Paper Cut

Grace sat, cross legged, in the waiting room, a few doors down, from Adam's room. She sighed, and crossed her arms. A cursory glance at the clock on the wall in front of her confirmed her suspicions. She had been waiting for seven hours. Now, it was five in the morning, and the doctor was beginning to feel weary.

A yawn forced it's way from her mouth, and she put her hand against it. The soft noise of the door opening on her left made her look at it. Malik walked in, and looked just as exhausted as she was.

"Hey".

Grace waved. "Morning". She gestured to the room Adam was put in, after his surgery. "How is he?"

Malik's mouth quirked into a smile. "He's fine, woke up a while ago. He wants to leave though". Her smile became a full on grin. "Good luck to the doctor, trying to keep him here".

Grace chuckled. "Ah, tied up in medical red tape".

Malik nodded. "Want to see him?"

Another yawn came from the doctor. "Perhaps this evening? Truthfully? I am falling asleep".

Malik agreed, and yawned herself. "Going to get out of here myself. Lets go back to the hotel".

Grace stood up, grabbed her bag, and the pair left the hospital.

6th October 2027

6 pm

Grace came back to the hospital, after getting a somewhat terrible sleep. She sighed, and made her way, to Adam's room.

She knocked on the door, apprehension rife in her mind.

Adam had said he would speak to her, that he would continue their sessions. But Grace knew better, she took what he said at face value.

If he expressed feeling that he could no longer continue, she would, begrudgingly oblige.

She walked into his room.

"Doc".

She tried to sound chipper, upbeat.

"Want me to just call you mad, and be done with it? Sadly for you, I don't give up that easily".

Adam felt caustic laughter rise up his throat, but he swallowed it down.

"That'd be the easy way out, wouldn't it?"

Grace nodded, and sat down, on the chair beside his bed. "I don't want you to feel you have to speak with me. You don't. About anything. I will not force you. I want this to be because you wish to talk".

Adam nodded. "I know. And I do. It's", he paused, and his brows furrowed, "Been a while, since I've talked, about any of this".

"That's okay. Putting all the cards on the table can be a long, hard process". She gestured to his chest, which now had a bandage on it. "Care to start with how that happened?"

Sarif's right hand man nodded. "Yesterday afternoon, I heard Police reports of rival gangs feuding in and around the apartment complex I was in".

Grace raised an eyebrow. "Heard? You mean you were listening in on their frequency?"

A slight smirk formed on Adam's lips. "I left the apartment, and heard gunshots. The cops were getting gunned down, and the few remaining were pinned. I got into the alleyway, alongside the building one of the gangs was holed up in, and found a vent. When I got to the floor they were on", he stopped again, and looked bitter. "I was surrounded almost immediately stepping onto the floor. The men used me as a hostage, they didn't know I had already spoken with the cops. They knew where I was, and battered down the door to the building. The men ran out of the room, one by one. I freed myself, before hearing what I assumed to be the cops, running in the corridor. It wasn't. It was the second gang's leader, he shot me, before being shot himself".

Grace listened intently, and shook her head, a frown on her lips. "And you decided not to go straight to the hospital? Pardon this, but I think you should have. What did the doctor say?"

Her slightly peeved tone did not go unnoticed by Adam. "I discharged myself".

Grace rolled her eyes, catching the wince he made, when he shifted his weight. "Yes, because you are clearly okay. One more day here won't kill you, Mr Jensen. I strongly advise against leaving".

With her formalities, Adam returned the sarcastic eye roll, and Grace felt a chill go down her spine. Adam's strangely coloured prosthetic eyes swirled. Was he scanning her?

Analyzing her movements? Brain waves? Her tone of voice?

She coughed lightly. "If you are quite done with whatever it is you are doing, again, I would not leave her, just yet".

Adam squinted. She was getting cocky again, a swift spike of alpha, confirming this, which made him growl.

He spat back. "This isn't one of our sessions, doc, you don't get to lecture me".

Beta flashed up, and Grace moved back, away from him. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, huffing out her discomfort.

"Fine. You win. I'm not in the mood for petty, childish behavior. If you chose to rejoin us adults, let me know. Until then, I shall steer clear of you. I need to be back at the clinic anyway". She rooted around in her purse, until she found Adam's appointment card.

"Here. If you wish to continue your therapy, your next appointment is in two weeks time, on the twentieth. We shall start with one a month, then if progress is made, move to two, then three sessions. Is that okay?"

Adam groaned, and swung his legs, in order to get out of the bed. He took the card and grunted. Grace took that highly unsubtle noise as a yes to her question, and stood up herself.

"Oookay then. I'll be going back to Detroit, with Malik. I expect to see you in two weeks Adam".

She looked at him, hazel eyes defiant. "Good night".

Adam held his side, and swore. Blood coated the thin bandage on his wound, and began to run down his abdomen.

When it dripped onto the floor, Grace turned, took one look at the agent, and wagged a finger at him.

"I did warn you about standing up, didn't I?"

He would have retorted, if a wave of dizziness and nausea hadn't hit him. He turned, and braced his hands on the mattress.

Grace left the room, and ran down the hallway, to get help. She informed the nurses of Adam's condition, and walked with them, back to the room.

Adam could have shouted at her.

Who the hell was she, to talk to him like a disobedient child?! She wasn't his mother, she had no right to do so.

Mom...

The short amount of time he had with her; he was mere a child, when his parents were murdered.

He needed them, badly, relied on them. After that, he became a terrified shell of himself, a child, in the clutches of White Helix.

The burden was too much, the terror came back, and he whimpered.

Grace waited outside his room, and heard that noise, and god, it felt like someone had ripped her heart in two.

The nurses asked her to leave the room. She did so, with reticence.

As she left for the hotel, her mind wandered.

Suffering affected people in different ways, many of which did not present themselves. Even when pressed, some knew how to mask their pain. Slip on the 'I am fine' mask, to fool the world, perhaps, even themselves.

Adam's type? Grace had seen that, many times before. Type B, she nicknamed it, the 'keep everything in, and don't let anyone know how you really feel' type, which Grace believed was the worst possible type to be. At least with upfront, angry people, or Type A, they would let everything out, with a barrage of emotion, vitriol. They could be a danger, to themselves, and or others, but usually burnt themselves out, and knew they needed help, in order to understand their issues, and feelings.

But Adam's type, Grace considered the to be the most dangerous. With him, you never knew exactly what he was thinking, what he needed. Chatting with him could feel like talking to a thick brick wall. Even if you managed to get a reply, chip at some of the bricks, they were still thick, unyielding. A force to be reckoned with.

The doctor decided that, if she needed to chisel away, at Adam's staunch facade, even if it took years to accomplish anything, she would do so.

All she could hope for was that he let her.