nexus_sages | Values

Current Mood: curious
Current Music: "Magnificat"-Bach

Values

The desk is back in the Nexus again. And the owner of it is once more behind it, hands folded primly in front of him. Set off to the side is a fountain pen and a pad of paper. The banker's light and the metronome rest on the desk as well, though both are turned off. The snow is cleared in a neat three foot circumference around his seat, and though he's in just a dress shirt and sweater vest, the cold doesn't seem to bother the doctor one bit.

"I wonder," Dr. Hill begins in his usual northern European accent, "What do you, as a person, value more? Honesty? Or loyalty?"

A simple question, really.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Yes, of course. It's war." There's a long pause from Miller and his voice gets flat and stony.

"People get pushed to their limits. They break. They do shit they didn't know they were capable of. It happens, and you move on."

"Do you? Just simply move on? That seems like something profound. Something lasting. I question someone claiming they feel no impact from it. Either from witnessing it or becoming it."

Miller exhales slowly, trying to recenter himself. Thinking about things is starting to push his vision back, like suddenly watching everything from three feet behind his own head.

"I'm not saying there's no impact. It's just ... you have to move on. The moment you stop and think about it too hard, you're doomed and your comrades -- the people counting on you -- are doomed."

"Does this apply even when you're well out of the thick of things? You're certainly in no war zone here and now, Mr. Miller. And to ignore trauma is to invite a great deal of suffering, one way or another."

Kaz ignores the follow-up question and instead takes a step up to the desk opposite the doctor. He rests a set of knuckles against the veneer as he leans in. His head cants to one side.

"Did I tell you my name, sir?" Extra emphasis on the "sir"; he certainly doesn't remember getting this guy's name. Speaking of paranoia.

Edited 2016-01-10 07:14 (UTC)

He puts out his hands in an open, placating gesture. "You pick up things when you spend any amount of time in the Nexus! But let's get back onto what matters. That is, your mental wellbeing."

Miller leans his weight back, but continues to give Dr. Hill a sidelong look from behind his aviators. "I thought this was a philosophical discussion, not a psychological evaluation."

He paces away from the desk, arms crossed. "What's your vested interest in my mental state, exactly?"

"Can't it be both? It's my job, after all, and you are my patient."

So you apparently signed up for this at some point that didn't happen, Kaz.

He snorts at the presumption. "Since when?"

Miller's pacing brings him back to the desk. He tilts up the doctor's name placard. "And what're your rates, Dr. Hill? I can't exactly afford a shrink on my salary."

"Very modest, I assure you. I even happily do pro bono work! Working in the Nexus allows me access to very interesting cases. Sometimes getting to treat them is reward enough."

Isn't that nice?

If Miller thinks that's nice, he doesn't smile. "That's all well and good, but I definitely don't need your help, Doc. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't call me your patient."

He shrugs, a somewhat insincere frown on his face. "Suit yourself. But my services are always available. Why don't you take a business card with you? You never know when it might turn out useful."

Miller plucks a card from the tray and examines it. Despite his clear skepticism, he slips it into the breast pocket of his BDUs. He does like networking. Even with oddballs.

"Do you have any experience treating war diagnoses? I was reading up on new treatments for some of the guys coming back from 'Nam. If our operation picks up steam, it'd be nice to have a specialist, or at least a consultant to train the medical team."

And when you network in the Nexus, who else are you going to connect with?

"New treatments? In Vietnam cases? I assume then you are from sometimes in the late 60s, early 70s? American?"

"I came from 1974. And yeah, American in terms of nationality. But not in their service." Any tension in Miller's posture begins to abate. Business is comforting.

"Are you familiar with the research? They're taking a closer look at the idea of 'shell shock' and providing treatment to afflicted vets."

"I'm quite familiar with it! It's known as post-traumatic stress disorder in the, erm. Timeframe I'm from. We've made remarkable strides on the treatment and understanding of it. One of my main patients suffered from it a great deal and was a primary focus of his sessions."

And look how great Josh turned out!

"Post-traumatic stress disorder. Gotcha." He adjusts his sunglasses, the banker's light flickering in their reflection.

"Was your patient in the military? What does typical treatment entail?" Yes, yes. Ask the creepy therapist questions so he can't ask you questions. That's a good tactic.

"He lost both his sisters in a tragic accident. It left quite the lasting impression on him. They, and he, were still quite young. Just teenagers still. Not exactly a war zone situation, but a broad range of things can cause PTSD in a patient."

Kaz hums thoughtfully, gaze turned to the snow on the ground again. After a moment he looks back up at the doctor. "So ... did your treatment give him any relief?"

"He wasn't terribly receptive to the treatment, I'm afraid. You can't heal who doesn't wish to be."

He leans back in his chair once more, one leg crossing over the other as he folds his fingers together.

"What happened to moving on and taking your lumps, I wonder? Does it only apply to your soldiers and not yourself?"

Miller frowns at being called out at his inconsistency. He sighs sharply and looks pointedly away from the doctor. "It's different when you're in command -- you can't hesitate or show weakness. People will begin to lose faith in you and your cause...

"Taking care of my subordinates and making sure they're healthy -- body and mind -- that's my responsibility. My priority."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Besides, I'm fine. I haven't been through half of the shit some of these Central American guys have. Revolution, civil war ..."

Dr. Hill raises his eyebrows.

"Dismissing the traumas you've also faced is a common tactic for deflection or evading treatment. Constantly downplaying your own issues compared to the severity of others'...That's not healthy, Mr. Miller. Not at all."

Miller's eyebrows furrow in response, annoyed that he's been steered back around into a therapy session.

"What makes you think I have issues, exactly?"

"Don't we all? And no one escapes from war unscathed. Who do you talk to about your problems, Mr. Miller? I'm concerned you just bottle it up, which is bound to end poorly, going on past cases."

He shrugs emphatically. "I'm certainly not gonna talk about that stuff with my subordinates, and my commander doesn't need to know about it either ...

"You know, if it was a problem, which it isn't. I'm busy enough day-to-day. I don't exactly have down-time to get in touch with my feelings."

Nevermind the fact that he hasn't been back to Motherbase in nearly two weeks now.

(no subject)

workthroughit - 2016-01-13 01:31 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

hellburger - 2016-01-13 21:07 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only