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ScarlettPhoenix , StormO, and Medic thank you, as always.


Wishes
By Nickelina

4. Spinning in Circles

Time had passed, but the pain was as fresh as the day it happened. Dashiell went for his daily run to get out of the house. He pushed himself as hard as he could, and when he couldn't go on anymore, he turned around and went home. It was like this every day. He wondered how much longer he was going to keep punishing himself physically. All he knew was if his body hurt, maybe his heart wouldn't hurt so badly.
When he got back to the house, he found a package sitting on the floor. Caleb left it there along with the rest of his mail. Dash didn't bother to shower of change out or his sweaty clothes. He picked up the box and sat on the couch. He ripped it open without bothering to see who sent it. Once he got through the packing papers, he found a manila envelope. Written on it was the message:

Dashiell,

I took care of Alison's paperwork. Enclosed are her service awards and medals. They were kept concealed until she was decommissioned.

Sincerely,
Conrad.

Decommissioned. Dash took a breath and reached into the box. He left what was in the envelope for later. He pulled out five smaller boxes and lined them up on the table. One by one he opened them. A bronze star, three purple hearts, and a sliver star. He had always joked with Alison about what she would receive for hauling Hawk out of Borovia. She had said that she didn't care about what award she received, just getting him out alive was enough. The Silver Star must have been it. He looked over the rest of the items in the envelope and then closed the boxes individually.
He went to the hall closet and grabbed a stack of boxes that he had stored and threw them into the living room. Shana had told him that she would help pack up Alison's things. He didn't want to delay the inevitable any longer. He wanted to do it all himself, and he wanted to do it now. He stared at the bookcase and wondered if he should start there. Dash shook his head and went to the kitchen to get a drink. Maybe that would make it easier.
Dash was never much of a drinker. There were times that he would go out with the guys, but he never drank when he was mad, or frustrated, or upset. This time, he didn't think about that. There was not much in the way of liquor in the house. There were a few beers in the fridge, but Dash wanted something stronger.
In the cabinet were a few bottles of wine leftover from Alison's funeral. Behind those he found her stash of scotch. She only drank the best, imported from Scotland, and it was the best thing for him to drown in today. He took a small glass down from the shelf below and filled it with scotch. He drank it as if it were a single shot. He felt it burn as it hit his throat and poured himself another. He took the bottle and his glass into the living room and sat back at the couch. He opened the box of the Silver Star again and ran his finger across the medal. He forgot all about cleaning out her things for the time being. He turned on the television and drank another glass.
He spent most of the afternoon drinking. Caleb came home and noticed Dash nearly passed out on the couch. The empty bottle of scotch was lying on its side on the table, and what he had left in the glass had spilled onto the carpet. Caleb walked over to him and took the glass out of his hand.
"God, you're a wreck. Allie would be so disappointed."
"She doesn't care. If she cared, she wouldn't have died." Dash's words were slurred.
"Don't say that. And I care about you." Caleb took Dash's hand and tried to pull him up off the couch. "I can't stand to see you like this. You're a whole different person."
Dash, in a drunk, heavy state, fell back to the couch. Caleb tried again to sit him up, but he was unsuccessful. He left Dash lying down and saw the contents of the package on the table. He reached for the Silver Star.
"Put it down." Dash ordered.
"What is it?" Caleb asked.
"It's not yours. Put it down."
Caleb looked at Dash and knew exactly how to get him up. "That box was for my sister. Those are my sister's things. Do you want me to put it down?" Caleb picked up the Star and walked to the other side of the room. "Because if you want me to, you're going to have to come over here and get it. What do you have to do in the Army to get one of these anyway?"
Dash lay on the couch. He closed his eyes. He knew exactly what Caleb was doing. Alison did it to him all the time, that taunting voice, and her sly smile, the tickle fight that usually ensued after he had caught her. But this wasn't Alison teasing him, it was Caleb intentionally trying to piss him off. Dash got up off the couch. He immediately lost his footing and fell over the coffee table.
"What's the matter Dash? Come and get my sister's star."
"I'm gonna beat the shit out of you when I get over there."
"Really? In your condition? You can't even get your drunken ass off the couch."
Caleb's last comment sent Dash over the edge. He got up off the floor and lunged at Caleb. Caleb moved out of the way before Dash could reach him.
"Hey! You're off the couch!"
"Bastard!"
Before Caleb could move again, Dash's fist connected with the side of his face. He lost his balance and fell backwards against the bookcase. As he fell, he dropped the Silver Star.
Dash balled his hand into a fist again. "I told you to put it down." Dash grabbed Caleb by the collar of his shirt and tried to pull him up close enough to punch him again.
"I dropped it." Caleb said as he tried to get out Dash's grip. "God, how did Alison put up with you?"
Dash let go of the shirt, and Caleb fell back to the floor. "I want you out. Not at the end of the week. Not tomorrow. Now!" Dash went back to sit on the couch.
Caleb picked up the Silver Star and put it back on the table. He walked out of the room without saying another word walked up the stairs to the guest room
Once he was there he closed the door and picked up a small notebook he had next to the bed. He leafed through it and found the note from Alison he was searching for. He quickly read it.
"Call one of them if you ever need help..." he read aloud. He picked up the phone and dialed the numbers listed.

