Chapter 21
Robbie carefully began cutting up the eggs on his plate, "... Did you sleep well last night?"
James briefly glanced up to give him a dry look, painfully reminding the older man of the screams that had racked the house at 3:04am this morning and the long hour spent afterwards trying to calm the blonde back down.
"Right. Stupid question" He replied quietly, "... Here's the thing, lad. This isn't getting much better, is it? Sure, the bruises are fading, and you've only got another two weeks or so before some of those bandages can come off, but... mentally, I mean".
His sergeant carefully swallowed down a bite of toast, "... Does this have to do with your PTSD book, sir?"
"In a way" He admitted, glancing over at the kitchen clock, "It's just gone 9am now... and you have an appointment with a psychologist at half ten".
Silence.
"... What?"
"Dr. Foxy. At half ten. She's meant to be good, according to Laura".
"And according to you?"
"... I'm not a big believer in all that emotional mumbo jumbo to be honest, James... But I do think that it'll help. At least with the bad dreams anyway".
"Sir..." the blonde paused for a moment, and Lewis held his breath, "... Sir, if this is about the dreams or the noise or the disruptions, then I can always find somewhere else to-"
"Damnit man, I'm not asking you to leave!" He exclaimed, and the younger officer hesitated, "... You're not?"
Robbie took a deep breath.
Maybe this is why Laura is always prattling on about clear communication...
"James... you're not burdening me by staying here. I mean it, lad. If anything, I'm glad to have you here. It beats having an empty home, and I'm not complaining about our impromptu sick leave from work either" He explained, wishing for the millionth time that the man would just take off those bloody sunglasses.
"But you have to understand that you're not healing, man!" He continued, "You haven't slept right since we got you out of that hell hole, and any sudden noises or- or- loud bangs make you jump a mile out of your skin... Laura knows this psychologist personally, and she and I both firmly believe that doing this... well... it won't make you any worse, that's for sure".
Hathaway slowly nodded, "And... fees wise?"
"All covered by the department" He reassured, "The only thing you have to do, is to show up".
"Hence why you decided not to tell me until now, half an hour before the appointment" He commented dryly, and Robbie felt his face flush, "Yes, well, I didn't want to force you into going, but..."
"But you didn't want me to have any other options either".
Lewis ducked his head, despite the fact the blonde couldn't see him, "I honestly think we should go, lad. And if nothing else, it'd be good to get you out of the house for a while".
"... Okay. I'll go".
Walking through the warm building with Robbie's hand firmly on his arm, James felt a bit like a scolded schoolboy being marched to the principal's office.
The car ride there had thankfully been uneventful, though the short walk from the car to the psychologist's office had been nerve-wrecking, and now the blonde was seriously starting to reconsider his decision.
"Here we are, then" Lewis announced quietly, reaching up to knock on the wooden door, "And... If you want to... I don't know... leave at any stage, then just tell me and we can-"
"Ah, you must be James".
He flinched at the sudden voice, head automatically snapping to where the sound had come from, Robbie's arm tightening momentarily around his own, reassuring him.
The blonde swallowed thickly and nodded.
"Dr. Foxly. I... would shake your hand, but-"
"Yes, but you can't see, I've been informed" She interrupted, "Inspector Lewis, if you wouldn't mind leaving us now. James shall be out shortly".
A beat of silence.
"... Lad do you want me to-"
He took a deep breath.
"I'll meet you in the waiting room".
Walking into an unknown room without any guidance caused a horrible gut feeling that brought back bad memories from the hospital; clinical smells and rough blankets and too many bloody needles-
"The couch is three feet in front of you and one foot to your left".
Hathaway blinked in surprise, but slowly measured out the distance, sitting down gingerely.
He heard Dr. Foxly do the same directly across from him, clicking a pen as she did so.
"You sat down as if you didn't believe the couch was there. You don't trust me. Do you not trust easily James?"
He let out a startled laugh, "Bloody hell, you get right into it now don't you".
"It's my job".
"To hypnotize people into believing everything's just peachy?"
She hummed thoughtfully, "Is that what you think I do? Do you not believe in psychiatry?"
"I believe it's a placebo effect. You want to get better so bad that you convince yourself the therapy is working. Eventually, your own brain starts to believe it".
"And who told you that?"
Silence.
"Inspector Lewis, perhaps?"
Nothing.
"James, you can't-"
"Why do you do that?" He interrupted.
"Do what?"
"Call him Inspector Lewis but call me James. Why do you do that?"
"Would you prefer I called you Sergeant Hathaway?"
The blonde shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"No... Not necessarily".
"But not many people call you James?"
"... No" He admitted, "It's... different".
"Your Inspector calls you James".
"Only when we're off duty".
"You're friends then, good friends".
"We're... yea".
"Is he... your only friend?"
God, he wished he could see her expression.
Hathaway carefully leaned back in his seat, "... I thought this was meant to be about me getting hacked into by a suicidal maniac?"
"It was. But in all honesty James, you had severe underlying mental issues before you even got tortured".
Blunt, honest, and straight out.
He liked that.
The corner of the blonde's mouth twitched, and Dr. Foxly smiled indulgently.
"Mental illnesses are like broken bones, sergeant" She continued, "They need to be correctly identified, treated properly, and given time to heal... If you're expecting a miracle overnight cure, then you're not going to find one here. But likewise, you won't go home after six months just as confused and damaged as before... So, shall we begin?"
He snorted, "What was all that, then? A warm up?"
"An icebreaker, if you will" She replied, "I like to see where I stand with my patients. You still have your sense of humour, courage, and resilience. That's a good foundation to start with".
James took a deep breath, "Okay, so... what now?"
"Now" Dr. Foxly finished, flipping to a new page in her notebook, "Now, we begin".