Gloss Over the Bad Memories with Good Ones (Dis)

[Rowan St. John]

At nearly five 'o clock at night, Rowan was ready to close the inrimary up for the evening; no one was resting in the cots, she'd kicked the last feigning-ill student out hours ago, and school for them had technically ended at three. With no work and no kids to worry about, tonight looked like a good night to enjoy herself a little and relax (she was dead tired of course, so tonight's version of 'unwinding' would consist of her falling asleep on the couch in front of the T.V. after eating a peanut butter sandwitch). Sure it sucked that her home was an old apartment the ground's keeper used to use and she basically never left the school, but she'd given up caring long ago.

She got free room and board on top of a paycheck; who was she to complain?

Of course this small bit of good fortune always came at a price; the students here knew she never left (and with good reason; most were here for assault and murder), but it always seemed like she never had any privacy. Her friday nights consisted of old reruns of Buffy and Boston Legal; sandwitches she'd stopped eating when she graduated highschool; a non-existent love life...The last one had been the real tragedy when her last boyfriend left her, but you didn't need sex and a warm body to be happy, right?

Right?

Scowling down at the cot she was making as she prepared to leave, she wondered if maybe she was being a fool for thinking that; Rowan loved having someone to sleep next to and sometimes got lonely. But she loved her job just as much and she really wanted to help these kids, so it was a minor sacrifice for what she did on a day to day basis--which was torment the kids for her loss.

God love them.

[Dis Akhmet]

He hung around at the end of the hallway, fighting with himself about what to do. The infirmary's lights were still on, but Dis' pride screamed at him to not approach the place. It was weakness if he did. Someone else would know that he wasn't doing well, and having to trust someone with that was a terrifying thought. The last thing he needed was for someone else to see him there, or even to have another that knew what was going on in his head. They would know he was crazy and could possibly be a threat to others...

But on the other hand, if he said nothing and kept quiet, what if he fucked up and actually killed someone? The rage was getting almost uncontrollable, and he was scared. While there were one or two kids he didn't mind beating to a pulp, murder was another issue. Hell yes, it'd be fun and exciting to kill someone, and that was exactly what scared him. He wanted to commit murder. The rush of adrenaline and the momentary satisfaction, the power.. all of it was intoxicating. But it was sick. He was sick. He was starting to slip like he had before, only this time it was far more serious. He didn't want to become a monster. He wanted to be someone Era could look up to and trust... And he had already blown it. Why couldn't he control it when Ashton pissed him off? He'd gone and fucking slit the boy's mouth up. He'd beaten him several times now, and while it felt so goddamn good when he was doing it, the lingering guilt made a mess of him.

Biting his lip and pushing down his pride, Dis approached the infirmary and stood cautiously in the doorway. Feigning calmness, he crossed his arms and watched the resident doctor. He'd met her only briefly, but already he had a cautious sort of respect for her. She was one of those tough love people, it seemed. Former combat medic, apparently. But she seemed trustworthy enough. She had to be, it wasn't like he had much of a choice in who to go to with this. Dis' eyes flicked over her, sizing her up like he did with any other potential opponent, trying to settle his mind on how much he should tell her.

"Hey Doc." The words came out as more of a growl than he intended, mostly due to the nervousness he was trying to push out of mind. "I need to talk to you 'bout something."

He folded his arms the other way, eyes hard and unwavering as he watched her. Chin held high, his whole body tense. He hated this. He wanted to turn on his heel and leave, but the fear made him stay. He wanted to know how to get better, his pride be damned. If for nothing else, for Era. The boy's words from earlier, after he had seen what Dis had done to Ash, hurt worse than any knife could. He was a sweet kid who deserved someone better than this, someone he could trust not to hurt him. Dis wanted to be better. He would make himself better, somehow. He wasn't going to become another monster who would end up rotting in prison. He had to overcome this.

