|James Montgomery Falsworth (falsworth) wrote in the100,|
@ 2015-04-25 22:26:00
Lack of sleep wore on a man, ground him down to nothing, made every emotion that much closer to the surface. Lack of sleep in a time of peace for a man of war made it worse; sleeping led to dreams and dreams led to nightmares and nightmares led to waking, shaking, and unwilling to find sleep again. Anger was Monty’s companion now, at nothing; at everything. He couldn’t stand silence, but loud noises startled him. He fidgeted, he fought tears, and mostly he had no idea what was wrong.
His father would have called it shell shock, and would have been disappointed that his own son was so weak. Monty could find no weakness in him, just an unnameable terror that he would be sent back. No matter if his cause was just; HYDRA’s threat had been contained, and the war efforts were concentrated in the Pacific. He would be useful at home, but continuing -- he wanted no more part of it.
In the middle of war, there is nothing else. There is only the jobs to be done, and the bases to be taken out, and the heads of a snake to be cut off and cauterized so that no more could take its place. There is no time to recognize the horror of what one is doing, or what one has had done. But here, in this radiation-infuswed world, Monty knew peace for the first time in years. And although that peace was infused with nightmares and anger and, sometimes, a crushing sadness, he had no desire to return.
Monty didn’t know what to do with his hands. Conversing with Sam on the tablet was more frustrating than doing nothing, but he felt as if they would shake if left to themselves. He moved restlessly around his room, wishing for a book or a radio or anything to distract him from his own thoughts. He remembered being told, upon arriving, that there was a gymnasium for use. The idea had appeal; working his body until there was nothing but the next step or breath or punch would satisfy him.
Plans made with a virtual stranger, Monty found his way to the gym and stripped to the skivvies he wore beneath his clothes, and greeted Michael when he came in. “Hullo, friend. Monty Falsworth.”