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"Can I get you something, Rose?"
"You know what I want, Steven," Rose replied, glaring at Dr. Rothstein.
"Of course." Rothstein produced a single cigarette from his desk drawer and handed it to Rose, along with a lighter. Rose looked at Brian as she lit the cigarette.
"Don't look at me like that, I only do it during therapy," she snapped.
"Rose, why are you so anxious?"
"You know why, Steven. Why are you asking me questions to which you already know the answers?"
Brian stared at Rose as she paced around the room. He had never seen her like this.
"Rose, I just want to talk to you."
"Not with him here," she replied, pointing at Brian with her cigarette. Rothstein looked at Brian.
"Sorry, son."
Brian nodded and stood, concealing the hurt at Rose's emotionless banishment of him.
"I'll be back later then," he said, and left the room.
"Now, Rose. Please, sit down. Let's talk."
It was Saturday, the day of Rose's scheduled appointment. Due to the circumstances, they weren't able to have it at the house, so Rothstein had come to the hospital instead.
"What do you want to talk about?" Rose asked, taking the ashtray that Rothstein offered her and sitting in the chair by the open window.
"You."
"Well, duh, Steven."
"What's been going on? How've you been?"
Rose snorted and tapped the ashes from the tip of the cigarette into the ashtray. "Well, I can't sleep because of the nightmares, but when I'm awake, there's the phone calls."
"Phone calls?"
"Yeah." Rose looked up, exhaling a plume of grey smoke. "Always to my cell phone, day or night."
"Have you told this to Brian?"
"God, Brian." Rose took a drag from her cigarette and looked out of the window, up at the sky. "I never wanted to drag him into all of this. I wish I could've never told him anything, about any of it."
"Do you regret marrying him?"
Rose didn't answer right away, concentrating instead on tapping more ashes into the ashtray.
"Sometimes," she said finally. "Only just recently. Not because of any lack of love. Because of the love, actually. I love him so much it hurts sometimes and it's those times that I wish I'd never even met him, if only to protect him."
"And what about yourself?"
"What about me?"
"Don't you feel the need to protect yourself as well as others?"
"I don't know. I did before I met Brian. He opened me up a little, I guess." Rose scratched at her bandages absently, her cigarette, almost gone now, stuck between her lips. Quickly she plucked the cigarette butt from her mouth and crushed it in the ashtray.
"Why are you crying, Rose?"
Rose wiped with the back of her left hand and sniffled.
"Because you can't help me."
"Why not?"
Rose looked over at Rothstein. "Steven, you have a Ph. D. Don't act so stupid."
"I'm just trying to understand."
Rose sighed and stood up to get another cigarette. She lit it and went back over to the window.
"You can't solve a problem until you get rid of the source. And he's always there, inside my head. I see his face in a crowd, even if it's not really him, and I can't breathe, and I scare the hell out of James, and then I have to go home. I haven't been anywhere in weeks."
"You have panic attacks."
"For God's sake, Steven, do I have to spell it out for you? I can't sleep, half of the time I can't eat, and I'm afraid of crowds and of being alone. So go ahead, Steven, diagnose me. Tell me what my problem is, as if I don't already know. God," Rose groaned, pressing her palms to her forehead, her cigarette emitting a faint stream of smoke.
"What's wrong, Rose?"
"He's in my head... laughing... I can't take it, I just can't take it..." She began to tug at her hair, at the roots. Rothstein got up from his chair and gently pulled Rose's hands from her hair. He took the cigarette from between her fingers and set it in the ashtray.
"Rose, you need to calm down. The more agitated you are, the more he'll bother you. I know you're angry, and I know you're scared, but getting mad at me, or yourself, will not help anything, least of all you. Now, take a deep breath. C'mon."
Rose complied, letting it out slowly.
"Feel better?"
She nodded and Rothstein let go of her arms. He sat back down at his desk and made a note on his legal pad.
"Tell me about James."
