Chapter 88: Knocking
"Give me an ear and I will give you a voice." – Kahlil Gibran
"Every dragon gives birth to a St. George who slays it." – Kahlil Gibran
"Take the time to make some sense / Of what you want to say
And cast your words away upon the waves
Bring them back with acquiesce / On a ship of hope today
And as they land upon the shore / Tell them not to fear no more
Say it loud and sing it proud / And they
Will dance if they want to dance / Please brother take a chance
You know they're gonna go / Which way they wanna go
All we know is that we don't know / What is gonna be
Please brother let it be / Life on the other hand won't let you understand
We're all part of the masterplan
I'm not saying right is wrong / It's up to us to make
The best of all things that come our way
Everything that's been has past / The answer's in the looking glass
There's four and twenty million doors / Down life's endless corridor
Say it loud and sing it proud / And they
Will dance if they want to dance / Please brother take a chance
You know they're gonna go / Which way they wanna go
All we know is that we don't know / What is gonna be
Please brother let it be / Life on the other hand won't let you understand
We're all part of the masterplan" – "The Masterplan" - Oasis
Sydney and Vaughn were sitting on the bed, supposedly watching the movie, but neither was being attentive.
Sydney kept glancing at Vaughn, trying to read his face, but she was having difficulty because she was looking without turning her head – she didn't want him to be insecure.
For his part, Vaughn seemed calm…but that was only on the outside. On the inside he was a terrified ball of knots. He kept glancing at the clock, the minute hand a death sentence, the second hand mocking him, as it seemed to speed time itself. He tried to keep his grip on Sydney's hand light so she wouldn't notice his apprehension, but he figured she probably already knew.
Sydney was about to ask him if she could get him anything at the last minute when the doorbell sounded.
His grip that had been light turned instantly to a vice grip. Sydney turned her head towards him and she could see the fear written all over his face. He seemed to pale when the doorbell chimed.
"Vaughn…I have to get the door," she said quietly. He nodded and let go of her hand.
She rose, but looked at him. His eyes followed her on her way out of the room. She smiled at him, trying to ease his anxiety. "It'll be ok Vaughn," she said as she moved to the doorway.
He managed a weak smile for her, but she knew that it didn't matter what she said.
She turned and walked to the door. She opened it and there stood Dr. Barnett.
She smiled at Sydney, "Hello Sydney…"
"Hi," Sydney said meekly, moving out of the way to let her in, "I see you found the place ok," unfortunately, she thought to herself.
"Yes, I did," she said looking around the living room, "This is a lovely home you have."
"Thank you," Sydney replied, sticking her hands in her pockets. She really had no idea what else to say, she didn't want to chit-chat with the woman while leaving Vaughn to fear the worst in the bedroom, "Vaughn is in here…" she said, moving her arm to indicate that Barnett should follow her.
She nodded and followed Sydney into the bedroom.
Sydney rounded the corner and turned off the television.
Barnett came into the room and stood in front of Vaughn.
He looked up at her, glancing at Sydney for support. She smiled, but he didn't look any more relaxed.
"May I sit down?" Barnett asked.
Vaughn nodded, and she sat down in the chair next to the bed. She couldn't look at Vaughn's eyes from her chair, but she could see his profile and if he were to turn his head, he could look at her.
Vaughn stared straight ahead at Sydney.
Barnett got out a clipboard and a pen from the case she brought with her and made a few notes before they even started.
Sydney could feel the tension in the room mount; it was coming off of Vaughn in waves, "Dr. Barnett?"
"Yes Sydney?"
"Is it ok if I stay for this one?"
Barnett looked over at her, "I let you stay in the room at the hospital because, frankly, I knew you wouldn't leave and he wouldn't let you…and I'll agree again to let you stay for at least part of today, but that is highly irregular and it won't happen all the time. As long as we understand each other in that respect, then you can stay."
Sydney looked at Vaughn, who seemed relieved, "That sounds like a plan," Sydney said.
