Not about that. It seemed... Kind of unimportant, I guess, especially while everyone's still readjusting.
[The last thing he wants to do is pick a fight about something that happened before the huge, traumatizing alternate life experience. He doesn't have the energy for that, but more importantly he doesn't want to add another thing for someone else to worry about.]
I'm not sure I'm going to bring it up at all, at this point. I doubt I'd get anywhere even if I did, so it's probably better to spare everyone involved.
[Ellie shrugs, and adds more stones, giving Lance more to work with and stack up. She deliberately tries to find the flatter ones. Good building blocks. She keeps the one in her hand, like she's trying to work it smooth.]
But it'll probably come up eventually, and it won't be pretty when it does.
[He flashes a brief flicker of a smile at her for adding to the pile, working on making it a more elaborate structure now that he has more materials to work with.
Normally, he'd agree with Ellie's point; he's typically the one telling people to talk about their conflicts, to get them out in the open, to work through them. But in this case he shakes his head a little, and is serious and quiet when he responds.]
It might. But the main reasons to discuss a conflict are to make feelings clear, and to come to some sort of understanding.
[He's silent again a few seconds before sighing.]
My opinion about the whole thing isn't exactly a secret, and I don't think there's going to be any understanding.
[And the latter part of that is what's so upsetting, but he's well on the way to accepting it at this point.]
[Ellie nods slowly, flipping the stone over into her fingertips, worrying it as she listens, chews over his answer. It's reasoned and sad, and she knows what it is to be hurt by a profound disagreement with the judgment of someone you care for.]
Is it gonna be something you can get past, you think?
[She doesn't say forgive, because forgiveness isn't the right word, and forgiveness is one of the most complicated things there is.]
[That's a very interesting way of asking the question, because most people would indeed use the word forgive. But it is a very different thing to forgive than it is to accept the situation and move on.
He's just as aware of that difference and she seems to be, and so his answer is easy enough.]
Yeah, I think so.
[He can move on, and he'll just keep in mind what he's learned and won't make the same mistakes again. There's always a chance, too, that things will change, or maybe he'll be pleasantly surprised and this will all work out somehow after all. But for now, he can let it go.
He finishes his little rounded pyramid of stones, and allowed himself to feel satisfied with it for a few moments before he takes a deep breath, looking up again.]
You sound like you have experience with this sort of thing.
[It's a gentle remark, and invitation if Ellie wants to talk herself, but he won't pry if she doesn't.]
[Ellie nods, taking his response at face value. It's bound to be more complicated than that, and there are a lot of different types of trust, including her ability to trust Lance to assess something like that.
Her lips twitch in a wry almost-smile when he turns it back on her again, a telltale sign that he's reaching his limit in talking about himself. Ellie worries the stone, falling to silence as she thinks it over, memories bubbling to the surface. By the distant, somewhat desolate look in her eyes, they're not good ones. She chews over how to respond, drawing the edge of her nail around the edge of the stone.]
My world's pretty fucked up. A lot of times, staying alive means trying to pick the choice you can live with.
[Both literally, and figuratively.]
It means a lot of deciding what you can get past, and what you can't. For other people, and for yourself.
[He appreciates her allowing the focus to shift, especially since he's sure by her expression that she knows exactly what he's doing. But soon her expression changes, and although he'd typically watch and read whatever emotions he can catch, this time he turns his attention back to the pile of stones so she won't feel scrutinized.
Her response isn't really unexpected, since he'd gleaned some information about what her world might be like just by knowing her. But having confirmation is always helpful, even if in this case he kind of wishes he would've been wrong.
He's quiet for a short time as he decides what to say, especially since he just had a conversation with Nate's that wasn't exactly about the same thing, but close enough that it brings it to mind.]
It's hard to live like that.
[Constantly in survival mode, and all that entails.]
[Ellie appreciates the understanding paired with the lack of pity. The acknowledgement of the weight, without the horror. She glances up at him, her face softening a little bit before she goes back to worrying the stone.]
Yeah.
[Again that desolate, awful feeling of guilt engulfs her. That what-if over what her life might've bought the world, if Joel hadn't loved her. But that's not something she wants to tell Lance about, especially not with Joel here, living and breathing. It's not something she wants to tell anyone.]
But in the end, you're the one who has to live with it.
[It isn't hard to tell there's something specific on her mind, but she clearly doesn't feel like talking about right now and he won't push her on it. Instead, he finally draws his gaze away from the rocks, looking back up at her once more.]
You are. But you don't have to do it alone.
[It's a lesson he's had to learn multiple times and is in the midst of learning yet again, but it can be done.]
