The next morning Emily nervously made her way into the tiny office the FBI allowed their resident psychiatrist. There wasn't even a waiting room, though she supposed this was a good thing; there wasn't a lot of demand in the Bureau for therapy. She knocked softly on the door to make her presence known, before being waved in and instructed to shut the door behind her. Emily had only had to do this once, before she transferred to L.A., and then it had been a piece a cake. She had no problems, nothing to hide, and dealt with the crisis she'd been in just fine.
Now a woman who was about her age with ash brown hair, and lively blue eyes dug through a pile of folders on her desk for what would undoubtedly be Emily's. Dr. Nora Murphy pulled the folder out, gave it a quick once over to remind herself who she was seeing, and grabbed her pen and pad, ready to take notes. She turned to Emily, smiled and just sat silently for a minute, until Emily figured that she better start speaking.
"Uh, I was sent here to make sure I wasn't traumatized after the bombing of the Imax theatre." What was this woman expecting her to say?
"Why did you say it like that?" Nora asked her, regarding her curiously.
"Like what?" Now Emily was confused. Damn it, she was a shrink too, she should be quicker than this.
"You said 'the bombing' as if you were removed from it. You were in the building when it blew, weren't you?"
"Yes, I guess I was."
"You guess you were? Weren't you cowering under a row of seats when the bomb went off?"
"Well, I wouldn't exactly call it cowering. If I hadn't jumped under those seats I'd probably be dead." Emily could tell she was beginning to sound defense, so she took a breath to calm herself.
"You know I didn't mean anything by that?"
"Yeah…"
"Emily do you feel guilty for surviving?"
"What? No, of course not." She was startled by that question. Did she feel guilty? Should she feel guilty?
"Do you feel guilty that you walked away less scathed than your partner?" Nora was studying her now, acting as if maybe she'd stumbled on to something.
"No, well, maybe. I don't know, Matt's fine, that's all that matters."
"You're romantically involved with your partner, right?"
"Yeah."
"So, ducking under those seats when you knew he pretty close to that bomb, that must have been hard for you to do?"
"I had to, I would have died." Stop getting defensive, she chastised herself.
"Emily, I'm not saying you did anything wrong. But, I think you feel like you did."
Emily refused to comment, just stared back at the FBI shrink. If she'd known it would be like this, she would have, well, done something to make it less aggravating.
"Okay, why don't we switch topics for a minute. How have you been otherwise?"
"Um, I've been fine." She considered mentioning her nightmares, but really just wanted to get out of there.
"Really? No flashbacks, nightmares, no jumpiness?"
"No, I don't have PTSD."
"Hmm, I forgot you've been trained in psychology." Nora smiled at her, seemingly not bothered by the fact.
"Yes, I was." Her tone suggested a distinct absence of bullshit.
"Well, then you'll also remember that you can experience any one of those, and not have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. So, I can tell something is bothering you, what's been going on."
Emily stared for another minute, before sighing and giving in. "Nightmares. I've been having nightmares."
"Okay, can you tell me about them?"
"They're different each night. In one the kids never made it out, they were all dead. I remember sifting through the debris with HRT and just pulling out these charred fragments of bodies, arms, legs…"
"Was that the first one you had?" She asked taking notes.
"Um, no. In the first one…uh, it played out like it actually did. I came to, and I could here Frank call my name. They found me, pulled me out, and wouldn't answer me when I asked about Matt. I got to the bottom of the theatre and there was this blackened, charred corpse, except for his eyes. I could still see his eyes." Emily closed her eyes and shuttered remembering the dream. It had been the most chillingly real, and so close to what had happened.
"Have you had any others?"
"Yeah, a few." Emily didn't feel like offering more information, she wasn't comfortable under the doctor's intense gaze.
"About Matt?"
"Um, mostly."
"Any more about the kids?"
"No, it was just the one."
"So the ones not about Matt or the kids, what were they?"
"Um, just one, I was stuck under the seats and debris. I couldn't get out, and they couldn't hear me to find me. I was just stuck there."
