Chapter 18, part 2.
Alice knocked on the door and then came in without waiting for an invitation. She had been ordered to come, so it wasn't like she was unannounced, after all. General Carter was sitting at her desk, and in a chair in front of it lounged a brown-haired man in a fancy suit. He didn't rise when Alice entered, only threw her a measuring look.
"Good afternoon, General, you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Major, take a seat. This is Agent Barrett of the NID," Carter said. "He's here with some news about your friend, Aga Foster."
Alice frowned. She wouldn't characterize Aga as a friend, but she obediently sat down in the other chair and looked at the NID agent expectantly.
"As you know, Major, we've had Miss Foster under surveillance since she's started digging up around the Stargate Program," he began calmly. "This morning we have noted an unusual deviation from her routine. At first we thought she went out of her way to vote, but then we determined that her location was nowhere near any polling stations—in fact, it was in an abandoned warehouse near Port Newark. Now, she is a journalist and she often travels to strange places, but it caught our attention, and so we sent some agents down there to check it out."
"What did they find?" Alice asked, her face still scrunched in a frown.
"They found Miss Foster, tied to a chair and beaten to a pulp," he replied, his voice still pretty serene for what he was saying. "She is alive, but has some fractured ribs, head trauma and a lot of bruises. There was no sign of whoever did this to her, but we suspect it was the same people who have been tailing her. We were never quite able to find out who it was, though the Trust or some non-Goa'uld infested offshoot of it is a good bet."
Alice sighed. "I did warn her, but she didn't listen to me."
"I know." He nodded gravely. "She is currently in the hospital. We decided not to let her know who was it who found her—she thinks it was the police. She didn't really tell them anything useful, but I thought—well, you seem to have a rapport with her. You might be able to get something out of her."
"I doubt it." She shook her head. "She is stubborn and very proud—honor-driven, you know. But I guess I can try to talk to her. Maybe now she will take my words seriously and just stop—though, honestly, I rather think it will only galvanize her more."
"Well, we have to try," Carter noted. "The Daedalus is in the orbit, it will take you to New York. Good luck, Major."
Less than half an hour later, Alice was already in Aga's hospital room, trying to pull some information out of her, but, as she had predicted, the journalist was not very forthcoming.
"I don't know who they were," she told Alice point-blank, her tone irritated. Alice couldn't exactly blame her. "They didn't exactly introduce themselves. They wore black suits and ski masks. They rammed my car with a van and then pulled me out, tossed me in the back, hands bound, and took me to that warehouse."
"What did they want from you?" Alice insisted.
Aga eyed her suspiciously and didn't say anything.
Alice sighed deeply. "You're not losing anything by telling me this. All I want is to find whoever did this to you."
"Isn't that a job for the police?"
"The police don't know enough," Alice explained patiently.
"But the military don't have the jurisdiction here, do you?"
"No, but we cooperate with an agency that both has the jurisdiction and enough knowledge to be effective," she replied cautiously. "Please, just tell me what did they want!"
Aga breathed in deeply and then grimaced in pain, her hand flying to her stomach; Alice knew that broken ribs could hurt a lot and she felt for her.
"Well, they didn't really say much at all," the journalist muttered eventually, her voice resentful. "They let their actions do the talking—and at the end, before I lost consciousness, one of them told me—he told me something like I hope this teaches you not to put your fingers where they don't belong."
Alice nodded. She had figured it would be something like this—whoever this was, he was sending Aga a message: stop your investigation or else.
"You were lucky they decided to warn you first, but if you don't do what they want—" Alice began, but Aga interrupted her.
"I am not going to be scared away from the story," she said brazenly. "I don't care what they try to do—this only proves that it's much bigger than even I had thought. I will not give in!"
Alice sighed. It was as she had feared: Aga was too pig-headed to see just how dangerous a game she was playing.
"I am getting closer, too," the journalist continued zealously. "I now have two sources who are telling me such intriguing things! This will be the biggest story ever published, and I would rather die than let it go."
"That's just what might happen," Alice warned her, though she knew it was futile. "You're playing with fire here, Aga. I know you don't believe it, but this will not serve anyone—not you, not us, not the American people—and certainly not those who have abducted you and beat you blue. If you won't stop, they won't either."
