Chapter Ten

Barbara was finishing the last of her coffee when Stephens came in. Exactly how she would get through this session she didn't know, but she had decided she must talk about the baby.

"Hello, Barbara."

"Hello, Dr. Stephens."

"I understand that you had another flashback this morning."

"Yes." Barbara wanted to say more, but she didn't know how.

"Was it like the others?" Stephens prompted.

"Well, I…um…," she started, but she stopped again. Sometimes you are such a damned coward, she swore at herself. Go on!

Stephens was silent, trusting that Barbara would say what she obviously needed to say.

After what seemed to Barbara like an eternity, she finally screwed up her courage and said: "Yes, it was like the others…. But it was different." Knowing she was making no sense, she started over. "I was back in Bautzen, yes, but this time it was real. No, that's wrong. It was always real for me when I thought I was there. Oh, shit, I don't know how to...," Barbara said fervently, frustrated by her inability to explain. She was usually an articulate person, and this upset her.

"You're doing fine, Barbara. Just tell me in your own words. I'll figure it out."

Barbara looked at Stephens gratefully, trusting that she WOULD figure it out. She began again: "OK, this time, what I experienced in the…um…flashback…. It was what really happened to me in the prison. Before, it was kind of like what really happened, but different. This time, it was…."

"I understand, Barbara. Let's say it was historically accurate. How does that sound?"

Barbara wanted to laugh. Historically accurate. That sounded ridiculous. But it was correct. OK, historically accurate. Now she had to say what happened. She knew Stephens was waiting. Laying her head back on the pillow, she closed her eyes and told the doctor about the pregnancy. Unknowingly, she began to cry again.

Stephens had known about Barbara's pregnancy; it was in her file. What she didn't know was how it had affected her soul. That's what she had to hear.

"Why do you think your mind chose this particular incident for your only historically accurate flashback, Barbara?"

With her eyes still closed, Barbara said in a very soft voice: "Because it is time."

"Time for what, Barbara?"

"Time to remember."

"Time to remember what?"

"What I felt, about the baby, about everything."

"How did you feel?"

Barbara had to stop, to collect herself. How had she felt? How did she feel today? She had not yet been able to sort out her emotions. What should she say?

"I….I was…so confused…. No, not confused…. Conflicted? Everything was wrong about the pregnancy, but it was still a baby, do you see?"

Stephens nodded.

"I'd never wanted a baby. I was old, for God's sake; it was almost time for menopause, not for a baby. Then to get pregnant there, in that hell hole. And who was the father? It could have been any of those despicable men." She had to stop. Over and over in the prison, she had envisioned bearing a male child and watching him grow, fearing that the traits of his father would surface.

"You know what I thought, too? That my body had betrayed me, accepting his sperm and making a child. I had fought so hard not to give in to those men and then…." She took a deep breath, reliving the emotions she had felt then.

Stephens waited for her to continue.

"Sometimes I felt like there was a foreign presence in my body, and I just wanted it to go away. But other times…. I thought about it as a child, a baby who needed me and…." She had to tell her the other part. "You know what the Watcher said? That THEY had made a decision about the baby, but he didn't tell me what decision it was. They had complete control over me. I think that was the worst part. I couldn't decide. They would decide." The thought still wrenched her soul.

"When did this happen?" Stephens asked. "You were there for three and one half months. When did you find out?"

Somewhere in her mind, Barbara realized that Stephens knew how long she was in Bautzen, even though she hadn't told her. Maybe she'd ask about it later. Now, it didn't matter.

"It was right at the end. I didn't know I was going to get out in a few days, but I think they did. He was using the pregnancy to get to me." After a pause, she murmured: "And he did. He broke me."

"What do you mean, he broke you?"

"Like I said before, I fought so hard to resist, not to give in, not to show them fear or cry or…. When he said that about the baby, I just gave in. I couldn't do it any more."

"Why did you think you had to resist?"

Barbara was stunned by the question. Why, she thought? She'd never asked herself that question.

"Because…because that's what a soldier is supposed to do. Not give in to the enemy." That was the best answer she could come up with.

"And you're the perfect soldier?"

"What else is there? I mean, you have to try to be the best at what you do. You don't try to be a mediocre doctor, do you?"

Ignoring Barbara's question, Stephens posed another: "Is there a difference between trying to be the best you can and trying to be perfect?"

"I…," Barbara began, meaning to defend herself. But she had to stop. She knew where the doctor was going. DID she expect perfection from herself? Rationally she knew she could not be perfect. Then why did she expect it from herself?

