[A/N: Hey everybody. This is a little fanfic I wrote for Disabilityfest over on Tumblr. I really hope it's good.
The fic takes place during the Season 1 episode "Oh Baby!", after Brent goes to babysit Tanner, but before Lacey goes over to "help". I'm not sure how great the chronology works out, but hopefully it makes some sense.
Possible Brent/Lacey depending on how you read the fix, depending on how you read the episode — I didn't intend for it so much, but everything's open to interpretation, I guess.
Trigger warnings: ableism, discussion and portrayal of mental illness (PTSD, panic disorder); references to gambling and drinking. If I've gotten something wrong in regard to PTSD and/or panic attacks, please tell me.
The "Phil" referred to here is the one-off character from "Oh Baby!", not the bartender from Seasons 4-6.]
Lacey sat at the bar, waiting for Phil to be done with the pinball machine. The café owner wanted to have a little talk with the townsman, given that he had once undertaken that which Brent was undertaking that night.
Three, two, one… Lacey quietly counted down to herself. Like clockwork, Phil whipped his head over his shoulder. Seeing that he was in the clear, he returned to his game. Three, two, one…. It happened again. After Hank had pointed it out, it was hard for Lacey not to count the seconds between Phil's compulsive glances.
"Hey," Lacey casually started chatting to Hank, trying to speak over the frenzied bet-makers in the bar, "wasn't that guy in here last night playing that same game?"
"Yeah," Hank shot back, almost defensively. "Why? Can't a guy enjoy a game of pinball every now and then?"
Lacey, taken slightly aback by Hank's tone, answered, "Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, just… don't you find it strange? You know, that he came here two times in a row? Doing the same thing?"
"Not really," muttered Hank with a certain lack of interest. He was more curious about the odds on his bet than whatever Lacey was saying.
"I mean, like, is that part of his weird reaction to dealing with Tanner?"
At that moment, Hank shot Lacey a glare, tinged with fear and offence, unlike any other look the newcomer had ever seen the unemployed oaf give to anyone. "Hey, look," Hank uttered solemnly. "You can't judge the guy. You don't know what he's been through, okay?"
Lacey stared at Hank incredulously. "'What he's been through'? Hank, he babysat a six-year-old."
"You don't know what that kid's capable of," Hank spat back. "You don't know what Phil's been through, okay? Maybe back in Toronto, you people feel the need to analyze and judge everything, but here in Dog River, we don't question people's motives. We stick up for each other."
Halfheartedly, Lacey threw up her hands. "Okay," she sighed. "If you say so, then I'l just… sit here and pretend to believe you."
"Yeah, you do that," Hank grumbled, looking back at the board where the bets and odds had been written.
About ten minutes later, Phil stepped away from the pinball machine, continuing to check behind his back. Great, thought Lacey. Now's my chance. Swiftly, the woman got up from her spot and made her way over to shaven-headed man. Approaching her fellow Dog Riverite from behind, she reached out to him and shouted.
"Hey, Phil!"
The man stopped in his tracks, freezing up at the sound of his name. In due time, he glanced behind his shoulder and saw that it was Ruby's niece who had addressed him, not Wanda's… child.
"O-oh," he stammered. "Hello there."
"Hey," Lacey replied, cocking her head slightly and widening her eyes over what had just happened. Regaining her composure, she promptly added, "I don't think we've met before. I'm Lacey Burrows." She stretched out her hand.
Taking Lacey's hand, the man shook it, turning his head as he did. "Hey. I'm Phil."
"So, uh, Phil," Lacey began, "I heard that you once babysat Tanner."
Panic glossed over Phil's eyes. "Do you… do you mean Wanda's kid?"
Half-chuckling, Lacey answered, "Well, I don't mean the guy who tans leather and stuff!"
Phil clutched onto his chest. "No…" he stuttered. "Please no. Please not…". He couldn't finish his sentence, his breath becoming too short to speak.
"Oh no!" Lacey shouted. Crap, what am I going to do…? she thought. Just then, Hank ran over.
