Chapter 11 – The Ties that Bind

It felt like I'd only been asleep minutes when Jo stirred next to me. What started out as agitation manifesting with her body shifting repeatedly as she pulled the bed sheets up then down again, quickly morphed into moaning and flailing limbs. Shaking the sleep from my head I sat up, peering down at Jo. Her face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. She mumbled incoherent words in her sleep with such sadness it tugged at my heart.

"No!" she cried out suddenly, her hand reaching out blindly. Her breathing was coming faster, almost erratic, her mind firmly in the grips of a nightmare.

This wasn't an average nightmare; of that much I was positive. I spent years in the Navy, and the scars it left behind weren't just physical. The agony of combat lingers long after a Soldier leaves the battlefield. Once you've seen the front lines, watched your friends die, witnessed the atrocities we can inflict on each other it changes you. Civilians assume those of us that make it home are the lucky ones. They don't understand the Soldiers who die on in combat aren't the only ones who never come home. Everyone who serves leaves a piece of themselves on the blood stained battlefield, far from home. For those of us who fought for it, life has a flavor the sheltered will never know.

I'd struggled with what I'd witnessed, with what I had done with my own two hands, for years after leaving the service. I'd plunged myself into a self-appointed prison. Punishing myself with memories of my failures. Failures, which I believed, had caused the demise of my brothers-in-arms. The isolation was my cross to bear. My sentence to serve. I learned that sometimes you have to travel through darkness in order to find the light.

It was my family that helped guide me out of the sea of guilt and regret that had overwhelmed me. It wasn't easy, and I knew on more than one occasion they wanted to give up, but they didn't. I found a way back to them. I was able to find my place in the world again. It was a difficult time in my life, but I learned lessons that have stuck with me. No one will ever punish you harder than you do yourself. We are by nature our own worst critics. Hampered by our perception. An old military adage says, perception was reality. That was never truer for me then when I left the service. I found myself adrift in the civilian world. Unable to clearly see the past, and thus, incapable of moving towards any future.

With hard work and more than a few bruises inflicted by my brother I was able to see the error in my thinking. I was waiting for something or more accurately someone to help me climb out of a pit of despair so deep I could hardly see the light. The reality was no one was waiting in the wings to save me. The truth of the matter was no one would ever save you. True survivors must realize you have to save yourself. It doesn't matter how you go about it as long as you try. Life is about how much you can take, and keep fighting. How much you can suffer, and keep moving forward. That's how you win.

Jo continued to thrash beside me, and I made the decision wake her up. I remember hearing you shouldn't wake a person from a nightmare, but my heart couldn't take it anymore. Gently shaking her shoulder I called her name, hoping it would do the trick. Roughly she pulled away, her hand striking out, connecting with my shoulder. She burrowed further into her pillow, her cries coming louder and faster now. Grabbing her shoulders I rolled her onto her back, leaning over her slightly.

"Jo, come on baby, wake up." Her eyes remained squeezed shut, painful moaning filling the room. "Jo, it's Owen. I need you to wake up now," I called out, my voice louder this time.

Her eyes sprung open, and I momentarily sagged with relief. However, I saw no recognition in her glassy, unfocused gaze. She was still far away, her eyes unseeing. I knew firsthand how disorienting it was to see the horrors of your past when you closed your eyes. It was even worse when they followed you into your waking hours.

Before I could calm her frayed nerves she lashed out, delivering a debilitating jab to my solar plexus. Caught completely off guard I could do nothing more than groan in pain, falling limply beside her.

Wasting no time she flipped over, straddling me. Recovering, I called out her name again in an effort to break through, but considering she was currently rearing back ready to break my nose I didn't think it was working. My mother always told me, "cooler heads will always prevail", but I bet she never had a pissed off, ex-Army veteran pummeling her ass either. I was going to go with my father on this one, "drastic times call for drastic measures".

Jo let her right hook loose, aiming right for my nose. Smart. Disable your attacker with a broken nose. It's pretty hard to put up a fight when you couldn't see. While it was a textbook assault her current state made her movements sluggish. I could have seen the punch coming with my eyes closed. Catching her by the wrist I wrenched her arm sideways, using my body weight and strength to my advantage. I rolled her sideways, careful to not hurt her, as I pinned her arms above her head. Her legs immediately locked around my waist like a vice as she struggled beneath me.

