A/N: Please be aware that there are non-graphic discussions in this story of previous physical abuse that happened to a major character, who was a minor at the time.

December 2017 was already going to go down as one of the most nearly disastrous months in the team's history. The month had barely begun before the team had been sent out on a hunt to capture Nate May, a New York native and former military veteran wanted for triple homicide and armed robbery. During a visit to the house of a POI, Samuel Carter, a former teammate of May, Kateri had been attacked, drugged, kidnapped, and locked in a claustrophobic's worst nightmare. After a tortuously long day for both her and her teammates who feared that she was dead or worse, Kateri had been rescued, but the mission left lasting scars.

After returning home, Kateri was put on injury leave—i.e., sidelined—for two weeks. It was necessary that she meet with a shrink several times during that period and pass psych evals to make sure she was ready to return to duty after such an "ordeal." Kateri was not fond of shrinks by any stretch of the imagination, and none of the FBI shrinks were ones she was willing to spill her guts, too, about her past or her struggles. Kateri also knew how to parrot the answers the shrinks wanted to hear so that they would check and sign the right boxes so that she could get back in the field and life could start getting back to normal.

It was the week before Christmas when Kateri returned to work, and as much as she wanted things to go back to normal, things weren't normal for her … or for the others.

What sleep she was getting was limited … sometimes only a few hours a night … and was plagued by nightmares, as her teammates could tell by the dark circles under her eyes and her periodic struggles to stay awake and pay attention. The unusually high amount of coffee she was drinking was also an indication that not all was well.

What was worse for her (and for the others) was that suddenly little things were making her jump out of her skin. She had always been a little on the jumpier side, and her teammates were used to seeing her head snap up periodically if she heard something unusual, but now almost any unexpected noises made her jump, and even touching her or sometimes just reaching a hand out toward her made her flinch, even when it was just her partner reaching out to get her attention or hand her something. Her claustrophobia had gotten worse, too.

Her teammates were sending her odd looks, also, semi-frequently. Though Kateri knew they meant well, knew they were just concerned for her, simply having them watching her so much also made her jumpy.

Thus, Jess made the decision to assign her—sideline her, as Kateri herself would have put it—to bus duty for the near future.

That meant that when the next mission went bad all Kateri and Hana, monitoring comms from the bus, could do was sit … and listen … and wait.

The case that led to the culmination of the December SNAFU of 2017 was, compared to most of the team's usual cases, a simple, straightforward one … and thankfully, considering the date, a relatively short case. The fugitive was Carlos Bishop, a drug addict who had shot up a small bank looking for cash to finance his habit, killing a security guard and a teller before he fled. Bishop was usually the brawn—definitely not the brains—for another crew, and while his stupidity did not reach writing-one's-robbery -note-on-one's-own-check level, he was definitely not the smartest crook in the box, which just made the team's job easier.

Within two days, the team had managed to track Bishop down in one of his usual haunts. It was a small foreclosed row-house, not currently occupied, in a poorer neighborhood of Newark, NJ. Clinton, Jess, Barnes, and Kenny along with a SWAT team from the New York Field Office left to raid the house about 8pm, leaving Hana and Kateri to monitor comms from the bus.

Kateri was sitting at the desk next to Hana, eyes glued to the body-cam footage of the SWAT officers, periodically changing between cameras, ears alert for any sound from her comm. One hand was twisting her watch around and around and around her left wrist, the other hand periodically pulling a mug of coffee—her fourth of the day—over for a sip.

You should be there with them.

Watching her teammates getting ready to breach a house, watching her partner, seeing him without her at her usual position watching his back was stressing her out.

If it weren't for this stupid phobia …

Kateri blinked twice to refocus her eyes.

I'm so tired.

How much sleep did you even get last night? Three hours? Maybe three to four hours the night before that?

I'm not sure I could shoot straight even if I were with them.

The fingers of her left hand were shaking slightly, and she sometimes was forced to make a tight fist or to press her hand against her leg until the shaking stopped.

Too much coffee and not enough sleep.

I should be there with them.

At an exasperated look from Hana, who found her teammate's nervous tic more annoying than Clinton did, Kateri stopped twirling her watch with an effort and stuck that hand into her pocket.

The SWAT team and their teammates had just reached the front and back doors of Bishop's hideout and were waiting to breach. Through the eyes of one camera, Kateri could just see the back of her partner's head, a sight that only renewed her desire to be at his hip, watching his back. It was not that she did not trust her teammates or the SWAT team, but watching his back was her job. She was his partner, and after the disaster that was the previous mission, there was part of her concerned that another mission would go bad, that something about mixed up partner rotation would jinx things … again.

