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Therapy: Three Witches and a Shrink	By : Shaellin Category: +S through Z > Winx Club Views: 7187 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Winx Club, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The next morning Dr. Shreever was sitting at his desk organizing his notes and mentally prepping himself for the day's scheduled sessions when his door opened to admit a balding gentleman sporting a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. His midnight blue robes proclaimed him to be a fellow resident psychologist. He adjusted his glasses as he walked over to stand before Dr. Shreever's desk. Dr. Shreever set down the papers he had been shuffling through and stood up to extend his hand across the desk in greeting.
"Dr. Foler! Good morning! How nice of you to stop by."
Dr. Foler pointedly ignored the proffered handshake.
"Hello Dr. Shreever. I have come to speak with you about the three patients I dumped off on you yesterday."
Dr. Shreever gestured to the padded leather armchair across from him.
"Of course. Please, have a seat."
Without a word, Dr. Foler sat down as indicated. Dr. Shreever took note of the pinched appearance to his coleague's features, more pronounced than last time they had met, as well as the small crow's feet starting to form at the corners of his eyes and the wreath of graying hair surrounding his otherwise bald pate. Some said that these features made him look distinguished. To Dr. Shreever they just made him look old and uptight. He walked over to the coffee maker on his side desk.
"May I offer you a cup of coffee, Herbert?"
Dr. Foler held up his hand to decline.
"No, thank you Dr. Shreever. I shan't be staying long."
Dr. Shreever shrugged and poured himself a cup.
"Suit yourself."
He brought his steaming mug back to his desk and sat down.
"So, straight to the point as always, eh Herbert? You've come to check on my progress with your three patients then, have you? I'm afraid it's a little early to expect much in the way of results thus far."
Dr. Foler folded his hands on his lap.
"Actually, I've come to see how you are holding up to the challenge. You know that I didn't agree with the board's decision to turn them over to you."
Dr. Shreever shrugged and spread his hands.
"The moment you declared that you could no longer handle them the matter was out of your hands. Who did you expect them to turn those girls over to? You were the most qualified senior therapist on the board to handle those three. After all, it was you who reformed me all those years ago. If they were more than you could handle then there was only one logical choice left for their treatment."
Dr. Foler stroked his shaven chin.
"Thaddeus, I worry for you. I went to great pains to bring you around. I'd hate for those three to undo all that effort and return you to what you once were."
Dr. Shreever chuckled jovially.
"Come now Herbert. It's only been once day. Do you honestly think they could have begun to corrupt me in such a short time?"
Dr. Foler frowned.
"You were a warlock for many years before you were brought here for treatment. I would imagine chatting with those three witches must bring back a lot of old memories."
Dr. Shreever took a sip of his coffee and nodded.
"I won't deny it. I'd be lieing if I said being around them doesn't arouse a certain sense of nostalgia for my wilder days, but those days belong to the past. I'm a psychologist now and my duty is first and foremost to help those girls to see the error of their ways and turn to the light so that they may once more return to their proper place in society."
Dr. Foler nodded his head slowly without taking his eyes off of Dr. Shreever's face.
"Your goals are commendable and proper, but I have grave concerns about your readiness to take on this challenge."
Dr. Shreever set down his coffee cup and steepled his fingers on the desk before him.
"And how much longer do you think it will take before you feel I am up to the challenge, hm? A month? A year? Twenty? We could drag our heals a while and let each of our colleagues take a turn with them. Assuming they each last as long with them as you did, and I find that highly doubtful, we could stall for maybe four or five months while I 'get ready'."
He leaned forward with an intense look on his face.
"Dr. Foler, these girls need help right now. I appreciate your concerns for me and my checkered past, but the fact remains that I am the best qualified to reach these girls and guide them through their transitional phase from being criminals to being productive members of society. I've been where they are now. Fifteen years ago you took the time and effort to reach out to me, to seek me out in that dark place where my mind wandered and lead me into the light. It was only through sheer tenacity that you won through and reached me all those years ago. Now these girls have come with the same need and have tried your tenacity beyond the limits of endurance. You can't be faulted for that. After all, they do outnumber you. It's time to pass the torch and trust in me to share with these girls the lessons that you taught me."
