Chapter Text
“To get started, I’d like you to tell me about your current relationship with the children. How have your visits been going?”
Jeff swallowed the lump in his throat. The psychiatrist assigned to complete his court-ordered evaluation, Dr. Lonnie Richardson, called him just the day before to ask if she could visit him to complete the first interview that afternoon. Eager to get it over with, he agreed, but now that he was sitting across from her in one of the rehab hospital’s conference rooms, he wished he’d given himself more time to prepare.
“Um, I think the two visits we’ve had so far have gone as well as they possibly could,” he answered. “Spending time with them is the highlight of my week… I started to love them as soon as I saw their picture, and I love them more every time I hold them or play with them. I know it’s going to take time for them to understand who I am and start to get attached to me, so for now, I’m content with the fact that they don’t seem afraid of me… I figure that’s a good place to start.”
“How old are they now?”
“14 months.”
“What kept you from establishing visitation until so recently?” she asked. Her tone and expression were open and curious, without a whiff of judgment, but that didn’t put him at ease.
“I didn’t know they existed until September 2nd, and it was a couple of weeks after that before I got the paternity test results,” Jeff explained. “Lauren – their aunt and legal guardian – brought them to visit me in the hospital once after we got the test results, but she wanted any further visitation to wait until court.”
“Why do you think that was?” Dr. Richardson asked.
Keeping most of his actual thoughts to himself, Jeff politely answered, “She was concerned that the hospital wasn’t a good environment for the visits and that I wasn’t physically able to take care of them… which was true, at the time.”
“Do you think she would have been willing to let you spend more time with them before the visitation order was established if you hadn’t been hospitalized, then?”
Jeff uncomfortably shrugged. “I haven’t really thought about that hypothetical. Maybe, if she was present.”
‘And if I offered her money,’ he thought but didn’t say. He didn’t want to come across as bitter, even if he was.
Dr. Richardson offered him a slight smile. “You were granted joint decision-making at the last hearing, right?”
Jeff nodded.
“How is that going? Do you feel like you and the children’s guardian can effectively collaborate on the big decisions about their care?”
Jeff hesitated. “It’s going okay so far. Lauren told me about a surgery Lulu needs, and I consented to it.”
“That does sound like a good start,” Dr. Richardson agreed. “What do you know about the children’s medical history?”
“Lulu has a condition called arthrogryposis that affects the joints and muscles in both of her feet and knees, and she’s hard of hearing. As far as I know, they’re both otherwise healthy.”
They spent a while talking about Jeff’s background, moving backward from his divorce through his years in the military to his own childhood. She asked several questions about his own parents’ parenting styles, his relationship with his parents, and what he planned to do differently from them. Those were relatively safe topics, so he was able to answer her questions without too much fear of stepping on a landmine.
“Next, I’m going to read you some statements that describe different ways that some parents feel about their children. I understand that you just met your children, and we’ll do a similar exercise during our second meeting, once you’ve spent more time with them. For now, just listen to each statement and simply tell me whether you currently strongly agree, somewhat agree, somewhat disagree, or strongly disagree. Do you understand?”
“Yep,” Jeff answered.
“I frequently wonder if I’m making the right decisions about how I raise my children,” she began.
“Uh, strongly agree.”
“I know my children better than anyone.”
Jeff grimaced. “Strongly disagree.”
“My children have more trouble adapting to change than most children their ages.”
“Somewhat disagree.” He wasn’t sure how well most 14-month-olds adapted to change, but Ellie and Lulu didn’t seem bothered by spending time in an unfamiliar place with people they didn’t know, and Herrmann seemed to think that was unusual for their age.
“The biggest source of stress in my life is my children.”
“Strongly disagree.”
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After that questionnaire, Dr. Richardson offered Jeff a break, which he politely declined. The next part of the interview was another questionnaire, this one with increasingly bizarre questions like “Do you ever feel unreal, or as if the things around you are unreal?” and “Do you ever get a feeling like parts of your body are dead or not really you?” – the second of which made him laugh out loud before he could stop himself.
She hadn’t been commenting on his other responses, but she finally cracked a smile and said, “If your foot is actually made out of metal, we don’t consider that a delusion.”
