"Branded"
By: CapLovesHankandKel
A/N: This is a Stoker story and set in the seventies. Mike has an edge, is mildly depressed, on Amitriptyline and is without a doubt obsessive/compulsive especially when it comes to the engine. Since we knew so little about him on the show, he is basically wide open to play with. This is of course is in Mike's POV; it is an exercise that his therapist Terry, who he sees on a regular basis, wanted him to do.
Special thanks to Jason, my CNP for his willingness to research what medication I could use for Mike that didn't have horrible side effects that an engineer could safely take and still do his job.
The songs "Right Place, Wrong Time" and "Brain Damage" are not my songs. They work well.
Nothing Emergency! belongs to me. If it did, I'd be blissfully married to Hank, Mike, Marco and Kel.
Why the hell am I even doing this, and where do I start? I just got done talking to Terry.
He said, "I am shutting down and shutting him out." He asked me to write down what is bugging me. I hate doing shit like this, he knows it, but because I think the world of him, I'll open up on paper. He thought, "I could get in touch with my inner self easier."
There are three things I need to do first to get in the right frame of mind. Get a clipboard, light up a cigarette and head for my safe zone to get it the hell done.
Question is where the hell do I start? There are a couple of things that have been eating at me. So, here goes, for better or worse.
A couple of Sundays ago after our routine chores were finished Cap had us do some drills. We had fun with them, each other, and with Cap. We finished up feeling lighthearted and happy. Then Cap went on the prowl looking for something else for us to do.
So, as he was visually scanning the bay, he went to the back of my "dearly beloved" and climbed on top to inspect the hose bed. I kept a close eye on what he was doing and knew he was messing something up. It is a familiar feeling whenever anyone is messing with my girl. And yeah, Terry, I should have known this was another OCD episode but I didn't get it at the time.
After that, he called us all to assemble in the bay and told us we were going to give the Engine a thorough cleaning. As he was giving out assignments as to who was going to do what, I cringed thinking about all the footprints that were going to be left on Sagourney. My mind was racing as I searched frantically for a way to solve the problem without being noticed. I broke out in a sweat, while my hands turned cold and clammy.
Cap noticed it (of course) and asked gently, "Michael is there a problem?"
My face felt beet red but I told him "no."
To which he replied, "Tell that to someone who doesn't know you." His voice became more firm, and he continued, "I asked you a question and I expect an answer."
Shrugging my shoulders and trying to downplay the whole mess I answered, "I think my OCD is getting the best of me. Don't mind me."
Before Cap could get another question in, I was saved by the Klaxons and a dumpster fire. I silently thanked God because then I could focus on driving. I felt Cap's eyes on me the whole time, which unnerved the hell out of me, but I stayed focused. By the time we got to our destination, as with many other times, the fire was mostly out.
Cap ordered Marco and Chet to do a mild "cold trailing" for a couple of minutes to make sure the fire was completely out. Operating the pump helped me to start calming down. Cap came up behind me and asked, "Are you OK?"
My breathing was returning to normal so I said, "Sure, no problem."
Back at the barn, Cap gave everyone their assignments and ordered me into his office. He told me to take a seat as he closed the door and sat down.
"So what triggered your OCD?" he asked.
"I was thinking about how filthy Sigourney was going to be with all the footprints on top. I was trying to find an answer to fix it, and that was when I started to sweat."
Cap's next question really threw me for a loop. "Do you keep the engine clean enough?"
"I guess I never thought about it." I said, "I think it was just the footprints all over hell's half acre that rattled my cage."
"Well I appreciate the honesty, but you do know that footprints are a fact of life?" he admonished.
Even though he was right I just couldn't let it go. "Cap, I know that if I clean the top of the engine I can get it under control."
Most days he is OK with the OCD but for some reason he wasn't listening today. "Nope, today you clean the cab. Maybe that will help your OCD better."
I opened my mouth to argue my point when he dismissed me from his office. As I went out the door he adds in a nice even voice, ""If it's time to take the Amitriptyline, don't forget."
He might as well put a match on gasoline when he said that! It wasn't so much how he said it; it was more that he said to begin with. I thought it was insensitive and ridiculous because I'm not a child. I know when to take my meds, and I didn't need my commander in chief telling me it was time to!
He didn't need to freakin' patronize me like that. It was totally unfreakin' called for.
I swear wanted to hit him! Not that I ever would mind you. I have far too much respect for the man. That's just how mad I was at that moment.
Stalking out of the office and grabbing a pail from the supply cabinet I slammed it under the spigot. I'm surprised I didn't dent it. The place suddenly became eerily quiet and all eyes turned on me, the quiet one. The next sound that I heard was the angry tread of Cap's footsteps coming toward me.
He turned the corner by the engine where I was standing and firmly said, "Stoker put your defiant attitude in check and right quick." He gave me a few moments to respond and when I chose not to, he asked with the same even tone, "Did you hear me?"
