Chapter 4:
"Martin's wounds had glass in them."
"I don't follow." Lisa Harris said as she stared evenly at Danny..
"The bullets came through the glass." Danny said almost impatiently.
"Okay."
"Don't you see?"
"Danny, there were bullet holes in the windshield, and riddled across the body of the car, of course there would be glass."
"No, that's not what I mean." Danny paused and then launched into his explanation.
"The bullets came through the driver's side window." There, he'd said it.
Dr. Lisa Harris sat quietly; some patients responded well when queried, they wouldn't offer the information but ask the question and they'll answer, other patients, patient like Danny, would tell you when they were ready, push them and they retreat.
Lisa had been working with Danny for the past few weeks and while they had covered a fair bit of territory and made some progress, there was a lot of ground yet uncovered, and a lot of hidden pain.
Danny, like so many agents, liked to be in control and liked to show only confidence. His defense when confused or hurt, humor; he used not only to amuse others and himself but to deflect.
It had taken a lot of work but Lisa had managed to reach beyond the humor and was only now beginning to coax to the surface some of the raw pain and guilt buried beneath. Today's session lacked much of what had filled the previous ones, humor, deflection; today they were working.
"Martin got shot because of me. Because Dornvald was firing back at me and I was – I was using the car as cover." Danny's voice dropped so low that Dr. Harris had to resist the urge to lean forward to ensure she heard him correctly.
After waiting a moment she decided to parrot the question back to him to make sure she'd heard it, as well as to get him to continue his thought.
"You said you were using the car as cover?"
"That's right. I heard the gunfire when Dornvald killed Adiso Teno. I bolted from the car, got to the rear of the car and fired on Dornvald."
"Why did you go to the rear of the car, why not to the front?" Lisa was leaned back in a relaxed posture in her chair, her notebook and pen at the ready and she subtly made noted but the recorder in the room did the real job and she'd get the session transcribed later; her movements were minimal so as not to distract or threaten or in any way intrude upon the patient's thoughts or space.
"If I went to the front of the car and fired on Dornvald I'd put Martin in his line of fire since Dornvald was slightly behind him and to the side."
"Then what happened?" Lisa jotted another quick note.
"I fired at Dornvold, missed, he dove for cover, the driver of the van appeared and fired at me, I fired back, hit him and he went down, Dornvald appeared, fired, I fired back, my gun jammed, I ducked down, cleared the jam, Dornvald fired again and then he was gone."
"So you picked the only position available to fire at your attacker and keep your partner out of the line of fire?"
"Yes, and got him shot."
"Why do you say that?"
"Don't you get it?" Danny said in increasing frustration. "When Dornvald was running for the van and firing back at me, Martin was in his line of fire and that's when he got hit."
"Do you know for certain that's when Martin was hit?"
"It's the only thing that makes sense."
"Why?"
"Because—because—"
"Because Martin was shot twice while all you got was a cut to the head and a bruise?"
Danny glared in anger at her but Lisa calmly held his gaze without judgment in her eyes, at last shocked and defeated, Danny slumped back against the back of the chair.
"Yeah."
"Danny, do you think Martin wishes it was you that had gotten shot?"
No."
"Then why do you wish it had been you that had been shot?"
"It would be easier to deal with." Danny admitted not meeting her gaze.
"For whom?"
Danny opened his mouth several times before finally allowing the words to quietly escape.
"For me." And that admission made him more confused.
"Do you think that that would make it harder for Martin?
Danny lifted his head up, confusion clearly evident in his eyes, "No—wait—I mean, that's not what I—I don't know. No, I think it would be easier for him too."
"Why do you think that?"
"Because that way he wouldn't have to carry the burden he's carrying."
"That's right. He'd be carrying yours instead." Bingo, she nailed him and she knew it.
Danny slumped back into the chair seemingly defeated by the circles they were talking in.
"You don't know that."
"Oh, so you think Martin wouldn't have any guilt if it was you that had been shot?"
"No, that's not what I'm saying, I'm saying he probably would have moved to the front of the car when Dornvald started to run and would have kept the line of fire away from the driver's seat."
"Is that what you think?"
When Danny didn't answer but began to retreat into himself Lisa decided on a different tactic.
"So, you're saying that if you had been driving and Martin had been the passenger and hit his head and briefly lost awareness that, when the gunshots that killed of Adisa Teno happened, he would have bolted from the car, drawing the shooter out of the driver's seat line of fire, fired on the shooters, killed the driver of the van, and then in the space of – what 7 – 10 seconds at most would have been able to clear the jammed gun, and then also recognized that strategically it was best to get to the front of the car since the one remaining shooter of the three that have made themselves known would now be in a position to return fire on you thus putting the driver's position in the line of fire?"
