by Laura Acton
“Thanks, Dan. I’m glad you came tonight,” Carles responded and patted Dan on the back as they exited the restroom.
Dan yawned as he nodded. If I can help Carles, I’ll be glad I came too. Perhaps this support group is not a bad idea, after all.
Lancing the Wound
9
October 5
Support Group – 9:20 p.m.
As the meeting regrouped, Dan resumed his seat between Boss and Jon. A couple of other guys shared and sought advice. Dan wondered how late the session would go as his wakefulness ebbed. Though when Boss cleared his throat and said, “I’m struggling with a few things lately,” Dan turned surprised eyes to his sergeant. He didn’t expect Nick to speak tonight, believing this was all about an intervention for him.
Nick met Dan’s gaze. “Sometimes, I find it helps to give voice to the things which knock around in my head.” Leading by example was a bit harder than Nick expected as he spotted the brief astonishment in Dan’s eyes. “My team, they amaze me every day, and today is no different.”
He inhaled and let his breath out gradually as he glanced at Jon. “We’ve had a rough few weeks. I spoke about the Whitehall call before. Jon urged me to come, understanding several things might be triggers for me and potentially send me back to the bottom of a Canadian Rye bottle.
“I pride myself on having insight. Not being able to recognize the suicidal intent … that one got me.” He rubbed his face and exhaled heavily. “Pride can be a dangerous thing, especially when events spiral out of control. Losing six people was rough and how they died … horrific and unnecessary.
“After we learned who the subjects were, Evangeline Mitchell, the mother whose infant daughter died of SIDS, consumed my thoughts. I understood her overwhelming grief and crippling depression. I became despondent after Martin’s death, but Jon never let me fall no matter how hard I pushed back or ignored his overtures. He remained constant. Due in large part to his efforts, and this group of men with open hearts and kind words, I crawled out of the bottle. Now I honor my son’s and wife’s lives by being the best I can be.”
Nick’s hands moved to his thighs, and he gave a wan smile as he scanned the group, not focusing solely on Dan. “One of the items still pervading my waking moments is that two fellow first responders, Constable Wright and Fireman Downing, fell through the cracks. I still wonder if they would be alive today had someone been willing to go the distance with them as Jon did for me after my wife and son were murdered.”
He took another breath and clasped his hands to keep them from scrubbing his face. “Though tonight, it isn’t only the events of Whitehall Financial troubling me. It mixes with the child abduction call we responded to this morning.”
Jon turned to Nick, to pay closer attention, wondering how the two calls intertwined for Nick. The suicide pact cloaked as a bank robbery ended horribly, while today’s kidnapping of a child, although stressful and tense at several points, ended successfully with no one harmed.
“As I said, my team is amazing. Within moments of arriving on scene, each member did their part. We work like a well-oiled machine, and often no verbal communication is needed for us to understand what others require. Candace Dempsey, little Candy, is home safe and sound tonight, tucked in her bed, and her family remains whole. The disturbed man who took her will now receive the help he needs to come to grips with the adoption of his daughter.”
The lightbulb went on for Jon as he recognized the connection Nick would be attempting to make. Nick is damned good. Hopefully, he will break down Dan’s walls, and I won’t need to share tonight. I will, if necessary, but if this does the trick, well, tonight is about Dan.
Returning his gaze to Dan, Nick’s face softened. “Family is important to me, and whether it is right or wrong, you, Jon, Bram, Loki, Lexa, and Ray are my family. As we left the Dempsey residence, I couldn’t get out of my head how devastated I would be if I lost one of my own, particularly if I didn’t put forth the effort to assist one of them when they are struggling.”
“Boss …” Dan breathed out, recognizing Nick meant him.
“Please just listen,” Nick said softly.
Nodding, Dan waited.
“Dan, you’re important and valuable to me. I realize I broke your trust recently, and I regret my action more than I can ever express. I’m hoping you can find it in your heart to trust me now … if only a little.
“I’m not sure what is bothering you, but I don’t need special insight to recognize something is disrupting your sleep. My heart would shatter if I didn’t do everything within my power to reach you before it is too late. I do not want to lose another family member.”
