The Soldier and The Spy: Jay Halstead- Episode 5

Chapter 1

Twelve Years Ago

Jay had barely finished his glass before Marcus was walking over to refill it, the other man giving him a small nod as he did. He frequented this bar often, pretty much every night and the bartenders liked him enough that they usually free-poured the alcohol, so much that sometimes a double looked more like a triple or quadruple. Most nights he opted for beer but it was a Friday and on weekends he wanted something stronger. Scotch neat. Hold the rocks. He watched as Marcus picked up the bottle of Glenlivet and filled his glass, this time just over half.

A quadruple it was.

He didn't hesitate to take another large swig, savoring the burn as it went down. He'd admit the bar was sleezy, but what bar wasn't? Appearance wise it was pretty normal, there were a couple pool tables, a stage for a band and a small dance floor but regardless of if it was 4pm or 4am the atmosphere was always loud and drunken, the air thick with smoke from cigarettes and joints, the floor sticky with alcohol and other things he pretended were just alcohol. Most of the time he sat at the bar near the restrooms, most nights catching the eye of some too drunk to remember his name girl as she made her way to relieve herself. Often they'd stop and chatter at him and one thing would lead to another... He hadn't meant for it to become a habit, taking a different girl home every weekend, it just had. Someone gave him attention, wanted him, even though it'd become jaded. It never made him feel better but he craved the distraction, the knowledge that even if just for an hour he wasn't alone.

Sometimes he thought about Tess but whenever he did it made him angry. He'd been laying in the Med Bay, his knee in a brace, arm and shoulder in a cast, ribs broken, stitches fucking everywhere, high on morphine when he received her letter. He'd cried when Sophie read it, actually, fucking cried when she promised to come see him.

But she hadn't.

They'd sent him home after a few weeks. Medical Discharge. He was lucky he'd lived at all, not though he'd deserved to. Not when so many men in his platoon hadn't. His had been the first truck in the convoy which meant they'd been the first to hit the IEDs, just off kilter enough that instead of blowing them to bits it'd blown them off the mountain instead, killing everyone inside but him and Mouse. Still, it had looked like Mouse had been dead. The way his body had dangled...

Even in shock Jay had started screaming.

It'd been almost seven months since that day and every night he had trouble sleeping. No amount of counselling had helped, probably because he refused to talk about it, just like he refused to go on meds. The only thing that did help was Greg. Since his family lived in Michigan they'd spent their first couple weeks back constantly calling each other, sometimes twice a night, both desperate to make sure the other was okay, to remind themselves not all their nightmares were real. He'd called more, mostly because Mouse had trouble remembering whereas he recalled a lot. Too much. Which was why less than a month after coming home he'd moved out; he couldn't stand the way his dad looked at him now. Or didn't look. They hadn't spoken about it but the day Jay had moved into his new apartment Greg had shown up at his door, clapping him on the shoulder when he realized Jay had chosen a two bedroom, though it'd taken them a while to use them. The first few months they'd slept in the living room with their mattresses side-by-side, the security of the other seeming to calm them until eventually they'd felt safe enough to move into their own rooms. There were still a lot of nights he had to check in with his friend but it wasn't every night anymore, though part of that might be due to his guests.

A glance down showed his hand starting to tremble so he quickly redirected his focus to a woman across the bar, watching as she swayed her hips to the music. It was just past eleven and he reckoned within the hour her or some other girl would wander in his direction and he was drunk enough that if they made a move he'd go with it. He could just go home alone but alone in that room...