Skeletons In The Closet

[Artemis]

"Sure, I could use some help. Do you want to get rid of him? Is he babying you too much?"

It was obvious Matthew was only teasing, but for Brody it struck something of a raw nerve. He turned his attention back to his glass of water, trying to think best how to answer.

"A bit." He said simply. "He needs something to think about other than how worried he is about me."

Brody loved his father, and wouldn't have him any other way than as he was, but Nolan's tendency to be a mother hen was wearing on him; it was nice when he was home to visit, not so much when he was a grown man living under his parents' roof for an extended time and trying to come to terms with the events that had put them there. He knew Nolan was doing his best not to smother him, but old habits died hard. Brody could be a gray old man, and in Nolan's eyes he'd always be his fair-haired, wide-eyed little boy.

Mercifully, Matthew just accepts the idea of having some help with restoring the house and doesn't delve too deeply into the topic, leading him through the house towards the bathroom.

"The bathroom is back where we came in. You have to be quick though. There's only so much warm water because it gets heated by the oven in the kitchen. It's a really old house. And I also need a warm shower."

Well, that figured. But Brody wasn't so long out of boot camp that he couldn't be in and out of the warm water in 5 minutes flat.

"Unless you want to share the water..."

Brody's eyebrows rose almost to his hairline at Matthew's bluster. At this point, he might as well just accept that his friend was never going to learn that he'd never win at a game of Gay Chicken with a bisexual man.

"Did having a kid swing you my way?" He shot back cheekily, "Suit yourself."

The water flowing from the showerhead was very slowly beginning to heat up, and Brody tugged his shirt off over his head and started to dress down, fully expecting Matthew's bravado to fail him before he could even drop his trousers.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

I can see his suprise at my words but I'm not sure whether he thinks I'm serious or not. It's a constant game with us but so far I figured he knows where I stand and where he stands. That doesn't keep me from yanking is chain everynow and then or he mine.

"Did having a kid swing you my way?" he asks with that cheeky grin I haven't seen in ages.
"Who knows. She made me all soft." I mirror his expression because he finally doesn't look like a beaten puppy and it's good to see.

"Suit yourself."
That's when he starts undressing because the waters already running.
And this is where I get nervous- just like always. This time however I pretend to be cool as a cucumber, cross my arms in front of my chest and stand my ground.

His shirt goes and then he starts unbuckling his belt but my eyes have captured the large scar from the exit wound of the bullet. 'Holy fucking shit.' I mouth but don't let any sounds escape.I had no idea how big it was or the sort of damage the pressure must have done inside his body.

I have to tear my eyes away from it when he turns to face me and I realize he's now in his birth suit.
"I had no idea how big...." While I speak I realize just how dumb I sound and quickly gesture to his back.
"...your...back there...your scar is." Okay, I've just totally put my foot in it!
So I continue to gesture but this time towards the door. " think you're wasting hot water."

[Artemis]

To Matthew's credit, he didn't immediately shy away as he shirked his clothes off; in honesty, Brody wasn't nearly as shameless as he'd been before, self-conscious of the amount of muscle mass he'd lost, but he wasn't about to begin a losing streak against Matthew.

The expression on Matthew's face, though, doesn't suit the joking mood at all when Brody turned around.

"I had no idea how big...."

Brody had a comeback about Matthew's own endowments on the tip of his tongue, until his friend gestured to his back. "... your... back there... your scar is."

So much for the joking mood. Brody had hoped Matthew would've opted to ignore the new scars he was sporting, but then he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that he opened his mouth with Matthew's propensity for being bad with words.

He just hadn't expected Matthew to be so blunt about it.

Personally, Brody had only seen the front, and though the entry wound was a bit less grotesque, he could still barely bring himself to look at it. He'd only ventured a guess as to how bad the exit wound had been, refused to let his parents tell him when they'd changed his bandages, and now he knew.

He really, really wished he didn't.

Brody's hand unconsciously came up to touch the scar on his front, eyes falling off to Matthew's side as his friend made for the door, apparently realizing his faux pas and reminding him the water was warm. The part of Brody that was angry about the shooting was too tired and well exercised to be of much use. The other part of him that was painfully aware of how close he'd come to losing his life wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all.

