THE O’GRADY SERIES

The Consult
The Phone Call
The Appointment
Countertransference

By PHAIR

Ebook by
PDAFiction.com

1. THE CONSULT

DISCLAIMER: This is an original work of fiction. It is not an Uber story. So, there is nothing else to write here.

WARNING: There is no sex or violence or bondage or bad language. However, it is a sad tale. If the absence of the former and the presence of the later bother you then you may want to read something different.

POETRY ALERT: The poem at the beginning is not mine and is used with the express permission of the author. Needless to say, it should not be copied without her permission.

WHY: Sometimes, I just need an excuse to cry.

THE CONSULT

neglect
the man I forgot to wrap
is leaving
he’s come loose
he’s falling out of my life
never to return,
unable to reemerge,
leaving so much unfinished business
now, not needing completion
giving me time that I lacked
to do what I could have
to make him stay

by Marguerite Mullaney, 1997
used with permission

"SOMEBODY BEEPED ME."

"Dr. O’Grady?" The ER nurse gulped a mouthful of doughnut, "Howie is suppose to be on until change of shift."

"I am acutely aware of the schedule seeing as I’m the one to draw it up each month," the weary department head huffed. "Dr. Howard’s wife went into labor an hour ago so you’re stuck with me. Which attending called?"

The nurse’s shoulders sagged under the psychiatrist’s penetrating stare. It was a running joke at the hospital that the intensely professional specialist could look straight into the psyche with those deep blue eyes and see mental illness. The other part of the joke was Dr. O’Grady’s frigid personality froze the sickness right out of her patients.

"Okay," the nurse decided to save time and confess, "I called."

"You can’t do that," the doctor stated flatly. "Only attendings can call in a referral. Psychiatry is very expensive and most of our patients are under insured for mental health benefits. Attendings need to ration in-hospital treatment units on an "urgent necessity" basis. Everybody else can obtain services in the outpatient department," O’Grady saw the nurse was unimpressed with the logical management of resources. "I don’t have time to explain policy to you. Who’s the patient’s attending?"

"She’s not a patient. She’s a family member of a patient," the nurse took another bite of her doughnut.

"Look," Dr. O’Grady was losing her temper and straightened to her full, imposing height, "if she’s tearing up the place, get security. If she decompensated then get the chaplain. You should know better than to bother me with a non-billable issue. In fact," the doctor squinted at the powdered sugar speckled name tag, "Betsy, you are way out of line here. I should report you for this."

"Give me one minute to explain and then report me," Betsy brushed back her graying hair with a casual flip.

"Make it good," the doctor realized the use her four inch height advantage for leverage in the conversation was lost on the veteran nurse.

"The guy in trauma two is dead; DOA. Bullfinch’s students are getting to practice with the paddles on him and have been doing so for the last fifteen minutes...,"

"We are a teaching hospital," O’Grady defended.

"Ya, well, his sister is in the Family Room; one door down. She can hear all of it. Ordinarily, I’d send her for coffee but these two are frequent fliers. I know she won’t leave him. It was all I could do to get her to wait in a separate room. He’s status post head injury times twenty years," she nodded at the psychiatrist’s shocked expression at the exceptional survival number. "It gets better. His kid sister has been taking care of him, at home, for the last...,"

"Twenty years?" O’Grady winced at the nurse’s affirmative nod. "How bad was he?"

"No movement, no speech, great smile," the nurse rubbed away a tear absently. "I like them. We all do. They’re good people. And now, she’s sitting there alone and I just know, she knows he’s gone."

The doctor thought for a moment. Somewhere behind her somebody yelled "clear" again. The bang that followed was louder than the doctor ever remembered it being before.

"What do you expect me to do?" It was asked as a legitimate question without sarcasm.

"Make sure she’s okay. Their older brother is coming in from the western part of the state but it will take a while to get here even at this hour of the morning."

"I’ll give you fifteen minutes, my coffee break," the doctor flashed a smug grin, "and you’re buying the coffee."

"Thanks," the nurse was relieved she was able to pull a freebie out of a budget obsessed manager.

*  *  *

"Hello, I’m Dr. O’Grady," she extended her hand to the weeping woman.

"Is he...?" The woman went to rise from her chair but the doctor signaled for her to sit.

"No, I’m here to see if you need anything."

The woman settled back in her chair. O’Grady’s well practiced observational technique noted the defensive posturing which followed; eyes scanning the intruder, arms crossed, feet planted firmly on the ground preparing to escape. It was the level just below the obvious that intrigued the psychiatrist. The woman’s blood shot eyes were ringed with swollen, red skin from crying but they appeared remarkably focused on their task of assessing the doctor. Back teeth ground stiff to hold her countenance steady. Her face, paled from the adrenaline rush, appeared child like framed by a mass of unbrushed, brown hair. A small hint of gray on the left suggested she was older than she looked. The woman was battling to maintain a stoic presentation in the wake of her unbearable grief.

"Would you like some coffee, Ms. ...,"

"Elisabeth, just call me Elisabeth, and no thanks to the coffee."

"May I sit?" The doctor accepted the woman’s shrug for yes, "It has been a difficult night for you."

Nothing but another shrug.

"What happened?" With only eleven minutes to go, O’Grady abandoned her usual round about interview technique and went straight for the heart of the matter.

"Woke up and he was gone," the woman responded in kind.

"He’s been ill...," the doctor immediately recognized direct questions would not penetrate Elisabeth’s well practiced poise. "She’s learned evasion from the best; doctors," O’Grady thought.

"Over the summer, he had a few pneumonia’s but last night he seemed fine," a smile traced across her bloodless lips.

"He was happy...," the doctor made a guess.

"Oh, very happy," Elisabeth looking up at the doctor with a flash of innocence twinkling in her eyes, "we got a new cable system. Digital or something like that. Three hundred channels. Thom was psyched."

"Thom liked TV...," O’Grady smiled thinly at the woman’s infectious laugh.

"That’s an understatement. It was all he had left. He stopped being able to eat a year or so ago and they stuck a tube in him."

"He wanted the tube...,"

"We talked about, you know," Elisabeth shook her head at the memory. "The muscles just didn’t work anymore. I told him without the tube he would get a really big pneumonia that would take him out. And, if he was done with all this, if he was too tired to go on nobody would think less of him. But if he was still enjoying his life then dying over food was stupid."

"He chose the tube...,"

"I think," the tears broke loose again but Elizabeth ignored them, "I think, he knew I wasn’t ready for him to leave. It was just too soon."

Dr. O’Grady was momentarily stunned. The woman before her, no more than thirty five, had spent the last twenty years caring for a totally dependent sibling. Her entire adult life lost to keeping somebody else alive. Yet, she claimed, she was not ready to lose him.

O’Grady lived in a world of institutions. Care and confinement for the aged, infirmed, and insane were as much part of the daily landscape as the sun at dawn. The concept of home care was a stretch for her imagination. The idea a healthy adult could get real, emotional gratification from dispensing that kind of care twenty four hours a day, seven days a week was a completely alien concept to her.

"You weren’t ready?" The doctor did not like the surprise resonating in her question but was unable to restrain it.

"I already lost him once. It is too much to ask of a person to lose the same brother twice."

"Tell me about the first time," O’Grady moved to the edge of her seat, "please."

Elisabeth sighed. It was the weight of a hundred thousand retellings that forced out her reserve air. For an instant, she looked younger somehow to the doctor. It was as if the question brought her back to the beginning again; to the day her childhood abruptly ended.

"He was a an unrestrained passenger in a car hit by a drunk driver...,"

"No, tell me about you during the first loss."

"Me?" Elisabeth’s usual defenses were shattered by the novelty of the question. Nobody had ever cared to ask before, "I was, I, I was just a kid."

"And Thom was...," O’Grady leaned her elbows on her knees to close the distance between them.

"My big brother; college boy, married, smart, and," tears were dried with a sweat shirt sleeve, "he loved me. He was my best friend. There were a lot of us, brothers and sisters, but he took care of me."

"Losing him then was...,"

"Agony. It was worse than just death. In spite of his injuries, there was hope that he would come back."

"But he didn’t...,"

"Oh, he came back but it was a different Thom. He was physically ruined and his intellect was restricted to adolescence but...,

"He still loved you," Dr. O’Grady finished quietly as a long suppressed emptiness in her own life whispered hello.

"Unconditionally," Elisabeth chuckled. "Thom would hang on every word out of my mouth. I’d tell him about school or work and I’d be right even if I was wrong. He always had a look on his face like, ‘I taught her everything she knows.’"

"He was proud of you," the doctor had never experienced a similar moment personally.

"You shouldn’t have to lose that twice in the same lifetime," Elisabeth looked pleadingly at the doctor.

"No," the doctor could only agree, "you shouldn’t"

A small commotion outside the open door distracted Elisabeth. Several blue scrub suit clad doctors swarmed the entrance like a gathering of vultures. The older man in the center of the group pushed forward into the room.

"I’m Dr. Bullfinch," the balding man entered with bluster and a small woman resident carrying an enormous chart scampering at his side, "Your brother, Tim, no, Thomas, yes, was denied oxygen for a considerable period of time. I got his heart restarted. However, he is on a respirator at present. His condition is very poor."

"Poor." Elisabeth repeated.

"Yes, he is unable to move or talk," the pompous doctor looked over his glasses to drive the severity of his statement home.

Dr. O’Grady saw Elisabeth stiffen. Resignation at the stupidity of anonymous medicine ghosted across her face. She maintained her most patient face for the doctors but her eyes narrowed with silent annoyance.

"That would be his baseline, sir. Can you tell me what else he isn’t doing?"

Bullfinch snatched the chart from his little helper and furiously turned pages. His cheeks reddened with each passing moment until he found the needed information.

"Pupils are fixed, none responsive to pain, unable to breath on his own...,"

"You want permission to unplug," Elisabeth cut to the chase.

"It would be in his best...,"

"I just want to wait for Matt, our older brother. He’ll be here soon. I’ll sign anything you need after that."

"Oh, you have Power of Attorney?"

"Better, I’m the guardian. My paperwork is in his chart," her chin jutted to the massive volume in his hands. "If you bothered to look in there then you’d seen it’s the first page."

"Fine," Bullfinch ignored the cutting remark, "tell the nurse when your brother gets here so we can finish this up. Dr. O’Grady, I’m surprised to see you so early in the morning," he turned his full attention to his colleague dismissing the presence of the grieving family member.

"Yes, Dr. Howard was called out. I’m covering," she politely avoided his unspoken question.

"And you’re here exactly why?" His fluffy, silver eyebrows arched.

"My coffee break," O’Grady smiled sweetly. "Betsy brews the best."

"You’re kidding," the clueless resident interjected, "the stuff she gives us tastes like her cat pissed in it."

"Enough Mason," Bullfinch shoved the chart back into the resident’s chest before dragging her out of the room.

O’Grady smiled broadly at Elisabeth who was quietly laughing.

"Mason’s right. Betsy makes the worst coffee," the woman looked at the ceiling. "So, why are you here, Doc?"

"Seems Thom and you have friends on the nursing staff," O’Grady leveled with the woman. "They were worried about you."

"Should have told me they sent you, I would have been nicer. Sorry," it was sincere. "You get kind of jaded around the health care system. Every day since Thom’s accident some medical giant told me he was gonna die."

"They wanted to prepare you," O’Grady was surprised the woman’s comment threatened her.

"Ya, well, I must be an imbecile ‘cause today was the day and I was still stunned."

O’Grady could not contain her laugh at the Elisabeth’s comic delivery of a tragic sentiment. Humor echoed in the room and in Elisabeth’s voice.

"You know, Doc, if you tell somebody everyday they are going to die then you’ll eventually be right. Life’s a terminal condition."

"You’re right." The doctor decided it was time for the tough question, "Elisabeth, can you tell me about losing him the second time?"

The woman looked out the window at the coming dawn. A tremor rattled her body. Drawing her legs upon the chair, she wrapped her arms around them as the sobs tore from her throat. O’Grady wanted to take her question back but it was too late; the damage was done. Elisabeth’s fragile struggle against despair was over. She surrendered to the dark memory.

"We watched a movie until ten," she choked out. "I did some work and kissed his forehead goodnight at midnight. He was snoring. He never budged. I went to my bedroom with the dog and fell asleep," a long pause to steady her breathing. "At five, I woke up, don’t know why, just did," she was losing it, "my dog, Dov, was still asleep which is weird. Dov always woke me if Thom was awake. I went out to check on him and Thom was, he wasn’t, well, he was dead."

"What is dead?" The doctor desperately needed to tell her it was a mistaken assumption and death occurred at the hospital. If not for the woman’s sake then for her own.

"It’s cold and stiff and all the blood pooling toward gravity and twisted, painful features frozen moments after the body gives up the struggle to take one last, fleeting breath to steal one more instant of life."

"You’ve seen it before," the doctor acknowledged her own foolish attempt to rewrite Elisabeth’s life.

"Most people think it’s a sanitary, dignified process but they are naive. The body fights for life to the bitter end. It’s messy and painful and eyes rolling back in the head nightmare time," her breath came in anguished gasps, "and I should have been with him to hold him and tell him not to leave me again and he could stay a while more...,"

"But he needed to leave," the voice at the doorway startled both women. "Honeybunch, you helped him stay as long as he could," a man, ten or so years older than Elisabeth, smiled proudly at her and the doctor felt a twinge of jealousy, "you were his saint. If you don’t go to Heaven then nobody will."

The man moved with a grace that defied his age and stumpy frame. He scooped up Elisabeth as she dissolved beneath a flood of unstoppable tears. Her body was as limp as a rag doll in his arms. He cradled her with a gentle swaying motion and soft words.

"I got you, I got you, I got you, I got you, I got you," the man repeated the mantra over and over.

Dr. O’Grady left the pair without another word. She had to admit to herself she envied them in spite of all their pain. Or, perhaps, it was because of it. After all, unconditional love is not a risk free venture.

"Well, Dr. O’Grady, what did you think?" A worried Betsy intercepted the fleeing doctor’s retreat.

"I think Elisabeth is a very lucky woman and I learned a lot from her." Stopping but not turning back, the doctor spoke over her shoulder, "Thanks for calling me, Betsy. I’ll buy the coffee next time."

THE END

2.THE PHONE CALL

DISCLAIMER: This is an original work of fiction. It is not a true Uber story. So, there is nothing else to write here.

WARNING: No sex, violence, bondage, or bad language. If the absence of those elements bother you then you should read something else.

POETRY ALERT: Be warned, there is a poem included in this work. It is not mine so don’t use it unless you get the poet’s permission like I did.

WHY: This is a follow up to my story, The Consult. You will need to read that first in order to understand this story.

THE PHONE CALL

sweeping
wash it away
wipe all the traces clean
leave no reminders
he was once
welcome here
and called my house
home
there is too much suffering
between then and now
to invite the pain
that memories bring

by Marguerite Mullaney, 2000
used with permission

"HEY MOM, PHONE!"

"I’m right here, Tommy. No need to holler," Allie rolled her eyes as she took the receiver from her lanky teenage son’s hand.

The boy shrugged in that annoyingly goofy way adolescent boy’s have to explain their entire existence. Allie could not help but smile at him. At six foot three, he was her biggest and best creation.

"Hello."

"Al," a voice from thousands of days of painful nightmares crackled over the wire.

"Elisabeth?" Tears had already started to flow out of an instinctual knowledge of the only possible reason for this call.

"I’m sorry to bother you. Hope it’s okay. Got the number from your folks," sniffling. "He’s gone, Al."

"Oh my God," Allie leaned against the wall for support.

"Mom?" The worried voice from across the kitchen was ignored.

"I didn’t want you to read it in the paper or, God forbid, hear it from the insurance company. Your parents were pretty upset. I tried not to upset them but I’m having a hard time myself," the voice broke.

"They’ll be okay. I’ll call them too," Allie tried to reassure the woman. "Where, I mean, how, God, Elisabeth," the tears were coming too fast to ask the right questions.

"He was here with us. He’s been home the whole time, Al. We made a good life for him. He had a big TV, a big dog, everything, anything he wanted. I found him," soft sobbing became an anguished cry.

"Oh God, Elisabeth! Are you alone?"

"No, no, Matt’s here and Mom," the voice gained some control. "We lost Dad a couple a years ago. Anyway, I’ll be fine. I have to be. It’s not like I have any choice. It’s not like any of us ever had any choice."

Allie remembered too well the lack of choices they had all faced together. Sometimes they did better than other times but it was always shoulder to shoulder determination that helped them endure.

 "So, I found him this morning. He went in his sleep. The doctors think his heart just stopped. They still did the extreme thing ‘cause they have to. They shocked him back and then we had to disconnect everything. Officially, he went this afternoon but, really, that was just his body."

"He never had an easy time of it, did he?" Allie said more for herself as she wiped her tears dry.

"No, never."

"Would it be, would you, your mother mind...," she did not know how to ask.

"I know it’s a long trip," Elisabeth began almost at the same time but she knew how to ask and was able to give the question voice, "but it would mean a great deal to us for you to be here. The wake is tomorrow and the funeral is Wednesday. Do you think you could make it?"

"Will your mother be okay with that? I know, she hates me," it was stated with certainty.

"That was a very long time ago. We were all a lot younger and thinner," a quiet chuckle followed, "and fighting to survive something no family should ever have to face. Besides, tomorrow is not about her. It’s only about him."

There was a pause as the woman choked back her tears. Allie’s heart jumped a beat terrified of what Elisabeth would say next.

"Thom loved you, Allie," it too was stated with certainty, "passionately. He never backed away from his feelings for you and his marriage. He was glad you made a life for yourself and remarried. He was thrilled you had a son. He cried when I told him about your cancer. How are you, anyway?"

"Remission," Allie heard a faint knocking on wood over the phone and smiled.

"Good."

"Where will it be?"

"At Kane’s, across from Stone Ridge."

The mention of the college where she met Thom brought a rush of wonderful memories. It was almost enough to block out the one terrible night followed by twenty years of loss.

"But the funeral," Elisabeth continued, "will be in our home parish, St. Joseph’s. The priest is a nice enough guy. Just a little odd."

"Find one that isn’t," Allie did not mean to say it aloud but it got a hearty laugh from the other woman.

"Too true. All the details will be in today’s Herald."

"Not the Examiner?" Allie smirked at the tabloid like selection.

"You know our crowd!" It was said with the kind of infectious laughter Allie remember best about the woman, "If the sentences are too long then they ain’t readin’ it. Oh yeah, I almost forgot. The paper listed you and there was a mistake."

"Mistake?" Allie was thinking misspelling of her name.

"I’m really sorry. They said they’d fix it tomorrow but if you get it today...," the woman rambled slightly. "Al, they listed you as his wife."

Allie felt the damn burst. Twenty years of stored up emotions flooded her. Her grief knocked her off her feet. She crashed to the floor on her knees.

"Mom?" The voice across the kitchen was alarmed. "Hey Dad!"

"Allie, are you all right?" Elisabeth panicked hearing the commotion.

"I’m, ah, I’m surprise, that’s all. Just unexpected," Allie steadied her breathing. "I’ll leave tonight. That will give me plenty of time to get back there. Do you need anything?"

"No, we’re set here. We’ll see you tomorrow then. Drive safely," the voice grew very sad, "seat belts and all that."

"Sure will," Allie blinked back tears. "See you at Kane’s."

Allie pulled herself to her feet to hang up the phone. The room was still spinning around her but she was getting her focus back. It took several minutes to remember she was not alone in the kitchen. Looking over her shoulder, two pair of eyes studied her with concern.

"Al," F. Stewart Harris stood motionless at the kitchen door, "are you all right, love? You look positively pale."

"Tommy, give your Dad and me a minute will you?" The boy wanted to argue the point but she gave him a no nonsense look, "I’ll come up and talk to you after."

The boy huffed passed his father without any further discussion. Both adults waited several more moments to be sure he was out of earshot.

"I have to go back home for a few days," Allie announced.

"Is there something wrong with your parents?" His voice carried a light English accent. "Perhaps, we should go with you."

"No, my folks are fine. My trip is really none of your business," she did not mean to be so harsh but that was how it came out.

"Really," he raised his brow. "May I ask if you will be using family resources on this affair? If you are then I believe it would most definitely be my business."

"Look, Stewart, stay out of this!" She knew she was making the situation worse and tried to calm herself, "It’s my first husband. He died this morning. I need to go back for his funeral."

F. Stewart Harris nodded slightly as he stepped further into the room. He wanted to close the distance between himself and his wife. Allie turned her back on him to retrieve her address book from the shelf behind her.

"Why?" He cleared his throat.

"Huh?" Allie continued to page through the book.

"Why do you need to be there? He was your ex-husband. You divorced him. Why do you need to go?"

F. Stewart Harris’ thoughts went to the box under their bed. It was filled with photographs of people he had never met. A wedding album that he was not in. An old flannel shirt that was two sizes too small for him. His wife spent time with the box when he was not expected home. She had never shown him the contents and bitterly refused to discuss its presence in their bedroom. F. Stewart Harris had grown to hate the box and the man it remembered; his wife’s husband.

"Shut up! Just shut up. You don’t understand and never could," Allie slammed the address book on the table. "Thom was silent for twenty years. You should be able to keep quiet for two days."

"Thom?" He almost growled.

F. Stewart Harris had not known his wife’s husband’s name. It was probably on some legal papers he had signed at some point but he never bothered to look. Allie’s previous marriage had been of no interest to him initially. It was only after they settled into their comfortable lives that he even noticed her secretiveness around the topic. Her first love shattered by a horrific car accident leaving the man a hopeless cripple. Allie provided only the barest of details when F. Stewart Harris finally asked some point after the honeymoon stage. The subject became completely off limits when their son was born.

Their son.

Alice Prentiss Mulcahy Harris’ son.

F. Stewart Harris’s son, Thomas.

"Is the boy mine?" He sat in a chair remembering her pregnancy came shortly after an unplanned trip home.

"Don’t ask questions you really don’t want the answers to," Allie pulled out the chair opposite him and sat. "Give me these two days and then it will be over," she brushed off a stray tear. "It will finally be over for me."

"Yes, I suppose it will. The question remains, will it be over for me?" He looked at his wife for the very first time in a long time and saw her grief.

"You have more options than Thom ever had, than I ever had," she reached out and took his hand in her own. "You can bite your lip for two days while I finish this and then we can get back to normal. Or, you can leave now. It is entirely up to you."

F. Stewart Harris knew it was not an idle threat. His wife never made an idle threat.

"Have a safe trip, dear," he forced a smile. "I guess Tommy and I can do Take Out for a couple of days."

"The menus are in the cookie jar," she smiled and patted his hand. "There is one other thing. The obituary listed me as Thom’s wife."

"Of course they did," F. Stewart Harris shook his head slightly. "After all this time, you’re still his wife, aren’t you?"

Allie did not answer. The man at the kitchen table already knew her answer. There was no need to say it out loud.

THE END

3. THE APPOINTMENT

DISCLAIMER: This is more like an Uber story than I originally intended. Some physical resemblance between two women on television may exist but that is as far as it goes. No infringement was intended.

WARNING: There is bad language, the description of violence, donuts, and the use of restraints. No sex.

POETRY ALERT: Consider yourself warned. The piece begins with a poem. It is not mine so don’t use it unless you ask the poet.

WHY: I don’t know. This is the third of three stories to date that are loosely related. For some reason, the characters seem unwilling to let me move on to other things. You need to read The Consult and The Phone Call for The Appointment to make any sense at all.

THE APPOINTMENT

Rage
rant
storm
frozen rain

Frozen

Cold

dead

inert

motionless

still

peaceful

Gracious

grace

by Marguerite Mullaney, 2001
used with permission

"SOMEBODY BEEPED ME?" Dr. O’Grady gave a knowing nod to Betsy.

"Is Howie still out on maternity?" The ER nurse laughed at her own joke.

"He’ll be back this week."

"Good, ‘cause we’re getting sick of you down here all the time," Betsy teased the department head. "You big deals should stay in your ivory towers, safely hidden away from us working stiffs. We could be a bad influence on you."

"You got the right! Oooo, is that a jelly," O’Grady made a grab for the second to last donut.

"Oh no you don’t," Betsy pushed the box out of reach. "No treats until you look behind curtain number three!"

The doctor scrunched up her face and made a pleading gesture with her hands. Betsy had to laugh at the site. It was hard to believe the overbearing psychiatrist from twelve weeks ago was the same woman standing next to her today. Gone were the tailored business suits and sharply pressed lab coats; on were the blue scrubs and sneakers. The severely restrained hair style was replaced with a loose ebony braid down her back. O’Grady had evolved since that first non-billable visit to the ER from an obsessive micromanager into a healer. She had become an almost daily presence among the city’s dying destitute and the walking wounded. Betsy was pleased she had a role in saving O’Grady from the hell of hospital bureaucracy.