"I'm gonna take the chance, thank you very much!"
"Fine, you're ready to give up your life for this, I understand," Alice said, changing tactics. "But what about Stephen?" She waved towards the door to the room, behind which Aga's husband was waiting for Alice to leave. "How do you think he'll feel about it when you die?"
"I—" The journalist hesitated, thrown for the first time since Alice had come.
"Can you ensure his safety, too?" Alice continued, feeling Aga's resolve weakening. "Do you think they will balk at hurting him to stop you?"
Aga shook her head violently. "Don't! You're trying to confuse me—but I will not give in. I'll—I'll find a way. I won't give in!"
Alice closed her eyes for a moment, trying to keep calm. Damn stubborn woman!
"Fine. Do as you please. But you can expect to have another shadow starting from now—and don't even dream of complaining, because it might be the only thing that will stand between you and danger one day," she declared forcefully, her anger almost boiling over. "Think about how much of taxpayers' money will go to that," she added, perversely gleeful.
"I'm not asking for your protection!" Aga protested heatedly.
"Well, you'll get it whether you want it or not." Alice threw her a cutting look. "Think about it next time you want to decry how awful and callous we are!"
The journalist pursed her lips, but didn't reply to that, and, after a moment, Alice sighed.
"I'm glad you're in one piece," she said, her voice neither warm nor cold; she mostly sounded tired. "Please do try not to get in trouble. I don't want to have you on my conscience." And then she turned on her heel and left the room without another word.
Alice was staring at her laptop screen with unseeing eyes; her mind was wandering idly, her focus gone, and it took her a while to realize that she was no longer alone in the room. She jerked her head around, saw General Carter standing by the table, and jumped to her feet.
"General! I—I didn't notice you!" She blurted out, a bit distressed. Just how long had Carter been standing there?
"Clearly." Carter cocked an eyebrow and stepped around the table to sit in the chair opposite Alice's. "You seemed to have been lost in thoughts."
"Um, yes, ma'am," Alice confirmed guiltily. It wasn't her work she was thinking of—in fact, it wasn't anything in particular. She was finding herself aimlessly staring into space with a stream-of-consciousness going on in her mind more and more lately, and she didn't know how to stop it.
"I came down to ask how your uncle, Mr. Kelly, has done in this election," Carter prompted after a moment. "Was he reelected?"
"Oh, yes, he retained his seat," Alice answered, a little morosely. Alastar was family, but she couldn't, in good conscience, rejoice over his win; frankly, she would've preferred to see him lose, even if it wouldn't change much in the end—the Republicans still held their majority by more than thirty seats. "Not that he expected anything else—his district has been red in every election for more than two decades."
"Well, good for him." Carter nodded soberly. "He's been behaving himself since he was informed of the existence of the Stargate Program, though I understand he's used that knowledge to his advantage and weaseled his way into the Subcommittee on Defense."
"Yeah, he's now looking to dethrone the current chairman and take over," Alice admitted. "That's scary—he's never served a day in his life, but he's going to be deciding where does the money go…"
"You're not too fond of him, are you?"
"He's not a bad man, and he cares about his family," Alice explained with a sigh. "But his politics and his attitudes are just…" She shook her head. "He's just waaaay too conservative."
"Well, at least the President's still here—you like him, don't you?"
"I voted for him," Alice replied with a smile.
"Me, too." Carter nodded, and then straightened up on her chair, as if to indicate that chit-chat was done and she now meant business. "There's another thing I wanted to talk to you about."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"I spoke with Doctor Green, and she told me that you have been very courteous to her since she came to work here, but you haven't booked any appointments with her. Is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am." Alice felt her face freeze in an unfamiliar mask of indifference. Why, oh why, was Carter so insistent about this?
The general sighed deeply. "Alice, do you realize that you are the main reason why I hired her? Don't give me that look!" She sounded irritated. "You know it just as well as I do, you need help. I've been watching you literally disappear before my eyes and I'm damned if I'll let one of my best people destroy herself out of pure stubbornness!"
