The Grieving Process (Ch. 23 added!)

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

OK. so. I know a few of you will be angry when i state...
there will be no sequel to A Memo.
sorry. i just can't figure out how to write one. it's one of the few fictions i have written and completed, and i don't want to create a sub-par sequel.
~
BUT ANYWAYS. i have written a new fic for you!! it's not connected to my former story in any sort, but i hope you'll like it.

"Miss...what should I call you?"
Dr. Jonathan Crane had his legal pad and pen ready to write.
"Genevieve Proctor."
Genevieve was a thin woman of average height with skin the color of chocolate, who spoke in a strained, exhausted tone. She was dressed in an aqua blouse and black pants.
"And why are you here, exactly?"
"My family sent me to you."
"Is that all?"
"...I miss my husband. Next month it will be a year since his death."
"Is that why your family sent you to see me? You're still in mourning?"
"...I just can't let him go. He wasn't just my husband, but my dear friend."
Genevieve dotted her eyes with a silk handkerchief.
"How long were you married, Miss Proctor?"
"Five years. I was 20 and he was 22 when we got married."
She looked at the floor and smiled. Jonathan found that young for someone to marry, but kept his opinion to himself.
"Tell me how he died."
"I really don't want to..."
"Please, Miss Proctor, it's how we can progress, how I can understand you."
Genevieve sniffled and sighed heavily.
"It was November, a really cold day. James had just left for work an hour ago, and
I was making myself breakfast...toast...cereal...orange juice."
Dr. Crane nodded, paraphrasing her story in his notes.
"There was a knock at my door, and it was the police. Two officers. They asked if my husband was
James Patrick. I nodded, knowing it was nothing good. They asked that I come with them, and
they took me to downtown. There was a crowd around his body. His eyes were closed and..."
She wiped her eyes with the same handkerchief.
"...He was so cold. I-I...screamed! I just began shouting and asking how this happened...They all said
it was a mugging gone bad..."
Tears began poured down her oval-shaped face. Her expression was tired, sick of crying. She put her head into her hands, sobbing quietly.
"Did they catch his killer?"
"Yes", she breathed, "he was some kid, incredibly pale and jittery. I...had to testify my grief to the court...establish my husband's character...he would never hurt anyone."
She looked up directly into Dr. Crane's eyes and put a hand to her heart, as if swearing James Patrick was someone who had a stainless name.
Dr. Crane felt very bad for her. She was still relatively young, only 26, and unable to move on from his death.
Genevieve took another deep breath and cleared her throat.
"So...It's been a year since his death. Why do you find it hard to move onward?"
"Because when people come up to me, the first thing they say is "Sorry for your loss". I lie to make myself seem OK, but I know I'm not, not even anywhere close. I cry in the shower, at night...I just can't forget him. I must seem so stupid."
She coughed a few times and sniffled again, darting her eyes to the floor.
"No, no. It's natural to mourn a loss, especially of your spouse. You are not stupid for being able to express how you feel."
She rubbed her eyes and rung the handkerchief in her hands. Dr. Crane wrote again, citing Genevieve’s possible problems.
"You've made excellent progress, Miss Proctor. I suggest you go and rest at home."
Her face struggled with a smile, extending her hand to shake his.
"T-Thank you, Doctor." Her handshake was somewhat weak. "It's nice to finally get that out."
She sniffled again and oddly walked out the door. There was something off balance about the way she moved.
____

Genevieve is in no need of medication. More sessions should be scheduled. Obviously still in the depression stages of grieving.
Jonathan sighed heavily in front of his computer screen. Genevieve was the only patient he was seeing that was remotely sane. When he saw her mother weeks before, she simply mentioned Genevieve was "disturbed by James' death". She was not seeing his ghost, nor denying he was dead. Just a very sad woman who was in need of a shoulder to lean on, a person willing to give an ear.
Possibly could not have good relationship with family, a great lack of communication. Could be isolating herself from activities and suffering from insomnia.
Did she have a job? Or was she living off of his life insurance for the time being? Her mother was paying his bill for Genevieve. If she didn't work, what did James do? Where did they live? The questions that he could have asked gnawed at his brain.
Will ask more about her background and living situation next week.

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

:\ is my fic that bad??

[§ilvercell]

no,ovcorse not!

[blue-eyed struck]

I honestly never got into all the Dr. Crane fan fics, except 1 or 2. However, this one is different and refreshing. I like a non-scary Dr. Crane! Keep posting!

