Work Text:
It takes three sessions with Dr. Franklin before Bad Alex even speaks to him. The third day he's in the hospital, Bad Alex walks into Franklin’s office and throws himself on the couch. He practically collapses, laying down and facing the back cushions. Franklin greets him like always, like him being here isn't ordered and resisting just means more drugs.
Franklin calls him Cody and Bad Alex can't stand it. He curls in on himself and shuts his eyes. Maybe he can get a nap in this time. But he feels Franklin’s eyes on his back and he squirms. It's twenty minutes into the silent session when Bad Alex finally breaks.
“Why do you do this?” He asks. He hears Franklin stop writing in his notebook.
“Do what?” Franklin’s voice is quiet, but hard. He matches Bad Alex’s volume, and somehow that’s comforting.
“Sit in here in silence with me.” Bad Alex drags his fingertips against the woven couch cushion. “You’re supposed to be a therapist, right? Make me talk about my ‘problems.’” He makes little air quotes around the word ‘problems,’ as if Franklin can see them where Bad Alex has them curled by his chest.
“Well, first, I am a psychiatrist, not a therapist.” Bad Alex hears him shift in his seat but doesn’t turn around. “But, for you, I am acting as one for now.”
“Same difference then,” Bad Alex mutters. Franklin coughs.
“There is a difference, but it doesn’t matter,” Franklin explains. “As for why I am sitting in silence with you, I already told you during our first session. These appointments are about you, we will do whatever you want to do. If that is to sit in silence, that is exactly what we’ll do Cody.”
“Then can you call me Alexander?” Bad Alex asks. Franklin lets out a little chuckle.
“Okay, perhaps there is one thing we won’t do.”
Bad Alex curls farther in on himself. “Fuck you,” he says. Franklin’s laughter dies immediately.
The rest of the session is silent.
------------
When Alexander goes back to work on Monday, he is raring to go, to find Thomas at his office and tear him a new one. He’s got a plan. First, a speech. He’s got it planned out, practiced it in the mirror last night and it times out to be thirty-four minutes exactly. Second, he’s going to give Thomas exactly ten minutes to say whatever he wants to say. Third, Alexander is going to shut down whatever Thomas says. Fourth, Alexander is going to punch Thomas in the face.
The problem with his plan is that Thomas isn’t at work on Monday, and neither is James. When Alexander asks Washington about it, his boss shrugs and says that both men called in sick. He asks around but no one says any different, not even Burr.
Alexander feels like ants are crawling in his skin. He had been all prepared but his rage has nowhere to go now. It doesn’t take long for the entire office to know something is up. Everyone starts eyeing Alexander like they want to approach him, see if he’s okay, but are all too afraid the anger boiling his blood would be turned on them.
Only Burr says anything. It’s a quick question asked over the photocopier towards the end of the day. “What’s got you so jumpy, Hamilton?”
Alexander grits his jaw, shakes his head, and grabs the papers he had been printing.
When he goes home for the night, he has to scream his speech into a pillow to calm himself down enough. He can practically feel his blood pressure rising. Having a heart attack is not going to help anything.
Thomas will be at work tomorrow.
------------
Thomas does not go work on Tuesday either. James does, not for very long though. He goes, picks up everything pressing on either of their desks and brings it back home. James has to force Thomas to sit up in bed, let alone eat or do any work.
All Thomas wants to do is lie back down and sleep. When he’s asleep, he’s not presented with the reality and consequences of his mistakes. But here James is, keeping him awake, practically force-feeding Thomas soup and getting him to sign things that James had filled out for him.
“Alexander cornered me in the copy room,” James says, pushing another paper at Thomas. “Asked me how you were.”
“How?” Thomas asks, sloppily adding his signature to the bottom of a page and handing it back. He doesn’t even bother reading it.
“Yeah, he wanted to make sure you weren’t dead before he told me that you’re a living sack of shit and you better get your ass to work so he doesn’t have to break into your house to give you a piece of his mind.” James folds the papers into an envelope, seemingly nonplussed by what he’s saying. “I’m paraphrasing, of course.”
“Of course,” Thomas mutters. He rubs at his eyes and scoots back under the covers. His head hits the pillow and he screws his eyes shut. James sighs.
