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Strong. That's what The Captain was taught to be. A strong, worthy son. And later in life, capable, fearless, soldier, and leader were all added to that title. He knew this. He'd known it since he was 6 years old, his father being a very strict, commanding man, who knew what he wanted in a son and enforced that deep into him early on. Too early, one might say. He tried to convince himself he'd lived up to this pretty well, although if he were being honest, that's not entirely true.
Although he repeated everything he needed to be to himself, alone in his room every morning, he doubted it actually worked half the time, finding himself caught up with the thoughts in his head when he's alone in a quiet area of the ghost-infested house (which proved harder than you might think) which is actually where he finds himself at this current time.
Being alone in the library isn't entirely uncommon, but usually, there's at least a lonely head in the room, sleeping or calling out for someone to reunite him with his wandering body. Not today, though The Captain can't be too certain of that, as he walked in the room roughly 10 minutes ago in a slight haze. His mind, being clouded by memories or intrusive thoughts as the day went on, resulting in him wandering around the house, dazed, in search of a quiet room away from the others to let his body and mind lose themself in his thoughts.
He hardly needed to think hard to get his mind working, in fact, it came almost naturally. Plaguing thoughts of his life ran rampantly through his mind, throwing him, all in one, into a memory.
_________
"-With respect, Thomas, if you were paying attention you would know that-"
"Oh, I know what you said, damn you! Don't you dare make me seem as though I am some unintelligent, halfwitted-..."
"Well-"
Thomas pulled back slightly with an offended look on his face at what Julian, truly was, insinuating.
"-again, if you were listening, Thomas, you'd know about the whole ' 'Social Impact' ' of the situation..." Argued Julian, with exaggerated quotation marks.
"-That has nothing to do with the original point, damn you!"
Julian stood slightly taller, almost offended, but not quite, at Thomas.
"Guys, please!" Cut through Pat's voice. Julian hadn't bothered to stick around for Pat's attempt to reason with the both of them, walking off to wherever his feet took him. With no real destination in mind (that was obviously within the house he was stuck in), his body decided that the library seemed like a good decision. He didn't know what to expect when he wandered in, looking as though he had a purpose for walking into this specific room, in all honesty, he hadn't expected anyone at all, though here he was, looking at the Captain who was looking out of the one window in the room.
Julian spoke confidently "Ah, Captain. Come to find some quiet among that useless, jobless lot? Honestly, the nerve of them. People don't know how to listen nowadays, huh?..."
Well, he had expected a slight scoff, at least, certainly not absolute silence. He carried on anyways, "Eh, can't expect much from *them* though, aye? Not like any of them have particularly been in any high positions of power. Well, I guess Fanny and Kitty were quite- b-but that's not the poi-" He stuttered uselessly, before deciding to cut himself off. He may have been stupid in life, but he was certainly not stupid now in death...to an extent.
"Captain?"
He walked closer. Earlier, he had thought that the Officer had been looking out thoughtfully across the view from the window, though now, it seemed more like a gaze, a glance, over the landscape from within his own mind.
_____________________
snap
God, it was awful.
He hated it more than you could imagine.
snap
It never seemed to stop.
Why didn't it stop?
snap
It goes on forever. Inescapable. He can't do this. He can't do this again. Not again. Never again. Why again? He didn't deserve this. It's not stopping. Why isn't it stopping? He needs it to STOP.
snap
"Captain? Hello? Cap? You back? Okay, this is really starting to freak me out. Hello-"
He drew in a started breath.
"Oh god, okay, you're back, okay that's a good start. Uhm I'm not really sure where to go from here, you kinda startled me a bit ther- oh okay, that's not normal breathing-"
Julian rambled on until he noticed something was, once again, wrong. Though, The Captain's not entirely sure what he means is wrong until he can feel his chest inside, a bit more than should be normal.