"Come on Jo, snap out of it!" I yelled. I could tell the moment my voice broke through the barrier. She froze, eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to focus.

"Owen?"

She sounded like a little girl, her voice shaky and unsure. My shoulders relaxed, slumping in relief as her legs released their crushing hold on me. I exhaled harshly through my nose, rolling off her in order to give her space. I watched her from my peripheral. The minute she'd recognized me, or more importantly the situation, her expression turned to horrified. She was up and out of the bed searching for clothes before I could say anything. Hastily she grabbed some of my clothes, a T-shirt and shorts that swamped her they were so big, throwing them on as her eyes darted around the room. I was willing to give her some time to herself. Perhaps in the bathroom or living room, but the crazed look I'd seen in her eyes made my stomach plummet. Running was what Jo did best. The chances of me letting her leave this camper ranged somewhere between slim and none.

"Where are you going?" I called out to her retreating form, already up and searching for the first clothes I could find.

"Home."

Oh, fuck that.

Jo was quick, but so was I when properly motivated. I met her at the door to the bungalow, planting myself like a tree in front of the door.

"Hey, don't' do this. Talk to me." I was begging. I can admit that. I can also admit I didn't give a rats ass. If she walked out the door right now it would be the end. There would be no coming back from it.

"Get out of my way Owen," she hissed, ice in her voice. She sounded menacing. Too bad for her I was an expert at menacing.

Pressing my lips into a thin line I steeled myself for a fight. If that was what she wanted it was just what she'd get. Fighting was like second nature to Jo. She used it as a defense mechanism to push others away before they could leave her. I hoped she was ready for the fight of her life because she wasn't walking away from me. I cared too much about her to leave her to her own devices.

"No, not until you tell me what's going on." In truth, I didn't need much elaboration from her, except to fill in the minute details. Essentially, I knew what was happening, but it solved nothing if she couldn't confront her demons head on.

"You're a pretty smart guy. I'm sure you can figure it out."

And, cue the sarcasm.

If I were a psychologist I would say her behavior was as a textbook case of someone using anger, sarcasm, or insults to distract from the real issues. I'm smart like that.

"And so are you, I'm sure you know that's not what I meant. Talk to me."

"I'm sorry Dr. Phil I don't feel like sharing right now."

I narrowed my eyes at her. I had to keep myself in check here. She wanted me to rise to the bait. To lash out. To hurt her. That way she would be justified in her delusional reasoning for cutting me out of her life. She attempted to squeeze past me to the door, but I used my arm to block her path. She yelled in frustration, pulling at her hair as she turned away from me, stomping off.

"Move! Just let me go!" she screamed.

She spun around to face me, tears streaming down her face, a wild look in her eyes. Agitation and frustration rolled off of her. Seeing her like this made my heart break. I reached for her, needing to do something to comfort her, but she recoiled, stepping further away from me. Dropping my hand to my side I shook my head at her.

"I'm not letting you leave after what happened. If you don't want to talk about it fine, but you're not leaving," I stated simply, crossing my arms over my chest to let her know I would wait her out.

"You really think you can stop me?" she taunted.

"Don't do that. Don't try to deflect this with violence or sarcasm."

Her eyes flashed with rage. "Get out of my fucking way! I swear to god if you don't move I will make you move!"

Licking my lips I tilted my head to side, watching her. She was pacing back and forth across the tiny living room, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides. She was mumbling under her breath. From what I could hear she thought I should go have sex with myself or something equally as colorful. While tempting I was gonna have to pass.

"I don't think you will," I replied evenly.

"What? You think we sleep together once and now we have some kind of bond. Well, I hate to break it to you Owen, but it was just sex." For someone so skilled at deception she was a horrible liar, at least when it came to me. She had a better chance of getting me to believe Hoskins had quit his job to start an outreach program for children than believing she had no feelings for me.

"That's pathetic Jo, really. Don't give me that bullshit."

"Is that a problem? Can't take the hit to your ego?" she sneered. I was surprised she wasn't foaming at the mouth she was so worked up. Despite the insincerity of her words I felt my hackles rise ever so slightly.

