WARNING: There are violent scenes, sexual assault, bad language, you know, my usual.

COUNTERTRANSFERENCE

by phair

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.

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