Recovery isn't a straight line. It can sometimes be flattened into one with some effort and imagination, but typically, recovery involves many ups and downs and backtracks and loops. Especially if you're recovering from being kidnapped and tortured for several hours on camera.
Mark is coming to learn this first-hand, and he doesn't like it much.
The first week after he'd been rescued from the hands of the Strahms in that cellar, he was laid up in a hospital bed and on so much medication it was hard for him to feel much of anything. Once he'd been released, he'd had to cope with trying to return to "normal life" — most importantly, posting a couple update tweets and fielding concerned calls from his stepmom, Sean, Felix, and others who hadn't been able to get to Boston to see him. He'd been able to function at a base level, but he'd stayed mostly immobile in his hotel room with Ethan by his side for 10 days.
And thank god for Ethan, honestly — without him around to help with getting dressed and bathing and changing bandages (an unexpectedly excruciating process that came to be dreaded), Mark has no idea how he would've managed to take care of himself. He would've forgotten his medication schedule half the time if it weren't for Ethan being ready with a pill and a cup of water before Mark even realized he needed them.
It's also a perk that Ethan's willing to provide gentle cuddles and reassuring kisses on demand. Mark takes every ounce of affection he can get and savors it, letting it soak like a salve into every burn and laceration marring his body.
There's one aspect of his recovery that Mark hates above all the others. He's been through mind-numbing pain before, some worse than this, so he has coping methods he can employ. The thing he hasn't really experienced before — apart from dealing with his father's death, to an extent — is the mental repercussions of what he's gone through. The first day he'd spent out of the hospital, Mark had experienced vivid flashbacks triggered by dim lighting, car engines revving, seat belts, and alcohol ads. His first night sleeping in the hotel bed beside Ethan, he'd had a nightmare so graphic it had taken hours for him to calm down enough to fall back asleep. For Mark, these repercussions of his ordeal are the most exhausting.
Mark knows it's textbook PTSD. It's a natural response to the trauma he's endured; the doctors he'd talked to at Massachusetts General had told him as much. In response, the first thing he did when he got home to L.A. was start looking online, with Ethan's help, for a psychiatrist he'd be able to see a few times a week to talk through everything. By this point, he's been home for five days and narrowed his search to two kind-faced female doctors a few miles from his house.
"I think I'm leaning towards Dr. VanDrunen myself," Ethan says from the desk in Mark's room. He's busy editing the brief update vlog Mark had filmed a couple hours ago, trying to make it short and sweet while skillfully trimming out the parts where Mark had had trouble speaking from nerves.
"Yeah?" Mark asks, scrolling through the doctor's website on his bed. "Me too. Her specialty in trauma kinda outdoes Dr. Cooper."
Ethan nods. "I think she'll be nice. And honestly, talking to any professional will help you at this point."
"Trust me, I know." Mark sighs and puts his phone down, rubbing his tired eyes beneath his glasses. "God, I'm exhausted. I don't know why I thought it'd be a good idea to fucking film today."
"I know it was draining, but I think everyone's gonna be glad to see you," Ethan assures him, cutting out a short clip of Mark jumping from a sudden noise. "And you don't have to film anything else until you're ready, however long that takes. They're all being super supportive and patient."
"They're too good to me," Mark mutters. He picks at the blanket draped over his legs and wishes he could let Chica up on the bed to cuddle with him. Unfortunately, he'd been told by the doctors in Boston that letting an energetic dog jump on him in this state wouldn't be the best idea. He's pet her tons since he's been home, of course, but she's still too wiggly and excitable to snuggle.
