Room 275
15th FSB Barracks
Fort Hood, Texas
CONUS
Saturday
21 December, 1991
0930
The room felt warm as I sat in the chair, fully dressed in flannel, T-shirt, and jeans. I was staring at my boots, finishing off a cigarette and sipping a cold soda. Steward was sprawled out under the blanket, snoring lightly. There was a new guy from Alpha, a big black guy, who was smoking menthols and staring out the window for the most part, trying to avoid looking at me. He'd taken over at 0600 so the other guy could get some sleep.
I hadn't heard Peel or anyone else rampaging through the hallway in hours. That was on me. All on me. As soon as possible I needed to get them into mental health or back out in the Zone where it all mattered.
The knock on the door startled me out of gloomy thoughts. The Alpha Guy Two waved me down when I started to stand up then went over and opened the door. Captain Jane and SGT Danville stood in the doorway and at Alpha Guy Two's hand motion they came into the room. I smiled and gave them a little wave, trying to break Captain Jane's serious expression. Harvey gave me a little wave and a smile back.
"How are you feeling this morning, Chief?" Captain Jane asked me.
"A little off balance," I told her. "The last few days, since the Navy picked us up, has been a little confused in my brain. I remember the evac, landing, debriefing (only fuzzily), and then being shipped here."
She nodded. "You were very, um, aggressive yesterday, Chief," She said, flushing slightly.
I frowned, wondering why she was blushing. I put it out of my mind, turned to Danville and got his attention before turning slightly in my chair to look at Steward.
"Boyfriend?" Danville asked.
I shrugged. "I guess. Hope so. Maybe."
"Good lucky," Danville smiled, looking around. He saw what he was after and went to the the desk. Sergeant Danville dragged the extra chair in my room over to sit in front of me. Alpha Guy took the hint that Captain Jane was giving him and went out to stand outside my door.
"How about we have a talk, Heather," he said, unfolding a notebook.
"Umm, today is Saturday," I said, feeling cold butterflies in my stomach.
He shrugged. "Army pays me to work, not sit in my barracks room reading," He smiled. I glanced at Captain Jane and he nodded. "Don't worry, she has to be here while you are under observation. The PRP Rep cleared her for this part."
I just nodded. "Do I need to wake up Chuck, ask him to leave?" For some reason the thought made me anxious.
Harvey Danville looked at my hands, then at Chuck Steward, who was face down asleep. He shook his head. "No, Heather, he can stay if it makes you feel better," he told me.
"Thank you, Harvey," I said. I looked down and saw that I was wringing my hands. I willed myself to stop it.
...I AM THE WINTER QUEEN!...
I looked up, "What happened to Peel? How is she?" I asked. "She was having zone drop problems."
"She's in her room, under observation," Captain Jane told me. "We managed to sedate her, finally, she's resting comfortably."
"Just, don't hurt her, she had a rough time," I said, looking down. "She's a good girl. She rose to the challenge and Momma's proud of her," I looked up, aware I had tears running down my face. "It isn't her fault, what all of that found inside of her, what it all brought out in all of them, it's mine, I couldn't protect them."
"Heather," Harvey said, shaking his head, "You did everything you should have. You trained them, they survived all of it. You led them through all of that and got them home."
"Still," I protested. "I should have..." Harvey held up his hand and interrupted me.
"No, Heather. No should have's right now," Harvey told me. "Have you been taking your medication?"
I shook my head. "Not since Halloween."
"Chief," Captain Jane said, her voice disapproving. Harvey held up his hand and the Captain went silent.
"Heather," Harvey said, his voice was even, understanding. "Have you been taking any of your meds?"
"Only the Field Warfare pack," I told him, shrugging. "Sticky Bromide and the rest. Made all of Actual take it with me," I knew I sounded childishly stubborn. "It saved their lives when the enemy hit us with lewisite."
"That's all acceptable," He nodded. "All right, Heather, it's time to take your garrison meds again," he said gently. "You're out of the zone, and back in garrison."
"Don't wanna," I said, pouting. "They make me feel thick. My body feels heavy and slow. I can't think and everything feels muted."
"I know, Heather," Harvey said. "We've been over this about your medication."
I knew I was pouting, being childish. "Don't wanna," I said again.
"Why do you need to take your medication, Heather?" Harvey asked.
I sighed. "To help regulate my emotions and smooth away the trauma into normal functioning memories. To let me be who I would have been without the trauma and let me function without intrusive thoughts, explosive rage, inappropriate responses," I looked down.
