As usual, Spencer McGregor arrived an hour early for his shift. He parked his '54 Buick Skylark in the staff parking lot on the east side of the compound, then finished his cigarette as he walked toward the main house. Despite it being mid-November, he wore only his usual dark gray linen suit and starched white cotton shirt. This was, after all, Los Angeles. Even when the sun started to set around four-thirty, it didn't cool things down that much.

Spencer was the only guard on Amira's detail that worked a four-on/three-off schedule. Everyone else did standard eight hour shifts. The difference was that he was the only one that seemed to have any kind of a grasp on how to keep his principal in something that vaguely resembled a managable state. Other than Tyki Mikk, of course. To Spencer's best guess, he'd just built up enough trust with her that she allowed him close enough for him to attempt to get through whatever madness clouded her mind.

Though, now, he had an ace in the hole.

Passing through the front door and greeting the property security team, Spencer removed his jacket, assured his tie was regulation, and headed off to get a coffee before relieving Robby. Someone had just made a fresh pot, so he selected a cup from the shelf and poured. Today was the day Dr. Garrett Mitchell would meet Ms. Dayan, and it would be a damn lie if Spencer said he hadn't lost some sleep over it. There was no real way of knowing how she was going to do with new people. What had started out as a joke that her guard detail was really to protect the general public from her wasn't so much of a joke anymore. Amira wasn't useless- not at all. The woman was a weapon, and a fucking scary one at that; but unless she was training or Tyki let her loose on someone, she spent most of her time in the house reading, or occasionally sleeping. They had, somewhat accidentally, discovered that alcohol seemed to bring her closer to normal, but it just seemed wrong to load her up with liquor all day. 

This was why Dr. Mitchell had been hired. Spencer had decided they needed someone with a professional eye to look at the situation and offer some guidance. There had to be something that cold be done so that this bright, attractive, 24 year old woman wasn't locked away like a lunatic until someone needed carving up.
With coffee in hand, he started for the central staircase. There, he found Doug Stevens, another of Amira's detail.

"Afternoon, Doug. Catch the Dodgers game?
Stevens gave a sardonic laugh.
"No."
Spencer caught the meaning immediately.
"Another rough night, huh?"
"Tranqs."
Spencer grimaced.
"Damn. How long was she out?"
"Far as I know, she still is."

Well, Spencer thought to himself, that could put a hitch in his plans for her meeting with Garrett; but he'd see when he got up there. He really didn't like how often the detail opposite him relied on the tranquilizers, but when he was off shift, it was hard to have a say.

He clapped Doug on the shoulder and started upstairs. Amira's suite was on the third floor, but one had to walk across the second floor corridor to get to that staircase. The second floor housed the offices of the upper structure of The Firm. Spencer walked along the hallway casually, sipping his coffee and mentally preparing himself for the shift ahead.
 

A dark-suited man stepped out of a guard house and approached the drivers side of the open-topped Jaguar XK. He studied the polished looking young man behind the wheel with a skeptical eye for a moment.

"Can I help you?"

Garrett reached over to the passengers seat and picked up his wallet, which he'd purposefully kept in plain sight.

"Ah, of course. I'm Dr. Garrett Mitchell, here to see-"

"Oh yeah, yeah, you're the new guy Spence brought on for Left detail."

He waved off the offered identification, but gestured toward the candy apple red vehicle.

"That's a hell of a car you got, Doc."

Garrett smiled.

"Why thank you. Bought it in London and had it shipped home when I graduated. She's a few years old, but still runs like a beast."

The guard nodded, practically salivating.

"I'll just bet. Well anyway, you'll follow the drive till it forks, then go to the left. Park in the staff lot. There is a sidewalk that will lead you to the east entrance of the Main house. I'll radio up and let them know you're coming."

With a nod of thanks, Garrett pulled up the drive as directed. He noted immediately that the property looked much different than he'd expected. What exactly he'd been expecting, he wasn't sure; but the compound of The Firm looked a lot more like his family's country club than what one might think a criminal underworld headquarters would. He laughed to himself briefly as he parked his car in the lot. "Come on, we're not working for Lex Luthor." Stepping out of the car, Garrett pulled on his dark, aubergine suit jacket over the black button-up shirt, then adjusted his purple, green, and brown paisley tie before taking his brown, calf leather bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he ran a hand through his hair, then headed for the door.

"Hey, check out this beatnik."
Vinny elbowed Joey and nodded toward the door.
"That's the doc? Shit, does he even shave yet?"
Vinny laughed, but both men stood up and Joey opened the door.
"Dr. Mitchell? Welcome, Sir."

Garrett extended a hand and shook both hands of the men at the door.

