We're getting down to the wire here, folks. I anticipate about 3 (maybe 4) more chapters before this story's all sewn up. I sort of have this problem with dragging out endings. Maybe it's because I hate saying ater-lays. Or maybe, it's because much like Maddie I love a captive audience. ;) As always, thank you thank you for reading. Oh, and Happy Easter!

(x)

Jim Gordon sat across from Dr. Scott in her office. The room felt different than it had since the first day he walked inside, just over two weeks ago. He'd opted for an evening slot this time, and he was beginning to think that had something to do with it. At night, the blinds were closed, and only floor lamps illuminated the space. It gave the room a relaxed, comfortable feel that had been missing in the sessions before.

He started by discussing the dream he'd had while in the hospital. Dr. Scott listened while she snacked on segments of a Valencia orange, one of several from a bowl sitting on the table beside her, which she explained were open for appropriation. Jim declined but thanked her for the offer.

The sweet, citrus scent hung in the air as he described the end of the dream. "... When I looked down, Barbara wasn't there. Instead, I was holding onto Lee. And before I knew it, Lee and I were back at home in the kitchen of her apartment."

Madeline finished off the orange and brushed her hands against each other. "In a safe space. On solid ground. What happened next?"

"I woke up," Jim said. "And saw Lee sitting next to me in my hospital room."

She smiled, but she looked ... He kindly decided on the word 'tired'. Which made sense. After her guest appearances on local television, her books sales had been up, and he was certain that meant voicemails requesting session times were up, too. "That must have been a relief," she said.

"Yeah. To say the least."

"I, uh, I wasn't present when the drug …" She looked down, as if searching for the right words in the carpet. "...got into your system. I understand that you fought off its effects."

"Just barely."

"But enough that you saved your life and the lives of your fiance and unborn child."

Jim could understand completely why people avoided therapy like drunks avoid a checkpoint. It cut right down into the very center of you, leaving you open, exposed...

It was like Madeline sensed it. "What I just said … what did it make you feel?"

Vulnerable. "Thoughtful," he said.

"Is that all you felt?"

Jim knew all about where that question led. He said in a strong, clear voice, "The way I see it, it's best to focus on the positives here. Lee and I survived something together that..." He unintentionally repeated words from their last session. "... most people don't."

"That's a good strategy," she said. "An even better one is to figure out some coping skills for when this 'thoughtful'..." She looked at him meaningfully. "Feeling arises."

He looked at her. "Coping skills. Like … deep breathing, knowing your triggers, decompressing?"

Madeline nodded, faux impressed. "I see somebody attended the Stress Management for Law Enforcement training."

"Well, it is mandatory."

"It's a snorefest. I used to teach that class back in the day."

"You don't say," he said, half-joking.

Madeline smirked at him, which Jim couldn't have imagined she would have done a few sessions ago. Maybe he wasn't the only one beginning to let their guard down. She got them back on track. "The coping skills you mentioned are good 'ole standbys. But a lot of times the best ways of coping don't come from a text book. They come from you, er, the client themselves."

Jim thought on that and said, "So basically, we already have the answer. We just don't know it yet?"

"In a strange way, I suppose that's at the heart of any good therapy session." She sat back and motioned her hand toward him. "Take your dream for example."

"What about it?"

Madeline said, "You experienced something we call an image rehearsal moment. You took a devastating loss from your past, Barbara's suicide attempt, and you rewrote the moment. You let go of what you couldn't control, and you took hold of what was in your control. Your life with Lee and your child. That's not so terribly different from what you're doing outside your dream, is it?"

Jim found himself saying, "I still visit her. Barbara."

Madeline mused on that and asked, "Is there something that does for you?"

"Besides throw a wrench in my day?" Though he seemed to joke, it was weak-said. "I'm not sure why I keep going."

She remained silent, watching him. It occurred to him that there were few more awkward situations than a therapist sitting across from you, waiting for you to figure something out for yourself.

The detective in him found it easier to guess what Madeline wanted him to say. "You think I go there because I still feel guilty for wanting to kill her."

"Or for not saving her," she said. "Or maybe you feel like visiting her is worth it to you, if it brings you closure."

Jim looked at her carefully and decided something, "Like you did. When you went back to interrogate Jack Gruber."

Madeline's face remained indiscernible. She didn't validate his statement nor did she deny it. "We both have good intentions, Jim. That's not our problem. Our problem is knowing our limits. Not just saying we know them, but actually respecting the boundaries that keep us safe. We need to be honest with ourselves that it is impossible for us to save everyone."

The conversation awoke something inside him. When he did speak, it was with energy and conviction. "I know that." He knew on any battlefield, but especially upon the ones he fought lately, that casualties were a certainty, despite how desperately he wanted to prevent each and every one them. "I know the score. But what's wrong with putting everything on the line, everything you have to bring back as many people with you as you can?"

"It's brave. That sentiment. In fact it probably says everything about why you do what you do." Madeline said, "There's nothing wrong with it, until it takes something out of you that you can't get back. Until it hurts the people closest to you in a way that can't be undone."

The film reel played behind his eyes. He saw himself firing his gun off into the air and pushing Penguin into the river. He saw himself standing with Penguin on the opposite side of that same river, months later, firing the gunshot that killed Gallivan. Jim said, "What if it's already too late? Once you go to that place, it changes something inside you. I don't think you can come back."

