Levers & Gears; [Sark and Nasirah]
"So what do you think, doc? Is my head okay?"
"Unfortunately, Regina, you're perfectly normal. Everything sounds healthy and boring." Nasirah looked up from her writing and grinned at the mechanic. "You haven't changed much in... two days."
"Hey, I wanted to make sure. The fumes can get to you some days, man." Regina jumped up from the couch and stretched, and peered out Nasirah's office window. Nasirah stood up and together they walked to her door. It was getting late in the afternoon, the clouds taking on a purple hue as the sky melted into warm orange. With the only lamp on Nasirah's desk, the natural light flooded her office, sparing only the shadows in darkest corners.
"Aw dang, I still have to fix up Jay's motorcycle. It's not even broken. I just like touching it, it's really pretty beautiful. Who do you have coming in next?" Regina asked as she wrapped up Nasirah in one of her customary 'good-bye' hugs. She smelled of the garage she loved to work in, of the motor oil, of weed, of love and enthusiasm. It was a scent that had come to comfort Nasirah as well as jar her memory of her brothers-- It was the tiny, strong sensory experience and the fact Regina had no idea how much it affected Nasirah that made her love the mechanic more and more.
"Sark. He should be coming now, actually."
"Ooh. So he probably won't notice if I play with his doggies a bit while you're keeping him busy, right? Thanks, Nasi!" And she was gone before Nasirah could explain Sark could look over the security footage to see Regina distracting his huge, menacing guard dogs with cuddles and kibbles.
Nasirah retreated back into her office. The sun was setting now. The couch was askew from Regina reclining and rolling around in it and she set about facing it back straight towards window. People often relaxed when they had things to look at and ended up rambling on about things they didn't intend to. They opened up more once they forget a professional was watching them and writing about them (She often shared her notes with them at the end of the session or at their request- It helped them to get an objective, clinical perspective), arguably the most difficult part of the process. They did not ask Nasirah any questions about herself unless they were being dodgy or evasive about her questions. It was, perhaps, better that way. No one wanted to know personal details about a psychiatrist. They especially didn't want to know their psychiatrist was just as troubled as they were.
Coffee boiling, couch fluffed, Nasirah opened Sark's notes to review. They were, surprisingly, few. Often during their sessions she ended up being too busy listening or discussing to actually write anything down because his sessions were one of the most absorbing. The war, losing family, it was just as real to Nasirah as it was to Sark. Nasirah would be lying if she said she didn't have a personal stake in Sark's progress.