Falling Into Place

by Scott Young

  While she was away her parents grew farther apart, legally separating over a year before Jill finished her studies at Ithaca. After graduating magna cum laude, Jill decided to go back to Stonybrook for her doctoral studies, mostly so she could be closer to her mother. While never diagnosed, Jill firmly believed her mother had suffered a nervous breakdown after David’s suicide. Claire was a mere shadow of her former vibrant self. Mrs. Musik had systematically stopped doing all the things she once loved: gardening, lunch with the girls and days at the beach, among other things. Most of Claire’s friends had moved on after numerous failed attempts to reconnect with her. She hardly left the house these days except to go grocery shopping or for various doctor appointments. Her mother’s situation was such a concern for Jill that after one year she decided to move back home while she continued working on her thesis.

  During those years in graduate school, perhaps due in part to living in that house again, Jill had a somewhat schizophrenic personality. She went through periods of both out-of-control partying and laser-focused studying. As more and more aspects of her life seemed out of her control, Jill reverted back to her natural proclivity for defying any and all authority. After all that had happened to her, she once again began questioning everything, no longer willing to accept whatever life gave her. She took it upon herself to question every rule or regulation put forth by the university, pushing boundaries at every opportunity.

  As in her youth, once more she needed to know the reason why things were done the way they were. If that reason wasn’t good enough for her, she sought to change the status quo, by any means necessary. Whenever Jill did begin one of these campaigns, her parents’ old mantra: “do the right thing and the world will take care of you” would play on a loop in her head. Lord, how she hated those words now. Didn’t David do the right thing? Didn’t he? The world sure didn’t take care of him. Each time she thought of that simplistic, trite platitude, and how she had believed it all those years, she got sick to her stomach. Jill vowed to be true to her own voice, to do what she thought was right and to hell with anyone who disagreed.

  Due to the notoriety she achieved with her anarchistic ways, Jill had a great many friends and lovers, all of whom adored her free- wheeling, uninhibited attitude. Inevitably, these good time friends and temporary paramours got left behind a few weeks later when she switched gears, returning to her hyper-studious demeanor. This somewhat dysfunctional cycle continued unabated through her doctoral dissertation, causing quite a few hurt feelings and many a young man’s heart to break. Despite her bizarre behavior, Jill was well-liked by her fellow doctoral candidates, just as she’d always been growing up. She eventually earned the nickname “Elevator” Musik, due to her “up and down” personality. Most classmates and friends spent her final year calling her Ellie or Vator.

  After earning her doctorate, Jill began working at several VA hospitals on Long Island, while continuing to live with and care for her mother. She spent more and more of her time at the hospitals, giving therapy to returning military personnel and other veterans in need, but it didn’t seem like enough. Needing to do more, to raise the public awareness of the devastating effects of PTSD, Jill started posting her thoughts and feelings online in a blog called Nurturing Valor. After only 6 months, she had over one hundred and thirty thousand followers as well as major magazines and newspapers linking to her blogposts, including Stars and Stripes and The New York Times. She also wrote articles and editorials for other publications, which garnered her guest appearances on local news programs and podcasts around the country. Jill felt that if her words and message could help even one person avoid the pain her family suffered, it would all be worth it.

  All her hard work and determination brought Jill to the attention of the National Defense Support Administration, a very specialized government agency. The agents of the NDSA were used exclusively in support of The Power Elite, America’s only government- sanctioned superhero team. The super team formed spontaneously 4 years earlier, when it’s various members came together to save New York’s South Street Seaport from an attack by the legions of The Crimson Barracuda, an undersea eco-terrorist. Even before the battle was over the members of the team, Achilles, Eris, Bolt, Seraph and Ambrosia, were instant celebrities, trending on all social media. As the public demanded more information about them, the media feeding frenzy went into overdrive. These heroes were the lead story for weeks, with every sighting or tidbit of information creating days of new headlines.

