Don't pressure yourself

She was looking at her computer and writing down a few things after she showed Mister Stein to his seat. She always hated when other doctors did that—but here she was, falling into the same trap of wanting to get everything down about the patient before she started asking questions. She turned her eyes toward him and gave him a gentle smile; now he looked good, given the circumstances—he was, after all, still one of their rarer cases of waking up after so many years in a coma, even though some had told her that it had been due to something that wasn’t entirely medical.
“So, Mr Stein”, she said, placing her hands on the table in front of her—folding them together. Her tongue ran over her teeth before letting out a small sigh. “I’m not going to lie, I would have wished to see more progress, but we all develop muscle mass differently and depending on circumstances, diet and training,” her voice died out for a moment before she picked up again. “I’m just wondering if something else is going on, something that hasn’t to do with your legs,” she said, lifting her brows. Now besides being a trained rehabilitating doctor, she also had a degree in psychology, a trait she had seen come in handy more than once—because regaining strength in a body part that hadn’t been working probably, either because of trauma or because of the patient had been bedridden, could be just as psychological than physical.

Here he sat, not really knowing how many times he had been in this seat. Ever since he had woken up in late September last year, he had been going through rehabilitation and had been able to go home after a couple of months.
The rehabilitation doctor looked at him, with the same caring smile that she used to. Something he was sure was only put up for the patients. She had problems too. Everyone had problems. With hinting words, she told him how he hadn’t been able to follow the plan and hadn’t progressed in a long time. He had simply found a spot where nothing really happened. His jaw clenched a bit together as he looked down at his limbs, both arms, and legs. He remembered clearly how he had been athletic before he had been put into a coma. He himself wasn’t that impressed with how his muscles had been developing, and he was quite certain that it would take some time before he could go back to protecting the supernaturals as he had done before.
Something else?
He looked up at her, shaking his head at first. “No, nothing but the usual, really,” he said with a small scoff. Life the past four months had been draining him of energy. He was unmotivated. “I know that I should be able to motivate myself, but I feel like I get much more motivated if I have someone to do it for,” he said with a sigh and leaned back in his seat. “Once I protected the supernaturals,” he said, “I had friends and people I loved to protect,” he put his hands out to the side to gesture that he had nothing left. “I thought I had someone when I woke up, but she has never shown herself ever since,” he furrowed his brows as he then thought of Nathalie and how much it pressured his chest. “I lived by someone, but after… A month or so, she moved out and left me her apartment, and literally told me not to seek her,” he told the doctor that he never really remembered what was called. “So, maybe I’m just lonely,” he suggested to get her off any other diagnosis she might be thinking off. He knew the last couple of months had been a mess, because his training had been the bare minimum and only on what he would call the good days, and those days were rare.

Her deep brown eyes took the aspect of something carrying, hopefully telling him to carry on and not just stop with the; I’m doing fine, nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed to help as he started speaking. Nothing that motivated him, she could understand the need to have someone to do it for, it was just a very dangerous feeling to fall into, that you always needed someone to do something good for yourself—but even then, she understood the importance to have the support and care from someone else. Her brows, however, started to furry when he started to speak about the fact that the people, he had thought would be there, weren’t—and those that had shown themselves after he had awoken, hadn’t stayed. That was indeed a tricky situation to be in, and she sympathised with him a great deal.
“Have you thought about joining a support group?” she wondered, tilting her head a little “I just feel that you could benefit from maybe talking with someone, get a little out; we have great success with paring people in rehabilitation with someone that has been in your shoes, I could see if there is anyone available to start seeing you, to motivate you through this process and might even help you heal physically as mentally” she wondered, she had a few older patients in mind, one which she had treated in France, a vampire that had been struck by a sickness that had been very little known to them at the time, almost as if her entire body rejected the intake of blood and slowly made her wither away, it had taken time, but she had gotten better and trained to become as strong as she had been before. If she could get a hold of her, she would be the perfect match if King would be onboard with the idea.

His brows furrowed a little as she mentioned a support group. He hadn’t thought about that and therefore shook his head a little to it. A short snort left him as she mentioned someone who had been in his shoes. There was no one who had been in a coma as long as he had been. Or did she mean the way that nobody was there to support him when he woke up? He licked his lips honestly not thinking much good about her suggestion. “Sure,” he scoffed, letting a hand run through his hair. “If you manage to find someone to pair me up with, I’ll be open to trying it,” he replied, exhaling.

She gave him an understanding smile, even though she had no way of knowing what it felt like. She could maybe sympathise as she herself had been in a situation where she had felt completely alone. When her mate had rejected her, and she had almost died, had it not been for Melanie, and she had been lucky enough that it was a full moon a few days after she had been rejected. But that didn’t take away the feeling that she felt wrong in her own body. That each day she wished she was a witch again, so much that it felt like something had been amputated from her body, and she would never be completely whole again. So, in that sense, she felt like she understood better than most people might be able to.
“Well, I know a woman that I helped a few years back; she is a vampire and sadly developed a sickness where she couldn’t drink blood; after she lost her family, she ended up losing her will to live; I don’t know, I just feel like you might be able to learn from each other,” she said with a small smile, but it was still a long shot as she had no idea where Esme was roaming these days.

King listened, even though he had difficulty being completely open to the suggestion. His eyes narrowed as she explained what species she was and the sickness she carried. It got a little heavy as she mentioned how the vampire had lost her will to live. It was a sad story, he agreed to that. He took a greater breath in as she mentioned how she believed that they might be able to learn from each other. “Fine,” he agreed with a sigh. “You can set up a meeting,” he said and leaned a little back on his stool. “It’s not like I got anyone to meet up with except for when I’m here, so you can just… Mail me when she got time,” he told her and scratched his forehead a little. He would definately have to collect himself a little to be open to be nice to his 'partner' or whatever
Camila wished to call them. Mirroring-buddies.