"I'm fine," Alice insisted, but her voice was a little weak—she had never witnessed her mild-mannered, gracious mentor blow up like this before and it shook her.
"We both know that's a lie." Carter shook her head vehemently. "Maybe you've been telling yourself that for so long that you've actually started to believe, but I know better. Alice, you're like a shadow of your old self. About the only time when you look like—well, yourself, is when you're about to go offworld or have just gotten back. And I know why is that—trust me, I know the obsession that drives you. But you can't go on like this. Why won't you accept help?"
Alice's heart was fluttering and her voice trembled as she replied: "I can't." And then she corrected herself quickly: "I mean, I don't need it."
But the slip of the tongue made Carter think, for she frowned and looked at Alice, her eyes piercing. And then she sighed. "I see. I just got it—you're scared. You think whatever you tell Doctor Green might not be fully private—that it may be used against you."
She paused, but Alice didn't say anything, dropping her gaze, hoping her expression wouldn't be too transparent—but Carter understood anyway.
"That's it," she said and put her forehead in her hand in a gesture of frustration. "You're scared you might actually get a diagnosis that would exclude you from active duty." She paused for a moment and then shook her head. "Look at me, Alice."
Alice swallowed hard and then lifter her head obediently, but still kept her silence.
"I promise you, as long as I am SGC's CO—and I'm not planning to move off this position anytime soon—I promise you, I will never ask either of our base's psychiatrists to reveal a diagnosis or anything else about any of their patients. It wounds me that you would think so little of me—I'd never do that."
Alice licked her suddenly dry lips. Maybe you wouldn't, but you can't know what your superior officers will do, she thought drearily. She had read the document that enumerated the limits of confidentiality between therapist and a service member; admitting to self-harm or drug use, to begin with, might be enough to force the shrink to inform her superiors, and that might mean the end of her career.
"And you don't believe me." Carter sighed again. "Forget about the rules and regulations. I, Samantha Carter, promise you that I will not request nor accept any confidential information from Doctor Green about you or any diagnosis she might make. You were right when you said—I mean, you're doing a great job, with your mission, with your team, and with your science projects. My only concern is about your well-being."
Alice half-closed her eyes. That Carter would say all this—go to such lengths to convince her—was very sweet, and it pleasantly stroked her ego. But to have her know just how bad it was—how low Alice has gotten—it was mortifying. And there was still doubt at the back of her mind—what if…? What if someone above Carter decided to request Alice's file? What if Green herself decided that she had an obligation to inform them? What if it would end her career—and, more importantly, stop her from finding Jareth and exacting her revenge?
"You can't go on like this," the general added, her voice softer now. "You're smart enough to know it. Let us help you."
Well, Carter was right. Alice knew very well that she was essentially running on vapors, both physically and mentally. She didn't know how to stop it—that slow descent into darkness that had begun the moment she had gotten back home from the future. She did need help—but could she trust it not to come back and bite her in the ass at some unspecified date in the future?
Alice looked at Carter, her earnest, imploring eyes boring into hers, and nodded shortly. "Okay," she murmured. "I'll go see Doctor Green."
The older officer breathed deeply, relieved. "Thank you," she said emphatically. "I really didn't want to make it an order."
"I appreciate that." The intensity of Carter's gaze was too much and she lowered her eyes again.
"Good." Alice wasn't looking, but the smile was audible in the general's voice as she stood up. "Don't put it off too long, or I'll come back to harangue you some more."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, and Major—" she stopped in the door and turned around to look back at Alice "—I am officially giving you permission to tell Doctor Green everything—including all that you've seen in the future scenario."
Alice felt her eyebrows travel all the way up. "Really?"
"I have a feeling that it might be a part of the problem. I'm willing to risk making this club a little bigger if it might help you." And then she turned around and walked away.
Doctor Green's office was surprisingly cozy, with a couple oil paintings depicting peaceful country landscape on the walls, a desk with a laptop, and two comfortable armchairs, angled so that it was easy not to look at the other person if one preferred.
"I'm glad to see you here, Major," Green said after the initial greetings, as they sat down. "I understand you had—reservations about coming to see me."
