2 Days later. 11:30am.

It was already a rough day and it wasn't even noon. Rick was exhausted just thinking about it, he could only imagine how Drew felt. They had been talking about his pending discharge the following day, more exactly about Rick having to change the dressings on his back. Drew was not exactly comfortable with that. He wasn't exactly comfortable with anyone doing it in fact. They hadn't exactly been arguing but it wasn't a pleasant conversation either. It was after Rick had asked Drew exactly what he was ashamed of the episode happened.

Drew's face went blank, his body tensed, and his breathing hitched. He became so still that for a second, Rick thought he was going to have another episode where his breathing stopped. Then he had started shaking, his whole body, just trembling. Rick had called for a nurse, afraid he was now having a seizure. The nurse had come to check on him and the moment he was touched, Drew snapped. He shoved the nurse away from him, hyperventilating, and scrambled back away from everyone sinking into a corner in the room. He didn't respond to his name or seem to recognize anyone, not even Rick. If someone came near him, it was almost the same panicked reaction. The psychiatrist had arrived and kicked everyone out, even the doctor, shutting the door to the room. Twenty minutes later, and she had managed to alleviate the situation enough to allow the doctor to sedate Drew and do an exam.

She had then taken Rick to a visitor lounge to speak with him. "I'm Major Florence," she had introduced herself. She was an older lady, motherly, with a neat and tidy attitude that was strangely reassuring. She had handed Rick coffee while guiding him to the sofa. "I know what you saw was frightening," she said, settling in next to him, "but, it's alright. He's not insane and he's not going to become insane. In fact, he's doing remarkably well."

Rick shook his head, still mostly in shock and stared at his hands. He had seen Drew flashback before, but never like that. Never to that level of disconnect. He had been there one moment and was gone the next, the worst part was that he felt like it was his fault. "What… was it something I did? Or said?"

"I doubt it, but what were you talking about? Before he regressed," she asked, voice kind and reassuringly matter of fact.

"The bandages on his back. He doesn't want me changing them. I asked him why, if he was ashamed of it, then he just blanked," Rick said, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Major Florence nodded, "ah. Well, in that case, it's still not your fault."

Rick managed a small laugh, realizing she was joking. "Thanks… But I have never seen him go off like that. I mean, I've seen the nightmares and the long stares into space, I've seen panic attacks but that…"

"Was the overwhelming combination of being sick, frustrated, helpless, and emotionally exhausted mixed with trying to hold everything that has just happened to him at bay. He didn't snap or lose it, he just simply ran out of energy. It was going to happen eventually."

"It just had to be today?" Rick asked.

Major Florence gave him a sympathetic smile, "Better today, than at home, at least he was here, in a more controlled environment. But it's hard, watching him go through this. Especially since he's the more stoic of your partnership?"

Rick bowed his head, almost blushing, "Yeah. He's always been more grounded."

"So even if something was bothering him or hurting him tremendously…" she prompted.

"You'd have to drag it out of him," Rick confirmed. "It's always funny… he has no problem listening to or understanding how everyone else is feeling, but he can never just tell you how he is. Not unless it's too much… like, right now, he's too tired and sick to hide it but as soon as he's feeling better he'll clam up.

"Ah, he sounds like so many other soldiers I know. I bet, he even sounds like you," Major Florence commented, still smiling.

Rick shrugged, "Yeah… I'll admit it. But I'm not the one having the PTSD episode right now."

She nodded, "this is true." There was a slight pause, long enough for both parties to take a drink of coffee, and then the Major continued. "You said you've witnessed his panic attacks, so I need to ask you a question. I'm afraid it's going to be a bit intrusive. But it's going to help."

"Then go ahead," Rick said, with out hesitation. That made her smile again.

Taking a deep breath, she softly asked, "What are his panic attacks like?"

"He hides. I know it's gonna be bad if he avoids people. Like… he loves training for MMA fights. Loves the ring and the group, the whole feel of the gym. But when he's on edge or close to an episode he'll purposely wait for times when his gym is empty," he answered.

"So that's the warning sign, that's what leads up to the attack, but what does he do when he's having one?"

"What do you mean?" Rick asked, confused.

"Well, does he become emotional and hysterical? Does he become hostile and argumentative? How do you know it's a panic attack?" She clarified.

