"I know you don't. No one likes bummers," he assures him. "But listen to me, Hanna. You are not going to get hurt from this feeling. These feelings are uncomfortable, but they aren't going to do you any physical harm. So if you sit with them, they will fade and you won't die."
"Whats the difference, sitting with it and being uncomfortable for a while and just...letting it go until it becomes a problem again?" He doesn't think there is one, because he doubts it will ever be something that doesn't make him want to get up and run a mile.
"It's just there. Can't change it. But if I ignore it ever happened unless I literally can't? Then it's better that way. This is different than fucking up. It's a fucked up thing that happened. I spent enough time wallowing in it..." or rather, frantically telling people his ghost parents tried to kill him. All that did was make people think he was crazy and put distance and a barbed wire fence between him and their support and friendship.
"It's not a good look, and Im not about to repeat that mistake again."
"It isn't about fixing the problem, Hanna. It's about coping with your feelings so that you can make better decisions when the time comes to fix it," he explains. "If you're in this heightened sense of anxiety, then you aren't going to be thinking straight. You're going to be impulsive."
"I'm not anxious." He says trying not to fidget anxiously.
And he doesn't think there is anything wrong with being impulsive. It's saved his life so many times, though perhaps that's just luck, but he isn't counting on it. He'd never been good with odds.
Hanna sighs, glancing off to the side of the boat so he doesn't have to look at Sheehan and his stupid, accurate accusations.
"I just- I know what happens when I'm honest about shit, and I'd rather not. The only person who needs to know how I'm feeling is me, and I'll deal with it." Poorly, while pretending it isn't happening and he's fine, but still. He'll deal with it any no one else has to.
"Is that a bad strategy? I don't think so. Works pretty fucking great if you ask me."
Hanna doesn't have to think about it that hard. He'd been by himself for a very long time, no one really stuck around aside from Lamont and Worth, and both were there because of their working relationship. Not really the kind of people you spilled your heart out to as much as he liked them.
"I think so? What else am I going to do?" Between home and the Barge his life was quite different, but even if he had people to talk to about shit that made him uncomfortable and feeling a little too vulnerable he didn't see much value in it. Sure Sheehan had helped him figure out some way forward with Conrad, and he'd tried to apply that, but that was special, specific.
"I get we're all supposed to be figuring shit out, but I don't need to drag someone down with me or risk a connection just because I feel like shit sometimes."
This isn't the first time someone has used this defense on him and he shakes his head with an indulgent smile. "Alright," he tells him. "So, by that logic, do you think that you're dragging me down? Or that you haven't formed a connection?"
Sheehan has a hunch that this is going to a place of fear, but he continues pressing now, as Hanna hasn't shown him that he's had enough just yet. Sheehan isn't going to push him too far, but he doesn't want to let this sit.
"Stop what?" he wonders, aloud, wanting them to go over it again. If they could go over it every day so he could reassure him of the facts, then he will.
The flat look that Sheehan receives in return to his question is so very done. It's like he had this way of irritating him enough that he feels like he has to answer, so that he can convince himself he's not going insane.
"Look...we both know what this is, why do I have to say it out loud? Or do you get some weird, satisfaction when I admit shit I'd rather forget exists at all?" If he doesn't say it, he can file this conversation away and not think about it ever again. Well. Maybe not. Sheehan knows more. Again. And he's not going to forget that.
But he most certainly won't forget it if he says, "being afraid doesn't help anything, so if I just ignore it, it doesn't exist. Why can't you just let me do that? Why does it even matter?"
"You're angry," he remarks lightly. "You know I don't like making you angry or upsetting you, Hanna." Sheehan has taken worse hits, but it does still sting. He likes Hanna, appreciates him, and things said in anger still have effects.
"Yeah, well you're pretty good at wiggling your stupid fingers right under the skin." He says quietly, staring at the bottom of the boat.
Again, he doesn't really like this feeling, sitting in it, being uncomfortable, riled up with a cage around his frustration. Some of it manages to ooze out of the holes in the chain links, but at the very least it hasn't broken out in a good long while.
"I'd say it was a talent, but you went to school for it and got that fancy degree so it was earned."
Hanna glances up, raising an eyebrow at the other man. He doesn't want to, isn't sure what good it would do, but... if it got him rowing again, if he would let it go, maybe he could. Though really, he knows if it ever comes up again they'll just be having the same conversation.
Teaching Hanna anything usually comes in at least threes, and the deep seated habits and beliefs he's settled into over the years would be much harder to pry loose, but perhaps it's because of that, that he gives in. Or it's because in the dawn light, Dr. Lester Sheehan's hair was a little lighter, making the slight resemblance Hanna had clocked even closer to what he remembered of Grant Cross before he'd died.
"I'm...afraid." He starts quietly, unable to shift much. It almost looks like Hanna might be making eye contact, but he's only half managed, gaze settled somewhere around his shoulder instead. "You're going to learn more, decide it's too much, or I'm crazy, or something, and then you'll just be gone. That's how it goes."
There it is. Sheehan isn't happy about this; healing is never easy for the one who is hurt. But he is here. And he is not going to leave.
"That's how it has gone until now," he says with a nod. "And that's awful, Hanna. I'm sorry that's happened to you. Sometimes it is helpful to apply past experiences to what you're facing now, but in some cases, you have to look at the most likely explanation for what you're feeling."
"It's fine...you don't have to feel sorry for me." Is almost immediate because sometimes hearing sympathy can sometimes get twisted into something else when he's not paying attention.
"I can recognize where it comes from." He says in a way that makes it obvious that while he knows he doesn't spend much time thinking about it. "I just don't think it helps, drudging it up."
"I don't pity you," he tells him, almost automatically. "This isn't a pity thing. And it does help. Running away only gets you so far. I know it's hard to trust, but I want to know more because I care about you. I care about being your friend. And I'm not going anywhere."
