Spilling Guts

Part 84 - Timing

Louis arched his back off the curved floor as is shoulders and feet dug into flesh with a squelch. He thought better when he was moving. Confined as he was, stretches would have to do.

"Once we thought about the situation, it stopped being funny." Louis kept the pose for another five seconds, and the lowered his back down with a puff of air. "And I think I lost humor with all this when I realized I couldn't go about my life like I used to. You know how much of a dick I look like when I wear shades inside? Especially at the gym."

He was getting a bit off topic, talking more about himself than the both of them, but Will hadn't interrupted yet. Louis stretched his arms up and curved his spine from side to side.

"It's isolating. And the only thing keeping me from outright screaming is the hope that Rachel can fix it."

Louis stretched until his spine and ribs burned, planes of muscle worked like the constant shifting around him.

You're complaining again. Make this less about you.

Louis let his back slap into the flesh. "This has been a long time coming, but I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it all out on you. You're not a freak for liking something others don't. The way you describe it..."

What would it be like to have something that warm and fuzzy feeling resting inside one's flesh? And I give him that. I know I can feel like a nuisance sometimes, but I can make something good out of it.

"I can't blame you for liking something that sounds like that. Not saying we should do this every day. I still hate the swallowing and today's test wasn't a good experience. But I can understand it."

Louis waited for response, the walls around him growling with a hollow whine. The throbbing drum of a heartbeat continued slow and steady, as did the breathing, like waves crashing and withdrawing from a beach. He counted to ten. Then twenty.

Jeez, was hearing an apology from him so rare it rendered Will speechless?

"Will? I'm kinda bearing my heart here."

More even breathing.

"Hey, Fanboy?"

Nothing. Deep, even breathing like...

"Are you asleep?!"

Silence.

Louis threw his hands up. "Every fuckin' time."

Lighten up. He's had a long day. Hell, he's had a month of bad sleep and nightmares. If anyone deserves a nap, its Will.

"I deserve coffee."

You deserve a nap.

"I don't wanna nap." Louis protested against his better angels as the thud-lub around him vibrated calm into his bones. The lingering anxiety of the close walls, melted away. His limbs, stretched and pliant, went heavy.

"This is what happens when I don't get coffee."

That's the point.

***

"If you need something done, give the task to a busy person. They know how to carve out time in their schedule to finish it."

Balcuwitz hated that "advice"; it left the busy person carving pieces of their mental health away to meet everyone's approval and expectations.

So Balcuwitz had Rachel listing all the tasks she could delegate to others, either agents or vetted medical personnel that could be pulled from the connecting hospital if she needed to. Many tasks on the list were tiny things that carved away parts of Rachel day. When they discussed certain duties, like machine calibrations, cleaning out Dory's rat condo, and tending the circulating colds and infections between Nate and Franklin, he learned they were things she did to make herself still useful as a doctor.

So, some easy but time consuming things stayed. The enduring items like Louis' condition, the Devil's Neckbrace, and territorial disputes with Watch One, were put in their own column.

Normally Balcuwitz would make this "homework" for the client to do and then present at the next session to talk over. With a greater insight into Rachel's responsibilities and schedule, he'd help her start it.

While Rachel did a separate list of projects she had to prioritize, Balcuwitz raised a different question.

"How is Bella adjusting to her new home? I had forgotten to ask until I saw the blank wall where her chamber used to be."

"Oh." Rachel's eyes brightened at mention of her once constant lab companion. "The primate center said she was doing okay. Socializing. Sort of. Kept throwing her toys at the other chimps until they threw them back."

Balcuwitz's mouth quirked to one side. "That sounds familiar."

Rachel laughed. "Yeah. It's Bella. She was one of our best ways of vetting new agents. I think the professors are going to try paint therapy next."

"Is paint therapy something you are familiar with?"

"Only if you count paintball."

A knock came from the door. "Hello?" called Cetz.

"Come in," bade Rachel.

Cetz nudged open the door. He had a large paper takeout bag in each hand, and one shuffled by his feet like a penguin carrying it's young. A scent of sugar, vinegar, fried panko breading, and umami wafted from the bags.

"Are we eating here, or up in my office?" Cetz nodded at Balcuwitz. "You're free to join us. I think I have enough sushi here to feed the Hive."

"Maybe later. I need to check in on agents Will and Louis." Balcuwitz rose gestured to the papers on Rachel's desk. "Keep working on this when you have time."

Balcuwitz left with an empty mug and a pencil in hand. Cetz shuffled his third bag of sushi into Rachel's office and closed the door. Sushi was heavy and he didn't want to haul it up to his office.

"Talk about anything important?"

Rachel gathered her papers and made room on her desk. "I'm overworked and in need of delegating my tasks for my mental health."

Cetz stared at Rachel, then at the door Balcuwitz had left through, then back to Rachel. He gestured with the takeout bag swinging, the paper straps straining. "I've been telling you that for years. One hour with Mister Compass-at-the-North Pole and it finally sinks in?"

Rachel shrugged and then held her hands out in a "gimmie" motion. "I've earned my tuna, my eel, my roe. I've earned the entire orchestra from the Little Mermaid's "Under the Sea" sashimi style. We eat, then talk."