Alice grimaced. She might have guessed that Carter would talk to her. "It's not a reflection on yourself, ma'am, I just—" She stopped, hesitating.
"You're worried that you might not enjoy full confidentiality here because of the limits the military puts on us." Green nodded knowingly. "But I want you to understand that the only reasons why I would consider breaking the doctor-patient confidentiality would be if I thought you were actively suicidal or if I learned that you were threatening or doing harm to someone else."
Alice cocked her head to the side. "That seems fair," she admitted.
"Good. You should also know that I make all of my notes by hand, and populate my patients' digital records with highlights and details of medical treatment, if one's prescribed. That way, continuity of care is assured, but any details you share with me stay with me if you move on to another doctor or anything like that."
Alice nodded. It didn't change much, really—handwritten notes could be subpoenaed just as well as digital ones, but at least it did make it harder to find the information.
"Okay, then." Green smiled warmly. "Let's begin. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind?"
Alice contemplated the question for a moment. How could she even begin explaining it all?
"I don't know where to start," she said uncertainly.
"You can start by telling me how you feel—not just now, but overall."
Alice didn't need to think about that. "Tired. I just—I feel so, so tired." She rested her head on her hand, as much to hide her face as stop herself from seeing Green's expression.
"Tired like you didn't get enough sleep, or tired like you feel so much it makes you numb?" The doctor asked, and the astuteness of the question made Alice look up at her.
"Both, actually," she confessed and then sighed and went back to her previous position, leaning her head on her hand. "I can't sleep. I lie there awake, staring at the ceiling, and try to will myself to sleep, but no matter how exhausted I am, it's always in vain. There's just too much going on in my mind. I can't be idle anymore—I can't be alone with my thoughts. I used to love being alone, to just sit and think about things, or read a book, or got for a walk… now it's all just—exhausting. I can't stop thinking. I have to be busy, or otherwise—" She paused and shook her head slowly. "But recently even when I'm at work, I find myself spacing out, my research abandoned, and I just—I don't know how to make it stop. There's too many feelings, too many thoughts just swirling around—it's like there's this black cloud always above me these days. The only time when it's not raining is when I'm busy and focused on something else—but it's been raining so much ever since it's appeared seven months ago that it feels like I am drowning now…"
"What are these thoughts about?" Green prompted.
"A lot of things," Alice acknowledged tiredly. "It's a long story."
"That's okay, we don't have to talk about it all today—but we have to start somewhere." Green's voice was friendly and encouraging. "What happened seven months ago?"
"A lot," Alice murmured, but then sighed. "But I guess—well—I lost a man under my command. And it was my fault."
"I'm sorry," the doctor said, and the compassion in her tone sounded genuine. Alice looked up at her and sent her a wan smile. Green's eyes were sharp as she took in Alice's expression. "It's not just that you lost a man, is it? He was important to you."
Alice sighed, momentarily annoyed at herself. Why did she have to be such an open book?
"Yeah," she admitted sheepishly. "He was." She wet her lips nervously, and forced herself to continue: "We'd met on Atlantis three—almost four years ago now. He was part of my team. Took me a while to understand—" She hesitated. "Anyway, we were together for eight months before—before he died. And it was my fault."
"You said that before. How was it your fault?"
Alice half-closed her eyes, flashing back to that moment on Gagarin when she faced the decision—the decision that changed everything. She shook her head vehemently to get back to the now.
"I left him behind on an enemy vessel. And then I gave the order to destroy that vessel. I couldn't find a way to save him. I should've found a way to save him…"
"Sounds like you've done all you could," Green suggested softly.
Alice opened her eyes, a flash of anger in her face. "Well it wasn't enough, was it?!" And then she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "Sorry. I—"
"Don't apologize, Major," the psychiatrist interrupted her. "This is a safe space. I prefer if you express your emotions rather than hide them—this will only work if you're honest with me, and that includes sharing what you're feeling, even if it's anger."
"I'm not angry at you," Alice assured her. "I'm angry at myself," she added quietly.
"You're blaming yourself for what happened," Green acknowledged.
"I'm not the only one to blame," Alice said with viciousness, thinking of Jareth. "But the one who is, too—I couldn't get him. And that's on me, too."
