“It is as though some old part of yourself wakes up in you, terrified, useless in the life you have, its skills and habits destructive but intact, and what is left of the present you, the person you have become, wilts and shrivels in sadness or despair: the person you have become is only a thin shell over this other, more electric and endangered self. The strongest, the least digested parts of your experience can rise up and put you back where you were when they occurred; all the rest of you stands back and weeps.” – The Throat by Peter Straub

Sunset could not prevent herself from pacing. Every time she paused, a roiling anxiousness threatened to overwhelm every sense she possessed. Even her magic, typically left dormant and under her strict control, would begin to seep out. She needed this moment to come to an end.

Three months ago, Sunset had received word that Marcos had been injured in combat. There was almost nothing after that for a week, but rumors began to creep out that he and his unit had been involved in a massive battle.

Then the world began to unravel: the nuclear bombings in Georgia, Ukraine and Russia. The fall of St. Petersburg and the bombing of Moscow, the battle of Toruń, and that Marcos’s unit had been right in the very thick of it. They had been soundly defeated.

It wasn’t until three days later that she knew he was still alive. As the Coalition retreated and eventually stabilized, she was informed that he had received shrapnel wounds across his leg and was being cared for in a hospital overseas. As most commercial travel to mainland Europe was banned, Sunset was forced to simply wait patiently for more word to arrive, hoping and praying that nothing else would go wrong.

A week ago was when she had been told that the unit was returning home, and the stories of horror and failure came with them. Broken men returned from the hellscape of war, some bore scars and nicks that spoke of pain, others hobbled along on broken legs or their shattered arms pressed to their sides. Worse were those who came back in wheelchairs, a leg or foot missing from their body- worse still where the draped coffins of which there were far too many. Sunset had been coming to the airport every day in the hopes that she would be told that Marcos was on his way, only to leave in disappointment. However, she had received a call from Cadance early that morning giving her the news: he was on his way- right now.

That had been seven hours ago, and the $40 Sunset had stored in her wallet had been thrown away on overpriced airport food as she waited, praying that she would see him today after all. The wait had been torturous enough already, she didn’t know if she could bear any more disappointment-

A camouflaged man hobbled out of the gates on a pair of crutches, his appearance gaunt and worn from his long travels. Sunset leapt to her feet, recognizing the man in a heartbeat. “Marc!”

“Sunset- uff!” Marcos barely had time to say a word before Sunset had him in her arms, holding him so tightly that she seemed afraid that he would disappear from her grasp.

“Ow- ow- ow- ow- ow! Sunset, you’re hurting me!” he gasped, his voice taught from pain.

“Sorry- sorry!” Sunset said, horrified at her impulsiveness. “I didn’t mean- I just- it’s been- I’m just glad you’re safe.”

“I’m OK,” he said evenly. “Can- can we get out of here?”

“Yeah, sure- of course,” Sunset said happily, walking slowly beside him as he limped on towards the exit. “I’m glad you’re back, babe.”

“Thanks, Sunset,” he said.

The car ride was a quiet one, Marcos having difficulty keeping his injured leg in place. The smallest movements seemed to cause him pain, a wince or small grunt of displeasure emanating from his lips. Sunset snuck glances at him every other moment, wishing she could see the damage beneath his clothes. If it was the bone she was inexperienced, but if the muscle had been damaged then she knew exactly what he would need to accomplish in order to recover.

Before she knew it, the ride was over and they were pulling into their driveway. “Do you need help to get out, or-”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, awkwardly climbing out of the sedan and pushing himself into a standing position. “Let’s get inside.”

“Sure, just- just one thing,” Sunset said hesitantly, walking over to him.

“What’s up?” he asked, his eyes darting towards the open field near their home.

Sunset went on her tiptoes and planted a soft kiss on his lips, a gift she had waited so long to give. “Welcome back, Marc,” she said happily.

“Thanks, Sunset,” he said evenly. “Glad to be back- let’s go in.”

“Where are all your things?” Sunset asked as they made their way to the bedroom, her clothes suddenly feeling very heavy upon her body.

Marcos hesitated. “I’ll have to get some new gear,” he said. “What made it back is probably at Squadron. I’ll have to go get it on Monday.”

“Surely they want you to get some rest!” Sunset protested.

“There’s going to be an announcement from the Squadron Commander on Monday. All soldiers to be present, Marcos replied. “I guess we’ll find out what we’re going to do next.”

“You’re not going back already-”

“No!” Marcos said it so forcefully that his words may as well have been a brick wall. “… No. I don’t think so. Not for a while.”

Sunset watched a strange shudder course through his body, as if a poison wormed its way through his blood and brought with it a terrible agony with every moment.

“Marc? You OK, honey?”

“I’m OK, Sunset,” he said evenly, dark circles around his eyes. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, and I was in France earlier this morning. Lot of timezones to go through, so I’m… you know.”