"Okay, half the donut with details about the patient and the other half when you finish the visit."

"Deal," the doctor grinned.

She accepted the torn pastry from the chuckling ER nurse. Popping it in her mouth, O’Grady gave a full smile and wink. Betsy frowned at the happily humming psychiatrist.

"You eat like a med student."

"I’m as hungry as a med student," O’Grady muttered.

"Probably because you haven’t worked this hard since you were one," Betsy grabbed the file. "Our guest behind curtain number three comes to us from the corner of Commonwealth and Broadway. The local PD offered her a ride to the shelter due to the fact it was twenty degrees and she was without shoes, socks, coat, hat, gloves, shirt, pants, bra, panties, etc."

"What was she wearing?" O’Grady licked a drop of jelly off her thumb.

"A very pleasant smile. The police insisted she join them. She resisted and got a black eye for her trouble."

"Other medical issues?"

"Low body temp on arrival but blankets brought it right up. Bloods are still out but she wasn’t chemically enhanced, trust me. She’s a bit under weight, a little dehydrated but nothing TLC won’t fix in a week," Betsy puckered her lips knowing it was unlikely to get that long of an inpatient stay for the woman.

"Do we know who she is or who loves her?"

"Nope!" Betsy shook her head sadly. "She’s no more than twenty five. I’d say, she’s been on the streets less than a week because she’s so well kept."

"Like how?" O’Grady leaned back on the counter to get comfortable.

"Recent manicure and hair cut. She may even had some high lights done. No old bruising or signs of beating, so she’s nobody’s whore."

"Do you think it’s a fugue state or psychotic break?"

"Neither, both, I don’t know, that’s why I beeped you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," O’Grady accepted the gentle pat on the cheek as her signal to get to work.

Standing and stretching, O’Grady readied her body. Her mind was well prepared by Betsy for the patient in question. However, she needed her body just as ready for a potentially difficult session. If the patient became violent O’Grady had to be set to move fast.

"If the other half of my donut is missing...,"

"Yeah, yeah, my life is forfeit," Betsy sighed unimpressed. "Go see the patient and get out from under my feet."

O’Grady tramped off to curtain three. A large police officer stood guard next to the entrance. He did not look at all pleased.

"Psych service," O’Grady flashed her badge.

"Fuck you!"

"Huh?"

"Look Freud, she’s a friggin’ psycho bitch headin’ for county so just sign the papers. No need to take a look. You got me!" The police officer planted his huge frame in front of the doctor and folded his arms over his barrel chest.

"Officer Jenowitz, forgive me. I had no idea you got your medical degree in between tagging cars." O’Grady’s voice turned cold, "Unless you have an MD after your name, I’m the only one of us who can sign your prisoner out of here. You should move now or I might reschedule this evaluation for ..., Thursday. Tell me, would they make you pull a double shift just standing here or will they give some rookie your collar?"

"Bitch," Jenowitz hissed as he stepped out of the way.

O’Grady gave him a cocky grin in response. Just before she pushed the curtain back, a thought struck her.

"Handcuff keys," she extend her palm expectantly.

"No way," he barked at her.

O’Grady did not budge. Jenowitz glared back. She stood her ground. The cop shifted from foot to foot. The doctor waited.

"Fuckin’ A!" The big man pulled the key from his pocket and slapped it in her hand.

"Thank you," O’Grady nodded.

The trauma room behind curtain three was a fairly large room. It was a fully equipped code room but doubled for violent psych patients because it had a door that could be locked from the outside. O’Grady shut the door for privacy.

The gurney in the center of the room held a trembling, naked woman. Just as O’Grady suspected, the young blonde was chained to the bed with police issue handcuffs instead of the leather restraints the hospital was required to use with patients. The blanket Betsy provided to warm the woman was tossed in a nearby chair. Well out of the patient’s reach. O’Grady had no doubt who had exacted the petty cruelty.

"I’m Dr. O’Grady," she picked up the blanket and moved toward the gurney. "I’m a psychiatrist," she covered the shaking woman from toes to chin.

"Thanks," it was a whisper.

"No problem. You’ve had quite a day," O’Grady walked across to the cabinets and began rummaging.

The doctor found the restraints in a box marked "four point." She turned back to the patient trying to unravel the tangled mess. Glancing up, she saw the look of horror on the pretty, tear stained face.

"I won’t hurt you," she tried to reassure.

"Please, I’m sorry," the woman was crying. "I’ll be quiet."

"You don’t need to be quiet. I’m your doctor. You can tell me anything, everything," O’Grady slowly approached the gurney. "These look God awful but they are a bit more comfortable than the handcuffs."

"How would you know?" the woman bitterly turned her head away.

O’Grady did not answer. She went to the woman’s feet and replaced the chains with the leather restraints.

"You tell me, better or worse?" She cocked an eyebrow.

"It would be better if I wasn’t tied down," the woman pinned O’Grady with an angry sneer.

"That was not one of your choices," the psychiatrist moved to the woman’s wrist. "Should I continue?"

The woman shrugged.

"I can stop if you want," O’Grady motioned to leave.

"No," there was a hint of desperation. "My, my wrist hurts," the woman looked down at the appendage in question.

O’Grady carefully released the metal cuff strangling the bruised tissue. Examining the limb, she assessed the discoloration and swelling for what it was.

"Fractured, I would think," she gently tied off the leather restraint just above the injury. "Don’t pull on it. We need to get an x-ray to be sure. Most likely, you’ll be casted for a couple of weeks. Tell me, why did Jenowitz break your arm?"

"I never said he did," the woman’s eyes darted around the room, obviously afraid somebody else would hear their conversation.

"You didn’t have to. He was the arresting officer. He cuffed you. Your arm is broken," O’Grady tied off the last restraint and prepared to depart. "It’ll all be in my report."

"No, wait, don’t leave," the woman begged as the doctor turned toward the door. "If you write that then I’ll get even worse at county lock up."

"Want to give me something else to write?" O’Grady turned back toward the suddenly cooperative patient.

"Like what?" The woman asked cautiously.

"A name."

"Devyn," the doctor waited, "Tannon. My name is Devyn Tannon."

O’Grady scanned the room. Grabbing a nearby stool, she pulled it over to the woman. She nodded to her patient as she sat.

"A pleasure to meet you, Devyn. So, why did Jenowitz break your arm?"

"If I tell you then the guards at county are gonna hurt me," sad, green eyes locked on the doctor’s bright blue, "really bad. Please don’t make me say he did it."

"What if I promise you won’t go to county?" O’Grady offered.

"Commitment? Fuck, that’s even worse! Do you have any idea what happens at the Riverbank," the woman spat out the name of the state hospital for the mentally ill.

"What if I said that you could stay as an inpatient here?"

"I don’t have insurance," Devyn looked away from the doctor in despair.

"Doesn’t matter. There’s a warm bed in a private room on the third floor just waiting to be filled," O’Grady offered, "but only if you’re willing to be honest with me."

"Honest?"

"Do you want to get well?"

"You can’t promise that," the woman shouted as she fought her restraints.

"It was a question and not a promise," O’Grady was unfazed by the outburst.

"I don’t want to live like this anymore," the woman whispered sinking back into the flimsy pillow. "Everything’s okay for a while and then it happens again. When it does, I get scared and run."

"You were on the streets because you were scared," the doctor stated.

"I was at my apartment, getting ready for work, when they came back. It’s been almost three years. I thought they were gone for good," Devyn explained in a calm voice.

"Who?"

"Only I can see them. They’re different all the time. If I can get away from everybody then I won’t see them."

"Do they talk to you?" O’Grady asked.

"Yeah, they all have messages for me to pass along. That’s why the cop got so mad. The little boy with him told me not to resist because Jenowitz would shoot me just like he killed the boy."

"The boy was a ghost?" The doctor remained impassive.

"I guess that’s what you’d call him. Anyway, I told Jenowitz what the boy said and snap goes my arm while he’s cuffing me. Then he smacks me in the head."

"You were already handcuffed when he punched you?" O’Grady accepted the woman’s tears for a yes. "Are the ghosts real, Devyn?"

"You think I’m crazy, right?" the woman sighed and looked over O’Grady’s shoulder. "What if I told you there’s a guy with brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, flannel shirt, standing behind you?" O’Grady did not turn around. "He says he changed your life but you will never meet him. You helped his sister when he died. He wants to thank you for helping her because he loved his sister very much."

"Devyn, I’m going to have the medical team take care of your arm," O’Grady kept her voice even and warm. "Then you’ll be transferred upstairs. I’ll have the nurse give you something to take the edge off your hallucinations. With therapy and medications, we maybe able to make these visions go away for more than three years."

"I knew you wouldn’t believe me," Devyn turned her head away and closed her eyes in defeat.

"You’re wrong. I do believe you see things but those things aren’t real."

O’Grady stood to retrieve the clipboard from the foot of the gurney. She scribbled a few details from her evaluation and ordered x-rays and medication. Dotting the i’s and crossed the t’s, she exited the room and crashed into Jenowitz.

"FUCK!" He shouted. "Watch where you’re going."

"You shouldn’t block exits. Actually, you shouldn’t even be here. Your prisoner is now my patient. I’m admitting her to psych service."

"You can’t do that," he growled.

"Sure I can," she turned the clipboard around for him to see. "Just did in fact. Psych admission is better than a lawyer for staying out of jail. She can’t be arraigned until I say so. Maybe by then her arm will be healed and you won’t have as much to explain."

The big man’s fists balled up by his sides. His face was flushed with rage but the approaching nurse caused him to hold his tongue. Jenowitz whirled on his heels to storm out of the ER.

"What was that all about?" Betsy handed the doctor the other half of her donut in exchange for the chart.

"It means that I’ll never get out of a speeding ticket again," O’Grady laughed and downed the donut. "Devyn Tannon is going to be admitted to my service but she’s got a busted arm that needs setting. She could use some Valium while she’s here."

"Diagnosis?"

"Well, she was in a fugue state but there’s a long standing mental health issue. She may have stopped her med’s. I need to do some digging," O’Grady’s beeper went off. "Oops, I’m late for an outpatient. Gotta run."

Betsy smirked watching the psychiatrist trot down the hall. She never would have imaged such a sight.

"She’s loving every minute of this," the nurse mused.

*  *  *

O’Grady arrived at her office to find her door shut and secretary missing. Dead center on the desk was the computer print out of the day’s schedule. The doctor scanned down the page for the name of her waiting patient.

"E. Mulcahy, new admission," O’Grady read aloud from the sheet before heading into the office.

The woman sitting on the couch stopped the doctor cold. She looked a little thinner than twelve weeks ago but that could just be her clothes. Her hair was definitely grayer and her cheeks paler.

"Elisabeth," O’Grady extended her hand.

"Wow, I’m surprised you remember me," the woman blushed a bit. "Was I that much trouble?"

"Oh no, not at all. You just had a remarkable story," the doctor took her seat. "What brings you in today?"

"Two things, really. I never got to say thank you for your time that night...," her voice broke a bit. "You were so nice and I was kind of a bitch."

"No, you weren’t."

"Well, anyway, thanks."

O’Grady smiled her acceptance. She waited for Elisabeth to continue.

"The other thing is..., I’m worried. Like, how do you know if you’re crackin’ up?" Elisabeth stared at her hands neatly folded in her lap.

"Let’s start with what you’re worried about," O’Grady encouraged.

"Only crazy people hear voices, right?"

"What do you hear Elisabeth?" The doctor’s tone was smooth and low.

"Him. Sometimes, I hear Thom calling me. Which is just nuts! I mean, he couldn’t talk for most of my life. Why am I hearing his voice?" Elisabeth looked up pleadingly.

"Why do you think you hear him calling you?"

"Okay, look, can’t you do this like you did in the ER?"

"Huh?" O’Grady blinked.

"You know, no psycho babble. Can’t we just talk this out? You don’t have to manage me. If I’m nuts then I’ll let you do anything you need; drug me, shock me, lock me up."

"Hold on," O’Grady could not help but smile at the woman’s good natured humor in the face of her fear. "Before we take draconian measures let’s be sure you are having a problem greater than normal grieving. I’ll try to limit my psycho babble, okay?" The woman nodded agreement. "So, you hear him call you. Many people during the grieving process experience similar sensations."

"Why?"

"It could be part of coming to terms with the loss. The human brain’s need for closure."

"Why would I hear him? I can barely remember his voice."

"What do you remember about him? Before his injury," O’Grady picked up a pad of paper and pen from the table between them.

"It’s silly, really," Elisabeth rolled her eyes. "On his wedding day, he dropped me at the bride’s house for pictures. He turned to wave good-bye to me and I remember exactly how he looked. Thom’s forever frozen in time like that for me."

"How was that?"

"His blue eyes were sparkling and he had brown wavy hair that refused to stay put," Elisabeth did not notice the color draining from the doctor’s cheeks. "And he was wearing this goofy flannel shirt."

"What?" O’Grady coughed in disbelief.

"You know, a lumberjack shirt. Anyway, I’ve been trying to ignore this voice thing but then something really weird happened," O’Grady felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I had to sell Thom’s van. Couldn’t take driving it anymore, you know, without him. I didn’t have insurance or a license plate because everything was in his name. So, the car dealer sends a runner to DMV while I do the insurance thing. When I picked up the car, I saw the tag for the first time."

"Was, ah, was there something unusual?" O’Grady had an irrational fear that somebody was looking over her shoulder.

"Write this down," Elisabeth grimaced, "January 1, 2001."

"Is that the date Thom died?"

"Yep. Now, my license plate is 1101TM."

O’Grady sat silently looking at her handwriting.

"His initials are TM?" O’Grady did not need the woman to nod yes.

"What do you think?"

"Some might say coincidence," O’Grady met the woman’s gaze and gave a weak smiled, "but I believe Thom loves you very much."

The woman began to cry. It was not frantic weeping of anguish but the deep cleansing sobs of relief. O’Grady pushed the tissues closer to Elisabeth.

"Take a minute and cry. It’s okay. I’m going to get us some coffee. When I get back we’ll talk about some healthy outlets for your grief," O’Grady stepped out of the office and went right for her secretary’s phone. "Betsy, it’s O’Grady. Yeah, is Devyn still with you? Good. Hold the Valium. Ask her if she wants something for pain instead. If the on call won’t prescribe then beep me back and I will. When she’s transferred to my service, dc the restraints. No, she’s not going to hurt anybody. Yeah, I’m sure. And tell her, I said she was wrong about the guy in the flannel shirt. I just met him."

O’Grady hung up the phone with a certainty somebody was standing behind her. She walked to the coffee machine without ever turning around.

THE END

4. COUNTERTRANSFERENCE

DISCLAIMER: This is Uber. Some physical similarities with characters on TV but that is as far as it goes. No infringement is intended.

WARNING: There is bad language, violence, annoying people, ..., what can I say, it is a dark tale. No sex.

WHY: O’Grady and Devyn do not seem to be finished yet. The characters have also appeared in The Consult and The Appointment. You may need to read those stories before this one to get the flow.

COUNTERTRANSFERENCE

PART 1

DR. O’GRADY LIGHTLY rapped on the door as she inserted the pass key in the lock. She waited for an answer. Several silent moments passed before she knocked again.

"Come in?" A quiet voice from within questioned.

"I wasn’t sure if you would still be awake," O’Grady spoke softly as she pushed the door ajar but did not enter. "Want some company?"

"Yeah!" The answer sounded more anxious than Devyn intended, "I mean, okay, I guess."

O’Grady shut the door behind her but did not lock it. The action did not go unnoticed by the woman sitting cross legged on the bed. She nervously smoothed her hand on the thigh of the bright orange scrubs. All the patients committed by the state on the locked psychiatric unit dressed in the brightly colored prison issued clothes instead of the tan scrubs the hospital provided their own admissions. Just in case of escape. O’Grady sat in the only chair in the room next to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" O’Grady could not see the pale features of the woman’s down turned face.

"Warm, dry, fed," Devyn grinned and lifted her head a bit but did not make eye contact, "that’s an improvement over the last few days."

"How’s the arm?"

"Feels better with the cast," she held up the white plastered limb as if to prove the point. "A lawyer came here this afternoon. He wanted me to sign a paper to stay locked up for sixty days," Devyn risked a glance at the doctor waiting patiently for her to continue. "Can I stay here that long? I don’t have money or insurance..., and the cops are coming tomorrow to ask more questions, and...,"

"Do you want to be well?" O’Grady recognized the woman’s panic was barely controlled and interrupted the flow of questions to provide structure for the woman’s thoughts.

Devyn tried to ease her breathing. She focused on the doctor’s words as much as her tone of voice. O’Grady was so calm and controlled. It helped Devyn to quell her worries enough to nod a response.

"You have the bed for at least sixty days courtesy of the state," O’Grady smiled easily. "After that, it depends on your wishes."

"The lawyer said you got the charges dropped," Devyn stole another shy look at the doctor.

"That’s an exaggeration. I sent recommendations to the DA’s office. With inpatient treatment and outpatient services, I believe you have a good prognosis for community reentry." O’Grady paused a moment before clarifying, "Devyn, it’s part of my job to file reports on patients with pending criminal charges. The DA believed treating the underlying illness was in the better interest of the state than punishing a petty crime."

"Are you going to be my doctor?" Devyn finally met the doctor’s gaze with a desperate one of her own.

"No," O’Grady saw the woman’s shoulders immediately sag.

"I don’t have money right now but I’ll work hard when I get out," Devyn had tears in her eyes as she reduced herself to begging. "I’ll send you money every week, I promise. Please, I know you can help me."

"Try to relax, Devyn. This decision has nothing to do with money," O’Grady tried to reassure the woman. "I can’t be your doctor because I had an incident earlier today that would preclude me from being objective about your care."

"What’re you talking about?" Devyn rolled her eyes at the sterile excuse.

"I encountered," O’Grady chewed her lip trying to phrase the experience correctly, "something I can’t explain that seems to support what you told me in the ER."

"The handsome guy in the flannel shirt? He’s gone now, you know."

"I had a feeling he was," O’Grady was grateful she did not need to go into details regarding the occurrence. "So, it’d be foolishness for me to be directly involved with your treatment. It would be far too easy for me to miss an vital detail because of my personal history with your... unique skill. Besides, I think, you’ll do well with Dr. Waugh. She’s a very good clinician."

Devyn merely shrugged. O’Grady could see the woman withdrawing from the conversation. The doctor moved to leave and allow her former patient some privacy.

"Can I ask a favor?" It was only a whisper.

"Yes," O’Grady turned her full attention to Devyn who appeared to shrink under the scrutiny. "It’s okay to ask, Devyn."

"Would..., could you be here when the police come back?"

"You can have your lawyer here. I think he’d be better suited to be with you during police questioning," O’Grady felt badly that she could not do the woman this small favor.

Devyn drew her knees up to her chest. She rested her head on them as her arms wrapped around her legs. She knew this was as protected as she would get tonight. Her tears fell as the door locked behind the departing doctor.

*  *  *

O’Grady sat on the floor of her office scribbling notes. Her team of ten crammed into the compact space for the monthly case review. She used to have these meeting in the lecture hall but it dwarfed the small group. Her office allowed a much more familiar, although cramped, environment in which to brainstorm.

"...and, I think, the EZT seems to have been effective in stabilizing Joy’s mood swings," the resident was hesitant. "I would recommend discharge in...three to...five days?"

"Ving, make it closer to three," the charge nurse stated.

"Rationale?" O’Grady hummed from her spot.

"Her daughter’s Lab just had puppies and Joy really wants to help take care of them."

"She didn’t tell me that. Why did she tell you and not me?" The resident riffled through his notes annoyed with the new information.

"Because there are some things that are just too personal to tell your analyst," the nurse teased.

"Very true, Anne. Ving, good report. Talk to Social Services about outpatient services and coordinate a discharge date. Anne, see if the daughter would bring in a puppy or two."

"For a warm and fuzzy visit?" Anne made a note on her stack of papers.

"That and," O’Grady allowed a big grin, "I like puppies." O’Grady let the laughter subside before moving on, "Suse, who do you have today?"

"The impenetrable Ms. Devyn Tannon," the stiffly, starched Dr. Waugh groaned. "If anybody has any suggestions then please jump right into the fray. I have gotten exactly nowhere. She has not said word one to me. Nothing, zip, nada; stop me if I’m going too fast for you people."

The room was silent. All eyes looked over to O’Grady. The doctor waited but her staff knew her too well. They could simply out wait her.

"Let’s have some suggestions," she gently coaxed.

"Ask the director?" Cooed a figure in the back.

"Funny, you’ll make a great comedian someday," O’Grady shot back in good natured banter. "Remember this is meant to be a learning experience and not a lecture series."

"Group encounters?" A medical student offered.

"She only goes to art therapy," Suse snapped in annoyance.

"Yes, but she helps George while she’s there. She even talks to him," the art therapist supplied.

"Is that my blind guy?" Dr. Howard seemed to have woken from a quick nap, "What’s he doing in art?"

"Good morning, Howard," O’Grady grimaced at the exhausted new father. "George has low vision and he enjoys the textures as much as the colors. Suse, perhaps you can coordinate your therapy with art and see if there is a chink in Ms. Tannon’s armor."

"And how long do we allow her to waste our time and money?" Suse saw a furrow crease O’Grady’s brow but continued, "Devyn Tannon is not cooperating. She’s uninsured and under police investigation. I, for one, am not entirely convinced she has more of a mental health problem than a legal problem. I think, we should transfer her to the County House of Corrections to let her finish her voluntary commitment there. They have a per diem counselor. That way she can get treatment while she reimburses the state all this unnecessary expense by picking up garbage on a tandem work crew."

"Tandem work crew?" Dr. Howard questioned with a yawn.

"Chain gang!" Dr. Waugh barked at the man she judged to be an idiot.

"Ms. Tannon is a patient in our hospital, regardless of who’s footing the bill. She needs our help just like any other patient. We do not, ever, make a medical decision based on reimbursement. Does everybody understand that?" O’Grady ground out the words that silenced her team. "Okay, let’s get back to work. Dr. Waugh, please give me a few more minutes of your time."

The room cleared out fast. O’Grady moved from her comfortable spot on the floor to sit behind her desk. Suse Waugh waited defiantly in the chair directly across from her. Once the door shut, O’Grady began.

"Want to tell me what that was really about?"

"We’ve known each other far too long to mince words now," Suse fixed her muddy brown eyes on the director. "To be frank, I think you’re ruining this department." O’Grady neither responded nor flinched at the accusation, "Look, it’s very noble to help the poor and weak but it’s also professional suicide. Do I need to remind you that this is a for profit hospital? The budget’s a mess! We can’t even add the Assistant Director position because of ...,"

"I withdrew the request."

"What?!" Suse was on her feet enraged but her clothes held their tailored crease, "I worked very hard for that job and you just cut it. How dare you?"

"Dr. Waugh," O’Grady kept her voice even in spite of her growing irritation, "my department has twenty two staff positions. There is one senior therapist, you, and one director, me. If we invent another management position so you can devote even more time to pushing paper than treating patients then my budget really will be in trouble."

"I’ll go over to the General, I swear it," the furious doctor waved a bony finger in O’Grady’s face.

"I’ll be sorry to see you go." O’Grady softened her tone to try to reach her associate, "Suse, you’re a gifted doctor. Don’t get jaded by ambition."

"Cut the crap!" Suse was on a roll, "You have some eye opening experience in the ER and the rest of us have to pay for it. Well, not me! If you want to crash in burn then you’re on your own."

"I’ll expect a written resignation in the morning," O’Grady’s expression remained flat. "Complete your next two scheduled shifts and I’ll buy out your notice. You can transfer all your cases to me."

Suse stood to her full height with shoulders squared. She swept back a stray shock of platinum hair that freed itself from the tight bun at the back of her head. Her bloodlessly thin lips twitched with the need to say just one more thing but her reason won the battle and she stormed out of the office with a mere door slam.

*  *  *

"Hi ya, Dev," George smiled as the young woman approached his table in the art room.

"How do you do that? How did you know it was me?"

"The light," George tilted his head slightly to catch the rays surrounding the blonde in front of him, "it makes your hair shine like halo. Like you’re some sort of angel," the big man grinned like a school boy.

"No, not angel, I’m afraid," Devyn frowned down at her orange scrubs.

"Don’t be sad, Dev. I almost can’t see the color of you clothes so it’s like not knowing you’re really in jail here," George innocently encouraged.

