The round whipped past his head, close enough for him to hear its passing. There was a ricochet from somewhere the other side of his head. One of many. God knows where the rounds were ricocheting to. He knew where at least one of the ambushers was ensconced and popped up over the top of the water filled ditch and fired off three controlled shots from his M27, before hunkering back down into the stagnant water.

“Charlie delta three, this is Zulu Alpha. Contact, over.”

Hank waded down the ditch on his knees, looking out for the tell-tale muzzle flashes. Another round whizzed past his head. Hank popped up above the ditch, fired off another three quick shots, ducked back down.

“Roger that Charlie delta three. Request immediate Air support to our location, over.”

Fuzzball was sat in the water. Back against one side of the ditch, feet braced against the other, shoulder width apart. Sat across the top of his ankles was his rifle, clear of the mud and water. Against his chest was propped the radio set. Handset pressed against his right ear, he was unfolding a laminated map with his left, spreading it out against his left knee. Hank shuffled up to him though the sludge “Wait out.” Fuzz said into the handset.

Hank stabbed a gloved finger at two points on the map.

“Map set is Delta, Uniform, four, six. Grid reference is Bravo, eight, six, two. Uniform, four, three, nine. Second location is Echo, four, five two. Mike, seven, one, three. Repeat, over.” A detonating RPG further along, sent a mini tsunami down the ditch. “Fuck’s sake!” Fuzz hastily lifted the set above the wave. “Roger that. Out.”

Hank popped above the ditch edge, returned fire as Fuzz stowed the map and leant forward to pick up his rifle.

There was a loud ‘thwunk’ and something embodied itself into the thick mud wall of the ditch.

Fuzz and Hank looked towards the set of fins sitting proud of the mud. “Fuck!” they both shouted simultaneously. Hank threw himself as far away from the RPG as his legs could manage, belly flopping into the water, feeling it rush into the void between his combat fatigues and his body armour. His helmeted head was pushed into the mud at the bottom of the ditch by a concussive blast front. Surfacing, spitting out stagnant water, tearing off his mud covered ballistic glasses, Hank struggled clear from the water, coughing and snorting mud out from his mouth and nose. He looked back. Fuzz was still lying face down in the water, one leg a ragged shredded mess from above the knee down.

“FUZZ!!!” Hank screamed as he sloshed his way towards him. “FUZZ!!!”

“Shh. It’s okay dad. It’s a dream. It’s just a dream dad...”

Hank blinked, confused. He could feel the water, smell the mud, smell the charred meat, feel the chaffed skin where the edges of his body armour rubbed...

“It’s okay dad. You’re okay...”

The mountain terrain of Afghanistan gave way to the early morning light filtering into his bedroom. The water of the ditch into sweat soaked bedsheets. The light restriction of his body armour was his daughters arms around his body, hugging him close.

“Shh. It’s okay...” She whispered.

Hanks hyperventilating breath slowly subsided to something closer to normal. The tears came, unwanted, unstoppable.

“I know...” She said as she gently rocked him. Hank cried into her shoulder, tears and snot soaking into the thin material of her t-shirt. Eventually he regained some semblance of composure.

“I’m sorry Leena, so sorry.”

“Shh, you have nothing to be sorry about.” Leena pulled away from him and from the bedside table, retrieved the glass of water that she had brought in with her. The water was cool, soothing his dry throat. He could really go a cool beer, or something stronger, a lot stronger, but as a recovering alcoholic, there was no beer, or any other alcohol in the house.

Leena took the glass from him and carefully placed it back down on the bedside table. He watched dumbly as she pulled his sheet back and slipped under the cover. Her short T failing to hide a glimpse of her panties from his embarrassed view. She pulled the sheet over herself and snuggled into his sweat soaked body.

It had taken a year since the deployment ended for the emotional strain to start manifesting itself. During the tour, there had been no time to think, only act. Twenty hour days meant that when you slept, whenever and wherever you could, you slept the sleep of the dead. Bravado and overly toxic masculinity dragged you through your waking hours.

The wheels had come off the proverbial wagon when posted back to Germany. Suddenly there was time to think. To review all the incidents he shouldn’t have walked away from, firefights that by rights, they shouldn’t have won. The introspection, the continual cycle of self-doubt. If he had zagged instead of zigged, would brothers still be alive? If he had spotted that ambush/IED/suspicious local sooner, would the casualties have been less?

