of only two to get out alive," Sean said quietly, and Daniel just found himself nodding, unconsciously replaying the last day in his head. "I can't, for one single minute, imagine what you went through. It's combat on such a personal level that it's almost impossible to understand."
"Survivor's guilt they said at the counselling. I went there. Jesus, I still go even now, Salisbury general, every Wednesday and Friday. I don't know what else they can say."
"How are you… feeling … now?"
"I'm doing okay I guess." Daniel was surprised at what he was saying. He would never be okay, not in a million years. Smithy, Whitey, Marston, Emmet… all gone in the flash of a roadside bomb, seconds away from disabling it. Emmet had slipped a single millimetre as shells rained down on them from above, and there it was—over. "The only thing that saved me was Tommy," shit, "a good guy, not some single, gay guy like me, but married to Linda, with two gorgeous kids, Abby and Emily. A semi-detached house in the country, the whole perfect dream. The blast caught him sideways, and his body protected mine. They couldn't move us for two hours because enemy fire was too heavy. I was the only one left awake, and Tommy, his legs were gone. I had him… over me… on me… my… my friend."
"Jesus." Sean sounded destroyed by what he was hearing, and suddenly Daniel wanted to make it better for his audience. It was what he did.
"Yeah, a good man. A good soldier. Believe me, I want to deal with this, but I feel so damn fuzzy, as if my brain can't connect the dots."
"Will you trust me?"
"Can you really sit there and tell me you can help?"
"Yes, Daniel, I know I can. I can talk to my dad and get some of these meds switched around."
Daniel offered a small smile. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Chapter Seven
Sean drove Daniel to the pharmacy in Salisbury in Daniel's small car, his own sadly broken, way past safe driving and he had left it with his mechanic, Geoff, at the Audi garage. He had spoken to his dad, and for the first time ever, the older man had actually sat and listened, but all the time Sean wondered if it had anything to do with his mom who hovered at their sides. She was always a calming influence between them. The prescription was entirely new, although Daniel would need to be weaned off his old meds and onto the new ones carefully. He planned to be the one to help… as a friend. He waited outside of the pharmacy with a good twenty minutes to contemplate what had happened, including the one phrase he couldn't get out of his head. "Not a single, gay guy…" It wasn't like he had a fully functioning gaydar, but it never failed to amaze him how badly he could misjudge people and their sexual proclivities. Being gay must have been hard for Daniel in the Army, on the front lines. There was definite attraction from his side; Daniel was mostly what he looked for in a man—tall, dark, brooding, messed in the head. It was his modus operandi to go for the needy ones. What was he thinking? He wasn't ready to get behind any of Daniel's walls. He wasn't equipped to deal with all the stuff he knew nothing about. He'd made the decision to not go there and was feeling very proud of himself.
That's when the pharmacy door swung open, and Daniel limped out, concentrating on his footfalls, his dark eyebrows drawn together and his face creased in a frown, until he reached the car. Then he smiled. That smile was Sean's undoing. Suddenly this man wasn't damaged, or fragile, or needy. Suddenly he was strong and muscled and capable of holding his own. Suddenly he was the man who put himself between Sean and the knife and who ticked every one of Sean's boxes.
Daniel climbed in, wincing a little as he used one hand to pull his leg into the car, and Sean rapidly looked away, locking his hands at ten and two on the wheel. This attraction to Daniel was wholly unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. It had been three months and counting since he'd seen
"Survivor's guilt they said at the counselling. I went there. Jesus, I still go even now, Salisbury general, every Wednesday and Friday. I don't know what else they can say."
"How are you… feeling … now?"
"I'm doing okay I guess." Daniel was surprised at what he was saying. He would never be okay, not in a million years. Smithy, Whitey, Marston, Emmet… all gone in the flash of a roadside bomb, seconds away from disabling it. Emmet had slipped a single millimetre as shells rained down on them from above, and there it was—over. "The only thing that saved me was Tommy," shit, "a good guy, not some single, gay guy like me, but married to Linda, with two gorgeous kids, Abby and Emily. A semi-detached house in the country, the whole perfect dream. The blast caught him sideways, and his body protected mine. They couldn't move us for two hours because enemy fire was too heavy. I was the only one left awake, and Tommy, his legs were gone. I had him… over me… on me… my… my friend."
"Jesus." Sean sounded destroyed by what he was hearing, and suddenly Daniel wanted to make it better for his audience. It was what he did.
"Yeah, a good man. A good soldier. Believe me, I want to deal with this, but I feel so damn fuzzy, as if my brain can't connect the dots."
"Will you trust me?"
"Can you really sit there and tell me you can help?"
"Yes, Daniel, I know I can. I can talk to my dad and get some of these meds switched around."
Daniel offered a small smile. "Then what are we waiting for?"
Chapter Seven
Sean drove Daniel to the pharmacy in Salisbury in Daniel's small car, his own sadly broken, way past safe driving and he had left it with his mechanic, Geoff, at the Audi garage. He had spoken to his dad, and for the first time ever, the older man had actually sat and listened, but all the time Sean wondered if it had anything to do with his mom who hovered at their sides. She was always a calming influence between them. The prescription was entirely new, although Daniel would need to be weaned off his old meds and onto the new ones carefully. He planned to be the one to help… as a friend. He waited outside of the pharmacy with a good twenty minutes to contemplate what had happened, including the one phrase he couldn't get out of his head. "Not a single, gay guy…" It wasn't like he had a fully functioning gaydar, but it never failed to amaze him how badly he could misjudge people and their sexual proclivities. Being gay must have been hard for Daniel in the Army, on the front lines. There was definite attraction from his side; Daniel was mostly what he looked for in a man—tall, dark, brooding, messed in the head. It was his modus operandi to go for the needy ones. What was he thinking? He wasn't ready to get behind any of Daniel's walls. He wasn't equipped to deal with all the stuff he knew nothing about. He'd made the decision to not go there and was feeling very proud of himself.
That's when the pharmacy door swung open, and Daniel limped out, concentrating on his footfalls, his dark eyebrows drawn together and his face creased in a frown, until he reached the car. Then he smiled. That smile was Sean's undoing. Suddenly this man wasn't damaged, or fragile, or needy. Suddenly he was strong and muscled and capable of holding his own. Suddenly he was the man who put himself between Sean and the knife and who ticked every one of Sean's boxes.
Daniel climbed in, wincing a little as he used one hand to pull his leg into the car, and Sean rapidly looked away, locking his hands at ten and two on the wheel. This attraction to Daniel was wholly unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. It had been three months and counting since he'd seen
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