Joe raced through the empty reception area and down the hall, passing Sam’s office on the left and Frank’s on the right.  Reaching the sanctuary of his own office, Joe closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.  He mentally calculated the distance to the bathroom, fearing the memories he could feel barreling their way to the surface were the ones he hated the most – the ones that made him sick to his stomach.

‘Come on, focus!  You can do this!’ he told himself, knowing he’d be happy if he could just get control of his breathing enough not to hyperventilate. ‘Just like Linda taught you… breathe in… breathe out… think about Vanessa, the wedding, the honeymoon…’

Joe felt the tension in his neck and shoulders begin to slip away.  His breathing began to slow down and his heart, while still beating faster than normal, was no longer racing.  He focused on Vanessa, their rock solid relationship and their complete devotion to each other.  They had overcome more in the past year than most people would endure in a lifetime, and still had a bright and happy future ahead of them.  He concentrated on those thoughts exclusively and let them push the horrific memories of screaming children and painful beatings back into his subconscious, ordering them to stay there until he was ready for them to come out and be dealt with.

Joe felt his mouth curl upwards in the hint of a smile, and allowed himself to enjoy the accomplishment.  This had been his biggest victory yet over the terrifying memories that had haunted him mercilessly for over a year.  Crossing the room, he took a seat at his desk recalling the therapy session that, although he didn’t realize it at the time, had been the turning point…

“Didn’t sleep well last night?” Linda asked softly, closing the door as Joe entered her office.

“Not particularly,” Joe replied, more subdued than usual.

Sitting on the couch, he laid a hand across the back of it, drumming his fingers nervously as his right leg bounced up and down in accompaniment.  As Linda took a seat opposite him, he stared at her intensely.  “When are they going to stop?” he demanded, almost accusing.  “It’s been nine months and the nightmares and the flashbacks… the memories… they’re still just as bad as when I first remembered.  I thought this therapy was supposed to help!”

Linda stared at the troubled young man in front of her.  He’d been a difficult patient at best and more than once she had considered terminating their relationship.  She knew he wasn’t there because he wanted to be, at least in the beginning, feeling as if he had been blackmailed into it by his family.  It had taken months for her to get past the anger and defensiveness, past the tough guy who insisted he could handle everything just fine on his own. And when she did, she found a devastated boy underneath it all.  He had just begun to open up and start to trust her, when he’d been abducted and almost beaten to death in Chicago. 

They’d had to postpone a multitude of sessions as Joe slowly healed from the abuse and torture.  However when he finally returned the fear in his eyes that had only just begun to diminish had returned tenfold. Still worse, he couldn’t bring himself to discuss what he had been through at the hands of Keith Rashman.  While Joe faithfully attended every session, he was no longer opening up to her like he used to.  He was terrified of reliving the abuse, both new and old, refusing to tell her anything, making it impossible for her to help him. 

After watching him slowly regress for almost a month, something changed.  He showed up one day in mid-July, seeming more relaxed than he’d been since he started seeing her.  While he still never mentioned what happened in Chicago, he began to open up once again about the horrors he’d witnessed as a child.  Yet while she was certain it appeared to Joe’s friends and family that he was making progress, she didn’t see the changes she’d been hoping for.

Granted, he talked more openly than ever about what he’d been forced to watch and the beatings he’d been subjected to, but something was always missing.  It seemed as if rather than using their now weekly sessions to accept, understand and move past the awful experience, Joe simply wanted to use them as a way to let out all the rage he’d collected since the previous session.  Linda finally realized Joe was much better at hiding his true feelings than she’d given him credit for.  She now understood he wasn’t much further along in dealing with the trauma than he was the first time she’d seen him.  He had simply learned how to hide it from those who loved him and let it all out when he saw her.  Having decided they needed to have a frank and honest discussion about what Joe really wanted from these sessions, Linda hoped it would finally open his eyes to what he needed to do to truly begin to heal.

“Joe, I can sit here and listen to you rant and rave for an hour every week for the rest of your life, but it isn’t going to help you if you aren’t willing to help yourself,” she said bluntly.

Joe glared at her, anger flashing in his eyes. “You’re supposed to be the one helping me.  Isn’t that what I’m paying you for?” he said acidly.

“I’m trying to help you, but I can only do so up to a certain point,” she replied, taken aback at the venomous tone in his voice.  Wondering what had happened to cause Joe to become so hostile, she decided to take a chance.  “Joe… has something happened?  I’ve seen you angry, depressed, short-tempered but never… hostile.”

Joe stood abruptly and walked to the window, staring out at the people on the sidewalk below.  Linda knew she had struck a nerve; he always did this when he didn’t want her to see the abject terror on his face from whatever demons were tormenting him on that particular day.  When Joe clutched his left arm close to his body and began rubbing it, she knew immediately which demon was haunting him today.

Standing, Linda followed him to the window but remained behind him.  Reaching out she put her hand on his back and rubbed it gently, patiently waiting until Joe was ready to talk.

“I have to cancel our session next week.  Maybe the week after, too,” Joe finally spoke, his voice shaky.

“Okay.  Can I ask why?”

“I have to go to Chicago,” Joe replied as Linda felt him shiver beneath her hand. “Rashman’s trial starts on Monday.”

Joe shook his head, remembering that grueling session.  The memories of what he’d been forced to watch as a little boy by Joshua Tilghman had been mingling with the abuse he’d suffered at the hands of Keith Rashman, resulting in the worst nightmares of his life.  He had understood what was triggering the memories of Rashman, but after spending so much time talking to Linda about the three days he’d been held by Tilghman, he had expected progress by now.  He felt the only progress he’d made was in learning how to better hide his fears from those closest to him – and it was eating him up inside…

Joe turned to face her, anguish written all over his face.  “Why haven’t I been able to get past this?” he asked, his voice breaking.

