A/N I thank you so much for reading this story. Your thoughts, feelings, comments mean a lot to me.

It had been so hard to say goodbye that Monday morning. They were fighting their emotions determined not to let tears come. Neither wanted to burden the other with sadness, they were trying to look at this separation as a positive thing. It was going to lead to a better future for them both, individually and together.

When they heard Merle's truck pull up at 4:45 am Daryl pursed his lips, took her hand and they walked out to meet him at the curb. Daryl had his Army ACU Backpack filled with what little he was taking. He'd told her he didn't think he'd need much.

Merle put an arm around Beth and told her as cheerfully as he could, "I'll drop by n see ya after work today. Sunday I'll come by for ya 'bout 11. Carol, the kids n me, we all want ya takin' Sunday dinners with us. I'll be by regular, and anytime ya need anythin' ya just call Ol' Merle. Sound alright?"

Now those tears really wanted to flow but she was determined not to let them. "Yes that sounds nice, thank you Merle." He grabbed Daryl's bag putting on a show of taking it to the truck, giving them one last chance to say goodbye.

Daryl put his arms around her holding her so tight it was almost difficult for her to get her breath. He kissed her like he had the night before, "I hate goodbyes, n I damn sure don't wanna say goodbye to you, I know you know that. I'ma make this work, I am. Hopin' you'll want me when I get home."

"You know I'll be right here." And this time she initiated the kiss.

"I'ma try to earn that Beth, make you happy you waited."

And with that he got in the truck, waved one last goodbye and looked straight ahead.

She went back to his room, back to his bed. She hugged his pillow close to her trying hard to pretend he was still there. All those tears she hadn't let herself cry came out in a flood. She kept telling herself that him going was a good thing and her mind agreed 100%, it was her heart that was breaking.

He was scared if he looked at her one more time he'd say "Fuck it" jump right out of that truck and he'd never get better. He'd told her he was going to work hard, he was going to get better, and that's what he needed to do, keep that promise to her and to himself.

"I ain't gonna say this isn't a big deal Little Brother cuz that ain't true, this here is a real big deal. But I want ya ta try n think about this, you was in boot camp three months n this here is only two months, that ain't really long at all." Merle was looking for some way to help his brother feel better about leaving.

"I know an you're right it ain't that long, but damn I don't wanna leave y'all. That's the part I'm fightin' with myself about. And goddamn Merle, I feel like I never done anythin' as important as this, or anythin' where if it don't work out right everythin' else in my life is goin' to shit for good. And there's Beth, it's like we were just gettin' somewhere with each other, and now I gotta leave her. Why Brother? I'll tell you why, cuz I'm a complete fucked up mess." Merle could see his brother's emotions were all over the place.

"No Little Brother, now that ain't true. If you was a complete fucked up mess ya wouldn't be so determined ta help yerself. You'd just say bullshit on all of it n keep livin' the way ya was, except you'd probably end up drinkin' more n doin' drugs. Yer doin' this just right, you'll get rewarded for that I know ya will. Doncha worry 'bout Beth. She's a good girl n a strong one, me n Carol ya know we'll be lookin' out for her, I'm sure her own kin will too. An the Chaos, well shit I think ya know the minute ya get back them kids are gonna wear yer ass out. Damn son I know it's hard, but I don't want ya ta worry 'bout nuthin' else these next two months except yerself, the rest of us we'll get along."

Daryl just nodded his head choked out a "Thanks Merle," and chewed on that thumb.

They shook hands firmly as the bus began to load on passengers. Merle surprised him when he reached one arm around his shoulders and brought him in for a strong hug. "Ya got this kid, yer tough and yer brave. I'll be right back here ta pick ya up before ya know it."

She had her first appointment at 10:00am and knew she was in for an emotional avalanche. As much as she dreaded it she wasn't going to make up any excuses not to go. She'd promised Maggie, she'd promised Daryl, and most of all she'd promised herself. It was like she told Daryl, sometimes you have to be a little bit selfish and put yourself first. That's what she planned to do these next two months, put Beth and her recovery first.

It wasn't just her therapy she planned on doing; she knew staying busy was the best way to make time pass quickly. And she wasn't going to stay home alone and play guitar, she knew she needed to be around other people, interact. Honestly, she'd been acting like some kind of recluse. She either spent her time alone, or with Daryl or Maggie and Glenn. Even at work she just hung out with animals at the shelter. It seemed she'd been staying away from people for a long time.

