A Big Step [Harley]

It had taken a bit more work then Ian had expected to get the house ready for someone else to move in, there was a lot to be shifted around, space that needed to be opened up...Harley was moving into an already fairly established house, but Ian didn't want him to feel that his space, tastes or comfort in the house were secondary or had to be fit around his own and it had prompted a much more intense cleaning of the place then he'd started out to do. By now though a bunch of space had been opened up for the other's use, one of the bedrooms that had previously just been storage space had been completely emptied out to now be used as office space or whatever else Harley wanted to use it for, and discussions had been had on replacing some of the furniture with things they both liked better. As far as he was concerned, it was all going along great, far better than the circumstances that had originally led him to buying this place close to 15 years previously.

It had left him a bit scattered though, half finished projects around the house as he went from one thing to the next as his thoughts took him. He'd meant to put those boxes in the bedroom away again, but then got distracted with furniture delivery, and was now downstairs looking that over now that the delivery drivers had come and gone. He looked up as Harley came in. "Hmm?"

He took the offered photo, looking at it for a long, long moment. He hadn't looked at it or opened that specific box up in quite a while, but it only took a few moments for it all to come flooding back, and he sat down on the couch, still looking down at it.

"I...this was someone I met...a long time ago. Back in the war..." his voice sounded strange, a little distant. "I'm sorry, are my boxes in the way? I can move them." He seemed to move on a little quickly, glancing up after a moment.

Harley couldn't help but to take in everything around the house, and it only served to deepen his appreciation for the man and everything he was doing. The moment he'd confirmed that he would be moving in with Ian, he'd immediately taken it upon himself to begin to turn the house into THEIR house, he would have to do something for him when they finished all this work, but for now, he glanced down at Ian, interest lighting up in his eyes at his words, "you do not say..." He moved to sit down beside him, looking over the photo with a thoughtful expression.

After a moment he laughed softly, "I ask because...This is a photo of me and my sister..." He ran a hand through his hair, "I thought I lost it..." He rubbed over his cheek and chuckled, "what are the chances, right?" He had vague memories, being pinned and badly wounded, the only medic around who sat with him, "I was shot and pinned...And there was a medic, he sat with me through the longest night of my life..." He reached a hand to rub over his back, "could not forget that night if I tried..."

Ian sat back and for a very long minute just stared at Harley as though looking at a ghost. His expression shifted, his mind obviously working through this, and racing over a variety of emotions. He opened his mouth to start to speak, shut it again, shook his head. He looked at the picture, then back up again.

"You?" he finally said, a little hoarsely. "That was you?"

He glanced away again, speaking slowly. "Everything...it was just...it was all gone. I thought I was the only one left...but I found this other solider...he...he was...I was so sure deep down that he was going to die...but I just couldn't..." His voice started to waver a little, but he made himself go on. "I thought if we could just make it to morning...I talked to him all night about anything...everything...to keep him awake...there were so many people I couldn't save...I couldn't even help. But they got to us in the morning, they got us out..and they said because of what I'd done he'd live...that picture was left...I kept it to remember that for as much as I couldn't do...there'd been people I had been able to help...and that had to fucking count for something right?" He wiped a hand over his eyes and took a breath.

"I'd always hoped he'd gotten out, got to go home again." He looked up again, it really sinking in this time. "That...was *you*?"

Harley own face reflected the disbelief that seemed to paint Ian's features, it was a one in a billion chance, the kind of thing that usually only happened in movies, in grand stories that were always fiction, but this was reality, and he found that he could only give a slow nod, "y-yes...That was me..." It was all he could manage to mutter softly, and he looked up at Ian as he spoke.

Ian's words brought the memories back vividly, though their conversations melted into memory, he could remember being there, the man, Ian wrapping him up in a desperate attempt to keep him warm, "yeah...I remember convincing myself that I was going to die...I remember...God...That was you..." He looked into his eyes and felt tears welling up in his own, "you saved my life...Because of you...I am still here..." He ran a hand through his hair, "there were days where I wanted more than anything to...But you saved my life and I did not want that to be for nothing..." He rubbed his hands over his face and laughed, "I have not always been as well put together as I am now...A-and sometimes I still slip..." He chuckled, "I have just become good at...But that does not matter." He took Ian's hands and squeezed them, "I am here because of you, Ian." He couldn't hide the wetness to his eyes as he smiled at the man.

