Iraq, 2005:

Jon stood watch at his post with his friend Samuel.

Him and Samuel were really good friends in elementary school. But Samuel ended up moving to Texas so the only way him and Jon kept in touch was through talking on the telephone. Of course, Samuel did visit Ohio every year to see his grandparents for the holidays, so that was a plus. Besides Adriana and a few other people, Samuel was one of the people that Jon trusted the most.

Jon was more than happy to have been in boot camp with Samuel. The two of them had the chance to catch up with each other. They were also more than glad to be watching out for each other at their post. It took the stress of war off of them.

"How's your lady?" Samuel asked.

"She's good. I miss her so damn much," Jon said. "She wrote me back. I got her letter yesterday. She's doing good in school and everything. But I know she's tearing her hair out. Ugh, I feel like shit for joining the Army now."

"Man, don't think that way! Yes, it's hard for you and your family, but you gotta look at the brightside of things! You're doing something with your life. Not too many can say they served in the military. Your girl is proud of you," Samuel said.

"That's how I should be looking at things. But I've been so paranoid lately it's ridiculous!"

"I'm here with you. I got your back. You won't let anything happen to me and I won't let anything happen to you. You got that?"

"Yeah. I got it. You're a good friend, you know that?"

"I know I am. You know what? After we finally go home for good, we should-"

Samuel was then shot in the neck by a sniper hiding away in the distance.

Jon watched in horror as Samuel fell over. Jon quickly rushed to his friend's side and dragged him out of the way of anymore attacks.

"Samuel! Samuel! Shit!" Jon said. "Stay with me goddammit!"

Samuel was looking back up at his friend. Blood was flowing out of his mouth. His gunshot wound was severe. There was absolutely nothing Jon could do but stare and watch as his friend slipped further and further away. Jon tried his best to stop the bleeding but the blood seeped through his fingers. He then heard Samuel murmoring something.

"I...love...you man..."

Those were Samuel's last words before he passed on.

"Don't die...You can't fucking leave me, Samuel!" Jon yelled. "You just fucking can't..."

Jon broke down crying.

He hadn't notice other soldiers running to the post to protect it. Samuel had died with his eyes slightly open. Jon slowly closed them and held onto his friend until someone came and pulled Jon away from Samuels corpse.

Later on that night, Jon stared at his hands. They were still stained with Samuel's blood.

"He's not gone...he can't be...It's all my fault..." Jon said to himself.

Present:

Jon woke up in a cold sweat. He looked around him and saw that he was in complete darkness in his room. He reached over to his nightstand and tried to grab his phone. He ended up accidently knocking it over.

"Shit," he said to himself.

He turned on his light and reached down for his phone. It was almost four in the morning. He turned off his light again then got up and went to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and splashed his face with cold water. He patted his face dry then opened up the medicine cabinet.

Jon grabbed his medication and popped two pills into his mouth. He screwed the top back on the container and placed it back into the cabinet. He then left the bathroom to get some water.

Jon grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and opened it. He gulped down the entire thing while swallowing his pills.

"Fuck," he said to himself.

He didn't want to open up past wounds about his time in Iraq.

But he knew he had too.

"Jon? Jon?"

"Huh?"

"They're calling us in."

Adriana and Jon went into their therapist's office and sat down.

Adriana held her husband's hand. She noticed that Jon's palms were sweaty. He looked out of it. She held onto his hand as tight as she could.

"So Mr. Good, are you ready to talk more about your experiences in Iraq?" the therapist said.

"Um...sure."

"Okay then. Whenever you're ready."

"Well...I had a friend named Samuel. He was one the few people I actually trusted in my life. We always told each other that we would have each others' backs. I thought we were going to make it out together. But we didn't. I felt it was my fault because instead of keeping watch I was distracting him with our conversation. I mean, I know I shouldn't feel bad but..."

"You felt that since you had let your guard down, your friend suffered from it and payed the price," the therapist said.

"Yeah."

"Well, that is where everything started. Are you suffering from PTSD?"

"That's what my doctor had said but I don't know really. I mean, I am taking medication for a slight bout of depression. I don't know what's going on really. I mean...Samuel is gone because of me. I was so careless and stupid."

"It seems that you also have survivor's guilt. Which is why deep down you are depressed," the therapist said.

"I guess."

"You are. Which is normal. Have you ever heard of art therapy?"

"No."

