this took forever to get out so like... yeah I hope it's okay it was hard to write, also inspired by the Noel episode of The West Wing

David sat in the worn red leather armchair in Dr Archie Hopper's office cradling an ice cold glass bottle of the lemonade in his two hands but didn't drink. Outside the sun was shining and baking the earth in the early June heat, reminding David of some of the warmer states he had lived in, the psychologist's office had the ac on, but the heat of the room still caused droplets of condensation to roll down from the stem of the bottle to David's hands.

It was all David could do to stay sat and not pacing the room. David had been a bundle of nerves, the closer it got to the appointment the more his stomach twisted, he had already had two panic attacks that morning, once in the shower the other while he was still in bed. He had given Robin permission to tell Archie about the incident at school, and after, he knew that most parents wouldn't bother to ask permission but Robin made sure to every week before the weekly phone call between him and Archie, even if there was nothing to report; he knew that Archie knew everything Robin did which only made sitting there harder; still David swore to himself that he would be brave and would be honest about whatever the shrink wanted to ask.

In a way it was a sort of relief that he was here, he had been dreading this all week, now it was here it was terrible, but at least the feeling of dread had almost passed.

"Do you want to tell me about your first day at school?" Archie asked with a patient smile, they had been sitting quietly for a few minutes following their usual small talk.

"You already know," David said without heat, he continued to look down at the bottle, "I said he could tell you everything."

"He did," Dr Hopper nodded and spoke slowly, "but I would like to hear it from your side, your father was only there for part of it. He doesn't necessarily know everything, from your side, or understand everything.

David took a deep breath. He reminded himself to be brave. "I couldn't breathe. Everything was just so… It was just so much, too much, it was… everyone was loud and there was the buzzing lights, and the smells and everyone was, it felt like everyone was looking at me- I had to get out and…," he shook his head, "I ended up in the janitor's closet, I couldn't find the bathrooms, I don't remember… I called Robin. He came and got me."

"That's good, David, that's very good."

David let out a snort of laughter. "It's good that I couldn't even last two hours in a place that even a kindergartener could handle?" His voice grew in anger and volume as he spoke, angrier and louder than he had ever intended.

He closed his eyes tight trying to calm that fire inside of him. He licked his lips, the chemical lemon smell from the janitor's closet invaded his nostrils. The sight of the darkened closet and James was projected onto his closed eyelids. He snapped them open. He finally took a sip of the icey lemonade, he felt it roll down his throat, the stark contrast of it and the heat of the room and inside of him was enough to ground him.

He looked up at Dr Hopper. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologise to me, David." Archie Hopper's voice was soft and low, he hadn't flinched at David's anger. He closed his notebook which had been open on his lap so he could focus on David entirely. "It's been almost four week since the crash. A whole month… that must be hard."

David could feel Dr Hopper's eyes carefully watching his every move, he knew that the shrink saw the small flinch when he brought up the topic. David was distinctly aware of crossing his arms over his chest, clenching his jaw, the way he tensed his whole body: he tried to unclench everything, to let his arms go loose, to pick up his lemonade bottle from the side table again, but he didn't make it far enough to reach for the bottle, instead his arms recrossed themselves and he had tensed up again. He knew that constantly undoing and doing them again was actually more obvious than having just left them the way they were in the first place.
It took him a minute to realise that he hadn't actually answered him. He gave a small shrug. "I guess…? I'm fine, I- I'm healing, it's nothing compared to…" he left the sentence hanging.

"What happened to Ruth and James doesn't cancel out your pain, or negate anything you're still going through." Archie told him, his voice soft but the certainty in it was as hard as steel. "David I see the progress that you've made since you began seeing me. I see the progress you're trying to make. I also see how hard this is for you, how much you're struggling; I see that there's something you're not wanting to talk about. What is it David?"

David bit his lip until a sharp pain shot through his bottom lip. He shook his head.

"David you're not there: you're not in the school, not in the janitor's closet, you're also not on the road, or in that car: you're here; you're safe."