Pitch black darkness

Rough ropes biting into her wrists

Cold nipping at exposed skin

The smell of dust and decay … and her own sick

Panic, utter panic

The memory of that day in that little room swept over as it had too many times before in the last few weeks. The shrinks had diagnosed her with PTSS, which was not that surprising given what had happened—getting drugged and kidnapped—and which helped explain why Kateri was struggling to get her metaphorical feet back under her.

Despite the fact that Kenny suffered from the same thing, the diagnosis did not help Kateri feel any less like the weak link of the team. She now had 2 strikes against her: PTSS and claustrophobia. Thus, the demons spoke at 2am in the morning after yet another nightmare. After the rarer nights when Kateri actually got a nightmare-free, decent night's sleep, one part of her would tell her that she was being ridiculous, but those better days seemed rare, at times.

Despite the fact that it had been during the course of her job that the incident had occurred, work and her teammates had become Kateri's main link to holding on to some hint of normalcy in life. Running helped, too: physical exercise that tired her out so she slept without dreaming … at least for a little while. Yet, many of her normal activities had become anxiety inducing, fight-or-flight instinct increased by an order of magnitude. Doors slamming, cars backfiring, people shouting, you name it.

You would have thought I just came back from Afghanistan.

It had taken Kenny about two looks at her and an hour of listening to say that she had "textbook symptoms" of PTSS. That had been before the first visit to the shrink, who had just confirmed what he had said. Kenny and Kateri had not been extremely close since Kateri had joined the team, but they had been growing closer over the last couple of weeks … bonding over shared trauma. The incident had badly shaken—that's an understatement—them both, and Kateri, for some reason, found it much easier to talk to Kenny about the nightmares and the flashbacks than even to her partner … or 'specially to the shrink.

The team was entering the house, and the familiar calls of "FBI!", "Put your hands where we can see them!", "Down on the ground", and the variations thereof filled the comms.

Kateri paid only half-an-ear to the comms, focusing more on running through one of the grounding exercises Kenny had taught her. One hand had returned to twirling her watch, as her mind went elsewhere.

Three things I feel: the denim of my pants, the leather of my watch-band—she realized her hand had gone back to fiddling. It was her main nervous tic, and she frequently did it without thinking—my comm in my ear

Three things I hear: voices over the comms, Hana's breathing, and cars outside

Three things I see: my computer, the side of Hana's head, and the house (through the body cams)

One thing I smell: coffee

I am here and not there.

I'm safe. We're safe.

I am here and not there.

I'm safe. Clinton's safe. Kenny's safe.

The problem with the body cams was that only the SWAT officers had them. Kenny, Clinton, and the others did not, which meant that Hana and Kateri could only see what SWAT saw, and there were not always SWAT agents with their teammates, depending on who split off to clear what area when.

The entrance and the clearing of the first few rooms went off without hassle. Then everything went to pieces in an instant.

Shouting started coming over the comms, more calls of "Hands up" and "Get on the ground." The words were the same as before, but Kateri had been on enough calls to recognize the change in the tenor of the words from automatic, house-clearing calls to I'm-in-pursuit calls.

Everyone started moving faster and faster, and the camera footage shook. Doors slammed, and footsteps pounded, as officers began chasing a suspect.

Suddenly, a new shout broke out across the comms. "Watch out!"

Someone else at the same moment unleashed a string of curses.

In the background, there was a series of thumps, the loud crack of splintering wood, the crash of a body hitting the ground after a fall, and then Kenny's voice, crying out in pain, came out loud and clear over the comms.

Oh, bloody h**l. No, no, no, no.

This can't be happening.

It was like all of her nightmares were coming true.

No, no, no, no.

None of the SWAT officers were in the position to see what had happened, judging by the lack of anything helpful in the camera feeds, and the closest there was to anything helpful was the sight of a long, dark hallway, where tac-lights illuminated a massive cloud of dust filling the air. Seeing anything through the dust was almost impossible. It was like shining a flashlight in a fog bank.

Kateri and Hana exchanged horrified looks.

"Team! Status!" Jess barked over the comms.

Everyone sounded off that they were okay … except for Kenny.

