Chapter 87: The Waiting Game Continues
"You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes." – Pooh's Little Instruction Book, inspired by A. A. Milne
"The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it." – Unknown
"Teach us, O Lord, the disciplines of patience, for to wait is often harder than to work." – Peter Marshall
"Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So. . . get on your way." – Dr. Seuss
Sydney entered the house and went into the bedroom. She watched Vaughn sleep for a few minutes, then sat down on the bed and gently shook his chest.
"Vaughn…you have to get up sweetie."
He yawned, but woke up rather quickly.
She smiled at him as he looked over at her.
"Nice nap?" she asked.
"Yeah…it was nice…lonely though."
"Well, I had to spend some time with the other boy in the house…I think he feels neglected."
Vaughn laughed, "With all the crap I'm sure Will is feeding him, I don't think Donovan could ever be considered neglected. Pretty soon, he's gonna think Will is his owner."
"No, I think he's very attached…"
Vaughn smiled.
"I hate to change the subject, but we need to give you a shave…" she added, "You hungry?"
"Yeah…I should eat a little something…"
"Ok, I'll go grab something, then we'll shave."
"Ok."
Sydney hurried off to the kitchen, grabbing a sandwich and Vaughn's pills and taking them back into the bedroom.
While he ate, she moved the shaving stuff into the room and opened the curtains that she hadn't opened yet because Vaughn had been napping.
Once he was finished, she cleared the plate and then moved over with a towel, to cover up his new shirt.
He smiled as she lathered his face with the shaving cream.
"You wanna do it?" she asked holding out the razor to him.
"Nah, you do it today," he said.
She smiled, and set to work, gently shaving the stubble off of him.
Vaughn tried to keep his face still, but he was forced to smile every time he looked over at Sydney.
She was concentrating very hard on doing a good job and not cutting his face off. He loved watching her; she'd bite her lower lip every time she made a down stroke with the razor. And when she'd reach a part on his chin where she had to round a corner, her tongue would just peek out of the corner of her mouth.
He was grinning like a fool and chuckling to himself by the time she was done.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing…"
"What!" she asked again.
"Nothing! You just look really cute when you're concentrating so hard."
"Oh," she said, leaning down to kiss him.
She surveyed her work, running her hand over his newly shaved face, "Nice," she said.
She took some aftershave in her hands and patted his cheeks and neck with that too. Then she leaned her head down to his neck and nipped at it, "Mmm…you smell good."
"Oh God, Syd…" he breathed, "Seriously…if you keep that up, Barnett is gonna totally walk in on us…"
She chuckled against his neck, which didn't relieve any of the tension that was building beneath his waist.
She backed off and removed all the shaving articles, rinsing out the bowl of water that they had used and put away the razor and shaving cream.
She returned and sat down next to Vaughn, "So, what do you want to do for the next," she looked at the clock, "35 minutes?"
"Do you really want me to answer that…"
"I think I can figure that out…but we can't right now…so what ELSE do you wanna do?"
"Uh…" he said shifting uncomfortably on the bed, "I don't know."
Sydney didn't miss much, even less when it came to Vaughn, "You ok? Does it hurt a lot?"
He smiled, "Yeah, it hurts…it's really warm…it feels warm…"
"Hmm…" Sydney said thinking, "I've got an idea," she said getting off the bed and walking out of the room. She returned a few seconds later with something in a washcloth.
"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the thing in her hands.
"An ice pack…" she explained, lifting him up, "Tom said cold compresses make it feel better sometimes, plus if it's hot, then the cold should make it feel better…let's try it ok?"
"Ok," he agreed.
She positioned it so it would be trapped between him and the pillow.
"Ok…lay back," she said, helping him ease back on it.
He winced slightly at the pressure, but he seemed to relax then.
She looked at him expectantly.
"It feels good," he assured her.
"Good, we'll just watch it…make sure it doesn't get too cold…if it starts to go numb from freezing or anything, you tell me…" she paused, "and we have to check that wound more today, make sure the bleeding isn't getting worse or anything."
"Ok," he said.
"So…" she started, sitting again, "Now what'cha wanna do?"
"I don't know…you shot down my first idea."
"Well, yeah…let me think…you wanna watch part of a movie until she gets here? Just chill?"
"Sure…" he said.
She picked out the movie and came back to sit on the bed with him. She risked a few glances at him, and noticed that he really didn't seem to be watching.
"You ok?" she asked concerned.
He smiled, "Just thinking…"
"About?"
He was silent, and then turned towards her, "I'm gonna have to bring it all back today…"
She didn't know what to say, "I know…" she grabbed his hand, "Do you want to talk about something before she gets here?"
"Nah…let's just watch…maybe I can stop thinking then for a while…"
She looked at him unsurely, but went back to watching the movie.
