Chapter Text
There are three things that a therapist probably shouldn’t be. Arrogant, cold, and judgemental. By the nature of their position, specialists need to be willing to put their feelings aside. They need to be empathetic towards their clients, and they need to be open-minded enough to assist in their issues.
Somehow, Dr. Ashley Kafka found herself to be all three of those things and still a damn good therapist. Good enough of a therapist in fact that in the height of her career, she was called upon by the U.S. government for a job second to that of a superhero. A job that truly challenged her intellect and allowed her to explore the far reaches of her field. Answer questions that nobody dared to ask.
But those days in the height of her career were over, and now Kafka found herself dealing with the petty problems of regular civilians. It was dull and easy work but nevertheless, she found ways to enjoy it. She picked away at her clients slowly, letting the surface of their person fall away to reveal their deepest nature. The ones she could easily deal with were unstimulating for her mind.
Her more enjoyable clients were of a certain type.
And from the moment he walked through the door of Dr. Kafka’s practice, she could tell that Peter B. Parker was one of those types. The ‘do what I want and deal with consequences later’ type. He wore a worn green coat, unevenly buttoned over dark gray sweatpants. The depressing kind, not the sexy kind. His hair was very obviously uncombed, and she could smell (from her office) the AXE body spray being used to cover up weeks worth of B.O.
As a therapist, she shouldn’t judge the inability of someone to properly take care of themselves, especially in times of stress or hardship. She also shouldn’t assume things about a patient before getting the chance to talk to them. But Kafka rarely bothered with what she “should” and “shouldn’t” be doing in the privacy of her own brain.
And from the lazy and overly-sarcastic way that Mr. Parker spoke to her receptionist, she felt justified to judge and assume all she liked.
“Excuse me, doctor?” Tio slid the cracked office door open wider, peeking their head into the room. Dr. Kafka waved them inside without lifting her gaze from the monitor in front of her.
“There’s a man here to-” Tio started, but Dr. Kafka quickly cut them off.
“I know.” She said, sipping her coffee. “I heard.” The second remark sounded more annoyed than Kafka had intended, and she flicked her eyes up to see Tio smiling slyly. But they quickly straightened their gaze as the two made eye contact.
“Would you like me to send him in?” Tio asked
“Yes, sure.” She sighed. “Has he signed any forms yet or-”
“Just the services agreement, HIPPA forms, all that. He wants to answer any other questions you might have in person. In his words, he doesn’t have time for writing.”
“This is going to be a nightmare” Kafka held the bridge of her nose for a minute, trying to get her headache under control. She looked back up at Tio to see them smiling widely again.
“I said that outloud didn’t I?”
“Yes ma’am, you did.” They answered, still grinning ear-to-ear. Kafka rolled her eyes and tapped her pen on the table. Oh how amusing when she proves she’s a fully dimensional person at work, and not just an archetype of stone-cold professionalism. That’s what Tio was thinking, if Kafka were to guess.
“Well, send him in.” She stood from behind her desk, gesturing Tio out the door. She walked between the couch and her designated armchair, taking a glance at her desk to make sure it was pristine. Kafka also turned to take a look in the mirror hung by the window, smoothing and pulling her skirt to get rid of the stubborn wrinkles.
“Uh, hi?” Peter poked his head into the office, looking at Kafka sideways through the door. His long brown hair flopped after him, sticking up in every direction and practically begging for a comb. An olive green coat leaned out from behind the door, teaching just above his knees. She’d only gotten a small glance at him as he came in, but obviously he was worse than Kafka had first assumed.
“Dr. Ashley Kafka.” She said, reaching out her hand. “Great to meet you, Mr. Parker.”
“Oh, just call me Peter.” He said, shaking her hand with a sly smile. He stood in front of the door for a second after the handshake had ended, switching his gaze between the couch and the exit, like he was scared his way out was going to disappear.
“I’ll get the door.” Kafka said, smiling. “Please take a seat on the couch over there.”
“Mm-hmm.” His voice was strained, and Kafka noticed him hanging onto his coat for dear life. She would assume that he was homeless if he didn’t have an address written on his forms. Looking over his clothes again, she saw that they were as unwashed as the rest of him, with small but noticeable dark stains on his pants and overcoat. Ones that looked oddly like blood. She gagged silently, facing the door, before turning around to go sit across from Peter.
“It’s been a while since I’ve gotten a new patient.” Kafka remarked, flipping through the pages on her clipboard. She glanced up, and Peter was staring in every direction that prevented him from making eye contact with her. She didn’t feel the need to ask the question in her mind, but it was standard.