Recognizing the sincerity in Boss’ expression, and unable to keep silent, Dan spoke honestly, “I’m not suicidal.”
Jon’s brow’s arched at the admission from the younger sniper, glad Dan’s focus remained on Nick, so he didn’t transmit his surprise.
Nick’s eyes shone with worry as his lips twitched up into a warm smile. “No, I don’t believe you are … now, but I’m still concerned. When you jumped from the balcony on to Ken Zellers, taking him down … I thought I lost you.”
“I explained in debrief,” Dan inserted.
“Yes, you did, and I accept what you said as truth. However, the lack of verbal communication from you, at that moment, as you leapt on the subject who held what I believed, what we all believed, to be a real grenade, my heart seized, and flashes of Wright and Downing went through my head. I worried I had not done enough to help you deal with whatever is troubling you, and well, you decided to take unnecessary risk to save Candy. I thought I failed you.”
Dan swallowed hard, closing his eyes as he sucked in a deep breath and released it with a whoosh. Images of Shy flashed through his mind, and he reopened and focused on Boss. “You didn’t.” A hand landing on his right shoulder had him turning to Jon.
“Dano, I also believe you were fully aware the grenade was a dummy, and you took action at the appropriate time, preventing me from having to take a lethal shot. But Boss is right … kinda hard not to miss the dark circles under your eyes. Do you want to tell us about your nightmare? It might help.”
“Who says nightmares are keeping me awake? Might be a string of meaningless one-night stands,” Dan retorted defensively, unsure why he took a verbal swipe at Jon. Shit, I’m tired … not in complete control.
Jon sighed. I deserved that snipe. “Everyone is experiencing bad dreams after Whitehall, even me. How could we not after what we witnessed?”
“You?” Dan eyed Jon, who always appeared put together.
Grasping he needed to share, Jon nodded and squeezed Dan’s arm. “I shot and killed a nineteen-year-old boy. Beau Reese was not much older than Kent. Reese needed help to get past his grief and remorse, but he didn’t get it. One night, one poor choice, for which he was not the only culpable party, his brother and friends urged him to be the one to drive since he drank less than they did … shouldn’t have been the end of his life.
“I wake in a cold sweat as the subject’s face is revealed, and instead of Beau, Kent’s face is there. I shudder with the thought of Kent’s friends pushing him into a bad decision, which will ultimately put him in the same mindset as Beau. I pray that never happens … but, yeah, nightmares … we all have them. A common occurrence after calls like Whitehall.
“Which is why this group is important.” Jon’s arm swept around the circle. “These men all understand the perils of our profession and don’t judge when things become too much, or a situation triggers emotion we find hard to handle on our own.”
Blaze’s advice on how to assist Dan popped into Jon’s head, and he pondered how to pose a challenge. A not so kind way came to mind. “Are you such a coward you would rather sink than reach for the flotation ring thrown to you and try something new before you drown?”
Dan glared at Jon. Coward? I may be many things, but only scars litter my back, no yellow streaks.
Brody recognized the
tactic. “Danny, pick up the gauntlet and prove Jon wrong. Time to talk, brother. You must release the pain so you can heal.”
Shifting his gaze, studying the men in the room, Dan contemplated whether or not he would be safe here … would they think him weak or comprehend his agony. His eyes landed on Carles. The soldier opened up and received only support even as he wept. And as a result of Carles sharing, he might be able to help him too. Dad would, at the minimum, pass a thank you note from Carles to the unit member if he could not name the sniper.
Inhaling and holding it for a count of four, Dan slowly exhaled and decided to take a risk. “Nightmares. I’ve been having nightmares. I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes and drop off, images assault me, and I wake shaking and covered in sweat a short time later.”
Jon lightly patted Dan and left his hand on his shoulder in a sign of support, glad his challenge didn’t backfire.
Dan studied Jon’s expression. He did not view condemnation. He thought he glimpsed relief and pride. Turning to Boss, caring hazel eyes filled with encouragement peered at him.
