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Grim Meetings: Therapy Sessions
Posted By: UNSC Recruiter
Date: 29 May 2006, 4:06 am
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There was nothing elaborate about the office. It was purposefully simple for many reasons, the least of which was that most of the patients here became very uneasy in rooms full of furniture. It could have been their prolonged experience to battle, or just as easily a normal claustrophobic response which gave many of his subjects nervous jitters.
The room itself was square, with a normal-looking beige door on one wall, a bookshelf on the wall to the door's left, two large family portraits on the right, and a large open window directly across. Captain Larry Demond Ph. D.'s large oak and maplewood desk sat catty-corner between the stacked bookshelf and window, and was adorned simply by a desk lamp, flat screen computer monitor, mouse, keyboard, and electronic calendar. A red leather couch and chair arrangement had been setup near the portraits, with a tall lamp and small table for him to place writing utensils.
"So, where would you like to start?"
"Why don't you bring up a topic Doc, and we can talk about that. I've never been good with deep personal conversations."
"Anything off limits? I'm fine with setting up some preliminary barriers. If you're not comfortable-"
"Why would I have anything to hide? Just go for it."
"Okay then. Do you think you belong here?"
"That's a tricky question isn't it. I'd have to say that no, I don't belong here. It's more of my duty to be here. I have an appointment for four-thirty in your office, and I really don't like to be late."
"It's only four, which was your scheduled time."
"Yes, of course...either way we have thirty minutes before I have to go."
"It's an hour long session."
"I really don't think either of us will need the full hour today. I have another appointment at five, so I really must be going by half past."
"I see. Well I read your chart-"
"I'd hope so." The doctor gave a thin smile, the pale, ruggedly handsome man only sat with a placid nothingness to his glare.
"So how was your childhood?"
"I didn't really have much of one. I just sort of remember always being like this."
"Anything in particular that made you want to join the UNSC? Nothing you were running away from at home?"
"No, nothing at home. The UNSC's actually been very good to me. I've gotten a lot of work done there. It's so easy to find ways to fulfill my line of work in the military."
"Speaking of, you were an ODST? A Helljumper, am I right?"
"Helljumper is a good term for what I do, yes."
"Do you think you've suffered any profound mental stress while in combat?"
"Oh me? No, why would I? I have nothing to worry about out there. It's everyone else who should be worried."
"Ahh, that trademark boastfulness, but well earned no doubt. How many people would you say you've killed?
"Oh, gosh, too many to count. Millions, maybe billions, I'm not sure. I'm a very busy man these days, what with the war and all."
"Millions? I think that number's a bit high, even for you...wouldn't you agree?"
Nothing. No smile, not even a twitch of the eyes. The tall, thin man didn't look like an ODST, and he smoked. Quite odd.
"So where all have you been during your tours?"
"Oh, the usual places. I've seen Eradinus, Reach, Sigma, most of the Durandal system, and a few backwater places. Lot of work to be done you know? One little place I really hated was some moon called Hur...Huri..no that's not it...Huron IV! That's what it was. Ever heard of that Doc?"
"I, umm, I can't...no I can't...no. I haven't."
"Listen Doc, enough about me. Let's talk about you, how about that?"
"I, I really don't like to discuss my personal matters, if that's-"
"But I really think we should. I hear you've got a lot under your belt you probably want to talk about."
The professionalism was melting quickly, now the doctor was the one shifting uneasily in his seat. He set his pencil and pad on the small table and cocked his head quizzically.
"What in the world could I have to say?"
"I hear you've been to Huron IV too, part of a special recon squad or something like that. Busy man, being a soldier and all and then having time to get your Ph. D."
"Huro-how'd you know about-"
"Calm down now, a man can't get a word in edgewise. So you and your squad...wanna talk about what happened out there? Here you can have the couch, I really must be going soon anyway."
"This isn't fucking funny. I don't know who the hell sent you here, but I want you to fucking leave right this minute."
"The only man to make it back alive...God, must've been lucky to do that. What with that... what was it that attacked you again? Or was it that seven special forces commandos were caught off guard by a bear, or something? I can never really remember how the story went anyway."
The doctor stood up quickly, suddenly much more physically imposing than when he'd been sitting down. The man in the chair only tilted his head up slightly, enough to make eye contact. But his eyes were cold, black--dead.
"I'm innocent, and the fucking court proved it! Now get out of my office you sadistic son-of-a-bitch before I throw you out.
"Oh, don't worry," the wrist-watch he was wearing began beeping, "it's four thirty. I have to go anyway. Sure there's nothing you'd like to say to anyone... important...before I leave?"
"Get...out!"
"So be it, you're mistake."
The pale man stood up, seemingly much taller than before, and slowly strolled to the door. His walk was slow, painfully slow, as if he'd never reach the threshold. Demond was breathing heavily; large, gasping breaths of air from yelling. His head was beading with sweat, and his heart beating furiously. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thud. Thud. Whack. Whack. Like a jackhammer in his chest, about to explode through his skin. His patient turned one last time at the door.
"Even though you didn't believe it Larry, there is someone much, much greater than you in this universe, and you pissed him off real bad. I'll be seeing you around."
Choking breaths, closed breaths. The room was too tight, everything was so close. He grasped at the skin around his neck, tearing at the flesh, peeling it off in large chunks; but nothing helped. The air was warm, dry, but at the same time it felt like he was being held underwater. He gasped and let his last breath of air into the room, but no more came in. His lungs were empty, too heavy to inflate with another breath. He fell to his knees and began coughing up blood as his eyes turned a bright red and his lips a surreal purple.
Mr. Grim closed the door behind him gently, so as not to disturb the receptionist. He carefully approached her tiny desk, and stood patiently waiting for her attention. The clack of keys continued for several minutes before she finally acknowledged the man before her.
"May I help you?"
"It's nothing important. I think you're boss is having some sort of heart attack, seizure, asthmatic combination thing going on in there. He was blue last time I saw him, but he's probably good and dead after this five minute wait. Just a heads up."
An uncertain stare. Blonde, blue-eyed, and utterly naive, the young woman ran as quickly as she could in her high heels to the door and turned it. A piercing scream reverberated down the hallway as the lanky gentlemen in the light gray business suit came to the intersection of two halls. A large man, easily four hundred pounds, opened his office door to see what was happening. Grim placed a single bony finger on his chest, and pushed him backwards into his office.
"Chuck, my boy, just the person I wanted to see," Grim's wrist-watch went off once more as the time turned five, "I think we should have a little talk about all those high-calorie late night snacks you've been eating. I really do think they're starting to catch up to you."
Mr. Grim closed the door quietly behind him as he entered.
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