Dear John Letter

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Damien just huffed and looked around. "I live on the second floor actually, close enough to the ground, but not close enough to get ransacked first." He muttered, looking around. The fresh air calmed him and he did like being around nature.

"Where are we going?" He asked since she didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. Jax was just happy to be out and seemed to want to run around and play.
 
"I stand corrected. But I must say, you are so against this, yet here you are. Outside." She told him, noting that he seemed almost relaxed. She'd left her notebook in the office, figuring they didn't need to bring that out into the public. Sessions were confidential, after all.

He asked where they were going, and she slowed, falling into step beside him. "We are going to the outdoor market. It's late enough that the crowds will have died down." She assured him.
 
Damien frowned. "Outdoor market? I didn't know there was one near here." He admitted, keeping the pup on a tight leash. Damien didn't want anything happening to the pup, he was pretty protective of him.

"I don't need any food or anything. I don't see the point to going. Do people actually just walk around and look?" He asked as if it was something he couldn't imagine doing.
 
"See? Going outside, learning something new. That's what I'm here for." She said with a smile. She kept walking, the marketplace was two more blocks from where they stood and then a few more blocks east.

"Yes, they do just go to look. There is more than just produce there, y'know." she told him, matter of factly. "Why are you so skeptical of everything?" She asked him, wanting to know out of pure curiosity. This was more a personality thing than a returning from war thing, at least that was her theory.
 
"I don't want to be around people. There isn't much reason for it, they only let you down or die before you're ready to let them go." He said simply, picking up Jax whenever they had to cross the street. The pup hated it, but was getting used to it.

"There isn't much reason to make an effort if it all goes to waste in the end is there?" Damien asked her.
 
"You know, that just makes me like ten times more likely to not give up on you." She told him, both brows raising curiously. He really was just digging himself further into her stubborn side. He really did seem to care about that dog, enough that he picked him up before they crossed the street.

"What if, one day, you do something and you stumble onto your purpose in life? You keep talking about not having a purpose anymore. How are you going to find it while sitting in your apartment?" She inquired in return, not having a good answer to his question.
 
"I think I've served my purpose already. When I was out there I felt like I was making a difference, doing something right. There isn't much that can live up to that. " Damien said with a shrug.

"Finding another purpose isn't going to happen anytime soon, so why should I bother looking for one? Maybe it's just better for me to lay low and figure things out."

As they walked a car honked it's horn and he jumped, looking around frantically for the source of it. "We need to get out of here, it isn't safe." Damien said, picking up his dog and looking for a place to hide.
 
"So you think that once you achieve your purpose, you just stop doing anything? Just wait to die?" She countered, trying to keep herself professional and failing. He was just so confusing and was questioning everything she believed in.

"I've found that you don't necessarily have to look for a purpose, but to fall into your next one you have to go somewhere where you can fall. Because it's okay to not know everything." She told him, completely firm in that opinion.

A car honked and he immediately grabbed the dog from the ground, and she reached out to rest a hand on his arm. "It was a car horn, take a deep breath. You're in the states, not over there." She said, attempting to soothe him.
 
He tried to focus on her voice, but it was difficult for him to be pulled out of his head. "No, we need to leave, now." Damien said, still searching for safety.

After a few moments of taking breaths and trying to calm himself down he was able to focus on her hand. "I don't want to be out like this, do you understand why now? If I had seen the man who honked I would have tried to take him down. I'm not safe Dr.Owens and you should be smart enough to see that."
 
"We aren't in any danger. It's okay." She said with a shake of her head, watching him intently. This was a new experience for her, she'd never been a firsthand witness to this. "Damien, you're ok."

She watched as he slowly pulled himself out of his panic, and she sighed upon hearing his words. She dropped her hand, stepping off to the side so people could continue to walk past them. "Of course you aren't safe. But unless you see it, how are you going to stop reacting to it?" She pointed out gently. She may have rushed the experience, but she'd lost contact with him in the office, and here she seemed to have some of his attention.
 
"That's enough for today." Damien said, his eyes going hard. He hated feeling weak and right now he felt like he was at his weakest. "I'm leaving, have your secretary call me with another appointment time." He told her before starting to walk away, back towards the office where his car was parked.

Damien ran a hand through the puppy's fur, trying to stop his hands from shaking.
 
