Hey! Still in Cookie Hell with me? That´s great, now we´re starting the trip.

Have fun!



"False is false

True is True

Who is What and Which is Who

No one´s always what they seem to be

Simple as ABC

Simple as One, Two, Three ..."

(Anyone Can Whistle)









"Oh, I´m sorry!"

For the second time within 24 hours, Dr. Jesse Travis fell from a chair. Gasping, he realized he´d fallen asleep next to Mrs Zeesley´s bed once more, and he came to his feet slowly, shook his head to shake off the drowsiness.

He then noticed a small, nervous hand on his upper arm, acompinied by a whispered "I´m so sorry. I didn´t mean to startle ya. Are you hurt?"

Glancing upwards, still more asleep then awake, he met a worried pair of female brown eyes examining him, and smiled.

"Nothing broken, I think," he answered and came to his feet with that hand still lying on his arm.

One look at Mrs Zeesley assured him that she´d been sedated far too strong to wake up by a simple opening of the door.

After two hours of comforting the broken woman, he´d finally ordered another shot for her, and she´d drifted off to sleep in no time afterwards.

He´d also called Dr. Thorman, the house´s psychiatrist to take a look at her the other day.

It´d been all he could do, but still, he hadn´t managed to leave her and had stayed for no reason other than to watch over her artifical sleep till old-fashioned natural one had gotten the better of him.

Now, he led the small, nervous woman, who´d so suddenly waken him, out of the room and gently closed the door behind them.

"I´m so sorry, I hope your patient didn´t wake up, I mixed up the room numbers, I thought this was ..." She hushed himself, studied the floor. "No. Lie. I saw that you´re a doctor and since I couldn´t find someone else, I thought I could ask you. She´s sedated anyway, isn´t she?"

Jesse, who´d shaken his head slightly through her whole explanation as to clear it from the remainings of his dream, couldn´t help but smile at her embarrassed, tiny voice. Now that he was aware enough to actually look at someone, he took in her nervous gestures and her drawn features.

She was in her forties, the first grey strains showed in her short red hair, and there were deep wrinkles surrounding her eyes and mouth. She wasn´t pretty but sort of cute, he found himself stating. Cute like a cartoon cat he´d once seen. And she was small, even much smaller than him, which was a surprisingly pleasing fact.

"Yeah, she didn´t wake up. So - what is it you wanted to ask a doctor, Miss ...?" he asked friendlyly as to take some pressure off her.

"Reddick," she introduced herself, reaching out to grab his hand instead of just offering hers. "Oak Reddick. I´m a psychiatrist."

"Jesse Travis," he said, frowning at his hand being shaken and then let loose. "How can I help you?"

"I´m looking for a patient of mine. I understood he was brought in here this afternoon. His name is Maron Pinter."

She blinked questioningly when his gaze changed at the mention of the name. "D´you know him?"

Jesse frowned. "I didn´t know he had a psychiatrist."

"No, I´m his ... What you mean "had"?" She took one, two steps back, her eyes grew wide. "He´s dead?"

Inwardly kicking himself into another state - another galaxy - Jesse offered her a guiding hand. "Why don´t we sit down in the Doctor´s Lounge to discuss this?"

"Maron´s dead?! But ... but how? He ..." She looked up at him desperately, but realization sinked in soon, till a sort of ... sympathy filled her eyes.

"Something terrible happened. I can see it. There," she mentioned towards his eyes. "Maron did something, didn´t he?"

"We shouldn´t discuss this right here," Jesse repeated.

"No, I wanna know. I´m ... I was his friend. I have a right to know."

"He shot somebody this morning," the young doctor said, and bowed his head before adding: "And then himself. I´m sorry."

Dr, Oak Reddick stared at him, stunned, then muttered: "Bastards!" and turned to leave.

"Wait," Jesse called out after her and caught up to her, while she headed towards the lift. "What you mean? Who? D´you know who could have had something to do with it?"

"Leave me alone."

"No. - Please," he added and grabbed her arm.

She came to a halt, looking up to him fiercly.

"I´m sorry," he stuttered and gave her free. "I didn´t inted to ... The man your friend shot was my friend. Well,", he laughed softly, looking away, "he was about to become my friend. And I´m sure Maron wasn´t a killer, but ... He did it. And I wanna know if you can tell me why."

