Actions

Work Header

A Light, Don't Let It Go Out

Summary:

The war gets to us all and sometimes no matter how hard Don tries to keep it together, the war gets to him too.

""You got a face not spoiled by beauty
I have some scars from where I’ve been
You’ve got eyes that can see right through me
You’re not afraid of anything they’ve seen
I was told that I would feel nothing the first time
I don’t know how these cuts heal
But in you I found a rhyme

If there is a light you can’t always see
And there is a world we can’t always be
If there is a dark that we shouldn’t doubt
And there is a light, don’t let it go out""

Notes:

So, I was pretty shocked that no one has touched on the fact that Don pretty much suffered from panic attacks in the movie.. I think it's a very interesting concept and was curious and somewhat pleased to see them put that in there. Even the toughest of men has a breaking point and even if it's not earth shattering, even they need to break once in a while.

Multiple chapters on this one! I want to dig a little deeper into this concept and see where it goes so stay tuned. :)

Chapter Text

Where you going?” Boyd called after Don, watching his commander walk away without a word. He did that. More often than Boyd liked to count. Don was shockingly laid back when he wanted to be but he was also a shit ton of mysterious and silence. A silence filled with unanswered questions.

He didn’t like it. Didn’t like when Don walked away or when he didn’t answer his questions. Don was a damn good commander, that was never in question. But his personal life was a whole other question. And when Boyd started considering himself to be part of Don’s personal life he wasn’t sure. It was somewhere between the earth shattering gazes they shared and their first deep soul scathing kisses that it happened. Boyd’s world shifted upside down in more ways than he could process or make sense of.

“Bible?”

“Eh?” Boyd glanced over at Norman’s nervous and puzzled expression and realized he’d spoken. “What is it, Norman?” He asked, finding his softer tone for the boy. He did seem like a boy. Had to be no more than nineteen and completely out of his element. Weren’t they all at the start.

“Is... is he alright?” Norman gestured to where Don had walked off and disappeared.

Boyd mentally took a step back and studied the boy closer. He wasn’t putting up a front, he was concerned for their commander. Norman had a big heart, more than anyone should in their situation. Boyd knew well and good how much it hurt when you just felt so damn much. “I was just about to go find that out. You go get something to eat, kid.”

Boyd didn’t have to go far before he found Don. The man was crouched down between some water storage tanks. His back was facing Boyd but from his angle he could see Don’s head lowered and his fist raised and pressed against his mouth. He was rigid as a stake in the ground in winter. Not a good sign to say the least.

“Don.” Boyd spoke quietly when he got close so as not to startle the man.

“Bible.” Don answered him in a cool, level tone with just barely a quiver beneath the surface. But that quiver was the most important. It spoke of the mans emotions, the anxiety building up and waiting to escape. Emotions that Don was most likely trying to cut off at the pass and stomp out. To Boyd that was downright unhealthy and a topic of a few of their arguments over the years.

Boyd stepped up to Don and crouched down next to him, half leaning into the cool metal of the water tank next to him. Don tensed up and turned to look at him, just barely meeting his gaze. And the fact that he even did that much told Boyd that he needed help, needed something. Don’s eyes were wet with unshed tears and lines of pain and stress etched into his anguished face. Boyd understood and felt his pain and his own pain flared in his chest at the thought that Don was feeling it all so much more intensely because he held himself responsible. They’d lost one of their own. Something that Don had promised would never happen. But he wasn’t God and this was war.

“Don, this is not on you.” He spoke with soft intensity, reaching out to grasp Don’s forearm in his gloved hand. Don shuttered under his touch but didn’t look away from him. He didn’t voice it but his deep agonized gaze held everything Boyd needed to know. Don needed someone and he was there.

Boyd didn’t give a shit what anyone thought, didn’t care that they were in the middle of camp and several men could walk by and see them. All he knew was that Don was suffering and he could ease his pain. Or he sure as hell hoped so. Boyd moved closer, watching Don’s expression for a flicker of anything negative. He would stop if there was, never one to force his help onto anyone who didn’t truly want or need it. But Don was still open and receptive, painfully laid open and vulnerable in this moment. Boyd quickly and without anymore hesitation closed the space between them and wrapped his arms firmly around Don, careful of his back as he always was. He breathed out in relief when he finally had Don, some of his pain eased at the comforting embrace and he hoped for the same for Don.

Don was tense in his arms, barely even breathing. Boyd ran his hands soothingly over his arms and pressed their cheeks together, whispering into Don’s ear, “relax, Don. Relax it’s me. I’m right here and I’ve gotcha. Alright? I’ve got you.” Boyd didn’t give Don a chance to speak, holding him as close as he could as he continued in a low voice into Don’s skin, “You can let it out or keep it in, that’s up to you. I know you have to hold it together so you can hold your team together. But I’m here to shoulder the burden with you. I don’t care how much it hurts, I’d happily take half of your pain to spare you.”

Don shook in his arms, one of his hands coming up to grip Boyd’s arm as he buried his face into his shoulder. “Damnit Boyd.” He croaked, his voice shaking on a dry sob. And the dam broke. Don didn’t cry, it was more a silent letting go of as much as he could. He shook and whimpered quietly and held onto Boyd hard enough to leave marks as he rode out the worst of it.

Boyd didn’t flinch away, wouldn’t dream of it, and was there measure for measure murmuring soothing and loving words into Don’s ear the entire time. “I’ve gotcha, I’m here Don and not going anywhere. It’s okay. Not your fault.. Not your fucking fault.” Boyd had to fight back his own tears and lost the battle, a few slipping out beneath clenched eyelids and down his cheeks as he held Don so close to him. Don slowly started to relax in his arms, little by little releasing what he could.

The moment didn’t last long. Maybe ten minutes or so had passed before Don slowly and somewhat reluctantly pulled away from him. Boyd let him go just as reluctantly but watched him close, concerned gaze flickering over his face to catch his expression.

“I’m alright.” Don said, meeting his gaze briefly as he slumped back against the water tank and fumbled for a cigarette in his pocket. Boyd was ready with a match to light it a few moments later, their gazes meeting again.

They didn’t speak, but a million things passed between them. Boyd knew that whatever cracks Don had revealed to him were sealed, at least for now. The man would crack again, it was bound to happen. And Boyd would be there to patch him back together. He was damn proud of the fact that he could do that for Don. Their love had gotten them through more things than he cared to remember and he was eternally grateful for that.