"Okay, Uhm, A-ALISO- no I guess that wouldn't be a great idea right now. Is it like a baby when they're crying? Not to say you're a baby of course I just- Okay this probably isn't helping you in any way. God, what do I do? I-"
Julian was starting to panic, The Captain could hear distantly, though he weirdly felt his constant talking to be quite soothing. But not wanting him to panic even further, Captain put his hand up and circled it in a motion to indicate to Julian to continue.
"...sure to say- Oh. Carry- carry on? Keep talking? You want me to- is that helping? Well, I guess it is if you're telling me to continue. I don't really know what to talk about now, at least, something that's not political..."
The Captain held up his thumb at this.
"Oh...politics? Well, okay I guess that could work. Not sure why you'd want to hear about that, of all people but-ah. Right, where to start? Yes, politics, well they're a funny thing aren't they? People taking you too seriously or not seriously enough, suppose that's the reason I liked to throw in a few smutty jokes, here and there, to keep it entertaining and light. Oh, and that reminds me of someone I met at a conference party once, never liked those sorts of jokes for the life of him - could never figure out why. He was a right bore, never invited him to a party ever again."
Julian told him, seemingly lost in the story. The Captain's breathing had eased up at least halfway through, though, in truth, he quite liked listening to Julian rattle on about his subjects. So he let him.
"...and well, you can imagine how that went down with the others...not pretty, at all. And- oh." He abruptly stopped with surprise when he realized that The Captain was breathing normally again and seemed to be genuinely paying attention. "You-you alright, now?" He asked hesitantly. Now that he wasn't rambling about politics or smutty jokes or booze, he, honestly, felt a bit out of his depth.
"Yeah. Yes. Yes, I, Uhm, yes I suppose I am." The Captain replied a bit nervously now that he had been caught listening. "I suppose I should, ah, thank you. So, t-thank you, Julian."
There was a small, quiet pause where both men were feeling slightly awkward and flustered with the situation. Julian, trying to figure out how to respond to a 'thank you' from the soldier, stood and fiddled with his hands and blazer nervously. "Yeah, yeah. Yeah, whatever, it's, ah, alright, I guess..." He replied in the end. It was another painfully long silence for both men until The Captain cleared his throat and straightened up his posture slightly and started to walk off without another word.
They hadn't spoken about it after that.
nothing,
absolutely nothing
not a sound. not a shape. not a smell.
It was like that for a long time. Too long.
He wasn't thinking, not really. It was more of a space in his mind away from his body in the real world, trapped in a thought-to-be long-lost memory. A memory of his days back in the war, when he really did fight for his life. He didn't talk about his days on the front, they brought back unpleasant memories, to say the least, and even now, they returned to plague his mind, to rid him of his nicer, calmer thoughts, and replaced them with haunting and scarring memories.
He remembers. He remembers chaps from his unit, being struck down by rapid bullets. Others, watching from behind, shaking in their uniforms, knowing that they'll be next, praying they make it out alive. He's seen many die, many fall, few survive, either way, he doesn't think he'll ever get over it. It's impossible to simply 'get over' something as scarring as this, it says with you. Whether you like it or not.
snap
He doesn't want it to happen again.
snap
He didn't mean for it to happen again.
snap
He knew it was his fault, but he couldn't help it.
There was nothing he could do.
snap
Nothing.
snap
He was shaking, unable to move. Why couldn't he move? He had to move. He would die if he didn't move. Gunshots, all around him, circling him like helpless prey. Except he wasn't helpless, he had a gun. So why wasn't he using it? Use it, you idiot. Use the gun. Use it. Move. Move. Move. You're going to DIE-
SNAP
A snap and a shake. A violent shake - at that.
That's what woke him up. His vision was still foggy, but he could vaguely figure out the familiar face in front of him. He's seen it before. Who was it? And though his vision wasn't necessarily foggy, anymore, it was definitely out of focus. Cloudly, even.
"...WHAT'S HAPPENING?"
"I'M NOT SURE!"