[Ellie's stomach gives a lurch, her expression flickering. She's normally so much better at guarding herself, but Lance has a way of slipping past that. She looks down at her hands, fiddling with them, pressing at the seam between her flesh and the prosthetics. All but invisible, but she can always feel it.
[He says it gently, hoping to both reassure her and make her less self-conscious; it really isn't that obvious, at least not in any way beyond the baseline of people here. But Lance does know what to look for, and not just as a psychologist.]
You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, but you don't have to hold it all in if you don't want to either.
[The choice is there, if she decides she wants to take it.]
[That's a very familiar explanation, and he understands as much as he can without knowing her actual situation. So he nods, though at her question he gives a slightly sheepish smile.]
I do, though in hindsight it sounds way more judgemental than I meant it to be.
Edited (brain no do goo with words) 2021-02-21 00:02 (UTC)
[Ellie glances up, returns the smile and shrugs slightly.]
I still think you're right. But I think that we all kinda start out that way. We just... reach a breaking point, I think. When you just can't do it anymore. Or maybe you can't do it the same way.
Like-
I don't know, Lance. Everybody was really fucked up, coming back from the Aerie. Hating who they were. Who they had to be. What happened to them.
[Ellie pauses again, then reaches up to rub at the fingers that aren't real, the seam between robotics and skin, where all of her scars stop.]
I came back and-
That place at its worst was better than anything I'd ever had, by light years. I was better. A lot better.
[Lance had hoped Ellie might feel like she could open up a little, but he hadn't really expected her to and so it's a surprise--a good surprise--when she starts talking. He's quiet as she does so, watching her enough to show that he's paying attention, but still trying not to make her feel scrutinized and allowing his gaze to drop when he nods at some of her words.
There are multiple facets to what she's said, multiple ways to interpret her words and multiple issues that seem to be underlying them. He doesn't know her well enough yet to be completely sure of which to approach first, or exactly how to do so, but intuition gives him a place to start and he does his best from there.]
I think that sometimes there's a misunderstanding of what optimism looks like, because it's seen through the lens of an 'average' person. For them, optimism might mean believing the best will happen, or that they'll get something they desire or things will fall into place just as they want them to.
But for a person who's had to fight every day just to survive, something that others might see as a given--choosing to trust someone, hoping that they get through a day without being hurt, even just convincing themselves there's something worth getting out of bed for--is just as optimistic as believing the best will happen.
[He isn't arguing with her assessment about there being a breaking point, at least not exactly. But there's a subtle value in reframing things, in not looking at them in terms of a 'normal' person versus a 'broken' one, with 'normal' being the default. Both are just people, and neither are so firmly set into their categories as many are often led to believe.
Although he's been watching the river as he spoke, he turns his attention back to Ellie again, no longer talking in vague terms but in direct ones.]
Who you you were in the Aerie isn't better than who you are now. Maybe there are things about that version of you that you liked more, and that's okay, but there's nothing wrong with who you are here. Especially not when you consider what you've had to face just to make it this far.
[The way that Lance frames things seems generous towards her, assuming quite a bit of good faith, optimistic. It isn't that she feels that he doesn't understand, or even that he's wrong. She can objectively see how he's correct. Even when it comes to her, and her actions.
What she doesn't believe in or trust is herself, and her own judgment, because it's been so skewed for so long. But she doesn't know how to begin to explain that.]
There's having fucked up things happen to you, and then there's... becoming the fucked up things that happen to other people, and not knowing how to not be?
[It sounds stupid when she says it, but Ellie doesn't know anything about the cycle of violence, or the patterns of trauma that repeat through families. All she knows are the things she's seen and experienced.]
Caring is the first part of that, and you're already there.
[It doesn't sound stupid, and not just because he's a psychologist who does know how all of this works, but because he's had to live it. He had the chance to start working on all of this much earlier than she did, but it was still a long and difficult process.]
No one reacts in exactly the same way to the things that happen to them, and I'm sure you know that, but I'm saying it because those differences mean that who you become--or avoid becoming--depends on who you are, and how what's happened in your life affects you.
[He doesn't want to get too professional about this, because he's definitely not giving her professional advice, he just isn't totally sure how else to put it. It's a weird line to find, and he's not sure how successful he's being, but he's trying.]
It can be really hard to figure that out alone, but at the same time you're the person who knows yourself best. Therefore it's a balancing act of trusting someone else, but also trusting yourself, and success doesn't happen in days or weeks or even months, sometimes. But it's something you can do, especially if you're able to ask for help as you go through it.
[Ellie falls silent again, chewing over his words, and worrying her thumb over the stone again. It has her skin feeling raw, and she stares down at it, lets it roll to settle into the palm of her hand.