“Of course, you must be exhausted. Would you like to get some sleep?”

“Thanks, Sunset,” he replied, simply ripping his clothes from his body and tossing them into the corner before collapsing on the bed.

Sunset gave a gasp at the sight of him; the muscle he had always bore had disappeared, leaving him gaunt and ragged after days upon months of combat. Childhood scars from early days of gang violence were intermingled with bruises and scars of warfare, a viscous-looking welt evident along his side, and worst of all was a series of bloodied, stitched scars along his leg where the worst of the damage had been dealt. Her knight in shining armor had come back with his armor battered.

The hours crept by in quiet boredom, Sunset quietly opening the door to their bedroom and creeping toward the edge of the bed before finally coming to her knees beside him. His breathing was deep and slow, peacefully sleeping away as the cares and worries of the normal world waited for his waking. Gone were the troubles her had endured for the past year- hopefully forever, she wished. Perhaps his injury would be enough to keep him stateside for good now.

A knot of disappointment settled in her stomach and she did her best to push it aside. No, this was how she had wanted their reunion to go. She had hoped it would be a romantic moment, filled with love and kisses and her clothes torn from her body in a wild sexual craze- instead here she knelt, the love of her life out cold in a deep slumber. It was not what she had wanted, but she counseled herself to wait. He would be better as he settled back in to the routine of things.

The morning sunshine glared through the windows, the glorious skyline a façade for the bitterly cold weather that had moved in during the end of fall. Sunset had woken up late that morning, having requested a few days off from work so as to spend time with her husband. Much to her surprise, she found the bed empty. Marcos must have woken up without waking her.

As she walked down the hall, she heard a noise in the kitchen, turning around the corner to see-

“Whoa!” Reyes gave a start and dropped the egg in his hand on the hardwood floor, whipping about to face her in an instant-

Sunset gave a quick scream of fright at her husband’s sudden movements. “You scared me!” she laughed.

“You scared me!” Reyes said, his hands shaking as he reached for paper towels to clean up his mess. “Don’t do that, Sunset, holy…”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to,” Sunset said, coming over to help him. “Here, I’ve got it.”

“Uh- thanks,” Reyes said, watching as she took the mess from his hands and did her best to clean away.

Sunset could feel his gaze boring into her with every move she made until at last she was done. As she turned back to face him she saw he was still tense, every muscle taught and primed for action. “Marc? You OK?” she gave a small laugh. “I didn’t scare you that bad, did I?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “You- you want something?”

“Sure, thanks. Scrambled, if you don’t mind.”

Their breakfast was done in silence, Reyes having easily wolfed down his meal before Sunset had hardly touched her bacon. Sunset watched him with interest, her eyes hungry for the sight of him. Yet, though his appearance had not really changed, something was decidedly off about him. If she could only figure out what-”

“Oh, shit!” Reyes cried, leaping from his seat.

“Marc!” Sunset admonished.

Reyes looked up at her with a flared look, only to be replaced by realization a moment later. “Oh yeah- sorry. Look, I gotta make a phone call, I should have done it yesterday when we got back.”

“Is something wrong?” Sunset asked, getting up from her seat and following him.

“Cpt. Armor wanted me to call him once I got back in. I was the last one in the Troop to get back to the States so he wanted to know if I got back in safe. Go back to eating, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure-”

“I’m sure, Sunset,” he said firmly, disappearing into the bedroom and closing the door.

Sunset stood there, momentarily unsure of what to do with herself before giving a shrug and returning to her plate. Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen- yet still Reyes remained locked away in the bedroom, his voice barely audible through the door. Sunset put her ear to the door, trying to listen in, but heard nothing distinguishable. She hoped he wasn’t in any trouble- knowing Lt. Armor, she doubted it.

Sunset paused. Cpt. Armor? But he wasn’t a Platoon Leader any longer, he was the Troop’s Executive Officer. Captain Dyke was their Commanding Officer-

A coffin, covered by an elegant flag, flashed across her mind. Oh. Sunset’s mind drifted to the news she had heard; should she ask him of what he had experienced? No, not yet, she counseled herself. Let him rest and return to the world first.

The news had been no surprise to anyone who heard it: the Brigade was ‘Non-Deployable’ until further notice. They simply had lost too many to sustain the fight, and the rest of their rotation would be taken up by another unit. 3rd Infantry Division as a whole was to be replaced in the Eastern Theater by 1st Armored Division, firepower and defensive capabilities believed to be the best way to hold the line.

When Sunset heard the news, she was met with a mixture of joy and shame; she was ecstatic that her husband would be back with her for an indefinite period of time, but it would be at the cost of another family and their happiness- perhaps even at the cost of someone’s life.

Three weeks had passed since then, and life was slowly beginning to seep back into normality. Yes, Reyes was still injured and would be on crutches for another week, yes he was still uneasy in crowds, but he was beginning to relax. Sunset waited as patiently as she could, hoping he would finally unwind. As far as she was concerned, their post-deployment sex night was taking far too long to arrive.