"This world isn't black and white, Jim. And you probably know that better than anybody I've seen before," she said. "Some people have nightmares because their world is dark and upside down and ruined. But good people? Good people have nightmares because they can't forgive themselves." She said, "So it comes down to a question. Can you forgive yourself?"

Jim said, "I'm not so sure I want to be the type of person who can forgive themselves that easily."

"Because it would be cold?"

"Because it would be irresponsible."

She seemed to make a decision. "You wear responsibility well. Too well, maybe."

Jim blinked a few times and said, "So wait, you're saying there's another problem? Just so you know, I'm losing count here."

She frowned. If he read her right, she seemed to be struggling with something. "Let me, uh, let me explain. I called another client of mine who has your same diagnosis of PTSD. I alerted him that he was danger, but I... didn't do the same for you. It bothered me that..." When she paused, he could almost hear her mentally call herself out. "I was absolutely devastated when I learned what had happened and realized I'd done nothing to stop it."

Jim zoned in on her and spoke in a voice that left no room for argument. "You can't blame yourself for a decision made by a psychopath."

She all but froze at the words. For the shortest second, she looked taken aback. No, it was more than that. He'd derailed something. Just what he wasn't sure. Jim leaned in and said softly, "... Madeline, are you... Did I say something wrong?"

She shook her head deliberately and made that familiar cutting motion with her hand. It was like watching someone toggle a shift stick from neutral into first. She sat up straight and snapped back into the session. "It just never fails to astonish me. The things we're able to tell others, but unable to tell ourselves."

Before he could piece together a response, Madeline hurried to fill the silence. She repeated his words back to him. "You can't blame yourself for a decision made by a psychopath." She held up her pointer finger and drew continual circles in the air. He doubted the doctor realized how much she sounded like Harvey when she said, "You need to play that thought back to yourself on a loop. On the regular."

Jim sent her only ten percent of the stare he would usually send his partner. "That might work, if I was anything other than a police officer. But I'm paid to protect this city from psychopaths and the atrocities they're hell bent on making a reality. It's basically my whole job description."

Madeline said, "I thought a lot about why I didn't try to protect you. It was because I saw you in just that way. As someone who had everything under control, someone above needing protection. I'm willing to bet other people see you that way, too." She said, "And if they do, you may spend a lot of time without support."

"I know I'm just one man." And anytime he happened to forget, Gotham had a way of providing a swift reminder. "And I know nothing is accomplished without the help of others." His partner, the Captain, Lee... "All I want is to make Gotham a safer place however I can."

"Being that hope for this city is noble, and it could also potentially leave you with guilt for not being able to live up to that..." She decided on, "impossible standard. That's why you need to make a change, just like you have before."

He didn't understand what she referred to. "Before?"

"Our last session you said you couldn't open up to Lee as much as she wanted. That day at the station, with that horrible drug in your system, you made a different choice. You reached out to her."

Jim thought of a joke that wasn't funny. He wasn't sure why he said it aloud, but he did. "Somehow I don't think re-creating that same scene would help anyone."

Madeline smiled, willing to find the humor in the dark statement. "Let me be clear. I am NOT suggesting that you re-take whatever drug that was. However, it couldn't hurt to make a deliberate choice to forgive yourself for whatever happened with Barbara, or anything else that wakes you up at night."

He rephrased it. "So I need closure."

"Sometimes we get closure. Other times, we have to make do with whatever closure we can find." She switched gears and said, "Do you know what a butterfly symbolizes in dreams?"

"The same as it does outside of dreams," Jim said. "A change, a metamorphosis."

Madeline nodded her agreement. "You transformed Barbara into Lee in your dream. What you need now is a transformation for yourself."

Jim blinked and looked down at his watch. "We might have to work on that next time."

Madeline frowned and looked up at the clock on her wall. "Oh, crap. We're five minutes over."

She stood up. "Thanks for the sharp eye."

Jim said, "No problem." He couldn't believe that he lost track of the time himself.

"Here, let me check to see if my client is…" She pulled back the curtain and looked out the window. "Yep. Right on time." She said to Jim, "Same time next week?"

"If you say so," he said, grabbing his coat. "You're the doctor."

Madeline walked over to her desk on the other side of the room. "Hey, could you let my next client know that I'm aware he's here? I just need two minutes and I'll be ready to see him."

Jim nodded. "Sure." He closed the door quietly behind him and looked up into the waiting room. He saw Bruce Wayne sitting in one of the high-back chairs, staring straight at him.

"Detective Gordon." Bruce looked confused and then his face became even. "It's good to see you."

"Hey, Bruce," Jim walked over and shook his hand. "Good to be seen." He cleared his throat. "So, uh, you meet with Dr. Scott?"

"I just started. And you…" Bruce watched him carefully and then said, "Were talking to Dr. Scott about a police matter?"

Jim silently thanked Bruce for giving him the out. What he said next was technically true. "She consults with us on cases from time to time."

Bruce nodded. He looked unsurprised by the information.

"She told me to let you know that she'll be out in a minute," Jim said. His voice softened and he asked, "How are you doin'? With everything?"

Bruce looked up at him and said, "I'm feeling my way through."

Before Jim could reply, Madeline opened the door. She sent a smile to Bruce. "I'm ready when you are."

Jim put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Take care, Bruce."

He stood up and said, "You, too, detective."

Jim left the office, and Bruce stepped into his session.