June 17th

June 17th
10:49am
Subject: Damian Owen Lindworsky
Prognosis: Antisocial Personality Disorder
Location: Bellevue Hospital—Psychiatry wing

One…
I took a deep breath, throwing my head against my neck and releasing the breath quickly. I always got like this before a session, especially one with an unbalanced adult that I had already diagnosed with something.

Three…
I paced the area I was standing at in circles with my eyes closed, wringing out my hands as I did so. This was not going to be an easy session. It's not that I was scared of Lindworsky or the types of comments he might have on my body, but I was worried that my being pregnant may impair his clarity. After all, it was his fetish.

Five…
Seven…
Nine…

"Are you ready, Dr. Reyes?" Mooney grumbled from the door that gave access to where they were holding Lindworsky for our session.

"Huh?" I asked, not particularly focused on my surroundings.

He sighed, "I asked if you were ready. Or are you going to keep circling your spot like a dog?" he smugly said, using his hand to accompany his so-called quip.

I glared at him and scoffed, "Is your client ready? We were supposed to start almost two hours ago. What's going on?"

"He, uh," Mooney paused, looking over his shoulder and back. He released the door and approached us, "He had to be medicated. According to the nurses, he had an… episode of sorts."

I rolled my eyes, "What did they give him? You know I can't go forth with the session if he's on barbiturates."

"Risperidone, two milligrams."

I nodded and sighed. I could still perform the session since the chosen antipsychotic's primary side effect was headaches instead of drowsiness. I looked back at Olivia and Amanda and gave them both a smile, "Both Lieutenant Benson and Detective Rollins are to be near the door at all times. I want his primary nurse and PCA on standby and I need his doctor on call as well. Is that understood, Counselor?"

He nodded and gave a wry smile, "You know Dr. Reyes, I'm sure your husband—just like me—appreciates your assertiveness."

I tittered in amusement, "She does appreciate my assertiveness, especially in bed," I retorted quickly, watching as the man widened his eyes, "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have a patient to see," I continued, side-stepping the robust man.

I heard Olivia and Amanda snicker behind me and then the start of their walks. Before I could reach the door where Lindworsky was being kept, I saw several medical personnel exit the room. I stood in front of the door and looked through its glass window. Olivia would have the perfect view of me as I sat across from Damian. I leaned my forehead against the window and sighed when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned.

"Please be careful," Olivia started, "I'll be watching you, Tori. I know you and if I see the faintest hint of hesitation or the slightest show of discomfort, I am ending the session," she paused, breathing heavily as she glanced back at Damian's attorney, "You are my priority," she whispered, "Regardless of Victoria, your safety comes first. Do you understand?"

I looked into the deep pools of chocolate and fire that were my wife's eyes. She always had something to say about my eyes, but even in their so-called commonality, she could never understand what those eyes did to me. Aside from our children's smiles, her eyes were my favorite things to look at and get lost into. She could never understand how easy it was for me to comprehend her emotions and the conviction she would put in them in just the way her eyes would give her away. She was worried for me and this went beyond me stepping into a room with someone whose fetish involved women that looked like me. Not looks wise but condition wise: pregnant. And, at this point, I looked and felt really pregnant.

I grabbed Olivia's hand in mine and gave it a reassuring squeeze. I found her wedding set and toyed with it, "I always have you close, Liv," I whispered back and released her hand quickly.

I took a deep breath and grabbed the knob, turning and swinging the door open. Damian was sat at the end of the table, his hands placed neatly on display. He was wearing the patient uniform for the psychiatric wing, "Good morning," he offered.

I smiled and took my place across from him. As I sat, I retrieved from my back pocket my recorder and placed it atop the wooden table, "Good morning, Damian. My name is Dr. Victoria Reyes, do you remember me?"

He nodded, "Yes, you're the doctor that was on site when I was at Marie's house."

I glanced at the window and saw both Olivia and Amanda looking through, "That's right," I conceded, "And, do you know why I'm here?"

"Well," he begun, leaning forward, "my lawyer tells me you're going to assess me and determine whether or not I am fit for trial. A—Am I correct?"

I hummed, leaning back on my chair. If I could, I would've crossed my legs, but my enormous swell prevented that from happening so I crossed my ankles instead. Even before placing the device on record, he was exuding common traits of the disorder I believed he had.

I nodded, "You are correct, Damian. Did Mr. Mooney tell you what to expect?" He shook his head, "All right, well I like to record all of my sessions in case I miss something or I want to go back and revisit this session later on to make sure I am making the correct diagnosis. Is that okay with you?"

"Yea, wouldn't be the first time someone's recorded me," he offered.