All these thoughts and more, piled up when you tried to sleep, keeping the welcoming darkness at bay. The next day, exhaustion clouding thought and decisions, would pile up on top of the previous days anxiety and exhaustion. It seemed so logical to turn to drink, and the welcoming darkness it brought. The one night a week binge with the lads, became two, then three, then he had become drunk more than he was sober, topping up the levels during the day from bottles stashed at work or in his barracks room. For some, the booze was a gateway drug to harder substances. Pot, then cannabis then cocaine and heroin as the body grew tolerant to the poisons being ingested. The squad unravelled, fighting against the chain of command and then themselves.

In the end, it was just simpler, quicker and more importantly, cheaper, to simply discharge the troops back into civvy street and let civilian charities try and cope with the fallout. Hank, his wife and fifteen year old Leena had been posted back to America. Hanks admin discharge scaring away the majority of potential employers.

It was tempting for Hank to blame the dissolution of the marriage on the drink, but the relationship had been on the rocks for years. So it had surprised no-one when his wife had simply packed her things and left. What had been surprising, was that she hadn’t taken Leena with her. Mother and daughter hadn’t got along since Leena was twelve, but still.

Life had continued its steady downward spiral till he had come home one afternoon, sacked from yet another job, to find Leena cleaning their small two bedroomed flat. Bags of empty bottles at the door, the smell of alcohol strong in the air. He had found her in the kitchen, in the process of pouring the contents of some cheap and nasty wine down the sink.

Rage had taken over him. He had snatched the bottle from her, screaming into her face. He had balled his fist, pulled his arm back to deliver not a slap, but a punch. Then he had seen the fear and the defiance on her face. He faltered, realised that he had become the very thing he had always despised. The fear on his daughters face cut through his rage and he had collapsed on the floor, balling his eyes out. She had sat beside him, wrapped her arms round him and waited till the rage and pity inside dissipated.

With her help and support, she had gone with him to local A.A. meetings. He could never stay though, the conversation always ended up about alcohol, which ignited his craving. The shakes would arrive first, then the thirst, the need to feel the burn of the booze.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, coming off the drink. Way harder than basic had ever been. He couldn’t even walk or drive past an off-licence or pub. He had never appreciated how much alcohol had permeated society until he needed to go to a grocery store without passing a liquor store. Leena drove now, as he pulled his hoody far over his head and tried not to look out the windows.

Luckily, for the pair of them, Leena was a hairdresser and could work from home. Whilst she used to go to clients houses, she had a solid enough client base that was prepared to come to her. The living room was her place of work and Hank was confined to his room. Leena’s clients knew their situation and helped by continuing to use her services. It was Leena who paid the mortgage, the utilities, the food bills and paid for the clothes on their backs.

When Hank awoke, he was alone, his sheets still wet. Uncomfortably so. Pulling back the sheet he sat up on the edge of the bed. Looking down, he was happy not to see any untoward brown stains. That hadn’t always been the case. At his worst, that had been an almost daily occurrence. Leena had become adept at shoving him, still clothed, into the shower so she could strip his bed, down to a fine art. Strange how they never told you that at the recruitment office, that you ran the risk of waking up in your own shit when you left. Or in Hanks case, were kicked out.

“I have a client at nine.” Leena said as he walked into the kitchen and stuffed his bedding in the wash. Hank had an irrational desire to go out for a run. He felt so jittery. He poured some powder into the tray, not needing to shake the box as his uncontrollable shakes provided all the impetus the powder needed. Hank clocked his daughter watching his hand. She knew. She always did. He placed the box down, hand still shaking. There is no point trying to disguise it now that she had already clocked him.

Hank couldn’t leave the house without her chaperoning him. If she had clients today, then no run for him, the house bills came first. Hank shut the door and set the programme. A soft hand on his shoulder made him jump.

“You’re jittery today.” She calmly remarked. He hadn’t heard her approach. It was easy to sneak up on him these days. His situational awareness beyond a joke.

He nodded. “It’s always worse after a bad night.”

She slipped her hands round his waist, clasped her hands over his stomach as she leant her head against his shoulder. “It’ll get better. It just takes time dad.” The doorbell rang and Leena let go of him with a sigh and let her first customer of the day in.

“Good Morning Flo. You are looking ravishing this morning.” Hank said trying to be polite, reckoning a bit of flattery could only help his daughters business.

“Why thank you Hank.” Flo returned with a large smile.

Leena let out an overly dramatic sigh. “You haven’t got the hang of this yet, have you dad? You are supposed to tell them how good they look AFTERWARDS! Not before...”

Retrieving a fresh bottle of water, Hank retreated to his room and slipped on a pair of headphones. Sitting in a chair he picked up a Lee Child paperback. He had never been a big reader, but he needed to do something with his time, and the Reacher novels had been recommended by another veteran at a help group he had briefly attended.