"You know you should take them. That you're in garrison, it's safe to take them here," Harvey said gently. "Get your pills, Heather."
"They make me sick," I tried. I still got up, moved over to my desk, and pulled open the drawer.
Four bottles. I opened each one.
"I know they do. Tell you what: You've been off them for almost two months, Heather," Harvey said. "Half-dose only."
"I don't wanna," I whined. I hated it, but my brain wasn't working right.
I could feel the wrongness of the thoughts that slithered through my brain. There was an ache at the base of my skull that urged me not to take the pills.
...just buy a bottle of whiskey, you know it works...
...that fuzzy feeling in your brain as things are wiped away. the depressive and suppressive function of the alcohol washing away the nightmares and flashbacks...
...and it tastes so good. remember?...
I pushed the thought away, then used the pill cutter to slice my basic four meds into halves.
"Can we trust her to..." Captain Jane started.
"Yes," Harvey said. "Heather's trustworthy. She asked for help initially, she's adhered to her medication regimen, she attends her appointments. She's earned my trust."
The pills felt like jagged chunks of metal going down my throat. Washing them down with a Pepsi helped. I hiccuped and went back to my chair.
"About last night, Chief, is..." Captain Jane started. She stopped when she saw Harvey's upraised hand.
"Captain, please," Harvey said, raising his hand again.
My stomach cramped and I bent over, moaning.
"I'm going to touch you, Heather," Harvey said, then reached forward and rubbed my back. "Those cramps will pass. You know they will. Just wait them out, have another drink of your soda. You'll need the sugar," he said gently.
"I know," I said, trying to straighten up. One of the problems with being strong as an ox is that when your muscles cramped they were like iron. It was one of the drawbacks, and a serious one when my menstrual cycle came around. I clenched my teeth and sat up, knowing that sweat was beading on my forehead, that my armpits and back were getting sweaty.
"The meds are going to make me less, Harvey," I said, then grunted as my stomach cramped again. I heard quick smacking and when I looked up Harvey was tearing open a package of MRE crackers. He'd smashed them on the arm on the chair to shatter them. He held it out to me and I started nibbling at them.
"Not less, Heather, they'll just take out of combat mode and let you operate properly in garrison," he told me.
We were silent for a little while, Harvey waiting for the stomach cramps to ease up. Finally the crackers had given my stomach enough to hold onto that the walls weren't grinding together. I finally straightened up, burping. The hiccups had stopped.
"I'm feeling better, Harvey," I said, shivering. "Stomach cramps have eased up."
"Are you all..." Captain Jane said.
Harvey held out his hand, "Ma'am, you are here as an observer only. Her medication gives her the chills after she takes them. Her and I are both aware of it."
Captain Jane looked at me with concern and I nodded.
"You're starting to look better. How do you feel?" Harvey asked me.
I nodded, smiling. "I'm feeling better. Well, starting to feel different."
"On a scale of 1 to 10, how aggressive are you feeling?" He asked me.
I thought about it. "A five," I said honestly.
He examined his notebook. "Not bad for the recent circumstances. Better than when you first started attending sessions."
I smiled, feeling hesitant.
"Wuz goo-ung uhn?" Came from my bed. I turned to see Chuck sitting up, the blanket puddled around his waist. The eagle tattoo on his shoulder was vivid in the dim light.
"Psych eval," I told him, moving over to the bed and sitting down. I reached out and took his hand.
He scrubbed his face with the other hand. "Do ya want me to stay?" He asked.
"Please?" I squeezed his hand.
He looked at Chuck. "OK if I stay, doc?"
Harvey nodded. "It's up to the two of you."
"Please?" I asked again.
"I'll stay," he told me.
I turned back to Harvey, "Thank you," I said.
He nodded. "I'd prefer you to be comfortable, Heather," he told me. He opened his notebook, paging through a few pages till he found the page he was looking for. "Captain Jane has asked me how long you should be confined and under observation."
I glared at Captain Jane.
"Heather," Harvey's voice held a warning tone. I looked at him. "She's upholding her responsibilities, you know that. Think of the leaders you've served under, would they let obviously injured soldiers run about untreated?"
I shook my head. "No, well, Stillwater would have."
"Stillwater? He was in charge of site three one seven, was..." Harvey started.
"Please don't say it like that," I broke in. "Please say three-seventeen."
He frowned. "Why, Heather?"
I looked down. "Three-One-Seven in Life and Death," I said.
"Blood oath?" He asked.
I nodded. "Something like that."