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

ok...next chapter.

Chapter 2.

Dr. Crane opened his door to find Genevieve ten minutes early to her appointment. She looked up at him from her book, which seemed a bit thin for a novel.
"Would you like to start now?"
"OK."
She shakily stood up and walked into his office, lying across his beige couch.
"How have you been this week, Miss Proctor?
"Uhm..."
Her expression turned frustrated, as if she had lost her train of thought.
"...I stopped crying myself to sleep. Is that progress?"
"Yes. Have you been getting to sleep naturally?"
"No. Because I've been crying more through the day."
Jonathan decided not to say anything.
"Miss Proctor, what do...or did...you do for a living?"
"I use to work in advertising. My husband was a CEO of a marketing firm. We made excellent money together. But after...his death...I just lost it. I finally took leave last week, so I could stop stifling cries in my office and running out of tissues."
"How do you live now?"
"I make good money still; I live well by most standards. I'm living in a small apartment, I sold the condo we once shared. I pay my bills and buy groceries sometimes, even though I hardly find myself eating."
Genevieve moved her eyes from the wall and to him, giving an "I know that's not healthy" look.
"How long have your eating habits been like this?"
"A few weeks. It's happened recently. For a while, I ate like food was going to disappear. Now I eat on occasion."
Dr. Crane tilted his head to the side and nodded.
"Tell me about your family, your childhood, how you were raised."
"I used to live in Waterford, the middle-class neighborhood outside of Gotham. My mother was strict and did telemarketing, Dad worked as a doctor, so I didn't see him much."
"So, you had a strong upbringing. How were you as a child?"
"...I was sick a lot, very quiet, reserved. I didn't behave like the other girls and boys. I used to stay inside instead of go out and play at recess. I wasn't interested. I drew; I rode my bike at home, read a lot. I tried to avoid trouble, avoid troublesome people. I had started reading at an eight grade level when I was in fifth."
"Did they ever advance you in your studies?"
"No. My mother told them "I don't want her to be around the other children, they could poorly influence her". I was bored in class and asked for homework ahead of time so I wouldn't have to waste time later. Never got it, though."
"How was high school?"
Her face grew upset again.
"It was when I had to face people, work in groups and such. I attracted attention from the "popular" guys at school. They treated me the worse, though. One guy drove me to a deserted parking lot and I got out of his car and punched him. It was the first date and he expected me to just "oblige to his needs". I walked home and vomited, feeling terrible. My dad warned me about men in general, giving all of them a general "they only want your body" complex."
"So, you began to find disgust in men?"
"Basically. I didn't date after that, not until college. James befriended me, treated me oh-so-well. For our six-month anniversary, he bought me a silver necklace with a diamond heart. We married after two years of dating. Family liked him."
She shrugged and laughed slightly.
_____

Miss Proctor has had a bad past with men, possibly making it harder for her to begin dating again. Doesn't seem to have any friends, parents didn't seem to pay a whole lot of attention to emotions while she was young, possibly from lack of trusting them. Even though she is no longer sobbing herself to sleep, the bouts of crying seem to be caused by her loneliness. Lack of appetite causes some worry.
Genevieve grew in interest to him. At first, he simply found Genevieve to be a pretty face, probably just a parent's overreaction with their daughter. But there was much more to her, and he wanted to understand her fully.

[blue-eyed struck]

Is he falling for her!? (raises an eyebrow) I really like your story so far Jinna. Keep posting!

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

next chapter.

Chapter 3.