The mentally challenged, middle aged man had lived his entire life in the care of devoted parents. Their tragic death in a car accident had plunged him into a deep depression requiring a hospital stay. Only now, after weeks of treatment was he rediscovering the small joys life can give like making art and finding friends.

"You’re the best, George," she patted his arm and he blushed brightly.

"I didn’t think I’d have any customers this afternoon," Andy, the art therapist, finished the phone call that had kept him at the far end of the room. "You two don’t want to see the movie?"

"Movies are too fuzzy for me to see."

"I understand, George." The handsome therapist turned his attention to Devyn, "What about you? Art over theater?" His grin drove dimples deep into his dark brown cheeks.

"I, um, I," Devyn seemed to find herself tongue tied every time Andy talked to her, "if it’s okay, I’d rather...,"

"She wants to stay with us, Andy. Dev is safe with us guys," George spoke up.

"Devyn, as always, you’re more than welcome to stay," Andy flashed a perfect smiled.

"Thank, sir."

"You know, someday you’re going to just call me Andy like everybody else and I’ll fall over in shock," the man laughed. "Let’s pick a medium people."

"Acrylics!" George shouted.

"I’ll get them and you two set up your stations," Andy nodded approval.

The trio had barely set to work when Dr. Waugh entered the room. Devyn stiffened at the sight of her. Never in the young woman’s life had she encountered such darkness. It was as if all the light surrounding the doctor became trapped by her treacherous nature just like a black hole.

"Andrew," the doctor’s voice cracked, "they need you in the movie lounge."

"What’s wrong?" Andrew became concerned for his team mates and their patients.

"Anne got a finger in the eye. You need to be the sixth team member for group."

"What about you?" Andy tried not to let his dislike for the doctor overshadow his professionalism.

"I need to have a session with Ms. Tannon," Suse smirked. "Dr. O’Grady insisted remember?"

"Right," Andy was hesitant with his agreement. "George, Devyn, if you’ll excuse me. Dr. Waugh is taking over while I try to help out at the movies."

Devyn felt her heart race as the therapist exited. She would have run out of the room right behind him but she knew George was depending on her. Even though she feared Dr. Waugh, Devyn decided to stay with her friend.

"Dev, you still here?" George asked quietly.

"Right behind you."

"Ah, very sweet," Suse hissed at the pair. She waited just long enough for Andy to be out of ear shot before shouting, "Officer!"

A uniformed security guard entered the room. Devyn tried not to look at the menacing man but he walked right up to her easel. Standing with arms folded over his chest and legs spread, the man looked more like a threat than protection.

"Devyn, tell me what you are painting!" Dr. Waugh demanded.

"Andy doesn’t make us talk about our work," she tried to ignore the question politely.

"Andy isn’t here. So, tell me what you are working on!" Dr. Waugh stepped closer.

"I don’t want to talk about it to you," Devyn hung her head in defeat.

"Officer, Ms. Tannon is not cooperating. I think she needs some quiet time," the doctor’s eyes sparkled at the prospect.

The guard knocked over Devyn’s easel and made a grab for her. The young woman’s defenses snapped into action. She slapped the guard’s hands away and made a break for the door. She figured, if she could just get to Andy then he could make everything okay. She did not count on the doctor tripping her. The guard landed on top of her and dragged her arms behind her back.

"Oh God, please it hurts," the pain in her casted arm forced a yelp.

"Shut up," the guard grabbed a fistful of hair and slammed her face first into the floor.

"Don’t hurt her!" George was feeling his way around his easel but could not distinguish the figures struggling on the floor.

"Go back to your room, Georgie!" Dr. Waugh ordered. "Or I’ll send you to a place where big, dirty men stuff their huge pricks up your ass!"

"No, don’t! I just want to help Dev," George was wide eyed with the threat.

"George," Devyn gasped as the guard pulled her to her feet by her shirt collar and her painfully twisted arms, "go ahead to your room. I’ll be fine." Don’t let them hurt you too, she thought to herself.

"Come on," Waugh order the guard to follow her with Devyn.

The doctor lead them down an unlit corridor. Devyn did not struggle as the guard roughly ushered her along Waugh unlocked the last door on the left and entered. The guard pushed Devyn into the padded cell.

"Strip!"

"No," Devyn frantically looked around for a way out.

"Do you want my friend to help you remove your clothes?" Dr. Waugh nodded to the all too eager guard.

"Please," Devyn could not stop her tears.

"STRIP!" The doctor’s ghastly white face went flat, "You should remember how to do that well enough. After all, you’re a prostitute, right?"

"No, that was a mistake," Devyn blushed with the memory of an earlier arrest.

"You know what they say, once a whore always a whore," Dr. Waugh winked at the grinning guard.

"Bitch," humiliated, Devyn took one step forward preparing to defend her reputation.

It was all the guard needed. He tackled her. The pair crashed to the floor. Devyn felt the air rush out of her lungs under the crushing weight of the guard. She had no breath to fight him as he tore the clothing from her body.

"You get her naked and I’ll get the restraints," Dr. Waugh could not contain her laughter as she heard Devyn whimpering.

PART 2

O’GRADY WIPED THE sleep from her eyes with her thumb as she pressed the entrance bell of the locked unit with the other hand’s forefinger. She could see the night nursing supervisor through the glass doors hurrying around the nursing station to unlock the door.

"Sorry to wake you," Jill mumbled.

"Hit me with the highlights," O’Grady followed the nurse down the dark, empty corridor.

"I was doing the 2 am med pass and I heard George crying. He usually sleeps like a baby so I checked on him. That’s when he told me what happened," Jill stopped walking and turned to face O’Grady. "I’m really sorry. It should have dawned on me sooner but... it’s been so busy...and she doesn’t get a med until 6 am,"

"Jill, tell me what happened," O’Grady calmly redirected the nurse.

"George told me Devyn was locked in the quiet room. He said, she and Waugh had a problem in art. God, that was over ten hours ago. I blew it, Boss. I should have looked for her sooner," Jill rubbed her aching forehead.

"She’s still in there?" O’Grady felt the blood leave her face. "Why didn’t you let her out?"

"Your signature’s on the order for isolation or, at least, it looks like your signature. The last note says there was an assault on a staff member and the police were called but security has no report of anything like that. So, it may not be true. And you’re the only one with the key," Jill was a bit defensive in the face of the doctor’s reaction.

"Actually, Dr. Waugh has a key too," O’Grady steadied herself with a deep breath. "Let’s get Devyn out of there. We can figure out the rest of it later."

The pair continued down the darkened hall. O’Grady fished in the pocket of her blue jeans for her mass of keys. As they came around the corner, three or four flashlights pointed directly at them.

"Christ, are you trying to blind us?" the sleepy doctor squinted into the glare.

"O’Grady, you never stop complaining."

"Betsy? What are you doing up here?" O’Grady held her key ring under the narrow beam of light provided in order to search for the pass key.

"I’m the most senior nurse in the building and I’m a union rep. Jill’s well aware of the procedural violations. She thought I should be involved." Betsy snorted back a laugh, "Besides, I would never give up a chance to see you out of uniform."

"Thanks for the reassurance about my sense of style. What’s with the lights?" the doctor continued to squint looking for the right key.

"Funny thing! The lighting tubes were removed from all three tracks along several panels but there’s no maintenance work order on the unit." Betsy replied and then added with a hint of urgency in her voice, "Hey, Speedy, do you actually have the key or do we need to call a locksmith?"

"Oh, this is it," O’Grady held up the thin pass key.

"Dr. O’Grady," Betsy’s voice lowered as she put a hand on the doctor’s arm, "I’ve already looked in on Devyn through the observation window in the door. It’s obvious they were pretty rough with her. I had a portable x-ray and rape kit delivered to the exam room on this unit."

"Okay," O’Grady fought back a wave of nausea at the terrible possibility. "Betsy’s with me in the cell. Jill, go call security, the police, the administrator. We’ll need a doc from the ER to treat her injuries."

"I figured you were too long out of med school to remember Trauma 101 so I came up with the equipment," a hand shot forward from the darkness. "Dr. Shen Khan, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. O’Grady."

O’Grady accepted his firm handshake. She was glad to have another doctor to treat Devyn. Between her fatigue and growing anger, she doubted she could even make a straight stitch.

"Let’s do this people," the psychiatrist’s tempered command set the team in motion.

O’Grady moved to the door and inserted the key. She rapped twice before turning the lock. When the door opened, the sound of ragged crying filled the hallway.

"Devyn, it’s Dr. O’Grady and Betsy. We’re here to help you."

O’Grady knew how foolish that must have sounded even as pieces of shattered cast crushed under her sneaker. Devyn was laying on her side with her back to the door; naked. The leather restraint around her waist was pulled so snugly it was cutting into the skin. Small lines of blood trickled toward the floor. Leather restraints were also bound too tightly around the woman’s bluing ankles. O’Grady tried to ignore the multiple bruises visible across Devyn’s back as she stepped over the shuddering body on the floor.

"Devyn, can you hear me?" O’Grady noted the swollen eyes did not open when she nodded her head. "Betsy and I want to untie you. Is it okay for us to touch you?" Another quick nod of the head sent strands of blonde hair across the tear stained face. "It would be better if you could tell me with your own words."

"Okay," Devyn sobbed.

O’Grady knelt beside the terrified woman and stroked back the stray hair from Devyn’s face. Her whole body jerked defensively at the touch. O’Grady ignored the response and bruises and blood on the young woman’s face for now in order to focus on the rescue.

"I promise, we’re not going to hurt you," the doctor reassured.

Betsy released the leather bindings around the waist from the back. O’Grady worked on the straps at Devyn’s wrists which were secured to the belt. Her patient’s cries became louder when the broken arm was finally freed.

"Ms. Tannon," Betsy’s manner was motherly, "I have a blanket to cover you. It was warmed in the microwave."

"Thanks," Devyn allow the two women to sit her up and wrap the blanket around her shoulders.

"If you hold your arm like this," O’Grady positioned the injured limb against Devyn’s bare belly, "it will give some support when we move you."

"I’m sorry," Devyn whispered in the doctors ear while Betsy released the last of the restraints.

"For what?" O’Grady turned to face the woman but could only see the top of her blonde head.

"To cause problems. Please don’t send me to County. I won’t be anymore trouble. I’ll be good," there was desperation in the voice. "I’m sure I can be good."

"Devyn, look at me," the doctor pulled the blanket closed around her patient while she waited for bloodshot eyes to sneak a peak. "We’re going to the exam room together to take care of your injuries. We’re going to make you comfortable. When we finish, you can go back to your room so you can get some sleep. Tomorrow we’ll talk about where you want to continue your therapy. If you want to transfer to another hospital then I’ll arrange it. If you want to stay here then you’ll stay here."

"Can you be my doctor now?"

"Yeah, I’ll be your doctor," O’Grady wished she had just said yes the first time.

The two doctors and two nurses managed to get Devyn into a wheelchair. They knew the girl was trying to stifle her tears during the painful transfer. The short trip down to the exam room provided only a brief respite before the next agonizing move.

"Going up from the chair to the table’s always tougher. You go ahead and holler if you have to, Devyn," Betsy winked.

The young woman nodded but managed the transfer with only a few gulps of air. Devyn seemed far more concerned by all the equipment in the room than her pain. When the police woman walked in, Devyn began to tremble uncontrollably.

"Does she have to be here?" Devyn managed to catch O’Grady’s sweatshirt sleeve to pull her closer.

"The officer is here to gather evidence. Devyn, there may have been a crime committed. We need to protect your rights," O’Grady explained. "Would you like me to call a family member or your lawyer to be here for the exam?"

"I don’t have any family that cares. And my lawyer’s a kid. Could you stay with me?" Devyn’s grip tightened on the doctor’s clothing.

"I can’t treat your injuries," O’Grady took Devyn’s ice cold fingers in her own and gave them a gentle squeeze.

"But you could hold my hand," Devyn sounded hopeful. "in case I get scared."

"Yeah, I can do that," O’Grady smiled and pulled over a chair.

*  *  *

"Did you get the feeling back in your fingers yet?" Betsy grinned at the exhausted doctor slumped in her office chair.

"Oh, their fine. It’s my ass that got chewed off."

"How bad?" The nurse settled herself in the chair across the desk.

"The usual stuff; state review, new protocols for employment and restraints. A few late nights will fix the big holes until the next wise guy figures a way around the new system," the doctor sighed heavily. "Then there’s the police investigation. Waugh’s disappeared with Jenowitz."

"The cop that broke Devyn’s arm?" Besty rolled her eyes, "Not only is she a lousy doctor but she’s got terrible taste in men too."

"We were residents together, you know?" O’Grady wiped away a tear, "Friends, of sorts, or so I thought. How could she do something like this? She was a better doctor than me from the start. How did she get so lost? How come I didn’t notice before...,"

"Waugh’s been going sour since you got the department chair. You didn’t see it because you’re a friend. If it makes you feel any better, even those of us who hated her didn’t notice how bad she had gotten either."

The doctor actually cracked a small smile at the nurse’s attempt to console her.

"At least, Devyn’s injuries weren’t more serious than resetting that arm," Betsy tried further encouragement.

"Betsy, they degraded her. Devyn trusted us to keep her safe. Instead, she was assaulted and humiliated by our staff, my own staff," O’Grady’s tears overtook her, forcing her to look away.

"True but she wasn’t raped and that’s something to be thankful about. You know we’re not always this lucky when staff goes bad. Remember the nurse that killed her patients to show off for her boyfriend? It’s a dangerous world filled with vicious people who sometimes get inside these walls to prey on the weak. So now, go do your job Dr. O’Grady! Start rebuilding the trust so you can get Devyn strong enough to face the dangerous world again. She should be waking up from the sedative." Betsy jerked her thumb over her shoulder toward the door. "But wash your face first. You look like Hell warmed over."

"Thanks for the pep talk," the doctor stood and stretched her stiff muscles. "What’re you gonna do?"

"I’m taking a quick nap right here," the nurse leaned back and closed her eyes.

O’Grady closed the door behind her leaving Betsy to sleep.

*  *  *

Devyn woke alone in her hospital room with the mechanical whine of the big building droning in her ears. Her body ached dully. She was wearing an open in the back hospital johnnie instead of the usual bright orange scrubs. It took her several moments to piece together the chain of events that caused her pain. As the memories drifted back into her foggy mind, she cringed and pulled the blankets securely around her. A soft rap on the door made her jump.

"C...come in?" Devyn’s voice was hoarse from crying.

"I thought you might be awake," O’Grady stepped into the room. "Can I join you?"

"Yeah, please, I’d rather not be alone," Devyn winced slightly as she settled back against the pillow.

"Do you need anything for pain?" O’Grady offered as she sat on the only chair in the room.

"No, I’m sore but that’s all. My head still feels fuzzy from the sleeping pills," Devyn kept her blankets high. "So, is this a session or something?"

"It can be a session if you want or it could just be something," O’Grady brushed her loose hair back from her face.

"If it was a session what would we do?"

"You’d tell me what you’re thinking about."

"George," the small voice cracked. "Is he hurt?"

"George is physically fine but he is worried about you," O’Grady saw the woman flinch and knew the conversation was heading in the right direction. "He thinks he let you down."

"No!" Devyn tried to jump off the bed but her fatigue forced her back. "I was trying to run out on him. I would’ve left him alone with that horrible woman. I wanted to save myself. I deserved...,"

"Devyn," O’Grady’s melodic tone of voice was unaffected by the emotional outburst, "nobody deserves a beating."

There was silence. Devyn blinked trying to process the doctor’s words. There were no accusations or recriminations hidden in them. She was certain the doctor had missed her confession.

"You don’t understand," Devyn braced herself to explain again. "George needed me but my only thought was about me. I didn’t care what happened to him."

"Is it that you ‘didn’t care’ or were you trying to save yourself?" O’Grady’s face remained expressionless. "Just so I understand you actions completely."

"I wanted to..., only thought about, shit, saving me!" Devyn sobbed into her hands knowing the doctor would despise her selfishness.

"That’s what I would’ve done too," O’Grady’s chair creaked as she leaned forward to close the distance with the weeping woman. "Devyn, there’s no shame in being afraid and there’s no shame in staying alive. Our nature demands we fight to survive. Sometimes the best way to fight is to run away. Tell me what frightened you about Dr. Waugh."

"It’s what I see when I look at her," Devyn shook her head trying to believe Dr. O’Grady was not disgusted with her, "but that’s no excuse for leaving George alone."

"Devyn, everybody thinks about running away from danger."

"You didn’t! When you found Sharon you were scared but you didn’t leave her alone!"

"You can’t know," O’Grady stammered at the words that hit her like a blow, "there’s no way you could known about..., how could you...,"

"She was with me," Devyn studied her hands resting in her lap. "I’m sorry, she told me you still cry about her..."

"Wait, she was with you? In the cell?" O’Grady sat back feeling very dizzy in the suddenly too warm room.

"Please, don’t be mad. I didn’t say it to hurt you. I just wanted to make you understand how bad I really am," Devyn’s voice was filled with regret.

O’Grady took several deep breaths. Her heart was beating wildly at the revelation about Sharon. It took all her strength not to run out of the room. She put her focus on the troubled woman before her. Devyn needed her. O’Grady resolved to stay fixed in the chair until Devyn finished her story. Even if it meant getting Betsy to tie the flustered doctor down.

"I’m not mad at you," the shaken doctor was surprised to manage such a easy tone of voice, "but you need to help me understand what happened, ...what happens, to you. Devyn, do you think you can tell me about that night in the cell?"

"No, it’ll make you feel bad," tears were streaming down hot pink cheeks.

"I’m your doctor. There are rules. The board doesn’t allow me to have feelings," O’Grady smiled when Devyn giggled at the joke between her tears. "Let’s try this. You tell me the story. If I start to feel bad we’ll stop and call out for a pizza."

"Are you teasing me?" Devyn did not know what to make of the offer.

"Absolutely not!" O’Grady slouch comfortably in the chair, "I’m pretty strong so I should be able to withstand anything you say to me, besides," the tall woman put her feet up on Devyn’s bed with a false flash of bravado, "I really like pizza so there’s no way I can lose."

"Okay, I guess. Where should we start?" Devyn laid back against the pillow.

"In the cell with Dr. Waugh," O’Grady had heard this part already during the police questioning but wanted Devyn to face the memory again in a less sterile atmosphere.

"She told me to take off my clothes," Devyn closed her eyes as she began. "I didn’t want to. We argued and then the guard knocked me down. He stripped me. They both tied me up. It hurt so much when they fastened the belts." Devyn rubbed her belly, "It was like being strangled. Dr. Waugh laughed at me and called me names...,"

"What names?" O’Grady gently interrupted.

"Whore. She knew I was arrested before for prostitution," Devyn’s eyes snapped open at her slip. She scrambled to sit up to face the doctor, "It was a mistake. I was never charged. You gotta believe me, I would never...,"

"If you had, it would not make any difference, Devyn. Your past was not the real issue with Dr. Waugh."

"What about you? Don’t you care about all the terrible things I’ve done?" Devyn’s first spark of anger since the attack flared.

"No, we’re only talking about the cell. You can tell me anything you want about your past in another session and we’ll deal with it then." O’Grady wanted to ease the woman’s fears before moving on, "And, for the record, my concern is for the quality of your future not making you pay for your past."

Devyn laid down a little more relaxed. She seemed to be considering the doctor’s words. Her eyes closed as she began again.

"Dr. Waugh told the guard," Devyn’s blush deepened, "to ‘take ‘er for a spin,’ and I started to scream for help."

O’Grady ground her back teeth at the futility of the young woman’s efforts. The padded cell was sound proof. A steamboat whistle could not be heard outside the closed door. O’Grady angrily wondered if Waugh enjoyed watching Devyn’s pathetic attempt to save herself.

"The guard was all over me. He was biting and hitting me. I couldn’t get away. He was too strong."

"And you were tied up," O’Grady’s whisper went unheard.

"He jerked my thighs apart and all I could do was hope he wouldn’t take too long or hurt me too much. Then Sharon was over his shoulder, smiling at me. The room got so cold the guard lost his erection. Waugh seemed to panic. She yelled at the guard to get out."

"Were you afraid?" O’Grady put her own feelings into words.

"Not of a ghost," Devyn’s eyes opened and twinkled in amusement at the doctor. "Ghosts can’t hurt you. Only people can do that."

"Oh," it was O’Grady’s turn to blush.

"After they left, Sharon stayed with me. She told me about you. She worried for a long time that what she did ruined your life."

O’Grady kept her gaze steady on Devyn but her mind wandered to back years to that terrible day early in her residency. She was heading home happy it was only two hours after her shift actually ended. Pulling on her coat, she thought she heard crying coming from the hall with the locked cells. O’Grady followed the sound into the empty hall and was surprised to see a light shining from the last cell’s observation window. Curiosity won out over fatigue. O’Grady trotted down to see who was in lock down.

"Oh God," the doctor blanched at the memory of what was on the other side of the door.

"Sharon cut her own wrists with the buckle to her restraints," Devyn eased her legs over the edge of the bed needing to get closer to the trembling doctor. "She bled to death long before you got there."

"You can’t know this," O’Grady struggled to get her breath. "This can’t be real."

"She was still near her body when you smashed the window to get to her," Devyn ignored the doctor’s disbelief. "Sharon told me how kind you were. It meant a great deal to her. Dr. O’Grady, you gave her a dignity in death that she never had in her life."

O’Grady hung her head under the weight of the memory. After she screamed for help, she had grabbed the fire extinguisher and used it on the door’s window. The young doctor put her coat on the frame to protect her hands as she pulled herself through. Her hands were fine but shards of glass ripped three deep gashes across her back. Once in the room, O’Grady raced to the pale body sitting with her back to the wall surrounded by a pool of congealed blood. Even with her adrenaline pumping, the young resident was able to quickly assess Sharon was long dead; no respiration, no heartbeat, lividity and rigidity present.

"Wherever you are, may you have found peace now," O’Grady hushed as she closed the lifeless eyes.

"Oh good, you haven’t started CPR yet. My students can get it going," Bullfinch swaggered into the blood soaked cell followed by a murder of med students.

"No, sir, the patient has expired. There is no need to do CPR," O’Grady stood to face the attending.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You only found her a moment ago. The clock starts now so step aside. Waugh, you and the tall guy start," Bullfinch directed.

"No, sir," O’Grady stood between the doctor and the body, "the patient is without any vitals and demonstrating signs of decomposition. It’s irresponsible to attempt resuscitation."

"Really, DOCTOR," Bullfinch barked. "From here she looks salvageable and my students need the practice. Step aside."

"No, sir."

"WHAT?"

"She’s gone. Leave her alone," O’Grady tried being direct with the pompous man.

"Get out of the way or I’ll have security move you out of the way. You’ll be finished before you ever get started!"

O’Grady caved in quickly to the threat. She walked out of the cell to the sounds of trial and error.

"Find the sternum," Bullfinch’s voice echoed down the hall behind her.

O’Grady felt tears on her checks as the haunting images faded.

"You got in a lot of trouble, didn’t you?" Devyn touched the doctor’s knee to help the woman reconnect with the present.

"Written warning, letter of reprimand, six months suspension, had to repeat a whole year of residency," O’Grady shook her head, "all for nothing. They flogged her for two hours."

"Not for nothing," Devyn squeezed the doctor’s knee. "Sharon saw what you did. She finally understood what it meant to be loved. You put everything on the line because she was worth something. Dr. O’Grady, you saved her soul."

O’Grady finally looked up allowing Devyn to see her tears. The session had turn hopeless wrong but the doctor was unable to reset the course. Instead, she plunged in deeper.

"Tell me what you see when you look at Waugh."

"She’s surrounded by darkness," Devyn’s grip on the doctor’s leg tightened. "It’s like an inky black pool. Hands, faces, images try to surface but they can’t break free from the pull."

"What about George?" O’Grady was too weak to explore the frightening vision further.

"His parents and grandparent and great-grandparent," Devyn smiled, "he’s surrounded by generations of love."

"Does he know?"

"I think he can feel them most of the time but I never asked him about it. It’s kind of private."

"What do you see," O’Grady swallowed hard, "when you look at me?"

"Oh," Devyn seriously studied the doctor before going on, "it’s like a sunrise after a really bad storm but there’s something else..., salty, cold mud,...the beach."

"I live at the beach," the doctor sighed unsure what to think of the woman across from her.

"Dr. O’Grady, maybe we should stop for pizza now."

"Are you tired?" O’Grady tried to pull herself together.

"No, but you are," Devyn smiled broadly. "Although, I’m pretty hungry."