A roaring sound filled Kateri's ears. No, no, no. Not again. Her heart felt like it was a few seconds from pounding its ways out of her chest. Kenny in danger on another mission gone bad was too much like … before. The shaking in her hands increased, and the bus began to feel almost too small, which had never happened before.

I'm on the verge of a panic attack. She realized.

With a jerk, Kateri pulled the comm from her ear, nearly taking a few strands of hair with it in the process. Her sudden, almost frenzied movement drew a start and a sudden concerned look from Hana, as Kateri rose from her chair and hurried off to the other end of the bus. Behind the privacy screen around the bunks, Kateri could have a few seconds to let the panic out and then get herself under control.

It took several minutes of sniper breathing and two rounds of Kenny's grounding exercise before Kateri felt under control again, before she felt the incoming waves of anxiety ease.

A pox on my claustrophobia!

And a bloody pox on this PTSS.

And on Carter for that matter for getting me into this mess.

By the time Kateri had returned to her seat and replaced the comm in her ear, Kenny was back on comms, swearing a blue streak in a weak-ish, pained voice and trying to complain about something. Hana was pale but composed, which did not make Kateri feel any better about having a near breakdown.

"You okay?" Hana asked, reaching up one hand to block her comm.

"No, not really," Kateri replied, as she collapsed into her chair, "but I don't really have time not to be."

"Bishop's been caught. Everyone but Kenny is fine. He took a nosedive off a staircase," Hana explained, filling in Kateri on what she had missed in the last few minutes.

He did what now?

Kateri and Hana spent an anxious ten minutes listening over comms, as the medics treated Kenny and got him prepped for transport to the hospital. They were torn between their worry for their teammate and their bewilderment over what had led to him taking a nosedive off of a staircase.

Once Kenny was on his way to the hospital with the others following, Hana and Kateri wrapped up their work at the bus and hurried off to join their teammates at the hospital, where they all piled into a single waiting room to wait to hear what his condition was.

At least he's talking … and swearing … It could be much worse then.

Kateri was still antsy to know anyway. Just being with the others, having the team together was relieving too, given that separating had now jinxed the team two missions in a row.

"So, what the h**l happened in there?" Hana burst out, as soon as the team was reunited and Clinton and Barnes had returned from their trip for coffee for all.

Kateri was somehow not that surprised when her partner handed her tea, not coffee. Sometimes, partner, I think you'd have a second-calling as a mother-hen. What came out of her mouth, however, was a quiet "Thanks" with a small smile.

Clinton patted her shoulder gently—he telegraphed the move and she saw it coming enough to restrain an instinctive flinch—and sank down into the chair next to her, releasing a small cloud of dust as he did so.

"Bishop was on the first floor at the back of the house when we breached," her partner began, "and tried to make a break for it. There were balconies on the second floor. Maybe he was hoping to escape down the row, who knows, but he had to get upstairs first. He was fast, and Kenny was just enough behind that Bishop got all the way upstairs by the time Kenny was just starting up the stairs, and I was well behind Kenny. Suddenly, out of nowhere this big thing comes flying down the stairs straight at Kenny."

Hana's eyes went wide, and Kateri flinched in sympathetic reflex.

"Kenny was half-way up the stairs by this point, but if he stayed, he was going to get hit, so he dived straight off the side … nearly landed on me."

"What was it?" Kateri asked.

"A fridge," Clinton answered with a completely straight-face.

Jess and Barnes had apparently heard the full story already or had seen … it … at the scene, but Hana and Kateri could not believe their ears. They exchanged looks, wondering if someone was pulling their legs. Clinton wasn't exactly the type to do so … especially not like this, not in these circumstances, but a fridge?

I was expecting more like weights or a table or something, but a fridge?

"A fridge, seriously?" Hana's voice was half-strangled.

Clinton nodded, the slightest of smiles breaking through his mask, mirth entering his eyes.

"Kenny nearly got taken out by a fridge?" Hana said again.

Clinton nodded again.

Despite the team's concern for Kenny, the humor in the situation was immense. Kenny was renowned for his ever-present, abundant appetite. That a fridge had nearly been the means of his demise was just … poetic, karmaic? Now, you're just slaughtering the English language.

Kateri forced herself to finally relax.

Poor Kenny. He's never going to hear the end of this.

To everyone's great relief, Kenny was not that severely injured. Given how bad the situation could have been if he had actually been hit smack in the chest by that fridge (a dorm sized, but still…), things could have been much worse, but his list of injuries was longer than first thought.

