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Tombstone Estate, Planet Gran Canaria, Omega 49 System


Doc didn't normally treat people in his own home nor did he work in psychiatry but his services were requested. Unsure of how to approach the issue, he consulted with members of his staff who were well versed in it. After a long meeting about it, it was agreed that members of his staff would be ready and available if needed. For Doc, it was a chance to add another medical specialty to his resume.

He knew little about Elena Voigt. He knew she was from Liberty but knew little else. She didn't want a clinical environment nor did she want to be treated aboard Med Force One. He was reluctant to offer up his home but since he was living alone in such grand fashion, he didn't figure it would hurt.

He prepared one of his guest houses for her.

It was comfortable and warm and was prepared with fresh linens, towels and had a small com station. He hoped that she would be happy with it.
He would conduct therapy in the main estate. Extra wood was set by the fireplace. For the moment, he dressed casually and poured himself an orange seltzer as he awaited Elena's arrival.

Gran Canaria didn’t belie any of Elena’s expectations: it was just as cold as she had been told it would be. She was no daughter of New Berlin, and thus was not exactly receptive to the low degrees that felt as though they were pricking right through the thick down anorak she had chosen to wear. It was the first time she was on this planet, and already now would she have loved to turn around on her heel and fly the hell away again. The mere thought of why she had to be here aggrieved her, and, coupled with the bitingly cold winds every now and then, made her shiver and shudder. She wished the circumstances to be different as she walked down the few lanes to grab a taxi that would bring her to the estate. But sadly, matter of factly, it was like her hands were tied behind her back and she could not do anything about it. There had been no real freedom of choice – either she would submit to this here, or she would molder away without ever breaking the vicious circle she happened to be entrapped in. Even though she hoped and was ultimately sure that this meeting would help her in some way, she still felt a deep revulsion that bordered on unrest or even anxiety. Turning the question over in her mind whether she was ready to open up or not, she hailed a taxi with grim expression and climbed in and made it herself as comfortable as possible. The answer was simple: she would just have to.

John Henry Holliday, she said to herself. A man she knew only little about, and one she was about to meet for the first time. Still, she already thought to know him to some extent. The tails about him were spread wide all over the Neural Net, and he seemed to have a reputation that only preceded him. She liked to tell herself that she would be well looked after with him as consultant, yet she was not all so sure about it. Not to mention she preferred to be in her own hands usually. Her hands, cold and ashen-pale and trembling, didn’t make for good ones, though. Then add to it the subtle suggestion of a friend of hers to call a specialist in, and here she was – albeit reluctantly.

As she looked out of the window of the taxi, she began to study the landscapes of Gran Canaria thoroughly. Here, in a heated cab, she could actually find the view pleasant. It was a nice looking scenery, she had to admit, with some strewn around, beautiful forests. A real pity they were all so damn frosty.

When the driver made knock-knock and demanded the money, Elena started from her snoozing she had gotten into, buried in various thoughts. Wordlessly she thrusted it into his hand and stepped out stiffly, in order to blanket some of the flutter she had inside. Slowly taking step after step towards the estate she had been brought to, she breathed in heavily again and again and watched the wafts of mist leaving her mouth. Quickly she fixed her eyes on the large building in front of her that seemed to dominate the estate she would probably have to stay on for the time being. It appeared luxurious to her, nothing less than aristocratic. Maybe she would get to like it. The last thing she needed right now was a snob who would spit out only weird literature quotes. Nonetheless, she decided to force the optimism onto her as well as she could. Maybe it would be worth while, who was she to know already?

With a more or less amenable and cleaned and sorted mind, Elena strode towards the entrance. With her chin tucked in and a large, furred hood over her head that would only show sparse strands of her blue-dyed hair, she looked around herself to soak in the whole of her surroundings, and watched out for any host that might appear.

Doc was inside sipping on a cup of hot green tea when the door bell rang. He was sitting on his couch in his west room reading a medical magazine, awaiting his guest while staying in from the worsening weather. A snow storm was expected so Elena's arrival was right on time. Putting his cup down, he made a quick walk to the front door.

He was dressed casual. A blue long sleeve shirt and jeans with a belt wearing a pair of loafers. He greeted Elena as he removed his reading glasses to place them on a table next to him. Reaching for her bag as she arrived, he greeted her. "Miss Voigt, I presume. Welcome to Tombstone."
He took her coat as she removed it and hung it near a heat vent over a mat. "Please, make yourself at home. I was just enjoying some green tea if you're interested."
He then placed her bag not far from her coat. He would take care of it later.

