Archive of Our Own ^beta

            Dick woke in a strange bed, and definitely not in his home.

            The bed was cold, and the empty side smelled strongly of a cologne that wasn’t his. He didn’t recognize the room at all, and he continued to take inventory of the room as he pushed himself out of bed. His clothes were baggy and didn’t fit all that well, nor did they look like anything he’d wear or even had. The curtains were drawn back, and he looked out to see that wherever he was, it was in the middle of nowhere, and the surrounding land was covered in a blanket of snow.

            Panic began to grip his gut, but he took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. No use in panicking before he had all the information.

            He slipped out of the room and into the hallway, freezing as he heard voices downstairs. There were plenty of doors along the corridor, and all were pulled tightly shut. Licking his lips, he headed towards the staircase, pausing at the top step as he listened. He couldn’t quite make out the voices, but he could tell they were male at the very least. Slowly, he headed down the stairs, careful to avoid boards that appeared to be loose, and his ears straining.

            “. . . But why not?” came the voice of a little boy, who sounded rather pouty.

            “Because Ezra is a farm dog, and that’s her job,” came another much older sounding voice, but his voice was rather kind.

            “All I want to do is take her to school for show and tell.”

            “Yes, well, that’s all and good, but she has a job to do here.”

            Dick came to the bottom staircase, and rubbed at his biceps, hanging back from the two archways that were on either side of him. One seemed to lead to a sitting area, and another lead to a kitchen area, which was where the voices were coming from. The door was right in front of him, and Dick knew he could easily attempt to slip out unnoticed, but he didn’t know where the hell he was, and they were in the middle of nowhere. He would die out there.

            Steeling himself, Dick turned and entered the kitchen. The two people looked towards him, and the little boy actually beamed at Dick. The man, who was at the stove, turned towards Dick, and smiled softly. The man had a kind face, although it was marred a bit by a scar on his right cheek, but it didn’t take anything away from his soft, open features. “Good morning,” the man said, and motioned to an open spot at the table.

            Dick, however, didn’t move from his spot in the entryway. “Where am I,” he said, his eyes darting from the man to the little boy, and “Who are you?”

            The man didn’t so much as blink, and glanced at the little boy. “Go get your Uncle Dick’s book from the living room.”

            “Yes pa,” the boy said, before he slipped off of the chair and rushed out of the room.

            Dick found himself at a loss for words, his mind racing. He opened his mouth but closed it when he realized he had too many questions to ask and couldn’t figure out which one to ask first. But the calmness in this man’s voice and the fact that both the man and this child acted like this was normal made him pause.

            The man seemed to notice, and his eyes softened. “Please, Dick, take a seat.” He motioned to the table. “It’ll be all right.”

            Dick wasn’t so sure about that, but nonetheless took a seat at the table. The little boy suddenly appeared by his side with a heavy book and placed it on the table in front of him, before he retook his seat. It unnerved him that the little boy was staring at him, and the man—his dad, maybe—took notice, gently chastising him with a, “Warren.”

            The boy, Warren, mumbled an apology before he looked down at his school work again. Dick pursed his lips into a thin line, before he slowly looked down at the book. It was more of a photo album with the size and shape of it, but when he flipped it open, the first page was nothing but a laminated letter to it, with a photo at the bottom that Dick never remembered taking.

            Dick glanced at the man, before he licked his lips and began to read.

To My Dear Dick,

            This is not the first time you’ve read this, nor will this be the last. I know you don’t remember ever reading this, and you’re probably confused as to who the hell is even writing to you, but it’ll all be cleared up by the time you finish this.

            From what I’ve gathered the numerous times we’ve spoken about this, the last thing you remember is going to sleep at your parents’ house before you left for OCS. Some days it changes though, and you remember a little bit more, but most days this is the earliest thing you can remember.

            I’ve tried to compile a photo album of everything important that you’ve forgotten, and everything that’s happened since. I’m sorry its so long. But there’s so much you need to know. So many memories I wish to share with you, so many good things I don’t want you to forget, even though you already have.

            I know it may be a little hard for you to believe. Shit, Dick, I wouldn’t believe this either if I was in your shoes. But I promise this is true. I promise.

            Anne’s number is listed below. Call her if at the end, you still don’t believe me.

Lew.

            Beneath the letter was a photo of Dick standing next to a dark-haired man, both in an army uniform. The man had a sly look on his face, and looked perpetually amused, while Dick looked—happy. Beneath it labeled the other man as Lewis Nixon, and the year as well.

            How could he not remember this?

            He turned the page, and found himself face to face with more photos he didn’t remember. In the same handwriting as before, it began to detail his life, parts he apparently had forgotten. He couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it. He kept on reading, and if it weren’t for the photos, he would have to insist that this was all some sort of elaborate lie. It kept going, and it never seemed to end—pages upon pages detailing things that had happened to him and he apparently had forgotten.

            At one point, he sat back, and stared at the page. The page had a photo of him and Nixon, leaning against one another, their faces inches apart. Dick was flushed in the photo, and Nixon’s hand was covering his cheek.

            Dick nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at the man—Carwood, he told himself, the man’s name was Carwood—and curled his hands into fists on the table. “Do you need to take a break, Dick?” Carwood asked, his voice soft.

            “No,” Dick said quickly, too fast for him to even process the question. “I’m fine.”

            Carwood didn’t look like he believed him, but nonetheless nodded and headed back to the sink. Warren had disappeared from the table as some point, leaving behind scattered pieces of colored papers.

            Dick swallowed, and looked back to the album. Eventually, he managed to make his way through it, and he sat on the last page for a moment, staring at the last photo.

            Again, Carwood approached him, but this time he didn’t touch Dick. “Do you want to call Anne?” he asked, and it took Dick a moment to realize that Carwood had the telephone in his outstretched hand.

            Dick stared at the phone, his heart racing in his chest and his hands incredibly sweaty. Part of him wanted too, just for the additional confirmation. But there had been pictures of him, Nixon, and Anne in the photo album, multiple photos, and he felt that at this point, calling her would just be doing nothing more than bothering her.

            “No—no, I’m all right,” he replied, closing the photo album and rubbing his hands across his face. He felt like his head had been stuffed full of cotton from all the information, and it should’ve felt wrong, the information he was given. He should feel like this information didn’t belong to him, but either due to the combination of both the photos and the information given, he couldn’t doubt any of it. It didn’t feel like a story being forced upon him that wasn’t his. Even though he didn’t remember it, it had to be him, the way he was described in the stories was too accurate for this to all be made up. “I’m . . . I’m all right Carwood, thank you.”

            Carwood just smiled weakly, and nodded, before he took the photo album off the table and replaced it with a cup of black coffee.

            The mug warmed his cold hands as he settled back in the chair and closed his eyes. All those stories felt familiar, even though he couldn’t remember anything. He wondered how many times Carwood has had to deal with this, how many times Nix had to deal with this. From the information he had read in the book, Nix had been dealing with this a whole lot longer than Carwood.

            “Where’s—” Dick chewed on his lip. “Where’s Nix?”

            Carwood was at the stove, piling food on a plate, and he didn’t look to Dick as he said, “They’re outside. One of the mares was foaling last night and it has apparently been a rough one.”

            Dick wondered for a minute who they were, before he remembered from the album. Ron and Carwood had moved in with them a couple of years ago and had been helping out at the farm ever since. “Oh. I see,” he said as Carwood set the plate in front of him.

            Carwood sat at the chair across from him, and sipped from his own cup of coffee, while Dick picked at his food. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact Carwood and Ron abandoned their own lives because Dick was basically useless now. If he had to spend an hour every morning remembering his own life, how could he be helpful in any meaningful way? Nix couldn’t wake Dick up in the middle of the night for help, because Dick would have to spend time trying to remember.

            “Would you like to go outside and see?” Carwood asked. “Last I heard, they were finally making some headway with it. I’m sure Nix will glad to see you’re up and awake.”

            “No—no, I’m good. I will just—” he paused, “Get in the way. I’ll just wait to see Nix when he gets inside.”

            There was that sad smile again, but Carwood nodded nonetheless and dropped it, leaving Dick to his own thoughts.

            He supposed he should have thought it was odd, to wake up and read all that information about himself. It should be odder that he was, apparently, married to another man. Technically they weren’t, but there was a ring on Dick’s finger nonetheless, so he had to assume they were pretty serious about one another. He had never found himself attracted to another man before, not from what he remembered at least, but when he had looked at Nix in the photos, he had felt affection towards him.

