 four and a half months later. . .

It had not been a good morning, truthfully. Joanne pushed her spoon around the oatmeal she ordered, and the aroma of her sweet vanilla coffee had started to dissipate some time ago. She was supposed to meet her therapist, but she had arrived at their designated meet-up location almost forty-five minutes earlier; not that she had much else to do, truthfully.

     Her eyes felt heavy, and her brain felt sluggish — the result of only getting two or three hours of sleep, most of which had been plagued with nightmares. It felt like her progress was regressing, even after Dr. Cho had praised her numerous times for the amount of progress that she was actually making. He always said that even baby steps is still considered progress.

     Chatter filled the coffee shop. It was a Monday morning, and the work week began again for many Austin residents. Joanne wished to work again. Unlike the residents that filled the space around, she was tired of seeing the walls of her apartment all day, over and over again. She desired some sort of change.

"Good morning, Ms. Diaz."

Joanne looked up, and smiled softly at Dr. Cho, even if the smile was partially faked.

"Morning, Dr. Cho."

     He sat down at her table, across from her, with his  own usual coffee order and an english muffin. From the moment he greeted her, Dr. Cho knew that she hadn't had a good night. She wasn't as talkative as normal, not that had really meant much. He learned that she had become a rather private person after the incident, but it was normal for patients who were struggling with grief. It was hard enough to grieve, let alone to carry on with life like nothing happened.

       Grief changed people. It certainly changed Joanne.

"How are you doing, Joanne?" He hated the small talk, but he found that easing into conversation was best for Ms. Diaz.

She shrugged, "Alright, I guess."

Joanne knew her answer was mostly a lie. He knew it was mostly a lie. Sadness and anger had plagued her over the last few days, and she knew part of it was because she had been cooped up in her apartment. It was her fault, though. She had lunch plans with Judd and Grace one morning, since Grace had the time off, and truthfully, she didn't have the motivation to go. She canceled on them and that was on her; she knew it.

     Dr. Cho leaned his arms on the table, and raised an eyebrow at her. "You don't have to lie to me, Joanne. I'm here to help you, and I want to see you succeed. You don't have to hide," he reassured her.

Jo sighed after she shoved a small spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. "I'm starting to relive it again in my dreams, the actual explosion." She laughed bitterly to herself. "I'm not sure which is worse; the nightmares of the incident, or the false outcomes of other calls we had."

"Grief isn't linear," Dr. Cho reminded her. "It really sucks, though. Have you done any of the activities that we've suggested? Gone to visit the station? Or have you made plans with Judd recently?"

     "I canceled on him."

     "Do you know why?"

     She sucked in a deep breath. "I couldn't pull myself out of bed that day." She felt the shame invade her body and mind. "I was so wrapped in my sadness and anger again."

     "Well, hey, that's okay. We all have those days." Dr. Cho reassured her once more. "You're feeling your emotions, and now you're realizing which emotions are which, and you're honest about them. Were you honest with Judd about why you canceled on him?"

Jo shrugged, "I guess. I told him that I wasn't feeling well, which technically wasn't a lie."

     The sides of his lips quirked up into a small smile. "Well, you're right, by a technicality. You've told me over and over, Judd's your best friend. Do you think he would shut you out because you've had a bad day?"

She sighed, and she began to feel small. Jo knew he was only trying to hold her accountable, and be gentle about it — all at the same time, but she supposed it was better than having people tip-toe around her all the time. She rolled her neck in a small semicircle, and she felt some relief as the joints in her neck popped just slightly.

     Joanne shook her head, and she felt her shoulders relax just a little. "I know he wouldn't . . . I just don't know how to explain to him that I was just reliving the worst moments our lives, and that I had cried myself to a point of dehydration, and my head had never hurt like that before, and I was so tired that I could barely pull myself to the shower. It's like I'm afraid that he won't understand, that he's going to tell me that I'm crazy and he's fine, like we didn't watch the people we called family die." She huffed, and sucked in a breath, then looked up at Dr. Cho, tears began to fill her waterline. "It's stupid, because I know that he's struggling all the same that I am, but I can't let him know that I'm struggling. It feels shameful, dirty, like my feelings need to be kept a secret."

Dr. Cho was quiet for a minute, before he leaned back in his chair.

     "Didn't you mention, in your childhood, that your father was secretive, almost? That deep emotions weren't explored, and explained."

She scowled, because she knew he was right. Big and overwhelming emotions like sadness, and grief weren't expressed in their house, and if it was, it was usually met with anger or frustration. It was like no one knew how to handle emotions that were big, or overwhelming.