He hadn't made any eye contact with her as of yet as he was too busy already trying to be a gracious host and making her comfortable.
"Let's see.....I have tea water, I can make up some coffee or...." he pointed towards a fully stocked bar, ".....I can prepare you whatever you like."
He then stopped to take a look at his patient and took a breath. "I'm sorry if I'm coming across as rude. I'm Dr. John Henry Holliday. Welcome to my home. If you need anything, anything at all, just ask. Food?"

Just as she felt a strong wind that clashed against her face, indicating the weather was about to get even lousier, the door in front of her opened, and she saw the Doctor's figure in front of her. For a few seconds she stood there and examined him from head to toe while clunching at the strap of her bag. Afterwards she gave him a nod, and forced a small smile on her frozenly stiff face. It was supposed to show some level of self-assurance, but it turned out just the opposite, dying down right away. Unshouldering her bag, she quickly gave it to him albeit reluctantly. In the meantime, she stepped into the warm house, to flee from the cold she was so weary of. Tombstone ... it sounded almost ghoulish to her, and she didn't really want to know who or what exactly was buried here either. It didn't make her mind any more serene.

"It's nice to see you in person finally, Mr. Holliday," she meant absent-mindedly, as though she merely recited some verse she had committed to memory. Her voice sounded hoarse and more or less colourless. The room she had stepped in felt almost broiling in comparison to the harsh cold outside. That he instantly reached for her coat she was thankful for, as it was far too thick. Beneath it she wore a simple, just as thick black pullover. At his offer she shook her head and looked at him. "Thanks, but no thanks, I don't feel hungry or thirsty right now," she gave back, lacking any expressions. After a second of rethinking though, she added: "But when I consider it ... maybe I am thirsty. I could really use a cup of coffee, I guess. Black one, please. That would be nice." Her limbs looked stiff, both because the weather had frozen them and because she was anything but relaxed. Somehow, she really just wanted to get to "it", and most importantly get over "it" as quickly as possible. Whatever "it" meant.

She let herself get carried away a little though, and started some smalltalk to ease the situation for her through some distraction. "You've got it pretty cozy here," she stated, looking around with her arms akimbo. Somehow the smalltalk didn't want to take off, she felt, so she gave up on it and turned around to face the man again. Why was he already saying sorry for potentially being impolite, she wondered.

"It'll be a few minutes on the coffee," he explained as he was prepping a fresh pot. He brewed it the old fashioned way, through a coffee maker, not a cup in a machine or a replicator. "Some things are worth the wait and good coffee is one of them."

Somewhere in his talking about coffee, he noticed her. Her straight face showed someone who was distraught. The cold obviously didn't agree with her.

"You've got it pretty cozy here"
He gave a short chuckle and a light smile. "It used to be. When I built this place, it was much more temperate. Nice summers, a seasonable spring and fall and winters were what you feel now but not so long but then the climate change started."
The coffee finished. He poured two cups, one for each of them and walked over to her. Handing it to her, he continued, "The evergreen gardens out there were once flowers, fruits and vegetables. My late wife, Midori, basically lived out there. It was her life. She would even have the kids as infants strapped to her while she worked." He paused a moment as his face dropped. He weakly finished with a "Good times, indeed."

He sipped his coffee, enjoying it and trying to find his smile. He studied his patient for a moment. She looked nice even in her pullover and hoped he would see a smile on her at some point. He motioned to the door the led to his West room.
"Please, we can talk in here," he motioned. "It's an old world style room full of old memories....good ones. But, we are here for you, not for me so please, take a seat."

The room was one someone might see in an old cowboy movie. A matching black leather sofa, love seat and recliner surrounded a wooden table. In the corner was a baby grand piano with a music light atop it. A simple chandelier centered on the ceiling lit the room although there was a corner lamp. A medical magazine lay open on the table and a fireplace kept the room warm. In the other corner was an old rocking chair. About the walls were pictures. Doc could be seen in a couple of them with old friends and there was a picture of him and his late wife together as well as one of them with all three kids together.
His reading glasses were on the open magazine. Once Elena got comfortable, he took the corner of his couch, cuddling his coffee mug.
"So, where shall we begin?"

The cup of steaming coffee felt pleasantly hot on her hands that were still cold as ice. For some moments she clutched at it, using the cup to warm up her hands. Then, nodding her thanks at him, but without words, she guided the cup towards her mouth and took a large, rash sip. As always, she managed to scald her tongue, but she didn't mind. It was good to have something warm running through her body finally, especially when it was coffee. As she took another sip right afterwards, she looked down at the black liquid. It got her into thinking. Perhaps coffee wasn't the best choice for Elena right now, unsettled and disquiet as she was. Shaking her head, she lifted her gaze and silently followed the Doctor into the other, somewhat country-style room. There would be enough words spoken sooner or later, she thought, so she didn't have necessarily have to speak just now.

