Chapter 4: A Truth

"The truth?" Shane repeats, rolling the word around his tongue, tasting it, deciding. He hesitates. "You have to keep what I tell you a secret, right? You can't tell anyone else?"

If the question puzzles Dr. Rasheed, no trace shows in her posture or her response. She merely says, "As your physician I am bound to keep anything you say confidential unless I believe you are a threat to yourself or other individuals."

Shane nods, then exhales in a rush. "I was a Power Ranger. In Blue Bay Harbor."

Dr. Rasheed blinks.

It's a small movement, but in the time Shane's known her, the surprise is as apparent as if her jaw had dropped. "Well I can't say I've heard that one before." Her smile is kind as she adds, "Do you want to tell me about that?"

Shane swallows hard, casting his mind back to a time before the marines, trying to work out what he wants- what he needs to say. How to talk about something that, up to now, he's never spoken about to anyone who hadn't been there with him.

"I was the red ranger," he begins eventually, haltingly. "I was seventeen. I was in high school and I was the one in charge- I was responsible for saving the world. I had my team but, at the end of the day, it was on me." There's a sort of unblocking inside of him, the words coming faster, easier. "Every decision. Every time we went into battle, the choices I made could have got them killed. Got my friends- my family killed. And it- it was terrifying and huge and exhilarating and then it was over. It ended and we suddenly had our lives back. A future." He takes a sharp breath, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips as the softer memories push forward. "It was so great, at the start. We'd won. We were alive and I was in a relationship; I was happy. I moved in with him and we had a life — a normal life. But…" he trails off, the smile faltering. "Things changed."

"In what way?"

"I don't know. I can't explain- I wish I could." He shrugs, his words tired and resigned. "I have tried and tried — for years — to figure out what changed." What went wrong. "But I don't know. All I know is one day I realised I wasn't okay and and I hadn't been okay in a really long time. Not since being a Ranger. I felt… useless. Restless. There wasn't- I wasn't-" He waves a hand lamely. "It was like I was stuck. Everyone else was moving forward with their lives and I… wasn't. It was like I couldn't. Nothing interested me. And Hunter- He was always difficult. I knew that going in, but perhaps I was naive enough to think that once Lothor was gone, all his problems would go away too. We had each other, that would be enough. I would be enough for him."

His hands have balled into fists again and he wills them to relax. It takes more effort than it should.

"But it wasn't." I wasn't. His breath is shaky, an undercurrent of repressed sorrow tangling with the words as his story is given voice. "I dunno, maybe in some ways we were too similar. I pulled away, or he did. There was this distance… I could feel it. I think he did too. He must've."

Hunter had always been unerringly perceptive of other people's feelings, even if he wasn't good at actually sharing his own.

Shane scrubs his hands over his face, voice lowering. "We fell apart. He… He left." He can remember the cold panic clutching his chest, echoes of ice lingering even now; the slam of the door still reverberating through him. "And I was left with nothing."

Dr. Rasheed, who's sat quietly up to this point, only scribbling a short note here and there as she's listened intensely, sits up straighter. "What makes you say that?"

"I don't- I guess that's how it felt, at the time. I hadn't really been sociable for a while and although my friends tried to help things were… weird. Strained." He never thought he'd ever have felt so different to Tori and Dustin. Ever thought anything would have driven them apart. And yet he hadn't been able to turn to them. Despite their efforts; he'd been unreachable. "I guess I'd kinda pulled away from them too. The marines… they were my fresh start. But it doesn't matter how much they train you, they can't really prepare you for the reality of a war zone, for holding the hand of your teammate as they die…" For pulling the trigger. His voice breaks, just a fraction; a crackle that forces him to swallow hard. "You're not prepared for that. I guess… I guess a part of me hasn't left the desert yet."

The doctor nods, pushing her glasses back up her nose as she jots down something else in her notebook. "I see," is the only response Shane gets.

The silence is beginning to weigh on him; the damn clock tracking the seconds like the patter of hail on glass, the seriousness becoming oppressive. He bares his teeth in an approximation of a grin. "So doc," he tries to drawl. "What's the diagnosis? PTSD?"

Dr. Rasheed nods her head, expression thoughtful as she taps her pen against her lips. "While I wouldn't want to jump to conclusions, it does appear to be the obvious diagnosis. And I would suggest we begin to work through things on that base assumption."

Shane lets out a harsh laugh. "Huh, who'd have thought it? I survived a murderous space ninja unscathed only for the US military to mess me up."

Dr. Rasheed doesn't even pretend to join in his feigned humour, and when Shane looks up it's to see a frown on her face. "Actually Mr. Clarke, if it is PTSD, and as I said, that seems the most obvious diagnosis, it seems highly likely to me that you were suffering from it before you joined the marines. I dare say you hid it well, but from what you've told me, your description of your feelings before you joined up — your lethargy, that sensation of being 'stuck', your distancing from friends and losing someone you loved — it sounds like you were already dealing with some symptoms that could be associated with complex PTSD. Which, quite frankly, is no surprise. PTSD is your mind's way of trying to cope following a traumatic experience. Surviving a 'murderous space ninja' could certainly fall into that category."

There's a pressure building behind Shane's eyes, a tight ball forming in his chest at the doctor's clinical assessment, her words subtle hammer blows to fatally wounded defences.

Her expression softens, a gentleness in her tone as she says, "I can only imagine what you went through as a Power Ranger, that level of stress, that level of responsibility, and at such a young age. I am not surprised it left a mark."

The ball in Shane's chest rises to his throat with viciousness, eyes burning, and he blinks furiously, ducking his chin as he struggles to contain the flood he knows is waiting.

Dr. Rasheed's calm voice washes over his bowed head, an understanding balm to soothe exposed edges. "It's okay to cry, you know. It's good; it's healthy. There is no shame and no judgement here, Mr. Clarke- Shane. You are safe"

He stares up at her through swimming vision, the first tears tracking hot trails down his cheeks. "I never told him I loved him."