Genevieve had gone back to work, making her schedule much busier. Her visits were now cut down to weekends or weeknights, when she could work them in. Dr. Crane missed her somewhat.
"Hi Doctor."
Genevieve had shown up promptly for her appointment that night. She was wearing her office clothes, white blouse and black skirt. She was now slightly taller than the doctor in her high heels. Her long hair was pinned up into a bun.
"Genevieve, I'm so glad to see you."
She smiled and looked away from Jonathan's gaze, almost embarrassed. He guided her to his couch and she sat straight up. Then she took down her hair, letting it graze her shoulders and took off her shoes. There was her usual curling into the couch and put her head into her left hand.
"It's been a long day...They asked me so many questions."
"Did you answer?"
"...No. I just kept moving. They got the hint around 2 or so."
"What did they ask, if you don't mind me asking?"
"They talked about you."
She looked down uncomfortably.
"A few said I didn't need a shrink, he's just taking your money. I felt insulted and didn't respond. I just...gave them a look."
She put on a angry, troubled face as an example. Jonathan was a bit insulted by the rudeness of her coworkers, but he guessed it came with the field.
"I'm thinking of quitting."
"No, no!" Jonathan was about to reach out for her hand, but controlled himself. "Don't go so drastic, Genevieve."
She still looked down, and glanced up.
"Can I call you by your first name?"
Dr. Crane folded his hands into his lap.
"Sure."
"OK...Jonathan."
Jonathan smiled slightly, she would be the only patient allowed to call him by his first name.
"I started taking yoga classes, they relax me. I've stopped crying at night all together."
"Do you cry at work?"
"Yes. Sometimes I just go to the bathroom for a while and sit and cry. My makeup ends up ruined and everyone knows what I was doing in there. I feel so out of place now, odd girl out. It was already hard being one of the few minorities in the department, but now..."
She took a very deep breath and exhaled to where she sunk a bit deeper into the couch cushions.
"Did you learn that?"
She nodded quickly.
"Yeah, it can be very strenuous, but you begin to see the effects. I feel better in mornings, but it's only to be overwhelmed by grief in the afternoon."
"Then, most likely, your body is getting all of the benefits. For true progress in anything, you need to put all of yourself into it. Does it take your mind away from your stressors?"
"Yes. I...I focus on my movements, how my arms stretch, keeping good posture."
"Then when you feel yourself get up and leave for the women's room to cry, think about...your movements. How your body reacts and moves, and think over how you feel. Why are you going to cry, how will this get you through the day?"
A smile crept across her lips and she nodded slowly, almost unsure.
"I'll try that."
"Has anyone at your office helped you?"
"I think my supervisor likes me."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow.
"He brings me tissue boxes, checks up on me more than usual; he looks as if he might ask me out."
"Do you think you're ready for that?"
There was a faint response of "No."
"He's atrocious...greasy hair, he wears too much cologne...I don't want him near me. I want to be left alone at work."
Genevieve slid a bit down the couch, laying across it and bending her legs.
"I think that's enough for today."
He smiled and helped her out.
________

Miss Proctor's yoga classes have helped her concentration greatly. Seems to now dislike work, and how she leaves for the bathrooms when she's crying brings more worry. She is sickened by her coworkers and wants to quit her only source of income.
Jonathan only wanted to comfort her. He felt as if he would invade her space if he came in direct contact with her. For someone in such bad shape, she took care of herself well. Her skin was soft, and her movements reminded him of a dancer.
Line of questioning should continue with what she does in her free time and more about how she lives.

[blue-eyed struck]

He's so nice and caring in this fan fic! I like the calmness of this story! Keep it up! you're doing a great job Jinna!

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

it doesn't seem like a lot of people read this. it makes me a bit unoptimistic about my story! D:
but, anyway, here's the next chapter.

Chapter 4.

Genevieve came to her weekend session right on time, wearing a blue cardigan and a white skirt.
"Were you ever involved in sports?"
Dr. Crane sat in a chair as Genevieve sat crossed-legged on the couch.
"Well...I used to play tennis. Did ballet when I was young."
"So you were never on a "team". Mainly individual things."
"Yeah. I worked on my own. I didn't have conflict then."
She took off her white shoes, leaving her barefoot, toes painted red.
"How was the work week? Are you alright?"
She gagged and began to cough. Jonathan went over quickly and patted her back.
"What happened?"
"He...He asked me out...and put his hands on me...and I said no and he just stood, touching me..."
Genevieve began to cough and sob as Jonathan bought a wastebasket over to her.
"You'll be OK...Tell what happened, completely."
She spit a couple of times before she brought her head back up.
"He came into my office. I told him to get out, but he didn't take a hint. He asked me, in that horrid voice of his, "Would you like to get together sometime?" Like a cheese grater on a chalkboard…I told him "No, I'm busy this weekend." Her put a hand on my shoulder and told me he'd pay, take me anywhere. The he...rubbed my shoulders. And I shouted at him…but he kept touching me...my face, my arms, he wouldn't go even though I shook him away..."
He brushed her hair away from her face.
"Is it OK if I touch you?"
"Yeah..."
She put her head into her hands as Crane caressed her back.
"I'm quitting, that was the last straw. I have to stop going there. It will only make me worse..."
Now Jonathan agreed with her. He held her hand as she cried.
"Oh, jeez..."
She wiped her tears on her cardigan and Dr. Crane held her so she could sob into his shoulder. She left soon after.
___________

The co-worker who has harassed her has only made Miss Proctor's progress become poor. As she was building trust, someone breaks it. She's probably only going to become more reclusive.
When Genevieve cried, he wasn't sure how to comfort her. She was gentle, sweet, lovely. He used the greatest care touching her, patting her back. Why did she only attract attention from the bad people in life? She needed someone like James again.

