Daily Toronto NEWS (propaganda?) a tax paid PTSD

The older I get, the more I am becoming a stranger.

Fryodor Dostoevsky wrote “What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.” He was right on many levels. And as I get older, I give thanks that I have become unexpected, because of it! I found that the first part of enabling yourself to love, is to love and be kind, not just to others, but also towards yourself. And that this could be applied to the principle of the benefit of the doubt. I wanted to share how personally significant it is. How on reflection of its application, I now appreciate why it is so important.

The consideration of love, come about after a face book conversation with a young man I help raise. He was a kind, and happy young man, but he wrote something on social media that made me genuinely concerned for him. He wrote of post-traumatic stress syndrome, or PTSD and I tried to convey to him that despite what may have happened to him, or what he may have seen to cause it, that he should be kind to himself. I wrote to him saying he should be easy on himself. I told him we all loved him. We loved him because he was a kind, and respectful person. Talking to him, helped teach me, that we all make mistakes, and that sometimes despite making no mistakes at all, and despite being utterly blameless, we witness things that no person should witness. I conveyed to him that we must remember that we are not to blame, even despite at times our direct involvement. I indirectly shared a little part of myself with him, not just because I am proud of how he turned out, as he now helps me, and others. I shared it, because he assisted me, one way or another, and as a result he helped me to write this, a self-reflection that helps me with my own PTSD.

Thanks Ben.

Despite only being a little older than fifty, my mind and body, no longer match nor recognise the person I once was, and my recollections of my character become more frequently and every so often vailed. Despite the change of loss, it still cuts a little. It was not that I showed pride, it was not that my ego was hurt or reduced, it was from the personal experience of PTSD that I spoke to Ben with an adult honesty, an honesty that I always showed him even when he was a child. And it made me realize that despite the ever present or looming Spector of PTSD, that the thing that grates me, was the idea that some thought it was a weakness. Although never considering myself as weak, the considerations were foreign and made me reconsider who I was as a person.

So, who is this new person, this stranger?

I do not know, and to be honest; it is just that the more I write about myself, to myself, the more I appreciate the efforts I made. The more I write, the less, and curiously the more of a stranger I become. I reiterate, over and over to myself, about just how many failures it took to achieve anything. And it should be noted that failure is not necessarily an end; it is in general I have found, “…the start of doing something meaningful…, to paraphrase someone from somewhere in the cloud...

The more I look back, one of the things that I appreciate, was giving the benefit of the doubt. And although I fell on my face applying it on multiple occasions, I dearly valued how it helped, not just those that I gave it to, but in the end, it helped me! It helped me value the person I had become, and very fortunately it helped me value the person I was, despite all that had happened. Because of my application of it to others, I learnt to give myself the benefit of the doubt. And writing about it in my diary, makes me appreciate the principle, for what it is. It showed me just how clever it remains, and of how much worth it has as an intrinsic value or idiom. It in retrospect seemed like just a thing you do, and it should be noted that to give it, (the benefit of the doubt), and expect something back, other than to be granted the courage that it might be possibly or hopefully reciprocated, lacks integrity and self-sacrifice. It was something I was taught by my parents to do as a child, and I did it, and do it, because I was instructed that it was the right thing to do. I keep it up, because now I know, it is the just thing to do, not just a thing you do.

The application of this fundamental axion, pushed for me, to try to treat people with respect, even if I did not know them. It is not that I respect them, whoever they are, as my respect is earned, it is that I respect their right to be treated humanely and with humility. And until recently, I never fully treated myself with this respect. As a result, I now have become a stranger to myself. The more I learn, the more I find out, and the more I understand that I was not what other people thought I was. That they never really knew me. That their opinion of me was in general in error, and or self-serving of themselves.

I never forget the mistakes I made, which is part of my PTSD. But I try and be kind to myself and not dwell on them, as learning is and always will be an objective, and I now know we, as in humanity, universally make mistakes, while learning. I know that this is part of the learning process. These mistakes are written about in humanities survival manuals, printed, and etched in text to help us. Reading of others, not just personally observing them, and having firsthand experience, reinforced that this scenario played out repeatedly in its truism. It helped not just with forgiving myself for my mistakes or failings, but it aided in forgiving others for theirs. Due to this maxim, and its novel application to myself, I now look at this foreign person that I have never seen before. That person was me, and ironically, always was. I look at myself in a new light. It is not that I had an epiphany about who I was, I just never gave myself any credit, as not many others did. It was a trait written in one of my high school reports.

Despite them saying things like you are not bright enough; or you do not have the capacity, I just kept on going, like Vinsent from the movie Gattica. My mother gently pushed me not to listen to the people that said things like you cannot do that, or you will not succeed if you go down that rout. I tried never to listen to the nay sayers, because that is what my mother taught me. Although at times, I did. She was so calm and repetitive in saying it, that I should just keep on going. And as my capacity to take hits lessons, and my body runs out of time, I am losing some of the innocence I once had. The naive ignorance, and faith, in my capacity to weather personal injury slowly diminishes. I am not becoming a grumpy old man, sinical or anything like that. But, as my ability to disregard the opinion of those that thought, or think, of my applications of intellect, where acts of stupidity, I now become a little inelastic. My perseverance for those that thought it, and felt no shame in publicly pronouncing it, gets less, and because of their ridicule, I have become more.

In Australia, right or wrong we cut down tall poppies, and I have been cut down many times. This process seems highly ironic, as I never stood tall for all but a second in my youth. And boy did I get cut down by those that disagreed with me. Recently it seemed to me that they were just flogging a dead horse, trying to bleed the very last drop of effort out, all the while offering no just reward. But unlike Boxer from George Orwell’s novel Animal farm, I am not at the knackery yet, nor have I been sold for more whiskey for the pigs. It has not gone quite that far, although it has been tried by those that sort to capitalise on my work. And although my study and work put me in many perilous positions, some of which had left me socially prostrate and biochemically brutalised, it was the innocence and naivety, with which I went about my work, just like Boxer, that I am happy about. An innocence or loyalty that was, and is, of a worth that I personally think is immeasurable. It was not just a loyalty to people, but to values and things I had been taught.

Standing on principles that where and are sometimes profoundly challenged by my peers is and was in fact a strength. Most do not know the value or strength of virtue. And the revaluation, of its consideration helped me establish who I am, and what I went through. It helped reduce the PTSD, and now I am someone foreign to me. Like a thought of the third person, I have become a welcome stranger to myself. It has caused a process of revaluation, and in that process, I have become someone new, someone alien, someone of value. And just like the welcome swallows that turned up every year at my old house, they as a metaphor for an idea where in contrast, and unlike PTSD. They, like a conscious dream, fly in from nowhere, light up my day, and move on. And just like the birds, who took with them the mosquitos that filled the night air, my considerations take with them, the mosquitoes of my mind. They were such a beautiful little thing to see, and always welcome. For a quite mind is a gift.

This new person was created with two forces, out of something old. Like water and wind, to use a cliché, they helped produce me, with a heavy dose of self-fortitude. They had both worn me out, and worn me down, and I become a considerate tolerant man. Both were my parents. My mother, said and encouraged me to try anything, but she always reminded me, of the demanding work required to achieve said task. In contrast, my father cut down every endeavour I had thought of trying. Where my mother had taught me how to give myself the benefit of the doubt, my father gave me the capacity and discipline to do the work required. Initially he did not believe that I had the capacity to do the miles, to use a cycling term. To do the miles is to suffer for extended periods of time, to work, to churn, or grind away on the pedals as you train. Doing the miles makes your response to the task automatic, disciplined, and acutely effective. The longer you grind, or the more miles you do, the more Zen like you become at a task. Ironically as they both aged, my mother’s enthusiasm for me waned, and my father’s enthusiasm increased.

I do not know, if my father saw in the end, the miles being done, but, and it should be noted that both my mother and my father may have been a bit out, in their accuracy department of their analysis of me early on. Despite this, they both taught me resilience. The resilience, to have the not so common capacity to give the benefit of the doubt. One initially vocally optimistic, and ever encouraging, the other absent in lack of optimism, with an ever-present silence. His silence came from seeing me fall, seeing people laugh at his son, and finding the visual or metaphor more horrid to watch, than it ever was. I do not think he ever worked out, that where I might have lacked the ability to do the miles, it was my persistence in getting back up after a fall, which was my talent or discipline. Due to this, both my mother and father’s appraisals were wrong.

What caused it, this factual error? And to introduce Einstein in my parent’s defence, the situation was relative; it was not just their lack of faith in that I would just keep going after a fall, they just never could clearly see, where I was moving to, or where I was in time. I was on one train, and they were on the other. Like ships in the night passing each other, we never really stopped to talk, I never really discussed my work with them, I never told them about what I did. For when I had, they never believed me, for they could not comprehend my achievements. This social isolation is part of the new person I am, and as I discuss me, and what, or who I am, I come to the realisation of my exploitation by others. With an absence of family to discuss the details of my effort, and the sacrifices I had made, as they would never understand it, I started to write a journal, or a diary, about my work, and put into perspective or context, that journey.

Part of that journey due to my lowly status at work, was I never had a boss who could intimidate me. I never had a boss that could threaten me with a lower position, because I was in general already or always in it, the lowest of jobs. And thus, I become a type of wondering ronin. I am not sure, if my use of the word ronin is the old, or the updated version, but it most certainly is an Australian or western fusion of the two. This wondering, this lack of direction, and the experience of suffering and struggle, become an instructor of joy. It was an indicator, or a sign that I had earned my happiness, and not expected others to pay for it. This work or suffering had educated me, that I had earned the right to smile. I had served not just myself, in my endeavours of my pursuit of personal happiness, but that I had also served others on their quest or personal journey or pursuit of it… It was through my personal suffering, for that is what my work was, that I had lowered my collateral damage to those that surrounded me. I had reduced my infliction on their personal pursuits of happiness. As a result, I gave the benefit of the doubt to my pain, not knowing if it would ever bear fruit. I learnt of the discomfort of others, through my experience. I discovered that I should be considerate, because one way or another, we all suffer, and to intentionally cause another to suffer more is inhumane. I learned what that tribulation may entail, how personal it is, and how much of a double-edged sword it can be, as it is both, friend, and foe. And through the sympathy of other individuals suffering, and because of it, I learnt to give myself the benefit of the doubt, and I concluded that I had earned a decent living.

Studying others and their sacrifice, not just my own, and being respectful to both, helps alleviate the constant reminder of my broken body. The aches, and the pains, that I presume, if I make it to eighty, will all be quite weathering. But for now, they help keep me honest. I can only hope as I become more crippled, that I take more from Yoda than quasi modo. It will help put into context, the sacrifice of others, and just how lucky I have been, in comparison to some. It puts into perspective, that to give the benefit of the doubt, is to sacrifice little, and to give the benefit of the doubt, is to give up nothing. It is staunch, hard, and stoic, with one purpose, to give, and the first person you need to give it to is yourself. It has been both philosophically and religiously said, that suffering, and trial are a gift, a gift reserved for those that can manage it, but sometimes I wonder. At times, I look on at people, and question about their journey, and how much they, which is most of us, endure. And after reading a little of the Philosophers, I concur, luck, and hard work, are no strangers to each other, and when combined, are like magic. A magic so powerful, I no longer recognise myself, or care about my crippled body, nor the PTSD from the events that crippled it.

I was not cursed by my suffering, I was blessed to help not just myself, but others.

Oh have we been busy?! Yes, with a couple still in the works and many in the thought process, we have completed another short film born in SL and submitted it to the Newport Beach Film Festival. Though I would love to share it here, the rules of this festival are that the video can't be publicly available while being evaluated sooo..the best we can do for now is to share the poster created to go with it :)

Footage recorded at:

Two Fish Two, Rosas and Two Fish, Cariacou

Newly diagnosed, but not new....

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Abused, Abandoned, Jungle Dogs.

Short Back Story ..............................

Really long day, went west till I was east, met

with immigration's.

Turned around and came home, got here late.

Tomorrow I'll be heading east till I'm near the

Cambodian border. No# 1 wife will be waiting

to see me ... ;-)

It'll be another very long hot day on the road.

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Want to share this article a close friend has sent to me....

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Wolves in California help veterans suffering from PTSD

Published December 29, 2015

Wolves help military veterans suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. (Sky News)

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An animal sanctuary in California has developed a programme to help military veterans suffering with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) by building relationships with some of nature's most mysterious animals.

Around 40 wolves live at the Lockwood Rescue Animal Rescue Centre, some saved from lives chained up in Alaska, others ill-advisedly bought as pets.

And founders Matt Simmons, a US Navy veteran, and Dr Lorin Lindner, a psychologist, say the animals are unique in the relationship they can offer those suffering the hidden scars of conflict.

Dr Lindner said: "These are wild animals who are choosing to make a relationship with you and that is profoundly important for someone suffering a traumatic stress disorder. One of the main symptoms of those disorders is the inability to trust, to build relationships, to feel like you're safe.

"These animals we are rescuing also have traumatic stress disorders, are also shy and have difficulty developing relationships and trusting again."

Dr Lindner says they developed the programme after seeing the success of bird therapy.

She says the struggles of the US Department of Veterans Affairs to help those returning from Iraq and Afghanistan also inspired them to take action.

Veterans who have taken part in the programme say it is been more helpful than conventional therapy.

Jim Minick spent 10 years in the US Navy and says he was "lost" when he left.

He said: "I can speak for myself and some of the veterans that I know and it is hard to re-integrate back into normal society and trusting people, trusting society, how they are going to judge you."

He credits his relationship with a wolf called Kehei for helping him.

He said: "These guys really don't judge you, they really don't care what you did before, they just care who you are and it is a really special bond, a special relationship.

"For me, it means a little more that this is an animal that's not normally friendly with humans, they are very shy, they stay away from humans at all costs and here he is, I can walk down the side of the fence and call him and he comes running."

Dr Lindner says wolves receive a "bad rap" - there hasn't been an attack on a human in the lower 48 states in recorded history, she says - but adds that this does not make them suitable as pets.

"They look cute and cuddly but these are wild animals," she said.

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Thank You.

Jon&Crew.

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Please help with your donations here.

www.gofundme.com/saving-thai-temple-dogs.

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Please,

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Procamera, Snapseed, Procreate, Stackables, Superimpose, Mextures , Filterloop, Matter App, Union App, Camera Awesome

PTSD groups are told that the gifts or memorials they leave at the Wall are collected and stored in a wharehouse; and a museum or another building is going to be built to display the things left at The Wall.

Author's Note: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter and may be triggering to some individuals. Scenes of abuse of various forms are represented as not only for storytelling, but to raise awareness of what this behavior looks like. Abusive behavior in this story includes, but is not limited to: physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, intentional triggering of another's PTSD, and trauma. In no way are these scenes intended to purposely trigger or harm anyone.

~

After agreeing on a location and time for their dinner tomorrow, Vincent was glad to finally shut the door behind Damien after another long five minutes of "Goodbyes" later. He locked the door then turned around and slumped back against the wood with a heavy, drained sigh.

"Bloody...fucking...Hell...I'm not stoned enough for his shit!" he groaned aloud to himself once he heard Damien's footsteps descending the staircase. Bhang. He needed bhang. Right now, he didn't want to be sober. He didn't want to have to think. Yes, he was grateful to have gotten through this with Damien but it didn't cease the constant feeling of being on edge now. He felt beyond done with the day and still felt overwhelmed by it...and it was getting worse by the minute.

Vincent licked his lips and then pushed away from the door to head for his kitchen. His kettle sat cold on his wood stove with the container of Bernadette's specially made bhang on a nearby counter waiting for him. He just needed to select a tea to go with it. He set the kettle once again to heat up and went to go do just that.

By the time Vincent went to the cabinet to select a tea, he was already starting to feel sour. He already knew the bhang would not hit the way he was needing. He glanced at the concoction over his shoulder sullenly then back up into his cabinet before reaching for his favorite brand of chamomile tea. Yes, chamomile to calm his nerves. Vincent just had to remind himself that everything was fine now. He just had to center and breathe.