Linda took his arm and gently shepherded him back to the couch.  Now sitting beside him, she hoped he was ready to listen and really hear what she had to say.

“I can’t wave a magic wand or give you a pill so that it will all go away over night,” she began softly.  “And just talking about it will help, but at some point you have to take the next step. Joe, you have been fighting that step tooth and nail and until you are willing to take it, there isn’t much more I can do for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?!” Joe yelled angrily.  “That I’ve wasted my time talking to you for the last nine months?!”

“Of course not,” she sighed inwardly.  Linda had grown used to Joe’s angry outbursts from time to time and recognized them for what they were – a shield he threw up to prevent others from seeing how terrified he really was; and a distraction so he wouldn’t have to admit it to himself.

“You have to make a conscious decision to put it behind you and leave it there.  It’s a part of your past, but unless you actively choose to make it stay there, it will continue to be your present and it will become your future.”

“So you’re saying I’m supposed to just put it behind me and forget it ever happened?!” Joe yelled again, not willing to give up the shield just yet.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Linda countered.  “What happened to you is something you’ll never forget.  But it doesn’t mean you have to relive it on a daily basis.  You don’t have to live knowing every time you hear a child scream or see a parent reprimanding their kids that you’ll be paralyzed by the memories that come back at you.

“You can minimize the flashbacks, learn how to control the intensity of them – and your reactions to them.  You can break the hold they have on you.  You might even be able to get to the point where, if something triggers them, you can turn them off completely.”  Linda stopped and stared at her patient.  She thought she had finally seen a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.  Buoyed by that hope, she pressed on.

“I can help you find the best tools to do that.  But unless you choose to learn how to use them, those three days will control you for the rest of your life.”  She hesitated briefly, wondering if she should voice her final thought, given what Joe was facing in the next two weeks.  Deciding to have faith that it would push him in the right direction once he returned home, she plunged ahead. “If you aren’t willing to make that choice, I don’t know that there is much more I can do to help you.  It might be best if we terminated these sessions until you’re ready to take the next step.”

Joe leaned back in his chair, remembering the gamut of emotions he’d felt at that moment.  Fear, anger, rage, helplessness…and hope.  He promised Linda he would think seriously about everything she said and give her an answer when he returned from Chicago.  As it turned out, the brutal trial and subsequent conviction of Rashman on all counts had turned out to be the key to Joe’s decision.  Feeling as if a weight had been lifted and he’d finally been given some closure to that horrifying situation, he returned home ready to tackle his last remaining demons.

He had begun to see Linda two or three times a week and threw himself into the ‘homework’ she assigned him.  At times he thought it was fruitless and not worth the agonizing effort he had to put into it.  Initially, nothing seemed to be changing except the increased pressure he was putting on himself to make progress and the increasing feelings of failure when he felt it wasn’t happening fast enough.  Then, slowly, Joe began to notice a change.  A screaming child no longer sent him into a tailspin; a parent speaking in raised voices to their offspring no longer made him see Joshua Tilghman approaching him with a belt or a two by four in his hands.

And today, this morning, had been his biggest victory yet.  When faced with the reality that the uncle who unwittingly allowed him to be kidnapped, might be making a reappearance in his life, he was able to hold back the memories that wanted to be set free to wreak havoc on his mind.  Reaching for the phone, he punched in Linda’s number, wanting to share his victory with the one person who had given him the tools to make it happen.

*****

Frank glanced at the clock on the wall, calculating how much time he could spend researching the new computer software he wanted to buy for the agency and still be home in time for dinner with his wife.  He smiled, just now realizing the day had unfolded with no emotional outbursts or near meltdowns for Joe or his mother.  The three of them had gone out for lunch with Joe’s exuberant personality taking center stage.  While Laura Hardy had seemed a bit tired, she nevertheless returned Joe’s wisecracks without missing a beat, giving Frank hope that his father had been worrying unnecessarily.

“Here ya go.”

The sound of Joe’s voice and something landing on his desk snapped Frank out of his daydreams.

“My final report on the Harper case,” Joe pointed to the disc he’d tossed on the desk.

“Thanks.”  Frank picked it up, sliding the disc into a protective case before placing it in the appropriate file.

“If you don’t need me for anything else, I’m gonna head out,” Joe told him.

“Nope, nothing else.”

“Cool.  I’m meeting Biff at the gym for a quick workout before I go home,” he said, referring to his best friend since grade school.  “Wanna come?” he added as an afterthought.

“No, thanks.  I want to check out that new software the FBI has been using; see if it might be worth getting here,” Frank leaned back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head.

“My brother the computer geek,” Joe muttered rolling his eyes.

“May I remind you that your fiancée is just as big a computer geek as I am – maybe more so,” Frank shot back.

“Yeah, but she’s a sexy computer geek… a very sexy computer geek,” Joe replied with a lascivious smile and raised eyebrows.

Frank leaned forward on the desk, assuming a hurt expression. “Are you saying I’m not sexy?”

Grinning, Joe put up his hands defensively and backpedaled a few steps. “I am sooooooo not going there!”  Turning, he swiftly headed for the door.  With a shout of “See ya tomorrow!” and a wave of his hand, Joe was gone.

“So far, so good,” Frank smiled to himself.  It appeared that once Fenton Hardy had left for the airport that morning, Joe hadn’t given Jeff Cutter a second thought. ‘Maybe this won’t be so bad after all,’ Frank thought returning his attention to the computer. ‘Dad will find Kevin, come on home and everything will be back to normal.’