There was an almost looming kind of regret on Bruce's shoulders as he walked into the patient waiting area, keeping an eye out for Aaron Eckhart's face. Or, rather, what was left of it. When he caught sight of the malformed wound, he felt his stomach twist -- not in any particular disgust, exactly, but in sympathy. In distress that Aaron was still choosing to refuse treatment for his burns. That alone gave him a good indicator of how Aaron felt about his psychological treatment.

Bruce had been careful. He'd found the most prestigious, promising psychological institute in the nation. When Aaron lost it -- When he lost himself. It was what Rachel would have wanted. She cared about him, as much as that incited a strange defensiveness in Bruce, and that wasn't something he'd trivialize just because she wasn't there to harangue him about Aaron's care.

He crossed the floor to where Aaron sat, italian leather squeaking on the freshly cleaned floors. It looked comfortable, really. His money's worth? Maybe not. But certainly the kind of place that Rachel would have been happy with. For a minute, it almost felt like she was there with them as he took the seat across from the man whom he would have liked to call a friend.

"Hello, Aaron."