John woke with a start. He could feel himself shaking and he looked around the strange surroundings. It took a moment of panicking before he remembered where he was, having startled awake from a very deep sleep.
"Oh, shit." He brought a shaky hand up to rub the back of his neck. His heart was pounding and his skin slick as he tried to calm his body. Slowly, he dragged the covers from his body and let his legs fall to the floor. He couldn't remember what he had been dreaming about but whatever it had been, he surely didn't like the feeling he was left with. He pulled on his robe and slippers and headed downstairs.
Finding his way in the dark to the kitchen, he was pleased to find a cold pot of coffee left on the counter. He found a coffee cup, filled it and placed the cup into the microwave to reheat. Sixty seconds later, he found himself standing at the window, staring out into the darkness, blowing on his cup of coffee.
"Ahhhhhhhhh!" an older woman screamed, coming into the kitchen and seeing a shadowy figure standing by the window. She startled John so badly that he sloshed the hot coffee on his hand.
"Oh, shit!" He yelped, burning his hand. The room suddenly illuminated, causing John to blink. "Ow!" He said, covering his eyes. The frightened woman stood with a knife in her hand and John caught a flicker off the blade. He felt his heart jump into his throat.
"Who…who… who are you?" she asked, in a terrified voice.
Hearing the scream, Veronica and Brandon came running down the stairs. They suddenly stopped in the doorway. Gracie, their cook, was wielding a knife menacingly; John was on the other side of the blade.
"Gracie, it's all right." Brandon slowly approached from behind the woman. Gracie had worked for the couple many years and she was a bit known for being overprotective of her kitchen. "Gracie, put the knife down." Brandon glanced inside the kitchen and John was frozen, a broken coffee cup lying at his feet. "Roni, get to John." Brandon took the knife from Gracie's clenched fist.
"Who is that man, Dr. Montgomery? What is he doing in my kitchen in the middle of the night? Dr. Montgomery, who is he?" Gracie rattled as Brandon pulled her into the dining room so Veronica could get to John.
"John, can you hear me?" Veronica approached slowly, the look of absolute terror on his face. Slowly, he looked in her direction and he crumbled to the floor, burying his face as he totally broke down, sobbing.
"Oh, John, its okay, Honey." She knelt next to him as he collapsed into her.
"I can't do this anymore, please, I can't do this any more," he cried, breathlessly begging her to save him.
"Shh, baby, it's okay." She rocked him, rubbing his back as he wept.
Brandon finally explained who John was to Gracie and they approached the doorway.
"You okay, Roni?" He asked quietly.
"Can you give us a minute, Brandon?" Veronica looked at her husband, her own face swollen with tears. Brandon nodded and he helped Gracie back to her room, giving John and his wife some time alone.
After several minutes, John finally pulled away, angrily wiping the tears from his face.
"Damn it," he mumbled as he stood, suddenly bending over and picking up pieces of broken ceramic from the floor. Veronica stood as she watched him. "Do you have a towel or something that I can clean this up with?" He asked, looking around the room. He finally pulled a dishtowel off the counter and began mopping up the spilled coffee. His actions were very choppy and erratic.
Brandon rejoined his wife and she waved him to keep quiet while they both stood and watched John's actions.
"Look, I'm sorry about the coffee mug. I'll replace it. I've seen that set at the mall and I'll send you another one. She just caught me off guard. I didn't expect to wake anyone. I didn't mean to wake anyone. I just needed to get up. Get a cup of coffee. I couldn't sleep. Well, actually, I was sleeping but then I suddenly woke up and couldn't stay there anymore. That's when it's the worst. At night, see, if I don't sleep, then I don't think about things. It's when I think about stuff that it gets bad. If I just keep busy then I can concentrate on other things. Like work. I can think about the patients. I can run the procedures in my head. I run through the simple ones first, moving up to surgical procedures. When I run out of procedures, I go through the anatomy. I start with the muscles, then the bones, or is it usually the bones? No, the bones first. They're easiest. Then the muscles…. " He muttered to himself as he cleaned up the coffee, wiping and re-wiping over the same spots. Scrubbing and muttering to himself he took the dripping towel to the sink where he rinsed it out and scrubbed the floor some more.
