A/N: Thank you so much again to everyone who has read, and reviewed! Also special thanks to mockingjaybrandybuck for doing some really awesome concrit's on my previous chapters. I mentioned it in the updated Ch.25 Author's Note, but just in case you didn't see it there you can see it here! :D Also holy poop 24 followers on this story? You guys are way too kind. Seriously, thank you so, so much. It makes me really happy seeing what started out as a writing exercise to keep going during art school actually being liked I guess? AH THANK YOU SO MUCH.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Snake tapped his foot impatiently as he sat down in the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital's waiting room. It was Monday morning, eight forty-five AM, and he was feeling antsy. The white walls and the indistinct murmurs of doctors and other staff wandering the halls set him on edge. He was the only person waiting, so he couldn't even strike up a conversation to the pass the time. Not that he would, of course, but he would've liked to have the option. He didn't want to talk to this doctor, even though she did sound alright on the phone. He didn't even know what she would get him to talk about, since he had answered all of Dr. Nikolaev's questions. Sighing deeply, he hunched over and held his head in his hands – he was just going to end up repeating himself. A colossal waste of time and money.

Looking up, he scanned the hallway for any sign of Dr. Saab, but there was no one in sight. He glanced down at his watch, and pressed his lips together in annoyance. It was now five minutes past nine. She was late. That was the thing that bothered him about doctors. They were rarely on time. If he was late to roll call, even with the prestige under his belt, he would be in the dog house. Why weren't doctors held to the same standards? He dragged his ass out of bed to get here on time – early even. So why did he have to wait more than he had to?

"Mr. Sears?" a voice called out from the distance.

Turning his head to the left, he smiled unimpressed, the corners of his mouth twitching up. Standing up, he glanced at his watch: nine fifteen. He had been waiting a full forty-five minutes. Who he assumed to be Dr. Saab, did look flustered, her dark hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, and her wire-rimmed glasses sat on her face slightly crooked.

Taking a step towards her, he waved half-heartedly. "That's me."

By this point, she had finally reached him, and he could see her up close. She was small, but then again, everyone was small when you stood at nearly six feet and five inches. Her face was round, and she had button-nose. Big brown eyes under her large glasses. At least she wasn't threatening like Dr. Nikolaev had been. Maybe he could actually relax this time around.

"I'm so sorry for being late. Traffic getting here wasn't the best," she said apologetically.

Snake tried his best to sympathize with her. He knew he shouldn't be hard on her, especially since he had found himself in the same situation before – but the fact that he would have to talk about his feelings like some loon wasn't helping him remain unbiased. "It happens," he answered with a shrug.

They walked in silence to her office. He didn't want to make small talk. After all, he would talk enough when she started probing him with questions. Just focus on the nice fat cigar waiting for you when you're done, he told himself. There would be a reward at the end of this.

Her office was different from Dr. Nikolaev's. It was smaller, and instead of a chaise, there was a beige armchair in its place. Her desk was the same white as the walls. However, the same generic artwork was hung up. Did hospitals actively go out of their way to make everything as depressing as possible? On her desk, he spied a family photo, and twitched his lips into a half-smile. At least, her office was slightly more personal. She was a human outside of this job, she had a family. He just didn't know how anyone could do the job she had.

"Take a seat, make yourself comfortable," she said taking a seat behind her desk.

Snake did as he was told. His shoulders still remained tense, and he cringed as he watched her bring out the clipboard.

"Do you really have to write this shit down?" he pleaded.

Dr. Saab shot his a curious look, and smiled, setting down the clipboard on her desk. "I was just going over Dr. Nikolaev's notes," she answered.

He fidgeted in his seat, and stared at the ground. "Oh."

"I really don't want you to worry about me writing things down though. It's just so I can keep track of things. So I don't forget anything and ask you things you've already answered, or if you have questions to ask me," she continued.

Snake looked up at her and tilted his head in disbelief, "I can ask you questions?"

"Well, of course. If you need me to look up something for you, or things about medications. It's a two way street," she laughed.

"Oh. Um, alright," he answered. He felt his anxiety go down, and his shoulders began to relax.

Leaning over her desk, she rested her chin on her hands. "Anyway, how was your weekend? What did you do?"

Now Snake was very confused. She was talking to him like he was a regular person. This was weird. This was very weird. "It was good, I guess? I went out with a buddy."

"Fun," she said with a smile, "what'd you do?"

"I... went out for ice cream?" he offered, his voice wavering in confusion.

"Great."

He shifted in his seat, eyes darting across the room. There was a pause.

"So, are you going to start picking my brain or what?" his voice was dry.

Dr. Saab sighed and shook her head, picking up her clipboard again. "Sure."

His shoulders tensed again, and he braced himself for the barrage of questions. It was going to be a long appointment.

"Okay, so I just want to confirm with you everything that Dr. Nikolaev wrote down," she said, adjusting her glasses. "So, you initially were admitted because you had overdosed on the Diazepam that was prescribed to you. You accidentally took too much because of a panic attack, upon waking up from a nightmare. You're a veteran, and your childhood was... colourful."

"Sounds about right," Snake replied with a curt nod. At least he wouldn't have to repeat himself. That was a relief.

"Um, it also says here you were prescribed Quietiapine to help you go to sleep. Have you been-"

"I won't take it. I refuse," he spat.

She leaned back in her chair. She studied him with a perplexed expression, and scribbled down something on her clipboard. Probably, "difficult patient, beware of dog", he thought bitterly. But, whatever. He didn't like this.

"Are you taking anything else right now? Your Diazepam?" she pressed on.

Snake shook his head, "No. I'm not putting another drug in my body unless it's Advil."

