"Get in," Miles urged gently, holding the door open for his friend, as James seemed to be wondering aimlessly about, stuck in some kind of daze.
Slowly, reluctantly, James finally faced him, looking distracted and unsettled. "What about the other van?" he demanded. "We can't just leave it here-"
"Don't worry about it," Miles replied quickly, simply relieved that Jim wasn't refusing his assistance. (After the shit he'd pulled earlier, he was merely glad that the man was still talking to him.) "I'll get take Jin out here and we'll drive it back. Meanwhile let's get you home…Juliet's got to be worrying about you by now."
For a long moment James just gave him a long stare in return, to which Mile tried hard to ignore; then, finally, James gave a hesitant nod. "Yeah," was all he said, speaking so low Miles almost couldn't hear him; then, he added a carefully considered "Thanks," which surprised Miles, as LaFleur didn't thank just anyone …and, secretively, it left him mystified and feeling strangely accomplished inside.
"Why were you and Jin talking anyway?" James asked suspiciously as they rode home, suddenly breaking the silence between them; when Miles couldn't answer at first, James gave a rough shake of his head in self-disgust. "Jesus…I must have been way past the legal limit that night…I don't even remember telling him anything…"
"He just cares about you Jim," Miles said softly, trying to keep his eyes on the dark dirt road that stretched out in front of him, trying to ignore the looming darkness of the jungle that flanked out on either side. "That's all."
James didn't say anything in return. If Miles hadn't known better, he would have thought the man had fallen asleep (save for the fact that Juliet had once told him that James' snores sometimes kept her awake late at night. He decided it best not to disturb, and they didn't speak for the rest of the ride home.
It turned out Miles was right: Juliet had been up for quite some time, and she was preparing to go out looking for James herself, when finally a rap at her door sent her running.
She was shocked (as well as relieved) to find none other than Miles at the door; James standing mute just behind him. Lord, but he looked haggard; what had he been doing all night? Something had startled her awake at two am; she had rolled over to stroke his face, and had found his side alarmingly empty. She had been going nearly out of her mind with worry, knowing that he didn't want to get Horace (or anyone else for that matter) involved. Now that she could see he was safe, she wasn't terrified anymore-just furious.
"James!" she whispered fiercely, snatching his arm and all but dragging him inside, Miles following quickly from behind. "Where the hell have you been? she demanded, "I've been worried sick!" Her eyes flowing rapidly back and forth between the two men, hoping that one of them would answer her. She was even more alarmed when James continued to simply stare down at the ground; it was as though he hadn't heard a word, and it only made her angrier; even more so when Miles was the first to speak instead.
"You want me to do the talking?" Miles asked James over his shoulder, which to her surprise James responded with a wordless nod in response, still not willing for some reason to look her in the eye.
"I found him out at North Point," Miles said finally, when she couldn't stand it any longer. "He was drinking-"
"Jesus," she muttered, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice-What could he be thinking?-but then James spoke, and his voice was so hoarse and filled with shame that all at once her anger mysteriously disappeared.
"I'm an idiot, okay." He didn't look at her as he spoke, but he didn't back down either, and she was filled with remorse for having reacted so harshly. "I couldn't face you after…before," he added grimly, haltingly. Looking away, she had to force herself not to cry. Her throat ached; she wanted suddenly to do nothing but hold him, to somehow take all the pain away. "You don't understand," he went on, voice low, and when she tried to seek out his face, she found his eyes to be filled with great shame, completely naked with grief. "Tomorrow changes everything," he said, his voice catching and stressing the last word for emphasis: "Everything." The last words were whispered, and Juliet wondered how much Miles knew-the fact that he was here, now, meant something. "I don't know what to do," he said then, and his voice broke suddenly; she could tell he was on the verge of tears, and she wanted to do something, anything; she just didn't know what.
"Miles," she said instead, trying to speak as gently as possible, "Thank you for your help; I think I can take it from here-"
"Sorry Juliet-I'm not going anywhere," Miles said affirmatively, standing his ground, nodding at James with conviction. "I promised." He hoped James understood that he had in fact promised-with his actions, not his words, because Miles had always believed it was your actions that proved your worth, not the other way around.
"You don't have to stay Miles." James's voice, weary and world-worn, could barely be heard, and Juliet hardly recognized it, it was so filled with pain. "I ain't your problem-"
"Just shut up James," Miles cut him off sharply, but so endearingly that he knew Jim couldn't refuse. "My friends are always my problem." Both he and Juliet was startled by a sharp intake of breath from James, who had started to shake, as though from a great fright, but Juliet knew that was not the case.
