Trish waited apprehensively in the clinic's waiting room. It was probably designed to be cosy, a couple of sofas and chairs of varying comfort levels spread around the low coffee table. A small kitchen worktop and shelves set off to one side with a couple of posters; one warning the water was hot and the other informing visitors that the price of tea or coffee was to hand wash the dishes yourself.
She'd read them, and the various leaflets dotted around advertising support groups and 24 hour helplines multiple times, studied the board of smiling headshots of the clinic's practitioners but nothing helped quell her nerves.
It had been easier when Nikki had been there, focusing on small talk and keeping the marine calm had distracted her from her own concerns. Even though it had been her idea to get help, even though she'd had to go through so much to get Nikki to agree to come, even though to all intents and purposes she'd 'won', she couldn't help but feel on edge now that they were actually here.
She caught sight of the familiar hoody coming back down the hallway and stood up. There had been a time when she could read Nikki's emotions like an open book, but after Akuze she'd become far more closed off and restrained. Trish was getting much better at deciphering the small signs but she still struggled sometimes and now was one of those moments where she couldn't quite pinpoint her partner's feelings. Before she could decide on the appropriate wording for her questions Nikki interrupted.
"Come on, let's get out of here. I want something to eat."
...
'Something to eat' apparently translated into ice cream. It probably hadn't been the original plan but they'd stumbled upon a kiosk not long after leaving the clinic. They walked on, licking their cones in silence before Shepard finally broke it with a sigh.
"I'm surprised you've not imploded yet. Go on, I know you're dying to ask."
"How was it?"
A shrug was the only response and Trish bit back on her frustration: why give me permission to ask and then not answer? No, wait... you've got permission but it's still up to you to find the right question.
"Do you think it'll help?"
"I don't know yet." The soldier's voice was faint and almost vulnerable as she answered with another shrug. "I've got another session next week."
Trish reached out and gave Nikki's hand a reassuring squeeze.
"Thank you. For giving it a chance. I... I know it's not easy for you so... thanks."
"Yeah, well... It's cheaper than a divorce."
The bizarre reply took Trish completely by surprise for a moment, then she smiled as she recognised Thomas Shepard's old catchphrase.
Why would any man go with his wife to watch some sappy musical instead of down the pub with his mates? It's cheaper than a divorce.
Why build a bird table and multiple nesting boxes for the garden by hand? It's cheaper than a divorce.
It was the well worn mantra of a hard done by husband. Or at least, it would have been, if not for the glint of mischief in his eyes whenever he said it and the accompanying amused sparkle mirrored in Hannah's each time she heard.
More often than not his face would morph into the signature Shepard smirk that his daughter had inherited, the same cheeky grin that Trish longed to see on her partner's face again.
"Nikki, we're not married."
"You could have mentioned that an hour ago, I could have saved myself a lot of hassle, AND some money!"
Trish laughed, as far as jokes went it was awful, but it had been so long since Nikki had joked or teased about anything that she didn't care. For once she didn't second guess herself or waste time worrying about potential consequences, instead she followed her instincts, wrapping Nikki up in a tight hug.
She felt the marine tense for a second before relaxing and hesitantly hugging her back.
"What's this for?"
"I missed you."
"But I've been right here."
"Yeah, well... I missed you anyway. You and your bad jokes."
...
As the weeks passed Trish became much more comfortable with the waiting room, making herself at home on the sofa with a cup of coffee and engrossing herself with datapads and her omni-tool. She was so busy constructing a report on which microprocessor would be best for the next generation of bluewires that she didn't even notice Nikki approach until a shadow appeared over her.
"I diagnose obsessive fixation, or is it workaholism? I always get those two mixed up."
Trish hit save before standing up with a smile, the jokes had slowly started getting more common but she still treated each one as a gift.
"How did it go?"
"Fine, doc wants a word with you though." Shepard nodded to a man far enough away to give them the semblance of privacy but probably just within range to hear their conversation.