After more than 200 questions of that nature, Jeff’s head was spinning, but he’d never been more confident in his own sanity. Even when he thought back on the darkest periods of his life, when he was in the throes of PTSD after Gil’s death and again after his last tour of duty, very few of the symptoms she listed had ever affected him. Remembering Veronica’s advice to assume the psychiatrist would catch him in any lies, he honestly admitted to occasionally worrying that bad things might happen to his loved ones as karma for his own past deeds and sometimes getting angry without understanding why, but those were truly the only questions that applied to him at all.
He took a 10 minute break to get some fresh air, and while he was out on the balcony, he texted Kelly.
Feeling refreshed, Jeff greeted Dr. Richardson with a friendly smile when they both returned to the conference room.
“Do you feel up to continuing?” she asked. “We can divide the interviews across additional days if you need to rest.”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
Dr. Richardson sat down across from him and opened the legal pad where she’d been taking notes. “Next, I’d like to get some more background information about your relationship with the children’s mother. You told me about the circumstances of your divorce and loss of contact – the way your conflict ended – and now I’d like to hear more about how it began. I want you to think back on one of your first big fights, however you define that, and take me through it from beginning to end. What sparked it, how exactly did you fight, and how was it resolved… or not resolved?”
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Oceanside, California – July 2010
By the time the band they came to see finally gets on stage, Jeff has been bored out of his mind and dying to go home for more than an hour. It’s been less than two weeks since his unit got back from Afghanistan, so he can still get away with blaming jetlag for his exhaustion during the day and his complete inability to sleep at night.
He was grateful Lisa waited to fly back from Chicago until he’d been stateside for a week and gotten through the worst of the post-deployment debriefings and decompression… He’s never liked for her to see his zombie-like state during the first week his feet are back on US soil. Now that they’re reunited, after nine long, miserable months on separate continents, he wants nothing more than to get out of his own head and treat his wife to the fun night out she deserves… but with every minute that ticks by in the dimly-lit bar, packed wall-to-wall with increasingly inebriated strangers with no respect for personal space, he feels his blood pressure rising.
‘He survived two wars and had a heart attack when someone bumped into him at a bar,’ he imagines someone saying at his funeral.
In the end, he manages to suck it up and stick it out for another hour and a half after the band starts playing. Finally, around midnight, he can’t take another minute and apologetically pulls Lisa aside to let her know he needs to head home. He can see the disappointment in her eyes, but she nods and takes his hand while they make their way through the crowd to the door.
“I’m really sorry,” he repeats while they walk to the car. “I know you’ve been looking forward to tonight.”
“I don’t care about the stupid concert, Jeff,” she says with an exaggerated eye roll.
She stumbles a little on an uneven patch of concrete on the sidewalk, and Jeff catches her by the arm to steady her.
“Ow,” she complains, yanking her arm away with so much force she almost falls over backward.
“Sorry,” he says with a sympathetic grimace. “You okay?”
Huffing with annoyance, she puts her hand back in his, and they continue on their way to the parking garage.
During the elevator ride up to the level where they parked, Lisa slumps against the wall with a dramatic sigh.
“You okay, Lis?” he asks again.
Frowning up at him, Lisa answers, “I’m just disappointed, that’s all. It’s no big deal. I just wish you still put in as much effort into this marriage as you did when we were dating.”
Biting his tongue, Jeff stops himself from telling her how much of his energy that evening really took. He doesn’t want to bring the mood down even farther.
“I’m sorry… I’m just tired.”
“We’re married, in case you’ve forgotten,” she helpfully reminds him. “We only get to spend a few weeks a year together… You really can’t pull yourself together enough for one date night?”
“I’m trying,” he snaps, waving his arm to gesture toward the bar they just walked from. “This is me trying.”
She scoffs at him as the elevator comes to a stop. “That’s fucking pathetic. Try harder! You lazy fucking piece of shit.”
Gritting his teeth, Jeff waits for her to exit the elevator first and trails behind her while they walk to the car. There’s no point in trying to talk to her when she’s acting this way, so he’s learned not to bother.
His eyes widen when he realizes Lisa is going for the driver’s seat. “Babe, you’ve had at least six drinks tonight. Give me the keys.”
Lisa rolls her eyes. “‘Give me the keys,’” she laughingly mocks. “You’ve been drinking too, you asshole.”
