Sam stood and threw the glass into the trashcan, shaking hands going to his face in an attempt to wipe away his tears. He shook his head at Benedict’s words, blowing his nose into a tissue before bending back down in front of his husband.  “If… if you ever had any problems… I want to be good at this. And I want to be a good husband. And you are… so good to me. You’re more than I could have hoped for. I want to be that for you.” Sam said, feeling vulnerable, and he wrapped his arms around himself, unable to meet Benedict’s eyes. “Do you promise that you’d tell me?”

“...I’m not sure what you mean by problems.” Benedict didn’t answer Sam’s question. It was partially because he genuinely didn’t know how, he wasn’t sure what his husband meant. But it was also partially because he knew that regardless of what Sam meant, it would be a promise he couldn’t keep. He’d never been particularly good at expressing himself or his emotions and he didn’t want to make a promise if he knew he couldn’t keep it.

“But, Sam, listen, you’re already a good husband. You don’t have to change anything or try harder or do whatever else it is you’re thinking about. I mean, I can’t do even half the things that you do to take care of me and our home.” It was true, business was Benedict’s strong suit, household chores were a mystery to him. He would be lost completely without Sam.

Sam knelt slowly, wiping at his face with the back of his hand in an attempt to try and clean himself up, sniffling as he did so. He wasn’t sobbing, but tears were still falling in heavy tracks down his face.  “I thought that things were going to be better. I thought… I thought I was doing a good job.” He said softly, almost like Benedict wasn’t supposed to hear it. He began picking up pieces of glass in his hands, keeping them cupped so they wouldn’t fall back onto the ground. “I thought he would be happy.”

“Please, be careful, we can sweep up the rest. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” His voice was much gentler with Sam than it had been with his father. There was no sign of the anger that had been under the surface just minutes ago, it having left along with Samuel. Now he was just tired and guilty after everything that had happened.

“Sam, you are doing a good job. What your father thinks shouldn’t matter anymore. It only matters what you think and how you feel.” Benedict had never been good at comforting other people. Expressing emotions made him very uncomfortable but he wanted to help Sam. “It’s my fault that your father acted the way he did towards you. I should have just kept my mouth shut and played along, then he wouldn’t have gotten upset. None of this would have happened if I would have done that, and i’m sorry.”

“No, I completely understand. I want you to take it at your pace so you don’t get hurt, okay?” He reassured him, turning his hand over and squeezing Benedict’s tightly. “Do you maybe want to try talking through the nightmares? Maybe some of the things you do remember?”

He nodded and gave Sam a small smile. He was extremely lucky and grateful that he had a husband like Sam who was being so kind throughout all of this mess. “There’s not a whole lot, unfortunately. They all kind of blur together.” Ben thought for a moment, trying to remember what he could. “There’s almost always gunfire and yelling, everything is so loud. And it’s so bright, almost to the point that I can’t see. I think...I think we’re being shot at. But we might also be the ones doing the shooting. I don’t even know who we are, I just know i’m there and there’s other people.”

As he talked about the dreams, his pulse picked up a little bit, not enough to be of a concern but enough that the monitor picked it up. Benedict didn’t notice it, he was too preoccupied with trying to remember what he could. Even though he could feel it, he still wasn’t picking up on it. In everything else that had been forgotten, remembering what a panic attack felt like had also disappeared from his memory.

Samuel scoffed, although he nearly tripped over himself in an attempt to step back and away from Benedict. His eyes moved between Benedict and Sam, and he was obviously torn between anger and a little bit of fear.  “Samuel - you’d let him speak to me like this?” He asked, exasperated, but Sam averted his gaze. His eyes were filling with tears, still in shock from everything that had happened in the past couple of seconds. He was shaken, taking a couple steps back from them both.  “Oh, uh, it’s fine! Everything’s fine, I’m almost finished with the dishes and we can just- just-” Sam reached for a cup in the sink but in his hurry, it slipped from between his hands and bounced off of the counter and onto the floor, shattering. Sam jumped, going incredibly still, gripping the kitchen counter. Although he stayed still, he started crying harder, his hands coming up to cover his face.  Samuel scoffed again, shaking his head and taking another step back. “You’re a wreck, Samuel. I thought that marrying an Arnold would do you some good but it’s obviously just made things worse.” His gaze turned to Benedict. “I think I’ll be discussing this with your father when I see him next. He ought to know what kind of man his son is when he’s not around.” He threatened, before turning on his heel and grabbing his coat. A few seconds later, the front door slammed shut behind him, echoing throughout the house. 