“Our top story again tonight is the concern of further fallout along the former Russian border, as thousands of refugees continue to pour into China and Japan,” the radio warbled as they drove, heading back to their home from the Commissary, the back of the car filled to the brim with groceries. “The Japanese government, fearing the possibility of radiation poisoning, has opened checkpoints in multiple major airports and naval ports, hoping to catch any possible contamination before it can spread into the local populace. Despite the proclamation by King Sombra and the Crystal Empire that no further nuclear weapons will be used, tensions remain high in Europe and stocks continue their downward trend-”

The voice died in an instant as Reyes killed the power.

“Hey, I was listening to that,” Sunset protested.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Marcos said tersely, a wild look in his eyes that Sunset hadn’t noticed there before. She paused, listening closely to his breathing- rapid, short breaths of air. What had set him off so?

The ride was uneventful from then on, the two bringing in their harvest to the kitchen where Sunset and Reyes set to work putting things away. Sunset, doing the best her height would allow her, tried to store away a can of chicken in the shelves above the fridge, only for it to fall from her grasp and fall with a clatter onto the floor-

“Jesus!” Reyes slid towards the door in a heartbeat, stopping as his eyes caught sight of the can on the ground. He shook himself, trying to catch his breath before turning to look at Sunset, a fiery anger evident in his gaze. “What was that for?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, it was an accident,” Sunset said, leaning down to pick it up. “I wasn’t trying to scare you or anything.”

“Try harder then, dammit!” Reyes spat, turning his back to her and stalking off.

“Hey!” Sunset said angrily, making her way to follow him only to find Marcos standing quietly in the hall. “Marcos, what was…” her voice faltered, taken aback by his deflated, weary frame. “Marc, you OK?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Sunset,” he said meekly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know why I did that.”

A gaping, monstrous silence grew between the two them, a chasm slowly beginning to form. Sunset closed the gap and reached out for his shoulder, only to be thrown off the moment her fingers brushed his arm. “I’m going to the bedroom,” he said. “I’ll let you finish up.”

Sunset stood there, stunned at the very rapid turn of events that had just unfolded before her. It was so unlike him to act like that. Yes, he had dealt with anger and self-control before, but he had grown so much in their time together. Sunset went back to the kitchen, putting the groceries away as a faint uneasiness grew in her heart. Maybe he wasn’t as back as she had thought.

A bullet spun past my head as we ran forward into the melee. The screams were unmistakable even in the midst of the chaos- one of my friends was hurt, bleeding to death and dying in the filth and mud that had become the most dangerous place on earth. I was the leader of a four-man team, two litter-bearers and two guards armed to the teeth with every piece of weaponry and ammunition they could carry-

A second bullet raced past and made its mark on my fellow, just above the right eye and the man fell like a ragdoll- one gun down, never to rise again.

I kept breathing, forcing myself to look forward and not down- never, ever down into the blood and gore that had once been human beings just like myself-

A cry from one of my litter-bearers. The dying man was pinned down beneath a destroyed tank tread, his right leg crushed by the sudden weight. I gave cover while my litter-bearers works as fast as they could to extract the man, giving a heave that finally threw the scorched, molten wreckage off of our fellow-

A gruesome display of bruised flesh and broken bones met our eyes, the fiery steel and rubber having melted through and seared his skin. We did the best we could to get him onto the stretcher, but his screams were unceasing as air met his exposed wounds-

An armored figure to my right and I fired wildly, bullets striking against steel until it found a way through, striking directly into the chest and causing my enemy to fall-

A second and third appeared behind him, I pulling the trigger and holding tight as I released everything into them, every bullet counting as my overpowered foes finally fell. I felt the beginnings of panic starting to take hold of me; we were outmanned, outgunned against a force that was unlike anything we had ever seen, and if we weren’t careful none of us would last the night-

The whistle of incoming mortars grew stronger over the din and I dove for the ground, the first round striking between me and my litter-bearers, the three of them now down on the ground in bloodied tatters as shrapnel and heat forced them to the ground-

I ran as fast as I could, forcing myself to ignore the gunfire that threatened to strike my back and ran over to them, grabbing the most heavily injured and dragging him away to safety-

The second round struck nearby and my leg erupted-

Reyes awoke with a start, body soaked with sweat as he reached wildly for his injured leg- the scars remained, though the stitches had long been pulled out or rotted away. It was not a battlefield in which he sat but his own bedroom, his own home.

­Danger! Alert! His mind screamed. He felt his body tense and his senses shut out the t-shirt that dripped perspiration. Battle instincts took over.

Something was wrong.

Quietly, so as to not make a sound, he pulled the revolver from his nightstand and stalked over to the doorway. In a flash he was out in the hallway, his eyesight keen and sharp despite the darkness. Empty. Quiet and peaceful, just like every other night.

