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The sessions

Eleven was tired and Papa was pushing her hard, "concentrate, Eleven, find the man in the picture, channel his words" he instructed, clearly starting to lose his patience.

Eleven looked at the picture again and closed her eyes, but it was no use, she couldn't focus. She opened her eyes, knowing that she failed, and looked at her Papa in a submissive manner, cowering slightly, afraid of the consequences of her failure. She watched as he shook his head, the only betrayal of his emotions from his normally impassive demeanor being the loud sigh he released and his clenched jaw.

"What's wrong, Eleven? Why can't you find him?" he asked.

She shook her head, opening her mouth as if to say something but she couldn't find the words to explain.

"You look very tired" he observed out loud, "have you been sleeping well?"

She shook her head almost guiltily, she knew she was meant to tell him if she was seeing things, or if there was anything at all wrong, but, for some reason she couldn't put her finger on, she didn't want to share the nature of her dreams. Every night they troubled her, waking her up at all hours, not allowing her to fully rest and recuperate. Every night flashes of another life poured into her mind overwhelming her. Every night the red-headed girl begging her for something, but she could never hear what, whenever she got close to asking her the girl would fade away, like smoke dissipating. But that wasn't the only experience of the girl in her dreams, other times there would be no begging, no despair, no banging of fists on the invisible barrier between them. It was quite the opposite. No separation, no barrier, in fact they were closer than El had ever been to anyone else, the girl would put her arms around her, put her lips to El's own, and more, so much more than Eleven understood. It was like some sweet torture that she wouldn't rid herself of even if she could.

"Bad dreams?"

Eleven nodded weakly.

"I see" Brenner said coolly. "We thought this might happen, after all, you were sick for a very long time, and you hallucinated for much of it. It's almost as if you have a terrible wound in your mind, it needs fixing, Eleven, and a colleague of mine can help you." She looked at him, not knowing if she was meant to contribute anything. When she said nothing he continued, "Dr Holtz specializes in neuroscience and psychology, the brain essentially, and she will help you fix this wound once and for all. You will see her later, after lunch."

"Yes Papa" Eleven replied quietly. She was nervous. A new doctor, one who could look inside her head, she didn't like the sound of that at all.

*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*

"Sit down, please" the new doctor said to a nervous looking El, currently standing in the doorway with a guard behind her. When she didn't move, the guard nudged her shoulder making her clench her jaw slightly, something that wasn't lost on the doctor.

"It's ok, Eleven, we're just here to talk" she continued, sending a pointed look towards the guard to stop what the hell he was doing and essentially 'get lost'.

Eleven heard the guard walk away and turned her head slightly to confirm he was gone. When she was sure, she finally raised her head slightly to look at the doctor and found a slim woman, probably in her early 30's, with her dark hair pulled into a neat bun. She was wearing the obligatory white-lab coat, making El's stomach clench with the usual fear and trepidation. The doctor scrutinized her in return and realized what was troubling Eleven.

"My, it's a bit warm in here, isn't it?" she said standing and taking off the lab-coat, revealing a light blue skirt suit underneath. She sat again and gestured to the other chair, "please."

El didn't know what to make of the situation, but her years at the lab had made her compliant and she followed the instruction to sit.

"Firstly, introductions" the doctor said matter-of-factly, "my name is Dr Holtz, I have qualifications in both neuroscience and psychology, so I know a lot about the brain and the mind and how they work or why they sometimes don't work quite so well."