fandomhigh | Philosophy classroom, Friday afternoon

Seeing that the badge is not present, Tara replies in a friendly voice, "Of course, Parker. Come in. And it's Tara, or Professor. You're not wearing the badge, you're not in the role." She gestures to one of the comfortable chairs. "What would you like to talk about?"

Parker lets out a breath when she hears that, and relaxes a bit. "Where to start. Okay. Echolls is a creep. When we were setting up boundaries, he specifically said he wanted me to be all "positive" on a subject he knows I have issues. He also picked out a safeword for me that was embarassing and childish, and I immediately told him to go to hell."

"Professor, you don't know me, but I have an ugly temper and a vindictive streak. Echolls is pushing my buttons deliberately. Even with the 'safeguards', I really, really want to hurt him, and it's only Friday. Is this the way it's supposed to be? If we're not in Master-Slave mode, he can mock me and push me so that I can barely stand to speak to him, much less think about working with him?"

"First off - well done for telling him to go to hell. Unless you're in your roles, you don't have to take anything from him. Particularly when setting up the rules."

"Logan may be trying to push you. It's up to you whether you let him or not. So let's pretend for a moment that this isn't a class exercise. You're a slave. Your master gives you an instruction you do not wish to follow. What are your choices?"

Parker tries to get into class-discussion mode, but it's hard. "I either defy him and risk the consequences. I kill him. Or I run away." Her voice is utterly flat, and her stomach is in knots.

"Okay. Let's assume you can't kill him - because while you could, I think that might be going a little far. What are the consequences if you defy him? And if, as a slave, you were to defy him, how would that be different than Parker defying him?"

Parker's expression is ... well, incredulous.

"I'm not seeing the difference here. Unless you mean between my own situation, and the situation if I was a slave?" Parker's fingers are closing and opening, closing and opening.

"A slave might be physically hurt, isolated, tortured, deprived of food, deprived of comfort, trapped, killed..." Her voice keeps speeding up. "And there would be no one to speak for him."

Parker gets her breathing under control, and the anger. It's not going well. "*I* can do more things and get away with more things because I am rich, smart, forceful, attractive, and have powerful connections. They don't even have to be right things. Anyone who tried to enforce their will on me, if I could not escape immediately and killing them was not an option, would find it difficult to maintain that situation for long."

"Whoa, Parker. Back up. If you stay in character - as a slave - what does defiance look like? How can you defy your Master, and be true to yourself, without incurring punishment? As a slave, you're not rich, and you don't have connections. But you're still forceful, and attractive, and smart. So use those smarts. How can you stay in character, and defy him?"

And again, this concept is so alien to Parker, she can barely encompass it.

"Compliance," she grinds out. "Duplicity. Lying." She folds her arms across her stomach, swallowing hard. "Acting. Looking for an opportunity to stab them in the back when they don't expect it."

Tara crosses her legs. "So the way I see it, you have two options. The first would be to tell Logan that what he is asking you to do offends you on a moral basis, and that you are not willing to do it even as part of a class assignment. He will find something else to ask you to do. He is not allowed to force you to do anything - although I do expect you to be honest with yourself about your boundaries."

"Your other option," Tara smiles, just slightly, "is to take him on. Slaves survive by their wits. Pick your battles. Comply when it's not important to you, and find a way to turn things to your advantage when it is."

Comply when it's not important to you, and find a way to turn things to your advantage when it is.

But it's always important, Parker wants to say. Isn't it?

"Honest about my boundaries," she repeats instead. "If I'm honest, all I want to do is punch his face in and take the detention. Even when he was 'giving' me things, I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat. Except his girlfriend might not appreciate it."

"Why did him giving you things upset you?"

"I have my own things," Parker says shortly. "Nothing he could give me would be worth being subordinate to him."

"Yes, you do. You don't need what he gives you, and he's not trying to buy you. But why does him giving you things make you subordinate?"

"It implies I couldn't get them for myself. Like I'm some child, that I'm not able to do things, earn money, that if I left I'd be helpless--"

Parker's face has gone white, and she cuts herself off. "An obligation. It implies an obligation. And it's hardest to fight things that no one says."

"Parker, you didn't see the Master's instructions, but this is his responsibility. It's his obligation to you to make sure that you are fed, dressed, and comfortably housed. You owe him nothing. While the manner he has chosen to do this is a little unusual, he would fail the assignment if he did not make some provision for them - even if it was only asking you to confirm your comfort."

"I have to go," Parker says abruptly, checking her watch. "I have to meet Alex Krycek for a newspaper interview." She gets to her feet quickly, gathering her things, not looking at Tara until she's at the door. "Thank you for your time, Professor. I think I understand a little better. And-- I'll try." Her lips thin. "But I can't promise anything."

"Trying is all I can ask, and more than some have been able to do." She shrugs one shoulder. "Have a good day, Parker. And call me if things get out of hand."

"Sure." Parker's feeling ill as she walks down the hallway outside Tara's office, and she stops at the corner to catch her breath, waiting for the nausea to dissipate.

Parallels are not empirical facts. Similiarities to your life, or Jarod's, do not mean *anything*, damnit. You are the master of your own damn fate. Got it?

She takes another breath, lets it out, and ignores the pain in her gut. After a few minutes, it goes away.

Good.

Then she continues down the hallway, back to the dorms.

Philosophy classroom, Friday afternoon

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