Munchkins

Ty gives a little smirk and lifts his eyes to the sign that Libby was pointing at. "Kinda looks funny to me." He shrugs. "Doesn't look much different, Libby. I can see far away and up close just fine. If I was trying to read numbers, it wouldn't make any difference what distance it was."

Sighing, he shakes his head and looks back down at the table, thinking for a long moment. "Maybe... there's something wrong with me, ya know?" He holds up his hands quickly, knowing she would get after him. "I'm not talking stupid, okay? I may feel like it sometimes, but I know somewhere I'm not stupid. But... this just isn't seeming to help."

His fingers pick up a napkin to play with. "Maybe this is something I just can't do... maybe my brain just... I don't know... has a short in it somewhere or something." He looks to the tinted menu again and bites his lip, pondering the whole thing before glancing back to Libby. "Maybe it's time we just moved on."


Scott is quiet for the longest time before turning back around to look at Hope. He didn't understand how he'd gotten here or why this was happening. He was frustrated and felt like he was being caged up. Why would he want the person who brought him here, in on his session? Then again, maybe if she saw how miserable he was, maybe she would find a way to get him back out again. He shrugs. "Fine. If you-"

"Knock knock." Jenny's sweet voice rings out as she pokes her head in the door. She smiles at Scott, then notices Hope, smiling at her, too. "Dr. Hawks is down in his office," she informs. "Would you like to go talk to him now? I know it's early, but he said if you wanted to come now you could, since you were going to skip eating."

Scott sighs. "Sure. Whatever." He looks lamely at Hope. "Guess you got your way."

Jenny backs into the hall and waits for both Hope and Scott to lead them back downstairs and through a hall to where a comfortable office was. Dr. Hawks was behind a desk and there were several chairs around and a couch. Photographs of scenery hung on the walls and the atmosphere was warm and cheery. "Hello, Scott. Why, hello, Dr. Garrison." He nods, not questioning her presence. For the first time meeting with Scott, he didn't mind, and maybe Scott would be more comfortable with Hope here anyway...


...Dr. Hawks leans back in his chair, taking his time with Scott. So far the questions had been very light without any pressure and more boredom was happening than anything else. "Scott..." He jots down a note on his pad of paper. "Can you describe how you feel in one word?"

Scott's eyes narrow slightly as he slouches in his chair. "Are you asking me if I would, or if I'm capable?"

Though it was obvious which one, Dr. Hawks doesn't bat an eye. "Would you?"

"Methodical."

Now Dr. Hawks looks up, not sure how to take that one. "Methodical. Okay. Why that word?"

"Because I'm strategically planning how to behave around my so-called friends from now on so they don't stab me in the back again."

Dr. Hawks lets an awkward pause follow. "That statement makes me think you're pretty upset."

"Wanna trade places and find out for yourself?"

"At least I'd be surrounded by people who care."

"Or people who just wanna make a buck off of the loonies."

Dr. Hawks folds his hands on his desk. "Do you miss your house?"

"No, I miss my home."

"Your friends?"

"What friends?"

Dr. Hawks purses his lips at Scott's bitter tone. It wasn't surprising, but still sad. These surface questions weren't going to get them anywhere though - that much was obvious. Dr. Hawks sensed the anger in Scott and knew that his problems ran deep. It was only the first day, but he needed to find out where Scott stood and where the pressure points were so they could work their way up. He knew a little bit from Hope and Reese so he decided to start probing, even though it was earlier than he wanted. On some patients, he would wait to hit a nerve, but he needed to see where Scott hurt the most.

"What do you dream about at night, Scott?"

Scott can feel his nerves immediately heighten and his fingers grip the arm of his chair. He refuses to look at Hope. She'd been there when he'd had a nightmare. She had seen how severe they were. "Clouds."

"Clouds."

"Yeah, you know, the white puffy kind. Well, sometimes they're kinda thin and wispy."

Dr. Hawks glances to Hope, knowing Scott was being dishonest. He clears his throat. "Okay. Are there ever people in your dreams?"

"Munchkins."

Dr. Hawks blinks. "Do you interact with these... munchkins?"

"Sure. We sing songs and dance around a yellow brick road."

Dr. Hawks finally sighs and sets his pen down. "Okay, Scott. Why don't you want to talk to me? Why won't you tell me the truth?"

Scott's voice develops a cold chill. "Because you might need to be committed afterward."

The sudden change in tone makes Dr. Hawks more curious. "Try me."

"No."

A chord had been struck. "Come on. Give me your best shot."

"No."

"One dream. Describe it for me."

"No!" Scott stands from his chair. The haunting pictures were already starting to come to mind.

"Okay, okay." Dr. Hawks holds up his hands. "Relax. We're not going to talk about anything you don't want to."

"Every time you drag me in here, it will be about what I don't want," Scott hisses. He leans down, placing his hands on Dr. Hawks' desk. "There are things running through my mind that would make your skin crawl. I've got enough trouble at night, I don't need my days ruined, too!" His palm slams down onto the desk, making everything rattle. "So either let me go, lock me up, or send me away. I was held prisoner once... I don't intend to be again." Spinning around, he stalks out of the room, slamming the door on his way.

Dr. Hawks lets out a long sigh, pursing his lips in thought. he looks to Hope, contemplating this episode. "You know, when I read what you and Reese gave me, I would have though Scott would be more passive... more scared and timid, and that's how he was last night. But this... He's got quite a little stronghold of anger inside of him. Have you seen this kind of behavior with him recently?"


...Scott slams shut his own door and goes to flop down on his bed, hugging his pillow tightly. Tears wanted to come, but he held them back. He had to live through his nightmares while he tried to sleep, why were they forcing him to think about them during the day too? Couldn't he have a few hours of relief? Did they want to make him even more crazy?

Scrunching his eyes shut tight, his blind eye burns, but he ignores it. He had drops to ease the pain but he lets it go this time. The pain felt good... it distracted from his inner pain.