11 This Chapter Did Not Go How I Was Expecting

Downtown, Wells Tower, Apartment #54

July 25th, 23:45

///

Slamming her eyes shut, Dr Jessica Yamada takes a deep, shaky breath, before slowly opening her eyes again.

Her ceiling. She just sees her ceiling.

Lurching upward, she pushes herself into a seating position, frantic eyes flashing around the shadowed room. But no one's there. Her dresser is to her left, slightly open, showing a thin line of darkness, but no different to how she remembers leaving it. In front of her is the door, closed, with an open box just off-centre, holding spare bedding.

Turning then to her right, she sees her bedroom window, showing the night sky and bathing the room in shadows, her work desk, with a box of clothes under it, just to the side, placed there so she can enjoy a nice view while she uses it.

It must have been a dream. She only saw Maryam because she spent too long thinking about her before she went to bed. That's all it is.

Then something changes. She doesn't know what, but all her hair suddenly stands on end. She feels like she's being watched.

Adrenaline pumping in her veins, she spins her head around, scanning the room only to find it as empty as before.

She's just imagining things.

But as her rapid heartbeat starts slowing down, she turns to the window, finding the silence from outside eerie.

Letting out a sigh, she shakes her head.

She's just imagining things. A mixture of nerves and a lack of sleep, nothing more.

Yet, something catches her eye in the window.

When she looks over, it takes her a moment to find it. A...red...dot? Is someone shining a laser at her window?

But wait...that light...

It's not coming from outside...it's not a light at all...

...It's a reflection.

Her heart stills as, with her realisation, the reflection in the mirror suddenly becomes clear.

A red orb, staring at her from her dresser.

It blinks.

With all of her experience dealing with troubled parahumans, she barely withholds a scream as she scrambles away from her dresser and onto the floor, landing in a tangle of bedsheets and hurting herself a little with the fall.

But she's feeling too much adrenaline to care, and instead turns her wide eyes to the dresser, incapable of stopping her body from shaking.

However, when she looks closer, she mentally berates herself for being so dramatic.

Giving a self-deprecating sigh, she climbs to her feet, using her bed as leverage and walks around her room to the dresser, resting one hand over her heart, her body feeling light.

"I really should stop staying up so late, coffee can't save me all the time," she mutters to herself as she reaches her dresser and swings it open.

A wagasa falls out, and she catches it before it hits the ground. It's just an umbrella, one that was gifted to her by her mother, in the hopes it would convince her to focus more on tea ceremonies than her psychology courses.

But thanks to those courses, she can explain exactly what just happened. It's not unusual for people to experience psychological phenomena when relocating, for a whole host of reasons. Her mind is just trying to adapt to a new environment, that's all. And this is just a side-effect of that, nothing else.

"And really, I'm supposed to be the therapist here," she says with some mirth, leaning the wagasa back into the dresser in such a way that it won't-

Something touched her.

Spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, Jessica almost falls backwards into her dresser as she stares out into her dark, silent room.

Something definitely touched her. She felt it. A hand brushing against her hip, a warm breath on the back of her neck.

As soon as she thinks that, one of her hands snaps up to her neck, but she doesn't feel any lingering warmth. Her other hand reaches for the wagasa.

"C-come out! W-whatever it is you hope to gain from this, I don't have anything to offer." She curses how she fails to keep her voice steady, and then curses again as silence answers her.

Is she really imagining things? It's hard to say. It could just be a parahuman screwing with her. But does that really make it any better, if you know the monster under the bed is actually real, and not just-

Wait. Under the bed.

Taking a step forward, she reaches for the lamp on her bedside table and flicks it on, and then opens the small draw and takes out a simple mirror. No way is she bending down to look under the bed herself right now.

Instead, she drops the mirror and the light, letting it shine under the bed and using her feet to angle the mirror so she can get a look.

Nothing. 

There's nothing.

Another sigh leaves her. All she's done is break her lamp.

Picking it up, she leaves the room, and pours herself a glass of water in the kitchen, checking the time as she does. About midnight.

The cold water feels like ice as it travels down her dry throat, but she feels the effect as her heartbeat returns to a more normal level.

Briefly, she contemplates calling someone, but logically speaking, there would be no reason for anyone to target her. She's just a therapist, a replaceable one at that. 

