Phoenix Burning

2: The Most Important Rule Of Chess

"Chess holds its master in its own bonds, shackling the mind and brain so that the inner freedom of the very strongest must suffer."

– Albert Einstein

~**~~**~

DAY OF.

3:29 PM.

The ticking of the clock was loud.

Annoyingly loud.

Ridiculously loud.

He had just enough mind not to leap up from his chair and rip the device off the wall. Instead, he clenched his fists on his lap to keep from moving. He didn't want to seem anxious.

Drawing in a deep, calming breath, Jack willed himself to stillness.

It would do no good to get stuck in the rabbit hole of his mind.

He was here to understand what had happened after all.

He'd better embrace the circumstances.

Raising his gaze, he examined the woman near him. She crossed her legs at the knee, a yellow notebook resting on top of one.

A black pen hung suspended in her left hand and she looked out expectantly.

"Commander Rhodes," she addressed him, lowering the pen to her side. "Let's talk about why you're here, shall we?"

Jack remained silent.

A sigh echoed across the room, snapping his attention back to the woman.

"Commander Rhodes. This is only going to work if you put in the effort. I can only do so much."

He clenched his jaw and shuffled in his seat. He couldn't keep himself still any longer.

"What do you want me to say?" He asked, his voice rough. He stared at the floor. Only grey filled his vision.

His sight started to blur, whether it was from emotion or mere tiredness, he wasn't sure.

The woman uncrossed her legs, tapping the pen against the pad.

From his position, Jack could see there were a few lines of writing already on the page, the ink smudging as she moved it.

He wanted to know what she had written.

He needed to know what she had written.

"I want us to have an open dialogue, Commander."

The pen tapped against the page.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Silence.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, the woman leaned forward, setting aside the pad.

That wasn't a good sign.

That wasn't a good sign at all.

"Should we talk about how you came to be here?"

Jack countered back, "You know full well why I'm here--"

She held up a finger to interrupt him and Jack fell silent once more. "That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about what happened--four years ago. The incident."

"Three and a half," he ground out, correcting her as a bristle curled down his spine and his muscles bunched. "It's only been three and a half years."