug?” The question left Drift’s mouth before it had properly made its way through his brain. Who said that? Drift had never been big on hugs, especially when he was feeling vulnerable, but something about Rodimus’s demeanor demanded he ask.
“That would be awesome,” Rodimus said before Drift’s thoughts had a chance to truly spiral.
Well, that was that. Drift stepped forward and hugged Rodimus, who hugged him back. It was…nice? The hug didn’t feel like much in itself, but hearing Rodimus sigh next to his ear, feeling him relax minutely, the concept of being able to help someone instead of always just fucking things up…that was nice.
Drift stepped back after a few seconds and summoned a smile for Rodimus. “Shall we?” he asked, casually raising an arm to point toward Rung’s office.
Rodimus just nodded. They made their way down the rest of the hallway in silence. Rodimus had his hands out of his pockets now, swinging them loosely at his sides as he walked. Drift opened the door to Rung’s office and Rodimus followed him inside.
Rung was right there, talking to Pipes at the desk. He looked up when the bell chimed to indicate their entrance. “Drift!” he said first. Then, “Rodimus?” The expression on his face flashed from confusion to concern to perfect neutrality in a blink.
“I left my wallet,” he said, walking over to one of the tables in the waiting room where there was indeed a wallet sitting out next to a stack of magazines. “See you next week, doc.”
“See you next week,” Rung said.
Rodimus met Drift’s eyes as he turned the door handle to leave. Instead of saying anything, he just smiled.
Drift turned back to Rung, who had definitely, definitely seen that. He looked thoughtful, but the expression smoothed over as he turned to Drift. “Shall we get started, then?”