Unfixable

Shell Shock

Shell shock wasn't a term that Gavin was familiar with, and it certainly wasn't a condition he'd used to describe himself. Sure, he'd been shelled. More than once. He'd lived with it daily for weeks at a time. He'd dodged across no man's land, dirt rolling in clouds on either side as he'd followed the men ahead. He'd been caught in a blast. Injured. Crippled. That didn't mean he had issues. It didn't mean he was sick in the head. That's what he'd thought until later that night. He'd had a rude awakening. As had many others.

After visiting Blossom and setting his heart on getting back in the saddle, Gavin and Nines passed the rest of the day in his room. He threw himself into his leg exercises with fresh enthusiasm. He was determined to build up his muscles and get on his foot as soon as possible. That enthusiasm worked for Nines. He hoped that Gavin would at least start walking on two legs by the time he had to return to France. Despite his enthusiasm, Nines was careful not to let him overwork himself. After a good two hours of exercise, with regular breaks between, Nines insisted they go for dinner.

He helped Gavin wash and change before getting him in his chair and wheeling him through to the dining hall. It was pretty quiet to start with, but the crowd slowly grew over the next hour. They sat quietly at a small table eating their simple dinner of gammon and eggs. The meat was salty and contrasted nicely with the thick yolk of the egg. Gavin was enthusiastic as they made plans for the next couple of days. He was sure he'd be ready to at least climb up in the saddle by then. Nines had to agree. His dedication to training made that highly likely.

The peace was shattered as a sudden crash filled the room. It echoed off the walls. It was just a tray. A loaded metal tray with plates and cutlery falling on a shiny wooden floor. Gavin knew that. He knew that, but the noise had him curling over with a whimper. He didn't even hear the clatter as his knife and fork fell to the floor. He wasn't sure if he'd pushed the table or if Nines had moved it aside, but he didn't hit his head as he bent over and gripped his hair.

His reaction was mild compared to some others. Loud cries echoed around the hall. Panic. Fear. Phck! The groaning filled his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut. The low, pained moans of men left on the battlefield in the dead of night. The helpless cries of the injured. The weeping of boys far too young to be involved in this shit. He trembled and curled further. The noise of the dining hall drowned itself out as he retreated into his own head. I'm not there...I'm not there! That didn't stop the noise from filling his ears. Whistles and bangs. Cracks and rumbles. He could almost feel the ground trembling beneath his feet.

He could see it with perfect clarity. He was back there again. The pack was heavy on his back, cutting into his shoulders. His heart pounded as he hauled himself over the top and ran with aching lungs. Miller was next to him. He yelled for his men to follow, the cry almost drowned out in a hail of shells and bullets. They raced across the barren earth, feet sinking in stinking, green sludge. Fear gripped his chest. His hands and cheeks were cold, feet almost numb as he forced himself onwards. He could see the men ahead falling. Gunfire tore the earth ahead. Smoke filled the air. They could barely see the enemy lines at all. High whistles and deafening blasts sounded.

Heat seared his left side as the ground shook and Miller disappeared. The whole world turned. It took him a few seconds to realise he was flying. He only really realised once he hit the ground. His head felt strange, almost dizzy, as he fell. He wasn't sure if he was falling for real or if it was just in his head. He felt cold. He was shaking. He could feel his teeth chattering as pain seared his left side and leg. He couldn't breathe. He was face down in the sludge. His chest clenched as his heart raced. There was a loud rushing sound in his ears as he choked.

"Gavin!" Sharp pain cut through the haze. He gasped as his eyes snapped open. He was sitting on the floor beside the wheelchair chair. Nines was holding him, hands gripping his upper arms. His cheeks were wet with tears as he looked around. It was still chaos. Nurses and doctors had flooded the hall, including Elijah and Chloe. The maid who'd dropped the tray was being scolded by a senior staff member. Many of the men were inconsolable, trapped in their own waking nightmares. "I'm here...You're safe..." He trembled as Nines pulled him against his chest and held him. He leaned into the comfort, sobbing quietly against his shoulder.