'This will help,' he thought to himself with determination as he closed the cabinet. But Vincent knew that the relief that bhang would bring him would not be the same relief as when he smoked the herb, itself. The sweet burn that came with cannabis was something that he longed for. It would be immediate and the effect would be that much better and stronger in the way he needed. But with broken ribs he knew it wasn't wise. The only other option was alcohol. While he was used to drowning his sorrows in liqueur, he loathed the fact that he used it as an escape. He never felt better the next day, but it was what he was used to. He was even less inclined to use that route now considering he'd promised Aiden that he would not....but it felt extremely fucking tempting right now!

Now, Vincent was standing before his kettle. He just stood there as he waited for the water to boil. All while standing there, Vincent just tried to let himself decompress. Rolling his head around on his neck produced no relief at all. His shoulders were even more tense and he just couldn't seem to physically come down quick enough from the stress and overwhelming thoughts. Yet, as he stared at his kettle and grumbled to himself and thought irritably that grass probably grew faster, he felt an unwelcome urge pulling at him: a need for escape.

Vincent wanted to just decompress and just forget about everything just for a little while! And to be honest right now, home didn't feel so welcome. It held a lingering, heavy discomfort. Or perhaps it was simply him? It didn't matter as suddenly cruel thoughts started to roar in his mind and he immediately began to regret his decision to pour his alcohol down the drain. Nor was there any cannabis to be found at home (aside from the bhang), and he wasn't supposed to be doing that, was he?

"Fuck it!"

The next thing Vincent knew, he was suddenly putting out the fire in the stove. As soon as it was doused, he scooped up his tea bag and bhang and went to put them away. He rushed himself doing so and then he quickly went to change his boots into more comfortable walking shoes. Then, he grabbed his pouch of money and his key. Without further ado, Vincent slipped out the front door of his flat and locked it behind him. Once he was downstairs by the street, he deliberately headed off in the direction opposite from Damien's sister's residence and The Fat Lady's.

...

It was a short while later that Vincent finally saw sight of the small, sleazy hole-in-the-wall bar well hidden along the edge of the slums that he'd chosen to patron this evening. It was a place that only locals knew of and even fewer frequented. It was known for strong and cheap alcohol, whores for any preference, and dirty dealings. In comparison, it made the usual rowdy The Fat Lady's Tavern look like a teahouse. And it was the kind of place Vincent could go and not be bothered by anyone he knew.

He could hear the shouting of a quarreling duo down the street and the sound of a woman screaming at them to stop their foolishness. Vincent glanced down that direction and sighed before squaring his shoulders and drawing himself up to his full height. Despite his small stature Vincent knew how to be intimidating in a way that made no one want to mess with him. And so with that front up, he stepped off the curb and headed across the street. Even though he appeared unarmed Vincent was not one to mess with, and he knew people knew it just by looking at him. And sure enough as he did, a few eyes did glance his way.

Vincent strode up to the door and yanked it open. He was very grateful to find that the bar was not nearly as busy as it usually was this time of evening. He made his way up to the bar and took a seat. He glanced towards the barman who was approaching but paused as he heard Vincent grunt, "Rum. Best you got."

"Coming right up."

As the man went to fetch Vincent's drink, Vincent sighed deeply and rested his elbows on the bar. Then he pressed his face into his hands and rubbed slowly. This was NOT how he wanted to end tonight. It had been such a wonderful day with Aiden and Bernadette! While he'd already made the decision to come here, Vincent still didn't feel good about it. Though he was of the mind of just not caring, a small little voice in the back of his head still burrowed its way back in. It spoke whispers; not so very nice ones at all. And without his consent, his mind shifted and he couldn't help but think: what would Aiden think of him right now?

Of course, ironically, that thought would have to come as rum was set down in front of him. Vincent grunted a "Thanks" as he reached for the goblet and drew it nearer. With another heavy sigh, he glanced into the amber depths of his drink. He'd thought about how just the other day he'd poured his three bottles of alcohol down the drain without a second thought. And it had been because Aiden had voiced his belief that Vincent would do the right thing and not drink his worries away. That had made him feel really good about himself. He wanted to be a man worthy of Aiden's praise! Yet...here he sat days later with alcohol between his hands anyway once again.

'What a low-life, I am,' Vincent thought silently to himself as he lifted the glass to just under his nose and inhaled deeply. That delicious, bold scent hit Vincent deep in a lot of just the right places. His mouth was already watering and his emotional aches screamed for silence! Yet as he parted his lips to take that first sip, he could hear Aiden's voice was in his ear as if he were right in front of him with that brilliant smile of his.

"...I know you can do this."

Vincent swore under his breath and muttered a string of very colorful curse words as he brought his hands to his face and rubbed with frustration. Why did it even fucking matter what Aiden thought?! he wondered irritably. He just wanted his damn drink and now he couldn't even do that?! How dare Aiden come into his life and shake things up like this?! What next?! What aspect of Vincent's life would he start wedging his way into next?!

What irritated him even more was he knew he wasn't really angry at Aiden. He just wanted to be angry at him. The truth was that he was angry at himself and Vincent damn well knew it. It just made him feel even worse. This was all on him. The worst part of it all was he knew that the alcohol wouldn't really do anything but make him feel even more like shit. Yet he still made the decision to come here.

Yet as he hunched over his drink a little bit more, a sharp pain pierced his side which made him involuntarily wince just the tiniest bit. Another sigh escaped him as he straightened uncomfortably. There was that as well. He hadn't exactly wanted to come here (at least that's what Vincent told himself) but he wasn't supposed to be smoking. So this was him being good, right? He thought back to how he felt about the bhang just a short time ago and how he'd rather be smoking the herb instead. It would bring the relief he really needed; both mentally and physically. But the coughing could cause further damage to his broken ribs. It would be wise not to. So, therefore, the craving of relief had brought him here to this disgusting place; not just the locale but his current mental state as well. And he felt it was just as well...for in his eyes it was what he deserved.

The sound of a woman's shrill laugh jolted him from his self-loathing as it followed with a fit of giggles as a man's heavily slurred voice began making loud, suggestive comments. Vincent turned away slightly and tried to tune out the sounds of the drunken couple as he focused once more on his drink. Rum. Yes, that was much more preferable to focus on...but it didn't last very long as the man exclaimed loudly, "Hold on, woman. I need to pee!"

The barman laughed across the bar, "Make sure to actually make it to the toilet this time?" As the man waved him off, he began to unsteadily make his way to his feet and set off to relieve himself. Yet he stumbled and bumped off the booth and nearly collided into Vincent's chair! The man fell stomach first into the bar and suddenly let out a massive belch right in Vincent's ear that echoed throughout the bar! The woman, barman, and a few other patrons laughed but Vincent felt disgusted and he had to fight not to punch the man. Though, thankfully, the man wandered off in search of the toilet a second later and Vincent was left to a bit more quiet once again.

Vincent silently judged the drunken man and his behavior. 'Disgusting,' he thought to himself as he lifted the goblet to his lips. Yet as much as he tried to push it down, a little voice in the back of his head whispered, 'Well, aren't we the judgmental one? And what of you, Vincent? How soon until you'll be lost in your own drunken stupor again like you always do when things get tough? Will you puke in front of someone else tonight?'

What if...what if Aiden found him like that again? Or worse? Like...like the time he'd woken up half-naked outside one of the bookshops. In his intoxicated state, he'd thought it was the library and couldn't understand why he couldn't go in (despite it being after midnight) when it was supposed to be a public place. God...that had been utterly embarrassing! Why the Hell DID he even drink?

And it was as if suddenly something switched in Vincent and his mind went blank. He blinked and then stared down into his goblet filled with rum one more time...and then with determination he lifted it to his mouth and drained the whole thing in one swallow! Then as soon as the last drop entered his mouth, he licked his lips and set the goblet down hard on the table.

'Never again,' he silently swore to himself as he stood abruptly and slid some coins onto the table to pay for his drink. He gave a curt nod to the barman then turned on his heel and left the bar behind, leaving the barman staring after him in bewilderment.

~

This scene was taken in Second Life at Victorian London - Time Portal in the Bar Parlour! Just go the main city square and it is directly behind the London Music Hall to the right upon entering the square from the landing point!

You can check out this AMAZING roleplay-type parcel and even rent from there! Its so realistic! Seriously! The details and realism here are incredible!

NEXT PART: Special Chapter- PRIDE MONTH! Vincent and Aiden are being shoved out of the Rainbow Closet!

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/52981192623/in/datepo...

To read the rest of the story, here's the album link:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127

***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

Special thank you to my husband Vin (Be My Mannequin? Pose Store) for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

DISCORD SERVER: That's right! The Captain and The Engineer has a Discord Server! If you wanna join and chat with other crewmates and see what's new and happening before it gets posted to Flickr, click the link!

discord.gg/qBa769TAC4

***NEW!!!!***

The Captain and the Engineer now has a FACEBOOK PAGE! Please come Like, Follow, and join the crew! Thank you so much for all your support!

FACEBOOK PAGE:

www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61558531406088

An ongoing project dealing with my PTSD triggers and my want to find attachment and stay close to other people.

Bruce and Edwyn are brothers and Gulf war veterans. After serving in 1991, they felt abandoned once they came back home. The fell into a life of drugs and alcohol. it leads them to become homeless during 20 years. Edwyn is very sick. Thanks to the VA (veteran affairs) program (VA San Diego Healthcare System), they found a place to live.

Fabien Lasserre © all rights reserved

Author's Note: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter and may be triggering to some individuals. Scenes of abuse of various forms are represented as not only for storytelling, but to raise awareness of what this behavior looks like. Abusive behavior in this story includes, but is not limited to: physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, intentional triggering of another's PTSD, and trauma. In no way are these scenes intended to purposely trigger or harm anyone.

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"...Vincent, it's me! Open the door! I need to talk to you now!"

After such an exciting (though socially exhausting) day, hearing Damien's persistent tone on the other side of the door caused him to tense as if he'd been doused with cold water. This was not how he would have liked to end his day! He really didn't want to deal with Damien right now, but he couldn't pretend he wasn't home anymore. He'd hoped Damien would have let him know before coming over. Vincent already felt a stress-headache coming on. He put the safety back on his pistol and gave a soft sigh. He could do this.

But as Vincent reached for the lock so he could let Damien in, the door was knocked on again! Vincent stared at the door and scowled. Well, that was rude of him, he thought sourly. He was sorely tempted to leave Damien out there even longer but then Damien called through the door again, "Come on, Vincent! Don't leave me out here like this. I thought you said you wanted to talk this out!"

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Vincent grit his teeth. Damien didn't need to make such a loud commotion for the whole building to hear! Deciding just to get this over with he let out some tension as he exhaled. Then he reached for the door, unlocked it, and pulled the door open to stare stoically up at his best friend of six years with his pistol resting at his side defenselessly.

Damien stared back at him with a look Vincent had seen many times; just never directed at him. In his interrogation mode, Damien's brows furrowed deeply and eyes darkened a certain way that could send chills down the spine of almost anyone who received it. His arms were folded over his chest and, in Vincent's opinion, he looked more impatient than he'd ever seen him. Vincent, however, was not like most people, and he maintained his stoic exterior. But oh, he was offended! Who the Hell did Damien think he was?! He opened his mouth to put Damien in his place but Damien cut in just a tiny bit faster.

"Are you alone?" Damien demanded quietly. Vincent blinked at him with just a hint of surprise at this question. He barely had a chance to utter, "Yes?" before Damien nodded and brushed past him to enter the flat. He grunted, "Good. We have much to discuss and I don't want any interruptions this time."

"What is the meaning of this?" Vincent asked incredulously as he pushed the door closed with a groan. "I was expecting you to let me know when you were coming over first. You always let me know first." And when he turned to look at Damien, he found Damien standing nearly an arm's length away and glowering at him.

"Well, I was expecting a bit more loyalty from YOU!"

"Loyalty?!"

"Yes! Why should I do what you want me to do when you won't do what 'I' want? All I wanted to do was to talk this out....just you and me. And all anyone else can do is put their nose in where it doesn't belong."

"It had nothing to do with Aiden!"

But at the mention of their engineer's name, Damien's nostrils flared and he spat out, "See how quickly you think of 'him?' You are proving my point. No, Vincent, it has EVERYTHING to do with YOU!" He pointed his finger right at Vincent's chest and accused, "You are throwing me to the side like a discarded, rotted apple core on the side of the road for the rats! I didn't even mention anyone in particular and already your mind went to him! Aiden this! Aiden that! Why does he even matter anyway?" Damien pressed his hands to his own chest and his expression implored Vincent to see his side as he pleaded, "Don't you care about me at all, Vincent?"

Fleetingly, Vincent was amazed that Damien had the courage to behave and speak to him like this when Vincent was armed. Despite his calm exterior, he was growing more confused and upset at Damien's onslaught of unexpected feelings. However, it was as Aiden was brought up that it shifted into anger. Vincent was done. He was going to put him in his place once and for all! But damn it all Damien asked him if he cared about him at all and Vincent felt like the wind had been knocked out of him! He felt as if he couldn't focus on what he was upset about anymore as he grappled with the unexpected, emotional question.

Of course he cared about Damien! Damien was like a brother to him! He loved him as much despite their current situation. It was what made it hurt so much worse as each second of this whole interaction passed. Had....he been unfair to Damien somehow? He did want to work things out! After all, he'd gone to Damien's temporary residence as Damien had told him before many times to do if he ever needed anything. Unlike Vincent, Damien didn't care if anyone simply dropped in. Damien's sister had insisted once before that it was fine if he stopped in anytime. Honestly, he'd wondered if Damien had nudged her into it but he was grateful to be able to see his friend all the same.

"Of course, I care about you," Vincent relented as his stoic expression faded and a small, sad frown pulled at his lips. Was that how Damien felt about him? About their friendship? "That's not fair, Damien. How can you even say that after everything we've been through?"

"I can say the same about you," Damien responded with just a touch of edge in his voice as he reached out with his metallic arm and pressed his mechanical hand to the door behind Vincent and leaned in slightly; almost a touch dangerously. It made Vincent tense involuntarily as he stared back up at him. However, Damien's voice softened and he sounded and looked hurt.

"I just wanted to talk. And you sent me away."

"I-I just..."

"You just what, Vincent?"

Vincent shrank back slightly against the door and gazed up at his best friend before sighing. Finally he replied, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel like you don't matter." At his words, Damien's aggression dissipated as he smiled more. "I knew you would understand. I forgive you," Damien responded as his hand slid to squeeze Vincent's shoulder before resting there. Vincent glanced at his hand then gave a small nod before turning and brushing past Damien to head towards the veranda to get some air. As he walked past a bookshelf, he set down his gun then proceeded to run his hands through his hair. Bloody Hell...

Damien let his hand fall to his side as he turned slowly in place to visually follow Vincent's figure as he made to step outside. His eyes narrowed before he began to follow him out. Was something else wrong?

Out on the veranda, Vincent inhaled slowly and deeply through his nostrils before slowly exhaling as he glanced up at the evening sky. While he didn't mean to make Damien feel like he didn't matter, Damien's behavior as of late was....not okay. He really needed to talk to him about it. He needed to get to the bottom of it once and for all. Vincent could hear Damien following him out onto the veranda behind him. This was his chance to talk it out....just the two of them.

"Look... Damien..." Vincent turned to face Damien and he spoke sincerely as he tried to reason and understand. "I don't know what's been going on lately. I don't like this contention going on between us. I want you to talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

"There's nothing to talk about. You already apologized."

"Yes but that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then what ARE you talking about?"

"The contention going on between us lately; 'before' just the day before. Surely, you've felt it too?"

"Contention?"

"Yes. That's what I said."

"I don't know what you mean."

