It was shortly before they were to head back when Lal caught a hint of the demons that plagued her favorite student.

She had given him a rare praise for out-sniping his teammates, using creative shots to the amusement of the instructors to reach almost impossible targets.

She wasn't entirely shocked to find the blond up late again. She had quickly realized he was something of an insomniac after the second day.

He had a lot of useful skills that made him a valuable soldier.

He knew more about basic field medicines and how to use local plants to heal than even their own medic did. Though he was often baffled by common medicines anyone should know how to use, he absorbed the information like a sponge.

Lal found that more than slightly worrying, if the way he reacted to her comment about using Advil or Tylenol to help with the swelling was any indication. Almost like he was far too used to soldiering on with injuries far worse without properly treating them, or even getting basic relief to make it tolerable. What that said about his possible pain tolerance was not something she liked to contemplate.

So stumbling across her student in the wee early morning hours and seeing him practice his hand to hand until he damn near had it committed to muscle memory, she almost approached him to offer a proper sparring session.

Except his eyes. It was those eyes again. The ones that bothered her with how haunted they were.

Seeing Colonello finish his last set, he took a few deep breaths and drank deeply of his water bottle.

"Don't even consider it, you fool. She's too far above your pathetic league and she would never want someone as broken as you are," he said softly to himself as he sat down on the log. "Better to watch from afar than risk it."

Something about his eyes reminded her of something. It was on the tip of her tongue where she had seen that sort of look before.

Backing up, she accidentally stepped on a twig causing an almost imperceptible snap in the silent clearing.

Colonello's reaction was so instant that Lal immediately realized where she had seen that look before. Once she got over her shock at the near miss of his knife being thrown without any warning or hesitation whatsoever, with such a lethal look in his eyes.

Colonello came face to face with a very shaken Lal Mirch who was not in the least bit happy about nearly getting cut by his boot knife.

"Captain?"

"You. Damn. Idiot. Why the hell did you never mention you have PTSD?!" she snarled at him. "You nearly hit me with that damn knife!"

Colonello openly flinched, looking so vulnerable that it wasn't even funny. It almost tempered her irate reaction to his near attack.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me! I know PTSD when I see it!"

"No, I mean I have absolutely no idea what PTSD is," he said slowly. "I've heard of it before, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Lal paused. For all of his surprising medical knowledge, it was possible he had it and didn't know what it was.

"Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or sometimes known as battle fatigue syndrome. It's a pretty common condition in soldiers coming out of active war zones or battlefields," said Lal slowly.

Colonello looked thoughtful.

"What are the symptoms?" he asked carefully.

"Two of the common ones I know are reliving the event and avoiding certain places, people or even situations related to the trauma. Most soldiers get the first," said Lal carefully. "It's also not uncommon for those who have it to develop feelings of fear, guilt, and anger."

Colonello winced.

"You know that would explain a lot..." he muttered under his breath.

"Which is why I'm more than a little curious as to how the hell the doctors missed you potentially having it," said Lal, eyes narrowed at him.

"...You do realize I'm British, right?" he asked slowly.

"Wait... are you telling me you were involved in those terrorist attacks that happened a few years back?" said Lal.

"Actually I was part of the side trying to stop it," commented Colonello. "It's part of the reason why I came to Italy to join the military, rather than stick close to home."

It was a major reason, actually. Too many memories and too many people willing to shove all the responsibility on him to the point he was drowning in his 'duty' to the same people who had let it get so bad in the first place!

"Just so we're clear, I will be making a note of this in your file. If we had known you have PTSD we could have at least kept an eye out for the warning signs."

"I've gotten pretty good at handling it. It's only when I let my defenses down that things get tricky," said Colonello defensively.

"And if I hadn't dodged, I would have been injured or worse!" said Lal irate. "Handling it and properly treating it are two different things, you idiot!"

"Just being away from England is enough!" said Colonello, openly glaring at her.

"Are you so damn stubborn that you won't accept help when it's clear you need it?!" she demanded.