            Dick ate his breakfast slowly, thinking about nothing in particular but yet also about everything. Part of him wished that Carwood would talk some more, or at the very least Warren would come back into the room. Or maybe he shouldn’t, Dick thought, maybe it would be better for him to not be around a bunch of queers. But then he chastised himself for that thought. From what the book had said, Warren’s mother was okay with him being around them. While Carwood and Warren’s mother were estranged, she was, miraculously, supportive of Carwood and Ron’s relationship, and wanted Warren to know his father.

            Dick just hoped that someday she wouldn’t come to regret it.

            He put down his fork and slowly chewed on his bottom lip, staring at the remaining food on his plate. He wondered just what his relationship with these people had been like before. He knew that they liked him at the very least, but it seemed they had given up their life to live here with him and Nix.

            Why would they do that?

            His head began to ache a bit and he rubbed at his temples, taking a deep breath as he did so. He hated that Carwood was attempting to discretely look at him out of the corner of his eye. He would much rather the other man just full-on stare at him then act like he was oblivious.

Dick rose to his feet, taking his plate with him. After a few moments of struggling to find where the trash can was hidden—who places their trash can in the cupboard under the sink?—he dumped the remainder of his food and rinsed the plate. The entire time, Carwood said nothing.

Dick looked out the window and into the backyard, where he spotted a herd of horses scattered along the field. He squinted, and saw Warren all bundled up, standing on one of the fence rails and peering out at the horses, a large black dog lying on the ground beneath his feet. For some unknown reason, he began to feel guilty.

            He looked down at his hands, still submerged in water, before he slowly pulled away and wiped his hands off with a towel. Carwood was still sitting at the table, although now he was beginning to organize Warren’s papers. Dick wasn’t sure what to say. What could they talk about? What did they talk about? It unnerved him to know that anything he could think to talk about was probably something they had discussed before.

            He sat back down at the table, hands wrapping around the mug. The coffee was lukewarm at this point, but he gulped it down, trying to wrack his brain for something to do, something to say.

            Was this how our days go? He thought, Oh, how unfortunate for them.

            What a burden he was.

            Dick looked up as he heard loud barking and the sound of boots on the front porch, before the door swung open. In came the sound of people stomping their boots, and talking in low voices to one another. Nails clicked loudly against the hardwood floors, and then the dark dog appeared, immediately making a bee-line for him. She put her paws up on his shoulders, licking at his chin, and he was so stunned by the suddenness of it that he could do nothing more than sit there with his hands raised.

            Ezra pulled back, blinking at him and panting hard. Dick snapped out of it, and patted her on the head, before he gently pushed her back. She fell back onto her haunches, resting her head in his lap, and looking up at him with her wide brown eyes. He patted her head again, smiling down at her, trying to ignore the nervousness in his gut.

            He looked up as two men entered the kitchen, brushing snow off and still removing parts of their outerwear. Their coats, hats, and gloves had long since been shed, but they were still wearing long coveralls. Dick blinked as he watched Ron run a hand through his long, wet hair, and Nix scrubbed his hands over his reddened cheeks. It took a moment for either of them to realize that it wasn’t just Carwood at the table.

            Nix froze, blinking at him, while Ron muttered, “Good morning,” and began to strip of his coveralls.

            Dick spun the ring around his finger, looking at Nix through his eyelashes. Nix looked nervous, like he wasn’t so sure what kind of reaction he was going to get from Dick. That hurt—what had he done in the past to make Nix look that way?

            “So,” Dick began slowly, running his teeth over his bottom lip. “You’re my husband?”

            Nix blinked, and looked sheepish. “I suppose so.”

            “I suppose I should kiss you good morning, then?”

            Startled, a laugh escaped Nix. “If you want too.” The tension around Nix’s eyes vanished, although it was unknown if the stress was there due to the birth of the foal, or due to Dick.

            Dick motioned for Nix to come closer, and Nix shuffled over, clumps of snow falling off of his coveralls and onto the linoleum. Dick shivered as Nix’s cold hand touched his cheek. “Sorry,” Nix apologized as he leaned down, his breath ghosting across Dick’s face.

            “It’s all right,” Dick murmured, ignoring the nervous shaking of his hands. He grabbed Nix by the lapels, and tugged him down into a kiss. It should’ve felt weird, and he should’ve felt unpracticed, but instead their mouths slotted together easily, like they’ve done it a hundred times before. It was like a reflex, every muscle in his body seeming to remember things he didn’t.

            His hands tightened on the collar of Nix’s shirt, and he sighed into the kiss before the man pulled back, their foreheads resting together. “You didn’t have to kiss me,” Nix muttered, and Dick found himself opening his eyes, staring at Nix’s face. His eyes were still closed, and his breath stuttered a bit as his thumb traced Nix’s cheek.

            “You’re my husband,” Dick said, quietly, “Why wouldn’t I?”

            “Well—” Nix started to say, then paused. “I just wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to kiss me.”

            “Well, I do.” Dick made sure to say it firmly, and his hands left Nix’s collar to cup his face. Nix finally opened his eyes, and gave Dick such a warm, loving smile, that it made his heart ache. What had he had done, what had he said in the past, that made this man feel this way?

            “How did you sleep?” Nix continued, removing Dick’s hands from his neck as he took a step back. He held his hands in his own cold ones for a moment, before he pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles and stepped back, beginning to remove his wet coveralls. The kitchen, Dick noticed, was suddenly absent of both Carwood and Ron.

            “Good,” Dick began, before he reconsidered, “At least, I think I slept okay.” Nix let out a small chuckle, and attempted to avoid the puddles that had pooled beneath him. Nix was dressed in a nice pair of work pants, and a dark green and blue flannel shirt. A white long sleeve peaked out from beneath the collar and out of his shirt sleeves. He looked rather handsome in it.

            Dick blushed at the thought.

            “How is the foal?” Dick asked, attempting to distract himself from those thoughts. Strange, how this morning he would have thought himself going crazy if he had those thoughts.

            “He’s doing all right,” Nix said, picking up the coveralls and folding them over his forearm. “Already an ornery little bastard, but his mother will set him straight.”

            Dick watched as Nix hung up his coveralls next to Ron’s. He listened for sound of the others in the house, and found it utterly silent. He looked down at Ezra, who was still looking up at him with her big, round eyes. Her tail started to wag when she noticed he was looking.

            “You okay?”

            Dick looked up. Color was starting to return to Nix’s face, and he looked like quite a sight. It was odd. In the photo album, Nix had been wearing expensive looking clothing after they had returned from the war. He didn’t look like the same man, not in his well-worn work clothes, and beard longer than it had ever been in any of the photos. “I’m all right.”

            Dick scratched at his cheek, blinking as he felt the tug of his nails through his beard. He pulled his hand back for a moment, before touching his cheek again, gently tugging at his facial hair. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, that’s for sure.

            Nix caught sight of him, and chuckled. “Was wondering how long it would take you to notice that.”

            “My face was beginning to feel itchier than normal,” Dick said, and grinned a bit when Nix barked out a laugh.

            “Well,” Nix patted his thigh, and reluctantly, Ezra abandoned Dick’s side, nuzzling her face into Nix’s outstretched palm. “We should go get you cleaned up then.”

            “I can shave myself,” Dick said with a frown.

            The look he received told him otherwise. “Look, you can shave on your own, but you’re taking all my enjoyment away by not letting me do it.”

            “All right. Who am I to argue?”

            Nix grinned wolfishly. “There’s a bathroom attached to our bedroom. I’ll be up in a moment.”

            Dick rubbed at his cheek, his fingers digging into his beard hair as he headed upstairs. He wondered what had been going on these last couple of days for him to not shave. There was no way for him to know unless he asked Nix or one of the others, and he didn’t want to bother them anymore than he probably already was. He never had his beard this long before.

            He jumped as he saw his reflection in the mirror. He recognized himself, without a doubt, but the beard and longer hair certainly sent him for a loop. How had he not noticed that his hair was brushing his ears? Probably the same way he failed to realize that he now had a beard.

            He studied his face. He was the same, just older, and obviously had made different style choices that he wasn’t so sure he agreed with.

            Maybe the you from yesterday didn’t mind, he tried to reason, after all, how would you know what the hell you were thinking?

            Rubbing at his cheeks, a shadow darkened the doorway. He glanced over his shoulder to look at Nix. They exchanged a small, awkward smile, before Nix motioned for him to sit on the edge of the bath tub.

            “Where did the others go?” Dick asked as he sat on the lip. “It’s rather quiet.”

            Nix began to rummage through the medicine cabinet, pulling out shaving materials that were all too familiar. The cream was even the same he had used when he was younger. Some things never changed, he supposed.