[Rowan St. John]

The almost gutteral sound of his voice sent her heart hammering in her chest as it reminded her of days spent cowering in fear while tending to dying friends. She broke out into a cold sweat, almost as if the stale air was hot and dry as the Iraqi desert instead of just cold and dry old Alaska; a few dribbling drops pooled somewhere in her lower back. Rowan had to take a steadying breath to break the vision of blood on her hands while insurgents screamed expletives at her in Arab. Blue eyes blinked down at her shaking hands.

"Ahkmet!" she greeted pleasently when she spun around to face him. Her smile was bright enough, but there was a deffinite 'fight-or-flight' gleam to her eyes. "What brings you here?"

Rowan didn't wait for him to reply before turning back to making the cot. She had to do--something--to keep herself from slipping into another flashback. There hadn't been any for a while, but she still found herself waking up screaming and sweating everytime her dreams crept closer to her tightly bound war memories. It was rediculous, she told herself, but at least she was only having them when she slept--until now it seemed.

It suddenly occured to that--while Dis was clearly not Iraqi--his complexion and deep voice was close enough when in a mood to make her nervous. Which was silly; why should she be worried?

Why indeed.

"Hours are over you know," she quavered after a moment; do not think about it, do not think about it, do not... "But I guess I can make some time for my little helper. Thanks again for taking care of Kildal by the way; she's been absolutely thriving under your care. I think I can remove the stitches soon." She was rambling, she knew, but it was to cover up the odd note in her voice.

Cot finally finished, the good doctor turned to face him once more with her too-tight-smile, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her labcoat. The sudden shock of cold metal on her skin took away some of that tell-tale tightness as she ran a finger along the clicky pen there; almost like a bullet...

[Dis Akhmet]

He watched in silence as the doctor made up the cot, noticing the sharp intake of breath and the subtle change in her movements. Just a slight narrowing of his eyes gave away his realization that he had startled her when the woman greeted him just a little bit too brightly. He answered her question with a faint grunt, tightening his crossed arms and starting to rethink all of this. She was on edge, it was plain as daylight to see. If her body language said nothing, her eyes did. Dis had seen that look before. She was wary of him, but for what exact reason, he didn't know. He'd never hurt her before, never tried to do anything against her.

What was she so afraid of? He had no intentions to harm her unless she tried to attack him, and wouldn't a combat medic be less likely to gets scared than a typical doctor? He frowned at the thought, trying to figure it out before it clicked. Yes, she was a combat medic. Which meant she may have been overseas... Which meant... Well, shit. It made sense, unfortunately. If she had been in the trouble areas over in the Middle East, if something had happened to her there at the hands of the insurgents, then it made a sad kind of sense that she got nervous around people from that general area of the world. He didn't like it, but it made some sense.

And here he was, here in a detention center for assault, with his intentions on asking her what to do about his recently-developed homicidal urges. Great. Just great. He had to be careful now, he couldn't just blurt out what he was worried about. Finding a chair near the door, Dis sat down and glanced around the room before looking up at her as she rambled on about Blake. Her voice was too tight, as were her movements. He looked away again, not wanting her nervousness to rub off on him to the extent that he couldn't bring himself to speak.

"I want to know if you know if there's a psychiatrist here." He didn't know how else to put it now, how he could tell her what was going on in his head when she was so obviously uncomfortable around him. " ... I.... " He bit his lip, thinking. "You know what happened with Blake. And with Ashton. And.... It's happening too much." He glanced up at her, a momentary glimmer of fear in his eyes. " I don't want it to get worse... I don't know what to do. If there's drugs you can prescribe, or if there's anything.... I don't care..."

He trailed off and looked away, staring at the floor and trying to compose himself. "Don't you fucking tell anyone I talked to you...." He glared up at her, though those brown eyes of his held a desperate sort of fear in them. "I don't wanna go to prison. I've gotta stay... sane... enough, I guess.... I've got to be able to be there for Era... And I'm not doing a good job. I think he's scared of me and I don't blame him... I just... I don't like this. I don't know what to do." The words came spilling out before he could edit them, but once they stopped, he didn't continue on with anything more. He simply clasped his fists together, resting his elbows on his thighs and hunching his shoulders some, in an unconsciously defensive position. He was scared, but he pushed the fear back down deep into his guts. He had said too much, now all he had to do was wait for whatever reaction she had for him.

