pryde_and_grit | Kit Pryde, post Korean war. First session.

Kit Pryde, post Korean war. First session.

If ever there was a face that simply screamed 'Good old American boy' this was it. Kit looked like he was lost rather than on medical leave for extreme PTSD and paranoia. It happened with a lot of Rangers who'd been dropped in Korea, their missions were classified and terrible, they were alone in enemy lands while working, and usually no one pulled them out. A lot of Rangers hadn't come back at all.

Kit didn't look like a Ranger, no matter what his file said. He'd been drafted at eighteen and all of his scars were on the inside, which was probably why he managed to look pleasant and even cheerful while sitting in a pool of sunlight and just...trying not to think at this little clinic.

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Xavier was on her way to India when she received a call from the clinic. They were short-staffed, and in dire need of people with some expertise. How could she possibly refuse?

So she cancelled one flight and took another. She knew there'd be questions about her condition; she spent a large portion of the flight pondering the story she'd tell.

When she arrived, she told them she was caught in Egypt's recent attack on Haifa, and they didn't press much further, instead letting her tour the facility and its grounds.

There's only one man outside - not much more than a boy, really - and Xavier offers a soft smile as she approaches. "Hello. Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Much more than a boy actually, but he aged incredibly well; perhaps it was something related to only sometimes being in the physical world? If he stopped to think about it he'd wonder where the hell his twenty seventh and twenty eighth birthdays went. That was all part of the chunk of things he wasn't thinking about right now.

Maybe later.

He tilted his head down from the sun to eye the woman who wheeled over, then nodded. "Yes ma'am it is. Quiet." he could appreciate quiet.

She slows to a stop beside him, close enough to talk but not enough to crowd him. "Silence is a gift too many take for granted." She remembers longing for it, relishing the blessed breaks between screams and blasts.

"Have you been out here long?"

He did appreciate not being crowded, even as he appreciated someone trying to talk to him though he really didn't remember much about social pleasantries any more. Had he been out here long? That was a good question. "I would think," he admitted after a moment. "It was dawn when I came out to exercise." And he'd kind of followed the sun beam after that.

A better question might be 'What time is it?', or 'Have you eaten today?'.

"You're new here." He knew every one of the residents by face if not by name. Knowing the people around him was important.

Xavier nods, after a quick glance round the courtyard. "Yes. I'm...something of a psychologist." She's not actually licensed; most of her experience comes from the field.

Appropriate, really.

"I've been recruited by the staff to lend a hand."

"Ah," at least the lady in a wheelchair approach was something new? Better than the last lot who were stodgy old men who insisted that the patients having nightmares were malingering. Malingering? Please, that term had been buried under shell shock cases after WWII.

"What makes you 'something' of a psychologist instead of an actual one?" This was a valid question in his book!

It was a question she expected, and one a patient had every right to ask.

With a rather grim smile, "I have my doctorates, but I didn't get my experience under supervision."

"I see, so you have unsupervised hands on time and no actual certification because of it." Well then, if the clinic was willing to ask for her help despite that there had to be cause, else the legal risks were simply too high. "Why were you called here when you could have been getting a cert?" A few months of supervised labor and she'd be les sof a risk. It seemed the smart way to do it.

Besides, no one here was going anywhere.

"Officially, I've been appointed as a counsellor. I did offer to get certified, but apparently they really need extra minds." With a shake of her head, "I'm glad for the choice, honestly. I've met the sort of people I'd be trying to work under." The sort of people the clinic didn't particularly want, hence the problem.

"Extra minds..." he chuckled softly, and even that sound seemed so heartachingly normal. "A good way to put it I expect. One or two alone in a place like this might get overwhelmed." Nightmares were never easy to listen to, so the more minds to bear the strain, the better?

"I would gladly take experienced compassion over certified if those are my choices."

Her smile is soft and pleased. "I'd hoped some would, at least."

As she offers her hand, "Jocelyn Xavier."

"Ma'am," Kit said simply. "The people here need help, and any not out to harm them are welcome in my book." Because war...broke people. No matter how strong, no matter how brave or trained. No one won in war.

"Corporal Kittredge Pryde, Marco unit, Rangers. Call me Kit or Pryde ma'am." Kittredge had been his parents attempts to keep two last names in the family proper.

"It's an honour, Kit," she replied, solemn and sincere. "I owe my life to more than one Ranger." She owed her life to so many people. So many who could never be repaid.

"It's the job ma'am. I'm glad we could help." Obviously not well enough since here was a kind lady wheelchair bound, but sometimes not everyone made it out whole. He was...having to deal with that too. "I never came across you, I think I'd remember." He'd been in scout and destroy, cutting supply lines far back behind enemy lines.

And the occasional POW retrieval.

"I was caught in the Korean war." It's not quite a lie, really - she'd certainly felt trapped. Still, the necessary deception leaves a bad taste in her mouth. "It wasn't a good time to be in the country."

"No ma'am, it wasn't." He had to agree there. And everyone on the damn continent had been caught up in it one way or another. "Would that most people had gotten out sooner myself."

She nods, gaze going distant for a moment. "We're left with a lot of wishes, aren't we?"

Oddly, that seemed to amuse him. "Way I hear it ma'am, everyone always is. Hence the 'good old days' mythos." Seemed he had a sense of humor under it all.

That draws a smile, if a wry one. "Very true." The smile fades, though, as she murmurs, "Of course - some don't even have that."

"We may have to agree to disagree there ma'am." Kit chuckled softly. "Dreaming? That's a God given right, and sometimes it's the only comfort people are allowed in their lives." He'd seen the prison camps, he knew. Granted, the dreams of prisoners, pf the terrified, of the broken, may not be grand dreams...

...but even little dreams helped.

Jocelyn nods earnestly at that. "Dreams, yes. I meant...memories. Something happy to look back on."

Softly, as she raises her gaze to the trees, "I've met entirely too many people without that sort of anchor."

She glances at him again, now with a faint smile. "Of course...sometimes they've simply forgotten. That's often where I come in."

"Ah, I follow." Kind of anyway. They hadn't actually mentioned memories, just 'the good old days'. "So you're not only an unliscensed doctor who came to help, but a memory expert?"

"Something of the sort, yes." There was an almost mischievous quirk to her lips. "I'm a woman of many depths."

"You'd have to be to come in here willing ma'am, no offense." Only patients and deep, deep doctors came in willingly. And even then some of the patients..."You smiling cause you'd like me to ask then?" Yes, he was smiling back.

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Kit Pryde, post Korean war. First session.

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