*warning: this chapter mentions sexual assault.*
Milton knocked on the gym wall, startling Louis from his slump on the padded floor.
A normal person would usually ask "how are you feeling?" or "what's wrong?" Milton approached Louis and offered a chilled gel pack. He could read how Louis was feeling by the crumpled posture and raw skin around his bare eyes.
"I didn't hurt my hands too much," Louis rasped, as if he had been yelling. He took the pack anyway and put it over his reddened knuckles. Sweat beaded at his temples.
This wasn't Milton's office with the candy dish and sleep-able couch. Nor was this the observation floor with the garden paths and pillars of natural light to walk through.
But talks don't need a specific place, Milton learned long ago. They need a person and time.
Milton sat on the same mat as Louis, but kept an arm's length away to not crowd him. The punching bag behind Louis turned slowly in the dim light.
"Rachel told me what they think the device is doing," said Milton.
"Then shouldn't you be talking to Will?"
"He doesn't know yet. Rachel and Hayman are putting together everything they've uncovered for a presentation tomorrow to get him up to speed. But tonight he needs to sleep unburdened of that knowledge. And he's not the one punching a bag with bare knuckles."
Louis shifted his knees and put the soles of his feet together in a butterfly-leg stretch. "The punching gloves from the test are upstairs. Didn't want to make a special trip."
Milton eyed the un-engineered boxing gloves hanging from a rack near the doorway. He was deciphering a pattern in Louis' behavior; a self destructive-ish pattern. Get frustrated about something, try to outlet stress physically to feel in control of what he's feeling, and when that doesn't work, hurt self. In this case it was a punching bag. Milton suspected that Louis and Will's conflict back in California was mostly due to Louis venting his frustrations at Will and trying to incite a reaction.
"You are angry at yourself," said Milton. "Why do you think you deserve to punish yourself for this?"
"Because I can't fix this. I wish I could. But I don't know how."
"You didn't put that machine on Will's body. You didn't create it. You didn't alter it into a nightmare. You didn't set up a bomb in a car in a California airport rental parking lot. You are not to blame for this."
Louis elbowed the punching bag behind him. "Then why do I feel like I'm not doing enough?"
When the bag came back, Louis twisted around and kicked it, making it swing wild as he collapsed on his back on the mat.
Milton reached out and stilled the bag before it could hit him or swing over Louis' prone form. "You are doing more than you think."
"I'm sulking in a dark room after a temper tantrum."
"People need to have an outlet for their frustrations. Don't negate the need for your own as long as it's healthy." Milton got to his feet and held out a hand to help Louis up. "And if you want some sort of self punishment, I can give you one."
Louis huffed, grabbing a towel off a shelf and wiping the sweat off his face and neck before putting his shades back on. "Homework, why not."
"It's also somewhat medicinal," said Milton. They both drifted to the doorway and the bright corridors. "No coffee for the next thirty-six hours."
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Spilling Guts
कल्पित विज्ञान4 in the Getting In Deep series. LGBTQ, Thriller, Sci-Fi, vore. Agents Will and Louis are on desk duty until Dr. Milton Balcuwitz can sooth their partnership. Therapy goes slow and Louis reopens the cold case on the Devil's Neckbrace to distract hi...