"We’ll talk more after?" O’Grady did not want to stop but knew Devyn was right.

"Sure, we can have a session or something," Devyn laughed, relieved the doctor was still willing to help her.

PART 3

Grace

he understood that life
is not a series of rights and wrongs
good and bad choices
but
instead
life is a journey of experiences
which grants us the grace to get up
and do it all over again the next day
until we get back to where we started
back to the loving embrace of the father
and that’s where we’re going and we’re gonna make it
we’re all going home
and we’ll get there too

DEVYN LAUGHED. IT was a full body, hearty laugh. O’Grady scowled slightly annoyed at the woman’s humor.

"What’s so funny?" the doctor mumbled around a mouth full of Chicken Lo Mein.

"My sessions must be killing your diet," Devyn sipped a healthy dose of Chinese tea.

"This food," O’Grady finally gave an indulgent smile, "isn’t half as bad as the pizza with everything you usually want. But, thanks for your concern. Are you ready to start?"

Devyn nodded slowly. The routine the two had established in the last two weeks was eat first and talk second. Devyn would arrive at O’Grady’s office with a security guard escort for her appointment. Most sessions went for two or three hours but were only scheduled every other day. On the in between days, Devyn did group sessions with Dr. Howard and art therapy with Andy. When they finished, O’Grady would walk Devyn back to the psych unit. Sometimes they would take a detour outside. Devyn knew the doctor was working very hard to help her get well. She worried lack of progress would discourage the psychiatrist.

"I haven’t had any ‘encounters’ since our last session. The mediation seems to be helping. How much medication am I still taking?" Devyn questioned in a rush.

"Can we go back a bit?" the doctor put her empty food container aside and settled back in her chair in the freshly painted room.

"Back to where?" Devyn bit her lip nervously.

"The part with ‘no encounters,’ as you called them. Last session you were averaging one every eight hours. None seems kind of a low number."

"Maybe the meds are helping?" Devyn offered.

"That could be or maybe you’re tired of trying to work this out?" O’Grady casually asked.

Devyn could almost hear her heart beating out the minutes it took her to answer. In the end, truth won out over fear.

"I don’t want to be crazy."

"You’re not crazy."

Devyn waited for more but nothing was forth coming. The doctor just sat there.

"Are you sure?" Devyn found the courage to ask the question she dreaded the most.

O’Grady simply nodded.

"Then what am I? I mean, most people don’t see ghosts never mind have a conversation with one. So, if I’m not crazy then what’s the answer, Doc?" Devyn sounded more irritated than she wanted.

"That’s what we’ve gotta figure out," O’Grady stated flatly.

Devyn tossed her hands up in frustration. She bolted out of her chair and paced around the neat office. Her anger was so overwhelming she wanted to toss a chair or smash a window.

"Tell me what you feel right now!" O’Grady commanded.

"Like I want to kick your ass," Devyn almost screamed. "I’m pissed off. Days and days of talking and I still see them. For Christ’s sake, just drug me. Make me normal. Isn’t that your job?"

"No."

Devyn did scream as she dropped to her knees. She shouted her rage at the Universe that cursed her to be different. The distraught woman ranted at the God who abandoned her. Leaving her to suffer alone with the unbearable knowledge of other people’s lives and deaths. Devyn cursed the family who cut her off without a second thought because she was not exactly like them. Then she cried. Whimpers grew to heavy sobs and back down to silent tears. Two warm hands settled on her shoulders, steadying her rocking.

"Devyn," O’Grady’s voice was gentle as she kneeled before the woman.

"I’m sorry," Devyn buried her face in the doctor’s chest and wrapped her arms around the stunned professional. "Please, don’t be mad at me. I don’t know why I’m so angry. Please, don’t kick me out. Don’t give up on me, please."

"We need to go back to your room," was all O’Grady said as she shook free of the unexpected embrace.

The pair left the office in silence. O’Grady walked with purpose while Devyn struggled to keep her unwilling feet moving. She was sure the doctor would transfer her to County to finish the last month of her commitment. Devyn fought to hold the tears back at the certainty she had ruined her only chance to get well with the outburst.

"Sit down, Devyn," O’Grady directed as she shut the door to Devyn’s room. "How do you feel?"

"Embarrassed,...,"

"No, physically," the doctor walked to the sink and ran the water.

"Headache, exhausted, sour taste in my mouth," Devyn stopped when O’Grady crossed the room with two wet wash clothes in hand.

"Wash your face," the doctor handed one cloth to Devyn and put the other on the back of her patient’s neck as she sat next to her on the bed. "Devyn, did you notice anything about my office?"

"No," Devyn relished the coolness against her overheated skin.

"I had it painted yellow just for today’s session. There’s a theory that color effects mood. Yellow is very aggressive. In addition, my two sessions before you were rage disorders. One guy told me he was going to throw me out the window."

"I felt that," Devyn whispered. "But, what does it mean?"

"Like I said, that’s what we need to figure out," O’Grady gave a half smirk. "I do have a theory."

"Let’s hear it," once again, Devyn found herself relieved the doctor was sticking with her.

"Some people can eat sea food, some people can’t. Some people can eat peanuts, some people can’t. Some people start out able to eat sea food or peanuts and develop a sensitivity to them. Devyn, I think you’re more sensitive to subtle psychological and environmental stimuli than other people."

"So, like with the color yellow, I flipped out while you...,"

"Just became a tad more irritable," O’Grady smiled.

"That explains some of my reactions but not the ghost thing."

"Like I said, it’s a only a theory," O’Grady shrugged, "but I think you may tune into the finer aspects of human behavior. Carnival hawkers have been doing it for ages." O’Grady snorted a laugh, "Psychiatrists built an industry out of it."

Devyn frowned. She was clearly unhappy with the explanation. It was a toss up as to who she resented being compared to more; circus folk or shrinks.

"Let me get this straight," she tossed the wet cloths across the room as she turned to face the doctor. "You think I figured out you helped some dead guy’s sister by the way you walked into examine me while I was chained naked to a bed?"

"I guess the yellow effect lingers," O’Grady mumbled as she rubbed her throbbing head. "Devyn, the incident you zoned in on was life altering for me. It changed the way I practice medicine. If your condition is borne out of heightened sensitivity then that’s the one moment in my life you would glimpse at."

"Like Sharon dying in the cell?"

"You could’ve read about that in the newspaper," O’Grady defended.

"Now, who’s in denial."

"Ouch, hit me with a technical term, why don’t you?" O’Grady pouted and Devyn gave a small smirk. "My office is getting wallpapered tomorrow so we should have a calmer session on Wednesday."

"Can we have pizza?" Devyn asked as the doctor stood to leave.

"With everything," O’Grady called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

*  *  *

The desk in front of her office was empty, as usual. O’Grady stepped closer to review the perfectly arranged notes her efficient secretary had left. The doctor smiled slightly as she unsuccessfully tried to recall the last time she had actually seen the woman.

"At least, good old what’s her name keeps me organized," O’Grady hummed as she entered her newly wallpapered office.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw a familiar figure sitting behind the desk. His gray hair shined almost silver in the soft glow of the desk lamp. The signature goatee had lost any hint of brown strands and gone completely white since their last encounter.

"Professor," O’Grady stammered.

"Doctor," the old man nodded to the chair opposite her desk indicating for her to sit like a guest in her own office, "we need to talk."

"Yes, sir," O’Grady quickly took her assigned seat.

"It is nearly 8 p.m.," he observed casually. "Is this an exception or the current situation?"

"I’ve been extremely busy with new programs and...,"

"Ah, yes, the new programs!" He interrupted. "Like your initiatives in Infants with Mothers and in the ER?"

O’Grady could only manage a nod.

"Basically, free care for trollops and addicts by my reading."

"Well, no," O’Grady shifted under his glare but continued in spite of her discomfort, "it’s a sliding scale, actually. People pay what they can, if they can. Our objectives are to decrease unplanned pregnancy, improve prenatal care, increase voluntary commitment for drug rehab, and...,"

"And the budget for this farce was created from cuts you made to research," the old man announced with a palm slap to the desk.

"It was only $100,000."

"MATCHED MONEY!"

O’Grady shrunk back in her chair. She had no defense against the truth. A pharmaceutical grant matched two times every dollar the hospital spent on research.

"I’m not the only board member with reservations," he stated settling back in her chair.

"Really," she found some courage in the notion he must be in the minority or she would already be gone, "maybe they should remove me."

"NEVER!" He rose in a fluid motion pointing directly at her, "Never challenge me little girl! I can crush you before you realize you were even stepped on."

O’Grady studied the floor as the old man turned to the windows to regain his composure. Silence endured.

"So," the old man tested his voice, "have you heard from your father?"

"Vienna, he’s in Vienna," O’Grady spoke dully.

"You did not answer my question! Have you spoken to him?"

"No, Professor, I have not," she answered formally.

"You should call him. He worries."

"Professor," O’Grady cleared her throat as she continued to study the carpet while he studied the night, "is mother with him?"

"She will join him after she finishes teaching at Brown this semester."

"What? She’s at Brown?"

The old man turned back from the window with a nod.

"She’s less than hour a way and didn’t call me?" O’Grady’s trepidation vanished with her outrage.

"Watch your tone, girl!" The old man ordered with a furrowed brow.

O’Grady ran a trembling hand through her hair pulling it free of the elastic that held it in place for so long. She tried to still the wild pulse of her heart. After several minutes, she realized that no amount of deep breathing could calm her. She climbed to her feet and leaned against the wood of her own desk to finally confront her lifelong pain.

"My mother, your own daughter, still can’t make five minutes for me! She’s in Rhode Island, for God’s sake. It’s not even a toll call!"

"Get a hold of yourself," the old man commanded coming eye to eye with her.

"NO! We have been here too many times before, Grandfather! Only to have me back off. Well, not tonight. We both know my father is remorseful and my mother is remote! They left me for you to raise. If you don’t like the woman before you then sue the boarding school," O’Grady seethed. "I’m doing the best job I know how. And that’s no thanks to you and my absentee parents. So, fire me or get out of my office."

"The chair to the psychiatry department is a family endowment," the old man straightened to his full height, "and a direct descendent of Dr. Erik Vontz has occupied the position for the last sixty years. You will NOT change our family’s destiny with a bout of latent adolescent rebellion."

O’Grady slumped back in her chair. She was not sure if she should be relieved or angered that her job was secure. The time to consider her options was cut short as her grandfather walked to the door.

"No need to see me out. Call your father. Get some sleep." He paused with his hand on the knob, "no more budget cuts unless you run the numbers by Fred and he gets my approval."

There was a long silence.

"Will I see you at the house later this evening?" He sounded somewhat hopeful.

"No, sir," O’Grady did not turn to face him. "I’ve been living at the beach since February. I don’t even keep a toothbrush at the house anymore."

"Really," the old man mumbled as he left the room, "you’d think I’d would have noticed something like that."

O’Grady began to cry when to door latched closed. She continued to cry after falling into a restless sleep while still in the chair assigned to her.

*  *  *

"NO!" Devyn shouted as she broke free of a terrible dream.

Completely disoriented, the woman stumbled from her bed and leaned heavily against the wall. Devyn took only a moment to reassure herself that she was dressed before opening the door. The light of the unit was almost blinding but she was able to make out Dr. O’Grady’s tall frame on the other side of the locked doors.

"NO! Come back, O’Grady. Please, don’t go," she raced for the doors even as the doctor disappeared into the stairwell. "You’re not safe! Come back!"

"Devyn, step away from the door," Anne tried a calm voice as she approached.

"No, you don’t understand. I need to talk to O’Grady," Devyn turned to face the nurse and saw there were three other nurses approaching as well. "Shit, this isn’t a crazy thing. I’m, ... well it sounds crazy, but it’s real." The four came a bit closer and she backed up to the cold glass. "Please, O’Grady’s in trouble. Call her to come back."

"Devyn," Anne’s tone was even and steady, "Dr. O’Grady just got called to the ER for an emergency. She’ll reschedule with you...,"

"No, that’s where it’ll happen! I had a dream," Devyn smacked her forehead for the slip. "God, you gotta believe me. She’s gonna get hurt..., no, get back!"

The nurses all edged closer when their patient hit herself in the head.

"Devyn, you need to move away from the doors, now," Anne urged again.

"FUCK YOU!" Devyn figured she’d lost the battle and should go down fighting, "All I’m asking is for you to call her!"

"Devyn," Dr. Howard emerged for a treatment room, "what’s going on?"

"Look, I had a dream and Dr. O’Grady is going to get hurt. All I want them to do is warn her." Devyn pleaded in a rush of words and emotions.

"If I agree to go warn her will you go back to your room?"

"Dr. Howard, the door will have to be locked until she’s reassessed." Anne gave a hesitant smile toward Devyn, "I want us to honest with each other."

"Anything," Devyn swallowed back the lump in her throat at the thought of begin locked in again, "you want as long as we help Dr. O’Grady."

With a nod, the nurses moved to surround Devyn. They did not physically touch her but crowded her enough to make her move with them. Once at her room, they separated enough to let her enter. Anne closed the door with a louder than necessary slam for effect.

"You really going to the ER?" She asked Dr. Howard.

"Sure, when I finish with this patient. O’Grady can buy me lunch for my heroic rescue," he smirked as he reentered the treatment room.

*  *  *

"Somebody, without donuts, beeped me?" O’Grady grinned at Betsy.

The nurse’s snappy remark died on her lips. She all but gasped at the doctor.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"What?" O’Grady was almost defenseless in the wake of unexpected concern.

"You look like you haven’t slept in days. And," the nurse grabbed a fistful of loose scrub shirt for emphasis, "you’re falling away to nothing. When was the last time you ate a sit down meal?"

"I, ah, ... yest...,"

"Don’t even try to lie to me," Betsy waved and annoyed finger in the doctor’s face. "I raised three girls, two boys, and one husband. You’re coming to my house after this shift for dinner."

"I can’t...,"

"Cat?"

"Huh?"

"Do you have a cat, dog, bird, fish, child, lover? If that is the case then; she’ll take care of herself, he’ll still be happy when you get home late, it feeds itself, let it drown, or bring ‘em." Betsy softened and leaned closer to the stunned doctor, "Really, Kathleen, you look tired and hungry. My crowd ain’t the type you usually dine with but you’ll get a good meal. Please come, I’m worried."

"Betsy," the doctor held back tears as she took the nurse’s hand, "thank you. And, if it would not be an imposition then, I think, I would like a sit down dinner with ... friends."

"Settled. Now, the patient in room D...,"

"A juvenile? Are the parents here?"

"Well, no, but you should see him. The boy is clearly an immediate danger to himself and others," Betsy recited the catch phrase to bypass consent. "He has a long drug and alcohol history. Admitted with chest pain. Take a look at the echo and chest x-ray results."

"Jesus," the doctor whistled the last ‘s’ for emphasis, "that heart’s huge."

"You should have been a cardiologist. Surgery isn’t an option at this point."

"What am I doing?" O’Grady shook her head sadly.

"He wants off the streets. He’s in pain and afraid. I don’t think he fully understands that these are the last days of his life but his body sure knows it."

"How old?" O’Grady shuddered to hear the answer.

"Fifteen."

O’Grady grimly walked to room D trying to bury her sympathy. If she was going to help this boy then she would have to be painfully truthful. She needed to be a doctor.

"Mr. Ace?" She asked as she pushed the door slowly open.

"It’s just Ace," his reply was cut short with a coughing fit.

"You need to keep the oxygen on," she replaced the nasal canula and felt how cold his skin already was.

"It’s too dry. Makes me thirsty. Can I have a drink?" His brown eyes sparkled up at her.

Ace was small for a fifteen year old. He could easily say he was ten. Short, small bones, pale skin; he looked like any other anemic kid. But, he was not anemic. He was a junkie with a bad heart. Ace was a dead kid even though his heart was still beating.

"I’m not here to get you a drink," O’Grady was stoic in the face of the ruined life before her. "The nurse tells me you want to give it up. You want in from the cold?"

"Yes," the answer was small and desperate.

"Have you talked to the cardiologist?" The boy seemed confused by the question so O’Grady rephrased, "the heart doctor?"

"Yes."

"And," she pushed him to tell her.

"He says, I’m gonna die. Nothin’ he can do about it," the boy shrugged.

"That’s right but there’s something you can do," the boy looked up intrigued. "You have a choice. You can go back out and shoot up and die or you can stay, get a couple more days, and die. It’s that simple. Leave and die or stay and die a little later." O’Grady knew he had no tears left but was certain he was hurting, "The streets are cold and wet. The beds here are warm and the food is edible."

"What do I need to say?" The boy took O’Grady’s hand in both his own. "I don’t want to be alone."

"Unless I believe, you are a danger to yourself or others then we need your parent’s permission to admit you."

"No parents," his hands squeezed tighter.

"If you go back out tonight, what will you do?"

"I....I’ll get high?" He questioned.

"And if," O’Grady smiled and nodded encouragement, "you don’t have money to get high?"

"I’ll rob somebody," he grinned, sure he hit the right answer. "I might even hurt ‘em if they fight me."

O’Grady smiled at the boy. It was enough to let him stay seven days. More time than Ace actually needed.

"I’ll get the paperwork pushed and you’ll be upstairs in an hour or so," she was interrupted by a woman entering the room.

"He ain’t going nowhere with you," her bright orange hair complimented the garish mascara perfectly.

"Who are you?" O’Grady stepped between the intruder and her patient.

"I’m his mother, Cunt!" The woman pushed the doctor back a step, " Ace, get your lazy ass out of that bed! Let’s go. I got you a job and he ain’t waiting forever."

"You sell him?" O’Grady’s anger bubbled over, "He’s a kid, a very sick kid, and all you can think of is selling him to freaks."

"Girl’s gotta make a living," she grinned with a smile missing four front teeth.

"Ace’s is in my care now. Leave before I call security on your skinny ass," O’Grady glared at the crack whore swaying before her.

"BITCH!" The woman lunged at the doctor.

O’Grady felt the searing burn across her cheek before seeing the blade glint in the woman’s hands. Stunned to find herself being attacked, the doctor lost her chance to launch a defense. The enraged hooker brought the knife back in a viscous arch tearing across O’Grady’s throat. The doctor’s hands instinctively went to the gaping wound in a useless effort to hold back the blood that was escaping at an alarming rate. The final stab to O’Grady’s abdomen collapsed the stricken woman.

Curled on the floor, O’Grady was aware of frantic movement around her but could not make sense out of any of it. She tried to focus on the only thing that mattered; breathing. Even that was proving too difficult with each passing second. It was not until cold hands replaced her own blood-soaked hands at the neck wound that she was able to blink open her eyes. Betsy’s face was inches from her own. O’Grady smiled at the nurse truly glad she was with a friend during what must be the last moments of her life.

"Thanks," the dying doctor moaned before closing her eyes again.

"DON’T YOU DARE DIE!" Betsy screamed as the chilling body under her hands sighed heavily.

PART 4

"OKAY, BETSY, STEP out," Dr. Shen Khan stood over the grisly scene snapping on his gloves. "We need to get O'Grady on a backboard."

"Can't."

"Why not?" The doctor knelt next to the pair in a pool of ever expanding blood.

"I've got my finger in an artery. If I lose my grip she'll bleed out the rest of her volume before you can sink a line," Betsy looked up at the stunned doctor with a barely controlled panic. "NOW, DO SOMETHING!"

"Oh, fucker!" The young doctor felt his heart race.

"Damn it!" Betsy barked, "Tape my hands in place then I'll straddle her while you guys get us on a gurney. Get neurosurge in the OR and as much O positive as they can round up. Shen," she yelled at the man as a nurse began to wrap gauze around her hands cradling O'Grady's wounded neck, "snap out of it!"

"I've never been able to save anybody this bad," Shen gasped.

"That all changes today, Doctor," Betsy promised as the backboard was slid under the unconscious patient. "I'm not going to let you lose her."

*  *  *

The door to Devyn's room slammed open. Two uniformed officers entered followed by a cheap suited detective. They moved with calculated strides within inches of her seated position on the bed.

"We have a few questions."

Silence followed.

"Ms. Tannon, I suggest you cooperate with us. The staff here is none too happy you got their supervisor stabbed," the detective was smug. "They think you plotted the attack."

"No, I wouldn't..."

"Really!" He screamed in her face as he jerked off the bed by her orange scrubs. "You warned them about the danger before O'Grady even got to the ER. Was that buyer's remorse?"

"No, I had a dream," Devyn tried to tug free of his grasp only to have him toss her to the floor.

"This ain't no dream. It's your nightmare, girl," he smirked. "Cuff her boys. She's going to County before the staff here poisons her."

"Please," Devyn cried as she dragged to her feet and the handcuffs were awkwardly snapped around her casted arm, "please tell me, is she okay? In my dream, there was so much blood. Is she going to be all right?"

The cops and detective just laughed at her. Devyn was lead into the hall to face the angry mod of the staff and patients alike.

"She must be dead," Devyn wept as she was steered off the unit.

*  *  *

"Breath, can't breath," O'Grady wordlessly struggled to suck in the air her lungs desperately ached for.

Psssfffft.

With a mechanical whirl, the doctor's lungs were pumped full. She tried to hold the air for just a moment to relish the sweetness of the breath but it raced out all to quickly.

"Can't breath, gotta breath," her mind begged.

Psssfffft. BEEP.

"She's bucking the vent," a deep voice boomed close to O'Grady's ear.

"KATHLEEN, stop that!" Betsy's cool fingers stroked O'Grady's brow to soften the edge on the command. "Just relax. Let the vent do the work."

Psssfffft.

"There you go. Nice and easy. We'll do the hard stuff while you rest."

O'Grady tried to turn to the source of the words but she seemed to be taped in place. Even her eyes were stuck closed. Tears of frustration broke free of her prison and trickled down her face as she surrendered to the machine.

Psssfffft.

"Hey, O'Grady, you're gonna be okay," Betsy's voice cracked. "They stitched you up good. After a little more sleep and a lot more blood, we can start to wean you off the vent."

Psssfffft.

"Good girl, your pressure and heart rate are easing up. Just relax. You should know how to do that better than anybody, right?" Betsy soothed. "The lengths you'll go to get out of dinner at my house. Don't worry, I won't hold a grudge. When you're up to it; I'll have you over for a Spam loaf."

O'Grady felt her lips tugging at the tape which held the tubes in her mouth.

Psssfffft.

"Oh, no," Betsy was definite crying now, "don't laugh. Respiratory will kill me if you knock the vent off again. Can't talk about funny stuff so that only leaves work. I had your secretary cancel all your appointments for the next month. Freda is a delightful woman. You should give her a raise."

"That's right, good old 'what's her name' is Freda," O'Grady's thoughts were focusing away from her breathing.

Psssfffft.

"And your grandfather's butler...caretaker...guy checked on the beach house. It seems you don't even have a plant to water. We have some serious decorating to do down there, kiddo."

"Good luck sprucing up that ten room monster," O'Grady thought as she relaxed into the calm jabbering and soft, cool finger strokes across her forehead.

Psssfffft.

"Your grandfather was here most of the night. Standing over you and holding your hand. He was asleep on his feet when I sent him to your office to get some shut eye on the couch of yours."

"He stayed with me?" O'Grady had trouble wrapping her mind around the idea.

Psssfffft.

"He asked me to tell you that your father is on his way back from ...Germany?"

"Vienna," O'Grady silently supplied even though she felt like she was falling back to sleep with gentle words and reassurance that she was not alone.

Psssfffft.

"Good girl, your rates are doing dropping to where we want them. I think I'm putting your to sleep."

O'Grady smirked again pulling at the tape.

"You go ahead to sleep. When you wake up your grandfather and father will be here."

Psssfffft. BEEP.

O'Grady's eyes snapped open darting wildly trying to focus in the blinding light.

"Shit! She's fighting it too hard. GET RESPIRATORY, STAT!" Betsy shouted over the blaring alarms. "Kathleen, relax."

"What the Hell?" The deep voice from before ran into the room. "Dr. O'Grady, I'm going to give you something to make you sleep. You need to let the machine breath for you."

"No, no, no!" O'Grady tried to thrash as much as she could but there were too many pieces of equipment and arms holding her down. She shot one last, silent plea to Betsy, "What about my mother?"

*  *  *

O'Grady came to the sudden conclusion she was awake. She had suspected it for several minutes but was not sure until she clearly heard the overhead page. Her eyes blinked open trying to guard against glaring light. Much to her relief, the room was dimly lit by a soft lamp in the far corner of the private room.

"Graduated," she thought to herself with the realization she was free of the vent.