            “Carwood had promised to take Warren sledding once we were done with the mare.” Nix turned, the brush in hand. Dick held still as Nix lightly gripped his chin, and began to swirl the brush along his cheeks in gentle circles. It was rather soothing, and Dick felt his eyes sliding shut.

            His brow furrowed a bit. “Then why did Ron remove his coveralls?”

            A small chuckle. “I don’t think Warren would appreciate riding down a sled with a man who smells like birth, afterbirth, and a barn.”

            Dick hummed, scrunching up his nose as the bristles tickled his upper lip, and tried valiantly not to sneeze. “No. I guess he wouldn’t.”

            Then they went quiet, nothing but the sound of the brush rubbing against his miniscule beard before it stopped. “Shit,” Nix muttered, “Probably should’ve trimmed it first. Not sure if the razor will go through it that well.”

            “Take your time,” was all Dick could offer, because aside from rinsing his face and starting over, he really had no idea how they could fix that. Nix didn’t respond for a long while, before he muttered an ‘all right’, and gently grabbed Dick by the chin. Dick tried to remain impossibly still as Nix began to slowly drag the blade across his skin.

            Nix took his advice, and pulled the razor across his cheeks with small, delicate strokes. After every one, he ran the razor beneath the constant running water, tapped it a bit against the side of the sink, before returning it to where he left off.

            The silence allowed Dick to think. It wasn’t a pleasant thing, because every time he began to go down a particular line of thought, he would end up flustered and confused, immediately backtracking to safer thoughts.

            There were many things he wanted to confront, but he didn’t know where to begin, or whether he had already talked to Nix about these things. He couldn’t imagine how boring it’d be, having the same conversations day after day. Oh, how did any of these people put up with him—

            “I can hear the gears in your head turning,” Nix said, jerking Dick out of his ruminations. Luckily, Nix was holding the razor underneath the running water, so Dick didn’t have to worry about getting a nick to the cheek. “Want to let me in on what you’re thinking about?”

            Dick opened his eyes, and took a deep breath, looking up at Nix. The man was focused on getting the thick ginger hair out of the blades, and didn’t seem to notice that Dick was now staring intently at his face.

            When Nix turned around, he arched an eyebrow questioningly. “What’s that look for?”

            Once more, Dick jerked, and flushed when Nix softly laughed at him. “I just—” Dick paused. “You just really do know me, don’t you?”

            “Of course, I do,” Nix said, turning his gaze back onto the razor. There was a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but there was something sad in it, too. Dick hated that he had put that there. “Even before we went to Toccoa, we had spent so much time together, it was impossible for me not to know all of your tells.”

             Dick blinked up at him, studying the man’s face as Nix turned, firmly grasping his chin again and pulling the razor over his skin in smooth, efficient motions. He knew that they had been together—if that was even the proper word for it—for a long time. There had been awkwardly exchanged kisses during OCS, although they didn’t do anything more until they reached Toccoa. There had been descriptions of just how close they had been, but reading it and experiencing it were two different things.

            “Dick.”

            He jerked. “Huh?”

            An amused smile was playing at Nix’s lips. “I asked you what you were thinking about.”

            He wanted to say that he never had anybody in his life who knew him so well, who could read his miniscule facial expressions and tell when something was plaguing him. But he supposed Nix already knew that, and had been told that many times.

            “Well,” he began, paused, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth until Nix’s thumb subtly pressed against it, and the razor was against his face again. Only once Nix started to rinse it underneath the flowing water did he start up again, “I was . . .” A pause. “In the book, you said that in Bastogne, I would shave even when it was so cold, I could barely move my hands.”

            Nix hummed. He frowned a bit at the razor, before he banged it against the sink of the sink.

            “I just,” Dick stopped, holding painfully still as Nix gently swiped the razor over his chin, “was wondering what had occurred over the last couple of days for me not to shave.” From the length of his beard, he knew it had to be more than a couple of days of him not shaving.

            Nix paused, the razor hanging over his lip, before he lowered it, and started with the other side. Dick watched him bang the razor against the side of the sink with a little more force than necessary.

            “Nix?”

            The man’s gaze was pinched, and he took a deep breath, before he turned back to Dick. There was a slight tremor in his hands, and Nix cursed, shaking his hand out a moment, before he gripped Dick gently by the chin again. “I guess you just weren’t feeling like it these last couple of days,” Nix replied with a slight shrug.

            Dick frowned, which was immediately smoothed by Nix pressing a kiss to his brow. Not shaving for a couple of days didn’t sound like him, but who even was he anymore? Maybe it was normal for him now to go a couple of days without shaving. It didn’t feel like him, though, not at all.

            A warm towel was pressed against his cheeks, and Dick looked up at Nix. He received an awkward smiled as Nix began to stroke the soft fabric across his cheeks, gently wiping any hairs or remnants of shaving cream. His face felt weird, and now that he no longer had that extra layer, the cold air nipped at his skin.

            “Maybe I should’ve kept the beard,” Dick said, as Nix pulled the towel away and rung it out over the sink. He hadn’t even noticed that the other man had put away all the shaving supplies.

            The man chuckled. “Why do you think I haven’t gotten rid of this yet?” Nix motioned to his own beard, which was thicker than Dick’s had been.

            Dick ran his hands over his smooth cheeks, before his hands dipped into his hair, still unsure about just how long it was. “I guess I shouldn’t ask you to cut my hair then.”

            A barked laugh escaped Nix. “Even if you did, I’d tell you no. That’s Kitty’s domain.”

            An arched eyebrow. “Kitty?”

            “Harry Welsh’s wife,” Nix supplied, “Great woman. She’ll probably be offended I didn’t write about her, though.”

            “I suppose she would be,” Dick rose to his feet, running his fingers over his cheeks, “Considering the amount of paragraphs you wrote about Harry talking about his wife, but never mentioning her name.”

            Nix flinched. “I should fix that, huh?” Nix swept the towel around the bowl, with the faucet running on low pressure, sweeping the remaining hairs down the drain.

            Dick just smiled a bit at him, before he carefully picked his way into the bedroom, and began to search for some clothes to change into. It was easy to decipher which ones were his and which ones were Nix’s. Dick figured he must’ve lost some weight as he was not as active as he used to be, but not nearly two sizes. Nonetheless, when he slipped the shirt over his head and pulled the waistband over his hips, they fit.

            Dick frowned down at himself. He was not the same man he was in those photos, he already knew that, but he was starting to feel like he was not the same man at all.

            Dick jerked his head up as Nix entered the bedroom. “I’ve got to go into town,” Nix said, “Got to let the vet know about the foal, and that he’ll be needing to come out soon. Would you like to go?”

            Worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, Dick found himself nodding. “I suppose . . .” he drew off, then glanced up at Nix. “May I call my sister before we head out?”

            Nix was busy fiddling with his sleeve cuffs. “Sure,” he said, “I should probably go out and check on the mother and son before we leave. Too many things can happen after birth.”

            “Should we be leaving them alone, then?”

            Nix cocked his head, before he pulled back his cuff, and peered at his watch. “They probably won’t be sledding much longer. Warren will probably grow cold or bored before we’re even halfway to town.”

            Dick turned, and looked himself over in the mirror. “All right.” They would know better than him at this point. Every instinct told him to not leave the newborn foal and the new mother alone, but they’ve probably done this many times before.

            Not like you’d remember if something bad happened tomorrow, anyways—

            Dick firmly shut down that thought as he followed Nix downstairs. Nix slipped his coat on and into his winter boots while Dick carefully punched his sister’s number in. He watched as Nix’s figure disappeared towards the barn as the phone rang. Ezra appeared as a black dot against the pristine snow, practically galloping through the near knee-deep snow.

            Then, someone picked up the phone.

            Some part of him was still surprised to hear Anne’s voice on the other end.

            “Anne?” he called rather dumbly, and he felt himself flushing. Immediately, he looped his index finger in the telephone cord, and felt rather nervous about the whole thing.

            “I was wondering if you were going to call today,” Anne said, and yes, oh yes, that was his little sister. He could recognize her voice anywhere. “We haven’t spoken these last couple of days.”

            Dick blinked, and suddenly, everything else he wanted to talk to her about was put by the wayside. “We haven’t? Why not?”

            “We just haven’t had the time.” That sounded practiced, extremely rehearsed. “Things have gotten awfully busy this time of year; you see—”

            “Is that really why, or is that just what you all have decided to tell me?”

            Anne’s silence was louder than any explanation she could give.

            He had begun to wonder what he was really like most days. Not shaving, and then the apprehension Nix had shown him when he first walked into the house; his parents and Anne had always joked about him being quiet, but one of the hardest people to live with. Surely, not being able to remember anything from leaving for OCS onwards would make him difficult most days.

            At her continued silence, Dick huffed, “Anne.”

            “Yes, Dick?” her voice was soft, almost placating in nature. It reminded him of their mother, and it just forced him to remember how much he had lost.

            He scrubbed a hand over his face, pushing his hair out of his face. “I’m not—” he paused, then reconsidered his approach. “I’m not always pleasant to be around, am I?” It had to be true. It was the only way to explain the way the people in this house reacted to him, particularly Nix. Dick touched his cheek again. He probably couldn’t be trusted with razors, either.

            “Oh, Dick,” Anne said, sighing softly. Dick watched as Nix disappeared into the barn. “I can’t—” A pause, and he could practically see her eyes searching the ceiling as she tried to think of something to say. “We all have our bad days, and I don’t live there. I can’t tell you what you’re like most days, because I don’t know.” That was a flat-out lie, Dick didn’t even need to see her face.

            “I see.”

            She sighed again. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s nothing you can control, and the boys in that house have their ways of making your bad days good. Sometimes, days just don’t go the way you want them too.”

            “Have I—” he paused, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I’ve never hurt anyone, have I?”

            “What? No, of course not.”

            Dick closed his eyes, scratching at his cheek. He really shouldn’t, not when the skin was so sensitive, but he found himself digging his nails in as hard as he could. “Then why—” he paused. “Then why did Nix look at me this morning like he wasn’t so sure what to expect?”

            “I’m not Nix,” Anne pointed out, “So I can’t tell you why he acted that way. That’s something for you to ask him.”

            Dick looked out across the field. Ezra was sitting by the barn door, her eyes pricked and gaze traveling across the empty land. “This just—” he dug his incisors into his cheeks. “It just seems like a lot. They’ve already given up so much for me.”

            “I know you don’t remember it, but you gave up a lot for them, too.”

            Dick closed his eyes. “I don’t even remember what I gave up for them.”

            “No shit. But you did, you gave those men and Easy Company everything you had and then some. They wouldn’t have abandoned their lives and moved out there if they didn’t love and care for you.” Anne then let out a small chuckle, and Dick frowned at that. “I know you think you’re somehow abusing their kindness, but regardless, they would have done this for you.”

            Dick’s eyes looked to the barn once again, just in time to see Nix slink out and push the barn doors closed. Nix knelt in the snow, his gloved hands burying in Ezra’s fur. “Were—” he swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous, “Were Nix and I happy, before all this?”

            Silence rang over the line, and for a moment, Dick wondered if they lost the connection, before Anne barked out a laugh. “Oh, Dickie,” she said, her voice suddenly growing soft, “I had never seen two people happier together. I’m sure Nix didn’t put this in that book of yours, but you’re the entire reason he got sober.”

            Stunned, Dick blurted, “Nix was a drunk?”

            “Sure was.” At Dick’s silence, she hastily continued, “Look, Dick, don’t hold it against him. He worked hard to get sober for you, and he would probably hate that I reminded you of it.”

            Dick swallowed as he watched Nix dig a stick out of the snow, and toss it into the distance for Ezra. Never in a million years did he ever see himself with a drunk.

            “Right,” Dick said, and running a hand through his hair again. “Look, Annie, I got to go. We’ve got to head into town, and Nix is starting to get impatient.”

            He could practically see Anne’s disbelief, but thankfully she didn’t say anything. “All right. Look, Dick, just forget what I said about Nix being a drunk. That’s not fair to him. Don’t—don’t hold it against him today. He doesn’t deserve that.”

            “I won’t. I’ll—” Rubbing at his eye sockets, Dick contemplated what he could do. He could just ignore it, or he could do something very uncomfortable and confront it. He wasn’t sure if either option was necessarily a good idea. “I’ll just ask him about some things. Even though I’m sure I’ve asked him it a million times.”

            “Dick—”

            “Goodbye, Annie.”

            She sighed. “Goodbye, Dick. I love you.”

            “Love you too,” Dick said before he hurriedly hung up the phone. He took a step back and buried his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. It’s no big deal, he told himself, not at all. None of it.

            The kitchen door swung open, and Dick jerked. How had he not realized that the other kitchen door led outside?

            In came Ezra and Nix; Ezra eagerly shaking out her pelt and spraying clumps of snow everywhere. She brushed her wet, sticky nose against Dick’s thigh before she raced to the living room.

            “Ready to go?” Nix asked, rubbing his gloved hands together. Snow clung to his jeans, and absolutely covered his work boots. Already the snow was melting, turning the fabric a dark, dingy color.

            “Yes,” Dick said, even though he felt a little sick. He folded his right hand into a fist, and pressed it against the space between his brows, taking a deep breath. He didn’t notice Nix approaching, not until he felt a cold hand on his shoulder.

            “You okay?”

            Dick wanted to press himself against Nix’s chest, wanted to tuck his head beneath his chin and try to forget about what Anne had all but confirmed. It certainly explained the apprehension that had been in the air while he had read the book, and the unsure looks he received from Nix when he had originally entered the house.

            Why did Nix stay?

            “Dick?”

            Realizing he had been quiet for too long, he grasped Nix by the collar of his coat, and tugged him into a kiss. Nix let out a surprised sound, but returned the kiss, gloved hand coming up to cup the back of Dick’s head. When Dick pulled away, Nix let out a small, disapproving sound, but didn’t move to recapture Dick’s mouth. “I’m fine.”

            It was the last thing they said to each other in the house. Nix bundled Dick up, and Dick did nothing more than stand there, staring off into the distance as he did so. He didn’t even realize they had walked out to the truck until it rumbled to life beneath him, nor did he realize that Ezra had somehow joined them, as she was now lying in the space between them, tail in Nix’s lap, and head in Dick’s.

            He dug his hands into her fur, got frustrated when he couldn’t feel her silky fur through her gloves, and practically tossed the offending accessories onto the dashboard. Nix glanced at him, but didn’t say anything.

            “How long is it to the city?” Dick asked, rubbing his hands along Ezra’s cheeks.

            “An hour.” Dick choked on his breath, and Nix glanced at him. Dick waved him off, and Nix turned his gaze back onto the road.

            “Why do we live so far away?” Dick asked after a moment of silence.

            “You liked the house and the land,” Nix said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I couldn’t say no to you.”

            “I’m starting to get that impression,” Dick muttered, low under his breath, and he prayed that Nix did not hear him. Either way, the man didn’t react.

            Silence took over the cab, and Dick couldn’t tell if it was comfortable silence or not, because Nix seemed unbothered, but Dick felt like they were both a hairpin away from exploding. But could just be him, though.

            No. It was most definitely him.

            “What breed are you?” Dick asked, hoping that by asking an innocent question, he’d be able to ease some of the tension out of his chest. At the moment, he felt like he was being strangled by some unknown force.

            Having Ezra on his lap certainly helped a bit.

            “She’s a Mudi,” Nix said, not even taking his eyes off the road as he reached down to pat Ezra’s rump. Ezra let out an . . . interesting sound, wiggled her butt closer to Nix, and her tail swept along his lap. It was then Dick began to realize that she wasn’t completely black, she just looked that way since her fur had been soaked. As it begun to dry, Dick took note of the gray marbling that appeared in patches along her fur.

            Dick arched an eyebrow. “A what?”

            Nix chuckled. “A Mudi,” he said, as he tapped a cigarette out of the carton. “A Hungarian herding dog.”

            “Hungarian, huh?” He cupped her face in his hands, and raised her head. She woofed, and stretched her neck out to lick at his chin. “How’d we get her?”

            “Uh,” Nix drew it out, like he was truly searching for the answer, then he let out an awkward chuckle, “You’d have to ask Spark—Ron, I mean. He just kind of showed up with her. But she’s been smitten with you since day one.”

            From the way she was looking at him, he had no doubt about it. He patted her head and when he motioned for her to lay down, she did so without complaint.

            Dick began to stroke Ezra’s ears, staring down at her sweet eyes. She looked happy, and stared at Dick like he was the same man she saw every day. At the very least, if he was nasty to the others, he wasn’t nasty to her.

            “Am I . . .” Dick began to say, and then abruptly stopped. He hadn’t meant to say any of this aloud, and hadn’t wanted to draw any attention to himself before he was ready. He took a shuddering breath as Ezra licked his hand. “Am I nasty to you, Nix?” He began to clench his hands into fists until he remembered he was stroking Ezra’s delicate ears, so instead he dug his teeth into his cheek. “Well, I suppose I have been nasty to you. I can’t imagine I have always been so kind to you when this morning, you were looking at me like you didn’t know what you were gonna get.”

            “Dick—”

            “—And don’t tell me that I’m fine. That I’m just being overdramatic or you’re stressed or—” Dick flinched. “I would just like the truth. I mean, I’m sure we’ve spoken about this many times before, but I can’t stand not knowing. Not when you—you looked like I was—” He broke off, biting down on his tongue, surprised by the tears that had sprung to his eyes. Why was he on the brink of tears? He wouldn’t even remember this conversation tomorrow. He wouldn’t remember any of it.

            “Hey—hey,” Nix said, his voice growing soft as he reached over and took one of Dick’s hands, clenching it firmly. “Dick, there’s no need to work yourself up over this. It’s all right.”

            “It’s not,” he croaked. “Not when you care so much about me and I—I treat you like—” Ezra whined licking at his free hand. “I’m sorry.”

            “I know you are, and I know that when you do have your bad days, it’s not—” Nix let out a soft sigh. “Look, if I had to wake up every morning, not knowing who I was or where I was or who these people were, I would have some bad days, too. None of this is something any of us have held against you.”

            “But how can you stand it?” Dick asked, voice wavering. “How can you stand it, knowing that every day you’re going to have to wake up, wait for me to read that book, and wait for me to decide how I’m going to react to everything?”

            “Because I love you, Dick,” Nix’s voice was incredibly soft, “Because I love you, and I can’t imagine waking up without you. I’ll take you anyway I can get you.”

            Dick sniffed, swiping his nose against his sleeve. It felt wrong, incredibly and deeply wrong to know he had said and done things to Nix, to Carwood, to Ron and he would never remember nor know what he had done.

            “But I—” Dick pressed his palm against his mouth, and took another deep breath. It made him feel worse, those deep, controlled breaths, but it was better than nothing. “I have been nasty to you, haven’t I? Been nasty to all of you.”

            “Dick, sweetheart,” Nix began, slowing the truck down to a crawl before putting it in park. They were at a four-way stop, and there was no sign of anyone being even relatively close. No dust clouds in the distance, no rumbling of engines. Just the two of them in the cab of this truck, with music playing quietly from the radio. Nix’s gloved hands cupped his cheeks, forcing him to turn and look at him. Dick’s eyes were watering, and he knew without looking that his face had gone all blotchy. “Dick, of course you’ve had bad days. We all do. Like I said before, you’re going to have rough days when you wake up and don’t remember anything. None of us hold it against you.”

            “I—”

            “—And we all know that when you have your good days, you’re going to feel bad about it,” Nix interrupted, shaking his head and letting out a small scoff. Regardless, there was a small smile on his face, and his thumbs stroked Dick’s cheekbones. “So, stop apologizing for things out of control, and let’s have a nice day, all right?” When Dick swallowed heavily and managed to nod, Nix smiled, pressing their foreheads together. Dick shuddered when their cold noses brushed together. “You gonna be okay if I start driving?”

            “Yes.”

            “Good,” Nix pressed a soft kiss to his nose, his beard tickling Dick’s sensitive skin, before he sat back in the driver’s seat and pulled the car out of park. Still, no one had passed them in the time they had been parked there. “Besides, even on your worst days, you’re still a pleasure to be around, Dick.”

            Dick gave a wobbly smile, which then turned into a genuine one when Ezra sat up on his lap and began to lick at his cheeks. He allowed her to attack his face for a moment, before he once more commanded her to lie back down. “Then why did . . .” He paused. “Then why did you look like you were scared about what I was going to do?”

            He should stop prodding at it, stop making things awkward between him and Nix, but he couldn’t help it. It seemed his mouth had a mind of its own, moving without Dick’s input. He found himself biting at his tongue, but it did little to stop the flow of conversation.

            Apparently, Dick enjoyed hurting himself and Nix, by making Nix talk about some rather uncomfortable topics.

            Nix scratched at his cheek, the unlit cigarette making a reappearance. Dick blinked. Where had it gone during that whole thing? Nonetheless, it still hung from Nix’s bottom lip, unlit. “Well . . .” He ran his hand over his hair, which Dick noticed was actually taken care of and shown proper attention, and chewed a bit on the filter. Dick couldn’t imagine the tobacco tasted any good. “Well—just—” Some weird noises left Nix’s mouth as he struggled to find the right thing to say. Then, he let out a sigh, and slumped back in the seat, Ezra making a sound of discontent as her behind was nudged. “Like I said before, it’s hard to wake up and not know where the hell you are or who we are. Some days, you don’t believe what’s in the album, which is . . . fine, you know. If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t quite believe it, either.” He reached over, grasping Dick’s hand. “I try to keep myself ready for whatever the day may bring, and that’s all right. I’ll do whatever I need too to keep you comfortable, and happy.”

            Dick thought back to the fact that Nix used to be an alcoholic. Was that before or after he lost his memory? Did Nix feel like he had to be sober in order to deal with Dick?

            He looked down at their intertwined hands. How unfortunate for Nix, to be in love with someone like him.

            The vet had been nice. They had met before, and seemed to be appraised of the situation. Ezra liked him well enough, so he supposed that was a good sign. He remembered his childhood dog hating the vet, and had been able to tell when they were heading towards the veterinarian’s office, shaking like a leaf when they would turn onto the vet’s road. Ezra had sidled right up next to his vet, though, so he had to be an all-right man.

            Dick had just stood, quiet like, as Nix and the vet talked. Not like he had anything to add to the conversation, anyways. He hadn’t seen the foal and wouldn’t be able to give any insight on the health of either animal, not to mention he would probably sound like a fool. Ezra, after managing to sneak some treats, kept pressed to Dick’s side, her eyes following Nix and the vet.

            They had been at the vet for an hour, maybe more than that. Dick wasn’t quite sure just how long they were there, but it had felt like a long while. There were talks of checkups and medicine, as well as getting the foal registered. He had questions, especially when they started talking about pedigree and the vet mentioning something about finding a buyer, but he remained quiet, not wanting to interrupt when they were clearly talking business.

            To say the very least, Dick was grateful when they returned home. He and Nix spoke in quiet tones to one another during the hour ride home, Ezra curled up on the seat between them. Dick asked his questions, and Nix answered with practiced ease. He hadn’t gotten that in-depth in the book, saying that they bred horses for farmers, but didn’t include that they also bred show horses.

            Which, Nix regretted to inform him first. No, he dropped that information by telling him about the Andalusian they had sold for twenty-thousand.

            Even still, it stunned Dick to know. There were the draft breeds that they bred and sold to farmers, but Speirs had convinced Nix that it would be a good idea to invest in some horses with good pedigrees. Clearly, it had paid off, and after they had proved themselves as good breeders, they were able to sell the foals for more.

            No wonder it had been easy for Carwood and Ron to decide to abandon their lives to move to the farm. Even if they did care about him like his sister said, the money would be enough to entice anyone.

            Speaking of Carwood and Ron.

            Dick had seen the two figures in the kitchen window when they had pulled into the drive, and the two had looked out at them before disappearing from view. Dick frowned, and glanced at Nix, who didn’t seem to notice. Ezra jumped out, sending a cloud of snow up in the air as she landed. Instead of following them to the house, she made a beeline towards the field, and to the dark figures dotted along the horizon.

            The wind whipped at Dick’s face as they fought their way to the door, and he held in a sigh of relief as the warm air licked at his face when they got inside. Nix looked at him, amused, as he began to remove his outerwear. Ron and Carwood glanced at them, muttering their greetings. Warren was sitting at the table, his mouth wrapped around the lip of a cup filled with hot chocolate, and when he sat back on the seat, there was a line of foam on his upper lip.

             “You’re back!” Warren exclaimed.

            Dick rubbed at his cheeks with his gloved hands, before he slowly began to strip. He flexed his fingers, hoping to get some warmth back in them. Dick stepped into the kitchen, and looked around. It seemed they had interrupted their dinner preparation, as the oven was on, and there was a pot over one of the burners. Carwood was standing in front of a cutting board and was wearing an apron. Ron leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at Warren, who went back to slurping at his hot chocolate.

            “Warren,” Ron chastised. Immediately, Warren looked sheepish, and sat back, swiping at his mouth. It seemed Ron hadn’t been helpful at with the preparation of dinner, and had been a distraction. “What did the vet say?”

            “He’ll be able to come out next Wednesday, not a day before,” Nix said, ruffling Warren’s hair as he headed towards the coffee pot. He took a sniff, arched an eyebrow, then shrugged and poured himself a cup. “Want some hot chocolate, Dick?”

            “Sure,” he said, rubbing his hands together as he watched the other adults. After giving Dick his mug, Nix leaned back against the counter and began to talk to Ron about what they’d do till then. He heard Nix mention posting an ad about the foal to get the word out at the very least, and get some buyers lined up, while Ron just wanted to call the people that they knew would be interested in it.

