fandom_clinic | FH Clinic (6/27)

Tyler took a seat in the waiting room.

And tried to ignore the burly man who lumbered in and sat next to him.

"You're not real," Tyler finally told Bob.

Bob looked hurt and befuddled. "Sir, I am as real as I ever was, sir."

Tyler sighed, slouched in his seat, and tried tofind a calm place. But when he looked over, Bob was still there.

"Good morning, Tyler. How are you feeling?" Susan came back in, and smiled, then looked concerned as she saw Tyler's depression. "Why don't we go back to my office."

Numbly, Tyler nodded and followed along.

"I'm in trouble," he began.

Bob entered as well, standing at attention next to the door.

"Are you sick?" he asked, unable to imagine why else Tyler would be in this room.

"What's going on with you. Tell me." Susan sat down in her usual chair, and watched him carefully. "New symptoms, or reoccurence of old ones?"

Tyler flailed. "That. Him. By the door. He's been following me around, and he's dead, so ... I'm losing it again."

Bob simply listened, head cocked.

Susan quickly glanced toward the door in concern, then back to Tyler. "Deep breaths. And tell me who is following you. Is this someone real? Someone who actually died?" she asked gently.

"Oh, I actually died," Bob volunteered proudly, turning to show his wound again. "See? I got shot and they buried me right in the back yard. I was a martyr for Project Mayhem."

Tyler writhed deeper into his chair. "His name is Bob," he hurredly explained. "He's kind of a big sweet lug. He was ... involved with Project Mayhem and got shot on a mission. For me. Because he believed in me."

"And now he's back."

"That wasn't in the files," Susan said very quietly. "I see." She was silent for a long moment, then said, "This isn't consistent with your illness, Tyler. Tell me more. When did he first appear? Were you thinking about anything in particular?" She studied him. "And if you're up to it... tell me about the mission."

"Someone who isn't here is talking to me again and how is that not consistent?" Tyler asked. "I need more pills. Everything you have."

Restless, he rose from his hair and started to pace. "He showed up in the library yesterday. I was just ... nothing. It was Monday, I was working, I was reading a magazine. And then he came in."

"It was a mission to destroy corporate art. He ... the police came. He got shot."

Tyler was quiet for a moment. "I wasn't there. I wasn't there, and they brought him back to my house, and ... I let them bury him. I knew it was wrong, but they buried him-"

"The first rule of Project Mayhem is-" Bob piped up. Tyler turned to him, half in tears.

"SHUT UP! I know the fucking rules."

"Tyler, focus on me." Susan stood up and took him by the shoulders, very carefully, watching him. "This person was real, he's not part of your personality. You've never hallucinated anyone but your alter-ego before. If we were anywhere else, I would agree with you, but this island is strange. It could be something more than your illness at work here." She sighed quietly. "When you say you weren't there-- you weren't on the mission? Or your other self was?"

Tyler shook his head. "It was near the end, when he was in charge so often. I woke up late and was just sort of walking around. I got drunk because I missed him." The tears were flowing now. "I got into an argument with his- my- girlfriend-thing. And then they were bringing his body back."

"This island is fucked up," he sighed. "Seriously you don't see anything? He's right-" Tyler pointed to the door. Almost unnoticeably, Bob had faded out of the room. "He was right there."

"I don't. But that isn't any confirmation of anything, Tyler." She put an arm around his shoulders, and guided him back to the couch, then pulled out a box of Kleenex from a shelf under the table. "I believe you, I know you saw him. And as I said: this isn't consistent with your past illness. Without an outside trigger, I'm leaning toward the idea that this is something else. Not just you."

After a moment, she asked, "Tell me about Bob? How did you-- and your shadow-- meet him?"

Tyler started going through Kleenex like he was trying to personally deplete a forest or two.

"Support group," he said. "Testicular cancer. Did I tell you about that little fascination?"

"No. You mentioned a support group, but not what it was for." And she should have asked. Mentally giving herself a wrist slap for missing that, Susan said, "So Bob was ill? Or recovering from being ill. And he joined your group. The Fight Club."

Tyler nodded. "It didn't exactly mattter what it was for. I went to them all. People would listen, there. Not that I ever said that much."

"And yeah. He was in remission." He sniffled. "And he trusted me, and he ended up dead."

Susan handed him another Kleenex. "I won't say you don't bear some responsibility. You know you do. I will say that even though Bob was in a vulnerable state, he had the wherewithal to make his own choices. If he chose to commit robbery, and chose to follow you-- those were for his own reasons. Leadership is not tyranny, or slavery. Even misguided, criminal leadership." She watched Tyler for a couple moments, then said, "Do you miss the support groups? Or are things different for you here at school? Do you feel like people listen?"

"Kind of?" Tyler said, trying to focus on the new topic. "I guess."

He bit his lip. "This girl Dawn listened to me tell her the whole thing and didn't run away screaming. And I guess I can talk to River."

"I'm glad." Susan cocked her head, then got up, and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. "There has to be a way to confirm or deny Bob's presence. Beyond your own mind." She frowned. "Do you know Jenny Calendar? She's teaching magic this summer."

Tyler shook his head, mute.

"She, or someone like her, might be able to set your mind at rest. About whether this is a hallucination-- or something else." She gave him the bottle of water after opening it. "Drink this. Replace some of the fluids you lost." She sighed, watching him. "How do you feel now?"

"Horrible," Tyler answered honestly. "But I can manage."

he gulped down some water.

"I want you to call me if-- after talking to someone about magic-- this isn't explained. Please. Let me know if it *is* a more serious symptom, within 24 hours. You have my voicemail. I'm trusting you to handle this, Tyler. I know you want to preserve your privacy. Just get back to me, okay?"

"I'll call," Tyler promised, a little dazed. "I should go."

She sighed. "We'll talk more about this later. When you feel better. Call me tomorrow, Tyler."

"I will," Tyler promised, and turned to leave.

FH Clinic (6/27)

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