"Okay, and how many have you had involving Matt?" She was still writing notes one her pad, making Emily even more nervous.
"Uh, I think four."
"And it's been a week since the incident?"
"Yeah, seven days to the dot."
"So every night except one you've had a nightmare, mostly about Matt, right?"
"Yeah, the first night, I didn't dream."
"Any idea why you might be having these dreams."
"I'd say it's my mind adjusting itself to being out of that building, that situation."
"And on the dreams about the kids and you, I agree with that. What about all the dreams about Matt, why do you think you're having them?"
"Um, it was harder with Matt. Frank wouldn't tell me if he was alright, I had to beg him, but he didn't know anyway. Cheryl didn't know, she was at the scene, and when I got to the hospital Lia didn't know, and then the doctors didn't know. Then it was he's fine for now, but drugged for days until he can take the pain, then it was surgery for skin grafts, and we won't know if they worked for a couple of days."
"All that waiting must be hard on you."
"I manage." She was not liking this one little bit, everything that shrink said felt like an attack, cloaked maybe, but still an attack.
Nora nodded, and jotted something down, before looking up from her pad, "So, what have you been doing to keep busy these last few days?"
"Visiting Matt a lot, saw my parents, a few friends, I tracked down Matt's brother, uh..."
"Why did you have to track him down?"
"They hadn't spoken in five years, but I figured he should know his brother almost died."
"Why did you think he needed to know that?" Nora seemed infuriately relaxed to Emily, who was growing more nervous by the minute.
"Because he's his brother."
"So? You said they hadn't spoken for five years."
"Exactly." Emily could talk circles too.
Nora raised an eyebrow in question, and like before waited silently for Emily to speak.
"I just...how much worse would it have been if I had had to tell Chris that Matt was dead? That he'd never get to fix things, that he'd wasted five years he could have had with him?"
"But, Matt didn't die."
"I know that, but he could have."
"And that scares you." Damn woman, she knew exactly where this was going, Emily thought annoyed.
"Yes, it does."
"And it scares you that he could have died because he came in after you." They weren't even questions, Nora knew she was right.
"Yes."
"And, that is why you feel guilty." Emily looked at her, and sighed.
"Yes."
"What if that had been SAC Carrera in the building?"
"What?" Emily was suprised and confused by the question.
"Do you think Matt would still have gone in?"
"For Cheryl? Of course...oh, I see. You're saying I shouldn't feel guilty, because Matt would have gone in even if it wasn't me."
"I'm not saying you should or shouldn't feel anything."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I'm merely bringing some things to your attention."
"With an agenda."
Nora looked at her amused a minute, "that's what being a shrink is."
"So are we done here?"
"Not quite. I want to go back to these nightmares for a minute."
Emily didn't try to mask her aggravated sigh, "What about them?"
"I want you to tell me about your other three dreams." Nora completely ignored her patience mood.
"Okay, in one I woke up in the hospital, and they told me he was dead, in another when the doctor finally came out of the burn ward to talk to us, he said Matt was dead, and...and in the last one, I came to in the theatre, and I saw HRT gathered around something, but they wouldn't let me see what. They wouldn't tell me, and kept holding me back, and I knew it was him, I knew he was dead, but they just wouldn't tell me, they wouldn't let me see." Emily suddenly grew quiet, realizing that she'd gotten a bit worked up at the memory of the dream.
Nora nodded, seemingly satisfied for the moment. "Alright Emily, you can go back to work, but I'm not going to clear you for field work yet."
"What? Why?" Emily demanded back at her. What did she do wrong?
"I think you need to give yourself some more time to deal with what you've been through. But, I would like to see you again. How about in a week?"
"A week? You expect my head to take that long to right itself?"
"You'll know if Matt's graphs worked in a few days. That gives you a few nights before you come in again. I want to see if you have fewer nightmares, that's all." Nora packed up her folder and notebook, as if this meeting had been the easiest, most pleasant experience of her life, and she did not just chain Emily to a desk for a week.