"Oh, I'll be fine. Thanks for the concern though. You're still not leaving."

She cursed me again, then went right back to pacing. She reminded me of one of the dinosaurs brought into the veterinary pins for examination. The caged animals seem to have a sixth sense something "bad" was about to happen. They would snarl, pace, growl, and attack anything that moved right up until they were tranquilized. Reduced to a drooling, unconscious heap. Too bad I didn't have any tranqs on hand. I either needed to calm Jo down or knock her out because otherwise she was liable to hurt someone, mainly me.

"Jo," I called out softly, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Please."

She barked out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. Obviously, she didn't believe me. All the doubt and fear she kept bottled up inside was overwhelming her. She could no more see the truth in my words than she could save herself from this pain. I saw the moment her resolve strengthened, her back straightened. Back was the Jo I'd met all those months ago. The one who believed herself incapable of love. Who believed with certainty that no one could ever love her. Just like that, in less than a second, all our progress was washed away like the roads on the island in the midst of a hurricane.

She rounded on me, pointing her finger in accusation, "Why do you care?!" She stepped forward, invading my personal space. Our faces were mere inches apart.

Her backwards emotional behavior made something inside of me snap. This wasn't working. Being patient, gentle, it wasn't getting through her thick skull. Time for Plan B.

"Because I love you!" I fired back.

Instantly she stepped back, bewildered. Whatever she'd been expecting me to say it wasn't that.

"What?" She seemed leery of my confession. No doubt wondering if it was true or simply spoken out of frustration. Whatever she thought of it she didn't trust it.

Exasperated I ran my hands through my hair, hissing out a breath between my teeth. "I love you dammit. Not exactly how I pictured having this conversation, but we've never been normal. I love you Jo. Since the moment I stepped off that elevator you've turned my world upside down, and I love you for it."

She shook her head back and forth at me. I thought her face looked horrified before, but it was nothing compared to now. She looked like she might attempt to run straight through the wall to get away from me.

"You don't know what you're saying," she told me defiantly.

Typical. Just like a woman to tell you what you can and can't feel. If men were from Mars and women were from Venus then Jo was from another galaxy altogether.

"I know this is hard for you to believe, but you don't get to tell me how I feel," I glared at her.

"You can't love me because you don't even know me."

I'm sorry, if that wasn't the pot calling the kettle black I didn't know what was.

"And whose fault is that?" No way was she going to take me to task for something I had no control over. I'd done everything, but spell it out with magnetic alphabet letters. She scoffed in outrage, clearly not happy about being called on her bullshit.

"It doesn't matter," she said, waving her hand dismissively.

"Oh I think it does," I bit out, taking a step towards her so she couldn't avoid looking at me. "You are so scared of being discarded you refuse to let anyone get close. You torture yourself with events in your past in the hopes of making amends."

"You don't know shit," she shot back.

"Why don't you enlighten me then."

I meant it as a challenge and she took it as one. The evil smirk plastered across her face told me I needed to brace for impact. Whatever she was about to unleash would be unlike anything I'd ever experienced. When she tipped her head back, hysterical laughter spilling out, I was slightly concerned for her sanity. I had no time to get off the crazy train before she launched into a diatribe meant solely to warn me off.

"You want to talk Owen? OK, let's talk. Hmm, let's see…where should we start? How about birth, is that early enough for you? I was abandoned by on the steps of a firehouse a few hours after I was born. My mother or father couldn't even be bothered to keep me for longer than a few hours. No big deal really…happens all the time.

"Since I had no parents I was taken in by child protective services, and lived most of my childhood at the orphanage. I got to watch all the other kids get adopted day after day while I was passed over. It's probably what dogs at the pound feel like when potential owners come to look at them, but decide pet ownership just isn't for them. That's not really the best part though; sometimes I had foster parents take me in for short periods of time. They only did it for the money so it was a bit lacking in the love department, but they more than made up for it in abuse when the mood struck them. At least there was food most of the time, and it helped me develop a really interesting skill set. Hiding, stealing, fighting, all useful skills for a child. The real key is learning how to be invisible, it helps cut down on the beatings, and I was exceptionally good at that."

