Work Text:
Displaying any kind of distress was unacceptable for an agent of the Federal Bureau of Control. Particularly an agent currently leading an investigation. Rules governed appropriate behavior for leaders of all kinds, and Trench had always firmly believed in following such rules.
Particularly the rules he had made for himself. One of those rules, the one which he believed in most strongly, was that he should never place his own well-being above that of others. To do so would be selfish. Unacceptable.
This, unfortunately, did not prevent his own well-being from deteriorating at rapid speeds.
Trench swallowed hard. Attempted to focus, to continue receiving reports and directing the agents who were combing this neighborhood for a suspected Altered Item. It was an important duty. He could not allow anything to compromise it.
A dog barked again. And again. And again.
Trench briefly closed his eyes, willing himself to dismiss the stimulus. He liked dogs. He liked his work. Dogs should not cause him such severe distress that he neglected his work.
Another bark, low and monotonous. It struck Trench like a blow, one too many, and he tightened his grip on a clipboard. He could not blow up. No matter how distressed he became.
“Agent Trench?” A chipper voice, a voice that Trench normally enjoyed hearing. Dr. Darling, who had become one of his only friends. “I-I was coming over to report on the readings from the neighborhood, but I think I ought to be studying you instead. That is, you look terrible.”
Trench swallowed hard and forced his eyes open. Darling was young. Trench should be setting a good example for him. “I’m fine.”
“And yet, you look terrible.” Darling smiled at him, eyes bright and curious behind his round glasses. The glasses, and his endless enthusiasm for his favorite subjects, always gave him an endearingly owlish appearance. “Very strained. In fact, as if you might snap that clipboard in half with your bare hands.”
The dog barked again. Trench gritted his teeth and forced himself to relax his grip on the clipboard.
“Come on. I-I truly think you need to get at least into an area where noise is more muffled for a time. Sometimes, the repetitive beeping of my equipment causes similar trouble for me.” Darling gestured behind Trench. “Surveillance van?”
That sounded like as good a solution as any. Especially since the personnel who had been involved in surveilling were now part of the team searching the neighborhood.
Trench climbed into the back of the van. Once Darling joined in, and closed the door, Trench sat down. And although an agent leading an investigation should not display distress, he had reached his limit. He leaned forward, put his hands over his ears, and closed his eyes.
He hadn’t meant to rock. But once he started, he couldn’t stop. He tipped back and forth, the rhythmic motion soothing.
Even in here, he could still hear the dog barking. But at least it was muffled. It did not distress him.
When Trench could endure sounds again, he lowered his hands and opened his eyes. He didn’t raise his head yet, or try to speak. He stayed where he was, just trying to breathe. Trying to regain some equilibrium.
Darling didn’t speak to him. He had Trench’s clipboard—Trench must have set it down without even realizing—and was reading through the reports. That was fine. He had clearance.
“I’m better now,” Trench finally said. He straightened. Smoothed his hair. Fixed his glasses. “I-I’m sorry. I became overwhelmed.”
Darling beamed at him. “Oh, don’t be sorry! I become overwhelmed by noise all the time. And in truth, I doubt anyone noticed.”
Trench cleared his throat. “You noticed.”
“Because I’m your friend. I wanted to help.” Darling opened his arms. “Maybe I can also help with a hug? And then, an analysis of the reports thus far?”
Sometimes, touch was overwhelming. Right now, it sounded nice.
Trench leaned closer to Darling, and let himself be gathered in a gentle embrace. There was no rule against accepting a hug from a friend.