"IS HE GOING TO BE OKAY?"
"EVERYBODY STOP SHOUTING!"
...
"Has this happened before?"
...
"Julian? Mate?"
"Yes, yes it's, uh, it's happened before."
"Well, what did you do last time?"
"I don't know!"
"Did you do anything?!"
"YES OF COURSE I DID SOMETHING!"
"WELL THEN STOP TALKING AND DO WHATEVER YOU DID LAST TIME!"
"I-...oh. Uhm, okay, well..."
Nothing.
Gasps were spread out across the room as the other ghosts watched the Commanding Officer, sway and fall, face first onto the floor. Murmurs of worry and panic filled the room as they stared at The Captain's body.
Julian rushed closer to The Captain. He had recognized his unstable breathing earlier. Despite his reputation, he really did care about some things, and ever since his death, that had grown miraculously, being surrounded by others who were annoyingly caring. He's sad to say that it influenced him slightly.
Either way, he knew that he was needed now, and if it was only him that could help at this moment, he was more than willing to. Though, easier said than done.
Julian shook the body on the floor and waited. He waited as long as he needed to until he could see The Captain's eyes open into slits as he slowly regained consciousness. Once he could hear faint breathing, he began talking.
"Uhm, h-hey Cap. Uhm, so, ha, politics aye? Hah..." It was certainly more difficult now that he had an audience. An audience who only knew him as an annoying, snarky politician, dying a terribly embarrassing death. But someone was in need of help here, someone he could actually help if he wanted to, and he did. He truly did. He'd never helped anyone in life, and since that stupid Christmas and that stupid baby and those stupid memories, he wanted to try it, at least once.
He took a deep breath.
"W-well, if I'm going to be honest, Cap, the parties were always quite boring. Lame. No one was drunk enough for my liking, I was barely tipsy myself sometimes, had to have had a clear head for the next morning of debates and such, aye? Though that's not to say that I wasn't drunk, oh no," He chuckled. "I was drunk plenty of times, too many, some might say. Though that didn't stop me, oh no..." He continued. This went on, much like last time, for a while. The others had, by now, settled down to watch him talk to the unresponsive Army Captain. Probably not to listen to him prat on about politics, almost certainly not, but rather to make sure their friend was okay.
Once again, he was caught up in an anecdote, only this time, he noticed when The Captain was breathing normally and paying attention to his little story. He turned his head slightly to look at the other. "Better?" Julian asked.
He was crying, The Captain noticed. The blurring in his vision turned out to be tears. Albeit being terribly embarrassed and ashamed, he decided not to mention it, lest the others hadn't noticed yet.
The silence stretched for too long, he realized, knowing now that he should probably respond to the question asked, but finding himself now unable to verbally respond. He looked at Julian's face, his eyes roaming, searching for any other emotion other than worry and kindness. Alas, finding none, he met his eyes and nodded, ever so slightly. Apparently, that was a good enough response for Julian, as his mouth stretched into a small smile at the corners.
He hadn't known what came over him. The Captain was tired, tired from remembering, and tired from crying. Too much emotion in one day made him physically and emotionally drained. So drained, in fact, that he had lunged (or rather flopped) forwards towards Julian and hung his arms around his shoulders, burying his face into the other's neck. He'd rather forget that the others were watching as he embraced him, deciding to focus on the smell and feel of Julian against him. His fingers found their way to the folds in his blazer, slotting them in, and started rubbing them between his fingertips. The feel of the fabric against his skin helped to ground him even more so, especially once he felt Julian relax all his muscles and loop his arms around his waist to start rubbing calming patterns on his back.
"Thank you." The Captain said. Letting out a sigh of relief and comfort when Julian's arms tightened their hold on his waist.
He could vaguely hear Pat ushering everyone out of the room, though he barely had time to care about that one he felt Julian's chin against the top of his head.
"Thank you so much." He repeated.
And came a response:
"Always."