The next morning, Dash stumbled into the kitchen. He was sore from spending the night on the couch. He squinted at the sunlight that was coming through the window. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water from the tap. This was the worst that he had felt in a long time. He couldn't remember much from the previous day. He took a drink from the glass and put it down. His head was pounding. He put his fingers to his temples.
"Not feeling so great?"
Dash turned to the voice that was coming from the back door.
"Edwin." Dash sounded less than enthusiastic. "What are you doing here?"
"Caleb called me last night. He told me you weren't doing so well."
"I'm doing fine," Dash said.
"You don't look like it. Here." Edwin handing him a small brown bag. "Standard GI Joe hangover cure."
"Thanks." Dash took the bag from Edwin and took out a package of Midol and a bottle of Gatorade. He took two Midol and began drinking the Gatorade. "Who came up with this remedy anyway?"
Edwin took the bag and threw it away. "Alison."
Dash grunted and poured the rest of the Gatorade down the sink.
"You know, Dash, I've seen this before," Edwin began. He motioned towards the living room. "Would you like to sit?"
"Is this a house call, Lifeline?" There was a hint of sour sarcasm in Dash's voice.
"No, but come and have a seat." Edwin walked into the living room. He carried two cups of coffee with him. He sat on the couch and moved the empty bottle of scotch onto the floor. Dash sat on the opposite side of the couch and picked up a cup of coffee. He didn't drink it; he just took in the aroma.
"Did I ever tell you about my father?"
Dash put his coffee down on the table. "I don't want to hear a lecture, especially from you."
"It's not a lecture. It's more of a story."
"I don't want to hear it." Dash said again.
"I do." Michelle said from the stairway. "I love stories."
Dash looked at her as she walked into the room and sat on the floor across from the couch.
"Firewall, where did you come from?"
"I was upstairs. Caleb picked me up and let me in."
"Caleb is forgetting whose house this is." Dash said, not quite under his breath.
Michelle shrugged her shoulders. She took one of her signature pigtails in hand and began twirling it between her fingers.
"Well," Edwin began, "when I was eleven my mother died. It was pretty sudden, and no one was prepared for it. My father was a proud man. He provided well for his family. But when Mom died, his work was the only thing he cared about. He would leave me alone for most of the day, then arrive home late, and most times drunk, to take the days aggressions out on me.
When he wasn't at work, he would be sitting on the couch, with the TV on; a glass of bourbon in one hand and the bottle in the other. He would stay like that until he passed out. I would find him the same way I found you this morning."
Dash did not like the feeling of being ambushed in this way. He took a sip of his coffee. "The point of your story is what?"
"The point is Dash, after my father decided that life is better living sober, he realized how he had treated those around him, how he treated me. He once told me that he wished he could have dealt with it better and not have turned to alcohol."
"Ahh, I get it. Now that Al is gone, I'm going to become a raging alcoholic. Thanks for the intervention. I need to take a shower." Dash got up off the couch and began to walk up the stairs.
"Dashiell, wait."
Dash stopped at the bottom of the stairs to hear what Edwin had to say.
"Caleb called me because he was concerned. We don't want to see you go down that path. Alison wouldn't have wanted you to either."
"I'm really trying to be nice when I say this, but you don't know what the hell Alison would have wanted. None of you do."