Damien looked genuinely confused! Vincent just couldn't understand why Damien didn't see what he was talking about. If he was being honest with himself, he had only noticed it during the last few weeks. Prior to that, they'd gotten on well enough and had always been able to work things out. It only seemed to be getting worse....and for some reason it felt like it was only around Aiden. He couldn't quite figure it out. Surely, that couldn't be it, he thought. Surely, Damien would tell him if he had a problem with Aiden! Up until the day before yesterday, the two seemed to have worked out whatever problem they had. But apparently they hadn't and something still seemed off between them even the other day. But...hadn't it always? Vincent had not forgotten what Bernadette had told him about Damien and Aiden's quarrel while he was still abed with high fever. He trusted she would never lie to him; especially about something like that. Therefore, he had taken her word that they had worked it. After all, Aiden hadn't come to him about Damien's misconduct. Was there not as big of a problem as he believed it was? Or was it just worse under the surface?

"Well," Vincent cleared his throat and began calmly, "that aside, I wanted to talk to you about something else. Just...I want to have a heart to heart, okay? Two days ago-"

"But you-"

"Don't interrupt me. Please let me finish."

Damien scowled but he closed his mouth and folded his arms over his chest defensively. However he did keep his mouth closed as he quirked his brow at Vincent and waited for whatever he was going to tell him. Opposite him, Vincent stared up at him calmly and waited for him. Once he saw Damien was actually going to listen he continued.

"Two days ago when you and I were speaking, some of the things you said to me were out of line." Vincent watched Damien's jaw tighten as his jaw clenched. Vincent felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach but tried to explain how he felt anyway. "You really hurt my feelings; especially when you accused me of being too intoxicated." And, sure enough, he'd barely had a chance to utter the last word of his sentence before Damien cut in defensively, "Well YOU hurt MY feelings!"

"I know, and I already apologized. But I still want to talk about what you-"

"You know I can't help what I say when I get angry!"

"Damien, don't you see?! THIS is what I'm talking about! We never argue like this!"

"You are just mad that I called you out on it!" He took a step closer and poked Vincent's chest which caused him to gasp in surprise! "It's not MY fault you like to overindulge in alcohol and herbs! Damn it, Vincent! You know what? Sometimes it's hard to tell if it's 'you' I'm talking to, or your addictions!"

Vincent's face fell, and for the second time this week he very nearly broke down completely. He bit his lower lip and gave a small nod before turning and facing away from Damien. He defensively folded his arms over his chest as his shoulders sank depressingly. That had hurt. It had hurt a lot. Was that really how Damien felt?

Damien sighed. He ran his hands over his face then peeked at Vincent through his fingers. Vincent still wasn't looking at him. He was just...standing there dejectedly and hurt. Frowning slightly, Damien stepped closer and placed his hand on Vincent's shoulder. At his touch, however, Vincent turned away more; clearly not wanting to be touched.

"What do you want me to say, Vincent? I'm sorry, okay?"

After several seconds of no response, Damien huffed and leaned around him and peered at the side of his face. Still nothing. In fact, Vincent turned his head away from him even more! 'Damn it all!' Damien thought. He groaned softly and leaned his forearms against the railing and leaned against it. He hung his head down slightly before glancing back at Vincent.

"Come on. You know I didn't mean that," he tried again, his voice softening. This time he sounded more sincere. "I really am sorry, Vincent. You know sometimes I say things I don't mean. Don't let this silly misunderstanding ruin what we have." At this, Vincent took a deep breath and slowly let it out before turning to glance over his shoulder at Damien, his gaze lifting towards his face but unable to meet his eyes.

"Is that what you really think of me?"

"I just said I didn't. Look, why don't we just start over and put all this behind us? We agree there have been misunderstandings and things done and said that we don't mean."

Vincent licked his lips as he considered that. Maybe Damien was right and it would be best to put it behind them and move on from it. While things had never escalated this much, they had done the same thing in the past once they reached an understanding. It always seemed to work out and they were fine again. Though, this time Aiden was a third party in this. Would things be okay with Aiden too?

"What about Aiden?"

"He will be fine! And if he can't work this out with me, it's not a big deal. He can leave just like the others did and go back to that little garage you plucked him out of." Damien gave a noncommittal shrug then confidently slid his arm around Vincent's shoulders and drew him to his side with an encouraging grin. Much to his delight he watched as Vincent lifted his gaze to finally look at him and gave a small smile and replied, "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am!" Damien tightened his arm around Vincent's shoulders and jostled him gently with a chuckle. "You and me against the world, right?"

Vincent smiled a bit more and nodded. "Yeah, you and me against the world." Damien grinned and looked up at the sky and continued to ramble on about how he couldn't wait to get back up into the air. Beside him, Vincent's gaze lowered and he looked down at the railing. He could feel his mood sinking more and more. He couldn't help feeling like he hadn't really had a chance to get out what he wanted to say. It felt unfinished on Vincent's end but they HAD agreed it was a misunderstanding and to just move on from it. He decided to push it down and just...tuck it away. Perhaps things would just get better after all; just like Damien was saying. However, there was still something he couldn't seem to shake.

While he had voiced his agreement, the idea of Aiden leaving because he couldn't work things out with Damien made him feel even worse; somehow even worse than this unfinished business with Damien. Aiden was NOT like the handful of others who had departed from Leon's Claw. Aiden was special...important. He didn't want to see him go!

"...and in a few weeks your ribs will be healed! Guh...I'm so bored. I can't wait to get back in the air again," Damien was saying beside him. He appeared not to notice Vincent's quick-sinking depression. Perhaps it was better that way, Vincent figured. He really didn't want to upset Damien even more tonight. He was tired and growing more and more exhausted. Honestly, he just wanted to be done. He wanted to be alone. More than anything, he just wanted to escape. However, Vincent noticed Damien didn't seem ready to leave anytime soon. He'd have to do something about that.

"You're right!" Vincent replied with a small smirk, nudging Damien gently with his elbow as an idea had suddenly come to him. All he had to do was play along to keep Damien in a good enough mood. "Just a few more weeks. You're worried about being bored right? So why don't you keep yourself entertained by going to your family's gathering?" Damien opened his mouth and was about to interrupt but Vincent turned in Damien's arm and quickly added, "I know you want to stay here with me but all I'm going to be doing is sitting around. Boring. I'm boring."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"I am pointing out the benefits if you go...such as the amazing food you KNOW will be there and you can share all your new adventures with everyone. It's been a long while since you've been there. You know everyone loves to hear when you tell a story! It would be fun!"

Damien gave a smug smirk and shrug as Vincent stroked his ego. He was right: everyone DID enjoy a good story and Damien had plenty to share now. The younger generations of his family all seemed to look up to him. It never failed to boost his ego.

"Honestly," Vincent continued, "you won't miss a thing. I intend to spend the next few weeks with my nose in a book."

"You'd rather choose a book over my company? How nice."

"Hmph! I keep telling you I'm not nice!"

Damien laughed and lifted his arm off of Vincent's shoulder so he could turn and face him properly as he leaned against the railing. Vincent turned fully to face him and gave him a small, amused smirk. "There are no plans except to sit and rest. Honest. No more adventures for me for a while. I am going to be resting. Bernadette's orders. Go with your sister. Go enjoy your vacation away and just have fun! You deserve it! You'll be back in three weeks from now, yes? By then my ribs should be good enough to go sailing! You and I can go together and then you can tell me all about your trip. It will give us both something to look forward to!"

"Fine," Damien finally agreed with a small chuckle. "I suppose you're right." He chuckled before he reached over his head and stretched and felt his back pop where he needed it and let himself drift off with thoughts of going to his family reunion after all.

"Good! It's decided!" Vincent agreed before Damien could change his mind. He had to fight to actually sigh with relief. While he truly did enjoy Damien's friendship, right now he really needed time away from him. It was best just to let him be happy and just...get past this for now. Maybe one day they could actually talk this out like he wanted to. He also figured that this time apart might be just what Damien and Aiden needed as well.

"Well since I'm here why don't we have dinner at The Fat Lady's? We can celebrate getting past all this messy business!" Damien was saying, but already Vincent felt his stomach lurch at the idea; especially at the mention of the tavern where Thorn and Micah had accused him of gambling. He smiled weakly and shook his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I will need to postpone. Why don't we celebrate tomorrow instead?"

"How come?"

"How come? Because I am not ready to go out tonight. I have a headache brewing, my ribs are aching, and I was not prepared for company let alone ready to go out in public tonight." Vincent pleaded exhaustedly. He just wanted to be left alone! And indeed, Damien finally began to see how tired Vincent looked. He did look a bit pale, didn't he? His brow furrowed in concern and asked, "Vincent, why didn't you say so? I could have just come back another time!"

Vincent fought back the knee-jerk reaction of angrily calling Damien a rather creative, colorful name. Instead, he sighed and just snorted at the irony of the situation and went to head back inside. Damien could have started with that when he first arrived! he thought.

Finally Vincent managed in a convincing voice as he paused at the door: "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Come on. I'll see you out."

NEXT PART:

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To read the rest of the story, here's the album link:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127

***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

Special thank you to my husband Vin (Be My Mannequin? Pose Store) for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

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Bruce and Edwyn are brothers and Gulf war veterans. After serving in 1991, they felt abandoned once they came back home. The fell into a life of drugs and alcohol. it leads them to become homeless during 20 years. Edwyn is very sick. Thanks to the VA (veteran affairs) program, they found a place to live.

Fabien Lasserre © all rights reserved

My old combat comrade sent me this today.

The picture scared me and made me think.

I am repaired today.

Partly.

The mental scars are still on a mend.

I still feel ashamed over my physical scars.

I have counted to 77 centimetres of scars on the upper body.

Go figure.

My spouse have told me she loves all the scars because it shows I am alive and here.

She finally has made me shower with her, completely naked.

It took her five years.

FIVE years. She´s sure is patient.

Author's Note: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter and may be triggering to some individuals. Scenes of abuse of various forms are represented as not only for storytelling, but to raise awareness of what this behavior looks like. Abusive behavior in this story includes, but is not limited to: physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, intentional triggering of another's PTSD, and trauma. In no way are these scenes intended to purposely trigger or harm anyone.

...

"Time to wake up, pretty boy! If I'm not getting any sleep tonight then neither are you!"

The jarring, loud sound of a metal object clanging on the metal bars of the cell followed by the angry, taunting voice of Micah had violently jerked Vincent out of what he had hoped would be time to rest. However that seemed not to be the case. Already shivering from the cold and in the most extreme amount of pain he'd felt in a long time radiating through his entire body, Vincent was not looking forward to whatever Micah had planned for him.

Micah had seen Vincent violently jump upon his loud arrival but found his frustration rising as Vincent's body settled on the wooden hanging pallet once again. There was no further acknowledgement on Vincent's behalf that Micah was even there.

"HEY! I'm talking to you!"

Again, there was no response from Vincent.

"I know you're not deaf, you one eyed freak!"

Micah heard a very faint sigh come from the other side of the cell which prompted him to keep talking. So he'd struck a nerve, had he? Micah walked over to place the torch in his hand up on the wall as he continued to speak.

"I hope you are enjoying your accommodations, Freak. After everything, it's more than you deserve. Hells, I heard you were supposed to be more of a gentleman; the notorious Captain Vincent Dubois! Heh, that's if you could call a drunk like you a gentleman. I mean just look at you: dirty, smelling of alcohol and filth...and such an ugly face with those scars."

He glanced over at the unmoving Vincent as Vincent's strained voice finally reached Micah's ears: "Do you mind? I'm trying to sleep." Vincent gave a bored sigh and actually closed his eyes, visibly trying to settle onto the uncomfortable pallet.

Micah stared at Vincent's back, wanting more and more as each second passed to wrap his hands around his throat and end him right here and now for being the cause of all the hardships he was enduring tonight! Reaching into his pocket, Micah pulled out the ring of keys and went to the lock to let himself in. If anything, maybe he could beat some sense into the quiet prick who fucked everything up between Thorn and him!

Vincent heard the sound of the keys clanging and the lock being unlocked. It was only a moment later that the cell door opened and was quickly shut once again with a loud clang! Vincent quietly took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Feeling Micah's rough hands on his arm and shoulder, Vincent clenched his teeth at the painful yank as he was literally pulled off the pallet and thrown hard onto his back upon the cold, stone floor! Pain immediately flared to life through his entire body!

Micah pressed the sole of his boot onto Vincent's shoulder to keep him on his back and deliberately dug the point of his boot into his shoulder. Vincent's teeth clenched as he tried to focus, determined not to let Micah see how much pain he was in.

"I told you," Micah growled as he leaned over Vincent, pressing harder into his shoulder, "that you are NOT sleeping tonight." Micah's lips curled slightly into a smirk, waiting for Vincent to cry out or plead for him to stop. Instead, he was surprised to see Vincent roll his eyes and give a small sigh.

"Aw, is the puppy sad he doesn't get to sleep at his Master's feet tonight?" Vincent antagonized him in a bored voice, pushing past the intense pain surging through his body. Micah's eyes widened and the smirk quickly dropped from his face as Vincent actually snorted and glanced off to the side towards the window. "Can't blame him. All bark and no bite; couldn't even put me down yourself. Some puppy...tame and useless."

By now, that smirk was long gone and Micah felt a rage consume him that he'd not felt before! With no warning, Micah took his boot off of Vincent's shoulder and sent the heel of his boot kicking hard into Vincent's ribs directly over a deep cut he'd gotten during their earlier fight in the city.

Vincent, having already expected such an attack, merely grunted despite the feeling and sound of his ribs cracking under the heel of Micah's boot! He winced ever so slightly, keeping himself in check. He refused to let Micah see how badly it really hurt. Fuck, did it hurt!

"SHUT UP!!!" came Micah's enraged scream. Seeing that Vincent had barely reacted despite the hard kick, Micah became enraged! He wanted Vincent to hurt! He wanted to see him scream and beg for relief, whereas Vincent was barely giving any reaction to anything he was doing to him!

Dropping down while Vincent was still steadying himself at the kick, Micah pressed his hands to Vincent's shoulders and dug in his fingers, moving to straddle his hips as he leaned down and snarled in his face, "EVERYTHING WAS GOING JUST FINE UNTIL WE HAD TO DRAG YOUR UGLY FACE OUT HERE!"

Grunting from Micah's weight and breathing heavily, Vincent glared up into Micah's eyes and said in a challenging voice, "You didn't HAVE to drag my ass anywhere! What? You couldn't stand the embarrassment of losing to me? Trying to prove a point?" As Micah opened his mouth to respond, Vincent cut right in and added, "Or does this have to do with you guys lying about my betting? Hmm?"

Micah's eyes widened as he stared down at him, clearly surprised by Vincent seemingly calling him out on multiple levels. Even though his lips were parted, he couldn't even formulate a response! All he could do was glare down at Vincent which caused Vincent to smirk up at him and remark, "Oh look....now he can't even bark. Cat got your tongue?"

...Meanwhile, Aiden had followed his informant's instructions and made his way across the southern river bridge and then took a left along the river. Now he'd reached a quieter part of town; the kind where the silence was eerie and people tended to mind their own business. Aiden squared his shoulders and reached down to slide his fingers through the lantern's ring and lifted him as if he were any other lantern and continued along his way with determination.

It had only been in recent years that the peelers* had been officially formed and grew into power across the nation. Prior to their creation, there were private jailers who were called upon to serve personal justice for a price. It didn't matter who was guilty or not as long as you paid enough. But ever since the rise of the peelers, their private operations had been put to a halt and deemed illegal. However there were rumors that some still operated in secret through dealings with the local officials; such as the one Thorn seemed to run.

When told what to look for, Aiden knew exactly what the man was talking about. If Vincent had really gone and crossed someone who ran a place like that, that was just bad luck!

Near the edge of town, he came across a large house-like building that looked more like a small fortress built into a hill that was a distance from the other buildings. With the river serving as noise cancellation, he knew he was in the right place. It seemed this one was still privately owned as some of them were; turned into large houses with rather large wine cellars. But from what his informant had told him, the jail was still very much in use.

Studying the large building, Aiden could see light coming from the top floor in a room but there wasn't much light coming from anywhere else. Clearly, there was no one keeping watch. Praying that his informant was right and that this wasn't just someone's house, Aiden set Pete down and quickly strode across the yard and began to peek along the wall. Along the curve of the hill, away from prying eyes of the street or across the river, were heavy cellar doors leading downstairs.

