Chapter 1: Dr Owen Harper
Notes:
Thanks to Jackdaw816 for the idea! I ran wild with it.
Fair warning: I played with the parts left out of canon more than a bit.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
File: Patient 12 (Doctor O. Harper)
Name: Harper, Owen B.
Date of Birth: 14 February 1980 Location of Birth: London, England, United Kingdom, Earth
Mother: Harper, Rachel A. Father: Redacted
Death Date: 23 May 2008
Occupation: Doctor/Mortician, Torchwood Three
Notes:
Dr O. Harper trained at Cardiff Royal Infirmary until death of late fiancée (see: Katie Russell). Transferred to Torchwood Three, Cardiff in September of 2004. Death due to gunshot wound (see: Harper, O, Med. File 37) on the twenty-third of May, 2008. Revitalised due to experimental alien technology (see: "Risen Mitten") on twenty-fourth of May, 2008. Placed on suspension due to being returned only to semi-lifelike state (see: Harper, O, Med. File 38). Reinstated two weeks later.
Item 7a:
Session Six, conducted by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008. Recorded medium (see: Grant, F, Record File 247).
Transcript of recording as follows:
(Tape begins.)
Dr Felicity Grant: Alrighty, this is Dr Grant, Felicity, here with Patient 12, Dr Harper, Owen, for our... sixth session.
Dr Owen Harper: Why do you open it like that? "Patient 12." What am I, some sort of lab experiment?
Dr F. Grant: It's standard UNIT recording procedures for each session. I'm to identify myself, then you.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah, but "patient?" Still sounds like you're going to dissect me.
Dr F. Grant: You know I'm not.
Dr O. Harper: Do I? For all I know, you could be here to infiltrate us. We hardly know a thing about you.
Dr F. Grant: Well, maybe you'd know more about me if you showed up to your last appointment. Hm?
Dr O. Harper: I... was... busy.
Dr F. Grant: Doing?
Dr O. Harper: Paperwork.
Dr F. Grant: We both know you don't do your paperwork.
Dr O. Harper: Maybe I do, if it means I don't have to see you.
Dr F. Grant: Owen.
Dr O. Harper: Look, I just don't think I need to be doing this, okay? What's the point? I'm dead. Can't get much deader.
Dr F. Grant: Dr Jones said you were--
Dr O. Harper: What does Martha know?
(A short pause.)
Dr F. Grant: I thought you and Dr Jones were friends.
Dr O. Harper: We were. We are. I just... It's not fair of her to be meddling like this. She hasn't got the right.
Dr F. Grant: She's not meddling at all.
Dr O. Harper: Isn't she? She sent you.
Dr F. Grant: Fair point. But have you considered that you might actually need this?
(Another short pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Didn't think so. You've sat here for five sessions and all you've bothered to do is hedge. You make sarcastic, caustic, and even inappropriate comments; you deflect, lie, and cheat your way out, and you never once talk about yourself in any way that matters. The most meaningful thing I've gotten from you is "I'm worried Tosh is into me in a way I might never be able to reciprocate." Of course, right after that, you made a slightly derogatory comment about women.
Dr O. Harper: Well, I was right, wasn't I? Her--
Dr F. Grant: Thanks, but I'd rather not hear it again.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah. Right.
Dr F. Grant: But my point is, even after these five sessions, you fail to improve. On anything. And you're still, as I'd say, a depressive wreck.
Dr O. Harper: Is that an official diagnosis, doctor?
Dr F. Grant: For you? Very well might be. You stood on the edge of a roof with another woman.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah, to talk her out of jumping!
Dr F. Grant: Are you sure?
Dr O. Harper: Yes! I'm not a--Look. Even if I am a... "depressive wreck," or whatever, that doesn't mean I want to talk to you.
Dr F. Grant: That's fine. But we're going to anyway.
Dr O. Harper: Bloody... you're a piece of work, you know that?
Dr F. Grant: I'm well aware.
Dr O. Harper: This is why you haven't got friends.
Dr F. Grant: I'll have you know, my friend circle is well-rounded and filled with some rather good people. Unlike yours. How many friends do you actually have, Owen? Outside of work, I mean.
Dr O. Harper: Those twats aren't my friends.
Dr F. Grant: Well, then, how many friends do you have? Just a guess. How many, Owen?
(A long pause. Pencil scratching against a pad of paper follows the sound of a creaking chair.)
Dr O. Harper: Oi! Don't write that--I have got friends!
Dr F. Grant: Alright. How many?
Dr O. Harper: This is bloody ridiculous... I dunno, five?
Dr F. Grant: You have five friends.
Dr O. Harper: Yes.
Dr F. Grant: Five.
Dr O. Harper: That's what I said, isn't it?
Dr F. Grant: Five. Really? Just five?
Dr O. Harper: Okay, are you going to sit and mock me, or are we going to get around to the point where you actually do something with this information?
Dr F. Grant: Oh, so now you want me to help you in this therapy session? I thought you'd rather me not.
Dr O. Harper: I--Stop bloody twisting my words! Jesus Christ...
Dr F. Grant: Just trying to get the records straight.
(Incoherent mumbling from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr F. Grant: Sorry, what was that?
Dr O. Harper: I said, fuck off.
Dr F. Grant: Gladly. After we finish our session.
Dr O. Harper: God. You could drive a man to drink.
Dr F. Grant: So I've been told. But you can't drink. Want to talk about how that's affecting you? As I've heard, you were quite the alcoholic before your--
Dr O. Harper: Resurrection? No, I bloody was not an alcoholic, thank you very much. I drank when I felt like it. No more, no less.
Dr F. Grant: Which was all the time, I take it.
Dr O. Harper: It was not!
Dr F. Grant: Hm.
Dr O. Harper: What's that supposed to mean?
Dr F. Grant: Nothing. It was just a hum.
(Silence, punctuated intermittently by more writing-related noises.)
Dr O. Harper: What are you writing? What are you writing about me?
Dr F. Grant: That you're an insensitive prick who should be locked away forever and ever.
Dr O. Harper: Ha bloody ha. You're a real comedian.
Dr F. Grant: I'd like to think. Alright, if we're not going to talk about your sudden loss of your one true love of alcohol, what about sex?
Dr O. Harper: You can fuck right off.
Dr F. Grant: I'll take that as a no, then. What about food, then? Or sleep?
Dr O. Harper: You piss me off. Yeah, I miss them. Who wouldn't?
Dr F. Grant: Why?
Dr O. Harper: Why? What the hell do you mean, "why?" It's a basic necessity!
Dr F. Grant: Not any longer.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah, well it should be! Means I'd be alive!
Dr F. Grant: And you want to be alive?
Dr O. Harper: Of course I fucking do!
Dr F. Grant: What for?
Dr O. Harper: "What f--" Jesus Christ, do you hear yourself? Why the hell wouldn't I want to be alive? I can't do shit now, when I'm dead, can I? All I do is sit and wait for the day to start over so I can go to bloody work. It's fucking awful!
Dr F. Grant: So, what you're saying is, you want to be alive so you can experience things again?
Dr O. Harper: I guess!
Dr F. Grant: Experiencing things... like eating, sleeping... drinking and sex?
(A drawn-out sigh from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr O. Harper: What the hell else am I going to experience?
Dr F. Grant: Right. Hm.
Dr O. Harper: Now what?
Dr F. Grant: Well, wouldn't you say that's rather cyclical of you?
Dr O. Harper: What is?
Dr F. Grant: You want to eat, sleep, drink, and have sex, because then that means you'll be alive, but you also want to be alive so you can eat, sleep, drink, and have sex.
(A long silence.)
Dr O. Harper: You're so fucking annoying.
Dr F. Grant: Quite.
Dr O. Harper: Over-analyse everything I bloody say.
Dr F. Grant: Indeed.
Dr O. Harper: Shut up.
Dr F. Grant: Shall we talk about your father next?
Dr O. Harper: Piss off. Wait. Why? Has Ianto talked about his? Is that why you're asking? What's he said?
Dr F. Grant: You know better than anyone I can't tell you that.
(More incoherent muttering from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr F. Grant: It is what it is. But no, Mr Jones is not why I'm asking you about your father. Mr Jones bears no relevance on the things we talk about. Unless there's something you need to discuss that concerns Mr Jones?
Dr O. Harper: "Mr Jones"... you make him sound like a bloody butler. I mean, we all joke about it, but he's not, not really. He's a giant tit, though.
Dr F. Grant: I'll be sure to tell him you said so.
Dr O. Harper: Can't. Doctor-patient confidentiality. "You know better than anyone" and all that shit.
Dr F. Grant: You've got me there. So, no real complaints about Mr Jones?
Dr O. Harper: Other than him being a giant tit and an overall wet blanket? Nah, not really.
Dr F. Grant: ...do you really have such a low opinion on all your teammates?
Dr O. Harper: Only the ones shagging the boss.
Dr F. Grant: Yes, Captain Jack Harkness. Who I believe is somewhat of a father figure to yourself, am I correct?
Dr O. Harper: What? No! No, you're bloody not correct! Jesus, is this the shit you write down about me? I'm not the one with daddy issues! That's fucking Ianto, not me!
Dr F. Grant: I'm taking that as a yes...
(A long, enraged sigh from Dr O. Harper, mingled with the furious scribbling of a pencil.)
Dr O. Harper: Bloody hate therapists...
Dr F. Grant: Oh, really? I couldn't tell.
Dr O. Harper: Shut up.
Dr F. Grant: Now. Your father. You credit him as being the reason you became a doctor.
(A derisive, scornful laugh from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr O. Harper: Christ...
Dr F. Grant: I take it that that's not the case, then, is it?
Dr O. Harper: Everyone's got their personal "doctor story", you know? Their whole "I became a doctor because I saw someone sick!" The kind of delusional bullshit you put on an application for med school and then never bother to stop telling everyone.
Dr F. Grant: And that's yours?
Dr O. Harper: Yeah.
Dr F. Grant: And it's made up.
Dr O. Harper: Yep.
Dr F. Grant: Is everyone's?
Dr O. Harper: Probably. I don't know. Don't care.
Dr F. Grant: But yours is.
Dr O. Harper: Just said it was.
Dr F. Grant: Why that?
Dr O. Harper: What, that my father died and I couldn't do shit to stop it?
Dr F. Grant: Yes.
Dr O. Harper: 'Cause it's better than saying I never knew him. You know people. They want a sob story. A real sob story, mind. Not the kind like mine. Those are just ignored. Nobody wants to hear about the poor kid with an shit mother and absent father. They want bullshit tragedies that they can cry their crocodile tears over.
Dr F. Grant: I can see where your cynicism comes from...
Dr O. Harper: Well, fucking good for you. What do you want, a gold medal?
(A drawn-out sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr O. Harper: Is that what you wanted from me, then? Can we be done now?
(Something muttered under Dr F. Grant's breath that is not dissimilar to "I wish.")
Dr F. Grant: No. We still have a while to go. So, you made up a father. Other than Captain Harkness, are there any other father-like figures you've picked up in your life to make up for that hole?
Dr O. Harper: Jack is not my father figure!
Dr F. Grant: What about mother-figure, then?
Dr O. Harper: God, this now?
Dr F. Grant: What about Ex-PC Cooper? Is she your--
Dr O. Harper: I fucked Gwen! Jesus Christ, I'm not some Oedipal wanker!
Dr F. Grant: I didn't know you and Ex-PC Cooper had... relations.
Dr O. Harper: What, she didn't tell you about that?
Dr F. Grant: Owen.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah, yeah. Doctor-patient confidentiality.
Dr F. Grant: Want to expound upon your affair?
Dr O. Harper: Am I allowed to? It concerns another patient.