Joanne can recall, on more than one occasion, the times that her tears were met with "give you something to cry about" or the times that her frustration was considered disrespectful or considered as "talking back" when she was only attempting to communicate. As an adult, and after a few therapy sessions with Dr. Cho, she knew that her father was only trying his best, and that, most likely, he didn't realize that he was contributing to a toxic cycle — her father was only parenting in the way he knew, in the way he was raised.

She looked back up at him, and everything inside of her was telling her to run. To get up, and leave. She was angry; angry that he kept bringing it up, and truthfully, Jo knew why he did. He had explained, after of a couple of their first sessions, that she had never really learned how to process the overwhelming emotions like these. Dr. Cho never blamed her father, or any of her adult figures growing up, for her own lack of emotional coping skills, but just merely explained how seeing the lack of expressed emotions simply made her push her own emotions down and bottle them up.

Joanne stayed, though. For a moment, she felt happy with the progress of this thought process. She wanted to run, but instead, she stayed and she wanted to face this and take responsibility for her emotions.

"Yes," she finally answered him. "I don't want to hide anymore, but honestly, it's hard not too."

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Truthfully, she hadn't known where to go. Joanne didn't want to return home after her appointment, and sit in the silence. Her family lived eight hours away, and honestly, she wasn't sure that her mental state would allow her to spend time with them . . . they could be exhausting sometimes, as much as she loved them. She had thought about going to see if any one of the wives wanted grab lunch — her and Grace were quite close to the firefighters' wives — but she hadn't been able to see them since the funerals. It was far too difficult to face them.

Thus, she found herself in front of the home that belonged to two of her best friends.

She debated on ringing the doorbell.

On one hand, Jo didn't really want to be alone. On the other, she didn't want to be a bother to them. She was sure that Grace was getting ready for her shift, another long night ahead of her. Besides, why would Judd want to deal with her whining and her problems all night when he surely had his own?

     She thought for another minute, and she slowly raised her hand . . . her index hovering over the doorbell. All Jo needed was that little push.

It's too late. She can the hear the unlatching of the lock, and the door knob is already twisted. Her breath is stuck in her throat as the door is swung open, and she's greeted by a smiling Grace.

Some days, she's envious of Grace's outlook on life and her optimistic ways.

     "Jo!"

     Her presence is semi-unexpected, but she knew that she was always welcomed at the Ryder household.

     "Hi, Grace." Joanne is almost timid, it's out of character for the woman.

"Come in," Grace stepped to the side of the door and allowed Jo inside. "I'm getting ready to leave for work, but Judd's here, and dinner is in the fridge if the two of you get hungry."

     Just as Grace closed the door, and lock clicked into place, Judd pattered down the hallway in his sock feet. His hair was messy — something that Jo's abuela would compare to a rat's nest — and something that implied Judd took his day off as a lazy day. Not that Joanne could blame him; she wanted to do the same thing before her alarm rudely reminded her of her therapy appointment earlier in the morning.

"Hey, dumbass."

Grace rolled her eyes, and muttered something about her husband's choice of words, but Joanne knew his words were out of love. Judd had been her best friend for nearly fifteen years now, and for the longest time, she had always seen him as her brother too.

Jo grinned, for what felt like the first time in a long while. "Hey, asshat."

"Good lord, help me with these two."

     Grace squeezed past the two, and continued on down the hallway . . . her shift was approaching, and truthfully, she did not have the time nor patience to encourage their behavior.

      Judd stepped forward, and had wrapped his arms around Joanne's shoulders tightly into a hug. "What are ya doin' out here?" He questioned once he released her from his grip. "Not that we don't enjoy your presence . . ."

     She shrugged as she finally kicked off her shoes, and gently nudged them towards the side of the front door. For a moment, she remained silent until she took her favorite place on the sofa. Jo made herself comfortable, leaned back into the cushions and pulled her legs up until her feet were tucked underneath her, and her weight leaned toward the armrest. Judd just watched her, and leaned his own weight against the wall as he crossed his arms.

     He awaited an answer from her.

     "Had a session today with August, and well, as much as he pisses me off, he does make some valid points." Joanne sighed, and she always hated to admit when her therapist was right, but he usually always was.

     "What kind of points?"

     Truthfully, Judd didn't like the idea of talking about what they had gone through, or the idea of therapy. However, he knew that his best friend was just trying to make sense of what had happened to them and the people they loved.

