Therapy Session

Griffin kept his gaze on the floor. The shag carpet was thick and clean, almost as if the Doctor in front of him had spent hours with a shop vac, cleaning and picking away any crumb of dirt or mud.

"Griffin?" Her was voice was soft but tight and clinical. "I asked you a question, just now. Please don't ignore me..."

Griffin picked at the tear in the couch and breathed out slowly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess I don't like thinking about it."

"Why not?" Charlotte pressed. "Everything we talk about in here is confidential, you know that." Griffin looked at her. Big blonde hair, hair sprayed to hold it's stature. Cold blue eyes; worn, as if they shouldered the many burdens of life. As per protocol, everyone here didn't use their real names. Griffin was the only one using his real name.

Her thin hand with pale skin so tight it wrapped around her bones, was tapping a pen against the end table by the chair she sat in. Her look of concern reminded Griffin of someone.

Eventually after a period of silence Charlotte assumed that Griffin wasn't going to answer.

"Okay. Let's start with something simple. Tell me about The Passover." Griffin raised his eyebrow and Charlotte shrugged. "Venus worries about you. She talks."

Griffin let out a sigh. They wouldn't let him leave. Not until he had enough (what they thought was) progress. He decided to give in.

"Do you..." He breathed deep. "Ever think about dying? Not just about death in general, I mean, we all think about that but... I mean what it feels like? What it's like to... to..." He couldn't finish.

"This is about Addie." It wasn't a question. "I read in your report that your parents were baptists. Are you?"

"Depends on the mood I'm in."

"Do you believe in God?" No answer. "It's okay. There isn't a wrong answer."

Griffin closed his eyes and let his head fall forward into his pale, firm, hands, his dark hair falling forward. "But there is, though." Griffin lifted his eyes. His dark green eyes met her bright blue one's. "I can still remember the first woman I killed."

"Addie?"

Griffin stared into space, his brow furrowing and his tight jaw clenching. He nodded.

"But I never get used to it. Even the ones... I don't kill. But they die anyway. I know it's me, I know I could've stopped it."

"Are we talking about Addie or the Passover?"

"A little bit of both, I guess..."

"Does your mother know? What you did?"

"That I killed my own sister? No, I never really found a way to bring it up on Thanksgiving."

Charlotte thought for a moment... then spoke.

"You didn't kill her, Griffin. Someone else did."

Fury glowed in Griffin's eyes as he stared her down.

"When I was young I had an accident. My dad wrapped his truck around a tree. A shard of metal pierced my back, and my father was thrown from the car. The doctors said that if the shard had been a couple of inches to the right, it would've punctured my heart and I would've died before the ambulances got there." Griffin leaned forward. "Let's say that happened. Let's say I died that day. If I didn't survive than would she? Answer me honestly, don't lie, would she?"

Charlotte's gaze was cold.

"I can't answer that. And neither can you. She died, Griffin. You can't undo what you did that day and there was no way you could've predicted it. So stop victimizing yourself, making yourself into a martyr."

Griffin flopped back, closing his eyes, his head almost hitting the wall behind the couch, the egg white walls that wrapped the room and caged him in, made him feel sick, made him want to leave, fling the door open, rush outside and into the cool air, consequences be burned, and if he was reprimanded for that, so be it.

He repeated himself.

"Do you ever... think about dying?" Her gaze remained locked on him.

"Griffin... tell me about the Passover. Tell me about him."

Griffin had opened his eyes, but his head remained titled back, glaring at the ceiling, as if staring at an unknown adversary.

"We were in Maine." His voice was coarse. "We were only doing the usual. An activist named Carly Montoya had taken her protests too far. There was a forest that was going to be cleared to put in low income housing for students. By this point in time, she had already rallied some other activists and they trespassed into the zoning area and blocked it off, destroying all kinds of equipment. The police didn't know they had guns until they came in too close and were shot at. Two officers were injured, one was killed.

"FBI came in hot, with negotiators and tanks, the whole nine yards. Except they had set up their camp in the forest, not two miles from the activist camp. The agents and SWAT officers started to report... moving trees and plants attacking people."

"And that was when WATCH suspected there was an anomaly involved?" Charlotte interjected.

"Yes. The agents and SWAT officers cleared out and they air dropped us about half a mile from the activist camp."

"All four of you?"

"Yes. Me, Bones, Sparks, and Venus. We went in, it was fairly normal, the target was neutralized..."

"You... killed her? The anomaly?"

"...yes. I did it. Bones always offers but..."

"You didn't want him to do it. Why?" Griffin breathed.

"Every time it's me. It's always me. It's my responsibility..."

"Why is it your's? Why not Bones? Or Venus or Sparks?"

"I've already done it," he said simply. "I already know what it's like... they shouldn't have to. No one should."

"But that isn't what's bothering you? It's what happened after... isn't it?"

"We got back to the hotel. We had some time to ourselves. I turned on the TV and crashed on the bed. I was so tired, I just couldn't think. Then I heard the voice on the TV say something that caught my interest so I listened closer.

"There were people, mostly homeless, prostitutes, people like that, being tormented and cut up and electrocuted by some twisted SOB. They found and arrested him, but he got off. Something about evidence tampering, I don't know. I knew what Staffer would say, better yet I knew the others would try to stop me. But I had twenty-four hours to kill and something about the story struck me. So I got up, told Sparks - I was bunking with him that day - that I was going for a bite to eat, then just left.