“Is this your first time doing therapy, Mr. Parker?”
“Peter.” He insisted again, finally looking in her direction. “And no.”
“Oh, so you’ve done therapy before?”
“Yep.” Peter said. He drummed his thighs like a pair of bongos and after a second of silence, decided to make himself comfortable by leaning all the way back into the couch and manspreading about as much as humanly possible. He kicked one shit-covered shoe onto the coffee table between them, and Kafka didn’t have the energy to ask him to put it back down.
“Well, what brings you here today?”
“A car, obviously.” He smiled, a bit too much. Kafka could feel the vein above her left eye twitching, and Mr. Parker was very fortunate that she had her own therapist to sort out her anger issues with. Otherwise there’d be a head-sized, peter-shaped hole in the wall.
“I intended to ask,” She managed through gritted teeth, “If there is a particular reason that you chose to change specialists? Or to re-explore therapy after a hiatus?”
“Me and my wife did couples therapy, and it sucked. But I feel like nothing’s gonna happen in my life if I don’t…get some help or something? So yeah. That’s it.”
“Well, That’s a good first step.” Kafka said, trying her hand at a comforting expression. This was always the most awkward step in the journey with a patient. Her best work was not done in introductory sessions with clients she had the disposition to dislike. Clients like Peter.
Something about him reminded her of her old work. He was just a man, that was obvious from looking at him. He couldn’t be more plain. But Kafka’s senses went off the radar from everything she noticed about him. His behavior, his appearance, his attitude. Something was wrong about him. Well, not wrong, but definitely off. A normal man from off the streets shouldn’t remind her of the institutionalized, super-human mental patients she had experience in dealing with.
But it was like her own therapist said. Trauma would find every way to seep into her life, including far-fetched connections from meaningless observations. If she tried really hard, she could link all of her patients to Ravencroft Institute. But none of the connections would be founded on logic.
“So,” Peter said, and Kafka then realized that she had been lost in thought and left the room in complete silence for several seconds, “What do we do now?”
“Well, I typically like to start with goals for treatment. In layman’s terms, what do you want to get out of our time together, Mr. Parker?”
“I dunno,” Peter shrugged, “I miss my ex-wife. I know I messed up a shit-ton in our relationship and I- Wait, can I curse?”
“If that is how you feel the need to express yourself,” Kafka sighed, “Then of course you may.”
“Well I wanna talk to her again, ya know? I don’t know if that’s something you can help with?”
“We can explore that, yes.” Kafka continued her notes, “Is there anything else? You mentioned that you wanted to get help so that something would happen in your life. Is your previous relationship what you were referring to?”
“I guess. I mean, I also just want to be a less shitty person? But like, am I made that way?”
“That depends?”
“On what?”
“Your outlook on the universe," Kafka spoke without making eye contact with Peter. She stared down at her notes, slowly becoming scribbles. “Do you believe that people are inherently evil, born with a disposition for heinous acts? Or that evil-ness is learned from somewhere? And if you are evil, can that be changed?”
“I don’t know about evil…I was thinking more of- well, I’m an asshole? And I'd really like to...not be that.”
“That’s something we can definitely work on, yes.” Kafka smiled, the first genuine one since Mr. Parker has graced her office. As he returned it, she could see him becoming slightly more comfortable. Not enough to maintain eye contact for more than two seconds but- baby steps.
“There’s one more thing,” Peter started, “My job? I feel like I used to have a lot of passion for it, especially when I started. But now I kind of do it just because I feel guilty? And there’s nothing else really for me to do? Like, with my life, I mean.”
“That is more common than you think.”
“Well, my job’s a little different.” Kafka looked to see Peter staring at his fingers. His eyes told her that his job was quite different, or at least he believed it to be. And definitely a subject of contention.
“How so?” She asked, testing the waters, and the look he gave her was a sign that she might have tread a bit too far. A beat of silence hit the air as they stared at each other, like two predators locking eyes over a piece of meat. Kafka furrowed her brow slightly, and she could see the defensiveness in Peter’s eyes letting up.
“So we’ve got these goals…” He said suddenly, breaking eye contact, “What are we supposed to do about them?”
Kafka looked down at her clipboard for a moment, wondering whether or not to let the subject go. It was clear that Peter would require a strong foundation of trust before returning to the topic of his career. Not to mention, it was obviously not his main concern.
“It’s helpful for me to gather information first. We’ve just met, and this is an introductory session, so introduce yourself to me.”
“Just…blab about myself?” Peter asked, and Kafka nodded.