"Right," I said, reaching forward and turning on the device, moving it further from me so that it could pick up Damian's voice, "Dr. Reyes with Damian Lindworsky, 11:01am, June 17th, Bellevue Hospital. Damian, before I started the recording you said that it wouldn't be the first time that someone's recorded you, have you seen a therapist before?"

"Yes, when I was nineteen."

"Ok, how many meetings did you attend and for what issues?" I pressed.

He sighed, "Well Dr. Reyes, it's pretty obvious why I'm here. My love for pregnant women is not particularly normal, don't you think?"

"Everyone has a different perspective on what the problem is, and who or what the solution is. The point of counseling is to create positive changes as rapidly as possible without feeling hurried, Damian," I tried. He was trying to have me engage with him when what I needed was for him to engage with me. In a typical session, with a child, I would've provided my answer for the question, to make them feel at ease and trusted. With an adult, if I wasn't careful, I could be left vulnerable and that's not the takeaway I wanted from this session. "What is the problem from your viewpoint?"

"People," he started, looking down at his lap with a smile, "or should I say, women do not understand it—do not understand me for it."

Yes, let's dive right into it shall we? "So, how does this problem typically make you feel? Do you feel sad, mad, hopeless, stuck or what?"

He placed both of his hands on the table, "Well it depends. If I really like the woman then it makes me feel sad and hopeless. If we're just brushing on the subject of children and she dismisses it crudely then mad, but I never feel stuck, as you put it."

Vague. "What makes it better?"

He smiled, and usually a smile is contagious, but not his. His was grim, almost scary, and I shuddered, "Usually when they say they're open to children. It's not easy when they're so reluctant to the idea of being pregnant and baring children into this world. Why? What's so wrong about it? Shouldn't they, as women, be happy that a man is wanting to not only lay but be part of the process of giving them children and subsequently be there with her and them?"

This I can answer. "Well Damian, just like everyone has a different perspective on what problems are, they have a different one on how their life should go for them. Not everyone wants what you want and as an adult, isn't that what may attract you to someone? Or are you out there looking for someone that may or may not exist?"

He paused, looking at me. What was he looking for? "Dr. Reyes, what about you and your husband, do you think you'd be married and sporting that ring if you didn't have the same perspectives?"

I smiled, "Yes, because our differences is what attracts me to them, not our similarities, Damian."

He was silent as he sat in thought. I couldn't exactly pinpoint if it was he detaching or if the risperidone was doing its job. It was several seconds before he offered a response, "But that's not what I want! God, I want nothing more than to find someone like me that would let me hold them down and fill them with my seed… being there with her for every single minute of the pregnancy, as her belly slowly swells, hanging low in her pelvis… to have the chance to have her deliver our baby into my waiting hands, moaning and writhing in pain as the head slowly crowns… this—this—this fetish is almost unsatisfiable."

I hummed and leaned back on my chair, feeling my breakfast move about my stomach at the vivid description of what Damian wished for in a partner. My little Nugget delivered a few powerful blows and I winced slightly. They didn't hurt, but just the thought of having the unfortunate luck to sit across from Lindworsky and subsequently hearing him describe in such great detail an act that shouldn't be done to gain something other than love. He wanted this for his own personal satisfaction. He wanted this to feed and aid that itch that lurked within him, and I was utterly disgusted. I took a deep breath in and threw my head on my shoulders briefly, attempting to assuage the sudden bout of nausea that lingered around me.

I heard a faint knock on the door and I swiveled my head, shaking it softly to prevent from either Olivia or Amanda to come in. Damian was opening up to me and I needed to figure out where exactly did he go 'wrong'. I faced him once more, "When did you first notice your like for the fairer sex came accompanied with a little… twist?"

He chuckled, "I don't know. I think it was in the ninth grade when Eva Rivera started showing her pregnant belly around school."

Ah, teenage pregnancy sounds about right. "And, before that?"

He furrowed his brow, "The only other people I saw pregnant were my mother and my down the hall neighbor, Mrs. Blomqvist."

Childhood, we can talk about that now. I hummed, nodding, "Do you have siblings?"

He scoffed, "I'm number three of seven. Apparently my father wanted a daughter, my mother stopped birthing after my sister was born."

"How was your relationship with your parents?"

He sighed, "Well, my two older siblings are twins, Daniel and Dennis. They were always with my father, and I developed a special bond with my mother, but my father always seemed to have a problem with that. The more I searched for my mother, the more my father pried me away from her."

"Do you recall a specific situation? When you remember it, go further to your childhood experience. Can you tell me what it was?"