More scribbles on her clipboard.

She sighed and rubbed her temples, "Well, that does put a hitch in a few of my plans. I really think that the Quietiapine would have helped though. It's not the same class of drug as the Diazepam, so they effects would be different. It's an anti-psychotic. So it would help with the-"

Snake groaned in exasperation, "Fuck man, I screw up once and now I'm psychotic? Really?"

"No, no. You're misunderstanding me. That's not what I'm saying at all," she sighed again, trying to calm him down.

"Alright, enlighten me then," he grumbled, crossing his arms defensively.

"Okay, now if you let me finish before you interrupt me. I know you're skeptical of all of this but I'm here to help," she said, looking at him in earnest.

Snake nodded, unconvinced.

"Quietiapine is an anti-psychotic, meaning that it'll help if you have any feelings of paranoia. Any anxiety? It helps with that. And most importantly, it will help you sleep. It will stop the night terrors, so you don't end up missing work because you were stuck in the theatre of war."

"Cool. They sold me the same bullshit on Diazepam, Doc." He answered, his eyes narrowing.

Another exasperated sigh, "If you would let me finish, I was about to tell you how they differ. Diazepam is a tranquilizer. Quietiapine is different because you take it well before you feel an attack coming on. It's pre-emptive. You take it daily, so it's actively treating you, and fixing your brain chemistry. Diazepam is a short-term cure. You take it when your body is already a mess, and it relaxes you."

Snake continued to stare her down unconvinced. "I'm not taking any drugs. And Dr. Nikolaev told me it would "knock me right out", how is it not a tranquilizer then?"

"Yes, it has sedative effects, but it does more for you than the Diazepam. Diazepam is trying to put out the fire, where this is making sure to turn off the stove before the fire can start."

"Can I try doing this without medication first?" he pleaded. "I just really don't feel comfortable about taking meds."

"You're not really giving me a choice," she laughed.

That made Snake laugh. So, he did have some power in this after all.

"Anyway, let's get off this topic, since it's going nowhere. Dr. Nikolaev wrote here that you didn't remember your nightmare. Do you often wake up not remembering them?"

Snake fidgeted again, and sighed. He supposed he couldn't keep up the lie forever, as much as he didn't want to talk about it. After all, he was stuck seeing her for the rest of the month. She would force it out of him sooner or later.

"Actually I lied about that. I didn't want to talk about it," he admitted, staring at his hands.

He was expecting her to be angry with him, but instead she just scribbled in her clipboard, and then asked him, "Why didn't you want to talk about it?"

"Well, I," he fumbled, not expecting her to be so calm with the fact he lied on his psych evaluation, "I didn't want to talk about it. I didn't want to remember."

"Why do you think not talking about it will help you not remember?"

"Is this going to be circular talk now?" Snake laughed bitterly, "Out of sight, out of mind. Isn't it obvious?"

"But it's not out of mind is it?"

Snake gritted his teeth. The lady had a point, and he hated being called out on his shit.

"Sure it is," he said, forcing a grin on his face.

"Then, why are you having nightmares?" she said, matching his grin with a smirk of her own.

"You fight a war, you deal with the things I've had, and tell me that it doesn't haunt you."

"So, it's not out of mind," she insisted again.

He sat there quietly, trying to think of some smart remark to get her to shut up. But couldn't. This was her arena. He was never good at playing mind games or using words to defend himself. That's what guns were for.

"The sooner you realize that talking about what happened, the easier it's going to be to forget."

"How?" he groaned, "I talk about it and it all comes up again. I have to relive it. I have to see it."

"You see it anyway in your nightmares," she answered, "At least if you talk about it, you can process it, see it with fresh eyes."

"Right," Snake laughed.

"What did you dream?" she said, continuing to push.

For someone who looked so dorky, she was tough. Snake wanted nothing more than to get out of this woman's office. She didn't leave him alone like Zahira did when he didn't want to talk. He sat in the chair silent. He didn't want to talk.

"Mr. Sears, you sitting there quietly is wasting my time and yours," she said sternly, eyes shooting daggers at him.

He sighed loudly, "Fuck. I dreamed of being electrocuted by some crazy Russian commander and having my eye shot out. Then I dreamed of when I was flown near the nuclear testing site at Bikini Atoll to see how the radiation would affect soldiers in my twenties. And then I-"

His tough macho act died as he began to talk about The Boss. The images flooded his mind, and he couldn't speak. He closed his eyes in pain. His chest started to tighten again and his breathing started getting shaky. That's what he wanted to forget. The guilt swallowed him, and all he could do was shake his head.

"I..." was all he could choke out.

"It's okay, this is a safe place. You can say it. What was it?" the voice of Dr. Saab chimed.

He glanced up at her, his brows furrowed, and he shook his head. "I did something unforgiveable."

She nodded, silently, seeming to realize this was the most that was going to come out of him.

"Nothing in this world is unforgiveable," she said softly.

"She's dead; I can't say I'm sorry now."

"But you can learn to forgive yourself."

Snake shook his head, his voice was flat."I'll never be able to. You don't understand what I've done."

"I want you to change that sentence," Dr. Saab, said her voice calm but authoritative.

"You want me to what?"

"Instead of, never, I want you to change it to: 'I might not be able to right now'. Because, Mr. Sears, whatever it is you've done, you'll work past it. It might take years, but one day, you will."

Snake shook his head again and sighed, "Whatever you want, Doc."

Dr. Saab stood up from her desk, and walked in front of him. Crouching down to his eye-level, sitting down. Tentatively, she slowly reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Sears, you need to stop treating yourself like you're a lost cause."

He looked directly into her eyes.

"That's because I'm a monster."