Danger! Alert! Be wary! His mind yelled, battering him to ignore what his senses showed him. The danger was still there, even if he could not see it. The house still needed to be swept before he could relax.

Ten minutes later and the job was done, unless his enemy matched his every move. Reyes was exhausted, the tension desperate to leave his body. He was so tired and it was already difficult enough to sleep-

The dream came back to him, the memories returned with a vengeance and he felt the cold sweat begin to drip down his spine once more. Danger! Alert! His mind roared.

The door. The front door was the source of it all. Quietly he maneuvered down the hall until it was in sight and peered through. Nothing. Not a thing. His eyes were certain of what he saw- his mind was not so easily satisfied.

Reyes settled against the wall, the front door barely visible from his position. With revolver still in hand, he gave a weary sigh. Tonight had only just begun.

Sunset woke up to find the bed empty- a new norm that she was not at all accustomed to. Reyes’ days off had often been the days of sleeping till noon. Nowadays, Reyes seemed to barely sleep. He tried to hide his nightmares, but she could feel his every movement, every tremor of fear that shook him. Despite her best efforts to be loving and open to him, Reyes had been pushing away. A slow, dark dread was growing in the back of her mind…

She shook herself. He had gone on a walk to try and rebuild the muscle in his leg. He was making breakfast, he was watching TV or working out. He was fine.

Throwing on a nightrobe, she walked out into the hallway and found –to her immense disappointment- that Reyes had fallen asleep next to the door again, the third time in the past two weeks. Yesterday it had been the window. The dread grew a little stronger. She ignored it and reached out to gently grab his shoulder, hoping to rouse him from his slumber-

Reyes awoke with such a start that he may as well have been stabbed. He gave a roar and flared his revolver, eyes wide and wild, chest heaving like a furious beast. His gaze darted towards the door before it settled on Sunset, who had taken several steps back and away from her husband.

“Fucking hell! Don’t do that!” he said angrily, his words coated in venom.

“I was just trying to wake you-”

“I don’t care what you were doing! Just fucking stop doing it!”

It was Sunset’s turn to flare up. “Excuse me for trying to help you, then!”

“Yeah, help! That was certainly helpful, trying to give me a fucking heart attack!”

“All I did was try to wake you up, it’s not my fault you’re camping out at our front door. Maybe I’m not the one who has a problem!”

Reyes snarled. “Oh, you’re perfectly right- you don’t have a problem. I have a problem, and my goddamn problem is you. If I want you to do something for me then I’ll fucking ask. Until then, fuck off.”

“Like I’ll ever want to help after that!” Sunset said, shoving him aside and walking away, a pulsing sensation in her head. She then realized that she had walked into the living room rather than the kitchen as she had intended. Prick. I was just trying to wake him up, it’s not my fault he went off like that.

Sunset set to work, extracting food from the fridge and attempting to make some breakfast. It wasn’t until she felt a bowl crack in her hands that she realized that she had been tossing things about in a rage. Giving a groan of frustration she collapsed at the table, burying her face in her hands. What was going on?

“Sunset…” a meek, defeated voice called through the rooms and she looked up to see her husband in the threshold, looking down at her with a mixture of concern and guilt. He opened his mouth and closed it, looking down at the floor as he tried to find his voice again.

“What is it?” she said, her voice still snappish, a mistake she instantly regretted.

Reyes’ mild demeanor disappeared instantly and was replaced by a bitter anger. “Well I was coming to apologize, but fuck me, I guess!”

“I don’t want your apology! I want you to leave me alone!”

“That can be achieved,” Reyes spat, stalking off down the hall and slammed the bedroom door behind him.

Sunset gave a defeated groan and sank into her chair, the day already well and ruined by the morning’s events. The dread inside her grew a little stronger.

Something was wrong.

Sunset felt the uneasiness in him as they walked together. It was the first time they had come to visit since they had returned- he alive, and his friends draped in a solemn flag.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she remarked lightly, trying to help him ease the tension that so obviously wracked his body, but to no avail. Every time she spoke, a grunt or a solitary murmur was all she received in return.

The headstones, having been cleaned by the late fall rain, dazzled and gleamed in the afternoon sunshine, each word beautifully carved into the marble. Many she had never known. One or two she now recognized, members of a noble order that had sacrificed everything they possessed. They had been amongst the living, not so long ago, friends of the man she loved and was losing- now they rested here, peaceful and unharmed no more by the chaos and violence of the world above the ground.

The trip had been her idea, a suggestion that could possibly help calm his battered mind from the ravaging it took daily. A reminder that he was still alive and breathing, still living and able to be happy- he had initially agreed, but the further along Reyes had come, the more he tried to find ways to avoid it. A busy work schedule, a long day, a tiring morning- any excuse he could conjure, until now a week later they had finally come. Now his body rippled with fear, terrified by the sight of his fallen brethren. Perhaps, in all her wisdom, this had not been the wise move.