"Please, just Garrett. I assume I'm in the right place?"

Vinny nodded.
"You are. Spencer will come down for you in a few minutes. Just have a seat out there in the foyer. You want a drink or something?"

"No, thanks. I'm alright."

Moving out to the foyer, Garrett's eyes were immediately drawn to the massive, grand staircase. Whatever sort of business, or businesses, these people did, it was clearly lucrative. He noted the artwork on the walls, recognizing the artists as well. As he settled into a chair, Garrett began to amuse himself by counting the number of intimidating looking men that seemed to come and go.
"For Pete's sake, how much protection do these people need?" He thought to himself once the number surpassed twenty. His thoughts began to wander to questions he'd been pondering since his first meeting with Spencer McGregor. Such as, how could someone like himself just waltz into the door of a place like this? Was he now some kind of liability? Would he be followed everywhere he went from now on? Would his telephone be tapped? Even more, would the police come to know him as an associate of a criminal organization? And if they did, did he have any plausible deniability? Of course, Garrett was smart enough to keep his mouth shut- he'd decided that very shortly after his discussion with Spencer; and had gone so far as to make certain legal arrangements to ensure that he was covered from particular circumstances. Still, he couldn't help but run through the questions now that he was sat in the belly of the beast.

"Hey, Garrett; you didn't wimp out after all."

Spencer came off the bottom step, buttoning the left sleeve of his white shirt, which seemed to have recently been rolled up. Garrett stood with a grin and reached out to warmly grip his hand.

"Not a chance. Good to see you again. Looking forward to getting started."

Spencer gave a little shrug and rubbed his forehead.

"Well, it's not the way I'd hoped it would be. I guess they had a rough couple of hours on the shift last night and gave her a tranquilizer shot, so she's awake, but she's pretty out of it, if you know what I mean."

Garrett nodded, interested.

"That's fine. In my profession, we rarely get to meet our clients at their best the first time."

Spencer thought about that for a second, then sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Ok, well we might as well go on up. You have any questions?"

"Yes, just one. Why on earth do you look like you're about to jump out of your skin?"

Garrett had, once again, caught Spencer in a moment he wasn't really prepared for. Only slightly annoyed, Spencer shot Garrett a look with one eyebrow cocked.

"You're gonna do this a lot, aren't you?"

Garrett gave a smirk.

"Probably. But, look, try to relax. This is where things start to get better, alright? Think of it like trying to navigate territory you don't know and you haven't had a map or anything at all; but now you've got a guide."

The third floor study was something like a library, or a small conference room. Three walls were lined with shelves and shelves of books. The floor was hardwood, and there was a beautiful handmade Persian rug on the floor. The other wall was a huge widow that looked out over a wooded part of the property, with a comfortable, overstuffed leather chair and couch in front of it that was a favorite spot for Amira's when she was reading.

Spencer opened the door to the study and stood aside, letting Garrett enter first. The only lights that were on were a few small table lamps with soft, yellow bulbs so that it wasn't too bright. Garrett took the bag from his shoulder and moved it to his hand as he walked in, and quickly saw his new client seated near the picture window. She was dressed in a pair of satin pajamas, covered with a terrycloth robe that belted at the waist. Her hair was brushed and neatly pulled back and away from her face. She looked to be staring out the window, her hands laying motionless in her lap as she sat in the chair. Immediately, he noted that she appeared to be healthy, clean, and in good physical condition; all routine wellness benchmarks one had to check on when first approaching a new psych client.

Spencer spoke up as he closed the door behind them.

"Miss Dayan, your first appointment has arrived. This is my friend, Dr. Garrett Mitchell that I told you about a few days ago. He's come to talk with you for a while."

Garrett watched for any response from her as they walked further into the room, moving slowly as not to alarm her. As her got closer, he could see that she looked very groggy still. Her eyes seemed to be fighting to stay open. When he reached the couch, Garrett reached into his bag and pulled out a stethoscope. He knelt down on one knee in front of Amira and spoke softly.

"Hello there, Miss Dayan. I'm Garrett. Would it be alright if I took a look at you? Spencer is going to stand right here, as well, ok?"

He didn't immediately grab her hand, but slowly reached out his and watched for her reaction. She didn't move, didn't make a sound; so he very easily placed his hand on top of hers. Nothing.
Spencer silently let out a sigh of relief as Garrett started his brief exam. Garrett took her pulse, listened to her heart and breath sounds, then took a small pen light from his bag and checked the dilation times of her eyes. Putting that away, he turned to look at Spencer for a moment.

"You said they gave her something? What was it?"

"No idea what it's called. Something the boss's physician gave her. Just a minute."