"So it's not just loss—it's guilt, too. Doubly so, because you think you should've prevented it and you should've gotten the person responsible."
"And then some," Alice added darkly. "You can't understand how much of a failure it was without the context. It was like—like there was a divine intervention that chose me, gave me a mission to find and stop Jareth, even gave me intel as to where to find him—and still I failed, and killed the man I loved in the process. I—" She shook her head, swallowing hard, unable to continue for a moment.
"Jareth, the Wraith?" Green asked gently. "I think I've read some reports on him—he's the one who can manipulate people's minds?"
"Yes, but he can't bend mine," Alice confirmed morosely. "It was my responsibility to fix it—to stop him—but I screwed up and now everything is… different."
"Different how?"
Alice sighed. "I can't explain without—I mean, it's a long story. But Karim, he wasn't supposed to die… none of it was supposed to happen. I was supposed to stop Jareth, I wasn't supposed to change anything else—and now…" She paused for a long moment, hoping that Green would interject something, but she didn't. Alice could feel her piercing gaze on herself and she looked away. "I didn't just lose the person I loved, I lost our whole future together, and now—now I don't know what to do without him," she finished helplessly.
"It's quite normal to feel that way," Green said earnestly. "You're not just grieving the loss of a man, but the whole potential for the future—"
Alice shook her head vehemently. "No—not potential. You don't understand—I know what would've happened if I hadn't fucked it up. I know it… I was going to leave the service for him, be a civilian scientist on Atlantis so we could be there together officially—we would've been happy. We would've gotten married and had kids and I—" But she had to stop; her voice cracked and gave out and she had to blink really hard to prevent tears from falling.
Green nodded, but kept quiet for a moment, giving Alice space to regain her composure. She spoke up maybe a minute later: "Why couldn't you be together officially already? Why did you need to leave the service to be with him?"
It sounded as if she already knew the answer. Alice shrugged. "Officers aren't supposed to have relations with enlisted personnel," she explained bleakly. Karim was dead—it didn't really matter anymore if Green knew her secret. "We were keeping it to ourselves until my contract expired—though later I found out that pretty much everyone on Atlantis knew. They were just ignoring it as long as we were being discreet."
"Still, that means that you couldn't even talk about it to anyone?" The doctor asked gently. "You've been alone with your grief?"
"I did talk to my brother a little. He'd lost a b—someone a couple years ago, too, so… But he wasn't too fond of Karim—or my relationship with him, so I'd rather not dredge that up…"
"I see. So you couldn't even share your grief with other people who loved him—his family—"
"I've never met his family," Alice interrupted, a little rudely, because the reminder stung.
"Not even at the funeral?" Green pressed, unfazed.
Alice didn't reply right away. Why did Green have to be so intuitive? "I didn't go to the funeral," she admitted finally, feeling a treacherous blush steal onto her cheeks.
"Why didn't you?"
"I—couldn't face it." She lowered her head as if under a burden—for it did feel as if there was an enormous weight crushing her. "I couldn't face his father, knowing that I was the reason his son was dead… Karim's mom died when he was a child, his brother caught an IED in Iraq, and now he was gone—and it was my fault. I just—I couldn't do it." She swallowed and continued, her words rushed, as if she wanted to get them out quickly so they wouldn't hurt for too long: "And then a few months ago I was sent to London to—doesn't matter what for, but I ended up going to Karim's father's house, and once again, I was too much of a coward to actually knock on the door… I couldn't do it, and I ended up getting blackout drunk at a pub instead. Just one more in a string of poor life choices I've made since it happened…"
"And how do you feel about that?"
