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Can You Stake My Heart	By : poe Category: My Chemical Romance > General Views: 2756 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of My Chemical Romance. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I do not know, own or have any affiliation with anyone in mcr.
Versailles had acquired his name from a friend of hers. "He's the best, I swear!" Lisa had insisted vehemently that she go. Her friends and family had talked to her on more than one occasion about seeing someone. And this wasn't the first time she stood outside the small grey building reading the plaque beside the door. Dr. Andrew Fry, PhD. The fact that she had been here before didn't really increase her confidence about this visit, not in the least. She really just wanted to turn tail and run back home, crawl into bed and sleep forever.
She opened the door and stepped into the office instead.
Luckily she didn't have to wait very long. It was a Tuesday morning, and consequently not very busy.
Dr. Fry called her into his office, instructing her to sit wherever she wished. She chose a small burgundy low-backed armchair near the window. She didn't want to lay on that stupid couch thing.
Dr. Fry took a seat close to her, opening up his notebook, and scribbling something in the corner, probably the date and her name. "So, Ms. Lacroix, I haven't seen you in some time. What brings you here?"
She didn't mean to be nervous, and his manner wasn't abrupt or intruding. She just felt awkward about why she was there. How to begin?
"Well, lately I've been having some trouble.....with........well, really with everything."
"Alright. Why don't you begin by telling me what kinds of troubles you are having?" He smiled and motioned for her to go on.
She grimaced and swallowed past the lump in her throat. "I haven't been sleeping well. I keep having these dreams where I see my mother.....at least I think it's my mother.....she's running and I can't catch her. I try, but I just can't. I'm confused.....and...I think I might be......seeing...things....." She trailed off seeking shelter in her reflection in the window. She looked pale and scared and tired. Exactly how she felt.
He raised his eyebrows almost imperceptably. "Things?"
"Yes. Well, a man."
"Okay. What does he look like?"
She scrunched up her nose in thought. "Long black hair.....very pale.....a bit taller than me.....always dressed in black. That's all I can really pinpoint."
"That's good. How often do you see him?" He didn't look up as he wrote in his notepad.
"Well, I've only seen him twice that I can remember. Once, as I was leaving the funeral. He was standing at the cemetary gates, staring at me, like he knew me.....And again, a while ago, in a coffee shop. I was coming home from the cemetary, and stopped for coffee and he came in shortly after."
"Do you talk to him?"
"Well..." She shifted in her seat. "Yes. I mean, the second time we did. He sat at my table and asked me some questions."
"What kinds of questions?"
"He told me he remembered me from the graveyard, and asked me why I had been there that day."
"At your parents funeral?"
She nodded. "Yes."
"And what did you tell him?"
"The truth. I didn't want to at first, but for some reason it just came out of me. I told him about my parents, and how I go visit them everyday."
"Everyday still?"
"Yes."
"And what did he think about that?"
"He said that it was a weird hobby. And then he told me that his parents had died too, his mother when he was born, his father just before that."
Dr. Fry looked up from his notepad, his pen rapping lightly against his bottom lip. "Do you feel drawn to him, connected to him?"
"In a way, yes. I guess so."
He nodded. "I think, Ms. Lacroix, this is an easy enough thing to fix. You see, many people, when faced with an...incomprehensible trauma, focus their feelings of loss and dissillusionment into a seperate entity, and project that entity outside of themselves as a way of coping, or ridding themselves of those feelings. I think you've created this man--"
"Gerard."
He leaned forward. "I'm sorry?"
"His name is Gerard. At least that's what he told me it was."
"Okay. I think you've created Gerard, who has shared a similar loss, as a way to communicate with yourself about your true feelings. He understands you, listens to you, comforts you, because he knows, better than anyone else, what you're going through."
She nodded along. That did make a lot of sense.
"Now, here's what I want you to do. Anytime you see this man--"
"Gerard."
"Right. Anytime you see Gerard, I want you to write down how you are feeling while he's talking to you, what you guys talk about, and how you feel afterwards. This may help you to recognize what you are seeking from him." He closed his notebook. "Sound okay?"
She nodded again. "Yes, thank you, Dr. Fry." She stood up and grabbed her purse, and turned towards the doorway.
"Ms. Lacroix, one last question. Does Gerard have a last name?"
She turned back towards him for a moment. "I never asked."
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Can You Stake My Heart