It wasn’t completely military, just enough to bring back the good memories, no military combat to bring back the bad. The music playing through the headphones was classical. Not his cup of tea- he was more of a metal fan-, but it was what his therapist recommended, so he sat there with harp music resounding in his ears.

He shared lunch with his daughter, then it was back to his room as she dealt with more customers over the afternoon.

His daughter entered the room in shorts and t-shirt. “Come on then.”

Hank pulled off his headphones. “What?”

“Get your running shoes on, let’s go soldier.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Hell no! But you’re getting fat sat there. Come on, get your trainers on. Chop, chop!”

“What if I have an ... incident...” The last time she had taken him outside, a sudden loud noise had sent him diving onto the ground, to cry his eyes out.

Leena shrugged. “Try not to dive into dog shit this time, okay? Seriously, of all the bits of sidewalk you could have picked. You chose the only bit to have dog shit on it for miles around.”

Leena watched him put his trainers on. “And don’t forget to warm up. Though I shouldn’t need to tell you that...”

Hank paused on the threshold of their flat, full of trepidation, until a hand landed square between his shoulder blades and pushed him through. “Get on with it!” Leena said as she followed him and locked their door. She kept a steady pace that was gruelling to his present fitness level. The first fifteen minutes were an absolute nightmare. He ached all over, he could hardly breathe and his legs and lungs burned something terrible, but his daughter didn’t relent, pushing him to his limit. Hank was ashamed at how weak and unfit he had become.

After half an hour, he had run through the worst of it. His breathing had steadied and he no longer felt as though he was in the throes of a heart-attack. His daughter ran slightly in front, keeping the pace, insulting him if he started to lag. She also chose a route that ensured she missed as many bars and liquor stores as she could. The ones she couldn’t avoid, she crossed the street to the other side.

Hank found that, perversely, he was starting to feel good. It was a long time since he had been running, and he was starting to notice other runners now that he wasn’t so focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Two women, Leena’s age were jogging towards him, happily chatting away to each other even though they were going at a speed twice what Hank was managing. Both were wearing skin tight leggings and cropped tops that exposed a lot of bare stomach and cleavage.

Hank drew himself up, tried to quicken his pace and tried not to look every bit as fucked as he felt. As the two girls passed, he felt his head start to turn to check out the rear view.

“Eyes front soldier!” Leena commanded without even looking back. Hank cursed under his breath.

He could barely walk when they entered the apartment complex. Hank automatically headed towards the lift, only to be grabbed by a determined hand.

“Uh-Uh” Leena said, shaking her head as she dragged him to the stairs. It was only two flights but it certainly made his thighs burn.

Inside, he collapsed to the floor in a groaning sweaty mess.

Leena headed to her room. “Make sure you stretch off dad, or you’ll cramp.”

Hank tried his best to stretch off, most of the stretches he ended up doing on the floor as his lack of balance wouldn’t allow him otherwise. He tried to stretch off his calves as he listened to Leena humming away in the shower. She had once been a regular runner, a side effect of being a pad-brat. She had always gone out with Hank at night for an evening run around the married quarters, meeting up with other kids as they also went out with their parents. Her running had stopped when she had started to nurse her father down from his alcoholism, and she couldn’t leave him alone for fear of him heading straight to the nearest liquor store.

The shower was turned off and she re-appeared in a t-shirt and jogging bottoms, towelling her hair. She cast a critical eye over him. “Are you going to be able to get back up, or will you need a hand?”

“I’ll manage...” Leena watched him struggle futilely for a minute, then stuck her arm out. “Okay, maybe not.” He grabbed her proffered hand and between them, they hauled him shakily onto his feet. Hank wobbled his way into the bathroom, as Leena laughed behind “Yeah, yeah, yeah...” The hot water felt good, soothing his, tired muscles. He dried himself off and stepped into a pair of fresh boxers.

Leena was in the living room, setting out the materials she needed for the next day’s customers. It was still fairly early in the evening but he was exhausted. Hank pulled out his bed sheets from the drier, and with a great deal of moaning, remade his bed. He pulled the sheet back, climbed in and fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Hank felt remarkably refreshed when he awoke the next morning. He still had the shakes, but they weren’t as bad as they normally were. He made a move to rise, felt his muscles cry out in protest, decided to leave it for a moment yet.

His door opened and his daughter bounced in. “You’re awake then. How do you feel.”

“Sore all over. Thanks.”

“Pain is just weakness esc...”

Hank held up a hand. “Stop right there.”

“You do look a bit more perky than you have been.”

“I certainly don’t feel perky.”

Leena pulled the edge of the bed sheet back. “Budge over lard ass.” She said as she climbed in. Hank caught another brief flash of panty, swallowed nervously as other parts of his anatomy woke from long dormant slumber.

