batmanschmatman | 043 [voice]

Entry tags:

043 [voice]

When I first got here, someone [Costigan.] asked me what happens when you can't get the time away you need to de-stress and relax. When stuff just keeps piling on and there's no way to get some time away to just process all of it, and focus on yourself for a couple days. And I said that "you just suck it up and keep fighting the good fight", because it's either that or letting yourself get crushed under whatever it is you're working on and giving up on it.

I stand by that. If the job's that important, that you've stuck by it long enough to get to that point? You keep working on it. It's something that matters, and even if it sucks, it would be worse to let it destroy you, or to not get it done, or both.

[Private to Costigan]

You ready to get started?

[Private to Tim]

You doing any better, or should I be dropping by to make sure your head hasn't split in half since I've been gone?

[Private to Martha]

We're starting the meds today. I'll keep you updated on how things seem to be going so we can figure out when a good time to bring up the whole "how about just antidepressants" thing should be.

How've you been outside of all this?

[Private to Paddy]

Thanks for helping out with all that.

[Private to Steph]

So, how does being twenty feel?

[Private to Kirk]

In the highly unlikely event that I ever get that wasted and start drunk dialing the Barge, safe to say you're not the person who's going to confiscate my journal? [Amuuused.]

[Private to Ariadne]

[Several seconds of silence as he tries to figure out what to say and how to say it.] Sorry it took a flood with personality changes to make me apologize for being an ass when you first got here. I didn't really know what to say before, or if you'd even want to talk after what happened, sooo... yeah. Sorry about that.

[Derp derp, well, this isn't awkward at all. So, he's just switching off the feed after wondering if he should say something else.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Costigan entered casually, a little like he imagined it would be to visit a friend's place. The inmate closed and locked the door behind him, then followed over toward the kitchen, stuffing his hands in his pockets for the moment. He still wore his brown jacket, the lightest weight long sleeve anything he had that could be taken off and thrown on easily. Beneath that was a simple white t-shirt. Someone observant, like Dick, would probably notice that he might not have been out and about much the last few days.

"You wanted to get started, right?" That was clearly more important than talking about anything/everything else.

"Yeah." But Costigan would not be getting off that easily, because part of this whole deal had been actually talking about issues, and Dick had noticed he'd been sort of scarce over the last couple days. It hadn't been something he'd been actively concerned about, but it was still noticeable, and considering the floods and more people leaving, he doubted it was anything good.

He grabbed a glass out of a cabinet, filled it with water, and retrieved the antidepressants and benzos, handing over the pills first and then the glass. "So, where've you been?"

"What do you mean? It's not like I can leave." It was an obvious avoidance, but Costigan took the opportunity to delay a moment and give himself room to think of what to tell Dick. He picked up one of the anti-anxiety meds and two of the anti-depressants and pocketed them for his second dose that day. Then he picked up the remaining benzo and downed it without hesitation. At the anti-depressants, he paused, but he popped them into his mouth and took a sip of water as though he was swallowing them. Instead, they were tucked beneath his tongue for now.

Costigan made a face at the bitter taste of the medications and then drank the rest of the water quickly and passed the glass off to Dick. "More water?"

The instant Dick turned his back, Costigan pulled the capsules from his mouth and slid them into a different pocket. When Dick returned with the glass of water, he offered a small smile and took another sip. "Thanks, kid."

Dick noticed the hesitation, but didn't think too much about it - Costigan had put up enough of a fight over the antidepressants that his continuing hesitation wasn't out of the question - and through a combination of having his back turned and not necessarily being 100% present at the moment (a night of babysitting drunk younger siblings does that to people), he missed Costigan pocketing them and handed the water over innocently.

"No problem." He leaned back against the counter, his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans. "I just haven't seen you around much lately."

Costigan set the water down after a moment in order to shift uncomfortably and return his hands to his pockets. Dick's probing questioning made him anxious and he knew he was supposed to be answering -- this was part of the deal -- which only made it worse. After a pregnant pause, the inmate gave a couple small nods and glanced away.

"I've been spending more time in my room and the gym is all. You told me not to rely on the pills, right? I'm trying not to." More like he was trying to wear himself out at the gym so he could actually sleep without everything with Mal keeping him up, to distract him from missing Donny or Parker. Costigan was a master of keeping everything inside, but he still felt it all.

Dick nodded, brow furrowing slightly in concern. It wasn't so much the answer that bothered him as the obvious anxiety, mostly because he was confused about where it was coming from. To him, "where've you been" didn't seem like a hard question to answer, and while he was pretty much totally certain that Costigan wasn't afraid of him, he wasn't sure why talking about something like this illicited that kind of response.

