Repression, Obsession & Past Life Regression

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Taxes Part 3 - Repression, Obsession, and Past Life Regression
Part 2 of 8: What's Up, Doc?
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"They held on longer this time."

"Yeah," Jack said, meditatively.

"And Will was...different. Something disturbed him. I have the weirdest feeling - like he's keeping something back, you know? Something about hanging on like he did. Which I had no problem with, mind you."

"Well, sure. Every time he takes the lead, you're having sex."

"Funny. That's what he said." Will waited until Jack had replaced the surfboard in its garage rack, then said, "Will Turner was a pirate. I swear I remember that."

"Pirate and blacksmith, yeah, by turns."

"I thought pirates didn't *have* existential angst."

"Bootstrap's boy broke a great many rules," Jack replied, "even if they were mostly guidelines, really." A bit of Sparrow again. Will loved that. And also...//Bootstrap...I have *got* to call my Dad this week...// That, Will decided, was going to be a surprise.

Will cycled through the shower first, so when Liz arrived, he was lounging in sweats. Jack, on the other hand, was wearing one towel and whisking water from his hair with another. Will let him answer the door, just to hear Liz' long, low wolf whistl}. "Hey, Lizzie," he called from the couch.

"Will, I swear to God..."

"A thousand pardons, Miss Swann..."

"I can't win, can I?"

"Nope."

"So, not that I'm complaining, mind you," Jack said, finger-combing damp locks, "but it's Friday night. Why aren't you out with your fiancée instead of staring at half-naked, and I might add better-looking, men?"

"First of all, Jack, your opinion of yourself knows no bounds, which surprises me not at all, but does not make it at all in fact accurate." This delivered in Elizabeth's smooth tones. "And to answer your question," Liz sighed, "Horatio Hornblower marathon. He's never even gonna know I'm gone."

"Has he...?"

"Nope. Nothing. And I think I'd be the first to know. Somewhere in my hot Texas honey is a gallant British commodore, but wherever he is..." She smirked, "It's not where you found your pirates, that's for sure." She hefted a white paper bag. "So, where are all the brochures and such? I brought baked goods."

"Kitchen. We were..."

A bang and a scuffling noise interrupted them. "Bloody squirrels, I *will* eat the next one..." Jack swore, running for the kitchen. The three entered the room in just enough time to catch the switch of a dark tail-tip at the window, and nothing more.

"Will, do you think you could start practicing with swords again? I'm really wantin' to see squirrel on a skewer..."

"Yeah, but do you want to be scraping squirrel guts off the wall?"

"Figured that'd be the cabin boy's job..."

"I was *not* your damn cabin boy...Liz, tell him something?"

"Oh, I'm pleading amnesia and staying out of this one." She sighed. "Damn thing was running around on the table, wasn't it?"

"Looks like. It shuffled all the books and pamphlets around, too." Will reached down and picked up the book he'd leafed through that morning. "Here, sit down and put those out and I'll show you something."

"I'm leaving that straight line alone, so to speak," Liz said, sprea the the pastries out on a plate and joining them at the table. "So..."

Will lifted something chocolate in one hand and opened the book with the other. "See? Triggers. Different situations for different people. I'm betting it's a lot more likely with everyone ending up together like we did. So, your trigger was the song, or you and Jack singing it. Ours was..."

"You're blushing again. That's cute."

"Anyway, I have no clue what Greg's would be."

"I could let him lasso my neck," Jack said, "but if the moment runs away with him, you might be short an auditor."

"And while I'm sure Bob from Finance would do the dance of joy, I'd be a little put out." She smiled. "I don't think Greg would actually kill you, but - "

\ *th *that's* comforting..."

"- I agree, might be best not to tempt fate."

"So glad we agree."

"Hunh. Don't remember this one - must be one of Amy's..." Liz lifted a brochure from atop the stack. "...Licensed Hypnotherapist...Past-life Regression..."

"Let me see..." Jack said, whisking it away. "Oh, look - she takes walk-ins on Saturdays." He executed a quick bobbing head-turn and grinned at Will. "Let's do it!"

"Well...okay. Sure."

"Liz? D'ye want to come?"

"I'm afraid I must decline," she replied, just a hint of Elizabeth answering the Captain. "Dragging Greg to Ikea, and then jump school - apparently I need some training even if I'm going tandem."

Jack looked at her just a bit too seriously. "Skydiving or furniture shopping with Norrington. Honestly, I can't say which prospect frightens me more."

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The next morning, Jack seated Will behind him on his bike and the two headed into the city proper, a former pirate attempting to keep his eyes on the road with the warmth of a former pirate/blacksmith pressing into his back. An unprepossessing three-story building matched the brochure's address. The two, helmets in hand, ascended the outdoor staircase, letting themselves in the open office door. The sign read "Celia Schuyler," followed by the usual alphabet soup.