He didn't know what he'd expected, running into the Ruze house to confront Jins. Well, he did, to an extent. Brody had thought he would find his friends (because, lets face it, by this point they were his friends) unharmed if a little panicked, that he would take them into protective custody until Jins was hunted down, and that would be the end of it. It hadn't even crossed his mind that he'd have to fight the man himself, or to jump in front of Kyanite when the gun went off. He'd just... reacted.

It was only when he was in the privacy of his own company that he'd allowed himself the luxury of crying about it. It was incredibly hard to bite it back standing under the warm water, knowing Matthew might hear.

Brody couldn't bear that look of pity in his eyes.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

Within seconds the mood changes and we go from playful banter to the most sensitive subject currently at hand. I'm such a fool sometimes but am not quick enough to hide my feelings.
I can see him touch the smaller version of a scar on his front but quickly avert my gaze to retreat out of the room. What a fool I am!

I close the door behind me to give him the privacy he needs for his shower and shiver against the cold biting my own skin...or is it my foolishness?
The sound of water briefly changes as he steps under the current so I walk away to the living room where I keep a stack of clothes in a box in the corner since I don't have a lot of furniture yet. First I unbutton my own wet shirt and then pull off the t-shirt underneath. My mind still replays the image of his scar and now that my back is bare, too, I remember that my own skin must look just as bad since the whipping. There's no pain anymore but the lines haven't completely faded, at least not the deeper ones.

I tear myself out of my thoughts, drop my wet jeans to the ground but make sure my boxers stay on even though they're wet, then grab some dry clothes for my friend and a towel.

When I return to the bathroom I can hear the heavy breathing inside since the old door doesn't close properly. Why is he breathing so hard? Or is it something else. For a moment I just stand there and listen, then I knock and enter the steamy bathroom to place the clothes on the closed toilet.
"I got you some clothes. Take you time."
If he needs more time, I'll simply change into dry clothes.

[Artemis]

Brody wasn't sure how long he stood there under the water, eyes clenched shut as he resumed his breathing exercises, trying to make himself calm down. Just as much as he was prone now to bouts of panic, if he ever thought too hard about the close call he'd had, Brody could feel the hysteria start to bubble up in his chest.

He wasn't sure which was more humiliating.

It wasn't until Matthew opened the door that Brody snapped out of his self-imposed trance.

"I got you some clothes. Take your time."

What had felt like an eternity had only been the passing of a few minutes. With the exertion of fighting tiring his muscles and stress tiring his mind, Brody was suddenly exhausted. He scrubbed the worst of the sweat and grime off his skin and out of his hair, shutting off the water and toweling off. Relieved that the mirror was fogged up enough that he couldn't make out any of the details of his reflection.

He tried hard not to be bothered by how big Matthew's borrowed clothes were on him; the younger man was only 2 inches taller than Brody was, but their weight disparity --previously barely noticeable except to those actively looking for it-- was so obvious it was almost infuriating.

If he'd had the energy to be furious, anyway.

Brody's damp hair stuck up in all directions when he stepped out of the bathroom.

"It's all yours. Should be enough hot water left."

Right now, he was looking forward to possibly just collapsing on the couch nearest to the fireplace to let the warmth work its way back under his skin.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

Patiently I wait outside the door in the cold hallway. My damp, chilled skin has a ton of goose bumps all over but I'm not about to step inside the warm bathroom while he's getting changed.
When he comes outside he looks like he's wearing a giant's oversized clothing. I'm not that big- has he really lost that much weight during his down time?


Even though I'm standing there in nothing but my boxers that are clinging to me like a second skin and hug my arms around my body I get no comment from him. No more playful banter, not even a word. He must be feeling pretty low now so I watch him walk towards the living room. Maybe it was just a momentary glimpse of hope while we sparred.

"You'll come back for more training this week, right?" I urge him before I step into the muggy warmth of the bathroom and shed the rest of my clothing.
There's stilla but of warm water left but I hurry up to leather up and rinse off before it has a chance to turn cold on me. Brody must have used up most of it and that's fine.

Soon I step out of the shower again, towel myself dry and wrap the towel around my waist to go and get more clothes because I only brought one set and even had to use his damp towel.
In the living room I find him huddled up on the couch near the fire.
"Not a bad place to be." I offer a smile and crouch down to rummage through my box of clothes, from which I pull a pair of grey sweat pants, underwear, a shirt and a hoodie.

"Put some water on the stove for coffee or tea and then we can have some lunch. I'm hungry."
With that I retreat back to the bathroom because I feel it's inappropriate to change in front of him. I do let him get a look at my back though. Maybe that'll make him feel better.