Vaughn turned to look at Barnett and asked quietly, "Can Sydney sit with me?"
Barnett looked up at him and smiled warmly, "Of course."
Vaughn looked over expectantly at Sydney and she smiled, moving over to the bed to sit down next to him. Once she was in close range, he reached out his hand and took hers. She smiled reassuringly as she sat close to him, so their bodies were touching. He smiled back, looking slightly less pale and more comfortable.
"Ok," Barnett started, "First, I should ask…what would you like me to call you?"
"Excuse me?" Vaughn said looking at her.
She moved her chair so she could see him straightly and then responded, "Well…Sydney seems very fond of calling you Vaughn, others call you Agent Vaughn, still others call you Mike, and I've yet to meet anyone who calls you Michael…so which would you prefer?"
He chuckled, "I think my mother is the only who calls me Michael…actually," he said backpedaling, "Well…Francie does…and I guess people do call me that…Honestly, my mother doesn't really call me that either…she calls me Michel…so…" he looked at her smiling at his stream of consciousness, "Michael's fine."
"Ok…Michael it is…" Barnett went back to her notes and then started, "Ok…let's get started."
Vaughn looked away, the smile fading.
"I'll start by telling you some general information…" she waited until he looked at her again, "First of all…I'm not here to make you uncomfortable…I know you may feel that way now, but I'm here to help. I'm not interested in removing you from this house, I would just like to help you work through this…" she paused and then continued, "I want you to trust me…that is key in a patient/client relationship…if there is no trust, there is no relationship. This first meeting is not meant for you to spill everything about your experience…I'm simply here to start out…just to get a feel for you and you for me…"
She stopped again and then continued, "You should feel like you can tell me anything, and I know that's difficult for most people, and certainly right now…but with time, I hope you'll be comfortable enough to reveal things to me. You're role is to say whatever is on your mind…there is nothing that you say that is wrong…I'm not here to judge you or to tell you something you think or feel is incorrect. My role is to analyze what's going on in your head and to help clear things up – I may refine your ideas or tell you why something is not healthy for you to believe, but I'll never judge what you say…Insight is what I do…" she paused again, letting him process that.
Then she added, "You don't have to talk about your past if you don't want to. If you do, that's fine, but your situation right now is not correlated to the incident, so if you're not comfortable talking about that, it's ok."
"I'm not going to tell you that this will be easy and you'll be better in a few weeks. This is something long term; it will have effects for a long time. Sometimes, what we talk about is going to be painful, and I'm going to ask you to recount things that you might not want to, but it's all part of the process…we'll go through processes that will aide you in your healing process…and then in the end, you'll be a survivor…not a victim."
"I don't think of myself as a victim," Vaughn said defensively.
Barnett smiled, "What do you think of yourself as then?"
Vaughn was silent, and then shrugged his shoulders, "I don't like that term at all."
"Ok…we won't use it then…many people feel victimized, that's the only reason we use that term…once they've surpassed the need to feel the victim, then they are considered a survivor of the traumatic event…do you prefer that term?"
"Why do I have to be a term?"
Barnett smiled again, "Ok, we'll just stick with Michael."
"I'd like that a lot better…"
"Ok…I'm going to ask you some questions…just general, nothing specific, ok?"
Vaughn nodded wearily.
"How would you describe your physical health at the moment?"
Vaughn turned to look at her, "What exactly would you like me to say?"
"Something honest."
Vaughn thought a moment, "I don't know…I'd say average, but I think that's shooting too high…I have good days and I have bad days…it hurts usually…a lot…"
"What about your mental health?"
Vaughn just looked at her pointedly.
Barnett reloaded, "Ok…are you lucid most of the day."
"Yes."
"Do you have moments where you feel detached?"
"Sure."
Barnett made a note, "Do you spend large amounts of time thinking about your experience?"
"I try not to."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to think about what they did to me…" he said sighing.
"Because it's too painful?"