David took a deep, then let it out, slowly, the way Hopper had taught him, it was a little ragged as he let it out past his lips, but it was still working. He could do this. He needed to do this if he ever wanted a chance of getting better, if he ever wanted a normal life, which he so desperately desired.
"When I was in there I couldn't breathe - I began to panic, I wasn't sure what to do and I just, I-," he could hear himself getting louder and louder and sounding more panicked but he wasn't sure if it was in his power to stop that, he forced himself to swallow a gulp of air. "He was there. James. He was there he- he wasn't real, he wasn't there, it was a - a hallucination or whatever, I know that I know, I know that it's crazy, that I'm…" He felt a tear roll down his hot cheek, he scrubbed it away hard with the heel of his palm, he didn't realise that he had started to cry until he heard his voice breaking as he spoke again. "I don't want to be, I'm trying not to be, but I saw him- I saw him!" He covered his eyes with his hands to hide his tears, he knew it wasn't even slightly effective in hiding the fact he was crying, but it was the option he went with.

A second? A minute? An indeterminate amount of time later, David felt a hand on his shoulder, he took his face from his hands to look toward its source out of habit, Dr Archie Hopper was crouching at his side, holding a tissue out to him. David took it and used it both to wipe his eyes and to hide his face from the shrink's all seeing eyes.

"David you're not 'crazy'. Not at all."

David let out a bitter laugh as another two tears rolled from either eye and fell onto his denim shorts. "I was talking to my dead brother. I'm pretty sure that qualifies me for 'crazy', doc."

"David, I'm pretty sure that I'm the expert here." He shot him a smile before growing serious once more. "You did have a hallucination, it was caused by the panic attack you were having." He seemed to quickly check David over with his eyes, making sure he wasn't about to start sobbing again, when he determined that he was okay he moved from crouching on the floor to the couch, so that he was closer to David than the seat he had just vacated. The box of tissues were still in his hands, he seemed to remember them and placed them on the round side table between them. "You're not 'crazy'," he made air quotes as he said the word, "you've gone through a lot, not just recently either, but during your entire life."

The doctor fell silent for a moment and David could see the gears turning behind his eyes, watching him, evaluating his ability to cope with whatever it was he was wanting, or needing, to say. David had a strong urge to walk out of the office and never come back.

"David do you know what PTSD is?"

David's scrunched up. He spoke slowly, not certain of his answer. "...Like soldiers get…?" David wiped his almost dry eyes with the tissue as he tried not to look as confused as he felt.

"Soldiers do get it, sometimes, in the past it was called shell shock named after the shell bombs and gas canisters fired at them during world war one." He shook his head at himself, trying not to get distracted by giving David a history lesson, despite finding the history illuminating himself. "We understand it a little more now: We know that PTSD is common in people of various backgrounds; people who have been involved in traumatic events such as school shootings, major terrorist attacks, or small- more isolated traumatic events such as a car crash, or through long term situations such as domestic abuse or childhood abuse or neglect, even witnessing these could cause it."

"I don't…" David shook his head putting on a 'we're all adults here' sort of tone. "I don't have that. I was just... - I know that a lot of people who go through that sort of thing might, but honestly I'm fine, I just had a bad week, not sleeping much or whatever - or- or- look, loads of people go through worse, Jamie and my mom had it worse..."

"David," Dr Hopper let out in a somewhat disappointed sounding sigh, or at least that was how it sounds to David who shrank down in his seat, "trauma is not a competition. It also isn't something which only a certain amount of people are allowed to go through."

Archie Hopper was quiet to allow his words to sink in, Pongo filled the silence by plodding over from his dog bed from by the air vent over to lie on David's sneakered feet.

"David, I've been looking out for this, keeping an eye out for it. From what I've seen, what you've told me you've experienced, I've seen the symptoms of it:," he ticked the symptoms off one by one with his hand, "the nightmares, the anxiety, sudden rage which you didn't used to experience, feeling on edge constantly, panic attacks, you avoid cars when you can - which is understandable of course, you also avoid bonding too much with your new family- particularly your father. I think that you fear losing him as you did your mother. I also know that your adoptive father- Robert, was abusive to you and your mother and brother, and… David did your mother, Ruth I mean, did she ever hit you?"

