Calling Your Name In The Midnight Hour…
A/N: This got long quite quickly so there will be another part to finish. I like the idea of Lizzy continuing therapy with Dr Orchard so she might appear again in another series.
Disclaimer: I asked a couple of people if they remembered what Agnes calls Lizzy and it was mixed. I don't remember at this age, I'm on S06 but she's still with Scottie I guess? She's not mentioned at all. I've gone with Mama because it's easier for toddlers to say.
The song is: Here with me - Susie Suh from 1x03 - This song UGH, and not paternal at all. I'm trying to reconcile the age gap.
TW: Nightmares, PTSD mentions.
Part 4: Reaching For You From The Endless Dream.
She was huddled in the closet, her knees drawn up to her chest, slowly rocking back and forth, her feet bare. She glanced around, taking in the clothes, the shoes and other things that were kept in there. She recognised her work clothes, her jackets and boots. Tom's clothes, her gun safe. The smell of smoke was overwhelming, it filled her nose and throat making choke and yet she couldn't cough, it hit her throat burning all the way down to her lungs. She felt the warmth from the flames, there was an amber glow under the closet door, it flickered gently. She tried to move but felt weighed down, her legs wouldn't work. She pushed open the door, the wood warm against her fingertips. Agnes cried out somewhere in the darkness. Mama. Her heart began to pound, her chest tight with smoke and panic. She dragged herself through the closet door using her arms, her legs still paralysed. She watched the flames licking up the walls from the hallway. Mama. Agnes's screams filled her with terror, her heart in her throat. If she could get to Agnes it would be okay, she clawed her way across the bedroom floor, dragging her legs behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief that the bedroom door was open, the flames climbing across the door frame but it was still possible to pass through. Mama. Agnes wailed, terror filling her voice. She pulled her way across the threshold, her arms aching with the effort. Agnes's room was within reach, her door closed. She reached up to grasp the handle, not thinking about whether it would be too hot until it scorched her skin, a low hiss coming from the handle as it met her palm. The flames were deafening now, roaring above her as they climbed across the ceiling. She let out a scream as her skin fused to the metal, her hand jerking back, raw and blistered. The door opened a crack, pale lamp light filtering through, the room undamaged by fire. She pushed it open with her shoulder, now only able to use one hand to inch along the floor. Inside the room was as she remembered it, Agnes's crib along one wall she was now to big for. She inched inside, smoke clawing at her lungs. Once she was through she pulled the door closed, shutting out the roaring flames. She shuffled over to the crib, trying to pull herself up to her knees with one hand but the crib was empty. It was then she heard his voice, velvety soft in the half light. She swung around, her eyes fixed on the image of Red quite comfortable sitting in her nursing chair by the window. Not a care in the world as the flames engulfed the door. Agnes was curled up in his lap, her eyelids heavy with sleep as he read to her from a book. 'Red… We need to go…' She said urgently but he didn't seem to hear her as he carried on reading. She watched him kiss the top of Agnes's head as she shifted against him. 'Red, You have to get Agnes out of here!' Her screams falling on deaf ears. She scrambled across the floor towards him. Reaching out, her hand touched his knee and her eyes fluttered open with a gasp on her lips, her hand on Red's shoulder. He was asleep, sitting in the chair beside her, a book upturned in his lap.
'Hey…' He said softly 'Did you have a bad dream?' She nodded, her eyes wide as he stood, stoking the hair away from her face. She scooted over, allowing him to settle next to her before she curled up in his arms. She pulled the blanket over them and went back to sleep.
