Inner Workings

Inner Workings - Part 62

To Milton's bewilderment, Rachel abandoned her calibrations and secluded the three of them in her office. Cetz still smiled, Rachel looked apprehensive. Milton was a little wary himself, he expected to be halfway to his small apartment by now. Or halfway through a good bowl of curry. Did he do something right? Was he going to stay? And what was Cetz so happy about?

After settling into a couch across from Milton, Cetz started the conversation.

"Tell Rachel what you told me about Will," instructed Cetz.

"It seems he has gastrointestinal issues due to stress?" asked Milton.

"Yep, that's the one."

Milton offered up the file he had carried. "I wrote it all down in the report if you want the information in detail."

Cetz shook his head. "That'll take too long and I'm impatient. Sum up your findings focusing on Will Rowe and why you think he needs a gastroenterologist."

So Milton did; explaining the little tells he had seen in Agent Rowe's actions, the small touches to his stomach even in sleep, the deep swallows in times a stress, the concentrated glances to his partner, Agent Patriarch, and how the wrinkles around his eyes creased when he was deep in thought. By the time he was done, Rachel and Cetz sat back, eyes wide.

"You're reading people off body language," said Rachel in realization. "That's what you did when I asked you about Sandra Pearl. You looked at video footage of her and figured out she was agoraphobic."

"What other things can you read off body language?" asked Cetz eagerly.

Milton went for broke. "You're afraid you're going prematurely bald."

Cetz's mouth closed with a click. His fingers drifted to where the headset would rest on his neck, but he awkwardly forced then back to crossing his chest. Rachel tried not to smile.

"Yep, he's a keeper," said Rachel with a grin of her own.

Cetz cleared his throat. "Anything besides the... balding?"

Milton shrugged. "It depends on what you're looking for. Reading people isn't like reading a book, and it's applications to psychology makes it a tool so I can understand my patients better. I can tell when people lie easier than most, but you need to give me specifics."

"Two of our agents need a psychologist, and we think you're it," said Rachel. "They have gone through things no one should have to go through, and it's eating away at them. Badly."

"Agents Rowe and Patriarch?" said Milton.

"Yes."

Milton knew the short roster of therapists that danced through the bases, there were regular checks and appointments. Watch Two had psychologists come by for regular screenings of the agents and other Techs. Which meant whatever Rowe and Patriarch needed help with was above his normal pay grade. Maybe working for Watch Two wouldn't be that bad. Maybe he'd ask the jazzy brunette upstairs out to lunch.

Be realistic, Milly.

Milton's fingers flittered on the file in his lap, fanning the pages back and forth in apprehension. "Would I be right in guessing their need for counseling was a product of a classified incident?"

"Very classified," said Cetz, his smile gone. "As far as we know, only sixteen people in the world know what we're about to tell you. Six people in Watch Two, four in Watch One, one happily resting doctor, and Watch Mission Control. If you agree to taking Will and Louis as patients then your clearance would be raised to-"

"That's fourteen," said Milton.

Cetz froze.

"Watch Mission Control would be three people above need-to-know basis unless they've added more people to their private council," continued Milton. "Who are the other two?"

Cetz grimaced, as if mentioning the other two made him ill. "The fourteenth is the madman that caused the trauma in the first place, and the fifteenth is a former member of the Watch now in prison."

Rachel leaned forward from her place on the couch, mirroring Cetz. "Once you accept this job, you're in it for the long haul. What we show you, you share with no one. Understand?"

"I figured something of that nature when I first arrived," said Milton. This was it, the first step into something much bigger than clinic duty. Big enough to imply failure to keep mum meant prison. "I understand."

"Good," said Cetz.

Rachel locked her office door and drew the blinds. Cetz fetched the tablet from her desk and handed it to her. Rachel's fingers flew over the screen to bring up a specific file under multiple passwords.

Rachel tilted the screen on the coffee table. "This is the first BT scan we have of Agent Rowe after the Freewill raid."

***

Louis collapsed his sweaty body on the couch, his tank top soaked through the collar and arm holes. His cast laden arm lay at his side on a towel, sopping up the sweat before it soaked into the plaster. He should really change before the smell sunk into the upholstery, but he wanted a minute to enjoy the endorphin high after a good workout.

Exercising to the fullest at the Watch gym wasn't possible in his opinion. They didn't have a large mirrored room for Louis to privately practice, stretch, and work on his form. They also didn't have the same kind of anonymity of a private gym. Everyone there did their own thing whether it was heaving weights or bouncing on a treadmill, that was their own business. Granted, Louis working out in sunglasses and a cast made him feel like an idiot.

Of course, Louis might have overdone it in the last session. He could feel the pull in his lower back already and would pay for it in the morning if he didn't stretch again. Louis peeled himself off the couch and arced his back, hobbling over to his room for fresh clothes.

Working out had been good; it had kept his mind off the inevitable.

New shirt and shorts on, Louis took out the outfit he would wear tomorrow. When he opened his sock drawer he heard the clitter-clatter of his dog tags he kept at the bottom. He paused and fingered the metal.

There was nothing wrong with therapy, Louis told himself. Lot of men and women fresh out of the service went through therapy. There was no shame in it, he had had a few sessions himself after being discharged.

So why did he feel like he had failed himself?

Louis set the dog tags back down and went back to the living room, making sure the blinds were drawn and the room was left in a dim twilight. It had taken a while for him to get used to perpetual shade in the apartment. It was either that or risk shrinking down to toy size several times a day. Once had been frustrating enough. Thank God for light dimming switches, installing them had decreased his electric bill a surprising amount.

Louis pulled off his shades and dropped onto the couch, fresh dressed and relaxed as he could get at the moment. Knowing other agents had gone through his apartment had been unnerving, but at least they had left his DVR alone and he could binge watch a few episodes of his favorite show before collapsing in his rumpled bed.

Louis clicked the remote and caught up on "Celebrity Dancing".