xp_logs | Doug's therapy session with Doc Samson

Set Friday morning...

An open door greeted Doug. He glanced at it, feeling a roiling in his stomach at the thought of what he was about to do. Doctor Samson had made the small office next to Xavier's his permanent workspace. Doug turned and gave a glare as a small hand shoved him through the door.

The doctor was behind the large desk as Doug entered, but stood immediately, and extended a hand in greeting that almost could rival one of Hank's, or Piotr's. Despite his size, Leonard Samson was not intimidating, but simply -there-. "You must be Douglas, or do you prefer Doug?"

"Um, Doug's fine," Doug replied hesitantly. He was definitely a bit uncomfortable with being there, not because hewas unwilling to talk about his emotional state, but more an acute sense of embarassment over the whole blowup during the past week.

Samson shook Doug's hand, then motioned towards the armchair and couch across from the desk. "Have a seat, Doug. Before we begin, I must tell you that I take notes during these sessions, for my own references. If it disturbs you, however, I can forgo them." He indicated the pads of paper on the desk. "They are, of course, confidential."

Strangely, the idea of notes and organization actually made Doug feel more comfortable. His own mind was oriented towards logic and documentation, so it was a familiar sort of feeling. He sat on the couch, pulling his legs up underneath himself and leaning against the armrest.

For a few minutes, the doctor just let Doug sit, organizing his papers and the notes on the young man's abilities. The note about body language stood out, as well as the comments from staff members on Doug's integrity, and the summary of the recent events. When the tension on Doug's face started to fade, Samson stood, moved his chair to the front of the desk, and sat. "Before I address the concerns your teachers have brought to me, would you like to address any of your own, or ask questions?"

Doug looked...not free of tension, but definitely more relaxed and at ease than he'd probably been since the events of Monday. He smiled gratefully at Dr. Samson and shook his head. "I guess I'm curious as to what you've been told about what happened, but you'll probably cover that with all of the concerns you've been brought."

"In the interest of helping you, I have been given a summary of the events of Monday and Tuesday, however, for completness, I would like to hear your view on it as well. I do know that one of your classmates provided you with a substance designed to create feelings of love, and that there was some sort of accident. I have been informed by several staff members that they do not believe you did this purposefully, and in most cases, that you did not cause the accident at all."

Doug nodded sadly. "That's the gist of it. Amanda gave me the potion. I...was going to get rid of it, but I didn't know if there was anything in particular I needed to do to neutralize it. I was going to go find her straightaway, but for some reason I forgot. Until it was too late." He sighed raggedly.

"The next day, things just seemed sort of surreal for a while. Girls, and even one of the boys, were unusually friendly to me. Touching, hugging, kissing in some cases...I didn't figure it out until later that evening. And then when I went back to my room, the potion was gone. Unfortunately, Amanda was one of the victims, so I had to enlist Manuel's help to get her to reverse the spell." Doug's arms had crept to wrap around himself, and he shivered slightly, although it was pleasantly warm in the room.

Samson jotted a few words on the notepad, and nodded. "And then, I believe you left the grounds?" he asked, inviting Doug to continue.

"I just...couldn't face anyone. I'd managed to not let anything get too far, and I'd tried to fix the mess, but I didn't think any of the affected parties would be too interested in seeing my face. Amanda slapped me right after the spell was reversed." Doug shrugged. "So I ran. Mr. Summers found me the next day and brought me back." He sighed, his demeanor suggesting that things might have been easier if Scott had not brought him back.

"Your fellow classmates were less than forgiving, I take it?" Samson raised an eyebrow, the question obviously deliberate.

"I...didn't stay around long enough to find out," Doug admitted. "And Angie and Jamie haven't let me see the journal system since I got back. My email either, for that matter."

Samson nodded, making more notes. "Jamie is your roommate, Mister Madrox, and Angie is.. Miss Colbert, I believe? The young lady who so forcefully shoved you into my office, only a few minutes ago?"

Doug nodded. "Angie is a nickname. Her full name is Marie-Ange, and since there's...another person named Marie at the mansion..." The hesitant pause spoke volumes. "...I kinda came up with the nickname." He shook his head. "I don't understand why they're being so...good to me."

"From their posts on your journal system, I believe they both feel very protective of you." Samson rested his elbows on the armrests of the chair, and leaned forward. "Tell me about them. A young man's friends often say a great deal about himself."

"I don't understand why they feel so protective. Jamie walked in on his girlfriend trying to stick her tongue down my throat. And Angie was one of the victims. They should...they shouldn't be so forgiving." Doug cast his eyes at the floor.

"They sound like good friends, people you can trust." Samson tapped his pen against the notepad thoughfully.

Doug nodded jerkily. "They are. And I do. It's..." He sighed. "It's _me_ I don't trust."

"Obviously, they see value in you. From what I understand, the two of them gave up sleep for your sake." The doctor scrawled a few more notes.

"They shouldn't." The tension that had bled out of Doug from the minutes of silence at the beginning of the session had returned. And brought friends.

Doctor Samson bit back a sigh. That tactic would have to wait. "Tell me, Doug, what of Miss Sefton, who gave you the .. potion, I believe she calls it? How do you feel about what she did?"

"Amanda...I guess she thinks I'm too idealistic, too righteous for her taste, or something. I think it was her idea of a joke. Tempt me with what I want most. To be loved. But it wouldn't be _right_. It wouldn't be _real_." Doug shook his head. "I don't really blame her, though. I really blame whoever got that damn potion and actually _used_ it."

"I see. If you had the chance, how would you handle her now?" Samson raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression. "How do you think she should be treated?"

"I don't really see that it's my right to pass judgement on her. And certainly it's not my place to punish her. I'm a student, not faculty." Doug shrugged.