“Here- here we are,” Reyes said quietly, his movements stiff and unfocused. His fingers pointed to a series of headstones, all bearing different names and days of birth, but all bearing the same date of death. Sunset peered down the rest of the row- the same date of death. The row before and behind all the same; what had happened to cause such savagery?

Sunset and Reyes stood there, she uncertain of what to say and he unwilling to speak at all. She could feel a new agony coursing through his body, her heightened senses keen on his every move. Guilt, a horrid, virulent guilt was spreading through him like poison in his veins. I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have done this, I shouldn’t have done this to him-

“His name was Sergeant Daniel Hack,” Reyes said hoarsely, his voice barely audible above the ripple of the leaves.

“Huh?” Sunset’s internal monologue was cut by his sudden words.

“He was my First Line when I arrived here. Skinny guy, smaller than me,” he continued. “But tough as nails, and hard on me, Mac, and Collie. We got tough quick because he knew it would be tough. He wanted us to be strong so we wouldn’t fail one another, I guess. He did his best, even if he tried to piss us off.”

Reyes trembled violently, his words lost somewhere in his throat as he tried to regain his brief strength. Sunset remained motionless, uncertain of whether or not she should say or do anything.

“He wasn’t the first one of us to get killed. I think he was the fourth. Me and Mac tried to get him to safety, but I think we got him killed instead. Sometimes I can still hear him screaming- smell his flesh, feel it broiling beneath my hands as it slid off his bones. Watching as he was crushed to death and knowing that we left him there to die.” Reyes struggled, a wetness in his eyes. “He had a wife and kids. I didn’t find out until we got back. But he did, and I helped make sure that he didn’t come back. He was a good guy. A lot of them were. So maybe the good ones don’t make it, and the rest of us… just have to deal with that.”

Reyes gave a great shudder and started walking away. “I need to get out here. Can we please go?”

Sunset, stricken where she stood, was roused from her shocked state and nodded, hastening to join him. Her husband’s goulish words horrified her, and an overly vivid imagination did nothing to help ease the visions in her head. But it was just her imagination. He had seen the nightmare in person.

Reyes didn’t say a word the rest of the day. The moment they pulled into the driveway he was gone, racing into the kitchen and leaving Sunset behind to clean up their mess. When she entered, she found him pouring a shaky glass of bourbon whiskey, focused on nothing but drinking as much as he could, as fast as he could.

Since when does he drink? Where did he even get it from, where did he keep it? I didn’t know he even had any!

The dark dread in Sunset’s mind grew darker and she a sorrow coursed through her heart. He was beautiful to her; handsome, strong and the model of courage. He was a great man- or maybe had been one. The man she had called friend, fallen in love with, and eventually married, was now a memory. Her knight in shining armor had returned with battered armor- and perhaps bearing a broken soul. He had changed irrevocably, and she didn’t know what she could do to stop it.

It had been a meeting that was a long time coming. Reyes had wanted no part of it, but the insistence of Cpt. Armor had been blunt.

“Sir, he doesn’t want to see any of us. He’s made it pretty clear,” Reyes had said.

“I know, he’s been ignoring all of my calls,” Cpt. Armor replied grimly. “But he’s still one of my soldiers. He was –is- a good man. I don’t want to give up on him so easily.”

“Sir, I’m not saying to give up on him, but he’s got no interest in talking to any of the old Platoon anymore. If he doesn’t even listen to Mac, I don’t know who he’ll listen to. Mac was always the voice of reason between the three of us.”

“You were also his best friend.”

“I was, sir. But that was a while ago.”

“Sergeant Reyes, I know you’re as unwilling to talk to him as he is to you,” Cpt. Armor said. “But he’s still on our books, he’s still a fellow Cavalryman. Now the hospital has been giving me call after call, telling me he’s been suffering from symptoms of PTSD and he hasn’t been adjusting well to being bound to a wheelchair. I am no psychologist, but I do know several and I would like him to get help. I am hoping you can convince him to see reason and maybe start getting some help.”

Reyes did his best to avoid his Commander’s gaze, but he felt it all the same. Reyes gave a sigh. “I’ll give it a try, sir,” he said wearily. “But no promises.”

“I appreciate it, Sergeant.”

That had been two days ago, the conversation now something Reyes heartily regretted. Collie had agreed to meet him, but on his terms- a local dive bar down in Hinesville, popular with soldiers and veterans who remained nearby Fort Stewart. Marcos had visited the place a few times now, but hated the vibe. There was no such things as privacy there.

Reyes parked his car, a sleek Mustang he had acquired not long after he and Sunset’s wedding, and peered about for his companion. A former friend, a former brother-in-arms who had bled, suffered, and nearly died alongside him in the nightmare he couldn’t escape-

“Hey.” An unfriendly voice, familiar in tone, met his ears and Reyes turned around to see Collie rolling up to him, his body ragged and thin from malnourishment. The two men regarded one another, both broken in their own way.