"Phil!" he gasped gently, as Phil fell to the ground, sweating and grabbing at his head. Hank crouched down to Phil's level, speaking in calm, quiet voice. "It's okay, man, it's okay. That kid's not here. He's not here." Pausing, Hank then asked, "Is it alright if I put my arm around your shoulder?" Phil nodded his head in consent, leading Hank to put his arm around the man. "Remember your breathing, right? 5, 2, 5. 5, 2, 5."
Hank went through the breathing motions with Phil. Eventually, the panic began to subside a bit.
"Th…thanks, Hank," Phil breathed out. He then glared briefly at Lacey, who reacted with a look of ignorant innocence, before he turned back to Hank.
"No problem, buddy," he assured Phil. "Do you think you're gonna be okay? I should I get Paul to get someone?"
"Get… Paul to…" Phil answered, still overwhelmed by what had happened.
"Sure thing, dude," Hank assured Phil. Then, waving his arm in the air, Hank managed to flag down Paul.
"Hey, is everything okay over here?" Paul asked, concern in his voice.
"Somebody," explained Hank sharply, looking at Lacey, before returning to a gentle voice, "sent Phil here into a panic attack. Do you think you could get Karen or Davis to look after him for a bit?"
Paul's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, sure," he responded. He walked away for a moment. When he came back, Karen was there, crouching down to where Phil and Hank sat.
"What's going on over here?" she asked. "Is everything okay?"
"Panic attack," Hank sighed, again glaring at a confused Lacey. "He should be okay, but it's probably best if somebody stays with him for a bit.
Not questioning why the human incarnation of "too much free time" couldn't stick around instead, Karen nodded in agreement. Turning to Phil, she softly informed him, "It's going to be okay. I'm here for you, we're here for you…". Karen then threw a look at Lacey. "She's definitely not here for you, though." Then, addressing Lacey directly, she demanded, "Get out."
"What?" Lacey reacted. "But I—"
"You heard Karen," Paul affirmed. "Get away from him, Lacey."
"What did I—?" Lacey started to protest before noticing everyone's eyes bearing into her. She then silently turned around and walked away quietly.
As Lacey walked out the front steps onto Main Street, she heard Hank's voice calling out from behind her.
"What was that?" he barked while throwing his arms in the air. "Why would you do that, Lacey?"
"I didn't realize he was going to react so badly!" Lacey insisted.
Hank dropped his arms to his sides before shaking his hands in front of him. "Really? You didn't realize that the guy who has to look behind himself every ten seconds 'cause of that kid would react badly to a question about the kid? You amaze me."
"B-but Tanner's just a kid!" Lacey pressed on weakly. "What kind of harm—"
"Listen to me, Lacey," Hank cut off. "Just because you can't imagine a world where a kid can do lasting damage, that doesn't mean that it can't happen, alright? You know, maybe in Toronto, things are different, but here… here we have Wanda's kid! He's got all the genius of his mom and twice the evil!"
Lacey paused for a minute before continuing. "I… I just wanted to know what Brent was getting himself into tonight."
"And you didn't get a clue of that when we told you about that in the first place?" Hank scolded. He then became more calm, but also more stern. "Listen to me, Lacey. I've been there. I've watched Tanner. I've been innocently trying to mind the kid, only to find myself bound and tied up by him, with no escape from the physical and mental torture he had planned. I—" Hank hesitated before continuing. "I know what that kid can do. And I don't exactly know what he did to Phil, but it must have been bad. You don't just get over that kind of stuff. It stays with you. It messes with you. It makes it so that you're too overwhelmed and scared to help out your friend."
"Since when are you Wanda's friend?" Lacey asked.
"That's irrelevant!" Hank cried out. "The point is, Lacey, that just because you don't understand how something can be bad, that doesn't mean it isn't bad. And it doesn't mean you get to go interrogating people who have been traumatized. Next time, before you trying doing something like that, think about it for a moment. Think about what you're really doing."
Hank then turned around and walked back into the bar. Meanwhile, Lacey bit her lip and stared down at the pavement, wondering if the money she had bet would really be worth it.