885 Days [A Vikklan/Sidemen/Pack Story]

One-Hundred Days Home

1 December 2017

Life. Life plus forty years, which is more than I honestly could have hoped for given that he had decided to plead guilty in the hopes of getting a lesser sentence. Quietly, Mary told me afterwards that had he not plead guilty he probably would have end up with a stupidly long sentence, half a dozen life sentences or something, but either way he was never getting out.

Lachlan collapsed onto the floor the moment we heard about it, dissolving into sobs once again. He had been crying a lot over the last few weeks. The other four Pack boys stayed for a little while because everyone was so happy that it was over, we would never have to see his ugly face again and we, especially Lachlan, could truly begin to heal and move past everything that had happened.

It was only in the last couple of weeks that we had really begun to get him walking, moving about the house unassisted, and for the first time he went into the pool. It was difficult as he wouldn't wear just swim trunks and we had to find a long sleeve shirt than he could wear in the water but, once he was comfortable to do so, we finally got into the water.

Lachlan was unsure at first, only dangling his legs in as I swam laps and tried to get everything off my mind, but with some gentle encouraging and a reminder of how strong of a swimmer he used to be, he finally got into the water properly. He continued to clutch my hands, remaining in the shallows and shivering a bit, but he was moving and standing on his own easily enough. He still wasn't really standing or walking, so the water made it easier.

"See?" I said gently, inching towards the shallows. "We're doing fine, you're fine."

"It's cold." He mumbled, wrinkling his nose.

As we hovered in the water, Lachlan allowing the water to eventually cover his shoulders, I just thought. We were a little over three months since he was found and if I was honest, not much had changed since he had woken up other than the knowledge that that disgusting man was behind bars. He clung to me, he didn't speak much, he still woke up screaming. He still wasn't eating properly, he still disassociated. He had gained a little weight and could walk somewhat, but it wasn't a marked improvement. 48 kilograms up to 52 was painful and slow simply because he wasn't eating enough to gain weight. He barely ate enough to keep the weight he was at, let alone gain it. At the moment it was muscle gain from walking.

Standing behind Lachlan, keeping one hand on him constantly, my heart squeezed. His hair had grown out enough to warrant a haircut and his face was beginning to fill out again, but his arms floating at the surface were like sticks. There had been a slightly visible weight gain, but I could still count his ribs.

"Do you wanna lie back?" I asked him, placing one hand on his back. "Put your head under?" He shook his head.

"No. I don't... I don't wanna put my head under." He said, turning to bury his head in my shoulder. I put my arms around him and just held him as he floated in the water and cuddled close to me, eyes fluttering closed. He was light as it was, but the water meant I could just prop him up against me and hold him.

Lachlan fell asleep against me. It took about half an hour of gently rocking him side to side in the water, humming, before he did fall asleep but I was incredibly glad that he did. He was there, asleep, and I was able to hold him.

Preston and Jerome walked into the pool house in their tog about ten minutes after Lachlan finally fell asleep, both surprised to see us there. Preston managed a smile when he saw Lachlan so relaxed but the looks on their faces were utter shock seeing Lachlan in shorts and a thin shirt for the first time. Surrounded by nothing but water, it was blindingly obvious how thin he was.

"Hey Vikk." Jerome said as he slipped into the water. "How long have you two been in here?"

"Over an hour now, I think." I said quietly, careful to not move Lachlan. "He's been asleep for half an hour but I'm not sure how to get him out."

"Do you want some help?" Preston asked, crouching down on the side of the pool. "We might not be able to get him out without waking him up, but you could get him into the shower and then into bed properly."

"That would be good." I breathed. "Thanks."

--------------------------------------------------

The next suggestion that came was from Nicola, and it was for therapy at least twice a week. I was reluctant, hell, Lachlan was reluctant, but she was specialist in long-term trauma and maybe understood what was best for him more than I or even he did. She said it was because the doctor and nurses didn't need to come every day now, the wounds from surgery were completely healed and were now just working on walking and eating, so it was time to work on the mental side of things.

The first few weeks were difficult. Christmas passed without much notice or celebration because Lachlan was in such a fragile state. He struggled each morning to get up knowing that he would have to go into the office that afternoon and talk about everything that had happened to him. Nicola never forced him to do anything, but she that getting everything out was the best way to start. He was emotionally drained after each session and sometimes it seemed like he was regressing rather than improving because he would disassociate and relapse back into his harmful coping mechanisms which sometimes went as far as scratching at skin until it bled.

"Hey Lachy, hey, don't hurt yourself." I had to pull his fingers away from his wrist, the skin already red and inflamed despite Rob and I having cut his nails as far back as we could. "It's okay, you're safe. You're at home, remember?"

He blinked, shaking his head from side to side. I called them tics now, the little movements or noises he made when he wasn't entirely there, or stims. He'd shake his head, rock, make noises under his breath, clamp his hands over his ears. I was glad that he always allowed me to hold him, steadying him as he tried to work his way out of his head, but there were little details that were finally making their way out. I think his talking to Nicola had made him want to talk to someone else about it, so he began talking to me.

The first time was after a pretty bad nightmare one night, and Lachlan could sleep. All of a sudden, he started talking.

"He used to tell me about what you guys were doing." He whispered, staring blankly at the wall. "He'd show me the video and the photos, brag about how they were going nowhere with the investigation. He make me talk about them, about how we were friends and then he'd use it against me." His breathing shuddered, tears dripping from his eyes. "But I never mentioned you. He'd only use you against me."

I didn't interrupt him- I knew if I did, he would stop.

"He'd call me names, anything but Lachlan. I keep hearing him. I don't want to hear him anymore. I don't want to remember him anymore."