He leaned back and laced his fingers together; "I couldn't have been more than six years old at the time. My mother was breastfeeding two of my siblings at the same time. Klaus was three and Alexander was one. Paul and I were playing by mother's feet when my father came in with Daniel and Dennis. He had great things to say about his oldest sons and how they would amount to the greatest things," he paused slightly, his face contorting into what I could only describe as disgust, "Anyways, I saw how my mother's face turned to pure happiness at the sight of my father so I stood and disappeared into their room and I dressed myself in my father's clothes. When I returned to show my mother, she smiled and reached for me, placing the tenderest of kisses to my cheeks as she cuddled me in her bosom. My father," he snarled, "couldn't bare to watch my mother showing me the least amount of affection so he beat me until my mother nearly begged him to stop," he snickered and shook his head, "He was always the jealous type, anyways."

I glanced down at my lap and smiled softly. He had given me the moment I'd wanted, but I could tell there was something else, something to this story that he had not told me yet. I understood where it came from, but I needed that impressionable and memorable moment in his life that formed and paved this fetish within him, "How was he jealous, Damian?"

"That night, I sobbed uncontrollably in my bed and I guess my father had had enough of my sobs and he sent my mother in to either shut me up or warn me of a much worst fate. But, instead, she allowed me to suckle."

I felt my eyebrow arch slowly and my posture became rigid. This was the moment that formed the fetish within him. He took his mother comforting him the only way she knew how and sexualized it. In his brain he thought that his mother chose him over his father—clearly—and possibly other siblings and somehow, to him that meant that she loved him more, "Was that the only time that your mother allowed you to suckle?"

He smiled and shook his head, "No. After that night, I would purposefully get in trouble with my father and cry at night so that my mother would come into my brother's and I room. After Nadine was born, it stopped. But by then, I was developing interest in other pregnant woman in my neighborhood, my teachers…"

"Tell me about Carissa, Lorraine, and Louise."

He tensed, but as quickly as he did, it dissipated, "What about them, they were bitches."

I cleared my throat and inched my chair close, "What makes them bitches, Damian?"

He leaned forward and remained silent, narrowing his eyes at me. I tittered and shook my head, "Damian, there's no reason to get defensive here. You murdered them. Why?"

"I don't want to talk about that," he said simply, crossing his arms against his chest.

I sighed, "And, I understand why you may not want to talk about it, Damian but unfortunately, that's a luxury you don't get to have. I am here to find out why, what drove you to murder them if all of you had parted somewhat amicably after ending your relationships."

His breathing had gotten shallow and I could clearly see that this was making him uncomfortable. I fidgeted with my wedding set in thought, "Ok, let's try this approach instead. What happened with Carissa?"

He sighed and pushed his tongue into his cheek, "We dated when she was in college. It was serious, or so I thought, but when I asked her to marry me she said no."

I nodded, "Ok, did she tell you why?"

"She wasn't ready."

"Was she willing to stay and make it work with you?"

"No, she broke up with me that day," he answered quickly.

"In the files it says that you had a toxic relationship with her, what made it toxic?"

He chortled and sniffled, "If you ask her parents, they'll say that I was 'stalking' her and always keeping tabs on her," he paused, "Name one boyfriend who doesn't worry for the wellbeing of his girlfriend? She was taking night classes for goodness' sake!"

"Looking out for her is one thing, wanting to know where she's at every minute of every hour is an entirely different thing," I offered with a smirk.

"Oh, spare me the lecture, Doctor. So—so, you mean to tell me that your husband doesn't know that you're here in psychiatric hospital wing?" he gestured with his hand.

"I am a doctor, Damian and my husband is aware of my profession. I was a doctor before we married."

"But, doesn't he get worried for your safety? You are pregnant," he continued.

"Of course he does, but I'm pregnant not disabled. And, I work with a lot people that know who my partner is, they'll make sure to pass on the information if anything does happen to me," I offered.

He was silent and it allowed for me to process what had happened so far during our session. Damian seem to be cognizant of what he had done when he was a child in order to gain his mother's attention, but was he cognizant enough to understand that what he had done required further punishment or was he truly impaired by his condition? There was only one way to find out, and though I was not looking forward to it, I needed to test out my theory. I knew I would hear about it later on in the day with Olivia, but this was my job and I had to take certain risks. Especially risks that I knew I could contain. I wasn't going to put in danger or risk him having a major set back just to satisfy my ego, no. I was going to push him and get him to where I needed him to be, but I was going to do so in the most professional and containable way possible.

I took a deep breath in, "Tell me about Lorraine."

He sighed, "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you're willing to share, as long as it's the truth."