My feet leave small wet prints all the way to the bathroom when I close the door and wipe the mirror clean. Looking at my own unshaved reflection I wonder why I'm doing so well and he's so bad?

[Artemis]

"Put some water on the stove for coffee or tea and then we can have some lunch. I'm hungry."

Brody merely 'hmm'ed in response, not having much of an appetite with the mood he was in but knowing it wasn't going to help him in any way to bulk back up to his Peacekeeper weight.

He refilled the kettle, turning on the stove and putting a little more kindling into the fireplace to coax the flames to take to the logs more quickly. The brown noise of the pop and crackle of the fire, the sound of the shower running down the hall, and the rain beating on the roof and windows made it comfortably noisy... And much harder for Brody to be alone with his thoughts too much.

Matthew's back had been striped with scars from the flogging many months ago, and Brody was torn between despair that he hadn't been able to skate his friend out unscathed, and resigned that he had done the best he could under the circumstances. There was no scenario where a temperamental, hotheaded interrogation subject and an equally willful Peacekeeper coincided nicely.

He could at least comfort himself knowing Matthew had escaped with his life.

Brody sat for a long few minutes slouched on the couch, staring into the fireplace until he heard the kettle begin to whine as the water boiled.

He wanted to come back and train; he really did. Brody didn't just want to get back to his fighting form, he had missed his friend's company; all the more so that of all people, Matthew would be the one who understood the pit Brody had fallen into after his own encounter with Jins. But at the same time... Three months was a long time to be idle, especially for someone as active as Brody had been before.

It was one thing to need to spin up a little extra momentum after a bad week, but restarting it entirely after months of inactivity was a beast all its own.

And with how discouraged Brody was getting by the lack of visible progress, it was looking to be a very daunting task.

"Water's done." Brody deadpanned when Matthew returned.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

Fully clothed in an outfit similar to his I return to the living room where the flames arelighting up the inside of the house.

"Water's done." He states in a tone apt for a funeral.

I just give him a look and motion for the kitchen.
"Good. Then make yourself useful and make some tea."
I pad over- still without socks even though the floor boards are cold and open the pantry where I find some potatoes, powdered stock and leeks. Out back there's some trout hung up. It's below zero so it'll easily keep two or three days out there.
"My father is a big fan of ice fishing. Have you ever been? He likes fishing in general. Took me way too often when I was small."
Off my index fingers dangles one of the poor bastards.

I place it all on the counter and start peeling the potatoes while I tell Brody.
"Why are you feeling so low, Brody? There's no use moarning what you lost. You can only embrace what you still have now and make the best of it."
I sound so clever but would I act upon my own advice? I remember vividly what loosing the final battle of the pregames felt like and how I was far from at ease with myself. I even pushed Kyanite away...maybe a girl- or boyfriend would help? I dismiss that thought.

"Nobody's going to help you if you don't do it yourself. I totally expect you to come back here twice a week and train with me- gives me a good escuse to escape dirty diapers."
I grin at him and almost peel the skin off my own fingers so I quickly focus back on the task at hand.

But then I stop and point my finger at him. "And I expect something else from you. Get laid for f**s sake!"

My cutting continues until the potatoes, onion and leeks are cut into small pieces, the fish is gutted and the oil sizzling in the pan.

[Artemis]

Brody didn't comment on Matthew's tone, rifling around through the cupboards in search of the tea and watching as Matthew started preparing fish and leeks and potatoes.

"My father is a big fan of ice fishing. Have you ever been? He likes fishing in general. Took me way too often when I was small."

"Once," Brody replied, "When I was pretty young. Can't say I was a fan."

It was odd to hear Matthew talk about his father, but at least the two of them seemed to be on better terms.

Brody's own experience with ice fishing was alright in retrospect, but at the time had been horrible. At least during the warmer months, if the fish weren't biting, it was an excuse to lounge in the sun and relax. Not so much when it was snowy and cold with a windchill making it feel even colder.

In hindsight, too, Nolan freaking out and pretending the fish had eaten his fingers (because like most 5 year olds, Brody was terribly gullible) had been funny. At the time, not so much.

"That reminds me. I did promise we'd go fishing on the lake... When the weather gets better, though."

Matthew started peeling the potatoes when he started talking again.