Dr. Foler took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkercheif from the pocket of his robe.
"How kind of you to blame my failure on superior numbers rather than advancing age. But while I understand your eagerness to prove yourself in this matter I fear you overestimate your ability to handle this challenge. I've received some disturbing reports about your handling of these three witches. I understand young Amanda was taken to the medical wing with injuries to her back and right foot."
Dr. Shreever sat back in his chair and gestured casually with his right hand.
"Ah, you mean Stormy. Yes, she fell out of a tree and then kicked it. But this all happened in the Virtual Meadow, before I had my first session with her. I can hardly be blamed for that."
Dr. Foler scowled at Dr. Shreever's cavalier attitude.
"Perhaps, but then you were already aware that Amanda was the more unstable of the three. You might have averted that incident had you seen to her first rather than last."
Dr. Shreever frowned and leaned forward.
"Now that is mere conjecture. It's equally as likely had I seen her first as you suggest that she merely would have wound up injuring herself after our session rather than before, in which case I might not have discovered the fact until later today. And might I point out that it was you yourself who established the pattern of seeing Icy first and Stormy last, a pattern which I happen to find works best for these three. If that is all you have against me, you are just grasping at straws in an attempt to justify your own misgivings."
Dr. Foler held up one index finger to signify that he was far from done.
"On the contrary, I am merely getting started. I am given to understand that you had dinner with those three last night, that you even ordered them a pizza. It is unseemly for a doctor to be fraternizing with his patients in such a manner."
Dr. Shreever toyed with his coffee cup as he regarded his senior colleague.
"Really Dr. Foler, I would hardly call that fraternizing. More of an informal group therapy session. These girls function as a group, a coven if you will. If their treatment is to be successful they must be treated as a group and not only as individuals. As for the pizza, that was merely a gesture of good will to help foster trust."
Dr. Foler crossed his arms over his chest.
"I see. And was it also to foster trust that you cut short one of their meditational sermons?"
The look of disgust that appeared on Dr. Shreever's face showed exactly what he thought of those sermons.
"Quite so. It was as mush to win their trust as it was because the broadcasts iritate me personally. I've never been a fan of those sermons, either personally or professionally. They serve more to harden a witch's resolve to resist rehabilitation than anything else."
Dr. Foler placed his arms on the chair's armrests and sat up straighter.
"Those broadcasts are part of their treatment. You know as well as I that repeated exposure to positive stimuli will ultimately result in a comprehensive shift in their fundamental world view."
Dr. Shreever placed his hands upon the desk and leaned forward confrontationally.
"And I still maintain that such measures constitute torture and brainwashing, pure and simple. Furthermore, they are not only ineffective against hardened witches such as these, they are in fact counterproductive, instilling revulsion and seething rage within their hearts. Their recovery would progress much more rapidly without them."
Dr. Foler leaned back in his chair with an air of superior indifference.
"Yes yes. I am well aware of your personal dislike for the sermons."
Dr. Shreever slapped his hand on the desk hard enough to cause the pens in his skull-shaped pen holder to jump.
"It is also my professional opinion that the broadcasts are worse than useless and should be discontinued immediately. Every sermon serves only to further provoke their defensive barriers. The only way to reach them is through respect and trust, not coersion."
Dr. Foler leaned forward and pointed a finger at Dr. Shreever.
"The board believes otherwise. You yourself are our shining vindication that the broadcasts work."
Dr. Shreever practically snarled back at him.
"I got better in spite of those blasted sermons, not because of them! I still have nightmares about them!"
Dr. Foler leaned back in his chair placidly.
"Rail against them all that you like. It changes nothing. The broadcasts will continue."
Dr. Shreever sat back with a scowl.
"Fine. And I will continue to interrupt them whenever I go to visit my patients."
Dr. Foler looked as though he had smelled something unpleasant.