"Fine, a week, same time?" She just desperately wanted to get out of there.
"That will be fine. And, Emily? You aren't being punished." This was the problem with her job, these agents always felt like they were being punished when she didn't sign off on them. And, she could never convince them otherwise.
"Right, thanks." Emily mumbled, rising from the chair she'd been in, and leaving quickly. If nothing else, at least Matt would have plenty of company for another week.
"Hey, how'd your appointment with the shrink go?" Matt greeted her with a smile, and open arms.
Emily stepped into his arms and kissed him, stepping back a moment later. "I hate shrinks."
Matt laughed at her, "what happened to 'it's just so they can make sure we won't snap'?"
"She won't sign me off to go back to field duty."
Matt got suddenly serious. "What? Why?"
Emily shook it off, "nothing, just time coping or something."
"Em, you not being able to repeat what she told you in the same terminology is a dead give away that you're lying to me."
"It's nothing, Matt. Really, don't worry."
"Obviously it's something if you don't want to tell me."
"It's nothing, she just thinks I need more time." Emily insisted, not wanting to reveal the real reason.
"Okay, but why does she think you need more time? And how much more?"
"She wants to see me in a week."
"You'll be magically better after having another week to stew?"
"I don't need to get 'better', Matt. I'm not sick." She demanded.
"Fine, you know what I mean. She doesn't think you have post-traumatic stress or whatever it's called, does she?" He was getting a little worried now. Emily hadn't mentioned she was having trouble dealing.
"No, I don't have PTSD. I'm fine, really."
"Em, you know you can talk to me, right?"
"Yes, I do. Thank you, but I'm fine." She bent and kissed him again, hoping to end the argument.
"Wow, oops. Sorry to interrupt." Frank stopped his entrance to the room at the sight of the kissing couple. Duff was close behind, snickering.
"It's alright, come in." Emily sighed at the juvenile HRT agents, but was thrilled by their presence. Matt wouldn't question her while they were there.
"We come baring burgers and beer."
"What? Matt!" Emily admonished him.
"Kidding Emily, go easy on the poor guy, he was blown up."
"I know that, and all the wonderful medication he's on because of it means he can't drink."
"Don't worry, no matter how much he begs, we would never give in." Frank laughed at her protectiveness.
"There was no begging. In fact all I asked for was the burger." Matt had no desire to piss Emily off, and quite possibly do himself more damage, just for beer.
"What happened to Chris?" She asked, remembering it was the younger Flannery that was supposed to be smuggling the burger in.
"He got called in, one of his snitches fell into something big, and they want to move on it while it's still hot." Matt was already pulling open the Applebee's box that Frank had tossed unceremoniously on his food tray.
"That's what you wanted so badly, that it needed to be smuggled in?" Emily wondered as she looked at the slightly squished sandwich dripping grease.
"It goes better with a beer, but yes, after all the crap I've had to endure here, I needed something dripping with flavor." He told her taking a bite, grease squeezing from the burger on to the cardboard box.
"And grease, apparently." She told him, nodding to the puddle in his box.
"The more grease the better it is, Emily." Duff informed her, snagging one of Matt's fries.
"Exactly. Here try some." Matt held the burger toward her.
"No thanks." She shook her head, still marveling over the grease.
"Just try it." He insisted. She gave him a look.
"I'm going to pester you until you try the burger."
"Oh fine." She threw her hands up, and moved closer so she could take a bite.
Frank and Duff watched the exchange with great amusement.
"You like it?" Matt asked, watching her chew, and wipe the grease from her mouth.
She nodded, "yes, it's good."
"He fed her, isn't that cute?" Duff asked, teasingly.
"Nauseatingly." Frank agreed, laughing at the irritated looks they were now getting from both negotiators.
All I remember of my one psychology class is some stuff on Freud, so I did my best to write the shrink. Emily will see her again, and Matt will have to face the music too, so if anybody can correct me, I'd be greatful. Otherwise thanks for reading, and my gratitude to those that review.