"Why are you feeling so low, Brody? There's no use mourning what you lost. You can only embrace what you still have now and make the best of it."

Brody narrowed his eyes.

"Gee, why didn't I think of that?" He replied sarcastically, "Don't you think if I knew exactly what my problem was I'd have found out how to fix it by now?"

The shrink had multiple ideas what it was; a near-death experience tended to shake a person down to their very foundation.

"Nobody's going to help you if you don't do it yourself. I totally expect you to come back here twice a week and train with me- gives me a good excuse to escape dirty diapers."

He snorted.

"No shit. But in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly in prime psychological shape to just get right back on the ball."

His therapist was forever consoling him that therapy was a slow process and that Brody was making progress, but it sure as hell didn't seem that way from his perspective.

"And I expect something else from you. Get laid for f**s sake!"

By now the tea was done steeping in the kettle as Brody poured two mugs, grateful for the hot drink to banish the last dregs of cold from his bones.

He snorted once again at the remark.

"Yeah, sure. When I find someone into the waify, inked-up prettyboy look."

Brody still had the appeal of the uniform, but it was a sore substitute for the swagger and stature he used to have.

"Besides," He went on, his tone softer, "I really don't want to have to explain to a total stranger where I got the scars from."

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham[/quote]

[Jack Lexington]

I'm trying my best to cheer him up in every way I know: train a little, have a chat, eat a meal.
Brody however gets pissed off by every nice word I have for him.
"Gee, why didn't I think of that?" There's sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Don't you think if I knew exactly what my problem was I'd have found out how to fix it by now?"
I just raise my brows but bite back every nasty comment that might be on the tip of my tongue and keep cutting the veggies.

When I tell him that I want him to come back twice a week his attitude gets worse.
"No shit. But in case you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly in prime psychological shape to just get right back on the ball."
"Yeah, I noticed." I growl at him because he's really starting to rub me the wrong way.
"Time to do something about that,right?" My tone is low but not threatening.

All I know is that I had two, maybe three weeks after my lung had been stabbed and deflated, before I returned to training and he was assigned to me.
"How much time did I have?" Needless to say I cheated to be cleared for duty but it felt like the right thing to do at the time.
"Remember what you did?" I eye him over my shoulder.
"You pushed- gently but you pushed."

When I tell him to get laid I make thinsg worse, if that's possible.
"Yeah, sure. When I find someone into the waify, inked-up prettyboy look."

"Besides," His voice is full of regret. "I really don't want to have to explain to a total stranger where I got the scars from."
"Oh man!" I can't help but exclaim with deep sigh. I'm having a hard time reigning in my temper but I know I must. "Who the fuck cares? Some people don't care about scars. Some even dig them. Plus you must have old acquaintances. Some ofl boyfriend or girlfriend you can see? What about the guy who saw you at the hospital?"

I know that if I have to look at his self loathing expression any longer I'll explode so I hand him the spoon for the pan and say. "Hold this. I have to get fire wood."

With that I brush past him and stomp to the door but not before adding.
"Stir...you can still stirr, right?"

Outside I take a deep breath and step away from the house not caring that my hair gets soaked again by the rain coming down hard now. I just need a moment to breath before my anger scares Brody away for good.
So I jog over to the bar and load a carte full of wood, which I then carry back to the house as quickly as I can to keep it dry.
Inside I set it down near the fire place and run my hand over my wet face to then look at Brody. Is he still pissed, too?

[Artemis]

Brody knew he was being difficult, and he didn't hold it against Matthew visibly getting annoyed by his attitude. But he'd expected maybe a little more empathy than what so far seemed to amount to "suck it up and get over it". If it was that easy, Brody would've done it by now.

"Remember what you did?" Matthew replied, his tone strained but even, "You pushed- gently but you pushed."

He sighed. Matthew wasn't wrong, but at the same time, the trauma left over from his own attack from Jins had been easier to isolate; the only time Matthew had freaked out on him had been when Brody had tried to get him past his fear of the pool (which had gone disastrously). Brody's demons seemed to be everywhere, hiding in the most innocuous of places and giving him little or no warning when and where they'd strike.

It was one thing to avoid going swimming. It was another to tiptoe around many of the things Brody had used to love, or were an essential part of his job.

"Who the fuck cares? Some people don't care about scars. Some even dig them. Plus you must have old acquaintances. Some old boyfriend or girlfriend you can see? What about the guy who saw you at the hospital?" Matthew finally says, clearly exasperated.