Veronica looked at Brandon. She had worked with enough patients to understand what he was doing but Brandon looked totally confused. Veronica held her fingers to her lips, asking her husband to let John continue. She motioned him to follow her out of the room.
"Why the hell aren't you stopping him?" Brandon whispered harshly.
She placed her hand on his shoulder. "It's all right, Honey. This is normal." She assured him.
Brandon shook his head. "That is a highly skilled doctor in there scrubbing the tile off the floor, Roni. What is normal about that?" he asked.
"It's a normal activity. He's talking about the things he does at work. You heard him. He's afraid of going to sleep because he'll dream. This, at least for the moment, he has control of. John needs to feel in control of something. I bet that's why he works so much. He needs to work to keep his mind occupied. God, why didn't I see this sooner? It's when he thinks for himself that he loses it."
"That's also why he falls in love so easily. John puts so much of himself into the things he does or the people he loves as a distraction from himself. School, work, everything, it's when he's under stress, under vast amounts of pressure when he does his best. That's why he knows this stuff like the back of his hand. Other than his work, John has nothing. His relationship with us, with Abby, his past relationships all center on the hospital. That's where he felt at home, safe until that man stabbed him and killed his friend. The one place he felt in control of has now become someplace frightening in his mind. He doesn't get any support from his family because they're always running away too. I bet it all started when his brother died." Veronica explained to Brandon quietly as they both stood back and watched John mop and re-mop the floor muttering continually.
"John Carter needs to learn to stand up to these fears and realize that he's stronger than they are. That's the direction I need to go in. Get John to stand up to the things that have had him running his whole life and learn to stand up to it." Veronica paced, thinking out loud. Brandon listened, thinking it actually made perfect sense.
"How are we going to get him back upstairs?" Brandon asked; feeling frustrated because he didn't know how to help.
"He'll come up when he's ready. I doubt if he's even aware that we're here. We'd better get back upstairs before he comes out. He might be embarrassed if he sees us down here," she explained, pulling her husband toward the stairway.
"So, we just leave him down here?" Brandon exclaimed.
"Yes," she insisted. "Let John work this out his way. I'll start my way tomorrow," she smiled.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Good morning, sleepy head," Veronica called, seeing John emerge from the upper floor. She sat at the table, reading the paper, having a cup of coffee.
John smiled, still looking a bit sleepy but he was freshly showered, shaved, and dressed.
"Good afternoon, you mean," he smiled, cocking his head as Gracie brought out a cup of coffee for him. She looked familiar.
"Coffee, Dr. Carter?" She asked.
Veronica had gotten up early and explained to Gracie that John probably wouldn't remember anything that had happened during the night and for her to act normally.
"Thank you," he smiled as he sat where she had set the coffee cup down. "Your cook?" he asked, Veronica watching him closely out of the corner of her eye.
"Yes, That's Gracie. She's worked for us for nearly fifteen years, makes a mean omelet if you're hungry." She kidded.
He shook his head. "No, I'm not hungry, yet," he said, staring into his coffee cup. "Don't you have to work today?" He asked, taking a sip.
"Trying to get rid of me, are you?" She asked. He chuckled.
"No, Honey, you and I get to spend the day together. Brandon has a tummy tuck this morning and some new breasts this afternoon but he'll be home early." She explained so nonchalantly that John laughed out loud.
"Tummy tuck and breasts? So, what kind of mood is that going to put him in?" He joked. Veronica was happy to see that he seemed to be in a good mood.
"Oh, Kerry tells me you did a plastic surgery rotation before coming to county. You should know how those go," she said, putting her paper down.
