**WARNING** Ok, so I feel that I need to put a warning up on this chapter. It is a DARK chapter with dark themes which may be triggers for some. I really don't want to give away too much. If I state the triggers here in the warning, it will ruin the climax of this chapter for others. If you are worried about these triggers PLEASE message me and ask me about them before you read the chapter. As always, thanks for reading and please review!!!
Chapter 6: Session 5
"Let's begin. Are you sober?" asked Olivet.
"Yes."
Olivet sighed. "Honestly I was shocked when you came in here after a few drinks." She stopped herself from using the term 'drunk'.
"Why's that?" Bobby had yet to look at her in this session.
"Because you are obsessed with being in control of every situation and you beat yourself up if you aren't. Alcohol does not allow complete control."
The detective finally looked at her with a powerful gaze, yet said nothing.
Olivet continued, "Are you happy?"
"No."
Olivet looked up from her pad of paper, surprised. "You answered that rather quickly."
Bobby paused before responding, "I guess I've known the answer to that question for a long time." The ashtray was already in place and he lit a cigarette.
"If not happiness, what emotions do you feel?"
This wasn't what Bobby wanted to talk about. He didn't want to talk at all anymore. And he really didn't want to be there that day. But he knew he had to be or he would never start working again. He knew it was just a matter of time before his mind erupted. And he was afraid, not for himself, but for whoever was in the lava's path. With his lips squeezed tight, Bobby searched his brain, trying to answer the doctor's question.
After a moment of silence, Olivet offered the reflection, "You don't know the emotions you feel?"
He was uncertain how to answer these questions. He didn't like being the one interrogated. Granted this wasn't an interrogation, but for some reason this session sure felt like one. Something felt different today. Bobby finally responded, "On my bad days I feel … I hate myself. I disgust myself. I try not to think about myself on those days."
The doctor wrote something on her pad. "And on your good days?"
"I feel… numb? I don't know how to describe it. On my good days I feel empty, I suppose. I can manage on those days because I don't have any kind of personal hate to dwell on." He blew out smoke.
Again there was writing. "So it's not just that you're not happy at this time. It's that you're not happy in life. Do you feel happiness even in small doses, like when something good happens?"
This was uncomfortable. He knew that she would know if he was lying, she always did. And lying would be worse for him than telling the awful truth. "I used to. I don't know when I last did. It's been awhile. I mean, I can smile, but generally to intimidate a suspect or because people expect a smile in certain situations. And I can see other peoples' happiness. I just don't get joy in life like I used to."
"Did you ever think that maybe there was a problem with that?"
Bobby tried to think hard. He wanted to remember the last time he was happy, and he wanted it to be recently, even if it was for some minute, insignificant thing. Even if it was just so that they could get past these questions. But he couldn't. "My brain hasn't been working like it used to. I don't connect ideas the same way anymore. I guess that's probably part of the reason why I am here… why I am required to be here." He looked away, ashamed to be seen in this vulnerable state. "I guess if I didn't loathe myself, I didn't really think about myself at all." He took a final drag and stubbed out the cigarette.
"And at the times when you did, or do, loathe yourself? Tell me what exactly goes through your head. Even though you say your mind isn't the same, knowing your reputation with the force, and getting to know you, I don't believe you are capable of shutting out all your thoughts."
Putting his face in his hands, Bobby held back the urge to walk out of the office. Instead he lit another cigarette. I am worthless, he thought, and he said, "I'm a burden to everyone around me. And everyone I get close to dies."
"Do you often think about death?"
"That's not what I said."
"I know. But do you? Think about death often?"
Bobby scoffed and looked up. "It's hard not to in my line of work." Another drag. Another exhale.
"I suppose that's true to an extent. But how about your own death? Do you think about that?"
Bobby looked away, as if trying to piece together the correct words. He shook his head to himself, knowing exactly what this was. "You're asking if I'm suicidal."
"More or less, yes. And your thoughts on your life and death."
Bobby sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "I often wish that I wasn't alive." He shook his head again and crossed his arms over his chest, kicking himself for saying it like that.
The doctor shifted in her seat. She was not prepared to hear that. She put the pad and pen down and folded her hands in her lap. "You understand that what you're saying is a serious matter and that there are steps I am required to take if this is true-"
"I know what I'm saying, and so do you."
"Do you want to live?"
Bobby sighed, "You're asking me if I want to die... if I plan on killing myself."
