Rob Laird (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tacticalmind) wrote2010-04-26 02:20 pm
tacticalmind) wrote2010-04-26 02:20 pm
RP LOG with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a68whiskey | Returning the favour
[Follows THIS]
For as long as he could remember, Rob had been a light sleeper. A lot of it was probably born of being a soldier, but it never took much to wake him up. It had been a pain in the ass when he had been recuperating from the whole getting blown up thing. He had been a cranky bastard more often than not both from pain and lack of sleep, but again, he had been infinitely lucky to have Leila by his side putting up with it and learning how to handle him at his worst as well as his best. That was what marriage was all about at the end of the day, the vows just said it in a much more fancier way.
Tonight, it was a strange noise out in the hallway that had him woken abruptly, ears straining to listen for what it was. He had woken earlier with an urge to use the bathroom, but must have rolled over and gotten comfortable spooned up behind Leila and gone back to sleep. He was still in that same position now, both of them naked and cuddled under the covers again. There had been the hot wall sex earlier out in the backyard, but when they came to bed after taking a shower, they just seemed ready for another round. This time, however, it was much slower and intimate, wrapped around each other under the covers and after, they just fell asleep in much the same embrace. Rob didn't know what time it was now, but he knew he had definitely heard a noise. He carefully slipped out from under the covers so he didn't wake Leila and then pulled on his t-shirt and trackpants that had been draped over their bag near the dresser. The house was cosy, so there was no need for socks, and even though he was cautious and wary, uncertain to what the noise could be, he didn't hesitate heading out into the hall to see what was going on. He just didn't really expect to find what he did.
"Mikey?" he said in a hushed voice, hurrying over to where his friend was up on the crutches but slumped against the wall shaking and sweating heavily. When he reached his side, he realised in concern that Mike wasn't well, in fact he vomited down the front of his shirt, though only a little.
Mike was panting heavily from exertion, tears trickling down his face as it just got too much to bear. "Pain... it hurts..." he got out hoarsely. He rested his head against the wall as a small sob caught in his throat, but he swallowed it back. "Can you help me to the bathroom?"
Rob was already taking one of the crutches from Mike to drape his arm around his shoulders. It was a miracle Mike was even upright on his own, but he had the upper body strength to pull it off, but in his weakened state, it wouldn't last. "What are you doing up and around on your own anyway, buddy? You should've called for help, someone would have come. Lean on me, okay? It's okay, I got you." He left the crutch leaning against the wall and wrapped his arm around Mike's waist to take his weight. "That's it, good lad. We'll take it slow, it's okay. We'll get you cleaned up too. Is it the pain, or were you feeling sick before? I ain't gonna preach at you, but you can't survive a bullet in the leg and an op to fix it on Tylenol."
"Probably the pain," Mike conceded weakly, leaning on Rob gratefully and thankful he didn't have to grip hold of one of the crutches now. The bathroom wasn't far away, but it felt like a miles. It wasn't lost on him how ironics this was, their positions in the reverse just a few months prior. Rob had promised endlessly he would return the favour one day and Mike couldn't be more relieved that it was now. He had been about ready to break down in a sobbing mess of agony. He had tried to get to the bathroom alone so he wouldn't need to wake anyone up, but as soon as he got out into the hall that short distance, he had known it was a mistake. The pain had been unbearable and he soon found himself giving into the burning nausea in his gut. He had the crutches there for very short distances and to use once he healed a little more. But he knew now it was still too soon to be moving alone. Doctor's orders were there for a reason, funnily enough. "This is... it's just my leg... how did ya' do it... for months... all over?"
Rob bit down on his lip, shaking his head. "Dunno, buddy. I really dunno. Can't remember a lot of it. It's a haze. I think my brain blocked it because I just couldn't tolerate it, and I was on shit loads of painkillers and meds. Maybe that's why, but I don't care. I wouldn't have survived it otherwise. You ain't gonna get hooked if you need it, okay? What have you been prescribed?" They reached the bathroom door and Rob carefully pushed it open as he kept a hold on Mike, and then reached in to flick the light on. He squinted in the brightness of it with a small grunt. He must have been in a pretty content sleep because his eyes felt scratchy and puffy now with the bright onslaught. "Okay, do you need a slash, or were you just trying to get here because you felt sick?"