Stupid Ace. If he hadn't died, none of this would have happened.

[Rowan St. John]

The strange fear in his eyes helped ease her own as she forced herself to calm down and relax. Dis was just a kid, she reminded herself, a troubled and angry kid, but a kid all the same; he wasn't here to hurt her like the kids overseas had been. Those were the worst nightmares--the ones where she had to gun down children sometimes no older than her brother because they were running at her with knives, bombs, guns...She ignored the cold sweat the thought gave her.

She listened to him silently, eyes never leaving his face. "I think we're between shrinks right now," she said. It was obvious now that he had seen her nervousness and pegged it for what it was; and she freakin' hated that. Rowan wasn't a racist! She just didn't like to be snuck up on! It reminded her of...things. "But we are hiring. Heard the dean talking to the VP about it."

Hopefully they found one soon.

Rowan decided to throw caution to the wind and approach him when he sat down and hunched over himself, deciding that now would be a good time to fraking SNAP. OUT. OF. IT. He was genuinely upset right now and she was acting like an idiot because he had caught her with her pants down--so to speak. Maybe she was the one in need of counciling?

His words were worrying, none the less. "Ahkmet, are you alright?" she asked softly, crouching down beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder soothingly; she knew this game and knew it well. Her brother had been a big crybaby and usually the only way to calm him was to use a soothig voice and gentle touch. His beloved sister was the only one who could do that. "I'm no shrink, but you can still talk to me you know. I can try and help with--what ever it is that's bothering you. I don't want you on any meds if you can be helped otherwise."

[Dis Akhmet]

He unintentionally flinched at the contact, glancing at her and attempting to hide the fear in his eyes that kept creeping out. He needed to stay strong, be in control of himself... But it wasn't working. He was already slipping and it was only a matter of time until things got worse. Might as well be honest with her and hope she took it well. He glanced at the woman, instinctively sizing her up, still fighting with himself over what to say. She wouldn't gossip it all over the school, he hoped. She hadn't done so with Blake, why would she do such a thing to him?

Dis looked down and shrugged faintly, struggling to form the words. "I...ah..." He fiddled with the frayed edges of a hole in his jeans, trying to bring himself to open up. This wasn't something he did. He didn't talk, because if he showed weakness, someone would have something to exploit. The teen narrowed his eyes again, looking away from her and training his gaze on a drawer across the room. "I.... I'm going crazy. That's what's wrong. I want to kill people who piss me off. I don't know what's going on, but I keep finding myself thinking about... how good it'd feel... to just shut them up forever. I... It's scaring me. I have to watch out for Era, and I'm so fucking worried someone else will come along and hurt him... And I just keep getting pissed off by Ashton, mainly, and Blake sometimes.... I've hurt them both... God, at this point I'm not surprised if they throw me in prison.... And I... I don't know why I can't control myself...."

He trailed off into silence after spilling that all out, clenching his hands together again and staring at the floor, his whole body taut. He swallowed hard, not risking to glance at her for fear of a bad reaction. "I'm so fucking scared. I don't want to do something that'll make them take Era away... I've already fucked up so much, I've tried to kill Ashton.... He just... He just fucking pissed me off so much."

Dis ran his hands through his hair, attempting to control the shaking. "I need drugs or something. Depressants? I don't know. I feel like I'm turning into a fucking lunatic... Exercise barely helps, if it did, I'd never leave the fucking gym." He eventually forced himself to look at her, chewing his lip. "I don't know what else to do... I could get drunk off my ass, but that's not fair to Era... I just... I don't know."

He stared sullenly at the floor, fingers working agitatedly at the frayed threads on his pants again. He was waiting to see her reaction, hoping that it wouldn't be an outburst and a call for security.