David had been absently petting Pongo but now he froze, his whole body stiffening. "...What?"

"There are things you have said, or avoided saying, in our previous sessions, which hints at your mother having hit you on several occasions- mostly while she was drinking, or under the influence of drugs."

"She wasn't…- I mean, she never meant to- I, she just-..."

"David I'm not here blaming your mother or you. You never deserved to be hurt, ever. I just needed to know. David… Did you experience some of these symptoms before the crash?: the nightmares, the panic attacks, the anger?"

David looked conflicted over what to say so instead, eventually, just nodded his head. He swallowed deeply, in his head he chanted 'be brave, be honest, be brave, be honest-'.
"I guess. I didn't get mad much - I didn't blow up like I did on Robin the other day. He was looking through some of my stuff, I thought he was reading my letter from- a letter I have, and he shouldn't have been looking without, he didn't actually open or read the letter, and I could tell that but I - I just blew up, it was like fire, I couldn't stop it, I couldn't control it. I've never been that mad. I nearly punched him- I couldn't help it, I didn't… I swore that I would never do that, get mad and punch him- like Robert."

"But you didn't punch him David, you might have gotten mad, it was understandable, but you also managed to keep control before you did punch him, that's good David, very good." He said, emphasising his praise. "Do you know what the fight or flight response is?"

"Like… when you're… in danger?" David said slowly, he was fairly certain in his answer but wasn't quite certain what point Archie was trying to make, and he didn't like that uncertainty.

"Yes," Archie smiled. "It's in every animal, every human; our veins flood with adrenaline so that we can stay alive when we are in danger - a predator or a natural event, or some slightly less natural events. When you have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder your brain can interpret safe things as danger, extreme danger, this causes the anxiety- the fight or flight response, but another part of your brain can sometimes see that it's actually a safe or every day situation, so you fight it. David you have CPTSD: Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, you've gone through traumatic circumstances from a young age; from abuse and neglect, living in dangerous and nomadic situations, you've been going through trauma for years before the crash. From what you told me I believe you would have been diagnosed with CPTSD when you were young, had you seen someone." He didn't say that in a way the crash was a good thing, but it still hung in the air.

David rested his elbows on his knees, he was leant forward, staring at the rug and coffee table in front of him, hearing his heart beating in his ears, despite the heat he felt cold. He was silent for a while before finally talking. "Can't I have something else? I don't… something less? Not less I know you said it's not a competition, I was listening, I just - I'll work hard, I'll talk to you, I'll tell you my fuckin' dreams, whatever you want, I just… Please doc, I can't have this - I can't…"

"Why can't you have this, David?" Archie's voice was calm and soothing, particularly compared to David's ever increasing panicked voice.

"Because!" David shouted, when it was clear that wouldn't be an accepted answer he ran his hand through his hair and sighed, trying to find the words, when they came out they were quiet and broken. "Because I'm part of their family now. I've been trying, like actually trying, I mean, I lost it a couple of times, but I've been trying harder, I'm trying to fit in, if I can fit in I might… I could stay with them." His voice was barely a whisper when he reached the end of his sentence.

"Do you think that they wouldn't let you stay if they knew about your medical condition?"

David shrank back in his chair: his answer was clear- he was at least very, very uncertain.

"David, I can never one hundred percent guarantee anything, that's part of this job," Archie maintained constant eye contact and he was so serious that for once there was not even a hint of a smile. "But I can tell you that when I talk to your father every week before you come here he's constantly asking what he can do to help you, to make you feel more comfortable, more at home. He's constantly worried about pushing you too far. He wants to help you, no matter what, I have a strong suspicion that the reaction he has to this will be wanting to help you. I would like your permission to tell him, I won't if him knowing puts you in any harm, but I don't think it does, David. And he really needs to know, for your sake."

