I'll try to make this a countdown to Christmas. Aka 24 chapters to go.

The chapters will be around 1000 words each. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

I'll really try to keep up with the daily updates but I might have to post the bulk of the story during the Christmas holidays. Fingers crossed everything will go according to plan.

This story is based on certain ideas I had during writing the first fic as well as thinking that Gary's first selection (Back for good), deserved to be explained.

Session 1

"I guess now it's time for me to give up"

(August 2008)

The droplets of the morning shower could still be heard falling through the seemingly ancient wooden windows. The musky smell of wet carpet and aromatic tobacco lingered in the air with no way to escape. In his hand, there was a glass of well-aged brandy which he still had not found the interest to sip from. He viciously swirled the drink and swore to the person accountable for his present confinement.

"We will not make a habit of it. The drink that is, bloody expensive to be wasted in such a way." the grating old man spat at him.

Emery Gresham was a nasty piece of work. At almost eighty he had little patience for the ones who he deemed unworthy of his time. Apparently, Gary was falling into that category and he winced mentally at Emery's obvious disdain for their current circumstance. When he agreed to take the deal, he certainly had not expected to end up in an old posh study with a man who had an inexplicable burning hatred towards him since their first meeting. Meaning about half an hour ago.

"I promised that imp to have a few sessions with you and it's best to start talking!" Emery all but barked at him.

Gary downed the contents of his glass in one go and welcomed the burn. England was a foreign place to him now and between the cold and Emery, he couldn't find any reason to abstain from something that felt familiar. The burning of hard liquor.

"Where do you want me to begin from?" he tremulously demanded.

"Choking your roommate would be a somewhat interesting, for most, beginning" Emery grumbled and stuffed his pipe with some fresh tobacco.

"But not for you." he had no idea why he was challenging a man who didn't seem able to take two steps without falling.

"Never for me". a snort escaped his wrinkled mouth and slowly flicked the lighter lightening his pipe.

(June 1999)

With his knuckles still sore he continued to grab all his personal items and throw them in the same worn suitcase he had arrived with at the dorm four years ago. Being broke at least had its advantages when it came to speedy exists. His maternal grandfather's tuition fund could only cover that much. With a few knick knacks thrown carelessly on top of his shirts, he zipped the suitcase with some difficulty, grabbed his wallet. He made it to the door yet he didn't seem tp able to motion his hands to unlock it. He passed his fingers through the now sweaty forehead and wild curls only to remember what had made him so unwilling to leave just yet.

Carelessly he dropped the suitcase and sprinted back to his bed. Under the mattress, tucked in a well-worn pillow case was what he had forgotten. Carefully he caressed it and placed it with great care in his full suitcase. After some consideration, he threw out a couple of books and made a snuggle little place for his treasured possession.

In his still crazed state he had an abnormal clarity on how to proceed.

"You will go to a military academy next year boy! I'll not tolerate a snivelling sod around for much longer!" his father had hallowed after one of his favourite terrorising games with him while processing on choking a ten-year-old Gary.

During his teenage years, he had learned to cope with the flares of irritability and rarely anger when he was pushed on edge. As a child, he had to battle his panic attacks yet he rarely overcame them. Thus, the slowly suffocating feeling was a disturbingly familiar and welcoming feeling.

In less than half an hour he had reached his destination and curtly greeted the man who had tried to persuade him to join a month ago.

"Thought over my offer chap, did you not?" the recruiter practically gloated at him.

Not trusting himself to speak or collapse in the spot, he simply nodded and took a seat to the nearest chair he could find.

"So how far do you see yourself going with us Mr Preston?" the RAF recruiter demanded as he laid out to him three different packs of options to pick from.

"As far as humanly possible sir." his voice echoed and his fingers nestled on the Hong Kong base for adult volunteers of the Royal Air Force.

End of First Session

Notes:

You know that song that just sticks with you? Not just because you like the lyrics necessarily but because you can combine it with a certain idea. An idea for a fan fiction story for example. That one song has been heard my thousands or even millions but for you, that song is *cheesy line incoming* the key for unlocking that story which bangs your inspiration's door. And so you let it in. Sometimes it's just for a cup of tea, which I absolutely love by the way and I also make some mean chocolate or cranberry scones, but sometimes after that soothing tea it just takes your hand and you literally walk on walls. It can lead you to weird places. I believe that all of us here know how it is to write a story and then something clicks and you just go with it.

A character, an object, a drink… heck, a bookmark. The two Miranda stories I've written are not about an alternative universe. It's about giving a more dramatic depth in the story we all know. I might be nailing it and I might be torturing all prospect readers. Not all will read this, and I have not decided yet on whether I'll post this when I finish with this story. But. Yes, but. I wanted to write this because I do this for me. I wanted to make sense of a few things and while dealing with a cheerful yet tormented acquaintance of mine (no similarities with this fic whatsoever by the way) I just felt that there are so many people out there for which you would never spare a second glance. All you would ever be able to see would be a mellow chef behind the counter with a long lasting crush. Or perhaps a crazy shop owner literally stalking the "poor" guy.