Dr F. Grant: Well, it won't matter if you don't want to, will it?
Dr O. Harper: You're right. I don't want to.
Dr F. Grant: That's what I thought.
(Hint of an utterance from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr F. Grant: I heard that.
Dr O. Harper: Good.
Dr F. Grant: What's next?
Dr O. Harper: What, you mean we haven't exhausted everything yet?
Dr F. Grant: You know, now I understand why doctors make the worst patients.
Dr O. Harper: Are you supposed to be insulting me?
Dr F. Grant: Probably not. But it's getting you to talk. Results are more important than the process, wouldn't you agree?
Dr O. Harper: No.
Dr F. Grant: No? I thought as the Torchwood doctor, you'd be all up for that.
Dr O. Harper: I'm not a heartless bastard! Well, I am. But not completely.
Dr F. Grant: Why not?
Dr O. Harper: Jesus. Why not? 'Cause I'm not a bloody lunatic, that's why.
Dr F. Grant: Explain.
Dr O. Harper: "Why?"
Dr F. Grant: You're not being as clever as you think.
Dr O. Harper: I think I am.
Dr F. Grant: Of course you do.
Dr O. Harper: Can we be done now?
Dr F. Grant: No. Tell me about death.
Dr O. Harper: What? Why?
Dr F. Grant: I'm curious. What's it like?
Dr O. Harper: Rainbows and sunshine.
Dr F. Grant: Not... darkness and eternal nothingness? Filled only by something moving, just out of reach?
Dr O. Harper: Why the fuck would you think that?
Dr F. Grant: The files they sent to me about your late teammate Suzie Costello held some very interesting comments. I suspect you filled it out. Am I right?
Dr O. Harper: Why'd they give you Suzie's files?
Dr F. Grant: Proof of an unbalanced workplace.
Dr O. Harper: Really?
Dr F. Grant: No. What's the darkness like?
Dr O. Harper: Dark.
Dr F. Grant: Indeed. How did it feel?
Dr O. Harper: However dark feels.
Dr F. Grant: What about the thing moving in the darkness? What was that like?
Dr O. Harper: What do you expect? It was terrifying as fuck.
Dr F. Grant: How come?
Dr O. Harper: I dunno. You're dead. It's dark. Something's moving. That's like the three most basic fears all rolled up into one, isn't it?
Dr F. Grant: It's not. But you're right, it would scare a lot of people. Why you?
Dr O. Harper: What the fuck does that mean?
Dr F. Grant: Well, you work for Torchwood. Things go bump in the dark most of the time for you, don't they?
Dr O. Harper: You're missing out the fact that I was also dead.
Dr F. Grant: Dead.
Dr O. Harper: As a doornail.
Dr F. Grant: Yes, I gathered, thank you. I was prompting you to continue.
(Yet another sigh and more muttering from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr O. Harper: How the fuck else am I supposed to explain this to you. I was dead. That wasn't pleasant. It was made worse by something moving in the darkness, where something should most definitely not have been moving.
Dr F. Grant: I see. Do you know what it was, now that you're not... dead-dead?
Dr O. Harper: I mean, I assume it was that Duroc fucker, but...
Dr F. Grant: But?
(Contemplative sigh from Dr O. Harper.)
Dr O. Harper: I dunno. It's just. How can I be sure? How do I know that was it? And if so... where did Duroc go? Did he die? If he did, does that mean he's waiting for me, back in the darkness? I don't even know if I'll die again. Will I? I don't think I want to live forever, not like Jack. That sounds...
Dr F. Grant: Boring? Sad? Lonely?
Dr O. Harper: Painful. It sounds bloody fucking painful. But I don't want to die again, neither. So. I just don't know, you know? What's the in-between?
Dr F. Grant: I think you're living it. Experiencing it, rather. Not dead. Not alive.
Dr O. Harper: What bullshit that is. I don't want to be like this.
Dr F. Grant: You want to eat, sleep, drink, and have sex.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah. That'd be bloody nice. But... I can't have that. I won't have that. Never again. And "never" is looking pretty big right now.
Dr F. Grant: Just like forever.
Dr O. Harper: Exactly. Never and forever. Infinite terms we idiot humans use to describe things that are finite. How egotistical are we, that we can assume our presence--or anything in it, for that matter--is anything but finite? I mean even Jack... well, he's got to have an end, hasn't he? When the universe reaches heat death, or however it will go out.
Dr F. Grant: Unless he makes it through.
Dr O. Harper: To what?
Dr F. Grant: The next universe, maybe?
Dr O. Harper: Jesus. Just what a baby universe needs: a Jack Harkness.
Dr F. Grant: It's an interesting thought.
Dr O. Harper: 'S a terrifying thought. Never ending. I hope to god he has an end, for his sake.
Dr F. Grant: But an end means death, and you've just voiced your own displeasure at that.
Dr O. Harper: Yeah, well, maybe you reach a point where it doesn't seem so bad anymore. Maybe after you've been existing for millions and billions and trillions of years, maybe it's not so bad.
Dr F. Grant: That sounds awful.
Dr O. Harper: See? Painful. You reach a point when non-existence is better. I don't want that.
Dr F. Grant: So you do hope you'll die.
Dr O. Harper: No. I'm saying I don't want to reach a point where I want non-existence.
Dr F. Grant: And that's what you get by living forever. Which means you'll need to die for good someday.
Dr O. Harper: What? I... Jesus, where the fuck is this going? Where are you headed with this? What purpose does this serve?
Dr F. Grant: I'm--
Dr O. Harper: Yeah, don't care anymore. Move on. I'm tired of the existential crisis bullshit. Have had enough of it on my own, thanks.
Dr F. Grant: Owen.
Dr O. Harper: Move. On.
(A sigh and click of the tongue from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Fine. What'd you watch for fun last night?
(A short pause.)
Dr O. Harper: Seriously? That's what you're going to ask?
Dr F. Grant: You seem to have an aversion to answering anything deeper than that.
Dr O. Harper: Christ. I watched some show about... I don't even know. I zoned out. It was boring as fuck.
Dr F. Grant: Then what did you do instead?
Dr O. Harper: Contemplate existence. See, you don't have to poke and prod me with your stupid questions for me to think about that.
Dr F. Grant: You do realise that's why I'm here, right? So that you can work towards overcoming your need to constantly think about it?
Dr O. Harper: By thinking about it some more? While you're here? Not a chance.
(Dr F. Grant sighs again.)
Dr F. Grant: Owen...
Dr O. Harper: Felicity.
Dr F. Grant: I think we're done for the day.
Dr O. Harper: Oh, thank fuck. Bye.
(A loud scraping of a chair against the floor, followed by heavy footsteps, and the opening and slamming shut of a door.)
Dr F. Grant: End of session six with Patient 12, Dr Owen Harper.
(Tape ends.)
Item 7b:
Therapists notes, collected by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008.
Notes as follows:
Dr Owen Harper, Sess. 6, 25/06/2008
- He's already late. Pattern late, late, end early, end early, late, late... end early on sess. 7?
- Thinks tape intro statement is impersonal
- Will have to commence with usual "verbal sparring" to get him to talk, it seems
- Still untrusting
- Work on trust issues
- May have issues with Dr M.J. due to replacement?
- Has no friends
- Not even coworkers ("twats")
- Yeah definitely no friends
- Work on finding friends.
- Somehow.
- Reluctant to admit previous alcoholism
- Not resolved even tho fixed
- Weird cyclical relationship with life
- Does he want to live because it means pleasures?
- Does he want pleasures because it means living?
- Figure this out. Might be key later.
- Further comments about Ianto when father issues mentioned.
- Theory about "redacted" father... still not proven wrong
- Also still in denial about issues over "redacted" father
- Categorise everything O.H. ever does as "in denial"
God sometimes this man is so infuriating- Issues with mother somehow not manifested with mother-figures?
- Unless he really does have Oedipal complex
- To be later contemplated...
dear God.
- To be later contemplated...
- Unless he really does have Oedipal complex
- Useless banter--only useful tactic
- Okay, here we go
- Death
- Is afraid of it
- Is also afraid of life
- Is afraid in general
- Having major existential crisis
Jesus Christ.- Having major existential crisis and defensive abt it?
- Back to "verbal sparring"
- And. That's it.
- Can't get anything more out
Can't deal with him anymore
- Hopefully he'll be on time next sess. so I can get a good pattern in...
Notes:
Canon is an unyielding, unforthcoming bitch, and therefore I made it my bitch.
Also, yes, I'm not a therapist, and therefore this is much different than what a therapist would actually do. Let's just go with... UNIT therapists are required to do this. Yay fiction!
Unedited.
Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day!
Chapter 2: Ex-PC Gwen Cooper
Notes:
Thanks to everyone I bothered with questions about minutiae.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
File: Patient 13 (Ex-PC Gwen Cooper)
Name: Cooper, Gwen E.
Date of Birth: 16 August 1978 Location of Birth: Swansea, Wales, United Kingdom, Earth
Mother: Cooper, Mary L. Father: Cooper, Geraint A.
Death Date: N/A
Occupation: Police Liaison/Personnel Manager, Torchwood Three
Notes:
Ex-PC G. Cooper trained at Hendon Police College. Graduated and moved to Cardiff to join the police force. Promoted to PC by March of 2005, partnered with Andy Davidson (see: Andrew Davidson). Quit force in September of 2007 to transfer to Torchwood Three, Cardiff. Briefly in charge of operations of Torchwood Three, Cardiff from January of 2008 to March of 2008. To marry fiancé (see: Rhys Williams) in August of 2008, followed by a two-week leave.
Item 7b:
Therapist notes, collected by Dr Felicity Grant on 21 June 2008.
Notes as follows:
Ex-PC G. Cooper, Sess. 6, 21/06/2008
- Already in a clearer headspace than last sess.
-
Already a better sess. than OwensHe didn't even show up
- Still struggling to find deeper meaning in what she does
- Or any meaning
- Might be another existential crisis ahead
- Existential crisis coming soon.
- Maybe sooner than we think.
- Way to fast to jump topics
- Still not ready to deal with deeper issues
- Avoidance--trying to cope or not?
- Not.
- Definitely not.
- Work on coping mechanisms
- Finding it easier to talk as if friend
- Might need more friends
- Definitely needs more friends
- Friends outside TW
- Needs to talk to her fiancé
- TW coming between her relationship
- Coming before her relationship?
- Yes.
- Is reluctant to possibility of telling Rhys more abt TW
- Because of Jack or just her own?
- Jack's rules.
- Speak to Jack outside.
- He has Ianto and Ianto has him.
- Gwen needs Rhys.
- Because of Jack or just her own?
- Needs to find a work-around
- Worked to create possibility of "talking without talking"
- Abstract ideas of TW to Rhys when talking
- To be tested
- Worked to create possibility of "talking without talking"
- Jumping topics again
- More comfortable with idea of friendly chat than therapy?
- Yes.
- More comfortable with idea of friendly chat than therapy?
- Wedding anxiety
- Getting worse with each sess.
- Still no coping mechanism to deal with that
- Needs to work on all coping mechanisms
- Suggested a few days break, didn't go over well
- Work on issues with soon-to-be mother-in-law
- Gets awkward when Owen and Rhys mentioned in same sentence
- ???
- Back to wedding anxiety
- Manifests in sudden wish to properly learn Welsh?
What the hell?
- Manifests in sudden wish to properly learn Welsh?
- Still working on refocusing
- Coping mechanisms--work on next sess.!
Item 8a:
Session Seven, conducted by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008. Recorded medium (see: Grant, F. Record File 248).
Transcript of recording as follows:
(Tape begins.)
Dr Felicity Grant: Dr Grant, Felicity, with Patient 13, Ex-PC Cooper, Gwen. This is our seventh session. How are you today, Gwen?
