lifetothefullest | [IC Inbox]

Heh, yeah, I know. I'm Julie Cabernet. Julie's fine.

['Cabernet' is not the surname attached to the messages she sends.

She hovers awkwardly for a moment, then steps back to let him in. Julie isn't often a nervous person - and less so outwardly - but there is so much about this setup that is entirely unfamiliar.

By the time her problems started, therapists didn't really exist anymore.]

So... do you want a drink first, or something?

[He notices that difference in names but doesn't comment; name changes are often personal, and even if it isn't he doesn't want to get sidetracked.]

It's nice to meet you.

[He steps in when she lets him, glancing around curiously at her apartment out of habit--you can learn a lot that way--but soon refocuses on her at the question.]

I'm fine, thank you. You don't have to worry about playing host or anything.

[Though the sentiment's nice, she surely has enough on her mind already.]

Would you prefer to sit while we talk?

[The apartment is too big for one teenager living on her own, but it's clean, if a little cluttered. She puffs out a breath and fidgets, then shrugs and nods.]

Uh, yeah, sure. [And so she does, sinking into the soft couch and flexing her fingers over her knees. She takes in this whole situation like a wary animal unsure of a new environment, and she wonders if she should have just... tried talking to someone who already knows a little of what's wrong with her.

But then, she knows that there's only so much they can do. Old, thin, shiny scars along the length of her forearm catch the light when she lifts a hand to adjust the collar of her tshirt.]

I guess I... don't want to worry my friends. They're great, but there's nothing they can do. Not really.

[Lance takes whatever other option is available, whether it's a chair or the opposite end of the couch, giving her space but still remaining close enough to talk. He watches her body language, worried about her being nervous still, and catches sight of the scars but keeps it in the back of his mind for now. If they're old, then they're not the problem right now.]

That's understandable. I wouldn't necessarily recommend not speaking with your friends out of a fear of worrying them, but sometimes it can be really helpful to get an outsider's perspective anyway.

I guess, but...

[A sigh, a shrug.]

Delmar's got enough to worry about, and he's so sweet, it's... not fair that he has to worry about me too.

[Her nose scrunches up slightly, her fingers flex away from her knees and then her hands clasp together to prevent further fidgeting.] I don't want people to worry about me.

People don't mind worrying about their friends; caring about your friend's well-being is part of the deal.

[However, that said--]

But of course, that goes the other way too, so not wanting to worry your friends is natural. Just remember that they would want to help you, like you would want to help them, so if you ever feel the need to reach out to them then you should.

[Julie lets out a soft, tense huff through her nose and shakes her head.]

They can't help me. I'm...

[And here's where it sticks. Here, at the point she can't tell Delmar what's on her mind because he'll more than worry. At the point where the bad decisions start. The point where lying in bed wide awake for hours, doing nothing, feels more achievable than doing anything else.]

... I'm scared of what's in my own head.

[The words come out in a rush, and then there's another of those huffed out laughs as she rocks back slightly and looks up towards the ceiling.]

God, that's dumb.

That isn't dumb.

[He assures her of that without hesitation, though his voice is soft.]

And you're not the only person who has that fear. Can you tell me more about what scares you specifically?

[Can she? She looks at him, meeting his eyes with a little hesitation. She asked him here because, of all people, she figured he had the best chance of actually helping her in some other capacity than worrying about her.

Julie is good at pretending she's okay.]

... When I got here, one of my friends was here, too. He's gone. [Not what scares her, but she's getting to it.] And I just... I've been here for months, and I've already seen someone die. That's-- [A snort.] I guess that's not so new. But then he came back, and now we're friends. Weird, right? I can remember watching him die, but I can still talk to him whenever I want... It's so fucked up.

[She presses her lips together for a moment, and taps her hands against her knees.]

Things are a mess back home. Have been since I was a kid. I... used to take drugs. Started when I was twelve. I still drink. Smoke pot too, if I can get it. [She frowns.] I don't want to die. I don't. [In that, at least, she sounds certain.]

But I don't know if what I do want is worse. That's what scares me.

[Well, that's definitely a lot, but nothing too outlandish so far. So he nods in understanding, but takes a moment to consider how he wants to respond.]

The situation here, with people returning from death, is very complicated. The trauma of dealing with a friend's death is still there, but without the finality that normally accompanies it, so it's more difficult to process than it would be normally.

['Fucked up' is a really good way to describe it, honestly, but he can't exactly say that as a professional.]

Drugs and alcohol are, as I'm sure you know, not the best coping mechanisms, but again it's very normal to resort to them. I definitely recommend trying to lessen whatever usage you may still have, however; they tend to make problems worse overall, both due to their effects and because they prevent you from actually working through your issues.

[But she shouldn't feel guilty about any of it, even if it's best to stop. The last part of what she says, though, seems to be the most important, even if it's vague.]

What is it you do want?

[With Whistler, it's weird, because they weren't friends until she sat with him while he died. It was their first meeting - an accident - and she cares about him, but it's still so strange to think that's how they met. Death should be the end, but she already knows that it isn't. That's not a new thing to her.

People coming back alive and whole is what's weird.

She squints at him while he makes his 'recommendations' on her substance abuse, because while he's right that she knows it doesn't help, it's the kind of almost-lecturing that she's heard before.

But then, the question, and it all comes back to that. The drinking, the drugs, everything else.]

I guess... [Julie shrugs, and looks away from him.] A lot of the time, I just don't want to feel anything at all.