Determination fueled Aiden as he quickly made his way along the wall heading towards the cellar doors. As he did, he noticed a dim firelight coming from what appeared to be a small set of cell bars to let in light and air right by the ground. In fact, there were a few of them but only one had dim light coming from it! Approaching, Aiden's brow furrowed as he heard an enraged shout of frustration over the sound of the river.

"SHUT UP!"

Aiden's stomach lurched at the sound and quickly found himself on his hands and knees, peeking through the bars! What he saw made him see red! Laying in the dimly lit cell on the ground, beaten and bloody was Vincent! And he was towered over by a very angry Micah who was setting his foot down, clearly having just kicked him! Aiden barely had a chance to admire Vincent's ability to keep from crying out before he was scrambling for the cellar doors!

Wrenching the teeth of his wrench into the lock, Aiden pushed hard and broke the lock over the doors and heaved the doors open! Adrenaline was pumping through his veins with his desperation to rescue Vincent! Maybe he could distract Micah somehow! Letting the heavy wooden doors drop to the dirt, Aiden could see a stairwell going down, moonlight pouring in from behind him and illuminating his way into a very apparent dungeon type of cells. "Pete, come on!" Aiden growled, grasping his wrench tightly and hurrying down the steps, Pete clicking and scrambling after him.

As soon as Aiden turned the corner, he was greeted with the sight of Vincent laying on his back in a locked cell with Micah on top of him, pinning him and snarling angrily down at him as Vincent began to try pushing Micah out of his face!

"You-!" Micah began but he was quickly cut off as Aiden slammed his wrench against the bars, causing both Micah and Vincent to jump and turn their attention to Aiden with wide, startled eyes.

"HEY, YOU PATHETIC SHIT! GET OFF OF HIM!"

---

Vocabulary:

*Peeler(s)- the term used in early 1800s in England for the first professional policemen and were known in slang terms as "bobbies"; named for Sir Robert Peel who founded them (info found on Google)

---

Next Part:

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---

To start from the beginning or to read another chapter, here's the album link:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127

***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

Special thank you to Vin Aydin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

And thank you to Toxzen Owo for starring as Micah!

~

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Disclaimer: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter involving of death of family and the PTSD that comes with it and may be triggering to some individuals.

...

Vincent lifted his gaze from the picture and leaned his head back against the pillow propped up behind him and closed his eyes. Right now, he was very grateful to his cousin and her bhang concoctions. If not for that, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to get through this today. Honestly he was still uncertain if he still actually could do this.

But as Vincent settled in, a slight smile drew upon his lips as he began to speak as he let him go back four years ago. And as he did, Aiden relaxed more beside him and listened to his story.

"I suppose this story began with my promotion to Captaincy. My uncle is very much a generous man as much as he is proud. He threw a ball to celebrate me. After all, I was the son he never had and it was expected of us. I was to greet and receive endless congratulations by many Captains and their wives, several Lords and Ladies and the worst ones of all." There was a dramatic pause. "Marriage-minded mothers and their daughters."

Vincent actually shuddered which made Aiden laugh softly. But at the same time, it put Vincent in a somewhat new perspective for him: Vincent was not just any ship's captain. He came from a wealthy family; perhaps even possibly related to a Lord or Lady! He supposed he should have realized that last week when Vincent mentioned being required to attend a huge event such as the coming masquerade ball.

"So a couple of hours into my endless parade of greetings and congratulations I happened upon a conversation of a small group discussing horror novels."

"Sounds like something you could get into."

"Indeed. Shh."

"Sorry."

"As I approached, the main speaker turned out to be a woman elaborating about a book she'd read. It turned out to be by the same author who wrote the book you gave me. Her audience had been quite shocked as she spun the summarized tale of how a scorned witch took bloody revenge on all those who'd wronged her. And trust me, it was absolutely tame compared to the novel itself. No one seemed to know what to say. And so when I announced that I knew the novel she was speaking of and that I'd enjoyed it, myself, she'd turned in excitement with such a brilliant smile. She promptly took my arm and, I quote, 'Now HERE'S someone worth talking to! Hello, good Sir, my name is Miss Emily Fenton. It's a pleasure to meet you. Shall we grab some lemonade together?' And as I escorted her away she mentioned the party had been dull until I arrived and that I was right on time."

Both men chuckled softly and Aiden thought to himself that Vincent's wife must have been a very interesting woman. He was very amused that Vincent imitated an enthusiastic young woman's voice quite well.

"She really turned my world upside down. I remember thinking to myself, how did I not notice her before? As it turned out, she was a visiting cousin of an acquaintance of the family. I remember the details of her eyes, those little flecks of green that encircled her iris. How she smelled of lilies which happened to be her favorite flower. She had this sly smile which was so full of mischief and had the most twisted sense of humor which I adored. But you'd never know the depth of her by looking at her. Oh, she would smile and act as a lady should be in public. Well....mostly. She was sharp, witty, and very well-read. She was a scholar and loved to delve into book after book. But her mind and the things that would come out of her mouth! And she'd do it with a straight face too! And you'd never see it coming!"

And Vincent was laughing! Aiden grinned and he listened, painting this picture in his head of the eventual Mrs. Emily Dubois. She seemed quite the character! She sounded like someone Vincent could easily get along with and clearly did.

Vincent's laughter quickly settled and he licked his lips before reaching for the cup of bhang tea beside him and drained the rest of it. He knew by the end of this, he was going to need it in his system. It had been a couple of years since he'd really talked about any of this. The last time had been to Damien and it hadn't given him as much closure as he'd have liked. Of course, Damien had been there to witness the majority of it all and hadn't needed explanations. He'd simply been there as a shoulder for Vincent to lean on. Sure, talking to Damien HAD helped and eventually he was able to get through each day again but...something about this time was different. He was able to let it flow differently this time as he got to tell the actual whole story to someone for the first time. It felt good to finally talk about it.

"You have to know something about me. Well, about who I was. I was married to my career. I loved everything about my life in the sky and had everything I wanted. I had no need for marriage at the time. I was young; only twenty-three. I wasn't expected to look for a wife for several years and even so I didn't have to. I was a captain! I could live my life completely in the air if I wanted to! And it was what I did want. My thirst for knowledge paired beautifully with my love of travel and I could chart any course and go anywhere and learn anything I wanted when I wanted. I knew what my life would be. That was until I met Emily.

"I hadn't realized how much sharing the joys of sharing one's life with another person could be until I found myself in her presence nearly every day. She was a fascinating woman and very knowledgeable and well read. She was always happy to hear about places and things I've seen. In turn, I was happy to listen to her talk about her novels and things she'd learned in her studies and we shared deep, intellectual conversations. We became fast friends, but I knew it was more than that. I found myself waking every day with her in my thoughts. She had quickly become someone I had to keep in my life and she seemed to fit perfectly somehow. I felt alive in a new, different way.

"Of course it was perfectly possible for me to have a wife and live my life too. After all, I had grown up watching the love between my uncle and aunt and they had married young as well. My uncle was gone most of the time; home during Summers and occasionally throughout the year for important holidays and still does it to this day. And every time they are together, you can see the love and happiness they share together. It's as clear as day. And they are more in love than the day they married. And even then, I knew it. So I knew I could make it work with Emily if she were willing. Of course, fate would have it that I found out that Emily was due to return home and would be leaving the capitol the following week. It would be a long time before we would see each other in person. After all, she didn't live in a major port and I was due to start my first trip as captain soon. I was expecting to subject myself to written correspondence with her. But when I saw that forlorn look in her eyes and how she admitted that she'd miss seeing my face? Well, what else could I do but ask her to marry me?"

Vincent blinked and tears slid down his cheeks in memory of Emily as he saw her in her bridal gown and how she'd glowed that day. "We were happy. I knew my life would be perfect. Emily understood me and the expectations of my life. No, we wouldn't be together every day but we'd see each other more often than if she was going back to her hometown. She was happy and eager to get our lives started together. She'd made friends with my cousins and had her own cousin in town as well. She'd have a happy life here and once we had children, her days would be more joyful. She was looking forward to becoming a mother one day."

How wonderful Vincent made it seem! Of course, Aiden knew how this story would end. But it was important, he realized, for Vincent to talk about this...about her and their life. Something told him he'd not told this story before. Not like this. Aiden felt his heart go out to Vincent and he continued to listen to Vincent's story.

"As you can imagine, it was a very short engagement and a small wedding. I'd gotten us a place big enough for us and a little one for when we were ready. With all the excitement of a ball held in my honor, wooing my lady, and becoming a husband, I'd taken time off from work for quite some time. But it was time for me to get back into the swing of life and provide for my wife and our home together. So the day finally came where Damien and I were to set off for our first cargo trip on Leon's Claw. And that's when she gave me this."

Vincent leaned over and reached for the compass and brought it to his lap and opened it up. He held it along with the picture frame and just stared for a long moment. Aiden gazed at the compass over Vincent's shoulder with new appreciation. He'd noticed the slight smoothness of the spots where Vincent's fingers had rubbed it when he'd repaired it a few months ago. It was a well loved piece to have so much wear in such a short amount of time. And he'd certainly not forgotten Vincent's distraught expression when it had broken.

"'Though pleas`d to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way,'" * Vincent recited the inscription inside the compass. "She said that it was to help me remember to stay my course; to seek to enjoy life and all it has to offer and to always help me find my way home. She was worried I'd find it silly and corny but I loved her for it."

"It was a thoughtful gift."

"It really is. I was touched."

Vincent closed the compass and held it tight in his hand for a long moment. He licked his lips and then glanced up at Aiden who gave him a small encouraging smile. But Vincent saw that something was off about Aiden and how he was smiling. A small part of him wanted to turn and reassure Aiden...but what was there to reassure him about? He wasn't sure what was wrong but he just seemed a little...despondent. Perhaps it was because he knew it was a sad story? Or was there something else bothering him?

"So what happened next?" Aiden inquired softly, not realizing that Vincent was reading him so well. Vincent gazed at him for another long moment, blinking a couple of times as he allowed himself to tuck this mental inquiry about Aiden away to think about later.

"What happened next? Well, I started my new life as Captain. I felt like I was living my best life! I was having a grand time with one of my best friends and got to live my dream every day. It was everything I hoped it would be. Though, I admit that for somewhat selfish reasons, we didn't stray too far from home." Vincent chuckled slightly to himself which drew a small smirk from Aiden. "Damien was pretty annoyed with me, I think. I had made him wait and wait while I courted my wife and then we were only gone not even a full two months before we came home again. And that's when I found out that I was to become a father." Aiden could see the joy through the sadness and tears that were forming in Vincent's eyes.

"Six months or so later my daughter was born: Lily. She...she had my eyes and hair and her mother's nose and mouth. Lily was so small but she was healthy and perfect. She was my pride and joy." The tears spilled down Vincent's face as he let out a soft sob and yet he still managed a bittersweet smile as he gazed up at Aiden. "I wish I could show you...she was so beautiful and sweet. She never cried and loved being held. I never realized that I could be that happy. And then...then much too soon it was time for me to go."

And here Vincent's smile faded and he drew his knees up a little and his shoulders sunk. His gaze returned to the photograph. Aiden knew what was going to happen next. This was where Vincent's world would be ripped from him.

"There had been talk of illness in neighboring countries with major air and sea ports. In my line of work, I was at risk but it wasn't like I could stop with a family to provide for. And we lived in a city of massive commerce. She was scared of never seeing me again but I still chose to go."

Beside him, Aiden felt his heart suddenly clench even worse. He remembered all too well when that happened just over three years ago. There had been rumors and people were scared. But it never seemed to come and people began to wonder if maybe it was just a hoax. Then suddenly it hit with ferocity everywhere that had air and sea ports, rumored to have come thanks to commerce and the critters that resided on the ships. Aiden's hometown was a city of commerce and sure enough it had claimed many lives there including that of his own mother who was prone to illness more easily than others.

"It was the hardest farewell I'd ever had to make," Vincent continued painfully. "I kissed my wife and baby and went on my way." Vincent inhaled deeply and let it out sharply before swallowing hard and gave a small nod. Aiden had a feeling he was having to push himself to keep talking at this point.

"Then 'this,'" Vincent grumbled and gestured aggressively towards his blind and damaged eye, "happened." He inhaled slowly and deeply through his nostrils as fresh tears began to pool in his eyes. "While Damien and I were recovering, news came that the capitol had been ravaged by the illness; especially in the poorer parts of town. I prayed that my family would be safe, all of them. But then that's when I got the letter from Emily. Our little Lily was sick, but it had been dated a couple of weeks earlier! I wanted to get home right away but no one was flying or sailing out; especially to the capitol. And, of course, mail was not getting out nearly as quickly anymore.

"We weren't far from here but it wasn't close at all if you traveled on land. And, of course, Leon's Claw needed repairs and Damien had suffered a severe trauma with losing his arm saving me. I was stuck! It took a week to get the proper repairs done so I could fly home myself. Thankfully Damien was fitted for his arm and I could get home to my wife and daughter! I prayed to whatever powers may be that Lily would be okay. I STILL hadn't heard from anyone even though I'd sent letters! Not Emily, my cousins, nor my aunt. Nothing. All I knew was my baby was sick! And when we arrived at the capitol, my cousin Abigail was waiting for me. I knew it the moment I saw it was her waiting there for me; not Emily. I was too late!"

At this point, Vincent was just letting it all out. Now that he was talking and crying, he just couldn't seem to stop! Aiden felt like he couldn't breathe as his heart kept breaking more and more for Vincent.

"It wasn't only my little Lily that I'd lost! I'd lost Emily, too! Emily died the day before I arrived home and Lily three days before! It's not fair! I lost them BOTH!!! Lily and Emily died ALONE while I was stuck two cities away! I wasn't there with them! She asked me to stay but I didn't! What kind of a man am I?! I should have stayed!"

Aiden cried silently beside Vincent as he gazed at the distraught man. What could he say? What could he do? What could possibly console Vincent with something as heartbreaking as this?

So this was why Vincent had spoken to him the way he had when they had met, Aiden realized. He was remembering as he repaired the compass Vincent had spoken to him about Aiden's convictions and determination to leave home. Vincent had tried to convince him that it would be better to stay home with his family. But Aiden had been determined that he wanted this. The feelings and reasonings that Aiden had come back with that had apparently convinced Vincent to hire him seemed like they would be something the late Emily would have encouraged. And quite possibly, it seemed, Vincent had seen a bit of himself in Aiden at the time.

Aiden swallowed hard as the realizations hit him. It took him a minute but he finally got his thoughts together before he spoke softly.

"But at least you have that final memory of them. Of kissing them goodbye and-"

"NO! I DON'T! Just...don't even! You have NO idea!"

Aiden had jumped at Vincent's strangled, sudden outburst! Then Vincent suddenly gave a wrenched sob as he pressed his hands to his face and sobbed even harsher than Aiden had heard thus far. Seconds later, he wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them quite painfully towards his chest. In his agonized state of being, as well as the intoxication from the bhang, Vincent didn't care about the physical pain flaring to life in his abdomen! Aiden wanted to stop him but right now he didn't dare say or do anything as he stared wide eyed at Vincent.

"You just don't know, Aiden!" Lifting his gaze, he stared up into Aiden's eyes desperately. Aiden had the impression that Vincent was almost pleading with him to understand.

"I wanted to remember them forever like that. Of my wife's smile and my daughter looking so perfect in her arms as I kissed them farewell. I would have that memory and all our happy memories to sustain me. I felt like I was in a daze as I made my way home. Then that's...that's when..."

Vincent closed his eyes and tears slid down his cheeks as the memory came back so painful and fresh as if it happened just yesterday. When he opened them, he was gazing back at Aiden and continued, this time his voice more calm but every bit as heart-wrenching as he said in a near whisper, "I came home as their bodies were being carried out of the building and tossed onto the cart with the other corpses. And the workers they...they just were talking so casually about them and the way they tossed their bodies onto the pile I- I just-"

And he cut himself off and buried his face in his knees and sobbed. He found that he just couldn't stop. Beside him, Aiden sat in shock as all this unfolded. Vincent was inconsolable, but he needed this. Who knew how long he'd kept this torment inside? Surely, he'd never broken down like this before! This seemed too fresh. Aiden wasn't sure what to say to any of that. What could someone say to that?