"Okay, that's good." He hesitated, not exactly sure on how to proceed. Martha was right, this whole thing was probably better suited to someone who was actually a licensed therapist not a vigilante/former cop. "How's it been working for you?"

"I'm still here, aren't I?" The way Costigan said it, it didn't have the positive intonation of pulling through, but rather it was a specificity of this situation; he was still here taking medication from his warden. It wasn't doing much at all.

The inmate ran a hand through his hair, then returned the hand to his pocket once more. "Honestly, kid? I'm trying not to think about it."

Edited 2011-05-07 22:11 (UTC)

"How come?" He was honestly curious, and although he knew talking was definitely not one of Costigan's strong points, he still wanted to encourage him to open up a little more.

If actually talking about issues and how and why he felt crappy about certain things didn't work out, he'd try to get the conversation into a territory that was less personal. Costigan had been right when they'd first talked about this - Dick didn't know a lot about him outside of his file and the stuff they'd done together on the Barge, and he wanted that to change, actually get to know his inmate better.

Costigan might have flinched right then if he wasn't paying so much attention to his exterior, showing some things but not letting on just how distressed he was to Dick. Maybe the warden would pick up on something being off, but not what it was, not with all the training he'd had and all the time he'd spent with Costello.

"Two of my friends left, a lot of shit's gone down, and there's no use thinkin' about it when I can't do anything to change it." He replied honestly, though he omitted Mal entirely.

Something did feel off. Something had felt off for a while now and while there was plenty of stuff that could be the direct cause of it, it still bothered him that Costigan was so reluctant to let him in and help, or at least let him listen or something. Dick hated sitting by and watching stuff happen. It was much easier for him to jump in and tackle stuff head on rather than sitting around and hoping things would just sort themselves out on their own.

"Maybe not, but if it's bothering you, you can't just sit on it forever," he said casually, his posture and tone still relaxed and even. While he was trying to coax information out of the inmate, he didn't want to force him into anything, since that would sort of be defeating the purpose of everything they were trying to do here. "You at least got to say goodbye to Donny, right?"

"Yeah, I did." Costigan replied with a nod to the last bit, but he shook his head to the part before that. "What else is there to do? I'm not going to go have a cry about it or some shit, they're not coming back, and I don't think sharing my feelings is going to make much of a difference -- even though I know you're going to argue."

"How come? I mean, I get talking isn't everyone's favorite way to deal with stuff like this, but, I'm curious." And again, if Costigan put up too much of a fight about this, Dick would be happy to change the subject to something else. It was the first day, and he wasn't going to force information out of him now or later.

"Because it doesn't do shit, guy. All it does is make you dwell." Costigan was trying to make an effort to talk-- at least about how much talking was terrible as a general solution for anxiety. Talking about how Mal killed him never helped anything, nor did talking to Donny about his leaving. The couple times he tried? It didn't help.

"Okay." And he backed off for now. He could tell he was making an effort and he appreciated it, especially since part of him had been a little concerned he would try getting out of the talking part of their deal.

"So, what have you tried to control the panic attacks? What's actually causing them? Here, I mean."

"Can we not do this right now?" Costigan asked with a sigh, lifting a single hand in a gesture of partial surrender. He knew the conversation would have to come eventually, but it wasn't what he wanted. The inmate needed time to think before he could talk about that, and he had to resolve the Mal situation before he could begin to focus on much of anything really.

"Okay." But he wasn't actually letting him get away that easily. "But we're talking about something. You can pick the topic. It doesn't even have to be important." It was said in the same amicable tone, because one, he wasn't actually frustrated, and two, he actually wanted to talk with him.

He laughed a little at that, though he wasn't particularly amused. He'd made a deal with Dick, but he'd chosen the words for a very specific question. "I said I'd answer whatever questions you have, kid. I'm not just going to talk about my life like I'm on a fuckin' couch."

"That's not what I'm asking," He said, still with the same tone. "I'm not a therapist and I'm not trying to be. And our deal was you'd talk about stuff and try some new coping skills if I got you some meds, I don't remember saying anything specific about you only answering questions I asked. You said I didn't get it; I want to get it."

"I do. Remember." The inmate replied easily. He'd gone out of his way to specify that he's answer questions. It didn't help his argument much, given the other discussions they had had and his agreement to try things Dick's way in general, but he wasn't going to back down that it was at least said. Besides, it provided a nice distraction from the real topic. "What is it you want to get?"

Dick shrugged. "What was Dignam like?"

The question was calculated. He wanted to know more about Costigan's life before the Barge, but asking about someone like Sullivan or Costello or even Queenan right off the bat while he was already upset and anxious seemed like a bad idea.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

043 [voice]

Spam

Spam

Spam - let me know if you want me to edit!

Spam - Totally cool :D

Spam - <3

Spam - <3!

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -

Spam -