She looks slowly from the stone she's holding down to the small, neatly stacked pile that Lance has completed between them. She can feel her pulse in her fingertips, and she swallows down a lump in her throat.
Ellie reaches out and adds the stone to it, balancing it there.
Silence falls again between them, something tenuous on the back of her tongue.]
[He watches her balance the rock, careful not to disturb it, letting it perch there on top. The question she asks isn't one he would've predicted, though he has some idea of where it might be going.]
[Ellie's lips twitch as if she wants to smile but can't quite muster it. The things people were carry through with them, even through the technicalities. She pauses again, trying to figure out how to frame the question that she wants to ask.
It's messier than she thought, and in trying to think of the question, it frames things out for her. Some of the questions are too horrible to ask, and she's not sure she wants the answers.
[He's quiet as she chooses her words, distracting himself by looking for a piece of grass that will work as a very annoying whistle. He'll save actually being that obnoxious for after the conversation, though, when something to lighten the mood might be appreciated.
When Ellie does finally choose her question, Lance returns his attention to her.]
I thought you were someone who had been through a lot.
[He could say more, but he's not sure just yet if she'd actually want to hear it; people don't always want to be read, even when they ask to be, and that may not really be the point of this question anyway.]
[It's accurate, and it feels like a safe answer. It's easy to tell that even by looking at her skin, her scars. The way she holds herself. But it hadn't fully been what she'd been asking.
Ellie pulls her legs up a bit, hooks her hands under her knees, and looks out at the water.]
That's a safe guess for almost everybody here.
[She turns, resting her temple on her knee, looking at Lance.]
You are, too. Someone who's been through a lot.
[It's flat, when she says it. Just an observation. And maybe it's callous, laying it out so plainly, letting him know the extent of what she's picked up about him. For Ellie, being seen is hard, and for Lance, it's being heard.]
There's stuff that you can train somebody how to do, and then there's stuff that you just get. Because you've been there.
[He'd known that he wasn't being particularly subtle. Part of the reason, aside from the ethics of offering counseling, that he'd maintained so much professional distance in Hadriel is that it gave him something to hide behind; it had worked at home, too, at least for his friends who didn't know any better. He could project a particular image, and control what made it through that image, when he could stay a step removed from his words and actions.
It's been a risk, here, to allow that to drop. For the most part, that risk hasn't been worth it; there have been so many experiences that have reignited that little voice that tells him how he knows better than this, that he should've expected things to go badly, and he has no one to blame but himself.
But there have been parts that have been worth it. One of those is just not having to hide so much all the time, and because of that, he can talk to people more genuinely. That's what he's allowed to happen here, and so he'd known the risk in that was that she might notice he's speaking from experience, but that risk feels worth it if it means she might believe in what he's saying.
So he lets out a long, quiet sigh, though he still manages a faint smile when he looks back at her and echoes her words from earlier--]
Am I that obvious?
[But it's a joke, entirely rhetorical, and he soon continues more seriously.]
It's different, for everyone; what they've been through, how they've dealt with it, what's best for them in moving forward. But there's always a way forward, no matter how impossible it might be to see it from where you are.
[And he's allowing, with that statement and hers before it, for it to be clear that he isn't saying that just because he's observed others go through it.]
[Lance's callback earns a snort of something that edges on laughter, a little bit of a light in her eyes. Talking it out with him is- different. Somehow. It's the most comfortable she's been during a conversation like this. She doesn't feel like she's going to crack down the middle.
It feels more like a Lance thing than a therapist thing, but what does she know?]
Only if you know what to look for.
[That much is devastatingly true.]
... you really think that? That there's a way forward for everybody?
[At her response he gives a faint hint of a laugh himself, more just a breath, but there's a small smile to go with it. At her questions he nods, gaze going distant for a moment before he turns his attention toward her again.]
If they want to take to take it, yes. It can be really difficult, and they might not be able to find it alone, but it's there.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lifetothefullest) wrote2019-08-25 08:38 pm
no subject
[The last thing he wants to do is pick a fight about something that happened before the huge, traumatizing alternate life experience. He doesn't have the energy for that, but more importantly he doesn't want to add another thing for someone else to worry about.]
I'm not sure I'm going to bring it up at all, at this point. I doubt I'd get anywhere even if I did, so it's probably better to spare everyone involved.
no subject
[Ellie shrugs, and adds more stones, giving Lance more to work with and stack up. She deliberately tries to find the flatter ones. Good building blocks. She keeps the one in her hand, like she's trying to work it smooth.]
