The Soldier's Tale

by Scott, RJ

  "Seems little Edward is a fighter. He's responding okay, still very poorly, but at least out of danger. Phil said he'd update us in a few hours."

  "That's good news, isn't it?" Daniel was hoping Sean would say it was.

  "It's not bad news, which makes it good news." He rubbed at tired eyes. "If that makes any sense at all." Daniel pulled him back to hold him tight.

  "Perfect sense."

  Chapter Nine

  Daniel stood for a long time staring at his reflection in the mirror. The bathroom was where he did all his best thinking. Judging his reflection when he could see the evidence of the scars, everything was more real. He didn't look tired after last night. In fact, to his eyes, despite the physical stuff and the lack of sleep, he looked very rested. He'd taken his meds like a good little soldier when Sean had crossed his arms across his chest and refused to leave before he saw Daniel swallow them. Resentment shot through Daniel at that thought. He wanted a relationship based on mutual respect and trust, not one where one of them pointedly reminded the other of the frailty of body and mind. Still, the sex had been good, and he wouldn't mind a repeat of that if it was offered to him.

  Sean wanted to visit the baby in the hospital so he'd left at eight, a smile on his face that the news he received had been good. He hadn't left without making plans to see Daniel again tonight. It was the first time they had organised Sean coming to the house as opposed to him just turning up with sacrificial offerings of food from local restaurants. It felt different, not casual, but arranged with some great meaning behind it. Interesting.

  The knock on the door came not long after, but despite his concerns about the whole relationship thing, his good mood meant he didn't have the usual worries about letting the outside world in.

  Will.

  "It's been a while," his best friend said carefully. Daniel could play this one of two ways. He could feign surprise that the date of the wedding was now close, which might buy him a few more hours to pack a bag and run, or he could just come out with it and say no.

  "Will…" He'd made the effort to start, thinking of how to word his refusal to stand up as best man to Will, when he felt his entire wall crumble to pieces. Will wasn't on his own. Sod it, he'd brought the one thing with him that was probably going to cause way more chinks in his armour than Will could ever achieve alone. His bloody fiancée. Di freaking Fitzwarren. Her soft brown hair was loose in her customary straight bob, her pretty face without makeup, and her lips curved up in an innocent smile. Daniel groaned inwardly.

  "Di wanted to talk to you," Will offered, the palms of his hand upright offering innocence in the whole matter, and Daniel did the only thing he could really do.

  "You'd better come in."

  Di sat primly on the end of one of the two sofas that had been here since the fifties, great solid dark brown leather with carved wooden feet.

  "Why don't we have a cup of tea and a quick gossip?" she said gently. "Will can help you in the kitchen." Daniel opened his mouth to protest. He didn't need help in the kitchen, but when he caught Will's gaze and his frantic head gestures, he realised Di was giving the two men time to come up with a suitable defence before she tore it down. Daniel led Will into the kitchen, with all his excuses ready.

  "You don't want me there," Daniel whispered heatedly. "People will look, and stare, and Christ, it's your day, not mine." He put an awful lot of emphasis on the word "your", hoping that would win points in this whole discussion.

  "I told her it was your choice, Dan," Will replied, just as heated. "I told her your stubborn sodding arse wasn't going to be moved."

  "I'm doing this for you and for her—"

  "Yeah? I can't wait to see you run that little nugget of Danielism past her."

  "You said I didn't have to—"

  "I want you to."

  Daniel turned to focus on the kettle and making the tea. He didn't want to hear the disappointment in his friend's voice or see it on his face. He just couldn't do this, couldn't face the people that pointed and stared and called him a hero. They didn't know the first thing about what he'd done or the choices he'd had to make. They couldn't begin to know how it had changed him.

  "You asked me. I said no. It's simple. If you can't accept that, then I'm not sure where we can go from here." None of them took sugar, so he simply stirred milk into the tea, and balancing the mugs on an old 1977 Silver Jubilee tray of his mother's, he led Will back into the front room. He made a show of placing the mugs within reach of Di and Will, and then with a deliberately staggering limp, he hobbled to the ancient sofa and sat, waiting. Will sat next to the woman he was going to be marrying, grasping her hand and nodding as she looked at him. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Daniel.

