A/N: Hello all! I want to say thank you all for the support of the first chapter of the story, yes I am new to uploading here so it is a bit of an undertaking for me. Also I apologize for the delay, the unit I'm with never rests and I have learned that the hard way over the last month.
Addressing some comments, yes it's a military-themed story and I'm going off what I know to make sure this story hits home for those who have served. Yes, it might not be up to date with what some are expecting, but let's be real. Each unit in the military does things so much differently than other places - it all boils down to SOP of said unit.
Secondly, the PTSD may not be mentioned, but most soldiers once returning home are unaware they have symptoms or signs of PTSD. While we are all instructed to watch out for signs through training and then BRIEFLY mentioned on events like this, not everyone knows what to look for, and sadly not many people truly care. When we all lose someone, which unfortunately I have lost many in combat and in garrison, we are offered resources but it's like the people trying to get your attention when you're going into a store for whatever donations they're trying to achieve for their organization; you see them but you don't stop for them unless it's something that truly catches your eye. It doesn't affect you directly, why should you care? That's the thought process of many of the leadership in my previous unit.
Thirdly, Robert's approach to his PTSD may piss many of you off, but this is how I handled my PTSD after my deployment. I was always told the nightmares would end so I began to self-medicate with alcohol only to make the issue INCREDIBLY worse than it needed to be. My leadership honestly had failed me, but that was normal in Fort Wainwright when it was the suicide capital of the Army. I got diagnosed with it last year after battling Behavioral Health and finding the right person; that was FOUR YEARS after I was boots on the ground in Afghanistan, and during that time, I was always subjected to getting ready for combat deployments and going back to Afghanistan. I pushed my problems away in order to be that effective soldier everyone needed.
Fourth, and it's a specific shoutout to Monagamous_Now, indeed it's the new age fangled stuff! Cheers old-timer, enjoy the retirement as I have 14 more years until I get there!
But enough of the note, here's part two! It may be a little less, but I'm saving the rest for the final part.
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Several weeks had elapsed since Jen's painful breakup, leaving my world still fragmented. I continued my pattern of drinking and isolating myself, occasionally reaching out to Tally through text messages to maintain a thread of connection. On this particular night, I found myself seated alone in a moderately busy bar, my guard up as unfamiliar faces entered. I scanned the room with a mixture of alertness and wariness, my heart racing. I reminded myself to relax, exhaling slowly.
I had begun to attend one or two therapy sessions provided by the military, although the prospect was daunting. The questions they posed could jeopardize my position, and our unit was preparing to deploy again, with the option to waive our mandated downtime. I quickly volunteered, hoping that throwing myself into the next deployment might somehow mend the fractures within me. Dumb idea, but that was my thought process.
I sighed and took another sip of my beer, trying to find solace in my own little world. The bar was gradually filling up, but I remained absorbed in my thoughts, picking at the wings I had ordered. The sounds of the bar, the chatter, and laughter, helped drown out the memories of my dreams--alarms, explosions, and all. Although I had managed to distance myself from these intrusive thoughts, the nightmares persisted. I shook my head, attempting to banish the lingering specters of the past.
Suddenly, the door swung open, and my heart sank as I recognized Jen and Lina entering. I silently prayed that they wouldn't spot me amidst the crowd, my desire to avoid any confrontations palpable. At that moment, I felt detached from everything, like I was sinking into an abyss of emotional numbness, a strange and unsettling peace.
I took a deep breath, relishing that eerie sensation, when I realized the pair was moving in my direction. My hope for solitude quickly evaporated. I turned my head towards the window, hiding my face as I listened to their laughter and small talk as they settled behind me, seemingly engaged in their own world. I exhaled, relieved that, for the time being, I was out of their sight.
As Jen and Lina continued their lively conversation, their voices growing louder, I couldn't help but overhear snippets of their world. Their words, though muffled by the cacophony of the bar, still managed to seep into my consciousness. It was as if their laughter and chatter were taunting me, pulling me back into a reality I desperately wanted to escape.
My grip on my beer tightened, my knuckles turning white as I tried to drown out their voices and the flood of emotions they brought with them. In that moment, I felt like an outsider, disconnected from the life I once knew, and trapped in a world that had moved on without me.
"Fuck this." I uttered under my breath as I glanced up at the waitress coming up to me, "I'll have three AMFs."
"Sure thing!" She cheered gleefully, unaware of my inner turmoil.
I leaned back in my seat, waiting for the waitress to bring my drinks. The vibrant blue hue of the AMFs seemed to promise an escape, a temporary reprieve from the pain and confusion that had become my constant companions. As she placed the trio of cocktails in front of me, I wasted no time in lifting one to my lips and taking a long, deep sip.
The cold, bittersweet concoction burned its way down my throat, and for a moment, it felt like a respite from the storm inside me. But I knew it was a fleeting illusion, a band-aid on a wound that ran much deeper than any drink could reach.
Lina glanced at my order and whispered to Jen, "Jen, did you see that guy over there? He's downing those AMFs like there's no tomorrow. I hope he's not driving tonight."
Jen looked over and rolled her eyes, replying with a hint of sarcasm, "Oh, come on, Lina. He's a grown man; he can handle himself."
Lina sighed and lowered her voice, "Well, yeah, but I can't help feeling sorry for him. He looks like he's going through a rough time."
Jen chuckled, taking a sip of her drink, "Lina, you're always the caring one. Just don't get too involved; you never know what kind of mess he might be in."
Lina, growing frustrated with Jen's attitude, leaned in closer and said in a hushed yet stern voice, "Jen, seriously, you need to stop being so selfish. You broke up with Robert without even trying to understand what he's been through. Do you have any idea what he might be dealing with? He's clearly struggling, and you just walked away. It's not like you to be this insensitive."
Jen, taken aback by Lina's frankness, looked at her friend and sighed, "Lina, it's just... complicated. I can't be responsible for his problems. I have my own life to live."
Lina didn't back down. "Sure, you have your life, but you also had a relationship with him, Jen. You owe him at least some empathy and support. You should talk to him and try to understand. Maybe it's not too late to make amends."
I started internally screaming. There are no amends to make with her. I quickly began to drink my second AMF. As I downed my second AMF in a few gulps, drawing more attention from Lina, Jen tried to dismiss it and urged Lina to ignore the man.
"Come on, Lina," Jen said in a hushed tone, "let's not get involved. He's probably just having a rough night. It's not our problem, besides I'm happy with Gavin."
Lina, however, remained concerned. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the situation. "Yeah... I guess so." Her voice shook in uncertainty.
As I stared at my third AMF, the conversations around me died down, and I couldn't help but feel the weight of my own thoughts pressing in on me. What was I doing here, drowning myself in alcohol? It was like I was drinking poison, and I couldn't stop.
The memories and self-blame began to creep back into my head, overwhelming me. I had tried to confront the emotional turmoil head-on, like a soldier facing an enemy, and it felt like I was getting my ass kicked. The battle inside me was relentless, and I wasn't sure how to adapt to this new, dark reality.