The winter snow had melted and the lake was coming back to life, crocuses were beginning to pop up on its banks and the sun was finally warm again. She sat on the bench as she loved to do lately, contemplating her recovery. It had been long and torturous but maybe just maybe she could finally see an end in sight but that meant leaving this place and leaving him. She felt conflicted over leaving him, everything in her told her she wanted to be alone for a while, away from here, away from people and everything else. She wanted to manage on her own. When she broached this with him he told her she would be running away, that she needed to stay and she wasn't ready but did he just not want to let her go? She was now able to do most things for herself, she walked with a cane, could manage steps, could manage her self care and could manage to feed herself. Alison thought in another month or two she would be able ditch the cane and begin more intensive training. They had taken to using the large pool in the basement for some of her physical therapy and she had started to swim a few laps every morning, building her strength.
'I brought coffee…' Reddington told her as he sat down beside her, a flask and two cups in his hands. She looked up at him, her pale eyes watery in the spring sunshine, a small smile on her lips. 'How are you feeling now about tomorrow?' He asked pouring out the steaming coffee into her cup and handing it to her.
'What is there to feel?' She said sullenly, her voice stronger now. 'I've made my feelings about it clear and you've chosen not to ignore them.' She added, gazing back out toward the water as he took a sip of coffee. He pursed his lips, his eyebrows raised.
Tomorrow she would begin therapy and she had fought him over it but between the nightmares, flashbacks and still the odd panic attack he thought it wise. He used her wanting to leave as a reason and then she couldn't argue anymore. He'd sought out the best doctor but when she said she would only speak Dr Selma Orchard he was less than pleased but if he wanted her to talk to someone and he would have to compromise.
'Well Dr Orchard will be here at ten and you can discuss your reluctance with her then…' He told her matter of factly, nodding briefly. She brought her knees up to her chest, resting her feet on the bench. His arm was resting along the back and she scooted into him, leaning against him. He kissed her head, rubbing her shoulder. He understood her reluctance, no one ever wanted to face their demons but demons had a sneaky way of coming back to haunt you when you least expected it.
It was 10.05 and Reddington had designated the library for them to use and she and Dr Orchard were sat facing each other near the french doors that led out onto the grounds. The doctor's hair was longer than she remembered, it suited her, curling at her shoulders. Elizabeth had yet to speak other than a polite greeting. It was awkward and she was feeling increasingly uncomfortable as Dr Orchard waited patiently, a note pad and pen resting in her lap.
'Would you like to begin by telling me why you wanted to see me today?' Dr Orchard asked breaking the silence, a smile on her pretty face. Elizabeth frowned in response.
'Don't you know why you're here?' Elizabeth shot back slightly defensive, she was still rattled from the previous night and the silence was making her more on edge.
'Yes, I do. I just think it would be beneficial to hear your version of events.'
'I'd rather not…' Elizabeth folded her arms and looked out onto the grounds, a scowl on her pale face. Dr Orchard put down her pen.
'Okay. How about you tell me what you're struggling with, I know what Mr Reddington thinks but I would like to hear what you're finding challenging.' She coaxed, taking up her pen again, crossing her legs.
Elizabeth took a noisy breath, her blue eyes returning to Dr Orchard's brown ones, 'I guess I'm angry a lot, I explode over small things. I have nightmares… Flashbacks' She explained tentatively, listing her issues like a grocery list.
'Have you suffered with flashbacks before, prior to your assault?' She asked and Elizabeth looked up frowning.
'What does that matter?' Elizabeth let out a huffy breath, feeling decidedly defensive.
'Does that mean you have?' Selma asked, scribbling on her note pad. Elizabeth frowned, a permanent scowl on her face.
'Occasionally…' She offered carefully. 'Why does it matter?'
'I am trying to establish a timeline for your PTSD, your job was certainly conducive to it. You experienced a lot of trauma, just in the time that I've known you…' She explained, Elizabeth broke eye contact, folding her arms across her chest and staring absently out the windows.
'Have you struggled with anger before as well?' Elizabeth turned back to her then, her eyes blazing she ground her jaw together not unlike Reddington did.
'I guess…' She admitted reluctantly, her eyes still gleaming back at the doctor who was writing on her notepad.