  The government quickly realized how valuable such a team could be in protecting the nation from dangers both foreign and domestic. After an exhaustive vetting, Congress passed The Power Elite Amendment, a unanimous, bi-partisan bill that recognized the team as a new, independent law enforcement agency. It also gave all five members high-level security clearance. The National Defense Support Administration was created to help the team both during and after their numerous, high impact battles by coordinating and facilitating evacuations, crowd control and clean up, among other duties. A toll-free hotline was created to field and prioritize the hundreds of emergency calls coming in from around the globe, dealing with everything from cats stuck in trees to exploding volcanoes. To date, there were over two hundred NDSA agents working around the clock to assist the heroes whenever duty called them into action.

  Dr. Musik was offered a job in the agency’s aftercare unit, giving therapy to agents who took part in any of the team’s high-risk missions. Feeling this was the natural extension of the work she was already doing, Jill jumped at the chance to make a lasting difference through her participation with the NDSA. Thanks to assistance from the agency and a generous advance, she was able to provide in-home care for her mother, making it possible to move to Washington, DC, for her new position. This was a dream come true and the good doctor reveled in every aspect of her new situation, from finding an apartment to furnishing her office. It was the first real happiness Jill had experienced in a long time. Even though she’d spent the last few weeks feeling better than she had since David’s passing, Jill desperately tried not to listen to the voice in her head saying it was all too good to be true.

  Please don’t let the voice be right, she thought to herself as she stared at the pistol shaking in her patient’s grasp.

  “Please, Agent Meadows, you know it’s against protocol to bring your weapon into our sessions,” the therapist said, still desperately trying to maintain her composure.

  “What does it matter anymore? Nothing matters now! Don’t you see that?” the patient screamed as he made his way to the door, locking it. “Just stay there, Doc. Don’t move! I don’t want to hurt you but someone has to hear what I have to say!” Jill remained perfectly still, her mind racing, searching for a way to calm him down without inciting violence.

  Agent Meadows then moved the couch in front of the door before hurrying to the windows to shut the blinds. The disturbed man ran his hands across the window sills, under the desk top and looked in the potted plants Jill had bought to liven up the place.

  He kept gazing around the room, constantly jerking his head back and forth, looking for something that wasn’t there. The agent was frantic and sweating profusely, his eyes wide and ever vigilant against whatever perceived threat his mind had created. He touched his face and head repeatedly, as if trying to wipe out bad memories from his mind without success. For the briefest of moments, he looked bewildered, as if unsure where he was and what he was doing. He looked around cautiously before snapping back into his highly agitated state, rubbing his head once more.

  Even if Jill hadn’t spent the better part of the last 7 years studying the effects of PTSD, she could’ve easily recognized the distress signs in the man before her. She’d seen enough angry outbursts, hypervigilance and difficulty concentrating during David’s struggles to understand Agent Meadows was a man on the edge. The doctor knew if she couldn’t find a way to help him right now, there was no telling what he could do, to her or to himself. Dr. Musik waited until h
e turned in her direction and very slowly raised her hands, palms out.

  “Agent Meadows, Darrell, please sit down and let’s talk about what’s bothering you,” she said in an even, calm tone, her eyes full of compassion. “After all, that is why you’re here, isn’t it? To tell me what’s going on?”

  “Yes! Yes!” the agent replied, taking a step toward her. Suddenly, he stopped as he clutched his head, grimacing as if experiencing a sharp pain. He blinked rapidly and wiped the sweat from his brow with his left arm. “No! I can’t involve you! I can’t!” After a few moments his face softened as he dropped his gaze to the floor. “I should’ve have come in here. I’m sorry, Dr. Musik.”

  His face was a mixture of sadness and serenity, like a death row inmate who’d finally accepted his fate.

  “I’m afraid sorry isn’t good enough, Agent!” Jill said forcefully, startling the agent. The therapist was desperate enough to try something radical. Meadows instantly looked repentant, lowering the arm holding the gun so it was now pointing at the floor. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time so sit down now and let’s get on with it!”