She checked with the local veteran's center and she would be doing volunteer work there, she'd still be working at the shelter, and she'd also volunteered at the senior center. Between those things, therapy, her lunches with Maggie, pancakes with Maggie and Glenn, and Sunday afternoons with Daryl's family she was going to be a busy girl. But it would still leave her plenty of time every evening to do her journaling.

Sometimes she was sure that journal was the best thing she did for herself. She felt like it was easier to get real honest with that blank paper, dig deep in her heart and write down things she couldn't quite bring herself to say out loud. It was strange really, once she'd written those things down it was like they lost a little bit of their power, and then she could bring them to the group or to her doctor.

She'd let herself forget how much better she felt when she shared with others who got it, who'd had similar traumas and could relate to her feelings, her fears and her tendency to want to "hide" from the world.

This was going to help, it had to.

He was in for a 14 ½ hour bus ride he wasn't particularly looking forward to. Beth had insisted he take her Ipod which she'd loaded up with classic country songs, Merle had given him a couple of Motorcycle magazines and he had his journal. He also had a nice lunch she'd packed him and a letter from her he found in the Ipod case. Well just a note really. He'd only been gone an hour and he was sure he'd read that note a hundred times already, it simply said, "Daryl, I'm never giving up on you. I'll be here waiting no matter how long it takes. Beth." Yeah he was gonna earn that, he had to.

Her therapy was going well but this week had been fierce. Each day she'd tried to come up with a good reason not to go. Dredging up those feelings was like going through the loss all over again. But she knew this was something she had to do. Until she faced the loss, the hurt, and the overwhelming grief and anger, it was going to be running her life.

She had so much going on that the days passed more quickly than she could have hoped for, it was the nights that were so long and so lonely.

She knew for sure she was creepy, heck she'd admitted that to herself weeks ago. But just because she admitted it to herself didn't mean she'd ever want anyone else to find out. She'd taken Daryl's pillow and a flannel shirt of his to her house. She slept with them every night, it helped just a little having these things of his close.

Shit, you could tell these folks were all Vets they ran the damn place like it was boot camp. Everyone was up and at 'em at 5am. It was thirty minutes of exercise, followed by 15 minutes of meditation, shower up and get your bunk and your gear squared away, then breakfast at 6:30. There was no fancy meal service, it was chow lines and clear up after yourself.

Tom and the doctor had told him the therapy would be brutal but they'd understated it.

Right after breakfast he went to Cognitive Processing Therapy. It was designed to help him learn new ways of handling his disturbing thoughts of what had happened to him in Iraq, and by using the skills he learned in therapy he would learn why recovery from the traumatic events had been hard for him.

And CPT was going to help him learn how going through the trauma had changed the way he looked at the world, at himself, and at others. He learned that sometimes we get stuck in our thoughts, that it's important to pay attention to those thoughts about the trauma and how they make you feel, and how they affect you right now.

Although the pain sucked he felt like he'd made progress after the first long session.

That went on from 7:30 to 9:30 then he got a half hour of free time. He used that time to lie on his bunk, listen to music, and re read the note from Beth. He swore that little piece of paper was getting soft as cloth from being handled so much.

At 10:00 most everyone else went to the gym, but not Daryl and five other guys.

The day after he'd arrived, his first full day there, they'd interviewed him extensively about his life. Not just his army experiences, his whole life. As soon as it became known he'd been physically abused, and that as a young boy he'd come home to find his house burned down and his mother dead, that was it - he was in additional therapy for Early Childhood Trauma. He'd tried to protest but they were insistent. If he wanted to stay and receive help for his PTSD, he'd have to receive help for all of it.

The old Sargent had put it to him straight, "What do you think? You think you don't have PTSD from getting your ass kicked regularly by your old man? By watching your Mother and your brother get their asses kicked? Knowing your Mama probably died from her own hand? Nah kid, you have more issues than you wanna deal with and I get it, but if you don't deal with all that old nastiness ain't no way you're ever gonna really recover from what came next."

And Daryl knew the old boy was right, but damn, talk about dredging up feelings and pain.

It was in his second week of that therapy that he finally realized what had happened all those years ago. He told the story of how the beatings had escalated after his brother had joined the army. How he often hid out in the woods rather than go home and take the chance of being beaten. How when Merle did come home from the army and saw his black eyes, he was lucky that Merle took him to live with him. How shortly after that his Dad turned up murdered.