"I remember...trying to convince you you weren't going to die." There was a bit of a catch in his voice as he wiped his eyes again, feeling overwhelmed.

"I used to think about you...a lot. I used to wonder what had ever happened to you, did you go home, did you ever get to see that temple lit up again...but I realized I didn't even know your name, I had no way to find you again. I never...I would never have thought this. Ever. What are the odds?" He let out a sound half between a sob and a laugh.

He leaned over to rest his head on Harley's shoulders, shaking just a little as it all sunk in. It had mattered, so much, the actions of one desperate man who'd seen too much death and was determined not to see more. "I am glad...I am so glad I was there. And that it did mean something...it did matter. That you're here." He said quietly.

Harley nodded, using his sleeve to wipe at his own eyes, "yes...I did not believe you..." He laughed softly at that, "Hmm but if I knew then what I know now, I would have...You are a dedicated and determined man." He could feel his heart thumping hard from the excitement of the situation, half expecting himself to wake up from some bizarre but wonderful dream.

He finally put an arm around the man, using the other to brush over his cheek, "because of you...I have helped so many people who suffered the way we did. You did not just help me, Ian." He realized this, if Ian hadn't saved his life he'd of never lived to do what he did today, the thought left him a little breathless, "remembering your dedication helped me to keep fighting even after the war was over..." He couldn't help a disbelieving laugh, "I have always found fate and destiny to be bullshit...But I...Just do not know anymore..." He pulled the man closer and rested his head against Ian's when he felt it against his shoulder, "I am glad that I am here too, sharing this moment and every moment after it with you, Ian."

"And you...you were one of the patients in particular that made me want to do the work I do." He admitted. He'd wanted to help men like him, to help them heal better and have better lives after they went home, to help them in ways that the technology didn't even exist for yet, before he'd started working on many of the projected he'd done in his life.

"I'll be honest, I stopped believing in a great many things after that war. God, Fate, Destiny...whatever you want to call it...I left it all behind me. But this..." he traced a finger over the photo. "Whatever this is, whoever or whatever is looking out for us...I'm glad for it."

He wrapped an arm around Harley, shaking his head a little. "What are the odds." he couldn't help but say again.

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Harley never left work early, he was always there until the day was over because he loved his job. But here he was sitting in his car staring at the steering wheel, and it was all he could to do muster the energy to start the car and made the drive home. There was always the worry in the back of his head that something like this would happen, he'd talked many men down from this point, even his own partner, it was why he was so dedicated and close to many of his patients. They trusted him to be the one to catch them when they might fall.

But he hadn't been there this time. The man had been seeing him since he moved to this area, troubled, but Harley had been hopeful and things had been looking up thanks to the resources and help he'd given the down on his luck veteran. The call had been shocking, he had an appointment today, one he wouldn't be coming to. It was his secretary that told him, the man had been found in his apartment, with a messy bullet wound through the back of his head, an obvious suicide. And Harley felt sick.

The drive home was torturous and slow, he was eager to be home, but not eager to face Ian, over his years he'd gotten good at being the strong, stable person, and the man had never seen him as anything else. He knew Ian still struggled with his own demons, so in his eyes the last thing he needed was to have to deal with Harley's too. So be the time he pulled into the driveway, he'd shoved back most of it behind the most Harley smile he could muster, unlocking the door and calling out in a strained but cheerful voice, "Ian! I am home!"

With headphones on, working in his office upstairs Ian didn't hear Harley get home at first, but he was pretty sure he'd heard the other's voice downstairs. He pulled off the headphones, glancing at the time, then looking at it again in surprise. Harley wasn't usually home for several hours yet, and he wasn't the sort to just knock off early and come home early unless he was sick or something was wrong. He frowned a bit in concern as he got up, heading to the top of the stairs.