Stephens waited a few moments to let Barbara run this through her mind. Then she asked: "How did you feel when they 'broke' you, as you call it?"

Glaring at the doctor, Barbara sputtered: "How do you think I felt?"

"That's what I'm asking," Stephens answered evenly.

"Humiliated. Angry."

"Angry at whom?"

"At them…. At myself."

"Why at yourself?"

"Because I was weak. Because I let it happen. Because my body betrayed me," she retorted. Barbara was trying to hold it in, remembering how she had felt. No, she realized, it was how she felt NOW.

"Looking back, do you still think that was an appropriate reaction?"

"I…I…don't know," Barbara stammered. But she did know. She just didn't want to say it. The concept was too foreign.

Stephens kept pushing. "Tell me, how do you think you could have done better?"

"By not giving in," Barbara insisted.

"Was that possible, under the circumstances?"

"But the circumstances shouldn't matter," Barbara countered. "You can't give in just because it's hard."

"Hard? Barbara, You KNOW it was more than hard; it was impossible. They were ALL waging war against you, you alone. The odds were overwhelming. You were totally isolated. You didn't know if you'd ever get out. They didn't feed you; you couldn't sleep; they kept you in the dark; didn't let you bathe. They tortured you sexually. You resisted all of that for months, even when you were pregnant, even when your hormones were keeping you in turmoil."

"My hormones shouldn't have anything to do with it," Barbara hissed.

"Why not, Barbara?"

"Because…, oh, God, I don't know, because you can't let your hormones control your actions, damn it."

"Who do you mean by 'you'? As in YOU can't let your hormones…."

"Me, I can't." Wasn't it obvious, Barbara thought?

"And who are you? The perfect soldier, right?"

"Stop, you're confusing me. I don't know what you mean," Barbara cried out.

"Look, Barbara, I know you know you can't be the perfect soldier. All you can be is you. From where I sit, you're a pretty damned good operative. But you simply can't be what you're not. You HAVE hormones. You CAN get pregnant. In that prison at that time there was nothing more you could do. You did everything you could do. Nobody, man or woman, could have done better."

Barbara sucked in a deep breath, because she suddenly got what Stephens was telling her. She didn't respond, but she understood.

"Barbara," Stephens said. "Tell me what you're thinking."

"I was thinking that I didn't want to talk about this anymore."

Stephens was ready to reply when Barbara glanced at her, shrugged, and continued: "No, it's all right. We can keep going." She paused before getting up the nerve to say it: "You're telling me that I should stop beating myself up for not being perfect."

Stephens raised one eyebrow.

"What?" Barbara asked. When Stephens still said nothing, she capitulated: "OK, OK, I'm supposed to tell MYSELF that I should stop beating myself up for not being perfect. Right?"

The other eyebrow went up.

Without looking at Stephens, Barbara said in a small voice: "I'm supposed to stop beating myself up for being a woman?"

"Do you believe that?" Stephens asked.

Barbara said nothing. She was thinking. She hadn't realized that she had been putting that pressure on herself, but what Stephens said made sense.

Another idea hovered at the back of her mind, too, just out of reach. She tried to tease it out. "If…if it was OK to give in…." She didn't quite have the right words.

Stephens waited patiently.

"Giving in means losing all control. No, not losing it; giving UP all control. I don't like to lose control. Like when I'm having a flashback, having no control. It scares me." She shuddered, remembering.

Stephens raised her eyebrow again and nodded slightly. Good work, Barbara.

Barbara was following the concept to the end. "But that's an illusion, isn't it? About having control? I KNOW it's an illusion. Why can't I accept it?" Barbara asked, not of the doctor, but of herself.

"Barbara, we all want control in our lives. And we all have to learn when it's possible, and when to, well, give in and admit that it isn't possible. It's a hard lesson." Thinking over her words, Stephens added quietly, respecting the life Barbara had led: "But for most of us it's different than for you. For us it isn't usually a matter of life or death."

"Yeah," Barbara said. "You know what's funny? Well, not funny, ironic? I never wanted to be a soldier. The Company recruited me as an intelligence analyst. That's what I wanted to do, read intell and write reports about it. But here I am."

Barbara was sitting up in the bed, tightly grasping the guard rails, body tensed with the pressure of the conversation. She released herself and lay back, allowing her body to relax. Was she giving up control? Letting go? Maybe, she thought with an inward smile.

Stephens recognized that the conversation was over.

"I think that's enough for today. We'll talk more later," she said.

Barbara didn't react, too absorbed in her own thoughts.

"Good bye for now. I'll be in touch." Not expecting an answer, Dr. Stephens left.