I swallow thickly. "And?" I ask.

He looks back up at me. "Peripheral neuropathy," the doctor says.

"Okay," I say, glancing down. I don't know what that is but I know enough to understand that it's not good. "How do you fix it?"

He sighs, leaning forward in his chair. "It's not as simple as that." He starts flipping through the files. "From what you told the nurses, it's rather severe." He flips another page, reading off my symptoms. "Numbness in hands and feet. Regularly dropping objects. Sharp, stabbing pains...Collapsing and...seizures." He closes the papers and looks up at me. "And this started 2 months ago but you just now decide to see someone?"

"I thought it would go away," I say simply. "Evidently not. So how do you fix it?"

"There isn't exactly a treatment," he says. I lean forward in the chair. "The only way to truly improve the condition is addressing what's causing it."

"Such as?" I ask.

"Typically, being overweight or having high blood pressure or diabetes. However, none of those are the cases for you and you're only 27."

"Can...it not be fixed then?" I ask, refraining for my voice breaking.

"It depends," he says, clasping his hands together. "It could be hereditary."

I shift my jaw. "Let's say it's not," I mutter.

The doctor nods. "If you've been traumatically injured, it may have caused nerve damage."

"How traumatic?" I ask. The doctor gives me a suspicious look. "Say a car accident?"

His eyes glance down, thinking then looking up at me. "Possibly. Were you in one?" I nod my head. I want this off the books and swept under the rug. Hence while he's not my usual doctor. But now I have to go by my civilian alias's report, which states I've been in a traumatic car accident without medical help for hours. But in the actual report, I know they calculated from my condition from my bodily damage and the scene of the crash. It wasn't enough to severely injure me. Disorientate, yes, but no permanent damage. However, I don't know what else would have caused this to start happening to me. "Then it might be the cause," he says.

"Just to be sure," I say, "is there anything else that could possibly cause this?"

"Yes," he says, pausing to think. "Are you a frequent drinker or exposed to toxins often?"

"I don't drink that much," I say, looking at him. "And what is a toxin exactly?"

"Any substance that you could inhale, ingest, or absorb that has negative effects on your brain and nervous system." I sit back in my chair. "Any insecticides, lead, mercury or such?"

My heart slows down as he says those words and my chest tenses up. "No," I say indifferently. None of those...but 300mg of arsenic. "I guess it is the car accident. So how can I fix it?"

"If its nerve damage, there's only so much you can do but it may be something you'll have to adjust to."

"What?" I whimper. I can't live with this. I mean, if I was a normal person, it would be fine. But I'm not normal. I need to be fine. I can't have any health conditions. I'm an agent. I need to pass a physical when before I get back, which is coming up soon. I can't pass it if my hands are shaking so violently that I drop my weapon. And I'm pretty sure having a seizure is an automatic failure. "There's nothing that could help?" I tense up. I can't tell him it's because of the arsenic so he'll only be suggesting treatment for if it was from a car crash.

"Physical therapy may help. Also if you are collapsing or having trouble holding things, there are compression sleeves or braces you could wear. You could get those at a pharmacy and simply wearing them will help. But if you are having seizures, we can give you a prescription to treat it."

"Anything," I say.

I leave the office and get in my car. This is not happening right now. It's been two months since I got back. Brendon's been keeping me updating and we've barely made any more progress on the case. I don't need this right now. I don't need this at all. I grip the wheel, staring at my hands. I'm not shaking right now but how long will that last? It's been getting worse. Maybe the medicine will help. And if I have the braces with it too, then maybe it'll go away. It better or I'm done.

I drive home, going to the back seat and taking out the tuxedo I picked up beforehand. Brendon's wedding it in two weeks. That will help take my mind off everything.

I get back to my apartment and shut the door. I just want to wake up. I want this to all stop. I grit my teeth together, heavily breathing. I'm okay. It'll all be okay. Don't think about that now. I glance down at the suit and kick off my shoes. Brendon's getting married and it'll be a lot of fun and it'll be a break from this horrible nightmare. We can just forget about everything for a weekend and celebrate.