"In my experience when people say they're willing to help, the reality is that they're more than happy to leave the bulk of the heavy lifting to the one they're 'helping' and then cheering from the sidelines while providing minimal support!" spat Colonello. "I don't need help from people who are all too willing to be sheep lead to the slaughter, leaving the responsibility to the few who can stomach doing what is necessary!"

Lal felt as if he had struck her with that.

That statement alone said far too much of why his eyes were so haunted. Colonello had never shied away from lethal responses, which had to be trained into most civilians. If anything there was an undercurrent of restraint during basic training.

It was pretty damn obvious he had killed before and would not hesitate to kill again.

"Why are you even here?" asked Lal.

"What do you mean?" asked Colonello. He was clearly pissed off about something, likely from memories of England.

"I mean why would someone like you join COMSUBIN despite your condition and the memories of having killed before?" she clarified.

Colonello's laugh was bitter, hollow and just plain tired.

"Where else can I go? I'm a soldier, and I always have been, even before I realized what was going on. Where could I possibly go with the sort of instincts that were forcibly ingrained at me for so long without feeling like I'm drowning among false civility? At least here I can remotely feel like I belong," said Colonello. He would have slumped, if he had been sitting.

That was when Lal realized what had bothered her about Colonello's haunted eyes.

This was someone who had been fighting as a soldier for so long he genuinely had no idea how to transition to civilian life. Who had been haunted by memories of a guerrilla war against monsters to the point he was almost consumed by it. Who could only find peace among those of a similar mindset far, far from the only home he knew.

Lal did the only thing she could think of.

She threw Colonello on the ground, and his shocked blue eyes stared at her from where he was flat on the ground.

"You are an idiot. I don't know what happened in England or why you refuse to ask for help, but I refuse to let any student of mine suffer pointlessly. So if you're going to be a stubborn jackass about getting some treatment for your PTSD, then I have no choice."

Colonello had a resigned look, like he fully expected her to kick him out of the military or to the curb. Lal hated that look in his eyes, as it was clear he had been hurt far too often by the people he should have been able to trust to the point he had come to expect it.

"The next time I find out you're having nightmares, I'm going to train your sorry ass into the ground until you're too exhausted to do anything but sleep," she stated flatly.

The shocked disbelief in his eyes was almost sad in a way.

"What?"

"If you're not going to be reasonable, then I'm going to turn you into the best damn soldier that COMSUBIN has ever seen," said Lal flatly. "You're either going to learn to ask for help, or wash out. Either way I am not letting a potential risk like you snapping and killing someone while in a flashback go. This does not mean we're dating though."

Colonello stared at her incredulous...before a low laugh came out of him. It was tired, bewildered and there was no little amount of confusion. But it was real.

"You... are one of a kind captain."

"I damn well better be. And for the record, you're not completely out of my league. You just haven't proven you're worth the effort of humoring yet," she replied dryly. "Now try to get some sleep. We're still marching out in the morning back to base."

Colonello gave her a half-assed salute.

"Yes ma'am!" he said tiredly.


If the other trainers noticed the focused attention Lal gave Colonello, they merely chalked it up to her finally throwing him a bone in regards to the obvious crush he had on her.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Lal quickly came to learn certain facts about her new "bitch", as Colonello cheerfully referred to himself.

Fact one: the idiot was used to negative reinforcement. He took the head slaps when he was getting out of hand with good cheer and listened attentively to her orders without question.

Fact two: he reacted badly to certain words or behaviors. He could handle loud explosives and gunfire, but he tended to flinch when he heard voices raised in anger. It was slight, but noticeable if you were looking for it. She quickly learned that he had far too much bad experience with being called a 'freak', which really pissed her off for his sake.

Fact three: Colonello was far too used to running on fumes, all while heavily injured and still getting the job done. It made training him into the ground both a joy and a headache, because the entire reason they were doing this was to help with the insomnia.

Fact four: Lal had a very unpleasant suspicion about Colonello's childhood, or lack thereof. Quite a few things were quickly painting how bleak it had been and how little support he actually had. That he was this stable was a miracle and a testament to his will.