*
Dash spent a long time in the shower. He let the water wash over him while he thought about everything Edwin had told him. He wasn't going to turn into a drunk. He knew better than that; he just didn't know what else to do. Lately, he never seemed to know what to do. Maybe he needed to stop looking at the big picture. Perhaps everyone's advice to take everything one day at a time was right. He just wasn't ready to let go. He didn't want to forget about Alison. How can he just go on with life when his was wrapped around someone who is gone? He needed to do something. He felt like he was just spinning in circles. He told himself it would all be gradual. He wouldn't have to let her go over night.
When Dash got out of the shower, he shaved and put on clean, pressed clothes. He thought it was funny that he already felt better. Besides, he owed it to Michelle. He promised her that she could help him today. The last thing she needed was to have him in a bad mood. She really was only trying to help. Today was the day Shana was going to come by, and he wasn't about to get a lecture from her as well.
He found Michelle in the living room, looking through a photo album. She had put together the boxes, and stacked them along the bookcase. Dash stood in the doorway and watched the expressions on her face as she leafed through pages of pictures. Every so often, she would peel back the cover and take a picture out. She had a small pile on the couch next to her.
"Finding everything alright?" Dash asked her.
"No. I can't find a baby picture."
"She doesn't have one. I've never seen one either."
"Well, that's too bad. It would have been nice to see one." Michelle returned to the book.
Dash sat down in one of the chairs across from the couch. He looked around the room, not knowing exactly what to do. "Maybe Caleb can find one for you."
"Find what?"
"A baby picture. He must know where one is."
"Maybe. He left some stuff for you. It's on the dining room table."
Dash got up and walked into the dining room. He spotted a small stack of notebooks. He immediately recognized them as the ones Alison carried with her. All this time, she had been writing in them and sending them all to Caleb. He had to admit, it was a strange way of writing letters. He took the notebooks and walked back into the living room.
"Hey, Flint?" Dash looked up at the sound of his codename. It had been a while since anyone called him that.
"Yes?"
"Can I have a few of these?" Michelle held up a few pictures.
"I don't know." He was hesitant to let them go. "Let me see which ones you want." He took the pictures out of her hand and looked at them. He took a deep breath and handed them back to her. "I guess you can have these."
"Thanks!" Michelle patted the pictures when she put them back next to her.
"Why do you want them anyway?" Dash asked her.
"Because I just do."
Dash smiled at her. "What is the real reason?"
Michelle pulled her legs under her and put the album aside. "We were all talking, and it seems like everyone has something to remember her by and I don't. Everyone had these great stories to tell. All I could say was she died because she was trying to get me out of the way. Shielding me with her body to make sure I was out of the line of fire.
Dash sat down next to Michelle. He was quiet for a minute. "There would be no greater story than that. Can I tell you something?"
"Sure."
"Alison liked you. She used to keep tabs on you to make sure you were okay. She looked after you as if you were her little sister. She would tell me that all the time. I'm sure if it had to be done all over, she would have done the same. That was just the kind of person she...was."
"I never did get to say thank you."
"I'm sure she knew. You held her hand and comforted her until I got there. I'm sure that was all the thanks she needed."
Michelle didn't say anything; she just nodded her head in agreement.
"Upstairs, there is a ton of clothes. Do you want to sort through them? Take what you want?"
"Sure." Michelle got up and began to walk up the stairs.
"I'll be up in a few minutes." He felt as if just a small part of the weight that was on his shoulders was lifting. He was beginning to let go.