Mike gave a small, tired laugh and shook his head. "I can't even remember, on both counts. My brain feels like mush. Still reelin' from Charlie bein' here." But he paused with a small frown. "She is here, right? I ain't imagined it, I ain't going crazy? I still ain't feelin' so hot. I just needa sit down. Just help me sit on the floor where it's cool. I'll worry 'bout gettin' back up later."
"She's here," Rob confirmed and had no intentions of arguing with what Mike wanted, even if sitting on tiles with a fucked up leg might be a bad move. He still remembered the weird and fucked up things he felt like he needed when he was recovering, and there was even a couple of nights he spent sleeping on the bathroom floor when he felt like he wasn't ever going to shake the nausea. He held his friend up and took the other crutch, gradually and carefully easing Mike down onto the floor by the toilet once he threw a bath towel down so neither of them would get cold butts. He was going to sit there as long as Mike needed to, no arguments. "Give me two seconds, I'll be right back, dude." It was probably a bit longer than that, but he quickly went to Mike's room and collected a fresh t-shirt and a bathrobe in case he wanted it, and then was back a few moments later to hand Mike the glass of water he picked up from the nightstand on the way out of the bedroom.
Mike gratefully accepted the water and took a long drink from the glass, feeling more parched than he realised. It washed the horrible taste from his mouth and then he just set the glass down to start pulling the soiled t-shirt off. "I feel like crap," he admitted and tossed the shirt aside with a sigh. "I told her I was fine, and I ain't even sure why. I'm in agony and I'm so tired. I just ain't exactly sure how I'm 'sposed to deal with her bein' here. It was awesome to see her, but beyond that, I dunno if I have the energy to deal with it right now. I just... it just... feels too much. Not Charlie, the pain. It's too much," he added in a whisper as emotions built up in him and he felt more tears drip down his cheeks.
Rob watched his friend sympathetically and crouched down in front of him. He took Mike's forearm softly. "I'm gonna help you get the clean shirt on, buddy. Just relax and chill, I got it," he assured him. It was a little awkward, but he eventually got there and was soon sitting beside Mike, their backs resting against the bath tub. He rested his hand on Mike's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "It's okay to have a good cry, dude. Helps a lil bit. Ain't taking nothing away, but it seems to release some of the tension. We thought it might be nice for you to have a surprise with her coming home. It's a lot to take, for sure, but you should let her help you, man. She's back now and she's gonna be back for at least a lil while. I know I sound like a broken record when I say this, but I wouldn't have survived none of it without Leila. She helped me feel alive, even just a lil tiny bit on those bad days. Feeling her hand in mine, feeling her stroke my hair when I was in head-to-toe agony, it just gave me something to lean on."
"She's got her own shit to deal with, just comin' home and all," Mike replied through gritted teeth when the pain shot through his leg. He tried to massage out it out, but there was no easing it and he was soon cursing colourfully through the tears. But they subsided, even if he was left breathless and sweaty all over again. "Fuck it. Fuck it to hell. I just wanna be able to get more than a coupla hours sleep without wakin' up feelin' like my leg is on fire. I feel sick, I can't think straight. I know I gotta all rely on people right now, but the middle of the night is bullshit when everyone else is tryin' to sleep? It ain't fair. Fuck!" he growled in frustration, banging his fist against the tiles to try and force the adrenaline away from pulsing through his wound.
"Where's the pills? Did you get pills or just a script? Mikey, you know what's bullshit? This. You trying to outdo the pain. It doesn't work. Trust me, it just doesn't work. Even if you just take the does to help you sleep and not any other time. Come on, dude. Tell me where they are and I'll go and get them, yeah?" Rob urged, patting Mike on the back. "Biggest lesson I had to learn was the body ain't gonna get better when it's too weak to fight anything. You can take the pills and I'll stay with you until they start to kick, then help you back to bed. Deal? Mikey?"