I respectfully responded, "Yes Sir."
But inside I was pissed off. He picked the wrong freakin' time to "remind" me about my meds. I was already on edge, and that just pushed me further. For all the smarts that man has one would think he would know not to add fuel to the fire.
I was in a shitty mood the rest of the day. After chores were done, I stayed to my smokes and buried myself in working on my Tack House plans. Marco offered to play a game of chess with me, but I turned him down.
Even though Sagourney looked great, I couldn't help double checking the top of the hose bed. Climbing up there I cringed to see several footprints.
After going to bed I was as restless as a caged animal. Finally at 0200 I slipped out of bed and got dressed. Then as quietly as possible I got a scrub brush, bucket and hose then got busy.
A half hour later, I saw my commander in chief walking toward me. The first thing that ran through my mind was, "Oh shit, how the hell do I explain this?"
Inwardly hoping that it would somehow be OK I said, "Sorry. Did I wake you?"
Cap said, "No. Just answering a call of nature, I saw the light on in here and wanted to know what was going on. So Mike what is the point to all this?" he asked pointing to the soapy engine.
I answered, "I couldn't relax until Sagourney is clean. Then I'm going back to bed." "Have a good night and don't work too hard or too loud." His tone was gentle and understanding. Which was relief to me, but his expression was sad. If I didn't know any better, I would swear he felt sorry for me.
About an hour later, I finished with the cleaning and was calmer. I quietly put the stuff away and went back to bed. We didn't have any runs during the night, which was very rare, so I slept well.
Next day we got up and prepped the station for B shift. Cap once again had me in his office asking me how I was.
"Better. Sorry if I worried you." I said.
Cap replied, "You didn't worry me. Your OCD is something I have to live with and some days I handle it better than others. So Mike, what got you mad about cleaning the cab?"
I said, "It wasn't the order, it was reminding me about my meds. I'm sorry I got mad."
Cap chewed on that a second and replied, "Point taken about the meds remark. You know Mike I honestly wouldn't want anyone else for my Engineer but you. You've been through a lot and I've seen you come a long way. Every now and then, there are setbacks, but as long as it's not dangerous or life threatening, we'll be fine Pal."
Man, that made me feel good.
The second thing I want to write about it is how "branded" I feel with the OCD and depression. Even though the Chief, Cap, and the crew have never ever made me feel "less than" since my diagnosis, I know that I am still a branded man. The above is a prime example of it.
Yes, Terry I know some of it I bring on myself. I can't leave well enough alone; I can't accept simple things like a freakin' footprint or two or three on the back of the Engine. I can handle everyone's footprints on the chrome floor from riding in the engine, and getting off and on. But, even after asking myself, "Where the hell else would they be?" I still have to clean up after every run.
Cap's been pretty tolerant of it. Every once and while he will tease me about it and I suspect he knows that I have to "get it out of my system". He hasn't said anything bad about it which I appreciate.
But where does it stop? Sometimes my life feels like Dr. John's "Right Place, Wrong Time" song. Here's the whole quote:
"I been running trying to get hung up in my mind
Got to give myself a little talking to this time
Just need a little brain salad surgery
Got to cure this insecurity"
It's the little things that get to me; the OCD especially. Some days it is a living hell. I hate being this way! I hate having to take medication to keep me going, to keep my brain from doing even more stupid things than what I do now. One good thing is I have never been suicidal.
I'm thinking about how life was before the meds and the accident. I admit I wasn't easy to live with away from work. I was so withdrawn I didn't know what else to do. It was safe there. I didn't want to love, to reach out, to do any of that. Is it any wonder English left me twice?
Fortunately I bonded from the get go with my crew and I never became stand offish with them. The bond got much stronger after my accident. I always looked forward to their visits. They always kept men in the loop of things which kept me going. They are the best friends a man could ever wish for.
They never question my need for space but I know they wonder. I know they think I have to be the loneliest person in the world but I'm not. I'm comfortable inside my shell, in my ashes where no one is permitted to be. It's so hard to describe how freakin' safe I feel in here. I know it's morbid as hell, but it's still safe and comforting for me.
There's another song that fits my frame of mind some days. Well, part of it anyway. Pink Floyd's "Brain Damage" and I really love this part of the song:
"You raise the blade
You make the change
You rearrange me 'till I'm sane
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head
But it's not me."
That's a very accurate description of how I feel on any given day when the OCD kicks in. I tend to think of it as the "someone in my head."
Living with it isn't easy but I try to. I'm that way here at home too. If I get too obsessive with stuff, Tabby has been known to tell me to "give it a rest" and I usually do.
Well, I guess, that's all I have to say. Terry you can take it from here. I do feel better after writing about all this.
I'm going to put the cigarette out and just contemplate for a little bit here in the safety of my ashes. I'm not writing anything else; this exercise is officially done for me.
End