"If I could tell why my friend shot someone," she replied coldly, "he would not´ve been my friend."

There was an ice cold silence, before Jesse closed his eyes, ashamed of himself. "I´m sorry. I ..." He sighed deeply, and rubbed his face tiredly. "Don´t ... take it personal, please. I´m just tired and ..." He winked. "Doesn´t matter. I just go back in there and ... I´m sorry you lost your friend. I mean that."

She shrugged. Turned around.

The doctor frowned. He suddenly noticed her shivering. Slightly at first, but it increased fastly.

"Dr. Reddick?" he asked, worried now.

She didn´t respond, but a strained sob could be heard. Feeling guilty, Jesse walked around her to face her tears streaming down her cheeks, and not knowing what else to do, he pulled her into a comforting hug, stroking her hair, trying to soothe her down.

He felt as if he had listened to people crying for years. As if people surround him had done nothing else - ever. They saw him - they cried. He was cursed.

Finally, Oak Reddick stopped and stepped away from him, eyeing his shirt with an apologizing look. "Oh god, that´s ... Look at you, I mean, I´m ..." She smiled faintly, wiping the water off her face. "I shouldn´t do things like that. I´m a psychiatrist."

"You´re human," he gently objected. "That makes you a good one, I suppose."

Gratefull, she gave him a warm smile, then rubbed her hands over her skirt as if to clean it. "Thank you. I better be going, I´m ..." She stopped, looked him into the eye, and turned quickly. "Goodbye, Dr. Travis."

"No, wait," he called and came to a stop at her side in the lift. "You´re in no condition to drive. I´d say you´re in no condition to go home actually, but something tells me you won´t listen to that, anyway."

"You´re right about that."

"Then let me drive you home. Please. It´s the least I can do."

She frowned, and smiled. "Why?" Quickly, he opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, and finally said with a very calm and serious voice: "I wanna help someone today."



"Oak," Jesse read the sign on Dr. Reddick´s door when they were standing on the fron steps.

The owner of the name herself was searching for her keys, but looked up and smiled at his frown.

"Is that your real name?"

"Yeah, it is. My parent´s were prea-hippies, you know. Living in a commune and stuff. My brother´s name is Greylen."

Jesse made a face at this and smiled at Oak´s.

At last, she found the key and opened the door to her apartment. "So - you wanna come in?"

"Ah ..." He was truly taken by surprise. "Ahm ... I ..."

"Calm down. I thought it´d be inpolite not to ask, that´s all. Thanks for guiding me home, Dr. Travis." Again, she took his limp hand and shook it thankfully. "I really apreciate it."

"Uh ... you´re welcome. You sure you´ll be alright?" he heard himself ask. He felt a strange urge to stay as if he was obliged to make sure this woman was not going to suffer. The image of her crying against his shoulder swept through his mind .

But she just smiled. "No, I won´t be alright," she answered, amused. "A friend of mine killed himself. Alright is the very least thing I´ll be for the next few weeks. Then - we´ll see."

Jesse was speechless and therefor decided to stare, which seemed to be an approbiate reaction to her answer.

"I´m a shrink, remember?" she continued teasingly and entered her apartment.

"Ididn´t mean to be ..." the doctor stuttered after he´d found out he still was able to speak after all. Just not able to finish sentences.

"Oh man!" He ran a hand through his messy hair, looking like a little kid who didn´t know the right way to apologize to an adult.

"I´m so sorry. That´s all I´ve done the entire day. Being sorry. I´m sick of being sorry. I wanna ..." He stopped, and hid his face in his hands. "Oh, I´m sorry. I didn´t want to say that. You´ve lost a friend, and I ..."

"Maybe you wanna come in for a minute after all," Oak finally interrupted him. "I´d say we both could use a drink."

After a short pause he nodded, his face still hidden in his hands.

"Is this your brother?" Jesse asked and lifted a framed picture off the desk in Oak Reddick´s living-room.

It showed a man with a determinded look on his face, holding a ping-pong bat, obviously focusing on a component, ready to win the game. The resemblence to his sister could not been overseen, his hair had the same striking color, and his eyes, like hers, reminded Jesse of melted chocolate.

"Yeah, this is Greylen," Oak replied, while trying to bend over the taller man´s shoulders to look at it.