Ex-PC Gwen Cooper: I'm fine. Do you have to start like that?
Dr F. Grant: Like what?
G. Cooper: With... that "Patient 13" bit. It's just so... impersonal, isn't it?
Dr F. Grant: In all fairness, I do follow it with your name.
G. Cooper: Yes, well, that's partly the problem, right? You're presenting me as a patient. Not a person. Not who I am.
Dr F. Grant: It's for the records. Nothing against you or who you are. Just easier to find records.
G. Cooper: Ianto doesn't call us "Cooper, Gwen."
Dr F. Grant: No, I suspect he wouldn't. Otherwise we'd have a much harder--never mind. Let's just focus on you, shall we? How's your day been?
G. Cooper: Good. So far. Managed to somehow get a load of laundry done this morning. Don't know how. But I figured it'd make the day nicer for Rhys, yeah? One less thing for him to worry about.
Dr F. Grant: I'm sure he'd appreciate it.
G. Cooper: He's driving today. Going to London. Doesn't do that much anymore. Usually he sits and... manages. He complains about it loads. Lots of sitting, he says. Course, so is driving, but I think he likes that. Keeps him calm.
(A short pause, followed by a laugh from G. Cooper.)
G. Cooper: You should see him when we're on a road trip. Either he's ranting away at other drivers or he's singing away to some... oh, I dunno, stupid little ditty. Sometimes he even makes some up for me. My favourite was... um... oh, how did it go?
(Another short pause, punctuated by the tapping of a heel against the floor.)
G. Cooper: Oh! It was "Cooper the Copper." Can't remember how it sounds, but he sang about me wrangling down a... I think it was a bunch of drunk lions? I dunno. They're always silly. Just for fun.
Dr F. Grant: It sounds nice.
G. Cooper: It is. A bit silly, but they are. Nice. Really.
Dr F. Grant: Do you ever sing for Rhys?
G. Cooper: Oh, god, no. He knows I can't carry a tune. But sometimes I... okay, it's not like I'm good at poetry, or anything. It's just silly, like his songs, you know? Just something for him to laugh at.
Dr F. Grant: You write him poems?
G. Cooper: Sort of. I guess. Yeah.
Dr F. Grant: Care to give an example?
(A small stretch of silence.)
G. Cooper: I'm not sure... that should go on a recording.
Dr F. Grant: Oh.
G. Cooper: Yeah.
Dr F. Grant: That's alright. I'm sure Rhys enjoys them.
(A longer pause.)
Dr F. Grant: So. The wedding.
G. Cooper: Oh, god.
Dr F. Grant: That doesn't sound very encouraging.
G. Cooper: No, no, it's... fine. I'm just a little stuck on the kind of flowers. And they were needed by, oh, yesterday...
Dr F. Grant: What are your options?
G. Cooper: I don't even know. It's a stupid decision. Silly. So small. Could make it in seconds.
Dr F. Grant: But you haven't.
G. Cooper: Exactly.
Dr F. Grant: Maybe you should call your friends? Your bridesmaids? See what they think?
G. Cooper: I... um. Maybe, yeah. Maybe.
Dr F. Grant: When was the last time you talked to them?
G. Cooper: When... I got their dresses.
Dr F. Grant: Why don't you ask them about it? They might have good tastes.
(A sudden burst of laughter from G. Cooper, quickly followed by a throat-clearing noise from G. Cooper.)
G. Cooper: Um. Right. Maybe.
Dr F. Grant: It'd be good to talk to someone outside of Torchwood.
G. Cooper: Someone normal, you mean.
Dr F. Grant: No, just someone who doesn't live or work with you. It can be a bit isolating, to only talk to the same five people.
G. Cooper: Six. I'm talking to you, too.
Dr F. Grant: Yes. That's true.
(Silence, broken only by faint sounds of fast writing.)
G. Cooper: What are you putting down?
Dr F. Grant: Nothing to worry about. These are just notes for me.
G. Cooper: But they go in my file.
Dr F. Grant: Yes, for me to review. Don't worry. It's all to help you.
G. Cooper: Alright. I guess.
(A pause.)
Dr F. Grant: So, Gwen. How's it been, at home? You sound pretty happy with Rhys.
G. Cooper: It's good. Yeah. Good.
Dr F. Grant: And... has it been easier to talk to Rhys?
G. Cooper: About Torchwood?
Dr F. Grant: Torchwood, or anything else.
G. Cooper: We... still don't talk about that. It's not easy, you know. He's convinced I'm going to die any day. And I could. Just look at Owen.
Dr F. Grant: Mmm.
G. Cooper: But... I think he's also convinced that I'm going to go nuts, or something. Lose it.
Dr F. Grant: Why do you think that?
G. Cooper: Well. It was just something he said, the other night.
Dr F. Grant: What was that?
G. Cooper: He just asked me, "What's the end of this? How am I even sure half the stuff you say is real?" or something like that. And... he knows I'm not making it up. He knows I wouldn't do that to him. I mean... I've lied by... omission... But never a full out lie, no. Never. Not to Rhys.
Dr F. Grant: So, you're saying he thinks that someday, you won't be able to tell the difference between reality and fiction?
G. Cooper: Yeah.
(A pause, filled with a long, shaky inhale, and a slow exhale.)
G. Cooper: And what if he's right?
Dr F. Grant: You think you're losing your grip on reality?
G. Cooper: No. Yes. No. I dunno. Maybe.
(Pregnant pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Care to elaborate?
G. Cooper: Well, it's... It's like that dumb U2 song. Rhys likes those--listens to them all the time. Don't know why. But he likes them.
Dr F. Grant: Sorry, which song?
G. Cooper: Oh... the, um... I dunno. But it goes something like: "The more you see, the less you know." Don't ask me how I remember that; I just do.
(Creaking of a shifting chair.)
G. Cooper: But it's been on my mind, since he said that. I mean, how am I really sure all of this is real? 'Cause it just feels like... the more I learn about everything that's out there, the less sure I am about everything. Like, I knew everything before I had this job. I knew what was up and what was down, I knew my lefts and my rights, and "adipose" was literally body tissue for fat. But now... it's like, every time I swear that this is my left hand, someone comes up and tells me that it's wrong. That my left is actually my right. Nothing is certain anymore. How do I know what's real, out of everything in the universe?
(Yet another pause.)
Dr F. Grant: So, it's not so much feeling as if things aren't real, it's just... comprehending the enormity of the universe? You're afraid of not being able to understand the things that aren't there, and how it conflicts with your ideas of what is there.
G. Cooper: I suppose.
Dr F. Grant: What do you do when those feelings are too overwhelming?
G. Cooper: I... don't know. It's only really been on my mind since Rhys said that.
Dr F. Grant: And has it gotten overwhelming since then?
G. Cooper: Maybe. A little.
Dr F. Grant: What do you do when that happens?
G. Cooper: I just... well, the last time it happened, I had to go take down a Weevil...
Dr F. Grant: Did it help?
G. Cooper: Well, I was mostly focused on not dying, so, yeah. I'd say so.
Dr F. Grant: Would you say it was the exercise or being in the present that helped?
G. Cooper: What?
Dr F. Grant: Exercise is a great way to relieve anxieties. So is being focused on being in the present. Like practising mindfulness.
G. Cooper: Oh.
Dr F. Grant: You could try that next time. It might help.
G. Cooper: So, you're saying I should go fight a Weevil every time I freak out over the enormity of the things that I don't know?
Dr F. Grant: No, I'm saying you could exercise. Go for a run. Do some push-ups. Pull-ups. Chin-ups. Sit-ups... there are a lot more "ups" in workouts than there needs to be.
G. Cooper: Yeah, what's with that?
Dr F. Grant: Not a clue.
(A short pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Anyway. You could get some exercise, or you could work on mindfulness.
G. Cooper: What's that?
Dr F. Grant: The bare bones of it is being in the present. Having no judgement on your thoughts. Accepting what's happening as what's happening.
G. Cooper: That sounds ridiculous.
Dr F. Grant: Maybe a little. But it works for some people. It could work for you.
G. Cooper: How do I do it, then?
Dr F. Grant: Alright, well. Picture a river.
(Sounds coming from a person shifting in their chair.)
G. Cooper: Wait, now?
Dr F. Grant: Well, yes. I'm trying to teach you so you can do it later.
G. Cooper: Oh. Right. Of course. I knew that.
Dr F. Grant: Okay, so picture a river. It starts as one big stream, then splits off into two branches.
G. Cooper: Does it matter that it looks like the Ta--
Dr F. Grant: No. Looks aren't important. It's a river and it splits into two. That's it.
G. Cooper: Oh. Okay.
Dr F. Grant: Each thought you have is a leaf, or stick, or what-have-you. They're floating down the river. See them?
G. Cooper: I... guess.
Dr F. Grant: Now. For now, each thought will be going down one branch of the stream. That's the stream that cycles back through your head. You're watching your thoughts go through your mind, and maybe they'll cycle. Some might disappear into the riverbank for now, but that's not what matters. You're watching the thoughts you can still see.
G. Cooper: Okay...
Dr F. Grant: Someday, you might be able to switch your thoughts to the other branch of the stream. That's the stream that leads out of your head. You'll be able to pick and choose which thoughts you can send down that branch, and which ones you have cycle back. But, for now, just keep watching them cycle through.
G. Cooper: Oh.
Dr F. Grant: That's one exercise in mindfulness.
G. Cooper: Any less weird ones?
Dr F. Grant: Why don't you try that one for now and see if it works before we introduce anything else, alright?
G. Cooper: Fine. But I like the exercise idea better. I could spar with Janet.
Dr F. Grant: I'm not sure that's entirely wise.
G. Cooper: No, I don't suppose it is.
(Sounds of a writing pencil against paper.)
Dr F. Grant: If I might, I'd like to bring the topic back to Rhys and the wedding.
G. Cooper: Oh, god. Really?
Dr F. Grant: It's causing you stress. We should probably talk about it.
G. Cooper: Oh... fine. The wedding.
Dr F. Grant: You already said the flowers were causing you grief. Hopefully your friends might help with that, if you decide to ask for their help.
G. Cooper: And you encourage that.
Dr F. Grant: I do. But you also seem to have this general sort of... unease about the wedding. You're very tense about it every time I bring it up, and I don't think it's just the planning that's getting to you. Is there anything else that is bothering you about it?
G. Cooper: Are you asking me if I have cold feet?
Dr F. Grant: No, not necessarily. You seem perfectly happy to be with Rhys for the rest of your life. I don't doubt that. What I do doubt, however, is your keenness on being married to him. What about the actual wedding makes you so worried?
G. Cooper: It just...
(A short sigh.)
G. Cooper: It makes me feel... dishonest.
Dr F. Grant: Why's that?
G. Cooper: Because it's all about love and commitment.
Dr F. Grant: But you are in love and you are committed.
G. Cooper: Well, yes. But.
Dr F. Grant: You slept with someone.
G. Cooper: Owen.
(The sounds of more writing.)
G. Cooper: You don't seem surprised.
Dr F. Grant: Honestly, with your mess of a workplace, I'm actually more surprised this doesn't happen more often with you lot.
(A short burst of laughter from G. Cooper, quickly cut short. Another sigh follows.)
G. Cooper: Sorry.
Dr F. Grant: It's fine.
G. Cooper: But now you know why I feel so badly about it.
Dr F. Grant: Yes, I can see why that would make you uneasy.
G. Cooper: It's a shit thing. I wish I could go back and change it.
Dr F. Grant: But you can't. The nature of linear time.
G. Cooper: Yeah. You'd think we'd find a way to change that, here at Torchwood. But we haven't. I have to live with this. Live with what I did to Rhys. There's no forgiving this. So, can we just move on?
