Chapter Three

Jaime was beyond stunned. As she walked through the front door of the ranch house, she had the slow, tentative gait and glassy eyes of a shock victim. Oscar's words echoed over and over in her brain.

"Until further notice, I am suspending you from the OSI."

She still couldn't believe it had happened. After leaving the office, Jaime had taken a long walk, trying to reconcile herself to the loss of something that had become such a huge chunk of her life and her identity. They'd all meant well, especially Steve; she'd realized that about an hour into her walk. Jaime knew she was the only one to believe she could beat the problem herself, by simply setting her mind to it. Why couldn't any of them see that?

"Hi," Steve said, getting up from his seat by the front window, where he'd been watching for her. He slipped a tentative arm around her waist, unsure how she'd react, but she didn't pull away. More than anything else, she seemed...numb. "Can we talk? Please?" he asked softly.

"Yeah."

"Thank you." Steve led her into the den and sat beside her on the sofa. "Are you hungry?"

Jaime shook her head. "I could really use a glass of wine, though."

Steve poured two glasses and handed one to Jaime. "Sweetheart, I'm really sorry about what happened today."

"It's not your fault," she replied in an empty voice. "You did what you thought was right. I...I appreciate that."

Steve, reassured - at least about her current state of mind - enveloped her in his arms. She nestled in closer, resting her head on his chest as she curled up beside him.

"I can't believe I don't work there anymore," she said after several minutes of quiet togetherness.

"It's only temporary, until -"

"I can't do what Oscar wants. That doctor..."

"Doctor Conrad? What about him?"

"His work - it's all experimental. I don't wanna end up one of his test subjects." She looked up at Steve, who kissed her gently, then ran a comforting hand through her hair.

"He's the best in his field -"

"What field?" Jaime protested. "It's just him, all brand-new stuff..."

"Sweetheart, he's been working for years with veterans who were in Vietnam and Korea. He's still unknown because he's so thorough. He wants to do another year or two of follow-ups before he publishes his findings. I met him today; he's not only one of the most intelligent people I've ever seen - he's really very nice, too. I think you'd like him."

"You met him? Did you tell him - about me?"

"Yes."

"Steve!"

"Just listen. He's identified a syndrome, a set of symptoms, these vets seem to share. You've been having some of the same symptoms. Jaime, he's positive he can help you, but you have to be willing to work with him, and -"

"No."

Steve sighed. They were back to Square One.

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The next few days were rough on Jaime, and possibly even rougher on Steve. As deeply as he loved her, he was helpless to do anything that would ease her pain. He could hear her getting out of bed in the middle of the night and suspected she'd begun having nightmares, exactly as Doctor Conrad had predicted, but Jaime insisted she just couldn't sleep.

Steve couldn't help but worry about Doctor Conrad's other prediction: "If she continues to refuse treatment, Jaime will likely grow progressively worse, with the end result being serious harm to herself, or to someone else."

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Five days after suspending her, Oscar paid Jaime a visit. Steve insisted on making coffee, so the two of them had a little time alone.

"How are you?" Oscar asked carefully.

"Bored outta my mind. Can I come back to work yet?"

"I'm sorry, Babe. I'd love to have you back, but you know what you need to do."

"If I don't...I'm fired?"

"It doesn't have to come to that."

"It already has."

"Jaime, all any of us want is to help you feel better. Will you at least think about -"

"No."

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Jaime got out of bed again that night, and Steve found her crouching under the kitchen table. "Jaime?" Instinct told him to move slowly, so as to not startle or frighten her. Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem to be there.

"They're coming..." she told him breathlessly. "You've gotta hide!"

Steve joined her, not to hide with her, but to hold her, trying to comfort her. "Sweetheart, wake up. You're only dreaming; you're safe now...Jaime?"

"No! Let go of me!" She tried to pull away, but Steve tightened his grip. Jaime let out a single scream and colllapsed in his arms. Steve picked her up, carried her back to the bedroom and placed her gently in bed. She began to return to her senses and a helpless terror filled her eyes.

"What's...happening...to me?" She was barely able to speak. "I'm...losing my mind!"

"No, you aren't. You're not crazy either. It's a normal reaction to the stress you went through, what you saw, what you had to do...Doctor Conrad calls it Post-Traumatic-Stress-Syndrome."

"And...he can make this stop?"

"He says he can help, yes. And, Jaime - he also promised he wouldn't make you a 'test subject' or write about you in his tracking journals if you weren't ok with that."

"Really? Is...is he still in DC?"

"Yep; most of his patients are here, at the VA."

"Will you call him for me in the morning?" Jaime asked.

"You bet; first thing."

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