P is for PTSD


The wet weather proved to be a blessing, because while Maru had been able to physically put the members of the Piston Peak Air Attack Team back together in under a week it was clear to everyone that the mental wounds would take far longer to heal…if it were even possible for them to completely heal in the first place.

Every single vehicle had been shaken by the effects of Cabbie's runway slide-off. Some members were coping with the aftermath relatively well. Yes, Blade was practically hovering to keep an eye over his subordinates, Patch was inspecting the runway multiple times a day, and Dipper was giving everyone a wide berth trying to stay out of her teammate's way, but compared with Cabbie and his smokejumpers, they were right as rain.

"Is it time for me to retire?" Cabbie really should have been asleep, but given the nightmares that had plagued him every night since the accident.

Maru hadn't been too surprised to see the old plane sitting on the tarmac in the drizzle at 3 am. At first, Maru considered just leaving the plane out there to stew for a while, but after he had wrapped on his business in the outhouse, he realized that wasn't going to be an option. So, he sighed heavily, got a tall mug of stale coffee from the pot in his hanger, and he parked himself under the shelter of Cabbie's wing.

"If anyone deserves a peaceful retirement it would be you…but is that really what you want?"

So many different emotions flickered across Cabbie's face that Maru had a hard time pinning them down. "No…" The plane finally breathed. "But I can't just make decisions about what I want. I need to make decisions based on what will be best for the team. And right now…right now I suspect me being here is doing more harm than good."

"What do you mean?"

"You have seen the way the smokejumpers have been the last couple of days. I know that Pinecone has been the only one to verbalize that flying currently scares her, but I can tell by looking in their eyes that she isn't the only one." Cabbie leveled a bloodshot eye at Maru. "And they are right…they are all right. My complacency nearly got them all killed." The plane then squeezed his eyes shut and let the full depth of his anguish fill his voice. "It was my complacency, and I should have known better."

It was Cabbie's last statement that helped Maru know what was the matter. The mechanic sighed, then let himself lean heavily into Cabbie's side. "Cabbie, it sounds like there is a story behind what you just said."

All Maru got in reply was a ragged sob. So, the little tug kicked his engine up to a purr and pressed himself more securely to the old plane's skin. Cabbie was clearly working through something far bigger than his recent slid-off…something from deep in his past.

Finally, once the worst of the sobs had subsided and the first glimmers of dawn formed on the horizon Maru allowed himself to speak once again. "I understand if you don't want to talk about it…but I think it would help if you got whatever burr is in your tire out."

Cabbie seemed to physically deflate at Maru's words, settling so heavy on his tires that his tails nearly brushed the ground. He looked up at the turbulent sky and for a few long rotor beats, Maru thought the plane would remain silent. Then he opened his mouth and stories about the war gushed out. Stories about bad landings and near misses. Stories about missing small warning signs that could have prevented the death of a teammate. A story about a bad takeoff which led to a crash…a crash which led to the vehicle who had been strapped in his hold's death…

There were so many words that could have been said in the empty space left when Cabbie's well of words ran dry. But Maru spoke none of them. The mechanic had lived long enough that none of those words could ever provide a balm to the pain that Cabbie had tried to ignore for over half a century. So, Maru did the only he could…he stayed. As base woke up around them, Maru stayed pressed against Cabbie's skin providing the grounding the old plane so badly needed. For while Maru knew how to repair his physical ailments, he had learned long ago mental scars took a long time to heal…and sometimes the only way to get them to properly heal was to rip them back open then gently close the wound again using the careful, constant pressure of unwavering friendship.


End Note: I hope that everyone has a safe Memorial Day and that those who mourn find comfort. And with that, we move on to the next letter of the alphabet. What are your prompts for the letter Q?