Mort sat on the couch in Dr. Harris' office.  He wrung his hands together nervously and popped his jaw once or twice.

"I'm not here to judge you, Mort," Dr. Harris said reassuringly.  "I'm here to help."

Mort looked up.  "I know, I just…I never saw myself getting to a point like this."

"That's very understandable, most people don't."  Dr. Harris sat in his chair.  "Some people know why they come to me, others…well, sometimes they know there's something wrong, but they just can't pinpoint it.  Mort, do you know why you're here?"

Mort nodded.  "Yes."

Dr. Harris smiled.  "I couldn't have asked for a better start.  As soon as you feel comfortable enough, tell me.  Please remember, there is no judging and there's not much that I haven't already heard – do not think that you are abnormal in any way."

Tell him.  Tell him everything.  Scratch that…you don't even know everything.  Tell him what you told Alex, at least to start.

"There are voices," Mort said softly.  "In…in my head."  Mort looked up at Dr. Harris, he nodded, encouraging him to go on.  "Two of them…two are mine, I suppose it's what anyone has in their mind, you know?  The 'what if I do this' sort of thoughts and the 'don't do that you idiot' thoughts."

"Indeed, nothing more than one's conscience really, though everyone's is different." 

"There's another voice though, and it's not mine.  It has its own personality, its own drawl, its own…wants I…I guess."  Mort proceeded to tell Dr. Harris everything he had told Alex about John Shooter.

Dr. Harris looked deep in thought when he said, "Mort, what is it that you're not telling me?"

Mort's eyes opened widely.  "You think I'm leaving something out?"  Dr. Harris nodded.  "Why?"

"Am I correct?"

"Are you going to lock me up?" Mort asked quickly.

Dr. Harris smiled.  "No.  Tell me what else has happened."

Mort moved his body more toward the edge of the couch; he was barely sitting on it now.  "Alex won't know?"

"Whatever you say is only between the two of us."

"Sometimes I…I've seen him.  I've seen John Shooter." 

"Seen him?  As in?"

Mort got up and began to pace.  "As in he came to my home and knocked on my door!  As in he called me, trying to convince me that I stole a story of his!"

"Calm down, Mort." 

Mort realized the tone he'd taken.  "I'm sorry," he said calmly. 

"It's all right.  So, you've interacted with this voice – he's taken form?"

"Yes," Mort said, feeling utterly embarrassed.

Why did you say that, Mr. Rainey? 

Dr. Harris watched as Mort's faced drained itself of all color.  "Mort?"

Mort took a deep breath.  "All I want is for my life to be back to normal."

"Is this a recent occurrence?"

"Not exactly, it happened once, then went away…now it's – he's – back."

Dr. Harris looked at Mort and tried to read his body.  "Can you go on or would you rather stop?"

"I'm fine," Mort insisted.

Remember those words, Mr. Rainey.

"When did all of this start?"

"I caught my ex-wife cheating on me.  I moved out and after a few months, it started."

"I can imagine that your stress level must have been elevated?"

Mort nodded.  "I couldn't write, I was living alone, and she and the bastard she…she and Ted wouldn't stop hassling me about the divorce papers."

"And this is when you saw 'John Shooter?'"

Mort nodded.  "All I could do was sleep and be paranoid about some psychopath that thought I…everything from then is such a blur.  I only remember fragments of it."

"But it stopped?"

Mort nodded again.  "As soon as I signed the papers."

"Then what happened?"

"After a while, I couldn't stand being in that cabin anymore.  I sold it and moved here."

"And 'John Shooter?'"

"Gone…until I started seeing Alex."

"Alex?"  Dr. Harris was caught off-guard.

"I was nothing but nerves when we first started dating.  I'd hear random thoughts here and there, but those left too."

"Until?"

Mort felt like he was somehow betraying Alex, but he had to figure out what was happening to him.  "Alex and I started getting really close and she got scared – we both did – and she asked for some 'time', which usually feels like a death warrant.  She meant it though; I knew she did.  Shooter though, he wormed his way out somehow and was trying to convince me that Alex was cheating on me."

"Did you think that she was?"

Mort became all but offended.  "No!  I knew she wasn't Amy…but he wouldn't leave me alone.  I went to her and…I told her everything.  Now I'm here."

"Mort, I think your problem lies in the stress you're putting yourself under."

"Stress?  Dr. Harris, I already knew that I was stressed."  Mort was beginning to wonder why he agreed to this.

"What I mean is that instead of venting out the frustration, you seem to let it manifest."

"It can't be that simple," Mort insisted.  "He's not just stress, he can't be!"

"Mort…"

"He can't be…you can't hear what he…there are threats and…"

"Are you willing to try medication?"

"Anything…"

Dr. Harris began to scribble on a pad.  "Try this for a week, it's for stress reduction.  If nothing changes, then we'll try something more extensive."

"Extensive?"

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions.  I firmly believe that stress is the troubling factor here."

Mort ran his fingers through his hair.  "A week, fine…I just hope that you're right."  The men shook hands and Mort returned to the waiting room.  He felt lighter than he had before, thanks to getting things out into the open with someone, but he just couldn't believe that stress would make him see things.

"How was it?" Alex asked.

"Apparently, I'm stressed.  He helped you?"

"He did.  I'm sorry if this didn't…"

"No, no…"  He caressed Alex's face.  "I'm going to come back.  I'm going to take care of whatever this is.  Hell, if it is stress, then there's nothing to worry about right?"

Alex smiled.  "Right."

***

Author's Note:  Therapy – not the most exciting chapter, but necessary.  I have two chapters completed that are huge factors (and a bit intense) already written, but can't post them yet, so hang in there, more excitement and drama are coming, I promise!