Spencer disappeared for a moment or two, then returned with an empty glass vial, which he passed to Garrett.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
Garrett had to force himself not to raise his voice, but several puzzle pieces clicked together all at once. He stood up and took the seat on the couch closest to Amira and began taking notes in a notebook.

Spencer watched for a few moments, unsure of what to do with himself until Garrett waved him over.

"Alright, you said they had a 'rough night,' before. Does she typically seem to get agitated in the evenings more than any other time of day?"

Spencer nodded.

"Yeah. Sometimes it'll just be that she'll want to wander off or she'll seem more out-of-touch than usual, but sometimes she will completely snap and become violent. When I'm here, I can usually keep her from hurting herself or others without the drugs, but the guys on the other shift; I guess they're not that...brave? It's a lot, I can't really blame them. But, hell, look what it does to her. I really don't like it."

"It's called Sundowning. Very common in patients with dementia and several other conditions. That helps me narrow things down a bit. Going off what you told me in our first meeting, I have it down to three possibilities. But that injection they've been--"

A quiet voice cut him off.

"Moya golova bolit." (My head hurts) 

Amira rubbed her temples with both hands and shook her head slowly.

Garrett gave Spencer a confused glance.

"I thought you said she spoke in Hebrew. That was Russian."

Spencer shook his head, equally as confused.

"Khochesh' vody?" (Do you want some water?) 

Garrett replied, looking back to Amira. She moved her hands away from her head, looking at the man a little suspiciously.

"Da. Kak vas zovut?" (Yes. What is your name?) 

"Garrett Petrovitch. Ya mogu pomoch' vam." (Garrett Peter. I'm here to help you.)
 

"I'm going to beat his face into his skull."

Spencer said through partly closed lips as he lit a cigarette and leaned against the side of his car. The tension in his voice was matched by the fact that his hands were almost detectably shaking.

"Well, that's not entirely necessary, Spencer. Look, Dr. Cranston is a General Surgeon, and probably a very fine one. A general surgeon is not a specialist in psychological conditions. And, I'll give you that he certainly shouldn't be prescribing antipsychotics- but if you all were in an emergency situation, I suppose I can understand his assumption. But, still, hitting her with a benzo regularly with a condition like I suspect she has...."

Garrett trailed off as his mind was working faster than his mouth was moving. He paced a few dozen steps one way, then the other. Spencer puffed on his cigarette and watched, now unsure if he wanted to beat Cranston, Garrett, or both of them.

"For fuck sake, Garrett, will you tell me something using words that make sense?"

The young doctor turned on a heel in the gravel and started his pace back, seeming somehow excited.

"Yes. In fact, I think I'm going to make a lot of sense for you. Here, put that thing out."

Garrett grabbed the cigarette from Spencer's hand and tossed it away, then handed him a packet of chewing gum and kept talking.

"If I'm right, I believe Miss Dayan has a condition called hyperactive delierium. Basically, it's exactly what you see. She is, most of the time, completely out of touch with reality. Sometime, patients with this condition withdraw into themselves and become nearly catatonic. Those patients are 'hypoactive.' In her case, and I suspect because of the trauma she's faced, Ms. Dayan is 'hyperactive' in her delirium; meaning she is very easily prone to agitation, rage, and violence. Moreover, it seems that she may have a touch of schizophrenia, if your assessment of her hearing voices holds true."

Spencer listened carefully, so far following everything he was being told. Garrett quickly continued.

"Patients with delierium often experience sundowning, which I explained earlier, and which would explain the aggressive behavior in the evenings. But, here's where things begin to get hairy."

Garrett took the empty vial from his jacket pocket and held it up.

"This is librium- a benzodiazepine which is excellent for treating anxiety, hysteria, or seizure illnesses; but has side effects of- oh, let me see here, anger, severe aggression, unusual mood swings, severe drowsiness...any of this ringing a bell?"

Spencer's eyebrows climbed several inches.

"You mean the shit that was knocking her out was making it all worse after all?"

Garrett nodded, tossing the little vial up in the air before catching it again.

"Precisely. It may have done the job in the short term, but in the long term it was exascerbating the worst parts of her existing condition and you didn't even realize it."

"Son of a bitch."

Spencer muttered, chewing the gum roughly and back to considering how to kill Dr. Cranston.

"Wait, there's good news here, Spencer, listen. Now, from my understanding, Ms. Dayan has been in this state for quite some time. There's no drug that will magically reverse that kind of damage- but we can manage certain things. The sundowning- gone. The zoning out and the voices- much less often. She will know who she is, and she will know who you are. Will she be the Amira Dayan she was before all the trauma? No. Will she be a danger to herself? No. Will she be a danger to others?"