“Thomas, you should go into work,” he says. “Or at least get out of bed. Lying around in self-pity isn’t going to help or fix anything.”
“Who says this is self-pity?” Thomas asks, voice muffled through the blankets he’s drawn around his head.
“What is it then?” James counters.
Thomas doesn’t have an answer.
-------------
Bad Alex starts to see his life in terms of his sessions with Dr. Franklin. The nurses won’t let him out of his room except to see Franklin so he unintentionally starts looking forward to them.
Session five.
They sit in silence for a few minutes, but this time Bad Alex doesn’t curl up on the couch. He’s getting a little physically antsy from being in bed all day.
“Dr. Franklin?”
If Franklin is surprised Bad Alex is speaking, he doesn’t show it.
“Yes, Cody?”
Bad Alex hides the wince, but he still shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He coughs, and speaks without looking up.
“...how much do you know about me and Thomas?”
“Nothing. Who is Thomas?”
“...never mind.”
Session Six.
“Thomas is my boyfriend.”
Bad Alex says it almost as soon as the door to Franklin’s office is shut. Franklin turns around and smiles at him. “Your boyfriend?” His voice is kind, unjudging, unlike the way Bad Alex’s parents sound when they talk about Thomas. Bad Alex nods.
“I love him,” Bad Alex says. He needs to get that out in the air first. Franklin just nods and grabs his notebook and starts to write.
“How long have you been with him?” Franklin asks. Bad Alex smiles at the ground.
“Five months and a few weeks.”
“And you love him?” Bad Alex nods. “Why?”
Bad Alex blinks, looks up at Franklin and really looks at the man for the first time. He’s slightly pudgy with silver hair and glasses. The question takes him aback. “Why?” He repeats, not understanding.
“Why do you love him?” Franklin asks.
“Because he’s my boyfriend and I love him,” Bad Alex replies. It’s the simplest thing in the word, to him at least. Franklin purses his lips.
“Yes, but what about him makes you love him.”
Bad Alex has to pause and think for a lot longer than he thinks he should.
Session seven
“...Mom and Dad don’t understand. They think he’s a horrible man. But they’ve never really been supportive of me being gay anyway so I bet if Thomas was a girl they’d agree with me. They’d be okay with it.”
“Your parents are still in town, correct?” Franklin taps his pen against his chin. Bad Alex nods.
“I keep telling them to go home, that I’m fine, but they won’t listen. Won’t call me Alex either.” Bad Alex scratches at the back of his neck. His hair is finally getting long enough that he doesn’t miss his wig anymore. His hair always grew pretty fast, but now he’s trying to figure out how to get someone to let him color his hair brown.
Franklin hums to himself. “Is there anyone who does call you Alex?”
“Alex, the original Alex, did once or twice. But that was just to get me in here. I call myself B- Alex.” Bad Alex catches himself just in time. He hopes Franklin didn’t catch his slip, biting his lip and waiting for the next question.
“Balex?” Franklin asks. Bad Alex winces and practically bites through his lip. He pulls his knees up to his chest and refuses to speak. “Cody?” Franklin prompts.
“Bad Alex,” Bad Alex mutters into his knees. “I’m the Bad Alex.”
Franklin flips a page of his notebook and readies a fresh page.
“And why do you call yourself that?”
------------
Alexander goes to work the second Monday after the Cody Incident and stops short in the parking lot when he sees Thomas’ car there. He scowls, but internally he’s excited. He’s been waiting to see the miserable fuck for days now. By the time he reaches the office door, Alexander realizes he’s slipped back into his old military posture, ready to go into battle.
The door swings open and instantly all eyes are on him. People know. They all know something’s about to go down. He pretends he doesn’t notice that most of the people in the lobby follow him past the receptionist. If they want to watch, they can. Alexander doesn’t mind.
The receptionist stops him momentarily, only to say “He’s in the break room.” Alexander doesn’t question why Dolores knows that Thomas is in the break room, he’s just glad she does. He gives her a nod and starts heading down the hallway. There’s a small crowd of people following him and he can’t help but be proud of it for some reason.