Instead of calling anyone, she decides to just go back to bed, and sleep it all off. Though, she does make a stop by a certain box of hers. It takes only a moment to open it, allowing sight of a smooth black box with a code lock.

A few twists later and it clicks open, revealing a 9mm Browning pistol. God Bless America.

Taking it out of it's case, she loads a clip, and makes sure that it's in good shape before returning to her room, making sure to firmly close the door behind her, as well as her dresser.

And once she picks her covers back up and climbs back into bed, she starts drifting back off to dreamland, with the comforting weight of a pistol in her grip under her pillow.

Soon enough, her worries start fading away, drowning in the comfort she feels under her covers.

Her mind starts going hazy, returning to that peaceful state between dreams, luxuriating in the contrast between the warmth under her thick covers and the cool breeze on her face.

...Wait...

Breeze?

Shooting upright once more, she doesn't hesitate to bring her gun to bare, pointing it at her open window with both hands.

"Show yourself! I know you're here! Stop hiding!"

Silence answers her.

Her gun is swaying, no, her hands are. She's shaking.

Tink.

Her heart catches in her throat as she spins around, waving her gun in the direction of her dresser, a wild look in her eyes.

"What do you want from me!" She yells out, and as soon as she does, dresser door starts opening.

Jessica doesn't hesitate.

Click!

Nothing happens. She pulls the trigger again, but nothing happens. In her shock, she can only watch as a figure falls from the dresser.

Her wagasa.

It was just her wagasa falling over.

But that doesn't explain her window being open. Or her pistol not firing.

Eyes widening, she ejects her magazine, only to freeze as she finds it empty of bullets. Instead, all that is inside is a rolled up piece of paper.

Hesitantly, and with a few glances spared to her room, she unravels the paper. It is blank, save for four words.

"What makes a name?"

Her hands clench. Whoever is doing this knows who she is, that's for certain. She's rather known for having a dislike of cape names, preferring her patients to use their real names, so as to not dehumanise them.

Whoever is doing this, they are mocking her. Mocking her beliefs in her work.

Oddly, that does more to calm her than anything else. Somehow, knowing that this is all because of her job makes it easier to deal with.

She's met plenty of dangerous parahumans in a number of asylums. She's nearly died to them more times than she can count. She's been face to face with more monsters than any Hero.

Knowing that whoever is doing this is just another troubled parahuman only makes her calmer. If anything, it makes her want to help them, whoever is the cause.

Doing this is certainly not healthy behaviour. Maybe it's just their own way of seeking therapy?

She doesn't know, but it's her job to help troubled parahumans. And her job is very important to her.

Breathing deep, Jessica lays her pistol on her bedside table and looks out at the empty room from her spot on her bed.

"I'm sorry for pointing my gun at you, I hope I didn't scare you, I was merely surprised."

She doesn't know if they're still here or if they've already left. But she'll do her job, even if she is only talking to herself.

"To answer your question, I believe our names defines us. I believe that if you start using a 'cape name' more than your actual, human name, then you will dehumanise yourself. Take Legend, for example. When one thinks of Legend, they only think of the Superhero, not the man. But he is a man, behind the mask. I believe that it's important to remember who you are, without a mask."

The only sound that answers her is the flapping of her curtains in the light wind.

"I'm sorry, but without any responses, I'm not sure how I can help."

Still, silence.

Sighing to herself, she lies back down, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes.

"If you will not answer, I have to get up early, so I shall be going to sleep now. Goodnight."

She decides to leave her window open, and does her best to brush off the uncomfortable feeling that she might not be alone enough to actually fall asleep.

Something tells her that she will really need that coffee in the morning.

///

Hannah's house

July 26th, 08:10

///

Pinning the troublesome duo with a glare, Hannah does her best to ignore their poses to focus on the seriousness of the situation, but it's not easy.

She was just watching the morning news while they ate their breakfast in the kitchen behind her, when a segment came on reporting about a pair of incidences that took place last night. During the time Suzuya and Mary were both out, to be precise.

The first incident involved a lot of bubbles and is in the process of being cleaned, but at least it won't be too expensive to fix, just some salt water, which is not difficult to get in a bay city. That incident was caused by 'a pair of young women' who match Suzuya and Mary's descriptions perfectly. Minus the fact that Suzuya is a boy, but he does look very feminine.

