My plan for this story is to post an update every other week or so. I'm working a little ahead and hope to keep that going, real life and muse willing.
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Chapter 2: Bait and Switch
Gibbs was uneasy as he walked down one of the few unfamiliar corridors at Walter Reed hospital. He paused, leaning on his cane as he checked the wall signs, making sure he was headed in the right direction. Grace called him that morning to change the location of their regularly scheduled appointments, citing some excuse about HVAC issues in her wing. This whole process still unnerved him after a month of appointments…it represented a major change in his life and career. It was no secret he'd never been a fan of change and he was finding it no easier to accept now.
Not for the first time he felt a wave of resentment at Vance for forcing him into this therapy and making his continued employment contingent on undergoing treatment for PTSD. He just wanted his life to get back to normal, instead of this aimless, purposeless existence of the last several weeks. He was impatient to get through therapy and back to work, whatever that was going to be, so he'd been checking the blocks and telling them what he thought they wanted to hear. He'd been allowed to select his own therapist and chosen Grace. He knew her and felt by seeing her he could retain a measure of control over how this process went. He had no idea how wrong he was going to be.
Gibbs reached the room number Grace gave him and tapped lightly on the door with his cane. He paused then smiled as he heard her husky voice call out in greeting.
"Come on in, Gibbs."
Gibbs opened the door and entered a small outer office; frowning at the sight of Grace seated at what seemed to be the receptionist's desk. He took the chair opposite, settled himself, and then raised an inquiring brow. "You wanna tell me the real reason behind the change of venue, Grace? Or should I just guess?" he asked drily.
"Sure, Gibbs…we'll get to that," she agreed easily. "Let me ask you something first. It's been a month; what do you think we've accomplished here?" she asked.
Gibbs just stared a moment, nonplussed at the question. "What do you want me to say, Grace? That this has been fun for me?"
"I hardly think it's been fun for you, Gibbs. On the contrary…I think it's been quite difficult, and therein lies the problem."
"Problem? What problem?" Gibbs asked, not liking where this was going. "I've done what's been asked of me…or required of me, if you want to be more specific about it."
Grace shook her head and smiled ruefully. "Let me clarify my question a bit, Gibbs. Do you think we've made progress?"
"Progress? What does that even mean, and how the hell am I supposed to know? You're the doc, Doc."
"Do you think you've gained any understanding into your PTSD? Have you even reached the point where you're willing to accept that you have PTSD?"
"That's for you to say," he deflected.
"No Gibbs, that's not how this works," Grace countered. "You're showing up, Gibbs but that's not all that's required of you. You're supposed to be an active participant in the process," Grace said, looking at Gibbs meaningfully.
"I have been," Gibbs insisted.
"Really?" she asked. "I've been doing this a long time Gibbs; do you think I'm not aware when a patient isn't being fully cooperative?"
Gibbs grimaced at being referred to as a patient.
"I know exactly what you're thinking right now, Gibbs. In here, you are a patient, not a friend. If you don't see the difference, that's one problem. You're going through the motions and I've been letting you; hoping you'd start taking this seriously. I'm not helping you, Gibbs and you need someone who can."
"Of course you're helping."
"You know better. I think you need to see someone else Gibbs."
"I picked you because I thought you could help me, like you did before."
"Did I really help you, Gibbs? Would you be here now if I had? No Gibbs," Grace said, disappointment in her gravelly tones. "You picked me because you're comfortable with me. You're too comfortable, and that's not what you need. I'm turning your case over to another doctor; someone more objective and better suited to help you."
"What? No, I didn't agree to that!"
Grace's voice hardened, knowing she needed to out-stubborn her surly patient. "Remember this treatment plan is agency directed, Gibbs. I'm required to brief Director Vance on your status periodically."
"You've been talking to Vance about me? Isn't that some kind of violation of doctor-patient confidentiality?" Gibbs demanded.
"You know better than that, Gibbs and don't change the subject. I've kept him apprised of your progress and suitability for duty, nothing more; or more specifically, your lack of progress. At this point, you don't get to agree or disagree with the terms of the treatment program; merely whether or not you choose to continue with it." Grace pushed a call button on the phone, and a moment later a tall man with dark eyes and graying hair stepped through the door from the inner office.
Grace gestured at the newcomer and stood. "This is Doctor David Silva. He'll be taking over your care should you decide to continue the program."
Gibbs rose as Grace stepped around the desk and stood next to his chair. Gesturing again at Gibbs this time, she completed the introductions. "David…Jethro Gibbs, NCIS." Grace looked up at Gibbs and touched his arm gently. "Give him a chance, Gibbs. He's one of the best here at Walter Reed, or anywhere in DC for that matter, at helping people with PTSD. I'll see you around, Gibbs."
With that, Grace turned and left the office, leaving them two men staring at each other inscrutably, until finally Doctor Silva broke the ice.
"Agent Gibbs…I realize our introduction wasn't ideal and you may be angry right now. Grace assured me if you'd known about the change ahead of time, you wouldn't have come."
"Grace was right." Gibbs replied shortly.
"Well, you are here and I hope we can get past the rocky start and get to know one another. Would you come in?" Doctor Silva asked, indicating the inner office. "Or shall I inform Director Vance you've declined to continue?"
Gibbs didn't appreciate being backed into a corner again, and he'd be having words with Grace about that later. Still, this was mandatory if he wanted to stay with NCIS and he was beginning to wonder if it was going to be worth it. Maybe he should just take his retirement and tell them all to get bent. That part in all this was something he could control. No…that wasn't really what he wanted. Vance's 'carrot' of a new position was compelling and it surprised him how much he wanted it. Not only that, he had fences to mend with the important people in his life. As Ellis so eloquently pointed out, he couldn't do any of that until he got his head on straight. Grace was right; he'd fallen back on his old ways and hadn't taken her attempts to help seriously.