'How often do you have nightmares?' She asked changing the subject sensing Elizabeth's changing mood, she scribbled not looking up for the moment.
'Every night, sometimes more than once. I get sleep paralysis…' She grabbed the cushion from behind her, hugging it in her lap fiddling with the zipper.
'Could you tell me about them?' She tried to catch Elizabeth's eye but she avoided her, continuing to stare into the pillow. She swallowed, then took a small breath struggling to remain in control of her emotions.
'I can't move, there's always something in the room with me…' Elizabeth began, her throat suddenly dry. Her chest was beginning to feel tight. She straightened in her seat, clearing her throat.
'Are there any other details that you remember?' Dr Orchard scanned her for a moment, taking in her demeanour. Elizabeth didn't want to remember or talk about it. She squirmed for a moment in her seat.
'Is this necessary?' Elizabeth asked, fidgeting in her chair. She raised her eyes to glance up at Dr Orchard, clearing her throat before taking a glass of water off the table and taking a sip.
'I think it will help, yes… We can go slowly. How are you feeling at the moment?' She reassured her, smiling.
'Uncomfortable…' Dr Orchard nodded, 'Lately fire features quite a lot…' She offered slowly.
'Like the one you were in as a child?' She asked and Elizabeth nodded.
'There used to be water, drowning or something pulling me under and blood was a big feature for a while…' Elizabeth turned to look out windows, she could see Agnes playing with a ball on the grass and she turned back with a knot in her stomach.
'Tom is often there, sometimes Red…' She continued, swallowing the forming lump in her throat.
'How does Tom appear to you in these dreams?' Doctor Orchard asked having followed her gaze out of the window. She took in the child playing and watched Elizabeth for a moment, her face seemed to darken.
'He's always dead or dying.' She shrugged bluntly, tears prickling her eyes. She wanted to look elsewhere but she didn't want to watch Agnes. She turned in her seat to face into the room rather than the french doors.
'Would you like to talk about Tom?' Selma broached gently.
'No…' Elizabeth ground her jaw, looking down at the pillow still in her lap.
'What about Agnes? That's her outside, isn't it?' Dr Orchard glanced towards the garden, noting Elizabeth's changed position and emotion on her face.
'No, I don't…' She said firmly, swallowing the lump that was threatening to silence her.
'Okay, what about Mr Reddington?' Selma urged gently, trying to pick an easier subject to keep Elizabeth talking.
'What about him?' Elizabeth asked softly, glancing up briefly.
'He's been taking care of you here? How's that been?' She probed, noting Elizabeth's body language. She had scooted down in her chair as if trying to make herself as small as possible. A far cry from the agent she had once known.
'Fine… Great…. He is my father, I guess…' She offered slightly sarcastically, taking hold of a tassel from the corner of the cushion, twirling it between her fingers.
'You don't sound so sure about that?' Dr Orchard asked, surprised by the news.
'There was a DNA test…' Elizabeth shrugged one shoulder, still watching the tassel between her fingers.
'I hear a but in there somewhere…' Selma asked curiously,
'I don't know… Sometimes I don't feel it…' Suddenly she patted the cushion with both hands and sat up straighter.
'That's understandable, you didn't grow up knowing him, he didn't raise you...' She offered gently, feeling like there was more to it.
'No I know, it's just… It feels different sometimes…' She paused, shrugging her shoulders, unsure how to explain her feelings properly, it felt so complicated. She looked down at her hands splayed on the cushion. 'I don't understand it sometimes, the way he is… he just takes what I throw at him…' She looked up then making eye contact.
'Because he cares about you…' Dr Orchard offered.
'I suppose…' Elizabeth paused shrugging again and Dr Orchard gave her a quizzical look. 'I know he loves me. I know it but…'
'You don't feel loved?' She surmised gently.
Elizabeth shook her head slowly, 'I feel bad just saying it out loud…' She swallowed, glancing down.