"Yes." The word was so softly spoken Lisa barely heard it, but it was spoken.
"Danny, did you exit the car and go to the rear of the vehicle to keep Martin out of the shooter's line of fire or did you go to the rear of the vehicle because it was the fastest position you could take rather than exiting the car and swinging wide around the open passenger door and going to the front?"
Danny just looked at her in shock, his mouth opened and closed twice before he looked away and Lisa knew she had him.
"Danny –"
"I should never have gotten out of the car. I should have just let Dornvald kill Teno, hell he already had by then, and should have just played possum then we wouldn't be here."
"You're right, we wouldn't."
Danny glared at her and Lisa bit back a smile, good, anger is better than defeat.
"You'd be buried in the ground and so would Martin. Two new agents would be fumbling their way around learning the ways of the MPU and we'd have hung yours and Martin's pictures on the wall with the other agents killed in the line of duty."
"You don't know that. There's no possible way to know--"
"Agent Taylor, I may do my work in the office and not carry a gun but I am an agent and a doctor with the FBI and I understand the profile of a crime scene—yes, a crime scene. Do you really believe that Emil Dornvald took on two FBI agents transporting a prisoner with no SWAT escort, no back up of any kind, brought two heavily armed gunmen in addition to himself, with hundreds of bullets at the ready through automatic guns with the intent of only killing Adisa Teno? That once that act was done he would calmly climb back into the van and quietly drive away?
If you really believe that then you are a poor agent. Dornvald came after you and Martin knowing full well the two of you were alone and he was armed with enough firepower to kill the three of you over a hundred times. He had no intention of just putting one bullet into Adisa's head and leaving the scene, if he did he would have driven your car off the road, held you two at gunpoint and killed Teno and then left. No, he ambushed you at a light, in a quiet area, late at night no back up anywhere around.
He blinded you both with gunfire and took you off guard; you were lucky his first salvo didn't kill you both or injure you. Danny, if you had stayed still in that car, you'd be dead. Dornvald would have killed Teno; he would have shot Martin to death and then you. Tell me I'm wrong."
Danny was silent as he listened to Lisa's words. The words evoked images that haunted him in the middle of the night, during the day, images that no longer how long he lived he knew he'd never be free of. He saw the doors of the blue van swing open, the flashes of light as the automatics fired; the smell of burning rubber filled his mind as did the smell of gunpowder. He hated all of it; mostly he hated the sound of the panic that he heard in his own voice shouting to Martin, "Back up! Back up! Easy! Easy!"
More than that, Danny hated what Lisa was saying because he knew deep down inside; Lisa was right. There wasn't anything that he could have done; what he had done was all he could have done and it just wasn't enough.
"Doesn't make it better."
"I want you to do something for me before our next session, deal?"
Danny nodded his head.
"I want you to take a sheet of paper and, as cliché as it may be, as cornball as it may sound, I want you to make a list of all the reasons you wish it had been you that was shot and not Martin."
She had Danny's attention fully and she held his gaze a moment before dropping the other shoe.
"And, I want you to take a second sheet of paper and I want you to make a list of all the reasons you don't want Martin to be the one who made the choices you made and to be carrying the burden you're now carrying."
With that Lisa stood up, signaling the end to the session, "I expect you to bring both lists to our next appointment, deal?" She held out her hand for him to shake.
"What do I get out of the deal?" Danny asked not yet taking her hand.
"An hour of my time." Lisa responded smiling.
Danny cracked a slight smile and reached for Lisa's hand. "Deal."
It was Saturday. Danny stood outside Martin's apartment unable to bring himself to knock on the door. Why hadn't he called first? What if Martin was asleep, or had company, or didn't want to see him. Suddenly he heard the click as the locks in front of him turned and the door opened to reveal Martin standing there in front of him.
"You going to stand out there all day?" Martin asked looking pale and thin but a little better than the last time Danny had seen him, well, sort of seen him, actually hid from him. Martin's eyes were dull but there was a ghost of a smile on his face.
"I—I—" Danny stopped as he realized he was stammering. Without trying to finish his explanation he stepped into Martin's apartment as Martin stepped back, still moving with the aid of the cane but definitely looking a bit steadier on his feet.
"I heard footsteps stop at my door almost two minutes ago. I decided to check out who was there. Why didn't you just knock?"