The second incident however, involved a speeding bike crashing into a bodega. That one is a much more serious offence, and while she has no proof that the two of them were also responsible, she's also not stupid.

However, when she turned around to question them, she found both of them trying to sneak back upstairs like an old time cartoon villain, their arms and legs raised high in exaggerated sneakiness.

They really can't take anything seriously, can they?

"Mary. Suzuya." She says, her voice stern.

Immediately, the both straighten up, like soldiers standing at attention, and as one they call out, ""hai!""

"You are both going to volunteer to help clean that fountain you've ruined-" She starts, only to get interrupted by Mary.

"What! Why?"

"The descriptions for the ones responsible match you both, I know you did it."

"That's just circumstantial evidence."

"How many teenage girls do you think there are in the city with white hair?"

"I have my hair dye, remember? So people don't connect me to Falcon."

"Uhuh, but you were in such a rush last night that you didn't use it."

"That's still not proof. Wouldn't hold up in court."

"Let's call it community service then, you're still on probation remember?"

"Tch." In the face of Hannah's smug grin, Mary can only click her tongue.

Meanwhile, Hannah coughs into her fist, mentally berating herself for giving such a look. They're being a bad influence on her.

"Not only that, but I'm going to have a talk with the owner of that bodega, and try to convince them not to press charges in exchange for due compensation, that will come from your pay, and an apology from your mouths."

"What does that have to do with us! Just because it happened on the same night we were out, that doesn't mean we had anything to do with it!"

"It's community service then." She has to try really hard to hide how cute she finds the pout that Mary gives her.

Meanwhile Suzuya has just been watching, his head going back and forth as they argued, like he was watching a tennis match.

"This is extortion," Mary mumbles to herself, but she ignores it.

"Now, enough about that, go get changed, I've got to get to work and you both have your therapy appointments today."

"We don't need therapy," Mary huffs, just as adamant as she was when the prospect of therapy was first brought up in the first place.

Hannah knows that there's no point in arguing with her on this, but she's heard great things about Dr Yamada, so she hopes that Mary will change her tune somewhat after the first session.

Because she really does need therapy. The vast majority of parahumans do, so it's nothing to be ashamed about. Hannah, as well as all the other Protectorate Heroes have a mandated therapy visit every month, with optional visits between. She knows Dauntless frequents them. He has a lot on his shoulders.

Shaking useless thoughts from her head, Hannah goes about packing her things, while the kids race each other up the stairs, a series of thuds in their wake as they no doubt shove each other into the walls trying to get ahead.

She never really understood why people would claim parenting is so tiresome until these two hellions got placed in her care.

She keeps finding knife holes in her walls...

Thud.

...She's going to choose to ignore that.

Still, it doesn't take too long before they are all packed away in her Humvee, dressed in their respective costumes. 

Hannah is in the front, driving, obviously. While the 'kids' are in the back breaking seatbelt regulations. Suzuya is leaning his back against one door, playing Tetris on Mary's Gameboy while shoving resting his feet on Mary's lap, while she simply rests her head on the window and stares blankly at the passing scenery, the exact same as she always does when in a car.

Regardless, the drive is mostly silent, and they arrive at the PHQ soon enough, passing over the prismatic barrier that serves as a bridge to the refitted oil-rig.

Walking through the building, she leads the pair to the Wards' room, finding most of the other wards already present, only missing Gallant, Clockblocker, and Redemption, or Dean, Dennis and Emma, respectively.

That still leaves Aegis, Triumph and Vista, or Carlos, Rory and Missy, in the room. The former of whom is sitting on console duty, while the other two are each doing their own thing, reading a book and tapping away at her phone respectively.

As they walk in, they are each given a nod of greeting by Dean and Missy before they returned to what they were doing, while Rory instead closes his book and jumps to his feet moving over to them, Mary specifically.

"Yo, good morning Miss Militia, Suzuya, Mary."

"Good morning, Rory."

"Ohayou."

"'Sup."

With greetings out of the way, they walk further into the room and Rory takes a spot besides Mary, speaking with a smile, "we've got a patrol later today, right? It'll be the first time we'll be working together, so I was hoping we could have a chat about it, before Miss Yamada arrives?"

Mary only slumps at his words, getting a dead look to her eyes. "Hais~, working on a Sunday. Such misfortune~."

"Aha, I get that," Rory agrees with a nod, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "but I'd say the amount of time we get off school because of it all kinda makes up for it."