But it'll probably come up eventually, and it won't be pretty when it does.
no subject
Normally, he'd agree with Ellie's point; he's typically the one telling people to talk about their conflicts, to get them out in the open, to work through them. But in this case he shakes his head a little, and is serious and quiet when he responds.]
It might. But the main reasons to discuss a conflict are to make feelings clear, and to come to some sort of understanding.
[He's silent again a few seconds before sighing.]
My opinion about the whole thing isn't exactly a secret, and I don't think there's going to be any understanding.
[And the latter part of that is what's so upsetting, but he's well on the way to accepting it at this point.]
no subject
Is it gonna be something you can get past, you think?
[She doesn't say forgive, because forgiveness isn't the right word, and forgiveness is one of the most complicated things there is.]
no subject
He's just as aware of that difference and she seems to be, and so his answer is easy enough.]
Yeah, I think so.
[He can move on, and he'll just keep in mind what he's learned and won't make the same mistakes again. There's always a chance, too, that things will change, or maybe he'll be pleasantly surprised and this will all work out somehow after all. But for now, he can let it go.
He finishes his little rounded pyramid of stones, and allowed himself to feel satisfied with it for a few moments before he takes a deep breath, looking up again.]
You sound like you have experience with this sort of thing.
[It's a gentle remark, and invitation if Ellie wants to talk herself, but he won't pry if she doesn't.]
no subject
Her lips twitch in a wry almost-smile when he turns it back on her again, a telltale sign that he's reaching his limit in talking about himself. Ellie worries the stone, falling to silence as she thinks it over, memories bubbling to the surface. By the distant, somewhat desolate look in her eyes, they're not good ones. She chews over how to respond, drawing the edge of her nail around the edge of the stone.]
My world's pretty fucked up. A lot of times, staying alive means trying to pick the choice you can live with.
[Both literally, and figuratively.]
It means a lot of deciding what you can get past, and what you can't. For other people, and for yourself.
no subject
Her response isn't really unexpected, since he'd gleaned some information about what her world might be like just by knowing her. But having confirmation is always helpful, even if in this case he kind of wishes he would've been wrong.
He's quiet for a short time as he decides what to say, especially since he just had a conversation with Nate's that wasn't exactly about the same thing, but close enough that it brings it to mind.]
It's hard to live like that.
[Constantly in survival mode, and all that entails.]
no subject
Yeah.
[Again that desolate, awful feeling of guilt engulfs her. That what-if over what her life might've bought the world, if Joel hadn't loved her. But that's not something she wants to tell Lance about, especially not with Joel here, living and breathing. It's not something she wants to tell anyone.]
But in the end, you're the one who has to live with it.
no subject
You are. But you don't have to do it alone.
[It's a lesson he's had to learn multiple times and is in the midst of learning yet again, but it can be done.]
no subject
Even if the phantom pain's dulled, it's there.]
Am I that obvious?
no subject
[He says it gently, hoping to both reassure her and make her less self-conscious; it really isn't that obvious, at least not in any way beyond the baseline of people here. But Lance does know what to look for, and not just as a psychologist.]
You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to, but you don't have to hold it all in if you don't want to either.
[The choice is there, if she decides she wants to take it.]
no subject
It's not that I don't want to tell you stuff, it's that there's just... a lot, and I don't know how to start.
... you know how you said that if you can't be optimistic in a shitty world, then maybe you aren't all that optimistic to begin with?
no subject
I do, though in hindsight it sounds way more judgemental than I meant it to be.
no subject
I still think you're right. But I think that we all kinda start out that way. We just... reach a breaking point, I think. When you just can't do it anymore. Or maybe you can't do it the same way.
Like-
I don't know, Lance. Everybody was really fucked up, coming back from the Aerie. Hating who they were. Who they had to be. What happened to them.
[Ellie pauses again, then reaches up to rub at the fingers that aren't real, the seam between robotics and skin, where all of her scars stop.]
I came back and-
That place at its worst was better than anything I'd ever had, by light years. I was better. A lot better.
no subject
There are multiple facets to what she's said, multiple ways to interpret her words and multiple issues that seem to be underlying them. He doesn't know her well enough yet to be completely sure of which to approach first, or exactly how to do so, but intuition gives him a place to start and he does his best from there.]
I think that sometimes there's a misunderstanding of what optimism looks like, because it's seen through the lens of an 'average' person. For them, optimism might mean believing the best will happen, or that they'll get something they desire or things will fall into place just as they want them to.
But for a person who's had to fight every day just to survive, something that others might see as a given--choosing to trust someone, hoping that they get through a day without being hurt, even just convincing themselves there's something worth getting out of bed for--is just as optimistic as believing the best will happen.
