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riptide_asylumTitle: Putting it Together
Rating: PG
Summary: The journey home is long and it takes time
Memory
When he was a kid, he prided himself on his memory. Boat names, directions, the facts about fish his grandfather taught him - he remembered everything, treasured it from summer to summer, kept it close, ready for the next time they went out on the boat.
Back then, he'd never figured on war. Never knew there'd be pictures he'd give anything to wipe from his brain. Or that they'd be the images his wonderful memory would show him, night after night.
When Nick holds him he's safe and the past can't touch him, but even Nick's arms can't make him forget.
Right
Sometimes he thinks his grandfather would have understood about Nick. His grandfather had never said a lot about war, not to Cody, but Cody knows he looked the other way to help his men, more than once.
Cody reminds himself of that as he drops to his knees in the sand. He prayed in church when Janet left and he'd ended up in hell. This time, trying to reconcile the peace he finds with Nick - only with Nick - with any kind of future, he whispers his prayer to the sea and to his grandfather's spirit. "Please, let this be right."
Home
The boat's older than they are and there's work ahead before she'll sail anyplace except in Cody's dreams, but she's home. Her nighttime rhythm's familiar already, gentle sounds and motion mapped each to their allotted space. Nick can rest while the boat keeps watch, anything out of place a warning siren, jerking him awake. Scanning for danger. Reaching for Cody.
Cody's sleeping better since they've been aboard. He's happy here: Nick feels it in his breathing, deep, sweet and relaxed, the way Cody lies soft and easy in his arms. That helps him hope that this, at last, is home.
Smile
'He's safe.' I know it before I'm awake: knowing it, I wake up easy. I wake up smiling, because that's everything I need right there: Cody in my arms, safe and whole and happy.
I love the guy.
I tell him that, whisper the words on his skin while he sleeps and he smiles, but he doesn't wake up. I think he hears me. I think he knows I feel that way.
I hope he does. I hope that's why he smiles. I hope he smiles the day I figure out a way to say it when we're both awake.
Together
It's not so hard, not any more. Not the way it used to be, when fear and anger rode their shoulders at every step.
These days, they're remembering how to smile. They'll never be who they used to be before they went to war, but sometimes Cody thinks that isn't such a bad thing. When he looks at the life they've found, this life they're building, he knows he wouldn't have it any other way.
Life without Nick isn't something he could do. They made it through together and together is the only way they've got any chance at all.
Rating: PG
Summary: The journey home is long and it takes time
Memory
When he was a kid, he prided himself on his memory. Boat names, directions, the facts about fish his grandfather taught him - he remembered everything, treasured it from summer to summer, kept it close, ready for the next time they went out on the boat.
Back then, he'd never figured on war. Never knew there'd be pictures he'd give anything to wipe from his brain. Or that they'd be the images his wonderful memory would show him, night after night.
When Nick holds him he's safe and the past can't touch him, but even Nick's arms can't make him forget.
Right
Sometimes he thinks his grandfather would have understood about Nick. His grandfather had never said a lot about war, not to Cody, but Cody knows he looked the other way to help his men, more than once.
Cody reminds himself of that as he drops to his knees in the sand. He prayed in church when Janet left and he'd ended up in hell. This time, trying to reconcile the peace he finds with Nick - only with Nick - with any kind of future, he whispers his prayer to the sea and to his grandfather's spirit. "Please, let this be right."
Home
The boat's older than they are and there's work ahead before she'll sail anyplace except in Cody's dreams, but she's home. Her nighttime rhythm's familiar already, gentle sounds and motion mapped each to their allotted space. Nick can rest while the boat keeps watch, anything out of place a warning siren, jerking him awake. Scanning for danger. Reaching for Cody.
Cody's sleeping better since they've been aboard. He's happy here: Nick feels it in his breathing, deep, sweet and relaxed, the way Cody lies soft and easy in his arms. That helps him hope that this, at last, is home.
Smile
'He's safe.' I know it before I'm awake: knowing it, I wake up easy. I wake up smiling, because that's everything I need right there: Cody in my arms, safe and whole and happy.
I love the guy.
I tell him that, whisper the words on his skin while he sleeps and he smiles, but he doesn't wake up. I think he hears me. I think he knows I feel that way.
I hope he does. I hope that's why he smiles. I hope he smiles the day I figure out a way to say it when we're both awake.
Together
It's not so hard, not any more. Not the way it used to be, when fear and anger rode their shoulders at every step.
These days, they're remembering how to smile. They'll never be who they used to be before they went to war, but sometimes Cody thinks that isn't such a bad thing. When he looks at the life they've found, this life they're building, he knows he wouldn't have it any other way.
Life without Nick isn't something he could do. They made it through together and together is the only way they've got any chance at all.
