Chapter 13 #2
Maddox took both paddles, one in each palm. Her hands were shaking slightly.
"You can stop any time," Carla reminded her. "You're in control of this."
Maddox nodded and took a breath. The tappers started, first a gentle buzz in her left hand, then right, then left again. It was rhythmic, almost soothing despite the strangeness.
She recalled the memory.
Maddox was no longer in Carla’s office but in the desert. It was late afternoon, everything gold and brutal. Heat radiated in waves off the sand, off the buildings, off the vehicles they’d arrived in. The air tasted like grit and diesel fuel.
Intel said insurgents were using the compound for weapons storage. It was a standard clearance operation; she’d done dozens of them.
She looked down and saw Titan beside her, panting in the heat but focused and waiting for her command. The building stood ahead—two stories, concrete, windows blown out. It could be empty, could be full of hostiles. No way to know without entering.
Protocol was clear: Send the K-9 first. She’d given the hand signal and command, and then Titan had gone.
The memory sharpened, becoming visceral. She could feel the weight of her kevlar vest, the rifle in her hands, the sun searing the back of her neck. She could hear her own breathing, too loud in her ears.
In front of her, Titan had moved fast, confident. He’d reached the entrance then disappeared inside.
The tappers kept alternating. Left, right, left, right.
She’d waited and counted the seconds, watching the doorway.
The explosion had been massive, not just sound but pressure and heat. The ground beneath her boots shook with the force of it. She’d run toward it. Someone had tried to stop her, but she’d torn free, sprinting across the open ground with her ears ringing and smoke everywhere.
She’d found him lying in the rubble.
The tappers continued their rhythm.
His body had been—
She’d dropped beside him, her hands hovering, not knowing where to touch that wouldn’t hurt worse. Blood seeped everywhere, and his breathing was shallow and labored.
His eyes rolled to the side and found hers, still trusting, still loving her even as he died.
“I sent him in,” Maddox whispered, tears starting. “I gave the command.”
“What are you noticing?” Carla’s voice came from somewhere outside the memory.
"It's my fault." The guilt was crushing and familiar. "I killed him."
"Go with that. Notice what comes."
The tappers kept buzzing left, right, left, right.
And then, something shifted.
A thought surfaced: Protocol required K-9 entry first.
She'd followed training, the same way she'd done on every other mission.
Another thought: Any handler would've made the same call.
The tappers continued.
The IED was already there. You couldn't have known.
But she'd sent him in. That was true.
Yes. And he was trained for it. He knew the risks.
The memory was still there—Titan dying in her arms, his blood on her hands—but something about it was expanding, showing context she'd never let herself see before.
She'd followed protocol. The IED had been placed deliberately and would've triggered whether she sent Titan or went herself. He'd died doing his job, protecting her, the job he'd been trained for, had chosen—as much as a dog could choose.
"What are you noticing now?" Carla asked.
"I followed protocol," Maddox said slowly. "I did what I was trained to do."
"And?"
The tappers buzzed steadily in her hands.
"It wasn't my fault."
The words felt strange in her mouth, foreign but not wrong.
"How true does that feel for you?"
Maddox checked internally, surprised by the answer. "Six? Maybe seven?"
From zero to seven in one session, after one hour of holding plastic tappers and letting her brain do whatever the hell this was.
"When you think about Titan now," Carla said, "what's your distress level?"
Maddox brought up the memory again. She was still sad, it was still painful, but it wasn’t as suffocating. "Five. Maybe four."
The crushing guilt had loosened. It wasn’t gone, but the weight of believing she'd murdered him had lifted enough to breathe through the grief.
They did several more rounds. Each time, the memory stayed but became more integrated, less raw. The context kept expanding, including military service, the cost of war, and impossible choices that everyone in her unit had to make.
Titan had been a working dog. She'd been a handler following protocol. She wasn’t negligent or reckless, just doing her job in a war where people and dogs died despite everyone's best efforts.
His death was tragic, but it wasn’t her failure.
By the end of the session, when Carla had her check her body, Maddox realized her chest wasn't tight anymore. Her shoulders felt lighter. She could take a full breath without the guilt crushing down.
"Go to your safe place," Carla said gently.
Maddox closed her eyes and found Zeus peacefully lounging in the backyard again. When she opened her eyes, she was back in the office, exhausted but slightly lighter.
“How are you feeling?” Carla asked.
"Like I've been carrying a hundred pounds for eight years and finally put it down." Maddox's voice was rough with hurt. "I still miss him, though. I still wish it had gone differently."
"That's grief," Carla said. "And grief is appropriate. It's the guilt that was crushing you."
"I can tell the difference now." Maddox wiped her eyes. "Grief says I lost him and it hurts. Guilt says I killed him and I'm a murderer."
"And which one is true?" Carla’s voice was soft.
"The grief." Maddox took a shaky breath. "I lost him, and it hurts like hell. But I didn't kill him."
Carla smiled warmly. “That’s good work, Maddox. Really good work.”
Maddox nodded, too wrung out to say much else.
"This is integration," Carla continued. "Your brain is still processing what happened today, so be gentle with yourself over the next few days.
The understanding might deepen. Or you might feel tired and emotional.
All normal. We'll likely need a few more sessions to work through other layers, but this was an excellent start. "
"Okay."
"You did something incredibly brave today."
Maddox stood, her legs unsteady. She felt hollowed out and raw, but different. “Jade’s outside,” she managed.
"I know." Carla's expression was knowing. "Go on."
Maddox opened the door.
Jade was sitting in the waiting room, book in lap, but she looked up immediately when the door opened and stood without hesitation when she saw Maddox's face.
Maddox didn't have words, just crossed the room and let Jade catch her.
"I've got you," Jade murmured against her shoulder.
Maddox pressed her face into Jade's neck, breathing her in. They stood there for a long moment. Jade didn't ask questions or push for explanations, just held her.
Finally, Maddox pulled back enough to meet her eyes. "Can we go?"
"Of course." Jade's hand found hers. "Want me to drive?"
Maddox nodded, too exhausted to protest or insist she was fine. They walked to the car together and got in. Jade started the engine but didn’t pull out immediately. Instead, she reached over and squeezed Maddox’s hand where it rested on her thigh.
Jade’s eyes were bright. “I’m proud of you. That took courage.”
Maddox’s throat was tight. “Thank you for being here for me.”
“Always,” Jade said, the word settling between them, weighted with promise.
A moment later, Jade pulled out of the parking lot, one hand still holding Maddox’s as she drove.
They didn’t talk much on the drive, but they didn’t need to.
Maddox leaned her head against the window and watched the streets pass.
She felt the weight of exhaustion in her bones, but there was also space to breathe now. Space to grieve Titan properly.
The work wasn’t done, but this was her first breakthrough. It was finally manageable now.
And this time, she wasn’t doing it alone.