Untitled Story of Healing

Lyla

Our team likely won't go on patrol for months. Julie took a leave and Angel... no one knows what's going to happen with him. If Julie were here they would allow her to see him. We just get to watch him from a small window. Gavin and I couldn't stand more than five minutes of watching him in the state he's in. Gunner, for some reason I can't fathom, has spent hours every day watching him suffer. Gavin told me he wanted to believe it was Gunner's way of showing he cared but he didn't know for sure. None of us knew. None of us knew anything it seems. Except Julie. Julie had told us the night we captured the villain that Angel was more affected by the... experience than he had originally admitted but we didn't know how badly.

We knew he wasn't sleeping. We knew he wasn't eating. We knew it took him nearly a year to get back in bed with Julie. I guess we should have pieced together how terribly he was doing. I didn't understand how he could come back and immediately go back to work and capture the man who had done all those terrible things and not at least started to heal. The shadows under his eyes were getting worse and worse but people had insomnia and were otherwise fine as long as they slept some. It wasn't comfortable, of course, but it wasn't breaking down, attacking your partner, and torturing someone. Not after you seemed better for fifteen months.

"Hey, Lyla," Gavin starts, approaching on light steps, "Did you hear? Julie is coming back tomorrow."

He takes a seat in the booth in front of me and I watch, never picking my head up from the table, "Really? It'll be good to have her back. I think."

Gavin grimaces and nods, then sets his head down, mirroring me. "This all seems crazy, doesn't it? Angel tortured someone. Angel, who was always reminding us of our morals if we ever joked about beating someone up. I know I shouldn't blame him. It's like blaming someone for puking if they're sick. He's just sick," his voice breaks on the last word and he clears his throat, "I guess I'm just trying to say that I'm mad at him and I don't want to be mad at him because I also don't blame him."

I heave a sigh, "I think I feel bad for Julie more than anything. Could you imagine? Angel is someone she loves more than life itself. She has to watch him go through all this. We don't see the worst of it, if you really think about it. She sees the nightmares and the fear and distrust, and she has to live with that because, at least as she sees it, she failed him when she didn't wake up.

"That's not-"

"I know it's not true. Julie can probably look at it from a logical standpoint and say that it's untrue too but that doesn't mean she doesn't blame herself."

"Hmmm... I think you think about it too much. What does your gut tell you? I say go with that."

"My gut says that this is an overall sucky situation where no one wins. Also, I think no one sits with us anymore because they think snapping and cutting someone's face to ribbons is just a think we all do."

Gavin sits up and looks around. There are at least two empty tables separating us from everyone else in all directions. He shrugs and puts his head back down, "Oh well. They're losers anyway."

I manage a small smile. I want to visit Angel but the thought of seeing him pale, restrained to a bed, and drifting in and out of awareness was terrible. The staff was trying to find something to help him, but they didn't know what. The sedation kept him unconscious most of the time but with his metabolism they had to use an unhealthy amount and even then he was awake a few hours out of the day. Those were always the worst, Gunner said. That was when the quiet mutterings turned into full panic and loud rantings.

We knew that he had realistic flashbacks and hallucinations that vividly reconstructed his time captured and we knew they could be triggered by a simple touch. The restraints likely made them more common than the actual reality. I left when the ramblings got louder. I didn't want to know what he had really gone through, and I don't want to know now.

"Want to go get ice cream?" Gavin asks, almost jokingly.

"I wish," I sigh, "I don't think I could eat ice cream right now, as much as I hate to say it."

"Yeah," he mocks my sigh, "I don't think I could either. I just thought we needed a distraction."

I groan and fall asleep.