Landfall - 18. Doc, I'm Worried.....

“Doc, I'm worried.”

“What's going on, Dave?” Brian Schmitt, Bureau psychiatrist, and long-time friend, is on the phone with me. And even though it's just 9am Dallas time, he sounds wide awake, and interested—apparently he's a morning man, and gets rolling early in the day.

"Doc, Barry saw his face yesterday, and freaked out. Even though he looks like the projection the surgeon gave us, he was damn near catatonic on the way back to our place. I ordered dinner, he ate 3 or 4 bites of it. Later, when we got in bed together, he stayed totally on his side of the bed, and we normally cuddle. He wouldn't let me touch him. He cried some. He tossed and turned all night, apparently with nightmares, and talked some in his sleep. Couldn't really make out what he was saying, other than hearing him call his wife and his boys. He's still asleep and it's already past 10am here.”

“Dave, he and I talked about this, I gave him some exercises to mentally adjust to his new face, and.....”

“Doc,” I interrupted, “it's not just the face issue. He's been on a downhill slide ever since the Dallas shooting. That night he kinda had a meltdown on the phone with me—that's why I called you the next day and set his first appointment with you. He did that appointment, and it seemed to help some. He perked up a little, ate a normal meal that night, and actually initiated sex. He had surgery the next day, but since then he's not eating normally—just picks at his food—and sleeps all the time. For the first couple of days after his surgery, I could understand his sleeping, but it's all I can do to get him out and doing anything.”

“Sometimes he'll look at me and there's such sadness it fucking kills me. Other times, I'll glance at him and there's fear. And other times I'll look at him and there's so much anger it scares me. It's like he's on a roller coaster of emotions.”

“Saturday night, we went out for dinner at some friends' house. Even though he managed to go out, he was quiet throughout the evening, barely ate the food in front of him, and complained how 'full' he was—even though he really didn't eat more than a few bites. And since then he's had no energy, sleeping a lot—and then he saw his face. And freaked.”

“Doc, here's the bottom line—think my boy is in the middle of an emotional collapse. Major depression at a minimum. And I'm not certain that I'm gonna be enough for him on this. Can you talk with him today, maybe around noon, and then come down and talk with him tomorrow? I know that's Friday, and you're ready to get off for the weekend, but I'm really concerned.”

“Dave, I'll have to get approval for that, it's not that I can just take off like that.” At least Doc is open to the idea of being here.

“Doc, don't worry about that. I'll make a call, and then call you back with the approval you need. But, please do plan on talking with Barry at noon today and make your own assessment.”

“Ok, Dave, I'll plan on calling at noon your time, and I'll be here for your phone call.”

“Great! I'll talk with ya in a few minutes, Doc!”

My next call was to Sid Gladstone, Assistant Director of the Bureau. After a brief chat with his secretary, I was passed through to him.

“David, nice to hear from you. And just what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” His sincerity comes through. “Everything going ok with Barry and with you?”

“That's why I'm calling. Barry isn't handling all of this well, and when he saw his new face yesterday, he kinda freaked out. I'm afraid there's a lot floating around in his head, and he's not dealing with it. He's had one visit with Doc, and that seemed to help—so I'd like to get Doc to fly in and spend the weekend here. If you'll approve that, I'll get him here tomorrow, and he can stay over.”

“Is it really that bad, David?”

I went over the same stuff I'd told Doc.

“I guess I shouldn't be surprised—in the space of two months, he's had to deal with his wife's death, set up his own murder, willingly surrender his career and life in Dallas, give up his boys, get a new face, and soon, a new life and career in a new location. That's a helluva lot for anyone to deal with. A damn hurricane of emotions, and I know it's not done yet. Yes, I'll authorize Doc to come in tomorrow, and he can stay there over the weekend.”

