Also, I Took A Mental Health Day Yesterday.

Also, I took a mental health day yesterday.

It was so good.

I slept till like, 10am, then I played video games, made myself some healthy food that I actually want to eat instead of just getting sustenance.

I listened to music, drew, crocheted and only went outside in the evening where I went grocery shopping with my dad and I got boba tea and chips and we held hands and I litterally cried (not very uncommon).

Then I watched a movie and fell asleep to an awful archaeology episode.

Unmute !

(part 1 of black panther shifter!ghost)

-

Waking up in a holding cell after two years of freedom from captivity, Soap imagines, is surely disorienting as it is deeply upsetting.

Riley, since having returned to the land of the living, has done little other than pace and sleep, often refusing to eat, and, most notably, completely refusing to shift.

Unfortunately for the brass, this meant getting any sort of information—or, God forbid, getting Riley back into a condition to serve—would be a difficult, and likely time-consuming task. Not to mention extremely unpleasant for Riley, who is in a fragile state as is.

Because a forced shift is probable to cause permanent damage, psychological and/or otherwise, being that the panther, presumably, hasn't once shifted since his initial massacre. A forced shift would be added trauma to already copious amounts beyond it, and Soap could say with near certainty that such a kind of torture would not make any progress, nor encourage Riley to answer any questions.

So, they can do nothing but wait. They can all take their turns talking to him, attempting to coax Riley into a human state, but it's as much as they can do beyond running medical tests and praying for a change of heart.

The hope so far has been that maybe spending time among people will eventually help Riley push past the barriers of base instinct and come to a rational decision.

Soap visits him the most.

Still recovering from his injury, he'd been excused from the physically-demanding work that usually took up most of the time, so he often finds himself wandering to where Riley is being kept to fill those empty hours, though he's taken it upon himself to bring paperwork along to their... meetings.

For the most part Riley ignores him, keeping curled up in the farthest corner as Soap talks to him, talks about work, other things in a calm, low voice. Sometimes he'll still leave distance but peer at Soap from his position, his ears flicking from time to time almost in acknowledgement of something Soap mentions.

And sometimes, though very rarely, Riley will get as close as security measures would allow him and just... sit and listen. He'll make an array of vocalizations in response to anecdotes, and once or twice Soap swears the panther huffs and rolls his eyes like a petulant child if the captain ever so much as implies the suggestion of Riley shifting.

Then Soap begins bringing his journal, once he's slowly transitioning back to his regular duties and no longer needs the tedium of paperwork to keep him occupied—and whether it's a cause of re-conditioning or Riley's own intrigue, this seems to catch his attention, particularly once he realizes that Soap is drawing.

Truth be told, Soap has already been scribbling in entries and sketches of the shifter since he was freshly stitched-up and confined to a hospital bed. He hasn't learned much, of course, so the pictures far outnumber any conclusions—but Riley's an intriguing subject. And only in person does Soap figure he could ever remember the details of the shifter's scars interspersed in thick, black fur.

He's unsure if Riley would appreciate it, at first, but once he sees what Soap is up to, it's like a switch has flipped in his social behaviours. The first time Soap actually turns to show Riley his most recent sketch, an image of the panther stalking his prey as he had Soap all those weeks ago, Riley startles him with not-unkind chirps. A major improvement, if Soap had any say, from the usual snarls and grumbles.

They make progress again in such a fashion until they reach another halt, and nothing else has changed for a while, and Riley still doesn't do much but pace, sleep, sometimes eat, and never shift. Though, at the very least, anyone could now make the observation that his mental state has certainly improved.

By now, Soap and Riley have built up a routine. Soap will come by at the same time every day, Riley will—most days—give those panther non-answers of his, Soap will offer a sketch or two, and then he leaves, though not without imploring Riley to eat something, because he knows, beyond a doubt, that he won't have earlier. He's stopped asking for a shift, because he's come to understand that it will have to be entirely by Riley's terms.

Really, Soap has come to understand and learn a lot of things concerning the shifter, despite Riley's lack of conversational abilities.

The captain already knew, based on files alone, that Riley's behaviour did not stem from nothing—the exact opposite, in fact. He already knew that something happened to set him off, that was obvious to just about everyone, but it becomes so clear to Soap that Riley felt like he had no other choice, if he wasn't already overrun by the animalistic part of his brain by the time he made his escape. It was self-imposed isolation and doing what he thought was right, or ultimately be rejected from the society and organization that had abandoned him.

Then time went on, and he lost himself.

And Soap finds it so easy to empathize with that; with the losing of oneself; with digging that impossibly deep hole because it's self-containment or it's the harming of others.

It's a last-ditch ever to ask Riley just once more if he'd shift, once they hit that next, final, truly impenetrable wall. Riley merely stares at Soap a moment, soaking in the captain's own fatigue, before turning his back and going to lay down as far from Soap as possible.

He isn't prepared for the day Riley actually shifts.

No one notifies Soap of anything throughout the day, and nor is there any activity abuzz where Riley has been contained—so Soap can only assume he was meant to be the first to confront it.

It's... jarring, is what it is. Having adjusted so well to his expectations of seeing a black panther and not a human, it takes a moment for Soap to process the pale figure curled up against a wall, naked as the day he was born.

Despite the raw power and musculature of the panther, Riley looks so small. And so terribly, heartbreakingly young. His eyes, however, which appear when he hears the scuff of Soap's shoes against cool cement, look withered, haunted. Far more aged than he physically is.

"You've finally shifted," Soap remarks.

Gradually, Riley unfurls himself, all his scars still so stark on his skin. A large Y-shape is carved into his chest and down his stomach, the scar still pink and puckered and gnarled after at years of healing. The recognition of its nature is not at all a happy revelation.

Riley opens his mouth to speak, but a frown is quick to etch itself onto his face with the frustration of being unable to conjure any words. That is about the only thing that doesn't surprise Soap about this.

"Give it time," he assures. Soap lingers a moment longer on his assessment of Riley and that scar, before collecting himself and clearing his throat. "Let's get you some clothes, then, aye?"

Silently, Riley nods. That piercing, mismatched gaze is still somehow just as predatory and calculating as it is in his feline form.

There will be, beyond a doubt, a lot more work to do.

But for now, Soap heads off to fulfill his promise—and maybe let Price know what's happened on his way.

Another day in the Office