"Well, I think you would like it. It will help you release everything that has been built up inside of you. And you could even continue at home. Painting, drawing, just doing whatever you like."

"I'll look into it."

"Good. Anything you would like to say, Mrs. Good?"

Adriana shook her head and smiled.

"No. I'm okay. As long as my husband feels better, that's all that matters."

"You know, I can also see why you are very protective, Mr. Good. You have an undying love for your wife. Your love for her and your family is what keeps you going. Hold onto that. And never that go."

"My wife is my heart and soul. When I lashed out at her and the kids, I..."

"What happened, Mr. Good?"

"My children had found a gun under our bed. My oldest was trying to yank it from his brother but my oldest ended up accidently shooting him. I honestly didn't know how to handle it. I was even mad at my wife. One night I just lost it. My oldest even told me he hated me. But we made everything right yesterday. But for a while I thought that I was like my father. He used to beat me sometimes for no reason. I would fight back though. When J.J. was a baby, I would always tell him that I wouldn't hurt him like my so called father hurt me. I guess when I lashed out at him, I felt like I broke that promise. And it broke my heart."

Adriana wiped the tears flowing from her eyes. Jon grabbed a tissue and wiped Adriana's tears away.

"Don't cry sweetie," Jon said. "This is helpful."

"I'm glad it is," Adriana said.

"This went quite well. Well Mr. Good, I heard you mention your father?" the therapist said.

"So called father. He messed with my wife. She was pregnant with our twins. I murdered him. He had to the nerve to tell her that he would make a great father to the kids."

"I can tell you two didn't get along."

"He hated my guts when I was a kid. I remember going with my mother to visit him in prison and he told my mother he should've aborted me. Then he got out, came to live with us. One day I couldn't take it anymore and ran away from home. Well, I lived down the hallway from Adriana in our apartment complex. Only four apartments away from her. I even told my mother I was through with her. I felt bad when I got older because she had my back. I had cut ties with her and everything until now. So much has happened to me and Adriana. I guess everything has taken its toll."

"At least you were able to surround yourself amongst positive people. I really think art therapy would be best. I hope you like it. Thank you for stopping by. I'm glad you were able to get things off of your chest."

"Me too."

"Well, I will call you and give you the address to the place where you can start the therapy tomorrow. How does that sound?"

"Sounds great."

"Alrighty then. It was good seeing you and your wife again. You guys can visit anytime."

"I'm glad you feel better," Adriana said. "I'm glad we went back to the therapist."

"I know. You know what? I seriously don't know how we made it through everything during our marriage."

"We kicked every obstacle down. That's why. And I'm not going to divorce you either. You're stuck with me for the rest of your life."

"I'm not complaining. I love being stuck with you."

"You better. You want some more peach cobbler?"

"Woman, you know damn well I want some more peach cobbler!"

"Comin' right up!"

Adriana slapped some cobbler on Jon's plate.

"Hold it," he said.

"What?"

"Give me some sugar."

Adriana gave Jon a kiss on the lips.

"Better?"

"One more."

When Adriana went to give Jon another kiss, he pulled her down onto his lap.

"Jon! You almost made me drop the cobbler!"

"Well, I will take that and put it on the table. Now, I want more kisses."

Aiden had walked in on his parents passionately kissing each other.

"Eeewww!" he said, turning his nose up.

"Why hello there, you little squirt!" Jon said.

"Hi...can I have some more cobbler?"

"You may," Jon said.

Aiden gave Jon his plate. Jon put a big spoonful of it on Aiden's plate.

"Jon, that's too much," Adriana said.

"He'll eat it!" Jon said.

"Thanks Daddy!" Aiden said as he walked off with the food.

"I don't want the kids to be big as houses!" Adriana said.

"You were big as a house once," Jon said.

Adriana squinted her eyes at Jon.

"Yeah, I know. You showed me pictures," Adriana said.

"You still looked beautiful though," Jon said.

"Uh huh. If Aiden comes to us and says "My stomach hurts", I'm going to kick your ass," Adriana said.

"You want to do what to my ass?" Jon said.

"Don't play dumb."

"I'm not playing dumb babe. Honestly."

"You better not be."

"Let's go watch a movie with the kids."

"A Nightmare Before Christmas."

"You're Sally. I'm Jack."

"Come on, Jack. Oh, wait...before you leave, make me a plate of cobbler and some ice cream,."

"Sneaky little devil you."

"I know."

Author's Note: Aww.