The next morning, Adam awoke to the sound of papers being dropped into his message box. Jack was still asleep soundly, as for fricken usual Adam thought bitterly. The papers weren't actually that loud, but it still irritated Adam that Jack could sleep through anything. He crawled out of the four-poster bed and groggily pulled out the items. Two were business cards to a tailor and a therapist and the other was a letter from Captain Quinn.

Mr. Adam Daws,

I trust this letter finds you in good spirits. I have included the card to my personal tailor, who shall provide any clothing items you shall require, the other is a card to a therapist I highly recommend. She, in fact, helped me over reconnection with civilization. Both of these services will be free of charge, no matter what you decide. I have also included a chip with one thousand USF credits to get you started. If you ever need anything, please, I implore you to come to me. I shall always be there for you.

-With Regards

Captain Elliot Quinn

Adam was grateful to be able to change his clothes, and have a nice cushion to start his stay here. He thrust the cards in his pocket, along with the letter and strode out the door, but not before Jack awoke and tagged along. The pair strolled through the blank hallway to the warp-elevator. Pressing the button, Adam waited for the doors to open. He glanced at the tailor's card, registering the location. Within a few more moments, the doors slid open, revealing an empty cabin. Adam sat and punched in the code for the tailor. Jack resumed his previous seat under Adam's. The carriage zipped along and a few minutes later the pair were at their destination. He wondered how early – or late – it was for the warp to be empty.

After looking at the addresses along the hall, Adam finally found the one he was looking for. The door slid open and Adam eased into a room with wooden shelves, racks and walls lined with various jackets, pants, vests, shoes, socks, underwear and belts. Adam poked his head out to look at the gold placard that held the address and name: Taylor's. Fitting, Adam thought (no pun intended).

Making himself busy checking out the myriad of styles and cuts the tailor found him and politely waited for his customer to notice. Finally, Adam saw the man and greeted him. The tailor wore a black suit, shirt, and tie with a white tape measure around his shoulders. His skin was very dark and he wore light freckles and balding white hair.

"Did the captain send you?" the tailor asked, his voice deep and commanding, yet still sweet and amiable. Adam nodded. "Well, I'll let you look around then. When you find something you like, I'll measure you." the tailor said.

It took Adam some time to find a suit he liked. He settled on a black one like the tailor's, but the lapels were skinnier, and all around the suit seemed to be thinner, as well. Adam figure it would complement his slim build. He had no idea about any of this fashion crap anyway. As he started towards the tailor, he plucked a grey vest off the rack as well. He set them on the counter and the tailor took note of the number on the tags. He glanced up and eyed Adam.

"Good choice," he commented. Without another word, he whisked Adam into another room. It was smaller and could barely hold one person. The tailor motioned for him to stand still as a blue line traced the walls of the room, it was more of a tube, really. Within a few moments, the tailor motioned for him to raise is arms.

"What is this thing?" Adam asked, trying to glimpse the strange machine.

"It measures you," the tailor said patiently, a small smile playing on his dark lips.

"I thought you'd measure me with that," Adam replied, motioning to the measuring tape over the man's shoulders.

The tailor laughed lightly, a velvety laugh, much like his voice. "We are not Neanderthals. This is merely part of the attire of the trade." Adam nodded, bemusedly. The tailor turned back to his work and punched in the numbers he had previously scribbled down. A few moments later, a motor began, and in the blink of an eye, a shirt jacket, pants, and the grey vest folded neatly descended a small conveyor belt that Adam hadn't noticed. "What color shirt would you like?" the man asked.

"Uh, white's fine," Adam responded absentmindedly as he stared at the tailored clothes across from him.

"And a tie color?"

"Uhh, how about gold," Adam answered still distracted. A few seconds later, the shirt and tie descended as well. The man motioned for Adam to step out of the measuring device. The tailor quickly gathered the items, plucking them from the black conveyor belt, not disturbing their neat fold. He handed them to Adam, who sloppily took them, ruining the tailor's light touch. Adam smiled apologetically as he was whisked away once more to a changing room. Along the way, the tailor grabbed a pair of socks and black dress shoes. The man practically shoved Adam into the small space and closed the door.

Adam fumbled with the clothes, but after several minutes of tugging and pulling, he had his suit assembled. He stood in the mirror, admiring how the right fitting clothes could change a disheveled, unkempt, mangy, smelly person and turn them into a neat, approachable, smelly person. Adam stepped out of the small room, much to the tailor's delight as he admired his handiwork.

"Do you have anything for the smell?" Adam asked, breathing through his mouth.

"No, but, I was instructed to take your old clothes."

"What are you doin' with 'em?" Adam asked, mildly curious.