With a concussion, broken arm, four broken fingers, and three cracked ribs, Kenny would be allowed to go home the next day but would be sidelined from the team for a while. As Kateri knew from having suffered some of the same injuries before, day-to-day living was going to become quite … difficult … exasperating … and extremely boring for a while. Given that this is Kenny, emphasis on the boring!

The team drew straws to see who would get to stay with Kenny that night … and have to sleep in a hospital chair. Considering that she did not expect to sleep well anyway, Kateri was not bothered by getting the short straw. It would also be a partial relief to her … to stay with him and know he was okay.

I'm starting to understand what he especially must have gone through the other week.

Kenny was mostly awake but groggy when Kateri took a seat at his bedside. The lights were lowered, and the noises of the machines muted. He had a pinched look around his eyes from the pain. Because of his concussion, the doctors were limited on what meds they could give him to help deal with the pain from the ribs and broken bones.

Kateri almost ached in sympathy. That was not a fun situation to be in.

Kenny was obviously feeling lousy, but he tried to force a half-smile of greeting as she entered and collapsed in the chair in a forced-casual slouch.

"You scared a decade off my life with that stunt of yours," Kateri said, keeping her voice low and trying for a light tone that failed miserably when her voice shook.

Kenny just stared at her for a moment. "Sorry," he finally replied. "You get a number on that truck?"

In pain, few meds, and brain moving like sludge, I remember the feeling.

"The fridge, actually. Someone could probably go find the model number for you." After watching him for a few moments, Kateri concluded that noise, as long as she kept her voice low, did not seem to be a trigger. Concussions, like migraines, seemed to have different triggers for different people at different times, and the lowered lights and muted machines seemed to be more a precaution than anything else.

For a moment, Kenny just stared at her like he couldn't believe what she was saying. I can hardly believe it either, so we're in the same boat.

"The what?" His eyes widened slightly.

"The fridge. What nearly smushed you was a dorm fridge that Bishop threw down that flight of steps at you."

Kenny's mouth opened once or twice like a fish and then clacked shut with a resulting wince of pain. "Okkaayy."

Has the irony occurred to him yet? If not, we'll tease him about it later … Scratch that, even if he does realize, we'll still tease him.

"Thank you for not getting yourself smushed with that fancy footwork of yours." Kateri could feel herself slowly relaxing as they talked quietly. Despite the situation, the sheer normalcy of the bantering was soothing. "Getting smushed by a fridge would be the second worse epitaph, real or fictional, I've ever heard."

"What's the worst?"

Kateri grinned, and this time the smile wasn't forced, "I'll tell you later, once you're actually allowed real pain meds. You'd hate me if I made you laugh right now."

Laughing + broken ribs + insufficient pain meds = a world of hurt.

Laughing + broken ribs + good pain meds still = a world of hurt.

Trust me, I've done it before.

"Yeah, prob'ly so." Kenny's eyes slipped shut. He forced them back open after a minute. "You 'kay?" he mumbled. Despite the pain, he seemed to be drifting towards sleep.

The smile slipped from Kateri's face and was replaced with a look of haunted pain. "No, not really. This … was too much like the other week, but seeing you … mostly in one piece … helps."

Kenny's left arm was immobilized in a cast and was resting on a pillow that also supported his splinted fingers. He was unlucky enough that his four broken fingers were not all on the same hand but was lucky enough that the only fingers broken on his right hand—his dominant hand—were his pinky and ring finger, which meant that he could still use that hand … very carefully … probably.

Kateri was sitting on his right side, right arm resting on the bed, and she suddenly felt a hand brush hers. Instinctive surprise made her flinch slightly before she realized what Kenny was doing. With a soft smile, she rotated her hand so that he could curl his hand around hers without hurting his injured fingers, and then Kenny's eyes drifted shut again.

As expected, Kenny was discharged from the hospital the next day, and everybody got to go home in time to frantically finish prepping for Christmas. With Kenny on injury leave and Kateri on (unofficial) limited duty, the whole team had been pulled from its usual primary active duty rotation, which meant new cases were another team's problem for the moment. On the 23rd, everyone met up for a few hours to exchange small presents and check up on everyone else and then went their separate ways for the holidays.

Kateri found herself struggling over the holiday break. Although she had no living family outside the team—her de facto family—she usually loved Christmas, but this year the break seemed to just drag on and on and on. Even Christmas mass, which she also loved, was just too loud with too many people at her back when she had no one to watch her back, and she did not even bother attempting to do any volunteer work like she usually did, knowing that that's a lost cause, if you can't even get through mass.

