You're Not Alone

The Psychiatrist's Office

Danny sat uncomfortably in the psychiatrist's office a week later. He had take a few steps towards getting better. He started to reconnect with his kids, his family, his wife. He hadn't reconnected with Linda the way he really wanted to because Sean was running her ragged with the colds he continued to get, and she had finally started her period again. Sean was six months old, and was slowly being weaned off the breast milk. Soon, he'd be eating only solid food.
Danny looked to his wife who sat faithfully beside him. Poor Linda. Putting up with everything. From me to Sean to those weirdo lumps she got. What were those called?.... oh, yeah. Mastitis. Sean had been eating so much, that Linda got an infection in her left breast. She had to pump for a few days, and only use her right breast milk. She got the same infection on that one as well. Coincidentally, Sean had gotten sick the week Linda was recovering. The baby boy ate very little, and slept a lot.
Danny reaches over and held Linda's hand. She looked to him and smiled lovingly.
"Nervous?"
"No."
"Remember what I said? You don't have to put up a shield for me."
"A little."
"I'm gonna be right there with you."
He smiled a little and kissed her hand. He saw the door open, and pleaded in his mind that they weren't going to call him.
"Daniel Reagan."
Linda gave his hand a squeeze before slightly tugging him up. They walked through the doors, hand in hand. Danny didn't expect the office to be so nice. It was almost like the den in Robin's Near from Magnum, PI. There was a big, comfy-looking leather couch and a matching chair. An oak desk sat near the windows, papers neatly stacked. 
"Hello. My name's Dr. Crane."
"Hi," Linda shook his hand. "I'm Linda, and this is my husband, Danny."
"Danny," he shook his hand. "Please, have a seat..... I've been told you're suffering from ptsd-"
"Not suffering," Danny mumbled, getting lightly jabbed by Linda's elbow.
"According to my notes, you are a Marine. Thank you for your service."
Danny nodded, noting the hanging plants and the general relaxed feeling- although he was far from relaxed.
"Do you want to talk about that?"
"Not really."
Linda groaned. "I'll leave." She whispered, hating to threaten him with divorce.
He sighed, "I was in the corps for a total of eight years. Four for college, four after the bombing. But I'm okay."
"Maybe, maybe not. What happened oversees?"
Danny shrugged, "we fought, we lost, we went home."
"You went home before anyone else," Linda corrected.
"Because everybody died. And I had a baby to take care of."
"Talk about that baby," Dr. Crane suggested. "How did that baby come about?"
"Sex."
"Well, I know that. But why did you have to come home earlier for that baby? Give me the story."
"2002, back for R&R. Had fantastic sex with Linda. A little while later, she found out she was pregnant. She had to go through the whole pregnancy by herself. And none of that would've happened if we- if I had payed better attention. I came home the eight month, and was going to stay till the baby was a month old. I was going to go back for the remainder of the tour. Since we had already lost, my CO sent me home."
"You seem to believe the reason Linda became pregnant was your fault."
"Of course it was my fault. I'm the one who fertilized the damn egg."
"Danny, how many times do I have to tell you?" Linda's voice was laced with annoyance and pain. Her cramps were coming back as worse as they were when she was a teen. "We wanted another baby. You gave me another miracle. I handled myself pretty well. Stop apologizing. Sure, The timing wasn't ideal, but we've got another little bundle of joy. Never apologize for that again."
Danny sighed, wondering what kind of impression they were giving Dr. Crane. "Okay, but I worried you."
She shook her head, "I'm your wife. It's in my contract to worry."
"What happened when you came home?" Dr. Crane brought the attention back to the session.
"I.... I was okay for a bit. Then I wasn't. For a few months, I wasn't. Then I—" Danny sighed, and looked at his and Linda's entwined hand. "Then I hit Linda."
"Uh, accidentally," Linda interjected, "he would never hit me purposely."
"I was trapped in my mind. Apparently, that can happen."
"How do you feel about hitting your wife?" Dr. Crane got his pad ready.
"Rotten. Guilty. Undeserving. Idiotic. Mad. Disappointed."
Linda's heart broke for him. "I don't blame you."
"You should."
"But I don't. Do you ever blame me when I snap at you while I'm on my period?"
"Well.... no. You can't help it."
"Exactly. And you couldn't help this."
"See, Danny, Linda isn't mad at you. Not even slightly. She's concerned for you. For your well being." Dr. Crane thought that maybe the marine needed to hear it from an unbiased third party.
Danny looked to Linda, wanting to know if that was true.
"More than you will ever know."
He nodded, feeling slightly better. It would take a long time until he came to terms with his situation, but he knew if Linda was with him, then he could accomplish anything.