Intake Counselor, chapter one

[maculategiraffe]

Gwen was thin and pale, with close-cropped dark hair, and dressed not in the obscenely short and revealing slave tunic but in a boy's tunic of slightly faded prussian blue that had probably belonged to Jesse or Quen and would have been knee-length on either of them, and sandals that were too big for her. She handed Hanna the manila folder from pre-eval and sat down on the couch when she was invited to sit, as far as possible from Jesse, though she wasn't obviously cringing away from him or anything. Still, Hanna squinted at him when he didn't immediately get up and leave.

"I'll leave you to it, then," he said, catching the look and starting to rise. Gwen looked faintly worried, so Hanna said quickly, "Gwen, would you rather Jesse stayed here for now?"

"He's the one who brought me here," said Gwen; her voice was quiet and emotionless. "Will someone else take me to the next place?"

"That depends on what the next place is," said Hanna. "Part of my job is to help you decide where to go from here. But wherever that is, we'll make sure you get there. Would you prefer if it were Jesse who took you?"

Gwen shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Okay," said Jesse. "Good luck, Gwen."

When he was gone, Gwen sat eyeing Hanna with a carefully neutral, alert look. Hanna smiled at her; she was a nice-looking girl, though much too thin, which was fairly standard for new arrivals. Not usually the ones who came from Larssen, though; there was definitely a story here, one that Jesse with typical irritatingness had arranged not to have time to tell her.

"I'm Hanna Steele," she said. "You can call me Hanna, or Ms. Steele; I don't have a preference. Would you prefer I call you Gwen, or something else? I don't see a last name in your file."

"Ellisen," said Gwen. "But just 'Gwen' is fine."

Hanna wrote the surname in the file. "Okay, good. Now, as Jesse probably told you, my job is to help you in any way I can. It will help if I know a little about you first. You're seventeen?"

"Yes, Ms. Steele," said Gwen, sitting very still, knees together, hands folded in her lap.

"And you were a slave for about two years and seven months?"

"Yes, Ms. Steele."

Hanna nodded. "And Jesse tells me you were actually kidnapped from your owner's house."

"He wasn't my owner," said Gwen. "My owner was Lord Mikhail Dunaev. He was arrested, so Mr. Larssen had taken temporary custody of me. Just that same day."

Hanna nodded again; the girl seemed to have a methodical mind, which was nice.

"Holden Larssen once owned me, too," she said. She always tried to drop the part about her own history into the conversation as early as possible; some picked it up and pursued it, some didn't, but it never seemed to have a bad effect, and a lot of people opened up more once they realized she was an ex-slave herself. She'd had clients before who'd been brought to Karl and Tara's house in the forest by Larssen, too, and sometimes they'd ended up talking about him for quite awhile, with affection or profanity depending on the client. Hanna could go either way, really.

"Jesse told me," said Gwen, still without visible emotion. "Did you run away from him?"

"No," said Hanna. "He got me out of the country, to freedom."

"The slave breaker?" Gwen asked, with what might have been a flicker of interest, or carefully disguised incredulity.

"That's what they call him," Hanna answered, "but he believes in humane treatment of slaves, so he helps us out sometimes. Most of our new arrivals are runaways, or aging slaves whose owners neglect them, but some of them are slaves he's attempted to retrain in the past, who couldn't manage to resign themselves to a life of slavery. I was one of them. When he realized I couldn't cope as a slave, he made arrangements to get me here."

Gwen sat still for a minute, and then said, "If he got you out, then why did Jesse and those people come take me when he was gone?"

"Didn't Jesse explain?" Hanna asked, surprised and increasingly irritated with Jesse, though she was careful not to let irritation show in her face or voice, for Gwen's sake. But damn Jesse; not telling Hanna the whole story was annoying enough, but not explaining to a teenage girl why she'd been forcibly seized and transported out of the country was downright irresponsible.

"Sort of," said Gwen. "I didn't-- ask many questions."

