California Gold

Chapter 4 // Pressure

"I'd hoped I'd never see you here again."

Jack looked up. A familiar face smiled soberly back at him. "How's it goin', doc."

Doctor Warner shrugged, then took a seat beside him. "I had a feeling I'd find you here."

"I'm a creature of habit, I guess."

The park was serene around them. Everything in treatment was serene. Perfectly designed to minimize stress and maximize calm, the world around the patients was gorgeously artificial. It would be beautiful, Jack thought, if it wasn't such a fucking farce.

"What's been going on in your life, Jack?"

"As if you don't know," Jack laughed bitterly in response. "I'm sure TMZ could give you a quick rundown."

"I'm sure they could," Dr. Warner nodded, "but I want to hear it from you."

The comment caught Jack off guard. Being treated like a person was still something so foreign to him. Even the vast majority of patients were starstruck by him, asking for autographs until orderlies chastised them. Everyone was fascinated by Jackson Maine; the enigma, the trainwreck, the lost cause. Not many were interested in Jackson Maine the man.

"I've had better days," Jack nodded. "No offense, doc, but treatment fucking sucks. I miss my freedom. I miss my dog. I miss my house."

"Do you miss the pills?"

The two men looked at eachother, and Jack smiled. "If I'm being honest? No. I don't. I think I kicked 'em for good last time I was here."

"Then why did you take them again, Jack?"

Jack ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "I needed the courage to do what needed to be done."

"For Ally?"

Birds chattered around them. This conversation was so different from any he'd ever had before; the last time he'd been here, the doc had been structured, formal, unwilling to make interjections like this. This time, he wasn't pulling any punches.

"Yeah," Jack whispered. "For her."

"You've said you miss your freedom, your dog, and your house. What about your wife? I know she wants to see you. She calls you daily."

Jack looked up, his eyes sparkling. It had been nearly two months now; no one had told him she was still calling. He'd thought she'd long forgotten about him by now, content to leave him in her past, and he woke up every day wondering if it would finally be the day she filed the papers.

"I miss her more than I could possibly express. I'm doing this for her."

"What does cutting her out achieve, Jack?"

Jack laughed, his voice hoarse, and he leaned back and shrugged. "It protects her. Gives her time to heal herself instead of worrying about me," he hadn't realized he'd been wringing his hands, but suddenly he was acutely aware. "I'm a bum, and she's always put me first, because that's the type of girl she is. She's more than I deserve. She needs a moment to worry about herself instead of worrying if I can be fixed," Jack felt tears prick in his eyes, but he fought them off.

"Nah," the doc shook his head and Jack looked at him incredulously. "That's not it."

"The fuck you mean that's not-"

"That's not it, Jack," Dr. Warner looked at him, a bemused smile painting his wrinkled features. "You're not pushing Ally away for her benefit, you're doing it for you. You're afraid of connection. You're afraid of being vulnerable. In fact, you're so afraid of being open with her, you'd rather end your life than have an honest conversation about your feelings," the doc placed a hand on Jack's back. "You're afraid of Ally being here because you know how she's going to look at you. Last time you came in, she saw you as an addict who hated the world. But this time, she knows you hate yourself."