"What, me? Why?" With her attention on the psychiatrist Trish missed the delicious smirk that crept over her partner's face.
"Well I don't know for certain, but I think they may be considering sectioning you."
Trish nearly gave herself whiplash with the speed her head twisted back round, the evil grin now almost fully encompassing Shepard's face.
"After all you choose to live with me, you must be crazy."
...
"What would you think about a tattoo?"
They had been lounging lazily on the bed, just basking in the simple act of existing in the other's presence. Trish raised her head off Nikki's chest at the question so she could get a better look at her partner's face, as far as she knew Nikki had never displayed any particular interest in tattoos before.
"Are we talking about for you or for me?"
The soldier pointed a thumb at herself, shifting slightly in that subtle but oddly specific way that Trish had deciphered as meaning she was thinking about her wound again.
Realization struck and the civilian was hit by a wave of emotion, she was glad that Nikki was finally ready to accept and reclaim her own body and honored that she cared enough to ask what she thought, but at the same time wondered if that didn't slightly defeat the object of the exercise. The point was to give the survivor control over their body back, not pass the decisions on to someone else.
"It's your body Nick, you can do what you want with it."
"Yeah but you're the one who's got to look at it."
Hope sprung then. Their love life had definitely improved but Nicola was still far too self conscious about her scar, any attention to it tended to put a dampener on their activities and she always made sure it was covered back up before they went to sleep.
Trish knew she probably shouldn't push but she couldn't help it, she promised herself she'd be careful and back off at the first sign of discomfort.
"Hopefully I'll get to do more than just look at it." She raised their entwined hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Nikki's hand to make her point clear. The soldier's hesitation and unease was equally clear.
"That... I..." It was Nikki's turn to take control of their hands moving them closer to her, stopping a little way from her but not relinquishing her hold as she sought out eye contact. "That might take a little longer." She admitted as she mirrored the earlier kiss.
"Don't worry, I can wait." Trish smiled at the silent compact they'd just reached, brushing her thumb reassuringly over her partner's hand, that was enough pushing for one day. "So, do you know what you want?" She asked, changing the subject. "For your tattoo?"
"I'm not sure, maybe. I did think about a phoenix rising but that seems a little too cliche. Now a dragon would be pretty badass! Flying in and breathing fire, laying waste to all before it... Not sure if you'd like that though..."
"I'm surprised you're not going for both!" Trish teased and the soldier's face turned wistful.
"Now there's an idea! The dragon burns the scar into existence and the phoenix rises from the ashes..."
"Chinese dragon or western dragon?"
"I don't know. You're putting far more thought into this than I've done yet. I'm still kind of expecting you to say no."
"Why would I do that? I mean, maybe if you decide on a stick dragon..."
"There are stick dragons?"
"Yes and you're not getting one. They look silly. You wanted badass, remember?"
Nikki chuckled, turning her head to kiss the nearest available piece of flesh, in this case the top of Trish's arm.
"You're sure you're ok with this?"
"Well... I do have one condition..."
Nick nodded at her to continue.
"It has to look awesome."
The soldier smiled softly. "That I can work with."
Agreement made they fell back into a comfortable silence. This close together Nikki couldn't help but stare at Trish's face with open admiration, wondering how she'd been so lucky. She'd nearly forgotten about their conversation when out of nowhere:
"Colour or greyscale?"
"Greyscale."
"What-"
Nikki laughed, she placed a finger on her partner's lips to shush her, along with a quick nose kiss before rolling away and picking her omni-tool up off the bedside table.
"If you're going to keep asking questions we might as well start looking." She rolled back into position, raising an arm so Trish could snuggle closer, allowing them both to look at the screen and they spent the next couple of hours curled up, looking at pictures on the extranet.
Author's note:
Figured some of you would be dying for a lighter one by now. I would however like to reassure the other half of my readers that I'm not going with a 'well I did the PTSD chapter, that's all sorted and I can move on now' approach. Nikki may be getting better, but I've not just clicked my fingers and cured her just like that.