Ok, I am caving and posting the next chapter... think of it as a present in the form of term paper procrastination.

SPOILERS for this are from "Endgame" and "Frame"... if you haven't seen them, you might not want to read this, even though the references are just in passing.

I'm including the same deal as before: 10 reviews for chapter 3, and you get chapter 4.

I don't think this chapter is as climactic as others, but, well, you see for yourself.

~DMJ


Chapter 3: Session 2

"Last week we were discussing comradery in the workplace-"

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I'm done talking about that-"

Olivet raised her hands, "I know, I know. This week I would like to hear more about your family... social life outside of work."

"There isn't much to say about this either."

"Really? Because I get the impression that you have a complicated family situation. Tell me about your family." She put the ashtray between them again in an attempt to make Bobby feel more comfortable. Bobby realized that once again he was tapping his lips with his fingers.

He sighed and pulled out his cigarettes. "Growing up, it was mostly me, my brother, and my mother. My father left when I was young." He lit a cigarette once again.

"Do you hold any grudge against him for that?"

"Not really. I understand why he did it. Our family wasn't put together well. I was young when my mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia. It tore the family apart. He couldn't deal with it anymore, so he left us to deal with it."

"And you were okay with that?"

"Yeah, I suppose," Bobby replied, "I mean. I wasn't happy about it, but I understood. I was more upset with him for the man he was."

Olivet wrote in her pad. "What kind of man was he?"

"A womanizer. An alcoholic. A gambling addict. He spent all of our family money by the time I was seven. That's when my mother got sick. And she couldn't exactly work full time after that. So we were always scraping for food. My brother got a job as soon as he could... a paper route. That helped for a while, but you can't live off of that kind of 'income'."

"Of course not. Tell me more."

"There isn't much more to tell about him. I didn't know him long before he left. I remember him being angry a lot, but I mostly remember him not being there." He took a drag and blew out the smoke.

"You don't have any contact with him today?"

Bobby shook his head. "He died several years ago. I got a notice to clear out his apartment. It was the first time I had heard anything about him in thirty years. And the last."

Olivet nodded and wrote something down. "And your mother?"

"Classic schizophrenic."

"Is there such a thing?" The doctor raised her eyebrows inquisitively.

Bobby chuckled and took another drag. "I suppose not. My mother... she was very intelligent. She was a librarian at one point." He smiled to himself. "She's the reason why I love reading. But, when it happened... it was hard on everyone. We didn't know what to do. Like I said, Frank tried to take care of us the best a young boy could. The entire neighborhood knew about her. They knew she had lost it. And we had to keep going on. We had no other choice."

"Okay. Tell me about your relationship with her once you were an adult."

"I institutionalized her. I'm not proud of it, but it had to be done. She was erratic. She refused to stay on her medication. I never understood why, especially because she was well aware of the person she turned into when off the pills. And she would apologize for it in the same conversation that she refused meds!"

"That must have been frustrating."

Bobby scoffed. "To say the least." He took another drag and stubbed out the cigarette. Olivet was not surprised when he immediately lit another one. She took it as a sign that Bobby's family was a cause of tension, that once again, he was filled with anxiety.

"Do you or did you ever feel anger towards her?"

"It's pointless now."

Olivet furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"She died a few months ago and there is no point in being angry at a dead woman."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Bobby waved off the apology, leaving a trail of smoke.

Olive asked, "How did she die?"

"She had been battling cancer for a long time. Lymphoma. It finally took her." He continued, "Even when she was alive, I couldn't truly be angry at her. I wanted to be, but I always told myself that it was pointless. She was a good woman who got screwed in life. It wasn't her fault. I can't blame her."

"But that doesn't mean you can't be mad."

"Do you want me to say that I'm mad at her?" Bobby was getting defensive. He stood and took a drag.

Olivet was afraid that he would storm off again like last time. She too stood and calmly said, "No, I'm sorry. I just want you to know that a lot of people feel anger when a loved one dies. And a lot of times it's directed at the person who passed."

"I know that!" he spat back.

"Then why are you upset? Please tell me." They remained standing, facing each other.

"Because it's true! I was angry – am angry at her. I don't want to be. But I am constantly wondering what our family would have been like... what I would have been like if she didn't have the disease. Or... or... or if she would have just dealt with it like the doctors wanted her to!" He rubbed his face and went to stub out the smoke. With this he sat back down and relieved the doctor. She sat with him. He put his face in his hands and sat like that quietly.

