Blackbeard by Roo
"Please forgive me if I act a little strange...for I know not what I do…" Please forgive me by David Gray
No matter how hard they both tried to pretend everything was normal, it was obvious things weren't.
Sara made breakfast pancakes like always. Jack had slept in only because he'd been awake most of the night trying to get used to the sounds of the house and Sara and Charlie. By the time he made it down stairs Charlie was on his second one, a moustache of chocolate syrup round his mouth. Jack didn't know if he was hungry or not, he supposed he should be. There was food so he sat down at the table. He struggled slowly through one and gave up on the second pancake. It was too sweet. And he really wasn't that bothered.
"It's okay Jack, just leave it honey," Sara was shocked at how little Jack ate. Normally he ate at least four.
Charlie stared at him, the chocolate moustache now overlaid by the milk in his glass. He put the glass down.
"How come daddy can leave his food? I'm not allowed to!"
"He can leave it if he wants to," answered Sara.
"Why?"
"Charlie, finish your milk and go wash up for school."
"He's right Sara."
"I thought I was trying to help."
"You are, it's just…" and Jack noticed Charlie's eyes wide, going from one parent to the other.
"Charlie it's okay. You know I got hurt while I was away right?" Jack looked at Sara for confirmation, she nodded at him, and he looked back at Charlie.
"Yeah," agreed Charlie slowly.
"Well, I'm still your daddy but it's going to take me while to feel better and get used to being home."
"Okay."
'Well that was easy' thought Sara. But it wasn't, not really. Like pasting tissue over the gushing hole in the dyke. It would never hold.
Sara discovered that Jack wouldn't eat or drink at all unless she gave it to him or made him eat with them. And when he did eat he sometimes ate too fast, as if it would be taken away. Which it must have been sometimes, she realised. He ate it because it was there. He didn't seem to actively go and get food or drink if he was left to his own devices.
Some of the foods he used to eat with no problems were now firmly off the menu. Through trial and error she discovered that he hated watery soups, wouldn't eat lamb or pork, and definitely no rice dishes. Some mix of food or the smell of it literally made him sick.
Sara worked out that she should buy or make food that he could see exactly what it was. That it wasn't hidden in a soup or sauce with indistinguishable lumps in. Things like steak and chips, pizza, sandwiches…
She'd find small stashes of fruit dotted around the house. She took to buying smaller bottles of water and leaving them around the house so that Jack could have one when he saw one or felt like one. Sometimes though he'd drink all the water he could find all at once, and that made him ill too. See - sawing from nothing to everything.
All she could think of was to try and get him to make sure Charlie had his dinner or drinks. Charlie wasn't stupid, he cottoned on quick. If Charlie was hungry and got Jack to make food, he made sure his beloved daddy ate some too. But even Charlie was learning that his dad reacted differently from day to day, week to week. They all watched each other warily trying not to do or say the 'wrong' thing.
"Where's your dad, Charlie?" Sara asked one day when she suddenly realised she hadn't seen Jack for a while.
He looked up at her solemnly, "Hiding." he said, going back to building a Lego plane on the kitchen table.
"What?"
"He's playing hide and seek and he won't let me play."
"When Charlie? How long ago?"
"Don't know." He shrugged his shoulders at her "A while ago. I saw him but he didn't see me."
'Oh god,' Sara thought. "Where is daddy? I'm not mad at you."
"In your closet."
Well, she thought, that makes a change from the garage or the shed, or the under stairs cupboard.
Sadly he seemed at home in the dark small confined spaces he sought out. She had hoped that when he'd shaved off the awful beard after his face had healed from the facial and dental surgery, it might help him to recognise his usual face. But he was still unsure of himself. She caught him staring at himself in the mirror like he didn't know who he was. In the dark he knew who he was.
Sara worried about it. How could she not? It was where he bolted to when he felt tired, stressed or after a flashback or nightmare. She tried not to make a big deal out of it. She thought that if she absolutely banned him from those places she would lose him totally. In time he'd grow out of the need for them. That was the theory she and the doctors had figured out. Theory was fine in the doctor's office; it was the reality at home she cared about.
Night time was variable. But she'd gone through some bad times with Jack in the past. This was different though. It was on a much larger scale.
Jack had insomnia, till he fell asleep exhausted only to wake up after a short period with a nightmare or flashback. Sara tried to shake him out of it one time, and found herself pinned to the bed with Jack's hand on her throat and him shouting incomprehensible words at her. Gradually he recognised her voice and apologised profusely. Another time he pushed her out of the bed entirely. He complained that the bed was too soft, there were too many pillows. Sometimes he took to sleeping on the floor, or abandoning her and taking refuge on the couch. He felt it was safer for all concerned if he did that. Sleeping in the open air in the garden was another option. Stargazing all night, eyes wide open. Jack asked her to hide his personal weapon where he couldn't find it. The implications scared them both, but she did it.
'Don't shut the curtains.' 'Leave the hall light on- we'll say it's for Charlie'.
The slamming of garage metal doors set him off one night. Jack's yell waking them both from hard won sleep. No more sleep that night nor the next while he waited for the noise to happen again. More muttering in a foreign language. More fighting with himself and sometimes Sara when she got in the way. Sara tried to remember the words and write them down. Maybe if she knew what he was saying she could help him.
Jack would go running as fast as his damaged knee and back would let him until he was exhausted. He was trying to chase the demons away but welcomed the pain and exhaustion. It was an old friend.
He had rehab every other day at the Air Force hospital, which resulted in good and bad days when he also had appointments with the shrinks. He always pushed himself too far in the exercises and then clammed up on the doctor's couch. In the debrief he reported military data to keep his superiors off his back. Jack told the doctors just enough that they didn't think he was going to go on the rampage with his gun. They all admitted he had some issues to deal with, but he was coping. He didn't tell them everything, some parts he kept to himself.
He took to locking the bathroom door, hiding his body from Sara, covering up.
He seemed extra sensitive to certain smells. He put more air fresheners in the bathrooms and toilets.
No touching
No loving
Don't ask! Don't tell!