Dr. Barnett looked at the clock; it was a little after one o'clock. She'd have to leave for Sydney's house in a short while. She grabbed her Rolodex and reached for the phone.
The other party answered, "Naval Hospital ER, how may I direct your call?"
"May I speak with Dr. Barker please?"
"One moment," the receptionist said, and music began to play.
Barnett had to wait only a few seconds, and then heard, "This is Dr. Barker…"
"Hello Dr. Barker, my name is Dr. Judy Barnett…I understand that Michael Vaughn is a patient of yours?"
There was a pause, "Yes, he's a patient…what is this regarding?"
"I'm with the CIA Dr. Barker, I'm the chief psychologist at the Operations Center where both Michael and Sydney Bristow work. I've seen both of them on previous occasions, if you were wondering."
"Oh…ok…what can I do for you?"
"I have a few questions."
"Well, I'm bound by confidentiality, you understand I'm sure."
"Dr. Barker, I need information so I can perform Michael's therapy effectively. I'm sure you understand."
"I'm sorry, I get a little defensive…"
"That seems to be a common thing with Mr. Vaughn…Sydney's quite protective as well…"
"Well, Mike's a patient, but he's my friend too…so…I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize…could you answer a few questions for me?"
"Sure."
"Michael sustained many injuries as a result of his torture…how would you say those are progressing?"
"As well as can be expected. They were extensive injuries, and he had many internal ones as well…I make stops over at the house to check up on him and he always seems to be making progress."
He paused and then continued, "He's started an exercise regimen and Sydney tells me that he's been breathing better…the next full check up will be next week."
"I see…so his physical injuries are healing well…"
"Yes."
"Will he have scars?"
"Of course…"
"May I ask where?"
"Well…I mean, some will go away…and all of them will lessen in time, but right now…well…the surgical incisions that were made will heal the fastest because they aren't really wounds per say…bruises heal…and the cuts and scrapes are obviously already showing signs of diminishment."
"So the areas there will be scarring on will be?"
"Well, his back…and there might be a few deeper cuts on his face that will take more time to heal, but those should diminish as well…I guess his back is going to be the main area where they'll be evidence of permanent scarring. Of course, he always has the option of plastic surgery to take them off later…"
"I see…"
"Can I ask why you're asking me this?"
"Well…physical marks are often difficult for victims to recover from. Women who have been attacked – many of them never fully recover because they carry permanent scars from their ordeals that act as constant reminders."
"You think Mike is going to be permanently scarred because of scars on his back?"
"It's possible…I just want to know what I'm dealing with…I'm not saying that Michael will live the rest of his whole life never recovering, I don't think that's an issue with him, but it something I need to know. I doubt he's really had time to think about all of that yet…I'm not sure of his processing rate."
"His processing rate? What is there to process? Some ass tortured him…what more is there?"
"Much much more Dr. Barker…he's far from the finish line. Even after his physical wounds are all healed, this won't be over for him."
"I'm fully aware of that…but still…let's try to give him a break here...does he really have to process everything…does he need to know why someone would do this, why they would make his life hell?"
Barnett was silent, for she knew about Sloane…and motivation…but she couldn't tell Tom that, "I think it's important to know why Dr. Barker."
She stopped thinking, "How would you describe Michael's emotional state when you're there? I understand there was some sort of a set back earlier this week…"
Tom was dumbfounded, "How did you…"
"I ran into Sydney earlier this week…"
"Oh…well…yeah…there was some miscommunication in the house and Mike thought they were sending him back to the hospital. It was a very rough morning…and he sort of…well, he broke down when he saw me…but after we cleared everything up, he was fine…he's ok with me there and stuff now…"
"Ok…was that the only time you found him to be in a non-lucid state?"
"I didn't say he was non-lucid…in fact, I'd say he was hyper-lucid…he's always been lucid when I'm there…he doesn't have like flashbacks or anything."
"What about the nightmares?"
"That's an entirely different subject – he's in a sleep state…no one is lucid in sleep state unless you're lucid dreaming, and that's certainly not what he's doing…"
"What about when he wakes up? Is he lucid then?"
"I believe so…are you suggesting that Mike is suffering from post-traumatic stress?"
"It a very good possibility…I shall see when I see him in a short while."
"You're doing therapy today?"
"Yes."
"Listen, this is completely going to diminish my authority as his doctor, but as his friend, I want to say…please be careful with him…and keep me posted, ok?"
"I will do that…thank for you for answering my questions."
"Of course…"
Dr. Barnett put the receiver in the cradle and mused silently for a moment. Then she grabbed her jacked off the back of her desk chair and got up, turning out her office lights and shutting the door. She passed the receptionist on her way out saying, "I have an appointment, I'll be back later…not sure what time."
She walked to the elevator and got in, pressing the button for the parking garage.
It was time to see Michael Vaughn.