She was looking at me, but she wasn't seeing me. It was as if she was looking straight through me, her eyes wide and dilated. I didn't think she was even aware I was in the room. In all the months I'd known her I'd never heard her talk so much at once. Jo was a woman whose mission statement in life was to 'keep it simple stupid'. She hated unnecessary words. Why talk for hours when a simple sentence would suffice? Why beat around the bush when you could just tell it like it was? Right now, in the tiny space of my living room, she was checked out, her body standing not two feet from me, but her mind a million miles away. She continued on, and my gut clenched in anguish at what I was hearing.

"Sometimes though it's better to just runaway. No matter how good you are at hiding the really determined ones always find you. The street isn't all bad, but when you're 6 years-old it can be a bit overwhelming. If you want to survive you have to find a gang willing to take you in. Without people to watch your back you're as good as dead. Thankfully, I've always been resourceful and that comes in real handy when you're living on the street. You may not always have food or shelter, but you had freedom. I got good at finding what my gang wanted or needed. I learned how to lie, cheat and steal in any situation. That's how I was able to lift the access card to the server room so easily, because I've done it my whole life. I've done anything and everything you can imagine to survive. I've made every mistake you could possible make and then some. Sure, you lose a little of your humanity, not to mention your childhood, but it beats being dead.

"But hey, you already know me, right? We can move past all that pitiful childhood stuff. Why don't we talk about the Army? That's what my dream was about by the way. Specifically, a mission I planned and executed that resulted in the loss of five lives. To really add insult to injury most of them were kids…the oldest was only 20. I held one of their hands as he died an excruciatingly painful death because there was a gaping hole in his stomach from shrapnel almost ripping him in half. I lied and told him he would be fine, and watched him die in that desert thousands of miles from home. They weren't the only one's either, I can't tell you how many people died because of my failures over there. Guess you can imagine why I chose to get out, kind of selfish to stay in if all you're doing is harming your own."

I didn't move. I scarcely took a breath, afraid I would break the spell she was under. There was a part of me that felt guilty witnessing her breakdown. She'd clearly forgotten I was here, and under normal circumstances would chew off her own arm before disclosing the skeletons in her closet. The right thing to do would be to stop her now, but the opportunity to gain some insight into a woman who kept her cards close to the vest held me rooted in place. Hamada had told me once what Jo revealed regarding her past was at her sole discretion. Whether consciously or unconsciously she was letting me in. I had a sneaking suspicion she was trying to scare me off. Clearly, she underestimated my feelings for her.

"Hey, everyone has down times now and again. No big deal. The F.B.I. was a WAY better. I was taught to use my "special skill set" to study and track down homicidal, sociopathic, serial killers. If that doesn't sound like fun I don't know what does! The best part was having to stand in front of their families when I was too late to save their loved ones. Since I grew up lying for a living it was easy to feed them the bullshit line that they didn't suffer or their death was quick, even though it never was, ever. They all died in the most horrific ways you can imagine. I thought I had seen the worst that humanity could do to each other in war, but boy was I wrong.

"The best parts though were the hostage scenarios. You wouldn't think they happen that often, but you'd be wrong. I was called in to negotiate tons of them in the limited time I was there. Par for the course, the last one I was at resulted in the loss of an entire family. Three of them were kids, the youngest of whom was 3 years-old. They were killed by their father, five feet in front of me, while I was helpless to stop it."

As quickly as she had started she stopped. Exhaustion pulled at every feature as she fell back against the wall, sinking down to the floor. Pulling her legs in she wrapped her arms around her knees hugging them tight, gut-wrenching sobs wracking her body. Huddled against the wall she seemed so small, so broken.

I always knew she was strong, but after getting a glimpse behind the curtain tonight I knew I'd drastically underestimated her. She wasn't just strong; she was nothing short of extraordinary. She was fighting battles none of us knew anything about, the likes of which we could never hope to understand. The need to shower her with support, comfort, anything, overcame me.

Slowly I made my way across the room, sitting down beside her. She continued to cry uncontrollably. Gently I reached out, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, pulling her towards me. Her eyes found mine, and the sorrow etched into her beautiful face was nearly my undoing. Quickly, I hauled her onto my lap as she continued to cry, the occasional hiccup mixed in.

"It's OK, I've got you," I crooned, grasping for any words of consolation. "Shhh, I'm here."