Dr F. Grant: I don't know if--
G. Cooper: I know. Avoidance is bad, or whatever. But I really just don't want to talk about it. I'd rather it went forgotten.
Dr F. Grant: Alright.
G. Cooper: Thanks.
(A long silence.)
Dr F. Grant: So. How's work been going for you?
G. Cooper: Oh, rubbish. I've got loads of paperwork that I've been putting aside. Ianto keeps complaining about it, but I haven't got much of a choice. The Rift isn't being very forgiving recently. We're in and out almost constantly now, with little time to do much else. I get four hours of sleep most nights. I function on seven, minimum. It's going crazy.
Dr F. Grant: Do you know when it'll let up?
G. Cooper: Knowing my luck, probably the night before the wedding. And then something terrible will probably happen the day of, and either I'll have to cancel the wedding, or it'll get stopped, or something else equally as disastrous.
Dr F. Grant: Fine bit of pessimism you've got there.
G. Cooper: Oh, no, love, that's realism. Pessimism is saying that it'll downpour and make the photo shoot more than a bit shit. This is just... knowing the Rift. Knowing Torchwood. Something always happens right when you least need it.
Dr F. Grant: You sound tired.
G. Cooper: I bloody am. I'm so tired. Like I said, four hours a night. And tonight Rhys might still be gone.
Dr F. Grant: Will that make things worse?
G. Cooper: Probably. It's a lot nicer to sleep with him than without. He's a lump, my Rhys, but he's a good, comfortable lump.
Dr F. Grant: And that's good?
G. Cooper: Oh, yes. Very good. He's my lump.
Dr F. Grant: I see.
G. Cooper: Are you seeing anyone?
Dr F. Grant: This isn't about me.
G. Cooper: No, I know. But we always talk about me. We never talk about you.
Dr F. Grant: That's how it's supposed to go. It's therapy, Gwen. It's about you.
G. Cooper: Yeah, well. It just feels too. I dunno. Stilted. Not like a real conversation. It's a lot harder to do therapy than to do a conversation.
Dr F. Grant: I suppose it is.
G. Cooper: A lot harder topics, too. I wouldn't talk about half of this stuff with the girls.
Dr F. Grant: That's the point. So you don't have to dump on your friends. Though I'm still recommending that you talk to them. Friends do make life a lot easier.
G. Cooper: I guess. But if I really wanted to talk, I'd just talk to Ianto or Tosh. They understand. It's harder to talk to people outside of Torchwood. Most of my life is spent here. The other bit is with Rhys. I don't have much that my other friends can relate to. Not unless you mean shoes, or clothes, or handbags. And that stuff gets boring after the first fifteen minutes, you know? How much can someone talk about the same pair of heels? It exhausts itself after a few minutes. And then I have nothing to say.
Dr F. Grant: I suppose it can be a little hard to connect to people when you've got a lot of secrets on your hand.
G. Cooper: Is that what life's like for you? You hear all these shit things and then you can't do anything about it?
Dr F. Grant: No, not necessarily. Though there are some similarities. There's some things I hear that I wish I could mention to someone else, because just hearing about it makes me feel cold and lonely. But I've got an confidentiality to mind, and that other people just can't hear about the stuff UNIT--and now Torchwood--gets into.
G. Cooper: So, you get it.
Dr F. Grant: Somewhat, yes.
G. Cooper: It's shit.
Dr F. Grant: ...somewhat, yes.
G. Cooper: Yeah.
(A pause intermittently broken by fast writing noises.)
Dr F. Grant: Also, I'd like to talk about your future moth--
G. Cooper: Jesus Christ. Do we have to?
(A slight chuckle from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: No, but I think it would be best if you did sort out your issues with Brenda Williams before you marry her son.
G. Cooper: Oh, don't say it like that. It makes it sound like I'm stealing him from her. Which is exactly what she thinks, by the way, and it's not the case. Rhys is his own person. He can make his own choices.
Dr F. Grant: Yes, he can.
G. Cooper: And if she doesn't agree with those choices, that's her problem.
Dr F. Grant: I'd agree wholeheartedly.
G. Cooper: Thank you. Wait, are you saying that because you're the therapist, or because you actually agree with me?
Dr F. Grant: Does it matter?
G. Cooper: Well, yes. I'm going to be a bit pissed off if you actually think Rhys is, by default, a better person than I am, and therefore deserves better than me. What sort of bullshit is that, anyway? No person is automatically better than another. I didn't settle for Rhys. Rhys didn't settle for me. It's bullshit, that's all!
Dr F. Grant: ...I take it there's no reconciling with Brenda Williams in your future, then.
G. Cooper: Not a chance. I mean, good for you for trying, but there's no way. Noooo way. Not with Brenda. Not today.
Dr F. Grant: Alright, then, I won't bother.
(More writing noises. More shifting of chairs.)
Dr F. Grant: Is there anything else you'd like to address today?
G. Cooper: No, not really.
Dr F. Grant: Okay, then. I think that's as good a place as any to end this session.
G. Cooper: Oh, alright. Bye, then.
Dr F. Grant: Bye, Gwen. See you next time.
(Creaking of chair once more, followed by decrescendoing clicks of boot heels.)
Dr F. Grant: End of session seven with Patient 13, Ex-PC Gwen Cooper.
(Tape ends.)
Notes:
Do NOT take therapy advice from me. I am not a therapist. While a few parts are legitimately what a therapist has said to me, most parts are dramatised for the sake of the story.
Thank you for reading! Have a nice day!
Chapter 3: Toshiko Sato
Notes:
God this is a lot harder than I had originally thought.
But Happy International Women's Day! Here's one of our favourite women!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
File: Patient 14 (Toshiko Sato)
Name: Sato, Toshiko
Date of Birth: 19 September 1975 Location of Birth: London, England, United Kingdom, Earth
Mother: Sato, Michiko Father: Sato, Taiki Brother: Sato, Akio (Deceased)
Death Date: N/A
Occupation: Technological Adviser/I.T., Torchwood Three
Notes:
T. Sato moved to Osaka, Japan in 1977 and returned to London, England in 1986. Worked for Lodmoor Research Facility (see: British Ministry of Defence). Committed treason by stealing plans (see: Sonic Modulator) and handing finished product to terrorists. Imprisoned by UNIT in a secure, undisclosed holding facility until December 2003. Released by UNIT and handed over to Capt J. Harkness for monitored parole. Briefly reprimanded for other treasonous acts in October 2007, but overall charges disregarded and dropped.
Item 2c:
Prescription to escitalopram, prescribed by Dr Felicity Grant on 30 May 2008.
Prescription as follows:
Rx: Toshiko Sato, 32
Cipralex 10mg
1 tablet every morning
Disp. 30 tablets
Refills: 6
Signed: Felicity Grant 30/05/2008
Item 9a:
Session Eight, conducted by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008. Recorded medium (see: Grant, F. Record File 249).
Transcript of recording as follows:
(Tape begins.)
Dr Felicity Grant: Dr Grant, Felicity, with Patient 14, Sato, Toshiko, for our seve--no, sorry, eighth session. Okay. Per your request, we've moved out of the Archives and into the conference room. Does that help a little bit?
Toshiko Sato: Yes, it's much better, thank you.
Dr F. Grant: You're welcome. This whole thing is about making you fell better, so if there's anything else I can do, just name it, and I'll try to help.
T. Sato: Well, there is one thing...
Dr F. Grant: What is it?
T. Sato: You always start out the same way. "Patient 14." It's just... it reminds me of... well, it's just dehumanising, is all. Makes me feel less like Tosh and more like the person locked up in UNIT's cells.
Dr F. Grant: It's not meant to be, I promise. It's for records. Record keeping. No more sinister than anything Mr Jones does.
T. Sato: "Mr Jones" didn't lock me up in a cell.
Dr F. Grant: No. He didn't.
T. Sato: Still can't believe you and Martha would want to work for that place. What they do to people...
Dr F. Grant: There's been a turnover of staff since you were let out. It's not the same anymore. We don't do secured, undisclosed prisons like that anymore. Not unless you've murdered twenty people and plan to murder more.
T. Sato: Still.
Dr F. Grant: They do feel badly about it, you know.
T. Sato: I know. I got the formal letter saying how "deeply and truly sorry" my incarceration was so bad. I think that was only because Martha would've hung them by their... well. You get the picture. If they hadn't, Martha would've got them. But if they were actually "truly and deeply sorry," they wouldn't tie me to Torchwood like this. My parole would be absolved. But it's not, is it? I've still got to finish my five years.
Dr F. Grant: Would you have left, anyway? If you could?
T. Sato: Does it matter? My point is that I don't have the choice. It's the choice that I want, not the outcome.
Dr F. Grant: I see. But if you did have the choice, do you know what you would chose?
T. Sato: I don't know. That's why I need the choice. I'd figure it out then. Otherwise there's no point in thinking about it. I'll figure it out when I finally get to decide. Which will probably be in another six months, because they're never going to give the choice to me. I know UNIT. You pretend like you're good, but at the very core, you're just as rotten as half the people you lock up.
(A long pause.)
Dr F. Grant: As... someone working for UNIT but who has hopefully gained your trust and liking by now, I hope I'm not included in that "you."
T. Sato: You and Martha are the exception to the rule. But you're treading thin ice. I might like you, but I don't like who you work for and what you represent.
Dr F. Grant: I see.
(A shorter pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Also, this is a note unrelated to this session, but I've been told by UNIT to relay to you that if it's you hacking their severs every Thursday night at... eight sharp, then you are to cease and desist immediately.
(Small, huffed laugh from T. Sato.)
T. Sato: Well, they don't know if it really is me, do they?
Dr F. Grant: ...no, I suppose they don't.
T. Sato: Well. I can't say if it's me either.
Dr F. Grant: Right. Well. I relayed the message.
T. Sato: You did. Good job.
(Short laughs from both Dr F. Grant and T. Sato.)
Dr F. Grant: So. How are you feeling?
T. Sato: Better. Not everything's one hundred percent, but I'm working on getting there.
Dr F. Grant: That's what I'm here to help with.
T. Sato: Exactly.
Dr F. Grant: I'd say you're responding pretty well to the medication. No new side effects?
T. Sato: No. Haven't had any for a while.
Dr F. Grant: That's good. Well, it's been four weeks just about. I think you've acclimated to them nicely. We'll just keep going with those until your six months are up, then see how you feel then. If you think you still need them, I'll write another prescription, and if not, then great. You're set.
T. Sato: I still find it funny that you need a prescription. It's just Owen. He knows what it's for. Who it's for. And who it's from. It's not like he doubts you. Or my anxiety, for that matter.
Dr F. Grant: It's for the records.
T. Sato: Right. The records.
Dr F. Grant: Okay. So. Medications good to go.
(A pause as loud scribbling overtakes the recording.)
T. Sato: How are you?
Dr F. Grant: I'm fine. But how are you, other than feeling confident with your--
T. Sato: Drugs.
(A short pause.)
T. Sato: Sorry. Ianto's joke. He says you should have put me on cocaine.
Dr F. Grant: Oh.
T. Sato: It's a joke.
Dr F. Grant: I see.
T. Sato: Sorry.
Dr F. Grant: No, it's fine, it's just...
(Clearing of Dr F. Grant's throat.)
Dr F. Grant: Anyway, other than how you feel about your medications, how is life going?
T. Sato: Well. It's... going.
Dr F. Grant: Anything the matter?
T. Sato: Not in particular. Just feels. Oh, I don't know. Like something's waiting to happen.
Dr F. Grant: Care to elaborate?
T. Sato: Well. The world hasn't ended in over a month. Nothing very bad has happened to us since... Owen, really. So, it's bound to happen soon, I guess. That's how it is, here at Torchwood. Nothing stays good for long.