"And every time I sleep, the dreams always end the same way! I kiss them goodbye and then I see their corpses like that! EVERY! TIME! And I know how alone she was! How miserable and scared she must have been! I should have been there with them! What did I do to deserve this?! I don't want to do this anymore, Aiden! I should have died with them! I don't want to be here anymore! I want to die but I'm too much of a coward to end it all myself!"

And suddenly Vincent was wrapped in the warmth of Aiden's strong embrace before he was gently but firmly held close.

"Shh...shh..."

"Let go!"

At first Vincent started to push him off, but as he felt Aiden's hand come to cup the back of his head, he felt all his walls break down as he allowed himself to lean against Aiden's chest and actually clung to his shirt. The sobs came all over again, but this time they just did not stop coming. Aiden simply held him and pressed his nose and lips to the top of Vincent's head and closed his eyes. He didn't know what else to do but let him get it all out.

Some time had passed. Neither man had paid attention to the time, but eventually Vincent's sobs quieted and he hiccupped as he just leaned against Aiden in a quiet daze as he came down from all that. Aiden gently slid his hand down and rubbed Vincent's back. He wasn't in a hurry to let Vincent out of his arms right now. Once Vincent's breathing was back to normal, Aiden lifted his head and pressed his chin gently atop his head.

"I'm glad you're here, Vincent," he told him softly. "I'd miss you terribly if you were gone."

"Bet you wouldn't miss days like this."

"I'd not be anywhere else."

"You can't really mean that."

"Look at me."

And Vincent did. He sniffed and lifted his head from Aiden's chest and gazed up into his eyes. In a slightly bold move, Aiden reached up and gently brushed away Vincent's tears before stating calmly, "I'd not be anywhere else but here. I will always be here no matter what; whether that be a shoulder to lean on or-... or if you need a poking to lighten up and laugh once in a while. You are important to me, Vincent. You're my best friend."

Vincent's eyes widened and he felt his stomach flutter to life with butterflies. Aiden must truly feel strongly about their bond! Of course, Vincent knew of friendships like this. He had a small group of people he trusted and he was so thankful that Aiden was part of that circle now. And he had to admit that he loved that Aiden could speak his thoughts so freely with him and threw caution and vulnerability to the wind. And Vincent felt like he could as well and it felt liberating each and every time. He felt more free to do so around Aiden than...well, he couldn't even remember!

"You're one of my closest friends too. I'm lucky to have you in my corner, Aiden. I don't know what I did to deserve you. but thank you."

"Of course. I'll always have your back. Always."

Aiden wanted to tell Vincent the truth of his romantic feelings. He truly did. However, he knew that right now was not the time for it; especially not after Vincent's awful breakdown over his dearly missed wife. And as for Aiden, when he'd asked Vincent to talk about Emily, he hadn't expected to compare himself to her the way he unintentionally had. It was hard not to feel a touch of doubt considering he wanted to win Vincent's heart, himself. Aiden and Emily were quite different people. Would Vincent even want him, a man? Would he be open to finding love again to begin with?

Aiden still had every intention of wooing Vincent and telling him the truth one day. He just needed to go about things differently now that he understood how deeply Vincent was hurting.

However, Vincent still needed him as his friend, so romance was not an option right now, but perhaps one day, Aiden thought. He'd just have to be part of his life and hopefully one day things would work out so that Vincent would come to feel he needed Aiden the same way that Aiden needed him.

A very short time later once Vincent was more settled, Aiden released him from his arms and they moved back into the positions they had been in before Bernadette's departure. Vincent was grateful for Aiden's help shifting around before the young man settled in, himself. Vincent had wrenched his body around during his breakdown and now his ribs ached badly. Though thankfully soon after, he wasn't even paying attention to anything else but his new book as his body settled down from all the excitement and the pain became more bearable again.

When Bernadette returned from her errands, she found the men where she'd left them: content and happy beside each other with Vincent nose-deep into his book and Aiden scribbling in his notebook. And she thought silently to herself with a smile, 'Is it just me or are they sitting closer than before?'

At one point very soon after, Vincent needed a moment of privacy to use the bedpan. But as soon as he was done and the bedpan cleaned? Well Aiden was back on the bed beside his best friend and enjoying his company. But what really gave Aiden a reason to smile was when Vincent actually refrained from opening his book and turned to ask Aiden what he was doing in his notebook.

"I'm designing upgrades for Pete!"

"Pete?"

"Pete the Spider Lantern! You met him already."

"Wait. Are you talking about that lantern that came with you to find me?"

"That's the one!"

And that was when Aiden launched into an explanation about Pete and showed him the sketches he'd made of Pete with little added parts to enhance him. Vincent had almost forgotten about the lantern that had come to the tower with Aiden. He remembered now that Aiden had come back from one of his shopping trips a while back with the lantern and declared that he had a project he wanted to work on with it. That was the last Vincent had seen or heard of it until last week when Aiden came to rescue him with it as at his side.

A couple of minutes later there was a knock at the front door to which Bernadette went to answer it. She wasn't expecting anyone else today so who could it be? Surely, not Damien. It was Aiden's turn this evening to babysit Vincent with her tonight. However, it DID turn out to be Damien after all and in his arms were two bags of groceries!

"Damien! We weren't expecting you but thank you! You're spoiling us." She grinned up at him and closed the door behind him.

"You're welcome. And what do you mean? I'm helping out with dressings tonight, remember?"

"Oh!" She paused as she reached to help with the groceries as she thought about it, arms outstretched. "Wait...are you sure?"

At that second, there was a burst of laughter from the other room that belonged to Aiden. Damien glanced towards the room then looked back at Bernadette with a slight smirk and handed her both bags and replied, "Of course I am! You must be tired. Don't worry, Bernie. I'm sure you'll be able to catch up on rest soon." Damien patted her on the shoulder and turned to head towards the bedroom to see what was going on in there.

Bernadette blinked and stood there with the bags of groceries as she stared at his departing backside. She opened her mouth then closed it before looking at the weighty bags in her arms. Feeling a bit confused and a touch irritated, she turned and made her way towards the kitchen and grumbled, "Asshole."

Then a moment later...

"What do you think you're doing?!"

Aiden jumped and blinked as he looked up and around to see who shouted. It was Damien at the door and he looked pretty upset! Why was Damien here anyway? Today was his day off, wasn't it? Aiden opened his mouth but beside him, Vincent was faster to respond with a slightly stern tone, "What's the problem?"

Damien kept his eyes on Aiden and elaborated, "You shouldn't be on the bed! What if Vincent gets hurt worse because of your jostling!"

"Damien, I'm fine!" Vincent cut in before Aiden could even respond and rolled his eyes with a chuckle. "Relax! Here, have some bhang tea."

"I don't want tea!"

Damien scowled and folded his arms over his chest as he glared at the two of them. Vincent narrowed his eyes at Damien and sat up a bit straighter and gave him an even stare. Beside him, Aiden shrank where he sat. He wasn't going to get in the middle of this.

"What's really the problem?"

"I already told you!"

"No, you didn't but fine. Do you trust me?"

"Vincent-"

"Do. You. Trust. Me?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"Then trust me when I say I am fine! I'm not fragile! And in case you haven't noticed, Damien, I can handle a little bit of jostling." Vincent sarcastically gestured towards his beaten body. Then after a moment his gaze softened and he smiled a bit as he gestured towards Aiden's notebook. "Besides, Aiden is showing me his sketches! And he brought me a present! See?"

Instead of looking at whatever Vincent was holding up, Damien's gaze shifted towards Aiden who went a deep shade of red and brought his hand up to run through his hair with a shy chuckle and smile. Damien stared at him for a long moment before turning to look at what Vincent was holding out to him impatiently. Upon seeing what it was, Damien scoffed and chuckled, "Another book. Heh. Well, isn't that nice of him?"

Aiden blinked and made a slight face as he was feeling a little offended. And honestly? A little surprised. 'Another book?' he wanted to ask. Did he not know his own supposed best friend enough to know how much he loved and valued books? Surely, he had to! But even Aiden (who didn't enjoy novels the way Vincent did either) understood and appreciated what it meant to the man. And thankfully, it seemed, Vincent was of the same mind and jumped in his defense!

"It is, in fact! Look at it! Look! See who it's by?!" Vincent exclaimed eagerly with a grin. "It just released today!" In his excitement, Vincent had already brushed aside the intensity of Damien's arrival. He was used to Damien's worrywart personality by now and wanted to show off his present!

Aiden however, hadn't brushed it off yet. He knew he'd get over it, but right now he was still feeling a little sour towards Damien. 'What's with this guy?' he wondered silently as he watched Damien approach and ruin their alone time.

Damien finally took a seat on the chair beside Vincent. Even though he was looking at Vincent and listening to what he was saying, his mind was processing what he'd happened upon and the realizations that came with it.

So, Vincent had a brand new book and he hadn't shoved Aiden out the door? Not only that, he wasn't nose deep into it like Damien was used to him doing. His experiences had always taught him that Vincent liked to be left alone while reading, especially with a new book. So, why the Hell was Aiden allowed to be here? Damien certainly wasn't allowed to be! And wasn't this the second time Aiden had brought him a gift?

...was there something else going on between them that he didn't know about?

* "Though pleas`d to see the dolphins play, I mind my compass and my way." - Matthew Green

Inscription on the 'Madpea Compass' by MadPea which you can find on Marketplace!

---

Shout out to Stephen King and his book 'Carrie' for inspiring the book that Emily and Vincent were discussing during their meet-cute!

...

NEXT PART:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/52441785152/in/datepo...

To start from the beginning or to read another chapter, here's the album link:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127

***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

***

Special thank you to Vin Aydin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

And a special thank you to our guest star: Khetas Nova as our spunky Emily Dubois!

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**Trigger Warning** This chapter includes mildly gruesome details involving an accident and PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder).

After making sure Vincent was really asleep and as comfortable as possible, Aiden gently stood from the bed and tried to decide the best course of action. He knew he should just head back to the port but he found himself concerned for Vincent's sake. He stood there, staring at the sleeping figure of the captain as he warred with himself to make a decision. Finally, he decided it was best if he stayed. So finding the chaise on the opposite wall near the foot of the bed, Aiden curled up and got as comfortable as he could. To be honest, he was pretty tired from this evening's events. However, as Vincent slept nearby, Aiden found he couldn't sleep as his thoughts were consumed by Vincent and all the mystery around him.

The next morning, there was the sound of a quiet bump and slight movement of something quietly scraping across the floor. Aiden could feel himself starting to wake up but he didn't want to. He felt so comfortable! He shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of the sun upon his head and shoulders and it felt so nice. However, upon hearing a door quietly close, his eyes finally opened and he felt a little disorientated. It was really bright and he struggled to focus around him.

As Aiden shifted, he groaned softly to himself as his neck tensed from sleeping as he had on the chaise. Blinking, he looked around the room and his eyes began to adjust to the light which was when last night started to come back to him. He felt nervous. What did Vincent think of him staying here without permission? This could even cost him his job!

Aiden moved from the reclined position and began to sit up, swinging his feet down to the floorboards. He slid his hand up along the back of his neck, massaging with a yawn as he began to wake up more. As he did, he heard the sound of a door opening to his left. He glanced over and was surprised by what he saw, his eyes widening.

Vincent was standing there looking as shocked as he was, still dressed in his leather pants and black blouse with his hair in slight disarray and standing as if he was in pain. But what shocked Aiden was seeing both of Vincent's eyes open and uncovered for the first time. Aiden had seen the scar last night, but now he was seeing what lay underneath.

Whereas Vincent's left eye was a unique shade of blue that Aiden loved and reminded him of the sea, his right eye was oddly discolored an off-white and lightly veiny, the iris drained of color, and where his pupil would be looked to be a red mark which lined up with the scar on his brow and cheek as he stared straight ahead at Aiden.

Vincent, seeing the look of shock upon Aiden's face, licked his lips and quickly averted his gaze before he saw that disgust he was so accustomed to seeing. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing it in Aiden's eyes right now. He quickly walked to his luggage and hastily grabbed out a fresh pair of pants before ducking back into the restroom before Aiden could say or do anything.

Taken aback by how quickly all that just happened, Aiden stared at the closed door. Okay, that was unexpected. He wasn't sure what to think. It was not a pretty sight to see, certainly, but in truth Aiden didn't find himself put off by it. He'd just been surprised. But...what had happened?

Behind the closed door, Vincent began to strip down out of his clothes, silently cursing and scolding himself for making the mistake of not bringing the eyepatch with him. He hated the looks. He hated the disgust. Above all, he hated the pity. Once he'd changed out of his clothes, he set them aside and began to pull up the fresh pair of pants. That was much more comfortable. Sighing to himself, he unbraided his hair and ran his fingers through it and stared at himself in the small mirror, steeling himself so he could get through whatever was about to happen.

When Vincent emerged once again, he saw Aiden still seated on the chaise. Still not looking directly at Aiden, feeling afraid of what he'd see in his gorgeous eyes, he looked off to the side and began to approach. Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, he brought his hand up and began to toy with his hair and gave a soft clearing of his throat.

"I wanted to say thank you for...for your assistance last night in helping me find my way home. I am fine now."

Aiden had watched as Vincent approached. He'd expected Vincent to be stoic and professional about the whole thing but instead Vincent appeared so vulnerable. His body posture spoke volumes to the younger man.

Honestly, Aiden was bursting with questions! As he gazed at Vincent's face, he replied, "I couldn't have just left you there like that. I didn't mean to impose, but I was concerned and wanted to make sure you were alright this morning." Vincent rotated his head on his neck, willing the tension to release a bit more as he continued to avoid looking at Aiden. "I appreciate it, but I'm fine, thank you, Aiden. There's no need to be concerned."

Vincent turned away from Aiden and began to head towards the kitchen area of his flat. "Would you like some coffee before you go?" he asked, wishing Aiden would decline and leave and pretend like this whole thing hadn't happened.

Aiden bit his lower lip, then decided it was now or never. "Would you tell me what happened?" he asked in a gentle pleading tone. He watched Vincent's shoulders hunch slightly and noticed his head gazing down as he hugged himself. He could tell Vincent was warring with himself, which is exactly what was happening.

Vincent liked Aiden despite his initial uncertainty about the guy, but he didn't want to tell him more than he needed to know. He didn't like people getting close. Sure, he trusted Damien but Damien had been there for years and walked this journey with Vincent whereas he only knew Aiden for just a month. But somehow, he could feel his wall breaking down just a touch more. "What is there to say, Aiden? It was just an accident. It's not a pleasant story; kind of gruesome. You don't really want to hear it. Please trust me."

"But it will help me understand you better," Aiden replied, turning more on the chaise as he gazed at the back of Vincent's head. "I really do want to know. Please, Vincent?"

The moment his name left Aiden's lips, Vincent felt an odd warmth spread through his chest as his eyes closed. In the midst of his depressing, painful memories, the sound of the younger man's voice speaking his name to him seemed to ease the tension somehow. Slowly, he lowered his arms and turned to look at Aiden; finally looking right at him. He could see that concern and sincerity in those gorgeous eyes. There was no pity or disgust there. He saw Aiden's lips curve into a soft, encouraging smile where one of his dimples started peeking just a tiny bit.

"Has...has Damien told you anything?"

"Nothing, I swear."

Vincent looked away from Aiden and walked towards the window, folding his arms over his bare chest as he gazed out the window and beside the chaise. For a moment, he looked like he may not speak after all. Yet he gave a soft sigh and began to explain, choosing what to say with care.

"It was a little over three years ago," he began. "Leon's Claw was in port a few towns away from here and we were getting ready to depart." Vincent moved away from the window and began to slowly pace as he continued, hands coming up and running through his hair. "It was like any other day loading up cargo. I was standing on deck going over the ledger and doing the final count when it happened." Vincent took a deep breath then let it out as he let himself just...talk. "We were transporting a load of gunpowder and the box must have had some residue because there was an explosion. It was...a freak accident. We figured that one of the embers must have escaped the boilers and caught one of the crates as it was being lowered into the ship."