He chose to let Samuel walk out the door without saying anything further to the man. His point had come across clearly, there was nothing more that he had to say. The situation had escalated in a way that he hadn’t been prepared for. It was bad enough the things that Sam had to go through and now it worried him that his own father would be hearing about it and would likely become involved. Benedict fought down the panic that the threat triggered and instead turned his attention to his husband.

He couldn’t step towards him because of the glass that now covered their floor. So, he grabbed a dish towel and began picking up the pieces that he could, speaking gently as he did so. “Sam...? I’m...” He hesitated for a moment, trying to think of the right words. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have behaved like that. I just, I couldn’t watch your father treat you like that. You deserve better. I wanted to help and I think I just made things worse, and I’m sorry.”

Having picked up as much of the glass that he could he disposed of it, waiting to do anything else just yet. There were some smaller pieces that would need swept up but the majority of it was now cleaned. He wanted to reach out to Sam and comfort him. But they hadn’t done anything like that since they met. Ben didn’t know what to do.

“We’ve been together for about four years….” He said slowly. “Married for two of those. Right after we got married you got deployed overseas. Fortunately, it wasn’t for very long, but unfortunately it was because you were really badly hurt. Your left knee had to be completely reconstructed…” Sam’s eyes landed on the knee in question, and he gently reached out and put a hand on Benedict’s thigh. “You never really told me what happened, though. I tried to ask but…” But Benedict would snap at him, sometimes yell. “You did see a therapist for a short time though until you stopped going. Maybe we can get back into contact with them?” Sam suggested. 

Benedict took a few moments to process everything that Sam had just told him. It was already hard enough not remembering big chunks of his life. But he wasn’t sure if this was really something that he would want to remember. It sounded like a painful ordeal that he was no longer a part of, rather he was a spectator. Not even that, he was someone who was hearing about it in passing now. Was that better or worse than remembering all the pain?

“...Maybe. It could help me piece some things together.” He rested his hand on top of Sam’s. If he was being honest, he didn’t want to reach out to a therapist. Ben still wasn’t sure if remembering this chapter of his life was a good thing. “I’m sorry. This is just a lot to take in...”

Sam himself was quiet; the idea of arguing with his father was already stressing him out. It would be easier to just listen to him. Thankfully, his father didn’t push the topic any further. Before Sam knew it, he was collecting the dishes from around the table to wash. Usually, he and Benedict would do this together, but tonight he did it by himself. He thought he was alone in the kitchen, and that his father and Benedict had retired to the living room, but suddenly there was a hand around his forearm, holding him tightly in place. 

“You made me look like a fool, Samuel!” His father hissed, and Sam ducked his head. “You just sat there like an idiot and let him contradict me like that? I’m your father, I raised you. If your mother was alive-” He shook his head disapprovingly. 

“Papa, I just didn’t want to speak against him, either.” Sam tried to defend his actions, but nails digging into his arm cut him off, making him let out a loud yelp.  “And now you’re talking back. It’s only been a couple months and you’ve already forgotten your manners. I have half a mind to-” He was cut off by the sound of footsteps in the hall, and both of their heads swiveled in the direction of the door. 

Ben had heard Sam cry out and knew immediately that he needed to check on him. He shouldn’t have let his father near him alone again anyway, it definitely wasn’t wise. He wasn’t even sure how Samuel had managed to get into the kitchen without him noticing in the first place.

As soon as he saw what was going on he was furious as well as shocked. He knew how manipulative Samuel was, but to see him lay hands on Sam sent him over the edge. He managed to keep his anger from showing, he didn’t want to scare Sam, but it was still there.

“I think it would be wise,” Benedict began, walking over and getting between Sam and Samuel, making Samuel drop his hand from Sam’s wrist, “if you kept your hands off of my husband. I also think it would be wise if you left. Dinner is over and so I think you should get out of our home and go back to yours.” He took a step towards Samuel, trying to keep him away from his son.

