Two white horses

[Milan]

A door opens to a well-lit comfortable room. A tall smiling woman stands by her desk.

"Please have a seat, Monsieur Zimmermann. I am Dr Sabine Pasquale. Glad you could make it. Madame Zimmermann, you may leave this room now. See you in a couple of hours."

They sit. Marc cannot maintain eye contact no matter how hard he tries.

"I am confident we have matters to discuss together, Monsieur Zimmermann."

"I guess so, Doctor. I suppose everyone is here for a good reason."

"Well, believe it or not, I also enjoy chatting with former patients that are perfectly fine now."

"How many of them are you still seeing?"

"Way more than you could imagine."

She smiles. But Marc has not come to be comforted. He needs answers. A rational, medical approach.

"How is your sleep, Monsieur Zimmermann?"

Too short? Restless? Inexistant?

"Stormy?"

"Stormy? Interesting choice of words. How often do you cry?"

He stands up from his chair and leaves without a word.

***

"I am walking around the city where I was born, in Rheinland. I can't actually recognize it, but every building seems oddly familiar. Children and old ladies walk by my side and even take my hand from time to time. One of them brings me to her home and cooks for me. All of a sudden, the sky starts screaming. A man in a Marine uniform appears through the window. While he is shooting everyone down in the house, I try to fight him with my bare fists, but I just can't hit him with enough force to knock him out. My arm once so strong now feels like tissue. I still manage somehow to take his helmet off. This man... this man was... it was me. I wake up covered in sweat, to the feeling of his pistol inside my throat."

"Go on. How often do you cry, Marc?"

***

"Leeds. Leeds. Leeds. Keep repeating it to yourself until it doesn't make any sense to you anymore."

LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS. LEEDS.

***

"The new political context may bring good news for us, Marc, and especially free-trade with our former enemies. A Libertonian company is known to produce the same drugs as you currently use, but with few to no side effects related to sleep or movement coordination. Of course, you could develop a couple minor new ones and you will still experience stomach aches along with some of the various sexual issues you... mentioned last time, but overall you will be able to resume a normal life. Especially, I could sign a clearance for you to fly again, as soon as you feel ready. I believe you have made outstanding progress over the last months, and you deserve it. But no dangerous assignments ever again, Marc. That I will specify to the Navy, which surely has a use for logistics pilots. Anyway, hopefully, we are at peace for good. But in the event of this hell coming back, never ever find yourself on a frontline again."

***

"... and to my own surprise, I feel OK. I am well and alive, healthy, my son is doing great. How fast young children grow up! He's 22 weeks old but to me he was born yesterday. I am alright, Sabine."

***

"Your therapy isn't over, of course, but we are going the right way. See you in two weeks."