The Tegan Chronicles

Intuition and Lies 30

Tuesday afternoon Janet sat in the dinning room, with her empty plate in front of her, watching curiously as Tegan opened the refrigerator door. She'd offered to make lunch for Tegan over an hour ago, and Tegan had declined saying she'd get something later. That usually meant she wasn't going to eat, so Janet was surprised when true to her word she'd come in search of food.

Tegan pulled out the ham, low fat mayo and lettuce before finding the bread tucked inside the bread box. Tegan's back was blocking her view and she looked out the large plate glass door into the backyard.

Janet jumped as the knife clattered off the edge of the plate somersaulting onto the floor.

"Damn it!" Tegan slammed her right fist onto the counter.

"Can I help?"

"No." Tegan picked up the plate and tossed it into the trash with the half made sandwich still resting on its surface. "I'm not hungry."

Janet watched her walk into the living room and take her prosthesis off. She got up and pulled the plate out of the trash and picked the knife up off the floor. She washed the plate and knife and dried them off.

Tegan closed her eyes and listened to Janet in the kitchen cleaning up the mess she'd made. She hated that her temper had shrunken into a tiny kerosene soaked inch worm that played with matches. She despised the fact she couldn't currently take care of herself. Everyone kept telling her it would take time. It had been three weeks since she'd been home, two weeks of physical therapy and sitting in silence with Dr. Tillman three times week, and she didn't see any improvement. She didn't count the fact she had regained most of her strength.

"Hey." Janet broke into her thoughts.

Tegan opened her eyes to see Janet holding plate with a sandwich made just to Tegan's liking on it. One slice of ham, a thin layer of mayonnaise, pepper, stacked high with romaine lettuce and a pickle spear on the side. She'd even given it her own touch by cutting it into four triangles. "Thanks. Sorry about the mess."

"The cat enjoyed the mayonnaise."

"He has a name."

Janet shrugged, if the cat didn't like her she didn't see a reason to pretend she liked it. To her Shadow had been a much better companion.

Friday morning Tegan was standing in the kitchen when Janet came down. She'd just poured a bowl of cereal and had some how managed to tear the milk carton almost in two sending milk spilling onto the counter and all over the floor. She stood there with milk soaking into her flannel pajama bottoms as milk continued to trickle off the counter. Galahad was lapping up the milk as quickly as he could, and Janet couldn't help but laugh.

"It's not funny." Tegan warned.

"I know." She giggled.

Tegan grabbed a towel and knelt down to soak up the white liquid.

"I've got it. Take your clothes off in here so you don't drip everywhere and go get yourself cleaned up."

When she returned downstairs showered and dressed for her physical therapy appointment Janet had finished cleaning everything up and the kitchen smelled like Lysol.

Tegan looked at her watch. "I don't have time to eat."

"Then we'll just eat an early lunch out after your appointment, and before we head to base to see Sam. I want her to look and see if that arm needs adjusted."'

Tegan nodded.

It was Wednesday of week five, that's how Tegan was starting to keep track of time. It was pre and post arm time, though she was counting from her discharge and not from the actual event. She wasn't even entirely sure how much time she'd lost from the time she lost her arm until she was discharged from the hospital, it wasn't important.

"Hey." Janet greeted when she saw the bed headed Tegan walk into the kitchen.

"Hey." It was more of a grunt that an actual word.

"How'd you sleep last night?"

Tegan shook her head. "There's a reason I'm not sleeping with you."

"Another rough night?"

Tegan opened the refrigerator door and stuck her head inside. "Yup."

"Pain?"

"Something like that." She pulled out the orange juice and shut the door with her foot. She hadn't taken anything stronger than Tylenol in the last week. It wasn't like the drugs helped much anyway.

"Bad dreams?" Janet watched her put the carton of juice on the counter.

Tegan shrugged and gave Janet a look that told her she didn't want to talk about it before she opened the cabinet and pulled out a glass. She sat the glass beside the carton.

"Need help?" Janet watched as Tegan tried to open the carton with one hand.

"Nope."

"You know it would be easier if you'd use both hands."

"And end up with orange juice all over the floor? I tried that with the milk, or don't you remember?"

"I'm just saying..."

"I know what you're saying, and I'll be glad to use it for everyday tasks once I get used to it, but until then I'm not cleaning crap up off the floor because I can't gauge how much pressure it's exerting."

"Sam says..."

"I know what Sam said. I was there when she tested the arm." Tegan finally got the carton open and lifted it filling the glass half way. "I didn't blame it on the arm."

"I just..."

"I know, and I appreciate it, but I can't deal with it right now."

"I can give you something to help you sleep." She knew the offer was useless, and Tegan only reaffirmed it by shaking her head negatively.

"It doesn't help."

"I know what would help." Janet's voice was soft, almost seductive.

"What?" Tegan asked curiously as she put the carton back in the refrigerator and searched the counter for a slightly under ripe banana.

"Talking to Dr. Tillman."

Tegan gave Janet the most incredulous look she could muster before rolling her eyes. She pulled a banana out of the bunch and used her teeth to pull the peel back. "What a novel idea."

"You know she's there to help you."

"And I don't need to talk to some shrink. I'm fine."

"Of course you are." Janet stood up to refill her coffee cup. "You're still going to see her today."

Tegan gave a noncommittal grunt. It wasn't like she had a choice in the matter.

"You know if I didn't know better, I'd think you liked being such a challenge to her."

Tegan smiled slightly. It was beginning to feel like a game to her, and so far she was winning.

"I'm also adding an occupational therapist to your therapy sessions. I think it's time."

"Good, they can clean up the OJ when I spill it."

"So, how have you been since I saw you last?" Tilly held her arm out indicating the furniture. She really didn't like the cliché couch scene but had opted for it to help with the comfort of her patients especially those dealing with injuries.

Tegan walked around the coffee table and took up residence on the couch resting her left ankle on her knee. "Do you like to dance?"

"What's that got to do with you and what you're going through?" She wondered if she should have just answered the question. Maybe today was the day Tegan would open up to her.

"Because your job is a lot like dancing. You're the guy, you ask the questions, take the lead and you expect your dance partner to follow your lead by answering the questions."

Tilly nodded. "So, you want to take the lead?"

Tegan grinned for a second and shook her head no.

"Are you ever going to talk to me about what happened?"

"Probably not."

"At least you're honest." Tilly thought for a minute. "You said probably, what can I do to change your mind?"

"Nothing."

"You do know if you don't talk about it, I have no way of knowing if you are fit for duty."

"Yup."

"You do want to go back to work don't you?" It was the next logical question for her to ask, but it was also the question that completely shut down what little communication they'd established.

Tegan leaned forward and studied the orchid sitting on the coffee table as if it were the last plant on earth. She memorized every vein in every petal until Tilly announced their time was up.