Every now and then--

This story contains implied incest and sex between men.

Note: This takes place during the episode “I Thought the War Was Over?”

I don’t know what to do. I’m on the outside looking in and I want to touch him, tell him that his nightmares will all be gone.

But I can’t.

Vietnam was always our bone of contention. It was the one place I couldn’t follow him. The one place he wouldn’t allow me to go. And it’s the one thing I’ll never understand. But I want to dammit. When I see him hurting like this and I know he can’t talk to me, I want to understand. I don’t like him in the VA hospital anymore than he does.

I hate that he can talk to them and not to me.

I hate that there’s nothing I can do.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

When we were kids and one of us had a problem, we would go off somewhere, the hidden corner of the backyard or that little piece of beach no one knew about, and talk. Shoulder to shoulder, in soft voices we’d pour out our souls.

We tried this time but maybe his soul forgot how to talk or maybe I forgot how to listen. I just want to tell him that no matter what his demons are that I’m here. I never hated him, I was never one of those who spat and yelled out “baby-killer” because it was either him or them. And he could have killed a million people and I wouldn’t have cared because he made it home. He was the only thing that mattered. He is the only thing that matters.

Mom’s going crazy and I’m going crazy and he’s so damn silent. His eyes are haunted and I want to kiss them happy again.

I want to kiss him happy again. I want—I want to run my hands all over him and wrap myself around him until we breathe together. Then he can be whole and I can be whole and we can be together like we’re supposed to be.

Rick and AJ, AJ and Rick. Everyone always comments on how different we are. No one knows, except Mom, that we’re not really different at all. She knows about the stubbornness we get from her, the need for adventure we get from Daddy. She’s the only one, besides ourselves, who knows that we’re one person. Without Rick I’m left stumbling in the dark. Rick’s my joy and my laughter and my deep, unrelenting need to be everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

And God, I just want to touch that space deep inside of him that needs to be healed and heal it. Kiss it and make it better. Kiss him and make him better. Slip my tongue in his mouth and taste and breathe and love, clenching his arms hard enough to leave bruises. Hold him hard enough to absorb him into me until I gasp and he gasps and we’re moving…moving.

It’ll hurt, oh it’ll hurt. But it’ll be a good hurt because we’ll hurt together and it wouldn’t be this lonely, aching pain that I feel now and that he can’t understand. Or the pain he’s feeling that I can’t understand. And it’ll end with both of us sweaty and tired. Then maybe he’ll smile and kiss me or maybe I’ll smile and kiss him.

Or maybe he’ll cry and I’ll cry and his soul will remember how to talk and I’ll remember how to listen. And I’ll touch him and tell him his nightmares will be gone in the morning. And he’ll believe me.

I’ll believe me. I’ll understand even though I had never followed him, never tried to follow him.

But mostly, mostly I’ll know what to do.

Instead I stand here, wishing, wanting…needing. I know he’ll come to me when he’s ready. He’ll smile or tousle my hair or slip into bed and undress me. If I close my eyes I can almost feel his touch, light and teasing on my chest.

Ah Rick, come back to me soon, it’s all too much.

I’m lonely without you.

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