Spilling Guts

Part 8 - Escape from Paperwork

Will returned to his desk with a lighter heart and fewer butterflies in his stomach. It was only eleven. But at least it wasn't ten. Just make it through the day one hour at a time. There would be hope and rest during the lunch break. The major scare of the day was over and dealt with. And hopefully no more boyfriend blasts from the past. Whatever the rest of the day held for him, he could take it.

Then he saw his still full inbox.

He imagined himself laying on a funeral pyre, similar to the one at the end of "Return of the Jedi", fueled by that stack of paper.

The desk chair squeaked as he collapsed back into it, feeling just as tired as before. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, groaning. He had just gone through an emotional wringer and the possibility of HIV infection, he deserved a nap. May the force take me now, I'm done. I've registered plastic bags and grate designs; a person can only take so much.

"Will...?" Beni chirped.

"Nope."

"Will."

"Nope, I'm done. The paperwork has killed me."

"I have tea."

Will took a deep breath, tasting the air. "What kind?"

"The tea from the box with a tiger on it from the break room." A warm, sweet scent wafted towards Will's face. Actual tea, not the syrupy cold stuff in a bottle. "I stuck half a spoon of honey it."

"Rise, Lazarus," called Reese. "Rise."

Will's head turned like a flower to the sun and he opened his eyes. Beni held out a plain black mug, steaming and welcoming.

He took the cup. "Thank you."

"You needed it."

Will nursed the hot tea, letting himself be soothed to warm wakefulness. He noticed the inbox on Beni and Reese's shared desk was twice the size of his, and they were going through it like machines.

Well now he just felt like a slacker. He took up a file and set the new mug on his unoccupied coaster. The work would probably go faster if he and Louis teamed up like Beni and Reese.

Fat chance of that happening.

Will glanced around his desk. "Where is my Jedi mug?"

"Louis took it," said Beni, not even looking up from her file.

"Why? Where's Louis?"

"He went away for a phone call. You just missed him."

Will rubbed at his face, imagining the things Louis would do to his mug in vengeance. Probably fill it with coffee. He begrudgingly started to rise up out of his chair to look for his partner. Reese's stopped him.

"He'll return eventually," said Reese. "Best to stay in one place. Besides, it'll be lunch in an hour."

"We're getting curry fries," added Beni.

Curry fries sounded good. Will had forgotten to bring a lunch again, and he was getting tired of the sandwiches offered in the upper building's food court. Especially since most of the time the only sandwiches available were chicken salad.

Will shuddered. Never again. Death to chicken salad and all its ilk. "Can I come with you?"

Reese surreptitiously looked at Beni. Beni waved a wallet like a victory flag.

"Certainly!"

***

Rather than sit on the long leather couch freed from its plastic covering, Louis took the seat in front of the Dr. Balcuwitz's desk. He slouched, holding the cooling tea between his thighs. The hard plastic of his cast made a dull clack sound against the ceramic mug. He tried to make himself relax. It wasn't an interrogation. Just a talk. Get it over with.

Balcuwitz, in a strange turn, didn't sit at his desk, but on the leather couch. Comfort over authority. Okay. And warmth via odd sweater vests over fashion sense.

What could this guy possibly know about what I've gone through?

A chili pepper shaped candy dish dipped into view. "Bit of sugar?"

Louis shook his head. He didn't want to talk with his mouth full. "Maybe later."

Balcuwitz nodded and set the dish down. "Would you like me to turn down the lights? Take a break from wearing your glasses?"

Louis stilled. "You know why I wear these?" More a statement than a question. Was this a sincere offer to make Louis comfortable, or a ploy to get a better look at his eyes, and mood in general? Could the shrink be curious and want a chance to see him shrink in person? Could a guy in a sweater vest be working for Watch One?

Great, add paranoia to the list. He kept the shades on.

"Yes, I know of your situation," continued Balcuwitz. "I want you to know the door remains closed and locked from the inside while in sessions. And whatever is said, unless you permit it, doesn't go beyond you and I. Though if they pertain to any health or wellbeing issue concerning your condition I would highly recommend you share it with Dr. Samson."

Louis felt a little underprepared. "Well, I got a list of my issues back at my desk if you want it."

"A list does sound helpful," agreed Balcuwitz. "Do you think it would help in our discussions?"

"What else would I have to talk to you about?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing." Nothing that mattered, thought Louis. "There is nothing wrong with me unless you count all the crap that's been happening lately."

"What makes you think there is something wrong with you?"

Oh hell, this guy is going there? Fine. Louis clenched his jaw and wisely put down the mug of tea. He didn't want to think about the dry-cleaning bill for tea stains on the carpet.

"I'm easily irritated, thanks to irritating people," said Louis, crossing his arms across his chest. "I don't know how to talk around people since whatever I say will piss them off anyway if they are too sensitive. So I try to work alone. I know how I work. It's better alone. I know I'm a HR disaster. But Cetz insists on pairing me up with people that are either too fresh or too dumb. Which of these do you want to start with?"

Louis glared at Balcuwitz, he didn't want to talk about any of this bullshit, but whatever got him out of the office and back in the field he'd take. He felt like a rubber band twisted and stretched to nearly breaking.

Balcuwitz nodded slowly. "Okay, let us start with your claustrophobia."

The tense, stretched feeling tightened around Louis' lungs. "Who told you I have claustrophobia?" His hands involuntarily balled into fists under his folded arms, his left forearm aching more than it should. Had it been Will? Cetz? Something in his previous psych evaluations?

Balcuwitz looked at Louis as if the shades did nothing to hide the agent's eyes. "You did."

Louis' jaw slacked open as the doctor continued. "When you walk into a room you immediately scan the corners, you're measuring the distance between the walls and yourself. You pick out the exit first in case you need to leave, and you take seats in the middle of a room, never to the side or close to a wall. When you've been in one enclosed space for a long time your breath gets faster, you start tapping you fingers and sometimes pace the area. The longer you are in a confined space the more out of breath you feel. You get high-strung, stressed, because of this, yes?"

Louis swallowed hard. The feeling of being stretched suddenly went away. He felt cold instead. Lost and exposed. But he nodded.

"You've had panic attacks because of being in an enclosed space."

Another nod.

"Who else knows about your fear?"

It took a while to get in a full breath, and when it came out it made Louis' voice sound reedy.

"...Will. He figured it out during the Freewill mission. I..." Louis' unwound his arms and took off his shades to rub at his face. The lights had been dimmed. He felt as if he was coming down from sprinting. "...freaked out. I was inside of him at the time."

Balcuwitz held out the candy dish again, and Louis absently picked out something covered in blue cellophane.