Chapter 87: The Waiting Game Continues
"You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes." – Pooh's Little Instruction Book, inspired by A. A. Milne
"The tragedy of life is not that it ends so soon, but that we wait so long to begin it." – Unknown
"Teach us, O Lord, the disciplines of patience, for to wait is often harder than to work." – Peter Marshall
"Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So. . . get on your way." – Dr. Seuss
Sydney entered the house and went into the bedroom. She watched Vaughn sleep for a few minutes, then sat down on the bed and gently shook his chest.
"Vaughn…you have to get up sweetie."
He yawned, but woke up rather quickly.
She smiled at him as he looked over at her.
"Nice nap?" she asked.
"Yeah…it was nice…lonely though."
"Well, I had to spend some time with the other boy in the house…I think he feels neglected."
Vaughn laughed, "With all the crap I'm sure Will is feeding him, I don't think Donovan could ever be considered neglected. Pretty soon, he's gonna think Will is his owner."
"No, I think he's very attached…"
Vaughn smiled.
"I hate to change the subject, but we need to give you a shave…" she added, "You hungry?"
"Yeah…I should eat a little something…"
"Ok, I'll go grab something, then we'll shave."
"Ok."
Sydney hurried off to the kitchen, grabbing a sandwich and Vaughn's pills and taking them back into the bedroom.
While he ate, she moved the shaving stuff into the room and opened the curtains that she hadn't opened yet because Vaughn had been napping.
Once he was finished, she cleared the plate and then moved over with a towel, to cover up his new shirt.
He smiled as she lathered his face with the shaving cream.
"You wanna do it?" she asked holding out the razor to him.
"Nah, you do it today," he said.
She smiled, and set to work, gently shaving the stubble off of him.
Vaughn tried to keep his face still, but he was forced to smile every time he looked over at Sydney.
She was concentrating very hard on doing a good job and not cutting his face off. He loved watching her; she'd bite her lower lip every time she made a down stroke with the razor. And when she'd reach a part on his chin where she had to round a corner, her tongue would just peek out of the corner of her mouth.
He was grinning like a fool and chuckling to himself by the time she was done.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing…"
"What!" she asked again.
"Nothing! You just look really cute when you're concentrating so hard."
"Oh," she said, leaning down to kiss him.
She surveyed her work, running her hand over his newly shaved face, "Nice," she said.
She took some aftershave in her hands and patted his cheeks and neck with that too. Then she leaned her head down to his neck and nipped at it, "Mmm…you smell good."
"Oh God, Syd…" he breathed, "Seriously…if you keep that up, Barnett is gonna totally walk in on us…"
She chuckled against his neck, which didn't relieve any of the tension that was building beneath his waist.
She backed off and removed all the shaving articles, rinsing out the bowl of water that they had used and put away the razor and shaving cream.
She returned and sat down next to Vaughn, "So, what do you want to do for the next," she looked at the clock, "35 minutes?"
"Do you really want me to answer that…"
"I think I can figure that out…but we can't right now…so what ELSE do you wanna do?"
"Uh…" he said shifting uncomfortably on the bed, "I don't know."
Sydney didn't miss much, even less when it came to Vaughn, "You ok? Does it hurt a lot?"
He smiled, "Yeah, it hurts…it's really warm…it feels warm…"
"Hmm…" Sydney said thinking, "I've got an idea," she said getting off the bed and walking out of the room. She returned a few seconds later with something in a washcloth.
"What's that?" he asked, eyeing the thing in her hands.
"An ice pack…" she explained, lifting him up, "Tom said cold compresses make it feel better sometimes, plus if it's hot, then the cold should make it feel better…let's try it ok?"
"Ok," he agreed.
She positioned it so it would be trapped between him and the pillow.
"Ok…lay back," she said, helping him ease back on it.
He winced slightly at the pressure, but he seemed to relax then.
She looked at him expectantly.
"It feels good," he assured her.
"Good, we'll just watch it…make sure it doesn't get too cold…if it starts to go numb from freezing or anything, you tell me…" she paused, "and we have to check that wound more today, make sure the bleeding isn't getting worse or anything."
"Ok," he said.
"So…" she started, sitting again, "Now what'cha wanna do?"
"I don't know…you shot down my first idea."
"Well, yeah…let me think…you wanna watch part of a movie until she gets here? Just chill?"
"Sure…" he said.
She picked out the movie and came back to sit on the bed with him. She risked a few glances at him, and noticed that he really didn't seem to be watching.
"You ok?" she asked concerned.
He smiled, "Just thinking…"
"About?"
He was silent, and then turned towards her, "I'm gonna have to bring it all back today…"
She didn't know what to say, "I know…" she grabbed his hand, "Do you want to talk about something before she gets here?"
"Nah…let's just watch…maybe I can stop thinking then for a while…"
She looked at him unsurely, but went back to watching the movie.