O'Grady vaguely remembered the last few days. There were fevers and transfusions and tense minutes that dragged into hours. Several teary moments from the assorted gathering of coworkers around her bed. She tried to make a mental note of one or two that begged to be teased mercilessly when she got her strength back. If she got her strength back.

The steady clicking of computer keys dragged her regard away from the ceiling tiles. Turning her head to the left, she saw her father sitting with a laptop balanced on his knees. O'Grady managed to clear her throat to get his attention.

"Kat Leen," he glanced up from the screen and set the computer aside, "you're finally avake."

O'Grady could not help but smile at the hint of a German accent. She loved the way he pronounced her name. Dr. Joseph O'Grady was only an American by birth. The son of a career diplomat, he had lived most of his life in Europe. In fact, English was his second language.

"Papa's here," he took her hand as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You are in pain?"

"No," her throat was raw and she began to cough.

"Ah, no, no, here, some ice chips," the mathematician was flustered as he spooned several chilly shards into his daughter's dry mouth.

O'Grady savored the cold against the sore and torn tissue. Joseph kept stroking her cheek and a firm hold of her hand. It was so comforting. She melted into the contact like the ice melted in her mouth. She focused on her father's striking blue eyes. Much to her amazement there were tears welling there.

"Papa," she struggled around the pain in her throat, "you didn't have to come all this way."

"Kat," tears began to trickle down his cheeks, "Vat you mean? Course, I come right away. My baby hurt? Planes don't fly fast enough to get me here."

O'Grady was stunned by his words. She never imaged the depth of her father's concern. In fact, she had never considered it before. Having grown up in boarding schools, the psychiatrist's relationship with her parents consisted of letters, phone calls, and one strained week long visit a year. It had been reduced to just greeting cards over the last few years.

"Thank you," she squeezed his hand as a tear escaped.

"No, no crying. Look, look, I wore da sweater you sent. I'm trendy, no?" He grinned like a school boy.

O'Grady chuckled. Her usually starched, white shirt father stood before her in a charcoal gray pull over. She thought he would look good in it and she was right. It complimented his jet black hair perfectly.

"Are those jeans?" Her eyes narrowed trying to focus.

"Ya, ya," he was laughing as he stepped back for her to see the ensemble. "I so loved da shirt, I buy six more and jeans and tennis shoes."

"Please tell me that not all the shirts are gray," she could not hold back her laughter when he shook his head no.

"You must excuse your Papa. He a slow learner but he tries." He cleared his throat before continuing, "Kat, I love you."

O'Grady's laughter stopped abruptly. Even in the deafening silence that followed, she could hear the echo of his confession. It could have been sweet if it were not so heartbreaking late in their relationship.

"You lost so much. I cheated you out of a childhood. You should never forgive me but know I vish I could do it over again."

"Not me," she groaned as she shifted stiff muscles uncomfortably in the bed, "once was more than I needed."

The man was silent as he stoically stood next to her bed. He hung his head. O'Grady regarded him carefully. She reached her clinical assessment quickly; shame.

"Hey, I'm glad you came," she ventured.

"I'm sorry you couldn't count on me," he never lifted his head.

"Papa, look at me," his heartbroken face raised enough for her to meet his eye. "I'm glad you're here," she smiled and reached for his hand.

Joseph took the hand and gently kissed her palm. O'Grady's trembling fingers wiped away his tears.

"Can we start again?" He asked hopefully.

"No, we can only go on from here," she struggled to sit up; to hug him.

*  *  *

"Just a few more steps. That's the way. Head up. Keep coming."

"FUCKING LITTLE SHIT!" O'Grady's mind screamed in protest.

Sweat poured off her brow as she placed one weak leg in front of the other. Muscles use to ten days in bed throbbed and threatened to quit. O'Grady's hands clenched the parallel bars in a flagging effort to stay upright. Her heart rate picked up sooner than she her brain registered she was falling.

"DAMN IT!" She growled as her decent was abruptly stopped by the strong hands of her physical therapist.

He and his assistant managed to get her in the wheelchair without any injury.

"Not bad," he was puffing from the strain.

"Liar," O'Grady muttered under her breath.

The psychiatrist was disgusted. She was as helpless as a new born kitten. The last two days were her first attempts at trying to stand and they were complete failures. She could not even look at the cocky therapist standing before her.

"You can't do this in one day. You know what they say about Rome being built," he was jotting notes on a clipboard as he spewed platitudes. "You had some very bad wounds, lost lots of blood, spent a week, almost two on your back," he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

"I am aware of my medical history," you condescending asshole, she added for herself.

"Well, I guess doctors really do make the worst patients," he scolded.

O'Grady ground her teeth in frustration. It was bad enough to be totally dependent but having to rely on smug guys like this was appalling. She made a mental note to get him fired when she got back to work.

"I'll have Glen spin you back to your room and transfer you back into bed," the physical therapist never looked up from his notes.

O'Grady glanced over her shoulder at the all too quiet Glen. His lab coat was three sizes too big and he shifted nervously from foot to foot. The angry doctor smiled broadly when she spotted his name tag.

"Don't you mean your student!" She spat the words.

"What?" The therapist looked up from his notes in surprise at her tone.

"You're suppose to ask me if I mind a student being present during therapy," she grinned triumphantly. "It's my right! AND I mind very much!"

O'Grady watched the therapist shrink back from her. His complacent manner was lost in seconds. Years of training helped the psychiatrist tease out the fear from the regret from the panic. It was the most fun she had had since the stabbing.

"I'm...ah...sorry...I forgot to ask...what do...I mean, can't we work this out...between us?"

BINGO. It was O'Grady's turn to smirk.

"I want to borrow him," she ignored the therapist's sudden flush. "Don't worry, I'll get him back to you in two hours. I need a...chauffeur."

"Running around in just a johnnie?" He was stalling for time to think of something else to do.

"And a bathrobe," she cinched the belt tighter. "Besides, everybody dresses like this here."

"Where to?" The physical therapist knew he had lost the upper hand.

"None of your business!"

"Not out of the building and one hour." He bargained.

"Deal!" O'Grady was happier than she could ever remember being. "Let's get going Glen, times a wasting."

The student took the hint and steered the wheelchair out of the therapy room. He followed the doctor's pointing and grunts as if his life depended on it. Once in the elevator, Glen took the doctor's three raised fingers as the floor desired. His patient waved him up to the doors of the locked psyche unit. A nurse rushed towards the door as they approached.

"Dr. O'Grady, you look great," Jill gushed as the wheelchair brushed past her. "Is there something I can help you with?"

O'Grady was propelling herself now. Her goal was within rolling distance. She heard the nurse calling after her but ignored the demands to stop.

"Devyn?" she called as she pushed the door open with the chair's footrest.

The room was empty. The bed was striped. Devyn was gone.

*  *  *

Betsy sucked in a deep breath before pushing the door open. She was not the least bit surprised to see O'Grady frantically struggling to get on her clothes. The psychiatrist was perch precariously on the side of her hospital bed with her scrub pants twisted around her thighs and her head trapped inside her own shirt. Betsy regretted seeing her friend so helpless even more than finding her bleeding out on the ER floor.

"You'll be sorry if those stitches give and dump your guts in your lap. It wasn't pretty the first time and it will be less so now," the nurse humored as she eyed the exposed and weeping line of sutures along her O'Grady's belly.

"FUCK YOU!" The doctor barked. "Help me or get out!"

Betsy immediately moved to free O'Grady of her shirt by pulling it down to her shoulders. The doctor was soaked with perspiration from her futile efforts.

"They tell me you're planning on wheeling yourself over to County." Betsy ventured as she pulled the scrubs up trembling thighs.

"I promised her," O'Grady panted as she struggled to shift her weight into her clothes.

"That's one way to deal with the situation, I guess."

O'Grady grabbed Betsy's arm to force eye contact. The doctor's steely glare locked on the woman. She raised an eyebrow waiting for an answer to her unspoken question.

"Or the smarter choice might be to call that kid lawyer of Devyn's and tell him she was moved without his knowledge. Like I did, when Howie clued me in."

"You did?" An exhausted O'Grady let Betsy shift her back onto the bed.

"She'll be back in the building at any minute."

"I want to see her," O'Grady whispered weakly now that her adrenaline was receding.

"Just for a couple of minutes and then you need a sedative," Betsy took the doctor's pulse as she spoke. "You're lucky you didn't do more damage than scaring the shit out of the PA."

"Don't forget Jill," O'Grady gave a wink. "You should have seen her face. She didn't know if she should call a doctor or security."

"Don't think you're cute. You could have hurt yourself. Those people were only doing their jobs and you acted like a tyrant."

"No, I did not!" O'Grady looked up indignantly. "I acted like their boss. And they better get ready for my return because there's Hell to pay on this one."

Betsy rolled her eyes. She was spared a retort by the knock at the door.

"Come in," O'Grady grunted.

A burly sheriff elbowed his way into the room. Devyn was tugged in behind him followed by another armed guard. She was dressed in the bright orange jumpsuit used at county lock up. Shackled hand and foot with a sheriff at each shoulder, she looked for all the world like a wanted felon. O'Grady's stiffening sent Betsy a warning to intervene quickly.

"Don't yell at the boys. They have to transport everybody the same way or they'll lose their jobs. If say anything, you should thank my cousin, Patrick, for putting Devyn on the priority list."

"Thank you, Cousin Patrick," O'Grady gritted out. "Now, can you remove those chains from my patient."

"You're most welcome, Doc, but I can't let her loose 'til she's on the secure unit," the big man cough on his embarrassment. "Real sorry, she's been a good girl but my hands are tied. So, to speak."

"Why don't we give Dr. O'Grady and Devyn time to visit while I get you guys a cup of coffee?" Betsy spoke up first and motioned toward the door.

"We can give them a few minutes alone but we don't need none of you coffee, cuz. We have more work to do this week," the big man grinned.

The three departed the room amidst good natured teasing leaving the doctor with her patient. Devyn remained near the door, head down, staring at the floor. O'Grady could tell the woman was broken but was unsure how badly.

"Devyn," the blonde flinched at the sound, "come closer. It's too hard to talk to you so far away."

Devyn took a shuffling step forward. She stopped abruptly at sound of the clink of her chains. O'Grady could see an embarrassed flush begin in the woman's cheeks.

"Come on, I'll try to meet you halfway," the doctor struggled to sit up.

Devyn hesitated a moment but then the doctor opened her arms wide. Moving as quickly as her chains would allow, Devyn stumbled forward and fell into O'Grady's embrace.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," Devyn wept as she buried her face in the doctor's chest. "Please say you're not mad at me, please forgive me."

"Nothing to forgive," O'Grady held on firmly to the trembling body.

"They wouldn't tell me if you were okay. I thought you were dead. They said I set you but I would never hurt you. I need you. Please believe me."

"I do," O'Grady reassured. "If you hadn't warned Dr. Howard then I would have died. He made it just in time to stop..." she halted in mid sentence as the memory threatened to engulf her.

Devyn continued to tremble but the tears seemed to slow. The doctor maintained a her hold on her even though it was sapping her strength.

"Now, tell me about you," O'Grady coaxed the limp body upright. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt at County."

"No," Devyn stood on her own but stayed close to the bedside, her face still turned downward. "They kept me separated from everybody else. You know, in...isolation."

O'Grady grimaced at the words. Devyn had been locked in a cell twenty three hours a day for the last two weeks.

"Are you in pain?" O'Grady asked softly and lifted Devyn's chin.

The woman's head slowly nodded. Her tears fell unchecked.

"Do you need a doctor?"

"Yes, I need you," Devyn sobbed.

PART 5

breath taken
your beauty
is as painfully
exquisite
as the air trapped
in my chest at
the first sight of
you

after only days
away
my girl
grown to be the
woman
standing, smiling, before
me
lightly lean
brightly blonde
sweetly strong

the moment ends
my heart ceases to beat
at the sight of you
frantic, wild eyed
so very far away
lost in your own mind
I would rather
lose my life
than you your mind

by Marguerite Mullaney, 2002

O'GRADY SCOWLED AS she sat slumped in her wheelchair. Her only effort to move was to scratch at the gauze dressing wrapped around her throat. The ugly wound was healing too slowly for her liking. She tried to ignore the surrounding patients in various stages of rehabilitating their shattered bodies. The elderly guy next to her had no use of his right arm or leg and the woman on the other side of him had no use of her left arm or leg. Both were stroke victims. Ironically, they had been placed in complimentary positions next to each other. Right across from O'Grady was a teenager with a spinal injury that numbed and stilled him from mid chest down. He could shrug his shoulders a bit but his hands were curling into fists quite against his will. The other three members of the group appeared generally weak but did not require wheelchairs. O'Grady assumed they were debilitated by age or cardiac problems or both. At the moment, a middle aged woman stood in the center of the room preparing to toss a beach ball to a waiting therapist. Without warning, the woman beaned O'Grady with the ball. The room exploded in laughter as the doctor sat there stunned.

"Way to go, Mary!" The teenage cheered and clapped as best he could.

"Now, I owe her five," the stroke lady slurred.

"Everybody calm down," the therapist tried not to laugh. "Dr. O'Grady, did you get hurt?"

"What did you do that for?" O'Grady ignored the ridiculous question and turned on Mary.

"Cuz, we're all sick of you!" The haggard looking Asian man on oxygen gasped. "I flew here from Alabama for," the man took a deep breath, "the best care possible and you're acting," another long breath, "like it's punishment."

"J, J, J er K!" The stroke guy sputtered out finally.

"Come on, kid," Mary smiled gently at O'Grady, "we need to help each other out here or ... some of us won't make it home."

"And what would all of you like me to do?" O'Grady barked.

"How 'bout sittin' up straight?" The therapist began.

"Wipe the puss off," the guy on oxygen gasped, "your face."

"Try saying 'hello' once in a while," the kid glared at her.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," the guy in the corner joined in.

O'Grady felt the tears welling up in her eyes. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. She was sure it made the hideous scar running from her hair line to mid cheek even more obvious. Needing to do something, anything, she took a firm hold of her wheels and pushed forward. The room hushed as she inched toward Mary.

"Fine," O'Grady's voice cracked as she tried to hold back her tears and struggled to produce the requested smile, "it's my turn to toss the ball around." Mary snickered as she handed over the beach ball. "I suggest you should all prepare to duck!"

"Show us what you got, girl!" The man in the corner cheered her.

*  *  *

The psychiatrist was exhausted but pushed her wheelchair the last few feet to the doors of the locked unit. Before she could even try knocking, Jill opened the door for her.

"You can come in if you promise not to yell at me," the nurse deadpanned.

"Promise," O'Grady hesitated a moment, "and I'm sorry."

"Jesus, are you alright," the nurse grabbed her wrist and felt the pulse wildly racing under her finger tips.

"It's okay. I just came from therapy. More work than I'm use to. Should have taken a nap," the doctor wiped her sweaty brow, "but I want to see Devyn."

Jill was clearly unhappy. She considered her options.

"I'll bring you into Devyn's room but I need to call your attending."

"Fine," O'Grady slumped back in the chair and let the nurse push her to her destination.

When the psychiatrist was wheeled through the open door Devyn was laying on her bed reading. She was wearing tan scrub instead of the orange ones required previously. Her new therapist said something about having "suffered enough" but Devyn was sure O'Grady had something to do with the easing of the rules.

"Hey, doc, you're looking pale," Devyn was concerned.

"She just pushed too hard," Jill reassured. "Can you keep an eye on her while I give Dr. Lindgren a call?"

Devyn nodded happily as the nurse departed. She noticed the immediate frown form on O'Grady's face.

"No fun being a patient is it?"

"No," the doctor shook her head. "but I wanted to check on you. You know, make sure you got settled in, met your new therapist, that you..., hey, your cast is off."

"Time flies when you're institutionalized," Devyn grinned as she wiggled the fingers of her recently healed arm. "By the way, I think I need to thank you for getting me back here. The past two days here made up for the last two weeks in jail."

"It shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have let it...,"

"Well, you were a little busy trying to stay alive," Devyn raised a hand to stop the doctor in mid sentence. "Is it okay for me to ask how you're rehab is going?"

"They kicked my ass today," O'Grady whined and Devyn giggled. "Seriously, all the other patients ganged up on me. They called me a cry baby. One of them hit me in the head with a beach ball."

O'Grady pointed to the offended body part. Devyn had to hold her sides she was laughing so hard.

"Go on, laugh!"

"Sorry," Devyn tried to sober. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Try harder," the doctor wiped her sweaty brow with her sleeve. "I've spent most of the last year learning to be a better person and I can't let the…, this set me back." Devyn nodded her understanding of the unspoken event. "So, I'll smile and make pleasant conversation with staff and patients. In therapy, I'll do everything that little twerp therapist tells me to do without rolling my eyes."

"Will you visit the sick?" Devyn dared to ask.

"No," O'Grady saw the young woman's jaw tighten. "I'd rather have my lunches with a friend. If that's okay with you?"

"If you're buying then I'm eating," Devyn grinned.

*  *  *

O'Grady sat quietly in her wheelchair as Joseph folded her clothes into the suitcase. They gave the outward appearance of listening to the Professor. He paced back and forth as he spoke stopping only to emphasize his point. Just as he had done during his teaching years.

"So, taking all the available facts into consideration, it would not be prudent for you to return to the cottage. Even with your stay on the rehab unit, you still need assistance with your daily care never mind the demands of an unstaffed house. The estate's staff is more than able to meet your needs. There is only one choice in this matter. You must return home."

Joseph stiffened but continued to fold his daughter's clothes.

"We agree then, Professor," the psychiatrist smiled broadly. "I must return to my home. And, my home is at the beach."

Joseph winked at his daughter but kept his back toward his father-in-law. O'Grady did not acknowledge the encouragement. There was no need for both of them to fall out of favor with the Professor.

"You can't be serious," the old man flushed with frustration. "The cottage is...,"

"...my home. Professor, you need to understand that regardless of what you say, I'm going home. I'm going back to the beach house."

"I FORBID you from returning to a drafty, unkempt summer escape."

"Please," Joseph dropped the shirt he was folding and turned to face the Professor, "Fredrick, I am sad like you. Our girl vants to be on her own. You and me, vant to take her care," he frowned at his poor command of his 'native' tongue. "But, Kat Leen must live her life."

"I would have thought better of you, Mr. O'Grady," the Professor ignored the flattening of his granddaughter's smile, "but your history speaks for itself. You were never much of a father and now you prove yourself even less as a man."

"Stop it," O'Grady spat out the words.

"Stop? You want me to stop. You are embarking on a tragic path with the blessings of this..., imbecile...,"

"Professor," O'Grady bolted out of her wheelchair to tower over him, "you will not speak about my father like that. Not today or ever again in the future." The psychiatrist saw fear in the old eyes staring at her and softened the next sentence, "Grandfather, I appreciate your concern about my well being. You have been wonderful visiting me and sneaking me those greasy burgers from joint across the street," she placed her hands on his shoulders as much to steady her weak body as to calm him. "But, Joseph is my father. I can't let you talk to him like he doesn't matter."

"I raised you," the old man's face reddened. "Where was he? Where was your mother? I'll tell you; college, grad school, touring Europe. They dropped you on my doorstep at six months. I had to be both your father and mother while they saw the world."

O'Grady did not answer the claim. It was a half truth. The Professor funded his daughter and her husband in all their endeavors. It was good for the family reputation to have successful offspring. O'Grady was raised by nannies and then boarding school teachers. But, the analyst in her knew the Professor could not face the whole truth at the moment. His control of the family was slipping away. O'Grady needed to assure him he would not losing everything.

"I love you, grandfather," she hugged the old man.

Dr. Fredrick Vontz did something he had not done since infancy. The Professor cried.

*  *  *

Devyn practiced a smile. It felt stiff and fake. And it was both. Today Dr. O'Grady would visit her for the last time. The analyst was due to be discharged that very afternoon. Devyn would be released the following morning. She guessed they would never see each other again after they finished lunch. It had become a pleasant routine for the two of them. The psychiatrist made it clear they were not having "sessions" as Devyn was working with a staff therapist. The pair were just patients eating lunch together. Devyn ached at the thought of their quickly approaching last lunch. A knock on the door signaled the beginning of the end.

"Come in," Devyn faked her smile.

"I've got take out," O'Grady mumbled around the brown bag held in her teeth as she shouldered the door open and inched forward on crutches. "How 'bout a hand?"

"Depends on what's in the bag," Devyn held the door wide open.

"Greasy burgers, what else?"

"Your diet went all to Hell, you know that?"

The doctor grinned but caught the forced smile on Devyn's lips immediately.

"What's wrong?" O'Grady ventured as she started to set up their lunch.

"Nothing's wrong! What could be wrong?" Devyn defended. "In fact, things are looking up. You get to go home this afternoon and I get sprung tomorrow. We should be celebrating. How are you feeling anyway? Any big plans for your homecoming?"

"Don't change the subject," O'Grady waved her over to the table to eat. "Devyn, tell me what's wrong."

The young woman wrung her hands trying to think of how to begin. Or, if she should even try to say what she was thinking. It was going to sound so selfish.

"I'm gonna miss you," Devyn blurted out and sunk into the chair across form the doctor.

"Maybe not," O'Grady winked. "Eat your burger before it becomes a puddle of cold grease instead of warm grease. Then we'll talk."

Devyn grudgingly obliged. Her mind spinning while the doctor made conversation; fat content of burgers, returning to a strict diet after discharge, and such. Devyn gulped the last of her food in record time wanting to get to the promised "talk."

"So?" Devyn asked expectantly.

"That was fast," O'Grady compared her half eaten lunch to Devyn's empty plate. "Okay, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. Devyn, I live alone in this big house at the beach. My family has reservations about my returning there so soon after...," O'Grady trailed off unwilling to verbalize the assault.

"So, why not go live with them for a couple of months," Devyn frowned wondering what any of this had to do with her.

"Ha, that's what they want but I like my house. Sure is needs some fixing up but this would be the perfect time to do it. See, I'm taking a leave of absence to get myself together," O'Grady saw that none of this was making any sense to Devyn. "I want to hire you to stay with me."

"What?" Devyn almost choked.

"I know you trained as a home health aide and you need a place to stay and...,"

"...a job. I got my termination notice yesterday."

"You can fight that," O'Grady wanted Devyn clear on all her options. "You're an American with a Disability. They just can't fire you."

"The truth," Devyn gave a rueful grin, "it was a terrible job and I was bad at it. I'm surprised it didn't happen before I stopped coming in. Who knows, I might have done a better job for them by not showing up." Devyn needed more information about the doctor's offer, "What would I have to do for you?"

"Baby-sit," O'Grady sighed. "I can wash and dress myself but I haven't been cleared to walk alone for more than a few feet. My wheelchair is parked right outside your door. The damn occupational therapist won't let me cook on the stove yet because of my balance. My endurance sucks!" The doctor rubbed her forehead to hide her humiliation, "Basically, I have the same restrictions as a nine year old, the patience of a two year old, the strength of an eighty year old, all trapped in the body of a very pissed off thirty five year old."

Devyn could hold her giggle back no longer. O'Grady glared at her.

"Sorry, but have you thought about talking to a ...psychiatrist," Devyn burst into peels of laughter. "Really sorry, but if I tried such pathetic song and dance on you then you would have left me chained to that gurney."

Hesitantly, O'Grady smiled. The happy twinkle in Devyn's eyes finally forced a laugh. The psychiatrist had to hold her side at the sudden flash of pain.

"Ah, not as healed as I want to think, yet." O'Grady grimaced waiting for the pain to subside. "So, will you help me, Devyn?"

"If I do this then you can never be my doctor again, right?"

"I may never be anybody's doctor again. How can I help other people when I can't even find myself?"

Devyn winced at the thought. While time off could be healing for the doctor, leaving her profession completely would be a mistake. She was certain it would be an unbearable loss for both the physician and her patients.

"I'll help you if you promise to try to 'find' the doctor in you. That way I'll know the babysitting won't last forever," Devyn bartered.

"Agreed," the two shook on their deal.

*  *  *

The security guard strong armed Devyn into the hospital's lobby. He had been her official escort on many trips around the hospital and more often than not left bruises on her upper arm from his bony fingers. His grip loosened when he spotted the wheelchair bound O'Grady waiting just inside the front doors. He released his hold completely under the doctor's icy glare.

"I thought you went home yesterday," Devyn rubbed her arm unconsciously.

"Pulled a couple of strings," O'Grady turned from the cocky guard to smile at the Devyn, "to get one more night of room service. Besides, it saved Alby a second trip," she tossed a glance to the burly, starched suited chauffer behind her. "Alby, this is Devyn Tannon."

