"OH, don’t. Wait til you see the entire bag of seashells she collected today,” Jackson replied, laughing. “Every single shiny shell she saw on the beach - straight into the bag. She’s like a magpie,” He added, shaking his head. “Well, you might have a point. But still, I think we’re gonna be in for a wild ride,” Jay finished, a light tease in his tone.Â
           If there was one thing that Jay was certain of, it was that he didn’t want Caleb to suffer through this alone. Recovering from trauma of any kind was a process; Jackson understood that. It was a process he’d gone through, too - a continuous cycle, one that seemed to have more setbacks than progress - but it was a road worth taking. However, he knew that therapy wasn’t for everyone; but he knew he had to start somewhere. He knew, that if Cal ever decided he was ready to talk about it, that it wasn’t going to be pleasant to listen to - what he knew so far was horrific, but Jay understood that was another part of the process. It was a long haul ride, but he wasn’t going anywhere.
           "Hey, look at me.” Jay started, reaching out to brush his fingertips across Caleb’s cheek, a soft, reassuring smile settling on his lips, “We can’t change what happened to you,” He murmured, “But we can work through it. You can work through it.” There were times when Jay had to admit that he felt a little hypocritical; he’d never spoken to anyone other than his therapist about his own mother, about the things that had happened in his family - but he supposed that still needed time. Another progress step in his own recovery. However, he shook that from his thoughts: he wasn’t the important factor in this situation.
          “You’re safe here, Caleb.” Jay reassured, this time reaching for Caleb’s hands, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll say that as many times as you need to hear it.” He knew it was going to take a long, long while before Caleb felt that he was on any road to healing. “There’s no quick way around it,” He continued, brushing his thumb across the back of Cal’s hand. “Whether it’s five or fifteen years, I’m here. I love you; I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll continue to do so for – well, I’m dropping the whole marriage cliche back in here, but for as long as we both live. Nothing’s going to change that: not the five years in between, not what happened to you, not whatever the future might throw at us. You’re more than what happened out there, Caleb. I promise you that.”
“Wonder if we can do something with that. Stick them onto the bottom of her bed or something. on board we can remove I mean” or some other form of furniture, but if she enjoyed them then they should try and do something with them rather then leave them in a jar. “Come on, with us as parents, did we expect anything else” even if they both knew he hadn’t been there.Â
Work through it... and there was the issue wasn’t it? Working through it meant thinking about it, and the moment he started doing that, he was reliving it. He couldn’t do that, he refused to do that. He had barely survived it the first time, only be going to a very dark place mentally had he done it. He had barely pulled himself out of it the first time, he had no idea how he was meant to do it again, and with the people he loved nearby... what if he did hurt them?
“I love you too” that would never change, he knew that. No matter what had happened. Sometimes out there he couldn’t bare to think about his kids, not wanting their image connected with such a dark place. But every night when he went to sleep, he had pictured his husband’s face, without fail. “I’m too selfish to let you go Jack, always have been. But... you deserve so much more than this” he had believed that since he had got home. He hadn’t really expected to have a life here anymore, the fact he did was something he was thankful for everyday. But the cracks were there, the reminder that something horrible had happened.
He shook his head, “I’m not talking about what’s in my head. I mean physically... I can’t even look in a mirror anymore. What happens if we get intimate? Maybe it’s vanity talking, but they’re never going away” and he didn’t know how to cope with that. He wanted to say that they were signs he had healed... but he hadn’t, and he knew that. His missing fingers, his limp, all obvious signs he hadn’t, and those were just what was visible. “Maybe I used to be. But now... I feel empty”.