She snuggled up to him. “Mmm, this is nice.”

“Do you have clients today?”

“Mmm hmm. Fully booked from nine.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it is. Silver lining in every dark cloud and all that. But let’s not talk about work, let’s just savour the moment shall we.”

Hank must have drifted off again, as the next thing he knew, was that he was waking up to an empty bed. He cracked open an eye just in time to catch Leena leaving his room as she pulled her T over her head, treating Hank to an arousing glimpse off pantie clad bum and bare bra-less back before the door swung shut. He groaned and rolled over onto his erection. It had been so long he was rather surprised that he was still capable of having one.

“How’s it going?” Leena asked him at lunchtime as she served up a simple plough-man’s lunch.

“I’m going to need another book, and classical music is starting to do my head in.”

“How do you feel about re-starting therapy?”

“Don’ t know. I didn’t do so well last time.”

“Did you want to be helped last time? Telling the therapist to ‘go fuck herself with a grenade’ does give the impression that you weren’t really playing the game.”

“Not really. She told you I said that?”

“Uh-huh.”

“So much for patient confidentiality...” Hank grumbled.

“Well there you go. God helps those who help themselves.”

“I’m not sure that would stand up in front of a judge.”

”I’m pretty sure God didn’t have robbery in mind when she said it.” She smiled as she waited to see if he bit at the gender change. He didn’t.

The jitters and the thirst came back mid-afternoon. Hank swapped the chair for the bed, pulling the pillow over his head as the tears started to flow.

A hand on his shoulder roused him from his depression. The bed dipped as someone climbed on, then in. Lips gently kissed his ear. Hank rolled over.

“Tough afternoon?” Leena asked.

“Yeah, it could have been better.” Hank lifted up the edge of the sheet and took a tentative sniff. All clear. He sighed sadly. “But then equally, it could have been worse.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Shit, miserable, useless, incompetent. Just your average complete waste of space, you know.”

“You could always take up hairdressing.”

“Oh god, please no. I would just end up slicing my wrists open with the hair clippers.”

“You could be there a while...”

“It’s okay. I have the time.” Hank pointed out.

“Well get your own, you’re not using mine.” Hank let out a short laugh. “See, there you go. Happy face...”

“Hmm.”

Leena looked over at him tenderly. “We’ll skip the run tonight, you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He read for a little bit, in bed, but quickly felt his eyes start to drop, along with his head, so he put a scrap of paper in the book to mark his place and lay his head down. He wondered if he would struggle to sleep, if the dreams would plague him, yet before he knew it, the darkness had taken over.

He was lightly dozing in the early morning sunshine when he heard his door open and the soft pad of bare feet. His bed creaked as someone climbed on.

Leena scooted up to him, Hank backed off, Leena shuffled back again. Hank retreated.

“What are you doing? You’ll fall out of bed!”

“Just keeping my distance...” He mumbled, nervously.

“Why?” She turned over to see him, and he couldn’t meet her eye. Dawning realisation swept across her face. “Have you got a hard on!”

“Umm...”

Her eyes went wide and he saw her shoulder move and something brushed the front of his boxers and the hardness trapped within. He jerked his hips back, away for her touch. Leena burst out laughing, it wasn’t quite the reaction he had expected, but then she had grown up in army camps exposed to male behaviour about as uncouth as you could get.

Sometimes the best form of defence was attack, besides she was by no means a child, and hadn’t been for a decade. “Look, it’s been a while Leena, okay? Things build up...”

“Well I’m not helping you with that!”

“What! No! I didn’t mean...” He saw that all too familiar look and sly smile. “Arghh...”

“I’m not a naive virgin you know, I know what bit goes where and how much fun it is getting it there...”

“STOP!!! No more. If there is one thing a father doesn’t want to hear, is anything that contradicts the image he holds of his little innocent princess...”

“Pfft. You men are all the same.” Hank decided that silence was his safest path. “Did you get aroused when those two girls ran past?”

Hank sighed, he doubted she was going to let this lie. “If I hadn’t been in the process of trying to remove all my internal organs via my lungs and through my nasal cavities, then yes, I might have experienced a little blood pressure spike. Leena, like I said, it’s been a while. A long while. A woman on the telly just has to look in my direction and ... I get side-tracked. It’s not as if I can pop to the bar and pick up a random for a night of frivolity. Maybe I should try one of those app things. Tinderbox or whatever it’s called.”

Leena laughed, genuine merriment. “There is no way I’m allowing you to swipe in any fucking direction. Those sites are full of bunny boilers.”

“Okay, a working girl then. Do the deed, no more interest on her part, everyone wins.”

“Oh please. There is more to sex than ‘Wham-bam-thankyou-mam’.”