Disclaimer: All stories are individuals of themselves and are unrelated to each other.
"Now Madge, I want you to look at me." The doctor waves his hand in front of her face and she blinks a few times. "I need you to tell me about that night, can you do that?"
"What night?" she asks, her voice dreamlike and empty.
"The night of the bombings, Madge." She blinks a few more times and then squints. "Do you remember?" She shakes her head no. Gale's watching from the window and he chews on the inside of his cheek. The doctor looks toward him with an exasperated expression. "Nothing at all?" Again she shakes her head.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she admits quietly. "Can I go home?" Again the doctor looks toward Gale and this time he shrugs.
"Sure, Madge," he sighs, helping her stand and leading her out of the room. Her eyes won't focus on anything as she sits in the waiting room while the doctor talks to Gale. "Post traumatic stress disorder," he tells him. "The only way to get over it is to talk about it but she won't do that."
"Maybe I can get her to," Gale suggests weakly. "I'm the one that got her out after all. Can I take her home?"
"Of course," he nods, going back to deal with his other patients. Gale slowly strides over to Madge who is zoned out past him, pulling on the tips of her golden hair.
"Come on, Madge. Let's get you home." Without looking at him she stands slowly, his hand finding a way to her arm to guide her along. "You want to come to my apartment?" She shakes her head no. "Want me to come to yours?" Again, she shakes her head no. But he doesn't listen to her, he takes her to his apartment anyway.
She doesn't object to sitting on his couch while he makes her tea. "It's my fault," she says quietly. "They're dead and it's my fault."
"No it's not, Madge," he reassures her, sitting next to her, handing her the cup of tea.
"My parents," she chokes out, accepting the cup slowly. "They're gone."
"It's not your fault," he says again, but she shakes her head quickly, her wispy long hair flailing in all directions. In one swift motion she takes the cup she didn't drink from and chucks it across the room, listening to it shatter as it breaks on the wall. Gale clenches his jaw but says nothing, instead moves closer and wraps his arm around her. "Madge, listen to me, it isn't your fault." He tries forcing her face up to look at him but she swings herself around his neck first, sobbing into his chest.
"I can't talk about it," she cries. "Please don't make me talk about it, Gale, I can't." His arms circle around her protectively and pull her closer. "Please."
"Shhh," he whispers in her ear. "It's okay, I won't make you talk about it."
"Don't take me to that place," she pleads. "They want me to talk and I can't."
"I won't," he says again. "You can stay here, I won't make you go." She nods frantically in his chest and grips him closer.
"I can't sleep," she whimpers. "I can't sleep without hearing their screams…"
"Shhh," he cuts her off again, pulling tighter. She's already in his lap and his chin is on her shoulder. "Hey, we'll get through it together, okay?" Again she nods and he sighs.
"Can I stay here tonight?" she asks weakly. He pulls away and tilts her chin up, forcing her glistening blue eyes to meet his. "Please?"
"If that's what you want to do then yes," he says. "You can stay."
A/N: Request that asked for Madge to be suffering some sort of anxiety issues.