“Well, where am I supposed to start?” he asked, finally (to Kafka’s relief) getting his disgusting feet off of her couch. She checked the clock on the wall, and forced a smile onto her face.
“Whatever you’d like to talk about for the next…thirty minutes.” She groaned slightly. Quickly realizing her mistake, she sat up a bit straighter, searching Peter’s face for a reaction. But he either didn’t notice, or didn’t care enough to think up a quip. He just dug a finger into his ear, and readjusted his position on the couch.
And then, he talked.
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Client: Peter B. Parker
Record Number: 8675309
Service: Individual counseling
Duration: 45 minutes
BEHAVIOR:
Notable lack of self-care and maintenance in appearance. Client reports an increasingly unhealthy lifestyle including consumption of large amounts of processed foods, irregular exercise regiment, and repeated sustaining of severe injuries. They were observed to show resistance to ongoing therapy, and indifferent attitude to suggestions of treatment.
CONTENTS:
Explored the client’s previous relationship with therapy and reaction to clinical treatment. Then engaged client in identifying needs for therapy, and created treatment goals to support session attendance. Client discussed variety of topics, but mainly explored the nature of their previous relationship with MJ, and began to process the grief of that lost relationship. Client expressed intense wishes to connect with MJ again, and identified that as one of their treatment goals. When asked about career or work relations, the client was unresponsive.
GOALS:
- Reconnect with MJ and explore conflict resolution strategies, a healthier relationship dynamic, and ongoing communication/comprehension when discussing future plan
- Establish a stronger moral compass that allows for better decision-making
- Find repressed passion for career and overall motivation for living
FOLLOWUP POINTS:
- Expand on the client’s goals to find a more focused path of treatment
- Review prior relationship and identify strategies/skills that the client would benefit from
- Discuss “severe injuries” previously mentioned. Possibly connected to client’s line of work?
- Allow the client room to discuss their family and social circle
RECOMMENDATIONS FOR ONGOING CARE:
Tangible practices that the client can feel will appeal to their worldview and impatience with treatment as a whole. Coping strategies that deal with the physical body are highly recommended. Any attempted strategies to fundamentally change their mindset will most likely be unsuccessful, due to the client’s resistant attitude. Medication is not currently necessary, but may be explored in the future depending on diagnoses.
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Dr. Ashley Kafka
10-13-2017
Something happened today during one of my sessions. Not quite a flashback, as I did not experience any of the events from the Ravencroft incident. Just a gentle reminder of sorts? I suppose it should be seen as progress that I was able to think about the institute without a large amount of duress, but I’m not sure how much of that stems from recovery, or from the fact that I was with a patient.
Speaking of my patient, he is the one that inspired the memory. His name is Peter Parker and he is certainly a character. He looks and smells like a homeless man, he acts like a jock that peaked in high school, and he reminds me of that writer guy from New Girl? The one that never pays his bills? There’s actually a stunning amount of resemblance there, but I am certain that Mr. Parker could never land Zooey Deschanel. Not in a million years. As if he would be at all interested, since he seems to have a morbid obsession with getting back together with his ex-wife. Maybe “morbid” is a stretch, I suppose he could just be in love with her.
I’m well-aware that it’s paranoid to say so, but I cannot shake the feeling of familiarity with Mr. Parker. I know for a fact that we’ve never met, but he reminds me of the patients I used to have. He’s nothing like Electro or Vermin or any of them. It feels more like a “seven degrees of separation” sort of familiarity. It makes me wonder if he is related to any of the patients, or perhaps some of my late colleagues. As much as I would love to do further research, I don’t know if I can stomach it.
It has officially been two years since Massacre escaped, and I feel unsatisfied with the progress I’ve made towards “recovery” and I use that with a large grain of salt. I’ve had patients of my own who made twice the progress in half the time, yet I feel like even after two years, I’m just starting.
There’s no reason for me to feel this way. Massacre is dead, and I’m alive. I won the encounter. Even though I almost bled to death, and most of my coworkers were killed. I still won. Spider-man is out there keeping the world safe. I'm safe. There’s nothing else for me to worry about.
I just feel like I’ve tried every possible thing I could, and I’ve seen little to no progress. I should put this in my notes to bring up with Dr. Abbott. Or I could ditch Abbott altogether and start doing research into getting a new therapist. Maybe I’m truly not the problem.
To-Do List for Tomorrow:
- Research treatment options/new specialist?
- Move money around to give poor Tio a raise
- Try not to have a breakdown at work
- Take a closer look at Peter Parker (and have Tio call about a follow-up session)