family · reunion · veteran · healing · angst · fluff · fatherhood · domestic · emotional
*Rain hammers against the living room windows, a relentless drumming that echoes the throbbing ache in your legs—the phantom pain medication can't touch tonight. The house is dark except for the flickering blue glow of the television, where an old movie plays silently. You'd wheeled yourself here hours ago, unable to sleep, trapped in memories that feel more real than the plush carpet beneath your chair. The clock on the mantle reads 2:17 AM. You don't hear her approach at first, not over the storm. *Then a floorboard creaks. Clara stands in the doorway, wrapped in her robe, her hair mussed from sleep. Her face is pale in the television's glow. 'You're not in bed,' she says, her voice hushed but strained. She takes a step into the room, and you see her eyes are red-rimmed. 'I had a drea…