Complete opposites

Can you help me?

Sans was waiting patiently in the room, his headphones on. He was wearing casual clothes instead of his work clothes, fact that intrigued the people gathered there. They were all wearing white coats, dark pants and all have some cases with them, while Sans was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans, a grey t-shirt and his blue jacket over it. At least he was wearing his glasses, giving his a more formal look, he supposed. On his lap was Red's file, carefully hidden from any peeping Tom. He had been there for thrity minutes, but was still patient. Many people would have gone crazy at this stage, like some others here apparently. Meanwhile, he was thinking about Red. About their fist session.

 Though they didn't talk that much, at least they made some progress. Red was lucid on his situations, which was a good sign. He knew that other patients afflicted with this syndrome weren't always aware of what was happening to him. It still was a sad thought to think that such an emotional slap had had to happen to him to trully realise it, but you couldn't have everything. Sans thought back at what he said. 'Kill or be killed... Well, that explains a little why he is like this. Does that mean that he still doesn't fell safe here? No...no, because he realised that his behaviour wasn't appropriate. If he still thought himself as being in danger, he wouldn't have realised it.. So it is not something that is periodic, given the circumstances. He already knew that, but a confirmation never hurt anyone. But there was something else bothering Sans. 

When he asked Red about people he could have possibly rely on, Red had been highly uneased. Sans hadn't pry it further, as it was their first session, but he understood that for the other skeleton, it was a big deal. He will have to ask about it, but not now. Red's trust was way too fragile now, any wrong move could shatter it. Sans had to procede very carefully. But he knew he couldn't do it alone. He needed help. 'Who really needs help, right now?' Sans brushed the thought aside, trying to ignore that obnoxious voice.

"Mr. Sans Serif?" Sans turned his skull toward the voice, standing up slowly. "Yes, that's me." "Please come in." The voice was the same as the one he talked with on the phone, a few days ago. He began to walk toward the voice, and stopped in front of a red door. The sign 'Dr. Natia Friskful' was neatly hammered onto the door, that was closed. Sans tilted his skull to the right, confused. Had he...imagined the voice? He began to panic, thinking that it was that stupid voice that tricked him again, that the people in the room with him must have think he was mad, that- "Right there!" Sans looked past the corridor, and saw a hand waving at him. Sans cautiously approached, and arrived in a large room, with huge windows everywhere. In the center of the room wwas a pile of comfortable-looking cushions, with a table on the side. There wasn't that much things inside except that, and he wondered for a moment where he was. *Click* He turned back quickly, panic rising again. "Sorry, but I don't like to be interrupted while I'm here with someone. Dr. Natia Friskful, nice to meet you, Dr. Sans Serif." 

Sans turned to face the doctor. She was a tall young woman -maybe thirty years old, with long brown hair attached mid length, letting her hair fall over her shoulder softly. Her eyes were of a deep green behind her glasses, the same colour of pine trees, and Sans wondered for a moment if it was natural or not. She was wearing a white coat over her clothes, and Sans noticed that apparently, he wasn't the only who wanted to be casual, though she was in a more formal style than him. She was wearing a pair of black pedal pushers, with a withe bare-shoulders shirt. And people said that he didn't look professional... She looked at him amused. "What were you expecting? An old granny with a grey bun in stiff clothes?" She said in a warm laugh, and Sans felt himself blushing from embarassement, unwilling to admit that yes, it was who he expected to see.

"Well, no need to apologize, that's okay! So, Dr. Sans Serif, I presume?" She presented her hand. Sans shook out of his dazes stupor, shaking her hand. "Yes, this is me. Thank you for receiving me here." "That's no problem. Though I was rather surprise to receive your call, it is always a pleasure to help a colleague. So, what can I do for you, again?" "Well, that's a long story..."

"I see... It mustn't have been easy to take care of that. But I don't really see the link with me. Could you please explain it?" "Yes, of course. While I was doing researches, I read one of your articles about it. It helped me a lot, of course, but..." "But?" She cocked a brow, prompting him to keep going. Sans had previously folded his hands together and was now squeezing them tightly. "But...I know I am not the best person that can help him...that can handle him for a long time. And bipolar disorders are not something I usually deal with. I normally have patients with more minor problems." She looked at him, frowning slightly. "Are you sure of that?" Sans looked up, curious. "What do you mean?" "When you gave me your name, it sounded familiar, but I couldn't place the finger on it, but now that I see you in person, I am sure I have seen you somewhere else before, and you weren't taking care of people with 'minor problems', so I-" "Stop." Sans said darkly, his eyelights gone. "Please." He added after, trying to cool down.

Doctor Friskful looked at him sternly, before sighing, shaking her head softly. "Very well then. I will help you taking care of him. But if I can say something: Are you sure you came only for your patient?" Sans didn't answered, his skull angled down. "You know that my work field is concerning troubles linked to depression, meaning that I would be the worst expert if I can't recognize someone suffering from it." "What, they have a typical face or something?" Sans suddely jerked, deeling a hand on his shoulder. She kneeled down, looking him straight in the eyes. "No, of course not. But the key is to talk with the person, to let them talk and to watch their body language." Sans shifted uncomfortably on his cushion, wanting to avert his gaze. "You knew it, yet you came to me. I would say it is the first step for someone who want to heal, to feel better. What would you say?" "That our time is up. You probably have a medical meeting with some of your colleagues, so I won't stay more than what was required." 

He got up, still avoiding her eyes. He felt uneased, really. Usually, he was the one who could read people like in an open book, not the opposite. "Goodbye, Doctor Friskful. And thank you." He was about to leave, when she called him one last time. "Doctor Serif!" He turned back to her, expectantly. "Remember one thing! Your worst enemy is you, not the others. And though you need to ask for help, the biggest fight is yours only. Remember that." Sans stood there for a second, feeling the tears welling up, before wipping them away. He nodded to the doctor, before leaving. Natia look at his retreating form, sighing. "Doctor Sans Serif, huh? Guess I have now two more patients to watch over carefully."  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

HEEEEEEEEEEEELLO EVERYONE! I AM STILL THERE!!!! Sorry again for the long wait.. I hadn't planned on waiting for so long, but I had some In-Real-Life events, and that drained me of all my motivation and inspiration... But Anyway! I will try to write more regularly! No promises, but I'll try! I hope you liked this chapter! Like usual, comment politely in the comments, please, if I had made a mistake or just to talk!! I think that it's all for now! See you all soon and all have a lovely day, evening or night!