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After Miami, Owen went home. His girlfriend met him at the airport. His work gave him a few weeks off to let the bullet wound in his leg heal.
He was the luckiest of everyone. Once again, coming out the best off. Everyone else’s injuries were far worse, the damage done to their lives much more severe.
People died. His friends almost died. Nick almost… He was…
But Owen was fine.
He was fine.
He had nothing to complain about.
He had nightmares about explosions and identifying Nick’s body. He jumped at shadows and kept waiting for the phone to ring with terrible news.
But really, that was nothing. He was fine. All he had to do was send Irish a text and be reminded that everything was okay. When the tightness in his chest became too much, and his thoughts began to race from bad to worse, he just… dealt with it.
Owen was the one who figured shit out. The level head. The rational one. He sat and helped Kelly through his relationship issues like a fucking pro. He always knew how to talk anybody away from a ledge. He was steady. He was in control.
He was at a party with Riley’s friends when it happened. That was the worst part. Embarrassing himself and her in front of all of them. She promised him that he didn’t, but he knew he did.
There wasn’t even anything that set him off. He was talking to some guy about some tv show. And he just got… scared. He felt too cold and too hot all at once. He couldn’t breathe properly. His instincts kept telling him to run. To fight. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong and he didn’t know what and something was going to happen and he had to stop it because it was his responsibility and he was the one who fixed everything so he had to be ready because something bad was happening and he had to stop it
He was vaguely aware of his knees hitting the floor. His head hitting the cabinet he’d been standing next too. He wasn’t standing anymore. His hands were flat on the floor, he could feel the marble under his palms. It was cold and smooth. There were sounds all around him but he couldn’t make sense of any of it. Someone was gasping, heaving dry sobs and his eyes and chest were burning.
Someone put a hand on his shoulder. That was Riley’s voice. He leaned into the touch and she wrapped her arms around him. The solid pressure gave him something to focus on. He reached up and his fingers curled around he jacket. It was soft. She was wearing that perfume he liked.
It was okay. He was okay. Everything was okay.
That night, she held him tight and told him she loved him. That she would help him.
He didn’t need help. He was the one who helped people.
The road trip did a world of good. He felt almost as good as new. He was still jumpy and a little… no. He was the steady one. He was the level headed rational one.
“There’s someone I want you to meet.” Riley’s voice gave no room for arguments. “You can say no after you meet her, but I want you to give it serious thought.”
She had promised him she wouldn’t try to make him see any more therapists. Not after the last one. So when she pulled them into a building that was clearly run by the V.A., Owen was intrigued and confused.
They walked into what appeared to be a gymnasium for… children?
That was when someone in a polo shirt approached them. Trotting along beside them was a large German Shepard. Riley smiled and squeezed his arm.
“Owen, this is Pepper. She’s trained to assist people with ptsd and anxiety.”
The human who still hadn’t been introduced made a hand motion, and Pepper sat down, staring up at them, awaiting her next instruction. Owen felt his eyes water. He didn’t know what to say. He thought about Ty’s kittens and how much he missed having a pet.
The idea of a service dog seemed… excessive. But as the person began explaining what she was trained for, it didn’t seem so bad.
She was basically a guard dog. She would alert him to anything strange or wrong, so if she wasn’t worried then he knew he didn’t have to be. She’d keep people away from him if he was feeling overwhelmed. She was large and heavy and soft, and would make a perfect anchor if he ever had another of those episodes that he refused to call a panic attack.
He crouched down and held out his hand. She placed her paw in it immediately and he shook it.
“Welcome to Sidewinder, Sergeant Pepper.”