"Goddamn Sonofabitch!" James snapped, turning to punch the wall with all his might, but he wasn't yelling at anyone else but himself. He couldn't-he wouldn't- break in front of Miles Straume, someone he worked with. Not here…not now. After all he was James Ford, and James Ford didn't cry. Ever. Tears made you weak. Only once could he remember crying, and that had been back when he was eight, and even then, it had been like a bee sting-okay son, you can cry, but we have to go say goodbye now. Fuck tears-too many tears throughout his lifetime. One person shouldn't have to endure so much fucking grief.
"James," Juliet whispered lovingly, but he pretended not to hear her; he only wanted to be alone, alone in his grief and misery. (Dammit-why couldn't they go away?) Why had Miles bothered to get involved to begin with? Better to stay angry; better to have resented him to begin with; he was just a burden to the people he loved, who loved him. Love shouldn't have to be so much damn work.
"Just-both of you-leave me the hell alone," he whispered hoarsely, pacing wildly, and somehow managed to stagger dangerously into the dimly lit living room. God he felt ill; the entire room was spinning on its axis, threatening to tilt.
"Jim, it's okay," Miles was insisting, following, comforting as though somehow he fucking knew, and that made him want to strike out and attack someone, because it most certainly was not fucking goddamn okay.
He collapsed on the couch, world slipping away, burying his head deep in the couch, wishing he could stop the onslaught of memories coming, but still they came, and he didn't want to look at the clock; soon it wouldn't matter, because the sun would be up anyway…damn new day…always bringing empty promises…his head was pounding something awful and his throat was clogged with broken screams.
"James-" Juliet's hand was on his back, rubbing, as though she could somehow rub out his sorrow, but that wasn't how it worked, no, you had to fight, and he was done fighting. It was too hard; the pain was too much, and his heart was in tatters, and when she said his name again, something broke inside, something that he thought had already been broken, and he was shaking uncontrollably in her arms. "It's going to be okay," she was saying, kissing his head, moving the hair away from his eyes, but he didn't want to be seen-not like this-just a weak sonofabitch who couldn't hold onto his emotions anymore.
"No," he was shouting, but his voice was muffled by the cushion, "No…"
And then he was crying, crying hard like some damn kid, but she wasn't letting go, she was holding him rock-solid like she was his mother, rocking him back and forth, and he couldn't stop himself. He couldn't help it. "So sorry," he was saying, over and over, "I'm so damn sorry…" Not even knowing who he was apologizing to. He sounded like a blubbering idiot and he hated it.
"Miles go and get him some water," she ordered abruptly over his shoulder instead of silencing him, and he was grateful that she wasn't leaving, but he wanted to die all over again, knowing that Miles was still there, seeing him in such a state…how would he be able to look him in the face ever again?
Then the glass, full of nourishing liquid, was being held out to him, but he didn't want it. He didn't deserve to be comforted like this. When had he ever been comforted like this? Panic attack…that's all this is…just a stupid panic attack-get over it-you're a man-"Gotta be a man now," he could hear his Uncle saying. Gotta be a man…He didn't feel like a man. He felt like he was going insane; also, he didn't know what to feel.
Panic attacks: he hadn't had one in a long time, but he'd had them quite often as a kid, and his uncle hadn't known what to do with him; he'd just forced him to see some nut-job psychiatrist who was probably certifiable in his own right, as he'd just had him stare at Rorschach charts all day long (What do you see in the painting James? Tell me, what do you see?). Saw him twice a week for almost a year and this had accomplished absolutely nothing.
"It's going to be okay," Juliet was saying now, and he was lying on his back, still shaking, but he wasn't crying anymore; he had no tears left. "Just relax…it's all going to be okay…"
"Don't let me go to sleep," he somehow spoke through shattered breath, "please-don't let me fall asleep…" He could barely think through the dull thudding in his brain.
"Miles go and grab him a blanket, okay?" She wasn't listening…why was she getting him a blanket?
"Okay," came the abrupt reply. Miles-not leaving-in spite of his request. Damn you Miles. He wouldn't be able to go to work, face everyone, much less leave the house ever again.
"I'm going to lead you through an exercise," Juliet whispered, stroking his head as she spoke lovingly to him. "It's a hypnosis technique I learned my second year in medical school."
"I'm not going to sleep!" he persisted, eyes wild, but she hushed him with a single finger.
"Just relax," she whispered. "Listen to my voice. Don't think about anything else. Concentrate only on my voice." She went on to instruct him to relax each part of his body, one by one, and he wanted to tell her to stop, but suddenly around him everything began to swim in front of his eyes, and a warm sensation flooded his insides, and he knew he shouldn't be, but he was drifting off somewhere into a place where pain did not exist…a place he didn't know could possibly be…