Bobby Meets His Match – Chapter 21
Too bad Bobby isn't mine, but JEs.
Sorry it has been so long. Please leave feedback, as I live for it.
The old men with long beards and flowing robes were approaching the squad's location quickly. Bobby had them in the crosshairs of his rifle, just waiting, every muscle in his body on alert, for the tiniest sign that these men were armed, so he could take them down before they killed any of his men. The squad's interpreter was yelling at them in their native language, yelling at them to stop, put their hands up, but the crowd of men just kept man in the squad eyed the old men suspiciously. No one wanted to fire on innocents, but those who looked innocent often were the worst threat to the military. The terrorists often used village elders and even women to shoot soldiers or as suicide bombers. The quiet desert terrain became almost preternaturally silent, as Bobby and the second guardwatched the sandaled men approach. They had a standing order to fire as needed, but both Bobby and his fellow soldiers didn't want to kill innocents. There had been enough of that during this war. Then, just as the group of men was almost abreast of them, Bobby caught a glint of sunlight flashing off a weapon concealed under one man's robes. Suddenly, every one of the men was armed and firing back as Bobby wailed away with his rifle. It should have been an easy fight for the American troops, but as the old men opened fire, so did more men surrounding them, hiding in the nearby mountains . They were under attack from all sides…
Cathy knew better than to take Bobby's hand as he suddenly jerked awake, his arms stiffening, his entire body rigid. She had known from the rapid beeping of the heart monitor that he was probably having a bad dream, and given what had happened the last time she'd been in bed with him during a bad dream, she made sure she wasn't within arm's reach of him.
He'd had a nightmare each of the three nights he'd been in the hospital, and she was worried. He had told her that they really affected him when he slept in a strange place. But even in the hospital? Of course, being the stupid alpha male that he was, Bobby had refused sleeping meds both nights. Maybe that would have held the dreams at bay. They seemed to be getting worse, but Cathy didn't want to push Bobby any more than she had about seeing the therapist. He wasn't a guy who responded well to being pushed.
His eyes opened, and in them she saw anger and fear as they scanned the room taking in the white walls, machines and bed. Then the fear left and the heart monitor quieted down as his brain realized that he was safe in a hospital bed, not in the desert of Afghanistan. His eyes searched the room again and they warmed as they settled on her, and a slow smile came to his face. His hand reached out for her, and once she was sure he was completely aware of his surroundings, she went to him.
" Are you still mad at me?", he asked her, stroking her hand. Apparently, after a few moments of uncertainty, he was brushing off the bad dream like it hadn't even occurred. He was so big and warm, even injured, and just being with him was comforting. Especially since she'd been so afraid she'd never see him again. She smiled and shook her head, kissing him gently.
"Damn, if I'd have known getting shot was all it took to make you forgive me, I'd have done it sooner," he joked. She couldn't joke about things like that. Not about losing him.
He kept hold of her hand and squirmed impatiently as the nurse came in to take his vitals again.
"Please, get the doctor in to discharge me, so I can get home today, " he told the confidently. The nurse just shook her head in disbelief , although she probably wanted to roll her eyes. Alpha-males always wanted to be Supermen.
Bobby was an awesome soldier, and medic, but like many soldiers and medics he was a TERRIBLE patient. He had decided that, since he was stable, the only reason to stay here was to rest and change dressings, and he could do that at home. So he was leaving.
Cathy couldn't help but chuckle. Bobby was so loving and caring, always caring for others, but he wouldn't let himself be cared for.
"Now you know how it feels when you are overprotective of others," Cathy told him.
"That's different when I do it," he said with a charming grin. Of course it was.
Bobby started to peel the EKG leads off his chest, turning off the monitor first so it wouldn't squeal. He was just getting ready to sit up, when Lester came through the door.
"Dude,!" was all Lester said, and they did that weird guy handshake thing.
Lester had been here with Cathy sitting vigil in Bobby's room for the last three days, as had many other member of Rangeman. Now he put on his blankface as he noticed Bobby struggling to get out of the bed.
Bobby winced slightly as he used his abdominals to pull himself up. "Get my clothes, man. Help me get out of here before they try to drug me up and make me eat fucking jello again."
Also, he wanted to get the hell out of here and into his own bed so he could sleep and stop having the fucking dreams, but he wasn't about to mention that.
Lester was helping him dress when the doctor came in. The doc was apparently a friend of Bobby's so he didn't look surprised to see Bobby getting ready to leave. He covered a smirk and shook his head,
"Brown, is there any point in me telling you that you should stay here so we can monitor you for infection and complications, or would I be wasting my breath?"
Bobby just gave him a look that told him he WAS indeed wasting his breath.
The doctor sighed.
"Can't you force him to stay here,?" Cathy asked , worriedly.
" I know all the signs of infection and I can get people to help change the dressings. I really would heal faster at home, especially without everyone fussing over me, " Bobby told the doctor. And with some decent cable TV, he thought.
Cathy frowned, because she'd been fussing over him, too.
He met her eyes and she smiled when he said," It's ok when you do it, baby."
The doc handed Bobby a clipboard. " Well, you are stable and a legal adult of sound mind, although there is some debate about that last part. I can't force you to stay but if you leave its AMA. " He looked at Cathy, " that means against medical advice."
Bobby grinned and signed the papers, then slapped the doc on the back even though he could only stand hunched over. "Thanks , Bill. Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll come back at the slightest sign of infection, I promise," he lied.
