(A/N: A lot of time skipping in this one. Also, don't worry, I never plan on abandoning this fic I'm just in college now. You may be here a while, but I won't give up midway through.)
Chapter 12: A Truly Eventful Month pt. 1
* December 5 *
I had gone to Jonathan's office in the guise of retrieving and discussing several tests taken on some of my patients. Naturally, that was a boldfaced lie. We had discussed these results over in the breakroom. Instead, the secretary was holding Dr. Crane's calls while we canoodled in his office. Placing a delicate kiss atop my boyfriend's forehead, I relaxed in his slender arms after our most recent make out session. "Can I run something by you Jonathan?" I shifted my weight on his lap, moving closer to his chest and allowing my fingertips to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Anything, Mireille." Jonathan's hands lowered a bit, taking in the curves of my waist and thighs as our tame conversation continued. Moving my skirt up a tad, the psychologist placed his right hand on my leg, running his warm palms up and down my thigh. Enjoying the gentle ministrations, I felt my nerves unwind with the aid of his tender caress.
"My parents have asked me to celebrate Christmas with them in Paris, for the fifth year in a row. I typically deny this annual request without a second thought, but now I feel it may be time for me to face reality and move on with my life." I placed my own hand over Jonathan's now immobile one. Taking in a deep breath I continued. "Pierre's grave deserves a visit, and his old apartment isn't going to clean itself out. It will be hard to go through everything and sort the important from the negligible, but I've put this off long enough." Squeezing Jonathan's hand, I saw him piece the words together in his head before making a calculated response.
"Why this year? What has caused such a significant shift in attitude?" I had to agree, a five year habit would be easier to continue than to cancel, but rather than insist upon an increasing feeling of guilt for neglecting my late fiancée I answered honestly.
"With your help, I've been able to shed demons I felt would cling to me for the duration of my existence, but now I know I needn't live with those burdens. Your regimen has begun to weaken my phobia and now I feel compelled to make the next step on my own by letting go of my old heartache." Looking at my boyfriend's glimmering blue eyes through his impeccable spectacles I gave him a huge grin. "You're an amazing individual, you know that Jonathan? Taking a cracked person like me and mending them without a single motive, besides a few kisses here and there."
"You're strong on your own, Mireille. You would conquer these fears one day or another. As for your query, I think visiting Paris is a wonderful way to help in the healing process." Jonathan gave me a smile as he praised me, stoking the flames of my confidence only further, but I needed to tell him how much he was cherished before I embarked on my journey.
Taking his right hand, I placed it on the center of my chest. "You know, despite what all those ludicrous movies and misleading books say, a broken heart never heals. You make room in it for someone, someone precious to you, and when they die, that place they occupied still exists. That part of you doesn't simply disappear or mend itself. It festers, aches, and slowly rots away. But it never leaves completely; an echo of your agony is left in its wake to cry out in that empty chasm and beg to be rejuvenated." I gazed upon him with rosy red cheeks and eyes glimmering with adoration. "And when I'm with you Jonathan, just a pinch of that pain seems to vanish."
He sat there in silence for a few dozen seconds, clearly unsure what should be said. Kissing the tip of my boyfriend's nose I got up to leave. "The plane we're taking departs on the twenty first, I'll be gone for a whole week and then come back before my parents, so we can spend New Years together." Stretching my arms above my head, I grinned in excitement for the upcoming month. It would be truly eventful. "In preparation for the trip, I suppose I will need to brush up on my French." Putting my arms down, I decided to return to my still quite flustered boyfriend for a goodbye kiss. "A Bientot mon amour," I purred in his ear before departing.
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* Later That Day *
"I need to see him" I demanded.
"I already told you Dr. Milenkovic, he's in isolation, which means no interactions." Monsieur Bolton stated once again.
"I'm his doctor." My nails drummed on the clipboard I held in my hands.
"It isn't up to me." He had a smug grin on his face now, clearly pleased that I was aggravated.
"I'll speak to your superiors." I threatened him.
"Go ahead." He called my bluff.
I huffed in disdain at Monsieur Bolton's blatant indifference, scowling at him from behind the ballistic glass which separated myself and all the doctors from his security booth. Rather than leave gracefully, I decided to make a jab at him. What was he to do? The man was hired muscle, dispensable to our cause and easy to replace on short notice. "Very well, I shall return to my job. Where I deal with patients on a first hand basis rather than click through video feeds from behind the safety of a bullet proof cocoon." Sneering at the man, I turned on my heel and walked away, proud of the verbal attack.
I suppose it wasn't Monsieur Bolton's fault in the long run, but the guard wasn't exactly helpful in discovering the reason I couldn't see my patient. Killer Croc's rowdy behavior as well as gruesome threats would be reason enough for him to be tossed in solitary; however the fact he held valuable information concerning Jonathan and myself made me eager to confirm his silence on the matter. Nevertheless, that would be an item on my agenda for another day.