"It´s a very nice picture," he smiled at her, putting the frame back on the desk. "Though somewhat ..."

"Awkward?" she finished and nodded amusedly on his slightly embarrassed look. "I guess it is. But, you see, it shows Grey the way I saw him all my life. He was a fighter. A winner."

His smile faded. " "Was"? He´s not alive anymore?"

"No, no, he is ..." She stopped as if to rethink that. "Well - sort of. He´s in a coma."

Before he could stop himself, the young doctor heard his voice say "I´m sorry" once more, and he winced at it. "Since when?" he added.

"Two years," Oak replied, her gaze never leaving the picture. "He ... was sick. He had schizophrenia."

"Oh. I´m ..." Finally he managed to hush himself and cocked his head to one side. "You don´t slip into coma causa that."

"No. But he ... searched for a cure. He was treated with medication when he was a kid, and he got along quite admirable with his illness." She cast him a glance, smiling. "He became a doctor. Surgeon."

Jess lifted his brows, impressed.

"He wanted to show everybody that he could achieve something," Oak continued, while wandering through the room till she sat down on the sofa.

Jesse remained where he was, feeling as if he´d disturb her tale if he so much as moved.

"Like a "normal" guy, you know. It´d always been very important for him to - achieve something." She turned to face him. "Do you understand that?"

"Yes," he nodded, "I do."

"He always had this ... side-effects,you know. Like dizzyness and cramps, and they got worse when he got older, till he wasn´t able to operate anymore. It was then he went into research to find a cure for his illness."

Jesse frowned. "You can cure schizophrenia."

"No, you can fight the symptoms," Oak objected.

"I see."

"But that wasn´t enough. He searched for a way to beat the illness. With brain-surgery."

"I think I once read an articel about that," Jesse remembered and now sat down on the sofa besides her. "They tested it on monkeys, I think. But it didn´t work out well. There were ..."

"Complications, right. Personality-changes, stuff like that. And ..." her gaze drifted away as if avoiding to look at him, "some monkeys slipped into ..."

" ... coma." It took a few seconds till realization kicked in, but then the doctor´s eyes grew wide. "He was ... operated? Wha ... How? Who´d do that?"

Slowly, as if acompining dramatical film-music, Oak Reddick lifted her head to look right into the doctor´s eyes. A pure moment of truth. And it was over in a heartbeat.

"I don´t know why I´m telling you all this," she said, looking away, even standing up as if to rebuilt the barrier of distance between them. "It´s late, and you really should be going now."

He stood, but stayed where he was, his eyes full with sympathy.

"I lost a patient the other day," he said. "He was a doctor. He tested a new medication on himself. It ... could have worked," he laughed softly, bitterly. "But it killed him instead. Still," he stopped, thought, then finished, looking at her: "it seems kinda brave to me to do such a thing. I guess it´s what people like us should do."

Her gaze dropped. "Please leave now." A tear fell off her face and silently hit the floor. "Go."

"I want to help," he said, though he had no clue how. It was just that he felt desperation crawling through every single nerve in his body, and he couldn´t bear it anymore. Pain and grieve surrounded him like a wall, there had to be a way out.

"Please let me help you."

"It´s not right," she whispered.

He couldn´t make out what she meant, but it didn´t matter, anyway. She was crying again, silent sobs rocking her shoulders, and out of a reflex, he once again pulled her into a hug, to comfort both, her and himself. "Shhh, it´okay," he soothed.

"Grey," she whispered, "it´s not right."



"Idon´t believe this." Steve Sloan didn´t believe it.

"I ..." He closed his eyes, shook his head, reopened them - but the hallucination (It had to be one!) was still there. "What the hell ...?!"

Once again he´d taken over Jesse´s turn, this time on opening up the bar in the morning, for he´d figured the young doctor would be to tired to think of it this morning.

He´d probably selpt in the hospital, Steve figured, and considering the stress Jesse´d been through the other day, it seemed only fair that the detective took over this one time.

Once again the door had been open, the sign still turned to "close".

Remembering the last incident that had followed such discoveries, Steve had stashed his hands in his pockets, forcing them not to reach for his gun, and entered the bar with a good-humoredly called out: "Morning, Jess!"

But there´d been no response. Well - no verbal response.

