It had felt like we were in the honeymoon stage of our relationship forever. We went months without arguing and spent every moment we could with each other. Date nights were every weekend and every Sunday was a day of cuddles and warm blankets.

We both had our head in the clouds which had blinded us from the fact that the world is a sick son of a bitch and everything could come crashing down at any moment.

Which it did.

It was one weekday evening and we were sitting at our small dinner table eating supper. Harry had said he had some news. I leaned back in my seat and waited for him to speak, "they want me back."

Hearing those words made me burst into angry tears, "they can't. They said you were done! You've been out of there for months. They can't just take you from me."

Harry leaned over the table and took my hands in his, "I know, love. It's not fair, but they call the shots. I'm still on the list. They can still call me whenever they're running low on men, or need a pilot."

"Just tell them you can't. You were injured! You have nightmares, you can't go back."

Harry shook his head just the slightest, trying to hold back his tears, "it doesn't work that way, Lou."

"Well, make it work that way!" I cried out, "they can't take you away! Not again." I choked out a sob and stood up, ready to go hide away in the bedroom. Harry stood too and grabbed my wrist to pull me into a hug.

"I don't want to leave," Harry had said, "but it is the duty to protect and serve my country. You have to understand that, darling."

"But what if your nightmares get worse? What if you come back again and you...you aren't good? What if you...what if you--"

Harry hushed me, rubbing my back to calm me down, "let's not think about that, okay? I'll be okay. I still don't leave for a few weeks so let's make the best of it, yeah?" He lifted my chin to look into my eyes, I could hardly focus on him as I cried, "I love you and no ocean or war can get in the way of that," he said. He kissed me once and proceeded to lift me up as though I were a toddler and carry me to our bedroom.

He laid me in our bed, took off my shoes, replaced my jeans with sweats that were far more comfortable, grabbed a dry shirt (one that was drenched in tears), and tucked me in. He got changed himself, leaving his shirt off because he always got way too hot at night, and climbed in behind me. He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel the pounding of his heart beat.

It was then that I realized I would miss these moments once he had left yet again. I wouldn't have anyone to hold me when I couldn't sleep at night. I wouldn't have someone to wish me sweet dreams every night before bed. I wouldn't have someone to kiss my shoulders in order to wake me up in the morning. I wouldn't have breakfast on the table, music playing in the kitchen, or the love of my life with me.

I would be alone.

.

Harry woke up around three in the morning by a nightmare he had been having. I had become used to them around this time since they seem to happen roughly every other night, more if he's stressed. I pulled him close to me and spoke quietly to him, "it's alright. I'm here. You're home. You're not out there. You're not fighting. You're right here next to me. You're safe, I promise."

Harry didn't stop crying. He was worse than I was when it came to how much we each cried. I cried far more often than he did, but when he cried it was as if a dam had been broken and the water was leaving the flood gates.

He rolled away from me and punched a few of the pillows on the bed. He then stood and began to tug at his hair, "make it stop. Make it stop," he pleaded.

There was nothing I could do. I was worthless when it came to his own thoughts. Everything I said, I said with caution. Everything I did, I did with caution. I've always been aware of what goes on, what things can trigger Harry to act out or bawl. I avoided saying or doing anything that would take him back to Iraq.

"Baby," I said, getting off the bed to carefully grab his wrists to stop him from tugging his hair, "we just need to calm down. Can you take a few deep breaths for me? Just a few. I'll do it with you if you want."

Harry nodded quickly and I took three deep breaths with him, "it's not working," he exclaimed, beginning to feel frustrated all over again.

I entangled our fingers, "I'm right here. It will work. It is okay. Just do it again." We continued to breath in and out, taking things slow so it cleared Harry's mind, "great job. God, look at you. You're doing great, just keep breathing in and out." 

I waited a few more minutes for Harry to breath, "do you feel better?" 

Harry nodded again, his eyes closed as he continued to do his breathing exercise. I let him do it by himself and sat on the edge of the bed, still holding on to his hands, "do you think we can lay down again?" 

Harry didn't say anything, he just sat right beside me on the bed. He kissed my hands, slowly bringing them to his lips and slowly resting them in my lap. I softly rested one of my hands on the side of his face, Harry leaning into the touch.

He had stopped shaking. His sweat was beginning to stick to his skin and his hair was in all sorts of directions, but he went back to sleep, not even bothering to wash up this time. I smiled to myself as I watched him begin to fall asleep. I whispered just loud enough so he could hear me, "I love you, Harry, always will even if your across the sea."