     "Do you remember that day we were supposed to go to lunch, on Gracie's day off?" He nodded, and thus, she continued. "I canceled because I didn't sleep the night before, and I actually cried all night. Every time I closed my eyes, it was just another nightmare, and by morning, I was so exhausted that I couldn't make it to the shower." She shrugged softly, and looked down to her hands that were placed in her lap. She twisted her fingers, and wrung her hands together, in feeble attempts to rid the anxious energy from her body. "I couldn't tell you and Gracie the truth because I was afraid."

     "Now you know —"

     "I know," she interrupted. "You and Gracie are the last people on Earth who would judge me, but I needed to tell you the truth. I promised August, and I owe you that much."

     "Is seeing August helping you?"

     Joanne nodded softly, "He has, and for that I'm grateful, and he's helped me with other things, like the whole thing with my father. I haven't reached out yet, but it's helped me start to forgive him. I'd think you like him, Judd."

     Judd scowled for a second. "I don't do the talkin' thing, Diaz. You know that."

     "Stubborn ole mule," Grace interjected into the conversation as she reappeared into the living room. She had gathered her shoes onto her feet, and snatched her purse off the hanging shelf on the wall. She had quickly kissed Judd's cheek. "I'm leaving. You two behave, and don't destroy my house. Love you, honey!"

     And just like that, Grace went out of the house and left for work.

In the mere seconds of silence, Jo and Judd shared a glance. It was nothing, at first, until she smirked and raised an eyebrow.

"Call of Duty?" Joanne proposed, "I'll kick your ass in Zombies this time."

     Judd rolled his eyes, then laughed, "Yeah, right. Throw it on, and I'll grab a couple of beers."

     It took Joanne less than five minutes to have everything turned on and set up. She remained comfortable in her usual seat on the sofa, and her player 2 controller in her lap as she scrolled through her phone. Judd returned shortly after; with a beer for each of them, a bag of corn tortilla chips, and that damn spicy salsa that Joanne just loved — he and his white ass could never, as Jo always put it. It always made her giggle when Judd tried to prove her wrong about the salsa and failed every time.

     Not more than twenty minutes later, and four levels into their game, Joanne was ready to loose her mind. Her character was nearly across the map from Judd's, and her health bar had been depleting faster than she imagined. Each passing minute, her mutterings of curse just grew louder.

     "Judd, what the fuck!" She exclaimed loudly; she had somehow made it back into the same vicinity as Judd's character, but her character was on it's last leg of health, and a horde had quickly swarmed them. "You motherfucker! You're supposed to board the damn windows!"

Judd groaned, and tossed his head back. "If your ambitious ass would stop charging the damn hordes, then I could! Instead, I got to worry about your dumbass."

     Jo knew he was right, but ignored him anyway. She scoffed slightly, then pouted as she forced her digital character back across the map — not that she made it that far. A lone zombie had caught her by surprise, and before she knew it, dead flashed across her half of the screen in red letters.

      It took another fifteen minutes, and a slew of curse words until the same words flashed across Judd's half of the screen. Their match had come to an end, and Judd groaned loudly as he gently sat the controller on the coffee table in front of him. He then glanced at Jo.

     She grinned, facetiously. "How you feelin', buddy?"

     "Fuck off," he muttered and showcased his lone middle finger to his best friend, but his attitude quickly disappeared. "This is my therapy."

     Joanne rolled her eyes, "Killing digital zombies can only do so much."

     She pushed herself off the couch, and gathered the two empty beer bottles before she headed to the kitchen. She disposed of the trash and opened the fridge when she heard Judd's footsteps behind her.

     A fresh, cold beer bottle had been placed into his hands as she turned around. Her atmosphere was no longer fun and light, instead it turned heavy. She knew that Judd had something on his mind.

     "Did you hear about the station?"

     "I did," Joanne nodded. "August forced me to talk about my feelings about the whole thing."

     "Fuckin' feelings, man." Judd groaned again, showing his distaste towards the idea of therapy. "They're replacing the whole damn thing, buildin' something new, adding a new captain."

     Joanne shrugged as she took a sip of her own beverage. "It was bound to happen."

     She had admitted to August weeks ago, after she found the article, that she felt conflicted with the whole thing. On one hand, Joanne couldn't wait to get back to work, and be home with the one-two-six again. On the other, it felt like the city had forgotten about the men that had lost their lives; the people that Joanne had loved so dearly, people who had other people who loved so much.

     "Doesn't mean I gotta be happy about the damn thing either."

     Joanne frowned . . . it sounded like Judd felt the same exact way. They weren't ready to lose the memory of their brothers and sisters just yet.

author's note!  finally the first chapter is here! I'm so happy with this chapter, and introducing August earlier and the concept of Joanne's healing process. also, thank you from the bottom of my heart for y'alls patience with Pslams and this chapter alone!