Cathy wanted Bobby to lie down and rest when they got back to his apartment at Rangeman. But Bobby insisted there was no way he was going to get into bed in the middle of the morning unless she was there with him. So, she lay next to his nearly naked body, her head pillowed on his shoulder on his good side. Now that she was in his arms, it seemed like the franticness she'd harbored the last several days was gone. She felt like nothing could ever go wrong when she was wrapped in his arms.
The room was quiet and Bobby's arms were warm , and she finally let go. Tear started streaming down her face. Bobby looked puzzled for a minute, then turned to kiss her. "Why the tears?," he asked. "Shhh.. everything's ok."
" I was so scared. When we heart that you were shot in the chest, I was so scared that you would die."
She met his eyes. " I realized that that must have been how you felt when you pulled me out of the pool. How scared you were that you'd lost me. I felt the same way about you."
She was crying harder now, unable to stop herself. Bobby made soothing noises and pulled her closer to him while his free arm stroked her back. Typical Bobby., she thought. He's the one who is hurt, but he's comforting her.
"And when I heard that you got shot because McQuade messed up, I wanted to kill him," she admitted. " I didn't care about anything other than that he hurt you and so I wanted him to die. And I realized that was what you felt when you killed Scott. I'm so sorry…I don't think you are a monster for killing him anymore I love you. ." She buried her face in his chest.
" I love you, too, Bobby whispered, kissing her head.
After a moment, she looked up into his eyes with a tremulous little smile. "Except that, as much as I wanted to hurt him, I didn't act on it. I'd never do that."
Bobby grinned, "Sure you would,baby. I'll even teach you to shoot."
Bobby was glad that her tears were done, because he was really fucking in pain, although he'd never tell her that. He pulled her closer to him and closed his eyes to try to get some nightmare-free sleep.
From the moment Bobby got off the elevator he felt his lungs clench up, as if he were being smothered. He just stood in the elevator lobby for a moment, trying to drum up the courage to actually go through with it. He'd taken his own car, so he couldn't be tracked. No one knew he was coming here. He'd told Lester because he needed someone to talk him out of cancelling the appointment, like he wanted to. Lester seemed surprised, but then supportive. He knew Les would take the secret to the grave with him. . He'd even offered to come with Bobby for moral support, as if he was impressed Bobby had the courage to finally do it.
Courage? Fuck. Bobby was scared shitless. His palms were sweating and his heart was pounding. . He hadn't said anything to Cathy about this, because he didn't want to disappoint her if he couldn't go through with it. Going to a shrink, actually going to a shrink was not something he or guys like him would ever do. Sure, there were a few times in the service where , after a difficult op, the entire squad would be ordered to have a session with the team shrink. But that wasn't the same. Basically, you said nothing is wrong, you are ok, and told the shrink what they wanted to hear so you could get it over with. You didn't go to a shrink to discuss actual feelings. Hell, when it came to the war, you tried not to HAVE actual feelings. You did what you and to do, and moved on. It was the only way to survive.
In certain branches of the service going to a shrink, even once, disqualified you from service. That's the way it was in the SEALS. Going to a shrink meant you couldn't handle your problems, like you were fucking mentally unstable, and weak. He didn't want ANYONE to know he had come here. Hell, he didn't even go through insurance, he was paying cash, so there would be no record of this visit. Two hundred bucks for a shrink was fucking insane anyway.
Bobby walked down the thickly, plushly carpeted hallway towards the heavy oak door. How the hell was he supposed to tell a total stranger he thoughts and feelings.? Whatever you say, they'd look at you with that superior shrink look and fucking psychoanalyze every damn thing you say.
And how the fuck was some shrink who had never been there, never been shot at, never seen their friends blown to pieces in front of them, be able to analyze him and tell him there was something wrong with him. He wasn't a normal guy. If he was, he'd never have survived what he did. That didn't make him crazy. They'd find some way to make you crazy.
All he needed was a strategy. He intended to say as little as possible. Maybe he could claim that everything was classified and he couldn't talk about it. Then he could at least tell Cathy he'd tried it, right.
He rubbed his sweaty palms on his jeans. He deliberately avoided wearing anything overtly military. Just jeans, and a blue long sleeve shirt pulled out to give his still healing wound some space. It also enabled him to carry his gun concealed. Not that he was going to need a gun. He wasn't fucking postal. Its just that he had a gun with him everywhere he went. If that made him crazy, so be it.
Bobby stopped in front of the oak door and took a deep , slow breath, as he had learned to calm himself in both medic and sniper schools. " You are not a coward, deal with this," he told himself. He opened the door and entered an office painted a gentle beige, with upscale furniture, fake vases of flowers, pictures of fucking sunsets on the walls. That and the fucking piped in classical music playing low in the office were obviously meant to soothe the mentally unstable. Even the air in here smelled high class. How the hell was any shrink that worked HERE going to understand what he went through over there?
He walked to the desk and was told to fill out a questionnaire. Questionairre? Fuck. He didn't even want to use his real name. He'd thought of using an alias, but, that didn't seem like an honest way to go to therapy with a false name. The paper asked a lot of " are you sometimes angry" type questions designed to fool you into giving something away. He circled "no" for everything.
Bobby stood, leaning against the wall, too anxious to sit. He stifled the urge to run out of here and they could keep the fucking $200. He was scared of having someone label him crazy. But worse, he was scared that if all of those horrible things that he buried down so deep that they only were allowed in his subconscious came into his consciousness, he really would go crazy. He really would turn into an evil monster. But he had to do this to show Cathy how much he loved her.
He only waited about 10 minutes before the shrink popped her head out of the closed inner door.
"Bobby Brown, right?," she said in a soothing voice. Bobby forced himself to move away from the wall, keeping his hands from shaking as he followed her into the inner office.