A Vet sitting across the circle from him nodded and remarked, "That's some brother you got man. Shit when your brother offs your Dad for beating on you, that's real deal brotherly love. You're lucky Dixon, wish I woulda had a brother to kill that son of a bitch who was always beating on me."

Daryl was caught completely by surprise not just by what the other Vet had said, but by the fact he hadn't caught on sooner. How could he not have figured out what Merle had done? Well that was part of what he'd learned in therapy, the mind is an interesting thing. Sometimes even when it knows it doesn't know.

All Daryl responded was, "I ain't gonna talk about it." And the therapist didn't push it but he knew in private he would be talking to Dixon about his feelings, and how he was dealing with the sudden realization his brother had very likely killed his father.

After his therapy for childhood trauma he had a two hour break for lunch, rest and meditation. He'd never considered doing meditation, hadn't even known for sure what the hell it was, but he found he liked it. It helped calm his mind, helped him relax. He also found it was a good time to think about the positive things in his life. He'd been focusing on the negative for so long he found he enjoyed thinking about the good things.

It was also a time he liked to journal. That was another thing he never would have thought he'd care for, it seemed like something girls did like keeping a diary. But he'd discovered that wasn't it at all.

He was a guy who'd always had a lot of trouble communicating. He found when he wrote things down first it was easier to express his thoughts and feelings verbally.

After that he had an hour of extreme physical conditioning. He could have gone easier, taken swimming or free weights, but he wanted to get in the shape he'd been in back in Ranger school, and he liked the physical exertion of doing it all – swimming, running, climbing, weight lifting, obstacle courses. It gave him a sense of freedom and euphoria.

Then it was two hours of Prolonged Exposure Therapy and that was the hardest part of his day. The basis of it was repeated exposure to the thoughts, feelings, and situations that had affected him. It was meant to reduce the power those things had to cause him distress. That sounded easy enough. But telling his story over and over again to the therapist, repeating over and over what had happened in those three days in Iraq. How each man had died, all of it. It was agony, shit he'd spent so much time trying not to think about those things.

What amazed him was he found that he'd begun to fully recall what he'd been through those many days he was out in the desert before his rescue. He knew what he'd done to survive and even though it was upsetting he was proud of himself for being so resourceful.

The therapist had explained it to him, talking through the trauma over and over would help him get more control of his thoughts and feelings about that trauma. He'd learn he didn't have to be afraid of his memories.

After all of that intensity it was time for chow again and an hour to recover his wits with some meditation or journaling, and for him it meant reading her note a few more times. Then it was group.

Beth

It's been six weeks today. I can't really believe it. I miss Daryl so much. I just want to touch him, lay my head on his strong back, and I want him to hold me.

I know it's supposed to be for the best, but the fact that we can't talk or even write letters has been so hard. He gets to call home for 15 minutes once a week on Sunday afternoons. I should be grateful that Merle always makes sure I'm there. I am grateful but it's just that, well it's not like it's just me and Daryl talking. Everyone wants their chance to talk, Merle, Carol and the kids. We all want a turn. I shouldn't complain though and he will be home soon.

I have to admit, the first couple of times I met Merle I was intimidated. He's big and he looks so rough and badass, like he'd just as soon kill you as look at you. But what I've found out about him is he's really a big sweetheart.

He's been so thoughtful stopping by after work to just make sure I'm okay, that no one's been bothering me, and that I have everything I need. He's even offered to cut the grass or anything else I might need done around the house. It's so sweet, but also kind of funny. I wonder how he figures I got by before he and Daryl came into my life.

Every Sunday he comes to pick me up. I told him I have a car and I could drive myself, but he insists. He's very old-fashioned in a very charming way. And I love watching him with Carol and the kids. It's obvious how much he loves them.

I've worked so hard on my therapy. Oh my god, those first two weeks after Daryl left I thought I'd never get out of pain. I had to talk and talk to my doctor about what had happened to Mama, Daddy and Shawn. I wanted to yell, "How many times do I have to tell this story!" But the weird thing is after you tell it a thousand or so times, it's like it does lose its power. Not its sadness, I'll always be sad about them being gone and I'll always miss them. But it's like I've been forced to face the truth and I've accepted it, they're gone, they're not coming back. I have to grieve for them and then continue to live, for me.