[He isn't arguing with her assessment about there being a breaking point, at least not exactly. But there's a subtle value in reframing things, in not looking at them in terms of a 'normal' person versus a 'broken' one, with 'normal' being the default. Both are just people, and neither are so firmly set into their categories as many are often led to believe.
Although he's been watching the river as he spoke, he turns his attention back to Ellie again, no longer talking in vague terms but in direct ones.]
Who you you were in the Aerie isn't better than who you are now. Maybe there are things about that version of you that you liked more, and that's okay, but there's nothing wrong with who you are here. Especially not when you consider what you've had to face just to make it this far.
no subject
What she doesn't believe in or trust is herself, and her own judgment, because it's been so skewed for so long. But she doesn't know how to begin to explain that.]
There's having fucked up things happen to you, and then there's... becoming the fucked up things that happen to other people, and not knowing how to not be?
[It sounds stupid when she says it, but Ellie doesn't know anything about the cycle of violence, or the patterns of trauma that repeat through families. All she knows are the things she's seen and experienced.]
no subject
[It doesn't sound stupid, and not just because he's a psychologist who does know how all of this works, but because he's had to live it. He had the chance to start working on all of this much earlier than she did, but it was still a long and difficult process.]
No one reacts in exactly the same way to the things that happen to them, and I'm sure you know that, but I'm saying it because those differences mean that who you become--or avoid becoming--depends on who you are, and how what's happened in your life affects you.
[He doesn't want to get too professional about this, because he's definitely not giving her professional advice, he just isn't totally sure how else to put it. It's a weird line to find, and he's not sure how successful he's being, but he's trying.]
It can be really hard to figure that out alone, but at the same time you're the person who knows yourself best. Therefore it's a balancing act of trusting someone else, but also trusting yourself, and success doesn't happen in days or weeks or even months, sometimes. But it's something you can do, especially if you're able to ask for help as you go through it.
no subject
She looks slowly from the stone she's holding down to the small, neatly stacked pile that Lance has completed between them. She can feel her pulse in her fingertips, and she swallows down a lump in her throat.
Ellie reaches out and adds the stone to it, balancing it there.
Silence falls again between them, something tenuous on the back of her tongue.]
You're a criminal profiler, right?
no subject
Yeah. Or was, anyway.
no subject
It's messier than she thought, and in trying to think of the question, it frames things out for her. Some of the questions are too horrible to ask, and she's not sure she wants the answers.
She starts and stops.]
... what did you think, when you met me?
no subject
When Ellie does finally choose her question, Lance returns his attention to her.]
I thought you were someone who had been through a lot.
[He could say more, but he's not sure just yet if she'd actually want to hear it; people don't always want to be read, even when they ask to be, and that may not really be the point of this question anyway.]
no subject
Ellie pulls her legs up a bit, hooks her hands under her knees, and looks out at the water.]
That's a safe guess for almost everybody here.
[She turns, resting her temple on her knee, looking at Lance.]
You are, too. Someone who's been through a lot.
[It's flat, when she says it. Just an observation. And maybe it's callous, laying it out so plainly, letting him know the extent of what she's picked up about him. For Ellie, being seen is hard, and for Lance, it's being heard.]
There's stuff that you can train somebody how to do, and then there's stuff that you just get. Because you've been there.
no subject
It's been a risk, here, to allow that to drop. For the most part, that risk hasn't been worth it; there have been so many experiences that have reignited that little voice that tells him how he knows better than this, that he should've expected things to go badly, and he has no one to blame but himself.
But there have been parts that have been worth it. One of those is just not having to hide so much all the time, and because of that, he can talk to people more genuinely. That's what he's allowed to happen here, and so he'd known the risk in that was that she might notice he's speaking from experience, but that risk feels worth it if it means she might believe in what he's saying.
So he lets out a long, quiet sigh, though he still manages a faint smile when he looks back at her and echoes her words from earlier--]
Am I that obvious?
[But it's a joke, entirely rhetorical, and he soon continues more seriously.]
It's different, for everyone; what they've been through, how they've dealt with it, what's best for them in moving forward. But there's always a way forward, no matter how impossible it might be to see it from where you are.
[And he's allowing, with that statement and hers before it, for it to be clear that he isn't saying that just because he's observed others go through it.]
no subject
It feels more like a Lance thing than a therapist thing, but what does she know?]
Only if you know what to look for.
[That much is devastatingly true.]
... you really think that? That there's a way forward for everybody?
no subject
If they want to take to take it, yes. It can be really difficult, and they might not be able to find it alone, but it's there.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
cw: violence
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)