"First I went to the library. I was there for a few hours. I spent a lot of time looking into the claims made about this guy, trying to see if there was any truth to them. I was convinced, but there wasn't enough to tell me that he was guilty beyond all reasonable doubt. So I decided to tail him for a little bit.

"I found out where he lived, where he worked. I tailed him for about... sixteen..? Seventeen hours? Eventually I knew I had to be getting back soon. The others had been calling me, had been looking for me, but I had turned my phone off. Our flight was going to leave in a few hours, but I was still hiding behind a dumpster, watching the dude eat in a nice little diner across the street. I was just about to leave when he came out with a young waitress, maybe my age. I remember thinking she was cute.

"They went down an alley and out of sight. I thought maybe he was just walking her home, and I knew I had to get back real soon, but I just had this horrible feeling in the pit of my gut. It was like, I could feel this rain storm about to hit. The air felt thick. So I go down the alleyway, I figure if I blow my cover at this point it doesn't matter, because I have to go back soon anyways.

"Except when I go down the alley and I turned this corner I see the dude whirling around, closing the back of these van doors. But before he closes them I see her legs dangling limply in the back of the cargo van. So I announced my presence and asked him what he was doing. He didn't answer. He just came in real close like he wanted to say something to me then punched me in the side. I found out later he had actually stabbed me.

"I pushed him against the van, started kicking the crap out of him, then when I'm sure he's down, I open the van doors and she's just laying there. Her hair slick with blood and she was bleeding all over the place. I try to stop the bleeding and I call the police. Then I actually take a look around.

"There was a ton of whacked up crap in there. There was one of those things you use to jump start somebody's heart. There were these tasers, except they were rigged to zap way more than regulated. There were belts made into whips, blades, hammers, you name it.

"I'm still trying to stop the girl's bleeding. Her blood was going everywhere, I can still..." Griffin paused. "I can still feel it between my fingers. I remember the smell. The way she called out for her mother. I tried to calm her down. She wasn't all there. For a minute I lost her and had to perform CPR.

"But right after I did that, the dude crawled into the van. He was still mostly banged up, I doubt he could've stood if he wanted to. But he crawled over to us, and I don't know why but I didn't stop him. I had this feeling that he didn't want to hurt us. Not anymore at least.

"His face was all broken and bloody and swollen. He leaned close to her, blood and spit dribbling from his mouth and his eye swollen shut and he asks her... what it was like... Dying and coming back. He wanted to know. He had been torturing these people, hurting them, burning them, electrocuting them to the point of death. Then he would bring them back and ask them what they... felt. How it was for them. What they saw on the other side.

Griffin sighed and breathed in deep.

"I tied him up. When I heard the sirens coming and I knew she would be alright, I left. I went back to the hotel. We were thirty minutes late to our flight."

Griffin was breathing heavily. The Charlotte who wasn't Charlotte watched him with eagle eyes. The room was stiff with silent air.

"Why do they call you Titan?" Charlotte spoke at last.

"When I was in middle school, when I gave the... hero thing a shot, I called myself White Titan."

"Why did you call yourself that?"

Griffin looked at her.

"I wanted to do good. My abilities they came from an experiment that I recreated. The first experiment made White Knight. You remember him? The world's first superhero. In the beginning I didn't really have a father. Mine was a loser. A junkie that laid his hands on my mother. I started to wish I had another father."

"Like White Knight?" Griffin nodded.

"I wanted to be like him. Save people. My father died not too long ago. His only legacy to the world was self medication and violence. I wanted my own legacy. I wanted my own name. So I did what I did and got my powers. But I thought that the hero gig would be... more noble, I guess. I thought it would be helping people, saving the world, nonstop action, yada, yada, yada...

"But then... Addie died. And I guess the reality of it hit me. By that time, Staffer had already made me the offer but I turned it down. I didn't want to work with others. I thought I was good on my own."

"But after Addie you accepted it?" Another nod.

"I still wanted mine... our legacy to mean something. But I didn't want to get people killed. Staffer offered me training. A way to master the powers I didn't know what to do with. Meet others like me... became a good influence to society... at least for a while." Griffin looked at Charlotte. "That whole thing I was just talking about. It happened on the Passover. People in the Bible would spread lamb's blood on their doors to prevent their eldest child from being reaped. Addie was the oldest. Isn't that ironic? Isn't that a sick joke?"

"Are you saying that.. God is responsible for the death of your sister?"

"No." Griffin looked away and focused on a shelf of board games Charlotte kept in the corner. "I guess... what I really want to know... what's really bothering me..." He swallowed. "If there is a God, and if there is a heaven and a hell... where would I be going? And if I made it to one of those places... would my sister... and all the other people I killed be there? And if so... what would they say to me? How do they look at me? Have I sent them to a better place with no pain, no guilt, no tears? Or have I sent them to hell..?"

Griffin paused than looked to Charlotte.

"My mother doesn't know I kill people," he continued. "She doesn't know that my legacy will be that of her late husband's... self medication and violence."

"Do your friends know you feel this way?" Charlotte implored. "Do they know you have this torment on the inside?"

Griffin locked eyes with Charlotte.

"No."