His anger was still mostly in check but Benedict was a large man, even compared with Samuel. His stature alone was enough to intimiate most people and he was hoping it would work here. If not, things would probably just continue to escalate.

“I- uh. Ben… do you remember fighting in the war at all?” He asked, shifting a little, almost anxiously. “Do you remember hurting your leg?” He was terrified about potentially reminding Ben about what had happened during the war, but it felt worse to lie to him or pretend like he didn’t know. He rubbed his forearm, hoping to provide some sort of comfort as he had to remind him about all of the awful stuff that he endured.  “Do you remember coming home?”

He gave Sam a confused look and shook his head after a few moments. There had been dreams since he’d been in the hospital, and some of them had involved fighting. They were too jumbled with other things to make any sense, though, so he had assumed they were just dreams and nothing more. He could hardly even remember them once he was awake.

“I don’t remember there being a war at all. Or fighting in one. Or coming home. But I’m guessing that’s where I hurt my leg, then, right?” It would make sense, he figured, the doctors would have told him about his leg being injured if it had been new. “Do you... I don’t know how long we’ve been together. Do you know what happened to me?”

Samuel huffed a little bit, shaking his head.  “Samuel wouldn’t know what to do with himself while you were working. Idle hands are the devil’s tools, you know. It would be better to just have him spend time with his family. He hasn’t visited us at home since he moved in. His brother and sisters miss him.” He said, casting a look over at Sam, who looked as though he’d only just remembered he had any siblings. “Not to mention his mother.” “It wouldn’t be so bad to visit for a few days,” Sam said, smiling guiltily. He hadn’t realized his step-siblings really cared for him all that much - he’d certainly never *felt* very close with any of them. They were all at least ten years younger than him. 

“I knew you would agree with me. I raised you to care about other people, you know, not to forget about them.” Samuel said, looking very pleased with himself, turning back to Benedict. “Besides, I don’t want to imagine what your father might say were he to find out about your potential distraction from work.”

Benedict paled a little bit at the mention of his own father. He was already digging himself into a hole and he definitely didn’t want his father catching wind of it. However, he was also pretty sure that Sam had wanted to go on the conference with him. Plus, he wanted Sam there, it would be nice to spend time with each other. There were two options at this point, back down and let Samuel continue with his manipulation, or, dig in even deeper.

“Sam is not a distraction. He’s my husband and I want to be able to spend time with him. If he would rather spend that weekend with you and the rest of your family, he’s welcome to do so.” There was no hesitation as he continued. “But that’s a decision you can’t make for him. I’m sure we can arrange another time for a visit if we decide to go to the conference together.”

He gave his husband a small smile. He wanted Sam to come with him, and he didn’t want him to make the decision right now, not with his father right in front of him. He just hoped that he wasn’t upsetting him in any way.

“And he gets to go on trips too, sometimes,” Sam spoke up, his voice soft. “We’re going out of town for a conference in the next couple of weeks.” Samuel looked a little surprised at that, glancing between them both.  “Really? Just a conference? It almost seems pointless to drag Samuel along with you. You ought to just come and stay with me if you think you’ll be desperate for the company. You shouldn’t be distracting your husband when he’s supposed to be working.” He said, as though his word was law, and Sam’s face fell a little bit. It was obvious he had been looking forward to the conference. “Oh, uh. Yeah, okay. I’ll be sure to let you know the dates.” He said, gaze moving back towards his plate.

Ben gave Sam a small smile when he spoke. It was nice to hear him say something that wasn’t about trying to impress his father. Unfortunately his smile quickly disappeared as soon as Samuel started talking. Who did he think he was? Sam was out of the house now, he couldn’t just come in here and order him around. It wasn’t right and he wasn’t going to sit there and let Samuel walk all over both of them.

“Actually, it was my idea for him to come with me. I think it would be nice for us to spend some time together and I want him to come.” He gave Samuel a look that wasn’t a glare or out-right defiant, but there was something in his eyes almost daring the other man to challenge him.

He was also very careful to keep his voice in check. Letting his anger show would do him no good. Thankfully, he was good at these sorts of games. “I appreciate your concern,” he most certainly did not, “but I invited Sam to come with me and so if that’s still what he wants to do, we’ll be going together.”