"It's like an implosion. He kind of… it's not exactly hysterical, I mean he doesn't scream or yell or anything. But I've found him in the bathroom before curled up and rocking. His hands were shaking and he was crying but, like, silently. I think he was trying to force himself to calm down, or keep control."

"Ah. So he doesn't like to be emotional and he has to maintain control? Even when he feels like he's losing it. I bet he even punishes himself for having his panic attacks."

"Yeah… that's about right," Rick confirmed.

"I think I understand what happened now, just a little bit better."

"Care to share it?" Rick asked.

"Well, I'm still getting to know Drew, but my first impression is that he's very independent. Stubbornly so," she paused as Rick laughed, "I'll bet, his way of coping with stress and trauma is to take care of those that are also being affected by it. Sort of, like, 'if I can fix them, than I'm not broken.' It's probably what drives him as a doctor. It's also, more than likely, what gives him a sense of control. Or the ability to regain that control and balance, rather."

"That sounds like him," Rick nodded.

"Well, with in the last week and a half, he's had all of that stripped away from him. He's lost all sense of personal control and independence. Worst, he is the only person who went through this trauma. He has no one to focus on except himself. His normal way of coping has been taken away and he has to be taken care of. He can't do things himself. So that means he is, in a way, being forced to submit to other people's wills. And there is the problem."

She paused here gathering her thoughts, "The way he was tortured, what they chose to do to him, wasn't just meant to be physically painful but humiliating as well. What Drew went through was particularly barbaric because as a medic, a doctor, he is supposed to be afforded some level of respect and protection. That was not only denied him, it was used against him. He was made vulnerable, forced to obey someone's will, then tortured in front of a group. Strangers were touching him, hurting him, forcing him to submit, and he was powerless to stop it."

Rich shifted, uncomfortable and angry. "That sounds like rape," he commented, his voice a small and harsh whisper.

"It does, doesn't it? His sense of power was stolen from him. His body was abused. He was purposely humiliated. Now, combine that with a need to remain in control. His whole sense of security and safety is in his ability to maintain a level of self-authority. So now he's facing a very similar situation again. People touching him when he doesn't want to be touched, people telling him what to do, treating him like he's something fragile…"

Rick nodded, understanding and reevaluating his own thoughts and actions. He had been extremely frustrated the past couple days, feeling like he was being shut out or his help was being refused. Drew had yet to allow him to see the wounds on his back or even talk about them. It hadn't really occurred to him what was going on in the other's head. What the Major was saying though made a lot of sense. Hell, he could relate. "It's like when I lost my leg… I was so mad I couldn't do the basic simple things… I felt useless and in my mind that made me worthless," Rick admitted.

Major Florence nodded, "yes, that would be similar. But this isn't so much useless as it is powerless. It's a slightly different trauma. Where you had to come to terms with a different level of independence, he is going to have to accept there was nothing he could have done and from there rebuild his own sense of safety and self power."

Rick was quiet for a long minute, thinking over and considering everything that the doctor had told him. It was daunting to think about, Drew being so... broken. He'd always been the rock, he was Rick's grounding strength when the world was crazy. Now he had to do that for Drew. This switching of roles was overwhelming.

"So what happened today? What triggered that panic attack?" Rick asked, exhaling hard.

"It wasn't a panic attack. It was a flashback. He was reliving part of the trauma, and unfortunately right now I can't tell you more than that. I just don't know. But, I can tell you, that there are very positive signs," she said, a kind smile on her face.

"Like what?" He asked, because all he had seen was his boyfriend losing his mind.

"Well, even in his dissociative state he made no attempt to hurt anyone or himself, all his actions were defensive. That means he's not dangerous. He was also extremely easy to talk down; he began to come out of it with just a few calming techniques. That means he's responsive and this may be a more normal stress response just compounded by the acute stress disorder he already had. In other words, I believe he's very capable of working through this."

"What…" and Rick had to swallow back his fear, "what does this mean for his service?"

"You're worried he'll be forced out or you're worried that he's going to stay in?" She asked.

"A little bit of both?" Rick answered with a sigh, "If he stays in, he will deploy again and I don't want to think about what that would do to him but Drew loves the Army. I don't know how he'd take a discharge and I know this could mean that."