The loneliness was the worst part. Save for periodic trips to help Kenny out with cleaning, shopping, laundry, etc., everyone had mostly scattered to their own homes. Barnes had left for a few days of vacation with the wife and kid straight after Christmas. Hana had gone back to see her family in Texas, and Jess and Clinton were doing the family thing at the Skye farm, although Clinton, bless him, called or texted her at least once a day, sometimes twice or rarely more, to check on her.

The morning of December 28th dawned very early and not brightly in the slightest, considering it was 2am in the morning when Kateri startled awake from the latest in a series of nearly-nightly nightmares. She bolted straight up in bed, chest heaving, her own phantom screams still ringing in her ears.

I can almost feel the dirt on my hands, the wood embedded in my fingertips.

Calm down. Deep breaths. You know the drill.

One thing I can taste: blood, I bit my cheek while I was asleep. Bloody h**l … literally.

Kateri gave a laugh that was almost a sob.

Two things I can smell: my shampoo from my shower … just over four hours ago … and the spice water I had boiling on the stove last night.

Three things I can see: the green glowing numbers on my clock, my phone, and streetlights through my window blinds.

Four things that I can hear: my own breathing, cars on the street … uh … the heat blowing … and … the clock in the other room ticking.

Five things that I can touch: my sleeping pants, my blanket, sheets, and quilt, and my hair.

Slowly, her heart rate started to even out, and her breathing started to slow.

Bloody h**l, that was a bad one.

Kateri was quite sure that she was not going to be able to sleep again, not after the childhood cause of her phobia had once again merged with her recent trauma into nightmares about being buried alive.

Kateri adjusted the pillows behind her so she could sit up comfortably in bed and switched on the bedside lamp, which shed a dim yellow glow over the room. Grabbing her phone off the bedside table, she settled down for a long period of browsing the internet and watching YouTube videos to distract herself and wile away the hours until dawn.

Out of habit, she thumbed open her chat app first to check and make sure that there was nothing from any of her teammates. Nothing. Not surprising at this hour.

She had been watching movie clips for about 10 minutes, only half-seeing what she was watching, when her phone buzzed with an incoming text.

It was from Kenny.

She then realized that, with the chat app they used, because she had gone into the app and then left it open—which she didn't do when she was asleep—she would have showed up as online.

There was a rush of instinctive worry—Why are you texting me at 2am in the morning? Why are you up? Are you okay?—then she read the text.

*You do know what time of the morning, it is?* went the text.

Thank goodness for voice dictation. Can't imagine having to physically text with broken fingers.

*Very unfortunately, yes,* Kateri texted back. *Can't sleep. Why are you up? You okay?*

Her phone buzzed with a return text within 30 seconds. *I'm fine. Can't sleep either. Nth annual meeting of the Insomniacs Club?*

The Insomniacs Club had started as a joke … last year, I think it was … Sometimes, for one reason or another, the three younger agents—Hana, Kateri, and Kenny—found themselves awake in the middle of the night unable to sleep and with nothing to do until morning. When that happened to more than one of them on the same night, they'd often gather to play video games or watch movies, because it was easier to while away the long night hours or keep the demons at bay … when you weren't by yourself.

*Sure.*

*You've got a key. Use it.* The and, please, don't make me move was the unwritten request.

Kenny had two spare keys to his apartment, which were currently on loan to his teammates while he was injured and they were around a lot helping out. Jess had one, which both he and Clinton used, and Kateri had the other, which had been bouncing between her, Hana, and Barnes.

The drive to Kenny's apartment was short. There was not that much traffic, even in New York City, at 2am in the morning. The injured one himself was sitting, propped up and stretched out on the couch, when she let herself in. The TV was on, playing something softly, providing the only illumination in the dark room, and Kenny looked decent, his face only slightly pinched and eyes only a little shadowed in the flickering lights from the TV.

You're slowly looking better as the days go by.

"Help yourself to a drink from the fridge, if you want," Kenny said in greeting, adding in a small wave with his splinted right hand.

"I'm good," Kateri replied, brandishing a soda bottle she had brought from home and lowering herself to a seat on the floor, her back against the couch.

"There are seats, you know," Kenny protested, bopping her gently on the head with what felt like his cast.

Too surprised for an instinctive flinch, Kateri laughed, ducking away, the shadow of her dreams drifting away for the moment at the familiar banter. "I'm fine. What's on?" She'd rather sit with him and not bother dragging a chair over to the couch, either.