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* December 10 *
"I won!" I giggled in glee, hopping up and down on the rubber pavement.
"Indeed, but only by five strokes." Jonathan wrote the final scores down before placing the paper card in his pocket. "And besides, that was not the point of this outing." Taking the putter from me, he walked over to the stand at the front of the course to turn in the equipment. "We came here to for the next step in our regimen to overtake your fear of driving. Now, seeing as you were able to conquer racing computer games in two sessions, the next feasible step is placing you in an arcade racing game with an actual steering wheel and a somewhat authentic car seat. Now this is your fifth step in our eight step program so I feel the need to say that I do expect these final stages to take longer. I don't want you to feel rushed in any way."
Placing a hand on the small of my back, my therapist walked me under the neon 'Arcade' sign and into the dimly lit, but brightly colored hall as if he were about to instruct me to lay on a chaise lounge rather than sit on an old plastic chair fabricated to look like leather. After getting a few stares from various teenagers as I wrapped the heart rate monitor around my wrist, Dr. Crane sat in the identical chair beside my own; presumably it was used to compete in head to head races with a friend rather than simply face the program alone. Although somewhat loud in the arcade, I was still able to pull his words out of the crowd.
"Play as long as you think you can handle. If you need to take a break we can always walk a lap around the building or stop for the night. This is an active exercise like before, not something you can sit through in hope of it somehow helping you out through osmosis." Placing a bag of tokens on the dash, he gestured to me with open palms, telling me to start when I was ready.
"Okay." it was more than a little intimidating, and now we had the gazes of strangers to add to the anxiety of the situation. With a lungful of stale, pizza scented air, I put two quarters into the machine and was promptly taken to a catalogue of vehicles available for me to race in. Turning the wheel to pick one at random without analyzing specs, I honked to confirm my choice. Next I needed to pick a track, deciding to go for something easy I chose a beginners level race in China. Immediately after pressing start, I was transported to the starting line where a scantily clad digital woman held a green flag while numbers counting backwards flashed atop the screen.
When the countdown reached zero and the flag was waved, I watched as the programed cars raced ahead before ordering my foot to lower itself and press on the gas. However, it took a while for this suggestion to make its way from my head to the selected muscle, and when it finally did, I found myself gripping the steering wheel with enough force to shatter a walnut. I moved with a pace similar to that of a snail, but despite this each turn was jerkily made as my car was not suited for maneuverability. Halfway through the course, a car lapped me, and soon after that a second car came by. It was the third that crashed into my vehicle and sent me spinning off the beaten path. Evidently the arcade had chosen to invest in marginally immersive games, as my chair rumbled upon impact. Even though I observed the race from a third person point of view and the chair jittered with the intensity of a vibrating cell phone, I promptly felt my already pale skin lose all of its color as I emitted a small scream prior to silencing myself by slamming sweaty palms over my mouth. Letting tears drip down my face, I shut my eyes as tight as possible. Memories began to flood to the surface that had haunted me for over fifteen years.
XXXXX Mireille: 8 years old XXXXX
My mère and I were returning home from my grand-mère's house. Father hadn't joined us on the outing so that he could finish up some of his work, leaving me and my mother to drive between my grandmother's rural home in the country and Paris all alone. We left around nine at night, when mother realized that dark clouds had blotted out the skies and the heavy rain showed no signs of letting up. We weren't in a rush to get home, the route was long, scenic, and lonely; we only spotted a car every forty minutes or so. When the first column of lightning struck, my mère wasn't fazed at all, but as a small child I was frightened beyond belief. She kept her left hand on the steering wheel and reached back with her right to offer a lifeline of support, quickly I reached forward so that she could grasp my hand in hers. After receiving a smile from her in the rearview window, I became at ease with our situation.
"Nothing is going to hurt you, alright dearest child?" My mother drew back her hand and returned her attention to driving. The fields were level around us, the highest structures aside from our car being the occasional tree. I watched each of them as they zoomed by, giving names to the trees and wondering what creatures used the leafy structure as a home.
Then it happened.
Lightning had struck nearby. Not deathly close, but within two hundred feet. It singled out the newly named tree: 'Grahm', causing him to burst into flames and light up the dark, stormy night. I had watched the flames for a short while, silently grieving my new friend, when my mère screamed, "watch out!" and leant on the horn.
All I remember are the blaring headlights as they collided with the left side of the car; the same side as my mère. I was snug in the middle seat so I could get a good view over the dashboard on the ride home and in retrospect, that probably saved my life. It wasn't a perfect T-Bone accident; the car came at us angled thirty degrees to our left, but as soon as my mère realized its inevitability, she reacted. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she nimbly leapt to the passenger's seat, saving her legs from being crushed. She didn't realize the impact would cause us to roll.
While I was attached to the car with the seatbelt, my head spinning as we flipped, I saw my mère being tossed around by momentum, her head colliding with every other object in the car until we stopped and the various forces of physics acting upon my mother carried her out the window and onto the cold, wet asphalt. Our car landed upside down, just on the edge of the road. I debated for less than a millisecond whether or not to get out; the conflict had been pushed aside when I saw my mère motionless on the asphalt in a small pool of blood.