Aiden's eyes widened at the information before grimacing. "Oh no," he murmured. Vincent nodded, still pacing slowly as he forced himself to keep talking. "When the crates exploded, some of the thin metal shrapnel lodged itself into my eye." Vincent's hand came up to cover his right eye, the memory of the excruciating pain of the burning metal piercing his skull coming back. "I don't remember a whole lot, but I vaguely remember hearing Damien screaming my name and this... white hot, blinding pain radiating from my face." Vincent swallowed hard, pausing before the fireplace and placing his hands on the mantle. "I was told afterwards that I'd fallen to the ground right in the path of the falling mast. The explosion has broken it in half. He'd rushed to push me out of the way just in time but it landed on him instead; specifically his left upper arm."

Behind him, Aiden stared at his back with wide eyes and felt horror as he listened to the terrorizing story. "So that’s why Damien has a mechanical arm?" he inquired. Vincent's fingers clenched the mantle as he nodded, staring down at the empty fireplace. Biting his lower lip, he inhaled deeply through his nose below slowly letting it out before replying regretfully, "There was no saving it. He saved my life but lost his arm in the process. So I had it replaced for him."

Aiden licked his lips and brought his forearms to his knees as he leaned forward slightly, staring down at the floorboards as he processed everything. Damien was a prideful man who loved to boast; especially about himself. He sure knew how to tell a story, too! He'd saved Vincent's life and received a beautiful and powerful mechanical arm, a gift from his best friend. Aiden knew Damien was quite proud of it. He figured Damien would see it as proof of his heroism yet had never even mentioned it.

"I didn't realize- I'm sorry for my ignorance," he began before Vincent shook his head and cut him off. "Don't be," he responded quietly. "We agreed not to speak of it unless necessary for my sake. He knows I don't want or like the attention."

"I understa-"

"No, you don't!"

The cutting response was sharp and so unexpected it made Aiden jump! Vincent was hunched over the fireplace slightly, fingers curled and his fingernails scraping against the mantel. His body was tense as he clenched his teeth and inhaled deeply through his nose. "You don't know what it's like, Aiden! No one does and they NEVER will!" As his voice raised, he turned and began storming his way past Aiden, blindly pacing as he unleashed his pent up frustrations.

"Men never look me in the eyes anymore! Women whisper behind their fans and avoid my gaze at formal events and hope I won't look their way! I'm a fucking MONSTER! Even mothers on the street clutch their childr-" He cut himself off abruptly as he stood there facing Aiden, lips pressed together as his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. Aiden watched as Vincent's eyes flicked to the picture frame he'd kept beside his bed. A moment later in silence, Vincent turned and sat down on the edge of his bed facing away from Aiden, hunching forward with his forearms pressed to his knees. A moment later, his shoulders began to tremble as he pressed his face into his hands.

Aiden sat there for a long moment, eyes wide as he stared at Vincent from where he sat. He was stunned! It took him a moment to realize that Vincent was crying. Vincent looked so defeated as he sat there with his shoulders shaking as he silently sobbed. Aiden felt so lost as to what to say or do to this poor man who was so traumatized by his past. There had to be more to this than just the accident.

"Vincent, I'm so sorry. You're right, I don't know what it is like. But you are NOT a monster."

"Yes I am!"

"No, you're not. You are a good man."

"A good man would have been here in time! Fucking Hell! A good man would have not even left them in the first place! HOW AM I A GOOD MAN?!"

As Vincent broke into silent sobs once again, Aiden's gaze wandered towards the small picture frame of Vincent and the pregnant woman. An ominous feeling washed over him as he remembered hearing how bad the plague had hit the capital three years ago which was around the time of Vincent's accident. Was it possible that an injured, stranded Vincent couldn't get home to his wife and child in time?

Vincent was so sure that Aiden was going to think he was absolutely pathetic! If he hadn't lost the respect of his engineer before, he sure as bloody Hell did now! He tried to stop crying but he found now that he'd begun that he couldn't stop! Vincent felt the bed shift on his left, feeling embarrassed as he realized Aiden was sitting beside him on the bed.

It was about a minute later and Vincent's tears began to slow. He gave a sniff and wiped at his nose, feeling utterly embarrassed. He was about to apologize when he heard Aiden's soft voice pipe up beside him, "You know, I think you look quite dashing even without the eyepatch."

Vincent blinked in surprise, his teary eyes turning to look at Aiden. What was THAT supposed to mean?! "Y-you think I look dashing?" Vincent's cheeks blossomed in a rosy color as he glanced away in embarrassment. "I'm not dashing!" he exclaimed. "I'm not like...like...Damien! Damien is dashing. Me? Nuh uh!"

"Damien? Are you serious? He's like a damn peacock! 'Oh look at me! I'm so pretty! Worship me and my dashing good looks!'"

Vincent stared with wide eyes, lips parted in surprise as he witnessed Aiden imitating Damien with quite the accuracy; even going as far as to imitate his cocky smirk! And very suddenly and without warning, Vincent doubled over with laughter! Five seconds later, he caught himself and immediately stopped. He covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide in surprise as he stared at Aiden with an embarrassed blush coloring his cheeks! Aiden suddenly beamed, his dimples on full display as he placed his hand on Vincent's shoulder and said, "So you DO know how to laugh after all!" He chuckled and smirked slightly. "Don't worry, Captain, I won't tell anyone."

Vincent blinked and then started to laugh again, lowering his hands as he wrapped them around his own abdomen. "Oh God, Aiden! The Hell am I gonna do with you?!" he asked even as he chuckled and wiped away the tears from his eyes. Aiden simply gave a small smile and lowered his hands to his lap. "Let's start with that coffee. No pressure to talk. Only when you're ready, IF you're ready. Okay?"

Vincent gazed at him, surprise and uncertainty filling him at once. No pressure? No need to talk? Just coffee? Really? A slight smile tugged at the corner of Vincent's lips and he gave a small nod. "Okay."

For a long moment, the men sat side by side and gazed into each other's eyes. Vincent had been so afraid that he'd see disgust in Aiden's gorgeous blue eyes. Instead, he saw only acceptance. Vincent smiled a little more and then stood from the bed, wiping his eyes free of tears. Somehow, Aiden made it better just by being here. How did that kid manage to break his wall down like that?! There was just something about Aiden...

Aiden allowed his gaze to follow Vincent's retreating figure. As it did, his eyes wandered a bit and took in the sight of how his rear was hugged just the right way by his pants. Not wanting to be caught dead staring at THAT, his gaze shifted quickly and settled on Vincent's elaborate and beautiful Celtic-style raven tattoo. He found he admired how it curved around his slender body. Catching how Vincent's tattoo dipped down below his belt line of his pants, a small little smirk grew on Aiden's lips. As he bit his lower lip, he couldn't help but wonder...how far down DID that tattoo go?

Next Part:

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***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

***

**Special thank you to Vin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

~

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After Rossum gave us what we could, Linda and I decided to just call it a night. We'd have plenty of time tomorrow to get answers from our second contact. We'd need all the time we can get. You see, it's been a good 3 months since the shitshow in Wymarcie, and simple put it was a bigger shitshow for some of us than others. I still remember when we raided the fort. I was too busy putting down fire when poor Liz got cornered. A terrorist got around me and was about to waste her. She was quicker on the draw though, and blew his brains out. For Linda and I that's a Tuesday night. She's not us, though. She's....normal. Human. Pure. Needless to say the last 3 months haven't been fun. I think she's been seeing a therapist but she still hasn't really been her usual cheerful self. It's hard to look at her without feeling guilty. I should've never asked her to come to Wymarcie with me....but if she didn't we'd all be dead. Fuck. First thing in the morning Linda and I stop by her clinic. We walk into her office and she's there at her desk. She doesn't smile when she sees us.....

JD: "Hey, Liz..."

EV: "Hello, Cousin."

LT: "You seen the news, Doc?"

EV: "No, Chérie. I stopped watching the news a long time ago. I don't need more reasons to feel horrible."

JD: "....haaaaaahh...."

LT: "Well, a couple nights ago a militia attacked an art auction and killed alot of people. We were there when it happened."

EV : "Oh, fantastique. More monsters shooting people. Just what the world needs."

JD: "We're handle them, don;t worry. Thing is though they're....advanced. They've got robots. Big scary ones. And their head honcho's a cyborg."

LT: "We did some digging and learned about a guy called Dr. Peter Corso."

EV: "Corso?"

"JD: "Ring a bell?"

EV: "Oui. I worked with him briefly at STAR labs. Brilliant man. His skills and knowledge of cybernetics would save countless lives if he ever got the chance to finish his work."

JD: "That's our guy, but....he never finished his work?"

EV: "It was roughly 10 years ago, shortly before I was fired. I was going to Corso's office, but when I came around the hall I saw him leaving with a man in a black suit. No-one has seen him since."

LT: "That's it? He just...picked up and left with some guy?"

EV: "That's all I know. If I knew more I'd tell you...."

JD: "What was Corso like? Would he...build a cyborg to lead a large, murderous militia?"

EV: "I wouldn't believe it, but you really don't know anyone until time worst time, even yourself. Don't you, cousin?"

JD: "......"

LT: "......"

EV: ".....I-I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I--"

JD: "It's okay. I understand."

EV: "..........."

JD: "....you alright? You need anything?"

EV: "I'm fine, Cousin."

"JD: "O-okay. Well, we got what we need, so we'll leave you alone, I guess..."

I'm so sorry, Liz.....

Author's Note: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter and may be triggering to some individuals. Scenes of abuse of various forms are represented as not only for storytelling, but to raise awareness of what this behavior looks like. Abusive behavior in this story includes, but is not limited to: physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, intentional triggering of another's PTSD, and trauma. In no way are these scenes intended to purposely trigger or harm anyone.

...

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Vincent! Are you home?!"

Aiden was jolted awake by an offending loud noise coming from the front door of Vincent's flat. With an unhappy groan, Aiden sat up and pressed his face into his palms. He didn't feel very rested at all! What time was it?

From the next room over Bernadette came peeking out as Aiden was already making his way groggily towards the door to answer it. Before he could unlatch it, the knocking came loudly again and caused Aiden to scowl at the door. Glancing towards the clock, he saw he'd barely slept four hours!

"Hold on!" he grumbled loudly through the door as he began unlocking it. When the lock was undone, he pulled open the door to glare grumpily at whoever was on the other side. He was met with an astonished Damien staring back at him as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

And that was EXACTLY how Damien felt! Here he was in the late morning visiting his best friend's home to see if he was there to find their very sleepy and disheveled engineer answering the door! And with how long Vincent had been missing? Was Vincent here?! What was going on?

"What the Hell? What are YOU doing here?!"

Aiden frowned a bit deeper and took a step back to reluctantly allow the man inside. "Shh!" he hissed and motioned Damien in. As soon as Damien was inside, Aiden shut and locked the door while Damien looked around worriedly. Then he blinked in surprise as he realized they were not alone.

"Bernadette!"

Damien looked between the two of them with wide eyes and things suddenly began clicking into place. He knew who and what Bernadette was and if she AND Aiden were here...

Before either of them could speak again, Damien began to make his way into Vincent's room with hasty determination. Behind him, Aiden said, "Damien, wait!" Bernadette darted out of the way as Damien marched past. With a slight frown, she then followed in behind him with Aiden trailing behind her.

Damien's eyes widened as he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the sight of his best friend laying there in bed. He was clearly ill and he was covered in bandages and bruises! Why had no one told him?! Why had no one come for him?! Vincent would have wanted him to know! The angry Damien turned to Aiden and unexpectedly grabbed his shirt and pushed him hard against the wall which caught Aiden off guard!

"What the fuck happened?!"

"Damien!"

Bernadette's exclamation was ignored by both men as Aiden clenched his teeth and grasped Damien's wrists and dug in with his fingers. He growled, "Let me go!" He could see that Damien was desperate for answers; he was scared obviously and perhaps angry as well that he hadn't been notified sooner. But right now, especially after last night, he was not in the mood to be messed with and had no qualms about punching Damien out! And right now the idea had merit!

"Let. Me. Go."

Damien seemed to think better of his actions and finally relented. His fingers let go of Aiden's shirt (to which Aiden released him as well) and they breathed angrily at each other. Beside them, Bernadette stared at them with a pale expression before she loudly let out the breath she was holding with every intention of letting them know how fed up she felt.

"Whatever you two decide to do, whether it be to talk or fight like childish imbeciles or whatever, take it outside! And don't either of you think for a second that Vincent would be very pleased with the two of you right now!" And on that note she turned to go to Vincent's side again, grumbling something about "bull-headed men."

Desperate for answers, Damien jerked his head and started to walk out towards the terrace. "Let's talk." And he said nothing else as he made his way outside to wait for Aiden.

Aiden glanced towards Bernadette who met his eyes with a loud exhale through her nose, indicating her frustration and attempts to not say anything else. Aiden remained where he was for a moment to quickly center himself. With a final glance to Bernadette, he held up his pinky with a wink to reassure her of his promise, then went to join Damien outside.

As soon as he stepped out there, Aiden was taken by surprise! Damien was turning towards him with an apologetic look as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Look, I'm sorry about snapping like that. I was worried! He's my best friend and after he disappeared yesterday?" His hands lowered and his whole body language implored Aiden to understand his plight. "And seeing him like THAT and you didn't offer any explanation? Well...you understand, right? I only had the best intentions."

Aiden wanted to be frustrated at Damien! He hadn't even had a chance to explain his side! But he really did understand; not that he wanted to right now. Feeling annoyed that he was deflating already, Aiden sighed softly and pushed the door shut behind him so they could have some privacy.

"I understand. It's fine, Damien."

Damien visibly relaxed a little more now that Aiden forgave him. He nodded to the younger man and folded his arms over his chest. He was more level and ready to actually listen this time.

"Tell me everything." he insisted.

And so Aiden did: starting from the moment Aiden had overheard his informant until Bernadette and he had closed Vincent's wounds (with several interruptions from Damien pressing him for more details). From there he completely skipped over his private discussion with Bernadette and said that he'd gone to sleep and was woken by Damien banging on the door.

Damien had stared at Aiden the entire time, wide-eyed as the details of the night came out. He was shocked to say the least! At first he couldn't seem to find any proper words! Finally he did.

"Are you mad?!"

"What?"

"You went there alone?! ALONE! You should have come to me! I could have helped you and he'd be back sooner and he wouldn't be laying there on his deathbed!"

And immediately Aiden felt guilty. Aiden had gone there alone with no help except Pete who was just a lantern. At the time he'd been desperate and determined to help Vincent and he hadn't thought it through. Aiden felt dread fill him and he looked down slightly. He really should have gone for help. Damien was right.

"God damn it, Aiden!" Damien growled as he turned away and ran his hands through his hair in a frustrating manner as he gazed up off in the distance. Aiden slowly looked up and felt the sting of tears behind his eyes as he fought them back.

"I'm sorry," he insisted. "I just-"

"Didn't think? Hmph! Sometimes I think, 'Maybe he isn't such a kid after all' but then you go and do a thing like this! Just like blowing your life savings on a stupid little lantern! You really thought that LANTERN was going to help you?! 'I' could have helped you!"

Aiden didn't even have a response. He just stood there feeling so guilty. Because of him, Vincent could have been dead right now. He should have gone to the peelers. Even taking Damien would have been wiser than going on his own. He should have been smarter. Faster. Anything. Aiden believed that Damien's anger was justified. He was right.

When Damien turned to look back at Aiden, he saw his face starting to crumble and was clearly about to cry! And sure enough, a couple of breaths later Aiden let out a small sob as tears slid down his reddening face.

'Well fuck,' Damien thought. He wanted to yell more at him but seeing Aiden tearing up made him feel uncomfortable. He didn't like it. Feeling a little disgusted with the whole situation, Damien finally sighed and approached him and set his hands on his shoulders as Aiden let out another small sob.