Nick gave Dan a small smile and a slight nod, hoping he would continue.
“Tried sleeping pills I used previously with no problems, but this time they caused unpleasant effects. Jim removed them from my safe meds list.”
“What happened?” Nick asked, hoping Dan would enlighten them.
In for a penny, in for a pound. Dan raked a hand through his hair. “Woke up at Brody’s grave with no recollection of driving there.” He pinned his gaze on Jon as he stated, “Stopped taking them … unacceptable risk.”
“Understood.” Jon shifted his hand to Dan’s back but kept the physical link between them.
Nick put his hand on Dan’s other shoulder. “Dan.”
Dan turned to Nick.
“Are your nightmares related to the Whitehall call?”
Dropping his head, Dan stared at his lap. “No, and yes. I understand what drove them to what they did. I don’t like it, but I get it. The way the hostages died is the catalyst. Their screams unlocked memories I buried years ago. Some things hurt too much to deal with, so I pretend they never happened and shove them away, but now he won’t leave me alone. He haunts my dreams.”
Jon cautiously inquired, “Who haunts you?”
“Shy. He begs me to kill him every night,” Dan’s voice cracked ever so slightly, and he licked his dry lips before one hand curled into a fist.
Nick’s eyes closed and took a calming breath. Oh, this is gonna be painful if it is anything like what we listened to at the hospital when the doctor told Dan his lungs wouldn’t recover.
Jon clamped down hard on his emotions. He recalled the name Shy from the mission described to him on the rooftop of HQ during Dan’s first year with TRF when Dan didn’t want to go with Loki to the corn maze. Though, something didn’t sit well. If recollection served him right, only Shy and Dan survived as five buddies were gruesomely hacked to death in a cornfield. He wondered why Shy would be asking Dan to end his life in his dream.
Keeping his tone level, and wiping all emotion from his expression, Jon probed, “Thought Shy survived. Did he die later?”
Registering Jon’s impassive demeanor, Nick pondered how Jon knew Shy. Believing Jon must’ve come by the knowledge the night he stayed with Dan and listened to everything their rookie revealed, Nick remained quiet. Jon never disclosed anything Dan shared, not that Nick wanted to hear more because quite frankly, he couldn’t stomach the bits he heard before exiting Dan’s hospital room and vomiting in the hallway trash bin.
“Yeah.” Dan glanced at Jon, recalling he revealed a portion of the failed mission to him and Loki. Staying vague, knowing Jon would understand, Dan said, “The cornfield is the first time I ran with Shy. A unit cobbled together from men available for the op. I hated those kinds of missions. A team not used to working with one another made things harder, but Shy is the primary reason I made it out alive.”
Dan became silent as memories of Shy comforting him during exfil after gathering the body parts of their fallen brothers from the blood-stained field came to mind. He spoke in a soft voice, which carried in the quiet room, “Everyone admired Shy. He was one hell of a sergeant who kept his men alive during some crazy shit. The second time I joined Shy, I went with his regular unit, and Blaze didn’t worry as much.”
Thoughts of the ill-fated mission invaded Dan’s mind increasing his anxiety. His failure to save Shy and what he had done ate at his soul.
Carles asked, “Who is Blaze?”
Peering across the circle at Carles, Dan found a useful deflection. “Blaze was my unit CO for six years … until I killed my brother Brody.”
Most in the room believed Dan’s story of how he shot Brody to be an instance of total transparency and trust, but Nick and Jon shared a glance as Dan relayed the painful event. Both recognized the deflection. For whatever reason, their teammate attempted to avoid addressing the issue which disturbed him. Nick conveyed with his eyes for Jon to gently redirect Dan.
When Dan finished, he met Jon’s gaze. Aware of why he told everyone about Brody, leaving the military, and joining TRF, minus the team’s initial dislike of him, Dan contemplated whether his tactical leader caught on to his diversion. Jon’s words confirmed he didn’t distract him with his account.
Jon flashed a grin. “Dano, deflection isn’t going to help you.” He sobered and said, “Brody’s death still causes you anguish, but the brother of your heart isn’t the one haunting your dreams. Tell me how Shy is involved this time.”