Fueled by adrenaline, I untethered myself from the seat and plopped onto the ceiling of the car. The window had broken open when the car was crushed, but not heeding the warning of the jagged glass; I pushed my body through the dangerous opening, ripping my abdomen open with the protrusions. Crawling over to my unconscious mère, I began crying for help. Looking around for someone, I saw the red tail lights of our assailant vanish in the distance. We were abandoned in the rain, Grahm was burning, and I could barely hear myself think over the thunder.
It was a hit and run, we weren't sure if the driver wanted to catch a glance at the tree and temporarily ignored the road, had grown blind in the rain, or if he was drunk.
But I do believe it was him who called the ambulance that saved us.
I never wanted to do that, cause the misery he had created. I didn't want to drive, I was too afraid that I too would severely wound someone, create a widow or orphan, or simply remove a precious life from the world. Since then I had lived in fear of driving.
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* December 21 *
When the morning of the trip came, Jonathan helped out by driving my parents as well as myself to the airport. What I figured would be an awkward situation for him, turned into a pleasant conversation. My father and Jonathan found common ground in the sciences. Even though their branches were fairly distanced with Jonathan being enamored with chemistry and my father working in biotechnology, they talked about new discoveries in the community and idea-stealing peers as if they worked in the same laboratory. There were even brief instances of the duo chuckling.
When it came to my mother however, he used his charms. Firstly by complimenting her appearance and further by asking for, then praising, her taste in music. After this, he didn't get to say much besides the answers to my fast talking mother's endless questions. Things as simple 'what's your favorite color?' and others delving deep with, 'do you find your occupation mentally rewarding because it challenging you, or do you enjoy the job because you know you are making a difference in the community.'
After all the pestering, once we arrived I expected my boyfriend to throw our luggage on the sidewalk and floor it, but he once again surprised me. Jonathan wheeled around the heavier of my suitcases whilst I walked around the airport with a light carry on. Accompanying me throughout the process, he spoke to my parents when they instigated a conversation and held my hand while we waited through the long lines. Despite this, Jonathan didn't talk to me very much; he simply pointed out where an open employee was or commented on people adjusting the contents of their luggage to prevent an overweight fee. I was unsure if this was due to social awkwardness or if he didn't know what to say under these circumstances. We hadn't been apart often since we started dating. The longest we'd gone without seeing one another face to face was probably a four day span when I caught the flu. Now we were going to be on opposite sides of an ocean for a whole week.
Jonathan saw me off at security, the farthest he could go without special permission from the airline. With only a few people in front of me, I decided to say my goodbyes. "I'll miss you Jonathan." Standing up on my toes, I kissed his cheek for more than a few seconds before pulling away. "Promise to take care of yourself while I'm gone?" I held onto his wrists, swinging his arms lightly from side to side as I gazed into his blue eyes. Jonathan had just gotten to a somewhat healthy weight and his anemia was all but gone at this point, it would be rather upsetting if I came back to find him reverted back to normal.
"I've made it this far in life, haven't I?" Jonathan joked with a sly smirk upon his lips.
"That's up for debate." I quipped back, kicking off my shoes in preparation for the screening process, subtracting another inch of height. "I'll see if I can find some arcades in France so all of our progress on my phobia doesn't go to waste. Any souvenirs you want?" I was already set to buy some macarons for Teresa and a desk statue of the Eiffel tower for Dr. Bartholomew. Each time I asked Jonathan however, he always said he was fine without a memento.
"I just want my girlfriend to enjoy her trip without becoming some young Parisian man's object of affection." Jonathan's request sounded serious. Deciding now was not the time for jokes, I comforted him.
"Don't worry Jonathan. I'll be too busy thinking of you to notice even the most extravagant attempts at courting." Letting go of his wrists I placed my bag and shoes in their designated trays. Turning back I saw Jonathan with a frail smile on his lips.
" I will miss you Mireille." Leaning down, Jonathan kissed me square on the lips, a mere three feet from my parents. "Take care, my little pumpkin." Resting his lips upon my forehead for a few brief seconds, he stepped back to shake my parent's hands before walking off. Once I was on the opposite side of the metal detector, I looked back to see him forty feet away, lightly waving at me before continuing his retreat.
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* Later That Week *
"Yes, a girl… What do you mean there are people ahead of me? Look I can't wait much longer… Fine, that time frame seems suitable… My name? Dr. Jonathan Crane… Of course I would want to meet her beforehand!...Way out there? Very well… Yes, I can send you the money… Good day to you as well." I snapped my cell phone shut and pocketed it.
(A/N: What's going on with Jonathan? Also, did you enjoy Mireille's flashback, understand her feelings toward driving now? Everyone still remember Mireille is pronounced mee-RAY? Please leave a review and let me know what you think. Have a lovely day~!)