I realized early on in this conversation that Dr. Henderson is not the stereotypical therapist. The man loves to hear himself speak. In fact, I'm beginning to doubt Dr. Jones' claim that he's the best therapist Shield has. The casual attire certainly isn't helping his image either.
I glance at the clock on the wall behind him. It's been an hour and a half.
He rarely makes sure I'm paying attention to him, and when he does, a simple nod is enough acknowledgement for him to continue chattering on.
I can't endure much more of this. Maybe his style of trauma therapy is boring people until they snap out of their grief.
Rumlow has been on the phone in the kitchen for a while now, his back turned to us, his voice lowered. It's times like these that I remember he also has a job. A job I know very little about.
Could he even tell me if I asked? Somehow, I doubt it.
"Well, my dear, it's been a pleasure, but I must be going now. Heading back to see other affected parties." Dr. Henderson stands suddenly, catching me off guard. He doesn't seem to notice. I follow him out of the living room and into the foyer.
"If you need anything from me, here's my number. Give me a ring any time you need someone to talk to." He pulls a business card out of his front shirt pocket and hands it to me with a smile.
I pretend to examine it, knowing full well I probably won't be calling him anytime soon. If ever.
Just as I open my mouth to thank him out of courtesy, Rumlow's voice interrupts me.
"Can you give me a lift, Richard?" He moves beside me, his eyes flickering my way briefly, "Just give me a minute to speak to Elise."
"Of course." Dr. Henderson nods at us before he leaves, closing the door behind him. I fix my attention onto the door, but Rumlow steps in front of me, forcing me to meet his gaze.
He called Dr. Henderson by his first name, just now. I guess they know each other well. I wonder if that's because of Rumlow's line of work. He did say he's seen a lot of friends die.
"I got a call to go back." He takes my hands, looking into my eyes, "As much as I want to stay, I gotta go."
"It's fine. You've done enough already." I shake my head, forcing a convincing smile.
"You'll be okay by yourself?" He raises a critical eyebrow.
"I'll be fine. Don't worry so much, it doesn't suit your bad boy image." I tease, trying to appease his concern.
His lips curve into a smirk.
"I'll check in on you tomorrow." He plants a kiss on my forehead and turns to leave.
"Thanks," I pause sheepishly, "…for everything."
He pauses in the middle of opening the door, looking back at me over his shoulder. There's a split-second hesitation before the smile returns to his face.
"Don't mention it."
And then he's gone, the door closing behind him quietly.
The sudden silence makes me realize how empty this house is now that I'm alone. I idle away a few minutes in the kitchen washing the mugs before making my way upstairs.
I've just reached the top landing when I hear a knock on the door downstairs.
Did one of those two accidentally leave something behind?
I head downstairs again, quickly scanning the living room and kitchen for any potentially misplaced items.
No… strange. Did Rumlow change his mind about leaving?
The knocking continues as I make my way to the foyer. I don't check the peephole before opening the door, and I wish I had.
Alexander Pierce smiles at me from my front step.
I stare at him, dumbfounded, for a few seconds. Am I seeing things?
He notices my eyes flickering up and down the street and gives me one of his wide, grandpa-like smiles.
"It's only me."
"Oh. I'm so sorry, Mr. Pierce, come in. I didn't mean to be rude. I'm just so surprised to see you here– Rumlow and Dr. Henderson have just left if you were looking for them." I move aside as he enters, closing the door behind him.
"I know." He replies simply, that same smile still gracing his face, "I wanted to speak with you privately. I won't be long."
I lead him into the living room.
"Would you like something to drink? Tea? Coffee?" I find myself tripping over words, a sense of anxiety growing inside me. Why is Alexander Pierce here? Has he come to fire me personally?
"No, thank you. I can't stay long. And I know you've had a hard day." He shakes his head, his expression softening. "What happened to Michael was awful. It should never have happened. You must have been devastated."
"Yes. Well, I've known Michael for a few years now. Losing him is a very big shock." I look down at my hands.
"You two seemed close." He comments casually. The intonation in his voice tells me he wants me to elaborate, but what does he want me to say? I know Michael wasn't exactly a good egg during his time in this lab. And it's not like we got along like best buddies, either.
"We were close colleagues, that's true." I play it safe with my answer.
"Did he ever share any of his worries with you?"
"He just warned me to always be careful around the subject, in case he lashed out." I lie, unwilling to divulge Michael's other worries.
"Sound advice. Unfortunate that he didn't take it himself." Pierce frowns. There's an uncomfortable silence between us as I struggle for words.
"You seem to be dealing with this well, though?" He raises hopeful eyebrows.
I just nod.
"Good, good. It's difficult to handle what life throws at us sometimes. Brock told me you have the character and strength to succeed on this team and to make it through these kinds of hardships."
Wow. I'm flattered, but the man is giving me way too much credit. He barely knows me. It sounds out of character for him to speak so highly of someone he routinely calls "rookie".
"I can see that he was right. Coming here has confirmed my belief that you are a valuable asset on this team, Elise. I'm glad." Pierce stands, smiling down at me.
"You're leaving so soon?" My brow furrows in confusion.
"Yes, but I'll be in touch with you again soon. I think it's time you moved up a level. You've proved yourself capable." There's a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, and if I weren't so vexed and anxious about this whole situation I might have been excited too.
Did Pierce just promote me?