Protect & Serve LotR-Lord of the Rings Fanfiction - Fan Fiction -WattyAwards2012

Epilogue: When Honor Dies

"How have you been?"

I shook my head to clear the stray thoughts away and focused on the squat, turtle-like middle-aged man sitting across from me.

"Fine," I insisted, wishing more than the glass-top coffee table separated us.

  He scribbled something in the notepad laid over his crossed knee, his dark wool sweater making a slight scratching noise as he moved. "What have we talked about before? This is a safe environment. You can speak honestly and freely here. I need you to speak honestly and freely if you have any hope of getting better," he admonished, his eyes cutting down at me through his half-rimmed glasses.

I pulled myself out of the sinking pit of the plush couch, hating that it sat so much lower than Doctor Whitesell's chair.

"Who says I'm not speaking freely?" I insisted as I paced behind the couch.

Doctor Whitesell scribbled something more in his notepad as he leaned back and tracked my movement.

Indulging in a deep sigh, I calmed myself and forced my body back into the sinking cushions of his ivory couch. "I'm fine," I repeated. "I've been fine for a while now. I just don't understand why I have to keep coming back here and talking to you and dredging things up again and again."

I could see that Doctor Whitesell was about to launch into some undoubtedly long-winded reprimands and recrimination about why I needed to keep coming here, so I spoke first.

"It's normal, you know. People say they're fine all the time. People say they're fine instead of telling everyone on the street who asks them how they're doing every little thing that's wrong. 'Cause no one really wants to hear that anyway. And hasn't that been the point of all this?" I asked, throwing my arms out to encompass the room and its entire palate of the shades of white and cream and modern but impersonal decor. A lot like Doctor Whitesell that way if I thought about it. Very impersonal. "To get back to 'normal,' to get back to healthy and functioning in society?" I continued.

Doctor Whitesell held the pen between his two hands as he spoke, his hands bending down to point at me with the pen suspended between them. "You know we don't like to use the word 'normal,' Lane. We're just trying to help you work through some issues, and yes, as you said, become a healthy, functioning member of society again."

I threw my hands out in exasperation. "Well, I am! So why do I have to keep coming back here where you analyze every inflection of my voice when I say, 'I'm fine' or when I say anything else?"

"Are you feeling threatened, Lane?" he asked, continuing to hold his silver pen between his two hands.

The Doc might have thought he was the master of reading body language and at manipulating his own body language, but I saw the glimmer of fear in his eyes and the way he held his body just a bit tenser. The same fear that had been there since our very first session. He tried so hard to act nonchalant and pretend I didn't scare him, but I knew I did. I scared a lot of people.

I forced myself to lean back in the couch and pretended to calmly contemplate him and the question. "No. Why would I feel threatened?" I asked, my voice calm and carefully puzzled. "I'm just explaining that I would like to move on with my life, and I feel that if I have to keep coming back here three times a week to meet with you, I'll never be able to put this all behind me and move on with my life."

He relaxed and I saw the fear mostly leave his eyes.

As good as he thought he was at manipulating body language, I was better.

"And you feel like you are able to move on with your life now? You don't feel like you're in danger of slipping back into the delusions?" he asked, setting the pen down and threading his fingers together as he clasped his hands.