Things like how he knew how to patch himself up with precision that could only come out of long practice and experience, yet was constantly surprised at the use of common medicines to help ease pain or healing. As if he had never used them growing up when he was hurt. Instead he relied more on plants and other herbal remedies anyone with the right knowledge could use.

While they weren't nearly as effective as basic medicines, for those who had to do without they were better than nothing.

The strange thing was that the weekly sessions where she laid the blond flat on his ass through training was actually helping his trauma in greater strides than she could have guessed.

They never spoke of what happened. Lal was perfectly willing to keep her silence on the horrors he had experienced. If he wanted to open up, she would listen but she would not press him.

Instead she gave him useful skills to focus on so that his mind could clear itself and allow him even a modicum of peace. Things like assembling and dissembling several different guns until he could do it while blindfolded, or sparring with him until he was laid out flat on his ass on the ground.

She gave him no time to pity himself or feel guilt over what happened. She demanded nothing less than his best and he gave it without question, with a tired grin on his face.

Colonello got his ass kicked so often that he actually enjoyed it. She had to wonder if he was something of a masochist, putting up with her extra hellish training.

Except he didn't enjoy pain...he was just too used to it to care anymore.

"I don't understand how you can take it," said Jake, shaking his head. "She's literally putting you through hell and you keep taking it without trying to woo her!"

"What good would it do me to try?" said Colonello, his smile a bit brittle. "Besides, there's a reason she has me doing all that night training."

"Really?" asked Greg.

"It's between me and her, so you're not getting any sordid details," deadpanned Colonello.

"Cock tease," said Jake.

"I'd like to think it's cock envy coming from you, or have you been hiding more than those over-used porn mags from us?" said Colonello raising an eyebrow. Hearing the indignant squawk from Jake, he grinned.

"This coming from the only bloke able to sleep through Jake jacking off!" said Greg laughing.

"I literally slept in a dorm room with four other guys for six years since I was eleven. You learn to sleep through anything after that," deadpanned Colonello.

Or in his case use a wandless silencing spell anchored to his headband. When he could sleep, he tended to sleep like the dead. If there was ever an actual emergency the other guys knew the best way to wake him up was to throw a pillow at him.

Colonello had a very ingrained reaction to punch anyone stupid enough to shake him awake. Something they learned early on, though it rarely happened as he was usually the first one up.

"Speaking of getting some, leave is on Halloween. I say we get shitfaced and find some girls to have a bit of fun with," said Jake, rubbing his hands together.

Colonello grimaced.

"Count me out," he said without hesitation. "Me and Halloween have been on bad terms for years and I wouldn't want to ruin your break."

"Come on man, you have to live a little! Just come out drinking with us!"

Colonello shook his head.

"Seriously, count me out. I'd just bring the whole mood down, since I tend to get black out drunk on that night and try to forget what day it is."

"Give us one good reason," said Jake.

"My parents were murdered on Halloween when I wasn't even two, and I still remember most of their last moments," said Colonello darkly. "So excuse me for hating the holiday when I have absolutely no good memories of it growing up."

Jake and Greg winced at that.

"What happened?"

"Some asshole serial murderer found where we were hiding due to a traitor who was supposed to be a close friend of my dad's, and broke into the house. My dad fought him off long enough for my mom to reach the nursery, and I still remember her pleading for my life. No one is entirely sure how I survived, but apparently the bastard was killed when he tried to take me out as well. Considering the state of the nursery I think he accidentally took out part of the ceiling when he killed her, because it collapsed roughly where he was standing," said Colonello. "My aunt was less than pleased having me around and took out her jealousy towards my mother on me, and her husband was a total bigoted asshole."

Seeing them wince.

"So yeah, I hate Halloween."

Jake clapped his hand on Colonello's shoulder.

"Well bring you back some candy or something," he said, not pressing further.

It was kind of hard to have a festive atmosphere if one of your friends was reliving his parent's murder. They would let him brood in peace.