'Did you feel loved by Tom?' Selma asked. For a moment Elizabeth squirmed uncomfortably before nodding slowly.
'What about when you were a child, your adoptive father, you felt loved by him?' She asked, seeking out Elizabeth's eyes.
'Yes of course…' She looked up meeting her gaze, watching as Dr Orchard began writing again.
'You've already said you dream about Mr Reddington, is he alive in your dreams?'
'No, not usually…' She admitted quietly not wanting to get into last night's dream.
'Do you think you fear losing him?' She asked, Elizabeth held her eye for a moment her face darkening before she glanced down at her hands, nodding confirmation. Selma began to write again. For a moment it was quiet as if she were waiting for Elizabeth to elaborate but when she didn't she asked, 'Do you feel love for him?'
Elizabeth nodded slowly, 'Yes… I love him, I don't think I would be here now if it weren't for him.' Her nostrils flared and her chin trembled slightly. 'Right now he is home. This place I know won't last but he seems to always endure, he's always there, even when I am horrible to him…' A tear escaped and she reached up to wipe it away.
'Why do you think you're horrible to him?' Selma asked, watching the younger woman squirm in her chair.
'I don't know... He's just so... Calm. All the time... And sometimes I just want him to argue back, shout at me, tell me to stop...' The tears were falling now and Selma reached out to hand her a tissue. She gave her a small smile as she took it gratefully.
'Do you feel like you deserve that?' Selma asked gently, watching Elizabeth wipe the tears from her face. Did she feel like she deserved it or maybe she just wanted to be punished or maybe she just wanted some reaction from him. For once.
She shrugged, 'Sometimes I just want some kind of reaction from him, he's seen me at my worst and I feel like he hides parts of himself because he doesn't want me to see who he really is...' She sniffed before continuing, 'How can he love me when I'm so mean to him?' A sob escaped her lips, she brought her knees up to her chest, resting her feet on the edge of the chair.
'He says that you want to leave, was that your idea?' She ventured gently watching Elizabeth swallow, wiping away more tears.
'Yes... I want to be alone for a while but leaving him… I don't know… I don't know if I can do it. Part of me just wants to let him take care of me forever and I know he would, we could carry on like this and I know he would never make me leave but if I want to find out who killed… Tom…' She stumbled over his name, tears escaping. 'Then I need to learn to take care of myself again… Alone.'
Dr Orchard nodded, writing on her notepad.
'Our time is almost up but I wanted to touch base and ask about any other emotions apart from anger that you might have been feeling?' She asked changing the subject.
'I don't know… Everything is kind of numb except when I have a flashback or nightmare and then I just feel so much panic and fear. In those moments he does make me feel safe.' She affirmed looking up again, her face lightening with the change in subject.
'I think thats understandable, you've been through a massive trauma not just with the loss of your husband but with your own assault, losing so much time to your coma and then having to recover from all of it. You've done remarkably well, Liz….' The older woman told her, validating her struggles as tears slid down Elizabeth's face. She reached out to place a hand over Elizabeth's, 'I think we should stop there today, how are you feeling now?'
'Can you take them away? The memories…' Elizabeth asked suddenly, taking the older woman's hand and squeezing it gently. Dr Orchard sat back, thinking it over.
'Do you really want to do that?' She asked, closing her notepad. Elizabeth held her gaze not speaking for a moment.
'Yes…I don't know…' She was hesitant, breaking eye contact and letting go of her hand as she back in her chair.
'We can certainly talk about it but that would mean erasing all of this…' She swept an arm out, indicating the surrounding room. 'It would mean taking away your time with Mr Reddington, would you really want that?'
Elizabeth blinked back at her, 'You've come such a long way Liz, and I think that taking that away would do you a huge disservice…' Dr Orchard gave her a small smile, putting her notepad and pen into her bag.
'Have a think about it but don't discount this journey or your time here with Mr Reddington…' She left Elizabeth still sitting in the same chair, sad tears sliding down her cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest.