After a couple minutes, Olivet spoke, "We don't have to talk about your mother any more. Why don't you tell me about your brother?"

"Ha," Bobby laughed.

Olivet smiled, "What?"

Bobby sat back in the couch and sighed. "Frank was the favorite. He was my mother's favorite until the day she died."

"Did that upset you?"

"It did, but not because of regular sibling rivalry." He shook his head. "Frank is a loser. He's worse than my father was. Take my father and multiply it ten fold. And then add drug addict to the list. That was Frank. He didn't even tell any of us that he had a son. He let our mother die without knowing that she was a grandmother. But still he was the favorite. Even on my mother's death bed she was raving about him. Meanwhile he was worried about if she had money saved up to pay off his habits once she died." He shook his head again. "He doesn't care about anyone but himself." Bobby stopped speaking and looked out to the window.

Another few minutes passed as Olivet allowed Bobby to concentrate on his thoughts. Finally Olivet asked him, "What are you thinking of?"

Bobby paused and looked at her. "The last time I saw him, I told him never to talk to me again. He had told me he was clean. That he was clean to try and help his son. But when I went to his place... he wasn't clean. He had a pipe out. I mean, I tried to help him whenever I could. Eames and I ran into him on the street one day. He was homeless and waiting at a church shelter for food. I gave him money and he probably spent it on drugs. He just... he doesn't care. That's Frank. The last thing I told him was that if I heard he was about to jump off a bridge, I'd just listen for the splash."

"Do you regret telling him that?"

"Sometimes. I think that I am an awful person for shutting out someone, a relative, who obviously needs help. I mean, he did this to himself. He was in college and had a scholarship, but he blew it away with his drugs and gambling. He was going to make a good life, but then he lost it all. And I could have helped him more. I still can. I just can't get over the fact that he was pretty much leaving his son to die." Bobby tapped his lips but resisted the urge to smoke.

Olivet just nodded and asked, "Do you have any other family members?"

"None. My mom, my dad, and my brother. That's all. Now I just have my brother and I shut him out."

"What about your nephew?"

"Donny? All I know about him is that he's a decent kid who got caught up in a bad crowd, and got punished for something he didn't do. I have no clue where he is. He ran off in the Tates incident. I believe he's bipolar, and now he's without his meds. He called Frank once, but no one knows what happened to him. And he escaped from prison, so at this point I'm not sure he should be found."

The doctor looked into Bobby's eyes and saw a forlorn soul. Bobby looked away.

Clearing her throat, Olivet said, "Tell me about your personal life in your free time. What do you do for fun?"

"I told you before, I'm a detective, and we rarely get personal lives."

"Have you ever been married?"

"No."

"Even been close to marriage?"

Bobby thought for a second and honestly replied, "No. I watched the world pass me by while I focused on catching bad guys."

"Do you ever regret that?"

He nodded. "Of course. I would love to have had a wife and kids. But it didn't happen. And it's a little late for me now."

Olivet paused. "So you don't date at all?"

"I used to. I haven't in a while."

"Why's that?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like with everything else, I guess I got caught up with work."

"That seems to be your go-to answer," she said as she wrote.

"Well, it's a convenient one, I suppose."

"Would you like to hear my thoughts on it?" she offered.

"Sure" Bobby replied as he rolled his eyes and looked away.

Olivet sat straighter and said, "I think you distance yourself from relationships because of your father. You saw what he did to your family, and you're afraid that you will do the same thing to whoever you fall in love with. You don't want to do that to an innocent person, so for you, it's just easier not to get involved at all. After all, you saw that your brother followed a similar path, and for you it is a guarantee that it will happen. Add on the family history of mental disorders, and you have an excuse to avoid relationships. I think this might apply in part to your work relationships too. You don't want to get close to anyone at work because if this fall happens to you, it is just another kind of ammunition for them to hold against you." When Bobby didn't respond Olivet asked, "What do you think?"

Bobby sat for a couple minutes, appearing as if he was considering this deeply. But really he was thinking of his true father, the man he had recently met. He knew he was nothing like the other man, the alcoholic gambler. But he didn't know how similar he was to his biological father... or to his mother, for that matter. Finally he said, "I think... time is up." And he was right.