Splintered [Complete | GB+SB]

Eleven: -A- Report #2

For @savinggoddess, because I enjoyed saying "no" way too much, and that kind of makes me a bitch, so hopefully this makes up for it. 

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"What's happening?!" Silas said in a panic as Sang seemed to go blank in his arms, like she lost consciousness while still being awake. "Sang! What's wrong? SANG!"

She couldn't seem to hear him, couldn't see him.

"What's wrong with her?" North shouted, lunging across the room towards them. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Silas cried, giving her a gentle shake, trying to snap her out of whatever fugue state she was in. Owen was there in a heartbeat, lifting her away from Silas and carrying her to the bed. He hissed at North to stay back but North ignored him, taking her hand and stroking it gently, crouching next to the side of her bed and speaking to her softly telling her everything was okay, she was safe. Luke and Gabe both tried to get closer, but stepped back when North said not to crowd her.

Owen released her long enough to get his phone out and redline Sean, then rubbed her back as she laid on her side facing North, staring past him, unfocused and blank. "I think it's a dissociative state," he said quietly to North. "It can happen because of PTSD. She might even still know what's going on, recognize things and know we're here, just be detached from her body. Luke, can you get on the bed and hold her? She connects to your scent. Hold her, and talk to her, please." Luke was immediately lying on his side behind her, one arm wrapped around her midsection, pulling her tight against him. North continued to hold her hand and talk to her, and Gabe went to sit with Silas, comforting the big man.

Owen came over to Silas, a banked rage beginning to flare up, and said in an icy voice, "Please tell me exactly what happened from the the time North passed her over to you. She seemed to be fine up until then."

"Nothing happened, we were just talking, flirting, and I asked her to go on a date with me. It wasn't anything bad, I swear!" he said, looking up at Owen from his seat with an agonized expression.

"It is highly likely that she has PTSD from any number of traumatic events she's suffered, or Complex PTSD that stems from sustained and repetitive abuse building up over years," Owen said coldly, in such an officious manner that Silas immediately bristled at his assumption of authority. His worries about Sang were genuine, but he didn't owe any explanation to Owen for his actions. Owen continued, oblivious to the shift in Silas's attitude: his stiffening posture, his hardened features, the scowl forming on his brow. "Any number of things could precipitate a dissociative state, and treatment requires identifying her triggers to interrupt episodes before they start. Tell me exactly what was said and done."

Silas tilted his head and stared at Owen. "Unless you've completed medical school in the past year, I think I'll wait for Sang's doctor to discuss her condition."

That was all Owen's barely-suppressed rage needed to break through the barriers and consume him. Like any of his emotions, it was expressed with steely control, a finely-honed blade made to cut, and cut deep. "I understand that you didn't set out to deliberately hurt her, but I believe you provided the trigger. Her stepmother routinely referred to her as a whore to control her behavior and keep her isolated. Any attention from males — whether sexual or not, even unsolicited and unwanted — would result in accusations of deceit, sexual manipulation, and whorish behavior. She is not used to positive attention, and I believe your flirting made her think she had behaved in a promiscuous manner and you wanted to date her because of that. I'm going to have to insist that you not attempt to pursue her romantically or sexually for the indefinite future, not until she is in a healthier place and able to accept your attention as a positive thing."