He hadn't slept for one minute when the doctor arrived. It had seemed like hours, but the bliss of sleep hadn't come. Visions of Jack, all alone in a cold, sterile hospital bed, kept haunting him. He was supposed to be here, in his arms. He wasn't supposed to be alone – it was the thing Eric knew he feared the most, because he had seen it in his eyes last night. Even more than the pain, the terror of the abuse and the hatred, it had been the loneliness that had grabbed him by the throat and nearly killed him in the end. Literally.

A sound at the far end of his bed startled him. "Jack?" was his first reaction, as he sat up and looked up from his hands to where the sound had come from. It appeared to be a middle-aged, gray-haired doctor in a long white coat, carrying a notebook under his arm.

"Well hello…" he paused to look at his notes. "Mister Matthews. How did you know my name? You must have very good eyes to read my tag from that distance." The doctor smiled and took a few steps alongside the bed. He reached out and shook the hand Eric had automatically held out to him when he introduced myself.

"I- I guess I do," Eric decided to go along with the doctor's assumption. He didn't seem to know the details about his situation, but it didn't even bother Eric. At least now he wouldn't have to explain the real reason why he had mentioned Jack's name out loud in the first place.

Doctor Jack let go of his hand and pulled in one of the seats standing next to the bed. He sat down and carefully selected a pen in his coat pocket. Then his eyes moved from the pen to Eric's eyes. He noticed they looked drained. Must have been a long shift.

"So, mister Matthews. I'm doctor Jack, and I am one of the psychiatrists at this hospital. Currently, you are at the Trauma sector of the hospital, where we will help you overcome the initial shock you suffered from experiencing such a… drastic event. Do you understand that, mister Matthews? Or may I call you…" he looked down at his notebook once again. "Eric?" It was obviously a speech the doctor had given at least a million times before.

Eric nodded reluctantly. "Whatever. As long as you don't call me patient 6-dot-537-slash-A, it's fine with me." The doctor laughed a somewhat artificial laugh, and Eric produced a stiff grin as well. He didn't feel comfortable.

"You seem to be a clever young man there, Eric. I hope you can answer my questions as clever as you did just now," doctor Jack said in a children's tone, as he flipped over a page in his notebook and wrote something down.

"So, did you sleep well last night?" Was that his first survey question, or was he only making small talk? Eric couldn't tell.

"F-fine, I guess. Had a few nightmares, about…" He couldn't bring himself to say his name again. Using Jack's name with this… this sterile person, carrying the same name, sitting next to him in his awful starch white coat, seemed utterly wrong to him. It felt like a insult to the real Jack. His Jack. The only Jack.

"…about trains, and dark things, and rain," he ended his sentence instead. It wasn't even true. His sleep had been deep and empty, and he couldn't recall any dream at all. The doctor hummed though, nodded and wrote down Eric's answer. Then he sighed and mumbled something to himself in a tone as if he was about to discover something really important.

"So… How are you feeling right now?" doctor Jack continued. He looked up from his notebook, but only far enough to be able to stare at a brownish spot on the white sheets covering Eric's legs. Was this a serious question?

Eric was about to yell this man in his wrinkled face that he was feeling horrible, wrecked, like his heart had been crushed underneath that train last night! Right now, his Jack was all alone at some strange hospital, confused and scared, reliving all of the horrors of his youth that he believed he had finally come to grips with, after years of therapy and trying to build a better life for himself. He had tried to throw himself in front of a train last night! How despair had been blurring every fragment of common sense he had left…

Eric was the only one who had seen the deepest, darkest place of his soul, and so he knew he was the only one who could help him. But this man wouldn't understand. He didn't care. He was just doing his job.

So his anger faded and made place again for the apathetic void he had been feeling before, since he had been awake. Everything seemed empty and insignificant.

"Not too well," Eric answered with a flat voice. "Just sadness, anger… and I'm scared."

The doctor nodded deeply and let out a couple of 'ahas' and 'hmm-hmms', while writing furiously in his notebook. He still didn't look up far enough to face Eric. He was creating a distance. Eric felt it. The man just didn't care at all. Well, if that was the case, then Eric wasn't going to care either.

"And why do you think you feel that way?" What was this supposed to be? A session by dr. Phil? A new Oprah episode? The man clearly didn't do his homework. He didn't seem to know a thing about what Jack had gone through last night, and why Eric was being hospitalized afterwards. Eric wanted this conversation to be over with just as much as the doctor seemingly wanted it to end.

"I feel sad and angry because my friend was trying to do something to himself that he didn't deserve at all." This time, Eric spoke the truth, but he kept it very general and tried to stay as vague as possible. He couldn't even elaborate more – somewhere between his heart, his mind and his mouth, his true feelings were blocked. There was only emptiness.

The doctor wrote down some more remarks in his notebook as he asked Eric a couple of other questions. Eric's answers to them were just as indistinct as the queries, and the doctor left within half an hour.

He shook Eric's hand firmly and glanced at him for just one brief moment. "Thank you for your cooperation…" He looked down at his notebook once more. "…Eric Matthews. I think you are ready to go home and get this past you. Please drop by our reception to make an appointment for another counseling session next week, okay? It's at the end of this hall, at your right. And if you think you still need more counseling…" He let go of Eric's hand and took a small card out of his coat pocket. "…here's a number you can call to make an extra appointment, or to get advice right away. Or just if you need anything. It's free, by the way," the doctor concluded with a bright smile.

Eric couldn't even bring himself to smile again. He took the card. "Right. Thank you."

Doctor Jack walked away with a rigid pace. Eric made sure that the doctor was out of sight, before he ripped up the card up into a thousand tiny pieces.