Dr. Barnett looked at the clock; it was a little after one o'clock. She'd have to leave for Sydney's house in a short while. She grabbed her Rolodex and reached for the phone.
The other party answered, "Naval Hospital ER, how may I direct your call?"
"May I speak with Dr. Barker please?"
"One moment," the receptionist said, and music began to play.
Barnett had to wait only a few seconds, and then heard, "This is Dr. Barker…"
"Hello Dr. Barker, my name is Dr. Judy Barnett…I understand that Michael Vaughn is a patient of yours?"
There was a pause, "Yes, he's a patient…what is this regarding?"
"I'm with the CIA Dr. Barker, I'm the chief psychologist at the Operations Center where both Michael and Sydney Bristow work. I've seen both of them on previous occasions, if you were wondering."
"Oh…ok…what can I do for you?"
"I have a few questions."
"Well, I'm bound by confidentiality, you understand I'm sure."
"Dr. Barker, I need information so I can perform Michael's therapy effectively. I'm sure you understand."
"I'm sorry, I get a little defensive…"
"That seems to be a common thing with Mr. Vaughn…Sydney's quite protective as well…"
"Well, Mike's a patient, but he's my friend too…so…I'm sorry."
"No need to apologize…could you answer a few questions for me?"
"Sure."
"Michael sustained many injuries as a result of his torture…how would you say those are progressing?"
"As well as can be expected. They were extensive injuries, and he had many internal ones as well…I make stops over at the house to check up on him and he always seems to be making progress."
He paused and then continued, "He's started an exercise regimen and Sydney tells me that he's been breathing better…the next full check up will be next week."
"I see…so his physical injuries are healing well…"
"Yes."
"Will he have scars?"
"Of course…"
"May I ask where?"
"Well…I mean, some will go away…and all of them will lessen in time, but right now…well…the surgical incisions that were made will heal the fastest because they aren't really wounds per say…bruises heal…and the cuts and scrapes are obviously already showing signs of diminishment."
"So the areas there will be scarring on will be?"
"Well, his back…and there might be a few deeper cuts on his face that will take more time to heal, but those should diminish as well…I guess his back is going to be the main area where they'll be evidence of permanent scarring. Of course, he always has the option of plastic surgery to take them off later…"
"I see…"
"Can I ask why you're asking me this?"
"Well…physical marks are often difficult for victims to recover from. Women who have been attacked – many of them never fully recover because they carry permanent scars from their ordeals that act as constant reminders."
"You think Mike is going to be permanently scarred because of scars on his back?"
"It's possible…I just want to know what I'm dealing with…I'm not saying that Michael will live the rest of his whole life never recovering, I don't think that's an issue with him, but it something I need to know. I doubt he's really had time to think about all of that yet…I'm not sure of his processing rate."
"His processing rate? What is there to process? Some ass tortured him…what more is there?"
"Much much more Dr. Barker…he's far from the finish line. Even after his physical wounds are all healed, this won't be over for him."
"I'm fully aware of that…but still…let's try to give him a break here...does he really have to process everything…does he need to know why someone would do this, why they would make his life hell?"
Barnett was silent, for she knew about Sloane…and motivation…but she couldn't tell Tom that, "I think it's important to know why Dr. Barker."
She stopped thinking, "How would you describe Michael's emotional state when you're there? I understand there was some sort of a set back earlier this week…"
Tom was dumbfounded, "How did you…"
"I ran into Sydney earlier this week…"
"Oh…well…yeah…there was some miscommunication in the house and Mike thought they were sending him back to the hospital. It was a very rough morning…and he sort of…well, he broke down when he saw me…but after we cleared everything up, he was fine…he's ok with me there and stuff now…"
"Ok…was that the only time you found him to be in a non-lucid state?"
"I didn't say he was non-lucid…in fact, I'd say he was hyper-lucid…he's always been lucid when I'm there…he doesn't have like flashbacks or anything."
"What about the nightmares?"
"That's an entirely different subject – he's in a sleep state…no one is lucid in sleep state unless you're lucid dreaming, and that's certainly not what he's doing…"
"What about when he wakes up? Is he lucid then?"
"I believe so…are you suggesting that Mike is suffering from post-traumatic stress?"
"It a very good possibility…I shall see when I see him in a short while."
"You're doing therapy today?"
"Yes."
"Listen, this is completely going to diminish my authority as his doctor, but as his friend, I want to say…please be careful with him…and keep me posted, ok?"
"I will do that…thank for you for answering my questions."
"Of course…"
Dr. Barnett put the receiver in the cradle and mused silently for a moment. Then she grabbed her jacked off the back of her desk chair and got up, turning out her office lights and shutting the door. She passed the receptionist on her way out saying, "I have an appointment, I'll be back later…not sure what time."
She walked to the elevator and got in, pressing the button for the parking garage.
It was time to see Michael Vaughn.
