20-May-2002
See Part 1 for all disclaimers, warnings, and whatnot
"Come on, Dad."
"Please, Duo. Let's not start."
"Just because you're grumpy--"
"I am not grumpy."
"--because you felt the need to show up obscenely early this morning without checking to see if I would even be there--"
"I am not grumpy."
"And I'm not a twelve-year-old."
"Well then if you didn't want to be carted around like one, you should have worked harder on passing your driving exam."
"My proctor was biased against me!"
"Because you nearly gave her a heart attack."
I rolled my head to the side on the headrest and I grin broke out involuntarily at the mild smirk on Wufei's face. "I did, didn't I."
He shook his head and opened his door. "Let's go. You'll be late."
"Seriously." I looked at him over the roof of his car. "Please don't wait for me."
"Duo."
I slammed the car door much harder than was necessary, and only felt better when I heard Wufei curse under his breath.
I had only been to the Salzman Centre once, when I had to have a psych evaluation when I applied to the Preventers. They "strongly recommended" regular therapy, but with Une's signature on my rec report, they couldn't force me to go by holding the job over my head. I passed, no matter how thinly, and I even saw the words "surprisingly well-adjusted" on one of my reports.
But they thought something was wrong; they just couldn't prove it.
I never went back -- I was afraid they would find something wrong even though it seemed like I was okay, that I could adjust fine with an apartment and a job and maybe even a significant other. Normal stuff. Right.
Wufei pointedly held the door open with his head cocked to the side.
"Okay, okay," I grumbled, and he rolled his eyes.
In the reception area, he settled himself into a large chair to the right of the front door, snagging a copy of Global Time in Chinese.
It was my turn to roll my eyes and he shrugged, nodding towards the receptionist's desk.
The receptionist was young, about my age, with those dark Irish good looks. He smiled pleasantly when I approached the desk, his eyes flicking very quickly over me in what I knew was a non-intrusively appraising way. Classy. And interested, even if I was a patient.
I wondered, not for the first time, why I couldn't just be attracted to someone else. Beyond finding him good looking; why I couldn't find the interest in someone to date him.
"Hi. Uh, Maxwell." I cleared my throat. "Duo Maxwell."
"Right on time."
"Yeah, uh. First time for everything."
He chuckled a little. "You can go right in, Agent Maxwell."
"Thanks." And I felt myself smiling back at him.
I suddenly felt ill, my stomach fluttering and my throat closing to try to keep everything down. I refused to look back at Wufei, because then I would have to look at the receptionist and I would have to think about unconsciously flirting with him while Heero was paralyzed in the hospital not that it mattered because he didn't even know I existed in that way but it shouldn't matter at all because I loved him.
Dr. Lee opened the door to his office -- black plastic nameplate, I noticed, not one of those clunky brass ones -- as I stood, hovering, just past the receptionist.
"Agent Maxwell. Right on time."
I smiled weakly.
"Come in and sit down."
He wasn't what I was expecting. Where I thought he would be wizened with a thin mustache, he was in his thirties, and only part Chinese as his skin and eyes were much lighter than Wufei's.
"Do you mind if I call you Duo, Agent?"
I was staring at a row of books behind my head and I jerked around when he spoke. "No. Sure."
"Great." He clasped his hands between his knees and leaned forward. I noticed his tie was perfect, a blue satin stripe disappearing into the top of his dark blue vest. "Would you like to start, then, Duo? Tell me why you're here."
"Because I'll lose my job if I don't show up."
"Fair enough. I'll phrase it differently: why do you think you were asked to come here."
I laughed sharply and bit down on the urge to question him on his loose interpretation of the word "asked." Don't act crazy in front of the nice doctor, Duo. "Well, I guess because my partner was shot." I didn't stumble over that like I thought I would. "And he's in pretty bad shape."
"How does that make you feel?"
Empty and angry at the same time. "Upset." Afraid, so afraid and alone. "Worried." Guilty because I should have been there or it should have been me.
"Do you really think it should have been anyone at all?"
I started. I had spoken out loud. "Not him. Never him. He's--"
The silence stretched, and Dr. Lee let it, not saying anything. He stayed leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and just watched me.
After about ten minutes of silence, I spoke again. "He's always been there, you know? And having him not there is..."
"Frightening?"
"No. Not-- Well, yeah. He's--"
Silence again. I had talked to Heero about going to therapy, but he was going to come with me, and it was supposed to be him sitting outside, next to the front door, alternating between glaring at the receptionist and reading a book.
"He's better than me. He's better than anyone and he's too strong to be shot like an animal. By street trash like the guy who did it."
"How do you classify this man as street trash?"
"Because I recognize it when I see it," I snarled. "Because I--"
This time the silence was loud and I could just barely hear the pounding of blood through my ears.
"Duo. I think if you say it out loud, you can begin to prove yourself wrong."
"I already have. I know what I am." I dragged my watch up my wrist and stared at the skin bunching around my skinny bones.
"Do you really think that?"
"Do I have to keep coming back here?"
This time he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "It will help, Duo. But you have to want it to."
We finished out the hour in silence. The Doctor didn't check his watch once, or shift in his seat, or anything. We just sat, and when the buzzer on his desk went off, I shot to my feet.
"We have another appointment for the day after tomorrow." He stood slowly, casually, like he was trying not to scare me. "In the end, Duo, you're the only one who can help yourself."
"Thanks for the tip." And I very quietly closed the door behind me, because only crazy people slam doors. They slam doors and talk to people who are lying half-dead in an alley like they're in the living room helping unpack boxes.
The receptionist looked up from his reading and smiled when I stopped at his desk.
"I have you down for the day after tomorrow, right Agent Maxwell?"
I glanced to Wufei, who was watching me with his hands resting on his knees. "Yeah. Same time?"
"Same time."
I nodded and backed away. He looked surprised, sort of contrite. "Um, thanks," I offered.
He beamed a smile and went back to his reading.
The nausea came back to me and the minute we got outside the building I had to double over and brace myself on my knees to stop my legs and hands from shaking.
Wufei's hand was too warm on my shoulder and I shook him off.
"Duo, it's okay."
But it wasn't really okay, because the doctor said I had to help myself and I had no idea where to even start. And when Wufei dropped me off I ran for the shower, shedding clothes as I went, then sat under the heavy, hot spray and scrubbed and scrubbed with one of Heero's rough sponges to try to get all the invisible dirt off of me.
It wasn't enough and closed my eyes and thought of the small box of razors I had brought with me even though I told myself I would throw them away and I shivered with the memory of clean pain.
So I dragged myself out of the tub and wrapped a towel around my hair and went to Heero's room and stared at the cardboard box labeled 'ELECTRONICS' where I knew the blades were.
"Help yourself," I mumbled out loud, and I lay naked on Heero's bed and curled around his pillow and thought that I could maybe do this. For Heero. And for myself. And for us, no matter what that "us" would turn out to mean.
There were no razor blades that night, only me and Heero's pillow and some dream that I can't remember, only that it left me gasping for air and a heat in my lower belly that seemed wholly inappropriate for the situation.
I checked the clock. It was almost nine.
Dressing slowly, I realized something: I had overcome this thing I thought I couldn't control. I didn't cut and I didn't cry and I slept solidly in Heero's bed.
I felt a grin. A small one, but it felt good, better than any since during the war, maybe. I braided my hair quickly, wrapped it around my head, and pulled a black knit cap low over my brow.
I would be more careful this time: Trowa wouldn't interrupt me and I would get this guy once and for all.
Because I said so.
End Part 7
(:./sparcck/tracing7)