"Yeah…that's one reason…"
"What are the other reasons?"
Vaughn was silent.
"Michael?"
He looked over at her, mind racing, but he didn't elaborate.
"Reasons like why they did it?"
"I know why, I don't need to find out why…"
"Why did they?"
"Because they're sadistic assholes…and they wanted to hurt me…and Sydney."
"Why?"
"Because Sloane was pissed because his wife died…"
She dropped that for the moment, "Can you tell me about your nightmares?"
"They suck."
"Could you be more specific?"
"They really suck."
She smiled, "Are they too painful to recount as well?"
"They aren't happy…and it just makes me remember more…"
"Do you have nightmares about what they did to you or do you create other things they could have done to you?"
"Usually just what they did to me…"
"Does that make you lose touch with reality?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you wake up thinking that you're still there?"
"Sometimes."
"How do you reorient yourself?"
"Sydney pulls me out…"
Barnett let that one drop too, "Why don't you tell me how the torture made you feel…during and subsequently."
Vaughn was silent.
"Michael?" she prodded.
"It made me feel like shit…"
"Anything else?"
"What else I am supposed to say?"
"Whatever you feel…"
"I feel like telling you to get the hell out of here is what I feel…"
Sydney who had been silent, said, "Vaughn…"
Barnett stopped her, "No…it's ok…I'm going to tell you what I think ok?"
Vaughn nodded, "I'm sorry…"
"Don't apologize – this is what I think…I don't believe that you've come to terms with this, even though you might think you have. I think there's far too much to discover yet…you've displayed several psychological defense mechanisms while I've been talking with you because you don't want to reveal anything painful about your experience. Now I understand why you don't want to…and I empathize with you."
She paused again, "I believe you're suffering from Post Traumatic Stress. Do you know what that is?"
Sydney looked to Vaughn, and he nodded.
"There's a whole program that psychologists have set up to help patients suffering from this, and I'd like to use that to help you. I said before – it's not going to be easy, and you're going to think and talk about things that are not pleasant for you…" She paused, "Will you agree to that?"
Vaughn looked at Barnett, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Why can't Sydney do this? She does everything already…I'm sure most of your program, she's already done…"
"I think Sydney has done a wonderful job, and I doubt that you'd be this far without her…but she's not a trained professional. I know that she's safe for you…I know that it's easier for you to talk with her…and that's wonderful, but unfortunately, Sydney is not a psychologist. And I won't allow someone, no matter how capable they are to take your complete psychological care into their hands. I think Sydney's juggling enough things right now…wouldn't you agree?"
He nodded resignedly.
"Will you let me help you with the program?"
He nodded again.
"Good…I'm glad to hear that…"
She took out her planner from her case, "I'd like to start meeting with you regularly. I'm sorry to say that in the beginning, once a week does not work well for therapy. Because of your physical injuries, I'd be willing to lessen the sessions somewhat, but therapy should be regular. I'm thinking Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays…same time…for about an hour…maybe more if needed…"
Vaughn dropped his head back on the pillow, "Three days a week?"
"At least you have the weekends off," Barnett said and Vaughn actually smiled.
"Do I really have a choice?"
"You always have a choice Michael."
"No therapy, no work, correct?"
"That's correct…"
"Then I really don't have a choice…"
"Not unless you wanted to find another line of work…but you'd be no healthier there without therapy."
Sydney didn't say anything; this had to be Vaughn's decision. He looked over at her and she smiled, supporting whatever he decided, but not swaying in any direction.
"Ok," he said quietly.
"Good…I'll see you Monday at 2:00 then…"
Barnett got up and gathered her things, and Sydney walked her out.
Barnett turned before she walked out the door, "I meant what I said Sydney…you've done a great job…without you…well…let's just say I think he'd be much less lucid and more aggressive…more detached…"
"Thank you…and thank you," she said.
"You're welcome, but there's no need to thank me…this is my job."
Sydney smiled and shut the door.
