Pills and Thrills

[Barbara Gordon]

Rolling out of the elevator, Barbara sighed and looked around the waiting room. What the hell was she thinking? Sure, all the doctors had said she neede dto see a therapist and she understood that. And flatout refused. That was a few years ago and, despite a minor fall into depression, she managed to pull herself out of it. She was back in the world and working, feeling somewhat like her old self once again.

Sorta. Okay, she admitted that she wasn't one hundred percent Barbara Gordon. Something was missing from Babs and while it was definitely in part to her being forced to hang up her cape and cowl because of that psychopathic clown -- he'd get his comeuppance soon enough -- there was another reason. It was something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, and it was bugging her. No matter how long she threw herself into her work, something just wasn't right. And she knew it. And, if she knew it, everyone else must know it as well. It must have been so obvious.

But, all in all, despite this indeterminable feeling, she was fine. She was fine. She was most definitely fine. She'd be fine. Yes, she'd most certainly be fine. As soon as she figured out why she felt the way she did. Which was why she was in the sickeningly sterile clean therapist's office that Gotham General had suggested for her all those years ago.

[Dr. Jonathan Crane]

“The greatest weakness of all is the great fear of appearing weak”

--- Jacques Benigne Bossuel

As a practicing psychiatrist, Dr. Jonathan Crane made great headway into the study of fear. Fear is the one basic human emotion, the primary motivator, and the fundamental state of mind. It may be expressed differently from subject to subject, but all creatures feel fear. It is what drives every act of self-preservation, every step towards pleasure or pain. It is all fear. Man turns to God, to religion, because they fear the unknown. They act with goodwill and charity because they fear social osctracization. They seek medical help because they fear death. They seek companionship because they fear being alone.

Few others could truly fathom the infinite complexities of the human mind in the way he could. As such, it was his duty to learn, to study, to discover, no matter what the cost. What did a few of Gotham’s lost souls matter when their sacrifice could lead to a greater understanding of the human condition. But finding test subjects for his experiments was always a problem. Few would willingly volunteer to do what was really necessary, while the scientific and medical community, not to mention the authorities, objected to his methods.

No matter. As a medical professional, patients would come to him and voluntarily put themselves in his care. They would listen to his instructions, take whatever medicines he prescribed. In short, whether they acknowledged it or not, they put themselves under his control. They became the very thing he sought, a ready supply test subjects on which to perform all but his most unscrupulous experiments. What’s more, they would do so without their own knowledge, even thank him for his efforts.

Dr. Jonathan Crane’s train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt as he came to the door to “his” office.

He had started practicing again, under the pseudonym of Dr. Jeffery Combs. Job history and references had been taken from an old colleague, a claustrophobic Crane had buried alive in an unmarked grave just outside of the city limits. The rate of turnover at Arkham Asylum was such that few were likely to still work here from Crane’s brief tenure, and any who did recognize him could be bought off or else could … be dealt with in other ways.

As he opened the door, his eyes fell upon a young redheaded woman in a wheelchair. Something about her seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was. Shaking off this feeling of vague familiarity, he glanced down at his schedule.

“I take it that you are Ms. Barbara Gordon? My name is Dr. Jeffery Combs. I am to be your psychiatrist. And you, my dear girl, are my first patient of the day. I beg you, please excuse my tardiness. I was called away to attend a meeting and I’m afraid I lost track of time. My apologies.

“Now, to business. Before we go any further, I must ask what you expect from our sessions together. I need you to understand that, whatever the root problem, this won’t be solved with two or three appointments and a dose of Prozac. Results are not immediate, nor are they even guaranteed. You see, therapy is a longtime commitment, one you can’t shy away from. It is likely we will have to deal with some painful memories, things that you would sooner forget. There will be times, before we are through, that you will hate me, but I am not here for you to like me. I am here to help you. If you are uncomfortable with any of this, tell me now and there are a few self-help books I could recommend. But if you want to solve your problem, whatever it is, I am more than willing to listen.

“Hm. Gordon. Gordon. The name sounds familiar. Are you, by chance, related to the Police Commissioner, James Gordon?”

[Barbara Gordon]

"I take it that you are Ms. Barbara Gordon? My name is Dr. Jeffery Combs. I am to be your psychiatrist. And you, my dear girl, are my first patient of the day."