Anyway, I feel a new sense of confidence, like I'm a whole person. I know I'll always need to keep journaling, and I intend to continue going to group for a long time, but gosh it's kind of like the weight of the world has been lifted off my mind and my heart.

Now I just need Daryl to come home.

Merle

I never really got what folks mean when they say they was feeling happy and sad about sumthin' at the same time. Then I watched Baby Brother get on the bus.

My fuckin' heart was broke. I'm sick n tired a sendin' Daryl off, of him havin' ta leave home. That was the sad part.

On the other hand, I was just so damn relieved he was gettin' help. I guess that was the happy part.

The good news is it sounds ta me, just by the quick phone calls, that he's better. He sounds kinda self-confident n all. Doesn't sound so damn down and hatin' on himself.

And I'm feelin' real good that Daryl's got him a nice girl. Beth is true blue, I can tell. She may not know it yet, and I'm sure Daryl don't know it yet, but she's in love with Little Brother. It's clear as day ta me n Carol.

I can't help but think of him as my boy, and I want my boy home. Just two more weeks.

Daryl

I can't believe how much my life has changed in the past six weeks, how much I've changed. Like I said, it's been some brutal shit, there was times I was ready to jump that wall and walk the fuck away. But I didn't and I'm damn glad I didn't.

I can't even count how many times my Prolonged Exposure Therapist made me tell him the story of what had happened in Iraq over those three days. Jesus I didn't want to, but I did it, and what's amazin' to me about that is, how I went for so long refusing to tell anyone anythin', then I told Tom part of it, then I told Beth part of it. Then I told the VA Doc and Tom all of it.

You know what? Beth was right a long time ago when she told me I'd feel better if I told my story to someone. The girl was right.

Don't get me wrong, it didn't go away, you know the pain and the fuckin' horror of what happened, but it's a kind of freedom to not be carryin' all that around like a dark sinister secret anymore.

I'll never get over losin' the guys, especially Tommy Wayne. But fuck, it's real, they're gone. Now though I think about 'em and I'm so damn proud I got the privilege of knowing such brave and honorable men. I'll never forget any of 'em, the toughest sons a bitches God ever made.

And with all the therapy I came to realize there was nuthin' I coulda done, no way I coulda saved 'em. The other Vets here, well they really chewed my ass up over that, accused me a havin' the world's biggest ego thinkin' I was tough enough I could break free n save nine other guys. They made me see, it was a fuckin' miracle I escaped and the other guys would all be proud a me for that. They'd be happy one of us got away.

I spent a lotta time thinkin' and talkin' to the therapist about what I'm pretty sure Merle done. I ain't mad at or disappointed in Merle in any way. I know why he done it. The old man was the worst kinda son of a bitch. He ruined Mama's life. He'd driven her into that wine bottle n she'd gotten drunk that day, lit the cigarette and that was the end of her and the crappy little house we lived in. The old man drew pleasure from his meanness. He'd beaten the shit out of her, he'd beaten the shit out of Merle and as many times as I got the shit beat outta me, it didn't even come close to the beatings Merle and Mama took for me. And when Merle come home from the army and seen me all battered, I know that's when he made up his mind, he wasn't losin' no one else to that bastard. I understand. Merle's looked out for me my whole life. I ain't ever bringin' it up to him, he done what he done and if the roles were reversed, I'd like to think I had the balls to save him. Merle's the closest thing I ever had to a Dad.

And Beth, damn I give her so much a the credit for me gettin' better. She ain't the one who got me better, but it was her who kept gently showin' me the way. It was how she cared about me, how she encouraged me, how she wouldn't just sit back when I got down on myself, she'd get right back up in my face about it. Can you imagine a little thing like her gettin' so sassy with a big crazy asshole like I was? That girl is one tough woman, and I can't wait to hold her n tell her just how much I care.

I'll be home in two weeks, and I feel like I'll be ready. Oh I'll always be in therapy, and I plan to reach out to other Vets who are hurtin'. I wanna give back what I been given.

I ain't a 100%, but damn I ain't broken either.

And shit, I ain't had a nightmare now in three weeks.

A/N That was a journey. Next chapter Daryl will take that Greyhound home. Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate you leaving reviews / comments xo

The types of therapies mentioned are real, but descriptions are very brief. As Always, I am not an expert in PTSD. I do know there are many different symptoms, and no two people are the same. It's my intent to respect those who suffer, but please keep in mind, this is a work of fiction.