2 Week Later: Late Night
Graham's Subconscious: Brazilian Jungle: Undisclosed Location
The sticky unrelenting heat of the jungle was an assault on all of the senses. The virescent hues were the foreground, the background, and as high up as you could see blocking out the blue sky.
The buzzing sounds of insects, the birds, and the demons keeping the remaining men imprisoned.
Graham felt his heart racing in a silent panic. His blue eyes were wide, the pupils dilated, brain on fire, like a cluster bomb exploding in his brain. The shrill screams of the men pinned to the muddy ground gripped around Graham's throat.
Frozen in panic, Graham couldn't look away as the demons ripped open the poor soldier as they feasted on his inners.
The screams seemed never ending, never letting the poor man die.
Reality: DeLuca Luxury Apartments: 11th Floor: Apartment #314: Graham's Bedroom
Awoken with a start, Graham snapped his eyes open. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. His body felt feverish and wet from the sweat of anxiety.
He snapped his focus suddenly, startled by the hand touching the side of his face.
Buffy sat on the edge of the bed looking at him with concern after having awoken him from his recurring night terror.
"It was just a dream," she gently told him, stroking his cheek with the backs of her fingers.
Slowly, Graham sat up in the bed, resting his back against the backboard of the bed. He looked down at his soaked tank top and ran a hand through his short damp dark hair. "It didn't feel like it."
"I'll make you some tea," she offered, unsure what else she could do to help him without prying.
For nearly everyday for a week, Buffy had woken him up from the night terrors. She had tried to ask him about it once before after the second night but he refused to talk about it, telling her that he was 'handling it'.
Main Living Area
Graham sat on the couch staring into the abyss unable. His mind was still on the dream. It had felt so vivid. He could still smell the pungent scent of rotting bodies of the dead corpses and their own filth. The metallic taste of blood still filled his mouth. The agonising screams echoed in his mind over and over again.
The teapot whistled.
Graham turned his head into the kitchen to see Buffy standing at the counter pouring water into two cups.
A minute later, Buffy walked to him and sat down on the couch and placed the cup of hot tea down on the coffee table.
For a long time, Buffy sat with him in silence. She understood the irritation and pressure of someone prying into your inner thoughts and feelings. She had hoped that perhaps in time, Graham would open himself up to her.
Graham stared at the cup of tea set in front of him. He could feel the weight of Buffy's eyes on him.
"For months we were trackin' this horde of Moscow demons. There were reports of village massacres within a hundred miles. They were these tall alien-like creatures with giant weird shaped heads, long sharp claws, and teeth… thousands of sharp teeth. They were so fast." Graham quietly told her. "Fifty soldiers in my platoon. Fifty lives that were my responsibility."
Buffy quietly listened, never daring to interrupt him.
"It didn't matter how much tactical mechanics was drilled into us or how to react when a man was lost. We had never trained for how to handle death from a leadership perspective. No one had ever told it to me. I didn't have guidance from a senior officer, all I knew was my men were bein' killed and I couldn't save 'em. Every call I made was the wrong call." Graham inhaled a deep breath and continued,
"They captured thrity of us. For four months, we were imprisoned by these demons. They would do selections and those who were selected would be forced to run across this two hundred acres of no man's land. And these demons would chase that poor bastard for sport." Graham looked down at his hands. "One by one, the demon would catch 'em and… rip 'em to pieces."
Buffy reached out her hand and placed it onto his knee.
"When they weren't makin' selections we were beaten and tortured. I broke five ribs. I was stabbed and beaten to the ground until I passed out 'cause I couldn't take the pain anymore. I tried…" he swallowed the emotion clogged in his throat. "Twenty times, I volunteered myself for selection to take their place. And twenty times, they killed 'em in front of me. Laughin' at me. I found a pistol in the dirt and I shot 'em. I knew I was goin' to die… and I wanted it. I just wanted that torture to be over."
Buffy watched as Graham's chin quivered, trying desperately not to cry for the lives he couldn't save, no matter how hard he tried.
"They don't teach you how to deal with the emotional shock and horrors of war. No one counseled me on the human capacity for good. I was never taught about human nature—which I saw in its rawest form in those months. I have no idea how to react to the men that were lost. We had never trained for how to handle death. To do anythin' but continue on would be complete dereliction of duty, and, in the larger picture, could possibly lead to even worse carnage among the troops left. So I did what I had to do until I couldn't anymore."
Graham ran a tired hand over his face, unable to stop his blue eyes from filling with tears. "They were my men. They were my responsibility." Graham lifted his head and looked at her with glistening wet eyes. "And I-I couldn't save 'em." He released a bitter laugh as he said, "And I get fuckin' medals for it."
Buffy shifted closer to him on the couch and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into her arms.
Laying his head on her shoulder, Graham buried his face into the crook of her neck, trying desperately to block out of the screams of the dying.
They sat like that for a while.
Buffy held him tightly, letting him use her for comfort as he mentally battled the guilt of his inability to save every life that had been appointed to lead into battle.