“I had one beer at dinner, more than three hours ago. Give me the fucking keys, Lisa.”
“Fine!” she yells, throwing the keys at his head. Despite the fact that they’re standing three feet apart, she somehow misses, and the keys end up underneath the SUV parked beside their car.
“There’s your sobriety test,” he mutters, bending over to pick them up.
“What did you say?!”
Ignoring the question, he leans under the SUV to reach for the keys. As he starts to get up, Lisa suddenly turns around and kicks him in the face. She’s wearing open-toed heels, so her toes probably hurt as much as his cheek – or they would, if she was sober enough to feel it.
His mind starts to go blank with rage, but he takes a deep breath and manages to get a grip on his temper. Without saying a word, he pushes past her to get in the driver’s seat, then closes his door and waits for her to either get in the passenger’s seat or walk away. (He hopes she’ll walk away. Maybe he’ll get lucky and she’ll walk all the way to the airport to fly home. Maybe she’ll get hit by a car crossing the freeway. Maybe…) Taking another deep breath, he reminds himself that whether or not he likes her at the moment, she’s still his wife, and he’s responsible for keeping her safe.
He rolls the window down just far enough for her to hear him say, “Lisa, sweetheart, please get in the car so we can go home.”
She insults him again before she gets in the car, and then they spend five full minutes bickering over whether she can ride with no seatbelt and her feet up on the dash. He eventually gets her to put the seatbelt on, but he gives up on convincing her to put her feet on the floor. If she wants to risk her knee going through her face in an accident, she’s a grown-ass woman who can make that decision.
⏳⏳⏳
Looking in the mirror the next morning, Jeff is shocked to see that his right eyelid and the skin beneath his eye are badly swollen and in the early, purplish-red stage of one hell of a black eye. Lisa kicked him lower in the cheek, but the blood must have pooled around his eye while he slept. Great. He needs to be on base by 7:30, so he doesn’t even have time to ice it before he leaves.
As soon as he walks out of the bathroom, Lisa starts flipping out. “A black eye, really? What the hell did you do, walk into a door?”
Jeff forces a wry laugh. “Something like that. I’ll be home around 6.”
“Do you have to work today? What’s so important that it has to happen today? You just got home, so I know you aren’t getting ready for another deployment.”
“Yes, I have to work. No, I can’t call off,” he tersely answers, walking toward the door.
“I haven’t seen you in almost a year, and you’re going to leave without even kissing me goodbye?”
Clenching his fists, Jeff turns and walks back across the room to give her a kiss.
“Have a good day, honey. Text me if you want me to bring something home for dinner.”
“I want you to take me out. For a real night out.”
Jeff frowns. “We just went out last night. I think it might be nice to hang out here tonight, just the two of us.”
The look on her face quickly changes his mind.
“But if you really want to go out, I can rally,” he adds. “I want to be home by 11, though.”
She takes another look at his eye. “Actually, your face looks really gross. Maybe we should stay in tonight.”
“‘Kay, text me whatever you decide,” Jeff apathetically answers.
Taking his arm to stop him from walking away, Lisa asks, “What are you going to tell the guys at work about your eye?”
Jeff shrugs. “I’m not planning to tell them anything. The officers won’t want to know, and the enlisted personnel will be afraid to ask. Perks of being a SNCO. I’ll let you know what story they come up with by the end of the day, though.”
“I don’t want you telling people it was me.”
So she does remember. He hadn’t been sure.
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Good,” she says. “You know if anyone finds out I had to defend myself that way, you’ll be the one who gets arrested.”
“Have a nice day, honey,” he practically spits, hoping she can hear the 4-letter word he’s thinking.
“Bye, sweetheart.”
⏳⏳⏳
Jeff doesn’t hear from Lisa all day, and he comes home to an empty house that evening. She hasn’t flown back to Chicago – her things are scattered across the house, and her suitcase is still open and half-unpacked on the bedroom floor – but she definitely isn’t home.
Shrugging, Jeff changes into a t-shirt and jeans and opens the back door to sit on the patio and unwind. As soon as he opens the sliding glass door, he smells motor oil. Frowning with concern, he steps out onto the patio and sees a pile of his utility uniforms and undershirts in the dry patch of grass Californians call a yard. He can tell by the odor alone that they didn’t just have a little bit of oil poured over them – every item is completely soaked.
