“While Ember’s actions are troubling, I cannot force therapy on someone who is refusing to talk. Her brother’s on a ventilator. Allow her some grace.”
“She needs our help!”
“Then listen to me.” He raises an expectant brow. “What happened was extreme, to say the least, but you can’t force her to open up. She needs time, compassion. Patience.”
While his advice makes total sense, I’m struggling to have an ounce of patience right now. Not while Ember’s clammed up like she’s forgotten how to speak and simply stares ahead with dead eyes. She saved our skins, but killing those men did something to her.
Something cataclysmic.
And I’m afraid it’s irreversible.
“You’re sure this isn’t tied to her epilepsy?” I worry my bottom lip. “Like an absence seizure or something?”
“I’d advise a follow-up with her specialist, but it’s clear to me this is a trauma response. Ember spent a long time in survival mode. It’s bound to kick in when she’s triggered.”
My head bobs in a loose nod. Survival mode. Right. Like a crashed computer booting back up in safe mode. The idea of the girl I’m falling for needing to be in that mode at all makes me want to punch the fucking wall.
“Speaking of…” He pins me with an assessing stare. “How are you handling the events?”
“Me? What? Fine. I’m fine.”
“You watched a colleague lose his life,” Richards elucidates.
“Trust me, I know.”
“It isn’t the first time this has happened either.”
His words cause long-gone faces to flash through my mind’s eye. The women and men we’ve lost along the way. Lives sacrificed in the pursuit of justice and a few taken as penance too. Grief is an unfortunate side effect of our work.
Doesn’t make it any easier, though.
“You need to take some time to process your own thoughts and feelings, Hyland. It’s understandable for this to bring up bad memories.”
“No.” I wave him off. “Go give Warner the annoying therapy talk. He’s lost far more people than I have, and I don’t care what he says. He’s not okay.”
“I’ll be having the same conversation with him, but right now, I’m concerned about you.”
“I don’t need your concern.”
“You’re not in shock?”
“No! I’m not!”
My deep yell bounces off the walls, echoing down the corridor to reach nearby hospital bays. Immediately, I recoil and clamp my mouth shut. The acknowledgement in Richards’s gaze only intensifies my humiliation.
“Debrief.” Richards’s tone brooks no argument. “Monday morning, 8am sharp. I want you in my clinical room at HQ, or I’ll be driving back here.”
Gritting my teeth, I nod once.
“Warner, Axel and the Falcon Team will be receiving the same instruction. I want you to keep a close eye on Ember’s behaviour too and call me immediately should further violence ensue.”
“Further… violence?”
“She isn’t herself right now,” he says ominously.
With a light squeeze on my shoulder, Richards trundles off towards the elevator. I watch the doddery old man leave, my gut burning. Why is he making this about me? I can handle loss.
Like he said, it isn’t the first time.