Mike sighed, drawing his good knee up and draping his arm across it to rest his head on his elbow. "Kitchen," he finally conceded hoarsely. "Near a pile of discharge papers and dressin's and shit. Don't happen to wanna get me a beer while ya' out there, do ya'?" He was only half joking from where his face was buried in his arm. He didn't have the energy to fight his friend, and he hadn't been lying when he had told Charlie about Rob's potential Drill Sergeant lurking in there. Rob could out-argue him at ten paces.
Rob was already up and heading out to the kitchen, though. He was quiet, feeling his way up the hall with just a tiny bit of light coming in through the windows of the front door from the street lamps. When he got to the kitchen, he only turned on the stove light so he could see around the large room. It was a huge country oak kitchen with expensive fixtures and a large island in the middle. A lot like you might see in the a home and garden magazine. Mrs Austin had always loved cooking, so the awesome kitchen wasn't surprising. Rob still had memories of sitting around that kitchen island in his cadet training days stuffing himself on cakes and cookies. He looked around for any pill bottles or piles of papers and found what Mike was talking about near the kettle beside a pile of recipe books. he was relieved to see four pill bottles there and not just scripts, so he picked them up to see what had been prescribed. Mike had Oxycodone for the pain, and the same post-op antibiotics Rob had taken indicating he might have an infection that he had failed to mention. The antibiotic bottle was half-full, showing that Mike had been taking those, but the Oxycodone looked untouched, as expected. The third bottle was a mild sedative that Rob also recognised and he sighed, realising how easy it should have been for Mike to get pain relief and help to sleep. It was the fourth bottle that had Rob intrigued, though, and he looked at the bottle label with slight confusion. Lexapro. An antidepressant. He didn't snoop any further, he just picked up the painkillers and sedatives, switched the light off and quietly padded back up the hall to the bathroom. He handed the two bottles to Mike and refilled the glass of water for him. It was only when he was sat back down beside him did he plant him with a questioning gaze. "Lexapro, dude?" he finally asked quietly. "I thought it was an accident?"
"It was," Mike murmured as he uncapped the painkillers and poured two of the pills into his palm. He tipped them into his mouth and then washed them down with a sip of water. "It was just a reckless one. Have you taken sleepin' pills before? They kinda worry me. I ain't ever taken much stronger than Tylenol before. 'Sposed to have funky side effects."
Rob was looking at Mike, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I, uh..." He wet his lips. "The painkillers will have worse side effects if you're gonna get them. Nausea, lightheadedness, dry mouth, constipation... nothing serious. Nothing worse than having a bullet in your leg, anyway. Sleeping pills probably ain't gonna bother you much at all. Reckless? What ain't you telling me, dude? I've had a weird sick feeling in my gut for days that you might done this deliberately... or something. Something wasn't sitting right with the story."
Mike was quiet for a long time, staring at the pill bottle in his hand, but he soon reached up to swipe a thick layer of sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. "I panicked. First time in a long, long time that I ever did that. Somethin' just snapped in my head when I got out there and I was... was seein' ya' lyin' there. I know I wasn't the one to pull ya' out after the explosion, but when I got out there to the dude, it was just like it ya' lyin' there and I had to save ya'. We were in suspected landmine territory. I rushed in without waitin' for a clear. Dude's rifle was still in his hand without the safety on, obviously. He had a seizure, pulled the trigger. Got me in the leg."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Rob asked hoarsely, his eyes locked on Mike's face in disbelief. He had suspected something along those lines, but to hear it had floored him.
"Baby makin'," Mike replied with a hint of a smirk at his friend. He sipped the water, his hands even tremoring now from the pain. It was strange, because he remembered the exact same symptoms in Rob when he was first home after the whole ordeal, just more in the extreme. Right now, Mike could understand on some level how bad his mate must have been feeling back then. "I ain't sayin' ya' didn't have time for me, because ya' did and it's been awesome havin' y'all here. Nice surprise to come home to. I just didn't wanna dump none of it on ya' when ya' actually lookin' happy and relaxed for the first time since ya' got back home. I slipped, dude. My subconscious got the better of me. Guess it really was time overdue for my R and R."
