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boardwalk empire - jimmy darmody

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[Jimmy is heading towards the hospital, limping more heavily than usual, face pale and drawn, as though he's seen a ghost. And given what's been going on lately, he certainly has. He's taken out his phone to post a short message, and he sounds out of breath.]

If anyone knows... what the hell's going on, what the fuck is... just... I wanna know. I wanna know how this is possible.

[Another few ragged breaths, and the hospital is in view.]

I'm... going to the hospital. I think I'm sick. I dunno.

[Pushing open the door to the hospital, he immediately looks around, calling out.]

I need a doctor!

[[OOC: Feel free to run into Jimmy in the hospital or on the way, or over the network. He isn't actually sick, he just has no idea how to deal with the emotions that this curse is stirring up.]]

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Wilson is going to tell you the same thing. Only nicer.

[Goddamn him. At least House feels like at this point that Jimmy is listening. That is what people underestimate about being an asshole, you push the right buttons and people do end up listening.]

Good. What are you going to do about it? You can tell me anything you want. I mean what are you going to do for you.

I dunno. I dunno if there's anythin' else I can do. I fucked up. It's kinda a lost cause now, ain't it?

[And truth be told, he probably has some emotional attachment to that limp. But he's not going to say that to House, because he thinks he'd sound insane.]

You have a leg don't you?

[Emotional attachment to the reminder of his time in combat when he felt more important and alive is something he would believe, an emotional attachment to his limp would make the doctor call him an object sexual. Also something worth knocking him upside the head for. Why be a gimp on purpose is beyond him.]

Yeah, I have a fuckin' leg, but it don't work right.

[Perhaps it's that. He misses the war in some ways, and getting rid of any reminder of it... he's not sure he can do that.]

I don't fuckin' know why I didn't take care of it, okay?

Me too. That doesn't mean that I want to start a club with you.

Do something about it or don't. The choice is yours. There's a way to not medically endanger yourself if you really want to be a freak of nature. That's by not developing a substance dependence or gangrene.

Get a therapist.

[And stop turning up like a bad penny.]

I don't want a fuckin' therapist. They tried to get me one of those when I got back from the war.

[Are you trying to get pity out of him? Stones don't bleed, Jimmy.]

They have war in my time too. And they do have therapy sessions to this day.

Do you want to know why they do that?

[Pity appalls him. He'd rather have grumpiness.]

Why the fuck do they do that? So they can get into your head 'n tell you all the goddamn ways your mom fucked you up?

It's about coping. You know, that thing you're not doing. Often times the transition from battleground to suburbs can be harsh, jarring at best.

[Grumpiness? He shall have it. Lots of it.]

Maybe not in your time but my time some soldiers snap and gunning down neighbors or friends because their post traumatic stress is unbearable and they don't tell anyone how bad it really was. They put people like you into therapy so you won't turn on people who don't deserve it.

Don't flatter yourself that they want to know your entire history. Find a group with other veterans. Suck it up. You didn't lose a limb. You won the war and came back with your life. Are you living it like you'll fight to the death to have it again?

I'm going to guess no.

I don't even know what the fuck "post traumatic stress" is.

[He's being deliberately obtuse. And he has already turned on people who don't deserve it, but like hell he's going to admit that to House.]

And I got friends who're veterans. I got a friend who's missin' half his fuckin' face, 'n he's doin' fuckin' fine...

[No, he's really not.]

... so I should be fuckin' fine, too.

Traumatic stress is high tension or nerves brought on by sights, sounds, or memories. Post is after. So you hear a car horn blare and you think there's an air raid. That is post traumatic stress. Maybe you don't know the word but I'll bet you five dollars you know the feeling.

[Lie better, Jimmy. He already knows that it's a smoke screen.]

It isn't about should be. Are you? You put health into danger because someone wasn't there to watch over you.

[Point taken. He's quiet for a minute.]

Yeah, I guess I kinda know what you mean. So who the fuck am I supposed to talk to around here? Ain't like there's a lotta other guys from the same time as me. Ain't like I can just walk on down the street 'n find someone who was in the fuckin' trenches.

War, old or new, create the same kind of mental disorders.

[Seriously. Weren't you listening when he said there were people in his time with the same problems? He could shake you through the network if it were possible.]

That doesn't make you crazy or extra special. There are therapy sessions at the hospital. If you're feeling brave ask the network.

You were in what? World War I? You'll find people who served in the second World War because their fathers did. If you talk they'll listen. If you don't you'll end up an amputee and have even more problems.

I will be fine either way. Whatever you do it is your decision.

I'll think about it.

[That's generally his way of saying that he knows someone is right, but hates to admit it.]

D'you talk to anyone? I mean, war ain't the only thing that fucks someone up, right?

[Thinking about it is a beginning. Already he can see that he might need that Wilson touch to go the extra mile.

The line of questioning after...is one he could do without.]

My leg is a result of muscle death and an attempt at removing the effected tissue. I am a result of my environment.

[This means no but he hasn't come out to say it like that.]

Ask Wilson.

[Who could also supply a therapy alibi.]

Sure, but bein' a cripple still ain't a fuckin' walk in the park.

[Insensitive? Jimmy? Never.]

Yeah, I'm gonna talk to Wilson.

Nice pun you have there about the walking.

[Jimmy used sassy observation. Not very effective.]

Tell him he owes me money while you're at it.

Tell him yourself. I'm sure you'll be havin' plenty of time to chat comparin' notes about me.

The hospital is full of other more interesting cases than you.

[Goddammit.]

And you're welcome. This marks the second time I've had to take time out of my day to help you.

Well, you don't gotta fuckin' do it again, if you don't wanna. Wouldn't wanna inconvenience you.

This inconvenience is called a job.

You're inconveniencing yourself but I already told you that. I think you have the idea now.

Then why the fuck would you complain about takin' time outta your day to help me if you're gettin' paid for it?

[A sigh.]

Yeah. I got the idea.

Because I don't like getting paid to do something that should have been done right the first time.

[And he's still sort of, kind of, absolutely blaming Jimmy.]

Good.

Okay, so next time I won't fuck it up.

[Not that there will be a next time for that specific thing, but... he's trying?]

Thanks.

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