College had been a bad idea. The moment Sam stepped back into the flurry of people, he realized he wasn't ready. It wasn't just the constant musings whether the building would blow up because he was there. What hurt most were the shouted questions concerning why Christine dumped him.

What did he do? Because everything in this world was his fault. And he was getting sloppy. Everyone had noticed he was getting sloppy.

"Really now, Sam, what the hell happened?"

Even the people he got along and hung out with questioned him, the glee only half-hidden behind concerned expressions. Jerry had been right. It was delicious to watch someone fall.

Sam just shrugged, said he didn't want to talk about it, tried to focus on his actual classes and pick up what he'd missed, then, as soon as the last class was over, he hit the ground running.

You have to do this. You can't hide forever. And they'll grow tired of it. 

It would be in the news. Christine would know where to find him. And she'd come and break him. Or not come and break him even more because it would mean she didn't care.

You don't want her to care. He did. He wanted her to come and cry and tell him she was sorry and couldn't live without him.

What good would that do? You're not taking her back. Except at that moment, he would. He needed someone to hold him and tell him everything would be alright. Which was a normal reaction and he sure as hell didn't need the therapy he was heading for.

What would the doctor even tell him? Oh, you're heartbroken, have some pills. He didn't want pills. He wanted Christine back.

The thought plagued him as he drove to the Agency and headed for the fifth floor where the on-call therapist had his office.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Sam mumbled, hitting his fist against the wall as he made his way to the man's door.

He wished he had a choice, but being cooped up in an office, stuck with paperwork was not an option. Neither was failing at field missions and seeing Christine in random strangers, but that he could handle with a little practice.

It was a one time thing. He needed field missions to challenge him and keep his mind off Christine. Ugh, he had to practice not thinking about not thinking about Christine.

Keep her out of your head, out of your life where she belongs. 

Easier said than done. Her betrayal was a constant ache that pulsated even when he wasn't thinking about her. Like nails through his brain. Not the brain, the skull. The brain didn't have nerve endings, so there would be no actual pain. 

Well, at least I'm still capable of being a total geek. She hadn't taken that from him, even if she'd left little else. His capacity to focus, make fast decisions, not be a total drag of a person, all gone just because she'd decided he wasn't enough and that Harry, out of all people, could fulfill her needs.

Were they together now? Did Harry warm her bed every night, no longer needing to hide?

Don't think about that! 

Great, he was shouting at himself now. Maybe he really needed a shrink.

Sam took in a deep breath as he stopped in front of a wooden door with a sign indicating that it was Dr. Skye Brandon's office. What kind of name was Skye? Another plate read 'If the door is closed, I am with another patient. Please have a seat. I will be right with you.'

Sam looked around. There were no chairs, just empty corridor. Great. He leaned against the wall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. This was a complete waste of time and now he had to wait for his time to be wasted. 

He started counting the light bulbs to avoid thinking about anything, but it didn't keep him busy long enough. There weren't that many light bulbs. He tried to calculate how many of them were in the entire building given the layout of this corridor, but he found the number startlingly fast.

Come on... Sam checked his watch. Only five minutes had passed. He started pacing, counting the steps, working to determine his speed. Stop doing math. It obviously doesn't keep you busy long enough. What was he really bad at so he could think about that? Relationships. You're really bad at relationships.

This not thinking about anything was hard work. Why hadn't he taken up yoga instead of jogging? Then he could zen out or something. Now he was just getting more pissed with every passing minute.

He spent another fifteen minutes trying not to think about anything and ended up thinking about not thinking about Christine a lot. This shrink appointment was already beyond useless.

Just to kill some time, he took his phone out and texted Angie. Hey, how are you? That hurt him too, the fact the ever since she'd come back, she hadn't wanted to see him. It made sense, he looked like Tom, but he needed a friend, too.

Just hanging around, she answered. You?

Getting ready for therapy.

Oh, good luck with that.

His fingers lingered on the keyboard wondering if to ask again or not. Can I come see you later?

There was a long pause as Angie appeared to be typing. I'd love to see you, Sam, but I'm not sure I'd handle it well. I'm still trying to figure out what hit me and I'd be to tempted to tell you so much and just make things harder for you.

I don't care. He really didn't.

There was another pause, and Sam was half convinced she wouldn't answer. But she did.

Okay. Let me know when you leave.

The little victory made him feel a lot better, at least until the door to the doctor's office cracked open. A tall, blonde woman dressed in a dark blue dress rested her forearm against the jamb and started at him through narrowed eyes.

"Sam Grant?" she asked, her voice snide.

Sam nodded, a little shocked by the rudeness of the receptionist. If it wasn't for her attitude, he could've considered her beautiful.

