Brian jars, his sleep ending abruptly. It feels as if his entire body has rigged itself, waiting for something to strike upon him except his hands which fly up to his throat.

His eyes flicker open upon a figure looming over him. At first, he sees the flash of the red British soldier uniform and tries to yank himself out of the arms of the person. The searing pain is there again, radiating around his neck. So vivid and real that he gasps, fighting for air. For a moment, he thinks he is still hanging from the large white oak, still dying.

"Brian? Brian? It's Mama!"

It takes a few momentary blinks to wash away the oriental distinctions into the distinct features of his mother. Blue eyes meet golden brown. His brow furrows in confusion, shifting slightly upon the cot, as he slowly wakes up.

"Brian, darling…" Mama expresses her voice softly with profound affection. Mama's hand gently intertwines with Brian's, offering a maternal touch. Her face displays evident signs of sleep deprivation; dark circles frame her weary eyes and the tight-lipped smile is a tell-tale of her emotional fatigue. Her curly hair, light brown hints of grey weaving in with the gold, is more wild than usual. "Breathe," she whispered, her lips brushing his temple. "You're safe now. I'm right here."

The weight of everything—his injuries, the pain, the nightmares, the fear—seems to lift, if only for a moment. He isn't alone. It is then he sees Ellen staring at him with worried eyes and the relief he'd felt melts away sharply. He's reminded of what's happened, everyone's pity - he can't. Brian abruptly turns his eyes away from her. He feels his mother's other hand softly stroking his hair from his forehead. Brian squeezes his eyes shut to hide the tears; the familial love becoming too much. Don't they understand that he is broken?

He should have died. He still feels like he is dying, yet somehow, he is still here, still alive.

How is he even alive?

—

"El…" Claire sighs as she sits next to her daughter with two cups of tea.

Ellen sits slumped at the kitchen table in the big house, head in her hands and she lets out an exhausted exhale. Claire sympathises. It's not the first time that they have experienced little sleep due to Brian's nightmares. She wishes Ellen wouldn't put so much upon herself and be with her son and husband. She knows how worried Ellen is about Brian.

Claire knows exactly where his mind was in that dream, where his mind is whenever she catches him staring listlessly off in the distance. His mind plunged into his own demise without conscious consent. She had not seen the moment her son was hanged but she was there afterwards after having raced against time itself to find him. Nevertheless, the image before her is now engraved in her head. When Claire arrived by the large white oak, she had thought him dead, although the finality of it had not completely registered right away. The sight had been so horrifying that even after all this time, she still remembers the dreadful sensation of all blood being drained at once, which stopped her heart momentarily. It had only started again prompted by a moan from the seemingly lifeless form of Brian which swung from the branch between life and death. She had frantically torn at him, only just about grasping to her Doctor and patient decorum but it was difficult to forget that her won son was her patient.

Ellen doesn't reply straight away, taking a sip of her tea before breaking the silence. "My roommate at MIT, Gayle... she had a boyfriend who had gone to Vietnam. I didn't know him very well. His name was Don. But Gayle asked me to go with her to see him a few times after he got back."

War is always a difficult subject. Claire has a clear idea of where this will lead them.

"He had been back for almost a year the first time I went... I don't really know what I expected, but... he was like a zombie. Just no life in his eyes at all. Gayle called it his "thousand-yard stare"."

Claire has unfortunately seen enough traumatised soldiers in her life to know what that means.

"He was hit by some shrapnel, but he wasn't seriously injured, but he had seen many other men die…"

"Yes, we call it "war neurosis", a "state of emotional shock"," Claire explains.

Now, Ellen makes the connection… "It's been months now... and you said Brian is fine physically. So, it may be a war neurosis. I mean, it must be mental... psychological…"

They both know that we don't know how long Brian's condition will last, the scars will take time to heal, if ever…

"It's as if he were drowning in silence... And he has that same thousand-yard stare in his eyes. I'm afraid he's lost…" Tears well up in Ellen's eyes as she looks at her mother hopelessly.

Claire wants to reassure Ellen and ease her fears as best she can. "No matter how lost he is… we just have to have faith that we will find him." She declares strongly.

Yet, Claire can't help but wonder if this is all her fault. Is she the reason her son nearly died, the reason her daughter was raped? She was the one that her children had travelled back in time to warn. To warn her of her and Jamie's deaths. And now they are stuck here. She doesn't know if she can ever forgive herself for that. The weight of her guilt and fear feel like they are threatening to suffocate her.

—

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.