Alexander throws open the break room door and there are people gathered here too, including Burr and James. The room, once filled with mutters and laughter, goes silent as everyone realizes that Alexander is here and shit is about to hit the fan.
Thomas has his back to the door, hunched over the coffee machine. Alexander can see how tight his shoulders are, Thomas’ hand is frozen in the air above the creamers and that’s how Alexander knows that Thomas knows he has arrived. In the silence, Alexander walks up behind Thomas. His shoes thud against the floor and it’s the only noise in the room besides the water cooler. He stops a few feet from Thomas and waits. He sees Thomas take a deep breath, and then the taller man slowly turns around.
For a second, they stare at each other. Alexander’s hands curl into fists and Thomas looks like he’s a few seconds away from vomiting right here, right now. Alexander takes a deep, shuddering breath, and opens his mouth to speak. The first words of his speech are on the tip of his tongue: I have never met a man I so grossly misjudged before in my life. Thomas visibly braces himself for it.
But they don’t come. Suddenly, Alexander’s words don’t feel right. The monologue he’s had prepared for a week now feels insufficient. So he grits his teeth instead and tries to pour every word of his speech into a single glare. He decides to skip right to step four, and he tenses his right fist. He actually pulls it back, winds up for it and even manages to slide his foot forward before he stops. This has to be the most telegraphed punch in the history of punches but Thomas isn’t moving, isn’t trying to block it or dodge. Alexander looks at his own fist, poised to strike, sighs and forcibly unclenches his fist. He lets his hand drop to his side and he looks down at the floor.
He lets out another breath, looks up at Thomas and just shakes his head. He turns on his heel, and takes a step forward. Everyone around him is staring, confused and concerned.
“Alexander,” Thomas calls, his voice hoarse.
“Don’t talk to me,” Alexander growls.
“Alexander!” Thomas tries again, but Alexander doesn’t even turn back around.
“I said don’t talk to me,” he snaps. He’s almost to the door, almost out of here but Thomas has to call for him one last time.
“Alexander!”
Alexander snaps. He spins around, feeling the rage fly into his face. “You don’t deserve to talk to me,” he roars, throwing one hand out and pointing at Thomas. “The time for you to talk to me has passed! You missed your chance. If the chance to talk to me was a piece of paper, you had it in your hands and decided to rip it to shreds!” The logical part of Alexander knows that metaphor is completely batshit nuts and doesn’t make any sense, but the logical part isn’t in control right now so Alexander’s mouth just keeps moving.
“If you wanted to talk to me, you should have done it months ago! I would have loved to talk to you! Worked everything out! Goddamn it Thomas. When I said you were the best thing that ever happened to me, I meant it. I loved you. I loved you so much it scared me. Which is no excuse for what I did, but...fuck, Thomas! Not only did you not talk to me, you did the exact fucking opposite of what you should have done! What any sane person would have done.
“And I get it. You were hurting. You didn’t know if you could talk to me. You probably didn’t want to at first, and that’s perfectly understandable. But you could have tried! Not gone out to some shitty bar and-” Alexander cuts himself off. He’s breathing hard and Thomas has started to cry. “No. Fuck you. You don’t get to cry. Don’t you fucking dare.”
There’s a muttering, and Alexander remembers that they’re not alone. Without looking away from Thomas, he raises his hands and motions around the room. “Thomas, I haven’t told anyone, anyone here what you’ve done. I want to, I want them to understand why you are the biggest piece of shit on the face of the earth. But it’s not my story to tell. It’s yours.” Alexander takes a step forward. Thomas falls against the counter, despite Alexander being nowhere near him.
“At the end of the day, Thomas, there’s just one thing I want you to know,” Alexander snarls, slowly walking towards Thomas. “If anything, anything, happens to Cody, I will never forgive you. I mean, I’m not going to forgive you anyway, but if something happens to that boy you will enter a whole new level of unforgiveness. It will be the kind of unforgiveness that leads our great-grandchildren to hate each other. The kind of unforgiveness that inspires authors to write tragedies Romeo and Juliet style. The kind of unforgiveness that nothing in this world or the next can heal. And it will be all your fault.” Alexander spits the last few words into Thomas’ face.