"A pleasure to meet you Ms. Tannon," he tipped his graying head politely. "Can I help you with your things?"

"This is it," Devyn looked down her length at the donated t-shirt, sweatpants, and sneakers, "and their not even mine."

"Hey," O'Grady heard the embarrassment in the young woman's tone, "your landlord had to store your property. We'll call from the car to find out how to pick it up."

"Dr. O'Grady," Alby coughed slightly to interrupt, "the items from Ms. Tannon's apartment are at the cottage already. The Professor made arrangements last night for an early delivery. I'm sorry that everything is still boxed as I did not have enough time to do more than assemble the furniture."

O'Grady scowled. She shifted uncomfortably in her wheelchair before addressing Devyn.

"The Professor can be somewhat presumptuous when it comes to family matters. I'm sorry for this invasion of your privacy," O'Grady flushed a bit.

Devyn replayed the phrase 'family' in her mind. It had been so long since any family claimed her that Devyn was not entirely sure she wanted to be associated with one. She took a full heartbeat to decide she liked the idea of being part of a whole.

"Sorry? Sorry that my things are safe and waiting for me? Sorry that some teacher I don't even know took care of them? Don't be!"

"The Professor," O'Grady smirked at the thought of the Professor Emeritus being placed on the same level as a ordinary teacher, "is my grandfather. He can be very heavy handed at times. I'll have a chat with him about boundaries once we settle in. Now, shall we be on our way?"

O'Grady asked rhetorically as Alby took control of her chair. He lead the little band out of the hospital to the Rolls Royce waiting by curb. The doctor brushed off Alby's attempt to help her. Managing to grunt and curse her way into the back seat.

"Good luck, you're gonna need it."" the security guard slapped Devyn on the back more forcefully than necessary before retreating into the building.

Devyn ignored him. She barely felt the sting of the hit. She was too consumed with being outside. After sixty days as a prisoner held behind brick and mortar, Devyn was free. Air never smell so sweet. Birds never chirped as clear. The sun never shone so strong. Her revelry was interrupted by Alby motioning for her to enter the car.

"You commute this way everyday?" Devyn teased when she took her place next to the panting doctor.

"I'm not allowed to drive yet. It was either Alby or an ambulance," O'Grady rolled her eyes as much from embarrassment as the pain of moving her healing body. "The Professor even had my car towed to the estate to keep me from getting any ideas."

"Sounds like he loves you," Devyn felt a twinge of envy and needed to change the topic. "So, you're richer than just a doctor."

"You could say that," O'Grady chuckled easing her aching body into the seat. "My great-great grandfather was rich as a doctor and invested ruthlessly."

Devyn quirked an eyebrow at the odd word choice. O'Grady sighed heavily.

"Dynamite."

"Wasn't your, ah, … he a …"

"A psychiatrist, yep. I guess he really understood human nature." O'Grady shrugged, "I try to focus my attentions on the more positive aspects of his character."

The doctor ran her index finger absent mindedly around the bandage at her throat.

"Don't scratch," Devyn placed a cautious hand on the doctor's forearm. "You'll make things worse picking at it."

"Can't look much worse than it does already," O'Grady dropped her arm and looked out the window as Alby steered the car into traffic.

Devyn did not press for details. She had seen the doctor's agony surface from time to time. It was silent and simmering and kept tightly guarded by O'Grady. Devyn was certain the doctor would need to let break free once she was in a safe place.

The drive to the beach was a pleasant tour of small town New England. Where the present's progress came to a grinding impasse with an unyielding past. History was not confined to the pages of books in places they past on the way from Boston to the shore; cities and towns like Milton, Quincy, and Hingham. Buildings built in the sixteen and seventeen hundreds litter the streets like leaves in the fall. Monuments and placards carry the names that grew a nation; Adams, Lincoln, Kennedy, Bush.

As the concrete gave way to grass and trees, Devyn felt the weight of the last two months ease. The strain of being alone and sick seemed to drain with each mile taking her away from the hospital and closer to home. Home. It was not a question in her mind. It was a certainty. At the end of this trip, Devyn Tannon would be home.

"Here we are," O'Grady's voice broke the stillness.

Here, indeed. Devyn thought they were pulling off the main road and onto a side street. The 'street' turn out to be a driveway leading to a rambling two story house. It was an indulgent Tudor style that, in its day, must have shocked the conservative neighbors. Devyn found herself mesmerized by it as she followed O'Grady and Alby up a newly constructed ramp.

"Grandfather thought of everything," O'Grady grumbled about the addition that allowed her wheelchair easy access.

"Except furniture. How long have you been living here?" Devyn scanned the empty rooms in wonder.

"On and off for two years and full time since February. I have my bedroom stuff and an office on the second floor," O'Grady defended.

"Ah, Doctor, your grandfather insisted I move your bedroom downstairs."

Devyn saw the anger flash in O'Grady's eyes. She did not want the doctor to react without thinking and hurt Alby's feelings. The pair seemed to have a generally good relationship.

"I hate to interrupt," Devyn blurted out, "but I really need to use the …well, your bathroom."

"I have five," O'Grady took a deep breath, "unless my Grandfather moved them too. Al, could you show Devyn to the bathroom."

"Certainly, Dr. O'Grady. Ms. Tannon, why don't I show you your room? It has a full bath," Alby was grateful for a chance to put space between himself and the angry doctor.

Devyn followed Alby up the stairwell and down the hall in silence. He gave her a happy wink before leaving her to explore her room. She was not surprised to see her few belongings fit easily into the spacious room. It was the view of the ocean that took her breath away. The bowed window gave an unobstructed view of the Atlantic.

"I really am home," she whispered as much for herself as for the presence she felt behind her.

*  *  *

"And I thought the view from upstairs was impressive," Devyn found O'Grady in a grand central room staring out a wall of glass at the sea.

"This was the only change I made in the house. It was ridiculous to have two tiny windows in this room," O'Grady turned her chair to face the young woman.

"It could be said, it's also ridiculous to have a beautiful but empty house," Devyn sat on the hard wood floor across from the O'Grady. "So, tell me doc, why am I really here?"

"You get right to the point now a days. Your therapist is making really good progress with you."

"Yeah and now you change the subject when you want to avoid the issue." Devyn would not let the doctor off the hook, "Why did you really bring me here?"

"Your, you can, we both know…, oh Hell," the fluster doctor dragged her fingers through her hair. "Your gift! Okay, I want to know if you see anything, anyone."

Devyn studied O'Grady for a few minutes before answering.

"She doesn't want me to talk about her yet," Devyn conceded.

"I knew it," O'Grady looked around in a futile effort to see what only Devyn could. "I knew she was here all along."

PART 6

an open invitation

there's a rip in kathy's life
a tear in the fabric of our reality
in the middle of her living room
wide enough for something
to grab the ragged edges
and step into her world
unseen by waking eyes
not felt when the sun is high
but under the moonshine
sleeping
a voice calls out
a hand extends to touch
and the dog howls in the kitchen

marguerite mullaney, 2000

O'GRADY WOKE TO the smell of food cooking. Really good, greasy food cooking. She looked around quickly to assure herself she was still in her own home. Pulling her stiff body out of bed, she chose to use the crutches to investigate hoping to limber up her muscles in spite of the discomfort. The wood floor was cool against her bare feet. Unshod feet were one of the many luxuries only home could provide. O'Grady smiled at the thought of exploring all the indulgences of home.

"I didn't know the stove even worked," she found Devyn preparing breakfast in the kitchen.

"Sure does," Devyn hummed happily. "It's a beauty too. You don't know what you're missing."

"I usually eat out," O'Grady eased herself into one of the two tall kitchen chairs with a place setting.

"Don't you like to cook?" Devyn placed a glass of orange juice in front of the doctor.

"I like to cook but there was very little time. Don't we have any coffee?" Her voice was just short of a whine.

"Juice is better for you. Besides, the caffeine will make it even harder for you to sleep," Devyn returned to the table with two china plates.

"You heard," O'Grady cringed remembered waking up screaming in the middle of the night, "sorry."

"Wanna talk about it?"

O'Grady looked at the plate of eggs and toast and bacon strips and wanted nothing more than to just eat. A glance to Devyn's concerned face forced her to at least offer an explanation.

"I've been having nightmares about..., well, the," O'Grady fumbled over the event that changed her life, "anyway, sorry I woke you."

"Don't be sorry," Devyn shook her head sadly. "You can't help it if you have nightmares, right?"

"Your new analyst is really good," O'Grady took a bite of her breakfast as she realized the woman had intellectually boxed her in. "My avoidance of the, ah, topic is most likely the source of the dreams. What is suppressed by the conscious mind during the day is freed when the unconscious mind has control."

"So, what're gonna do?" Devyn challenged.

"I'm not ready to do anything," the doctor felt her heart rate increase at the thought of exploring her assault, "yet. I will at some point; promise. Just let me settle back into my life."

Devyn shrugged. It was clear from her expression she did not like O'Grady's postponement of the inevitable but she would not argue the point on their first morning home.

"I have your schedule for the day." She hurried to explain when she saw the doctor frown, "Your Grandfather set up therapy appointments for you."

"Let's see it." O'Grady chewed her lip as she scanned the sheet handed to her, "Nurse at nine, Physical Therapy at ten, Occupational Therapy at eleven, God I hate that, Speech Therapy at noon, oh, look he's letting me have lunch at one."

The doctor crumpled the paper up and threw it across the kitchen. Devyn got up and quietly retrieved the paper. She smoothed it out on the table top after retaking her seat.

"I need this even if you don't," Devyn stared blankly at her food.

O'Grady felt very small. She vented her frustration at Devyn's expense. It was not a good start to a healthy recovery or working relationship and she knew it.

"Devyn, I'm sorry. There is no excuse for rude behavior. I'll try not to let emotions get the better of me again."

Devyn just nodded to O'Grady's offer. She continued to finish her breakfast in silence. The doctor lost her own appetite with each bite Devyn consumed.

"Devyn," O'Grady finally broke the standoff, "what do you want me to say? I apologized."

"Say that you'll talk to somebody about the stabbing."

O'Grady flinched at the word. It ripped through her composure the same way the blade slashed her skin.

"Okay," the doctor pushed down her fears, "tonight; after dinner, in the main hall, you bring the popcorn, I'll supply the horror story."

"It shouldn't be, I mean, it doesn't have to be me," Devyn shook her head in surprise.

"Oh, yeah, it does," O'Grady gave a small smile, "for now."

"Why?"

"Because you're the only one here," O'Grady winked.

The doorbell ended the conversation and breakfast. Devyn let the Visiting Nurse in and brought him to meet O'Grady. John was quite simple huge. Tall and wide with that clean cut style which made the man look like the world's biggest marine. O'Grady found the hulking man familiar but could not place him.

"We need to change those bandages, doc. Where's the best spot for you?"

"I set up everything you need in her bathroom," Devyn supplied as she returned with the wheelchair.

O'Grady winced. She hated the wheelchair almost as much as she hated as being at the mercy of caregivers. Now, she would suffer them both.

"This bathroom is bigger than my apartment," John marveled as they entered the space. "How long ago did you renovate?"

"I didn't," O'Grady mumbled remembering the two small rooms that existed in the space for decades.

"Her grandfather had it done," Devyn sat on the closed toilet seat next to O'Grady.

"Ah, Devyn, you don't need to sit through this. I'll be fine," O'Grady felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Oh, yes she does," John was unpacking the needed supplies from his bag. "Devyn's going to be changing the bandages from now on. This is a teaching visit. After today, I'll only be in once a week to make sure you're not getting infections."

"I can change my own bandages! I am a doctor, you know."

"Yes, a wounded doctor! And just a psychiatrist at that. You should know better than to try to treat yourself." John snorted before turning his attention to Devyn, "Here's a list of the supplies you'll need and a changing schedule. It's easier to do it while doing her bathing and dressing."

"Hey!" O'Grady shouted, "I do my own bathing and dressing."

"Well, that's good for you, isn't it," John rolled his eyes. "So, Devyn will have one less thing to do for you. After you wash yourself, Devyn'll change the bandages then you can finish dressing."

The doctor wanted nothing more than to slam the big man in the shin with her wheelchair. It was Devyn's reassuring hand on her shoulder that stopped her. O'Grady had been a childish ass once today. She did not want repeat the behavior before noon. It was not just her pride at stake but Devyn's trust. The doctor promised to try to keep a reign on her temper.

"Three wounds but only one needs daily care," he lift O'Grady's t-shirt to check the stomach wound and then examined her cheek. "Those look great. Ok, let's get a look at the real damage," John grabbed the scissors and aimed for the gauze wrapped around O'Grady's throat.

She focused her stare at the window across the room. Even with the blinds closed, unstoppable sunbeams edged their way between the slats. Beyond the torment the doctor was enduring in her own bathroom, there was sun. She concentrated on that single thought as the bandage fell away revealing the poorly healing neck wound.

"Are they planning a skin graft?" John stepped back slightly.

"Not yet," O'Grady kept her eyes on the window and her mind on the sunbeams.

"That's still pretty raw for a month on the mend," the nurse shook his head at the hideous wound that ran from slightly right of the woman's chin and up to the left ear lobe. "Must've been some blade," he tipped her chin up to get a better look at the tear which began narrow and widened on it's tortuous journey.

"John, which gauze should we use to cover it?" Devyn interrupted much to O'Grady's relief.

"Naw, it think we should use clear skin."

"NO!" O'Grady shouted. "I want it covered."

"Look, it might heal better if...,"

"NO!" The doctor pointed at the white gauze, "You'll use that or you'll get the fuck out!"

"Hey, I don't have to take that kind of shit from you!" The big guy loomed over the shaking woman and Devyn found her feet.

"John, let me finish up here. I think the two of you have hit an impasse."

"Impasse my ass, I'm out of here. Good luck, kid! See you later, Lady Doc!"

"Fucker," O'Grady shouted. "I remember you now. Nightshift. Sleeping while a restrained patient sat in her own filth all night! I fired your sorry ass on the spot. You are the laziest piece of shit...,"

"John, get out!" Devyn gently guided the enraged nurse out of the bathroom and finally out of the house.

O'Grady waited for the young woman to return. Her hands were trembling but she knew it was not really rage. She was afraid. Terrified in fact.

"You alright," Devyn touched her shoulder and the doctor jumped.

"I was so scared, I think I pissed myself," the doctor buried her face in her hands.

Devyn squeezed a shuddering shoulder. She waited until O'Grady regained herself.

"I'm sorry, I just finished saying I'd keep a lid on it...," O'Grady sniffed.

"If you didn't kick him out, I would have. Let me clean up that wound and wrap it. Then I'll check the other two," Devyn interrupted the apology. "You don't have a lot of time before your next appointment."

The doctor sat in silence while her wounds were tended. Her embarrassment was so great, she could not make direct eye contact with the young woman providing the gentle care. O'Grady was certain the site of her injuries disgusted Devyn but she saw no sign of distress in the fair features.

"Hey, record time," Devyn smiled brightly. "We could squeeze in a cup of tea on the porch before physical therapy."

"Outside," O'Grady sighed at the thought of the chilly, salty morning air filling her lungs, "that would be so great that I could even drink tea."

*  *  *

Devyn answered the phone before the first ring finished its chime. O'Grady had been sleeping a few minutes after hours of tedious and painful therapy. The blonde would not allow her rest to be disturbed by the outside world.

"This is Professor Vontz's office, please hold," the voice at the other end snapped before Devyn could greet them.

Devyn debated hanging up as the chamber music filled the earpiece. Just as she was about to return the phone to the cradle the music stopped.

"Doctor?" An older male voice questioned.

"No, Dr. O'Grady is unavailable. Who's this?"

"I want to speak with my granddaughter, bring her the phone," he commanded.

"No, sir. Dr. O'Grady can not be disturbed. Are you Professor Vontz?"

"Ms. Tannon, I will explain your situation this one time only. You work for the estate. I sign the paychecks for the estate so you do as I say. Now, put my granddaughter on the phone."

"No, sir, I can't do that. Dr. O'Grady left specific instructions and I intend to carry them out," Devyn took a deep breath, "even if it costs me my job, sir."

Devyn hung up the phone and turned the volume down on the ringer.

*  *  *

O'Grady's slumber was anything but restful. Her body was worn out from the exercises to make stronger. But, her mind was desperate to escape. It kept urging her to flee the danger. Surely, the blade would slice her again and this time it would spray the last of her blood on the hospital walls.

"JESUS!" She screamed but it did little to break the nightmare's hold.

"Hey, it's okay, O'Grady, wake up," the words broke through after several moments of thrashing.

"Devyn?" The doctor blinked to adjust her eyes in the fading afternoon light, "God, I feel more tired now than when I went to bed." She let her body fall back on the sweat soaked sheets, "Ooooh icky."

"Come on," Devyn chuckled as she got up, "get in your chair and I'll change your sheets. You could sleep for another hour or so before dinner if you want."

"Umm, I'd rather, ah," O'Grady pushed her tired body to sit upright at the side of the bed, "change my clothes," she tugged on the sweaty t-shirt for emphasis, "but I'm gonna need a hand."

"Sure thing. Want sweats?" The doctor weakly nodded her reply. "Let me get a basin of water and I'll give you a quick wash up."

"Please don't," O'Grady grabbed Devyn's hand to keep her from leaving. "It's embarrassing enough that I need you to help dress me. Don't humiliate me by bathing me."

"Well, Doc," Devyn flounced down on the bed next to the discouraged woman, "I got you beat hands down in the humiliation department. Let's see; beaten, naked, and chained to a gurney, beaten, naked, and restrained in a locked room, arrested for conspiracy with your assault,..." Devyn listed the events off on her fingers until O'Grady could stand it no longer.

"I get your point," the doctor raised her hands in surrender, "but I'd rather skip the bathing, please. For that matter, I could skip dinner too."

"So, you gonna skip everything tonight," Devyn took her hand back from the doctor's grasp. Disappointment was evident in her voice.

"Yeah, I want to skip everything," O'Grady reached over and took Devyn's hand back in her own, forcing the woman to face her. "Let's skip right ahead to the popcorn and horror story."

"Serious."

"Yes."

"Then let me get you dressed before I toss a bag in the microwave," Devyn smiled in relief.

"Devyn," O'Grady squeezed the hand in her own, "thank you."

It took Devyn fifteen minutes to help O'Grady towel off and change her clothes. The blonde sent the doctor on her way to the main hall while she changed the bed linens. O'Grady barely had time to lock the brakes of her wheelchair when Devyn entered carrying a comforter. The woman spread the downy blanket next to the wheelchair.

"I think you'll need a few more therapy sessions before you can join me on the floor," Devyn puckered her lips in thought.

"Or, I can have the warehouse send over some furniture," O'Grady saw the question coming and explained. "The estate has multiple properties and the Professor frequently redecorates. Better pieces are sent to the warehouse 'just in case.' Decorating my house would be a 'just in case' event. There's a catalog in my office upstairs. We can look at it tomorrow. I just never got around to it."

"Sounds good," a ding from the kitchen snapped Devyn's attention back to the kitchen. "Popcorn! What do you want to drink?"

"Is there root beer?" O'Grady crossed her fingers.

"Funny, Alby brought made a second trip because it got left in the trunk. By the way, you should see the groceries your grandfather sent," Devyn's voice began to fade as she went to retrieve the snacks.

"Just wait and see what ease he does."

O'Grady shook her head ruefully as gazed out at the ocean. The sky was burning pink from what must be a furious sunset on west side of the house. This was O'Grady's favorite spot and favorite time of day. Her work often made her miss these singular events. How ironic it almost took her death to get her where she wanted to be most. O'Grady's morbid thoughts distracted her from the couple strolling slowly along her private beach.

"Okay, bottle for you," Devyn handed the root beer to the delighted Doctor and started settled down on the blanket. "Almost forgot. Your grandfather sent this over with the groceries."

Devyn hand O'Grady the sealed envelope. The doctor tucked her bottle between her thighs to tear open the message. A huge grin spread across her face.

"Seems the Professor wanted to fire you but found out you don't work for the estate. So, he wants me to send your social security number, CORI check, W2, etc, in order for the estate to hire you." O'Grady chuckled at Devyn's drop jaw expression, "Then, he will fire you."

"You're joking, right?" Devyn could not believe the absurd request.

"Read for yourself," O'Grady handed the letter over and took a long swig of root beer.

"He's not serious?" Devyn questioned.

"Sure he is. Don't worry. This is exactly why I didn't have the estate hire you. You work for me. And thank you for not waking me up," O'Grady winked.

"The letter says he's expecting you for dinner tomorrow. Alby will be here at 5:30 to pick you up. Does 'dress properly' mean I need to iron something for you?"

"I'm not going."

"Ah, O'Grady, I don't want to interfere with you and your family but if you don't go see him then he'll come here. It might be easier to go to his house because you can leave when you want."

"Shit," the doctor's eyes narrowed. "Why do you have to be right? Fine, I'll go but I wear what I want and, and,...," a wicked smirk crossed her face, "you're coming too. No, no excuses. I may need assistance cutting my food."

"Maybe you shouldn't go?" Devyn shrugged.

"Ha, too late. We're going but I'll let you wear whatever you want."

"Okay, we'll go," Devyn bit her lip and rolled her eyes. "How 'bout that story?"

"Right," O'Grady nodded, "where should I start?"

"Start where I last saw you, leaving the locked unit in a hurry."

"I got a stat page to the ER. Betsy, needed a commitment on a real sick teenager. It was going smoothly. I was finishing up with kid when his mother storms in and wants to drag him out," O'Grady paused expecting Devyn to interrupt but the woman sat patiently. "Seemed the mother had a trick set up for her son and I was screwing up the family business. I..., should paid closer attention," the doctor's hand rubbed her check. "I didn't see the knife until after she cut my face."

"What happened next?" Devyn sensed O'Grady wanted to stop.

"She slashed my neck and gutted me like a pig. I don't even remember hitting the floor," the injured woman stared out the window at the darkening sky and still missed the couple sitting in the sand on her private beach, facing her house.

"What do you remember?"

"I remember," O'Grady gasped, "my blood soaking my clothes, hands, the floor, too much, I was losing too much, and then Betsy shoved her finger in ...God, I was dying."

O'Grady was racked with sobs. In seconds, Devyn had her by the shoulders and was stroking her hair. She let the doctor cry out her fears and rage. Like a summer storm, O'Grady's emotions were wild in their intensity but ran their course quickly. Her tears were slowing when Devyn released her hold in search of tissue. Movement on the beach caught her eye but it was too dark see. She decided O'Grady was more important than trespassers.

"Triple ply or with soothing lotion," Devyn held out the boxes.

"Oh, he's in rare form," O'Grady laughed between her tears pulling a tissue from each.

"Think this will help you at all?" Devyn sat back on the floor.

"It's a start. You gotta start somewhere. Thanks for listening."

"Just think of it as returning a favor," Devyn flashed a bright smile.

PART 7

O'GRADY WAS STRUGGLING to tie her sneakers. Her feet were just so far away these days. She teetered precariously on the side of the bed.

"Hey, falling on your ass won't get out of dinner tonight," Devyn knelt in front of the doctor. "Why don't you wear the ones the OT fixed with the stretch lace so you don't have to tie?"

"Because their lame," O'Grady grumped then regretted her sour mood. "Sorry, my temper may need more therapy than my body."

Devyn laughed harder than the psychiatrist thought was necessary.

"So," wanting to change the subject away from her faults, O'Grady decided this would be a good time to press Devyn about the house, "when will 'she' let you tell me about her?"

"Are you trying to get me in bad with your other guest?" Devyn's eyes sparkled merrily when she looked up at the Doctor from her spot on the floor.

"I never invited her," O'Grady frowned.

Devyn chuckled as she finished with the laces.

"You're really not going to tell me anything, are you?"

"Not yet, Doc."

The buzz of the back doorbell ended the discussion. Devyn left to greet their visitor while O'Grady grabbed her cane to follow slowly behind. She carefully maneuvered her sore body down the hall and into the kitchen. Glancing up from her plodding steps, she saw Alby and Devyn staring at her with growing apprehension.

"Doctor, would you like me to get your wheelchair?" Alby edged forward.

"I'll get it," Devyn quickly offered.

"Stop," O'Grady stood to her full height to catch her breath. "I'm not using the chair tonight. Have cane, will travel so let's go."

"Doc, you're already sweating," Devyn noted but was brushed off by O'Grady's forward movement across the kitchen.

"I'm walking. End of discussion," O'Grady panted slightly.