The piano immediately lept out at her as she entered, holding her gaze for a couple of moments. Then she looked around the various pictures hanging on the walls, especially at the one showing him and his family. She squinted at it, beginning to realize why perhaps he was living alone on his estate. And why it was called Tombstone Estate of all names. The thought didn't make it better, though.

Silently damning the lump that had gotten into her throat by the time she plunked down on one of the sofas, she made it herself as comfortable as possible for her. The cup she still held in her clutching hand and swayed it around every now and then. Despite its undeniably rustic style, the room had something to it, she thought. Not as modern. And in no way related to the cell of a psychiatry, which soothed her in some way.

Elena held still after his final question, obviously rapt in thoughts as she stared down at the floor. By now, she had slackened deep into the soft sofa. Her lips she chewed on, almost biting them open, then, as if it was the most honest answer to his question, she vented a deep-drawn sigh. Without raising her head, she began murmurously: "Well, I've never been to something like this before, to be honest. Which is good, I guess, but that way I'm, uhm, not sure where to start, really." Momentarily, she damned herself for ever having come here in the first place. As she had her head lowered though, her expressions weren't exactly readable for him. It was a grimace that showed on her face. When she looked up and glanced at him, she pressed her lips together and blinked.

Just now she realized she really didn't have any idea how a therapy like this would work. "I guess I'm supposed to tell you something about who I am and why I have contacted you, right?" The words sounded squeezed, over-controlled.

He could tell just by her demeanor and body language that there was a great deal wrong. He wasn't a trained psychologist but she was making it easy. For the moment, he just tried to be pleasant and accommodating. Outside, the snow had picked up but it was most comfortable inside. He got up, put another log on the fire, stoked it a bit and returned to his spot on the couch.

"I guess I'm supposed to tell you something about who I am and why I have contacted you, right?"
"It's a start," he answered kindly. "Admittedly, I"m new at this discipline of medicine but I received several, good training sessions from my staff on this matter." He sipped his coffee. "Also, having been receiving some counselling of my own, well, my staff thought I would be good at this."
"Let's start simple," he began. "Where you are from, what it is you do for a living and what brought you to seek me out. If you would rather, I can break the ice a bit and tell you more about me if you like."

Elena gulped loudly and, after another sip from the coffee, put the cup away onto the side table next to her. She crossed her legs and folded her hands on her lap, though she quickly began to wring them nervously. There was obviously no way around the talk, otherwise she could have just stayed away after all, and she was aware of that fact. So she didn’t let herself get conquered by the deep revulsion she felt inside herself, and instead brought herself to take a deep breath and just start. She made her voice sound as calm as she could, but she didn’t manage to hold back the slight quavers speaking of her tense state of mind. Although the sofa was nothing least of heavenly comfortable and she was sunken deep into it, she was not able to relax with the best will of the world. The kindness she was met with she barely even noticed. Instead, she was much more focused on keeping a clear mind and showing as few emotions as possible. That she failed hard at that slowly dawned on her.

It took some seconds until she piped up, during which only the faint, yet harmonic spitting of the fireplace could be heard. Her voice, taking a scratchy note, slit through the homely ambience like a knife. “No, it’s alright,” she began and licked her lips. Her gaze fixated on the fireplace. Another loud gulp. “I’m from Rheinland, as you might have heard by my accent already. From Planet Stuttgart, to be exact. A lovely place, truly. Especially the summer times are really nice, especially in the bigger cities. Better than New Berlin or Hamburg, definitely.” The hint of a smile flickered across her face momentarily, yet her mien stiffened again quickly afterwards. She shook her head. “Eh, anyways. What I do for a living, you ask? You could say I’m taking care of people for a living, people who are outlaws and oppose local laws. I’m a mercenary, sort of.” She lapsed into silence for a moment. “Although I guess I didn’t exactly make that impression to you. I’ve done that for a living for quite a while now. For a bit more than a year, if my memories don’t fool me.”

Elena briefly stole a glance at him, and afterwards lowered her head to look at her wringing hands. So far, so easy. Now came the more difficult part, the one she would have more than loved to avoid. But it would be nonsense to not answer it. She remembered how she had realized she needed help a couple of days ago, and how winged she had been to get over it and meet it head-on. Most of it seemed to be gone again now. But she realized she had to force herself. Shifting her body on one side, she took another deep breath and continued, eyes closed. It was best to just imagine she was alone and talking to herself. She would do everything to stay calm, she told herself. “And, for your last question,” said she unassertively. “I, to say it bluntly, I’ve gone through a lot lately. And I feel like it is past due to talk about it with somebody who knows more about this whole psycho business than I do.” She compressed her lips and mumbled. “I realized I’m in serious need of help.”

