My bagman (hangman x fem reader)

Pointless

"So how have you been feeling Izzie?" the therapist I was being required asked me. I thought it was stupid but the navy was forcing me because they were worried had ptsd or something. "I'm fine." "Are you sure? Your dad died. Then your mom died. Then your brother died at top gun with you. You almost died."

How the hell did this bitch know everything about me. And why did she think she had the right to ask me about it? "How do you know all this about me?" "It's all in your file." She responded. "You have me on file?" I asked her. A hint of annoyance in my voice.

"We have all the students on file. Now tell me how your really feeling."

This lady was honestly pissing me off. She didn't have any right to talk about my family. She shouldn't be allowed to. It's none of her business.

"Sorry but I have better things to do than this." I told her. I grabbed my purse and headed out to my car.

I didn't really know where to go. I didn't want to head back to base right now. It's not like I could visit my brothers grave since he was buried next to my parents. So instead I went to the only other person I would go to for guidance.

****

"Hey Ice. I know I haven't seen you in a while. I'm going to be honest. It's been hard. I feel like I have no one. My parents. Dead. My brother. Dead. You. Well you see the point. I just came from therapy. They think I have ptsd." I laughed a little to myself as I pulled at the grass looking at his gravestone. "They all probably think I'm crazy or something. Man, I really just wish you were here still. I know you'd have something to say to me. Thanks for listening."

I got up and left the flowers I had got on his grave. As I was leaving the cemetery I was thinking a lot. Thinking over everything. Surprising talking to a grave felt better than talking to any therapist those people could have set me up with.

I felt a ring from my back pocket. Unknown number it read. Like the idiot I am I answered the call. "Hello?" "Is this Izzie Taylor?" The caller asked. "Yes this is. Can I help you?" "Yes this is the therapist you had spoken to earlier." How in the world did she get my number? "We would like to get you on anti anxiety meds. From what I learned today I think your anxious and should get that under control."

"Yeah whatever just send them to the pharmacy or something and I'll pick them up." I hung up. I'm not anxious. They can prescribe them. Doesn't mean I'm going to take them.

But I might as well go pick them up. I've got to get some stuff anyways.

****

"What's your name?" The pharmacist lady asked me. "Lizzie Taylor." "Ok looks like it's covered by insurance. Here you go." "Thanks." I responded.

Where are the candles? I was really in need of one because the dorm was staring to smell like boy.

I found a good one and then figured maybe I'd pick up a snack or something. I decided on sour patch kids. I was all done so I decided to head back.

****

"Hey Jake." I said to him and I saw him standing in the kitchen. "Hey Iz. How was it?" I forgot I told him about. "Um it was good." "That's good. Hey wanna head out the hard deck." "Yeah sure let me just put my stuff in my room." I headed back to my room and set my stuff down. I went to put my brothers dog tags on but I couldn't find them. They weren't on the desk. They weren't on the floor. They weren't in my bag. Fuck.