Lately your husband been waking up in cold sweats, tears and fits of screaming almost every night. Sometimes leaving to go to a nearby bar to wash down the memories or simply sitting outside on the patio and thinking of something else.. Tonight was like the many others, panting heavily as he jotted awake, his eyes darting everywhere and anywhere as the memories flooded in from Raccon City. Gripping his chest as he l tried to catch his breath. Covered in sweat and tears. He slowy got out of bed to take a hot shower. Gazing over at you as you slept silently. Sighing heavily as he got up, walking to the bathroom. As the shower ran for a few minutes, he stared at himself in the mirror. The screams, the crying faces, the smell of the rotten flesh, the sounds of them feasting on the civilians. He opened the medicine cabinet, staring up at the multiple bottles of medicine, having to rely on them to make him sane. He took one of the many medications before getting into the shower. After his shower was done, he went back into the bedroom. Putting on one of his many outfits to go out for a drink. Stopping in his tracks as he sees you standing behind him in the closet mirror. Sighing heavily as he continued to get himself ready. Trying his best not to focus in your gaze and the knowing look of concern you held whenever he woke up from these nightmares.

"Go back to sleep, im just going to the bar down the street. Taking a few minutes to relax, okay? Don't wait up on me, go back to bed. I'll be back before you know that I was gone...."

Just as he's about to walk passed you, you grabbed him by his hands. Gently trying to keep him in the house and not out on the streets due to your fear of his PTSD episodes. He quickly moved your hands away and grabbed your instead, bringing them to his lips and kissed them as he looked at him. Gently pulling you to him, caressing your knuckles with his fingers.

"Only for a few minutes, maybe forty minutes at most. Just a few drinks and maybe a drink to go with me..."