"Sure," said Hanna, smiling reassuringly. "I can understand that. Slaves aren't encouraged to, are we?"

"No," said Gwen, without smiling back. "Jesse said something about needing to make sure my master didn't have any grounds to press charges against Mr. Larssen, for conspiring to get me out. But there was something more to it than that. Mr. Larssen had a bruise on his face when he came to get me, and he-- I think he said my master had hit him."

"I see," said Hanna, writing in tiny neat letters at the edge of Gwen's file, Note to self: extract further information from Jesse, and adding after a moment, Painfully if possible. "Gwen, just a note-- feel free to speak of Lord Dunaev in any way you wish, but he is, in fact, no longer your master. Once you crossed the border into this country, the law of Arcadia dictates that you are free. If you ever go back, Lotharia's laws state that your former owner can reclaim you, but as long as you're here, you have no master and you are legally the equal of any other citizen of this country."

Gwen nodded slowly. "Jesse said-- that."

"Was Lord Dunaev your first owner?" Hanna asked. They didn't go into that in pre-eval, since some of the ex-slaves tended to start crying when asked.

"No," said Gwen, and didn't elaborate. Hanna made a note, but didn't pursue it. She skipped her usual next set of questions, about the escape-- motivation, planning, logistics-- since they obviously didn't apply here, and went straight to-- "May I ask you a personal question?"

Gwen nodded again.

"How do you feel about being here?"

Some people started crying when you asked that; others started laughing and couldn't stop. Gwen was quiet, seeming to consider.

"Uncertain," she said finally. "I'm not sure-- what's expected. Or what I'm supposed to do."

"Well," said Hanna briskly, "part of my job-- and everyone else's here at Open Collar-- is to help you figure that out. We're a nonprofit organization-- Jesse might have told you this, if he was in a helpful mood-- that tries to help ex-slaves transition into life as free citizens. I, personally, will serve as your advocate and liaison-- unless you don't like me and request someone else, which is fine, it won't hurt my feelings-- and do things like help you find a job, and a place to live, figure out what to wear and where to buy it, things like that. I'm also here for you to talk to, about anything you feel the need to talk to someone about. That may be nothing, and that's fine too. I'm here for you-- for whatever you find you need."

"Thank you," said Gwen.

"It's my job," Hanna answered. "And my pleasure, too."

"Should I get a job right away?" Gwen asked.

"As soon as you feel ready," said Hanna. "Some people need a longer transition, but having a job can really help, with settling into a new life. You feel like part of something. And, of course, earning your own living is nice."

"I'm ready to work," said Gwen. "What kinds of jobs are available?"

"Can you read and write?" Hanna asked.

"Not-- well," said Gwen, after a moment's hesitation. "I'm not sure I'd be good at a job that was-- primarily-- that sort of thing."

"Would you prefer, say, a factory job? Assembly, that kind of thing?"

"I could do that," said Gwen.

"Or a cleaning job," said Hanna. "There are a lot of those available. It's not the most stimulating work, but it pays pretty well, and some people like it while they're figuring out what they want to do long-term."

"Would I have to go into people's houses alone?" Gwen asked.

Hanna shook her head. "A lot of it is industrial-type cleaning-- not residential. I could arrange for that if you'd prefer it. And I could arrange for a partner, too, if you'd rather not go anywhere alone."

"I think I'd like that," said Gwen.

"I'll make some calls," said Hanna. "Now, about where you're going to live. We have a facility here where people are free to stay while they're transitioning, or we have a fund that we can dip into to help you secure a place of your own. You'd pay us back once you were on your feet."

"I don't think I want to live alone," said Gwen.

"Then maybe the facility would be best, for right now," said Hanna. "It's safe, and clean, and pretty nice. I don't know what you're used to--"

"That sounds fine," said Gwen. "What about food?"

"Food's provided, here," said Hanna. "The kitchen is stocked. You can contribute to the grocery fund once you've got a job."

Gwen nodded. "And what service will be expected of me?"