She nodded, slightly disappointed. So much for ending on a good note. "Have a nice week, Damien." She called after him, making a note of this experience on her phone. This was difficult, she never dealt with patients so resistant to help. Normally they were too willing and managed to stress themselves out because of it.

Jess felt like banging her head on a wall, but she refrained from doing so, instead walked in the opposite direction of her office. The last thing she needed was to run into him in the parking lot after such a bad session.
 
Damien dreaded seeing her again all week. When it came time for his session he left the dog at home and sat in the waiting room, his eyes on the ground.

He was dedicated to not speaking during the session and seeing what she did about it. Damien hated how far she had pushed him and it had caused him to stay away from most public areas. Now though, his dreams haunted him. He hasn't had a good night sleep all week.
 
She had her secretary call and scheduled him for a Friday appointment, upon her orders. She may have been putting him off a bit, but that was a natural thing for someone who'd had their pride hurt.

When it came time for his appointment, she buzzed the front desk easily enough, particularly adamant that this appointment would go better than the last. She waited for him to enter, giving the customary "Hello, Damien." She had notes on him out and ready to be added to, but also had a list of things they'd discuss in their meeting.
 
He simply nodded as he came in before sitting at the edge of the couch, just like his first meeting with her. When Damien looked up at her, his eyes were guarded and determined.

His good hand was once again rubbing his injured one, but other than that there was no movement in his body and he was sitting up straight.
 
The silent treatment? It seemed rather childish, but she could handle it. Once the door closed, she took a seat and made eye contact with him. While in their last session, he'd seemed almost open when it came to his expression. Today, there was no openness, he'd thrown up defensive walls.

So she stayed where she was, and was quiet for a few moments. "Well, seeing as I have apparently angered you, I'd like to say one thing, as it won't make any difference. Stop playing the victim. Yes, you got hurt. Yes, you were discharged due to that injury. But that doesn't give you the right to name the entire world enemy number one. So while you sit in silence for the next forty five minutes, think on that." She told him, and began to write.
 
"You don't know my life story." Damien half growled at her. "I've been nothing but the victim my whole life. Just when I thought things were looking up they get crushed again." He huffed, looking at the ground.

"What do they tell you about your patients? What does my file say about me?" He asked, curious on what they kept in there when they gave it to her.
 
Well, that surely did the trick about ending the silence. "Tell me about that. This is what I'm here for." She said, stating it more as a demand than a question. She leaned forward, listening to his words with interest.

She picked up his file and held it out for him to see, but kept a tight hold on it before she clarified something. "Is is completely out of line for me to do. So this is something that stays confidential between us. Agreed?"
 
Damien set his hand on it and nodded, keeping eye contact with her until she let go. As he flipped through he laughed at how little they gave. Most of it was about his time in the army, none of it was about his family.

"Well you know nothing about me Dr.Owens. My parents were murdered when I was seven, right in front of me. I would have been next but the alarm had gone off and the police arrived when he was still killing my father. I was put into foster care since I have no other family and at 18 was told the go off on my own. I joined the army for a way to pay for college, but soon it became something I was good at. I had a fiancé at one point, we were together for three years before I was deported and it took her just over two months to fuck someone else. After that I threw myself into my work, into protecting our country and what happens? I get my hand blown up. They were able to get it back together but the nerves aren't the same."

Damien took a breath and shook his head before throwing the file back on her desk. "Now you get why I am how I am. Now you can stop trying to understand me and just let me get on with my life the way I want to."
 
She released the file, which was incredibly thin as opposed to other patients. Normally there were formal letters of assignment and long drawn out previous prescriptions. This told her of his military history. How he'd messed up his hand, and that was it. She knew absolutely nothing about him.

She sat in stunned silence as he sat there and talked. He told her his past, making no pauses in his saga. It was heart wrenchingly sad and she looked at him in a different light, somewhat. He wasn't just a hard headed soldier, he was lacking an.. Identity. Maybe that was the right word. But she couldn't just drop him, abandon him to a fate of being alone and hiding from the world. It wasn't just her job, it was her purpose, the thing she spoke so passionately about at awkward family gatherings.

"I can't, okay? Because I don't accept lost causes. You aren't a lost cause. And while it may take more than the next three sessions, we will get you back to a functioning state. We can even try it your way." She offered, trying to compromise as much as she could.
 
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