Steve felt his chin fall down as he took in the scenery. Jesse Travis sat on a chair at the bar, his upper body resting on top of it. Considering his snoring, he was still alive, though more or less unconscious, for he didn´t even stir when the detective banged the door shut.

"Jesse!" he called out furiously, but still got no response. He shook his head in anger and rushed over to his obviously drunk friend to roughly ruttle him awake.

"Wake up! C´mon!"

"Hmnnn ... hmwha ..." Jesse grunted and slowly turned his head away from Steve to hide it in the blessful darkness of his arm´s crook.

But he´d no chance on getting away with it.

"Wake up!!!" Steve ordered and dragged him from his chair, lifting him in the air by the collar of his shirt.

Being forced into consciousness that way, Jesse´s eyes flew open. "Woah! What ... Steve!"

"Awake now?" Steve asked coldly and gave him another ruttle.

"Yeah, yeah, awake, awake!" Jesse called out hastily. "Let me down!"

"First you´re going to explain ..."

"Let me down! Let me down!" Panic rose in the smaller man´s voice, and his feet started kicking out frantically.

It only took Steve a split second to realize where that panic came from. "Uh ..."

"Please!!!"

Seeing his friens already turning green, Steve loosened his grip on him at once, sending the small doctor to the ground with a low thud, which was followed almost immediately by the unmistakeble sound of a stomach being emptied on the floor.

Stepping away from the wretching Jesse, Steve made a face. "Oh, yuck, Jess! I´m not going to clean that up, you hear me?!"

"Hey!" Jesse shot back, faintly, but firmly nevertheless. "I´d like to see you after being thrown in the air like that! What was that for, anyway?!"

He fell back on his butt now and simply sat there, exhausted, panting, looking up at his partner while whiping his mouth.

"What was that for?!" Steve repeated his question furiously. "You got drunk in the bar and left it open, for Christ´s sake! D´you realize what could have happened?! What the hell drove you to come here last night, anyway?! I thought you were dead on feet!"

"I ..." Jesse started to yell back, but fell silent and frowned. "I don´t remember coming here," he finally said in a normal tone, looking around. "I was with Mrs Zeesley and ... Wow, how did I get here?"

"With your car!" Steve answered. He had no inclination to lay down on the yelling at his friend. "It´s parked outside. - You don´t remember coming here?! Oh, Jess, I ..."

He threw his hands in the air as if that was the only way to express his anger. It seemed to help, though, for he calmed down rapidly afterwards.

"Look, Jess, I know you had a few rough days lately, and I know you´re not good at dealing with rough days, but ..."

Jesse opened his mouth to object but was silenced by a forcefully raised hand.

"But," Steve continued, "if you ever pull a stunt like that again - ever - I´ll ..." He stopped as Jesse´s head sank, his eyes squeezed shut against what was going to follow, and he sighed.

" ... throw you in the air a lot higher than those few meters today" he concluded. "Understood?"

The doctor´s head shot up in a grateful rush - which proved to be a mistake. "Oh gawd ..." the owner of it groaned and clutched it in his hands to stop the waves of pain washing over it.

"I hope your head is killing you enough to never forget this," Steve commented his friend´s painfull look, though he couldn´t hide a slight sent of sympathy in his tone.

"You have no idea," Jesse murmured without letting go off his head. This was without a doubt the worst hangover he´d ever had, he decided. He was seeing stars!

"I feel like the seven dwarfs mistook it a for a mine and now they´re in there, using their tiny axes against my brain."

"Good," Steve said and reached out to help his friend to his feet.

He swayed dangerously, and the detective led him over to a chair to sit down again. There he sat, trying to not move his head an inch.

Steve looked down at him desperately. "Jess, you can´t sit here all day."

"Watch me."

"You´ve to work." That was stupid enough to deserve a slight opening of one eye and even a twisting of his mouth. "Beg your pardon?"

Imagining this pathetic heap of a doctor treating a human being made the detective realize what he´d just suggested and he winced.

"`kay, skip that. But I´m not gonna clean up that ... Jess? Jesse!"

But the doctor was too busy rushing to the toilet to answer. He didn´t make it in time, though.

Listening once again to the sickening sound of a by now empty stomach being forced to produce at least something to spill on the floor, Steve ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

"Jess, sometimes I just hate you, you know that?"