  "I want to ask you, Daniel, one final time, as my best friend since I was in infant school, to be my best man when I marry Di on Saturday."

  "I said no," Daniel said swiftly. "You don't even know me any more." Will bit his lower lip, an expression of sadness crossing his face.

  "He wants to know the you that is now, Daniel, but you won't let him." Di was very clear in what she said. There was no uncertainty, no hesitation, but equally no chastisement, just the same gentle sadness he felt from Will. It irritated him.

  "You don't want to know. Either of you. The things I had to do—"

  "The things everyone had to do. All of our soldiers put their lives to test for our country. There is never expectation that you'll be the same person after what you have to do." Di seemed to be the one trying to convince Daniel. If anything, Will had grown quieter, just observing. It was time to change direction with this and get past the deep psychological barriers that he was not letting out and move on to the purely aesthetic.

  "People stare at me all the time, my leg, my scars. It scares them to see me. How can either of you want that on your day?" He pushed the right note of disbelief into his voice. He was experienced in using all the right arguments when needed. It didn't matter that Sean had spent most of last night telling him how gorgeous he was. He knew what he was, inside and out—damaged goods. Will looked at him, suddenly focused with an open-mouthed expression, and in a flurry of movement, he was on his feet and inches away.

  "Tell him, Di." Exasperation coloured his voice.

  "He has to make his own choice," Di finally offered, both men rounding on her immediately, Daniel with the feeling that finally someone was listening to him, and Will with disappointment written clearly on his face. Stubbornly, Will continued the art of persuasion.

  "I won't have anyone else, you know. If it isn't you, then I will stand on my own."

  "That's not… Will, please…" Daniel frantically tried to link words together but was helpless against his friend's obvious disappointment.

  "You don't bloody see it, do you?" Will crossed his arms across his chest, cast a brief look at his wife-to-be, then focused back on Daniel. "Are you at least coming to the Red Lion tomorrow night?" Daniel winced inwardly. Damn it, the stag do. He'd forgotten.

  "Of course."

  "Seven in the bar?"

  "Seven."

  They started to leave, but just as the front door was shutting to barricade him in his house, Will turned back, extending his hand, which Daniel immediately took in a strong grip.

  "Everything is okay, Dan," Will offered cryptically.

  Daniel watched his friend leave, saw him pulling Di in for a hug and shared conversation as they walked, and something gripped his heart. He wasn't sure if it was jealousy that his friend was happy or guilt that he was letting him down.

  Chapter Ten

  Sean was too damn observant by far. They were only halfway through a double pepperoni pizza, beer for a not on-call Sean and an orange juice for Daniel, when Sean placed his pizza carefully back on the plate and leaned forward.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "You don't seem yourself somehow, what happened? I'm worried. Is it your meds?"

  Daniel hurriedly interrupte
d that train of thought. "The meds are good; they work better. It isn't that, honest. It's just this whole wedding thing." Sean frowned, and Daniel realised he was squirming in his seat now that he had to explain to his lover where his head was at. "Will, both of them, came over earlier." Frustrated, he pushed his food away and climbed onto Sean's lap, wincing at the sharp twinge of pain in his knee but pushing that to one side and cuddling into the space between Sean's neck and shoulder. Sean immediately pulled him closer, holding him to support his weight more to keep it off his leg.

  Daniel inhaled the smell of Sean, the scent of outside, the autumn air, a mix of aftershave and of pizza. Everything felt warm, comforting. He was hopeful that Sean wouldn't judge him for his cowardice. He was making this decision to save his best friend from the embarrassment of having him at the church. Sean would understand. He slid one hand up and into Daniel's hair, twisting his fingers and gently encouraging him to lean back and look up.