            Dick stood, unsure of where his place was in all of this, before he finally just swallowed his pride with a gulp of hot chocolate, and placed it on the table. “Need some assistance?” he asked Carwood, hoping that he hadn’t guessed wrong, and on his good days assisted whoever was cooking.

            Instead of telling him he didn’t need to, or to just relax, Carwood smiled at him, and moved over. Quickly and efficiently, Carwood explained what needed to be done, and Dick got to work. They worked quietly, only conversing when necessary.

            Their nice lull was interrupted by the scrapping of chairs and the rustling of clothes. Dick turned and saw Ron and Nix getting their coats on again.

            “Where are you going now?” Carwood asked with a sigh, not even bothering to turn around.

            “Just going to check on mom and son,” Nix replied with a wave of his hand, “It won’t take too long.”

            “It better not. I’m not going to be keeping it warm for you.”

            “We all know that’s not the case, Carwood,” Ron said, and Dick watched Carwood open his mouth, before the man just sighed and shook his head. “We won’t be long.”

            The door creaked and Dick shivered as a gust of cold air swept into the house. Warren let out a whine, “It’s so cold.”

            “If you’re cold, go upstairs and put on a sweater,” Carwood said, easily slicing through the potato in in his hand. Dick ran his thumbs over the bell pepper in his hands, before putting it back under the steady stream of water.

            Warren started to say something, but then let out a tired sigh and slid off his chair, heading upstairs. Dick turned back to the sink, placing the bell pepper on the counter before he grabbed another. Carwood let out a soft sigh. “Are you all right?” Dick asked, noticing the subtle stress lines on his face.

            “Hm?” he glanced at Dick, before he turned back to what he was doing, and let out another sigh. “Yes. I’m fine.”

            “You just seem a little stressed.”

            Carwood cracked a small smile. “We’ve had him a long time due to the weather and for the fact his mother wouldn’t be able to get out of work to take care of him. Not that I mind, just that I can tell Warren is ready to go home.”

            Dick listened, and could hear the sound of Warren moving above them. He wondered if this was really the case. It probably was; Carwood was probably grateful in some way that Warren would be returning to his mother, and he was sure Warren missed her too. He looked down at his hands, and realized he had been washing the same bell pepper for a while. Quickly, he placed it on the counter, and grabbed another.

            Naturally, though, fear crept up his spine, and wondered if he wasn’t part of the reason for Carwood’s stress. Sure, he had Ron and Nix to share the stress with, but it was clear from what Dick had read and just from how the man has acted, that Carwood just cares. It wouldn’t surprise Dick at all if the man took some of the stress on himself.

            “When will he be going home?”

            “Tonight, after dinner,” Carwood took the clean vegetables and began to cut them. “It’ll give them time to spend together before school resumes on Monday.”

            Dick looked down into the sink, watching as the dirt swirled along the base before sliding into the drain.

            “Come on,” Carwood said, stopping Dick’s train of thought before it could even fully develop. “No use in wasting water. I got more for you to do.”

            “Warren!” Carwood called as Dick set the table. “Come down for dinner!” A groan came from upstairs, but a ‘coming, papa’ was shouted down nonetheless. Carwood joined Dick in setting up the table, and he let out a sigh. “I should probably send Warren out to go get them. So much for it not taking too long.”

            “I can go get them,” Dick said, as he heard Warren practically flop down the staircase. He aborted his path towards the counter and instead headed towards the back door. He picked up his coat, and was already slipping into it when Carwood spoke.

            “You really don’t need to do that; Warren can brave the cold.”

            “It’s fine, Carwood, honestly,” Dick dug into his pockets and pulled out of his gloves, not noticing the looks exchanged by father and son. “I’ll be right back.”

            Dick slipped into the cold, surprised by the fact he wasn’t greeted by Ezra. It was dark, and the further he got from the house, the better his eyes adjusted. He squinted, and was able to make out her dark form, or at least what he thought was her form. Honestly, it could be a horse and he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. He just hoped she was okay.

            The cold snow licked at his jeans, and he suddenly wished he had put on his coveralls. He stepped into the path that was left behind by Ron and Nix, which only made it significantly easier to walk. His legs would be frozen by the time he got back inside.

            The barn door was cracked open, and he wondered, briefly, why they would do such a thing. Wouldn’t it be dangerous for the newborn? Surely it would get cold—

            “Don’t look at me like that, Ron.”

            Dick paused, ears straining. He was sure that was what he had heard. Carefully, he made his way towards the door, and to keep his shadow from falling across the barn door. He slowed his steps, hoping that the crunching couldn’t be heard inside.

            “I’m not looking at you in anyway.”

            Dick frowned, tilting his head a bit. He listened, and heard Nix reply, “You are. I’ve already said too much as it is. Let’s just—let’s just go back inside.”

            “You need to talk about it, Nix. You shouldn’t keep it in.”

            Dick heard a tired sigh. “It’s stupid for me to even be complaining, or talking about this. It’s kind of dumb, you know? I’m not the one who loses their memory every day. I shouldn’t get to complain.”

            “If Dick could remember everything—”

            “Don’t,” Nix choked out, “Don’t do that, Ron. That’s not—that’s not fair and you know it.”

            “It doesn’t matter about being fair. What matters is you actually fuckin’ talking. It’s part of the reason we’re here. Not just to help you out with the farm, we’re here to give you a break.”

            The barn was silent for a long time, and Dick pressed his back against the barn wall, slowly lowering himself until he was in a crouched position. It wasn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world, and he knew he should make his presence known, or at the very least go back inside. This wasn’t a conversation for his ears, and yet, like a stubborn child, he stayed.

            It was a long time before anyone spoke. “He—” Nix paused, and Dick could almost imagine what he looked like: eyes closed, face pressed into his hands, shoulders tight. “In the car today, he asked me if he’s ever harmed anyone. He started crying, you know, and I think it shocked him as much as it shocked me.” His voice towards the end grew tight, and Dick had to strain his ears to listen. “What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to look at him, see how distraught he is about the idea of him hurting one of us . . . how am I supposed to react to that? What am I supposed to do?”

            Dick rubbed his hands together, and stared at the ground between his feet.

            “I hope you didn’t tell him the truth.”

            “Of course, I fucking didn’t Ron!” Nix snapped. “Fuck, he was emotional over the idea of what he possibly did? Can you even fucking imagine how he’d react if he knew about the violent days, where he’s unable to be reasoned with, where we have to sedate him? The days where he refuses to believe what’s in the book, and calls all of us nasty names? If I had told him, it would—it would have ruined today, Ron.” A shaky, loud intake of breath. “It’s been the first time in days where he hasn’t rejected me or the information given. The first time he’s looked at me and I could see—” A pause. Then a sigh. “You know what I mean.”

            “I do. But you know what the doctor said,” Ron started, his voice low, “There’s highs and lows and no way for anyone to know how he’ll act the next day. You can’t hold it against him, for wanting you to fill in the information that’s still missing for him.”

            It was quiet in the barn again, and only occasionally there was the sound of a horse whinnying. Probably the mother, if Dick had to guess.

            “He . . .” Nix started, “He asked me how I could still love him. As if I could ever look away, but he doesn’t know that. He doesn’t remember all we gave up and did for each other. That just—chews me up inside. That he’ll quite possibly never remember us.”

            He heard movement inside the barn, and wondered if Ron was moving to comfort Nix. He wished he could see what was going on inside.

            “I could never stop loving him,” Nix choked, “Even during those days where he looks at me like I’m nothing more than shit on the bottom of his boot, I’ll never stop. I know the other guys think of me as a fool, but I can’t, Ron.”

            “No one is blaming you this. You know the guys support you.”

            Nix laughed. “That’s funny. I doubt they do. They thought Dick was too good for me before and now they’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop. You know it, I know it—”

            “Nix.”

            Nix stopped talking, and Dick swallowed, hard. He should’ve realized that he had hurt these men in ways he would never remember. Well, he already had realized it, he just hadn’t wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that his temperament was just like when he was a boy, and hadn’t changed; but of course, now that he had no memory of his current life, there was always a chance of him growing violent.

            What else had he done, that Nix hadn’t mentioned?

            “I want him to be happy.” It came out no louder than a whisper, and Dick was surprised he even heard it. His head snapped up, and it honestly scared him. Nix had sounded so honest, so raw and open, that Dick wasn’t sure how to feel. That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Nix just wanted Dick to be happy, and he would never know if he actually achieved his goal, because Dick would never be able to tell him the truth.

            Just like Nix will never be able to tell him the truth.