Sam’s eyebrows stitched together, having settled once again in the chair next to the bed, holding one of Benedict’s hands.  “I - uh. No… which one is causing you problems?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter and leaning closer to him. He knew, obviously, about the leg. When Benedict came home, he had been stuck in bed for over a month with his leg in a cast. Sam had taken off of work and waited on him hand and foot the entire time. That was when the drinking had begun. “Is it the left one? Right in the knee?”

“Just above the knee, but yeah, it’s the left leg. I mean, they both hurt, but it’s worse in the left leg for sure.” He gave Sam’s hand a small squeeze. “I’m sure that if it was anything important then the doctors would have said something, right? Maybe they just didn’t notice that it was more badly injured.”

Benedict was trying to assure himself more than anything. He thought that it was a bit odd that Sam knew which leg it was and where the pain was coming from. However, he decided it was probably just a lucky guess.

Samuel sat down as well next to Benedict, and Sam refilled his coffee before he had even settled. He put a glass of water in front of Benedict - he wasn’t even sure if that’s what he wanted, but he was too nervous to ask. He kept reaching his hands up to touch his hair before remembering that it had been cut and then busying his hands with something else. He placed their plates in front of them before sitting down himself, his hands in his lap. 

Samuel clasped his hands together and prayed, stretching it out for almost three minutes before finally saying Amen. Even then, he was the only one who began to eat. Sam only moved the food around on his plate.  “How is work going then, Benedict? Your father still running you into the ground?” Samuel asked, wiping at his mouth with a napkin. 

He hated seeing Sam like this. It felt like they were back to their very first weeks of being married, where they barely even tried to talk to one another. All he wanted was to get Samuel to leave so that he could help Sam feel better. Although having his father gone would probably be a good first step in that process, he knew he couldn’t just kick him out.

Benedict tried to eat but his stomach was tiwsted in knots both from how much he disliked Samuel and from how nervous Sam was. His own father being brought up didn’t do much to fix the problems.

“Work is going well. My father is only trying to teach me what he can so that I’m ready to inherit everything once he’s gone.” Ben wanted to complain about how hard his father worked him, but he didn’t want Samuel telling his father he’d been talking poorly of him. “The difficulties now will pay off later.”

“It’s okay,” Sam said, holding his hands tightly. “Let’s just try to circle the room? It might just be that your legs are stiff and you need to work them out a little bit before they feel better.” He suggested, severely hoping that was the case. If there was anything major wrong, then the doctor would have told them about it. Right?

“You’re probably right. The more I move, the better it’ll be.” He agreed. With Sam’s help he managed to slowly do a few laps around the room. While he was still in a good amount of pain, it was nice to be moving again and he could manuver fairly well considering both how beat up he was and how long he’d laid in bed.

After finishing the laps Benedict was quick to lay back down, feeling somewhat relieved. He noticed, however, that his left leg was causing him more problems and pain than his right. It had been pretty seriously injured during the war, which was the cause of the extra pain, but he didn’t remember it. “Sam? Did the doctor mention anything about either of my legs being injured?”

Samuel pursed his lips at that, raising an eyebrow at Benedict. Not only did he think that a partner should be cleaning and cooking, but it was also important to put their partners’ needs first. He felt as though Sam was always trying to find small ways to bend the rules, like growing his hair longer than was appropriate, and it angered Samuel to no end. 

“At least I taught him well in those things then. Maybe you should thank me,” He easily switched back into joking, taking a step into the kitchen where Sam was no doubt hiding. “We should eat before his hard-work gets cold, huh?” He asked, motioning for Benedict to go in before him.

Ben chose to ignore the joke, only giving a smile in response. He was almost positive that Samuel’s teaching methods hadn’t been the greatest. Plus, he didn’t think that he could ever bring himself to thank this man for anything. Except for maybe thanks for the moment he finally left. That might be worth it.

“Of course. I’m sure whatever it is will be delicious.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. He gave Sam a smile, a genuine smile, not like the fake ones he’d been giving his father so far. “Dinner smells wonderful.” He told him before taking a seat at the table. Normally, he would offer to help serve the food. But he figured that Sam’s father would likely frown upon that and so he decided against it.

Sam laughed a little bit, running his hand through Benedict’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. 