Brody shot Matthew a look.

"Dude, I told you. Marcus is practically my brother. I'd as soon sleep with him as I'd sleep with you."

Why of all things that was the topic to get Brody's mind off the sorry state he was in, he didn't know, but his annoyance quickly shifted to discomfort at the idea. He was human, sure, but even Brody had his boundaries.

Matthew thrust the spoon into Brody's hands, visibly fed up.

"Hold this. I have to get firewood." He said brusquely, brushing past Brody, "Stir... you can still stir, right?"

Somehow, that stung almost as much as Matthew's surprise at seeing Brody's gunshot scars. That Brody was just as useless as he felt. Numbly, he turned the contents of the pan over to keep them from burning, putting the spoon down and resting his hands on the counter, suddenly feeling like a great weight had settled onto his shoulders trying to drag him to the ground. He knew logically what the symptoms of his trauma were; anxiety, sleeplessness, agitation... It was easy to read a list and know what they were, but Brody didn't normally catch himself doing those things until he'd already lashed out.

His parents had been far more patient than Brody had given them credit for.

The front door slammed shut as Matthew reentered the house, dropping the armload of firewood next to the hearth. Brody could feel his friend's gaze on his back, and more than anything he wanted to run back to his barracks and hide. Go where he couldn't lash out at his friends or worry his parents anymore, where nobody else could see his shame and his weakness.

"... maybe I should go." He said finally, quietly. "Obviously I'm just pissing you off."

Nevermind that it was still pouring outside, but suddenly all this social interaction was wearing greatly on Brody. How Matthew had managed to spring back after 3 weeks, he had no idea.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

The wood leaves small splinters in my jacket so I busy myself picking and brushing them off because I'm still not as calm as I'd like to be. Brody doesn't acknowldege me or has anything to say either. The guy has changed so much from the fierce guy with a clear goal, that I knew.
I have no idea how to help him or what to do or tell him to snap out of his funk.

Instead of stirring he turns around and tells me. ""... maybe I should go. Obviously I'm just pissing you off."
I want to scream at him. "Yeah, you should get the fuck out and crawl back into the hole you came from!" But I don't instead I galre at him, nostrils flaring.
"Really? You think?"
Of course he's pissing me off but only because he doesn't live up to his own standards.
"And that's going to help what or who?" I snap at him.

Placing my hand against the chimney I sigh deeply.
"Don't go, Brody. I'll calm down. Let's just eat and relax and if you still want to go then, go, okay?"

Then I do something that's completely against character and the only reason I'm doing it is to not loose my friend any more than I already did. I close the distance between us, extend my arms and pull him into a friendly hug. For a moment I hold him and then without a word, clap him on the shoulder and release him.

That's all I got to offer.

[Artemis]

Going solely off the visible anger on Matthew's face and the intensity in his eyes, Brody fully expected to be told to fuck off.

"Really? You think?" Matthew shoots back, his tone acidic.

But it seemed Brody wasn't the only one who had changed considerably in the time they hadn't seen each other.

"And that's going to help what or who?"

Of all the possible responses he'd expected of his friend, that definitely wasn't one of them, and Brody didn't have an answer. None, anyway, that he was willing to say aloud that they'd only piss him off even further. Matthew sighed, leaning on the chimney and obviously trying to calm himself down.

"Don't go, Brody. I'll calm down. Let's just eat and relax and if you still want to go then, go, okay?"

Brody averted his gaze elsewhere, feeling utterly undeserving of his friend's patience when he'd thus far been more of a burden than a friend himself. Matthew crossed the floor towards him, and Brody half expected a playful punch in the shoulder, or a slap upside the head and a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Matthew, it seemed, was full of surprises. Even though the younger man had hugged him once before, it had been in the hospital when Matthew had seen Brody alive for the first time since being shot; he'd been more than a little overwhelmed himself thanking the man who'd saved the lives of his girlfriend and unborn daughter. Brody was still, for a second, before it sort of sank in. He'd been hugged and held and coddled to the point of smothering these past months, but he'd tolerated because that was how his family was; McKenna and Nolan needed a solid reminder that their son was alive and breathing.

His and Matthew's friendship was plenty physical, but rarely like this.

If Matthew, probably the least cuddly person Brody could think of, thought he looked like he needed it, maybe all the hugging and smothering had been as much for Brody's benefit as for his parents'.