"Late night junk," Kenny replied dismissively, "I'd thought about putting a movie on, but hadn't…"

"Convinced yourself to move yet? I know the feeling." Kateri replied, shifting around until she could find the most comfortable position and lean her head back against the couch. "So what's your druthers for tonight?"

"Well," Kenny drawled, stringing the single word out into several syllables, "Hadn't decided yet."

I didn't know you could turn that word into so many syllables.

Kateri paused to take a sip of her soda and then asked, "What are the criteria?"

"(A) Not making me bust my ribs laughing, and (B) Not triggering us both into oblivion."

Either he's thinking generally or guessed why I'm awake … or both. None of the above would surprise me.

Considering the current circumstances, finding something to watch that fit both criteria was rather difficult, surprisingly. The two batted suggestions back and forth for a bit, which was fun in itself. Everything from multiple Marvel movies (humor, Iron Man's claustrophobic armor, etc.) to most cop shows (too much violence in familiar scenarios …, i.e., too close to reality for the moment) were raised and rejected. The final choice was the first Lord of the Rings movie, which was up on Netflix and was a favorite of Kateri's, given that she loved the books and fantasy literature in general.

The two watched the movie silently for a while, letting the sights and sound flow over them and distract them, but finally when a less interesting part started, Kenny finally spoke quietly.

"So, any particular cause for this bout of insomnia of yours? Not that I mind the company."

Kateri was quiet for a long minute, fingers mindlessly picking at a loose thread on her night shirt. She'd put on her usual fleece jacket and outdoor pants, but hadn't bothered changing out of her old sleepshirt. "Nightmares again. The same one as usual," she murmured.

"The coffin?"

Kateri nodded, "Yeah, but it was worse this time. It was … a cedar coffin." Her voice shook. Kenny knew why she hated anything to do with cedar.

I hate it when my subconscious conspires against me.

Kenny's reply was somewhat unexpected. "I had a nightmare, too," he confessed. "We were back in that house. Bishop didn't chuck a fridge at me, so I made it upstairs. I was clearing one of the bedrooms, and I opened the closet … and there you were lying… There was a bullet hole between your eyes, and you looked so scared."

Of what exactly had happened on the afternoon of that terrible day while she had been locked alone in a tack room, Kateri knew only a few details. Her teammates had been unusually un-forthcoming with providing her with the details of what had occurred while she was missing, how Carter had been captured, and what exactly he had said that had filled her teammates with fear that she was dead … or worse.

From piecing together small bits of information gained from overheard conversations, mumbles during nightmares, and the looks and actions of her teammates who seemed unwilling to let her out of their sight in the field without one of them there with her, she knew it had probably been bad … really bad.

"I couldn't even begin to imagine what you all must have gone through, until you almost got yourself smushed, Kenny," Kateri noted in a shaky voice. "Scared the ever livin' daylights out of me."

If I have gray hair before I'm 31, it'll be your fault!

"Yeaahh, it was bad." Kenny's voice was soft.

More than just 'bad' judging by your tone.

Kateri could make educated guesses at once Carter might have insinuated, and …. 'bad' was probably the understatement of the century.

Even so, the wondering is almost worse, I think.

"No one's ever really told me what Carter said that day," Kateri said slowly, her eyes fixed on the still playing movie.

I'd think I'd rather just know whatever was said … however bad it is … than keep wondering.

"We thought you had enough on your plate to deal with," Kenny replied. The sofa creaked, as he shifted slightly, and then there was a muffled hiss of pain as he jostled something.

"Careful! I can make some educated guesses, but wondering is worse in a way, I think."

All was quiet for several minutes, save for the stirring sounds of the music in the background of another action sequence, of which there was no shortage in the LOTR movies.

Finally, Kenny began, "Carter was a SOB … I think the war broke him in a lot of ways …" I bet that hit close to home, too. "After we captured him … he knew you were an FBI agent … and he knew you were our teammate, and let's just say he was doing his best to wind us all up. … Some of the things he was saying … Your partner almost lost it completely, tried to hit him. Jess and I had to drag him off, send him outside to cool off."

Clinton lost it? Clinton?

"Bloody h**l."

All that would explain a few things from when he found me.

Why are you being so intentionally vague even explaining all this?

I've got a bad feeling.

Kenny continued after another minute, "We were pretty sure that Carter was just being a blowhard and that you were in one piece. The problem was just where you were…" His voice trailed off.

"I'm sensing a but coming."