“Heard they pinned you,” Collie said, reaching out his hand. “Congrats. Not surprised you and Mac both got it.”

“Thanks. Wish you were there with us,” Reyes said, meaning every word.

Collie snorted derisively, wheeling about to face the bar. “Come on, let’s go get fucking hammered. Being sober fucking sucks.”

The two men found a table in the corner where they tried to maintain a relative sense of privacy, doing their best to ignore the stares that Collie’s wheelchair received. Reyes could sense his friend’s frustrations and sympathized with him. Many of these men were soldiers, or soldiers from days gone by- they should know better than to gawk so openly.

“Fuckers,” Collie growled, reaching for his beer and taking a swig. “They act like they’ve never seen a motherfucker on wheels before.”

“Assholes the lot of them,” Reyes agreed.

“Hey, he swears again,” Collie said. “I’ll drink to that.” He took another gulp, draining his bottle until its contents had disappeared. “Now, which of those fuckers back at Troop asked you to come talk to me? I know it ain’t First Sergeant cause that bastard’s dead- was it Mac? Or Sergant Iron Will? How about the CO?”

“Do you want an answer or do you just want to be pissed off?” Reyes asked.

Collie shrugged. “I’m always pissed off. Just tell me, asshat.”

“CO.”

Collie gave a laugh, motioning to the bartender for another round. “What a big fucking surprise, good ol’ Captain Armor- Army pet with the perfect wife, baby girl and perfect little fucking life, reaching down from the heavens so he can try to save my ass. Fuck him.”

“He’s just worried, that’s all.”

“Fuck him, anyway.”

“Do you have to be such a douchebag, or is this just all an act?”

“My legs don’t fucking work, asshole, I think I got reason to be pissed.”

“I’m just asking-”

“Sure you fucking are. Now stop with the goddamn interrogation and just let me get fucked up, alright?”

“Jeez, fine, fuckhead.”

“Yeah, and fuck you, too.”

Reyes took another sip of his drink, feeling Collie’s eyes on his every move. He turned to see his friend glaring at him with a look that could kill. “What?”

“Pussy.”

“Fuck you.”

“Drink like a man, not like you’re at a goddamn wine tasting. Come on, I said we should get hammered, so let’s get fucking hammered.”

Furious, Reyes swung back and downed the glass of whiskey in seconds, calling to the bartender for a batch of rum.

“Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about,” Collie said.

“Shuttup,” Reyes replied.

Two hours, twelve bottles of beer, half a bottle of bourbon and three glasses of rum later, the two men were a complete disaster, Reyes bent over the table while Reyes seemed primed to slip off his wheelchair and pass out on the ground.

“So, how’s your wife doing lately?” he asked, desperately fumbling for his half-drunk glass of gin. “She always seemed like a fucking bitch, y’know that?”

“She’s mad at me,” Reyes said thickly, his finger rubbing alongside the edge of his glass. “I treat her like shit because I’m a shitty fucking person and that’s what I do. Fuck me, I guess.”

Collie laughed, a cruel, bitter sound. “Yeah, you really are. Coming here to try and make fun of a fucking cripple and acting like just cause you got a woman that you’re halfway decent. You told me a lot about your past, and MAN you did some fucked up shit.”

“I know, Collie,” Reyes said blandly.

“You… you…” Collie slumped over in his wheelchair and seemed to doze off, until he bolted upright and suddenly seemed fully awake. “Do you still remember it?”

Reyes didn’t have to guess what he meant. “Collie, don’t,” he suddenly becoming very sober himself.

“You remember, Sergeant Nye came running over as they were pulling me out of the Humvee, all battered and shit- and he was screaming his head off about what they found in the village, you remember that?” The whole bar was silent, Collie’s voice booming across the room as everyone turned to listen in. “Yeah, and you and Mac and CO all went over to see what was going on, and then we found all those people strung up in the basement like they were some goddamn animals and shit. All beat up and trussed up like fucking pigs.”

“Collie-”

"...And then -you remember- we went down there into that cellar, and you know what we found-"

"Shut up, Collie-"

"We found a bunch of dead fuckers with their skin torn off and their eyes gouged out and they'd been smeared in each other's blood-"

"I said shut up, Collie-"

"And we started freaking out cause we'd never seen anything like that before so we start going through the town to find who did it so we can kill 'em-"

Reyes threw his glass onto the floor. "Shut the fuck up, Collie! Just shut up!"