Garrett gave a shrug.

"Only if necessary."

Spencer didn't say anything for a while. He just looked at Garrett with an even, intense stare for a minute.

"You can do that? No bullshit? You're telling me you can make that happen?"

For the first time since gaining his Doctorate, Garrett Mitchell finally began to understood why some people did this in private practice. The look in Spencer's eye- the sheer hope in his voice was oddly satisfying.
Garrett gave him a nod and replied firmly.

"We can do that. We can make that happen."

Just as Spencer had finished listening to the words of the good Doctor, he then turned back towards the entrance of the HQ, only to have his vision obscured by a large slender man who was leaning over him, peering down.

"What the fuck", Spencer said, startled by the sudden appearance of the man, without any prior warning or alert of his presence. As a personal guard, his awareness was something which Spencer had always taken great pride in. For someone to suddenly appear this close to him without any visual warnings or sounds, caught him completely by surprise. As his eyes slowly glanced upwards, he quickly understood why, it was Tyki Mikk who stood before him.

"Spencer, I presume?"

The bodyguard was in sheer shock for a moment as he began to stumble over his words.

"Y.....Yes Sir. I am Spencer McGregor... It's an honor to mee.."

Before he could finish his sentence, he heard the new set of words from the Godfather cut him off.

"Come. We have some things to discuss."

Turning towards the entrance, Tyki Mikk began his slow walk inside, not once checking to see if Spencer was following as he had just instructed.

As Spencer began to follow, he nodded to Garrett, a thankful nod for the information he had provided from the first session with Amira. No matter how hard he tried to hide it though, fear was creeping into every fiber of his being as he kept close to the Tyki Mikk. He had only known of the man by reputation prior to this, never being given a chance to openly converse with him. Yet, the manner in which Tyki had approached him, made Spencer nervous for what was to follow. Had he done something wrong? He had heard tales from Amira about Tyki Mikk and knew that being on his bad side, usually led to a death sentence.

As they made their way through the entrance hall, Spencer was given an immediate lesson on the respect which Tyki Mikk was granted by those within the confounds of the HQ. Catering staff, members of the family, housekeeping workers, all stopped what they were doing and looked down as the Godfather approached the grand set of stairs. Spencer was in awe, yet tried to remain professional and keep his emotions in check.

A few moments later, he found himself within the office of Tyki Mikk as the man stood gazing out of the window, his presence filling the room unlike anything which Spencer had felt previously. The tension was almost crushing, that was the only way he could describe it. The unknown of why he was here. The fact that fate could take any number of turns for him in this moment.

"Now I understand why she, why Amira, treats this man differently" Spencer thought to himself.

Remaining in his spot, continuing to gaze out through the thick window panes which granted him a wonderful view of his City, Tyki began to speak.

"From my understanding, Spencer, you have been involved in some confidential 'sessions' with Amira and a medical professional. Am I understanding that correctly?"

His gaze was locked to the ground, part of him taking in the setting of the room but his mind was solely focused on the words he heard.

"Yes Sir, I can confirm this to be true. We tried to seek some form of assistance to help the mind of Amira. To calm her where needed and see if we could get an official medical assessment of anything which may have been troubling her."

He tried to mask the fear in his words to the best of his ability but he knew he would have failed miserably. He simply had to be honest and speak from his heart. Amira had trusted him and Spencer hoped that Tyki Mikk had, at some point, been informed of this.

"She is important to me. She is important to this whole family. I trust that this doesn't need to be reiterated. I permit you to continue doing these sessions but it comes with a condition. As you learn and understand more, I expect to be informed immediately. This means, directly to me, from you. If I hear about it from any party who isn't you, we will have an issue. Are we clear on this, Spencer?"

Spencer's hands began to tremble slightly, gripping them behind his back in his best attempt to remain calm. He had been in this line of work for many years, encountered some of the most hostile and down right notorious individuals. Yet, right now, the calmness and sincerity of the words from the Godfather carried a tone which he knew came from absolute truth.

"You have my word, Godfather. The minute I have new information on her condition, I will ensure you are made aware, by me directly."

Tyki Mikk turned to face Spencer, catching his gaze.

"Thank you. Please ensure you uphold those words. She trusts you. If I believed you were doing anything with an ulterior motive, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. You may leave but I look forward to the next time we speak, Spencer."

Nodding as he then swiftly exit the room, Spencer felt the weight of the world almost leave his body. His shoulders relaxed, letting out an almost audible sigh as the words of Tyki Mikk engraved themselves into his mind.

He knew that whatever they learnt next, Tyki Mikk being informed was now paramount on his list of things to do.