"We hired. As a bodyguard of sorts." Rose picked her cigarette up, but didn't smoke it.
"What's your relationship with him?"
"Well," Rose began, taking her seat by the window again, "he's my friend. Kind of inevitable, I guess, when you spend that much time with someone, everyday."
"Is there anything more?"
"I guess you could call him my best friend. But I think when my only other best friends are Brian and my parents, all I really have are best friends. Besides," Rose added softly, "James saved my life. Granted, I was willfully trying to end it, but still. If someone does that and doesn't become your best friend, then there's a lot more wrong with you." Rose took a long drag from her cigarette and watched the first few drops of rain hit the open window. Thunder rumbled overhead.
"Do you want this window closed? It's starting to rain."
"Only if you want it closed."
Rose left the window open.
"Do you have some sort of pad I could draw on?"
"Of course." Rothstein pulled a legal pad and a pencil from another, lower drawer, and Rose walked over to retrieve the items. The rest of the session was spent quietly, with Rose drawing and Rothstein making notes.
When a nurse came to escort Rose back to her room, she left the pad in Rothstein's possession. After they left, he flipped through the pages, marveling at her talent until he came across one quite different from the others. It was a child's drawing of a hero: a man, standing on top of the world, except this one had a policeman's badge and a gun. Across the top, scribbled in handwriting that was definitely not Rose's, was one word: James.
Rothstein quickly made a note of the date on the drawing, astonished that Rose had slipped in and out of her child personality without him noticing.

Shortly after the nurse left Rose in her room, Rose lay down to take a nap. Brian arrived soon after she had already fallen asleep, and so he sat and watched her sleep. Nina came by and, seeing that Rose was asleep, sat and talked with Brian for a while.
Rose awoke, two hours later, screaming from a fresh nightmare and as Nina quickly put her arms around her daughter to calm her, there was a knock on the door and they all looked up. Rose shrieked and scrambled out of bed, backing herself into the corner and sinking to the floor, crying and shaking. Nina hurried to her side, crying as well. Brian, however, stood up and headed for the door.
"You son of bitch," he growled. "Get the hell out of here."
"I just wanted to see-"
"Drop the act, asshole!"
Ray smirked. "It's fun to see her scared."
This was the last straw from Brian. Not even thinking of the fact that he was in a hospital, he tackled Ray, sending them both out the door and on the hallway floor.
Brian landed most of the punches, though Ray got a couple in before Security appeared, pulling Brian off of Ray and helping Ray to his feet. Ray definitely came out worse, even though Brian's nose was bleeding.
"You bastard!" Brian shouted, holding his hand to his nose in a vain attempt to staunch the bleeding. "You fucking did this to her, you put her in the god damned hospital!"
"Are you alright, sir?" one of the men asked Ray. He nodded.
"It's all just a big misunderstanding," he murmured, glaring at Brian. The two guards walked away.
"Like hell it is," Brian said angrily. "Get the hell out, you have no right to be here."
"I am leaving. And you can tell little Rosie that Charlotte and I are moving."
"What, you've reduced my wife to the mess she is now, and now you're just gonna move on?"
"Something like that."
"Bastard." Brian started to go back into Rose's room, but changed his mind and stalked down the hall towards the elevator, avoiding a nurse who tried to help him with his nose bleed.
Out in the parking lot, Brian yanked his cell phone from its holder on his belt and punched in a number, checking to see if his nose had stopped bleeding.
"Hello."
"Hey, Nick."
"Hey, what's up?"
"Just wanted to know if you wanted to meet me for dinner."
"Is everything alright? Is Rose okay?"
"I just... wanted to talk."
"Yeah, sure, man. I've got one more class, so is six okay?"
"Yeah. The place on eighth."
"Alright. See you at six."
Brian flipped shut his phone and got into his car, headed for home.
When he got there, he took a long shower and then stood in front of the freshly repaired mirror and looked at his face. No residual effects of the fight, just a light bruise on his left temple. His nose wasn't even swollen.