"FUCK YOU! Least you got someone to go home to every night and talk about this fucked up shit, I got no one! All I got is a shit-ton of alcohol to help me block out the memory cause I sure as fuck ain't blocking out the fucking sounds- or the goddamn smell! I still smell it, man, every day of my fucking life! We went out into that fuckin' place and we fuckin' dragged the fucks responsible away and we fucking killed 'em, man! They killed fuckin' kids! How am I supposed to live with that? So fuck you- let me have my beer and leave me the fuck alone!"

­­­­ Reyes drew back his fist and was ready to swing when he suddenly felt a massive pair of arms grab him from behind and threw him to the ground. “Enough,” said the bouncer, an ape of a man with a temperament to match. “Both of you get out and don’t come fucking back. Go!”

Reyes was pushed out with Collie being slowly pushed behind, the man cursing and screaming as he was evicted from the premises. The two said no goodbyes, no words of parting, Reyes simply heading for his vehicle and leaving as quickly as he could.

Reyes’ vision blurred, seeing double as he drove. He was drunk, violently drunk, extremely drunk, enough that he would surely be caught. A tired, weary Private at the gate check his ID and let him through, but his time was running out. Soon he would falter and he would be caught.

Reyes pulled up to a stoplight- one mile to go until he was safe at home. As he waited, he peered over to the side of the road and his heart stopped- an MP sitting there, staring straight at him. Reyes could feel the man’s eyes upon him, watching him intently, waiting for him to make a move. This was it, he was going to be caught and his life ruined-

The light turned green and a car raced by at top speed, speeding by Reyes and the poised MP-

The MP reacted immediately, lights flashing and racing off after his prey-

Reyes gave a sigh of relief and drove slowly onwards back to his home, pulling in the driveway and immediately falling out of the driver’s seat, vomiting on the lawn before passing out.­­

Shrapnel struck his leg and Reyes awoke, clawing at the air in the hopes to steady himself. He was here, he was not here- he was there, he was not there, he was everywhere and nowhere and his mind would not quiet itself.

“Mmf… Marc, what’s wrong?” Sunset asked sleepily.

“Stay here,” he ordered, reaching for his revolver and moving out the door. He paused as he stood there, his ears poised for the slightest- there it was! The sound of footsteps in the kitchen. Heavy footfalls of an intruder-

Slowly, Reyes creeped down the hall, waiting at the entrance of the kitchen. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and rushed in-

Nothing. Empty. As quiet and dead as it was every other night. But he had heard it, he had most definitely hear the sound-

“Coward.”

Reyes gave a yell and swung himself around to find himself face-to-face with-

The kitchen remained empty. But the voice had been so real. Reyes buried his head in his hand, giving a small moan. Elk Fever set in, his nerves trying to settle as he stood there. One last sweep of the rest of the house, and things would be fine.

Marco worked his way through the kitchen and then into the dining room. He peered through the windows, and did one last glance through the front door. He had heard nothing. He footsteps had not been real, nor had the voices been. He was alone here-

“Turn around.”

It was a distinct sound. Trembling, Reyes turned around to face the door again, eyes widening at the sight of that hulking outline. Muscles rippling, greasy hair shining in the moonlight, everything just as it was the day he had last seen him.

“Hello, Marc.”

Reyes felt like he was going to vomit. “No-”

“Marc!” The lights turned on and the silhouette disappeared as a hand reached for his shoulder-

Reyes gave a scream and turned to find himself facing his wife, wide-eyed and worried at the sight of him. “Are you alright, are you hurt?” Sunset asked, looking at him. “I heard the scream and I got worried, I thought maybe something had happened-”

Reyes darted back to the front door, desperately searching for that silhouette once more.

“What did you see? Is someone there?”

Marc said nothing, quivering from head to toe as he sank against the doorway. He felt a lump in his throat, growing ever stronger. He should break, he needed to break and open up-

I can’t, he told himself. I break and she dies.

He stood up straight and gave himself a shake. “Go back to bed, Sunset,” he said.

Sunset, however, was not to be so easily satisfied. “No, not a chance,” she said firmly. “You’ve been acting strange for months now. Ever since you came back you’ve been acting different.”

Reyes flared with anger, trying to ignore her.

“I know you’re angry at me- a lot, I get it, but I am trying my best to understand and help.”

“I don’t need you to understand, nor do I need your help,” Reyes said darkly.

“But you do need help, even if it isn’t mine!” Sunset said passionately, sensing his weakness. “You are not well, I don’t know what’s going on, but this cannot continue, I need you back. I haven’t even been able to tell you what happened while you were gone- what happened to me, or anyone-”

“Oh, so it’s all about you, is it?” Reyes snarled, turning to face her with revolver in hand. “That’s it? Want me to start acting normally so you can be all comfy and safe and secure like always?”

“That’s not- I shouldn’t have said-”

“Let me give you a fucking news flash, girlie, I have done everything I can to make sure you are secure and safe, I have shed blood so you can be safe. Maybe, if you were just a little more grateful than I wouldn’t feel like I have to give so much fucking extra to keep you happy.”