[He just ignores that squinting, because it's probably warranted, but he has to do the whole almost-lecture; it's pretty much required. But he truly isn't judging either, considering he understands this issue better than many psychologists.

Her answer is pretty simple, but it's also an understandable one and he nods.]

Why do you want that? What is it about feeling things that you want to avoid?

[The questions aren't judgemental, just meant to hopefully prompt her into thinking about the answers and also so he can get a better idea of what advice to offer.]

What's there to not avoid?

[She arranged this, but she's still evasive. Talking to R was always easy. He barely ever spoke. She told him more than she'd ever told anyone, because all he did was sit and watch her.

When someone's talking back, it's... weird. Like turning the pages of a damp magazine. Everything stuck together and stiff.]

Everyone I trust hurts me. Everyone I love leaves, or dies, or worse. And it's just-- [A soft snort.] Sometimes it's like the only thing left is just... nothing. Feeling nothing so nothing can hurt me again.

[Not for the first time, Lance wishes Brennan were still here; as hard as it is for her to handle emotional and social situations sometimes, this is something she might've been able to really help with. She had, after all, taken the same tactic in dealing with life for a long time.

But she isn't here, and so Lance just nods again in understanding, taking a moment before replying.]

That makes sense, in preventing yourself from being hurt again. But doesn't it also prevent any chance of experiencing something positive?

[She lets out a soft huff through her nose.]

Why take the risk.

[Maybe this wasn't the best idea. Can someone who hasn't - or, she presumes hasn't - seen the kinds of things she has really understand what it does to a child's mind? Julie knows she isn't the only teenager back home who feels like this. Nora, she'd bet, could have a similar conversation, and she'd lost so much more than Julie had.]

You've gotta protect yourself, right?

Of course you do. But you also have to decide if all you want your life to be is just protecting yourself.

[And he knows from experience how difficult that can be, and how it can be just as difficult to make the decision to take the risk in hopes of something better.]

[She thinks about it, but she doesn't think for very long before she shrugs one shoulder and shakes her head.]

I guess so. I don't know how to do anything else.

[Maybe... maybe there would have been something. Back home, with R? It was turning into something more - into something bigger than just her. Here, in Hadriel, it's easy to put yourself first. Easy and often necessary.]

Just been me looking out for me since my mom died. Mostly.

[He nods, listening, and that answer isn't too unusual or unexpected.]

It isn't a choice you have to make right away and it isn't something that would be instantaneous, especially if you've spent so long focused only on survival; it's a process, which you can take at whatever pace you want. What's important is figuring out what you want in the first place, and there's no wrong answer. It's your life.

... But it's the same here, isn't it?

[Julie frowns and shakes her head, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her t-shirt. Maybe there are no zombies here (well, some, but none of them are actually trying to kill her), but there's still danger, and so much of it.]

It's still survival, it's still danger, all the time, from everywhere, and it's worse because we never really know what that danger is going to be. And then there's those guys, the 'gods', whatever the fuck they want to call themselves. They can make us suffer. They do make us suffer.

It is, and they do. A lot of time and effort in this place does indeed go toward survival.

[She's definitely not wrong on that. But, at the same time--]

Still, it isn't like that every single moment. There are days or even weeks of nothing, in which the threat is much less, and that's time that you can start to use for yourself, even if it's something as simple as starting a new hobby just because you want to. A creative activity might be a really good choice, actually, but anything that's interesting to you would be a good place to start.

[Julie presses her lips into a thin line and taps her fingertips together, looking at the other side of the room while she shakes her head minutely.]

Lemme ask you something, Lance...

[Her lips purse, and she puffs a breath out.]

Have you ever been afraid for your life? I mean, really afraid? 'I might actually die here' afraid. Before you came here, I mean.

[Lance typically doesn't allow personal questions during a counseling session, for a few different reasons, and usually dodges them in other situations too. But in this case, he decides to make an exception; he remembers talking to psychologists as a child and a teenager and wondering how he could ever listen to them, because what do they know really? They haven't been through what he has, and so they can say as many words as they want without really understanding.

As he'd gotten older he realized that wasn't a helpful attitude, and people can definitely give good advice on subjects they have no personal experience in, but he gets it. And although he isn't sure that's why Julie is asking, even if it isn't it's not going to hurt to answer, and so he does so very simply.]

Yes.

[Even though it took a moment to reply, his tone is without any hesitation or uncertainty; he knows very well what it's like to be truly, deeply afraid you're about to die, and he's actually experienced that feeling at home more times than he has in Hadriel.]

[It's probably better that he answered. She has her reasons for asking, and he's right on the money as to why that was. It's funny how she's surprised by that answer, but she nods slightly and puffs out another slow breath.]

Okay.

[Her fingertips tap-tap together again, and she isn't looking at him.]

So imagine that feeling, nearly every day of your life, for nearly ten years... and you've got an idea of what it's been like for me.

[He can imagine that easily enough--more easily than he'd like, and so tries not to actually do so--because although it had been less time for him, he very much remembers what it's like to go through each day being aware that that could be it. It definitely gives him more insight into Julie's issues, and he's quiet a few moments before responding.]

The longer it's been, the more difficult it can be to adjust. But there is more to life than just staying alive, although it's up to you to decide if it's worth the risk; I can't make that decision for you.

[Julie can't help but snort softly. The initial nervousness has faded out of her, but there's still a wall there, something solid she's keeping up between herself and Lance despite the fact she was the one to ask him over.]

You say it like it's so easy, you know? [She tells him, shaking her head as she looks down at her hands.] 'Make the choice, it's all up to you'. It's not that simple.

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