Chapter 35

Two months later...

"Come on in, Tim. Have a seat."

Tim nodded and walked into Dr. Lewis' office.

"I guess you probably know what I wanted to talk to you about."

Tim nodded again.

"Tim, it's been two months since you arrived here. Surely you trust us by now."

Another nod.

"Then, why don't you tell me what you're dreaming about?"

"It's just a nightmare," Tim said, his voice getting louder as he continued. "I can't help screaming. I don't even know I'm doing it until I wake up! I'm not doing it on purpose!"

"Tim, you're not in trouble."

"I'm not?"

"No. I know you can't help screaming in your sleep. That's not why you're here."

"Yeah, right," Tim said bitterly. "If it wasn't that, then what was it?"

"Tim."

Tim sighed and then took a breath and nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I know. There's no reason to think that you're trying to make me look bad."

"The reason I asked you here is because we need to start dealing with the dreams. You've resisted that, but I don't think we can make a lot more progress without addressing what your mind feels is the biggest problem."

"Can't I just go back on the sleeping pills?" he asked plaintively. "It was nice to sleep through the night. I'd...I'd almost forgotten what it was like. It had been so long. It would be easier, wouldn't it?"

"Tim, you know as well as I do that sleeping pills aren't a cure. Eventually, you'll build up a tolerance to them. We don't use them regularly because what needs to happen is that you address your own difficulties and the dreams go away of their own accord. The only reason we were using them in the beginning is because your health was so poor that sleep was more important. You're doing much better on that score. In fact, you have your weekly physical today, don't you?"

Tim nodded. "I think Dr. Westhouse thinks I'm a horse. I'm surprised he doesn't count my teeth."

"The only reason he doesn't is because he already has your dental x rays."

Tim laughed, albeit a little unwillingly.

"Now, Tim. Do you trust me?"

Tim nodded.

"Then, tell me. What is it that you dream about every night? I'm not one of those people who thinks every dream has symbolic meaning, but if you're having the same dreams and those dreams continually terrify you to the point that you're screaming, then there's something that you're holding back, something you're refusing to deal with...and that's what you need to do: deal with it. That's why you're here."

"It's just a dream," Tim said softly.

"That frightens you so much you don't even want to put it into words?"

"I'm not afraid," he said, but without any conviction.

"You are, Tim. Tell me what happens," Dr. Lewis said in a gently cajoling voice.

Tim's eyes dropped to his hands, clenched tightly in his lap.

"You're safe here, Tim. Nothing can happen to you. Just trust me. Tell me what it is that scares you...so I can help."

"They...they always start the same," Tim said hesitantly. "I'm in some dark room. I'm alone...but I can hear her in my ear, whispering words that are just barely not intelligible. She's there...right behind me."

"Who?"

"Jewel. I can't ever see her, but she's always right there." Tim forced a laugh. "She never shuts up. She won't stop whispering."

"Then, what?"

"Then...for some reason, I'm running. People are after me, and...and I can't seem to shake them. I can't even see them! ...but they're there. They're just a few steps behind me...and they won't leave me alone. I try to look back, but I can't. I have to look forward and there's nothing, nowhere to hide." Tim swallowed and took a deep breath. He barely even needed to close his eyes to see the dream, to feel that fear. He shivered and rubbed his arms. "I... I'm cold."

"Do you want a blanket? I keep some in the closet here."

Tim shook his head. The cold was inside. A blanket wouldn't help.

"Do they catch you?"

Tim shook his head again.

"No. I fall...and land in a...a place...I'm surrounded by mirrors. I can see myself in the mirrors, but it's not just me. It's...It's more than that. It's me doing...all sorts of things. I...I couldn't...couldn't stand to see them; so I started to shoot them." Tim closed his eyes and tried to shake away the vision he could see. "...but the mirrors wouldn't break. They won't break! They just... They just started to...to bleed! They cracked and...and they were bleeding! All this blood running down the mirrors, following the cracks from where I shot them. ...and...and then I looked at myself. I'd...I'd been shooting myself when I shot the mirrors!" He swallowed and tried not to shake. "...and all the time I can hear her in my ear, always whispering."

Tim forced another laugh and looked up. He couldn't seem to make his hands stop moving. It was like they had a life of their own.

"That's it. Just a dream."

"What is it that you see yourself doing in the mirrors, Tim?"

"Things."

"What kind of things?"

"Bad things, okay?" Tim said angrily and stood up.

"Like what?" Dr. Lewis asked calmly.

"Like..." Tim began to pace and his voice was loud and raw. "Like...getting people killed! Like getting people hooked on drugs! Like breaking the law I'm supposed to uphold! Like being...being the villain! Like being a traitor, being a murderer, being a liar, being..."

"Tim?"

"Like..." Tim sank back down onto the chair. "Like being...a failure."

For a long moment, he couldn't say anything more. ...and he swallowed hard, trying to not cry.

"...and I'm always alone...except for that voice...telling me that it's me doing all that...but it's not. It can't be. ...but I'm alone."

He rubbed at his forehead with the heels of his hands.

"Tim..."

"What?" he asked, the single word bursting out of him in something akin to a shriek.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Yeah...right. Whatever." Tim shivered again...and then had to wipe a hand across his face to get rid of the moisture that had accumulated around his eye.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"There are two things I want you to consider in light of what you told me."

"What?"

"First, I'd like you to consider lifting the restriction you've placed on having visitors."

"Why?"