  "Talk to me." Sean's voice was so damn soft and encouraging, and Daniel attempted to explain, but all that came out was one huge bloody pity party for one. Sean listened to the whole thing, gently massaging Daniel's scalp and, every so often, nodding at what Daniel was saying.

  "So, let me get this right. You're scarred, ugly, you have difficulty standing for long periods of time, people will stare, and you don't want to ruin the photos. Is that right?" Daniel shut his eyes and dropped his forehead to rest on Sean's chest, suddenly uncomfortable with the scrutiny from Sean's knowing gaze. He muttered a yes that was muffled by the soft worn cotton of Sean's T-shirt. "You are staying away from your best friend's wedding even though both he and Di want you to be there." Sean encouraged him to look up, and Daniel sunk into his lover's thoughtful gaze. At least Sean wasn't dismissing the whole problem out of hand.

  "Don't tell them, but it isn't just…" His words trailed off as he pulled his thoughts together towards some kind of logical conclusion. "I can't think straight sometimes. I'm not sure, but all those people…" Sean moved his other hand until he could cup Daniel's face and pull him up for a kiss. It was a gently searching kiss with seemingly no end, tongues tangling and tasting. Daniel could kiss like this forever, patient and tireless and warm, delaying Sean's inevitable reaction to Daniel revealing his uncertainty with everything. Sean was murmuring words in between breaths of air. "Gorgeous, sexy, mine…"

  When they finally separated, and the autumn night was inviting secrets, Sean led Daniel up to the bedroom, curling in behind Daniel and holding him tight. The physical connection didn't need to go any further. It was right; it was perfect. Sean's last words before sleep deepened his breathing and relaxed his hold were the ones that lingered in Daniel's thoughts as he waited for the pain meds to allow him to sleep.

  "Will and Di are good friends. Neither of them would want you to be uncomfortable. It will be fine."

  It was amazing how those simple words—it will be fine—echoing what Will had said earlier, made Daniel feel less than what he should be. It took him a long time to find sleep.

  * * * *

  The Red Lion was busy, but for the stag night, the back room was booked. Twenty or so guys milled around drinking beer and talking shit. It was as familiar as a night with his army friends, and Daniel pushed past the ache at the memory to concentrate on being a good friend. Sean was here, across the room, looking over at him every so often and smiling. He had managed to avoid one-on-one with Will, and for that, he was thankful. However, it was that very reason that meant he was wedged into a corner, nursing a bitter shandy and leaning against the wall so he saved his knee the pressure of standing straight. He was happy to stand quietly and felt himself drift into remembering the dreams from the night before.

  "Hi." The voice was uncertain, nervous even, and Daniel blinked as he pulled himself back to the here and now. That guy was there, Mike or something, the one with the friend who had a bad arm.

  "Hi," he answered and shook the extended hand, this time without hesitation. He felt the familiar static spark, and he suddenly remembered the guy's name. Mark.

  "Do you…" Mark's voice trailed off, and he looked at his partner, who extended his hand in welcome to Daniel.

  "What Mark is trying to ask is whether you could spare ten minutes in the snug." The snug was a small room to the side of the main bar, and to be honest, Daniel could do with the peace. He nodded and, after agreeing to another small drink, allowed himself to be led to the area. There was one highly polished wood table with four chairs, and a door that separated them from the main bar. He slumped down in the wide, soft upholstered chairs. Jack and Mark sat down opposite him, and for a moment, it felt like he was in a head teacher's office awaiting some kind of punishment. He wondered if he should ask what was wrong, what they wanted to ask him, but he didn't need to.

  "I know about the knife," Mark blurted out, looking briefly to Jack, who nodded encouragingly. "I saw it."

  "The knife?" Daniel shook his head. He wasn't following this.

  "The dagger. The one that used to hang on your wall in the sitting room. You had it hidden under your shirt when you were at Sean's house." Mark was insistent, and he waved his hand in what Daniel assumed was a gesture of "you know what I mean."

  "It wasn't actually concealed." He wasn't carrying a weapon for defence; it just comforted him and sat comfortably secure in his jeans, the hardness of it reassuring against his hip.

