He's discharged "honorably"—polite bureaucratic bullshit for "We're Sorry, but We're Sending You Home Because You're the Only Surviving Member of Your Unit."
He doesn't tell his family he's coming home. He wants to get all the bureaucratic $#!+ out of the way first. Maybe after the meetings and paperwork and debriefings, he'll be able to lay to rest the demons.
He gives the minimum of information, in some cases lies through his teeth on every form, in every meeting. He definitely lies on the PTSD screening form. All he needs is a little time. A little time, and he'll put the memories behind him. He's grateful he doesn't wake up screaming from the nightmares, like Chuckles. Except…Chuckles hadn't screamed the night before he took Danny's place on patrol.
The last meeting done, last paper signed, he calls Linda from the base. "Hey, babe."
"Danny!" she shrieks. "When does your plane land? We'll meet you." He hears Jack whining and Sean babbling; they're 4 and 2.
"Ummm…I've been Stateside since January 31. Finished up all the bureaucratic b.s. this morning. I'll be home in a few hours."
"You're Stateside?! You've been in the U.S. for six weeks and haven't called? Does your family know? I'll call them.'
He shook his head. "No. I don't wanna shock Dad, not with Mom…" He sighs. "Please just let me come home, have a reunion with you and the boys. I'll take a cab. I'll be there tonight. I love you."
"Love you more," he whispers, and feels something unclench a little at her breathy "Love you most."
Due to a million snafu's he doesn't get home till almost midnight. He's dragging; hungry, exhausted, and on edge. He'd had to bite his tongue to keep from reaming out the cabbie, who drove over debris like it was nothing. Like there wasn't the slightest chance it could be an IED.
His heart is pounding out of his chest when he rings the doorbell.
Linda opens the door, and he drops his bags, pulls her tight. "I missed you."
She pulls him and his bags inside, locks the door, kisses him fiercely.
He's reaching for her belt buckle when she pushes him away. "Your heart's pounding, Danny—like you ran a marathon. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just heavy luggage, excited to see you."
"You've been sitting in a cab for 3 hours; you dragged your bags a few feet; that's not it." She looks at his face. "Honey, you're terrified. What's wrong?"
He couldn't tell her about the cab ride, the deep-seated fear that they were going to hit an IED and that would be the end of him.
"I'm tired. Can we talk later, after…?"
He makes love to her and falls asleep.
Bombs and mortars wake him up and he bolts for cover, tucked in between an oil drum and the wall of the warehouse that's their temporary quarters. He puts his hands over his ears—might as well try to save whatever hearing he has left. Rate he's going, he'll be deaf by the time he gets out of the Corps.
Someone is talking quietly. "You're okay, you're safe. It was just a nightmare. I only heard you because the thunder woke me up, and the neighbor's teenager was revving his engine. You're okay."
Words. Why is someone talking about cars and thunder? Can't they hear the bombs?
He opens one eye.
"Linda? What…what happened?"
"You had a nightmare. Do you know where you are?"
He looks desperately around. This isn't the barracks; it's the master bathroom. He curses quietly. "Our house. Sorry I woke you up. Why…why am I squished between the toilet and the wall?"
"I don't know."
Probably trying to take cover from a bomb, he thinks, but doesn't say it out loud.
He wraps his arms around himself, takes a few deep breaths. "Sorry I woke you up."
"It's okay. Do you wanna talk about it?"
"No!" he shouts, and stands up so quickly he hits his head on the sink. He curses, and she steadies him. "I'm sorry, babe, I'm just exhausted. I'm going to go take a shower. Join me?"
He falls asleep again after their shower and making love to his wife until he can't remember the name of the town where he went to hell...a hell he's not sure he'll ever come home from.