“I’m not asking for anything extra, I just want to see you get better! Something is obviously wrong and if you don’t start doing something-”

Reyes tried to shove his way past her but was blocked by her arm. He felt her gaze boring a hole into his very soul-

“Get out of my damn way, Sunset,” he said.

“No, this has got to stop,” she said firmly. “You are not well and I am worried about you-”

“GODDAMMIT!” Reyes gave an almighty roar and took hold of a nearby table, throwing it into the wall and splintering it, the vase atop shattering on the ground at his feet. He stood tall like a beast, turning towards Sunset who cowered in the corner of the hallway, trembling at the sight of her enraged husband. “I DO NOT NEED YOUR GODDAMN SYMPATHY!” he yelled. “I DO NOT WANT YOUR HELP, I DO NOT WANT ANYONE’S HELP, ALRIGHT?! Leave me the fuck alone, I do not want anything you have to give. No advice, no comfort, nothing. You have simply been making it worse. So enjoy thinking about that.”

Reyes seethed, every inch of him quivering with barely-contained fury. His body was massive compared to hers, so willing, so eager to break her and tear her apart. Sunset looked up at him with fear in her eyes. It was as if she stared at a monster, as though she truly saw her husband for the first time.

Reyes turned and stalked off towards the bedroom, his trembling growing until he fell to his knees next to the bedroom door. A horrid choking sound came from him, and Sunset –despite her fear, despite her instincts telling her to stay away- crept closer and closer-

“Stay away!” Reyes snapped, a voice that spoke of anger and grief intermingled, and he stumbled towards the bathroom and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

Reyes clutched the countertop as though it were a lifeline. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to scream, he wanted to pull a knife out and plunge it into his chest. That had been a memory reborn, a scene from his own childhood reignited in his present day. He had lived out what he had seen every day as a child: spousal abuse. The intimidation, the threats, the destruction of property… it was- all over again, he was becoming-

“My boy after all.” Reyes gave a start and looked up into the mirror, staring at the hated face of his father.

“No.”

“Yes,” Estevan said, a sneering look of pride upon his wicked features. “Like father like son, as the saying goes. Looks like you’ll grow up to be like me after all.”

Reyes looked behind him- nothing. He turned to the mirror and saw his father again. “This isn’t possible.”

“And how do you figure that?”

“You’re dead. You died when I was deployed for the first time,” Reyes stammered. “You got into a fistfight and a man stabbed you in the heart. When I found out, I ordered that you get cremated. There’s nothing left of you except ash and dust.”

“Maybe you should have tried harder. You can’t kill what lives on inside your head.”

Reyes steadied himself. “Why are you here?” he whispered.

“I am… a prophecy. A monument to your future sins,” Estevan said. “Tell me, how does it feel? Knowing you’re already going down the same path I did?”

“I am not like you,” Marcos snarled. “I will never be like you.”

“Are you sure? Think about what you just did.”

“I didn’t mean.”

Estevan exploded. “You ‘didn’t mean’ shit! But here you are, with a wife that’s going to be terrified at the sight of you for the rest of your days! Oh, I know how it can feel- the shame, the guilt of what you’re doing, but oh the power! The strength you can wield over another. I know it feels good, son. It’s intoxicating. So revel in it. Enjoy yourself.”

“Never!” Reyes said chokingly. “I will not become like you.”

“You swore to give up your ways of war, yet you stand marked because of a war greater than anything I ever dreamed of seeing,” Estevan taunted. “Your life is blemished by it. You’re a murderer, just like me. You’re an abuser, just like me. A monster, just like me. A snake fathered a dragon after all, and I can’t wait to see what you can do.”

“No!” Reyes threw a punch at his father and hit glass, the mirror shattering as it ripped and tore at his hand. His father was gone- but only out of sight, never out of mind. He would never be truly gone.

Just like me…

“No, no, no,” Reyes said endlessly, falling to the ground as tears erupted from his eyes. “No, no, no, no, no…”

Sunset stood outside the door, listening through it all. She could hear the words being said, imagine who he was arguing against, she heard the mirror shatter and break. But most heartwrenching of all were his tears, that horrible, hopeless sound of sobs that seemed to echo from across an unreachable chasm that she could not hope to cross. He had come back from a nightmare and entered right into another one.

I should have seen this coming. I should have done something to stop it, to help him. Instead, she had angered and hurt him, not seeing the signs of where he was heading. Now, they were separate, and she was not sure if she would be able to help him ever come back.

Author's Notes:

I think this one needed time to be written properly. I'm still not sure if I did the subject justice. I hope I did, for I've seen some of this awfulness in person. It's a horrible thing to witness.

Do you know someone who's suffering? Don't let them stay in their suffering. Don't let them go too far gone. It's not a pretty sight.

As always, comments and corrections below. And a small warning for next chapter, it will likely contain the most serious material I've ever written. So please... be prepared.