"Yes. Are you suicidal?" She watched him closely.
"There is a difference between being suicidal and wishing that I wasn't alive. I have thoughts about death. I wonder what would happen if I died... what would happen to the people in my life."
"You mean your partner, Eames."
"I suppose, yes. I think about it. I think about everything that goes with thinking about it." He shifted in his seat.
"Bobby, you're tiptoeing around this situation that you've put me in-"
Sighing again, Bobby continued, "I'm not suicidal. But if I suddenly got sick or got shot in pursuit and was dying, I can't promise that I'd be upset." He stubbed out his unfinished smoke.
Furrowing her brow, Olivet said, "I don't quite understand."
"I'm sure you do, but you want to make certain that I understand too. I am not going to take action and cause my own death. But if I died... I'm not certain it would be entirely bad."
"But you want to die?"
"Most days, yes."
"I'll ask again. Do you ever want to live?"
He rubbed his neck. "I... I don't know anymore."
Olivet picked up her pen and began writing again. "How long have you felt like this?"
Looking to the ceiling, Bobby honestly tried to recall. "I can't remember when I didn't... I guess I just hid it better back then."
"Do these thoughts ever get sparked from your drinking?"
He nodded. "That's when they're strongest."
"Does anyone else know about this? Eames? Ross? Anyone?"
Bobby shook his head. "I... I never talk about this with anyone. But I am sure they know. I mean, I'm here, and not by choice."
"Yes, but that was primarily because of your investigation at Tates. Not because they suddenly realized you pray for death."
"True, but with my recent actions I'm sure they wonder." Bobby stared at the floor.
"I need you to be completely honest with me when I ask you the next few questions."
He only nodded and raised his eyes to hers.
She continued, "Have you ever attempted suicide?"
"No."
"You said that you aren't suicidal, but have you ever felt like you might commit suicide?"
"There have been times."
"Recently?" She needed to know this and she needed to know it now.
"A few years ago."
"And since then?"
Bobby paused. He didn't want to tell her the truth. He didn't want anyone to know about his personal problems. But yet he answered, "I've thought about it... often."
She looked him straight in the eyes. "Did you ever devise a plan on how you could commit suicide?"
He nodded and looked away.
Olivet slowly nodded, considering how far she could press at this given time. "Can you tell me about it? What was your plan?"
He rubbed his hand over his lips, as if wondering whether or not to indulge her curiosities. He could still get out of this. Yet he thought better of it. "The cop special."
"Death by firearm," Olivet said, as if she had heard it a thousand times before. Then again, maybe she had. Just as she was about to ask more, Bobby continued.
"And by subway.... and overdose... hanging... razor blades... or maybe by taking the hero's way out and forcing a perp to shoot me." He looked away.
Olivet was stunned, but she didn't let it show. Of all that she had heard about this man and from this man, she didn't think she would have to deal with such a serious matter. "Do you ever think of these plans and consider them again?"
Bobby whispered, "I'm not suicidal, I swear." He knew how ridiculous this sounded after all he had said.
"Really? Because your answers suggest that you are."
"I'm NOT!" He screamed, looking directly at her and wishing he was in control of the situation.... suddenly wishing he could start over. He tried to calm down as he listened to the doctor.
For an instant the doctor was afraid that this large detective might get violent, but still she repeated, "Do you ever think of these plans and consider them again?"
Bobby paused, watching, staring at her intently. Finally he just nodded.
"You and I both know that you could have lied about all of this." Her voice shook ever so slightly. "You are a brilliant profiler and you could have manipulated me so that you'd get your badge back. Why didn't you? There has to be a reason."
He looked away again and choked back a sob. "I don't want to die. But I don't know how to prevent it anymore."
Olivet leaned down and strained her neck to get a glimpse of Bobby's face. "I can't ignore this, Bobby."
"I know."
Still peering, "And if we don't deal with this, it could cost you your shield. But more importantly, I feel it could cost you your life."
"I know."
She sighed. "I wanted to clear you soon, but because of this, I can't. Not yet, anyway. Bobby, it's been six weeks, and I have to talk to the department after this session. Legally I can't tell your superiors the extent of our conversations." She paused, "But I am going to recommend a six month suspension with continued therapy. Do you understand?"
He nodded.
She softened her voice. "You'll get through this, Bobby."
He looked up with tears in his eyes. "I know."
I have decided to continue this story with one more chapter as an epilogue. Yay!