"It was a long time ago and if memory serves right, they're both pretty ugly," he smiled.
"Honey, that's why I'm staying 100% pure me. I may have tits down to my ankles when I'm sixty but at least they'll be mine," she laughed heartily.
"There is nothing wrong with your body that needs correcting," John blushed.
"Talk to me when I'm sixty. How would you like to take a ride on the horses this morning?" She suggested.
He looked up, his eyes twinkling. "Really?" He smiled.
She couldn't help but to lean over and kiss him on the nose. "Really, Hon, now Finish your coffee and we'll get them ready."
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abby returned from having spent the few hours down in the basement doing laundry. She'd brought the phone with her, expecting John to call but it never rang. She tried to tell herself that she wasn't disappointed but she knew she was lying. Here it was already after 2pm in the afternoon and she still hadn't heard from him.
She carried the laundry basket into the bedroom and put her underclothes in the drawer. She picked up the pile of boxers for John and she tenderly placed them next to his socks. She smiled to herself, looking at how neat his drawer was. Socks perfectly lined up next to his precisely folded boxers, each taking up the same amount of room.
She then began to hang his slacks so that they wouldn't need to be ironed. She found herself missing him more and more as she took care of his things, his possessions. She pulled his old, ratty Bulls shirt out of the basket and held it close. She knew it was silly but she tossed it on the bed. She would hold it while she napped before her shift. She already slept on his side of the bed when she was alone but this would help, particularly if she didn't hear from him. She just hoped that he was getting some progress done with his therapy and hopefully some sort of healing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"John, how long did you see a counselor after you were stabbed?" Veronica asked, sitting high on her horse while it drank from the pond. He looked up, shading his eyes. He was on the ground, walking his horse.
"I only went once," he said.
"Why?" She asked. She was watching his body closely for any signs of discomfort but he seemed to be in a much better place mentally today.
"I didn't want to need it. I used the drugs instead. In Atlanta, they introduced me to AA and NA, you know, the whole power of God concept and therapy was a sort of forced thing. There, though, it was mostly group therapy and I just didn't feel like I was in the same, well, ended up there for the same reasons that they did. Most had started because of stress or accessibility or they'd had a problem before they became doctors. No one had been stabbed at work," he said, kicking a small mound of dirt.
"Tell me about the men in your life. Who do you consider anyone in particular as having made some sort of influence in your life?" Veronica asked casually.
He looked at the water and tossed a pebble. "Are you analyzing my testosterone levels, doctor?" He ribbed.
Veronica giggled as she slipped off her horse. "No, John, I'm just curious. Each time you've gone under, you talk about the women who have influenced you in one way or another but you never mention any men." She said, finding a nice patch of fresh grass to sit on.
"How could you tell? I mean you've only had me under, what, three or four times?" He shrugged.
Veronica smiled. "John, I have had you under every time we've tried. You are very easy to put under. Do you remember last night?" She asked.
He became curious and he sat down next to her. "What about last night?" He asked.
"The kitchen?" She asked, trying to jog his memory.
He just gave her a blank stare. "Uh, no, what did I do, Veronica?" He asked, completely serious.
"John, have you ever been told that you do things in your sleep? Have you ever been a sleep walker?" She asked.
He thought for a few minutes and shook his head. "Not that I can think of," he said. "Wait, there have been a few times that Abby has found me out on the balcony or sitting in the living room but I figured those were just times in which I wasn't really awake. I guess you could call those sleepwalking," he said.
"Does she wake you?"
"Uh, yeah. She's usually surprised to see me but I have to tell you, I feel pretty surprised to see her. I never thought that much about it," he shrugged.
"John, Honey, how much research have you done on PTSD?" She asked.
He laughed and got up. He shook his head negatively. "I don't have that, Veronica." He began pacing. "They tried to tell me that I showed signs in Atlanta but I don't. That's for people who have been through something really traumatic. I know I was stabbed but I didn't see it coming and I had all those people around me supporting me. No, I'm not suffering from that." He denied completely.