Dr F. Grant: What about the Rift increasing in activity? Isn't that bad enough?
T. Sato: Oh, that happens occasionally, but it's nothing that drastic. We're used to the Rift acting up. It's not the end-of-the-world level. Not like sleeper agents or time collapsing in on itself.
Dr F. Grant: Those do sound bad.
T. Sato: They are. We stopped both of them, but they... weren't fun.
Dr F. Grant: The sleeper agent. Was that... Thomas?
T. Sato: Tommy. No. He was the time-collapsing-in-on-itself bit. He saved us all.
Dr F. Grant: Because of you.
T. Sato: Because of him. I just reminded him of something he told me. He was the brave one. And they shot him.
Dr F. Grant: I'm sorry.
T. Sato: It's funny, how those things happen. No matter how good you are, no matter what you're trying to do, or who you're trying to save, your fate's always in the hands of someone else. Someone else who sees it differently than you do. They don't see it as saving the world, or your mother... they just see it as cowardice. Or treason. Stupid, really. But there it is.
Dr F. Grant: You're still not done talking about UNIT.
T. Sato: Not a chance. If they listen to these recordings--
Dr F. Grant: They don't. These are for me. And for anyone who might become your future therapist.
T. Sato: Still. If they do listen to these, I want them to know how awful that was. Complete shit. I want them to know how disgusting it is to be robbed of your humanity like that. How horrible it is to live in a tiny, concrete box, beaten and lonely. I want them to know how much I despise them.
Dr F. Grant: Okay, I feel like we should work on addressing this hostility.
T. Sato: I'd rather not.
Dr F. Grant: May I ask why?
T. Sato: The anger keeps me going. Keeps me on top of things. Maybe that's not the healthiest way to live, but... well, it's better than sitting in a moping heap. Ianto says I'm living out of pure spite. I like that. I'm going to keep doing that until something else motivates me.
Dr F. Grant: I see.
T. Sato: You've been saying that a lot.
(Pause as scribbling pencil noises occur.)
Dr F. Grant: Yes. Well, I'm just trying to get a hold of some of these things you've brought up before we start working them. Some of these things you've mentioned before, like hating UNIT, but others are new and suggest that there's more you have to say on the topic. I just want to get a start on understanding them so I can help you better.
T. Sato: Oh. Okay.
(Another pause.)
Dr F. Grant: So. Do you talk to Mr Jones a lot about these things?
T. Sato: Sort of. Not everything. Just. Fragments. Bits and pieces here or there when we're tired enough to share them. We don't have full conversations about it. Same with Gwen. We mention the slight things we can when we have the time. That's about it. It's nice, though.
Dr F. Grant: It must be. I'm glad you get along with them.
T. Sato: Me too. It's nice to sit and have a pastry with Gwen. Or a coffee with Ianto. Or even sit down and talk about alien technology with Jack. But...
Dr F. Grant: Dr Harper.
T. Sato: Yeah. Owen.
Dr F. Grant: Still finding it hard to talk to him?
T. Sato: Well, like I've said before, it's easier now that he's dead. Don't know why. Maybe I'm just weird. I know I'm weird, but maybe that's just something about me that's weirder than... you get the picture. But... it's still hard sometimes.
Dr F. Grant: Do you know what makes it so hard?
T. Sato: I mean...
Dr F. Grant: Being in love with him.
T. Sato: Yeah.
Dr F. Grant: Anything else other than that, or is that the only factor?
T. Sato: I think it might be the only factor. He's having a rough time of it now, and he needs someone to talk to. I like being someone to talk to. It's nice, knowing you can be there for someone. So I want to be there for Owen. But then that whole... love business gets in the way, and it's still hard.
(Prolonged silence.)
T. Sato: What?
Dr F. Grant: Nothing, it's just... you can get Owen to open up?
T. Sato: Yeah. It's kind of hard, but essentially... Christ, I think you're going to have to confess love to him and help him through depression.
(Uneasy laughs from T. Sato and Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Never mind my problems with Owen. Can you think of anything that would help you? Not necessarily get over being in love with him, but getting through it so that you can talk to him.
T. Sato: I've found faking confidence helps. Like that one time I decided I could be "cool" or whatever and brought a pizza over to Owen's and drank a little and just talked at him.
Dr F. Grant: Is that the time he--
T. Sato: --broke his finger and ran away? Yeah. That would be the one.
Dr F. Grant: Is that still bothering you?
T. Sato: No. I know it was because he was having a hard time dealing with himself rather than because of me. So I'm not taking it to heart too much. He said some nasty things, but it's Owen. It wasn't really worse than his usual nasty comments to me. I just took it a little too close to heart then because I was also having a hard time dealing with Owen's... predicament, I guess you could say. So, really, it's nothing more traumatic than his normal caustic attitude.
Dr F. Grant: And how does that affect you?
T. Sato: What, Owen being Owen? Doesn't affect me that much. I know it's just how he is. Like, sometimes I think if it were Gwen or Ianto or Jack confessing love to him, he'd probably treat them even worse. So it's not to bad, really.
Dr F. Grant: Do you often think about your other coworkers falling for the same man as you?
T. Sato: Oh, no! God, that would be so weird. Could you imagine Owen and Ianto being into each other? That would be so... wrong. No, I just think in hypotheticals. Owen would beat down on all of them, is all I think about. Okay, that sounds kind of strange out loud. But I know it's just Owen being his normal idiot self. Well, sometimes I do take it a bit too hard, but remembering that is what helps me get over it.
Dr F. Grant: You know, I can't argue against love, here, but--
T. Sato: You think it's bad.
Dr F. Grant: I wouldn't say it's bad, per se, but it's not exactly... healthy.
T. Sato: It's a lot better than most of my relationships, to be honest.
Dr F. Grant: That doesn't say a lot about, Tosh. Those are really low standards to hold it up against.
T. Sato: Right, yeah. I guess I'm just unlucky in love. Can't all be like Gwen. Or Ianto. Well, okay, maybe not Ianto completely... but I've seen some things over the CCTV, you know. They don't wipe it as well as they think they do.
(A long pause, followed by a quick clearing of both T. Sato and Dr F. Grant's throats.)
Dr F. Grant: Yes. Well. You can't hold yourself up to anyone else in the relationship department.
T. Sato: Still. At least nobody else dated Mary.
Dr F. Grant: You shouldn't be too hard on yourself. You didn't know she would turn on you like that. Or on your team.
T. Sato: But I knew something was up. Right from the beginning, I could sense she had ulterior motives. But I didn't do anything about it. I helped her get into the Hub.
Dr F. Grant: What's done is done, in that case. You've been forgiven, haven't you?
T. Sato: I didn't do anything to help Ianto either. I ignored him. We all did. But I was in the same boat, wasn't I? Homicidal alien girlfriend trying to murder the team in the Hub. And then he consoled me and I ignored him. Some friend I was.
Dr F. Grant: You said you like helping people.
T. Sato: I do. I was just a bad friend and a bad teammate back then.
Dr F. Grant: I'm sure you've made up for it loads.
T. Sato: I'm not so sure. Still not sure how to make up for the homicidal girlfriend part, really.
Dr F. Grant: Apologising?
T. Sato: I've done that.
Dr F. Grant: And they forgave you?
T. Sato: I think so.
Dr F. Grant: Then I'd say you're good.
T. Sato: Oh. That easy?
Dr F. Grant: That easy. Now the harder part is forgiving yourself.
T. Sato: How do I do that?
Dr F. Grant: Well, I'd stop beating myself up over it, if I were you. That's a pretty good place to start. Just learn to accept that it happened. It's over. Can't be changed.
T. Sato: Easier said than done.
Dr F. Grant: Maybe. But I have faith you'll learn to get past it. You're Toshiko Sato, one of the most brilliant minds I've ever met. If you can build your--what were you doing, again?
T. Sato: I'm calling it a Time Bubble. Not fancy, but essentially what it is. I'm sure Ianto could give it a better name when I'm done.
Dr F. Grant: Well, if you can build your Time Bubble, then I'm sure you can learn to forgive yourself.
T. Sato: I'm glad you have some faith in me.
Dr F. Grant: You should have faith in you, too. I'm not kidding, Tosh, you are brilliant. And even if you weren't, you still have cause for believing in yourself. You're you. You should always believe in you.
T. Sato: I'm trying...
Dr F. Grant: Well, trying's good. I always disagree with Yoda on his "do or do not; there is no try." Trying is everything. You don't know if you're going to succeed or not, and therefore, you're trying to succeed.
T. Sato: My question has always been, why doesn't he say, "try, there is not?" I thought he liked to switch up his constituents.
Dr F. Grant: That's a good point. I don't know. But do you watch Star Wars?
T. Sato: No, not really. I mean, I've watched it the once and I still remember a bit of it, but then I came here and I just figured... I'm already dealing with aliens every day. I don't need to also watch movies about them, too. And Jack swears they're based on a true story, though I don't think I want to believe him. But yeah, I've seen them. My brother liked them.
(A long pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Want to talk about him?
T. Sato: Not really.
Dr F. Grant: We should talk about him. He's on your mind a lot.
T. Sato: I know. But...
Dr F. Grant: You miss him.
T. Sato: I guess. I was never very close with him. Fifteen years younger than me, you know? He was just a kid when I left. And I'm not that good with kids. I loved him; he was my brother... But... I don't know. I feel guilty more than anything. Is that bad?
Dr F. Grant: Feelings aren't bad or good. They're just feelings.
T. Sato: It doesn't feel like that. It certainly feels bad to me.
Dr F. Grant: You beat yourself up over things, that's most likely why. And we're trying to work on that.
T. Sato: Who waits to have a second kid fifteen years later, anyway?
Dr F. Grant: I'm sure there's plenty of reasons.
T. Sato: I guess.
Dr F. Grant: Not what you were wanting to hear?
T. Sato: Not exactly, no.
(A short pause.)
T. Sato: I just wish... It still feels like my fault, you know?
Dr F. Grant: Was it?
T. Sato: I don't know.
(Another short pause.)
T. Sato: I guess even if I did, it'd have to wait until next time. I've run out of time. Don't want into cut Ianto's session. That wouldn't be very nice.
Dr F. Grant: No, I suppose not. We'll here stop for today, then.
T. Sato: Thanks.
Dr F. Grant: No problem. See you next time. End of session eight with Patient 14, Toshiko Sato.
(Tape ends.)
Item 9b:
Therapists notes, collected by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008.
Notes as follows:
Toshiko Sato, Sess. 8, 25/06/2008
- Walked in happier than usual.
- Related to location?
- Yes
- Related to location?
- Change in location better for her
- Keep sess. in conference room from here on out
- Even for others?
- Yes--more convenient
- Hates intro statement
Why does everyone hate it today?- Might try starting the tape before she walks in next time
- No hearing "Pt 14"
- Might help with anger to UNIT
- Still very bitter to UNIT over incarceration
- Forgives Dr MJ and myself
- For what?
- Association?
- Yes.
- Doesn't "like what we rep"
- Association?
- For what?
- Would like choice
-
Jesus why hasn't this been offered?Ask UNIT...
- Doesn't know what she would chose
- Just wants choice
-
- Forgives Dr MJ and myself
- Message relayed from UNIT amuses her.
- Good that she finds something funny
I guess
- Good that she finds something funny
- Is feeling good about medications
- Will be on for next 6 mo
- Will decide what to do from there on out later
- Will be on for next 6 mo
- Has odd sense of humour...
- Waiting for world to end
- Feeling doomed at all times
- Misses Tommy still
- Resentment of historical treatment of soldiers with PTSD linked to resentment of UNIT.
- Likes living on spite.
