Shielding it is, then. All right, man, here we go.
[ He's already done this with Sam, just on the surface, and he's willingly let both Clint and Barnes in a little deeper, but there's still a prickling on the back of his neck and a feeling of tension at the prospect of letting someone in his head. For all that he was the one who made the offer.
But it's easier like this, for something like this, when he can tell himself it's little different from opening up at the VA. When he can remind himself how hard it was to talk about Riley at first, to stand up in front of a group and tell strangers about some of the worst parts of himself, and how it'd eventually felt easy, natural.
Some of that ebbs through the connection as Sam stops shielding as much and lets some of his emotions flow - unease, guilt and regret, bitterness and anger like windblown rain around a center of calm. Inhale, exhale, and then Sam turns his thoughts to how he makes it stop. It's second nature by now to pull up an image of a cloud layer as seen from above. Something he's seen thousands of times, and he can visualize mounds of grey and fluffy white, turned pink and orangey gold by the varying light of the sun. He holds onto that image, putting as much detail into it as he can until it grows stronger, until the emotions and thoughts drift of one by one below the clouds, evaporating into mist.
There's nothing left but a sea of clouds and the weightless feeling of flight. ]
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[ He's already done this with Sam, just on the surface, and he's willingly let both Clint and Barnes in a little deeper, but there's still a prickling on the back of his neck and a feeling of tension at the prospect of letting someone in his head. For all that he was the one who made the offer.
But it's easier like this, for something like this, when he can tell himself it's little different from opening up at the VA. When he can remind himself how hard it was to talk about Riley at first, to stand up in front of a group and tell strangers about some of the worst parts of himself, and how it'd eventually felt easy, natural.
Some of that ebbs through the connection as Sam stops shielding as much and lets some of his emotions flow - unease, guilt and regret, bitterness and anger like windblown rain around a center of calm. Inhale, exhale, and then Sam turns his thoughts to how he makes it stop. It's second nature by now to pull up an image of a cloud layer as seen from above. Something he's seen thousands of times, and he can visualize mounds of grey and fluffy white, turned pink and orangey gold by the varying light of the sun. He holds onto that image, putting as much detail into it as he can until it grows stronger, until the emotions and thoughts drift of one by one below the clouds, evaporating into mist.
There's nothing left but a sea of clouds and the weightless feeling of flight. ]