"Mostly just basic neatness," said Hanna. "Making your bed, sweeping the floor-- maybe a bit of cooking. Nothing sexual. And this might go without saying, considering that you're a free citizen now, but no one now has the right to punish or discipline you, unless you break the law."

"What is the law?" Gwen asked.

"I mean-- sorry," said Hanna. "I was imprecise. I meant, collectively, the laws of Arcadia. Every country has its own laws-- like the law in Lotharia that children can't be sold until they're fifteen. The laws in Arcadia forbid slavery altogether, and there are other laws, mostly concerning not harming other people. All citizens are required to obey those laws if we live in this country. We'll do our best to make sure that you learn all the laws that are relevant to you, and that you don't come to harm through ignorance."

Gwen said, "For how long?"

"As long as you want us involved in your life," Hanna answered. "It's entirely up to you. If you wish, you can walk out of here right now, and onto the street, and never see me or any of us again. I'd advise against it, because I think we can help you in a number of ways, but I have no power to compel you to stay. But I certainly won't be terminating our relationship before you ask me to."

"Okay," said Gwen. "Thank you."

Hanna smiled at her. "Again, it's my pleasure. I do this job because I like it."

"So I'll earn money by cleaning," said Gwen, "and I'll live and eat here, for a while, until I feel ready to live by myself."

"Or find a roommate," Hanna added. "You might hit it off with someone, in the meantime, and want to live with them."

"How will I get from here to the place where I work?" Gwen continued.

"We'll help you figure out transportation, depending on where you work and how much money you're making."

"I'm not dressed appropriately," said Gwen, looking at Hanna's black pullover sweater.

"We'll help with that, too," Hanna answered. "I can help you figure out the appropriate clothes for where you'll be working, and where to get them."

"Thank you," Gwen said again. "How-- um, how often am I to see you?"

"That's up to you," said Hanna, "but I'd like it to be every day, for a while. The transition can be challenging. So many new things, so many questions. And you might find yourself wanting to talk about your past, to someone who's just here to listen."

"My past," Gwen repeated tonelessly.

Hanna nodded. "Only if you want to. Some people find it helpful."

"Okay," said Gwen, and sat up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders without unfolding her hands. "I can do this."

"I know you can," Hanna answered, smiling.

Gwen raised her eyebrows slightly, with the first marked expression Hanna had seen on her face; she looked skeptical. "Do you say that to everyone?"

"Eventually," said Hanna, still smiling. "Usually not so soon. But it tends to be true, anyway."

Gwen finally smiled back, a little, and said, "Okay. What do I do now?"

"Let me make some calls and see if I can locate a job for you right away," said Hanna. "And then I can show you around a bit. Where you'll be sleeping, and the kitchen, and all that. Introduce you to some people. Are you up for that?"

"Yes, Ms. Steele," said Gwen. "Thank you."







The living facility was semi-detached, connected by a covered walkway to the main building where Hanna, the other counselors, the medical professionals, and the rest of the administration of Open Collar had their offices. Hanna made a mental note to get Gwen a key ring, as she unlocked the door with her own key. Inside it was spare, but neat-- Hanna didn't think Gwen would mind the spareness-- and deserted, at this time of day. They walked past the kitchen and small dining area with its metal folding chairs; Hanna showed Gwen the little common area with its brightly-colored, plastic-coated sofas, cheap deal shelves holding tattered, donated books, and a flimsy writing-desk. Then the dormitory area: four bedrooms, two single beds to a room and a tiny bathroom off of each.

"Only two other people staying here right now," she said, looking at the chalkboard where names were written next to room numbers: Niel and Beck, both in room four. "They'll both be at work right now."

"No other girls," said Gwen, not in the tone of a question.

Hanna shook her head. "Not right now. Will that make you uncomfortable?"

"Is there a lock on the bedroom door?" Gwen asked.

"Yes," said Hanna. "But I don't want you feeling unsafe. If you'd prefer, I can stay here with you tonight."

Gwen didn't answer that right away.

