Spilling Guts

Part 99 - Couch Talk

Will's breakfast consisted of an egg and biscuit sandwich (which tasted like mush thanks to his stuffed nose) from the Albert Hospital cafeteria, and a hot cup of English Breakfast tea (which melted away his sinus pressure like an ice cube on a stove) provided by Doctor Hayman. Will had reentered Watch Two with lighter steps, dread no longer following at his heels. Instead it lurked in the corners, politely waiting to be acknowledged.

And though Balcuwitz's leather couch was comfortable, the first thought that came to Will's mind when he lay down was to talk, not sleep.

He talked about his fears that the sleep study would show nothing. About Doctor Hayman that knew tea and falafels. About having to go back that very night to sleep again and how it didn't seem so bad. If it hadn't been soothed with honeyed tea, his throat would hate him for talking so much.

Balcuwitz, clad in a mulberry sweater vest and matching socks, set Will's empty cup on the desk once he'd taken a breath between talking. And then handed Will a box of tissues. "Do you feel better after last night?"

"Not better but... reassured." Will tucked the tissue box to his side. The soothing effect of the tea would wear off soon. Best be prepared. "Like crash landing on a desert planet, but I know someone saw the distress signal. Rachel and others are looking into it. And being watched while I slept wasn't as creepy as I had thought."

Except the only way I could sleep was to think erotic thoughts of Louis. A guilty pleasure he should ignore. I should bring this up. Later. Maybe later.

"Not as creepy, and neither is it an inconvenience," said Balcuwitz. "I can see that shred of guilt. Hospitals are meant to be places of healing, doctors are meant to tend and heal. You aren't inconveniencing them."

Will grimaced. Maybe Balcuwitz couldn't see everything going on in his head. Thank gosh for that. He'd take the other, less sensual guilt for now.

"Louis has to have a fall-back agent in case something happens to me," said Will. "Well, something is happening to me, and it sucks. For me, for Louis. For Reese; I saw him when I came back from the hospital. Cetz had him stripped down to his white shirt, cuffs rolled up, and frowning at the punching bag like it was a closed sign on a Godiva shop."

"And how did that make you feel?"

Feel? He was feeling a lot. Too much. And in the wrong direction. Will gritted his teeth as the pressure in his head slowly crept back. "You can practically do a Vulcan mind meld from looking at me. Can't you just say what I need to know?"

Balcuwitz smiled and shrugged, reaching for the jalapeno candy dish. "The best thing I can do is equip you with the tools to help yourself. A therapist that makes their clients dependent on them for every facet of life might have job security, but they are also doing a disservice to their clients. I am not supposed to be the angel or demon on your shoulder."

"Oh." Will plucked a red disc from the dish. He'd become attached the taste of cinnamon during therapy sessions, to the point he had considered changing out his mint tin which usually held spearmints for cinna-mints.

"And to answer your question on how you felt when you saw Reese being trained as Louis' backup... You don't like the idea of being replaced."

Will's fingers froze, red candy disc half peeled of cellophane.

How the fuck? He had a physical tell for that?

"Louis had a lot of partners before me," Will reasoned. "He would have more after."

"You don't want to push or scare Louis away because of a weakness. Afraid that your ability to protect your partner won't be enough." Balcuwitz gestured to Will's middle. "Even using your own body as a shield isn't enough. When Zachs shot you during the Luvor mission, the idea of being a perfect protector was shattered."