Story beta'd by BrokenKestral

Fulfills Whumptober 26 & Alt. 9.

26. If you thought the head trauma was bad… migraine, concussion, blindness

Alt. 9 memory loss


It would never cease to amaze me how I could go months or years without anything more than an occasional case-related nightmare, only for a chance word to open the gates of Hades, releasing the undead to torment me around the clock.

I supposed I could hardly call this a chance word, however, when I could no more escape talk of the war than I could escape the sound of the crashing waves. I dreaded going to sleep each night, dreaded reliving the memories yet again.

"Alec! Look out! No!"

I fell to my knees beside him, fighting to stem the bleeding as I refused to believe the damage was as bad as it appeared.

My friend knew better, however. "I guess we'll have to postpone that drink," his fading voice said as he struggled to focus on me. "Tell my Nellie girl I love her, John. Take care of her for me."

"No, I won't need to tell her. Stay with me! She doesn't want me. She wants you! She always has."

Blood gushed from his side, literally pouring through my fingers no matter what I did. An artery had been compromised. There was nothing I could do, and less than a minute passed before my friend's hollow gaze stared through me.

"Alec!"

I shot upright, breathing heavily. A familiar bedroom met my searching gaze, and I fought to slow my breathing. I was home, in Sussex. I was safe. I had been back for nearly a month from this round, and Maiwand was decades ago.

"Farewell, my friend."

I flinched. Knowledge of safety made no difference to the dreams that haunted me, did not stop me from watching my failures yet again.

The sun would be up soon enough; there was no reason now to stay abed, and I pushed myself to my feet and wandered out to the sitting room, glad to hear Holmes' deep, steady breaths from his bedroom. I had not cried out in my dreams this time, for which I was grateful. He did not need to forgo sleep just because I was having nightmares. They would pass soon enough, I knew, hopefully without intruding on daylight again. Less than a month removed from battle, each day without a regression was its own victory.

Light touched the eastern sky as I moved across the room, and I looked out the window instead of settling in my chair. The clear sky promised a beautiful morning, with a fall chill more bracing than truly cold, and even through closed windows I could hear waves unhurriedly pounding the shore. Seagulls drifted overhead, passing the sandpipers changing beaches, and the occasional flight of migrating geese let out its signature call.

I glanced around the room, trying to decide what I wanted to do. Holmes would not wake for a few hours yet, having stayed up late last night muttering about his wintering bees, and I certainly had no wish to go back to bed. Did we need anything from town?

I moved quietly into the kitchen, mindful that noises from that room tended to carry further than from the sitting room, and started checking cabinets. Holmes had just gone into town earlier in the week, however, and I could find nothing that we needed. I moved back to the sitting room with a sigh.

Perhaps I could read a book? I had brought my small library with me upon moving to the cottage, and I browsed through them now, absently scanning titles in search of something I could use to capture my attention for a while. If I relaxed enough, I might be able to return to sleep, but even the extensive line of titles held nothing that caught my interest.

"Stay with me, Private! He is coming."

I quickly turned away from the bookshelf, from the title whose wording was far too close to my memories. Private Watson was gone, but I had granted him the time to say goodbye to the brother with whom he shared a tent. I had not completely failed that time.

"Leave me behind, Murray."

But knowing as much did not stop the memories from haunting me, from springing to mind at inopportune times after nearly a week of nightmares had brought them to the fore. My promise would require I ask for help soon if I could not solve it myself.

Not yet, though. I need not declare that weakness yet. Maybe a walk along the shore would help me relax. I had always found the waves to be soothing, and I quietly shut the door behind me.

Wave after wave crashed against the sand, each following the one previous with a rhythmic consistency, and I walked slowly, just out of reach of the water. I did not plan to go far from the cottage, repeatedly walking the same short stretch rather than go too far, but I enjoyed the crying birds, the rushing water, the brilliant colors of the rising sun. The ocean had not lost its ability to relax me, and I soon seated myself on a rock, content to watch the waves roll in as the sky changed from black, to purple, to red and orange. It was too bad the temperature dropped too far overnight for me to leave my window open, as I would probably sleep better if I could hear the waves.

Both crashing waves and colorful sunrise had been absent from the trenches, and I leaned back, absorbing the color around me and glad to be home.


A quieter opening than my stories usually have :) Don't forget to review!