"It's too early to tell and that's the truth. He's done really well to come this far, and I'm optimistic," she shrugged, "we're just going to have to let time tell us."

It was shortly after that, she had excused herself to go back and check on Drew. Rick had been left in the lounge to await permission from the docs to go back. It took almost two hours and the whole time he felt weirdly anxious, like he was waiting for him to get out of surgery. When he was finally allowed back, he had tied himself up in worry knots. He felt stupid when he saw that Drew was actually alert and seemingly back to his pre-episode status.

"Hey," Rick said coming over to Drew who was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He was trying to find a comfortable position and looking highly annoyed that he couldn't. "Can I help?" He asked, slightly amused at the other's fidgeting.

"Not sure how," came the grumpy reply.

Rick shook his head, "which side has the busted rib?"

"Right side… why?" Drew squinted up at him, suspicious.

"Scoot over then," Rick sad as he sat on the bed. The action sort of forced Drew to do as asked, and he made murmurs of protest while he did. Rick just smiled, settling against the headboard, his right leg stretched out. "There's a benefit to having one leg," he said looking over to Drew as he rolled up his pants leg. Drew watched him, his suspicion growing as he took his prosthetic leg off. Rick then swung his good leg up on the bed, stretched out his arm, and smiled over at Drew.

Drew's suspicion had turned to amusement as he finally realized what Rick was doing. He scooted down slightly, so that he was able to lay his head on Rick's lap. Carefully, he settled on his left side, sighing as he finally found relief. "Okay," he mumbled, "You were right." Rick laughed, running his fingers through Drew's hair.

"Your hair's getting long," he commented absentmindedly, "gonna have to cut it."

"Too much effort. I'll just wear a hat," Drew mumbled sleepily.

"Army may not approve…" Rick teased, and that was when he felt Drew shift.

"What did I do?" Drew asked, voice small, almost childlike. It made him sound broken and Rick hated it.

"You didn't do anything," he sighed, still running his fingers through the other's hair.

"They sedated me and called a Psychiatrist," Came the tired reply, "and I'm missing time."

"Sometimes it's really annoying that you're smart… and a doctor…" Rick grumbled, "you didn't do anything Drew; nothing wrong, nothing you had control over, and nothing that was your fault. You just...you flashed back and it was a little bit more than your panic attacks."

Drew was quite, and still for a long moment, before he asked, "did I hurt anyone?"

"No, not at all. You didn't even try to," Rick said, "they didn't tell you what happened?"

"Not really. Just that There was some kind of episode," Drew sighed. He sounded tired and frustrated. "I don't even remember what happened."

"What do you remember?" Rick asked, carefully because he wasn't actually sure if this was an okay conversation to have right now.

"Talking with you about the bandages on my back," was the equally careful response. Rick had to laugh at that, especially when Drew peered up at him with half opened eyes.

"We were arguing and you know it," Rick teased, and when he got glared at he only laughed again. Sobering, he then added, "Then you...you just kinda went blank. You weren't responding to anything for a moment. And when you did, you didn't know where you were and weren't reacting to anyone here except to try and get away. But you didn't hurt anyone."

There was a long moment of silence as Drew processed the information. Rick could feel his tension. "Don't you dare apologize," Rick said, "this isn't your fault in anyway."

Drew shifted, biting his lip to keep from groaning out loud. Currently his body was aching, every thing from his back to his chest to his head hurt. He would love to be able to sleep, but with his body hurting and his mind racing that wasn't likely to happen. Still, the fatigue made him groggy and that always made him more forthcoming, even when he didn't want to be.

"I haven't seen my back," Drew mumbled once he had resettled against Rick. "All I know is that it hurts and I can feel the skin tare and I have no idea what it looks like."

"That bothers you?" Rick asked.

"Yeah…" was the equally mumbled reply.

"Why?"

Drew sighed, and turned his face into Rick's side. He didn't bury it, that would hurt, but enough to hide his face. "I remember screaming," he answered, his voice hushed, almost choked. He was ashamed. "And I don't even know if it...if I was just...was I just being…"

Drew couldn't get the words out, but Rick understood all the same, and for a second he was angry. Did this man, this amazing man, really think he was pathetic? That it was shameful to feel pain and react to it? Did he really not get how strong he was? That there were hundreds of soldiers who wouldn't be able to survive what he had? Then again, that was exactly something Drew would think.