- Can't talk to Owen as well as she'd like to
Join the club
- Doesn't object to Owen's treatment of her
- Understands it?
- No
- Learned to live with it and never bothered to stick up for herself
- Understands it?
- "Unlucky in love" issue again
- Still beating self up over Mary predicament
- Now adds Ianto onto that problem
- Now working on forgiving herself
- Alongside confidence
- And not beating herself up over things
- Brother again
- Still not ready to talk about him.
- Also needs to work on not blaming herself for everything
- (For next time)
Notes:
Tosh's brother mentioned in the BF drama "torchwood_cascade_CDRIP.tor" (yes, that is the legitimate name).
Thank you for reading! Have a good day!
Chapter 4: Ianto Jones
Notes:
Thanks and sorry to everyone I keep pestering about this! You are my backbone and I appreciate you so, so much!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
File: Patient 15 (Ianto Jones)
Name: Jones, Ianto A.
Date of Birth: 19 August 1983 Location: Newport, Wales, United Kingdom, Earth
Mother: Jones, Glenda M. Father: Jones, Alun C. (Deceased) Sister: Davies, Rhiannon G.
Death Date: N/A
Occupation: Archivist/Factotum, Torchwood Three
Notes:
I. Jones gained one minor shoplifting conviction in July 2000. Moved to London in 2002 to seek a job, but moved to Cardiff four months later to work at National Museum Cardiff. Returned to London four more months later to work for Torchwood One, London, as junior researcher. Was caught in the fall of Torchwood One (see: "The Battle of Canary Wharf"). Moved back to Cardiff and transferred to Torchwood Three, Cardiff, to work as Factotum. Placed on suspension for minor incident of treason and bereavement leave due to death of girlfriend (see: Lisa Hallett).
Item 3c:
Prescription to sertraline, prescribed by Dr Felicity Grant on 2 June 2008.
Prescription as follows:
Rx: Ianto Jones, 24
Lustral 50mg (to be increased)
1 tablet every morning
Disp. 30 tablets
Refills: 6
Signed: Felicity Grant 02/06/2008
Item 6b:
Therapist notes, collected by Dr Felicity Grant on 18 June 2008.
Notes as follows:
Ianto Jones, Sess. 5, 18/06/2008
- Looks to have gained some weight back!
- Hopefully nausea gone from meds
- Ask Jack--will probably know more
- Still no drowsiness or headaches from meds
- No recurrences of the paranoia/agitation
- Will know if meds are working right in a few more weeks
- Very hesitant today
- Very new--loss of trust?
- Also a lot quieter
- Hedging more and less at the same time
- Not politely sidestepping questions
- Answering vaguely without answering instead
- Appealing to social negative face
- Less of "verbal sparring"
- Hedging more and less at the same time
- Less false smiles, too.
- Smiles all gone.
- Is actually trying to be active in therapy today
- NOT loss of trust!
- Still more to go to gain trust
- But no loss of it
- Finally managed to convince him this is good for him
Owen next please
- NOT loss of trust!
- Starting very simple with questions about childhood
- Okay, evidently not simple
Jesus.
- Okay, evidently not simple
- Check in every sess. abt mother.
- It's causing stress and anxiety
- Also because it's a nice thing to do
- Not close with sister
- Not close with sister's kids, either
- Or brother-in-law
- Hedging most on questions about father
- Sore spot.
- Will return after some lighter questions to get him talking more
- Sore spot.
- Evidently needs to be reminded he is allowed to talk during his own therapy sess.
- Seems to be used to self-correcting and shutting himself up
- Hiding talkative nature?
- Worried about days when his coffee is sub par
- Coffee metaphor? For what?
- Has problems remembering some things about Yvonne Hartman
- Also will not recognise a lot of her faults
- Something off about the situation
- Cycle back to this in future sessions
- Something's not right here...
- Also will not recognise a lot of her faults
- Still hesitant to talk about things
- Namely Canary Wharf, though he seems to want to talk abt it
- Rewording questions helps
- Namely Canary Wharf, though he seems to want to talk abt it
- Difficult memories of the actual event
-
Oh-
Oh JesusJesus Christ.
-
-
- Likes Myfanwy
- (Evidently needs to end sess. on positive note)
Item 9a:
Session Eight, conducted by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008. Recorded medium (see: Grant, F. Record File 250).
Transcript of recording as follows:
(Tape begins.)
Dr Felicity Grant:--ello, Ianto.
Ianto Jones: Hi.
Dr F. Grant: Oh, bugger. Must've hit the thing; we're recording already. Um, this is Dr Felicity Grant with patient 15, Jones, Ianto, for session eight.
I. Jones: Do you have to do that?
Dr F. Grant: Do what?
I. Jones: Introduce me. I'd rather it be... anonymous.
Dr F. Grant: Christ, everyone's got a problem with it... Look, Ianto, you're an archivist, aren't you?
I. Jones: Yes.
Dr F. Grant: And a good one at that, yes?
I. Jones: I'd like to think so, anyway.
Dr F. Grant: Well, then you'd understand. This isn't about you. This recording is for others. Someone else is going to need to access this one day, be it for information on you, me, or any other reason. Don't you think they're going to need all the information they can get?
I. Jones: I... suppose so, yes.
Dr F. Grant: That's why you're not anonymous. That's why the rest aren't just their names. Though I must say, you're the first to protest the other way around.
I. Jones: I'll take that as a compliment.
Dr F. Grant: Mhm.
(A pause, filled with writing noises.)
I. Jones: You're not... writing that down, are you?
Dr F. Grant: What?
I. Jones: That I asked the question the wrong way.
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, you didn't ask it the wrong way. You just asked it differently. And then you took it as a compliment that I mentioned that.
I. Jones: And you wrote that down.
Dr F. Grant: My notes are for me, Ianto. We've talked about that. Everything I put down is to help you, not to judge you needlessly.
I. Jones: Right.
(Another pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Can I ask how the medication's feeling?
I. Jones: I dunno. It's not what I expect. I don't think it's working right.
Dr F. Grant: Give it another week or so, then.
I. Jones: ...alright.
Dr F. Grant: You're still sceptical.
I. Jones: I just don't know if I need them, that's all.
Dr F. Grant: Let's just take a gamble and say that if I, your therapist who knows the whereabouts of your mental status, am saying you should take them, you probably need them. Don't look like that. It's not a bad thing to need them. You have an imbalance and we're balancing it.
I. Jones: Still.
(A sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: It's okay to need things.
I. Jones: I know.
Dr F. Grant: Do you? You seem a little lost when it comes to understanding that you have needs for yourself.
I. Jones: I know I have needs.
Dr F. Grant: More than just coffee?
I. Jones: There is more to me than just coffee, you know.
Dr F. Grant: Good. That's what I like to hear.
I. Jones: You make me sound like an addict.
Dr F. Grant: Well, between coffee and your smoking habits...
I. Jones: I'm trying to quit.
Dr F. Grant: Oh, really? That's good. What's brought this around? Finally listening to what Dr Harper, Dr Jones, and I have been saying about it?
(A short silence.)
I. Jones: Jack doesn't like them.
Dr F. Grant: I see.
(More silence, filled with more writing.)
Dr F. Grant: How's your mum doing?
I. Jones: Not great.
Dr F. Grant: I'm sorry to hear that.
I. Jones: Thanks.
(A pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Is that causing you--
I. Jones: Let's not talk about it. Please.
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, if it's causing you stress...
I. Jones: We all know where it's heading. Talking doesn't make it any better.
Dr F. Grant: There's--
I. Jones: Please.
(A light sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Alright.
I. Jones: Thank you.
(Another pause.)
Dr F. Grant: What about your sister? Have you called her?
I. Jones: I did. Last week.
Dr F. Grant: I thought you were going to again.
I. Jones: Plans... changed. The Rift's acting up again. I don't have time to... chit-chat.
Dr F. Grant: Mhm. I take it you're still finding it hard to relate to her.
I. Jones: She's just so... normal. She doesn't understand anything about, well, me. Not what I do. What I'm like. I'm sure she wouldn't understand... who I like... but that's... Anyway, it's just hard to talk to her.
Dr F. Grant: I see. Is there anyone you do talk to?
I. Jones: Well. There's Jack. And Tosh. And Gwen.
Dr F. Grant: Do you actually talk to them, or do you still hedge?
(Yet another pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Well, that's what we're here to work on.
I. Jones: I suppose.
Dr F. Grant: What do you talk to Ex-PC Cooper and Ms Sato about?
I. Jones: I dunno. Usually one of them will start the conversation, and then we'll just carry on from there. It's random, really. Nothing too important. I think Tosh talked about cats yesterday.
Dr F. Grant: And did you have anything to say on that matter?
I. Jones: Just that Myfanwy has been bugging this cat Jack found. He calls her Puska. She comes and suns herself around here sometimes. Myfanwy likes to play with her. Puska doesn't like that.
Dr F. Grant: Does... the pterodactyl usually play with cats?
I. Jones: Pteranodon. And no, I don't think so. Though I wouldn't be surprised if she found some dogs to play with. Clever girl. Did you know that she--never mind.
(Short silence.)
Dr F. Grant: You're allowed to talk about Myfanwy, Ianto.
I. Jones: It's not that important.
(Quiet sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: If you say so.
(Pause as more scribbling noises cut through.)
Dr F. Grant: So, shall we pick up where we left off last time?
I. Jones: Do we have to?
Dr F. Grant: We don't, no, but it's better to deal with things than repress them, remember? That's where I think your problems with Yvonne lie.
I. Jones: I don't have problems with Yvonne.
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, you can't remember half the things you did with her.
I. Jones: That's not--it's different. I just have a bad memory.
Dr F. Grant: You don't. We both know you don't.
I. Jones: Feels like I do.
Dr F. Grant: And that's why we're here. To work on things like this.
(A sigh from I. Jones.)
I. Jones: Right.
Dr F. Grant: Is there something you would rather be talking about, then?
I. Jones: Not really.
Dr F. Grant: Then let's go with this. We're not having you sit silently through another session.
I. Jones: Fine.
Dr F. Grant: We left off talking about your issues integrating with the team. Do you feel that's changed now?
I. Jones: I think so. They don't hate me anymore.
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, I'm not so sure they ever did hate you.
I. Jones: After... after Lisa? They did. They must have... they did.
(A pause, filled with writing.)
Dr F. Grant: Do you think they've stopped seeing you as the... "errant tea-boy", as you once put it, and started seeing you as a real team member?
I. Jones: I don't know. I hope so.
Dr F. Grant: You said you've been talking to Ex-PC Cooper and Ms Sato.
I. Jones: Yes.
Dr F. Grant: Do they treat you as an equal?
I. Jones: Yes.
Dr F. Grant: Then I'd say they accept you as a real team member. Wouldn't you agree?
I. Jones: I suppose.
Dr F. Grant: And Captain Harkness promoted you.
I. Jones: Technically. He just never said "no" when I took over the Archives.
Dr F. Grant: So, it's probably safe to say he sees you as equal, too, right?
I. Jones: I guess.
Dr F. Grant: And what about Dr Harper?
I. Jones: What about him?
Dr F. Grant: Well, you've connected to Ex-PC Cooper and Ms Sato and Captain Harkness, but you haven't said anything about Dr Harper.
I. Jones: Oh.
Dr F. Grant: Do the two of you not get along?
I. Jones: Well... It's... complicated.
Dr F. Grant: I can tell.
I. Jones: Yeah. I dunno. It's just always been this way, I guess.
Dr F. Grant: Hm. Seems to me like he's a little upset, because you're... having relations with Captain Harkness.