[this bike is a]

Ive been reading yer story, Jinna. I like it, but it neeeeds some actionnn

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

OK. so, here's Chapter 5!

Chapter 5.

Genevieve didn't have another appointment until Monday. Thoughts about how she was doing crossed his mind through his weekend. Was she getting outside, doing something else besides sitting on the floor of a dance studio? Had she stopped crying herself to sleep?
She appeared at two o'clock sharp on Monday in a white and blue striped blouse and a light grey skirt. Her hair was down, kept back with bobby pins.
"Hi Doctor."
She curled onto the couch, as she usually did, and looked at him with a gentle smile.
"Good afternoon, Genevieve. Thank you for giving up your lunch hour for me. How has your day been going so far?"
"Oh, it's nothing, Jonathan. My day? Not very well."
"And why is that?"
"I found the man who assaulted me...near my apartment."
Her face turned nervous again and Jonathan sat near her and rubbed her back.
"Did you report this?"
"Yes...I was horrified. I was just going to get my mail, from downstairs...And I saw him. I don't know what else to do."
Dr. Crane was mortified at this man's actions. It was terrible of him, bringing him to complete disgust.
"What did the police say?"
"They can't do much, they said to file a restraining order. But I work with him, so..."
She started to cry again, her mascara running into her tears.
"Did he do anything to you at work?"
"No...at least not yet. I might have to work a little later than usual...I'm so scared."
She hugged him tightly, surprising him.
"Genevieve…"
He petted her head nervously as she moved her arms up to his shoulders. She looked up at him completely comforted. He wiped her eyes and absentmindedly kissed her forehead.
"Oh, God…I'm sorry…"
He let go of her and moved away, her body gently falling into the couch. She sat up and looked at him.
"I'm very sorry, Miss Proctor, I don't know what got--"
"Don't apologize."
She patted the part of the couch where he had just sat at.
"You're the only person who's comforted me since James' death, you've made me feel...better. My parents sent me to you because they were nervous about hurting me, they didn't really know how to deal with how I felt. Please come back."
Jonathan reluctantly sat back down and Genevieve put her head onto his shoulder. Slowly, he wrapped his arms back around her again as she sighed deeply.
"Thank you", she whispered. She nuzzled into him and there were a few moments of silence.
"Tell me more about James."
She moved to her purse, pulled out her wallet and dug out a picture to hand to him.
It was Genevieve and a taller man, who he inferred as James. She was wearing a black silk dress and he was in a white suit. They were smiling and James' arm was around her shoulders. James looked like someone who would have been in a high fashion magazine. His skin was tan and his smile was bright.
"You two look so happy."
"That was on our wedding day. He made me so happy. Even though he was older than me, he never treated me as such. We were always equals in the relationship. We moved in after we got married, rented an apartment until James got a better job. He was working in accounting while trying to get his business off the ground. I was still in college, working myself to pieces. He came to my graduation and so did my parents. I started working in advertising, pushing papers at first. Then I came up with a few ideas and I got a better job, better pay. He was so happy for me."
She sighed with a smile.
"Then you two both became succesful in your fields..."
"Yes. And we thought it was a dream. We moved to our condo, bought better furniture and clothes, gave a lot of our money to charity. We started being invited to parties, but we never went. We weren't socialites, just well off."
Jonathan looked at the clock on his wall and scowled a little.
"Our session is over."
He helped Genevieve off the couch and hugged her again.
"I know you'll be fine."
Her eyes had the saddest look as she caught his bright blue ones.
"I hope so."
She walked out and Jonathan felt a terrible pang of worry.
_____
Jonathan was much too worried about Genevieve to type. She could be alone with that man, totally vulnerable and terrified. He sat around his home, trying to keep his mind off her. But there was a phone call that he received later that night.
“Are you Dr. Jonathan Crane?”
“Yes.”
“One of our patients told us to find you.”
“Which one?”
“Miss Genevieve Proctor.”