  "No. Not hidden from me anyway." Mark had an unfocused lilt to his voice, and Jack interrupted.

  "Mark has been having these dreams—"

  "You're in them." Mark interrupted quickly, "I think maybe—I don't have visions in dream that often—I think it's time for us to talk about Belvedere."

  Daniel tensed. That name again. The name from his dreams. What the hell did— The door opened, and Daniel looked up. Sean stood there, looking in with a question on his face. It was an instant feeling of relief that flooded Daniel as he smiled up at the man who formed such a huge part of his life now.

  "You okay?" Sean asked simply. He didn't wait to be asked in, just closed the door behind him, before choosing the chair next to Daniel, opposite the other two men. He gripped Daniel's hand tight.

  "Mark here was just asking about the dagger," Daniel said conversationally, and Sean nodded. He'd seen it, dealt with it, and never ever questioned why Daniel carried it around with him. Daniel loved him for that.

  "Do you dream?" Mark interrupted quickly and then held out his hand. "I know you do, but, would you share them with me?"

  Daniel hesitated. He wasn't sure he wanted to discuss his freaky post-traumatic stress images of men being burned to death.

  "It's okay." This came from Jack, who leaned towards Daniel. "Mark does this all the time. He's a—"

  "A psychic, yeah I know." There was silence as all eyes turned to Daniel. "Why do you want to know?" Daniel tried not to sound too suspicious.

  "I think, somehow, that I need to be sitting here talking to you, that I could help. With the dreams I mean." Mark seemed so damned sincere, and there was something about the guy that Daniel trusted. Finally, despite feeling uncomfortable, he started to talk.

  * * * *

  Sean listened to Daniel as he explained his dreams, stunned that his lover had made it to where he was, let alone through a single night with these horrific images he lived with. It wasn't just Afghanistan, with his command being decimated by a bomb and the resulting survivor's guilt, but also memories of things he'd never even seen.

  "So they chain up this first guy. Young. Slim."

  "Martin…" Mark suggested softly, and Sean looked from Mark to Daniel and back again as Daniel nodded as if he recognised the name.

  "Yeah, and I hear the older man tell this Martin that he loves him, that it will be okay, and that he will see him on the other side. They aren't both chained. Only Martin is chained to a stone, a big one, like at Stonehenge."

  "A sarsen stone," Sean offered as helpfully as he could, and Daniel nodded.

  "Chained
, and then they set fire to this wood, and I see him die."

  "Shit." Sean couldn't help himself. That was an awful image to have inside your head.

  "And then the other man, the dead man's lover… It's another time, I don't know how long afterwards, but another day, and they chain him too. He's tall, proud, and he's determined, not crying and pleading like the other one they murdered first, his lover. He acts like he's accepted his fate." Daniel paused and looked at Sean, who simply leaned closer, hoping his presence helped.

  "That was Jonathan Curtess, the one who laid the curse on the Fitzwarren family." Mark's voice had the ring of certainty.

  "The fire is there and then…"

  "Go on." Mark sounded impatient, and Sean watched as Jack laid a settling hand on his partner's, and Mark reined in his obvious impatience to know the whole story.

  "My hand. It's definitely me in my dream—my hand—and I have this knife…" Daniel stopped and reached under his shirt, leaning to his left. He pulled the dagger out and laid it flat on the table. "I use this in my dreams. To kill the second man before he dies in the flames."

  "Do you know why you do that?" Mark's hand reached for the knife but stopped just short of it.

  "I have absolutely no idea."

  "Daniel?" Sean waited until his partner looked him in the eyes. "You are a protector," he began carefully, "a soldier. That's why." Daniel shrugged, and Sean looked back at the other guys. "So why do you need to know this?"

  "I'm not sure whether either of you believe I am the real thing or just a fake."

  "I don't have an opinion. Sorry," Daniel said quickly. Sean felt the same way. Sure, he had seen the video of the tower room and shivers ran down his spine at the thought but… It was just he liked to be able to touch his reality.