peter flynn ✴ elizabeth swann (ex_rumsoaked346) wrote in thereincarnates, @ 2011-11-14 16:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | peter flynn, sara taft |
Who: Peter Flynn and Sara Taft
What: Trying to readjust to real life after the escape.
Where: Peter's apartment in San Diego, CA
When: Late Monday night, November 14th, 2011
Warnings: Angst, probably. Cute, hopefully. Everything else, TBD?
Peter couldn't sleep. The doctors at the castle, they said that was likely – insomnia, hyper vigilance, paranoia, constantly reliving everything that had happened to him. All typical symptoms of PTSD. Peter had known all of it for a long time now, thanks to his time in the Navy – all the warning signs, how to cope, where to find help, and, most importantly, the dangers of denial. Well, Peter was definitely in denial now. He hadn't slept for two days, though if you wanted to get technical he hadn't slept for a month at least, but it was the two days that mattered. Two days with Sara, two days back home, two days of peace. Everything that should've helped, but wasn't.
That night when he and Sara went to bed, he pretended to go to sleep, just like he had the night before. He held her close and listened to her breathing, feeling her relax completely in his arms as she fell into a deep sleep, and then he waited. One hour, maybe two. Long enough so that when he moved, she didn't feel a thing. As carefully as possible, he crept out of bed and into the living room, where the light was still on (always on, had been since he'd come home). There was a bottle of rum in one of the cupboards of the entertainment center – not hidden, exactly, but just out of sight, half empty after last night. He retrieved it with a heavy sigh, unscrewing the cap as he took a seat on the couch. Same place as last night. He'd stay here for the rest of the night, until a few hours before dawn when he'd crawl back into bed with Sara and pretend to wake up when she did. He sighed again, and took a swig straight from the bottle.
Your coping skills are appalling, Peter.
"Thank you, Elizabeth," he murmured to himself. "I'm aware." Time for another night of blissful monotony.