If taking care of him was her goal, she was doing a wonderful job of it - better than he felt like he deserved, because every time he closed his eyes... he could suddenly see things she'd done for him in the past, remember the way her face had looked when he'd told her he was leaving to be a Marine, to go fight a war that might mean he'd never come home again. And he didn't need whatever was going on inside his head to remember how she'd looked the instant he'd told her he didn't remember her, when she had thrown herself into his arms and kissed him happily and he'd had no idea who she was or what she'd meant to him.

But right now, she was pushing his bottle of coke gently into his hand, touching his hair, still trying to soothe him. And he could only nod, the effort of getting the bottle to his lips a lot greater than it should have been, but he took a drink, feeling like a little boy home sick from school whose mother was trying to get him to feel better. But he wasn't a little kid, home sick from school - he was a Marine, or had been, and he wanted to shut himself away with shame over how he'd acted, how he was making Summer suffer even now. And now that he could remember everything, hazy though it was... he felt even worse.

But he had to tell her. He had to tell her something. He took another halfhearted sip or two, eyes closed because her fingers really did feel good, but eventually he managed to say, "I think - I mean... something happened. Something bigger than a flashback." He cracked his eyes open, looking at her, not sure how she was going to take this - he wasn't sure how he was taking this. It felt so big, he didn't know how to handle it. "I mean, it was, but it was... everything. It's all trying to - I mean, it's all there, it's all... right here." His free hand went to his head, which really was starting to throb again, somehow mental overload becoming physical, giving him a hell of a headache. "Everything."