Chapter 14: A Bit Of Action And Trauma
The receptionist rapped lightly on the door. "Bree." She called.
Ignas pulled at her collar, trying to get more air.
Bree Anderson sounded exasperated as she opened the door, "yes?" She asked. Then she saw Ignas, the recognition brought a curious smile to her lips. Her mouth opened to say something, but Ignas cut her off.
"Can we talk, Dr. Anderson." Ignas asked, aware her voice sounded terrified.
Anderson looked from Ignas to George, hesitating for a moment before she turned back to the patient in her office, saying, "Give me a minute, I'll be right back." She pulled the door closed. "This way." She led them.
Ignas glared at George before following her, but he still kept close to her heels. Anderson stopped at an open doorway. "We can talk in here." She gestured into the room.
Throughout her visits, Ignas had only ever been in the waiting room or Anderson's office, so she was surprised to find herself in a large conference room. The space was warm and open, with lots of plants, just like Bree Anderson's office. The walls were painted a color between gold and yellow. There were shiny mahogany chairs covered in soft black fabric, arranged round a long mahogany conference table.
There were large drawers placed on one side of the wall. Each of them having a safe lock installed. Ignas was glad to see the installed lock. 'At least, that will keep people from prying.' she thought.
Doctor Anderson turned around, pushing her flyaway hairs to the side, giving a clearer view of her apple shaped face. She was attractive for her age, which would probably be early forties. She got straight to the point. "What's the problem?"
Ignas took a deep breath, wondering how strained this was going to be, considering her past with Anderson, knowing that the woman hate beating about the bush, she decided to be direct. "We've come about your son." She said.
Anderson let out a deep sigh. She had only one child and although Adrien was a complete pain in her ass, he remained the very best thing that has ever happened to her in her entire life. She let out a few breaths, trying to calm herself, then sank into one of the chairs like a slowly deflating balloon. Back straight, hands clasped on her lap, perfectly composed but for the look of sheer panic in her eyes. Ignas has never read anyone's expression so clearly in her life. The woman was terrified. "Is he..." Anderson stopped to clear her throat, and tears sprang into her eyes. "Has he gotten into trouble?"
Ignas remembered George. He was standing in the doorway, hands tucked into his pockets as if he was watching a live talk show. Before George could protest, she shut the door in his face.
"I'm sorry," She said, pressing her palms against the table as she sat down.
The apology was for shutting George away, but Anderson took it a different way. "What?" The doctor pleaded, a sudden desperation filling her voice.
"I meant....."
Without warning, Anderson reached across the table and grabbed Ignas's hands. Ignas flinched, but Anderson did not seem to notice.
Since she got raped, the feeling of being touched without expecting it was hell, and it always got her terrified. The intimacy of the moment brought bile to the back of her throat. ,
"Where is he?" Anderson asked.
Ignas's leg started to shake, the heel of her foot jogging up and down uncontrollably. When she finally spoke, her voice caught from sympathy and fear.
"No." Anderson refused, holding on to Ignas's hands as if she were hanging over a cliff and Ignas was the only thing keeping her from falling. ' With difficulty, Ignas freed one of her hands and rubbed off the sweat accumulating on her forehead with it.
"Where is he?" Anderson asked again.
"He was found lifeless in his room at the campus. He overdosed on Meth. He's been moved to the Morgue, awaiting identification." Ignas told her, so taken by the urge to jerk back her other hand that her arm began to shake.
"No, that can't be true. Not Adrien, not my son. He doesn't do drugs."
Ignas bit the dry skin of her upper lip. "When was the last time you spoke to him?" She asked, trying to breathe.
"On a phone call, the day before yesterday. He said his friend in school found something that might help someone in solving a mystery and she didn't to do anything about it. But he took it upon himself to help, just like I taught him."
"Do you know the friend he was talking about?" Ignas asked.
"No, just some kid from Cherim. I've never met her in person. I was planning to....." She broke into tears. "I planned paying him a visit this weekend. Adrien was a cool kid. I try my best to be there for him. He's not into drugs, I refuse to believe that." Anderson insisted.
But then she had been a therapist long enough to know that people always have a side they keep to themselves if they want to.
Ignas could take no more, and she found herself begging, "Please, I'm sorry." A look of confusion crossed Anderson's face, which made Ignas feel even more trapped. "Please, let go of my hand." She finally said.
Anderson recoiled quickly, and Ignas stood up hurriedly, knocking over her chair, moving away from the other woman until she felt her back against the door.
A look of horror was on Anderson's face, as she recalled that Ignas was once a victim of rape. "II'm so sorry." She apologized.
"No." Ignas leaned against the door, rubbing her hand on her thighs like she was wiping off dirt. "It's okay," she said, her heart shaking in her chest. "I just needed to feel my hand."
"I should have known better." Anderson said.
"Please, it's fine." Ignas said, feeling heat on her thighs from the friction. She stopped the motion, clasping her hands, rubbing them together as if she were cold.
"Ignas," Anderson said, sitting up in her chair. "It's okay, you're safe here."
"I know that," Ignas said, but her voice was weak, and the taste of fear was still sour in her mouth. "I'm fine," she insisted, but she was still wringing her hands. She looked down to her hands, "I'm okay," she said. "I'm okay."
"Ignas," Anderson began, but she did not finish the thought.
Ignas concentrated on her breathing, calming herself. Her hands were red and sticky from sweat, she forced herself to stop, tucking her hands under her arms. She was acting like a head case. This was the kind of thing mentally ill people did.
"Ignas," Anderson tried again.
Ignas tried to laugh it off. "I just got nervous," she said, pushing her hair behind her ear. Sweat made it stick to her scalp.
"Who should I talk to at the police station?" Anderson asked.
Ignas stared, because for a split second she could not remember why she was here.
"Ignas?" Anderson asked.
"I...." Ignas stopped. "Chief Lamina is available at the station. "I'm really sorry." She told her, feeling the effect of every word.
Anderson raised her chin, acknowledging the apology but not accepting it.
Ignas uprighted the chair. The desire to bolt from the room was so strong that her legs ached.
"Thank you for telling me." Anderson suddenly said rubbing off the tears in her eyes.
_____
The few minutes ride back to the station was done with George killing Ignas with lots of question.
"Listen, you can't pour your frustrations on me. I am not the one with a failed operation. Do not blame me for your fucking position at the Bullpen!" George yelled at Ignas. "Now tell me what I need to know." He commanded.
"She said her son isn't a druggie, that he told her on one of their phonecalls that his friend in school discovered something that might help someone in solving a mystery and she didn't want to help. But he took it upon himself to help. She doesn't know the friend, haven't seen her before. But she's some kid from Cherim." Ignas summarized, wishing him to drown at that moment, if possible.
"Now, that didn't kill you. Meanwhile, no mother would accept that their kid is a druggie. The evidence was glaring that he is one." George said, obviously avoiding the need for more investigation.
"So, you'll do nothing?" Ignas asked in surprise.
"There is nothing to be done." He said in finality. "Anyway, for what it's worth, I might have overheard a conversation suggesting that pulling you into the Bullpen, was a direct order from the top. Obviously someone wanted you out of the action. You must have pissed them off."
"What the...."
"Uh-uh." George interrupted, that is all I know." He said.
Their journey back to the station continued in silence with Ignas looking as confused as ever.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone