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Joe „Bear“ Graves was in pain. 8 weeks since the day that had shattered his life to pieces. 8 weeks since the day he had destroyed the life of the people he loved. But now it would be over soon. The guilt, the hopelessness, the despair, the fear, the pain that tried to strangle him every waking and every sleeping moment. The pain that didn’t release its grip on him and drove him mad.
He blew out a deep stuttering breath, half sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. He shook his head to clear his mind but didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his face. In a swift motion he released the safety of his Glock 19 and put the gun under his jaw. His finger on the trigger did not tremble. “Please God, forgive me.”
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The first week after Lena was murdered was all but a blur. His whole world was upside down. He just existed because he knew there were things to do, things that had to be taken care of, arrangements that had to be made. He was used to follow orders, he was used to fulfill his duty. So, he functioned somehow. He accepted condolences, spoke with the cops and his reverend.
All men of his team hugged him, offered their help and told him they’d be there for him, always. But to Joe it sounded just like an empty hull, something you were supposed to say in cases like that. He nodded and stayed silent.
Ricky and Jackie insisted that he stayed with them, at least for some time. But they had their own problems and their own trauma to deal with. He didn’t want to stay at Ricky’s house where Lena had been killed and would have rather been alone. But he also couldn’t go to his house, because it had also been Lena’s house and he couldn’t deal with that yet. So, he just let others make decisions for him. Joe felt numb and in shock.
He had to make funeral arrangements, talk about the funeral ceremony and plan the reception. It was all too much. But it had to be done. So, he did it (with a lot of help from Jackie). That’s how the Seal’s wives felt when their husbands didn’t come home alive, he thought. He’d seen it several times, too many times. He always knew in the back of his head that there was a possibility that one day he wouldn’t come home from an op. But he never imagined that his wife, his family was in danger because of his job too. After all that’s why he did this job in the first place – to make sure his country, their way of life, his friends and family would be safe! Until now he had always known that he could come home from his dangerous and often bloody job to the safety and peace of his home and his wife. They had been high school sweethearts and had been together ever since. The last couple of months had been rough, but she had still been a constant in his life. An anchor. A safe heaven. He had loved her since he set his eyes on her in high school and he still did. But that was all taken from him.
His brothers were there for him. But their unit was in pieces after their last disastrous op. After Marissa had killed Lena she had also tried to shoot Rickys family until Jackie had shwacked her in self-defense. After this nothing was like it was before. The whole family was traumatized. Ricky did his best to be there for his family. And for him. What a messed up time in all their lives…
Armin was still at the hospital. The doctors did a good job removing the bullet that was lodged very close to his spine and spinal cord. He wasn’t completely paralyzed, thank God, but it had been a severe injury to his spine and it would take time to heal… He’d have a long way ahead of him, learn to walk again. And although nobody spoke about it yet, Joe was afraid that Armin might not be able to come back as a tier 1 operator after this, maybe not even as a soldier at all…
And then there was Caulder. They had tried to call him right after the shooting, to let him know and check if he was ok. But he didn’t answer the phone. When he still didn’t answer after a few hours, Trevor drove out to his house at the beach to check on him. There he found him sprawled out on the floor, a small trail of blood running from his nose. Thank God he had a weak pulse and was breathing. Since Dharma had moved out and all his friends were busy with their own horrors, nobody had found Alex, who had been lying there unconscious for half a day! The neurologist at the hospital diagnosed that he had a subdural hematoma, a collection of blood between his skull and brain, caused by a head injury. They were all shocked and scared for him. After the operation he had not woken up yet, was still in the ICU and on a ventilator. He looked pale and lifeless, which scared his brothers to the bone. The doctors said he was in a coma and they couldn’t predict when he would wake up. In his mind Joe added “if he would wake up at all”, and it destroyed him.
The doctors also told them that this wasn’t Alex’ first head injury, that he must have had several concussions and head trauma that were never treated properly. Dharma, who hardly ever left Alex’s side, tentatively admitted that her dad had known about this before he came back to work again after the injury to his arm and went with them on the disastrous op.
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After the numbness and pain came the anger. He was furious about Michael Nasry. Joe Graves hated him. He hated that he had trained kids like Marissa to be sleepers and kill innocent people. He hated Marissa for killing Lena in cold blood for her twisted religious fantasies.
He was furious about the CIA and Gina Cline who had ordered him not to kill Nasry. And he hated himself for following these orders although he knew he should have shot the bastard. He was a good soldier, he followed orders and so far in his life it had always served him well. He knew good from evil and right from wrong. But he couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
He was also angry with himself. Armin should have never been this badly injured. He didn’t have his back.
And he should have made sure Alex was really good and healthy when he came back to the team after his arm injury. Joe, as his master chief and as his friend, should have seen the signs. In retrospect a lot of things made more sense now: Alex being sensitive to light and sound, for example. Or that he sometimes looked pale and unsteady on his legs. He had seen all this, but maybe didn’t actually WANT TO SEE. He had been satisfied with Caulder’s “Yeah, I’m fine” and a cheeky grin instead of pressing it any further. Now he could kick his own butt that he didn’t persist more.
Joe was also angry with everybody who wanted to help him. He didn’t need any help. Nobody could help him anyway. That was his own pain and his own burden to carry. He hated their cautious and pitying glances at him, as if he was a raw egg and they didn’t know how to handle him. He didn’t want their pitty. So, he snapped at his brothers and pushed them away.
Going back to work as soon as possible seemed the only logical thing to do for Joe. Get back out in the field and kill some bad guys. To find Michael Nasry and end him.
Before he could be cleared for active duty again he had to pass the psych evaluation.
They asked him how he was. He said “I’m good.” - Lie
They asked him if he felt confident to go back to work. He said “Absolutely.” - Lie
They asked him if he slept well and ate regularly. He said “Yes, of course.” – Lie and lie.
After more questions along those lines, he was cleared and back on the job. Joe knew what they wanted to hear and just gave the therapist those answers.
He knew it was stupid to lie about the state of his mind. But he needed to get to work, he needed to get away from his thoughts and the pain and the pity. He needed it to not go crazy. At work he was still a tier 1 operator, a master chief, a man with authority and purpose. Nobody gave him pitting looks there. And seriously, he didn’t think anybody of his bosses actually cared if he really was “fine”. As long as he did his job and didn’t do anything crazy, nobody cared shit about his mental wellbeing.
Their first after Lena’s death was a disaster. He knew it and he saw it in the eyes of his men that they knew it too. He made irrational decisions and screamed at his team. So, one night Buddha tried to talk to him. “Are you ok, Bear?” “Yes, sure, I’m fine,” Joe answered. Sure, he was fine. Fine. That’s what everybody said when they actually were NOT fine at all. And Ricky knew it. “Joe, as our leader you have to be just that. A leader. Lead us. We have to be able to trust you. Trust you with our lives. If you make bad calls, it endangers the mission and – even worse - the men. You know I love you, man. But it can’t go on like this. Get your shit together! Or step down.”
It felt like a punch in the gut. But he knew Ricky was right. In the current state he was in he was a danger to himself and his men.
The day they came home after their mission, Joe went to talk to his boss and told him that he would step down as master chief. Armin and Alex were living proof that he shouldn’t be master chief anymore. He would not endanger his brothers anymore.
So that was that. Yes, he was still a tier 1 operator. But it felt like he had also lost his job now. Lost his daughter. Lost his wife. Lost his friends. Lost his job. Shit.
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And it was absolutely clear to him that everything was his fault.
All of it was his fault and it weighed heavy on him.
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The thoughts were going round and round in his head but he felt like in a maze and he couldn’t find the exit. Couldn’t find any solution or closure. He missed Lena so damn much. It was almost like a physical pain, thinking about her. They’d had their problems. But they were just trying to mend their marriage before all this happened. They were trying for a baby again… Everything was getting better again. But now it wasn’t. It was worse than anything he could have imagined.
Why didn’t he kill Michael Nasry when he had the chance? He should have just disobeyed Gina’s orders. Lena could still be alive if he had killed Nazry. For years he carried the pain of his daugther’s death in his heart. And although even Lena had told him otherwise, he still felt responsible for his little girl’s death. She would have been 4 now. The thought stung in his heart. The night she died in her crib, he had killed a child during an op. Of course, it had been an accident. He’d have never shot a child deliberately! He was not to be blamed. Or so they told him. Deep inside him he always feared that God wanted to punish him for killing that innocent boy by taking his own child away. And now Lena was dead because he didn’t kill Nazry when he had the chance. There was no doubt about it, no God involved, he had inflicted death on her. And misery on them all. It was due to his bad decisions and shitty leadership qualities that Armin and Caulder were seriously injured. Armin might never return to the Seals. And Alex might just never wake up again. Or wake up with brain damage.
He cried. He cried for this wife, his daughter, his friends and brothers and for himself.
And then he drank. At least Jack Daniels still was his friend. He chuckled humorless about this thought. He drank until he passed out on the couch. At least this near unconscious sleep spared him the usual nightmares.
When they were sent on a mission his body and mind worked pretty well. Like on auto pilot. The many years of training took over and let him do what had to be done. He also never touched a drop of alcohol at work. But nevertheless he felt numb and in pain as soon as he had an idle minute alone with his thoughts.
As soon as they came home after an op he dropped into a deep pit. The days were filled with guilt and angst and the nights were filled with nightmares. He still stayed at Ricky and Jackie’s house, crashing at the couch at night. Nightmares haunted Joe every night.
But he knew Jackie had to fight her own demons and her own nightmares. About how the crazy girl came into their house, killed Lena, threatened her family’s life. And about how she had shot her. Joe knew all that and he felt bad that they still tried to care for him. He didn’t want to be a burden. So, he never spoke about his nightmares. But all the Ortiz family had heard Bear twisting and turning, groaning, crying and screaming at night. They felt so helpless. Some nights Buddha sat with Bear, watching over him when he drifted off into a disturbed sleep. He put his hand on his forehead or held his shoulder, and felt the sweat soaked t-shirt cling to his best friend’s body. The touch seemed to calm Joe down. But Ricky had to get some sleep too and the rest of the nights the nightmares haunted Joe and didn’t let him rest more than a few hours. He saw Michael Nasry laughing. Marissa pointing and shooting a gun at his friends, at Lena, at himself. And he couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t move. The dreams didn’t make any sense but they usually were a psychedelic blur of angst and blood and death, that left him crying, unsettled and sweat soaked when he woke up panting and disoriented.
So, he tried not to fall asleep at all.
The only thing that could numb his mind a little was alcohol. In the beginning his brothers had been drinking with him. They drank to all their loved ones, they drank to killing all the bad guys, drank against pain and for friendship… But after some time, they became worried for Bear and refused to go on drinking sprees with him. “Let’s stay at home, man. It’s not good for you.” But he just went on his own and spent a good deal of his days in dodgy bars until he passed out on his stool and Ricky, Trevor or Robert came to pick him up.
Or he just sat with his friend Jack D. on the couch and watched shit on the TV until the alcohol took him to a safe place for a few blessed hours.
His brothers noticed the state Bear was in and it broke their hearts. For weeks he had been continuously getting worse. They had tried to help him, but he insisted that he was fine, everything was ok and that he didn’t need any help. They desperately wanted to help him – he was family, he was their brother. But they were helpless what to do. They knew something had to be done, something had to change when one night Bear got totally shitfaced on the swing of the playground in Ricky’s residential area. He fell from the swing hit his head and then puked all over the picnic area. When Ricky found him, he was sitting on the ground in his own vomit crying, with a big shiner on his right eye and forehead.
Ricky brought him home, helped his best friend to take his soiled clothes off and put him in the shower. After 10 minutes Ricky heard a loud thud from the bathroom and raced over to find Bear shivering and dazed on the floor of the shower. “Oh Jesus, Bear… Come on up, I’ll help you. We’re going to help you, ok? You’re not alone!” Joe just groaned in response and bent over to vomit the remaining contents of his stomach into the sink.
One night all team members came over to Buddha’s house. They wanted to talk to Bear. Like an intervention, although none of them wanted to call it that. They had to talk to their brother without all that “I’m fine, leave me alone”-crap!
Joe knew something was going down when they all arrived at Ricky’s house. He had just started a private party with his friend Jack D., but Chase took the bottle from him and poured it down the drain. “Hey man, what did you do that for?!”
Ricky started “Ok, Bear, for weeks we’ve been tiptoeing around you like you were breakable or something, but that’s going to end right now!” Joe eyed him and all of them one after the other with a challenging glare. “I never asked for your thoughtfulness or your pity,” he spat out. “Yeah buddy, you didn’t ask for anything. But currently you’re asking for a shitload of trouble. And if our boss finds out that you drink yourself to unconsciousness and barf on public playgrounds every night, then you’ll lose your job, you fuckin’ basehead,” ranted Trevor. “Look, we know a lot of horrible things happened. And you have a difficult time dealing with them. But you have to cut the self-destructive bullshit, man!” Trevor added. Joe’s defensive posture and glare crumpled a little and he cast down his eyes.
“So that’s what’s going to happen. You will go to a veteran’s support group that deal with PTSD – bi-weekly. You will also go and talk to a therapist.” When Joe opened his mouth to protest and tell them he wasn’t a veteran and he didn’t need a therapist, Buddha cut him short immediately and ensured him “I know a guy, he’s not affiliated with the Navy, so you can talk to him and nothing will end up in your medical records, ok?!” Joe nodded halfheartedly and shrugged his shoulders.
“And you cut out on the alcohol – effective immediately!”
“Bear, we love you and care for you. But you have to give us a chance here. If you feel down you tell one of us. If something is on your mind, you tell one of us. If you need anything, you tell one of us. Got it?”
“Yeah,” was all Joe could say when he bowed his head and tears started falling. And he wasn’t ashamed of them. He knew his brothers were watching his six.
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From that day on it got a little better. Like most soldiers he was comfortable with structure and discipline. And he tried to get that back into his life. Joe moved back into his house, which was a difficult step. But he just couldn’t stay at the Ortiz’ house anymore.
He stopped drinking. He started working out and running on the training course again.
Joe visited his brothers in the hospital a lot. Armin was working hard on his recovery. He had physio therapy sessions and was very positive and determined to be back on his feet again soon. His positive attitude impressed Joe and they had a lot of good discussions about God, the world and all the rest. He also sat with Caulder a lot. He wasn’t in the ICU anymore, had been transferred to a normal hospital room. He looked as if he was sleeping peacefully, about to wake any moment. Whereas he had good talks with Armin, he liked to sit in silence with Caulder too. He held his hand and thought about his life and the people important to him.
Joe attended a few veteran support meetings and was impressed by the people who went there. How openly and honestly they spoke about their problems, their life, their trauma, their PTSD and their daily struggles. He still had problems opening up, but there was an atmosphere of trust, understanding and brotherhood and he felt confident that he might tell them a little more about his pain and guilt. Soon.
Hell, he even met the therapist Ricky had suggested. He seemed to be a decent guy. Joe had the feeling he could talk to him.
He had the feeling that maybe he could survive this.
He would be ok again. At some point.
He believed that.
Until that day…
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On that day, 8 weeks after Nazris sleeper had kill Lena Graves, they heard the news that Michael Nazri was still alive. Not just still alive but also very active. The CIA had intel about a whole sleeper cell he had set up. They didn’t know any details yet, were still working on finding names, addresses etc. That day something snapped in Joe. On his way home, he stopped at a liquor store and bought 2 bottles of whiskey.
He sat on the couch, his thoughts racing. His head pounded and he felt sick. He had been working so hard over the last few weeks.
But now all the anger, dread, pain, guilt, hate, desperation, angst and feeling of loss were back. He felt panicky and restless. His hands were shaking when he poured a glass of Jack Daniels and downed it in one gulp. Then he paused and tried to calm his breath. He didn’t know what to do. He should call one of the guys instead of drinking the rest of the bottle and passing out on the ground, right?!
So, with shaking hands he grabbed his phone. One missed call. One message on the mailbox: “Good afternoon Mr. Graves, this is Abby from the fertility clinic Dr. Meyers. I’m calling to confirm your appointment for your operation next Wednesday at 10 o’clock. Please don’t eat or drink anything before you come in. Thanks again, Mr. Graves. This was Abbey from fertility clinic Dr. Meyers: Your Journey. Your Family. Your Path to Parenthood.”
This tipped him over the edge. The shaking grew stronger, he started to cry. A wailing sound of agony escaped his lips. He wanted to scream at cheerful Abby with her stupid slogans. No, he wasn’t on the path to parenthood. He was on the path to hellfire. He didn’t have a wife. He would never have a baby. The pain and despair were so strong, it almost felt like physical pain in his chest. And he knew only one thing that could end the pain. Joe went over to the drawer and got his gun.
He blew out a deep stuttering breath, half sob, tears streaming down his cheeks. He shook his head to clear his mind but didn’t bother to wipe the tears from his face. In a swift motion he released the safety of his Glock 19 and put the gun under his lower jaw pointing upwards. His finger on the trigger did not tremble. “Please God, forgive me.”
In that moment the phone rang next to him on the table. He stared at it, didn’t move for a few seconds, gun still pointed at his head. He blinked a few times, then he slowly put the gun down. He had the feeling he was going to throw up. Joe dry retched a few times, then swallowed hard, swiped his tears away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and picked up the phone.
“Yes?” “Hey Bear, it’s Buddha here. You won’t believe what just happened! Alex woke up! He is conscious! Man, he’s talking! Armin is with him! We’re all driving over now. Pick you up in 10 mikes, ok?”
Joe swallowed down his tears and cleared his throat. “Sure, ok. Ready in 10.” And put the phone down.
After a deep breath he thought to himself “Well, seems like I’m not going to die today after all.
This light in my darkest day just saved my life. Alex Caulder just saved my life.
Maybe I can be stronger tomorrow. And better.
One day at a time.”