  “Yes, of course. I’m sorry,” he said softly, quickly taking a seat across from her. Jill maintained an annoyed countenance, trying not to look at the pistol, as she wondered what could’ve happened to make the agent so distraught. Before taking Darrell Meadows on as a patient, Dr. Musik had done her homework on the man. He was a four time decorated soldier serving multiple tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan during his military career. She knew he was as steady and dependable as a person could be, always putting the lives of civilians and his fellow soldiers before his own. It was unnerving to see a man of this caliber reduced to his current state. Whatever was affecting him like this, Jill needed to help him get through it, to show this heroic man he wasn’t alone in the world. She decided to get him talking and hope for the best.

  “You were just about to tell me about your last mission, so why don’t you start with that?” Dr. Musik said.

  Agent Meadows stared off into space, his mouth agape. “The mission, yes. That’s when everything changed, when I learned the truth.”

  “Truth? What do you –?” Jill started to say before she was interrupted by pounding on her office door.

  “Dr. Musik! Dr. Musik, are you all right?” a man yelled through the door. “This is Sec-1, Agent Markham speaking! What is your status, Doctor?”

  “No, no, no, no. They’re here already,” Agent Meadows said forlornly, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes began to water.

  “Take it easy, Darrell. I’ll handle this. Just take a deep breath and try to stay calm,” Dr. Musik said, beginning to stand. “Everything is fi –”

  Agent Meadows reached out and grabbed her with a speed she’d never seen before. He quickly stood behind her, gripping her in a vise-like embrace with his left arm around her torso, pinning her arms at her sides. His strength was incredible. Darrell Meadow looked like a football star, standing at 6’4” and 220 pounds of solid muscle with a thick neck and broad shoulders. He had features that reminded her of a young Lenny Kravitz, except with darker skin and a military-issue haircut. The agent had a three-inch scar above his left eyebrow she assumed he got during combat, but they hadn’t covered that in session yet.

  Jill began to panic in his grip, struggling to break free, but that just made him increase the pressure. The pounding on the door stopped abruptly, giving her a feeling of impending doom. Time seemed to slow down. She could feel the heat coming off the agent’s face as Meadows put his mouth close to her ear. He whispered so softly she could barely hear him over the sound of her own heart beating like a trip hammer. “I realize you don’t understand. How could you?” he said with such calmness it scared the doctor. “I know this seems odd but I’m not crazy, Dr. Musik. No matter what happens here, remember to look beyond the smoke screen, to keep your eyes open. Please, I know you will see it like I did.”

  Without warning, the door to her office exploded inward. Through a haze of smoke and swirling debris, half a dozen agents streamed into the room, throwing the couch and other pieces of furniture to the side. They were all armed with “Zappers,” high tech stun guns used by the agency’s security team. Jill’s two-week orientation included a full briefing on the weapons, so she knew they weren’t pleasant. However, they did incapacitate without killing. Thank goodness for small favors.

  “Ask yourself, how did they know what was happening in here, what I was doing?” Meadows whispered, as tears streamed down his cheeks. “How did they get here so fast? How?”

  “Wha – ?” Jill began as the men approached cautiously.

  “Just remember, they are always watching. Always listening. Keep your eyes open, Doctor,” Meadows whispered, before shoving Dr. Musik toward the nearest Sec-1 agent and putting the pistol to his right temple. He closed his eyes tightly, his finger on the trigger.

  Jill spun around screaming, “No! Darrell please, don’t! Don’t do it!”

  Agent Meadows hesitated, opening his eyes as he locked his gaze on Jill. A second later, 5 Zapper rounds struck him in the chest causing him to convulse and collapse to the floor in a spasmodic heap, urine spreading through the front of his pants.

  “Let go of me! Let go! He’s my patient, he needs my help!” Jill screamed, trying to get to her fallen patient, but to no avail as the agent restraining her maintained his tight grip.

  “Please, Dr. Musik, that will be enough,” came a gravelly voice from behind Jill. “There is no need for these histrionics.”

