betterthanaplan | The galley of the Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

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The galley of the Cape Rouge, Thursday evening

Duke had had some time since his last therapist appointment to start slowly processing what his therapist had said. Specifically what the man had said about what he believed was the foundation of Duke's issues. A diagnosis if you will.

Which Duke had finally made time to look up and read about after getting home from the diner. And mull over over a cup of tea.

Sure, it wasn't the first time someone had suggested that he had PTSD. He'd kind of just assumed he had that, by now. But C-PTSD. The complex version. The one most associated with survivors of hostage situations or child abuse.

He sipped his tea and stared into space. And wished it didn't make as much sense to him as it did. Wished he didn't check off quite as many of the usual symptoms as he did.

"Fuck."

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“I think a couple of days on the water alone might help me . . . work through some stuff. Without you two getting hit by the crossfire. The boat’s in good shape, and you know I can sail. I can set out and you two can catch a portal later.”

Octavia... really didn't know what to say to that.

Opened her mouth. Closed it again.

This was frequently when things went sideways. So while Duke tensed, he took a breath.

“Okay, I don’t want to assume. What, uh. What are you thinking?”

"I --"

It was a question easier asked than answered, and even the asking probably hadn't been the easiest.

"I don't want to stop you from doing whatever you feel like you need to do."

Duke nodded. “But you don’t think it’s a good idea?”

This was exactly the sort of question (and answer) that Octavia had been trying to step past.

But:

"No."

Duke swallowed. “Okay.” She was being honest. He was staying calm. This was okay. “Let’s talk about that. Maybe . . . maybe we can make this work for both of us.”

"You want to sail alone."

The way Octavia saw it working out was him doing it and her worrying about it.

Well. Yes. But they could mitigate worry, maybe!

“I do. I used to do it all the time, you know.” He gave her a little smile. “That scares you?”

"You're gonna do it anyway," Octavia replied. Not unkindly, but clearly not comfortable with the conversation, either. Struggling with how to navigate things in ways that didn't involve trying to get her own way and stomping over whatever he wanted. "We don't have to hash it out."

“I’d like to,” Duke agreed. “But maybe there are things we can do to make it less scary for you. I have a radio, I could contact you guys. There’s GPS, so you can see just where I am.”

"Stop calling me scared," Octavia said, abruptly. So much so it seemed to almost take her by surprise.

At least the tone, so.

"Please."

Wow. Okay. (She hates you, you're ruining this -- NO. Duke was not going to let the intrusive thoughts win.)

He blinked at her, surprised, and nodded. "Tell me what you're feeling, then?"

"I feel like I don't want to be having this conversation right now," Octavia replied, much more... reasonable in her tone again. "Do what you want, just -- stay in contact enough we know you're not gone."

As he'd already offered, so that was agreement, sort of.

Duke opened his mouth, twitching his head in a little shake. Then closed it again.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Can we talk about why you won't talk to me about your feelings instead?"

Octavia was pretty sure she had, in fact, just done that. It felt like she had, anyway.

"What?"

"I've been trying to get a sense of where you're at and every time I ask a direct question, you seem to dodge and just say I'm going to do it anyway so it doesn't matter." Duke wanted to reach for her hand, but that way lay flinches and possible rejections. So he just held his out instead. "It does matter. I don't want to hurt you with this. It's . . . really frustrating. I'm trying really hard to not just make this about what I want and need."

"And I am trying to leave you the space to get whatever it is you need," Octavia returned. She didn't really see the offered hand, staring the way she was at his face. "Without making a big deal out of this."

Duke closed his eyes, huffing a little laugh through his nose.

"We 'Gift of the Magi'd this." He opened his eyes again. "Thank you. For that. But my fucked up brain chemistry is trying to interpret it as you passive aggressively punishing me for doing what I want instead of what you want." His mother had done that a lot when he was a kid. Just shut down and stop talking to him -- stop taking care of him -- when he upset her. "And it's freaking me out."

"I'm trying to protect you," Octavia replied, "from my immediate feelings. So it doesn't feel like I'm trying to... take away your choice or something."

Even if it was a choice she wasn't thrilled with. Even if she was very unsure she'd actually be able to change her feelings, even given time to process them.

"Yeah, that's --" Duke closed his eyes and let out a breath, hand curling into a fist and pulling back in towards his chest. "I really wish you wouldn't do that. Protect me by not telling me things. Even when I ask about them directly."

Octavia crossed her arms over her chest.

Sighed.

"Do you want to be hurt?"

"If it means knowing what's going on with you?" Duke asked. "Then yes. I would rather be hurt."

Octavia nodded. Fine, then.

"This feels unfair," she said. "It's the first time in a long time that I'm feeling fine about a vacation away from here, which I'm pretty sure both of you have been hoping for, and there's this."

She would've called it a curveball if she'd been a little more aware of sports-derived sayings like that.

"And I know it's probably irrational, because I know you've been sailing forever, but the whole idea makes me unconfortable, and then I feel more bad and uncomfortable thinking it is probably irrational, and I tried to get out of this conversation so I could just feel and figure out my feelings in peace before I have to share whatever you actually needed to know."

How was that for some word vomit, then?

"Okay," Duke said, nodding. That didn't sound entirely like it was him she'd been protecting, but it didn't seem like the time to bring that up. "I'm sorry it feels unfair. I knew you wouldn't be thrilled with the idea, but I was hoping that we could talk that through. Find ways maybe to make it less uncomfortable for you. I think . . . maybe we both tend to think things are always all or nothing -- your way or my way. But maybe that doesn't have to be how it is every time."

Dr. Shin had maybe coached him on some of this, yes.

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