Chapter Text
Dogs. That was the word, not the images, that kept circulating through his head as the plane shook. Turbulence now scared him more than it ever had, more than it ever should. Sweat fell from his brow the way rain falls from the sky during a hurricane. His hands shook so bad he had to stuff them in his lap to keep from worrying the others. He was hyperventilating and going through every breathing exercise he could remember to stop it.
Dogs.
Their goofy smiles. Their excitement when they finally see you after you've been gone for only an hour (to them it's been ages). Their need to sit on you even when they're too big. Their purity. Their stupidity. Their innocence. He loves dogs. There so many kinds and types. They come in all sizes. From the giant brother of bears, the Russian bear hunting dogs, to annoying little bug eyed chihuahuas. How each dog had its own wild personality. How lovable they were. He loves dogs.
He thought about how when he got back to the states, he'd be able to get one. He'd be able to hold it and protect it from fireworks. And the dog would protect him from the same fireworks.
He spared a glance out the window once he had calmed down. He spotted the bountiful sea of soft fluffy clouds that rolled the was the sea does. An ocean of cotton balls. Comforting and relaxing and calming. His hands slowly began to steady. The turbulence didn't scare him as bad. That's a lie. It did. But he refused to let it. He knew the irrational fear was controllable. This was a plane. This wasn't the battle field. This shouldn't scare him. He wouldn't let it scare him.
He couldn't figure out his emotions when his plane finally hit the ground and he, finally, after years, felt his feet meet the soils of home, at last. He wasn't sure if he should cry with joy, or sob because he'd been gone for so long, or weep because in a single moment he could wake up and this would all vanish. It always seems to vanish.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. At first it startled him. He forgot he had a phone or that it could vibrate or what it meant. It took him a second to realize it was a phone and nothing more. He held it up to his ear cautiously.
“Hello?”
“Hey. It's Tyler, your doctor. Uh, I’m going to be a little late in picking you up. Do me a favor? There's a food court and a gift shop. Not too far from it should be a small lounge, a-a room of couches and magazines. Can you wait for me there? It should be quiet. You shouldn't get bothered. That ok with you, dude?”
Craig appreciated how softly the man spoke. How he was careful with his volume and his excitement. How he was aware that this man had been through hell and was so easily triggered. He was considerate. He nodded.
“Yeah. I can do that.”
“Alright. Thanks. And I apologize again for the wait. Be there in a bit.” And he hung up. Craig stood for a moment lost and unsure what to do. Slowly he reminded himself of his given instructions and where he was supposed to go. He hobbled over to the over crowded and way too loud food court and struggled to find the lounge. He was immediately relieved when he found it. There was an immediate difference in the noise and crowds. It all just stopped. Like the pulse of a dead man. Gone cold and still. It died.
He felt safer in the lounge. He sat as far away from the door as he could possibly get. His small case of belongings were his only source of comfort beyond the stillness of the lounge. He gripped the handle so tight his knuckles were as white as the annoyingly bright walls.
He watched every face that walked in and near the lounge. He studied every character. He saw businessman stressed by the lateness of their flight. Lovers excited for their vacation. Families exhausted from the drive and relieved to see food and bathrooms. And in the mesh of chaos, faces that reminded him of people he'd seen, people he'd killed, people he'd-
He spotted another face much like his own. Eyes untrusting of all and any who passed. Uneasy and jumpy and sick with worry and yet stuffed with relief. The face of a man who's seen too much horror for his age. A survivor much like himself. He calmed himself greatly and offered a comforting aura to invite the boy over, to sit by someone like him, to take comfort in knowing that they weren't alone. Their dog tags caught each other’s eyes. Like beacons in the darkness. Brothers.
The boy caught his eye and instantly took comfort in the welcome. He moved quickly, like a wounded dog moves to its beloved owner. He sat quickly and drew his knees to his chest. They sat besides each other in comfortable silence. Together they watched the doors. They watched every face. They watched every story. And they reflected on their sins alone in silence and yet together in screams.
Eventually, a frighteningly tall man stepped through the door. He was soft in the face with sharp blue eyes. He spotted the two and smiled gently. He instantly slowed his pacing and cautiously approached the two. It was like a dance, the way he moved. Each step was light and well measured. The last thing he wanted to do was startle them.
He stopped several feet away. He knew his boundaries. He knew what to do and what not to do. He kept his hands exposed to show he had nothing to hurt them with. He kept his distance to prove he respected their past and didn't want to hurt or scare them.
“I'm Tyler. You must be Jay and Craig. And I right?”
The two glanced at each other, taking in the other’s name and memorizing it. They wished Tyler had included their ranks and yet they were thankful that he left ranks out of this. They turned back to Tyler with a soft and firm nod before climbing to their feet. Their spines were perfectly straight. They held themselves as they'd been taught, full attention. Tyler gently turned towards the door.
“Common. Let's get you two home.”
“Uh, sir, we don't, I don't, have a-” Jay began. He cut himself off unable to fully get the words out. He thought of the last letter he wrote home and the last letter he got back. He hadn't been there when he should have been. He hadn't been there, and now they were gone. Tyler seemed to understand instantly and offered a warm and welcoming smile.