Rob pushed his fingers through his hair and then rubbed his hand over his face for it to finally rest over his mouth as he let out a rough, heavy breath. He couldn't help feeling responsible, and guilty, about Mike's revelation. The thing was, he could understand. Subconscious was a horrible thing that could betray you in the blink of an eye. After a moment, he got up and went to the sink to wet a face cloth, bringing it back so Mike could wipe his face. "The antidepressants... they're...?"
"Precaution," Mike explained, taking the cloth gratefully and wiping his face with a relieved and heavy sigh of pleasure at the coolness against his heated and flushed skin. "They're there if I need them. The shrink in my debrief told me I was in a risk category for, surprise surprise, PTSD. I'm okay, I ain't so much lyin' 'bout that. In my head, I'm okay, just exhausted. Physically, I'm fucked up. But maybe ya' right, it ain't gonna hurt to just try the pills. 'Specially now I'm in so much agony I threw up all over myself and can't even remember if I was tryin' to get outta bed for a piss or not. Just... bein' there and helpin' Leila take care of ya' after ya' injuries, nearly losin' ya', seein' ya' tryin' to claw ya' life back, I guess it stuck with me a lot more than I thought. None of that is ya' fault, dude. None of it. It's just... family. When ya' family hurts, ya' hurt with them. I'm gonna be okay. I just need time. Right now, I ain't doin' so good, but I'm doin' better because I'm home."
Rob picked up the bottle of sedatives and opened it, taking one of the pills out and holding it up for Mike pointedly. "That means family gets to be a nagging pain in the ass when it's necessary," he said quietly and handed the pill over. "Has the guilt set in yet? Wondering if your panic might've put the injured dude at risk? Wondering if you might've cracked with some of your other patients? Because you know, lack of sleep ain't gonna help any of that. It makes it worse and that's whan you start thinking you're going mental."
Mike met Rob's eyes, but took the pill and swallowed that one too. He nodded and wet his dry lips. "Yeah, it has a lil bit. I'm just glad the bullet got me and not him or my colleagues. Ya' know what it's like, though. Gotta live with it now."
Rob raised his eyebrows a little at this reply. "The pills. That's why you ain't been taking them. You're trying to punish yourself because you think you should live with the pain because you fucked up," he guessed and then sighed. "Mikey, it's war. Why're punishing yourself for trying to save a dude's life? One error, buddy, when you were running on empty at the end of a long group of deployments. You ain't Superman, you're a combat medic, who is human under the camos. To tip the scales, how many lives have you saved over your years as a 68W? Here, under this roof, you've already got two. You don't deserve the pain, dude. No soldier does."
After watching him closely, listening to him talk, Mike held Rob's gaze. "How long did it take ya' to learn that lesson?"
"Can I get back to you on that one?" Rob asked sheepishly with a hint of a smirk. "Didn't say I practiced what I preached, but I'm fucked in the head. Rationality takes a lot of work. What I can tell you though is this. Learn by my mistakes. Stop, rest, heal... let yourself be taken care of, even if you ain't wanting to be a burden. It took me far too long to learn that lesson and people I loved got hurt from it. Maybe still are some days. None of us want to see you suffering like this when you don't have to."
Mike nodded and then smiled weakly at his friend when he could feel his eyes getting heavy like he was slightly drunk. "Thanks, dude. I needed the proverbial boot up the ass. Now go back to ya' gorgeous wife, make lotsa babies so Uncle Mikey can spoil them rotten. I'll... be okay."
"Bullshit," Rob murmured, feeling sleepy just watching Mike's pale face and drooping eyes. "But that's okay. Just chill and not be okay for a few days. We'll have your back, buddy. Starting now, when I help you back to bed just like I promised. I'll even tuck you in," he added with a smirk.
Mike huffed a slight laugh. "Need practice for your bubs?"