"Ashamed." Alice closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know if talking to Karim's dad would actually be good for him or not, but I feel like I owe him the truth—and I know I can't tell him everything, but he should know his son died a hero… how he sacrificed himself willingly to save our lives…" She blinked and a tear fell down her cheek. She wiped it quickly, and added: "And I didn't visit his grave—I don't even know where it is… I mean we never recovered the body, they buried an empty casket but I feel like—I don't know, like I should do something… and I know it's stupid—I don't even believe in an immortal soul or anything like that, but I—I don't know, I feel like I've betrayed him somehow…"
Green shook her head. "It doesn't matter if you believe in an immortal soul. We are all, to some extent, spiritual creatures—and part of it is following rituals. They make us feel connected to others, even if they are gone. Our relationships don't disappear when our loved ones die—if we act like they do, we're just opening ourselves to more hurt. We have to connect to others who mourn our loss, we have to follow those rituals—even if it's just visiting an empty grave. That's what helps us get closure and move on. Grieving is a process, a cycle, not a single event, but you have to start somewhere—and it seems to me like you haven't started processing it, not really. You're stuck in your guilt and shame and you can't see a way out of it because it's connected to trauma and other events and emotions that we haven't even begun discussing."
Alice wiped another treacherous tear from her cheek. "So what, are you saying it's hopeless?"
"No, not at all!" Green seemed agitated at the idea. "What I'm saying is that it'll take time and effort to untangle it all, to make you start actually feeling better—time and effort you have to commit to. The question is, are you ready to do it?"
"Well, I'm here, aren't I?"
"Yes, but it's gonna take more—much more than just coming to see me once a week. You really need to want to get better. Do you?"
"I want to, but—" Alice hesitated and looked at her hands, clasped together in her lap, so hard that the knuckled were white.
"But what?"
"I don't think I deserve it," Alice whispered, her throat dry. It was mortifying, admitting to her darkest, deepest thoughts.
"Why do you think that?"
Alice merely shook her head. There was no way she could explain it now—not without delving into the details of her foray into the future and its repercussions on the current timeline.
"It's problematic, but we'll talk about it at a later date," Green decided, seeing that Alice wasn't going to respond. "For now, let's focus on the fact that you do want to get better and think about how we can help you achieve that." She paused for a moment, as if meditating over something. "The mind is a complex system that is both impacted by and impacting your physical health. There are things that I believe we can do to boost that physical health, so that you may be better equipped to deal with your mental health. You told me that you're having trouble sleeping. How much sleep do you typically get in the night?"
Alice sighed. "Unaided, two to three hours."
Green cocked one eyebrow. "Unaided? So what do you do to help yourself fall asleep?"
"Benadryl. And a glass of whiskey," she admitted, looking away. "I know it's not healthy, but it lets me sleep a little more and I—I just can't…" Her voice trailed off; she really didn't have much of an excuse. She knew the dangers of mixing alcohol and Benadryl. She just couldn't do without now—she needed sleep.
Green exhaled loudly. "Well, I'm glad you're aware of the risks, at least, but that has to stop."
Alice didn't reply. She didn't know how to stop anymore. The five or six hours of sleep the combo was giving her was infinitely better than two or three she was getting anytime she tried to limit its use—even if it was also making her drowsy and dizzy in the mornings.
"And what about exercise?" Green moved on to another subject. "Being in the service, I assume you get a fair amount of it?"
"Oh, yes," Alice agreed with relief. At least here was something she was actually doing right! "I run every day, and a few times per week I also do a more stringent workout routine. We have mission training exercises with my team every couple weeks, too."
"And you do your runs on a treadmill or…?"
"Depends where I am. If I've spent the night at the base, then it'll be the treadmill, if at home then I just go out to run on the streets."
"And how often do you spend the night at the base?"
Alice cursed at herself silently. She really didn't need to be scolded again for this—Carter was always on her case over spending too much time at work.
"I dunno, it depends," she hedged, but Green's piercing eyes were inexorable. "Typically four to five nights a week, unless General Carter orders me home," she capitulated.
"So what you're saying is—you're working twenty hour days, five days a week?"
"More or less," Alice muttered reluctantly.
"I see." Green paused for a few beats. "And what about diet? I assume that since you're almost always here, you eat at the commissary?"
"Yes. And when I'm at home, my roommate usually cooks."
"And do you feel like you're eating enough?" Green threw her a measuring glance. "I'm asking because you look underweight."
"I sometimes forget," Alice admitted grudgingly. "I have a friend who texts me almost every day to remind me, so it's already better than it's been, but I—" she hesitated. "I guess I've gotten used to being hungry when I was—ugh, away. It doesn't feel like a big deal now."