She buried her head in my chest. Her hands curled around my T-shirt clinging to me like her life depended on it. Rocking her slowly back and forth I rubbed circles on her back the way my mother used to when I was a child. I remembered it always helped. It made me feel safe, and reminded me that whatever was wrong would work itself out.

"I've got you babe. You're strong, stronger than you realize. You'll get through this, I know it. I'll be there every step of the way. I know it's a small comfort, but I truly believe that you were given this life because you are strong enough to live it."

I could feel her head nodding in time with my words. I didn't know if what I was saying was helping, but on some level it was getting through. If that was all I could do for her then I'd do it willingly. She needed to know her worth.

"You're it for me Jo. It you believe in nothing else, believe in that, believe in me."

Seconds turned into minutes as she continued to cry, and I continued to console. Slowly, her sobs changed into only the occasional sniffle, her hands wiping at her tear stained face. Taking a few shaky breaths she leaned back slightly, looking down at my shirt, which was drenched with her tears. She looked embarrassed which I found ridiculous. I smiled at her reassuringly, hugging her. She shook her head at me disbelievingly.

"Why are you still here?" she asked, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Smiling at her I said, "I told you, I love you."

For the first time since I'd said the words she smiled. She still didn't look completely persuaded, but I'd wear her down. I was nothing if not persistent. Somehow I just knew no one had ever told her they loved her. Given what I'd heard earlier it wasn't too surprising, but it still filled me with rage all the same. I wanted to hunt down everyone who had ever hurt her, had ever made her doubt herself, and end them.

Not for the first time I realized Jo and I weren't that different. We struggled with memories from tragedies long past. The difference was I'd come to term with my demons while Jo was still pretending hers didn't exist. Like if she simply didn't acknowledge it then it would magically disappear. Jo was the human equivalent of an ostrich with her head in the sand. I was well acquainted with the mechanics behind avoidance, my email was proof enough of that, but in this instance it would only make things worse.

It would take time, but in order to change her life she needed to change her perspective. Weaknesses could become strengths with no more than a shift in thinking. Nightmares could become lessons learned by facing the demons head on.

Every thought didn't have to be battle.

Every breath didn't need to be a war.

Together we could annihilate everything that threatened to destroy her.

Sometimes you have to fight through bad days to earn the best days of your life.

LadyBugQueen421: Hello again! Yes, my plan is to update every Friday. Most of the time I'm able to make it happen, it's only when I'm traveling for work that things get dicey. FYI, I do that after my kids go to bed/nap too. In fact, sometimes I adjust nap time so I can do some reading :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!

JesseBWriting: I know exactly how you feel. In fact, I felt the same way until I read an entire series for one POV then from another. I was beyond leery b/c how much could they bring to the table by changing the POV? Didn't I already know everything? They proved me wrong and showed me it can be done successfully. It's what I'm aiming for so I'm glad you are enjoying it and it doesn't get boring. Yes, I'm planning a sequel that will follow the events in the movie. There will be some minor changes since this is AU and Jo will be there doing her thing, but nothing crazy. Hope you check it out when I post it. Thanks for reading and reviewing, it means a lot!

LynxOnSmoothies: LOL! That's exactly how I pictured it too. His thoughts totally conflicted. Oh Owen, gotta love him! I love writing Skeletor, she's a hoot. I appreciate you sticking with me and offering great reviews :)

angelicedg: I completely agree. Writing from his POV allows me get in the emotional weeds more so to speak. I'm glad his perspective is not only adding to the story, but everyone's view of Jo. Yeah! Thanks again for reading and reviewing.

MsRose91: I am so happy to hear that! I'm always asking myself What Would Owen Do? I'm glad it is coming through in the writing. I appreciate you sticking with me and reading/reviewing!

BlueEyedPisces: Skeletor is just too much fun! I say go for it with the ringtones...my family only hated me for about a day, maybe a day and half. Totally worth it!

jahoney: I have considered Owen's own PTSD and issues stemming from his service. I tried to display them in this chapter as a way for us to not only get some more insight into his character, but how similar he and Jo actually are. This was an emotionally heavy chapter and I hope you like how it played out. As always, I appreciate your thoughtful reviews.