He throws his dirty clothes in the general direction of the hamper and lies down next to Linda, who's reading one of those paperback romances she loves so much.
He's hoping he can just fall asleep without any chit-chat, when Linda says next to him, "You've been home an hour and you haven't said a word. You okay?"
He laughs humorlessly. "Yeah, I'm okay—I came home with all my limbs. Of course I'm okay."
Linda puts her book on the table and turns to face him. "What are you talking about, babe? What happened?"
"Went to talk to one of the robbers—she asked me why I cared, why I wanted to get her a lesser sentence, help her husband get the help he needs at the VA. I said because I was over there, too. And she…she said, like she knew me, like she f-g knew anything about me…she said: 'But you came home okay.'"
He clears his throat roughly. "And I said, 'On the outside.'"
He startles a little when Linda slips her hand in his. "Why the hell did I think…telling her that would…help?"
"Because establishing rapport is part of your job—even with the criminals. Because…you wanted to get her to confess so you could try to get her husband help. Because…maybe you've finally internalized what Doc and I have been telling you for two years—that it's not weakness to admit you need help, to admit you're not okay."
He nods, pulls her close. "He got the Purple Heart…lost his legs in an IED attack. Probably lost some buddies, too. And he's been waiting three freaking years for the VA to get him treatment for his TBI—same amount of time he served over there. Meanwhile, here I am, two tours, got all my limbs, perfectly okay. I was honestly ashamed to tell Captain Sullivan I'd done two tours because…I came home unscarred, to a beautiful wife, smart kids, supportive family… Why am I alive and my buddies are dead? Why am I fine and Captain Sullivan lost his legs?"
"Because war isn't just, babe. It doesn't…there's no rhyme or reason to it. And just because you look okay on the outside, doesn't mean…you're not suffering in here." She puts her hand on his chest, over his heart. "You're gonna do the right thing, Danny. I know you want to look the other way, but I know you're gonna do what you can to ensure justice is served, and Captain Sullivan gets the help he needs. Because I know you, Danny."
He slides down the headboard, puts his head in her lap. "I…I'm not okay, Linda."
Her fingers card his hair. "I know, babe. That's okay. I love you. You've still got me and the boys and your family—we're not going anywhere."
He closes his eyes. "This isn't going away, Linda. Hopefully it won't ever be as bad as it was, but…I'm gonna have PTSD for the rest of my freaking life."
"I know. And I'm gonna be right here next to you, reminding you that even if you're not okay 'on the inside,' you're still a good husband and a good father and I love you and I think you're more than okay—I think you're amazing."
He falls asleep to her humming under her breath, and hopes he doesn't have nightmares tonight.