"So, Stillwater wouldn't care about injuries? Was he an abusive leader?" Harvey asked me.
"That's complicated," I said, looking down at my hands again.
I told him about life at Atlas. About my first day. The sniper round. Toxing on chemicals. Learning to wear the protective gear. How Marchant got his arm severed and I had to wear the blood soaked uniform for three weeks.
"What's the emotion that comes to mind when I ask you about that first day?" Harvey asked me.
"Fear," I said. I shivered and started wringing my hands again. Chuck took my hands in his, squeezing them gently. When I looked at him he smiled. I looked back at Harvey. "I was right to be afraid. Atlas would kill you if you so much as looked at her sideways. If she didn't get you, the Soviets would."
"Tell me about it, Heather, what you can," Harvey said. "Tell me about an average day at Atlas."
I told him. Working from zero-six to eighteen hundred. How every day I had to put in stitched, set dislocated joint, splint fractured fingers, or worse. How I had to monitor blood toxicity levels. How I had to watch out for mines, for unexploded bomblets after the Atlas Explosion. How we were constantly exposed to radiation and chemicals.
Just a day in the life.
"So your first day set the tone for the rest?" Harvey asked.
I nodded. "For the next five years."
"This, Atlas Explosion, how bad was it?" Harvey asked.
I thought about it, remembering what Stillwater and Bomber had said. "The blast was measured in megatons of explosive weight detonating over a period of nearly three minutes."
Harvey nodded and made a few annotations in his book. "So Stillwater was less of an abusive leader and more untrained and driven to ensure everyone survival what sounds like a war-time hardship posting."
That made me nod. "He tried. Right up until the end."
Harvey made another note, then closed the notebook. "For part of your treatment, we'll need to focus on your time at Atlas differently than I've approached it prior," he told me. "I'll need to treat it as a combat posting of excessive duration."
I nodded.
"How long were you there?" He asked me.
I thought for a minute. "Not counting operation deployments, like Chernobyl, Africa, and Panama, four and half-years. It would have been five, but I was deployed to Saudi Arabia at the end of August of last year."
He nodded. "Standard assignment to Europe for an unmarried soldier is two years. Did you request PDA?"
I shook my head. "I wasn't given an option. I was considered mission essential."
"How long did you enlist for?" He asked me. He'd opened his book and gone back to taking notes.
"Three years of active duty, five of reserves," I said.
"What happened?" He asked me.
"Involuntary extension and reenlistment," I told him truthfully.
"Why?" Captain Jane blurted out.
Harvey sighed. I could tell he was slightly annoyed by her constant interruptions. He opened his mouth and I held up my hand.
"I'll tell her," I said. Chuck squeezed my other hand as I waved at Captain Jane. "Minimum force level for my MOS is supposed to be two-thousand-five-hundred; as of the last list I saw, our force level is at one-hundred and fifty," I shrugged. "They can keep me till the end of time," I looked down at my hands and saw that I was twisting Chuck's fingers with mine. I glanced at Chuck, who smiled and shrugged. "I'm Special Weapons. That's just the way it is."
"Except you need to understand, you aren't at a Special Weapons posting any longer. Yes, you keep being selected for missions, but here you not only have, but are encouraged to use, the support systems the military has developed," He told me. He opened up another book, this one a calender. "All right, I'll see you on Wednesday at thirteen hundred, Heather," he made another note.
"I'll be there, Harvey," I smiled.
Harvey nodded, then snapped the notebook closed. "All right, Heather. We're done for today."
He stood up. "You're back, Heather. Just hold onto that," he told me.
I stood up, shaking his hand, "Thank you, Harvey," I said.
"Welcome home, Chief," Captain Jane said. "Enjoy your weekend."
"Thank you, ma'am," I said, shaking her hand too.
I watched them leave the room. Alpha Guy Two came back in, leaning against the wall while I pushed the chair back over to the desk.
When I turned around, Chuck was still sitting on the bed, but he held a hand out to me and I took it, sitting down next to him.
"You all right?" He asked me, pulling me close and kissing my neck, one hand on my lower back.
"I think I'm feeling better," I told him.
"First day back," He whispered in my ear. His hand slid down, under my jeans, and cupped my butt.
"Let's make it a good one," I giggled, kissing him. I looked at Alpha Guy Two. "You might want to stand outside."
"Why?" He asked, frowning.
"I'm gonna spend my first day back getting my cunt plowed," I told him. He darkened slightly. "I've been gone a long time, I want my guts stirred around."
He left.
My clothes came off.
It was a good first day back.