"I offer," Hanna explained, trying not to sound badgering, "because you said you weren't sure you were ready to live alone, and your first night in a new place is always a little nerve-racking. If you'd prefer not to be alone, or if it would make you feel more comfortable to have another woman here, then I'd be happy to stay with you. If it would make this easier on you. There are two beds in each room. Plenty of space."

"If it please you," said Gwen.

Hanna took that as a yes.

"If you'd like," she said, "we can go out now, into the city. You could see a bit of what it's like, and maybe go shopping for clothes and eat somewhere. I'll pay for you."

Gwen hesitated, and said, "Can that-- could we do that-- tomorrow? I'm a little tired."

"Of course," said Hanna. "Are you hungry? Let's see what we can rustle up from the kitchen."

Hanna was a decent if uncreative cook, and she managed to produce an edible meal, which Gwen had eaten with a restrained ravenousness by the time Niel and Beck arrived home from work for lunch, chatting and laughing. Beck was a client of Hanna's, aged thirty-nine; Niel wasn't, but he was around the same age and, she guessed, had the same story. Aging slaves who'd run before they could be euthanized weren't usually looked for too hard by their owners. Gwen, her face still a careful blank, regarded them, then looked back at Hanna, who introduced her.

"Welcome, Gwen," said Niel, smiling. "Don't worry, we don't bite."

Gwen smiled back-- a slow, sweet, entirely unexpected smile, a smile full of promises, demurely lowered eyelids and all.

"No, sir," she said, in a voice lowered to match, with a tiny breathless hint of longing. "I'm sure you don't."

"None of that, now," said Niel, his own voice gentle. "Unless you want lessons." He lowered his own gaze, then flickered it momentarily upward; his breath caught and became unsteady, a light flush rising in his lined cheeks, as he added huskily, "Would that-- please you?"

Gwen was no longer smiling, and her eyes had gone flat and withdrawn.

"No need to be embarrassed," said Beck quietly. "We understand."

"None better," Niel agreed, his tone pleasant and ordinary again. "But it doesn't work on us, you know. You must have been an only slave."

"I was," said Gwen expressionlessly, and flicked a quick glance at Hanna, who asked, "Gwen, you're tired-- do you want to lie down for a bit?"

"Yes," said Gwen. "Please."






Hanna had things to do-- calls to make, jobs to secure, unhelpful men to beat information out of-- but Gwen was clearly exhausted and Hanna wasn't going to leave her alone when she was also clearly nervous. She kicked off her shoes, prompting Gwen to do the same with her huge sandals, and drew the curtain, leaving the room mostly dark.

"Sleep as long as you like," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

She lay down on one of the two beds, and after a moment, Gwen lay down on the other.

It was a while later-- Hanna wasn't anywhere close to asleep; she had lists she ran through at moments of enforced idleness, people to check up on, problems to solve-- when she heard a creak from the other bed, and saw the slender silhouette put its legs over the edge of the bed, stand up, and pad silently across to Hanna's bed. Poor little thing. Hanna stayed still, hoping Gwen wouldn't try to wake her up to have sex; maybe just the closeness of another body would be enough. Nobody liked rejection, and now probably wasn't the time for a heart-to-heart about the ethics of client-counselor sexual relationships.

Gwen inched carefully in next to her, so close to the edge of the bed that she must be teetering on the brink of falling out. She didn't try to kiss Hanna, or caress her; she just lay there next to her, barely touching, but Hanna could feel even so that Gwen was trembling almost convulsively, and a faint clicking sound every so often was probably the chattering of her teeth.

Hanna reached out-- Gwen startled so badly that she almost did fall out of bed, and Hanna pulled her back in, close up against her own fully-clothed body. Gwen whimpered, a tiny pitiful sound, and Hanna drew the cropped, prickly head down onto her shoulder.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Just rest."

Gwen's trembling was slow to abate, but eventually, clasped in Hanna's arms, she grew still except for her slow, even breathing. Hanna held her, went down a few more lists in her head, and fell asleep herself, crisply as switching off a light.