TRIGGER WARNING: This is a very, very dark chapter—mentions of suicidal thoughts.
Every Marine and cop instinct in him was screaming at him to stand up, to come to attention; but he couldn't find the strength or the breath; and he sat there, frozen, as his dad wrapped strong arms around him, lifting him to his feet. "Danny, son…"
He thought he was shaking, but maybe it wasn't him, maybe it was some other guy. It didn't matter, nothing mattered anymore.
"I'm sorry, Danny. I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention when you got back from Iraq, I'm sorry I didn't try harder to get you to get help. I'm sorry I haven't tried to talk to you more in the past few weeks."
His father's arms and words were strangling him, and he pulled away, sat back down. "Pops would say you're 'over the legal limit for "sorry's",' Dad. I'm not dead…" He clamped his mouth shut before the "yet" slipped out.
His dad flinched, but covered it by quickly sitting down. "What happened, Danny?"
He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I don't know what happened, Dad! The case brought back memories, and then the nightmares started up again; and all I can think about is John Russell, and Iraq, and John again, and crap from Iraq that I thought I'd locked away. I can't sleep, I can't eat… I can't live like this, Dad… If you and Doc hadn't come, I could have killed Linda and my boys yesterday! They don't…they don't need someone like me in their life, Dad. I'm tired, so damn tired."
"Danny, do you remember what you told me right before we left for the camping trip?"
He shook his head.
"You told me that you edited your DD5 so Tommy wouldn't know that his dad had committed suicide. You wanted Tommy to know that his dad's death was, quote, 'Just an accident, that his old man didn't want to kill himself, it was just part of a big mistake,' unquote. You remember that, Danny?"
He nodded numbly.
"I never want to have to tell my grandsons that their dad isn't coming home." His dad locked eyes with him. "Danny, are you planning to kill yourself?"
"I…I don't know. I've thought about it. A lot, lately. Doc asked me if I had a plan, but I told him it's not like I have my gun anymore…"
"That sounds to me like you do have a plan, son."
"Funny, that's exactly what Doc said."
"No one's laughing, Danny. I need you to promise me something, son."
"What?"
"Promise me that you'll fight this—that you'll talk with Dawson, do whatever he wants you to do—even if that includes hospitalization or medication—to beat these demons. Promise me, Danny."
He flinched. Did he want to be the one to make him bury another son? Doc had said that he would hurt his family if he ended it all, that Jack and Sean needed him…
"I…I don't know if…" If I can make that promise, he thought.
"Danny, all I'm asking…like I asked you earlier, call someone. Talk to any of us. Just…reach out before you do something you can't undo. Please, son, promise me that."
He could do that. He'd already promised that, and that sounded easy. "I…I promise, Dad."
"Thank you, Danny. What do you need me to do right now to keep you safe from yourself?"
He took a shaky breath. "I don't know, Dad. I know the protocol; I know I should probably be admitted; but…please, no hospitals!"
"On two conditions, Danny. First, Dawson has to agree. Secondly, I'd like you to bring Linda and the boys over, and spend the next few days with me and Pops. I need to know you're safe. Linda needs to know you're safe—she was terrified when she called me."
"I didn't mean to scare her."
The door burst open and Linda flew at him. "Danny!" He flinched as she threw her arms around him.
She was shaking, but there were no tears. That was bad.
He swallowed hard, tried to say something to her, but there was nothing left in him to give, no words of comfort, not even platitudes. He had nothing.
His dad slipped out of the room as Linda let go of him and sat down. "What happened, Danny? Why did Frank call you and make you promise to call someone if…? Why did you ask me if I thought…?" She choked on the words, and he leaned his head in his hands.
"I'm having a really hard time, babe. I didn't realize how hard until… I didn't realize how much I was thinking about…ending it all…until dad called and made me make that promise. I can't stop seeing John Russell, and my buddies from Iraq, over and over in my head. I can't do this anymore, babe."
She moved her chair over as close to him as she could, took his hands in hers, and leaned her forehead on his. "Maybe you can't do it alone, babe, but you're not alone, okay? I'm here, and I will do whatever you need me to do, because I will not lose you to your demons, Danny. Whatever you need, I'll be behind you 100%."
She kissed him, and he clung to her. She was his life-preserver in a raging ocean.
He felt tears slip down his face, and he swiped them away, pulled away from Linda. "I need help, Linda. I know I've already hurt you, but I could have…I could have killed you or the boys when I had my gun yesterday. I'm sorry, babe."
"Danny…we need you. I need you, Jack needs you, Sean needs you. Tell me you understand that. Please, babe."
He swallowed hard, nodded. "I…I hear you."
She reached for him again, turned his face so he was looking her in the eye. "You hear me, but do you understand what I'm saying, Danny? Tell me you understand how much it would destroy the boys, how much it would destroy me, if you killed yourself."
He nodded shakily. "I…I don't want to hurt you and the boys, and if…if I killed myself…I know that would hurt you."
Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and she gave him a little shake. "Promise me that you will not kill yourself, Danny. Promise me."
"I…I promise. But I need help."
"I know, Danny. What did Doc say?"
"He…he wants to sit down with you and me and maybe dad or Sarge, and come up with a 'game plan.' And Dad asked if we wanted to come over for a few days."
"That sounds like a really good idea, Danny."
She stood up, walked behind him, and rubbed his back gently.
He took a shaky breath, feeling some of the tension leave him. He wasn't alone, his family wasn't gonna let him go through this alone. Maybe he could get through this…
After a few minutes, he asked, "Where'd my dad go, and Doc?"
"They're out in the hallway."
"Can you ask Doc to come in here?"
"Sure. I'll be right back."
They were back in less than a minute.
"How you holding up, Danny?" Doc asked—his trademark phrase.
"Not good, but a little better. I think. What am I gonna do, Doc? I can't work…not like this."
"Well, you still have twenty-eight days on modified. Do you want me to get your dad"
He nodded. "Sure."
An hour later, Gormley, the department psychologist (a man named Forsythe, whom Danny disliked immensely), and his dad had left; and Doc was going over the "game plan" one final time.
Danny, Linda, and the boys would spend the afternoon packing up clothes, and move in to Frank's for the next couple of days. That way, there'd always be someone home even when Linda was at work.
Danny would take the rest of the day and Friday off, and come in on Monday for his second official day on modified duty. He'd tried to talk his father and Doc into letting him come back Friday, but they were firm on this one: he needed the time off.
Doc had told him what to do if he found himself panicking or gasping for breath (evidently that had been a panic attack ealier); he'd told Linda how to help Danny through a bad flashback; and plans were in motion to get him started on an anti-depressant.
"It'll take about a month for you to start to notice any effects." Doc Dawson said, and rose. "Is there anything else you need from me?" He shook his head, and Doc went on, "We'll cancel our session tonight, but call me if you need to talk before Monday. And remember to reach out…to Linda, me, your dad, anyone…if you feel like you're drowning. None of us wants you to drown, Danny."
"Copy that," he whispered, and stood to grip the younger man's hand. "Thanks for everything, Doc."
A/N: If you're drowning, please reach out!
Hotline number: 1-800-273-8255.
You matter and your life is worth living!