"Wait a second," he said, words measured, "let me see if I'm getting this… you were taken prisoner, beaten, used as slave labor, and then tortured and you're afraid you were weak?" There was no verbal answer from Drew but he felt the other shift. "Drew, you do realize what you went through is way more intense than anything I've ever experienced over there or in the Army, even Ranger training? In fact, I don't know too many Rangers who could have made it out of that hell even remotely as well as you have."

"But I haven't… sometimes I'm still there. Sometimes all I can think is how stupid and pathetic I was to let them beat me. I didn't even try to fight or resist, I just… I just aided them. I—"

"Stayed alive? I don't think it counts as aiding the enemy if you have a gun pointed at your head. Come on, you know exactly what they tell us in POW training; do everything you can within reason to survive."

"It just felt so wrong… I felt like I was giving up… and the worst part… when they had me strung up and I was screaming they were laughing… I just felt like nothing…" Drew's voice had become a choked whisper. The level of emotion Rick was getting from the other told him just how exhausted he was, and while that wasn't great, it was helpful to get information out of him. It was also, most times, helpful for getting through his thick skull.

"So what if you screamed? You went through hell and you lived. No matter how weak you think you were, you survived, you made it home and to me, that makes you tougher than anyone else. If anybody says otherwise, I'll kick their ass. That includes you."

"Can you at least wait until my face is healed? I can finally breathe through my nose again and I really like that." He was trying for a joke, to deflect the seriousness of the moment, but Rick could hear the hitch in his voice.

"I mean it Drew. I don't think I served with a Ranger who could have come out of what you did as sane as you are."

"I don't feel sane," the other admitted. "Sometimes, right as I'm starting to fall asleep, I think I'm back in that closet and I snap awake. Or I hear footsteps outside the room and I think they're coming for me again. I can't get away."

Rick ran his hand through Drew's hair again, using his fingers to draw strange patterns in it. "You got to give yourself a break. It's barely been a week; you haven't even had the chance to process being home. When you're out of the hospital, at home, it's going to be better."

"I want you to be right," Drew murmured.

"I am, you'll see," Rick said, and he hopped he was right.

-line-

2 days later. 9:40 PM.

It had been a good day, better than he hoped. Drew was home, and currently very much enjoying the bed he had missed oh so much. Rick was stretched out next to him, watching him sleep, one part savoring the sight and one part standing guard. He had been released from the hospital this morning, the flashback episode delaying his release. The news had spread quickly and everyone had come to see him. Krista, Kenny, Jordan, TC, Topher, members of his unit… everyone who couldn't visit him in the hospital showed up to see him now. It had been exhausting but it had done him a world of good. So had the calls from his mother and sister. Right now, he was doing okay, and it was a relief, but that was right now.

Major Florence had warned Rick about the roller coaster that was going to be coming. Nightmares, flashbacks, mode swings, and other similar behaviors were all to be expected. He knew it was going to be hard, he could remember how he had acted the days following losing his leg and the range of emotions and adjustments. He could imagine it was going to be a similar situation. He wanted to think he was prepared, he wasn't sure. Still though, that was borrowing trouble. Right now, Drew was sleeping just fine, head resting on his chest. He had his arms around him, and was listening to the steady sounds of him breathing. This peace, after so much hell, this was nice.

Too bad it was short lived. Without warning, there was a crash from upstairs. It was just furniture falling over, but it was loud and sudden and Rick felt Drew jerk awake. He pushed himself away from him looking around frantically. Rick could almost hear his heart beating.

"Hey, Drew, look at me," he said in an even, calm voice, getting the other's attention, "it's the neighbors. It's okay." He repeated this two more times before Drew seemed to process the words enough to start to relax. "Back with me?" Rick asked, once the panic started leaving Drew's face.

Drew nodded, slowly looking around again. "Fuck…" he finally managed to say, falling back into the pillows.

Rick gave a soft laugh, and kissed his forehead. "Yeah, freaked me out too. You alright?"

"Yeah…" Drew sighed.

