La Cocachina - An X-files Fan Fiction Story

Chapter 1: Tony Crane

Seidel Memorial Hospital, Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, 9 am

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Tony Crane's ragged gray sneakers squeaked on the shiny marble floor of the North Wing of Seidel Memorial Hospital. Had there been any patients in the corridor, they would have turned their heads and winced at the annoying sound. This was, however, a wing that had the luxury of being devoid of crowds. Uncovered medical care was not for everyone's pocket.

Tony's mother, Mrs. Elise Crane, walked silently beside Tony. She was petite, with shoulder-length black hair and fine features that gave her the appearance of a French noblewoman. She wore an elegant light green suit that outlined her proportional body. Despite her quiet, inconspicuous demeanor, she emanated an air demanding respect.

Next to her, Tony looked like a giant, his thin, athletic figure towering at least a foot over her. His teenage face, still lacking facial hair, clearly showed the family resemblance. His black hair was also shoulder-length. He looked like a taller, muscular, male version of his mother.

The two stood in front of a heavy wooden door with an engraved plaque.

Dr. Henry Walsh, M.D., Ph.D.

Psychiatrist

Mrs. Crane looked up at Tony and gently held his forearm.

"Ready?"

Tony did not feel ready. He did not want to be there at all. But the rational part of him understood that this visit was necessary. He could not move on with his life otherwise. There was a problem that he could no longer ignore. He was doing the reasonable, rational thing. He was choosing to face his problem in the presence of a skilled medical professional. He swallowed and nodded silently.

Dr. Walsh turned out to be a distinguished-looking gentleman with short, graying hair and tanned, clean shaven face. He sat in his soft leather armchair, hands crossed on his lap, as the duo seated themselves across from him on a matching leather couch. The solid, oak coffee table between them matched the heavy bookcase and desk next to the window. The wide wooden blinds were half-drawn, but the semi-darkness was partially dispersed by the orange light of a salt-lamp sitting on an oak nightstand. The thick Persian rug completed the cozy comfort of the room, which emanated the air of professionalism and wealth.

Dr. Walsh' voice was soft and reassuring.

"Let me explain some things first, Tony," he said. "You have what is commonly referred to as phobia, or fear. To you, this fear feels very real. We will start by accepting that fact. While the reasons why you feel this way are important, they are not our goal just yet. Our goal is to acknowledge that this fear exists, and to work toward confronting it. The good news is, you are not alone. I am here to help you."

Tony watched him silently.

"Phobias are not unusual," Dr. Walsh continued. "In fact, most people experience phobias of varying degrees at some point in their lives. Sometimes, phobias can be traced to past experiences. Other times, they appear to be random."

He leaned confidentially toward Tony.

"I had a phobia when I was a child too," he said. "I was afraid of dripping water. It terrified me. I had nightmares about it. As an adult now -- and a doctor -- I could speculate that maybe this fear had something to do with my toilet training. But this is not what mattered in the end. What mattered was that I was able to confront my fear, and to eradicate it."

Dr. Walsh' grey eyes rested unblinkingly on Tony's soft brown ones.

"You, too, can eradicate your fear," he said. 'I am here to make that happen. As your doctor, can assure you that you are absolutely safe."