A/N: The memories in this chapter are from slightly less than 3 years before the blackout.
It was ten below in Chicago, and an ungodly frigid blast of wind slapped Miles across the cheeks. But on he stood staring at the crusty river. Leave it to the U.S. military to send him home early from his tour in Afghanistan, because of the 'psychological trauma' he'd endured as a POW, just in time for the worst of Chicago winter.
His eyeballs were frozen. It definitely was not healthy for him to be outside anymore.
"Miles," Rachel appeared out of nowhere and put her hand on his shoulder. "I've been looking for you. You have to come home. It's freezing."
He tore his eyes away from the frozen chunks of ice on the water to look at her, still unblinking.
"Miles. Talk to me. You've got to talk to someone about what happened. You don't have to bear it alone."
Miles' lips shuddered from cold or stress, he didn't know. "Bass…" was all he could get out.
"Bass isn't here, honey. He's still in Afghanistan."
Miles shivered violently.
Finally he spoke: "I…how can I tell you when I can't…Words don't…they don't help to make sense of this."
"Try." Rachel's blue eyes were full of compassion.
"I don't know, Rachel. Sick, perverse things happened in that prison. People think saying things will help them go away. But it just makes them real. It makes them real!" Miles shouted the last bit very loudly. So loudly a bundled woman walking by visibly jumped in her tracks and then hurried on.
Rachel took Miles in her arms and pressed him to her body so tightly that he couldn't breath. And then the dam broke. It was too cold to produce tears, so Miles only shook and shook. He actually bit his own lip, drawing metallic-tasting blood.
"Miles, we've got to get out of the cold. Come into the car, and we'll turn on the heat."
Miles followed her numbly. Rachel got him into the passenger seat and began driving nowhere in particular to warm up the car.
"Listen, Miles I know Ben and me haven't always been supportive of your decision to join the marines, but it takes one hell of a strong person to even make it through the training, let alone three tours. This one…well this one ended especially badly. But you are going to survive it. You must!"
Miles noticed that Rachel's breasts were leaking through her sweater. Her newborn son, he thought. Daniel. Such an innocent. He shuddered to think of all the misery a baby like Danny would have to endure in a lifetime. Danny, in fact, was already suffering-so sickly, he almost never stopped crying. Rachel looked like she hadn't slept in an eternity.
Rachel noticed that Miles' eyes had traveled to her shirt and attempted to pull her jacket shut in embarrassment. It wasn't easy balancing a colicky baby, a rambunctious toddler, and a very broken veteran of war in the dead of winter, especially because Ben was away on a three-month fellowship at Stanford.
She said pointedly, "We need you to survive this, Miles."
"Why?" Miles choked, looking out the frosty window at the bleakest city on earth. The city he loved.
"You're our family." Rachel gripped Miles' hand, still painfully frozen in his glove. He felt a surge of emotion at her touch. "We…I love you."
What happened next was so painfully embarrassing to Miles, he had tried to wipe the memory. But stuck in bed with painful, wasted legs, he seemed unable to stem the tide of memories.
When Rachel had gotten Miles back to her apartment, he had remained so chilled to the core that she'd insisted he get into a warm bath. The children were still with a neighbor, since Rachel had driven for hours to find Miles. Miles kept trying to undo the buttons of his coat, but his fingers shook and burned as they thawed, and finally he made a small sound of defeated frustration that Rachel took as a signal to intervene. He hadn't wanted her to, but he was so empty that he had no will to resist. She took him to the bathroom and undressed him like she would have with one of her children-tenderly, carefully.
"Your body," she said, staring at him in a way that made the pit of his stomach ache.
"Hm?" he asked, still shivering even in the warm water.
"Looks like it's been through a meat grinder."
Miles wasn't sure how to take this comment. He looked at her and decided she was just observing him like the scientist she was. He closed his eyes and sank down into the water. He didn't know how long she continued to look at him, but he allowed her presence to comfort him. It was so odd: he felt like they'd somehow always been there, frozen just like that, passive as the world surged onward without them. Peaceful. He stopped shivering.
Miles lay in Doc Arora's bed drenched in cold sweat but, at the same time, his legs aflame. He rolled over and buried his face violently in his pillow. That memory, those feelings it produced. He hadn't really understood it all these years. But suddenly he knew what he'd buried so far deep inside of himself to protect himself, to protect Rachel, and most of all to protect Ben.
He loved Rachel.
And not the kind of love he should feel for a sister-in-law but something deep and raw and animal. He had loved her long before she saved him that day; perhaps from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her.
He had lied to himself, to Monroe, and even to Nora all these years. It was he who had pushed for Rachel to turn herself in instead of Ben, though he'd turned it around on Monroe, even convincing himself that Bass had a strange attraction to her. But Bass had known the truth-he always did. He saw Bass's piercing eyes looming before him, perceiving straight through Miles' guise and agreeing with him nonchalantly that, 'Yes, it should be Rachel, because Ben would be better left to protect the children.' Miles had told Nora that it was Bass' infatuation that had kept Rachel at headquarters, but it was Miles' own selfish, self-deluding desire, obscured by so much pain and forbidden attraction. What a terrible twist, Miles thought. How little he had understood his own emotions. How much of the world could one lone man tear down?
For the first time since his wounding, Miles attempted to get out of bed. He put one foot at a time on the floor and stood up like a foal finding its legs. Excruciating as it was, Miles felt a surge of elation: I'm walking. He went to the window and parted the curtains. He was on the second story of a house, and it was winter now. How strange to think that his lengthy slumber had ushered in a new season. There was snow on the ground, and the sky was that interminable gray-white.
Things were so clear now. Being in love with his own brother's wife, after failing Ben in so many ways-this was why Miles had avoided Ben. He had told himself that Ben was a civvie and didn't understand what soldiers went through, but that hadn't been the problem.
After that winter three years before the blackout, Miles had returned to base, where he reunited with Bass. Bass had put his hand on Miles' shoulder and pulled him in for a hearty embrace, but Miles noticed his friend's strange scrutiny.
"Hey." Bass studied Miles' face. "How did you do in Chicago, man? I know going home to your family is not exactly a vacation from war for you." Bass smiled.
Miles eyed him resignedly. He sighed. "It was ok. Rachel…" then he stopped himself, afraid to even mention her name, not knowing the reason but feeling angry at himself.
Bass cocked his head. "Hm. Well it's good to see you, brother. It was hard being over there without you. We lost Rable. Don't know if you heard…" he trailed off.
Miles nodded. "He was a good kid. Far too good for war." Soldierly platitudes meaning nothing.
Bass changed the subject. "I heard you got your head shrunk in Chicago! Did you at least get some meds out of it?"
Miles smiled, "I was pretty noncompliant with the shrink. I didn't take the drugs either."
"Idiot. Did you at least bring them with you?"
Miles said, "C'mon Bass. Alcohol is our chosen poison. Let's go have a drink. Or five." But Miles was lying. He had been taking the medication, because when he didn't, he felt like he was swimming though film.
"Ok, bud. Let's go," Bass said, tossing a casual arm around Miles' shoulders.
Miles' memory of this scene was interrupted by his doctor knocking and entering his chamber.
Doc Arora said in a hearty voice, "Miles! How good to see you standing. I'd like to show you something I think you'll enjoy."