Saving Captain Ryan 1/2
Title: Saving Captain Ryan
Author: tardis_type40
Rating: PG-13
Warning('s): Violence, Blood, Swearing etc.
Summary: Not a Movie AU, Just liked the Irony.
Ryan is a bitter Veteran who doesn't think life could be any worse. Can the new guy moving in with his new pet shop help?
“Tell me, Ryan, what do you feel when these flashbacks come over you?” The woman, Dr. Josie Lawrence, made a few notes on her pad. She smiled softly at the man in the comfy leather armchair in front of her.
Ryan tried to avoid looking at Dr. Lawrence’s face, instead focusing on the room that had become his second hell. It was open and airy, with cream carpeting, light blue walls, and large, open windows that showed the small town along the ocean in Maine. The sleepy town that Ryan had moved to was peaceful. It had very little tourists and very few visitors. It was the perfect place for someone who wanted peace and quiet. The perfect place to recover. A perfect place for someone like him.
“Ryan?” Ryan finally looked at the dark haired woman, his green eyes that were once bright and happy- when he was young and innocent- but were now dull and lifeless.
“I feel... Helpless... Terrified.” Ryan’s voice was dull and rough, not used to speaking much at all outside his therapy sessions. He knew almost everyone in town, and everyone in town knew him, or about him. He got by with nods and shakes of his head, small and insincere smiles, and sincere frowns. He waved for hello or goodbye. Talking didn't appeal to him much anymore. Not that much of anything did, now.
Not since he came home from service.
Not since he lost his left leg and scarred his face and multiple areas of his body.
He was lucky he wasn’t blind or dead, his doctor said.
He’d rather be blind.
Maybe then he wouldn’t see the pity. The flinches when people would see the scars on his face, running down his cheeks, chest, arms and leg like claw marks.
Leg.
He was still getting used to that. Only having one. He still got phantom pains from a limb that was no longer there. Never again would be there.
He got a medal for saving his Company of men. For taking the blast of the bomb that should have killed him. Blown him to pieces.
“Why do you feel that way, Ryan? What makes you helpless, and terrified?” Ryan stared into her dark eyes, his own eyes seemingly staring through her. Ryan had to give her props for only shifting slightly uncomfortably.
“Because I can’t help them. I just stand there, watchin’ them fuckin’ die in front of me. Good men and women. Young men and women. Sons, daughters, wives, husbands. Families. Human beings. All in the name of fuckin’ war.” Ryan scowled, his hand twitching as the phantom pain began to throb in a limb no longer there.
“Why can’t people just fuckin’ get along? Why can’t we solve our differences with other countries and religions by talking things out? No,” Ryan snarled, spitting his next words out. “We decide that guns and violence is the best way to decide who has the bigger fuckin’ dick .”
Josie nodded, writing down more on her pad. “Have you ever talked to anyone else about this, besides me? About your views?”
Ryan shook his head.“Why would I?”
Josie smiled gently at him, and Ryan found himself hating that smile. It wasn’t like she cared. Why would she? He was just someone who talked about his problems and then gave her a check at the end. She had no reason to care.
“Because something interesting might happen.”
Ryan huffed, staring out the window.
“Nothing Interesting happens to me. Not anymore.”
Ryan limped out of the office building that held Dr. Lawrence's office. His prosthetic clunked along, making as much obvious noise as a blind man’s cane would. Ryan once again wondered what would have happened if he was blind instead of crippled. Or even dead.
He passed by Mrs. Greenwood’s floral shop, giving her a nod as she waved to him, and Ryan wished that he couldn’t see the pity in her eyes or see the small flinch as her eyes automatically landed on his scars.
“Hello, Mr. Stiles, how are you today?” Ryan looked down, craning his neck and seeing the small form of a ten-year-old orphan, Jeff Davis, one of the few people that didn’t seem to mind his gruff demeanor, scars, and almost muteness.
Jeff smiled at Ryan’s scowl that he replied with and wrapped his arms around Ryan’s middle, making him stiffen before patting the boy gently on the head.
“One of those days, huh, Ry?” Ryan nodded at Jeff and gave him a small, nearly sincere smile. Jeff smiled at Ryan, Hugging him tightly, careful of his biggest scar. The one on his side, basically a chunk was taken out of his side.
