Chapter 9
Steve agreed to a one-week hospital stay to get his results back in the right direction, to make him sleep at least eight hours a night and to talk to a psychologist. But he insisted on getting him/her exchanged if he didn't like the person during their first session.
"Okay buddy. I have to leave now before they kick me out. Have a good night."
"Danny?"
"Yes?"
"Are…are you going to come visit?" the question was spoken somewhat pleadingly.
"Of course, I will. And you can call me any time if you want to talk. You are not alone, remember?"
"Okay."
"Again, have a good night. See you tomorrow."
"Danny?"
"Yes, Steve?"
"Thank you…for everything. Not…not only today, but…for everything."
"You are very welcome my friend."
Steve had gotten transferred from ER to a different ward. Theyhad put him on a special diet for his meals with every nutritive substances he needed and supported it with some vitamin and mineral nutrients. The pill was getting for the night helped him to fall asleep easily, sleeping long and dreamless and waking up rested. He had had three good nights and Danny had visited him on both days following the admission. The third day had begun with breakfast and a short walk through the adjoining park and would be followed by the first session at the psychologist. It was still about an hour before that would happen, but Steve was already nervous. He knew he needed the help, but that didn't mean he had to like what lay in front of him. He had tried to do some relaxing exercises, but as usual in these past few months they weren't effective.
He had done a lot of psychological sessions during his SEAL time and the events that had let to them had been still fresh at the time, but he had always had enough strength left to do them without too much problems. This time he was exhausted – physically and mentally – and he wasn't sure if he was able to do them without a breakdown, without crying - without "getting weak". All he could think of was how pathetic he would look if that happened and what Danny would think of him if he found out.
He had waited in front of the doctor's office for about five minutes when the door opened and a man in his mid-fiftieth with short brown hair and a slender built called him in.
"Have a seat commander. I am Dr. Anderson. I know you feel a little uncomfortable and nervous right now, but there is no need to. There won't be any grades for your answers or for your stories. I won't judge you when you tell me how you feel about certain things or what you have done or not done. This should be a safe place where you can talk about everything. If you need a break, just tell me and we will have one. If you have the feeling that you can't trust me, say so as well. It is important that the doctor and patient get along, because if they don't, things don't work out. And don't be afraid to tell me that. I won't take it personally, sometimes people just don't click – that's life. Do you have any questions so far?"
"No."
"I've read your file. You have served as a SEAL, so I suppose you already have some experience with psychologists?"
"Yes. I have," Steve said totally uninspired.
"From the way you are looking and just expressed your answer I assume you don't exactly have good memories."
"No, I haven't."
"Why not?"
"Because there had always been a new therapist – I've never had the same more than once. They all started from the beginning: childhood, youth, career…none of them started with the actual incident."
"Was it at least helpful in the end?"
"No, not really."
"Why not?"
"Don't know."
"But you had gone there nonetheless?"
"I had to."
"Why?"
"Because we wouldn't have been assigned to a new mission or cleared for duty at all."
"But yet you have come here voluntarily."
"More or less."
"Tell me about it."
"I…have some …issues…and…and I…need…need help."
"And I'd like to help you. Can you tell me some more?"
He waited a few seconds, but Steve didn't answer.
"Commander McGarrett? Can you tell me some more?"
"I don't know. I…I don't know where…where to start. I… I am not…not good at this."
"It's no problem. Take your time. Or we can start with some questions if that is more comfortable and/or easier for you. Maybe you can get accustomed to the atmosphere a bit better."
Silence again.
"Commander?"
"…Yeah…that would be good…thanks."
"No problem. I comply with you. Whatever feels better for you. And remember if you want a break, please tell me so."
"Okay."
"I will ask you a few questions. I'd like you to answer them with "Not at all", "several days", "more than half the days" or "nearly every day". If you like to add something or feel like you need to explain something, feel free to do so."
"Okay."
"Do you feel run down and drained of physical or emotional energy."
"…Ev…every day."
"Do you have negative thoughts about your job?"
"Not really…at least not because of the job."
"Care to explain that?"