Doctor Silva waited patiently as Gibbs considered his options, not wanting to push the man any more than he already had been. As he watched he could see indefinable emotions flitting across Gibbs' features then he appeared to come to a decision. Gibbs gave a grudging nod then turned toward the inner office, walking around him and going inside. He helped himself to a chair; sat and crossed his legs appearing outwardly nonchalant about the unexpected change forced on him. Silva stifled a grin of amusement at the man's unsubtle attempt to wrest back some power over the situation. Oh, there were definitely control issues there, just as Grace indicated…and that was only the tip of the iceberg. Silva took his seat; it was time to peel back the onion that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
"Now that the introductions are out of the way, where would you like to start, Agent Gibbs?" Silva asked, wondering how Gibbs would respond to the ball being immediately in his court.
"It's just Gibbs, Doc…and I don't know. You're the expert; where do you want to start? My childhood, or should we just skip straight to the incident that landed me here?" he asked sarcastically.
Silva observed Gibbs closely. Clearly he was still attempting to deflect the conversation toward topics he was willing to discuss and avoiding those he didn't. Silva could see the kid gloves handling Grace had employed wasn't the correct approach with this patient and she'd known it too.
"While I'm a fan of sarcasm in casual conversation, Gibbs, I don't think it's going to accomplish anything here, do you?"
"I don't know what you expect me to say any more than I knew what Grace wanted to hear."
"Gibbs, it's not about what we want to hear and somewhere in there," Silva said, waving a hand at his head, "you are well aware of that. It's about you and the topics that you continue to subconsciously avoid facing. Grace was in no way fooled by your reluctance to discuss these topics and your attempts to cover it up with misdirection and half-truths. What are you so afraid of?"
"Not a damn thing!"
"That's not entirely true, is it?"
"For someone in your line of work, you're not very compassionate and understanding, are you?"
Oh yes, Grace wasn't kidding about the misdirection part of the equation. He was going to have his work cut out for him, peeling back the layers found in this man.
"I'm no less compassionate about your circumstances than Grace, but my understanding is reserved for those who want to help themselves. We'll let it rest for now. You should know I've access to your NCIS personnel file and there's a hell of a lot of ground between your childhood and the incident that landed you here. You have been adept at avoiding that ground and the significant number of traumatic events that took place in that time."
Gibbs shifted uncomfortably at the allusion to his past.
"Just one of these events and injuries in the field could have been enough to trigger post-traumatic stress and you have a whole series of them. It's also apparent you know your way around a routine psych eval or have bullied and intimidated your way through them, around them, and back into the field. That's not going to work with me."
Gibbs surged to his feet, radiating anger and defensiveness.
Silva held up a hand to stop the building tirade.
"Hear me out Gibbs, and if you still want to walk out that door when I'm done, I won't stop you." He paused, waiting to see what Gibbs would do. After a long moment during which he was stared at stonily, Gibbs took his seat again.
"Cause and effect, Gibbs; in simple terms that is what we need to talk about. Your director says you've become a loose cannon. You're a liability in the field and in your current state of mind, anywhere on the job for that matter. The incident that landed you here, as you so superficially stated it; is an effect. Everything you told Grace about your symptoms, the nightmares, anger, resentment, the need for isolation and control; all those are effects. The cause is what we need to delve into if you're going to learn to cope with PTSD and get back to work."
Gibbs sighed wearily. "I don't even know and you think you're going to be able to help me figure this out?"
"I'm good at what I do Gibbs. If you're willing to be open and honest, I'll be able to help you do exactly that. The fact that you're here is a good start, but that alone isn't going to solve anything. I don't give participation trophies and I'm not going to walk on eggshells around you and your issues. I want to help you and I think I can. You have to meet me halfway, though. If you aren't willing or able to work with me instead of against me, you might as well put in your papers and retire, because I'm not just signing you off to get rid of you and neither will anyone else. I am your last stop, Gibbs."
Gibbs straightened in the chair, not liking the feeling of being cornered. "Are ultimatums a part of your treatment plan, Doctor?"
"Not ultimatums, Gibbs. Those are the facts of the situation. The choice is all yours. Are you going to choose to accept help and the conditions that come with it?"
Gibbs met the dark eyes and studied the man intently for a moment.
"Gibbs, I need an answer from you. No more screwing around. You know you need to do something, right?"
Gibbs slumped in the chair and shook his head, still holding on to denial…still looking for an easier out than facing his demons. "You won't…no one will understand," he gritted out.
"Maybe I won't. Maybe I don't need to; but I can still listen and I can still help," Silva said in a level, soothing voice. He leaned forward; held his breath and watched intently as Gibbs froze, his gaze distant, and body tense as if he were going through some internal battle.
Silva watched Gibbs with increasing concern. Just when the fugue moment felt like it was going on for too long, and Silva was about to interrupt, Gibbs blinked and focused on him again.
Gibbs rolled his neck and shoulders to break the tension in his body, and then sat back and tried to come to grips with the situation. "OK," he said simply. "I still don't know how to do this…but I'm willing to try."
"Thank you for giving me a chance, Gibbs."
Gibbs simply nodded and leaned back in the chair, his posture relaxed and face showing no sign of the earlier tension.
Silva smiled, the first small battle won, he thought as he prepared to take notes during their first session.
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Next up: Tony and his team catch a break with the encrypted flash drive and start digging for answers. Meanwhile, The Calling is digging for answers of their own.