The psychologist fell silent and it took a moment for David to realise that he was waiting for an answer. He swallowed. Then nodded. "I can't.. Can you tell him without me in here, please? I just…" He trailed off but received a gentle smile which he had to remind himself was kindness not pity.

"Of course, David. I would, however, like to talk about your treatment to the both of you afterwards, if that's agreeable?"

David nodded again.

A minute or so later Archie led him out of the office and into the waiting room. He kept his eyes trained low as he limped into the waiting room less than a foot behind Archie, but he could still see Robin eying him carefully, he had possibly heard him shouting a couple of times, David walked towards him but sat two chairs away, Margot was on her kid's tablet between them, watching something while wearing cat headphones, when she leant against him he sent her the biggest smile he could manage but knew it didn't come out as anything more than a grimace. He kept his eyes on the floor as the Doc asked Robin to talk to him a moment again, even when he felt Robin's eyes on him and his hand reach over to squeeze his shoulder as he stood to follow Archie back into his room.

David sat with his sister leaning against his side as he listened to the clock tick by what felt like five hours, but logically he knew that it couldn't have been, even if that was only because Margot wouldn't have stayed watching Moana for so long.

"David?"

David head shot up automatically. His eyes flickered from Archie to the space next to him, Robin was not at his side. David's stomach turned. He reminded himself to breathe: breathe in for a count of four, hold for seven, out for eight.

"Do you and your sister want to come inside so we can talk?"

David didn't trust himself to speak so just stood and led Margot into the room, part of him wondered if Robin had discovered a secret exit door out of the psychologist's office, but surely he would have taken Margot with him.

Robin was stood in front of the armchair David usually sat in, he had clearly been sat in it too.

Before David knew it he had been brought into a tight hug, it took him a second to realise who it was who was hugging him, when he realised it was Robin, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other holding him close, David allowed himself to bury his face against Robin's shoulder. He smelt familiar, now that David was beginning to feel at home with him, with his new family.

The hug was a good sign, the fact it went on for so long was an even better one, still there was that nagging sense of doubt….

"It's going to be okay, sunshine, we're going to figure this out, how to help you best, I promise you."

When they finally sat down they sat together on the small leather couch, Margot on the floor stroking Pongo, Robin's hand stayed on David's back; a sort of hug, severing as a reminder that he was still there, that David's own fear of this, this title, was just that, a fear not a reality, or at least not that he was showing yet.

He stayed sitting there watching Margot and Pongo as Archie spoke, saying something about well, he wasn't really listening, but he presumed it was about this, there was little else it could be about, and it was too much for him right now.

"Sunshine?"

David's head snapped up to see his dad's smile and look, Robin could clearly see he wasn't listening, but when he nodded towards Archie he realised that his name had clearly been said in the form of a question. He started to listen a little more, not much but enough to be able to nod or shake his head at things.

Twenty minutes later David was exhausted, he had managed to talk a little, Robin and Archie kept insisting that he would get better, that he would be okay, it was nice, but it was a Lot. He agreed with Archie's suggestions on medicine, daily and ones he could take in emergencies, he was fine with that if it meant he might not have to go through the panic attacks he barely felt as though he had made it through. The shrink also told him and Robin all about the type of therapy which he would be using, or having used on him as it often felt like, he was mostly just trying to stay present and make it through this session, which he hoped would end sooner rather than later.

About twenty minutes later, completely with booklets and prescriptions, both of which Robin insisted on carrying, Archie showed the three Locksley-Mills' out of the room, David had his sister clinging to his hand, and his father's arm around his shoulder. He gently shook them off when they reached the door to head back onto the street, he didn't need to look at Robin to know he was looking at him with worry, instead he took a step back towards Doctor Hopper.

"Am I going to have this forever; I mean, am I going to have a panic attack every time I'm in a packed room, for the rest of my life?"

Archie sent him a small smile. "No, David, you won't."

"Why not?"

"Because," Archie told him simply, "we get better."