"Thanks for…meeting me, Doc," he says, walking into the familiar office. "I know you only do half-days on Saturdays."
"You're welcome, Danny. What's going on?"
"I've had five flashbacks in the past three days, and I punched Jamie in the eye when he touched me during one. It hasn't been this bad since…"
He trails off.
"I'm sorry to hear that," Doc says warmly, trying to keep eye contact with him. "What triggered the flashbacks?"
He's regretting calling Doc, regretting coming here, because Doc is going to make him talk. And talking, remembering, is going to push him into another flashback.
"Never mind; I…I shouldn't…"
He's on his feet, heading blindly for the door.
His hand goes to his pocket, but his EGA isn't there because he'd just given it to Jill. But the St. Michael medal his mom had given him when he graduated from the academy is there, and he pulls it out, runs his finger over it in some childish self-soothing gesture.
His chest is tight, and he reaches up to loosen a tie he isn't wearing.
The roaring and rushing in his ears…
Shattering glass, grappling for something to hold onto as the Humvee tipped over, pounding noise and pain in his head, being thrown into the air…
A calm, familiar voice…
"Danny, you're having a flashback. You're safe. You're at my office in New York. Can you feel the floor under your feet? Can you stomp your feet on the ground?"
He's not sure why his C.O. wants him to stomp his feet on the ground, but he does it robotically.
The room is coming back into focus…
He's not in Fallujah; he's in Doc's office.
"Dammit, I'm sorry, Doc. I…I should…." He takes a few more steps toward the door, ready to flee. He hasn't had a flashback that bad in front of Doc in…a few years.
"Danny, it's okay. Please sit down. You're safe here. I'd like you to talk to me, at least for a few minutes. You know I can't let you leave like this."
His shoulders slump. "Jamie's been helping this homeless veteran…whose unit supported mine in Fallujah. We…we survived…"
His breathing is picking up, because the last day he had seen Jill before today, had been on that day of the IED attack.
He jumps when Doc presses an ice-cold bottle of water into his hand; he hadn't heard Doc come up behind him. "Come sit down, please, Danny."
He turns, follows Doc back toward the chairs, sits down in "his" chair, and chugs half of the water.
"Jill was in logistics; her unit supported my company…delivering food, water, supplies. She…saved my life, the…the day the IED…"
"Is that what your flashback was about…the day she saved your life?" Doc asks sympathetically.
He nods. "And Dad talked to Jill, and got Jamie volunteering, and arranged for me to be there, and…"
He's rambling, but he doesn't want Doc to ask for more details about his flashbacks, or that day in Fallujah.
"Woah, slow down, Danny. Tell me about Jill now, about Jamie helping her. Did you talk to her? Is that why you called me this morning?"
He nods. Facts. Cold, hard, logical facts. He can do this. "Jamie's arrested her six times in the last three years. Guess he saw her Marine Corps tattoo, read the after-action report…found out about her connection to me. She asked him not to tell. He didn't."
He explains what happened with Officer Valle and Jill, Jamie's actions, and how his dad got involved.
"When they said her name, I had a flashback…that's when I punched Jamie."
"How did that make you feel…hearing Jill's name?"
He looks at Doc like he has two heads. "I had a f-g flashback…how do you think I felt?"
"I don't know; that's why I need you to tell me."
"Can I have that…feelings wheel?"
Doc goes to his desk, shuffles through some papers, hands him the laminated 8 ½ x 11.
He squints at it.
"Ummm…betrayed? I thought Jill was dead."
"Who betrayed you? Jill?"
"No, Doc! Jamie! He should have told me, or…figured out some way for me to 'bump into her' before now."
"What other feelings?"
"None," he says, setting aside the page.
"Try again, Danny."
He shakes his head, throws the laminated sheet in Doc's general direction, and storms out.
He needs to have a conversation with his brother.