“That’s okay… let’s see if we can’t go on a walk, okay? Work off some of those calories.” He teased, sliding off the bed and reaching out for Ben’s hands, taking them gently in his own. 

Benedict relaxed when Sam touched his hair. It was a nice feeling and he wished that he would have continued doing that instead of pulling away and standing up.

“Okay...” Ben kept his grip on Sam’s hands as he slowly managed to stand. He got up just fine but the pain wasn’t going away just because he was standing now. If anything it was worse since his body was now supporting his weight rather than being spread on a mattress. “I’m not sure how far we’ll get, but i’ll give it my best shot.”

Sam was silent at that, trying to remember their lives before the war and before the drinking. Before everything. It all seemed so far away, as though it had happened to someone else.

“I don’t know if I can do that.” He whispered, squeezing onto Benedict tighter despite his own words, never wanting to let go. “Can we just- let’s just get through tonight, okay? We can put something on the tv and, and you can finish your dinner. You haven’t had solid food in days,” He said, turning a little bit and pulling the tray closer to them. 

He nearly panicked when Sam turned to pull the tray closer. There was a sense that everything was falling apart around him but he wasn’t even sure what it was that was falling apart. Ben also really wasn’t in the mood to eat anything anymore. His stomach had become twisted in knots from worry and from trying to figure things out. But Sam wanted him to eat and he knew that he should.

“Okay.” He gave in without a fight and wiped away what was left of his tears before Sam could see his face. Benedict managed about half of the soup and the crackers before he decided he was done. “I can’t eat angmore, it’s too much.” He snuggled closer to Sam, hoping he wouldn’t protest.

Samuel Sr. studied him for a moment before letting out a deep belly-laugh. He gave Benedict a solid pat on the shoulder as he did so, taking a moment to collect himself. 

“You’re good at this, boy. I knew as soon as I met your father that he would have raised a son worth my time. The Lord knows that both of my own weren’t worth more than their own skin.” He shook his head, lamenting that his wife hadn’t raised them any better. “And he’s lucky, you know. Plenty of men wouldn’t have treated him as well as you do, nor would they have let so much slip. I raised him better than to be acting a fool in his own home.” He said it off-handedly, as though it was nothing. 

Benedict didn’t like that he’d made Samuel laugh. He didn’t like the way that he touched him either. And he certainly wasn’t fond of the way that he was talking about his own son. He was already long past the point of wanting the night to be over. But none of that meant he was just going to stand there and let himself be manipulated.

“Actually, i’m the one who should be considered lucky.” He was careful to keep a smile on his face as he spoke. “Sam is a wonderful husband. All I do is work but he takes care of the entire house all on his own. And he still manages to have dinner ready for me every single night. There’s not much that could be better than that.”

Sam climbed into the bed with him, curling up gently into his husband’s side as though he fit there perfectly. He lay his head against Benedict’s shoulder, reaching over and gently taking his hand between his own. He lay there silently for a moment before speaking. 

“I love you too.” He said softly as if it were hard to say. “I- I’m not going to go anywhere until you get your memory back, okay? Neither one of us really has a lot of people right now but - Ben,” He had to take a moment to breathe, squeezing his husband’s hand tightly until he could speak through his tears. “Ben, things have not been okay for a long time.” He whispered, almost afraid. “And I know I should be the one comforting you right now, you have no idea what’s going on, but-” He let out a pained noise, dissolving into a fit of small sobs, burying his head into Benedict’s shoulder. “I love you so much and I am so scared.”

There was a sense of relief that he didn’t quite understand when he had Sam close to him. It just felt like it was right, like they were meant to be close like this. He tilted his head so that he could rest it on top of the other man’s and listened as he spoke. Benedict didn’t know how to respond, but he held Sam tighter and tried his best to convey some sort of comfort. He’d never been great with emotions, his or other people’s.

He didn’t even realize he was crying until he spoke. “It’s okay to be scared. This is all...a lot. It’s too much, honestly.” He tried to blink back the tears that kept coming. What did it mean that things hadn’t been okay for a long time? How bad were they? “Maybe...maybe this is a good thing. Maybe i’ll never remember anything and we can just start over.” He wanted to remember but maybe it would be better if he didn’t.