Realizing what Lisa must have done, his eyes grow wide and his jaw drops with shock. White hot anger coursing through his body, his temperature rises so quickly that a bead of sweat trickles down his neck.
It’s a good thing Lisa isn’t home. He isn’t sure he could control himself if they came face to face right now. He furiously kicks one of the patio chairs over, then grabs the other and hurls it as hard as he can across the yard. The pounding in his ears only intensifies as he watches it break, two of the legs snapping off as it hits the ground, and he’s tempted to send the table after it.
“Stop,” he tells himself aloud.
Putting his hand flat against the wall, he forces himself to take several slow, deep breaths. While doing so, he happens to glance up and see a security camera, which wasn’t there before, mounted in the corner by the back door. It’s angled just right to record anything that happens on the patio – but not to capture the pile of oil-soaked uniforms in the yard. He glares at the camera for a few seconds, considering whether to rip it off the wall, before deciding to leave it alone.
‘What the hell is she trying to pull?’
⏳⏳⏳
Hours later, he’s sitting on the couch with a beer bottle in his hand and the TV paused on the end credits of a movie he barely remembers watching when Lisa unlocks the front door and comes inside.
“Hey, honey, how was your day?” she sweetly asks.
That’s all it takes to make him explode.
“Are you serious?” he asks, dropping the empty bottle on the floor as he gets to his feet. “What the hell is wrong with you, you psycho bitch? Who does something like that?!”
Lisa takes a step back, an expression he recognizes as legitimate fear flickering across her face. Mindful of the line he can’t cross, no matter what she does to him, he makes an effort to soften his stance and unclench his fists.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Lisa says sharply. “You said you didn’t want to go out tonight, so I made plans with my friends. Is that a crime now?”
“I don’t give a damn who you spend time with,” Jeff snaps. “You could have spent the night with them for all I care.”
“Then what the hell are you bent out of shape about? Did something happen at work?”
“I’m talking about you soaking all my uniforms in motor oil and piling them in the yard. What the hell, Lisa?!”
“What?” Lisa asks, her brow furrowed with confusion. “I don’t know anything about your uniforms, sweetheart. What did you say happened to them?”
“I came home and found all of my work uniforms soaked with oil in a pile on the ground behind the house. You were the only one here, so unless you let someone else in to do it and locked up when they were done, I know it was you.”
She fixes him with a pitying look and walks over to take his hand. Stunned, he doesn’t stop her.
“Oh, honey. I think maybe we should make an appointment with your doctor. I’ve noticed how strange you’ve been acting ever since you got home, and I’m really getting worried.”
“What?!” he practically yelps. He yanks his hand away from hers and puts a couple of feet between them before he does anything he’ll regret.
“If you don’t want to go to the doctor, I think maybe I should call the base in the morning to tell them about my concerns,” she continues with a frighteningly malicious smile. “I’m not sure if it’s safe for you to have access to a firearm right now.”
His stomach drops. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and quietly asks, “What do you want?”
She smiles sweetly, and he wonders how much worse things would get if he really did slap her across the face. He won’t – but God help him, some days he’s tempted.
“The only thing I want is to know that you’re safe,” she says.
“That’s why you put cameras up, right?” he sarcastically asks. “It’s my house, Lisa. You don’t live here. That was your choice. But you can’t do things like that to someone else’s house!”
“What are you talking about?” she asks, her eyes welling up with tears. “You’re really scaring me, sweetheart.”
‘Am I completely insane?’ Jeff briefly wonders.
Shaking that thought off, he answers, “We both know you had a camera installed on the back patio. Why are you pretending you don’t know about it? It’s just you and me here, and we both know it was you!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t the base?”
“This isn’t base housing!” he angrily points out. “I own this house! Nobody but you would have any reason to install a camera!”
“Why would I want to do that?” she asks.
Jeff groans. “You know what? Just forget it. Don’t worry about it.”
“No, really,” Lisa says firmly, taking a step closer to him. “Why would I want to destroy your uniforms or put up a camera to spy on you or whatever else your mind is telling you I’m responsible for? I’m your wife, Jeff. I love you… even when you’re treating me like this.”