Alexander waits to see if there’s something, anything, Thomas is going to say but the taller man just hangs his head and looks away. Alexander stands back, gives him one last glare and leaves the break room without another word.
-------------
When Alexander slams the door behind him, Thomas sags into the counter. Every eye in the room is on him again as James tries to help him stand. He just shakes his head and pushes his friend off. He doesn’t want anyone around him, doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to be breathing anymore but he settles for only satisfying two of those urges.
“I’m going home,” he announces into the air. “I don’t feel well again.”
No one questions him on the lie as he gathers himself and walks out the door. James follows, grabs onto Thomas’ shoulder but Thomas shakes him off.
“Thomas,” James starts, but Thomas doesn’t let him get any further.
“Go away James. Leave me alone. I want to be alone,” he amends when James’ face flashes in fear and concern.
“Let me take you home,” James pleads.
“You’ve missed too much work. Stay. I can get myself home.” Thomas walks through the front lobby, keeping his eyes glued to the front door.
“Thomas.”
“James.”
“How do-” James finally steps in front of Thomas and stops him from reaching the door. “How do I know someone isn’t going to find your car in a lake?”
“Because I’m a better driver than that,” Thomas retorts. James glares. “Because I’ll text you when I’m home.”
“I still don’t think-”
“I’m going home and you’re staying here. End of discussion.” With that, Thomas pushes past his friend and out the door. He doesn’t hear footsteps following, and for that he is grateful. When he gets to his car, he slides into the driver’s seat and just sits there for a moment.
Thomas rests his head against the steering wheel and cries.
-----------
Session nine
Today Bad Alex starts the session off silent again. Which is something he hasn’t done for a couple of sessions now. He holds his face in his hands as Franklin gets settled into his chair.
“How are we today Cody?” He asks. Bad Alex inhales sharply, through his fingers. He runs his hands down his face so he can just peek over his fingertips and look at the man. There’s a beat of silence, then; “Alright. That’s how you feel today. A sharp inhale and glaring at me over his fingers.” Franklin makes a show of writing it down on his notebook and Bad Alex actually snorts a little laugh. “No, but seriously. How are you feeling?”
Bad Alex sighs. “I’m ready to go.”
“To go?” Franklin asks.
“Go home. To Thomas. Get out of this place. I don’t need to be here,” Bad Alex says, feeling like a broken record. He’s said this much to Franklin before, almost every session. Normally, Franklin would just move on from it, pick something that Bad Alex had mentioned the previous session and start from there. But today, Franklin looks at him, a very curious expression on his face. Bad Alex watches as Franklin turns a few pages back in his notebook, settling on one and clearing his throat.
“I would like to read something to you today, Cody,” he says. “It’s a list I made after a session with a client yesterday. Would you like to hear it?”
Bad Alex looks at the notebook. He had been wondering what Franklin writes down during a session. Even if it’s not about Bad Alex, he’s curious. So he nods, and settles into the couch. Franklin clears his throat.
“List of abuse examples client describes having undergone from significant other. Belittling and condescending talk. Baiting client for an emotional reaction. Emotionally blackmailing client in an attempt to ‘help’ client. Creation of client’s dependency on abuser for emotional validation. Engulfment of client, creating a relationship where only the abuser’s feelings and wellbeing matters. Unintentional gaslighting. Invalidation of client’s self-worth. Objectification of client for sexual purposes. Projection of a third party’s feelings onto client. Comparing client to abuser’s past significant others. Explosions of rage at client when provoked.” Franklin looks up at Bad Alex, and taps the notebook. “Was there anything I just said that you don’t understand?”
Bad Alex nods. “What’s gaslighting?”
“The act of making someone think they have gone insane by manipulating their reality without admitting to doing it. This client’s significant other did it unintentionally, not realizing that they were creating a scenario where the client didn’t even think their significant other existed sometimes.”
Bad Alex frowns. “What an asshole.”
“Anything else you need explained?” Franklin asks. Bad Alex shakes his head. “Good, now-” Franklin scoots forward in his chair. “-tell me Cody. Does that seem like a healthy relationship.”
“No,” Bad Alex says. “Of course not. You yourself called it abuse.”
“I did.” Franklin is watching Bad Alex carefully, though for what Bad Alex doesn’t know. “If you were to talk to that client, and they asked you for advice regarding their relationship, what would you tell them?”