“In fact, that'll probably work well. I'll fly in on Friday, too; I've got a proposition for both you and for Barry we need to discuss. It's big, and I want to review it with both of you at once—and no, I'm not going into any detail about it now.” He laughs at keeping this secret. “It will also give me and Doc a chance to talk about how Barry's doing, and all of us—you, Doc, Barry, and me--can figure out what the next steps need to be.”

“Great. Thanks, Sid, I'll call Doc and let him know you've approved his trip. I'm going ahead and having him talk with Barry at noon, but really do think it's a good idea to have Doc here for some intense, face-to-face work.”

“Ok, David, enough about Barry—how are you doing? No bullshit, ok?” This isn't just an official inquiry; his concern comes through loud and clear.

“I'm ok, I guess. I'm just really worried about Barry right now. He's normally been a pretty strong guy, and right now he's pulled back so much it kinda scares me. Hasn't changed my feelings about him—if anything, they're stronger and more protective. But I think I'm still professionally objective about him, and I'm not worried about being able to do my job.”

“David, I've no doubt that you're doing a good job with him. Right now, he's hurting and in the middle of so many changes, I'm glad you're there. And I'm about to get personal, so if I'm out of line, please say so; are you guys a couple?”

Long pause. He already knows everything going on with this case, might as well fill him in on all of it.

“Yes, sir. I know he loves he. And I love him.” And there's an odd moment of pride that comes with acknowledging our status with him.

“Good. I figured that was on its way, just based on the discussion I had with Barry after the plaza shooting in Dallas last week. Glad to hear it—congratulations.” No false notes of insincerity there.

“I'll see you tomorrow, David, and I'm calling Doc's boss to authorize his trip down. Good bye!” And the call ends.

I call Doc back. “You're approved to fly out tomorrow. You're being authorized now, and the arrangements are being made. Let me know what time you decide to fly out, and I'll meet you at the airport, and bring you back here.”

“Will do, Dave....in fact, my secretary just brought in travel arrangements for me. I'll be leaving first thing, and will see you and Barry around 10:30 tomorrow. I'll be there at least the weekend. The authorization is pretty much open-ended, so I'll be staying until we decide I'm no longer needed. Just didn't realize this case was that big, Dave—this came from the A.D.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, he's been involved in this, actually managing parts of the operation directly. Really didn't figure your boss would object if the request to get you here came from him. Just consider it a little vacation time from the Bureau.” We both chuckled.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Dave. Thanks!”

Time to get Barry up. I stop by the coffee bar in the lobby, grab a large coffee cup, cream in the lower third, hot coffee to fill, then a packet of sugar. Barry likes an almost dessert coffee in the morning. Nothing like a sweet cafe au lait to start the day, right?

Use the key, get in the room, only to find Barry, curled up in a fetal position on the bed, face half buried under the covers. The part of his face I can see is wet with tears, but he's sound asleep—never knew you could cry while you slept.

“Barry, wake up. Time to start the day.” Trying my best “happy morning” voice. Barry just grunts and curls up tighter into the ball.

I reach out, put my hand on his shoulder protected by the cover—and he flinches. “Go away, leave me alone.”

“Aw, come on, Barry, get up. I brought ya coffee, so that'll help to start your day—you can have coffee in bed.” I try to make the tone light, but it's not helping.

“Please, just leave me alone. I can't talk to you right now. Just fucking GO!” Ok?” His explosion catches me off guard.

“Barry, it's ok. I know you're having a rough time right now, but...”

“GOD DAMNIT, I SAID FUCKING GET OUT! NOW!” He's shouting and sobbing with anger.

I put the coffee on the nightstand, and jump on top of his body, pinning him to the bed underneath me and the sheet and blanket.

“Barry, I'm not going anywhere. I love you, and you're stuck with me.” I kiss him on top of his head—the only part I can see—and pull him tighter to me. “Now, you wanna tell me what's going on?”

“I just.....I just...fuck, my life is a mess, and now with this new face I look like shit. How can you love me? How can I believe that? What am I gonna do now? I can't live like this....” He's sobbing and it's breaking my heart to hear him this down.