I head to my room, bringing the suit with. It's wrapped up in a transparent, plastic bag. I probably should keep it in there. But there's a sticker over the stop. I dig my nail underneath the corner and then quickly peel it off.

"NO!" I scream, throwing it down and backing up. The hanger falls out of my hand and clatters on the floor. I frantically back up, hyperventilating and my heels catching the ground. My back rams into my table, the legs scraping against the floor with a rumble. I can't breathe. Needles start shooting up my legs and I whimper, nearly falling over, gripping the edge of the table for support. What's happening? I glance down at my hand, the sticker still stuck to my finger. I quickly crumple it up in my fist and flick it on the floor. That noise...Needles. My body tenses up and I can't breathe. What's going on?

My eyes start watering and I hold my breath, my throat completely dry. That sound. My hands are shaking as I let go of the table. I'm about to collapse, my knees threatening to give out as I step back over to the tux laying on the floor. I stare at the hanger and plastic covering, the black attire underneath laying on the floor. What's going on? My fingers are vibrating as I reach out, forcing myself to pick up the hanger. I was fine. Nothing happened. But that sound-what's wrong?

My eye catches the company's logo on the left side. Another sticker. It's just a sticker but my brain is screaming danger. With my other hand, I slide my nail underneath the corner and close my eyes as I quickly peel it off. That sound. That sticky noise comes off. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and my heart is pounding with adrenaline. It's a sticker. The sound replays in my ears. I can't unhear it. It's just a sticker. It's sticky. That sound. Sticky with adhesive. Like tape. That sound. Tape. Duct tape.

My hand starts tingling and my grasp loosens, the hanger slipping from my fingers. I'm getting really light headed again. I slowly lower myself to the floor, sitting down with my legs sprawled out. That sound. Tape. Duct tape. They kept unraveling duct tape, several feet of duct tape. And that sound. It just kept ripping in my ears. Echoing.

I sharply inhale, cradling my right arm with my other hand. They were duct taping me down. Anton. Kelcer. They were...they had me. I close my eyes, trying to remember more. It's like a forgotten dream. I can't recall anything from this yet suddenly, it's in my head. I can't tell if it's real or not. Nothing before or after. Just that sound and being held down helplessly. And my arm. The sound of ducting. Ripping and peeling in my ears. Ripping. Peeling. Ringing...Ringing?

I snap out of it, my phone ringing. I pat through my coat, finding it in a pocket. I fumble while taking it out, seeing Frank's calling me.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Uh-hey, um, Gerard?"

"Yeah?" I say, taking a breath.

"Oh, hey, you sound different," Frank says, "you okay?"

"Yeah, um," I close my eyes, forcing myself to slow my breathing. "What's going on?"

"Do you have plans for dinner?"

I pause for a moment. "No, why?"

He chuckles lightly. "Well, I also don't happen to have plans for dinner. And I'm not very familiar with where the good spots to eat are in Maryland."

"I-wait, what? Maryland?" I quickly stand up, holding the phone tightly, "Frank, are you here?" My vision starts fading on the edges. I stood up too fast again.

"Perhaps," he teases.

I close my eyes, softly inhaling. "Well, perhaps I do have dinner plans then."

"Wait...you do?" he asks concerned.

I smile. "Yeah, with my boyfriend," I say. Frank doesn't say anything but I can imagine his face right now. "And I can find out what he's doing here to my pleasant surprise."

"Oh, oh, okay, I thought-but that works out. So dinner?"

"Yes, love," I say warmly.

"Lo-oh, uhh, yeah, um, gosh, that's awesome. So..."

I laugh lightly but I wince as needles shoot up my arm. I quickly switch ears to relax my arm. "So I'll text you my address and you can meet me here at 7:00. Sound good?"

"Mmm, how about 5:00?"

"Make it 6:00. I have a few...preparations should I say."

"Preparations, huh? Well, I'll see you then."

"See you." I smile while shaking my head as I hang up the phone. He's adorable.

I go over, grabbing my tux off the floor to put it away. I have some time before Frank's here. I think I can get the braces before he gets back. Maybe a few other things too.