"I wouldn't know."

"Ah, right. You joined right after school let out didn't you? Will you be doing your final year of high school come September, or are you going into college or something?" He asks as they reach the kitchenette, Mary grabbing a coffee and Rory a can of Coke while there.

"Uni," is all Mary says in answer, a deep sigh leaving her, showing just how she feels about having to attend.

"Oh? The only uni in Brockton is the one connected to Arcadia, right?"

At his words, Mary pokes a finger into his chest, "don't go thinking I'm gonna come down to hang out with you on my lunch brakes."

"Ahah, I wasn't thinking that," he says as they take a seat on the same sofa with an honest smile, "I was just thinking that it means if there's ever an emergency, it'd be easier for us all to gather," she gives him a sceptical look that only makes him smile wider, "honest."

"Hmph, not like it'd matter anyway. You wouldn't be called in for an emergency, the Youth Guard would throw a fit. I, meanwhile, will no longer be a Ward shortly after school starts, so I won't have that problem~."

"Yeah, I know," he admits with a sigh, "but if it's enough of an emergency, we'll still be able to help, even if we have to apologise later. But anyway, what courses are you gonna be doing in uni?"

"Fucked if I know," is the immediate response, with a shrug of the shoulders for further emphasis.

Staring at her in confusion as she takes a long sip of her coffee, Rory's brows furrow together. "Wait, you haven't decided? You only have like, a month and a half before you start, right? And surely you'd need to have your decision made before then?"

She just shrugs again, "they're the ones who want me to attend, I'm sure they can pull some strings. And a month is plenty of time, I'll just pick whatever I feel like at the last moment."

"Isn't that kind of reckless?"

"Sure, but I'm not gonna be a very good student anyway, so I don't really give a shit. I'm probably just gonna be a Hero 'til I die, so what good is a diploma when I already have the job?"

"I mean..." He can't really think of a counter to that, but it still feels kind of wrong.

Before he can contemplate it any further, a brief horn blares across the room, and his eyes are drawn to the closed door, where there is a blinking green light going off. That's their warning that the doors are going to be opened, and that they should put on a mask if they don't want to give their identity away.

So naturally, all the Wards reach into a pocket, or off to the side, where they each have a domino mask at hand, except for Mary, who puts on her blindfold and Suzuya, who just doesn't understand why he should care.

The door opens, and they are greeted by the sight of a smart looking Japanese woman in a suit. With glasses and shoulder length straight black hair, she strikes a very professional figure, but with a warm smile that really stands out. Though she looks rather tired, with a coffee in her hands still steaming.

"Ah, Dr Yamada, you're here." Miss Militia says, getting up to greet the shorter woman.

"Indeed I am, Miss Militia, feel free to just call me Jessica though."

They shake hands, and then Miss Militia turns to address the Wards, "alright everybody, this is Dr Jessica Yamada, you'll all be seeing her for the next while, so introduce yourselves."

Rory is the first, getting to his feet and making his way over to offer his hand, which she shakes readily enough. "I'm Triumph, nice to meet you, Miss Yamada."

Following his lead, Gallant gallantly gets to his feet and introduces himself, "Gallant, it's a pleasure, Miss Yamada."

The other three are rather less enthusiastic.

"Vista," is all Vista says, a scowl on her face as she very purposely returns her attention to her phone, sulking.

"Ohayou gozaimas," Suzuya says, forgetting to actually introduce herself.

And then comes Mary, who decides not to bother with her identity like the rest, and takes off her blindfold, raising a single arm in unenthusiastic greeting, "hey there, Jess-chan."

However, Dr Yamada's eyes widen at her introduction, a thousand thoughts seeming to pass through her head before she schools her expression, acting as if nothing happened, however, she still pauses long enough to be noticeable, making Mary speak up again.

"What? You are Japanese, right? I figured you'd prefer suffixes to prefix?"

"Ah, right, sorry, I've just moved into a new place, so I didn't get much sleep last night, forgive me if I seem at all absent minded, this coffee should have me all awake in a moment." None of them question her reasoning, finding it perfectly reasonable. 

They've all worked night shifts, after all. 

But with the introductions over, it doesn't take long until Yamada finds herself in her new 'office', alongside Maryam, her first patient today.

She'd rather have had time to customise her office before using it, but at the very least it has a pair of sofa-chairs in it for them to sit, with a small coffee table between them.