Rob smiled to himself and glanced over at Mike again. "Here's hoping, dude. Here's hoping."
Word Count | 3,548
For as long as he could remember, Rob had been a light sleeper. A lot of it was probably born of being a soldier, but it never took much to wake him up. It had been a pain in the ass when he had been recuperating from the whole getting blown up thing. He had been a cranky bastard more often than not both from pain and lack of sleep, but again, he had been infinitely lucky to have Leila by his side putting up with it and learning how to handle him at his worst as well as his best. That was what marriage was all about at the end of the day, the vows just said it in a much more fancier way.
Tonight, it was a strange noise out in the hallway that had him woken abruptly, ears straining to listen for what it was. He had woken earlier with an urge to use the bathroom, but must have rolled over and gotten comfortable spooned up behind Leila and gone back to sleep. He was still in that same position now, both of them naked and cuddled under the covers again. There had been the hot wall sex earlier out in the backyard, but when they came to bed after taking a shower, they just seemed ready for another round. This time, however, it was much slower and intimate, wrapped around each other under the covers and after, they just fell asleep in much the same embrace. Rob didn't know what time it was now, but he knew he had definitely heard a noise. He carefully slipped out from under the covers so he didn't wake Leila and then pulled on his t-shirt and trackpants that had been draped over their bag near the dresser. The house was cosy, so there was no need for socks, and even though he was cautious and wary, uncertain to what the noise could be, he didn't hesitate heading out into the hall to see what was going on. He just didn't really expect to find what he did.
"Mikey?" he said in a hushed voice, hurrying over to where his friend was up on the crutches but slumped against the wall shaking and sweating heavily. When he reached his side, he realised in concern that Mike wasn't well, in fact he vomited down the front of his shirt, though only a little.
Mike was panting heavily from exertion, tears trickling down his face as it just got too much to bear. "Pain... it hurts..." he got out hoarsely. He rested his head against the wall as a small sob caught in his throat, but he swallowed it back. "Can you help me to the bathroom?"
Rob was already taking one of the crutches from Mike to drape his arm around his shoulders. It was a miracle Mike was even upright on his own, but he had the upper body strength to pull it off, but in his weakened state, it wouldn't last. "What are you doing up and around on your own anyway, buddy? You should've called for help, someone would have come. Lean on me, okay? It's okay, I got you." He left the crutch leaning against the wall and wrapped his arm around Mike's waist to take his weight. "That's it, good lad. We'll take it slow, it's okay. We'll get you cleaned up too. Is it the pain, or were you feeling sick before? I ain't gonna preach at you, but you can't survive a bullet in the leg and an op to fix it on Tylenol."
"Probably the pain," Mike conceded weakly, leaning on Rob gratefully and thankful he didn't have to grip hold of one of the crutches now. The bathroom wasn't far away, but it felt like a miles. It wasn't lost on him how ironics this was, their positions in the reverse just a few months prior. Rob had promised endlessly he would return the favour one day and Mike couldn't be more relieved that it was now. He had been about ready to break down in a sobbing mess of agony. He had tried to get to the bathroom alone so he wouldn't need to wake anyone up, but as soon as he got out into the hall that short distance, he had known it was a mistake. The pain had been unbearable and he soon found himself giving into the burning nausea in his gut. He had the crutches there for very short distances and to use once he healed a little more. But he knew now it was still too soon to be moving alone. Doctor's orders were there for a reason, funnily enough. "This is... it's just my leg... how did ya' do it... for months... all over?"
Rob bit down on his lip, shaking his head. "Dunno, buddy. I really dunno. Can't remember a lot of it. It's a haze. I think my brain blocked it because I just couldn't tolerate it, and I was on shit loads of painkillers and meds. Maybe that's why, but I don't care. I wouldn't have survived it otherwise. You ain't gonna get hooked if you need it, okay? What have you been prescribed?" They reached the bathroom door and Rob carefully pushed it open as he kept a hold on Mike, and then reached in to flick the light on. He squinted in the brightness of it with a small grunt. He must have been in a pretty content sleep because his eyes felt scratchy and puffy now with the bright onslaught. "Okay, do you need a slash, or were you just trying to get here because you felt sick?"