“I’d tell them to leave the son of a bitch,” Bad Alex says immediately.
“That was a very quick answer.”
“Of course. Why should I hesitate? There’s no reason for them to stay.” Bad Alex nods, completely confident in his answer. Then Franklin eyebrow cocks.
“Then why stay with Thomas?” Franklin asks. Bad Alex freezes, blinking.
“What?” Bad Alex asks.
“If that client should leave their abusive significant other, why shouldn’t you?”
“Thomas is not- he’s- he’s not abusive!” Bad Alex spits. Franklin looks down at the notebook in his hands, and holds it out for Bad Alex to take.
“Here. Look at it,” Franklin commands. “Specifically the top of the page.” Bad Alex takes it, hesitantly, and peers down at the open page. The bulk of it is scrawled handwriting that is just the list Franklin had read to him. At the top of the page, however, Bad Alex discovers that Franklin likes to make headers for his notes. Date of session, time of session, client…
Cody Shuck.
Bad Alex blinks. It’s right there, in Franklin’s swoopy writing, his old name in the ‘client’ portion of the page. The list underneath stays the same. List of abuse examples Cody describes having undergone from boyfriend Thomas.
“I don’t understand,” Bad Alex chokes out. “What are you trying to say?” He looks up from the notebook in his hand, searching for answers on Franklin’s face.
“I think you know what I’m trying to say, you just don’t want it to be true,” Franklin replies. Bad Alex looks back down at the page, wide-eyed.
“I- Thomas isn’t- he-” Bad Alex can’t figure out what he wants to say.
“Belittling and condescending talk. Baiting client for an emotional reaction,” Franklin intones, like he has the list memorized.
“You’re not enough...You can’t do anything.” Thomas’s voice resounds in Bad Alex’s head and he tries to shut it out.
“Emotionally blackmailing client in an attempt to ‘help’ client.”
“You can’t have me until you let me help you.”
“Creation of client’s dependency on abuser for emotional validation. Engulfment of client, creating a relationship where only the abuser’s feelings and wellbeing matters.”
“Tell me, Thomas. Just tell me why you won’t stay. I...I’ll let you leave I just want to know why! I have to know, please. Is there another man? Do you have a boyfriend you have to get home too? Because I can work with that, I can!” Bad Alex’s own voice comes back to him. “I’ll share you if that’s what it takes to have you!”
“Unintentional gaslighting.”
“You just show up, sleep with me, and disappear in the morning. Sometimes, I… I don’t think you’re real. Like I’m living some cheap horror film and the twist at the end is that you never existed and I’m just fucking crazy.” Bad Alex curls in on himself. He wants nothing but for this to end.
“Invalidation of client’s self-worth.”
“Goddamnit, am I just not good enough for you? I can change, whatever it is, I can change I promise. I’m already a good fuck, right? So what can I do to get you to stay?”
“Objectification of client for sexual purposes. Projection of another’s feelings onto client. Comparing client to abuser’s past significant others.”
““He’s not you, he’ll never be you and I’m a fucking fool for thinking otherwise. Now let me go you little shit!” Thomas’ voice returns and Bad Alex whimpers. “I only fucked you because you look like him.”
“Stop,” he pleads. “Stop I-”
“Cody.”
“I don’t want to hear it!” Bad Alex shrieks, clutching at his head. Franklin is unaffected, watching him coolly from the other side of the room.
“But you need to.”
Bad Alex feels like every ounce of air has been sucked out of him. He can’t breathe and he chokes on his own words. He lets the paper drop from his hand and he curls himself into as small of a ball as he can. He bites his knees, making a low keening noise.
It can’t be true.
“It is, Cody,” Franklin says. “I’m sorry, but it is.”
Bad Alex clutches his knees tighter. The entire world is collapsing around him. Every interaction he ever had with Thomas is playing through his mind at once and it’s overwhelming. Every memory is thrown against the list now ingrained in his head and nothing is coming out unscathed. He can’t take it. He can’t handle it. It’s not true, it can’t be true.
It is.
That’s Alexander’s voice.
And that’s when Bad Alex starts to cry.