“Shussh.....it's gonna be ok. I'm not going anywhere. I love you, I'm staying. You're a damn fine looking man, and that hasn't changed. We'll work through this together, baby.” I'm pulsing squeezes against everything I can touch with these damn bedclothes in the way. And really trying not to start crying myself. That's the last thing that's needed right now.

“Come on, Barry, we're gonna work through this, together, ok? Just hang on to me—I'm gonna be here for you. I'm not leaving your ass anywhere, you got that?” He reaches an arm out from under the cover and pulls me down to his head. Good sign.

Long sigh from within the sheets. “I'm sorry, I'm ….well, I'm out of control, Dave. Don't know what I need to do next. And the face, well, it's not me. And I'm questioning everything. I just.....well, I don't know....”

“Look Barry, it's ok. I kinda felt like you were having some issues, so I called Doc this morning. He's gonna call in a little over an hour, at noon. That way, you can talk through things with him, ok?” I kiss his temple as a little more of his face slips out from under the covers.

He finally pulls his face fully out from behind the sheet. He looks like shit—red faced, eyes swollen from crying, snotty nose, the whole works.

“You think you can ever love someone like me?” He looks up with eyes of almost terror—and promptly hiccups. “Damn hiccups....I always get 'em when I cry.” He wipes his nose and does a tortured laugh. “Damn hiccups.”

I squeeze him closer, so tight a casual observer would think I'm crushing him. “You aren't scaring me away with those hiccups, guy...I'm here for the long haul. Now, you want to have some coffee, and try to get rid of 'em? By the time you finish, you'll have time for a quick shower before you talk with Doc.”

Finally get him up, into the shower. He's out, pulling on a pair of shorts when my phone rings. It's Doc.

“This is for you. I'll be out by the pool when you and Doc are done, so come find me.” I leave 'em to their conversation, head out to the pool.

By 1pm, Barry's not here and I'm hungry, so order out for pizza from the front desk. Pizza guy arrives maybe 30 minutes later, bringing a large pizza and a six-pack. I tip him well for the extra beer pick-up, and am just about to pop the box open when Barry appears.

“You ok, Barry? Come join me for pizza.” He's standing like a lost little kid, hands moving from his sides to clasp behind his back, then to his sides again. Shifting from side to side on his feet. Not looking me in the eye like he normally does.

“Look, Dave....I owe ya an apology. I'm sorry you saw me like that—I'm really not mad at you....I'm mad at me. And I haven't handled any of this nearly well enough. But I still love ya, and hope you can forgive me for being ….well, like that.” He looks like he's about to cry again.

“You don't need to apologize for how you're feeling, ever. Not with me. I can handle anything you throw at me, just include me in it, ok? I'm not running, and what we have is worth fighting for...so you're stuck with me, got it, mister?” I smile, hoping to soften the words, lighten the mood. And it works.

He's looking relieved. “Doc said he's coming in tomorrow, we'll be able to get a lot done face-to-face, and he's planning on staying through the weekend. It's gonna be intense, but I think it'll be good for me. Is that alright?”

“You bet it's alright! Whatever you need to do is gonna be better for us. I'm good with it. But ya also need to know, Barry, that the Assistant Director is flying in tomorrow, too. He's got something he wants to talk to both of us about. So it looks like it's going to be a busy weekend.” Barry nods and reaches for the pizza box.

“Let's eat, Dave. I'm hungry.” He grins a smile of normalcy.

We bullshit by the pool the rest of the afternoon, grab a sandwich from the corner deli a couple or three blocks away, and relax the rest of the evening.

That night, we curl up together in bed, just like always. Barry falls asleep immediately, his head on my chest, my arms wrapped around him, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. Thankfully, I'm moments behind him to dreamland.

Tomorrow is gonna be a big day—I can feel it coming.