Dylan couldn't help but think back to his marriage to Sam and how things had disintegrated around them. He had still loved her for the longest time, had still ached when she had moved on, had still been awake all night worrying and wondering about her when she had first left. He still worried that he wasn't supposed to be loved. He knew he was peculiar. Weird. A freak. Yet, Sam had loved him. She agreed to marry him, to spend her life with him.
Not that that had sustained itself. Dylan had been so utterly miserable when she had cheated on him, when she had been gone for so long in the army. He worried himself senseless wondering when he was going to get the call that she had been killed in action or horrifically wounded. She had always claimed that he hadn't been proud when she had applied for the army in the first place but that couldn't have been further from the truth. He had been so worried for her safety, panicked to distraction most of the time. Especially when there hadn't been a phone call home in a while which had happened more than once with the schedules they both kept.
It was the reason he had hit the bottle. It was what ripped him apart on most nights without her by his side, safe and sound. It was why he had disconnected from life just that much more. Sam had given him life. Without her, with the divorced finalised and he had to let her go, it was for the longest time as though there was no purpose to his existence.
Now he was terrified of feeling anything more than a fragile friendship with anyone. Leaving Holby had been a new lease, far away from the world he knew. Not that he wasn't glad to be back, he was to some extent. He was, most of the time, sort of pleased that Zoe had persuaded him to return, even if it hadn't been the easiest of times recently.
He had been able to cobble together some semblance of life upon his return and had found, almost to his surprise, that he was happy for Sam and Tom and that their life together was a good one. He felt like he could move on in his own way, yet he hadn't expected to find anyone who would want to love him and his checklists. He had come to accept that he'd be alone for the rest of his time.
If not for Ben. The young clumsy nurse had sought after his friendship and had won over his respect almost against Dylan's own wishes. He wormed his way into his thoughts in such a way Dylan was unsure he'd be able to shake him off if he tried. This was what was scaring him the most. He didn't want to try and push him away, he didn't want to lose him. Which was why, at three am after a long trying shift, Dylan was still wide awake, tormented by the threat of losing one of his most precious of friendships and exactly what that meant. He had lost Sam and for some reason the thought of losing Lofty too, filled Dylan with a stark sense of dread.
The nurse was so ingrained into his everyday life, it was odd when he wasn't around lighting up the ED with a smile or else stumbling over people, inanimate objects, his own feet. The short conversations they'd shared, the patients they had treated together, the hug that they had shared. Or rather the hug that Ben had given him, that he hadn't minded and had infact somewhat enjoyed.
Just as Sam pushed him to live and experience things, he felt the same vivacious feeling whenever Ben was around. Lofty was so much more social, caring. Personal connections were what he enjoyed and Dylan had grown to admire him and his abilities to be utterly himself and at ease around others. Fearless as Harding had said. There was a passion and a joy in Ben that Dylan found irresistible and it scared him half to death.
Dylan wondered what Lofty could possibly get out of their current relationship, why he had persisted for so long even in the face nothing but harsh words and being shrugged off. Lofty had seen him at his absolute worst and had done nothing more than ask him how he was and reassure him that everything was OK whenever situations became stressed. Dylan's checklists and need for control had grown far too out of hand and he had found himself imploding. Ben had been the focus of several of Dylan's lashings out, taking all the hits Dylan threw at him and had rolled out of them, with a hand extended to help Dylan back up.
It had been at Harding's suggestion that he try and make things better with the young nurse, immersion therapy he had called it, and Dylan had known that it had only been fair to give Ben a chance. He had extended a battered olive branch and he hadn't been all that surprised that Ben had wholeheartedly taken it in hand. Though, with a snort to himself, he doubted Lofty ever did anything half-hearted, what with his enthusiasm as it was. Dylan wanted to get over his issues, for his OCD to be less in control of him and had found that it was with Lofty's support that he finally thought it may be a goal he could accomplish.
With Ben around, it seemed, more possible that he could overcome anything. Perhaps he just needed to take that chance on him as he had with Sam. Perhaps he needed to take that leap of faith, that his battered old heart could be happy, that his compulsions felt a little less paramount and he could breathe again.