A woman met them three feet in, all soft blue layers and mid-length brown hair. She had captivating grey eyes, Jack noticed, and thought that must come in handy, considering her profession.

"You _must_ be thirsty," Dr. Schuyler said, "You wait here. I'll get you something to drink." She was back shortly with three glasses of juice. Taking one, she handed the other two to Will and Jack. They introduced themselves, with Jack as the specified client, Will to observe. A check changed hands and Jack settled into a comfortable chair.

"Now, what brings you here? The past life regression is most of my clientele these days...is it that?"

"Well, yeah," Jack said. "Pretty much."

"So what are your symptoms? Vivid dreams? Incidents of particularly strong déjà vu?" At Jack's nod, she continued. "What tends to bring this on?" Jack glanced at Will, and sure enough the kid was blushing again. "Oh...ah...never mind, then..." She gathered herself and went on. "Now, I will tell you up front that there are no guarantees. Sometimes déjà vu is just a feeling, and sometimes it's an authentic reminiscence of a previous existence on this plane. Also, don't expect to recall having been Marc Antony or Cleopatra - that sort of thing is very rare. Most folk were servants or slaves, if you go back far enough."

Dr. Schuyler leaned forward, very earnest now. "You also need to be careful - if _you don't trust yourself,_ things may be difficult for you. By this I mean _you may not trust your prior self._"

Jack thought there might have been something odd about her voice just then. Perhaps she was starting already - the rhythm was lulling. "So listen to your heart," she continued. "And if _you're_ at all _uneasy_, at any point, please let me know."

"Now, I want you to breathe slowly, in and out, and focus on my voice, the sound of it, how the words form, and breathe again, good..."

Jack did feel relaxed, he noticed, although he felt the oddest rising paranoia, a feeling that he should listen to her words themselves, to lessen the effect of her, but it was the effect he wanted, wasn't it?

He murmured a word...he'd responded to something, he wasn't sure what...

"Good...now go back...where are you now?..."

"Good...farther back...how old are you?..."

Odd clarity, flashes of college and *that* professor, high school, grade school...

"Back...back..."

Balking, he was, and it was understandable, for she had entirely too much control now, far too much of a hold on his state of mind, and he could hardly countenance it...

"Back..."

Back, forth, and what was direction, anyway, but a tool with which to confuse one's enemies?

His eyes snapped open.

"Who are you?" Dr. Schuyler asked.

"Same person I was when I walked in here, I'm afraid," Jack replied. "Jack Byrd, IRS. Your pain, our gain."

"And awake, too." The therapist sighed. "Well, I did warn you that some folk aren't the best subjects. Look, it may just be me. I have a few recommendations, if you're ever interested in giving it another go. My card?"

"Thanks. Hey, Will, let's...Will?"

Apparently, Will had been drowsing. He snapped awake in a second, though. "Wha? Oh. Sorry." He turned a sweetly apologetic look on Dr. Schuyler. "You have a very relaxing voice."

She shrugged. "It's my job."

Following some pleasantries, they descended the stairs. As they neared Jack's bike, Will's hand caught Jack's shoulder, turning the man to face him.

Jack watched the smile steal across Will's features. "You cannot fool me, *Captain* Jack Sparrow."

"Well then, how did y' figure it out?" And oh, the lad was a sight for sore eyes and heart and hands...especially hands, though with sore hands it would be hard to do everything he'd wish to, though again they might both be sore once he was done.

"She could not tell, not having known us, but Byrd had a great deal of your movement in him, even before. Your walk, your voice, your manner have been far too flat for the past several minutes. You have been more Byrd than Byrd ever was."

"And yer accent is slipping, me own William. Why, pray tell, did y' not reveal yourself to the lass who makes such as us her life's work?"

"Well, I never was as good an actor as yourself, and as to the second..."oh, there was the sweet, tolerant smile that made the world spin just a bit more than it should, which was a good bit alr...\..."I was following your lead, my Captain, as usual."

"I'll let that one pass, as I recall it rare y' actually listening to me...but it appears the wench has given us a few gifts. Methinks we ought to have some fun while they last."

"And how does Byrd feel about all of this?" Will asked, tilting his head.

"Wholeheartedly endorses it, lad - he is a man after me own black heart. And Smith?"

"...I think he's still asleep." Jack snorted, then waited for it. "A *few* gifts?"

"Well, Celia there did have a few pretty shiny things lying about to catch a man's attention. It is after all her job."

"How long have you been back? Ten minutes?!" Will paused, then spoke as Jack was opening his mouth. "I know...I know....Pirate."

"Quick study, still. Now, let's head back to the house, shall we? I'd rather like to change me attire, and we need to get you out of those wet clothes."

*Captain* Jack Sparrow rather thought Will's expression changed from confused to apprehensive right about the time his eyes fell on the water bottle Jack Byrd always kept with his bike.

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