“I don’t know why you hate me so much,” he admits, letting a hint of the grief and confusion he feels rise to the surface. “I know I’m a shitty husband, but I would never do anything to hurt you.”
“I don’t hate you!” she snaps. “None of this… It’s not… This is all in your head, Jeff! I think you did all of this yourself. You’re losing touch with reality, and you’re really starting to scare me.”
“I’m not crazy!” he shouts. “You’re trying to make it seem like I’m losing my mind, but I know what I saw with my own eyes! So cut it out!”
“If that’s really what you think of me, why do you even want me here?!” she yells, her face turning red.
“I DON’T want you here!” Jeff yells back. “I would rather spend another year in Iraq than 5 more minutes with you, you fucking psychopath! Why won’t you GO AWAY?!”
Lisa screams incoherently and storms out of the room, slamming the French door that separates the living room from the kitchen so hard the house shakes. The second she’s out of sight, Jeff’s legs give way and he stumbles back onto the couch.
“Oh my god,” he whispers, burying his face in his hands. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
His whole body starting to tremble, he desperately tries to hold himself together. Thirty seconds later, he suddenly realizes he’s going to puke. He sprints to the bathroom, where he doesn’t even have time to close the door all the way before he’s emptying the contents of his stomach (beer and potato chips) into the toilet.
‘It couldn’t be me, could it?’ he thinks, pushing the door shut while he flushes the toilet and washes his face. The sight of the shiner in the mirror makes him think back on the night before. ‘There’s no chance I hit my face on something and convinced myself she kicked me on purpose… Is there?’
He doesn’t think so. He isn’t missing any time, and no one but Lisa has called him out on any strange behavior. He knows his own mind, and no matter how much stress he’s been under, he’s never hallucinated or done things like this without remembering before.
Has he?
“I’m not crazy,” he quietly tells himself. He just needs to calm down – and then calm Lisa down – and everything will be okay.
That delusion shatters when he opens the bathroom door and sees his wife holding a knife to her own chest.
⏳⏳⏳
Jeff barely remembers overpowering Lisa and ripping the knife from her hand. When his head starts to clear, the knife is on the floor on the other side of the room and Lisa is sobbing hysterically while he helps her to the couch. He sits her down and wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmurs. “I’m so sorry, Lis. I know you wouldn’t do anything like that. I know. None of this is your fault. It’s all me. I know it’s all me. I’m so sorry for blaming you, baby.”
Lisa cries in his arms for more than half an hour, his heart breaking the whole time. He can’t believe he took it that far, accusing her of things that no sane person would do. Just look at them. She’s one of the sweetest, most innocent souls he’s ever met, and he’s spent most of his adult life doing things she couldn’t bear to think about under conditions she couldn’t imagine. If one of them is crazy, it has to be him.
He apologizes so many times he starts to lose his voice, and finally, desperate to bring their miserable evening to an end, starts promising everything he can think of that might calm her down. She finally starts to perk up when he says he’ll request some leave to take her on the trip to Cancun she’s wanted since their honeymoon – an offer he regrets as soon as it leaves his tongue. Her meltdown when his leave is inevitably denied will probably put this one to shame… but that’s two-weeks-from-now Jeff’s problem. Today Jeff has enough problems of his own.
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Chicago, Illinois – October 2015
Summarizing those events for Dr. Richardson – knowing she was going to include it in a report that the judge, both lawyers, and probably Lauren were all going to see – was one of the hardest things Jeff had ever done. As embarrassing as it was, though, Veronica had made it clear that telling the truth about his marriage – calmly and factually, without disparaging Lisa – was an absolute necessity if he wanted the judge to give him custody… and to his surprise, there wasn’t much of anything he wouldn’t do to make sure he could be in his daughters’ lives.
He never would have imagined that something good could come from such a miserable marriage. He vaguely remembered saying something to that effect to Kelly when he told him about his and Lisa’s past discussions about having kids… It was strange to think that Ellie and Lulu had already been born and were a few months old when he and Kelly had that conversation. He still had a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that they existed – living less than three miles from his old apartment next to Molly’s, no less – while he was busy fighting for his friends’ lives and falling in love with Kelly Severide and Matthew Casey.