“Don’t worry, Ry, I bet your day will get better.” Jeff nuzzled into his stomach, and Ryan smiled softly. Jeff was the one bright light in his bleak world. He would have adopted the boy who lived in the local, very small orphanage that was really just a large house with five bedrooms and only six kids in it, all taken care of by old Mrs. Kipper and her husband. He would have adopted Jeff, if it wasn’t for his PTSD. He was not legally allowed to adopt Jeff, not with his PTSD being as bad as it was. Not unless he had someone, preferably a partner, according to the courts. He had tried and was stonewalled. And with his scars and PTSD, it was very unlikely that he would find someone that would want to date him, let alone sleep with him.
Ryan patted Jeff on the head, and Jeff released him.
“See ya’ later, Ry. Mrs. Kipper wants me home for lunch.” Jeff pouted. “She’s makin’ us BLT’s. Jonathan better not eat them all this time.” Ryan patted Jeff on his back and watched as Jeff ran back to the orphanage.
He started walking home to his beach house, one of the first things he bought with the money his parents had left him, having died while he was on tour. It was no small amount.
He was walking past the new pet store. Ryan hadn’t met the owner of the new store, what with it just opened yesterday. The sudden crash from inside the running delivery truck that was stationed in front of the store, coupled with the backfiring of the same truck caused Ryan to freeze and his world to go white.
Suddenly, he was no longer in Maine; he was in the desert, guns firing and grenades blasting, shouts ringing in his ears.
“Sir, Sergeant Benson is down!”
Ryan wiped sweat out his eyes, gritting his teeth, the feeling of sand between his teeth, coating his mouth, making him spit. He turned towards Sergeant Nalam and motioned to the fallen man.
“We have to leave him.”
Nalam’s eyes went wide, and he sputtered.
“Captain Stiles-” Nalam was a good friend of his, had saved his tanned hide on more than one occasion, but that didn’t mean he could ignore a direct order.
“That’s an order, Sergeant! If we bring him with us we’ll all die!”
The dark-skinned man nodded, his face hardening. It wasn’t the first time they had left a man, and it wouldn’t be the last time. They would grieve and shed their tears if they had any left after all this time around death and grief, when they had made it to the base.
"Yes sir, Captain!”
They began making their way toward the base, shooting down any man who shot at them.The smell of blood and death reeked in the air, the blazing heat making the smell worse than it already was. The sun beat down on their uniformed backs, and the dry desert absorbed the moisture from their very mouths, but they didn’t dare stop to reach for water, not taking their attention from the mission at hand.
They had entered a seemingly quiet village, everyone having locked themselves in their stone houses. The occasional guard from the terrorist organization tried to block their path, but they were shot down swiftly.
It seemed to happen in slow motion.
A boy, who could only be ten years old, darted out of the house after an escaped cat, and the click of a gun from someone not in his group sounded louder than ever before.
He saw the guard in the alley, aiming his gun at the boy, and he reacted swiftly, jumping in front of the path of the bullet. The searing pain ripped through his middle, luckily non-lethal, but the shouts of his men rang in his ears, along with the screaming of the child.
“Captain, stay with me!” Ryan grunted, gritting his teeth from the pain.
“Captain!”
“Sir!” He screamed in pain as he felt his side burn.
“Sir!” Wait, wasn’t he shot in the stomach? Why does his side hurt?
“Sir!” The blue of Nalam’s eyes were replaced with hazel ones, and he frowned, still panting in pain. Nalam had blue eyes.
"Sir?” Something was wrong...
“Sir!” Ryan shuddered as the blazing desert and Nalam’s dark skin and blue eyes were replaced with an ocean breeze, salty air, and pale skin and large, gentle but worried hazel eyes.
Ryan trembled as he realized people were surrounding him; he could see Kathy Greenwood, Mr. Patterson, Denny Siegel, Mr. Jameson from the library, Mr. Kipper, and Mrs. Grant from the grocery store. There were too many eyes, too many people, and Ryan's panicked brain automatically made him cling to the closest source of comfort: the man currently holding his hand in a gentle grip.
He could dimly hear the man telling people to back off, and scolding those who didn’t, still holding Ryan in his arms in a gentle hold, but it was a while later till Ryan gained complete awareness. He realized that he was clinging to the man, and let go, letting out a gruff apology.
“Don’t worry about it, my brother has flashback’s all the time. I’m used to it. My name's Colin, just moved in here. What about you?”
Ryan hesitated, but those earnest, kind brown eyes made him want to please the man. He ignored the fluttering in his stomach.
“Ryan. Ryan Stiles.”
Colin smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Ryan.”
Colin smiled at the man that was walking away from him. That man, while seemingly gruff and unapproachable, really was quite kind when you talked to him. Sure, he didn't say much, but he got a few words from him, just a general introduction, and Ryan answered his inquiry on the best place to walk a dog or puppy in town. He saw him with the little boy before his flashback hit him, and he could tell that he was fond of the boy.