"Tell me where you went?" Rick asked, just like Major Florence had instructed him too. Anytime Drew had signs of panic attacks, flashbacks, or, what she called, involuntary regressions, the idea was to get him to talk about them. Voice the fear or memory with the hope of understanding and thus lessening the trauma.

"Honestly? I don't know…" Drew forced out a breath shutting his eyes, "I just… it sounded like an explosion almost."

"Were there explosions where you were held?"

"No… transferring to Bagram the convoy was hit by roadside bombs. It sounded like that for a second," Drew answered, rubbing his face carefully. He was already starting to fall back asleep.

Rick however, felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't known about the convoy attack. "Wait...hold on a second… your convoy was attacked?"

Drew looked over him, almost laughing at the look on his face. "Yeah… first night at Bagram. We were about forty minutes from base and the Humvee in front of mine hit the IED. As soon as it went off, they opened fire on us. The front passenger of the Humvee died. I show up at Bagram and met Syd for the first time covered in smoke and blood." Rick was quiet for a moment his expression was a mixture of protectiveness, rage, and something else that was unreadable. With sleepy amusement, Drew gave him a small smile and said, "I mean… given everything else this tour, it was fairly straightforward."

"That's a messed up definition of straightforward," Rick commented. The other man shrugged.

"I mean, I drilled into a guy's head during a firefight. So, that's kinda what I'm comparing it to," he added.

Rick laughed softly, "Alright… fair point. So, that sounded like an IED?"

"Yeah, when I was asleep, now it just seems kind of stupid…"

"Well, I was awake and I thought it was a door being kicked in, so you're not the only one hearing things," Rick said.

Drew yawned and turned back onto his side, pressing his face into Rick's side. "We're weird," he mumbled.

Rick laughed. "Are you gonna sleep on me the whole night?" he teased, wrapping his arm around the other.

"Mmmm-hmmm," Drew mumbled, "You're warm and you smell good. And I can finally smell again…"

Rick laughed, settling in. "Good night weirdo," he said, kissing the other on his head. There was no reply, however, except Drew's even breaths.

-line-

8:13 AM.

Drew was not happy. He sat on the bed, watching as Rick laid out the things he would need to change the bandages. He glared at the items, almost sullen. "Once upon a time, this would have been an interesting night for us," Rick teased, trying to ease the other's tension, "back in med school, you liked playing doctor."

"Yeah, but you were the patient," Drew grumbled as Rick came to stand in front of him.

Rick ran a hand through Drew's hair, examining the lacerations there to make sure they were still healing correctly. Kissing the top of Drew's head he moved his hand to the back of his neck and gave it a slight squeeze. "I know you don't want this, but it's got to be done. I'm sorry," he said softly.

Drew sighed trying to force himself to relax. This was humiliating, and while he knew that it shouldn't be and he shouldn't feel ashamed, he couldn't help it. He could still feel the ropes cutting into his wrists and how it felt to be stripped with so many eyes on him. He felt dirty, exposed, and weak…he didn't want to be that in front of Rick.

"Hey… we talked about this with Major Florence. The scares mean you survived, surviving is the opposite of being weak," Rick said, sensing Drew's thoughts.

Drew nodded, but he was still tense and he stared at his wrists. He still had rope burns and lacerations from being strung up. The soft splints he was wearing covered the bandages but not the memories. He could feel the rope cinching, hear the laughter, his heart started racing and he suddenly felt sick. A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he inhaled sharply.

"I promise," Rick said softly, "it's going to be alright." He then took Drew's right hand in both his and gently undid the soft brace. Drew watched him, mesmerized, and skittish, something that wasn't unnoticed by his boyfriend. "Just breathe Drew, nothing's going to hurt you. You're safe here."

Drew nodded, sucking in a deep breath and holding it as the bandage was pulled away completely revealing the ugly wounds. Rick forced himself not to flinch as he looked at the bruising and scabbing. He had seen worse wounds before, but that was in the field. There was something off putting about seeing the wounds after treatment, while they were cleaned…sterilized… it made it seem surreal. In a weird way, he kind of had a new understanding of why Drew stayed in Emergency Medicine. Being a solider, he could make more sense of blood and guts than this neat and tidy after care.

"It's not so bad," Drew said, but his voice was tight. He was studying the bruises and discoloration on his wrist; his face was neutral, blank even. Rick didn't understand how, or what "not so bad" meant. The skin was purple, black, green, and yellow. The scabs were red and cracked, like dried blood. To Rick, it looked horrible.