"So," Mary starts right after plopping in her seat, eyes roaming around the room and tone uninterested, "how's this supposed to work anyway?"

Pushing aside any suspicions in the face of her professionalism, Yamada pulls out a small notebook and pencil that she lays on her lap as she answers, "well, it varies from person to person. Do you have any expectations for how this should work?"

"I was expecting encouraging cat posters on the walls. I'm disappointed."

Her lip twitches at that, "I'm afraid I haven't had the time to decorate yet, I'll be sure to fix that."

"Hmm."

"I get the sense that you are not particularly happy about having to attend therapy with me?"

"Woah, a genius~," Mary mockingly whispers, but Yamada pays it no mind, even as she can't help but think back to her rather restless night. Whether her suspicions are true or not doesn't matter, she'll do her job regardless.

"Do you have a specific reason for this dislike?"

The deadpan look she gets in response tells her a lot. Mainly that Mary clearly doesn't care for obvious questions, though she is also being purposefully pedantic about it.

"Allow me to rephrase. Would you be willing to share the reason for your dislike?"

This time, the look is slightly more inquisitive, but just as condescending. "'Cuz it's pointless. I don't need therapy, and even if I did need or want therapy, it would be retarded and illogical to expect you to suffice for the position."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're only human." The response is immediate and though the tone is light, it contains a depth to it that is not immediately decipherable. 

"And are you not?" She asks, a slight tilt to her head.

Mary only lets out a snort. "Parahuman, remember? You do know what that means, right, Dr?"

Clearly, Mary likes facts more than opinions, so she recalls her etymology classes. "Para come from the Greek, meaning 'next to' or 'side by side'. Surely simply being 'next to' humanity is close enough that we can understand each other, no?"

"Sure, except your missing the other way para was used by the Greek, where it meant 'going beyond'. And that seems more accurate, doesn't it? I'm not 'next to' human, the difference isn't so slight. I could pick up a car and use it to crush a family of four, no human can do that."

That is a...worrying example to use. But it also provides an opportunity.

"On the subject of your powers, could you remind me what they are?" She asks, secretly wanting to compare the power to what she experienced last night.

"Sure, I can trade my senses for power, and generate some fire too."

"I see," Yamada says, failing to see how those powers would have explained her restless night, but that doesn't mean she forgets her job. "Do you like having powers?"

"Jess-chan, that's Obvious. I was thinking about picking up smoking, and I'll be able to light up without ever needing a lighter."

"I suppose that's one way to use powers. Do you mind if I call you by your name, instead of Falcon?"

"Why? Falcon works fine."

The conversation brings back memories from last night, but that wasn't nearly the first time she's explained this, so she has no problem repeating her beliefs. "I prefer using actual, real names. I feel that using fake, cape names, only dehumanises people."

"That's retarded," Mary immediately answers, garnering no reaction from the woman who is used to hearing her belief be brushed over, "a name is a name. It's just a fucking word, so long as it can be understood what you're referring to when you say something, then what does it matter how you say it?"

"Because a name is an identity. If people only ever talk to Falcon, then who will talk to Maryam?"

"That's retarded. People get nicknames all the time, but no one is going to suddenly think they're a fucking baby because their partner exclusively calls them Babe, now will they?"

And thus, the rest of the session moved in a similar manner, with Mary playing the devil's advocate to anything and everything Yamada says.

A troublesome patient indeed.

///

A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!

You might have noticed that I do therapy chapters more than might be necessary, the truth is that I have been desperately trying to recreate the joy of my first ever therapy chapter, chapter 16 of Murder Wizard.

Because, to this day, like 700k words later, that is still my favourite chapter of all time. It was so fun to write. But nothing can compare. :( 

I tried recreating it here, but it just wasn't the same, hence why I didn't finish the session, and I'm not gonna show the other sessions.

Also, I wanted things to go different with Yamada, but I was listening to spooky music at the start of the chapter, and then I was like, "ok, I'll just fuck Yamada up then and scare the shit out of her so bad she resigns or something, that'd be funny" but then she ended up just proving the worm fandom right and being a really fucking good therapist, and kind of a badass tbh, so I guess she's gonna stay...

(4)Advanced chapters on pat.reon, link in description and profile. Also, join the discord with this invite code! Pj3Dttwses