Who: Agent Washington (narrative) What: Just admit it and get help When: Friday afternoon Where: at Work Warnings: PTSD but mostly discussing it Status: Closed/Narrative
“It’s a bad day today isn’t it?” Once they found out how well Wash got along with the old military personnel he’d ended up assigned to all the current clients that were ex military. Even though Tucker had been military as well he didn’t really act like it where Wash called everyone ‘Sir’ and it was obvious he’d served so they all seemed to like him. Sergeant Cross was one of the older clients and he was a cranky old man who didn’t get along with many people but after seeing Wash fighting down a panic attack one of the first days he’d come to work with Peter and Tucker Cross was still cranky and difficult but he treated Wash better than all the other helpers.
“It’s not too bad Sergeant.” Wash was still doing his best to not just say he was fine no matter who asked but he didn’t like to burden the people at work with things. Cross wasn’t wrong. His head was throbbing from the tension in his neck and the lack of sleep he’d had over the last couple of nights. It left him having worse Aphasia and memory gaps than usual which made him want to punch something every time he couldn’t come up with the word he wanted and getting mad just compounded the issue. “I just haven’t been sleeping well. I’ll take a note...uh nap...when I get home and catch up.”
The old soldier made a scoffing sound and stiffly took a seat while Wash worked on putting together some tea for him. He might forget a lot of things but he always remembered that Sergeant Cross liked to take his medication with a cup of fresh tea.
“Your doctor went home they said.” Obviously the Sergeant wasn’t going to drop it.
“Yes. She did. But she left her treatment plan and notes so I’ll be fine.” Wash took the teapot with the tea steeping in it and picked it up to put it on the table in front of the Sergeant but his hand started shaking so he had to use his other hand to steady it. It really only did that anymore if he’d been using it too much or he wasn’t sleeping and stressed out. He really hated having that barometer that showed other people he wasn’t doing well.
And he knew that Cross had seen it so he didn’t even try to hide it. “Sit down son.” For a minute with the gruff voice and being called ‘son’ he expected Sarge to be in front of him but of course Sarge wasn’t here, he was back home in their time. But there was a few seconds where it was like looking at two different people and he had to put a hand over his face with his eyes closed until he felt like he could think straight again. And then he gave in and sat because he could use some of the tea along with Cross.
“I want to talk to you about your PTSD.” Wash looked up from the tea he was pouring for Cross and frowned. “I don’t have...it’s not bad anyway. I’ll be fine.” He’d really like to deny he had it at all but the nightmares, the way he reacted to loud and stressful situations...well he couldn’t blame all of that on the brain damage.
“Bullshit. Excuse my French.” The Sergeant’s amused snort pretty much told Wash he wasn’t sorry at all for swearing. “Look son, I’m going to be blunt you have a bad case and I should know. When I got mustered out for my injuries they said I had it. We called it something different back then, of course, but when I was still having problems a few months later then they just said I was crazy. They didn’t want to believe that the shit we went through could possibly make you wake up screaming or forget where you were and when you were years later so they said we had ‘pre-existing conditions’ and wrote us off.” The Sergeant was arranging out his pills to take with the tea as soon as it cooled down enough to drink. He was talking more to the table and the pills than to Wash probably in an attempt to make Wash as comfortable as he could be with the conversation. “They actually believe it’s real now. Something a lot of us old soldiers didn’t have. You should talk to someone about it.”
He still didn’t like the idea of talking to someone. Wash knew it was because of the Counselor from Freelancer. They hadn’t tried to help his team at all, the Director and the Counselor had turned them against each other and kept them screwed up as part of their experiment. But not everyone was like that.
“I’ll think about it Sergeant.” At the man’s dubious look Wash smiled. “I promise. I have a list of people my doctor left me so maybe I can at least start with meeting them.” And maybe he’d talk to the others first. They’d support him doing it, really they’d support him doing whatever he needed to but he liked to talk to them first anyway. “Take your meds and if you like, I'll stay and play a game of backgammon with you before I get back to work.”
“It’s a deal son.” The Sergeant started with his pills and Wash got up to get the backgammon board so they could play a round.