"Alright doctor… how is it not so bad?" he asked, looking up at Drew.

"There's more green bruising than purple, meaning that it's healing fast. Most of the bruising was probably just superficial. The deeper colors are probably from the fractures and now that the swelling is down, the bruising will start clearing up now that the blood can move. The scabs are clean, fresh on the surface but underneath they're older. That means the lacerations healed from the inside out like they were supposed to. I… I thought they'd be worse." Drew looked away, eyes going to the window.

Rick watched him a moment before turning his focus back to the wounds and cleaning them. Drew didn't watch him as he moved from one wrist to the other, but he did speak with him. He managed to joke and talk a little, though he was still tense, but not as bad as before. When it came time to do his back, he still managed to remain relatively calm, but he was pale and his breathing was slightly elevated. He was definitely agitated, and if Rick wasn't careful, they could be looking at a panic attack.

Slowly, taking care not to spook the other, he stood, a teasing smile on his face that he made sure Drew saw. "What?" he asked, as he looked up at Rick, suspicious.

The other man's smile widened and he almost giggled, "I get to take off your shirt for, like, the first time ever. It's always me who loses his clothes first, but now I get to take off your shirt."

Drew glared up at him, trying his best to look annoyed but failing in light of Rick's mischievous look. "I can take off my own shirt," he reminded the other, "My hands still work."

Rick kissed Drew and shushed him. "Uh-uh… let me take off your shirt? Please? I never get to…"

Drew sighed, dramatically, but it was clearly for show. He scooted back on the bed, so that he could easily roll to his stomach, once his shirt was off. He even managed to laugh when Rick let out a victorious "yes!" But he shut his eyes as Rick started to lift up his t-shirt and went completely still as Rick carefully undressed him. "Breathe, Drew," Rick said, his voice as soothing as he could make it, "The worst is over and this is just recovering."

Drew swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He carefully rolled onto his stomach, being mindful of all his injuries. It still hurt, and he was still uncomfortable, but he managed to settle in and pillowed his head on his arms. He then lay still, trying hard to block out the world so he didn't see how pale Rick had become or the fact that he his breath caught in his throat. This was the first time he had seen the full extent of Drew's injuries and not just his wrists and face. The bruising on his chest and around his ribs from where Drew had been beaten was ugly and bad, but his back was horrible.

The skin was in various stages of healing, he could tell, but it was so garish and horrible. He had to peel off bandages that covered the deepest wounds, and that was when he got his first real look at the trauma the other had been enforced to endure. The lacerations were red and looked inflamed, although he saw no other signs of infection, although it was hard to know for sure because he couldn't make sense of all the welts and marks. There were various shades of purples, reds, and greens that made his back look like a patchwork quilt. It was disgusting and enraging that this had happened. That this had happened to the man he loved. "I'm sorry," Rick whispered as he sat next to Drew on the bed. "I didn't understand before, what they did to you…"

Drew looked at him, his face that blank stoic look he gave when he was trying not to feel. "You didn't do this," he whispered, his voice hushed and harsh, almost choked. He was trying to hold it together, but Rick could see him shaking.

"I know that… but I didn't understand. I didn't get it… I'm sorry," Rick said sincerely, stroking his thumb along Drew's jaw.

Drew leaned into the touch, drawing from it comfort, but it couldn't keep the emotions at bay. With a shaking voice, he confessed, "I tried to keep count. He told me it would only be twenty-one. I tried to hold onto the number thinking that I could last, but I lost count after thirty. And then I started to go in and out… The next thing I knew I was being dunked in water."

Rick swallowed back the rage and grief that was choking him and leaned in close to Drew. He kissed his lover's forehead and took a long moment to gather his thoughts. It took several minutes before he was finally able to speak with out being choked, "I mean it Drew. You are the toughest person I know. I'm so proud of you and I'm going to spend everyday you let me making things right."

"But you don't have to," Drew said, almost whispered.

"But I want to," Rick said, and he kissed Drew again. "Let me start by getting your back cleaned up, okay?"

Drew nodded, not able to speak. He just lowered his head back onto his arms, finally able to relax just a little bit.