Mike gave a small, tired laugh and shook his head. "I can't even remember, on both counts. My brain feels like mush. Still reelin' from Charlie bein' here." But he paused with a small frown. "She is here, right? I ain't imagined it, I ain't going crazy? I still ain't feelin' so hot. I just needa sit down. Just help me sit on the floor where it's cool. I'll worry 'bout gettin' back up later."
"She's here," Rob confirmed and had no intentions of arguing with what Mike wanted, even if sitting on tiles with a fucked up leg might be a bad move. He still remembered the weird and fucked up things he felt like he needed when he was recovering, and there was even a couple of nights he spent sleeping on the bathroom floor when he felt like he wasn't ever going to shake the nausea. He held his friend up and took the other crutch, gradually and carefully easing Mike down onto the floor by the toilet once he threw a bath towel down so neither of them would get cold butts. He was going to sit there as long as Mike needed to, no arguments. "Give me two seconds, I'll be right back, dude." It was probably a bit longer than that, but he quickly went to Mike's room and collected a fresh t-shirt and a bathrobe in case he wanted it, and then was back a few moments later to hand Mike the glass of water he picked up from the nightstand on the way out of the bedroom.
Mike gratefully accepted the water and took a long drink from the glass, feeling more parched than he realised. It washed the horrible taste from his mouth and then he just set the glass down to start pulling the soiled t-shirt off. "I feel like crap," he admitted and tossed the shirt aside with a sigh. "I told her I was fine, and I ain't even sure why. I'm in agony and I'm so tired. I just ain't exactly sure how I'm 'sposed to deal with her bein' here. It was awesome to see her, but beyond that, I dunno if I have the energy to deal with it right now. I just... it just... feels too much. Not Charlie, the pain. It's too much," he added in a whisper as emotions built up in him and he felt more tears drip down his cheeks.
Rob watched his friend sympathetically and crouched down in front of him. He took Mike's forearm softly. "I'm gonna help you get the clean shirt on, buddy. Just relax and chill, I got it," he assured him. It was a little awkward, but he eventually got there and was soon sitting beside Mike, their backs resting against the bath tub. He rested his hand on Mike's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "It's okay to have a good cry, dude. Helps a lil bit. Ain't taking nothing away, but it seems to release some of the tension. We thought it might be nice for you to have a surprise with her coming home. It's a lot to take, for sure, but you should let her help you, man. She's back now and she's gonna be back for at least a lil while. I know I sound like a broken record when I say this, but I wouldn't have survived none of it without Leila. She helped me feel alive, even just a lil tiny bit on those bad days. Feeling her hand in mine, feeling her stroke my hair when I was in head-to-toe agony, it just gave me something to lean on."
"She's got her own shit to deal with, just comin' home and all," Mike replied through gritted teeth when the pain shot through his leg. He tried to massage out it out, but there was no easing it and he was soon cursing colourfully through the tears. But they subsided, even if he was left breathless and sweaty all over again. "Fuck it. Fuck it to hell. I just wanna be able to get more than a coupla hours sleep without wakin' up feelin' like my leg is on fire. I feel sick, I can't think straight. I know I gotta all rely on people right now, but the middle of the night is bullshit when everyone else is tryin' to sleep? It ain't fair. Fuck!" he growled in frustration, banging his fist against the tiles to try and force the adrenaline away from pulsing through his wound.
"Where's the pills? Did you get pills or just a script? Mikey, you know what's bullshit? This. You trying to outdo the pain. It doesn't work. Trust me, it just doesn't work. Even if you just take the does to help you sleep and not any other time. Come on, dude. Tell me where they are and I'll go and get them, yeah?" Rob urged, patting Mike on the back. "Biggest lesson I had to learn was the body ain't gonna get better when it's too weak to fight anything. You can take the pills and I'll stay with you until they start to kick, then help you back to bed. Deal? Mikey?"