More than anything, Buffy understood the guilt of casualties. She knew the despair of hating oneself for losing a battle—and the lives that went with it. No matter how vigorously you wash your hands afterward, the stains of blood are always there—tattooed on the skin.
Lifting his head up from her shoulder, Graham looked at her. With the pad of her thumb, Buffy brushed away his fallen tears and gently stroked his cheekbone.
"You are a good man," she told him. Graham lowered his head, disbelieving her sentiment. "I know it's impossible to see it now, but you are." Graham began to turn away from her when she stopped him and regained his focus. "Look at me," she softly told him.
Graham lifted his eyes to her.
"This job that we do. We can't save every life. It's cruel. It's unfair. It doesn't make any sense, but that is the consequence of war. You did everything that you could for your people." She moved her hands from his face and wrapped her fingers around his hand on his knee.
Graham felt the gentle pressure of her squeezing his hand.
"I'm going to suggest something to you. Please, don't be offended," said Buffy, watching him staring at their conjoined hands on his knee. "There's a therapist at the Council. He's an old friend of Giles, but he's very good. I think… maybe he can help you."
"I don't need any help."
Buffy released a breath and said, "And I'm not forcing you, but, Graham, you've been waking up from terrors every night for two weeks—and God knows how many other sleepless nights you've had since." Sliding a hand over his muscular shoulder, Buffy said, "All I ask of you is to just think about it."
Graham turned his head and looked at her for a minute before turning his gaze away and nodding his head, accepting her advice.
3 Weeks Later
The Council Headquarters: Upper Level #2: Dr Schmidt's Office
Sitting in a brown leather chair with his hands firmly on his knees. Graham's eyes were closed. His face relaxed.
After four days in denial of the severity of his trauma, Graham finally caved and reached out to the psychiatrist Buffy had suggested at the Council.
Twice a week for the last three weeks, Graham had been going to renowned German psychiatrist, Dr Anno Schmidt. As part of his therapy methods at the Institute for Suggestive Therapy in Berlin-Adlershof, Schmidt typically used medication, tests, hypnosis and talk therapy to heal traumatized veteran soldiers of their secondary diseases. Luckily, in this day in age, soldiers that had gone through severe trauma were not viewed as disgraced nor unworthy for society.
"Breathe very calmly. Breathe in… und out." The dark haired doctor dressed in a tailor dark suit, a matching waist vest, a white shirt, with a lack tie. His greying hair was greased to the right side of his head. A burn scar adorned the left side of his face, from his forehead to his jaw.
Graham slowly took deep breaths, feeling his entire body succumb to relaxation, opening his mind.
Schmidt walked around Graham as he spoke holding his hands into his trouser pockets. "Don't try to put your zoughts into order. Just let zem ko. Und breathe in very deebly… und out. Gut. Gut. And now delve twice as deeply into your relaxed state zan before. Take your time. I vill now take vu back… to zee zource. To zee zource of your zee. I... vill guide vu... step by step. Step by step… all zee vay to zee zource of your fear. To see the truth." He told Graham in a gently soothing voice. "I vill not take vu back to zee zource"
Graham's brows pinched together.
"Zu are in the Brazillian jungles. For months vu were held captive; tordured und beaten everyday. Vu see soldiers die by zee demon. Vu long for zee end so much, vu're dying to finally be chozen und leave everything behind vu."
Schmidt tapped his finger to the center of Graham's forehead.
Graham's Subconscious
Graham woke up in the thick blood mixed into the wet mud. He opened his only good eye watching one of his men be split open by the demon. The splatter of the victim's blood stained his dirty face.
Anger built inside of him, unable to do anything to save that man's life from the demon
Breathe in… und out…
Graham sprinted through an endless tunnel of blackness.
He knew something was hot on his heels. Determined to survive, Graham sprinted as fast as he could and away from the demons chasing after him.
Breathe in… und out…
Standing in the abyss of swallowing darkness, Graham standing alone with his hands at his sides and his mouth wide, yelling in manic hysteria at the source of his demons that were chasing after him
The Council Headquarters: Upper Level #2: Dr Schmidt's Office
Graham shot in the chair, fully awake and aware. He panted for breath, feeling the beads of sweat on his forehead. Graham wiped it away and covered his face, regaining himself.
Dr Schmdit sat down in the chair in front of the young man getting a hold of himself after being in a hypnose state. "Vu did very vell today, Graham. I vill zee vu again on Monday."
Nodding his head, Graham stood up from the chair feeling a bit wobbly on his legs. He ran a hand over his face and crossed the short distance to the door to leave.
Upper Level #4: Buffy's Office
Opening the door of Buffy's large executive office, Graham entered and tossed his jacket over the back of a chair as he walked straight to the leather couch.
He fell back onto the couch exhausted. The mental energy used after every session with Dr Schmidt wiped him out good.
He covered his face with an elbow just needing a bit of quiet for a few minutes before he went back down to the lower levels for his next training session with the girls.