Barbara immediately felt a strong urge to hit this man. She was going to be thirty in a few short years. She was in no way a girl, not anymore. As he apologized, in a rather eccentric way -- when was the last time someone begged forgiveness? -- Barbara took the time to evaluate him. Tall, lanky, glasses, sharp bone structure. He seemed...normal enough, for a psychiatrist. Still, something about him rubbed her the wrong way. Perhaps is was his self-indulgent and insipid preaching. Barbara hated being preached to; she was determined to not like this man, so it was a good thing he said that she didn't have to like him.

"I understand perfectly that our sessions will be quite frequent. As much as I would prefer to have this done and over will as quickly as possible, that's unrealistic," she replied calmly. "And I don't want to be medicated at all, if possible. Medications have interfered with my work in the past, and I cna't afford that," she stated as firm as possible. In the past, to deal with her depression, Barbara had been on a number of medications. All of them made her moody and lethargic and, most days, she just didn't give a damn about being Oracle or even Gotham. She couldn't let that happen again.

"It is likely we will have to deal with some painful memories, things that you would sooner forget." Hmm, just how exactly would she explain the Joker being to root of all her problems? Thinking quietly to herself, as he prattled on and on, Barbara decided it would be best to be as truthful as possible and only lie about the...event. "Honestly, I am uncomfortable being here. I've gone years without therapy but now..." Barbara sighed and rolled over to the window to look outside.

"I've tried all that self-help book bullshit!" she shouted, exasperated. "Is that you're brilliant solution because I don't feel comfortable talking about what happened to me? Is that gonna change anything for me? Is that supposed to give me some sort of closure? Because I've already made peace with what's happened to me. I did everything I was supposed to do!" Except come to Arkham for one-on-one therapy, she thought to herself. "I've already gone to the group sessions, increased the secuirty at my place, the self-defense, I cut my hair, I lit a candle and guess what? I'm over it!" Laying her head in her hands, Barbara quickly realized just how not "over it" she truly was.

“Hm. Gordon. Gordon. The name sounds familiar. Are you, by chance, related to the Police Commissioner, James Gordon?”

"Yes, the Commissioner is my uncle but he's always been more like father to me. He adopted me, after my parents died," she told him. She probably didn't have to as Uncle Jim's life was, for the most part, public knowledge.

[Dr. Jonathan Crane]

“That which does not kill us makes us stronger.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

“Hm. Commissioner Gordon’s niece, you say? But you are more like a daughter to him? Interesting.

“Well, psychopharmacology is my area of expertise. I am a strong advocate, and I am sure that, given time, we could find a medication that has minimal effect on your work and social life. Depression, Ms. Gordon, is perfectly treatable though a number of prescriptions. It is just a matter of finding the right one for you. In time, I will try and change your mind regarding such methods. However, for now, we will stick to the basics.

“As I understand it, your psychological complaints began with the incident that left you in your … current condition. But that was several years ago. Has it really taken you so long to seek help? You mentioned attending the group therapy sessions, but you never sought personalized therapy. Group therapy is all well and good, and I suppose it helps some people deal with whatever issues they face, but quite often it is accompanied, or else prefaced by one-on-one therapy sessions with a professional, such as myself. Those of us who have faced the worst society has to offer, be it some sort of traumatic event, a violent incident, a … turbulent upbringing … often require something more. But as is so often quoted of Nietzsche, ‘That which does not kill us makes us stronger.’ Though few seem to truly understand what that means, Ms. Gordon, it remains true. We … you survived. You survived something that must have been quite terrifying. A horror that even now fills you with dread. You survived. And you are better and stronger for it, whether you realize it or not.

“Of course, you do realize that, if I am to help you, you will need to tell me exactly what has happened to you. We can have no secrets between us. Coming to grips with what it was that brought you here is the key to your recovery, but we must first understand what happened before then, what it was exactly that led you to that point and … resulted in your current condition. Cause and effect, my dear girl.

“Is there anything that you would like to tell me about yourself before we begin? You need not be embarrassed. I won’t judge you. We all have skeletons in our closets. Some worse, oh much worse, than others. Haha.”