Linda startles awake to cold sheets and no Danny next to her. She frowns. Their mattress isn't this squishy…
Because she's lying on the air mattress in the basement after their campy-music-sex-and-no-fireworks 4th of July party.
She sits up, pulls her robe on, and pads around the basement looking for him.
No Danny.
He's not on the main floor, either.
One of their neighbors is blasting the Star-Spangled Banner, and she quickly dials the non-emergency number, makes an anonymous noise complaint.
She should have put the blasted sign in their yard despite what Danny said.
She goes upstairs, relaxing when she sees the light coming from the master bathroom.
He's sitting on the floor next to the tub, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. A pill bottle and teeny-tiny pills are scattered on the floor.
He's crying, so this probably wasn't suicide-by-pill.
She hopes.
She sits down next to him, pulls him close, bites her lip when he flinches. "Shhh, it's me. I'm here, babe. What's wrong, Danny?"
He shakes his head, turning it toward her and crying harder. "I…I don't…"
She rubs his back. "Okay, okay, don't talk, just cry yourself out. Are you hurt?"
He shakes his head.
"Okay. I called the cops on the noisy neighbor; they'll be here in a few. Is that what startled you, the music?"
He shrugs. "I…I was trying to take my meds, and I spilled the pill bottle, and I hate that I have to take them, and…I'm still waiting for Dad to give me hell for even taking them, and…"
"Shhh…" she whispers, rubbing his back. "Have you taken one of them? The ones you spilled?"
He shakes his head against her breast.
"I'm going to pick one up, and I want you to take it. We'll talk once it's kicked in and you're calmer, okay?"
He nods, swallows it with the glass of water she gets from the bathroom tap.
She rubs his back, feeling him shake and shudder as he tries to fight back the tears.
She hears the grandfather clock downstairs strike the half-hour, then the three-quarter, before he's calm enough to talk.
"I…I'm sorry," he whispers.
She pulls his head up, kisses him. "Shhh. You've got nothing to apologize for. Just tell me what happened."
He pulls away, pulls his knees to his chest and leans his head on them. "You fell asleep so fast, and I was just…staring at the ceiling. Realized it's been…exactly seven months since everything went to hell in Fallujah. Then I remembered I hadn't taken my meds. So I came up here to get them. Spilled the anxiety med, realized I had to pick them all up before you came up here and thought I was trying to kill myself. Then our f*** neighbor started blasting the Star-Spangled Banner, and I…started crying. I'm sorry I'm so…"
She pulls him to her and kisses him before he can finish what she's sure he was going to say… "pathetic, weak"…all those words his father somehow drilled into him, that being a Marine and a cop and crying and having PTSD were incompatible.
"Look at me, Danny."
He wipes his eyes, looks at her. "Yeah?"
"You are not pathetic or weak or whatever names you were about to call yourself. I am proud of you… you're taking your meds, you're trying to get better, that's strength, Danny."
He sighs. "Can we sit here for a while before we go back to bed?"
"Of course, babe." She kisses him again. "Love you."
"Love you more," he whispers.
"Love you most," she says, and wonders if she's ever going to see the pre-Fallujah Danny again.