Tugging at his earlobe as a light buzzing sounded, Nick added, “If you give voice to your memories, Dan, you will release the hold they have over you. Lance the abscess and allow the infection to drain so you can mend.”
In slow motion, Dan twisted his head to the left to gaze at Nick and studied him. Brody said similar words to me so many times. How did Boss know to say that? Can he read me now too?
Janie smiled at Brody. “Thank you for the right words for Nick.”
“They always worked on Danny. He should talk now.” Brody ran his fingers through Dan’s hair, wishing his brother could sense his comforting touch.
A familiar tingling sensation on his head, one with no discernable source, brought Dan a modicum of relief, though he began to sniper breathe to slow his rapid heart rate as his eyes moved around the circle. No one is expressing pity, only openness, and kindness. He registered Jon inhaled and exhaled in unison with him. Almost as if Jon counted out the tempo for him as he had in the bank, the hospital, and several other places.
I can do this. It is gonna hurt like hell, but I will unchain the memories of Shy’s death and release them from the dark cell where they reside. Fixing his focus on the wall opposite him, afraid to watch anyone’s expressions, Dan drew in one more deep breath as he decided what he could legally share.
“My unit was down due to Blaze, Patch, Brody, and Winds experiencing minor injuries. Shy’s unit needed a long-range marksman because his previous sniper decided not to re-up, and a new one had not arrived.” Dan had to leave out details like Shy typically worked in Sudan under Major Pearce, but with the recent rash of injuries and losses sustained in Kandahar, Shy and his men transferred to Afghanistan until replacements were brought up to speed.
“Shy requested me since we worked together once before. I can’t divulge many details, not when, where, or why, but we ended up deep in ISIS-held territory. My spotter, Dragon, and I found and set up in a perch to maintain overwatch. Things went sideways when insurgents captured the other four members of our unit. Three met execution-style deaths … forced to kneel and shot at point-blank range in the back of the head.
“Dragon was Shy’s second in command, and he contacted TOC to request a QRF to rescue us. Command responded, hold tight for extraction, and the quick reaction force would reach our position in about an hour.”
Dan surged up, knocking the plastic chair backward as he clenched and raised his fists, wanting to str
ike something as a new thought entered his head. He pivoted and strode towards the closest wall.
Reacting fast, Jon rose and stopped Dan before he let a fist fly. “Dan, no. Hitting an innocent wall will only hurt your hand.” He glanced back at Nick, seeking additional support.
Nick joined them. “What brought out anger, Dan?”
Hatred filled Dan’s eyes as he whispered, “Plouffe. He was in charge of ops command. He may have delayed the QRF on purpose.”
Both nodded, understanding the fury and why Dan couldn’t share that piece with any of the group. Nick rubbed Dan’s back. “Nothing will change the events, even if the major was involved. We have all the time you need, so take several moments to just breathe.”
Jon returned to the circle and moved Dan’s chair back into place. “Give him a few minutes.”
The grizzled older soldier, Ned Donlon, who took a chair next to Jon after the break, the one who offered Carles his shoulder earlier, peered up at Hardy. “Tell Broderick to take all the time he needs.”
Surprise reflected in Jon’s face. Dan had not used his last name tonight. Many attendees never revealed their full names, wanting to keep anonymity. “How do you—”
Before Jon could finish, Ned interrupted, “He is the spitting image of his father. I went to the Royal Military College with William back in the day. Never served with him, but I will never forget those sapphire eyes and icy rage, which can freeze a room in seconds. If Dan is even half the man William is, then you have one damned fine officer. I hope we can help him through his turmoil.”
“Oh, he’s more than his father, and yes, we do.” Jon lowered himself in his seat and took a moment to regroup himself.
After several minutes, working hard to quell his fury, during which Boss’ hand never left his back, Dan took a cleansing breath.
“Okay?” Nick asked.
“Yeah.” Dan turned and found the men waiting for him, no irritation reflected in their expressions. He moved back to the circle with Nick and sat. “Sorry.”