"Understand that we are keeping a close eye on this case. Any impropriety on your part will be noted."
Dr. Shreever nodded grimly.
"Understood. Now, was there anything else?"
Dr. Foler placed his hands on his knees.
"Yes, as a matter of fact. I have saved the most troubling reports for last. I understand that Amanda..."
Dr. Shreever interrupted him.
"Stormy. She prefers to be called Stormy."
Dr. Foler tilted his head to the side and gave Dr. Shreever a puzzled frown.
"'Stormy'. 'Icy'. Tell me, why is it you insist on calling these girls by their pet names?"
Dr. Shreever tilted his head back as he regarded his colleague.
"These are not 'pet names'. Rather, they are noms de guerre. It's basic witch psychology. A witch decides she doesn't like her given name and so she changes it to something she feels better represents her. It's a fairly common phenomenon, especially among this younger generation of witches. I call the girls by their chosen names as a mark of respect. The fact that you always called them by their given names is most likely one reason why you never made any significant headway with them."
Dr. Foler regarded his junior colleague through narrowed eyes.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that these girls stubbornly resisted my efforts to help them simply because I called them by their given names? Come now. That seems a trifle far-fetched."
Dr. Shreever picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, then gestured vaguely with his free hand.
"Among other things, yes. The name issue was only a smaller aspect of the larger issue of respect. Witches demand respect and recognition. It is essential to who and what they are. You systematicly failed to recognize them as anything other than ordinary patients, so they in turn refused to recognize your authority over them. Your refusal to convey respect for their abilities and establish your authority over them is what lead directly to Stormy's chronic misbehavior whenever she was brought in to see you. Then you compounded the problem by having the guards strap her down every time she was brought in, thus marking yourself as both an enemy and a coward who couldn't fight his own battles."
Dr. Foler visibly bristled at Dr. Shreever's remarks, but rather than rise to the bait he merely coughed and cleared his throat.
"Ahem. Yes, well, interesting as that theory is, it does bring us back to the matter I wished to discuss. I understand you discontinued the established practice of having the guards secure Ms. Stormwind when they brought her in. In light of what you've just said it's plain to see why you did so. You were evidently trying to show 'respect' toward the young hellion. And, when she predictably started pitching a fit, you attempted to pacify her on your own, even going so far as to refuse the guards' assistance when you so plainly needed it."
It was Dr. Shreever's turn to bristle in indignation now.
"I did not require their assistance! I had the matter well in hand."
Dr. Foler shook his finger at him angrily.
"You did NOT have the matter in hand! You lost control of the situation and had to resort to magic to restrain the girl!"
Dr. Shreever stood up from his chair and set his coffee cup down on the desk.
"It was necessary to demonstrate my authority to her in the only way a witch truly understands - with a show of force!"
Dr. Foler stood up as well and slammed his hands down on the desk.
"You threw her across the room with your magic and pinned her to a wall!! A patient with a pre-existing back injury, I might add!"
Dr. Shreever winced and looked away.
"That was an error in judgment, one that I deeply regret."
Dr. Foler crossed his arms and glowered.
"As well you should. You realize such an indiscretion could cost you both your position here at Light Haven and your licence to practice psychology."
Dr. Shreever looked down at his desk, his face a mask of unreadable emotions.
"I understand Dr. Foler. It won't happen again."
Dr. Foler turned and headed toward the door.
"Good. See that it doesn't. I'll be keeping an eye on you Thaddeus. Good day."
Dr. Shreever waited until he heard the door close behind Dr. Foler, then he punched the top of his desk with his fist hard enough to nearly upset his coffee cup.
"Damn it! He just doesn't understand! None of them do! But one day I'll show them all!"
Just then a sound like the chiming of a bell emenated from the miniature crystal ball on his desk. Dr. Shreever glanced at it in surprise. He gestured toward the door and sent out a blob of green energy which adhered to the doorframe, sealing it tight shut. Then he waved his hand over the crystal ball and went down on one knee as a shadowy figure materialized above it.
"My lord."
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Therapy: Three Witches and a Shrink