Some people were meant to study the sky.And some people were meant to help others reach it.
CHAPTER ONE
For the third time in nine days, Miles Sterling was sitting in his therapist’s office.And though the space was starting to feel comfortable, it currently felt like the walls of Dr.Mitchell's office were closing in.Miles knew they weren't actually moving, that it was his brain playing tricks on him, but the sensation persisted anyway.The room felt smaller than it had when he'd walked in twenty minutes ago.The air felt thinner.His chest was tightening in that familiar way that meant he was losing control.
In other words, it was par for the course in terms of his life once these Elementalist murders had started.
"Miles, I need you to focus on your breathing."Dr.Mitchell's voice cut through the static in his head.She was wearing the same calm expression she'd maintained throughout their sessions over the past three weeks."In through your nose for four counts.Hold for four.Out through your mouth for four."
Miles tried to follow the instructions, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate.Each breath felt like pulling air through a straw.He could feel the walls of the environmental chamber pressing in around him; he could see Mario Stevens' gray face in the darkness behind his eyelids.The memory was so vivid it might as well have been happening right now.It was like flypaper in his brain, the memory always there to haunt him.
"The chamber isn't real," Dr.Mitchell said."You're in my office.You're safe.The door is open.Look at it."
Miles forced his eyes open and looked at the door across the room.It was propped open with a rubber doorstop, letting in light from the hallway.He'd insisted on keeping it open when he arrived, another new requirement he'd developed since closing the Stevens case in Seattle.The oxygen murders.Closed doors triggered something in him now that he couldn't quite control.
"Good.Now breathe with me.In for four."
This time Miles managed to pull in a full breath.Dr.Mitchell counted him through the exhale and then another cycle.Slowly, the pressure in his chest began to ease.The walls stayed where they belonged.The air stopped feeling so thin.
"Better?"Dr.Mitchell asked after several minutes.
"Better."Miles slumped back in his chair, exhausted from the effort of fighting off the panic."Sorry.God, that’s embarrassing."
"You don't need to apologize for having a panic attack in therapy.That's why you're here."She made a note on her tablet."How many this week?"
"Three.No, wait…four if you count this one."
"And the nightmares?"
Miles looked away, focusing on a potted plant near the window."Every night.Sometimes more than once."
"Are they the same as before, or have they changed?"
"Worse."Miles heard his own voice crack slightly."They're getting worse.I'm back in the chamber but now the walls are crushing me.Or Stevens is still alive but he's choking me with the pipe.Or I can't move and I'm just watching the oxygen gauge drop while he stares at me.In every dreamed scenario, I’m going to die."
Dr.Mitchell set down her tablet."Miles, I'm going to be direct with you because I think you need to hear this.You're not recovering from Seattle.You're getting worse.Each session we have, I see more signs of post-traumatic stress, not fewer."
"I know."
"Do you?Because you keep showing up to these appointments and going through the motions, but I don't think you're actually processing what happened to you.You're just trying to white-knuckle your way through it.And whenever I suggest medication, you instantly shut it down."
Miles met her eyes."What else am I supposed to do?Aside from meds, I mean?"
"For starters, you could consider taking a break from cases involving Kane's disciples.Every time you work one of these investigations, you're essentially re-exposing yourself to the trauma.It's like picking at a wound that won't heal."
"I can't do that."
"Why not?"
The answer was so simple to him, but he knew others simply didn’t understand it.But he did his best."Because they're still out there," he answered, sitting forward as his hands gripped the arms of the chair."Kane's network is still active.His disciples are still killing people.If I step back, someone else has to take my place, and they won't know what I know.They won't recognize the patterns.And they’d have to essentially be trained from the bottom up.I’ve been following these people since before we evenknewthere was a network."
Dr.Mitchell was quiet for a moment."Do you hear yourself?You're making yourself indispensable to this investigation, which means you can't allow yourself to step away even when it's destroying you."
"It's not about being indispensable.It's about responsibility."
"To who?To the victims?To the FBI?Or to yourself and this idea that you're the only person who can stop Kane's followers?"
Miles didn't answer.The truth was, he didn't know anymore.The line between duty and obsession had blurred somewhere along the way.He thought about Gabriel Kane sitting in his cell, wondering if the madman had perhaps figured out a way to send messages to his followers even when he was in prison.He thought about those disciples spread across the country continuing their work despite their leader's imprisonment.