Mike sighed, drawing his good knee up and draping his arm across it to rest his head on his elbow. "Kitchen," he finally conceded hoarsely. "Near a pile of discharge papers and dressin's and shit. Don't happen to wanna get me a beer while ya' out there, do ya'?" He was only half joking from where his face was buried in his arm. He didn't have the energy to fight his friend, and he hadn't been lying when he had told Charlie about Rob's potential Drill Sergeant lurking in there. Rob could out-argue him at ten paces.
Rob was already up and heading out to the kitchen, though. He was quiet, feeling his way up the hall with just a tiny bit of light coming in through the windows of the front door from the street lamps. When he got to the kitchen, he only turned on the stove light so he could see around the large room. It was a huge country oak kitchen with expensive fixtures and a large island in the middle. A lot like you might see in the a home and garden magazine. Mrs Austin had always loved cooking, so the awesome kitchen wasn't surprising. Rob still had memories of sitting around that kitchen island in his cadet training days stuffing himself on cakes and cookies. He looked around for any pill bottles or piles of papers and found what Mike was talking about near the kettle beside a pile of recipe books. he was relieved to see four pill bottles there and not just scripts, so he picked them up to see what had been prescribed. Mike had Oxycodone for the pain, and the same post-op antibiotics Rob had taken indicating he might have an infection that he had failed to mention. The antibiotic bottle was half-full, showing that Mike had been taking those, but the Oxycodone looked untouched, as expected. The third bottle was a mild sedative that Rob also recognised and he sighed, realising how easy it should have been for Mike to get pain relief and help to sleep. It was the fourth bottle that had Rob intrigued, though, and he looked at the bottle label with slight confusion. Lexapro. An antidepressant. He didn't snoop any further, he just picked up the painkillers and sedatives, switched the light off and quietly padded back up the hall to the bathroom. He handed the two bottles to Mike and refilled the glass of water for him. It was only when he was sat back down beside him did he plant him with a questioning gaze. "Lexapro, dude?" he finally asked quietly. "I thought it was an accident?"
"It was," Mike murmured as he uncapped the painkillers and poured two of the pills into his palm. He tipped them into his mouth and then washed them down with a sip of water. "It was just a reckless one. Have you taken sleepin' pills before? They kinda worry me. I ain't ever taken much stronger than Tylenol before. 'Sposed to have funky side effects."
Rob was looking at Mike, his mouth hanging open slightly. "I, uh..." He wet his lips. "The painkillers will have worse side effects if you're gonna get them. Nausea, lightheadedness, dry mouth, constipation... nothing serious. Nothing worse than having a bullet in your leg, anyway. Sleeping pills probably ain't gonna bother you much at all. Reckless? What ain't you telling me, dude? I've had a weird sick feeling in my gut for days that you might done this deliberately... or something. Something wasn't sitting right with the story."
Mike was quiet for a long time, staring at the pill bottle in his hand, but he soon reached up to swipe a thick layer of sweat off his forehead with the back of his wrist. "I panicked. First time in a long, long time that I ever did that. Somethin' just snapped in my head when I got out there and I was... was seein' ya' lyin' there. I know I wasn't the one to pull ya' out after the explosion, but when I got out there to the dude, it was just like it ya' lyin' there and I had to save ya'. We were in suspected landmine territory. I rushed in without waitin' for a clear. Dude's rifle was still in his hand without the safety on, obviously. He had a seizure, pulled the trigger. Got me in the leg."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Rob asked hoarsely, his eyes locked on Mike's face in disbelief. He had suspected something along those lines, but to hear it had floored him.
"Baby makin'," Mike replied with a hint of a smirk at his friend. He sipped the water, his hands even tremoring now from the pain. It was strange, because he remembered the exact same symptoms in Rob when he was first home after the whole ordeal, just more in the extreme. Right now, Mike could understand on some level how bad his mate must have been feeling back then. "I ain't sayin' ya' didn't have time for me, because ya' did and it's been awesome havin' y'all here. Nice surprise to come home to. I just didn't wanna dump none of it on ya' when ya' actually lookin' happy and relaxed for the first time since ya' got back home. I slipped, dude. My subconscious got the better of me. Guess it really was time overdue for my R and R."