"Hey dear." He called from the stairs, peering down at him as he started to head to the first floor. "You're home early..." He tilted his head slightly. "Is everything alright?" He was still smiling and seemed cheerful, but Ian was still concerned.

Harley ran a hand over his eyes in a quick motion as he heard Ian's voice and saw the man coming down the stairs, smiling up at him, "ah yes, there was...I just...Needed to come home." He realized he could have just lied, but that wouldn't accomplish anything, and Ian would see through him anyway, so he settled for a half truth, smiling and gathering him into his arms for a tight hug, trying his best to beat away the feelings, "I am sorry if I distracted you from your work..." He laughed at the question and nodded, "oh yes everything is fine, love, I...Did not have a patient today and no one else was booked in, so I decided to come home early!" He pulled away after a moment and turned a little to quickly to head into the kitchen.

"ah uh...Have you eaten?" He smiled back at him, "I could whip us up something? We could go out for lunch!" He realized he was babbling on, but talking right now was all that was keeping him from thinking about it, about the man's head split open, about the blood on the wall, he'd seen it happen before, it had almost happened to Ian, he supposed that was what was making him the sickest. He cleared his throat when he realized he must be staring off into space, "so what are you working on?"

"You needed to come home?" Ian frowned a little. "What happened, are you sick?"

He still didn't look entirely convinced, but gave a slow nod. "I suppose I"m just not used to you taking afternoons off, it caught me a bit by surprise." Even when one patient cancelled, which did happen sometimes, he normally had more through the afternoon. A whole afternoon with no one was still...odd.

He followed him to the kitchen, leaning against the kitchen doorway, arms folded over his chest. "I was just looking over a project a bit before finally submitting it. Final check work, I tend to think better here when I don't have people calling and interrupting me with other projects all the time." He explained with a bit of a shrug.

Something was still off though, the cheerfulness forced, a tension about him that he didn't normally carry. "I'm not hungry right now, I'm...are you *sure* everything is alright? You just seem very tense right now." He didn't want to force the issue, he wanted to let Harley have some space if he needed it, he was sure he'd come around to talk if he wanted to. But Ian couldn't help but be concerned.

Harley looked at him for a long time, then sighed, "sick...Yes...A bit." He admitted, looking down. He should have known he wouldn't be able to hide this from Ian, the man was a master of doing exactly what Harley was attempting to do right now, "I..." He waved Ian into the livingroom and looked down as he sat on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face, "it was just a bad day." Understatement, he realized, he couldn't seem to shake these awful feelings, "tense...Yes I suppose I am a might tense..." He slumped forwards and looked at the floor, "do you remember the man...The patient I met shortly after relocating here?" He swallowed down the urge to vomit, sure he'd gone green in the face, "he..."

His breath hitched and the words, "I failed him, Ian..." He sunk his face into his hands, unable to hide the slight tremble in his shoulders, "they...He shot himself through the mouth...Ian..." His face was haunted as he said that, a distant, horrified expression, "I have seen men in my company do that...I have seen soldiers do that..." He seemed to slump and crumble as he rested his head in his hands, "it is so vivid in my head...I...F-fuck..." His breath hitched and he swallowed hard, "I should have tried...I...Could have done more...What am I doing if I cannot save one man..."

Ian followed him into the living room, sitting next to him on the couch and putting an arm around his shoulders.

"Bad day? Tell me about it." He encouraged, glad that he was willing to talk about whatever was on his mind.

He listened, nodding a little in recognition when Harley asked if he'd remembered one of his patients, he didn't know names or details due to confidentiality issues, but he knew in at least vague terms which ones were making good progress, which ones he worried most about. As Harley continued his story, Ian also went pale. These things happened...he'd come close more times than he cared to admit himself...but it never stopped being terrible. It never stopped being something that shook people like them to their core.

"Oh god." he said, voice a little hoarse. "God...I'm sorry." He wrapped his arm tighter around Harley's shoulders, drawing him closer and resting his chin against his hunched shoulder. "I'm so fucking sorry." He said quietly. "But it's not your fault...you help so many people. So many people...you...didn't do this..."