"Of course not, but, speaking hypothetically, of course, what would you do?"

"I...haven't spoken to her since I got back. I don't know how she's reacting. But...I think there's...a sort of poetic justice to the situation. I think being hit with her own careless prank showed her what it's like for others. I think there's a decent chance she's already learning her lesson from it."

Samson wrote for some time on his paper, then looked up. "Let me see if I understand this. You feel that Miss Sefton, who gave you the potion as a joke, has had justice served against her, by being a victim herself?"

Doug nodded. "I don't think she really thought about the consequences, what being manipulated like that would do to a person. It was just a lark for her. I think maybe she'll think a bit more next time. At least, I'd hope so."

"Yet, you feel that you, who seem to be guilty of no more than misplaced responsibility, do not deserve forgiveness?"

Doug grimaced at how neatly he'd been maneuvered. It was like a mental and emotional game of chess, in which a number of small moves had seemed insignificant, until the one move that suddenly left him with nowhere to go to avoid. "No," he answered curtly.

"Could you perhaps, elaborate on that? Explain it, so that I can understand your point of view?"

Doug's entire body was tensed up, and his fingers clenched unconsciously against his biceps. "I should have known better. I should have known _sooner_."

"Doug, if I am not mistaken, your gift is languages, correct?" Samson made a little show of checking his notes. "You have no particular gift for seeing the future, or reading minds?"

"Precognition is Angie's gift. And even that's imperfect. But I can read body language. I should have been able to tell the difference between real and artificial feelings." Doug was aware of the irrationality of his arguments, but shied away from the real reason he blamed himself so intensely.

"You have had this gift for, my notes say less than a year. I cannot believe anyone would expect you to have mastered it so quickly..."

Doug shook his head stubbornly. "I should have. I should have _known_ that it wasn't real."

"I believe we are talking about two different things here, Doug. Perhaps you could explain?" Samson asked, gently.

Doug's eyes were firmly shut against tears, and his knuckles were nearly white from gripping his arms. "I should have known that she didn't love me for real," he whispered softly.

Samson let the young man be quiet for a moment, correctly deducing that it would calm him. He made a note to have Doug continue regular sessons, as this was not going to be a short healing process. There were obviously issues buried that the events of the recent week had brought to light.

Gradually, Doug's ragged breathing slowed, and his fingers slowly unclenched from their deathgrip on his arms. He rested his head against the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. All of a sudden, it was like he _had_ to articulate everything, as if a floodgate had opened up a crack, and now the weight of water behind was forcing it further open. "I...I was weak," he whispered in a barely audible voice. "I had guessed what was going on, and I was weak."

"I see. Weak in what way? Could you elaborate?"

Doug closed his eyes again, an expression of sadness on his face. "I figured it out with...Marie." He forced himself past the name. "I suspected what was going on. And I was going to go see if the potion was where I had left it. But before I did...I asked her to kiss me goodbye. It was wrong. I was weak."

Samson raised a single eyebrow at the admission. "Have you spoken to Marie about this since?"

Doug shook his head. "No. Mr. Summers put me to work with Mr. Marko immediately when I got back, and Angie found me on the way back from that. Jamie and Angie and Alison haven't let me out of their sight since. Haven't let me near the journal system, my email, or pretty much anyone else." He sighed. "I don't know if I'd have the guts to see her, anyway."

Samson took a few more notes, and flipped through his pages for a moment. "I believe that your first step should be to speak to her, Doug. I can arrange a meeting if you would like?"

Doug's breathing sped up at the thought of the hundreds of ways Marie could react poorly to a meeting with him. "Does...does it have to be in person?" he asked hesitantly.

"Not if the idea makes you as uncomfortable as it seems to. You could.. " Samson thought for a moment, discarding email as too impersonal.. "A letter, perhaps. I find the written word can often say a great deal."

Doug nodded. "I...I think I can handle that. Besides...that way I can say everything that I need to."

"Indeed. Have you spoken to any of your other fellow victims of this prank, besides your friends who have been supporting you?

Doug shook his head. "No. Like I said, Angie, Jamie, and Alison have kind of kept me wrapped up in cotton the past few days."

"I will speak to them, I believe they have some idea already that you need to be up and about to heal, though."

Doug nodded. "Thank you, doctor. You're...very kind. I...I don't want to stay like this. I honestly don't. It's just...so hard. And scary. The idea of putting myself back out to people after having messed up so spectacularly...it's mind-numbing. But..." he sighed deeply. "...I'm so lonely right now. Angie and Jamie and Alison have been great, but...it's not enough. I guess on some level I know I have to get out of my room at some point. But on the other level, it's safer. Easier to stay there and not have to face anyone."

Samson tucked a loose strand of his ponytail behind his ear, and nodded. "Healing is never easy, Doug. That you are willing to do things you are scared of says a great deal. I would like you to do a few things before our next session. First, I would like you to make me a list of ten reasons your friends like you. You can ask them, or write it on your own. I would also like you to keep a journal of your thoughts, feelings, what scares you. "

Doug nodded. "A journal aside from the electronic system?" He chuckled. "And I think I will probably be needing help on that list."

"The important thing is that is gets done, and you see what is there. The rest can take time." He took a business card from the small stack on the desk behind him, wrote a number on it, and handed it to Doug. "This is my extension here, as well as my emergency number. If you call, I will be the only person who hears the message. I am also going to schedule you for another session on Monday."

Doug took the card and shook Samson's hand more firmly than when he had started the session. He looked more balanced, but extremely tired and drained. "Thank you again, doctor. And I'll see you on Monday." He made his way to the door, where Marie-Ange had been waiting outside the whole session. She glanced gratefully at Doctor Samson, and then walked Doug down the hall with her arm around his waist.