Dr. Morton once again met Christian in the cafeteria as lunchtime was drawing to a close.
"Christian?"
He looked up from his paperwork, before glancing at the clock and beginning to pack up.
"So what's it today, Doc?" he smirked.
"Counselling," Dr. Morton replied, "I'm to take you to Miss Richards' room."
Christian winced uneasily, before shoving the papers into his shoulder bag.
"How long for?" he looked a cross between worried and disgusted.
"Maximum four hours, but we'll see how you go."
"Can I dump this first?"
"Sure," the doctor nodded, indicating for Christian to take it to his room.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and did so, hearing the doctor and guards following behind. He dropped the bag inside the door of his room, before Dr. Morton began to lead him back toward the workshop area.
They finally came to the room that had been pointed out as Miss Richards' and Dr. Morton knocked.
"Come in," came a sharp reply, to which Christian couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
When they walked in, he could see that the woman was in her late 20s at worst, wearing thick rimmed glasses and extremely neat hair and clothes.
"Good afternoon Christian," she smiled curtly, standing up to shake his hand.
"And to you," he returned somewhat curiously, before they both looked to Dr. Morton.
"We can't have the guards in here, you know that," Miss Richards lay the law down immediately, "take a seat Christian."
Christian hesitated, but sat on the couch.
"I'd like to keep one in as a precaution if I may," Dr. Morton reasoned.
"No," the woman insisted, "you know the rule. Confidentiality. And don't even think that just because he's a high profile client that you're welcome to go through his files to check up on anything."
Christian couldn't help but smile a little.
"Miss Richards, must I remind you that I am in charge of..."
"Not this division you're not," she interrupted, "I respect my clients and their privacy, and I would ask you to do the same. It is well within my employment rights if you'd like to look them up."
The doctor glanced at Christian.
"Very well," he conceded, "but they'll be outside."
"If they're caught eavesdropping don't think I won't take action," Miss Richards warned as the three men stepped out and she closed the door behind them.
She slipped the lock into place, before turning back to Christian and straightening her clothes and hair.
"Sorry about that."
He just shrugged.
"You can lay down if you want, it's what the couch is for," she offered, making her way over to her desk to get a pad and pen before taking a seat in her nearby chair.
"I'd rather not," Christian replied, beginning to twiddle his thumbs.
"Would I be right in guessing you hadn't done anything of this sort in the past?"
"I... can't say I have," Christian scratched at his arm uneasily.
"So you don't know what it involves."
"I have an idea," he raised an eyebrow.
"Do you think you need encouragement at this point?"
"A lot of encouragement," he admitted openly with a nod.
"Very well," she sighed, clipping the pen to the board she held and sitting back into her chair.
She looked him over for a moment with a frown.
"You have quite a large block in your head."
"You're a telepath?" Christian frowned.
"Empath," she corrected, "is there a specific reason for it, or did someone just give it to you?"
"I asked for it," he admitted, twiddling his thumbs again nervously.
"Why would you need such a large one? Were you worried about certain people getting in?"
"Yes."
"Who?"
She readied her pen and paper and raised an eyebrow. Christian stared at her for a moment, before glancing at the door and hugging himself.
"They're not listening," she reassured, "and what you tell me stays between us. I make it my duty to keep that promise."
"So I heard," Christian closed his eyes.
"Who were you worried about getting into your head?"
"At the time?" he opened his eyes again, "Lucious Holding. Better known as Racer."
"Did he have access to you? Why would he want to get inside your head?"
"I'd say so, he had me captive for about a month," Christian smirked, "he wanted me to work for him."
"Why?"
Christian shrugged, "why anyone would want me I guess. Either as a trophy, because I'm experienced, or... because I know a lot of people and things."
"Do you see yourself as a trophy?"
Christian hesitated at the question, before pulling a face.
"I understand the reasoning..." he trailed off with a frown.
"Actually come to think of it, I don't. I don't see myself as anything great, it's everyone else that's pushed it onto me. They only see me as Craig's son, not... you know. A hunter in my own right."
Miss Richards was writing furiously.
"How does that idea make you feel?"
"Confused."
"Anything else?" she asked with what sounded like honest curiosity.
Christian hesitated, finally leaning back into the couch and beginning to pick at his nails.
"Resentment I guess."
"Resentment for who in particular?"
"The masses," Christian shook his head, "all the idiots who don't see me for who I am, and those who made me who I am."
"In what light do you see those who... made you what you are, as you say?"
"That would depend on who we're talking about specifically," Christian scratched his nose, giving her a glance, "I mean I wasn't brought up in isolation, I had a lot of influences."
"Mainly from your father?"
"I don't resent him," Christian frowned, "I resent his old aquaintances and his old and new enemies."
"As if you were taking over from him?"
"Not in that way. Moreso... When Racer took me in, it was at first so that I wouldn't be able to prevent Craig's inevitable death even though I didn't know it was going to happen. I honestly think he was one of very few who would have done that. Anyone else would have either killed me off straight away, or held me captive for the sole fact that I was high profile and it was something to gloat about."
"I have to say I'm glad that you recognised that."
"I'm not that daft," Christian almost chuckled, "I've always had people after me - whether it was just to get to Craig or not - so obviously I'd often be thinking of motive. With Craig gone the objects for motive have obviously narrowed substancially."
Christian
"You don't come across as someone to be scared of much, if anything. Has there been a sudden personality change in yourself, or would you say you've kept it hidden your entire life?"
Christian rubbed his arm awkwardly.
"I don't know," he replied honestly, "I know I've changed a lot in the past couple of years."
"Was there a specific reason for that change?"
"Maybe," he sighed.
"Does it have anything to do with your father's death?"
Christian couldn't help but smile. Even though it was quite obvious to pretty much everyone that he and Craig weren't related, he still enjoyed the fact that people recognised their relationship in that way.
"He died last year," he said after a moment's silence, "I was changing a year before that."
"So it was a sudden change?"
"I guess so," Christian shrugged, taking a look at the clock, "but you know, a lot of things happened. Everything accumulates and eventually... you just crack."
"You're describing a mental breakdown?"
"Perhaps," Christian pulled a face.
"When did it occur?"
"Late 2003."
"Did something specific trigger it?"
"I'd say so, yes. But again it was just a collection of things..."
Miss Richards continued adding to her notes, not missing the fact that his answers were getting shorter.
"Was it certain persons? Events? Frustrations...?"
"As I said, a mix of things," Christian shrugged, "it just all boiled down to being forced to see things in a different light to what I had my entire life previous."
"What do you mean?"
Christian looked across at her, before hugging himself defensively.
"I'd rather not discuss it right now."
"That's fine. We can save it for another time," Miss Richards offered.
Christian watched her for a moment, not sure whether or not to add that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to tell it.