"I shall incinerate them. Twice. Then they shall be jettisoned out to space. And shot. Twice," the tailor replied instantly, in the sweet and amiable voice he had to start out with.

Adam was a little taken aback by the rough treatment of his clothes. "Well that's neat."

Adam sat in the waiting room of the therapist. He sat uncomfortably on the couch that was provided, staring at the darkly painted walls and few pictures that hung on them. A secretary sat across from him, doing secretary things. Honestly, Adam really didn't know what secretaries did. After a while of rocking back and forth and nervously ringing his hands together, Adam finally got the better of his nerves. Of course, if Jack was here he'd probably have made fun of Adam for needing therapy. Why did I have to leave him at home? Adam thought bitterly. In hindsight, Jack would've probably just slept through the entire thing.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the door to the therapist's room opened and she stepped out. She smiled warmly and held his hand out to Adam who hastily stood and shook it vigorously. She was an aged woman, but she had unbounding wisdom to match the years. She wore her hair short, flattering her kindly face. But her eyes spoke a different story. She was seeing Adam, looking deep into his thoughts. Adam, naturally, was once again unnerved.

"Hello. My name is Carter," the woman said as she led him into her office and shut the door gently behind him, letting the latch click softly into place.

"Just Carter?" Adam asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. You must be Adam," she replied, her voice gentle, as if when you listened for too long you would be lulled to sleep.

"Captain Quinn informed me that you would be coming to see me," Carter said as she motioned for him to sit on the couch across from her. It was much more comfortable than the one in the waiting room.

An awkward silence ensured for several moments before Adam finally decided to begin. "So, uh, how do these things usually start? Do you talk first, or can I?" Adam asked, sitting upright and glancing around.

"Well, tell me, why are you here?"

"Everything stays in this room?"

"Everything stays in this room," she said as she smiled slightly. That one gesture calmed Adam's nerves a considerable amount.

"Well, um, I've been wandering a barren wasteland for over a decade and this whole 'civilization' thing is kinda scary, if I'm honest," the words flew out of his mouth faster than he could realize what he was saying.

"Why is it so scary for you?"

"Like I said, barren wasteland, over a decade, only a dog to talk to. Then, all of the sudden, boom!" Adam used hand gestures to emphasize, "Civilized people. It's a lot to handle."

"It's a lot to handle. You believe this?" she coaxed.

"Why wouldn't I? It's the truth."

"Most people would be overjoyed to reconnect. Granted, with some trepidation, but they would be ecstatic."

There was a long silence.

"I can't help you if you can't help me."

Adam silently seethed. There was another reason, now that he consciously thought about it. He knew he would have to divulge the entire reason he was wandering, but pride could be a tricky thing to swallow. "I don't trust people," he finally relented, at least a little.

"Well, you seem to have trusted me easily enough."

"Yeah, your job is to be trustable," Adam said.

"How come you don't trust people?" Carter asked.

"You ask a lot of questions."

"You dodge a lot of answers."

"I'm not so sure you can help me," Adam, wanting to change the subject.

"Really? You want to know what I know about you?"

"Shoot," Adam said, confident he had her cornered, but there was something in her eyes . . .

"You mask fear and lack of confidence in yourself with a cocky, sarcastic shell, fearful that if you let anyone in, they'll be hurt by your actions. So, you push everyone away, thinking – pretending - you're better than them. Something happened in your past, something terrible. At least, you think it is. So tell me, do think I can't help you?"

Adam's palms grew sweaty and he wrung them together. All of what she said was true. Now that she had laid his subconscious on the table, he realized she was right. Everything.

"You may not open up to me today, or tomorrow, or the next day. But you will. And when you do, I will help you heal."

Adam nodded slowly. He would come back, no matter how hard it was. "Don't you have other clients?"

"You are a special case, sent directly from Captain Quinn." Adam frowned. "Do you not trust him?"

"He's . . . peculiar. But if it came down to it, I would."

"Yet you say you do not trust easily. Why him?"

"He seems . . . genuine, I guess. Should I not trust him?" What strange line of questioning. What was she getting at?

Adam thought he saw Carter shake her head, just barely. "That is for you to decide. You of all people should know that what someone is on the outside is often different from their interior."

There was a small buzz from Carter's desk in the back of the room. She quickly stood and strode over to her desk. "It looks like there's someone here to pick you up."

"I wasn't expecting anyone."

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Hope you enjoyed the chapter and getting a look inside Adam's head. If you enjoyed the chapter please drop a vote and a comment, it would be very appreciated.

In creating Adam, I had to give him flaws, so I turned to the best person I knew. Me. I gave him my biggest flaw. In theory, it was easy to give them to him, but putting on paper - or computer - was definately difficult. Big blow to my massive ego.

What do you think of Carter? Is she an ally? What do you think she knows?