"You're late." She turned her back on him and strutted inside the office, her heels clicking.

"What?" Sam marched in after her. "I've been waiting for almost half an hour!" 

He stopped once she sat at the only desk in the room. A room that was obviously not a reception, but an office filled with books, potted plants and a window. The woman wasn't some pissed off secretary forced to welcome the doctor's patients. She was the damn doctor. 

"Wait, there's no one here?"

She glanced at him through narrowed blue eyes. "Very perceptive. I can't imagine why you would need my help."

"Then why was the freaking door closed?"

The woman looked at him with a strange combination of annoyance and pity. "It was merely a test."

Sam frowned. "To test what?"

"How much of a tool you really are."

For a moment, a blue error screen blinked before Sam's eyes. Then, his brain started working again and the conclusions of the interaction wasn't pretty. How was she supposed to help? Give him someone else to hate beside Christine and Harry? Take his bottled up rage and let it out on her? That could actually prove helpful, but he was sure it wasn't an approved medical procedure.

The woman shook her head. "So easy to bemuse and control. Have a seat."

If she thought he'd roll over and play dead after what she'd just said, she had another thing coming. "No."

"Very mature. Would you rather stand for the entire session?" 

"I'd rather not have a session at all."

"That makes two of us."

"Great, I'm glad we got that out of the way." Sarcasm oozed from his voice, but he didn't care. Being the nice guy had gotten him nowhere. And this was obviously a waste of his time, so he did what any sane person would do. Turn around and walk towards the door.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you. You obviously need me."

Sam stopped in his tracks. Her disdainful tone got to him. He wasn't some scared teenager, depending on the pills she might or might not give him. He was a grown man, very aware of his issues, who had no time for this shit.

"Now would be nice." She actually clicked her fingers.

The anger and annoyance of being forced into this made their way out as rage. He was fed up with being forced into situations he hated, fed up with people telling him he had a problem and needed help. Why couldn't everyone just leave him alone to deal with this how he wanted? That condescending bitch had no idea what he was going through. He didn't need her help. He needed time and space. And something to distract him from the pain, not someone to constantly remind him of it.

"Get back here, kid, I don't have all day."

Kid. She'd freaking called him kid. It was like something snapped inside his brain and every reason to control himself and be civil left the building. He strode back to the desk and banged his fist against it. The woman flinched, but, to her credit, held his gaze. 

"I don't need you, lady. Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

"Hey, do you think I want you here?" She dropped all pretense of being professional. "I didn't go through premed and six years of college to play mommy for spoiled brats."

Sam took a step back. How old was this woman? She didn't look much older than him. And after all she'd said, why was that the first thing that came to mind? "You have no idea who I am," he said between his teeth.

"Oh, yes, I actually do." She stood from her desk, leaning her fists against it and leaning towards him. "You're the brilliant prodigy who thinks the world owes him something. You think you deserve to have everything your way because you're a special snowflake and no one has ever gone through what you're going through now. Well, guess what? You're not special and there are thousands of people who have gone through the same thing without needing someone to hug them and tell them how special they are."

Sam started at her, unable to breathe, to believe that her malicious words actually got to him. She'd made his pain sound so common, so trivial. If it was, then why did it hurt so much? He'd never thought he was a special snowflake, but she'd still made him feel weak, pathetic, ashamed. Knowing it wasn't a big deal didn't make him feel better, because it didn't matter. It was a big deal to him. This woman was no help.

He buried the hurt deep inside and raised his eyebrows. "Are you done?"

"Well, you're still being condescending."

"I'm being condescending?" God, if she were a guy, he'd have punched her by now. But he shouldn't stoop to her level. Shouldn't rage. So he took a deep, dignified, calming breath and said, "You're useless to me, lady." 

And just like that, he turned his back on her for what he hoped was the last time, and headed for the door.

"Stop calling me lady!"

He threw her a fleeting glance over his shoulder. "Why should I? You're old enough to be my mother." And ignoring her stupefied expression, he marched out the door. 

There was no way in hell he was going back there unless it was to wring her neck. Where had Herrison even found that raging bitch? It was all he could think about on the drive to Angie's place. That and how to tell Herrison his therapy sessions were done and he could go back to field work.

By the time he reached Angie's door and rang, his mind was still on the damn shrink and how he could put arsenic in her coffee. The image of Angie drove everything out of his mind. She looked tiny in Tom's t-shirt and all cried out.

"Angie, wha--" He stopped because he knew exactly what happened, except he'd never thought she'd take it so badly.

She just stared at him, a longing in her eyes that shook him to the core.

"You're not Tom," she whispered, "you're not." And just like that, she went inside, leaving the door open for him.

"I'm not, I'm Sam," he said, following her in and closing the door behind him. "Is it... Is it hard for you to tell the difference?"