            Dick scrubbed his cold hands over his face, before he peered between his slightly parted fingers towards the dark woods.

            Wouldn’t it just be better if Dick walked into the forest, and never returned?

            He swayed on his feet, and almost tipped into the snow bank. He didn’t move to attempt to keep his balance, he just found himself rocking until he finally settled back on his heels, his lower back hitting the side of the barn with a dull thud.

            Neither man inside the barn reacted, and probably didn’t even notice. He remained crouched, cold hands pressed against his soft cheeks. They were talking inside, now in such low voices that Dick couldn’t even hear them. The world was muffled, anyways—even the crunching snow didn’t sound real. He felt like he was outside of himself, peering down at a man who had lost everything, who had just come to the realization that the people inside the barn had lost so much more.

            Bark.

            Dick blinked, his head swimming. His head bobbed as he fell heavily onto his knees. A shudder raced up his spine as his hands disappeared into the snow bank, and the snow raced up his coat sleeve. He fully came back to himself when he felt a cold tongue lick a long strip up the side of his face.

            Dick blinked again, taking a long breath as Ezra’s tail thumped against the snow bank, sending snow flying. She let out a quiet bark, pressing her cold, wet nose to his ear. He didn’t know what to do, aside from burying his face and hands into her fur, leaning heavily on her for a long, long time. He felt sick to his stomach, and like someone had filled his head with cotton.

            He wrapped his arms around her neck, and took a deep breath. She didn’t move, didn’t make a sound. Just allowed herself to be held, until he leaned back on his heels, and cupped the side of her face, stroking along her jaw. She put her paw on his knee, before she took a step back, and slipped into the barn. The talking inside grew quiet, and Dick heard a loud sniff, before Nix spoke, “Oh, hey Ezzy-girl, how are you doing? Yeah, yeah, I know, daddy looks like a mess . . .”

            Dick took a moment to compose himself. He hadn’t cried, thankfully, but he was sure his nose was dripping, and his face was certainly ruddy. He was surprised that Carwood hadn’t came looking for them, but he supposed it was for the best. Dick slowly unfolded himself from his crouched position, flinching at the tight feeling in his knees.

            Shoving his hands into his pockets and tucking his face behind his collar, Dick followed Ezra into the barn.

            Ron and Nix were sitting on a bale of hay across from one of the stalls, Ezra between Nix’s spread knees. They looked up at him, and Dick swallowed the tight feeling in his throat at seeing Nix’s wet face. “Dinner’s ready.”

            He surprised himself by just how easily he managed to say it, and managed to not sound like he was being strangled.

            “Go on ahead,” Ron nudged Nix, before rising to his feet. “I’ll finish up things here.”

            “Are you sure?” Nix asked.

            Ron waved a hand, and whistled for Ezra to join him. Looking back at Dick, Ezra contemplated her options, before she reluctantly followed Ron outside.

            Dick wished they hadn’t left them alone.

            Nix sat, staring down at his clenched fists, and Dick stood a good six feet away, unable to find anything to say.

            What could he say?

            He raised his gaze as Nix got up, and watched as the man pulled out a cigarette. “C’mon,” Nix said as he approached. “We better go before Carwood has our hides.”

            Dick looked down, and fell in step with Nix as they left the barn.

            Carwood looked a little worried as they entered the house, and Dick tried to ignore the duplicated look on Warren’s. “Where’s Ron?”

            “Bringing the horses in,” Nix said, his voice a stark contrast to the way it had been a near-croak minutes prior. “It won’t take too long. You know him.”

            “I see,” Carwood eyed both of them, and something flickered across the man’s gaze when his eyes landed on Dick. Ashamed, Dick looked away and began to remove his coat, before taking a seat at the table.

            True to Nix’s word, Ron was inside the house within ten minutes. He mentioned something about having to go back outside and get them all properly bedded down, but that they were okay for the moment.

            A wet nose pressed against Dick’s thigh, and he looked down to see Ezra staring up at him, her tail gently swishing against the floor. Dick stroked her head momentarily, before he turned back to his meal.

            He was quiet during dinner, often dipping in and out of what was going on around him. The only thing that was really keeping him grounded was the reassuring weight of Ezra’s head pressed against his thigh. He felt the others looking at him from time to time, and occasionally, they would try to engage him in conversation, but at his non-answers, they eventually just left him be.

            He moved through the motions of helping Carwood clean up, as Warren wanted to listen to the radio and would not stop asking until Ron finally agreed. Nix braved the cold once more to go get the horses properly settled, and promptly headed back to the barn.

            Dick closed his eyes as he leaned against the counter, his forehead pressing against the cabinet. Carwood glanced at him, and Dick found himself saying, “I’m fine.” He didn’t want Carwood to waste anymore of his time with him, not when they would be taking Warren home later that night.

            The porch swing creaked beneath him as he sat down. Dick blinked out into the darkness, not quite remembering the trip outside. Nonetheless, he leaned back into the chair, and closed his eyes. He wished that Ezra hadn’t gone with Nix to the barn and had stayed with him. He could really use her right now.

            He didn’t bring a coat, and despite the fact his arms were covered with goose-pimples, he felt unbothered. Nix’s words bounced around his skull, and he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn’t panicked by the fact it was now completely dark out. Soon, he and Nix would head off to bed, and Dick would be forgetting everything.

            Again.

            Dick’s hands were starting to grow red and painful by the time the front door creaked open. He blinked, swiping at his watery eyes.

            Carwood squinted into the darkness, his face illuminated by the light from inside. He was wearing a rather thick looking jacket, with Dick’s coat folded in his arms. He approached the swing and quietly settled down next to Dick. Draping the coat over Dick’s shoulders, Carwood said nothing, his face was unreadable.

            Dick shoved his hands between his thighs, the coat awkwardly draping itself along his shoulders. The warmth of his thighs did nothing to thaw his hands.

            In the distance, he heard Ezra barking.

            “If . . .” Dick cleared his throat, eyes falling shut for a moment, before he reopened them, eyes burrowing a hole into one of the knots on the post. “If I were to tell you something, you would keep it to yourself, wouldn’t you?” At the notion of how stupid that sounded, he licked his lips and tried again, “It’s stupid to ask of you. I won’t even remember what I told you. What does it matter if you keep it a secret, I know, but I just—”

            He broke off again. It was hard to find the words that he needed—even harder for him to find a reason why it should even matter at this point.

            Carwood’s hand was warm as it rested against Dick’s knee. He massaged it slowly, before giving it a gentle squeeze. “It matters to you,” Carwood said, “and it matters to me. Anything you have ever asked me to keep a secret between the two of us has always stayed between the two of us.”

            What to believe? It was unreasonable to him that Carwood would do that. There was no need to, not when it didn’t matter in the long run. Dick’s hands shook, and he wasn’t so sure it was from the cold.

            Taking a leap, Dick took a deep breath. “Things would be better for all of you if I just disappeared.”

            From inside the house, Warren’s gleeful scream echoed.

            “It wouldn’t.”

            “It would.”

            Carwood’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He picked at a loose strand on his sweater, but he didn’t look like he felt strongly one way or the other. Dick wondered if that was something that he had mastered while in the army. “Tell me why you think that would help us.”

            “Well,” Dick began, and he would have held up a finger for each point if they weren’t so stiff and cold. “For one, you wouldn’t have to worry about what I’ll be like when I wake up. You’d be able to leave and not live in the middle of nowhere. You probably would be able to see Warren a lot more. Nix—” He didn’t understand why he suddenly grew choked up. He was a man, God dammit, and he should be able to talk about these things without getting emotional about it. “Nix would be happier. Would be able to go find someone who loves him and he won’t have to deal with this. I mean, for Pete’s sake, you all looked like I was going to rip your head off this morning. Warren shouldn’t be in a house where one of the residents has the possibility of being violent.”

            Carwood’s face was unreadable. He looked at Dick with this understanding gaze that exposed every vulnerable part of him. Dick didn’t know how he did it, but as Carwood looked at him, he could tell that the man was slowly undoing all the knots that had formed inside of him since had had woken up that morning.

            “Are you really concerned about Warren, or are you trying to deflect from the real issue?” Carwood asked, his voice low and warm, no sign that he was actively judging Dick. “Which is you’re afraid that Nix is unhappy, or is just sticking by you because of who you were before.”

            Dick looked down at his feet, gently rocking the porch swing beneath them. Carwood sighed, and gently took Dick’s hands, warming them in his own. “Dick. He cares about you and loves you, every part of you, not just who you used to be. It would destroy him if anything were to happen to you.”