“Please be assured that you do have a home. I'm aware of your situations. I have an assistant who has humbly offered to provide the two of you with a home. That is, if you accept it.”
Again they were met with silence. Craig thought about being on the streets. At this point in time, he wasn't sure he could handle that.
“A home sounds nice,” he spoke, and he spoke for the both of them. A shared thought. Jay nodded only to confirm this. Tyler nodded and again gestured towards the door.
“Let's get you two home then.”
The two followed their doctor out of the lounge and through the court to the parking garage. Tyler kept a conversation afloat to help ease the tension.
Dogs.
He found he held the tension at bay best with dogs. Both men appeared to enjoy dogs. Jay liked the smaller dogs, the ones that could fit easily on your lap. The ones you could let sleep on the bed and not notice they were there. The cuddly ones. Craig liked the playful dogs. The ones you could trick easily by pretending to throw a stick. The ones too big to sit on your lap but still tried. They both loved dogs. And Tyler himself had a dog who was playful and cuddly he loved to talk about.
He shifted through the stations to find something soft paced and quiet. Something easy to talk over and ignore. Something that wouldn't startle the two. The music was drowned out by thought and talk of dogs. But it played nonetheless.
Jay stared out the window and soaked in the scenery that passed him. The airport sat upon a vast, empty plain that stretched on seemingly endless. Slowly, it gave way to a vein of roads that lead to the artery of highways that lead to the heart of a city. They passed through the heart and fell again into a much calmer pulse of a town.
They approached a smaller house compared to its many neighbors.
Chalk decorated the side walls and streets. Poorly drawn dogs and small streets for toy cars. Small sketches of stick figure families. Mom. Dad. Uncle Dewey. Me. A big wheel sat knocked over on its side in the front yard. A doll missing an arm sat hunched over on a small swing dangling from a large tree supporting a small but sturdy tree house. Flowers stood tall and proud along the base of the tree and along the base of the house.
A kindly old woman sat on her porch besides a much younger woman. They wore tired and wise smiles. The younger woman balanced a small infant on her knee. The babe stuffed his cheeks with the arm of the armless doll. He waved at the passing car.
Tyler waved back with a small chuckle, “That little guy’s growing up fast, wow.” Craig spared a glance at the child and women. He thought of the children and women much like them he'd seen abroad. He didn't want to see any of them.
Tyler stopped in front of the smaller house at last and shut off the engine. He watched the door before climbing out of the car. The two followed.
They spotted the movement of the windows and knew that the door would be open in no time. A young man pulled the heavy door away and opened his house to the two strangers.
Compared to the many men Jay and Craig had met, this one was small, he shrank in on himself to appear smaller, the way an abused dog does to avoid further abuse. He stared at the two the way a person who'd seen their own fair share of hell does but is trying to turn a new leaf, he's trying to keep others from hurting how he did, even if and when he was terrified.
Tyler threw his arm over the boy's shoulder and brought him out of his shell of his house and out into the open.
“Craig, Jay, this is Smitty. Smitty, Craig and Jay. Show them around the place and I'll get their things, yeah?” Smitty nodded flashing a nervous smile at the two. He parted from Tyler and hesitantly moved to follow orders. He motioned towards the two to follow and they cautiously did so.
He lead them through the place easily, showing them both their rooms, bathrooms, and where everything was. Tyler dropped off their belongings respectively and the two left them alone to settle in.
Smitty met Tyler outside. He kept his voice low to keep the conversation I heard by nosy children and pesky neighbors or the two new visitors. He fidgeted with a loose string that dangled at his sleeves and tickled his hands.
“I leave them alone for the most part, right? I keep the noise to a minimum, don't approach when they have an attack, keep myself light and small. No threats? Any other… rules?”
Tyler chuckled lightly and put a firm hand on Smitty’s shoulder. The grip startled Smitty to drop the string and now fiddle with under his nails instead.
“Relax. If you're worked up, they get worked up. You know how when Mrs. Downs gets upset, Philip gets upset?” Smitty nodded. He glanced over at his young neighbor and her mother and son. “They work the same way. They've been through hell. They're scared. They're going to turn to you as an anchor. They will follow you. Like ducklings. Like Philip and Mrs. Downs. If you keep calm, they'll keep calm.”
Smitty nodded again and forced himself to relax. Tyler waved and plopped himself back into his car and drove away. Smitty watched him as he went. He sighed heavily before turning to renter his house. The odd silence bothered him. He knew two people lived with him now. He had kindly taken them in. He was here to support them. Yet he wasn't entirely sure if he'd let in two scared dogs or two scared bears. He felt like he was a rabbit under the careful watching eyes of two starving hawks. He felt too exposed.
He made his way to the kitchen to start cooking. What do you do to help earn the trust of starved or abused animals? You offer them food. You put it on a plate and leave it before them, and you back away and leave them alone to eat. You do it again. And again. And again. And eventually they'll learn that you give them food. You're not going to hurt them. Eventually, they'll let you stay with them while they eat. And in more time, they'll let you pet them. They'll trust you. So he threw some bacon into the pan and began to cook.