The sounds of the office door opening and closing pierced into Graham's ear, making him acutely aware that he was no longer the only one in the office.
Removing his arm from over his eyes, he saw Buffy looking at him with a bit of amusement as she walked over to the conference table holding a plastic bag containing lunch.
Pulling himself up from his lying position, Graham swung his legs over the couch and forced himself to stand.
Buffy lifted her eyes to see Graham site in a black chair adjacent to hers at the long conference table. She passed him the styrofoam takeout container and a pair of chopsticks.
Accepting the lunching, Graham opened the takeout container lid and examined his sushi Buffy had purchased for them.
For the last five weeks they had fallen into a routine.
On a daily basis they would alternate who purchased lunch. Typically, Buffy chose sushi and Graham would often pick sandwiches of some sort. It first began as an act of kindness on Buffy's behalf when Graham had first arrived at the Council, having not known anyone yet. But a week turned into 2 weeks and so on, Buffy discovered how much she really liked this man.
After the night Graham revealed his post traumatic trauma to her, something between them clicked. They shifted closer together, finding out that they had more in common that originally perceived.
"Tired?" Buffy asked, realising Graham must have just gotten back from Dr Schmidt's office. After his sessions with the German psychiatrist, Graham was often left mentally drained but strangely relaxed. He was little by little rediscovering his balance.
"Yeah, who knew facin' your inner turmoil was so exhaustin'?" He joked, turning his gaze to her face to watch her smile. "Where did Giles find that guy again?"
Buffy chewed for a minute thinking about what Giles had told her a long time ago. "Um, a Watcher's Retreat."
"Really?"
"Mm-hmm," she said, chewing on another salmon sushi roll. "He got his start from helping German soldiers after World War 1 come to terms with their PTSD. But sometime in the early thirties he 'disappeared'. I think he's a vampire."
"You think?" Graham frowned, "You don't know?"
Buffy looked at him sensing his understandable surprise. She shrugged nonchalantly.
"Buf, you're a Vampire Slayer, how can you say, 'you think'?"
"I never asked." Buffy frowned as she chewed her lunch. "I thought the whole 'Roaring Twenties' look was like a quirky fashion thing. Giles seems to trust him and he is very good—Now that he stopped giving his patients morphine and doing weird orgy therapy sessions."
"Oh, wow… That's a lot of information." His brain felt scrambled from the revelation of his psychiatrist's background.
Buffy stopped, now hoping she didn't turn Graham off from seeing the well respected psychiatrist again. "Are you gonna stop seeing him now that you know some stuff?"
Graham thought for a moment and shook his head, "Nah. I like him. I mean, he's a strange guy but… he knows what he's doin'. I haven't felt this good since… well… I don't remember. And I have you to thank for that." He sat forward taking Buffy's hand, set on the conference table. "Thank you, Buffy." He gave her hand a small squeeze.
"You don't need to thank me, Graham."
"Yeah, I do. By suggestin' Schmidt, you helped me get my life back. You gave me a job, which has givin' me a purpose. You're lettin' me crash at your apartment—"
"—You really are an excellent roommate. Way better than Dawn ever was," she watched him smile. He had a smile that lit up his entire face and it made her heart pound in her chest.
Graham looked down at their touching hands and smirked, "But more than all of that, I'm thankful for your friendship."
A soft smile slid across her face as she looked at him adoringly. If she weren't careful, Buffy could seriously see herself falling head over heels for this man. The way he looked at her, she felt it in her entire body. There was a tingling swirling sensation in the pit of her stomach and a shiver that shot straight down her back. It was a feeling she hadn't felt since… Angel.
It was so strange to think that she had nearly forgotten what that feeling felt like. It warmed her and excited her. Her heart pounding fervently in her chest reminded Buffy that she was alive.
"Raw fish can't be good for you," said Grahan, breaking the sweet moment between them.
Rolling her eyes, Buffy had gotten used to Graham's small digs at her choice of lunch. "On the contrary, sushi is very good for you."
"Poisonous," he pointed at her with the chopsticks in hand.
"No, honey, you're thinking of blowfish."
Graham's handsome face twisted with disgust. He threw the chopsticks down into the container and held up his hands, "That's it. I'm done eatin' your poisonous fish lunch."
"You're being way overdramatic." Buffy said with a scoff.
"Buf, I've eaten bugs the size of your head and… I'd rather eat that then this shit."
Buffy tossed a piece of lettuce at his face.
She snorted into a fit of laughter at his reaction to the tossed lettuce covering his eyes.
"That was rude," he tossed the lettuce back at her with a playful grin dancing across his face.
"Don't insult my sushi," she challenged him pointing the chopsticks in her hand at him.
Graham flung a piece of lettuce at Buffy, landing it in her blonde hair.
"Graham!" Buffy whined, comically pouted, as she pulled the pieces of lettuce from her hair, "You got it in my hair!"
Throwing his head back, Graham laughed at her.