Remembering Veronica’s advice to tell the evaluator what happened and let her draw her own conclusions, he managed to tell Dr. Richardson the highlights of that story without saying the words “psychotic bitch” or anything like it out loud. (Even with those events fresh in his mind, he still maintained that Lisa wasn’t crazy… She just really, really hated him.)
“How do you feel about Lisa now?” Dr. Richardson asked later in the session.
Jeff had been expecting that question, but he still had to swallow the lump in his throat and blink back tears before he could look her in the eye.
“She’s the mother of my children, who I adore. I’m devastated by who she’s turned out to be and I hate the things she’s done – by which I mean murdering a man and trying to pass off our children as his instead of mine.”
(Veronica told him to be specific!)
“But I can’t hate her,” he earnestly continued, “Especially knowing that she gave my daughters life at a huge personal cost, going through her entire pregnancy and giving birth in prison, and that I’m going to see little pieces of her in them for the rest of my life. I feel a lot of grief for her, and for Ellie and Lulu because they don’t get to grow up with their mom… but I’m determined to do right by them so they have better lives and healthier relationships than their parents did. I can’t change what happened in the past, but I can make sure our daughters have better examples for their future.”
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When they finally finished that day’s part of the assessment, Dr. Richardson pulled out her calendar and explained, “The judge has given me until January 4th to submit my written report and recommendations, so we need to schedule a few more appointments between now and December 15th. First, I have an appointment to observe the children in their current home environment next week. After that, I’ll need to observe your interactions with the children a couple of times, and then I’ll meet with you 1-on-1 again.”
Jeff nodded. “Okay.”
“Your attorney mentioned that you might be able to leave the hospital for a few hours once you’ve had a little more time to recover. It would really be ideal to bring you and the children into my office, where I have a room set up for parents and children to spend a couple of hours together while I observe through a one-way mirror from the next room. Do you think you might be up to that three or four weeks from now?”
“I should be,” Jeff confirmed. “Lulu’s having surgery on her feet on November 2nd, though, and I’m not sure how long it’ll be before she’s recovered enough for a visit. I told Lauren I’m okay with playing it by ear… I don’t want to make Lulu miserable just so I can see her.”
The whole situation – his baby needing major surgery and his inability to be there for her while she recovered – was killing him. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t help feeling guilty that he wasn’t the one taking care of her.
Dr. Richardson nodded. “Are you going to continue your visits with your other daughter while Lulu recovers from surgery?”
“That’s the plan,” Jeff answered, “But if she’s too upset about being apart from Lulu and Lauren at the same time, I won’t force it.”
The doctor nodded approvingly. “Okay. I’ll be in touch with you and Ms. Straight in a few days about scheduling a time for you and the children to come in for your first parent-child observation session.”
Jeff hesitated to ask a question that might sound like a complaint, but it was important enough to know that he pushed ahead. “Will that replace one of my visits?”
She smiled and shook her head. “No, this and any therapy appointments I recommend that you attend with the children after my evaluation will be in addition to your scheduled visits.”
Jeff had never been so happy about the idea of attending therapy. He had a hard time imagining what a therapy appointment with two 1-year-olds would be like, but if it meant he could spend more time with them, he was all for it.
“Thank you, Doctor,” he said sincerely.
“Do you have any other questions for me?” she asked.
“Um, is there anything you’d like to see me work on in the next few weeks, that might make it clearer whether coming to live with me is in Ellie and Lulu’s best interests?”
“That’s a great question. I think it would be beneficial for you to start attending therapy on a weekly basis to help you process the changes you’re going through in every aspect of your life. As well as you seem to be coping, I’m not sure if you fully comprehend the extent to which raising the children you share with someone you had such a difficult relationship with is likely to trigger your PTSD and stretch your psychological and physical resources. I would feel better about recommending more parenting time for you if I saw that you were receiving professional help.”
Jeff didn’t quite succeed at hiding his grimace, but he nodded agreeably. “Okay. If you think that’s important, I’ll give it a shot.”
“Would you like me to email you the names of a few therapists who might be able to treat you via telehealth?”
Mustering as much enthusiasm as he could, Jeff said, “That would be great. Thank you.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch within the next couple of days. Have a good evening, Mr. Clarke.”
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