Brody sighed, his forehead resting heavily on Matthew's shoulder and hands fisting in the back of his shirt.

"How did you do it, man?" Brody asked miserably, slightly muffled in his friend's shoulder, "How the hell did you keep it together and get back on your feet in 3 weeks?"

Brody had been allowed far more time than Matthew did to heal and feel like himself again, and he was still practically afraid of his own shadow. It was exhausting, and swiftly eroding what remained of his resolve to keep pushing and trying to move forward; it seemed like for every 100 steps he advanced, he slid back 99.

He was too proud to admit how ashamed he was to be so much weaker than the man he considered his brother and (friendly) rival, but Brody didn't think Matthew needed to be told to understand that.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham

[Jack Lexington]

I expected to pull away from him in a heartbeat after showing him how much I care but instead his hand grabs the back of my shirt and he leans into my shoulder. At first I become stiff as a board because I don't know what to do now and feel very awkward but then I just stand there and let him do it. Why the hell not? I'm not going to be turned just because I hugged my friend.
obviously he needsit otherwise he wouldn't do it. Maybe me staying somewhat calm made him change his mind about his anger, too.

"How did you do it, man?" I hear his muffled voice "How the hell did you keep it together and get back on your feet in 3 weeks?"
So that's what's bothering him. He thinks I got over it in three weeks and he's been out for much longer and still can't stand on his own two feet without breaking down.

I actually have to think about that for a moment so I slowly drop my hand and think out loud.
"Maybe I just didn't have time to let it all sink in. I just carried on and physically pushed myself to the limit so I wouldn't have to think?" That's my theory.
"I went to a shrink once...once only because I did not want to talk to her. But that doesn't mean I was over it. You saw what happened..."

I get a little lost in thoughts because now I have to think about Jins and his ugly visage and creepy voice again. The man who tortured my girlfriend for years with his possessiveness.
My gaze darkens as I think about him and feel all that hate well up in my chest again.
"More bad events piled up on top...you know it all. I'm not sure that I'm over it now. I just keep going. Mira's my engine."

It's true. That little girl changed everything for me. She replaced hate and anger with devotion and love. Not that I'm different through and through but she made me realise how much good there is in my life beside career events and the pk academy.
"Maybe you just have to let yourself off the hook. Stop wishinh so hard for it all to be like before."

[Artemis]

In any other scenario, Brody would've rolled his eyes and had something sarcastic to say about Matthew stiffening when he accepted his friend's hugs (something like, "bisexuality isn't contagious, you moron,"), but to the younger man's credit, he started to relax as it seemed to sink in just how much Brody wasn't feeling like himself.

In case the panic attacks and irritability weren't enough of a clue.

"Maybe I just didn't have time to let it all sink in. I just carried on and physically pushed myself to the limit so I wouldn't have to think?" Matthew replied after a long moment, and even he didn't sound terribly sure of his own words. "I went to a shrink once...once only because I did not want to talk to her. But that doesn't mean I was over it. You saw what happened..."

Of course he did. Brody was by no means stable in his current state, but Matthew's flashback had been far more... consuming than any panic attack or mood swing. He sincerely doubted he'd ever forget that in the throes of his own waking nightmare, Matthew had attempted to drown Brody thinking he was fighting for his life against Jins.

If not for the severity of his injuries, he probably would have succeeded, too.

But then, Matthew had Kyanite and his new daughter to keep himself going. Brody loved his parents dearly, and would do anything for them, but they didn't depend on him to keep the roof over their heads or food on the table; to say nothing of the fact that seeing the pain in their faces watching their son suffer, was as heavy a burden as the trauma itself.

"Maybe you just have to let yourself off the hook. Stop wishing so hard for it all to be like before."

That... seemed incredibly counterintuitive. On the one hand, the process of fighting his way out of this rut had been exhausting and the rewards few and far between. On the other, it sounded an awful lot like giving up.

"Then what?" Brody asked, inwardly wincing at how lost he sounded, "I can't just give up, I don't want to stay like this."

Not just psychologically, with the nightmares and sleeplessness and being afraid of seemingly everything; Brody was tired of being physically weak, he craved the physical activity he was accustomed to that his mind wouldn't let him have. Which, unfortunately, only compounded the restlessness and irritability.

ffffff - Brody O'Rourke
1979 - Matthew Dunham