And then Kenny's voice almost shook. "Yeah, a really big but. A couple of hours later, we realized that the information you and I had about Carter when we went to that house wasn't even the start. We got a full copy of his military record, some local police reports, and a few unofficial testimonies. Something in Carter broke while he was overseas, and after that reading … we weren't so sure anymore that Carter had just been blowing smoke."

Oh, bloody, bloody h**l. I thought I had a terrible day. Her heart broke a little, imagining what they must have gone through.

Kateri reached up a hand blindly behind her head and felt Kenny curl the unbroken fingers of one hand around it. "You can stop."

"No," Kenny replied, "Gotta finish. When we finally found you, to see you alive … uninjured except for the rope burns … and … clothes intact … was … a relief."

Bloody h**l. There was a lot Kateri could read just from his tone of voice despite what he wasn't saying.

"What are you not saying?"

"He had a thing for prostitutes. Barnes called him a sadist … among a few other things, big psycho-babble words."

"Bloody h**l."

"Knowing that about him … and not knowing what had happened to you … you just up and disappeared like in a horror movie … that was the longest day of our lives. There was no guarantee that he might have done something to you, but none that he hadn't either." Kenny squeezed her hand.

Kateri swallowed hard.

That … that was worse than I was imagining.

Rape was one thing, but a sadist as a rapist was yet another. "I'm okay, Kenny. You all rescued me. You got Carter before he could hurt me, if he even wanted to."

I'd always suspected that I was mainly leveraged because Carter had a hand in something and we/I were getting too close.

Was I leverage that he never had a chance to use because he got nabbed?

Or was I a thing he never had the chance to abuse because he got nabbed?

"You're not okay. We can see it," Kenny replied, a depth of emotion in his voice that Kateri had rarely heard out of him. He wasn't the touchy-feely type. "You aren't sleeping. Things that have never bothered you before nearly send you into a panic. You flinch when we touch you, even when Clinton touches you. You flinch when we reach toward you."

Kateri was silent for several minutes, mulling over how to reply, how much to reveal. "Can you stop the movie, please?" It was stopped, and she continued after a minute, eyes fixed on a picture of Boromir frozen on the screen, sword raised to fend off orcs, "If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell the others?"

"You know the rules of the Insomniacs Club. Unless whatever you say makes me think you're a danger to yourself or others, mum's the word," Kenny replied seriously.

"I've told you about that foster brother of mine … the one that trapped me in the cedar chest, which is why I'm claustrophobic," Kateri began slowly.

There was always the worry in the mind when she started to talk about what she was about to talk about:

Are they going to look at me differently?

Are they going to treat me differently?

"Yeah, you told us once … can't even remember why now, though," Kenny replied, his voice level, "Clinton and I wanted to have a meeting with him."

Kateri laughed. "I'd actually kinda like to see that. The thing is … the foster home with that kid was actually one of my better homes. My foster parents actually had a cow on my behalf when they found out what happened, but that's another story. What I'm trying to say is that … that house was only one of four long-term foster homes I was in from the time my parents died 'till I aged out, and I … was abused at one of the others … physically."

In our line of work, I've got to specify.

"Oh, Kat…"

"I've had about twenty years to deal with all that, and then … in the course of a day," her voice broke for a moment, "a lot of old memories and old learned reactions that I thought I'd dealt with and buried got resurrected. It's nothing against you, any of you. Things like that … they're just hard to rebury… I get startled, I see a hand coming, and it's like I'm a kid again … I was fine for so long. Some special things could be a problem, but usually I was fine, until this, and now …"

"Once the skeletons get out of the closet," Kenny finished for her. "I feel that."

A few tears trickled down Kateri's cheeks, and she roughly brushed them away. It says something about the shrinks when I feel better after talking to one of my teammates than them, when it's their job to help people work through stuff like this.

"And with what happened the other week … I've been having nightmares most every night. It's hard to sleep. One of the shrinks offered me sleeping meds of some sort, but I hate those."

"You might be able to sleep with 'em," Kenny noted with the voice of experience, "but then you can't wake up. I'd rather not sleep."

"It's like everything is a potential trigger now, or so it seems some days. Even Christmas mass was too much. Too much noise, and too many people."

"I feel you. My first Christmas back after my last deployment, my parents convinced me to come to church with them. I made it through ten minutes before I couldn't take it anymore."

