"I see what's going on with you. Just don't take it out on our son."
After Jack's school presentation, he pulls the kid aside and apologizes, then goes back to work.
It's after midnight when he gets home.
Linda's on the couch with a book. "Your plate's in the fridge."
"Thanks," he says, even though he lost his appetite after hearing Tommy's 911 call earlier. "Wait… why'd you save me a plate this late? You know Baez and I normally grab something if we're gonna be this late."
"Because she texted to say you hadn't eaten anything all day and she was worried."
He sighs, gets a glass of water, sits down on the couch without making eye contact.
"I…I talked to Jack after his presentation, apologized for jumping down on his throat. You…you were right."
"'I was right'? What happened to cause this epiphany?" she asks testily.
"Had to get a consult on the case from the shrink who did my anger management last year."
He sighs, shakes his head. "Think he spent more time psychoanalyzing me than he did Corporal Russell. I…you know I try not to bring the job home. But this time, I broke that rule, and you and Jack…got the worst of it. I'm sorry," he whispers, staring at his hands.
"Apology accepted," she says, putting her arm around his shoulders. "What's going on, Danny? Why's this case got you even more on-edge than most vet cases?"
"Corporal Russell…that could have been me. He…didn't get the help he needed, his PTSD is outta control…he kidnapped his kid and beat up his wife. I don't…want that ever to be me."
"It won't be."
He pulls away from her. "You don't know that, Linda! I jumped down Jack's throat; I snapped at you… I've only seen Doc twice, and within like two minutes today, he figured out I was 'irritable, controlling, depressed, and working 'round the clock at the expense of everything else.' There's not much distance between that and… where Russell is."
"You didn't jump down Doc's throat when he made that assessment of you?" she asks.
He shakes his head, completely exhausted from not sleeping since this case started.
"So you agree with him?" she asks and he nods. "That's a start, Danny. Recognizing that that's where you might be headed, knowing you don't want to end up like that…that puts the brakes on. You're not gonna turn into Russell."
He sighs, Jack's words echoing in his head. I know he makes a difference in someone's life every single day. I want to be just like him.
"Do you think…?" he starts to ask, then stops. "How can Jack say he wants to be just like me, after I snapped at him? I saw his face…I hurt him."
"Did he forgive you when you talked this morning?"
He nods.
"Then that's how. He loves you."
His stomach growls, and he sighs. "Do you think…I have PTSD?"
"Yes," she says without having to even think about it.
He sighs. "You didn't even think before responding."
"Because I've thought you had PTSD ever since you got home from your second tour."
"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks, even though he's glad she didn't.
"I was afraid it would push you over the edge. And then, after your mom died, you put on such a front of being fine…working extra tours, shoving any emotion inside…I didn't know how to bring it up."
"You think I need to talk to somebody?"
"I think, if you haven't already excoriated Doc, then you know who you need to talk to," she says, and kisses him. "Now will you please try to eat something, and come to bed?"
He makes himself a piece of peanut butter toast, then goes upstairs with her and gets ready for bed.
He lies down next to her and starts counting to 100, hoping to calm himself down so he can actually sleep.