"C'mon kid, get a hold of yourself," he tried to console him in a somewhat encouraging tone. It was clear Damien was pushing himself to be nicer. "Obviously Bernadette got him fixed up and I'm here now. He's going to be fine now, okay? He's not going to let some fever take him after all that. Vincent's tougher than that!"

Aiden sniffled and glanced up to meet Damien's eyes and was surprisingly met with a small encouraging smile. Wiping his eyes, he sniffed once more and found himself smiling slightly as well. Damien's assistance would definitely be helpful even if he was a bit overbearing. Perhaps now Bernadette could finally get some rest.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

"Of course I am!"

Damien chuckled and patted his shoulder and started to head inside. Aiden smiled slightly more but it faded once the door closed behind Damien and he was left out on the terrace alone. He looked down at his hands and nibbled his lower lip as he felt confliction entering his thoughts. While he knew Damien was right, he still felt like he'd laid the guilt on a bit thick. Aiden HAD managed to return with Vincent after all! He was still alive because of him! Truth be told, a part of him still didn't regret his actions. He'd have to work through it later. Right now, what mattered was Vincent.

Deciding to brush it all off as Damien's intense worry for his best friend's safety, he tried not to let what was said get to him. When Aiden rejoined the other two in Vincent's bedroom, he was unsurprised to find Damien seated at Vincent's bedside and Bernadette sitting on the chaise. "So, what happens now?" Aiden asked aloud as he looked towards Bernadette, but it was Damien who responded.

"I say we take shifts. Bernadette is insisting on staying but she needs rest." He looked towards her meaningfully and she scowled at him with a huff before retorting, "He is my patient!"

"Of course he is, but you still need rest. You've been attending to him since last night."

"Then I will rest on the couch! I am not leaving until the fever breaks and he's stable!"

"So be it. However, Aiden, you should go back to the ship and get some real sleep."

"How can I sleep now? I'm awake and everyone I know is here! I don't want to go!"

Aiden didn't want to leave Vincent's side! After everything they had been through together thus far he wanted to stick it out to the end with him! He couldn't just stay aboard the ship waiting anxiously!

Bernadette had stood and walked over to Damien's side. Once the argument had reached this point, she gently placed her hand upon Damien's shoulder with a gentle squeeze. "He can stay in the other room and keep me company. Three sets of hands are better than two, Damien, and right now Vincent needs all the help he can get." Damien's eyes narrowed as he gazed up at her with a hint of opposition. "Fine," he finally said with a reluctant sigh.

There was a soft groan and all three pairs of eyes shifted to the man laying before them. Vincent was breathing harder and looked to be in pain. Bernadette glanced towards the clock then began nudging Damien to move.

"It's about that time," she said as she bolstered herself up and reached for more of her specially medicated tea. "He's due for more medicine. You say I need rest, but if I rest now, what then, hm? Do you know how to administer these medications so precisely? Depending on what it is, if you give him too much it could kill him."

"I would if you told me how."

"Hm, no. Better safe than sorry."

"There has to be something that I can do to help."

"Actually yes. Do you know what you can do?"

"What's that?"

"Go boil this."

And she handed him two large pieces of raw ginger. Across from them, Aiden actually snorted at how anticlimactic that had been. Damien looked down at the pieces of ginger in his hand then looked up at her skeptically at such an assignment.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes."

"You want me to boil-?"

"Ginger is an important part of the antibacterial poultice I am using for his wounds and also for his medicine. So you need a small pot and do not dump the water. I will need it for later. I know it sounds so mediocre but it would be very helpful. Please? For Vincent?"

Damien quirked his mouth slightly and then gave a small nod. "Very well." Once his back faced her, he mouthed silently to himself and went to do as she asked.

Once Damien was out of earshot, Aiden approached Bernadette's side with a slight smirk. She glanced up at him with an innocent look and asked, "What? It's a legitimate chore that needs to be done. Eventually." Aiden could only chuckle which Bernadette joined in softly.

"He means well?" Bernadette sarcastically murmured aloud, reiterating her earlier comment about Damien. Aiden snorted and replied under his breath, "Hell is paved with good intentions."

"Indeed. But it is good to have an extra set of hands. Poor Vincent needs all the help he can get."

And then softly below them came a soft, hopeful voice that was barely a whisper: "Em-Emily...don't go..."

Bernadette gasped softly and looked down at Vincent who was gazing up at her with half open eyes. His fingers shifted as he tried to reach for her, so she reached out to touch his hand. She replied gently and with a hint of regret, "Oh, Vincent, no. It's me, Bernadette, your cousin."

"Bernie?"

"Mhm."

"Oh...sorry...I th-thought..."

"Shh, shh, shh...I know."

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It's okay. Sleep."

"Do I..have...to..?"

"Oh, sweetheart," Bernadette said sadly but Vincent was already passing back out; sleep feverishly taking him under once again. She sighed softly and began to wipe at his brow with a fresh, cool cloth.

Aiden's heart broke as he remembered just last week or so Vincent asking him the very same thing. Vincent didn't want to have to wake up to the same daily torment. Aiden felt the sudden urge to crawl into bed with Vincent and wrap him up in his arms and tell him everything was going to be okay and hold him until it was. Instead he stood there feeling a little sad and empty as he watched Vincent fall back into his fitful sleep.

"Who's Emily?"

Somehow Aiden already knew before he even asked but he felt compelled to ask anyway. Bernadette blinked at him then turned to glance over her shoulder to look at the small picture frame on Vincent's nightstand. She reached over and gently picked it up and looked at it for a long moment. Finally, she offered it to Aiden who took it.

"His wife. She's no longer with us. She-... she passed away a few years back during that plague, both her and the baby. It was really heartbreaking. Happened while he was still recovering from the explosion and all and he couldn't get home before they- well, you know. Don't tell him I said this but..." She took a deep breath and finally got her thoughts off her chest. "...it's the reason he drinks so heavily when he's home. I really wish he would just stick to the herb and abandon that wretched drink altogether!"

And echoing in his memory Aiden could hear Vincent screaming and crying: "A good man would have not even left them in the first place! HOW AM I A GOOD MAN?!"

So that confirmed his suspicions. Vincent had never made it home to his wife and child before the plague had claimed their lives. It seemed to be just as Aiden felt: Vincent was just a man who had been through too much.

...

Next Part:

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To start from the beginning or to read another chapter, here's the album link:

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***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

***

Special thank you to Vin Aydin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

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"Being an artist means forever healing your own wounds and at the same time endlessly exposing them." — Annette Messager

As of late I've been dealing with the ups & downs of having depression and PTSD. Holding onto inspiration has been a struggle when I cannot get the motivation to get out of bed most days. The overwhelming anxiety on top of it is already draining enough & by the end of the day I'm curling up in a ball while my camera sits in my bag.

I somehow got some motivation one day & I created this because it has been a very real thing for me. I'm still getting back into the swing of things, but I miss doing fine art/concept work like I used to. I'm slowly but surely learning to slow down, tune into myself & my work. So here is this for now.

We went to see my brother-in-law speak today, about equine therapy and how it helps war veterans and people with PTSD, including himself.

1112

(very short) text:

archiveofourown.org/works/7637341/chapters/17541010

Tonight was another awful night

Tonight was another night of contemplating the end

Tonight I cried again

Tonight the pain was as intense as ever

Tonight I relived the pain I relive everyday.

I don't know how honest and open I will be here anymore. I've recieved literaly hundreds of messages thanking me, encouraging me, praising me, thanking me. Messages that tell me I am not alone. Messages that validate how I feel rather than convolute it. Messages that share in my pain. Message that help me cope. Messages that tell me how I've helped other cope. Messages that say "thank you" and "bless you"

As much as my open and honest portrayl has seemed to have helped many, it seems to have hurt a few. That bothers me. That hurts me. In an effort to educate and bring understanding, this whole exsitence has done nothing but bring about a more misunderstanding.

I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe I have to forego the support of flickr. Support of peers that I've never had. Maybe I have to forget about fixing me so I don't break anyone else.

This all just sucks so bad....

Tonight, I prayed. I prayed for the grace of god to carry me through...

You were an earth angel

Wrapping wings around me

During a fragile time in my childhood

You pulled me into your orbit

with deep rolling laughter

Absolute affection

Parisian perfumes

A hearty Taurean kitchen

Keeping me

So close to you

Pouring into me

Your hope and dreams

Boundless vitality

Dressing me

Washing me

Feeding me

Downloading your love

Into my child life

As you clung to me

In a storm I could not see

Which suddenly pulled us apart

Until years later

Waltzing in our nightgowns

Through the whole living room

Driving in your sports car

Sharing our love of swimming

Watching you iron my shirts

Cooking my favorite meals

Holding my hand as we smoked

and laughed and told stories

Drinking a good bottle of champagne

Years pass again

The last time I saw you

Your beautiful white hair

We held eachother

I played my songs

Your spirits rising above

Bitterness and disappointment

For a little while

Tears on your face

Thoughts of being with your mother again

Your smile etched in my memory

One last phone call

Still so much love for me in that voice

A faint fluttering sound:

Was it your wings flying home

or my heart knowing we can never

be separated again?

She was such a light for me. She always made me feel special and so loveable. She lived in a storm of PTSD with my grandfather’s outbursts and unpredictable behavior which made her lock her room at night. Eventually all their savings were gambled away and my grandmother’s vigor had left her. I didn't understand these dynamics until years later when I began to understand the abuse she had silently lived with.

These things were so difficult to identify in a family that never talked about anything and only separated itself across the globe in order to live according to how they thought was best.

My few childhood years and short visits afterwards with her still make me smile. For me she carried a piece of earth which remains sacred and fertile, filled with laughter, chocolate and sweet refuge in a storm.

we had a tornado warning but it fizzled out. we got this instead. Whoo hooo! we still have "tornado PTSD" from 5 years ago. June 1 , 2011.

Wanna get out of here. War is (almost) over (if you want). They planning to cut it off at Easter or at Russian V-Day, May 9th (I guess, 2nd variant is more like them). And then… well, all the hell will break loose at my poor looney Russia, I guess. Soldier boys and granddads with PTSDs and unbreakable addiction to booze, drugs and violence (and Kalashnikovs) will return from Ukrainian battlefields – up to 1 million. Money will run out (they already are, but the CBR printing more and more paper billions for immense military needs, and that’s exactly why they’ll run out) etc. etc. The good news is that we here have warmest winter on the whole my memory thanks to Ukrainians, who hit Russian oil and gas structure almost on everyday basis. So, it’s almost time to twenty-two skidoo, and pretty fast.

Another my own, very private good news – I have highly sought-after job skills (bicycle delivery boy, I ride like a pro and even was chosen as the Bicycle Boy of the Year) and 2 passions (music and photography). I think of Paris for starters. To play music on the streets, to deliver food, to make photography and love… Then – Montenegro (my favorite scientist, Victor Vakhshtain, founded there “The Beach Univercity”, my dream high school). And then, of course, LA, Hollywood. To write ideas for the greatest movies. To get my Oscar. Of course, even to get the foreign passport and visas will take time and a lot of nerve (and I've passed the stage of city neurotic much before the war. Since then, just curiouser and curiouser, and then self-diagnonsenced usual PTSD, and after huylo (putin) murdered Alexey Navalny, the things get much worst). Frankly, I don’t know how to do any of that. Etc. Meantime, I wrote this poem, about our Buratino, Papa Carlo, Malwina and Giuseppe (our count Alexey Tolstoy nicked Carlo Collodi’s Pinocchio tale). That’s what I wrote:

У папы Карло промокли ботинки.

У, как же плохо горят Буратинки!

«Тряпка», лениво бросает Мальвинка.

Курит Джузеппе в холщовый камин.

В рот он ебал шибко умных Мальвин.

It’s somehow corresponded with the situation, about which I wrote you (false money, false fireplace, too fucking smart girl, old farts and veery false situation). And with this photo, which I took in the distant 2014th year, but made right now.

By the by, that was my 1st true photo-op, you know, when you shooting and shooting your model about 1 hour or more (in this case about 4 hours, Jenya is still my hero for that). For free from both sides, of course. For the sake of art.

And thank you so much for help me to get in Explore with my previous photo!

VK

YouTube

t.me/RomaOkhotnikov

Twitter

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Patreon

Watch the video here>>> youtu.be/tiShRcxj2RE

In an effort to educate the public and help those affected, Today,June 27 has been named PTSD Awareness Day. There are so many people across the globe suffering silently with PTSD. As the causes of PTSD can be many , this short film touches on the impact of war on children. This was a collaborative project and I am so grateful for all of the time and effort that was given by all to get it completed during PTSD Awareness Month. The timing of this project could not have been more perfect as currently the MINDS Act bill has been reintroduced to Congress The Mental Health in International Development and Humanitarian Settings (MINDS) Act (H.R.3988/S.2105) is bipartisan and the first-ever piece of legislation that would promote mental health and psychosocial support as a key component of U.S. foreign assistance. Today, the mental health of children living in conflict is more at-risk than ever. More than 14% of children worldwide are estimated to have a mental health disorder. But less than 1% of funding on global health goes to address children's mental health and well-being. Urge Congress to pass the MINDS Act by visiting MINDS Act | UNICEF USA for info on how to send a message to Congress to pass this Bill ;-) Thanks guys!

Author's Note: The contents of this chapter include very sensitive subject matter and may be triggering to some individuals. Scenes of abuse of various forms are represented as not only for storytelling, but to raise awareness of what this behavior looks like. Abusive behavior in this story includes, but is not limited to: physical abuse, mental abuse, verbal abuse, gaslighting, manipulation, intentional triggering of another's PTSD, and trauma. In no way are these scenes intended to purposely trigger or harm anyone.

...

"Mama, can I have more gruel*?"

At the age of six, I knew what it meant to go to bed hungry. It happened often. Tonight's meal of gruel was a treat! It was watery but it eased the pain in my belly. It tasted better than the boiled, rotten cabbage I was subjected to most nights.

"M-more? But...the rest of the gruel is for Papa."

My mother's hesitant voice answered me and her gaunt eyes met mine. I could see she was feeling nervous. She'd already eaten her own meager meal. I knew there wasn't much food to go around and Papa hadn't come home yet. Once he did, he'd eat the rest! There was never anything left once Papa came home.

I gazed evenly into her eyes for a moment before giving a small furrow of my brow and rubbing my skinny belly where my ribs were poking out as I insisted, "My tummy still hurts. You don't like seeing me hurt....right Mama?"

Guilt set upon my mother's face and I watched tears well in her eyes. I knew I'd gotten my way now! Sure enough she forced a smile and brushed away her tears and held out her hand.

"Of course not, darling. Here, give me your bowl!"

I quickly jumped down from my stool and walked over to her and held out my bowl eagerly. She took it from me and ladled more in! Then another! As she handed me the bowl, I gave her a big smile which she returned.

"Go and eat before Papa comes home!"

I nodded and turned away to head back to the stool. Once back at the table, I quickly slurped down my second serving of gruel! Why couldn't it always be like this?

A short time later after I was settled into my bed of straw, I could hear my father screaming at my mother; something about "this damn pathetic meal." At one point my name had been brought up. He'd assumed I'd snuck more food when Mama wasn't looking and that I needed to learn my place; that he'd beat it into me. Mama insisted SHE had eaten it instead and couldn't help herself. I didn't care about my father's rage or my mother biting back her screams as she learned her place in my stead. All that mattered to me was that my belly was full, I was warm, and my father's rage was not directed at me.

Even as a child I knew I was different and destined for greater things than the shit life I was born into. I was smarter than the adults and I learned at a very young age how to get my way with anyone I crossed paths with. I was good at it.

The memory of my weak mother easily bending to my will pleased me...but why should I think of her? I haven't thought about her in years. I put all that behind me and shed my childhood name after I lost the sight of my left eye in a nasty incident with my father when I was fourteen years old. I remember leaving that place the next day and never looked back.

Not only was I smart, I was agile and strong despite being barely more than skin and bones at the time. Using my charm and natural beauty and despite being a man, I was able to get whatever I wanted from whoever I wanted one way or another. I had my ways.