He nodded, "I dated her after Carissa, but I learned my lesson and I didn't propose. We were in love truly."

I furrowed my brow, "What do you mean by truly, Damian?"

He chuckled breathily, "We were passionate."

Passionate? What the hell is he talking about? H—He doesn't mean… "You fought…?"

He grinned, "All the time."

I shook my head, "Did it ever get physical?"

He nodded as he spoke, "Where else do you think that passion came from?"

Jesus, that's delusional. "Is that why you broke up?"

He sat back with a frown, "She said she would never bring children into this world. Not when she knew there were men like me out there."

I leaned forward, placing my hands atop the table, "How did that make you feel?"

"Useless. Lied to. Offended."

"Offended, huh," I mused, "And, Louise?"

"Louise was weak. She didn't have what Carissa or Lorraine had in her. I pitied her, you know." I raised my brows to allow for him to continue, "I mentioned kids and she said yes, I mentioned marriage and she said she'd considered it. I did whatever I wanted with her so much so that I started to feel like my father. She ended up being pregnant, too."

What? That is not in any of the case files. "What happened?"

"Even her body knew she was weak so it rejected my seed. I'm too strong for her weak body. I needed a real woman, not someone so… frail."

I could feel my mouth salivating and I leaned back, placing my hand over my mouth. I took a deep, shuddering breath and I felt the contents of my stomach swishing inside of me. No, please not now. I heard the rattle on the other side of the door and I shook my head. I closed my eyes and breathed in and out through my nose, allowing for the nausea bout to pass on its own.

Damian hummed, "Nausea, you shouldn't be getting that at this point in the pregnancy. What are you, about twenty-nine, maybe thirty weeks pregnant?" I scoffed in amusement, ignoring his questions, "It's a boy, isn't it? I can tell by the way you're carrying high up," he shifted in his seat, "Boys want to be close to their mother's heart, that's why they nestle so high up in your ribs. I can also tell because from the back, you look like you're not pregnant at all."

I scoffed loudly and opened my eyes, "We won't know the gender of the baby until they're here, but thank you for your input."

He shrugged and smirked, "How's the sex?"

I threw my head back on my shoulders. I was not about to have this conversation with Damian, or anyone who asked about my sex life with Olivia. There had to be a way that I could bend him, and I knew just the way, "Why did you do it, Damian? Kill those three girls. They did nothing to you."

He paused and softened his features. Oh, this is a game for you, "I—I don't know why I did it."

I hummed and narrowed my eyes, "Yes, you do."

"No."

"Damian, come on. You're too smart for that. You do know why you killed those girls, tell me."

He gritted his teeth and spoke, "No, I don't. Please, stop badgering me."

He was seething. Of course he knew why he'd done it, but he wasn't going to make it that easy for me. So, I tried a different approach, "Carissa, let's start with her. You proposed, she says no, breaks up with you, and ten years later she's happily engaged and expecting a child from her fiancé. But, he wasn't you and that wasn't what she had said, so what changed?"

"Stop."

"Let's take Lorraine, she says that she will never have children, but she too was expecting when you murdered and raped her."

"I said, stop."

"And Louise, she was—and I quote—'too weak' to for your seed, but another man's she could handle just fine. Have you stopped and think that maybe her body knew that you weren't good for her and that's why it rejected you from within her?"

"I said, stop!" he shouted, gripping the edge of the table, "Of course I thought about that! It's why I never lost communication with them. Carissa didn't want to marry me, but she wants to marry the other guy that she has a serious relationship with? What did he have that I didn't? And Lorraine, bitch said she never wanted children, but she lets herself get pregnant. And Louise," he seethed and spat at the ground, "I hate her for carrying another man's child."

I scoffed, "You're jealous."

"No!" he pushed, gripping at the table with each fall of his chest.

"Yes, you are Damian. You were jealous of their successes. They didn't want you as a partner, as a father to their children… rejection. That's what drove you to it, wasn't it?"

"Enough!" he bellowed.

"But, that didn't stop you, did it? You stalked them…"

"Stop it!"

"You terrorized them…"

"No!"

"You went inside their homes, for what, Damian? To question them on their life choices?"

I saw how his eyes changed and protectively, I placed my hand on my stomach. I had pushed a little too hard, but I had gotten the results I wanted. I went to stand, feeling my feet get tangled with the chair's legs when he pushed the table towards me, bumping me on my hip. The force of the tap, send me toppling down to the ground where I was able to aid my fall with my opposite hip and hands. Within seconds, Olivia, Amanda, Mooney, and nurse were in the room. Amanda came to my side, as Olivia stood between Damian and I.