[blue-eyed struck]

Keep 'em coming!! Seee Cara.. the first cliffhanger!

[this bike is a]

haha. clifffhanggerr

[girl in the sharkskin tuxedo]

D: sorry it's been so long! i've been somewhat busy.

warning: mentions of assault/sexual assault.

Chapter 6.

He drove to the hospital immediately and asked for her at the front desk. The elevator was too long of a wait for him, so he took the stairs to the fifth floor. Once he found room 527, his only hope was that she would be alright. The door was open, so he casually knocked.
“Jonathan…?”
He came through the open doorway and looked at the bedridden figure in the shadows. She turned on a lamp and he saw the full extent of her injuries.
Genevieve had a split lip and her face was heavily bruised, wet with tears, her hair was askew. There was a sling around her neck holding her left arm and the other arm only had a splint on the index finger. She was covered in blankets, but still shivered slightly.
“You came.” Her voice was hoarse and she coughed and moaned in pain. Jonathan came to her bedside.
“Did this happen at work?”
“No…near my apartment. He left before me and stayed at my building for hours, probably. I came home and he was waiting for me by the mailboxes again. He yelled at me for rejecting him, and I tried to run…but he grabbed my blouse and knocked me down. He punched and kicked me until I passed out from the pain. A neighbor found me soon after and called an ambulance."
Jonathan grabbed the box of tissues on her bed table and wiped her face. She winced and whimpered.
"I have some broken ribs, so I'll be here for a while, so they said."
"How long is a while?"
"Possibly a week. It really depends on my recovery."
She sobbed again.
"The police just left a while ago, interviewing me so I could press charges. They asked if he had…raped me and I told them if he did, I would have noticed. But they did a kit anyway…"
Behind his sympathy for Genevieve, lying in a hospital bed, Jonathan was angry with this man. He had hurt her more than mentally, but also battered and possibly raped her. He stroked her hair and noticed her eyes were welled with tears.
"I woke up here and the first people I thought of were my parents. My dad works in a different town and I don’t know his number there. My mom wasn't home so I told them to leave a message. I didn’t know where you were either, but I told them just to find you. I'm glad you're here."
She smiled slightly, not enough to hurt her face.
"I don't have any friends in Gotham. Or anywhere, period. The people throwing the party are just people who will miss my good ideas, not my company. You're the only person I actually know, even if it's only because I don’t work with you."
"I would hold you, but I think I'd hurt you."
"I'm in very bad shape."
"Do you want me to stay until your parents show?"
"Could you, please?"
There was a large chair behind him that he scooted closer to her to sit in.
"How long have you been here?"
"A few hours. I had to be rushed here, they thought I was bleeding internally."
"I was so worried about you, Genevieve. I didn't know how you were and-"
Two people walked in and turned on the room light.
"Sweetie!"
The first person Jonathan identified as Genevieve's mother, Marie Proctor. She was a short, thin woman with greying hair in a ponytail. The man still by the door he guessed was Dr. Proctor. He was a tall, strong-looking man who was still in scrubs. Mrs. Proctor went to the other side of the bed and nearly had her arms around her daughter before she mumbled in pain.
"The doctor that worked on you told us what happened, how horrible. We're sorry we didn't come sooner."
Dr. Proctor came over to Jonathan. He pushed back the chair and stood up to shake his hand.
"Dr. Crane, I presume." His voice was like a tuba.
"Yes, it's very nice to meet you."
"Doctor, did they call you too", asked Mrs. Proctor.
"Well, actually..."
"Yes, I asked them to look for him as well. But I called you two first," interrupted Genevieve.
"Do you want us to stay, honey," asked her father.
"No, no. I know you both are busy. Please come back, though."
"Alright, we will", her mother whispered as she kissed the top of her head. The two waved goodbye and left.
"What were you saying, Jonathan?"
"...And I care about you so much. I was thinking about you since you left..."
"Really?!"
There was a slight silence before Genevieve asked him to close the door, mentioning it was very cold.
"Do me a favor, please. My purse is behind you. Can you go to my house and bring me some clothes, please?"
Jonathan raised his eyebrow, almost alarmed at her question as he grabbed the keys out of the purse.
"Sure."
She wrote down a few things on a sheet of paper and pen beside her. He took the sheet and put it in his suit pocket.
"Thank you..." she whispered as he walked out of the door.

[§ilvercell]

getting her cloths!? OMG this is getting good!