"I see," Green repeated, and then sighed. "I think it's clear we have to start with the basics." She rose from her seat, walked over to her desk, picked up a prescription pad and then sat back down. "First we need to regulate your sleep patterns. It's gonna suck at first, and it's going to take time, so you need to prepare yourself for it—but I don't think it can get much worse than what you're experiencing now, so at least there's that." Green actually smirked at her. "I'm going to prescribe you a mild sleeping drug that acts like melatonin—it will help you restore your circadian rhythm, but it builds in the system slowly, so it will take a couple of weeks to start working properly. In the meantime, I want you to give up Benadryl altogether, and limit your alcohol intake. Do not drink before bedtime at all, you can have a glass of wine at a party, but that's it. And don't drink caffeine after two in the afternoon, and limit yourself to one or maximum two cups in the morning. So far so good?"
Alice nodded, a bit reluctantly. How on Earth was she supposed to function without caffeine? She could do without alcohol, but not coffee!
"Good, now to the more complicated part." Green's eyes were keen as she looked at Alice earnestly. "I want you to go home every night. No exceptions—unless you're offworld, you should sleep in your own bed."
"But—" Alice began.
"No exceptions!" Green repeated. "I'm not saying stop working late—yet, at least—I'm saying go home every night. And do that at the same hour. What time do you normally wake up?"
"Five-thirty," Alice replied warily.
"So you should go to bed at nine-thirty in the evening. Go home at nine pm each night—by the time you get there and prepare for bed, it will be nine-thirty. I know," she said, seeing Alice's indignant expression. "It will be difficult. You're gonna lie awake for hours at the beginning—but you have to train your body and your brain that this is the time to fall asleep. That also means no screens before bed—not even your phone. Make sure your bedroom is set for sleeping, too—pull down the blinds to make it fully dark, ensure you have a comfortable mattress, and that the temperature in the room is around sixty-five degrees. You have to maximize your chances."
"Anything else?" Alice asked with heavy irony.
Green sighed. "Major, you don't have to follow my advice, but I am here to help you, not make your life harder. This will help you in the long run—you'll just have to suffer a little at the beginning. Give it a try, just for a few weeks, and if you don't see any improvement, then we'll rethink the approach. Can you do that?"
Alice took a deep breath and nodded. "Sure. Yeah. I can try." Not that she believed it would actually work—but at least it would get Carter off her back for a while, if nothing else.
"Okay. Another thing is your diet. I don't think you have any problems with what you eat—the food at the commissary is pretty healthy—but how often and how much. I'm going to prescribe you an appetite stimulant, just to get you back to the habit of eating regularly and in adequate amounts—but you will have to make some lifestyle changes, too. Put a reminder on your phone for each meal—and stick to it, no matter what—unless you're offworld, of course. Another thing you can do is download a calorie-counting app, use it for the first week or two to ensure that you're actually consuming enough calories—and remember to subtract those you lose during exercise. How does that sound?"
It would disrupt her flow of working and distract her, she knew, but she had to admit that it didn't seem as obtrusive as all the rules Green'd imposed for treating her insomnia. "Sounds okay."
"Good." The doctor leaned over her notepad for a moment and then ripped a page off and handed it to Alice. "Here is your prescription, you can fill it in here or at any pharmacy of your choosing. Do you need me to write down the other instructions?"
"No, ma'am, I'll remember them."
"Okay." Green nodded and then smiled. "I have one more piece of advice if you care to hear it."
"Yeah, sure, why not." Alice didn't feel like she could actually say no in here.
"Go to London," the psychiatrist suggested, her voice gentle. "You feel ashamed and guilty and these emotions won't just go away on their own—you have to start addressing them. Confront your fear, but remember—you're not a coward. You're just heartbroken."
Alice blinked quickly, dropping her head to hide the rush of emotions on her face.
"That's the last thing I wanted to say," Green added with a smile. "I know I've dumped a lot on you—think it over and I'll see you next week. You're free to go."
"Thank you," Alice mumbled, rose and left, forcing herself to walk slowly and not flee at an embarrassing speed.