Journey - REVISED EDITION

Guilt, Secrets and Flashbacks

He tried again, the guilt rising up and threatening to consume him. "Is it my fault? You're upset about something, because you're wearing clothing that's not yours but it's not a female's either, so it's got to be a friend, and I'm guessing they died and it's probably my fault and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He broke off into tears, a feeling of worthlessness threatening to crush him. He knew he was being irrational, but his walls were down, the drugs still spinning through his system. His feelings were raw and unchecked, all the pain and guilt of the last year rushing over in a tidal wave.

"Oh Alex." Falcon slipped into bed next to him, pulling Alex into his lap, much like the first night, one hand carding through Alex's curls, the other rubbing his back soothingly. "Alex. No. No, it's not your fault. It could never be your fault." He kissed the top of Alex's head, and the teen sobbed, the physical touch more than he could handle. When was the last time someone besides Jack had held him like this, comforted him, hugged him?

He couldn't remember. Ian had always loved him. Of that, Alex could be sure. But he had never been one for physical affection, and that hurt Alex, who loved through how much physical attention he gave someone.

"What happened was long ago, probably before you were born. And no, they're not dead." He chuckled, the deep sound of it strange among Alex's shuddering sobs. "We... we just haven't seen each other in a while. I didn't even realize I was wearing something of theirs. I've had it for years and years. But you're right, it's not a female's. It's from a friend. There was a time, when we were much younger, about your age actually, when we lived together, traveling the world and all our clothes just sort of got dumped in suitcases, mixed up with everyone else's. I haven't seen them since that last trip three years ago. There didn't seem any point in returning their clothing, since they still had mine. And... I suppose I couldn't. It meant a lot to me those years we were together. I couldn't let it go for the longest time. I guess I sort of... joined the military... to... put it behind me. The others didn't have a problem, but I- I've never been one for letting go." Falcon sucked in a shuddering breath. Alex clutched the man's sweater, its soft fabric distracting. 

He waited, listening to this strange confession.

"You remind me a lot of them sometimes. We all had our fair share of panic attacks growing up." Falcon finally said. He suddenly shifted, turning Alex around so he could look the soldier in the eyes. They were a startling pale blue, serious, dangerous, but beautiful.

"Alex. I promise to always be here for you, while you're here with us. I won't let you down. I won't tell our unit anything you don't want them to know, understand?"

Alex nodded, his vision blurring, tears falling down his cheeks.

Our unit.

"Do you know what a unit means, Alex?" Fox looked away from the road for a split second to flash Alex a look, probably trying to read his emotions. Alex hoped his deadpan expression worked in dissuading the man.

It didn't.

"It means that we're family. We tell each other things. Things that we struggle with. Like if you, hypothetically, had PTSD, you'd tell us what triggers you so that we can be here for you and help you through the healing process. You're not alone in this, Alex. Not anymore. We're here for you."

The unspoken words hung in the silence between them. 'You can trust us.'

"Alex."

Alex blinked, the memory vanishing, Falcon's worried face appearing directly in front of his.

"Where were you?"

Alex opened his mouth, then closed it. How could he explain that trust for someone other than himself was something he'd never have again?