Doc just listened. He sat still with his right leg folded slightly under his left which went to the floor. His cup of coffee was clutched in his hands. As he waited for her to open up, even just a little, he focused on the fire. Through the window, he could see the snow coming down. For Doc, it was a reminder of a time past when he would take such an atmosphere and curl up with Midori to just watch while they kept each other warm. Watching Elena however, he could see some disturbance buried deep within her. He let her speak, letting her take her time to do so. His cue was her admitting that she needed serious help.

"Yes," he said kindly, "Stuttgart is a beautiful place. I've been there many times myself and it continues to be a favorite stop of mine." He then thought a moment, zeroing in on his statement about "You could say I’m taking care of people for a living, people who are outlaws and oppose local laws. I’m a mercenary, sort of.”
"We have something in common," he explained, "we take care of people for a living. Yes, some are outlaws. In my case, I don't care who someone is. Everyone needs help from time to time, even me. There is no shame in it."
He sipped his coffee and returned to sitting still. "I've walked both sides of the law and yes, I've killed my fair share of men so I can relate a bit. My past fueled my present as I just didn't want to do it anymore so I created my enterprise."
He thought again a moment. He was thinking carefully, especially since this wasn't his medical discipline. "It is why I chose my own home for the first time to help a patient........you. It's not the iron walls of Med Force One or the concrete of Canaria Medical but my home. It's far more comfortable. My staff felt that my past and recent issues of my own would make me an effective counselor. I hope their faith isn't misplaced."

He relaxed a moment, hoping they were connecting. He gently asked, "So tell me about lately."

She nodded in consensus. He gave tongue to exactly her thoughts, she realized. For a moment she lifted her gaze and glanced at him, though there was still nothing but vacancy in her eyes. She gave the rest of the room another gander. “Yeah, right. I would choose this place over any damn clinic whenever I got the chance to do so. Clinics are so … oppressive, you feel like you’re in prison. And in some way, they are exactly that. Prisons.”

Elena quickly reached for the cup of coffee, and partially hid her face behind it. She wasn’t sure what to think of him openly admitting his own recent issues. On one hand, it unsettled her, for she was of the opinion that a counselor with own mental problems might be of no use at all. On the other hand however, that was basically what she had wished for for months now. For months had she stonewalled anybody trying to soothe her with the argumentation of “you can’t even put yourself in my shoes”. Elena didn’t know how grave this man’s own issues were, but something about his voice and the way he mentioned it told her this might be somebody who could actually put himself in her shoes. Still she had immense troubles just thinking about being frank about the whole mess. Something inside her baulked. He had mentioned shame. Oh, how much shame there was. After some amount of silence, she went on. This time here voice was nigh rancorous. “Whether there is shame or no shame in seeking help depends on the reason why you need it, I would say,” she meant, avoiding eye contact.

She sat up on the sofa, since she had the feeling it slowly tried to swallow her up, and humped her back. It took a while until she found a comfortable position for her legs. Supporting her chin with her right hand, she stared dead ahead at the opposite wall. Her facial play hardened as she searched for the right words to begin with the whole debacle. There was so much for her to spit out, she felt, but then again, did she want anybody to hear it truly? One last deep breath, she told herself, and keep your balance. The cup she kept in front of her face, to conceal her expressions, at least to some degree. The lump stuck in her throat made her voice sound rough as she hemmed and spoke up. As frankly as possible. “The, the last three months have been … horrible. Like a steady ride through hell that seems to never end. You somehow hope all the shitty feelings disappear at some point, but they really aren’t. They are, they are just far worse.” She halted surprisedly. It was hard to speak about that, but not as hard as she had imagined. The difficult part was still to come, though.

“I don’t know if you know how it’s like when your life feels like one single nightmare. When you feel like you’re absolutely powerless and helpless. Every time you want to go to bed, you know you will just dream of nightmares again. And when you’re awake, you don’t even know why you’re even awake and don’t just fall asleep again.” Elena fell silent and raised her head. She weighed it to the side, for the first time during her monologue actually looking at him unsteadily and pursing her mouth up. Her heart had begun to pounce hard against her chest once more. “You know how that feels?” It wasn’t a provocative question, but rather one of curiosity. Blinkingly she kept staring at him with an almost piercing look.