The concerned pair trailed the determined psychiatrist out the back door and down five steps. O'Grady made them even more nervous when she cut across the uneven grass to the waiting car. She zig zagged a bit stepping over a rusted sprinkler head. Devyn was immediately at her elbow.

"I'm okay," The claim sounded breathless even to O'Grady, "but if you want to lend a hand then go ahead."

Devyn was pleased the stubborn woman was not only letting her help but leaning on her as well. The doctor's silk blouse was damp with sweat from the short journey. After settling O'Grady into the back seat, Devyn ran back to house.

"What did you forget?" O'Grady let the annoyance she felt for her weakened state taint her reaction to the delay.

"This," Devyn held up an overnight bag with a grin.

"And what's in there?" The doctor barked.

"Just, um, in case, ah," Devyn stammered her surprise at the anger in O'Grady's tone.

"What? Diapers? Bibs? I'm not a child! You don't need to pack a baby bag for me!"

"I didn't," Devyn pushed back into the seat to get a little distance from the doctor.

O'Grady snatched the item to inspect the contents. Hair brush, make up, pain pills were packed neatly next to a beautifully wrapped box. A small card attached to the ribbon was addressed to the Professor. The doctor stole a glance at Devyn who was barely maintaining her composure.

"Why are you bringing him a present?" O'Grady whispered.

"I'm not," Devyn chose to stare out the window at the passing landscape. "You're bringing a box of cigars. Alby told me the kind he liked. I got the guy at the liquor store to deliver them while you were napping."

"You put it on my credit card, right?" O'Grady tried ignoring her embarrassment with business matters.

"I'm no thief," Devyn's voice broke; humiliated by the accusation.

"The credit card is for household expenses, Devyn. It's there for your convenience. How did you pay for it?" The doctor's emotional discomfort was growing with each passing moment.

"I had some money hidden in a shoe box," Devyn would not look at the woman next to her. "It was enough for the cigars and tip and some change...,"

"I'm such an ass!" O'Grady blurted out.

Devyn's head swung around at the unexpected confession. The doctor held her head in her hands as she prattled on about her short comings. It was Devyn's laughter that finally ended the declaration of guilt.

"Yes, you can be at times," Devyn agreed.

"Sorry doesn't cover how I feel. It seems like all I do is apologize lately," O'Grady shook her head sadly.

"You'd think you'd be better at it," Devyn smirked.

"I deserved that," the chastised doctor gave a hesitant grin, "but I don't deserve what's going to happen to me when I walk into that house."

Devyn looked out the window once more. The building seemed more like a castle than a home. Ivy crawled up the ancient wall to the left of the front door. The large bay window hid the private world beyond with starched white lace curtains. As she exited the car, the young woman tried to shake off a sudden chill at the site of the house. Gravel crunching brought Devyn back to her senses.

"Easy does it, doc," she cautioned as O'Grady approached on shaky legs.

"Could, would you help me?" The doctor was trembling trying to hold her balance.

Devyn took the doctor's free arm. The two made there way to the ornate front doors. Small gargoyle heads held out knockers in their extended hands.

"Creepy," Devyn whispered as she banged the ring against the wood.

"Do you think?" O'Grady smothered a laugh.

The door was opened by a tall, black man. He was certainly middle aged but not as old as the driver. His suit was similar to Alby's with the exception of a white rose pinned to his left lapel. While his face remained passive, his eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"Anton, it's good to see you again," O'Grady nodded as she leaned heavily onto Devyn to make her way over the threshold.

"Dr. O'Grady, I am delighted to see you again," his voice rumbled like thunder deep in his chest. "I was most concerned about your health. Professor Vontz kept us up to date with your progress. You seem to have surpassed his most recent assessment."

"Gotta keep the old man guessing," O'Grady winked. "Is he in the dining room?"

"No, the Professor is waiting in the library."

"Tsk, tsk, smoking again," O'Grady trudged toward the stuffy room with Devyn's assistance. "Where are my manners?" She stopped short, "Anton, this is Devyn Tannon. She's helping me at the beach."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Tannon," he nodded in her direction.

"Feelings mutual," Devyn flashed a grin. "Call me Devyn."

"I am sorry, Ms. Tannon, but that level of familiarity is not allowed," the man was cordial but serious.

Devyn blushed at her error. She was well out of her natural element. A gentle squeeze of her fingers from O'Grady was meant to reassure her but it did little to ease her growing anxiety. Professor Vontz ran his household with an iron hand. Every member had their place and was expected to observe their boundaries. Devyn would not know where her place was until she tripped over the unseen divisions of the classes. What would the Professor demand O'Grady do with the ignorant woman then?

"Hello Professor."

Devyn heard the words a heartbeat after the library's door was pushed open with the doctor's cane. The room's lights fought a futile battle to brighten the dark wood walls that enclosed them. Smoke hung in the air and seemed to ring around the old man sitting directly across from the entrance. He frowned when he saw both women. It took him some time to decide to put down his cigar and greet his guests.

"Doctor, I did not realize you would need your attendant this evening." He sniffed but did not stand. "I will have Jennifer set a place for her in the kitchen."

"You'll do no such thing," O'Grady lumbered the last few steps to the chair nearest the door. "Devyn's a guest of mine. You'll treat her well or I won't be back."

The old man scowled. He snuffed out his cigar in the nearby ashtray before turning his full attention to his granddaughter. His brow unfurled once he finally looked at the panting woman.

"Are you in pain?" He was on his feet immediately.

"Could you get her some water?" Devyn asked as she unzipped the bag to pull out the pills.

"I'm fine," the doctor settled back with a wince. "Did a bit too much. Just give me a couple of minutes. Dev, let's try to skip the drugs for a while, okay? They make me so sleepy."

Devyn could not stop a small smile for gracing her lips. It was not only the simple plea from the O'Grady but the sweet way she asked.

"Professor, Devyn, introduce yourselves," O'Grady coughed.

"Ms. Tannon, welcome to my home," the Professor deliberately did not extend his hand in greeting. "As my granddaughter's aide, I expect your utmost care of her during the visit in spite of your apparent limitations."

"Maybe I should wait in the car?" Devyn mumbled.

"Grandfather!" O'Grady managed to grit out.

"Doctor, I must, once again, object to these arrangements. Do you know the results of her CORI check? Four arrests…,"

"But, no convictions," Devyn stepped back from the angry Professor, away from O'Grady. "I was, am…, I have problems. My mind gets clouded sometimes. Your granddaughter was helping me before…," Devyn felt a lump in her throat.

"Enough of this," O'Grady struggled to sit up and both the Professor and Devyn moved to lend a hand. "Devyn, we're going home. Alby can get our dinner at the drive thru but you don't need this shit."

"Sit down," both the Professor and Devyn instructed.

O'Grady gasped. She curled over as if to protect her belly. Arms snuggled tightly around the trembling trunk.

"Water," Devyn instructed as she went for the pills.

The Professor hurried to the wet bar. He returned quickly with a glass of cool water. A wordless exchange was made with Devyn as she coaxed the Doctor to take the medicine. O'Grady offered no protest as she took the drugs offering relief for the searing pain in her stomach. Seconds hung like hours as the Professor stood helplessly watching his granddaughter's misery.

"It's easing," O'Grady forced her body to lean back in the chair. "Look at you two," the crack in her voice betrayed her suffering, "like a couple of old hens."

"Does this happen often?" The Professor questioned Devyn directly.

"Only when the good Doctor over does it or waits too long to take her pills," Devyn frowned. "She really won't feel better for about twenty minutes, regardless of what she tells you."

"What makes you so smart?" O'Grady huffed.

"When it hurts you take shallow breaths. When you're comfortable you take nice deep breaths."

"You have watched her closely," the Professor was impressed. "More than one night I sat by her bed, certain she was suffering. Damn doctors didn't believe me when I told them I could see the agony in every breath she took."

"Careful, glasshouses," O'Grady hummed as she tried to relax her taunt muscles.

The Professor's lips hinted at a smile. O'Grady missed the moment but Devyn saw it for what it was. The old man was worried sick but proud as Hell of the woman sitting, shuddering with pain in his library.

"Professor," Devyn decided to take a chance, "do you want to ask me about my past? I'll answer anything I can."

"Dev, you don't…," O'Grady was interrupted by one of Devyn's gentle head nods.

"Yes, I do need to explain if your grandfather's worried. It's only fair."

The room fell silent as the Professor considered the woman standing next to him. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he went to start a question and stopped abruptly. He returned to his chair and sat heavily. A slight hand gesture indicated Devyn should sit on the matching leather couch.

"Ms. Tannon, I have only one question. Are you receiving treatment at this time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I have no choice but to rely on the profession I built my life around," he picked up the cigar to relight it muttering, "God help me."

O'Grady took a deep breath. It was easier than she anticipated. The throbbing in her belly was subsiding as her muscles relaxed. Devyn had completely disarmed her grandfather without firing one verbal shot. She gave a quick wink to the blonde and was rewarded with a half smile.

"Well," sighed the doctor, "what's for dinner?"

*  *  *

The meal went smoothly. Devyn made polite conversation with the Professor. He responded in kind. It was not until dessert that they discovered a mutual love of

television.

"Devyn," the Professor forgot his formality with the welcome news of a common interest, "you must visit my media room after you finish your tea. I have hours of classic shows on tape. In fact, I just had a flat screen delivered."

"What no DVD?" O'Grady could not resist kidding the man about his obsession.

"It is a very slow process transitioning from one format to the other. My entire collection will take years to complete," the Professor was very serious in the face of his granddaughter's humor.

"Forgive me, I sit corrected," O'Grady held her side as she laughed.

"Don't tease," Devyn chuckled a good natured warning to the psychiatrist. "Professor, I would love to see the media room but I not sure how our doctor is doing. O'Grady, are you beat or what?"

"Actually, I'm feelin' fine," she could see relief spread across her grandfather's face.

"You really are doing tremendous," the Professor smiled broadly for the first time all evening.

Before O'Grady could answer, the door to the dining room pushed open. A short, round woman with mussed, graying hair hustled inside. She was shouting over her shoulder at the staff to get her meal and make up her room. The liquor in her glass sloshed slightly with her frenzied movements.

"I swear, they get dumber by the day," her pinched eyebrows focused on her seat at the table without waiving left or right.

"Elsie, I have company," the Professor interrupted the flurry of activity as she took the seat at the far end of the table.

"Yes, that imbecile doorman told me," she raised a grudging look at the wounded psychiatrist. "You look better than I expected. Except for those scars," she made a gesture over her cheek and throat with an extended thumb. Pointing at Devyn she sputtered before taking a long sip of her drink, "I don't even know who you are."

O'Grady fought the urge to touch the visible reminders of the terror. She merely shook her head and resumed sipping her tea. Her mother would never change. It was too much to expect her to be civil.

"Devyn, we should go to the media room. The Doctors O'Grady need some privacy," the Professor rose and beckoned for Devyn to follow.

"No," both woman called to the retreating backs but the door slammed shut on them.

"You manipulative SOB!" Elsie shouted.

"Good to see you too," O'Grady put her tea cup down and began to search for her cane.

"Well, I realize it has been a while. Between teaching and research, I'm out straight with work." She gave a satisfied grin and swilled more scotch, "It's finally paying off. The requests from the Universities and lecture circuit are pouring in. You know, after years of scrounging for grants…"

"I was stabbed."

O'Grady's simple statement ended Elsie's blather. The moment hung between them.

"Yes, I know but…,"

"I almost died."

Elsie's cheeks flushed. Her lips pursed to dispute the statement but she lost her daughter's attention. The psychiatrist began looking for her cane in earnest.

"Your father kept me informed," Elsie smoothed her disheveled hair away from her face before draining her glass.

"You didn't come."

O'Grady found her cane on the floor. She hooked the edge of it with the toe of her sneaker and pulled it up to grab it. Pushing her chair back, the psychiatrist started to rise.

"I'm here now," Elsie argued.

"Yes, you're here for dinner. I've had mine and must be on my way," O'Grady was hesitantly plodding to the door.

"You could at least keep me company," her mother rose and attempted to follow her.

"No!" O'Grady turned to ward off her helping hands, "I needed you a month ago. Instead, a nurse, who barely knows me, sat by my bed for days. Dad flew in from Vienna. The Professor slept in my office for almost a week just to be close. And you, my dear mother, didn't even call me."

"Keep your voice down and watch your mouth with me!" Elsie growled as she pulled her hand back in that familiar, threatening stance.

"DEVYN!" O'Grady screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her breathless aide burst into the room seconds later catching enough of the scene to understand Elsie's intent. The Professor followed close behind but missed the gesture. O'Grady draped an arm around the concerned Devyn's shoulders.

"Home, please," O'Grady whispered softly as she hung her head.

*  *  *

"Want to talk about it?" Devyn offered once they were safely back in the main hall at the beach.

O'Grady sat slumped in her wheelchair. She offered no argument when Devyn insisted on its use. The entire evening had drained all of the doctor's reserve strength.

"Did you like the media room?" O'Grady mumbled as politely as possible.

"It was very nice, thank you," Devyn sighed at the psychiatrist's avoidance.

"Sorry, I don't have a TV," O'Grady shrugged and a tear slipped down her cheek, "or furniture or a family."

The sobs were deep. It made O'Grady's chest ache. It was too much effort to feel this badly but it was impossible to hold her hurt inside any longer.

"She never even called," she buried her face in her hands.

"Have you two always been …," Devyn did not know the best way to describe the volatile dynamics.

"…at each others throats? We have an awkward relationship. My grandfather raised me but I'm sure you're too tired to listen to this, right?"

Devyn heard the doctor's underlying hope that Devyn would listen to her.

"Let me get the comforter so I can sit on the floor and a box of tissues for you," the young woman was warmed by the gratitude on the doctor's face.

"Maybe a root beer?" The doctor called as Devyn hurried out of the room.

It took Devyn only a few minutes to gather the needed items. O'Grady relished the cold, bubbling soda in her mouth a few extra minutes before swallowing. The pounding in her head eased slightly.

"So, you want to hear about Mom?" O'Grady smiled at the serious nod of Devyn's head. "Mom and Dad were young when I was born. They hadn't finished college. The Professor didn't want their education interrupted by a baby; by me. I don't know how or who determined it would be best for them if I stayed in the states with the Professor but that's what happened. Material things were never lacking but my parents were in Europe. They called and set cards and came for the holidays but we were never really a family."

"How were things with your grandfather?"

"He had breakfast and dinner with me everyday. There were nannies and tutors and lessons on music, horses, swimming, and tennis. By the time I turned five, I was ready for boarding school," O'Grady smirked.

"That's not funny," Devyn did not want to believe the doctor.

"It may not be funny but it is true. For all intents and purposes, I left my grandfather's house at age five and returned to live there after medical school." The look of horror on Devyn's face made the doctor scramble to make the situation seem less isolated, "I spent holidays with him and vacations. It wasn't like I was forgotten…,"

"I would have felt forgotten," Devyn shook her head.

"Yeah, some days I did feel that way," O'Grady let a defensive wall crumble. "I hated that she could let me go. When I was old enough, I decided to confront her. It didn't go well."

"Was that the first time she hit you?" Devyn felt her own anger at Elsie bloom.

"You noticed, huh?" O'Grady was ashamed. "No, my mother hit me every time I ever saw her for as long as I can remember."

"Ah, isn't it…, you know, she's educated and wealthy and…,"

"and an alcoholic."

O'Grady acknowledged the large white elephant of a family secret. Elsie Vontz O'Grady, PhD., was in every sense a classic fall down drunk who happened to have a very nice address. O'Grady was going to revert to her professional mode and give the statistics regarding her mother's disease across cultures and classes but stopped herself. She wanted this moment to be about her and not Elsie.

"The last time she actually hit me was the Christmas break between high school and college. I was feeling great. College provided four years of excuses not to come home. Elsie was loaded when Alby picked her up at the airport. Dad didn't come with her because they had a fight before boarding," O'Grady felt that same old twinge of disappointment in her father that surfaced with thoughts of him. "So, she's roaring drunk. You know, I can barely remember the words that unleashed the fury but then it was the emotions driving the moment and not what was said."

"You don't have to be the doctor right now," Devyn reminded her.

"Right," O'Grady found it easier to be the doctor sometimes; most of the time. "We had finished dinner and were walking back to the library for coffee. Elsie made a nasty remark about the food, which was wonderful, being under or over cooked. I said something like, 'dinner is harder to cook than it is to pour.' She slapped me across the face. I promptly slapped her back and was about to hit her again when I saw the fear in her eyes. She was afraid of me. I realized, I was afraid of me too and stormed off to be. The next day she was gone. We've seen each other a half dozen times since but only in groups."

"What does your grandfather think about Elsie?"

"We never discuss it. Elsie's bad behavior is expected and the rest of us ignore it."

"Wow, for a bunch of doctor's you guys are just as screwed up as the rest of us," Devyn marveled.

"No," O'Grady shook her head in resignation, "we're more screwed up."

PART 8

DEVYN GAVE A LAST wave goodbye as Alby steered the Rolls back down the sandy driveway. She fiddled with the key to the front door but found it unlocked. Her heart beat picked up. Why would O’Grady unlock the door while Devyn was out at her appointment?

"Hey! O’Grady?" Devyn called as she searched room to room for the doctor. "Where are you?"

"Back porch!"

Devyn’s breath finally caught up to her when she heard the happy voice. She tried to shake off the dark feeling of dread that overtook her at the front door. Moving to the porch, Devyn saw the weeping reflection of O’Grady’s other guest in the door’s glass window. In an instant of clarity, Devyn understood the moment was now.

"You look comfortable," Devyn observed as she stepped out on the weathered wood deck.

O’Grady was stretched out on a beach lounge. Her long, dark hair blowing freely in the summer wind. Sunglasses, black tank top with matching shorts, and bare feet made the woman seem like every other vacation hound. The obvious scar on her face and the bandage around her neck and the wound Devyn knew was hidden under the shirt quickly dispelled the first impression.

"I’m very comfortable," O’Grady grinned. "Pull up a chair and help me keep an eye on the tide."

"Why are you watching the tide?" Devyn giggled as she sat.

"When it gets up to the lifeguard tower on the lower beach, it’s time to eat."

"How do you know that?" Devyn put her feet up on the railing.

"Just decided," O’Grady shrugged. "We’ll be having coffee ice cream unless you want to make something."

"I’ll make something," Devyn returned a half smile. "We need to talk first, okay?"

"You okay? Did something bad happen at the doctor’s?" O’Grady sat up startled at the serious tone.

"Easy, Doc, my appointment went fine," Devyn put a calm hand on O’Grady’s shoulder. "I thought we had reached an agreement over the last couple of weeks. When I’m out, you stay in the house."

"What makes you think I went out?" O’Grady settled back in the chair.

"Front door was unlocked."

"I forgot to lock the door? Shit," O’Grady cursed herself. "I was just getting the paper. Besides, I’m steady on my feet with the cane and I wouldn’t push my luck. You don’t need to worry about me."

"I’m not the only one worrying," Devyn paused to give the doctor a moment to process the statement.

"The ghost? My ghost?" O’Grady removed her sunglasses hoping to see some shadow of the woman around them.

"She’s crying. She’s very concerned about your safety. Maybe she thinks you’re gonna fall."

"Can’t you ask her?"

"If it only worked like that with this one!" Devyn rolled her eyes as she sat back in the chair. "She’s not very strong. It’s difficult for her to come through at all. I see her in reflections or out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes she whispers a word or a name in my ear. Sometimes it’s just a feeling that comes over me."

"What does she whisper?" O’Grady asked.

"Sometimes your name and sometimes," Devyn wrinkled her nose hating to repeat the term, "she says, ‘sugar baby’ or something like that."

The doctor began to laugh. It started softly, almost sad, but grew to a deep throated full guffaw. She had to hold her wounded side against the strain.

"What’s so funny?"

"That’s got to be my grandmother," O’Grady wiped her eyes, "my Dad’s mother. Her husband was a careers diplomat. Once they moved to Europe she never came home. Not even for a visit. This house belonged to her family but I don’t even know if she ever lived here."

"Did you get to meet her?"

"No, but she made arrangements for me to spend part of my summer vacations here while I was growing up. She even sent her own maid to watch me. The maid would be waiting for me with a fully stocked kitchen, summer wardrobe, and a short letter stuffed with cash from Grandmother O’Grady. She always signed it the same way, ‘a little sugar for my baby, GOG.’" The doctor sighed as the happy childhood memories flooded her.

"So," Devyn hated to break the pleasant mood but there was a point to be made, "why would she be crying."

O’Grady frowned. She was doing so much better. Feeling a bit stronger daily. What could possibly trouble her grandmother’s soul?

"I don’t know Devyn but we should probably try to figure it out."

"Agreed," Devyn felt a weight lifted from her shoulders and sensed they were moving in the right direction. "Let’s do lunch then we’ll make a list of possibilities."

"Agreed," O’Grady was almost certain she heard an echo of her assent hushed in her ear.

*  *  *

"You could’ve told me before I made lunch that the OT cleared you to use the stove," Devyn rolled her eyes at the smirking psychiatrist.

"Then you would have made me cook," O’Grady pushed her empty plate forward. "By the way, that was the best turkey club I’ve had in a long time. Now, what’s for dessert?"

"Oatmeal cookie?"

"Ice cream?"

"No, oatmeal cookies or nothing."

"If I skip the cookie now can I have ice cream after dinner?" O’Grady tried to bargain.

"Fine," a frustrated Devyn tossed her hands up in surrender. "Doc, your sweet tooth needs capping."

"How ‘bout a little slack here? You try eating through a tube in you nose for a couple of weeks and see what happens to your appetite."

O’Grady was kidding but Devyn’s features pinched. The doctor immediately regretted the joke. She did not want Devyn to be uncomfortable about her injuries even if she, herself, could not stand the site of them.

"Hey," O’Grady started but the blonde held up her hand to stop the apology.

"She’s crying now," Devyn whispered.

"She’s worried about my weight," O’Grady deadpanned.

"Not funny," Devyn cautioned with a crease in her pale brow. "She started crying the minute you brought up the feeding tube. O’Grady, she must be upset about the stabbing."

"Me too," the doctor smiled even though Devyn frowned. "She shouldn’t be crying now. Why cry when I’m well. At least, I’m much better."

Devyn was quiet for a few minutes. Almost straining to listen to the silence of the kitchen. Her eyes grew wide with a sudden realization.

"What happened to the woman who stabbed you?"

"It’s a weird footnote to this whole episode. Believe it or not, she made bail and promptly OD’d. Cops think it was deliberate. You know, because her son had died and she was facing an attempted murder rap," O’Grady shrugged. "She took the easy way out."

"Strange. How would somebody like her make bail? It must’ve been set pretty high considering the circumstances. From what you told me about her, I’d have thought she’d be stuck in County until trial."

The doctor had not considered this before. She was so relieved the danger the woman still posed had ended, O’Grady did not analyze the details. The fact there was no need for a trial was an added bonus.

"You think whoever bailed her out might still be a threat to me?" The doctor watched Devyn’s eyes widen.

"We’re getting closer. She stopped crying but, shit, she’s gone!" Devyn slammed the table top with her palms. "Happy now? You sit there screwing around instead of focusing while she’s right there and …,"

Devyn let out a irritated groan before grabbing the empty plates and storming over to the sink. A few moments after the water started to run a dish shattered. Strangled sobbing broke the silence which followed. O’Grady pulled herself to her feet and crossed the kitchen cautiously without her cane. Devyn’s right palm was bleeding into the sink.

"Let’s see how deep this is," O’Grady spoke softly as she examined the cut. "It might need stitches but why don’t we clean it up first just to be sure."

"I’m …, sssorry," Devyn stammered. "Dddon’t know what happened to mmme. It was …, like…,"

"My office?" O’Grady supplied as she rinsed the wound.

"Yes," Devyn shook her head sadly. "If you want me to pack up and leave, I understand."

"Devyn," O’Grady sighed as she pulled several sheets of paper towel free and applied pressure to the injury, "I, most definitely, do not want you to go. You’re afflicted with a very powerful ability. It has both benefits and detriments inherent to its nature. We need to figure out how to best train your skill so it helps you more than it hurts you. Devyn, whether you want to believe it or not, this is a gift."

"If you say so," Devyn grimaced as the soap stung her wound and tears stung her eyes.

*  *  *

"Great, you’re awake," O’Grady was standing over a steaming pot on the stove as Devyn tumbled into the kitchen. "Dinners almost ready so pull up a chair."

"Are we having coffee ice cream?" Devyn asked before collapsing into one of the strong kitchen chairs.