I. Jones: Why would that upset him?
Dr F. Grant: Well, it seems to me like he's kind of claimed Captain Harkness as a father figure, so to speak. And that's not me giving away personal information, by the way, that's just what any person would th--
I. Jones: Wait, you're saying that Owen acts like this because I'm, what, the annoying new sidechick shagging his dad?
Dr F. Grant: ...if you want it to put it like that, then yes. That's what I'm saying.
(A long pause.)
I. Jones: Jesus Christ.
(A laugh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Maybe I just kept my suspicions to myself, then, hm?
I. Jones: Jesus Christ...
(Another long pause.)
I. Jones: And... and it's not just shag--it's not like that. At least, I hope it's not like that. I don't think so, anyway. I dunno what Jack thinks. I hope it's not... I hope he's... I dunno. But. Just so you know. It's not... just shagging. I don't think. I hope.
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, it's okay. You've told me this.
I. Jones: Oh. Did I?
Dr F. Grant: Yes.
I. Jones: Right. Yeah. Sorry.
Dr F. Grant: You don't have to be sorry, remember.
I. Jones: Right, sorry. Christ. Sorry. I don't mean sorry, I mean--
Dr F. Grant: Ianto. It's okay.
I. Jones: Yeah. Sorry. I know! I know. I'm just...
(A very long sigh from I. Jones, followed by a very long silence.)
Dr F. Grant: Remember, we're here so you can talk
I. Jones: I know.
Dr F. Grant: Anything you want to say, goes.
I. Jones: Yeah. I know. It's just... hard. I guess.
Dr F. Grant: That's understandable. To a point.
I. Jones: What do you mean?
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, behind all that self-correcting and hedging, you want to talk. I know you do. Maybe not about this stuff, but you want to talk. And you don't let yourself.
I. Jones: I talk too much.
Dr F. Grant: Who told you that?
(A pause.)
Dr F. Grant: Was it your father?
I. Jones: Not everything's about him.
Dr F. Grant: Was it?
(Another sigh from I. Jones.)
I. Jones: Maybe. But it wasn't just him.
Dr F. Grant: Who else, then?
I. Jones: I don't know. Everyone.
Dr F. Grant: And that being?
I. Jones: Jesus, I don't know! Everyone!
(Yet another pause.)
I. Jones: Sorry.
Dr F. Grant: It's alright. I think that ones been coming for a long time. You've got a lot of pent-up rage.
I. Jones: I thought that was Owen.
Dr F. Grant: You look me in the eye and tell me you think Dr Harper's rage is pent-up.
(Huff of laughter from I. Jones.)
I. Jones: Yeah, I guess you're right. Are you even supposed to be saying that?
Dr F. Grant: Okay, look me in the eye again and tell me Dr Harper's rage is a secret privately shared between him and myself.
I. Jones: Fair point. Again.
Dr F. Grant: But along that note--you're not feeling irritable again, are you?
I. Jones: No. Would the medication even affect me like that this far along?
Dr F. Grant: Well, I'm fairly certain you're in the clear, but better safe than very sorry.
I. Jones: I suppose.
Dr F. Grant: You're remembering to take it, though, right? You said last time you missed a dose.
I. Jones: Yeah. I take it with breakfast.
Dr F. Grant: What happens when you forget breakfast?
I. Jones: I've been... trying not to, now. I have an alarm set.
Dr F. Grant: That's good. It keeps you consistent.
I. Jones: And I have... well, not always. But sometimes, Jack's there.
Dr F. Grant: And he reminds you?
I. Jones: Yeah. But just when he's... over. Or when I'm. Um. Here.
Dr F. Grant: I thought you said Captain Harkness's impression of drugs wasn't very good.
I. Jones: Oh. No. It's just... the twenty-first century versus fifty-first century thing again. He's expecting advanced... whatever, and all there are is those stupid pills. He thinks it's backwards. Like most things in this century.
Dr F. Grant: Does he think you're backwards?
I. Jones: I dunno. Maybe. I've never asked. But he... reminds me to take the pills... so. I dunno.
Dr F. Grant: That's very good of him.
I. Jones: Yeah. I guess.
Dr F. Grant: You don't sound too sure.
I. Jones: I just... It's... nothing. Not important.
Dr F. Grant: Is it really, or are you just saying it isn't?
I. Jones: Does it matter?
Dr F. Grant: I'd say so, yes. But we can move on if it's not what you're comfortable sharing.
I. Jones: Good.
Dr F. Grant: About that comment you made just a moment earlier--how often do you sleep here?
I. Jones: Oh... maybe twice a week.
Dr F. Grant: And how often does Captain Harkness go over to yours?
I. Jones: Once a week. Maybe twice. Never more than three times.
Dr F. Grant: So you're spending a good half of your week with Captain Harkness.
I. Jones: I... didn't think of it like that...
Dr F. Grant: I'm sure you didn't.
(A short pause.)
Dr F. Grant: You look a bit concerned by this. Is concerning to you?
I. Jones: No! No. Um, no. Just... unexpected. That's all.
Dr F. Grant: I see.
(Another short silence, muddled with writing noises, followed by a quick sipping noise.)
Dr F. Grant: Oh, wow. Coffee's up to your usual standards. And by that, I mean: Christ, Ianto, this is good.
I. Jones: Always a pleasure to serve.
Dr F. Grant: Hm.
I. Jones: Hm? What does that mean?
Dr F. Grant: Nothing. Anyway, where did you learn to make such good coffee?
I. Jones: I worked as a barista. I think.
Dr F. Grant: You think? How do you not know if you worked as a barista?
I. Jones: I don't know. That whole time is just... fuzzy. Like it sat out to grow mould and now nobody wants to touch it.
Dr F. Grant: Interesting metaphor. Do you not want to touch it?
I. Jones: Not really. It feels... like... I don't know, not like something bad happened, but just that... I ought to stay clear. Something's telling me I shouldn't touch it.
Dr F. Grant: Do you know what that something is?
I. Jones: No.
Dr F. Grant: What's your best guess?
I. Jones: I dunno. It's not trauma, if--if that's what you're thinking. I don't think anything... bad happened. I just lived in London. With my dad. I think.
Dr F. Grant: And you say it's not trauma.
I. Jones: It's not! If anything, it's like... Retcon. I guess. Kinda fuzzy around the edges, warning me not to touch it. But that doesn't make sense, because I was never retconned in London.
Dr F. Grant: Hm. That does sound confusing.
I. Jones: Yeah. I guess.
(Silence, interspersed with scratchings of pencil on paper.)
Dr F. Grant: Have you been getting more sleep lately?
I. Jones: Some.
Dr F. Grant: By which I mean, more than four hours?
I. Jones: Yes.
Dr F. Grant: How many hours did you get last night?
(Muttered response from I. Jones.)
Dr F. Grant: Pardon?
(Sigh from I. Jones.)
I. Jones: ...four and a half...
(Another sigh, this time from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Ianto--
I. Jones: Look, I know. Coffee's just not my only job, you know? I have things to do. Weevils to catch and files to...
Dr F. Grant: File?
I. Jones: Whatever.
Dr F. Grant: And where did you sleep last night?
I. Jones: Are we just going back to the conversation about Jack sleeping with me more than I thought?
Dr F. Grant: I did get us a bit off track. Are you okay with that?
I. Jones: What, returning to the conversation, or Jack sleeping with me more that I thought?
Dr F. Grant: Well, either, but I originally meant the latter of the two.
I. Jones: I... It's... fine.
Dr F. Grant: Would you prefer being alone?
I. Jones: I mean... no... but...
Dr F. Grant: It's just a question. Nothing too damning about the answer, either. It's okay to prefer not being alone.
I. Jones: I know.
Dr F. Grant: So, which do you prefer?
I. Jones: I dunno. I guess it's nice not to wake up from... the nightmares... and be all alone.
Dr F. Grant: Yes, I'd assume it'd be better to wake up next to someone who understands.
I. Jones: Yeah. And he does! He's got nightmares of his own, so--not that that's good! It's not good he gets nightmares. But, I'm just saying. It's... oh, forget it. I just like not being alone.
Dr F. Grant: I'm not fighting you on that.
I. Jones: I know. I'm just frustrated. I guess.
Dr F. Grant: At?
I. Jones: Everything. Myself.
Dr F. Grant: Why?
(Heavy sigh from I. Jones.)
I. Jones: Do I even deserve this?
Dr F. Grant: Someone to sleep with?
(Silence.)
Dr F. Grant: Ianto, you deserve to sleep with someone.
(Scoff from I. Jones.)
I. Jones: You make it sound like I'm some fifteen year old girl, asking her mates if it's okay to fuck the hot rugby player a year older than her.
(Another short silence.)
Dr F. Grant: Where did all of these metaphors come from?
I. Jones: ...what?
Dr F. Grant: You seem to have some very colourful metaphors. Where do you get all of those?
I. Jones: I don't know.
Dr F. Grant: Well. They're very interesting.
I. Jones: Thanks. I guess.
Dr F. Grant: You're very welcome. I guess.
(Slight laughs from both I. Jones and Dr F. Grant.)
I. Jones: I hope these don't piss you off.
Dr F. Grant: Therapy sessions?
I. Jones: Yeah. You must think we're all idiots, unable to sort things out for ourselves.
Dr F. Grant: Not at all! Sometimes everyone needs help sorting things out.
I. Jones: I suppose.
Dr F. Grant: And sure, sometimes I wonder how much denser you all could possibly be--
I. Jones: Hey.
Dr F. Grant: --but for the most part, I get it. Not everyone understands themselves. And that's okay. At any rate, it gives me a job. Employment is pretty important.
I. Jones: Sure. But doesn't it get tiring?
Dr F. Grant: Sometimes. Everyone faces some sort of emotional burnout now and again. And sometimes it's hard to help a person the way they need it.
I. Jones: I know how you feel. Sometimes it felt like I was Yvonne's therapist.
Dr F. Grant: Really?
(A short pause.)
I. Jones: I... no... I dunno why I said that...
Dr F. Grant: Hm. Maybe it was something you did feel, but never addressed?
I. Jones: I don't think so. Doesn't feel like that. I just... don't know why I said that.
Dr F. Grant: That's okay. We can work on it next time, if you'd like.
I. Jones: No, it's not important. I don't think. No, it's not.
Dr F. Grant: Okay. Whatever's good with you.
(A last short pause.)
I. Jones: Is that it, then?
Dr F. Grant: For today, yes.
I. Jones: Oh. Alright. Okay.
Dr F. Grant: Are you okay leaving it with that?
I. Jones: Yeah. Sure. Fine. See you next time, I suppose.
Dr F. Grant: Bye, Ianto. End of session eight with Patient 15, Ianto Jones.
(Tape ends.)
Notes:
Yvonne-related elements/London elements from Big Finish audio Blind Summit (aka the audio that destroys my poor soul). Puska the cat is from Sin Eaters (aka the audio that says Ianto Shouldn't Drive.) Both can be summarised by me if need be.
Also, yes, I know they're technically similes, but nobody uses that in their vocabulary unless you studied English like me. People tend to stick with saying "metaphor" in my experience.
Thank you for reading! Have a wonderful day!
Chapter 5: Capt Jack Harkness
Chapter Text
File: Patient 16 (Captain Jack Harkness)
Name: Capt Harkness, Jack
Date of Birth: Redacted Location of Birth: Redacted
Mother: Redacted Father: Redacted
Death Date: Redacted
Occupation: Head of Torchwood Three
Notes:
Redacted.
Item 1:
Summary of Capt Jack Harkness, collected by Dr Felicity Grant from Dr Martha Jones (see: Dr Martha Jones) due to lack of clarity from Patient File.
