Author's Note: I don't own it, if I did Buffer would have the girl of his dreams and ET would still be with us! Written for fun, not for profit so please don't sue
This is just to set the scene for things to come
Darkness...
The musty smell of freshly disturbed earth and faint scent of broken grass stems...
The deep rumble of oil coursing through underground pipes, racing towards a hidden, long disused tank...
The ache of his muscles as he climbed out of the grave he'd been forced to dig... his own grave, both terrifying and hypnotically inviting...
The weight of the oil pressing around him, pushing him under its surface and forcing its way into his nose and mouth... drowning him... suffocating him...
Buffer jerked awake, his t-shirt and shorts soaked with sweat, his breathing laboured as he struggled to pull himself back from his nightmares. He concentrated on his breathing, fighting to get it under control, and with it attempt to slow the pounding of his heart. While he was at sea, he managed to keep busy enough that when he slept, he didn't dream, but that all changed during down time. Every time the crew of the boat or ship he was on got shore leave, the nightmares started again in earnest. He seemed to be unable to block out the images that came into his head, the smells and sounds of those times overwhelming him in his sleep and plaguing his waking hours.
He shook his head and sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of his rack and jumping lightly to the mildly cold deck. It still felt strange to him that he was alone in the cabin on this tour, at least for the time being, as they were not at full personnel capacity. Padding silently to the small bathroom, he splashed cold water onto his face and made an extra effort to push back the memories which, sometimes, threatened to overwhelm him. Knowing he would not now be able to get any more sleep, and that he wasn't sure on watch for another two hours, he quickly dressed and headed up onto deck to do a simple workout. The physical exertion always helped Buffer take his mind off the past and allow him to concentrate on the present, although he never tended to think of the future anymore.
The chill of the early morning air sent a shiver down his spine and raised goosebumps on his bare arms as he stepped out onto the empty deck. He knew the watch would have seen him as he paused by the railings, taking deep breaths and filling his lungs with the sweet tang of salty air. With one last deep breath he started his workout, chasing his demons away for a few more hours, unaware he was being watched from shadows.
"So Buff, you coming to the pub tonight?" Swain asked, placing his hand on his friend's arm to stop his advance down the corridor.
"Yeah Swaino, I think I will," Pete confirmed, smiling his usual half smile and nodding slowly. A night out was something he looked forward to when they hit shore, and some female company, however fleeting, was always a welcome distraction.
"We're hitting Jester tonight," Swain told him, trying to hide his smirk as he looked at Pete with one eyebrow raised.
"The bar on the terrace," the two friends said together, laughing. A long standing joke, the bar on the upper terrace at the pub Jester was a place where everyone had managed to pull in the past, everyone except Buffer. He laughed along with his friend, but deep down, Buffer was having the last laugh as he had never gone there to pull and had turned down several advances, preferring to simply watch and study the people who went there.
"See you there at 8pm?" Swain asked, pausing long enough to see Buffer nod, before he continued on his way.
Buffer slung his bag over his shoulder and disembarked the HMAS Hammersely, saluting the pennant as he strode down the gang plank and jumped down onto the dock. He waved to his crew mates, acknowledging the shouts about meeting at the pub that evening, and headed towards the main gates where he could get a taxi home. Although he dreaded it, he knew that when he got home he would have to try and get a few hours sleep before he went out or he'd never be able to last the night. The nightmares would haunt him, he knew, but at least if he drank enough later, he'd pass out and not remember if he dreamt or not.
With that thought in mind, he headed towards home...