"I didn't want to wake you." Danny managed to choke out. He didn't look at Martin but he heard Martin close the door and click the locks again. Turning Danny watched as Martin slowly but surely moved to the couch where he had obviously been relaxing and reading. Danny wandered around a bit before settling awkwardly in a chair.
"Listen, man, I—I know I haven't been around much, I—"
"It's okay. I've been pretty out of it anyway. Plus, I know that you guys are still down an agent and that Viv only got back a couple of weeks ago so--"
"So, we're good?" Danny didn't care that there was almost a pleading sound in his voice.
"Yeah, man, we're good, no worries." Martin shifted slightly on the couch his face pinching as still healing tissue pulled.
"Good. So, how's the physical therapy?" Danny groaned inwardly, did he really just ask that question?
"It's fine, at least I get out of here three times a week."
"Good." Danny just nodded feeling like an idiot. Why had he come here in the first place? He used to be able to joke with Martin about most anything, hell, he'd had the man's blood all over him, why was this so hard?
Gulping back the nausea that threatened Danny desperately sought something to say, anything to break the tension and his mind latched onto the one thing that he did not want to talk about. "How have your sessions been with Lisa?" Dammit, Taylor!
Martin for his part didn't seem aware of Danny's inward struggle so caught up in his own morass of thoughts and emotions. Hearing the question he just halfheartedly snorted and then replied, "I'm supposed to discuss my feelings in therapy with Dr. Harris and I don't have the slightest feelings about 'the incident' because when I try to think of it everything is just blank.
The shooting, the whole—'incident' as everyone keeps referring to it. I don't remember anything about it."
Danny snorted, incident, yeah, it was an incident all right. One big frigged up incident.
"Yeah, well, consider yourself lucky." Oh, man, did he really just say that out loud? Danny thought.
Martin looked at him for a moment and then turned away, "I don't know, Danny, is it lucky? I mean one minute you're—you're—I don't know how to explain it, you're 'nothing' and then all of a sudden there's 'something."
Martin stopped but then plunged forward, he was tired and he hurt despite the pain medication and he just didn't care anymore if he was sharing too much or not enough. Everything seemed to have changed and he just wanted 'normal' back or whatever it didn't really matter.
Martin looked at Danny but really didn't see him he was off in his mind piecing together flashes of memories or images as he resumed speaking. "There's people there, sometimes you know them sometimes you don't they keep saying things like "you're going to be fine and all you can do is wonder, what are they talking about—and then things are blurry and you don't really feel like yourself, you're all fuzzy and numb—and then different people are there and they're saying stuff like it's okay. You're going to be fine, or you're doing great and you are so confused as to why they're there and were they the ones who just said those same words a minute ago—at least you think it was a minute ago—then things blur some more.
After a while things clear a bit and you realize who is in the room with you now; your father, mother, Sam, sometimes Jack, there's nurses and a doctor. It seems you open your eyes and look at someone, then you blink and someone else is there only that blink is really hours, sometimes a day or even more and—and it's all so unreal.
Finally people start telling you what happened and you listen to them relating the 'incident' without once feeling like it has anything to do with you because—it couldn't possibly have happened since there is nothing, you search your memory for it and it's just blank, empty, nothing.
Then the doctor comes and checks your incisions and you realize what he's doing hurts. You look down at what he's doing and you see stitches, and tubing and red lines where the skin is irritated and—and you realize that what people have been telling you has happened actually happened.
It's like everybody knows all the details about this profound event that happened in your life and the crazy thing is you don't remember it at all, all you have are the versions that other people tell you.
But then again, Danny, maybe I am the lucky one. I don't remember it but looking at you. I can tell that you do and, man, you look like crap. So maybe you're right, maybe I'm lucky 'cause I don't remember, maybe you knowing what happened makes you the unlucky one."
Danny sat there barely able to breathe as he let Martin's words roll over him and echo in his mind. How could it be lucky to have these memories, he wondered and just as quickly wondered that he'd rather have these memories than Martin's pain – or would he?
For several minutes the two men sat in silence both wrapped up in their thoughts, thoughts of their own pain, physical, emotional, mental, and the burdens that the other was likely carrying. As the clock on the wall silently clicked away the time there was silence in the apartment but there was less tension in the silence than at the beginning of Danny's visit as each seemed to absorb some of the emotional unrest of the other.
Not even aware he was speaking Danny whispered softly but Martin still heard, "I don't know, Martin, I – just – don't – know who's lucky in this."
TBC…..