"Because eventually, you're going to have to leave here and go back to your life and it will be easier if you have friends and family you're already interacting with. Think about it."

"Okay. What's the other thing?"

"We need to start talking about your feelings towards your teammates."

"No!" Tim leapt to his feet again. "You said that we could deal with what I was ready to deal with! I'm not ready! I don't want to forgive them! I don't want to stop hating them! I don't want to..."

"...face what they did and how you reacted to it?" Dr. Lewis asked.

"You're making it sound like it's all my fault! Well, it's not! It's not all my fault! It's not! It's their fault!" Tim realized that he was almost screaming at Dr. Lewis and he was just sitting there waiting for him to finish. He turned around and walked to the heavy punching bag in the corner of the office and punched it once. Then, he leaned his head against it and tried to calm down.

"Tim, is that what I said?" Dr. Lewis asked after a few minutes of silence.

"No," Tim said, still leaning against the bag. "No, it's not."

"Do you think that's how I feel about your situation?"

"No."

"Okay. When you're ready, why don't you come back over here and sit down and we can try again."

"Okay."

"Whenever you're ready."

Tim stayed at the bag for about ten minutes, although he didn't hit it again. He knew that his reaction had been uncalled for. He supposed that was progress of a sort...but his hatred was so instant, so easy.

Finally, he walked back and sat down.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"That's all right. I accept your apology."

Tim winced. Apologizing felt wrong.

"Now, as I was saying, we need to discuss it, because like it or not, your feelings towards your team are part of the driving force behind your nightmares and until we deal with it, they're not going to go away. I'm not saying that you have to like them, Tim. That's not a requirement, but you do need to understand your own feelings and you do need to figure out how to deal with what you feel. Otherwise, you'll never get through this...and that's what you're trying to do."

Tim was silent.

"Think about it. Let me know what you've decided at our session on Thursday."

Tim nodded.

"Now, go let Dr. Westhouse look you over."

Tim was able to muster up a weak smile and stood up to leave.

"Tim, you're not in trouble, okay?"

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Ah, Timothy McGee! My favorite regular patient!" Dr. Westhouse declared as Tim walked in. That was his usual greeting. Tim didn't know if he did that for everyone. It didn't particularly matter. Dr. Westhouse was so jovial that it was hard not to respond to his childlike exuberance, even as he poked and prodded...and asked rather embarrassing questions.

"Hop on up, Tim!"

"Can't we just get the weighing over with? I know that's what you want to see most," Tim said.

"Ah-ah! We must marshal our impatience. The reward will be all the sweeter for it."

Tim rolled his eyes and then sat down. He pulled off his shirt and let the doctor take his blood pressure, check his respiration, his pulse, his throat and everything else. He tutted about Tim's continued scrawniness but said nothing. Tim took that as a good sign. Dr. Westhouse had literally counted Tim's ribs one by one during his first examination.

"I heard that you had another rough night."

"Yeah."

"Well, we can't win 'em all at once."

"Yeah."

"I know. I know. You just want to see what your weight is, too. You can't fool me, young man. All right. Over to the scale and let us see what progress you have made."

Tim gladly got off the table and stepped on the scale. Then, he watched as Dr. Westhouse moved the sliders around. As he did every time, he bumped the big slider to 150 and tsk-ed when it was too heavy. Tim smiled, used to this by now. He had been offended the first time.

Down to 100...and then the smaller slider. Again, he pushed it all the way to the 50 side and then tsk-ed again when it was too heavy. Back. Back. Back. Back. Tim had nearly screamed in frustration the first time Dr. Westhouse has gone through all this. Back. Back. Back.

"Here we are. Not as much weight gain in the last couple of weeks."

"I stopped taking the sleeping pills."

"Ah. Well, we can't let your nightmares spoil your weight gain. You're almost to the range we like to see for someone of your height and build. One-forty is not bad, certainly better than you were, but we'd like to see that up a bit higher still."

"We?"

"Well, I'm assuming that you'd like a bit of extra flesh on you as well."

"I didn't really think about it before."

"Well, now you can. I give you permission to think about your weight. You certainly are looking much better now that there's some flesh to cover your bones. Yes, Tim, I'm most happy with your progress. It's not perfect, but no one is. Thank goodness. How boring that would be. Now, I don't need to tell you to avoid obsessing about your weight, but make sure you eat every meal and don't skip any! I know all...and I know you've skipped a few!" He shook his finger at Tim in mock-reproach.

"I thought you said no one was perfect."

"I'm not perfect, but I still know everything. My flaws exist in other areas. ...like my waistline."

Tim couldn't help it. He laughed.

"That's the spirit! Go forth and conquer, Tim!"

Tim pulled back on his shirt and left the examination room, feeling somehow less upset about Dr. Lewis' requests than he had before.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next couple of days, Tim thought a lot about what Dr. Lewis had asked of him. He wasn't sure he agreed, but his sudden outburst had taken him by surprise. The depth of his own hatred had been a bit of a shock. He hadn't been forced to think about it for weeks and so to have it come back...and to come back so vehemently, was a surprise.

On Thursday, he went to meet with Dr. Lewis.

"Dr. Lewis?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Okay."

"About what in particular?"

"Both of the things you asked me before."

"You're willing to receive visitors?"

"Yes."

"And you're willing to start discussing your feelings about your team?"

Tim clenched his teeth but then nodded.

"Yes."

"Okay. Would you like me to call?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Have a seat. Let's get started, shall we?"

"Okay."