Kateri's voice broke again. "I just want life to go back to normal. I'm sick and tired of flinching at every loud noise, every time you all try to touch me. I'm tired of getting worried when you go out, when you split up. I want life to go back to normal. I'm tired of being the weak link."

There was a moment of silence, before Kenny found the right words and replied, voice stern, "You're not the weak link, not any more than I am. Struggling with PTSS doesn't make you weak. It just makes you human. You went through something no one should have, too. I'd be more worried if you were all hunky-dory after that."

"True," Kateri whispered.

"In some ways life will go back to normal. It will take time, but it will in some ways, but not in others. You've seen what it's like for me. Some days are fine, and some days I struggle. You've just got to take it a day at a time and not give up. Things will get better, I promise."

"I hope you're right."

"Have you told Clinton any of this … or the shrinks?" Kenny asked after another minute. "Not that I mind talking to you. You've certainly listened to me plenty of times."

"The shrinks, bloody h**l, no. I tell them as little as possible. I've gone through a number of the FBI ones, and they've sent me to a few outside ones over the years, and I've never found a good one yet. Clinton … not these specifics, though we've talked a lot between late-night phone calls and the couple nights he's spent on my couch on the really bad days. He knows me well enough that he's probably put together a few pieces. It's just easier to talk to you about some things, though I don't usually tell anyone about … that."

I wasn't expecting to tell you … that … tonight either.

Being abused … it's hard to talk about, but it's nothing shameful.

It wasn't my fault. Sometimes I have to keep telling myself that.

I actually feel better now after being able to admit it.

Maybe I should talk to Clinton.

I don't want them to misunderstand why I keep flinching.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

"Thank you for listening," Kateri replied, stuffing her hands into her pockets to keep herself from fiddling with her fingers. "This past month has just been a confluence of circumstances that brought up a lot of bad memories, and it helps to talk. It's just hard to find someone to talk to sometimes. I know you all have your struggles, and sometimes I just don't want to pile on with all my problems."

Kenny tsked. "We're always happy to listen, and I think your partner would take offense at that."

Probably, but … Kateri gave a sheepish grin, hidden in the darkness of the room, "Probably. I just hate to dump more on his plate at this time of year. He worries about me enough as it is."

"Considering you're his partner," Kenny replied, "he'd say that's his prerogative. This was really hard on him, too. He might want to talk. You're his partner. He takes it personally if you don't get home in one piece, and it was too close to you not getting home at all."

Kateri flinched slightly. "Yeaaaahhhh."

I should have thought about that before.

"Now don't start feeling guilty just because I said that," Kenny's voice broke into her thoughts, proving that he knew her too well. "We've all had a lot to deal with this month."

Kateri nodded. "Can we go back to the movie now?" She had reached her limit of deep, soul-baring conversations for the night.

"Sure."

The movie was restarted, and the two watched quietly until the movie finally ended. As the credits began to scroll, Kenny asked, "So, I've been forgetting to ask you about that thing you said in the hospital…"

"Which thing I said while you were in the hospital?"

I said multiple things.

"You made a comment about epitaphs but said you'd tell me later."

Oh, that!

"Oh, yes. Oops," Kateri laughed, her shoulders shaking and a genuine smile crossing her face and lighting up her eyes. "The comment about getting smushed by a fridge would be the second worse epitaph I've ever heard."

"Yes, that one. You never told me what the worse one was, so spill! Please!"

"'Gave his life for his country in a ladies' lavatory in Upper Bavaria'[1] would be worse, or at least that's the worst I've heard."

Kenny began to laugh softly and then groaned. "Oooh, that hurts, but I needed that laugh. Where did you hear that? Please tell me that isn't real."

"It's not," Kateri assured him. "I read it in a book someplace when I was a kid."

"That's a good one."

It was now about 6:30am. The Lord of the Rings movies were uber long, and there had only been time to watch one.

"I think I'm going to head home," Kateri finally said after glancing at her watch, "and go for a run. I think I'll call Clinton later this morning, see if he has time to talk a while."

"Good girl."

"You need anything first?" Kateri asked, pushing herself to her feet with a groan and shaking out the pins and needles in her feet and legs. She'd gone stiff just sitting in the same position on the floor for over three hours.

"No, I think I'm good. Thanks for coming over," Kenny replied. He was still sprawled out on the couch but had moved to hugging a pillow across his chest to cushion his ribs.

"Thanks for asking, and thanks again for listening." Kateri leaned down, and the two hugged … carefully.

"Anytime."

[1] Where Eagles Dare by Alistair MacLean.