"Sure," he doesn't sound convinced, because there's still stuff he doesn't know and it's easy to stumble into.
"I think you could easily be my friend without all the background knowledge, but...okay. I'm not going to tell you to stop caring." And there is some part of him that likes it, the gentle leading, even if he wants to drag his heels along.
As he starts to row again, Hanna attempts to relax, feeling a little too exposed, so he figures now is the time to turn some of that around before they get to the shore.
He chuckles, warm and genuine. "No. You'd think I would be, but I'm not. I'm looking forward to it. It's - not as if we can get married at home."
Which was part of the reason why he wanted to do this. Why he brought up the marriage in the first place. This is the only place they will have something like this, open and unafraid.
The topic shift does it's work, Hanna's shoulders dropping, catching Sheehan's eye again as he speaks to him.
"Yeah...and that doesn't change for- well? A pretty long time." For Hanna, it hasn't happened yet in the states, or at least federally, though he hasn't really thought about getting married much. "A bummer you have to jump backward...but at least a whole boat full of people who love you get to know, and I hope that's enough to make no one getting to know where you settle hurt a little less."
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He says it earnestly, though. Not a hint of jest.
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"It's just there. Can't change it. But if I ignore it ever happened unless I literally can't? Then it's better that way. This is different than fucking up. It's a fucked up thing that happened. I spent enough time wallowing in it..." or rather, frantically telling people his ghost parents tried to kill him. All that did was make people think he was crazy and put distance and a barbed wire fence between him and their support and friendship.
"It's not a good look, and Im not about to repeat that mistake again."
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And he doesn't think there is anything wrong with being impulsive. It's saved his life so many times, though perhaps that's just luck, but he isn't counting on it. He'd never been good with odds.
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"I just- I know what happens when I'm honest about shit, and I'd rather not. The only person who needs to know how I'm feeling is me, and I'll deal with it." Poorly, while pretending it isn't happening and he's fine, but still. He'll deal with it any no one else has to.
"Is that a bad strategy? I don't think so. Works pretty fucking great if you ask me."
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He isn't going to outright accuse him of lying to himself, but he does need to point out those truths to him.
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"I think so? What else am I going to do?" Between home and the Barge his life was quite different, but even if he had people to talk to about shit that made him uncomfortable and feeling a little too vulnerable he didn't see much value in it. Sure Sheehan had helped him figure out some way forward with Conrad, and he'd tried to apply that, but that was special, specific.
"I get we're all supposed to be figuring shit out, but I don't need to drag someone down with me or risk a connection just because I feel like shit sometimes."
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He sucks in a breath and looks across at Sheehan, pressing his lips together before continuing.
"I have, that's the problem." And he doesn't want to risk losing it.
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"What's the problem?"
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But saying it aloud again feels stupid, more irrational.
"It's stupid and doesn't really matter. We could just stop right here and that'd be just fine with me."
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"Look...we both know what this is, why do I have to say it out loud? Or do you get some weird, satisfaction when I admit shit I'd rather forget exists at all?" If he doesn't say it, he can file this conversation away and not think about it ever again. Well. Maybe not. Sheehan knows more. Again. And he's not going to forget that.
But he most certainly won't forget it if he says, "being afraid doesn't help anything, so if I just ignore it, it doesn't exist. Why can't you just let me do that? Why does it even matter?"
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Again, he doesn't really like this feeling, sitting in it, being uncomfortable, riled up with a cage around his frustration. Some of it manages to ooze out of the holes in the chain links, but at the very least it hasn't broken out in a good long while.
"I'd say it was a talent, but you went to school for it and got that fancy degree so it was earned."
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"So - would you say it? Aloud? I want you to be able to hear it. I think it will help you."
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Teaching Hanna anything usually comes in at least threes, and the deep seated habits and beliefs he's settled into over the years would be much harder to pry loose, but perhaps it's because of that, that he gives in. Or it's because in the dawn light, Dr. Lester Sheehan's hair was a little lighter, making the slight resemblance Hanna had clocked even closer to what he remembered of Grant Cross before he'd died.
"I'm...afraid." He starts quietly, unable to shift much. It almost looks like Hanna might be making eye contact, but he's only half managed, gaze settled somewhere around his shoulder instead. "You're going to learn more, decide it's too much, or I'm crazy, or something, and then you'll just be gone. That's how it goes."
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"That's how it has gone until now," he says with a nod. "And that's awful, Hanna. I'm sorry that's happened to you. Sometimes it is helpful to apply past experiences to what you're facing now, but in some cases, you have to look at the most likely explanation for what you're feeling."
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"I can recognize where it comes from." He says in a way that makes it obvious that while he knows he doesn't spend much time thinking about it. "I just don't think it helps, drudging it up."
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He takes the oars and starts off again.
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"I think you could easily be my friend without all the background knowledge, but...okay. I'm not going to tell you to stop caring." And there is some part of him that likes it, the gentle leading, even if he wants to drag his heels along.
As he starts to row again, Hanna attempts to relax, feeling a little too exposed, so he figures now is the time to turn some of that around before they get to the shore.
"Are you nervous? About getting married I mean."
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Which was part of the reason why he wanted to do this. Why he brought up the marriage in the first place. This is the only place they will have something like this, open and unafraid.
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"Yeah...and that doesn't change for- well? A pretty long time." For Hanna, it hasn't happened yet in the states, or at least federally, though he hasn't really thought about getting married much. "A bummer you have to jump backward...but at least a whole boat full of people who love you get to know, and I hope that's enough to make no one getting to know where you settle hurt a little less."
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"Just glad I won't have to go to war again," he says softly. "I'm too old for it now, and I'll be too old still when they hit Pearl Harbor."
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