“We’ve found a place that can help.” Eli’s calm voice cuts through Leo’s words. “They specialise in PTSD and trauma based problems. It’s in Newhaven, so still pretty close. And - ”
Dean holds his hand up, fury all over his face.No,he mouths, rage stamped in the defiant set of his jaw.
“They have a three month program that has amazing results, and testimonials that I just can’t ignore,” Eli continues steadily.
NO. Dean stands up and heads for the door.
Emily gets there first and takes his hand. “Please…just hear us out? If your answer is no, it’s no. But please hear the whole thing before you decide?” He pauses, and she whispers, “Please.” He doesn’t sit back down again, but he doesn’t leave, either. I think that’s all we can hope for from him right now, and it’ll do.
“I called them this morning. They have a space available for you, and they’re happy to take you today. They’re even sending one of their nurses to give you some more information about it, and they’ll be here soon.” Eli’s holding it together so well. It must be the sheer amount of practice he’s had in the past, because I know he loves Dean so much that this has to be killing him to say. I’m grateful to him for taking the lead here, because I don’t think I can do it without crumbling.
Way to ambush me, brother. Dean’s eyes narrow at him, cold and hard.
“I know,Frère. And I’m sorry. But after yesterday…after the last week or so…hell, after the past fewyears, I can’t just sit back and watch you suffer when we’ve found a place that can help. Iwon’t.” Eli’s face is calm, his voice is steady, but there’s a sense of barely leashed emotion crackling off him. His leg jigs off and on, and he keeps rubbing his hands.
“It’s worth a try.” Sadie blinks as Dean gives her a look that gives the message loud and clear:traitor.
“Either way, your appointments for the next few months are being cancelled.” Leo holds his hands up when Dean whirls on him angrily. “Buddy, you can’t do your job when your head is in this much of a mess. It’s dangerous, it’d be irresponsible of me to let it happen, and I won’t have it. So, effective right now, you’re suspended, on full pay.”
“We cancelled our wedding this morning.” Eli looks at the ground, and I know exactly how he feels: like anything we say to get Dean to listen and to think about going to this inpatient facility is going to be a hit below the belt, emotional blackmail, but there’s nothing else for it. But my god, are we gonna hate ourselves later.
Dean’s face crumples into stricken horror.What the fuck?! What did you do that for?!
“Because you’re very obviously not OK, and you’re not gonna magically be OK in six weeks, and it’s more important to both of us to have you there on the day.”
“It’s alright, I promise,” Emily adds, but there’s nothing she can say that will make Dean feel better right now. His face collapses again, the heels of his palms go to his temples, and he sags to the floor. Sadie moves to comfort him, but Leo holds her back and shakes his head at her.
“Frère, we’d rather have you there, and the only way that’s ever going to happen is if you get the help you need.” Dean’s shoulders start to shake as he bursts into tears.
I can’t, he says, and sits against the wall, head back, eyes closed, the image of despair.
I’ve had enough. I dash over to Dean and sit next to him, taking both his hands, crying myself but ignoring it. “You can,” I say, “but you have towantit. Think about it, baby. Staying over with me andactually sleeping. And so many other things that could be so wonderful. If there’s even achancethat this could happen - ”
You don’t know what you’re asking me to do. He throws his arms around my waist, burying his head in my stomach, and cries. I hold him. Of course I do. I think he’s needed me to for a while.
“What do those letters mean?” I ask quietly. I run my fingers over the ink on his forearm.YKWYDMFNF. I’ve wondered since the moment I first saw them, just days ago.
I feel him cringe in my arms. Everyone else in the room seems to be holding their breath. I guess nobody knows except Dean. He shakes his head over and over, cornered and desperate.
“Tell me.” I kiss the top of his head. “It’s OK.”
Long moments pass, and then he lifts his hands.You Know What You Did, Mother Fucker, Never Forget.
A low, growling moan startles me, before Eli stands and heads to the kitchen, his angry pain crackling and bouncing off the walls. There’s a loud shattering of glass hitting the wall, and Emily rushes in there. “FUCK!” he yells, and I see through the doorway that she’s holding him tightly. “Oh his skin, on hisfucking skin, Em…”
I stroke Dean’s hair, breathing deeply and slowly, trying not to go to pieces so I can hold him together. Sadie bites her nails while tears pour over her face, and Leo pulls her into his arms, helpless to do anything else for anyone.
There’s a knock at the door. Leo answers it, and we all hear muffled voices. A few seconds later he and a man in a pale blue uniform both walk in. The stitching on his breast pocketreadsHazelwood Hills, and an ID badge is clipped on his hip. “Everyone, this is Joe,” Leo says. “Joe, this is…everyone.” Even he sounds defeated now. Joe smiles at us all and nods, and then waits by the door, watching Dean and me.
Eli heads back in from the kitchen, holding Em’s hand tightly, his hair wild, but his emotions back under control. “I’m Eli. We spoke on the phone, I believe?” They shake hands. “This here is Dean.”
“Hi, Dean, I’m Joe,” the man says, his voice light and pleasant. “Take your time, there’s no rush.” I believe him. I believe he’d sit with us all day if that’s what it took. He has a scar right across his forehead, deep and pale, and a prosthetic left arm. “I’ve been exactly where you are right now. And I know you think nothing and no-one can help.” Dean looks up at him, and Joe gives him a steady, kind look as he holds up his prosthesis. “I know. But there’s a way out of this, I promise you. And I swear to you it’s going to be OK.”
Dean sits and listens as he talks about Hazelwood Hills, about his own experiences there as a sufferer of PTSD after his third tour of duty in Afghanistan, and how the experience meant so much to him that he retrained and started working there. I mean, you can’t get a better endorsement than that.
Eli asks some sensible questions about how Dean can possibly communicate when no-one there will speak ASL, and Joe suggests a number of text to speech apps they’ve used with deaf and nonverbal patients in the past. I remember Dean telling me that he didn’t have a good experience with medication before, and Joe assures us that a thorough medical history will be taken to assess what he is most likely to respond well to, and, while there may be an element of trial and error, they will make sure he is stable on whatever is prescribed to him before they send him home. No visitors are allowed for the entire three months, though we can stay in touch by text andonline; however, the recommendation is that contact is kept to a minimum. We all feel jolted by that, but the way Joe speaks is confident and so soothing. The thought of him looking after Dean for three months while none of us are there fills me with reassurance. Joe gets it. Dean will be in safe and sensible hands.
Dean’s resting his head against my chest, not moving, but I know he’s taking in every word. And Joe knows it, too. “Looks like you have a group of people here who love you very much,” he observes.