Rob pushed his fingers through his hair and then rubbed his hand over his face for it to finally rest over his mouth as he let out a rough, heavy breath. He couldn't help feeling responsible, and guilty, about Mike's revelation. The thing was, he could understand. Subconscious was a horrible thing that could betray you in the blink of an eye. After a moment, he got up and went to the sink to wet a face cloth, bringing it back so Mike could wipe his face. "The antidepressants... they're...?"
"Precaution," Mike explained, taking the cloth gratefully and wiping his face with a relieved and heavy sigh of pleasure at the coolness against his heated and flushed skin. "They're there if I need them. The shrink in my debrief told me I was in a risk category for, surprise surprise, PTSD. I'm okay, I ain't so much lyin' 'bout that. In my head, I'm okay, just exhausted. Physically, I'm fucked up. But maybe ya' right, it ain't gonna hurt to just try the pills. 'Specially now I'm in so much agony I threw up all over myself and can't even remember if I was tryin' to get outta bed for a piss or not. Just... bein' there and helpin' Leila take care of ya' after ya' injuries, nearly losin' ya', seein' ya' tryin' to claw ya' life back, I guess it stuck with me a lot more than I thought. None of that is ya' fault, dude. None of it. It's just... family. When ya' family hurts, ya' hurt with them. I'm gonna be okay. I just need time. Right now, I ain't doin' so good, but I'm doin' better because I'm home."
Rob picked up the bottle of sedatives and opened it, taking one of the pills out and holding it up for Mike pointedly. "That means family gets to be a nagging pain in the ass when it's necessary," he said quietly and handed the pill over. "Has the guilt set in yet? Wondering if your panic might've put the injured dude at risk? Wondering if you might've cracked with some of your other patients? Because you know, lack of sleep ain't gonna help any of that. It makes it worse and that's whan you start thinking you're going mental."
Mike met Rob's eyes, but took the pill and swallowed that one too. He nodded and wet his dry lips. "Yeah, it has a lil bit. I'm just glad the bullet got me and not him or my colleagues. Ya' know what it's like, though. Gotta live with it now."
Rob raised his eyebrows a little at this reply. "The pills. That's why you ain't been taking them. You're trying to punish yourself because you think you should live with the pain because you fucked up," he guessed and then sighed. "Mikey, it's war. Why're punishing yourself for trying to save a dude's life? One error, buddy, when you were running on empty at the end of a long group of deployments. You ain't Superman, you're a combat medic, who is human under the camos. To tip the scales, how many lives have you saved over your years as a 68W? Here, under this roof, you've already got two. You don't deserve the pain, dude. No soldier does."
After watching him closely, listening to him talk, Mike held Rob's gaze. "How long did it take ya' to learn that lesson?"
"Can I get back to you on that one?" Rob asked sheepishly with a hint of a smirk. "Didn't say I practiced what I preached, but I'm fucked in the head. Rationality takes a lot of work. What I can tell you though is this. Learn by my mistakes. Stop, rest, heal... let yourself be taken care of, even if you ain't wanting to be a burden. It took me far too long to learn that lesson and people I loved got hurt from it. Maybe still are some days. None of us want to see you suffering like this when you don't have to."
Mike nodded and then smiled weakly at his friend when he could feel his eyes getting heavy like he was slightly drunk. "Thanks, dude. I needed the proverbial boot up the ass. Now go back to ya' gorgeous wife, make lotsa babies so Uncle Mikey can spoil them rotten. I'll... be okay."
"Bullshit," Rob murmured, feeling sleepy just watching Mike's pale face and drooping eyes. "But that's okay. Just chill and not be okay for a few days. We'll have your back, buddy. Starting now, when I help you back to bed just like I promised. I'll even tuck you in," he added with a smirk.
Mike huffed a slight laugh. "Need practice for your bubs?"
Rob smiled to himself and glanced over at Mike again. "Here's hoping, dude. Here's hoping."
Word Count | 3,548