"No, I went to their homes to show them that no matter what, I was the best they could ever have."

I whimpered and shook my head, taking Amanda's arm so that she could pull me to a stand. Several other nurses came inside the room and sedated Damian to allow for transport whilst Amanda walked me out and away from the room. I had my diagnosis and I had the decision. Now, I needed to type a report, hear Olivia's scolding, and pray that she had grabbed my recorder on her way out.

Amanda had walked me to the emergency department of the hospital. She insisted on me being checked. I knew if I refused, Olivia's scolding would only get lengthy, so I acquiesced. As the doctors asked questions, nurses checked for vitals, and I was leaned back for a quick ultrasound, Olivia walked in my room. She went directly to Amanda, "Could you take this to her office?" she said, handing her the recorder.

Amanda nodded and briefed Olivia on what the doctor's had said and walked out, "Ok, Dr. Reyes, everything is looking in shape. Baby has a steady heartbeat and aside from being sore for a couple of days, you are good to go as well."

I smiled weakly and nodded, "Thank you, Dr. Agashe."

The woman nodded and exited the room, "Do you want to go home or the office?"

What was going on? No yelling, no 'you're unbelievable, Tori,' nothing? "Liv," I begun.

"Did you drive up here?" she continued speaking, ignoring my call for her.

"Oli—"

"Tell me now so that I can go to precinct and see what else are we working on."

"Liv!" She turned to see my watery lash line. I hated when it was this Olivia the one I got; the distant, cold Olivia. I'd much rather any other form of her anger, but the distance, the iciness she exuded hurt more than any of the words in her arsenal. I could handle pretty much anything at this point, but not her being mean to me.

She closed her eyes and hung her head, placing her hands on her hips and walking towards the bed. She wrapped her arms around my torso and pulled me flush against her, "Twice Tori, I wanted to pull you out twice," she breathed against my neck.

I sniffled, "I know, I—I'm sorry," I whispered, "Be mad all you want, Olivia. Yell at me, scorn me, punish me however you see fit, but don't ignore me, please. Don't deny me your touch, your love, please. I—I can't take it."

I turned my head to press my lips to the hollow of her shoulder, feeling my tears fall down my face, "Come on, baby," she said in a breathy sigh, "let's get you home. I'll tell Amanda to swing by the house to get me once I have you settled."

I nodded and broke our embrace. Our stares locked on the other immediately and I smiled weakly, leaning forward to place my lips on hers. She hesitated, but reciprocated the kiss. She was beyond upset and I needed to understand that. I did understand it. I had put myself in willing danger after she had damned near begged me not to do so. She was still upset about me being on site the evening of the hostage situation and I had just added more wood to said fire by blatantly dismissing her tries for help. As we walked out to find our Suburban that I continuously kept since she had her official NYPD SUV at all times, I held on to her. I was afraid that at any moment that I would let go of her hand, she would be gone. Though I knew that to be impossible, in my fragile state, anything was possible.

I thought back to my session with Damian. He had said and asked some probing questions that were now sitting in thought with me. Like the question he had asked about my 'husband' and if 'he' enjoyed my line of work. In the years I'd been married to Olivia, she knew my dislike for her job at times. Especially when said job kept her from the safety confines of our home, but what did she think about my job? She had never once ill expressed something about my job.

The door shut on the other side of the cabin and I looked up, "D—Do you hate my job?"

I felt the hum of the Suburban come to life, "What? Why would say that?"

"Do you?"

She looked at me, a small smile on her face, "I don't hate your job, Tori. I hate the situations it has put you in. With Vienna, up state, taking you away at the beginning of the year, today… but, I don't hate it. I love the way you're so involved with it, and I love the way your job brought you to Cassidy and me. So no, baby, I don't hate your job."

I smiled sheepishly, "I—I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "Stop, please. We'll fight about that tonight," she said with a smirk, "I'll sleep with Cassidy until roughly two in the morning when you wake up and come searching for me saying the baby needs me. I'll give in because I'm a pushover for that little one, and I'll kiss you good night and tell you how much love you regardless of how angry you make me. You'll apologize for the fifth time and reply your love to me, and we'll be ok," she giggled, "No matter what, Tori, I'll always forgive you because I love you."

"And, I love you, but I'm not sure how much more you'll love me after I write my report."

She sighed, "He's not competent."

I shook my head, "Antisocial Personality Disorder. One minute he can be fine the next, he's pushing a table into a pregnant woman's stomach. I'm sorry."

She shrugged, "A psychiatric hospital is better than an apartment downtown."

A/N: One more installment with Lindworsky and after that, we'll see happier times for the Bensons.