Chapter 3
Shannon went to IMF's resident doctor the next day and learned the same things that her doctor in Bogota already told her. She still needed to take things slow and not engage in any strenuous physical activity. Her three broken ribs were still healing and she was told to continue her medication for the cuts and bruises she obtained from the plane crash. A neurologist also confirmed that her concussion didn't leave any permanent damage to her brain. Her memory was now back to normal. She was advised to stay at home for the rest of the day.
She was back at the IMF headquarters the day after that, where her teammates anxiously asked about her health. But before Shannon could answer them, Jim walked into the room and called for a meeting. Half an hour later, the meeting ended and Jim drew Shannon aside to check on her health.
"How are you feeling, Shannon?" he asked.
"I'm feeling better, Jim. The doctor said I shouldn't go on field work for now until my wounds are completely healed."
"As it should be. And yes, the doctor sent me your file. But I'm requiring you to undergo occupational therapy as well. Did the doctor in Bogota suggest therapy to you?"
Shannon shook her head.
"Well then, you should."
"Do I really have to?" asked Shannon. She didn't like going to their resident therapist. The only time she was in the therapist's office was during their mandatory annual psychological evaluation.
"You have to, Shannon. I know it can be hard to overcome trauma from an accident. Therapy can help you."
She didn't answer.
Jim continued: "I've already set up an appointment for you this afternoon ̶ "
"You did?"
"Yes. You have to go. I won't accept any excuses. I'm not giving you another assignment until you see a therapist," said Jim firmly.
Shannon had no choice. Reluctantly, she went back to working on some paperwork before heading to the therapist's office.
xoxoxo
Max plopped himself on the couch beside Grant who was now sorting through a box of surveillance tapes they obtained from DAS.
"Hey."
Grant glanced at him. "What's up, man?"
"Do you think Shannon is okay? She hasn't said a word the whole time we were in the meeting."
Grant followed Max's gaze. They both stared at Shannon who was huddled in the corner talking to Jim.
"She looks like she still needs plenty of rest but I think she'll be fine," answered Grant.
"Well, considering that it hasn't been long since she was in a traumatic plane crash and had to board a plane again so soon, I'd say it's understandable if she's a little… distant," commented Nicholas who was standing over them.
"It's so tragic though, isn't it?" Max continued. "I mean, to go through something like that. One minute she was heading to Bogota on a mission then she finds herself waking up in a hospital with no memory of who she was or what she's supposed to do there."
Grant nodded grimly. "It must have been tough for her."
"And the fact that she didn't know anyone in Bogota. She was a stranger in a strange land. I imagine it must have been too overwhelming for her," added Nicholas.
"For sure. But what made it more unusual is that fact that she almost got married there. I never saw that coming!" Max exclaimed in bewilderment.
"I know. Who knew the guy would fall for her?" Nicholas said wryly.
"I don't understand it myself," Grant said. "I mean, how could Luis fall for a woman he only knew for a few weeks? And a woman with no memory at that!"
"Well, I could understand his fascination with her. A smart, beautiful woman who had no past suddenly comes into his life… It could be intriguing for some," explained Nicholas.
Grant shook his head still looking perplexed. "Anyway, I'm just glad her memory has returned and she's back with us."
"Yup, thank God for that!" agreed Max.
xoxoxo
The administrative offices of the IMF were located at a building adjacent to the headquarters. The therapist's office was housed within the same building.
Dr. Atwood looked up from her desk as she heard a knock on her door.
"Come in!" she called.
Shannon opened the door and peered inside.
"Hi, Dr. Atwood. I believe I have an appointment with you today."
"Ah, Shannon! Yes, of course," Dr. Atwood smiled. "Please come in."
Shannon went inside the therapist's office and closed the door.
Dr. Atwood gestured towards the sofa across her desk. "Have a seat. I'll be right with you."
She gathered a few papers on her desk and put them in a folder.
Shannon tentatively sat on the edge of the sofa as she watched Dr. Atwood stood up from her chair and moved towards her carrying the folder, a notepad and a pen.
Dr. Atwood was a tall, blond woman in her late forties with immaculately coiffed hair. A string of pearls decorated her slender neck. She went to sit on a comfortable chair in front of Shannon.
"I reviewed the recent report sent in by your boss Jim. I'm sorry about what happened," Dr. Atwood started.
Shannon pursed her lips and said nothing.
"How are you feeling, Shannon?"
Still no answer from Shannon. Dr. Atwood sensed her reluctance.
"Why don't you lean back and get comfortable in the sofa? Take your time. No need to rush on your answers," Dr. Atwood said warmly.
She crossed her legs and put the notepad and pen on her lap. The folder was tucked neatly beside her.
Slowly, Shannon eased herself in the sofa. A few minutes passed. She sat there in total silence. Her hands clutching the edge of the sofa.
"Jim said in the report that you had a reaction during your flight back here in the US. Why don't we start talking about that? It helps to let it all out in the open," said Dr. Atwood gently.
Shannon bit her lip and looked away. She stared at the window to her left.
"I was… scared," she started, looking teary eyed. She kept her gaze to the window.
"And why is that, Shannon?"
"I was afraid another accident would happen."
"Did the team know you were scared?"
Shannon shook her head.
"I didn't want to worry them. I let the team down in Bogota. I screwed up the mission. The last thing I wanted was for them to make a fuss about me." She hung her head in shame.
"Don't blame yourself, Shannon. It's not your fault."
Shannon turned to look at Dr. Atwood.
"But I didn't follow through with the extraction plan! I was useless! Jim was forced to come up with another plan because of it."
"Accidents do happen, Shannon. Even the most perfect plan can go awry. We can never truly predict what will happen during a mission."
"But still, I felt useless and, and…"
"And what?"
"I feel terrible about the accident. And I feel guilty because I'm the only one who survived the crash while the rest of them…" Shannon couldn't bring herself to say the word.
"Like I said, it wasn't your fault," replied Dr. Atwood.
"But why me? Why was I spared from the crash? I don't understand! I could've died with them…" she said with a look of anguish on her face.
"We may never know why you survived the crash. Maybe you got lucky you didn't fall hard when the plane hit the field. Maybe the soil in the field was soft enough to cushion your fall. Who knows?" Dr. Atwood shrugged.
Shannon leaned back and closed her eyes trying to dismiss the images of the accident in her head. Back in Bogota, whenever she's overwhelmed with emotions about the accident, Luis would hold her hand and comfort her with words. Sometimes he would think of ways to keep her mind off from the accident – like they would walk around the garden in the mansion or he would pop a tape in the VCR and they would watch a movie in his private suite.
Luis. She thought. Her heart sank.
"Shannon?" Dr. Atwood asked with a frowned look.
"Are you okay? Do you need a break?"
"No, let's just get this over with."
Through Dr. Atwood's prodding, Shannon slowly opened up more about what she felt about the accident, including the nightmares she had shortly after leaving the hospital. She lightly mentioned about Luis helping her deal with it but quickly steered the conversation away from him. Dr. Atwood sensed that there was something more Shannon was not telling her but decided not to prod her this time. After an hour or so, their session was over.
"It's been a good session, Shannon. We covered a lot of ground about your condition," Dr. Atwood said closing her notepad.
"But I'd like to continue our session, say… on Monday? How's that for you?"
"There's more?" Shannon asked. She was hoping this was just a one-time session.
"Shannon, dealing with trauma takes time. You can't resolve it in just one day."
With a sigh, Shannon nodded her agreement.
"I'll see you on Monday then," she said and stood up.
"Great! Come to my office at 1:30pm."
"Okay."
Shannon went out of the therapist's office feeling a lot better.