"No." She shook her head with such force, it must've hurt. "But I'm so desperate for you to be Tom that I don't want to tell the difference."

Sam winced. This wasn't fair, not after what Tom had done while she was away. But it wasn't his place to tell her. Tom should've told her, just like he should've told her about Mizrelle. And he wouldn't betray his twin, even if he felt like slugging him again.

"What happened, where were you?"

She turned to him, her eyes empty. "I had an emergency. But I won't tell you what it was because I would put you in the position of hiding something from Tom you would really want to tell him. It was hard enough to make Kyle promise me not to tell."

"I can promise you that, too, Angie."

Her smile broke his heart with its sadness. "I don't want to burden you with that, Sam. Not now. How was therapy?"

That question managed to make him drop it and brought his anger to the forefront again. "Ugh, useless. That shrink is a total bitch."

"Old lady?" Angie asked, dropping on the couch.

"No, young actually, but condescending as hell. She actually called me kid and said I was a special snowflake."

Unexpectedly, she knocked her head back and laughed. "Oh my God, I wish I could've seen your face."

"Hey, who's side are you on?"

"Yours, of course." She sobered, but her lips still trembled with the need to smile and at that moment Sam realized she really needed to laugh. It probably hadn't happened in weeks and he was going to do his best to solve that issue.

"I called her an old lady in turn."

Angie snickered. "Very mature, Sam. I bet that showed her."

"She didn't seem to like me calling her lady, so I guessed her age is her weak spot."

"She hot?"

"What?" He couldn't believe Angie had just asked that. "Who cares if she's hot? She's totally unlikable and unprofessional."

"So she's hot."

"I never said that."

"You never said she's not," she said with a grin. "Distracted you from Christine, didn't she? Used one weird strategy, but it worked."

At the mention of Christine, his heart ached and he realized Angie was right. He'd been so busy raging at Skye, he'd completely forgotten about the other woman who drove him crazy for a while. "I don't think that was her intention. She doesn't even know why I went to see her. We didn't get that far."

"Than what on earth did you two fight over?"

"Her door being closed while she wasn't busy."

Angie laughed again, so hard she almost tumbled off the couch. Sam smiled too, grateful to see her like this, even if he was aware it was out of pain and her own need to forget everything, detach herself from reality for a few seconds. He needed that too, to forget about Christine, about the Agency, about Snitch Gravel and about that stupid shrink for a few hours.

He was supposed to be at the Agency that afternoon, but screw it. Office work would only depress him more, so he dropped on the couch next to Angie.

"Want to watch a movie or something?"

She squinted at him. "Only if you promise not to ask trick questions and try to make me tell you what happened."

"Only if you promise not to bring up the shrink again."

"I'm not sure I can. She's too amusing. I should send her a gift basket."

Sam nudged her in the ribs and she just giggled some more. He'd missed her so much and her state, her break up with Tom, they were starting to get to him. The only upside in all this was that comforting someone was making him feel useful again.

"Okay," Angie finally said. "I guess I could take a break from wallowing in self pity until Kay gets here and watch a movie with you."

"Kay's still coming over?"

"Oh yes." Angie rolled her eyes. "Every evening. It was great the first two or three nights, but now I kinda want her to go back to Kyle. This separation can't be good for them."

She had a point. It explained the increasing tension Kyle had been displaying lately. "That's weird." Sam nibbled on his lower lip. "But does it help you that she's here?"

"Sort of. I mean the house isn't empty, but I could handle it. Tom will be back after all."

He swallowed heavily at her affirmation. "What makes you say that?" He wished it were true, but he knew how stubborn Tom could be, and even if he was practically a zombie now, Sam didn't see any sign that his twin would suddenly forgive her and himself and jump back into the relationship.

She waved her hand as if it were no big deal. "He loves me. He just needs to cool off and realize that he made a mistake. Then everything will be fine."

Sam winced and was glad she got off the couch for the remote and didn't see him. Tom had made a mistake. A huge one. And he gave no sign of taking back what he'd done. Sam knew him well enough to tell that at this moment, it wasn't her leaving that stood between them, but what he'd done because of it.

Angie was in obvious denial and he wondered how long it would take until she came to terms with the fact that Tom was not coming back.

♠️♠️♠️

Boy, am I on a roll. And I had way too much fun this chapter. What do you think about the shrink? She's delightful, isn't she? Will Sam ever see her again? Probably, because I want to torture him some more.

Question. Since I have another half of this chapter which is free game, what would you like to see more of? I have a hunch what I want to do, but could be swayed in case you give me better ideas. So, come on! Get creative.

Thanks so much for reading and I really hope you're enjoying all these updates because they will stop at one point.

Vote and comment for support.