Summary as follows:
Captain Jack Harkness:
Born in the future. Spent time with the Time Lord the Doctor (see: The Doctor), resulting in permanent (?) immortality. Worked for a long time as member of Torchwood Institute, later to become Head of Torchwood Three, Cardiff. Reunited with Doctor in January 2008, sent to furthest corner of the universe and as far as possible into the future. Spent a whole year (see: The Year that Never Was) in chains on the Valiant being tortured by the Time Lord the Master (see: the Master) with the family of Martha Jones (see: Jones Family, Dr Martha Jones). Returned to Torchwood Three, Cardiff in March 2008.
Item 8a:
Session Seven, collected by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008. Recorded medium (see: Grant, F. Record File 251).
Transcript of recording as follows:
(Tape begins.)
Dr Felicity Grant: Dr Grant, Felicity, here with Patient 16, Captain Harkness, Jack, for the seventh session.
Captain Jack Harkness: Do you--
Dr F. Grant: Yes I bloody do! Jesus Christ, what is all of your problems with my introduction statement? Owen thinks he's a lab rat, Gwen's afraid of seeming impersonal, Tosh is afraid of being dehumanised, and Ianto bloody thinks it's somehow too personal! What, you're going to say you want it redacted? Jesus, what is the matter with you all?
(A long pause.)
Dr F. Grant: You weren't going to mention the intro, were you?
Capt J. Harkness: Nope.
Dr F. Grant: Jesus Christ.
Capt J. Harkness: Just wanted to know if you liked the conference room.
Dr F. Grant: Jesus Christ...
Capt J. Harkness: Were you even supposed to tell me any of those things?
Dr F. Grant: Oh God...
(Long sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Capt J. Harkness: You need some therapy, there, doc?
Dr F. Grant: After you lot? Absobloodylutely.
(A laugh from Capt J. Harkness.)
Capt J. Harkness: Well, I know a great therapist.
Dr F. Grant: Thanks.
Capt J. Harkness: You're welcome.
Dr F. Grant: You're still not sleeping with me. That's a breach in protocol. And I don't think Mr Jones would like that very much.
Capt J. Harkness: Why not?
Dr F. Grant: Sleeping with me?
Capt J. Harkness: Hey! A threesome goes all ways! If he's not into it, then--wait, hang on. Did you think I was... No. I'd never. I might cheat at Naked Hide and Seek, but I'm not a cheater!
Dr F. Grant: I didn't--
Capt J. Harkness: You did. I thought you weren't supposed to judge us like that?
Dr F. Grant: I wasn't! I swear. I just... look, most people assume when you're propositioning just them, and only them, when you're propositioning them.
Capt J. Harkness: Really? Well, that's just stupid.
Dr F. Grant: How so?
Capt J. Harkness: Well, where I'm from, you just naturally assume that you're being propositioned by both the propositioner and also the people currently involved with the propositioner. And if not the other people, you just assume they've already given their consent for the propositioner to have sex with other people. That's just how it goes.
Dr F. Grant: Oh.
Capt J. Harkness: I mean, I knew you people were backward, but I didn't think you were this backward.
Dr F. Grant: You've been here how long? And nobody's taught you that this is a thing here and now?
Capt J. Harkness: No. Never been in a committed... thing... before.
(Silence, permeated by scribbling sounds.)
Capt J. Harkness: Hey, wait, are you writing that down?
(A sharp and loud smacking noise.)
Capt J. Harkness: Ow!
Dr F. Grant: I've told you before, you're not allowed to look at these notes!
Capt J. Harkness: You slap hard!
Dr F. Grant: I think your hand can take it.
Capt J. Harkness: Still... are you even allowed to hit me?
Dr F. Grant: To keep you from seeing my notes? Yes.
(Humph from Capt J. Harkness.)
Dr F. Grant: Anyway. Back to the topic at hand. You're in a committed relationship?
Capt J. Harkness: I... wouldn't call it that.
Dr F. Grant: What would you call it, then?
(A short pause.)
Capt J. Harkness: That's a trick question.
Dr F. Grant: It's not. It's completely genuine.
Capt J. Harkness: I don't believe you.
(A sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Of course you don't. Well, then. Shall we move on?
Capt J. Harkness: Oh. I guess? You never want to switch topics this fast; you usually have me--
Dr F. Grant: Your nightmares.
Capt J. Harkness: Oh, not this again.
Dr F. Grant: How are you managing them?
Capt J. Harkness: Just. Fine.
Dr F. Grant: Are you sure?
Capt J. Harkness: Yes.
Dr F. Grant: I'm not. In fact, I have it under good word that you're not fine at all.
Capt J. Harkness: Did Ianto tell you that? So much for doctor-patient confidentiality.
Dr F. Grant: I rely on him to tell me things about you just as much as I rely on you to tell me things about him. Things he wouldn't say and you would lie about.
Capt J. Harkness: His caloric intake isn't the same as--
Dr F. Grant: Isn't it? This is about keeping you both healthy.
Capt J. Harkness: Well, what does Ianto say about me, then?
Dr F. Grant: You're still having nightmares. And from what I've been gathering from all the times we've talked, they're happening most when you're here, in the Hub. You live in the same place you work.
Capt J. Harkness: So?
Dr F. Grant: So, I think you're having a hard time separating work from relaxation. It's causing you stress. That stress is manifesting in your frequent and viole--
Capt J. Harkness: They're not violent.
Dr F. Grant: --frequent and violent nightmares.
Capt J. Harkness: I'm fine.
Dr F. Grant: You're not fine. Don't pretend. Mr Jones is just as good a source as you are.
(A sigh from Capt J. Harkness.)
Capt J. Harkness: Well, what do you want me to do about it? If I'm not as fine as I say. Which I am, by the way. I am. Just. Fine.
Dr F. Grant: You need to move out.
(Silence.)
Capt J. Harkness: What.
Dr F. Grant: You heard me. You need to move out of the Hub.
Capt J. Harkness: Why?
Dr F. Grant: I already told you. You can't relax because you're always at work and it's causing you endless amounts of stress. You're moving out, effective... immediately.
Capt J. Harkness: You can't do that! You have no authority!
Dr F. Grant: Actually, I do.
Capt J. Harkness: How? With who?
Dr F. Grant: UNIT.
Capt J. Harkness: UNIT's not going to wage war on me if I don't move out of my own damn base.
Dr F. Grant: Jack.
Capt J. Harkness: I've lived here for over a hundred years! Why would I leave?
Dr F. Grant: For the sake of your team.
(A short pause.)
Capt J. Harkness: What do you mean?
Dr F. Grant: If the day comes that you're too stressed or exhausted to deal with the problem at hand, what do you do?
(Another short pause.)
Capt J. Harkness: I didn't think of that.
Dr F. Grant: I'm not surprised.
Capt J. Harkness: Hey--
Dr F. Grant: But you need to learn to take time off. You need rest. Physical and mental.
Capt J. Harkness: So I just move out and problem solved?
Dr F. Grant: Not quite, no. But it's a start.
Capt J. Harkness: Where would I even go?
Dr F. Grant: That's up to you. Buy a house. Rent a flat. Move in with someone.
Capt J. Harkness: Who? I don't think Rhys would like it very much if I showed up and butted in.
Dr F. Grant: Well, I was thinking Mr Jones, but if you're that desperate to move in with Rhys Williams...
(Yet another short pause.)
Capt J. Harkness: Ianto?
Dr F. Grant: Well, yes.
Capt J. Harkness: Ianto.
Dr F. Grant: Yes.
Capt J. Harkness: Ianto.
Dr F. Grant: Yes! Jesus. Jack, you've practically admitted to being in a committed relationship with him, and you care deeply about him. I don't ask just anyone if he's on top of his meds. And he cares about you, too.
Capt J. Harkness: Oh.
(Another short pause, again.)
Dr F. Grant: I'm not saying you have to, I'm offering you a suggestion.
Capt J. Harkness: Indeed.
Dr F. Grant: One that seems to be the best option. A safe space where you feel relaxed and happy, right?
Capt J. Harkness: I guess...
Dr F. Grant: Think about it. When you've thought it through enough, ask Mr Jones what he thinks about it.
(A long pause this time.)
Capt J. Harkness: Now what?
(A sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Well. I suppose I could ask about how those meditation exercises are going.
Capt J. Harkness: Oh. Yeah. Those.
Dr F. Grant: You don't do them, do you?
Capt J. Harkness: Nope.
Dr F. Grant: You should. I'll tell Mr Jones to keep you on them.
Capt J. Harkness: That's not going to work.
Dr F. Grant: Alright, then I'll tell Ex-PC Cooper.
(A pause.)
Capt J. Harkness: Fine. I'll do them.
Dr F. Grant: Perfect.
Capt J. Harkness: But not willingly.
Dr F. Grant: Doesn't matter. Just do them.
Capt J. Harkness: Whatever.
(Brief pause for writing.)
Dr F. Grant: How's your death count?
Capt J. Harkness: Lower.
Dr F. Grant: Really?
Capt J. Harkness: ...yes.
Dr F. Grant: Are you sure?
Capt J. Harkness: Um.
Dr F. Grant: If I asked Dr Harper or Mr Jones, what number would they give me?
(A huffed sigh from Capt J. Harkness.)
Capt J. Harkness: Three.
Dr F. Grant: That's one more than last time.
Capt J. Harkness: Well, it was either be impaled or have Ianto get Venusian snakeworm guts all over him. And you know how he complains about his ruined suits. Plus, that stuff doesn't come out of the hair very well. He would smell so bad. Can you imagine a week of cranky Ianto cause he smells like a Ygrivian slime boar?
Dr F. Grant: Okay, those all seem to be considerations of Mr Jones's physical form, and not of Mr Jones himself. Would he prefer you dying?
Capt J. Harkness: I... guess not...
Dr F. Grant: No. And do Dr Harper and Mr Jones like cleaning up after you?
Capt J. Harkness: No...
Dr F. Grant: There. If you want to consider anything, consider that. Nobody likes it when you die.
Capt J. Harkness: Okay, well--
(A high pitched beeping noise sounds, backed up by more beeping somewhere far in the distance.)
Capt J. Harkness: Haha, looks like you lose this time, doc. Rift activity.
Dr F. Grant: This isn't an interrogation...
Capt J. Harkness: Whatever. Bye!
(A loud thunk, followed by the heavy clomping of boots disappearing out of hearing range.)
Dr F. Grant: ...bye, I suppose.
(A sigh from Dr F. Grant.)
Dr F. Grant: Well. This is yet another premature end to a session--session seven--with Patient 16, Captain Jack Harkness.
(Tape ends.)
Item 8b:
Therapist notes, collected by Dr Felicity Grant on 25 June 2008.
Notes as follows:
Capt Jack Harkness, Sess. 7, 24/06/2008
- Seems in a good mood today
Jesus WHY.- Still trying to sleep with me
- Is confused about monogamy=faithful in 21st century
- It doesn't in his?
Is propositioner a word?- Confused about backwardness of this time
- Will not admit to committed relationship
- Is still grabby
- Needs boundaries
- Lies about nightmares
- Is also in denial about nightmares
- Doesn't like idea of moving out
- Confrontational about the idea of moving out
- Whether or not he will consider is unclear...
- Will return to this next sess.
- Meditation exercises not happening
- Set both Ianto and Gwen on him
- Gwen especially
- He says he'll do them but still.
- Gwen especially
- Set both Ianto and Gwen on him
- Death count increasing instead of decreasing
- Still finding stupid ways to die
- Related to "The Year" trauma still?
- Probably.
- Related to "The Year" trauma still?
- Still finding stupid excuses for death
- Will consider alternatives?
- Maybe?
- Will consider alternatives?
- Still finding stupid ways to die
- Ending sess. early again
- Another Rift alert
Bloody Torchwood.
- Another Rift alert
Notes:
End on a happier note.
Thank you for reading! Have a great day!
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