  The voice belonged to General Leland DeVane, decorated war hero, former Secretary of Defense and current Director of the NDSA. He strode into the office like he owned the place, surveying the scene as he brushed past the security agents. He stood 6’ 3” tall, with a barrel chest and a rigid demeanor. Despite his advancing years, General DeVane looked like he could run a 5K marathon and still win a street fight immediately after. His narrow eyes, chiseled features and gruff exterior conjured up images of Clint Eastwood or Charlton Heston in their later years. This was a man who exuded confidence, possessed with a clarity of certitude that few others could match.

  “Markham!” DeVane barked.

  “Yes, sir!” The head of Sec-1 responded almost before the General had finished saying his name.

  “Take Meadows to the infirmary and get maintenance up here to take care of Dr. Musik’s door and the rest of this mess. I want it completed within the hour!” the Director said, before turning to the agent holding Jill. “I think the danger has passed, Agent... Ridgeway, is it?”

  “Yes, Sir, General DeVane, Sir. Agent William Ridgeway, Sir,” the agent stammered.

  “Then release Dr. Musik immediately!” the General bellowed. Agent Ridgeway complied instantly, retreating to assist the other agents carrying Darrell Meadows out of the room. Jill straightened her clothing, a little embarrassed to be meeting the Director this way. She took two steps toward him but he purposely turned his back to her, again scanning the room from side to side.

  The therapist stopped, somewhat put off by the General’s rudeness, then finished adjusting her skirt, before saying quietly, “I’m sorry, sir. I should have seen this coming.”

  “Nonsense!” DeVane said, gesturing emphatically but still not turning toward her. “You’re to be commended for your actions here today, Doctor. Agent Meadows is obviously a deeply troubled individual and you’ve seen him, what, two times? There was no way you could have predicted this in such a short time. This is not on you, Dr. Musik.”

  Jill managed a half smile, “I still think I should have done more to help him.”

  DeVane continued to look around the room, intently watched the Sec-1 agents performing their various duties, ever watchful for any breach of protocol, as he half-heartedly said, “You helped diffuse a very difficult situation here today. Kudos to you, Doctor.”

  The therapist purposely walked into the General’s line of vision before saying, “I’d like to know what will
happen to Agent Meadows now, sir. I’d like to schedule a follow-up session as soon as possible.”

  “You’d like –?” DeVane started to say angrily before stopping himself. He took a deep breath and smiled. It seemed like a totally unnatural act for him, making his face look more contorted than congenial. “Agent Meadows will be treated in our emergency care unit, Doctor. The health and well-being of our agents is always our highest priority here at the NDSA. These brave young men and women deserve nothing less than that.” DeVane pivoted away from her once more.

  It sounded like he was reading talking points from a pre-approved script during a committee meeting or congressional hearing. Even so, Jill felt it was a less-than-award-winning performance, said with little to no conviction or earnestness. Simply put, he was blowing her off and no matter who he was, she wasn’t going to roll over that easily when a patient needed her help.

  Dr. Musik swallowed hard and said, “General DeVane, sir, I believe I could offer a great many insights into Agent Meadows’ condition. I want to be a part of his continued treatment.”

  “Dr. Musik...” the director began, through gritted teeth, “...I understand that you are new to the NDSA so perhaps you don’t yet understand how we do things. I’m willing to give you a pass on that, but you should know this agency is run in a military fashion.” He turned toward Jill with rage in his eyes. “There is a chain of command and let me assure you, beyond any shadow of a doubt, that I am at the top of that chain, Doctor!” DeVane got right in her face, leaning over so they were almost nose to nose, causing the woman to recoil instinctively, each word getting louder and more belligerent as he continued, “In fact the only person who gets to tell me what he wants is the God damned President of these United States!”

  “But...” Jill started before being cut off.

  “Agent Meadows is no longer your concern, Doctor! The quicker you accept that fact, the quicker you can get back to doing the work we brought you here to do!” the General barked out before striding to the door, stopping just before the now-empty frame. “Markham!” he shouted as the head agent scurried over. The Director pointed toward the doorway as he said, “Check the doorway for sharp edges or hazardous materials, Agent. We wouldn’t want the good doctor to hurt herself.”