The pair spent the better part of the afternoon at the town’s clinic. Devyn’s cut needed five stitches and the woman required a tetanus shot. At O’Grady’s constant nagging, Devyn agreed to take a pain killer. When they returned home, Devyn fell sound asleep.

"Nope, it’s pasta with pesto sauce!" O’Grady flashed a happy grin at Devyn before turning to attend her boiling pot.

"Fancy," Devyn eased back in the chair as she straightened her t-shirt and sweat pants.

"How do you feel?" O’Grady called over her shoulder as she strained the pasta.

"Like an ass."

"Devyn," O’Grady clarified, "I want to know if your hand hurts."

"We both know a few stitches is nothing for me," the edge in Devyn’s tone was not lost on the doctor.

O’Grady carefully made her way to the table with both plates. In spite of Devyn’s mood, the doctor was very pleased with herself. Setting the green pasta in front of the young woman filled the doctor with a joy she had not experienced in a very long time.

"What’s the grin for?" Devyn asked.

"Independence," O’Grady broke into a laughter. "Three weeks ago I could barely stand for five minutes without my cane. Tonight, I cooked dinner and set the table. Not half bad, right?"

"Better than that," Devyn spoke around a mouthful of food. "This is delicious. Doc, you’re cooking tomorrow night too."

The tension in the kitchen eased as the women enjoyed the meal. Devyn even laughed a few times as O’Grady detailed the steps in preparing their dinner.

"How are you feeling?" The doctor took the first lull in the conversation to ask again.

"Better," Devyn whispered and blushed her embarrassment.

"Can you describe what happened?"

"I’m afraid," the young woman looked away.

"I’m right here."

Devyn shuddered as O’Grady took her hand. However, the frightened blonde was able to manage eye contact in response. The doctor’s concern was evident and forced Devyn to answer.

"It was like a wave of anger. Like a wild mob was coming from behind me. I got swept up in their hatred."

"Behind? My grandmother was in front of you so the negative energy was not coming from her, thank God. Behind you was the back door and the beach." O’Grady frowned, "That can’t be. Nothing bad comes from the ocean." Devyn’s quiet chuckle distracted the doctor, "What?"

"Sorry, it’s just the thought of you defending the Atlantic’s reputation is a bit funny."

The psychiatrist in her stiffened up. She blinked several times to focus herself before explaining.

"The Atlantic Ocean is the birthplace of all life on this planet. Nothing bad comes from the sea."

"Storms, hurricanes, sharks," Devyn began listing dangers on her fingers.

"NO!" O’Grady objected with a smirk. "Storms and hurricanes are natural forces. While they may inconvenience people, in and of themselves, they are neither positive or negative. As for sharks, the water is their home and people are intruders."

"I stand corrected," Devyn laughed.

"Damn, right!" O’Grady flashed a big smile. "Now, back to the negative energy. I think we need to take a walk on the beach."

"Will you be able to manage?" Devyn was concerned about the doctor’s balance.

"Hey, I did get dinner together. I think a stroll on the beach should be a piece of cake."

Devyn tidied up the kitchen while O’Grady changed into a pair of jeans and jacket. The wind had started to pick up and Devyn did not want the doctor to catch a chill. The pair made their way to the sand beyond the back porch. The pale soft sand shifted heedlessly under their feet. O’Grady leaned onto the cane and Devyn to keep her balance. The effort brought a line of sweat to her brow.

"Need to rest?" Devyn offered.

"There’s a bench a little further up," O’Grady panted slightly. "We’ll sit there for a while before turning around."

The doctor scanned the terrain ahead trying to avoid a misstep. As they got closer to the bench, O’Grady’s pace slowed. It was painfully apparent that they were not the first visitors to this spot today.

"Look at that," she eyed a pile of cigarette butts.

"People are slobs," Devyn shrugged missing the point.

"No, this is private. Nobody’s suppose to be up here. There’s a fence between the lower public beach and my property line. Plus a rough climb of jagged rocks to discourage trespassers." O’Grady let out a groan and stopped in her tracks, "Condoms."

"See, it must be kids," Devyn urged the doctor forward the last few feet to the bench.

"No, I don’t think so," O’Grady muttered when they finally reached the bench.

The ancient resting stop was strewn with scotch bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms. More troubling were the words carved into the wood surface; die bitch. Next to the block letters the author etched a tiny dagger.

"Doc," Devyn’s grip on O’Grady’s arm tightened as she realized how far they were from the house and how fast the sun seemed to be setting, "I think we need to be in doors. Let’s get moving."

"Devyn, run back to the house and lock the door. Call the police. I want you to wait for them inside. I’ll follow you. They should be here by the time I get to the porch."

"I’m not leaving you out here alone," Devyn whispered as she tugged on the doctor’s arm.

"You can’t wait for me. I’ll slow you down. Go on, hurry," O’Grady tried to release the woman’s hold.

"Nope," Devyn tugged again, "I won’t go if you don’t come with me."

O’Grady realized the argument was getting them nowhere. Refusing to listen to Devyn had wasted daylight and more of the doctor’s waning strength. With a sigh, the dark head bowed and gave into the demand.

The pair trudged through the sand. Devyn frequently peaked over her shoulder to make sure nobody was following them.

"Problem?" The doctor panted.

"I’m …frightened," it was the only word that fit.

"Almost home," O’Grady was pressed to the limit of her endurance.

The back door stood slightly ajar before them. However, both women were too concerned with getting inside to notice. O’Grady stumbled on the last few steps and Devyn practically dragged her over the threshold. The exhausted psychiatrist dropped into the kitchen chair while Devyn locked the door.

"Okay, you rest here and I’ll call the cops," Devyn’s plan was interrupted by shrill laughter coming from the living room.

"Devyn, run," O’Grady shouted with a sickening recognition of the voice.

Terrified, Devyn did just that. She lunged for the back door and tore open the locks. With her thoughts focused on escape, she raced out onto the sand. A throaty grunt behind her was the only warning she was being pursued before she was fiercely tackled. Her scream was cut off when her attacker flipped her over and backhanded her. The blow clouded her vision with stars but she saw enough of the man to know it was Jenowitz straddling her.

"Give me a reason to smack you again," he leaned in close to whisper before licking at the blood dripping from her nose.

Devyn tried to squirm away in disgust but the fugitive cop raised his hand to strike her. Every muscle in her body failed her under the threat.

"No, please, don’t hit me," Devyn cowered.

The big man snorted in disgust. He stood then pulled Devyn up by her hair and shirt front. Devyn’s hand automatically came up to grab his but he shook her hard. Once more she went limp.

"That’s better," he laughed as he hauled her across the beach into the house’s growing shadow. "If you piss me off too much and I’ll kill you sooner than I planned on. Then I’ll have to entertain myself with that fucking shrink of yours. Maybe I’ll find out how many times I can cut her before she really does die," he laughed even harder when Devyn sobbed.

*  *  *

"You do have a lovely home," Suse Waugh sighed as she circled the couch O’Grady was sitting on.

"Most people wait to be invited," O’Grady mumbled as she tested the strength of the duck tape that bound her hands behind her back and her legs at the ankle.

"That’s a very aggressive attitude," Waugh plopped down next to the doctor and draped a bony leg across O’Grady’s thighs, "for somebody in the bind you’re in. Get it," Waugh cackled, "bind and you’re all tied up? It’s a pun, silly."

 O’Grady closed her eyes. She could not even look at the woman tormenting her. A faint scream echoed from the beach.

"Devyn," O’Grady began to struggle with her bounds again.

"Stop that," Suse insisted as she lifted O’Grady’s shirt to reveal the new, pink skin of the healing stab wound. "It looks sore. Is it?"

O’Grady remained silent when her former friend sat up straight to examine the injury. Suse traced the length of the wound with her index finger. She hummed softly as she explored the details of scar. In an instant, her features went from idle curiosity to fury. Her balled fist connected violently with the tender tissue. O’Grady, completely defenseless, was left doubled over and howling in agony.

"Hey, babe, look what I caught at the beach today," Jenowitz called happily as he burst into the living room.

The hulking man tossed Devyn across the floor. She skidded the length of the room on the highly polished wood floors. Her unresisting body crashed into the couch.

"Good shot," Suse giggled. "Kath, we brought your friend back for a play date."

Waugh grabbed a fistful of O’Grady’s hair and pulled her upright. The psychiatrist gagged on her pain but forced herself not to cry out. She glared at Suse before locating Devyn laying curled in a ball, motionless, just a few inches from her feet.

"Dev," O’Grady croaked and the blonde stirred slightly but did not lift her head to face the doctor.

"Oh, she and I had a little conversation about proper behavior so she maybe a bit more reserved than usual tonight," Jenowitz chuckled.

"What do you want with us?" O’Grady spat out defiantly.

"Well, dear, you made us move on you faster than we wanted," Waugh tsked and planted her feet back on the doctor’s lap. "So, our plans are all upside down. We’re winging it!"

"That’s right. We figured it would be weeks before you could walk that far." Jenowitz strode across the room to kick Devyn, "Assume the position, bitch!"

Devyn whimpered but rolled onto her stomach. The big man forced her arms behind her and slapped his handcuff around her wrists.

"Hey," Suse protested, "now what are we gonna use?"

"Sorry, honey, business before pleasure."

O’Grady flinched when Jenowitz pulled Devyn to her knees. The woman’s face was marked by the fine points of their ‘conversation.’ Her eye was going black from a meaty right hook. Blood trickled from her nose and corner of her mouth. Hand prints were visible around Devyn’s neck. But worst of all, her shirt was ripped open and scratched were obvious on the soft flesh beneath. Devyn kept her eyes focused on the floor.

"Okay, I’m gonna only ask this once," the man’s chest puffed up importantly. "I need a room on the second floor to lock you two in tonight. If you fuck with me, I’ll beat you until running ain’t even an option. Then I’ll let you watch the end of my lecture with your friend here," Devyn’s whole body trembled as the man spoke.

"Devyn’s bathroom," O’Grady answered quickly to avoid annoying the couple. "It has no window and can be locked from the outside. We won’t be able to get out."

"Oh, that’s perfect, cause I don’t want you to miss what you’ve got comin’ tomorrow," Jenowitz grinned as O’Grady’s fears turned to tears.

PART 9

"OKAY, DEVYN, ENOUGH of this laying around. How are we going to get out of here?" O'Grady softly asked to the back of Devyn's head.

 Jenowitz left the women on the bathroom floor more than an hour before. O'Grady was facing Devyn's back. Several previous attempts to get the blonde to talk to her had been met by sniffling silence.

 "Usually," Devyn's voice cracked with emotion, "the coroner takes the bodies out in big plastic bags after the neighbors complain about the smell."

 "I don't want to wait that long," O'Grady was grateful for any response even one of a fatalist nature. "Come on, if they were going to just kill us we'd be dead by now."

 "That's because he's not just gonna kill us," Devyn snorted.

 "That maybe his plan but we don't have to let it happen without a fight. Come on, Devyn, I was almost dead once already. I'm not going to wait around for him finish the job," O'Grady grunted in pain as she futilely struggled to sit up.

 Devyn rolled over on her back at the distressed sound. The doctor was bathed in sweat. Even worse, blood was staining her shirt around the site of the stomach wound. Devyn sat up easily with her legs free and just her arms trapped behind her.

 "You're bleeding. Let me get a look at that," the young woman wiggled her chained wrists under her bottom and out from under her legs.

 "Why didn't you do that an hour ago?" O'Grady laid back down to let Devyn examine the wound.

 "Because I thought you were okay. Because I was too scared…, ashamed…, I don't know," Devyn sighed. "It looks like the scar is weeping blood but there's one Hell of a bruise around it."

 "Hematoma," O'Grady groaned. "I don't want to alarm you but there's fresh bleeding under the suture line. It could rupture the repair."

 "What happens then?" Devyn did not like the remote tone in the doctor's voice.

 "I'll bleed out before an ambulance could get here," O'Grady stated flatly but avoided eye contact.

 "Tell me what to do?"

 "Untie me."

 Devyn quietly got up. A bit of rummaging in the medicine cabinet yielded a cuticle scissors. It took her a little more effort to help the doctor sit up. O'Grady was unable to put much effort into it. Once she was sitting up, the bulky layers of duct tape binding O'Grady's hands were revealed.

 "She's a real bitch," Devyn gritted her teeth as she awkwardly forced the tiny blades into the sticky tangle.

 "I thought she was a friend," the psychiatrist stared blankly at her bound feet. "I don't know how she could do something like this to me."

 "Yeah, right, to you," Devyn muttered under her breath; the metal cuffs biting into her wrists with each cut of the scissors. "Perfectly understandable how she could tie me down and watch while that guy…,"

 "Devyn," O'Grady looked over her shoulder as she whispered the name, "how are you feeling?"

 "What? Gonna psychoanalyze me now?" The young woman spat back as she continued to cut into the tape. "That's just great."

 "Dev, the way you're feeling, is it like my office? Is it like the kitchen?"

 O'Grady's bindings began to slacken. A firm tug on her wrists finished the job. The tape give way. As soon as she was free, she reached around and pulled Devyn into a tight hug. Tears broke loose once the blonde was safely in the doctor's embrace.

 "It's scary," Devyn sobbed into O'Grady's shirt sleeve. "I feel this...anger. It's surrounding me, drowning me."

 "Courtesy of our uninvited house guests, I imagine," O'Grady sighed. "Dev, you're feeling the inner turmoil from Waugh and Jenowitz. Try to let their anger pass through you. Last time their anger blocked your gift."

 "Fat lot of good that's done us," Devyn replied.

 "Oh, you never know how things will play out." The doctor grimaced, "And let's face it, Dev, we need any help we can get."

 Devyn nodded her head as O'Grady relaxed her hold. It was then the doctor saw the bruises around Devyn's neck. Lifting the young woman's chin slightly, O'Grady examined the marks left by two meaty hands.

 "How badly did he hurt you?" O'Grady's stomach turned when she recognized the depths of despair in Devyn's swollen, red eyes.

 "Doesn't matter," the woman shrugged. "Wasn't the first time. Probably won't be the last."

 O'Grady could not argue the point. Thirty feet, twelve stairs and one gun remained between them and the front door. If they did not get out soon then Devyn would probably be brutalized at least once more before Jenowitz finally killed her. The doctor tried to shake off the horrible thought as she tore through the tape at her ankles.

 "Okay, help me get on my feet so I can open the door," O'Grady started to pull herself up.

 "He locked it," Devyn reminded the doctor as she dragged her to her knees.

 "Lock doesn't work," O'Grady cradled her belly with one hand while leaning on Devyn with the other to get her wobbly legs under her.

 O'Grady took three shaky steps towards the door. Grabbing the doorknob firmly, she twisted back until the lock popped. A huge smile spread across Devyn's face.

 "Gotta love old houses," O'Grady grinned.

 The pair crept into Devyn's darkened room. Music blaring from downstairs gave O'Grady hope that Waugh and Jenowitz would not hear their escape. Trembling hands wrapped themselves in the doctor's shirttails. O'Grady eased over to Devyn's nightstand and picked up the phone. The three digits punched into the dial pad seemed to echo in the room.

 "911 emergency. This call is being recorded," a gentle male voice greeted. "What is the nature of your emergency?"

 "We need the police," O'Grady whispered.

 "Can you speak up? I can hardly hear you."

 "There're people in the house. His got...," O'Grady heard the pounding footsteps on the stairs as Devyn began to cry against her back, "11 A Roo…,"

 Jenowitz broadsided the pair with a flying leap from the door. The three laid in a jumbled heap as the light flipped on.

 "Hello, are you still there? Can you hear…" the kind voice on the other end of the phone was silenced when Waugh wrenched the phone cord from the wall.

 "You fuckin' bitch!" Jenowitz pulled back to deliver a vicious punch to O'Grady's face. "You didn't think I'd notice the extension light flash on the phone?" Another devastating blow broke the doctor's nose. "You think I'm some punk ass jerk?" A third fist reopened the wound on the side of her face.

 "Hey, Jeno," Waugh sounded nervous even to O'Grady's barely conscious mind, "feel how cold it's getting in here?"

 "You stupid, whore," Jenowitz drop O'Grady to turn his fury on Waugh. "The cops are gonna be here any minute and you're worried about the heat!"

 He slapped Waugh several times as she tried to explain. Devyn used the distraction to look around for anything that might help them get away. A quick glance to O'Grady proved chilling. The doctor was struggling, with little success, to crawl away from Jenowitz. Her face was a bloody mess. Devyn knew they would not be able to run away. She might be able to out run Jenowitz but not the doctor.

 Devyn caught a flash of light above the doctor's head. A can of purple hair spray sat on the edge of the bureau. The young woman sat puzzled for several precious heartbeats. Another softer flash brought the image of an old woman into focus. Devyn recognized O'Grady's grandmother instantly. The barely visible shape nodded to the can and mutely urged Devyn to action.

 Devyn scrambled on her knees to retrieve the can. Sirens wailed in the distance. She knew they were still too far away to help. Her hand settled comfortably on the nozzle. She heard O'Grady's grandmother scream, "Now!"

 Turning and pressing the nozzle down simultaneously, Devyn got Jenowitz at point blank range in the eyes. The man shrieked as he desperately backpedaled but he got tangled in O'Grady's frantically kicking legs. She had seen him coming for Devyn and tried to drive him away. He crashed to the floor under the assault. Devyn sprang forward and land her knee on his chest. She kept spraying the aerosol in his face as he swatted at her.

 "Everybody freeze!" A woman barked from the door, "Police, let's see those hands in the air! You with the can, drop it!"

 "Dev," O'Grady gasped, "it's okay. Drop the can."

 As if on remote control, Devyn immediately obeyed O'Grady. The can dropped from her raised hands to soundly smash into Jenowitz's face. Police swarmed into the room. All four occupants were forced to their knees and handcuffed.

 "You saw her, didn't you?" Waugh snapped out of her stupor and shouted at Devyn from across the room.

 Devyn could see the terror on Waugh's face. Taking in the woman's full appearance, Devyn could not help but smile at the large wet stain on Waugh's pants. Somehow, Waugh saw the ghost as well as Devyn had. The image apparently scared the piss out of the former psychiatrist.

 "Tell me, you saw her too," Waugh pleaded.

 "I don't know what you're talking about," Devyn grinned as Waugh became hysterical.

 "Would you shut this bitch up? My eyes are killing me! Where's the friggin' ambulance?"

 "Shut up, all of you!" The police woman, who enter the room first, ordered. "Okay, this one," she pointed to the doctor, "is Dr. O'Grady, the owner of the house, and victim number one. Take off her handcuffs and help her to the paramedics downstairs."

 "Thank God," Devyn whispered, "be sure to tell them about your stomach."

 "I'll let you do that," the doctor smiled. "Officer…,"

 "Ya, doctor, I know this is insulting but we had to secure the scene before we could worry about individual comfort."

 "No, I was going to ask if Devyn can help me downstairs. She been injured as well. I believe, it is a much more serious wound than mine."

 "Oh, ya, sorry," the police woman blushed slightly. "Guys, that one is Devyn Tannon, home health aide, and victim number two. Get her cuffs off and see both these ladies to the ambulance."

 "What about my fuckin' eyes?" Jenowitz howled.

 "I processing you as fast as I can. Now, shut up! Could somebody get a paramedic up here to flush this guys eyes out before I have to do it!" The police woman shouted.

 O'Grady, ignoring the screaming and cursing around her, let a police man help her stand. The room started to spin violently. She was pretty sure she was going to fall until a trembling hand grabbed her shirttail.

 "Ready?" Devyn asked.

 "Now I am," O'Grady draped an arm over the young woman's shoulders and followed the policeman out of harm's way.

*  *  *

 "So, what were they waiting for?" Betsy gave a crooked smile, "Not that I wanted them to kill you."

 "Very supportive," O'Grady rolled her eyes as she reached for the dip. "The plan, as best as I understand it, was to drain my bank account before killing us. They were going to force me to make a series of withdrawals over several days."

 "Why did they have to wait more than a month?"

 "I had therapists coming over every day. Jenowitz was merely biding his time," O'Grady took a long sip of her root beer.

 Betsy leaned back on the couch to take in the information. The thought of O'Grady and Devyn being threatened in this very house was mind numbing. It was even more inconceivable with the living room filled with friends and family. Professor Vontz had arrange for the homecoming personally. When he called Betsy he said he wanted to welcome 'his girls' home from the hospital.

 "Your grandfather seems to have made a friend," Betsy waved to the old man.

 The Professor was in a deep conversation with Devyn. They stood before the fireplace, drinks in hand, looking for all the world like theorists discussing the nature of time. Devyn reached out, at one point, and placed her hand on his shoulder. The old man gave a smile then a grin then roared with laughter.

 "Bet you five bucks she just convinced him York was the better Darrin," O'Grady beamed. "The Professor has really amazed me. Not only the way he took care of me in the hospital, but this party. Inviting my father, you and your husband, Howard, even Alby and Anton. You know, I've known those two men all my life but I've never seen them in casual clothes before. Socializing with 'the help' was out of the question in my grandfather's house. He has really come a long way with all of this."

 "So have you, Kiddo," Betsy gave the doctor an unexpected punch to the arm.

 "You're not hurting my Kat leen, are you?" Joseph interrupted his conversation with Betsy's husband to tease the women on the couch.

 "Wouldn't dream of it," Betsy promised. "Unless she annoys me."

 "Be careful Doc, my wife has a killer left hook," the big man laughed.

 "I learned the hard way how tough Betsy can be." O'Grady brushed a tear away, "Did I ever thank you for paging me to the ER for that consult way back when?"

 "You sure did, Kiddo," Betsy let her tears flow as she hugged the psychiatrist.

 "No, don't cry, then she'll start to cry," Anton begged with a bright smile. "No child ever cried faster than the doctor."

 "Ain't that the truth," Alby teased, "I keep two extra white hankies in the glove box just for the doctor's use."

 "Guys, are you going to give all my secrets away?" O'Grady taunted the men who helped to raise her.

 "As long as they are only divulging your foibles and not mine, then they may continue to spill the beans," Professor Vontz led Devyn back to the group.

 "Professor, are you trying to convince Devyn to enter medical school," Dr. Howard smirking in his light alcohol haze that got a wicked glare from his wife.

 "No, I bet it was the 'what did Ozzie do' question," Anton chuckled.

 "Neither," Devyn gave a little kiss to the old man's cheek.

 "Dinner is ready to be served. If you would all adjoin to the formal dining room…,"

 "I don't have a formal dining room," O'Grady interrupted.

 "It was the second empty room on the left side of the entry way. As your guests will see in a few minutes, I added some furniture but," the Professor raised his hand to stop O'Grady's growing anxiety, "tomorrow the movers will remove every stick. Unless, of course, you like it." The old man shrugged.

 "Thanks," O'Grady got up and kissed the man's cheek.

 "Devyn wants to talk to you. I'll get everybody to the dining room and you two join us when you are ready," the Professor kissed his granddaughter back.

 The crowd cleared out leaving the women alone. Devyn shuffled her feet a bit. O'Grady knew she was struggling with how to begin. The psychiatrist felt a weight lodge in her belly as she waited.

 "Doc, your grandfather loves you very much."

 "I know," O'Grady's brow furrowed in confusion.

 "He wanted to give you, us a homecoming. He's been worried sick about us. You, if you weren't so close to the situation might even say he wasn't thinking clearly because of the stress."

 O'Grady tried to fathom the point of Devyn's message above the constant ringing of the doorbell.

 "Isn't anybody going to answer that?" the psychiatrist snapped.

 "No, you have to answer it. It's your mother. He begged her to come," Devyn saw the snarl forming on the doctor's face. "Please, he meant well."

 O'Grady stalked off to the front door. The bell was incessant. With each step, the psychiatrist could feel herself regressing into childhood. Her cynicism, fading to disappointment, ebbing over to resignation then cracking under the weight of hope. Opening the door ended the ringing bell and the hope. Elsie stood with the help of a cab driver.

 "Forty bucks," the driver groaned trying to hold the woman up.

 "Told you my dau, daughter lived here," Elsie slurred.

 "Devyn, would you get the cookie jar money," O'Grady asked calmly. She waited until the young woman disappeared into the kitchen, "Listen up there, Mom! You may not come to my home drunk, ever again. If you want to visit me then you must be sober. I don't even want to smell cold medicine on your stinkin' breath."

 Devyn returned with a handful of neatly folded bills. O'Grady nodded her thanks before counting out the money.

 "This is a hundred. Take her back where you found her and keep the rest as a tip."

 "Only twenty bucks?" She growled, "Do you have any idea what a pain in the ass she is?"

 "You bet I do! She's my mother," O'Grady slammed to door shut on her past.

THE END