It was an hour long conversation, one in which Dr. O'Neill legitimately sounded concerned about Ty's mental health. She might have even physically shaken him if they'd been in the same room, but instead they were hundreds of miles apart. Over a phone.
She made him promise to call, though, when he needed to talk. Gave him her cellphone number, even, which he mentally repeated to himself a hundred times before tapping it into his phone. Honestly, he didn't know if he'd call again- he had predicted her advice to him. Obviously knowing what was sound advice was different from taking it.
But what was he supposed to do when the only thing he did want was growing increasingly unlikely to happen. The USNA was already trying to convince him to pursue a new branch in the Navy- they wanted him to put his mind to intelligence work. It was a far cry from his SEAL team, and to him the Pentagon seemed like a prison that was just waiting for his parole to end.
He smoked a few more cigarettes, before glancing back at the hotel. It was getting dark, and the first cracks of fireworks from the Magic Kingdom was starting. He flinched a little with each loud bang as he stood and headed back into the hotel, back up the elevator, and back to the door he'd slammed shut behind himself hours ago. Pulling out the key, he slid it into the lock and pushed the door open slowly; not even sure he was welcome back into the room.
no subject
She made him promise to call, though, when he needed to talk. Gave him her cellphone number, even, which he mentally repeated to himself a hundred times before tapping it into his phone. Honestly, he didn't know if he'd call again- he had predicted her advice to him. Obviously knowing what was sound advice was different from taking it.
But what was he supposed to do when the only thing he did want was growing increasingly unlikely to happen. The USNA was already trying to convince him to pursue a new branch in the Navy- they wanted him to put his mind to intelligence work. It was a far cry from his SEAL team, and to him the Pentagon seemed like a prison that was just waiting for his parole to end.
He smoked a few more cigarettes, before glancing back at the hotel. It was getting dark, and the first cracks of fireworks from the Magic Kingdom was starting. He flinched a little with each loud bang as he stood and headed back into the hotel, back up the elevator, and back to the door he'd slammed shut behind himself hours ago. Pulling out the key, he slid it into the lock and pushed the door open slowly; not even sure he was welcome back into the room.