            Dick closed his eyes. Carwood’s thumb stroked across his knuckles, and his breath hitched at the odd feeling that was seared into his skin with each passing of his thumb. “I know it’s hard to believe,” Carwood continued, his voice so incredibly gentle. “But he would never get over it if you were to do that. He . . .” His jaw clenched. “He probably would follow you into those woods and never come back.”

            It was starting to become painful, sitting there in the cold. Carwood was slowly easing him back into full consciousness, and now he realized just how cold he was. He leaned against Carwood, and let out a shuddering breath, their heads brushing together. “I don’t get why,” Dick said, “He should go and be happy with someone who can appreciate him better than I can.”

            “In the war,” Carwood began, after taking a moment to blow hot air onto Dick’s frozen hands, “You two were inseparable. Even before that, where there was Lieutenant Winters, Lieutenant Nixon was by his side, without a doubt. During the war, things hardly changed. Even when we were in the frozen hell that was Bastogne, he stayed, even when he could have been with the rest of battalion staff.”

            Dick couldn’t find what to say. Again, he wanted to remind Carwood that Nix had no obligation to stay. Not now. It shouldn’t matter what they had done for each other; Dick didn’t remember any of it, and Nix should promptly dump him with his sister, so he no longer had to worry.

            Carwood continued, not seeming to notice Dick’s apprehension. “If the roles were reversed, you would have never left Nix, and Nix knows that. It’s not a sense of duty that’s keeping Nix here; he loves you, and he’s never going to leave you.”

            It had been said before, and Dick hated that it took Carwood saying it again for it to finally set in. He understood that Nix loved him, that hadn’t been a difficult concept to understand, but it finally clicked just how deep that love ran. It wasn’t just romantic; they had become each other’s family, and that was a hard love to fight.

            “All right.”

            Carwood gave him a disbelieving look. “All right?”

            “I—” Dick took a deep breath. “I don’t agree with Nix wasting his time with me while I’m like this, but I understand it, at the very least.”

            “Good. So . . . don’t go walking off into the forest, all right?”

            It was meant to be a joke, he could tell, but the look in Carwood’s eyes reminded Dick how nervous a comment like that could make them. “I won’t.”

            Carwood nodded, and settled back onto the porch swing, still holding his hands. It wasn’t much longer before the two of them headed inside, a quiet song greeting them as they entered, intermittently interrupted by Warren’s excited squeals.

            When Dick hung his coat up, he heard Nix laugh from the living room. “Oh, come on, Ron. I know you can dance better than that.”

            “If you’re so upset by my dancing, why don’t you dance with him?” Ron shot back, sounding a little annoyed.

“Fine, I will.” Dick took Carwood’s coat from him and hung them up before he joined him in the living room. He came up short behind Carwood, blinking at the sight in the living room.

Dancing dramatically, Nix had Warren up in his arms, the little boy’s feet not even touching the ground. Warren was giggling loudly as Nix swayed them with such dramatic movements that Dick feared the small boy was going to get sick. “How’s this, Warren?” Nix asked.

            “I’m gonna be sick Uncle Nix!” the boy exclaimed, going limp in Nix’s arms. He spotted Carwood, and shouted, “Papa! Help me!”

            Carwood smiled and approached. A playful tug of war started, with Carwood feigning to be too weak to get him out of Nix’s arms. Dick watched, a warm feeling rising in his chest. Ron even looked amused as he watched the whole thing.

            “Let me go, Uncle Nix!” Warren shouted again, “Go dance with Uncle Dick!”

            Nix abruptly dropped Warren into Carwood’s arms, and he stood back, running his fingers through his beard. Dick stood with his back ramrod straight, his eyes darting back and forth before landing on Nix. It was a silly thing to be nervous about. Earlier that day, he had even kissed him. But he supposed that was also before his anxiety got the best of him.

            “. . . I think it’s time we get you home,” Carwood said, ruffling Warren’s hair before he put him down. “Go say goodbye to Uncle Nix and Uncle Dick.”

            Ron rose from his chair and went to gather their things, while Dick tried to stay on his feet when Warren practically tackled him. Dick weakly gave him a hug in return, before the little boy darted to Nix.

            All the while, the radio continued to play.

            Soon, it was just him and Nix, awkwardly standing across from one another. Dick noticed the headlights of the truck through the window, and slowly watched it disappear, although the blinds obscured the light. Dick ran his teeth over his bottom lip, only now noticing that the skin was chapped and starting to peel.

            Nix looked at him, before he slightly bowed, and extended his hand. “Can I have this dance?”

            There was that charm again. Despite the fact it was also hidden behind a nervous mask, Lewis Nixon III was charming in his own right, and Dick found himself smiling, taking the man’s hand without another thought. Nix gave him a relaxed smile and pulled him to his chest. It was definitely closer than what was permitted at school dances, but Dick didn’t mind. Nix led him in a simple step, one that Dick knew from his first painful Homecoming. It had been rather awkward for him and Lettie Hetfield, as Dick only had miniscule knowledge in the art of dancing, and was terribly two-footed.

            Lettie, though, had smiled and not held anything against him, even though he was sure he had ruined any and all romantic interest that she could have in him. No, she had allowed him to take her to the Winter Formal, where it still had been just as awkward as before, but he had stepped on her toes less.

            It seemed he had improved some since he was a freshman in high school, as he did not step on Nix’s toes, and instead they danced around the living room in a comfortable square pattern. The song was a little jauntier than their steps, but it worked well enough.

            Dick winced as he stepped on Nix’s foot. “I see I am still slightly two-footed,” he said with remorse, but when he looked up at Nix, the man was smiling at him.

            “If you ever were to stop being two-footed, I’d be concerned,” Nix said, as Dick moved closer, resting his chin on Nix’s shoulder. “Although, each time we dance, you get better.”

            Dick thought about Lettie and how he had feared he had broken that poor girl’s toes by the end of the night. “I told you about Lettie, didn’t I?”

            Nix barked out a laugh. “Oh, yes. The first time we ever danced together, you led me through the story of how you murdered that poor girl’s feet. It was funny, finally seeing that you in fact did have a flaw.”

            “Of course, I have flaws, Lew,” Dick replied, although he was smiling. One hand came up to stroke at the hairs on the back of Nix’s neck.

            “Oh, yes, I am quite aware of your flaws now,” Nix hummed. “Back then, though, you were the picture-perfect man. It was like I was staring at stain-glass window. It was quite funny to finally see a crack.”

            Dick smiled, knowing it was all in good fun. He wondered what their first dance had been like. Did they dance to a slow song? Was it after the war? Did he try to dance with a dame and Nix felt like it was the gentlemanly thing to do to teach him? Did they laugh and have fun together?

            “I’m sorry your talents went to waste on a man like me,” Dick said, pulling back a bit to look Nix in the eyes.

            A small smile spread across Nix’s face. “You weren’t the worst pupil I’ve ever had.”

            Dick laughed. “Oh, that certainly makes me feel better.”

            Suddenly, Nix spun them and dipped Dick. A sharp yelp left him as the world turned upside down, but when he was pulled upright, he felt nothing but exuberance.

            “Please tell me you never did that with poor Lettie,” Nix said, and Dick tried to remember if he had even said her name.

            “Oh, I had no interest in doing that to her. Mr. Hetfield was one of the sheriffs, I’m sure he would have had me arrested.”

            “I wouldn’t blame him, dropping his daughter on the head like that.”

            Wrapping his arms around Nix’s neck, he buried his face in his throat, and the steps slowly faltered away, until it was nothing more than the two of them swaying together, Nix’s arms wrapped around his waist.

            “I love you so much,” Nix whispered against his throat.

            Dick felt like he was choking. “I know,” he murmured in return, ignoring the tickling of Nix’s beard against his face. “I’m sorry I won’t be able to remember how much I love you when I wake up tomorrow.”

            “I will remind you of who you are and how much I love you a thousand days over if that means I get to have you.” Nix’s voice did not waver. “My love for you doesn’t end because you forget, and I know it doesn’t change for you, either.”

            They clung to each other, Dick’s hands fisted in the man’s shirt, and Nix’s hands bunched at the small of his back. “I love you,” Dick finally said, “And I will always love you.”

            “I know,” Nix said, his voice cracking, “I know.”

            They held each other until Carwood and Ron returned home. Dick knew if they hadn’t come back, he and Nix probably would have been there the entire night. With a couple of goodnights, they headed to their separate rooms, where Dick promptly showered and got into bed, waiting for Nix to join him. That night they curled up in each other’s arms, Dick clinging to Nix with his eyes pried wide open, peering into the darkness, and was forcibly dragged into sleep.

            The next morning, Dick woke up, and did not recognize the strange man next to him.