"I love my job. It's just that…that I sometimes have the feeling that…that I can't do it anymore."
"Why?"
"I feel that there is much more work to do than I can handle…that I…don't achieve what I would be able to if I…I don't know…had more time? There is one case after the other and …and always the pressure to solve it right away. Then comes the paper work – it is piling up on my desk every month. I don't have the time to check everything the way I would like. And I am afraid that...that something is going to happen to my team more than ever."
"Since when do you feel this way?"
"I don't know…but…but it is getting worse and I get even more frustrated than ever before."
"How often does that happen?"
"Often…and it was happening more and more over the last year or so."
"Did that have an effect on people around you?"
"Yes, definitely."
"Can you explain how it does affect them?"
"I…my…I...I am less sympathetic with people – my co-workers, victims and suspects included - more often than usual. My team is worried about me. I am harder on them than usual, because I…as I said I am afraid one of them gets hurt - also much more than ever before - and that is irritating me and I take it out on them. I…I don't want to, but…but…"
"Do you feel unappreciated by them?"
"No, no not at all. They are great people. I trust them with my life."
"Do they trust you?"
"They…they used to."
"Not anymore?"
"…I don't know," it sounded defeated.
"Did you talk about that with someone?"
"No."
"Because you don't have anyone or because you don't trust anyone enough to tell them with your feelings?"
"Yes…no…I…I mean I have someone – actually two - but…I…don't want to…bother them."
"Are they part of your team?"
"One is not. She used to be, but…she is not anymore. I had called her a few times when I had needed help with…other things. The other is on the team. He is also my best friend. Danny. He…he is the best."
"But you can't talk to them?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"She has a dangerous job and needs to concentrate on that not on me. And he has already enough on his plate and two kids to take care of and he has already done so much for me. I will never be able to repay that."
"I thought he is your best friend."
"He is. There is no better."
"Then why do you think he wants repay?"
"No. He definitely doesn't want that."
"Where is the problem then?"
"I don't want them even more involved in my problems than they already are. Both of them had already been kidnapped and hurt because people wanted something from me or just because they were connected to me. It's bad enough when something like this happens on the job, but it can happen, it is part of the job. I can't risk getting them hurt because of my private problems too."
"Why do you think they could get hurt when you tell them how you feel?"
No answer.
"Do you think they would think differently of you when you talk about feelings, fears and psychological issues?"
"Yes…no…I don't know."
"Do you think differently of yourself because you have these feelings?"
"Yes."
"Do you think you are weak?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I…I need to stay strong. I can't afford being…vulnerable and…and weak. I…I need to function…at all times."
"Who taught you that?"
"My parents, the Navy…everyone."
"And you think your two friends would think the same way about you?"
"They…they say no, but…but I can't risk anything. I don't want them to leave."
"Why do you think they would leave?"
"Because everyone I love or who comes too close does. They leave, they get hurt or killed. Actually, Catherine had already left. We had been together for a long time, but then she had come into her own. We just call each other sporadically, but I still love her. I can't risk to lose these two. They are everyone I have left. The only two people I still truly love no matter what they do. And I…I can't live without them. I would…I would…I kill myself if I'd lose them for good."
"Do you think about killing yourself a lot?"
"No. Only…only when I am close to losing one of them."
"And that did happen?"
"Yes. Danny. He…he got kidnapped, beaten…shot. There was so much…bl…blood. He was…barely alive. I've already thought I've lost him." Steve felt like he was back at the scene. His chest tightened, he gripped the arm rests with both hands not noticing the pain it caused in his injured hand, tears welled up in his eyes and while he continued to talk, they started to roll down his cheeks.
"But…he was alive. We brought him to the hospital and they saved him.
When…when I had been shot in the liver, the pain had been excruciating. The minutes before I had passed out, I was sure I would die. But that…that was nothing compared to the pain I had felt in my chest when I had found Danny."
The tears were coming out like a waterfall now, but Steve made no attempt to stop them or wipe them away. It was the first time in all these weeks that he let everything out: the pain, the frustration, the anxiety -just everything.