I had begun making a name for myself underground and after a few years, it would seem I'd acquired an enemy. A bounty hunter who owned a private jail had come hunting me. Once his captive, I turned on that old charm and soon enough I was working as his apprentice turned lover instead. The bedsheets certainly can loosen one's lips. Once I had learned all I could from him and gotten the information I needed, I disposed of him and kept everything for myself: the jail, the money and loot; all of it. I was owed. OWED! And then I found that bastard who had dared to have me assassinated: a former jilted lover who's bones fed the rats for years in the bottom-most level of my dungeon.

"WHICH WAY DID HE GO?!"

"GO THAT WAY! YOU, GO THAT WAY!"

It was pouring rain and the bobbies* were making a lot of noise and splashing around as they hunted down someone. Turning down a side street, it was a minute later that I came across the sounds of grunts and shouting only to see blood pooling and rushing over the ground in the rain water. I looked up to see some youth, perhaps a few years my junior, standing over one of those new, annoying "officials of the law" as they lay dead on the ground. The boy looked up, our eyes meeting. Before anything else, he fainted and collapsed in a wet heap on the ground beside his victim. I realized the youth had killed the man with his bare fists.

As I stood over the two bodies, I came to the decision as I stared down at the scarred, skinny youth. This boy was surely headed for the gallows and would be dead by sunset tomorrow. What a waste of brute strength. Someone this young could be taught; trained. He was what? Sixteen? Seventeen? If it didn't work out, I could just dispose of him like I did all the others. Honestly, by the look of him he'd likely not be missed.

Why not? Something told me this time would be worth the effort...

It was another busy evening at The Fat Lady's, the tavern I often frequent and where a lot of my clients find me. Having made a name for myself in the business of private jailers and bounty hunters, the right people knew where to find me.

"Thorn."

My attention turned and I could see the youth I had taken in approaching. Now he was filled out, strong, and glorious...and such a fucking idiot. It took a LOT of training but in the end, he was a valuable asset.

"How did it go?" I asked before lifting the goblet to my lips. Micah grinned back at me and folded his arms over his chest.

"Very well. I found someone who is seeking our services."

"Oh? Is he here?"

"Mhm. Just over by the window. Rather interesting fellow. You'll see what I mean."

Quirking my brow, I glanced over towards the window and felt irritation spike as I was flashed and mildly blinded by the sunlight reflecting off something metallic and shiny.

The memory flickered and then everything went black.

"AAAAAHHHHHH!!!" came a scream of rage that was not mine.

The memories had gone as quickly as they had come and everything was happening so quickly! Pressing down on my chest, someone was making it so I couldn't breathe! I couldn't even move! Clearly I was laying out on my back in agonizing pain. What...what was going on?! My eyes began to focus above me as I realized that that man...no, that monster...was going to kill me.

That's right...him...this one....he...this mission...this..MONSTER!

"I never should have agreed-"

***

Vocabulary:

*Gruel- a thin liquid meal of oats or similar grain boiled in milk or water

*Bobbies- a slang term used in early 1800s in England for the first professional policemen and were properly referred to as Peelers; named for Sir Robert Peel who founded them (info found on Google)

***

NEXT CHAPTER:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/52197896832

To start from the beginning or to read another chapter, here's the album link:

www.flickr.com/photos/153660805@N05/albums/72157717075565127

***Please note this is a BOY LOVE (BL/yaoi/gay) series. It is a slow burn and rated PG13!***

***

Special thank you to Vin Aydin Raven-Mysterious for collaborating with me on this series and co-starring as The Captain!

And a BIG thank you to Diavkha for starring as Thorn! You've been a great sport and super patient! Thank you for being a part of this story with us!

~

DISCORD SERVER: That's right! The Captain and the Engineer has a Discord Server! If you would like to join and chat with other crewmates and see what's new and happening before it gets posted to Flickr, click the link!

discord.gg/qBa769TAC4

***NEW!!!!***

The Captain and the Engineer now has a FACEBOOK PAGE! Please come Like, Follow, and join the crew! Thank you so much for all your support!

FACEBOOK PAGE:

www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61558531406088

I made this picture in regards to my PTSD. My dreams are where it's most active, and a lot of times they're not the most happiest dreams. Most nights my mind literally just won't shut off and I'm up tossing around trying to get comfortable, normally when I finally get comfortable and my mind goes to sleep, my subconscious mind takes over. Sometimes the dreams make no sense at all, other times they're full of anxiety and confusion. The worst dreams are when they're very graphic and real to the point where even after I wake up, I'm still in panic mode. Most people can wake up from a bad dream and escape it. I wake up from a bad dream and still feel everything. A lot of times when I get these dreams I don't go back to bed because very often my mind will pick up right where it left off as soon as I fall asleep again.

"The bed itself is an operating table where my dreams slice me to pieces."

I'm wearing pandas and holding my BeiBei, but I'm still feeling anxious over the scary winds outside. (PTSD sucks!)

PTSD. This diagnosis does not surprise me on the sheet. She looks intently and asks if I can talk to someone. "My psychologist is dead. I'm trying to find a new one. I can handle it. For sure." I just need something to sleep on. So as not to see a nightmare with his charred body. And not to see my husband in his place later. The next wave of mobilization and he will go. I stand on the balcony and look in the reflection wondering if my eyes will ever be able to see beauty again. Smile honestly. Not empty. And is there a future.

The names of friends and those whom I knew and who no longer exist. This still doesn't seem to be a reality.

The road on which we drove after the liberation of the region and that body on it... The Holy Father who, after prayer, stood and smoked next to me and asked only how many. How many names by that time I began to pronounce with a scraping pain. He said that it can be seen in the eyes and how I look at the road when I think that they do not see me.

Then it wasn't the worst. Some of them I was able to say goodbye to. Trust that it didn't hurt. But not you ... Find out about death from the photo on the Internet and an animal cry on the other side of the phone. Designers, businessmen, journalists, photographers, IT and other... Everyone there had a life outside the war. And even when they return, it will not be the same. This monstrous memory will remain in the eyes forever and in nightmares.

For Most Vets, PTSD Isn’t The Problem, ‘Transition Stress’ Is.

While post-traumatic stress disorder has become a much-discussed affliction, a seemingly more prevalent problem is going largely overlooked: transition stress. Think of it as a clinical-sounding diagnosis for that sense of alienation many veterans feel after they leave the military.

-Candid street shot, Icy Strait Point, Alaska, USA.

.

Abandoned Abused Street Dogs.

The chase me game, Mama is always the instigator .

The narrative posted below is very important to me.

A dark world that few understand or can even imagine !

Please think of the Vets while you enjoy this holiday

weekend with friends and family .............

.

Dogs Give Vets Faith in Society Again ......................................

Many veterans enjoy comfort, aid, and true bonding from their service dog. A specially-trained post-traumatic stress disorder service dog can interrupt agitation, wake a veteran from a traumatic nightmare, or perform a room search for a vet who suffers from hyper-vigilance.

"He's put faith back into my way of looking at society," army veteran Joe Aguirre said of his dog, who is trained to "sweep" an area for potential threats.

PTSD service dogs can also be a steady source of furry companionship, never leaving their beloved human alone with troubling thoughts.

"It's hard to imagine the level of despair of someone who suffers from PTSD," said one Boston-area Gulf War veteran. "It's exhausting, frightening, and somewhat surreal -- you've come back from active duty, but you are in an internal war."

This veteran feels his PTSD symptoms are "80 percent" managed -- but said he would have welcomed a PTSD service dog when he first returned home.

A 2014 RAND study found that 20 percent of veterans of the Iraqi and Afghanistan conflicts have PTSD. With 2.7 million veterans in total from those wars, that means some 540,000 vets are dealing with the disorder.

The VA does not pay for associated costs for training and obtaining a PTSD service dog. It will only pay for "evidence-based" therapies for PTSD -- such as cognitive processing.

If a veteran needs a service dog for PTSD, he or she must fill out a complex application with a registered therapy dog nonprofit, then sit back and wait (and hope) for a four-legged companion. The training of each PTSD service dog takes over a year.

"The dogs are specially bred for this work, [and are] with us for up to 18 months of highly specialized training, including nightmare and anxiety alerts," a representative of This Able Veteran, a PTSD service dog training academy in Carbondale, Illinois, told LifeZette in an email. "Veterans are brought to our facility from across the nation for three weeks for our trauma resiliency program."

Just like with several other non-profits that train and match PTSD service dogs with those who have served, cost is not a worry for the waiting vet. "We fundraise to offset all of these expenses, so there is no charge to our veterans," the This Able Veteran rep said.

The VA is now in the fourth year of a $12 million study to gauge the efficacy and costs of using dogs to help veterans who suffer from post-traumatic stress. A veteran with a PTSD service dog will say, however, that the proof is in his or her ability to keep progressing in life after duty.

Some question whether the dogs are being trained to meet VA protocols that could actually reinforce PTSD fears, such as teaching the animals to "sweep" and "block" a room.

"He's put faith back into my way of looking at society," army veteran Joe Aguirre told The Associated Press of his dog Munger, who is trained to "sweep" an area for potential threats and "block" his owner from potential aggressors.

The dog is essentially searching for "anything that would be out of the ordinary. A bag. A particular weapon. People acting erratic," Aguirre told the AP. Aguirre's four tours of duty left him struggling with daily life.

The VA study has been beset by problems and criticism, the AP noted. Only 50 dogs, approximately, have been placed with veterans for the study, and some question whether the dogs are being trained to meet VA protocols that could actually reinforce PTSD fears, such as teaching them to "sweep" and "block" a room for threats.

Could this be a substitute for the taxing but necessary work that comes with a commitment to other therapies?

Meg Olmert is the chief research adviser for the Maryland-based Warrior Canine Connection. Her nonprofit has veterans train service dogs for other veterans, and advocates "softer" canine PTSD skills, such as picking up cues and providing appropriate support -- learning to wake someone up during a nightmare, or detecting when a veteran is anxious and interacting with him to calm him down.

Rep. Ron DeSantis, chairman of the House Committee on Oversight and Government Reform's national security subcommittee, introduced the Puppies Assisting Wounded Service Members Act, or the "PAWS Act," to create a $10 million project that would set aside $27,000 per dog for veterans diagnosed with the most severe forms of PTSD.

Funding would come out of a Veterans Affairs budget pegged for such things as convention planning and office decor, reported the Fairmont, West Virginia Timeswv.com. The House Veterans Affairs committee is scheduled to hear the bill next week.

A federal-level decision from the VA on covering the costs of the dogs for veterans with mental disorders won't be made until at least 2018.

"Veterans cannot wait until 2018. The problem of veteran suicides is too urgent," , said during an April hearing.

Former Marine Tony Austin would no doubt agree. After returning from active duty, he was struggling with PTSD and also rescued a bull mastiff named Hadji. Then, he learned about trained service dogs that help sufferers of PTSD.

"His whole point is disruption, to break my train of yelling," one veteran said of his dog's methods.

"I learned what these dogs can do, and I learned about what they can cost and how long it can take to get one," Austin told People Magazine of the process.

Along with struggling to meet the high costs of a service dog, Austin was having trouble going through the demanding application process to obtain a service dog due to his PTSD -- and what would he do with the newly rescued Hadji?

"We were having the conversation about getting rid of him or not, and he was lying on the couch between my wife and I," Austin told People of Haji. "The next night, or two nights later, was the first night he woke me up from a nightmare."

Austin suddenly wondered if the perfect PTSD service dog was already living under his roof.

"His whole point is disruption, to break my train of yelling," Austin said of Hadji's methods. "He breaks my focus and my train of thought and my sense of structure in my head on what I am gonna say. That disruption is not a reset switch, because you can't forget what was said or how it was said, but it's that opportunity to recalibrate and add some stuff with a new approach," Austin explained.

Austin's experience convinces him of the need for PTSD service dogs for those who are hurting. He has started his own nonprofit called Dog Tags and Capes -- he and his wife provide service dogs to other vets. "Hadji is definitely ," Austin told People.

.

Thanks for reading this to the very end. It means a lot to many.

The Temple Dogs are my therapy dogs, keeps me balanced

and able to cope with everyday issues, including my own !

When I enter into a building the dogs always go in first.

When in the jungle the dogs are always close to me.

Old habits that work are very hard to break .......;-)

"In war, there are no unwounded soldiers". ~José Narosky

Thank You.

Jon&Crew.

Please help with your donations here.

www.gofundme.com/saving-thai-temple-dogs.

Please,

No Political Statements, Awards, Invites,

Large Logos or Copy/Pastes.

© All rights reserved.

.

This is the start of a new year. We find ourselves saying "Goodbye" to the old life we wish to change.

This is also a time for us remember that there are many others who can not say "Goodbye". People who have to face the daily fight with depression, PTSD, abuse, and illnesses that they keep secret to avoid being judged.

They are your neighbors, family, co-workers, and that angry looking guy in the grocery check out line.

They may never tell you what is wrong, they may be the "funny one" in your circle. You may never ever know that they have a problem.

They keep smiling because it is what is expected.

They need us to remember them.

(very short) text:

archiveofourown.org/works/7637341/chapters/17541010

About PTSD

the last time he knew silence

(very short) text:

archiveofourown.org/works/7637341/chapters/17541010

China Beach

OK, it's a rehash of a scanned 1970 photo.

I've said it before.......Yes, the place really did exist. The location that was the story of Dana Delaney and her fellow nurses and doctors. But to a serviceman? It was a day away from the war. Beer, hot dogs, chips, beans, and more beer. Back to garrison around 4 PM. Get your gear ready, because tomorrow at 0600 you are climbing on your bird at LZ 401 over at 1stReconBn and heading out for some more of Charlie and his games. Other than the numerical coordinates on your map and the name of some valley or mountain, you only had a guess where you were going. Your Bunker Brass CO gave you some information about your LZ, but (hopefully) enough to keep you from getting ambushed. Maybe you have been there before, maybe a new spot this time. And with a FNG butter bar lieutenant, what could possibly go wrong?

Lots of fun. Ambushes. Booby Traps. Punji Stakes. Trip Wires. Mama San packing an AK. Baby San with a hand grenade. While Papa San is out in the bush waiting for you, instead of working in his rice paddy with the rest of his family. When there are only women and children working in the rice paddies, you know you are in for a bad day.

Another thing I'll repeat. PTSD is like a scar. You can cover it up, but it isn't going away. It's always there. A few people I know found out. See what Covid lockdown does to your mind.......plenty of time for all that stuff to come back.......and it ain't goin' away.

I never did watch the China Beach shows on tv. Not when it was current, or reruns. Ever. I did watch the very last episode. And the one scene that stuck with me till this day.

Dana Delaney had gone back home to her mom and dad. Her mom had been running her old uniforms in the laundry, over and over. She finally said......."What is that smell that I can't get out of your uniforms?" Dana Delaney told her........."It's blood, mother."

Let that sink in.

We had a saying in the 'Nam.........

It don't mean nuthin'

Just keep saying it........over and over

It don't mean nuthin'

It don't mean nuthin'

It don't mean nuthin'

It don't mean nuthin'

It don't mean nuthin'

It don't mean nuthin'

It was the best we could do to cope.....from one day to the next..........

Stay safe

Keep your head straight

Follow your NCOs orders

PTSD - 24" x 48" Oil on Canvas. 2006. -Matthew Joseph Tinkler.

Visit this location at VENTURA BEACH - Fearless Nation PTSD Support in Second Life

White Rabbit

Welcome.........To the 'Nam. Fifty one years ago, I landed in a hot, humid muggy, mosquito and VC infested hell hole halfway around the world to avenge one of my best friends who was killed in Tet of 1968. We had sayings......."You can leave the 'Nam......but the 'Nam never leaves you." Another one, "You can wash off the mud from the 'Nam, but you can't wash away the pain." Or, "PTSD is like a scar, you can cover it up, but it will NEVER go away." I was 22 when I arrived in the 'Nam. I was in my 50's when I climbed on my Freedom Bird.........

I miss you............Brother

So this will be my 51st year anniversary......I miss you, Brothers!

Pray for our soldiers.....they go into Harms Way......for us

Taken and edited on an iPhone 4

What is it?>>>Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

Click to Listen >>> An Amazing Song