You've Only Just Arrived (a Tom Hiddleston fan fiction)

Part 60

Promises made are promises kept. Particularly the promises you've made. Particularly because of the ones you made them to... That's why you're seated in a slightly under-stuffed chair reading the diplomas on the wall that speak to all her qualifications. But the point of going to see a psychiatrist was to actually talk and listen to a psychiatrist – which you aren't exactly doing at the moment. Oops.

"—a big step to open up to someone new. Anything you share will only exist in this room, unless it is something that causes me to fear for your safety." That makes your attention pull from the diplomas on the wall behind her to focus on her face. Susan blinks back at you – she's insisted upon Susan rather than anything more formal – her demeanor steady despite the fact that you clearly weren't listening before. "We can talk about anything you want. Yes, I was hired specifically to help you deal with the more recent trauma you've endured but I don't want you to feel forced in any way."

The corner of your mouth twitches at the statement, considering you have two bodyguards sitting in the waiting room beyond and the fact that you'd essentially been barred from work until after the completion of this appointment. No, there's no feeling of being forced here at all.

Susan is doing the same thing everyone else is – talking with purpose, choosing her words as though you might fracture with the wrong word choice. So far the panic attacks have only been triggered by visual stimuli. Hopefully you can get your mind sorted before the base of triggers expands. Right now she's waiting for you to offer her a way in, one that you've not yet given her.

"If, for any reason, you're uncomfortable with me speaking with me in particular – I can arrange for you to talk to someone else?"

You shake your head. That will just delay you getting back to work. "No... This is fine." You shift in your seat, trying to make yourself more comfortable. Maybe if you weren't ready to launch yourself up and out of your chair you'd be able to open up to her, "I just, I don't know where to begin."

"And that's ok. It's a start."

Richard and Bruce had drawn the mind numbing task of waiting for you for the duration of the session – they seem ever so ready to leave when you reemerge from Susan's office. You've got another appointment booked for a week from now. Hopefully the gesture of good faith will get the studio to allow you to come back. Your luck, they'll probably insist on biweekly visits. What a mess that will make of the shooting schedule.

Even from what little you admitted to, Susan had developed some concerns. She wanted to push further when you mentioned the fact that you weren't sleeping well – wanting to know if it was restlessness or dreams that were the root of the problem – but you'd gotten so tense that she left it for another time. What a fun way to spend 90 minutes.

Bruce tries for banter on the ride back home but your mind is stuck reexamining the session. In trying for reassuring, Susan had said something about your symptoms potentially leveling out after a few weeks. A few weeks. Can you survive a few weeks of feeling hungry but then being unable to eat once you have food before you? Or the exhaustion that has plagued you? You rub at your calf, trying to ease the pinch of your muscles – the result of how rigidly you'd been sitting. A few weeks of this seems absolutely unbearable.

The first thing you notice when you walk in the door is that Tom and John have rearranged the furniture in the living room to block out space to run lines. John is seated – the loveseat and coffee table pushed back to the far wall of the room – while Tom is standing in the middle of the clearing, his hands held behind his back to hide the pages from view. He looks a bit pale – from exertion from the scene? Usually that would cause his cheeks and the back of his neck to tinge a bit pink... Has he looked this way all week?