“You must be somethin’ special, Mr. Mochrie.” The voice of his employee, one he had newly hired, Wayne, drew him out of his thoughts. He turned to him, a confused look on his face.
“Why?” Colin picked up a box of puppy chow, the one that fell and startled Ryan. Bringing it into the store, Wayne followed behind a grin on his face and a skip in his step, even with the heavy box of cat food he was carrying.
“Mr. Stiles said more to you than anyone else in this town, besides maybe Jeff Davis, that little boy he was talkin’ to,” Wayne added at Colin’s raised eyebrow.
Colin huffed, heaving the box onto a shelf, and turned to look at Wayne, crossing his arms.
“I’m sure he talks to other people, Mr. Brady. I'm nothing special, just a normal man.” Wayne chuckled and shot him a disbelieving look.
“Let me put it this way,” Wayne said, walking with Colin to the truck to grab more supplies. He suddenly stopped, turned, and looked at Colin, his face filled with sincerity.
“Other than his therapist and Jeff, Ryan hasn't said two words to anybody in this town, and the guy has been living here for a year and three months. You're the first person he's talked to other than that boy and Dr. Lawrence.”
Colin shrugged, his eyes wide.
“But I'm nothing special, I just showed him the kindness that I would to my brother when he had a flashback!”
Wayne shrugged, his face showing a bit of guilt. “Maybe that's why.” Wayne shook his head. “It's not like any of us have done anything like that for him.” Wayne looked down guiltily at Colin's stern look. “Look, man, we tried, at the beginning, but he just pushed us away.”
Colin gritted his teeth, his mouth turned down in a frown. He grabbed another box and turned to go back to the store.
“Then maybe you should have tried harder.”
Wayne watched as Colin walked back in the store, and he looked towards the way the Ryan had gone, back to his home. He looked back in Colin's direction.
“Looks like you might be the guy we need to help him,” Wayne said softly, the only witness to his words being the wind.
“Maybe you're the one he needs.” Wayne grinned to himself, before grabbing another box, making his way inside the store.
Things were about to change. Hopefully for the better now.
Ryan hissed as he placed an ice pack on his scarred side. The flashback had made him collapse, according to the new guy, and he had bumped his waist on the sidewalk edge, making his side grow a nice dark bruise right on top of the fragile scar tissue. He was lucky he didn't break open the scar; it had only healed completely a month ago. Ryan scowled; he was lucky. Lucky, lucky. That's what everyone keeps telling him, and he really couldn't see it. He was alone, scarred, missing a limb and couldn't even keep himself together for a ten-minute walk home without having a fit.
He strapped the bag of ice to his waist with an ace bandage and walked back to his kitchen. Turning on the expensive coffee machine that came with the house, he waited until it stopped pouring the strong black liquid into his plain blue mug and limped his way out the front door and onto his porch. Sitting down on the oak bench and staring at the sunset reflecting brilliant colors onto the calm waters of the ocean, he found his mind drifting towards a certain balding, hazel-eyed man.
The man had shown him more kindness and care than anyone else in this damn town had, besides Jeff. Yes, he had pushed them away, yes, he preferred to be alone, rather than stared at like a tall, scarred, crippled freak whenever he had a flashback, let alone walked down the street. He hadn't had someone take care of him and hold him through any of his flashbacks before, not even when he was in the hospital. The most anyone did was stare at him with a freaked out expression and tentatively ask of he was ok. Then they would quickly run away trying to not make it too obvious they were running away (they all failed). So waking up in Colin's arms and being comforted in a caring hold while coming down from his flashback was a new thing for him.
He liked it.
Ryan found himself liking the man, Colin, more than he thought he would. The man was genuinely kind and caring and didn't seem to care one wit about his scars or the fact that he had one leg or the way he had collapsed into what he was sure was a screaming and thrashing fit right in front of him. In fact, he had said he was used to it with his brother. Was his brother a veteran too? Was that why he was used to it? He couldn't see a hint of pity in the man's eyes, just genuine kindness, and understanding. It was refreshing, and he found himself wanting to get to know Colin better, a foreign feeling that slightly startled him. He enjoyed the short chat they had, even if it was just an introduction and Ryan telling Colin the best place to walk dogs and puppies.
As Ryan went inside, washed his cup, and got himself ready for bed, he decided that he was going to visit the pet shop tomorrow and get to know Colin better.
Perhaps Dr. Lawrence was right; maybe something interesting will happen.