He left the bathroom and dressed in the bedroom. Black pants, blue shirt. He combed through his still damp hair and put on his shoes, then headed downstairs. He wondered if he should change his bandage. He wondered if he could change his bandage.
Brian headed into the downstairs bathroom and got out a large, square, guaze bandage. Well, it'd be easier than trying to rewrap it, he thought.
After he'd cleaned and rebandaged the wound, he grabbed his keys and headed out the door. He left his cell phone sitting upstairs on the dresser.
He arrived at the restaurant at five to six and got himself a table, then sat and waited for Nick. He could tell some girls were checking him out, and even though he knew he shouldn't like it, and wouldn't normally pay attention to it, he did. He smiled slightly and gave his drink order to the waiter, then watched as he headed for the bar to fill it. Brian didn't normally drink, either, but the day had been ultra shitty and he felt he was entitled.
Nick arrived a few minutes later and sat across from Brian.
"Hey, man, how's it goin'?"
"Not so bad right now," Brian answered, eyeing a leggy blonde at the bar. Nick followed his gaze and grinned slightly.
"She's cute, Bri, but is she really your type?"
"And what's my type?"
"Short, petite, black hair, green eyes, goes by the name of Rose..."
Brian gave Nick a calculating look and took a sip of his drink.
"You're in a mood," Nick said.
"What kind of mood?" Brian asked, stirring his drink.
"The 'I'm gonna get drunk off my ass and cheat on my wife' mood."
"Yeah. Like that would happen."
"Whatever. I'm watching you."
Brian laughed.
"So, how is Rose?" Nick asked after he'd ordered his own drink, a very tame water.
"How would you expect someone in the psych ward of a hospital to be?"
Nick chose wisely not to answer and Brian sighed.
"Today wasn't a good day. For either of us. She had... an episode, Ray showed up, we fought... I left. Today was just... bullshit."
"I'm sorry, man. I know it's hard."
"Yeah. But I don't wanna talk about any of that tonight."
Nick nodded. "Sure."
The hours flew by. They ate dinner and talked, and Brian drank. By 9:00, he was pretty well hammered, and Nick decided it was time to go.
"C'mon, buddy, you've had enough, it's time to go. C'mon, get up."
Brian staggered to his feet and Nick grabbed his arm to hold him steady. With his free hand, Nick reached in Brian's pocket and pulled out his keys before he knew what happened.
"Why'd... why'd you take my... my keys," Brian stuttered, his words slurred.
"Because you can't drive."
Brian let out a strange sort of giggle. "I can too drive, I gotta... a, um, a..."
"You have a license, I know. C'mon."
Nick led Brian out to Brian's own car, unlocked the doors, and dumped Brian onto the backseat, then got in the driver's seat, started the car, and headed for Brian's house.
When he pulled up in the driveway, he shut the car off, got out, and opened the back door, hauling Brian out of the back seat.
They reached the front door and Nick unlocked it, fumbling on the wall for a lightswitch. The foyer light came on, and was enough for Nick to switch on a livingroom lamp and get Brian up the stairs.
Once they were in the bedroom, Nick tossed Brian's keys on the dresser and dumped Brian unceremoniously on the bed.
"You gotta puke?" Nick asked. Brian giggled again and Nick rolled his eyes.
"I'll take that as a no."
Nick kneeled down and yanked off Brian's shoes, then pulled off his pants.
"At least you're wearing boxers," Nick muttered. He stood and unbuttoned Brian's shirt and, with a bit of struggling, got the shirt off. Brian was asleep now, dead to the world, and Nick positioned him so that his legs weren't hanging off the bed, then went into the bathroom and took out four aspirin, placing them on the bathroom counter beside a full glass of water.
Nick walked back into the bedroom and sighed, looking at Brian's sleeping figure.
"Sweet dreams," he muttered, then flipped off the light and went downstairs to call a cab.
Nick's biggest mistake was not locking the front door when he left.

Chapter 9, Part Two
Chapter 8
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