Irish Coffee #6, Tangerine #1 - The Talisman
Title: The Talisman
Author: turnerwolf
Flavors: Irish Coffee #6, Tangerine #1
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 570
Summary: A glimpse of Kateri adjusting to being back home.
She sat on the edge of her bed holding the small lock box. She knew she should just cram the box into the drawer of her dresser and cover it up with socks or underwear. She wasn't ready to go through it, she knew. She wasn't, but her hands and fingers move on their own volition.
Her breathing quickened, heart picking up a pace that no longer reflected a person sitting on their bed. She watched as her fingers fumbled with the lock box's key. Wasn't detachment supposed to help one maintain a level of calm dispassion? Obviously not, she thought, as the sharp click of the lock mechanism slipping open startled her, causing the box to drop to the floor.
The resounding crash shook her, heartbeat now pounding out a staccato rhythm that sped up even more. She reached angrily for the box, cursing. She was stronger than this. The box's contents shouldn't induce a crippling panic attack. The Army shrink ad diagnosed her as having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but she balked at the diagnosis although she knew he was right. Determined to face her ghosts and demons, she flung the box open. Enough with the weekly therapy sessions, with the 'taking baby steps' that seemed to be the motto of her therapist. Baby steps didn't see her through her childhood, Basic training or Iraq. Baby steps wouldn't get her through this.
Most of the box's contents were harmless. Some photos even brought a smirk and smile to her face as they reminded her of good times. A few other times, mementos, also served to provide a measure of happiness and balm to her spirit, slowly calming her racing heart.
Then she felt it. Fingers closed around a small gold shamrock. At least that was what it once was. She lost herself in the memories of the first time she had seen it.
She slid her fingers up his newly bared chest, tangling in the chain that held his round dog tags. "Take these off too," she said, her eyes closing, trying to block out the awareness of how many rules they were breaking. She opened them as her fingers encountered a contraband object attached to the chain. "What's this?" She squinted in the dim light, fingers tracing a small piece of gold shaped as some kind of leaf, inlaid with a sparkling green gem, perhaps an emerald.
"That? Never seen a shamrock before, Kateri O'Donnelly?" Seamus said with a grin, his lilt deepening as he stressed the pronunciation of her last name.
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm only half Irish," she retorted, but for some reason couldn't look away from the jewelry. "Why do you wear it?"
Seamus leaned in and kissed her softly. "I'll tell you its story... later," he promised.
A slamming door and her brother's shout drew her from her memory... a memory so vivid it was more a flashback, but happy one. She clenched the ruined shamrock in her fist tightly for a moment, briefly considering adding to the tags she still wore, but she placed it lovingly back into the lock box. She wasn't ready for that yet. She placed the box into her drawer, throwing some t-shirts over it before heading downstairs. Her brother was a welcome distraction. The shamrock, Seamus' memory... all of that would be waiting for her, but tonight she was taking her brother to the movies. A step towards normalcy.
Author: turnerwolf
Flavors: Irish Coffee #6, Tangerine #1
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 570
Summary: A glimpse of Kateri adjusting to being back home.
She sat on the edge of her bed holding the small lock box. She knew she should just cram the box into the drawer of her dresser and cover it up with socks or underwear. She wasn't ready to go through it, she knew. She wasn't, but her hands and fingers move on their own volition.
Her breathing quickened, heart picking up a pace that no longer reflected a person sitting on their bed. She watched as her fingers fumbled with the lock box's key. Wasn't detachment supposed to help one maintain a level of calm dispassion? Obviously not, she thought, as the sharp click of the lock mechanism slipping open startled her, causing the box to drop to the floor.
The resounding crash shook her, heartbeat now pounding out a staccato rhythm that sped up even more. She reached angrily for the box, cursing. She was stronger than this. The box's contents shouldn't induce a crippling panic attack. The Army shrink ad diagnosed her as having Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but she balked at the diagnosis although she knew he was right. Determined to face her ghosts and demons, she flung the box open. Enough with the weekly therapy sessions, with the 'taking baby steps' that seemed to be the motto of her therapist. Baby steps didn't see her through her childhood, Basic training or Iraq. Baby steps wouldn't get her through this.
Most of the box's contents were harmless. Some photos even brought a smirk and smile to her face as they reminded her of good times. A few other times, mementos, also served to provide a measure of happiness and balm to her spirit, slowly calming her racing heart.
Then she felt it. Fingers closed around a small gold shamrock. At least that was what it once was. She lost herself in the memories of the first time she had seen it.
She slid her fingers up his newly bared chest, tangling in the chain that held his round dog tags. "Take these off too," she said, her eyes closing, trying to block out the awareness of how many rules they were breaking. She opened them as her fingers encountered a contraband object attached to the chain. "What's this?" She squinted in the dim light, fingers tracing a small piece of gold shaped as some kind of leaf, inlaid with a sparkling green gem, perhaps an emerald.
"That? Never seen a shamrock before, Kateri O'Donnelly?" Seamus said with a grin, his lilt deepening as he stressed the pronunciation of her last name.
Her eyes narrowed. "I'm only half Irish," she retorted, but for some reason couldn't look away from the jewelry. "Why do you wear it?"
Seamus leaned in and kissed her softly. "I'll tell you its story... later," he promised.
A slamming door and her brother's shout drew her from her memory... a memory so vivid it was more a flashback, but happy one. She clenched the ruined shamrock in her fist tightly for a moment, briefly considering adding to the tags she still wore, but she placed it lovingly back into the lock box. She wasn't ready for that yet. She placed the box into her drawer, throwing some t-shirts over it before heading downstairs. Her brother was a welcome distraction. The shamrock, Seamus' memory... all of that would be waiting for her, but tonight she was taking her brother to the movies. A step towards normalcy.