Veronica looked at him in total shock. She stood up and questioned him. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "John, are you telling me that you do not believe that you currently suffering from any lasting effects of all the stress you've been through in your life?" She asked.
He laughed sarcastically but Veronica noticed he would not meet her gaze. "Veronica, I think I'd know if I had a mental disease, okay? Don't make me out to be like Sobriki." He stated clearly. "I'm not mentally ill, okay?" He began walking toward the water.
Veronica shook her head. John had become a master at denial. She watched him throwing rocks into the water, seeing how far he could throw. She felt bad. She certainly didn't want to make him angry but he became defensive so easily.
"I'm sorry, John," she gently touched his shoulder. At least he didn't pull away. In fact, he stopped and looked at her.
"I lied," he said, meeting her eyes. He bobbed his head up and down. "I lied. What can I say?" He shrugged.
"About what, Honey?" She gently touched his face.
"I have done a lot of reading and I know what I have," he said quietly.
"Can you help me fix it?" His eyes begged so honestly. He looked so sad.
"Yes, Honey." She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I can help you. I know that I can help you. You just have to be honest with me and tell me everything, okay? Tell me what you've been experiencing," she said. He held onto her for several moments before finally pulling back, smiling.
"Okay, first, I guess there is my dad and grandfather," he began.
Veronica smiled glad that he was finally going to talk to her on his own. "Why don't you tell me about them." She nodded.
"Cold, impersonal, strong minded, superior to everyone," he said, thinking of words.
"What about when you were young? What about before Bobby died?" She asked.
"My dad," he choked slightly. "Used to ride us on his back, you know, like a horse. He built this huge tree house for us at my grandparent's house. They both built it," he thought silently. "You know, I think that was the last thing I remember them doing together that wasn't business related," he smiled, looking down at the ground.
"What happened?" She asked, letting him relive the memories in his head.
"Bobby got sick. He became the focus. For over a year, everything was about Bobby. A trip here, a trip there, flying him all over the world looking for someone to give them a different diagnoses," he explained.
"How was your relationship with your brother?" Veronica asked.
John smiled to himself, lost in thoughts for a moment.
"I loved my brother. He was everything I wanted to be. We did everything together. He was in so much pain at the end, though. He used to beg me to talk them into just letting him go. My mother totally lost it but none of the adults ever cried in front of us. I don't think they even cried at the funeral."
"Who is *us*?" She questioned.
"My sister Barbara, my cousin Chase and I. We were together all the time in the early years," he said.
"You have a sister? That's right, I believe you did mention her during one of our sessions. What's she like?" Veronica thought this was an interesting new detail.
"Barbara, she's just Barbara, it's been a long time since I've even seen her. She took over the Tokyo business. Let's see, she's four years older than I. The last time I saw her was about five minutes during my grandfather's funeral. She had to fly out to take care of some corporate bullshit," he explained, sounding a bit bitter.
"Does that make you angry?" She asked.
He looked at her surprised. "Why would that make me angry?" He questioned.
"You just sounded angry."
"No, I 'm not angry. I mean it's always been like that. Barbara gets to go while I get to stop what I'm doing and take care of Gamma. Her husband dies and everyone wants her to make an appearance as the grieving widow. My mother kept bugging me to go find her, saying that all 200 guests are wondering where she is." He laughed thinking that he was sure no one even noticed that she wasn't there.
"I found her in the garage. She was going to go out for a drive but she flooded the engine. She wanted me to open this bottle of champagne that she had been saving for their sixtieth anniversary. I made sure to spill plenty of it and pretended to drink some just to make her happy," he chuckled.
"You and your Grandmother are close?" Veronica asked noticing the smile spread across his face as he spoke of Millicent.
"She needs someone to take care of her. She needs to take care of someone. We fit together," he shrugged.
To be continued………..
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