“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.”

– Lao Tzu

Major Wharton took his seat next to the computer. “Alright, Sergeant, we’re just going to go through a couple of motion exercises, see how you’re doing since you came in last. Have you been able to put any weight on it at all?”

Marc nodded. “I can walk. But any real long-distance running hurts still.”

“Is it as much as before?”

“No, sir, not as bad,” Marc answered. “It’s been healing, but it’s still stiff at times.”

“No surprises there. Have you been staying on the prescribed medication?”

“The painkillers help me sleep at night, but I haven’t needed them in a few days. I’m not waking up in the middle of the night cause of it.”

Major Wharton regarded the young NCO, scrutinizing his patient. “Let’s take that boot off, see how it looks.”

“Sorry if it smells,” Marc said, slowly extracting his foot from a blackened, dust-covered boot and tossing the sock aside. “Doesn’t look bad at all.”

“No, and that’s what we’re hoping for,” Major Wharton said. “Alright, so what we’re most likely going to do is continue the profile for another month. After that, if you’re having any further issues, I want you to get in contact with me, alright?”

“Yessir,” Marc replied. “Am I good to get my boot back on?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Marc busied himself with tying his laces as Major Wharton departed the examination room, most likely to grab Marc’s profile from the printer. The minutes ticked by as he waited, extracting his phone and perusing online, trying to help the wait go by. Just as always, the medical center had no reception to speak of.

Major Wharton reappeared at the door, a fresh sheet of paper in hand. “Sergeant Reyes, here you are. I suggest you make a copy of it as soon as you can in case something happens to the original.”

“Thank you, sir,” Marc replied, taking the profile in hand. “Anything I should be aware of on this, any changes?”

“No, just the same one as before, with this one ending 30 days from now, after which you’ll have recovery time until two months later if you need it. Just like I said make sure you schedule an appointment if you continue to have any problems.”

“Thanks, sir,” Marc replied, getting to his feet. “Am I good to go, or-?”

“Yeah, you’re good, man, have a good day.”

“Later, sir.” Marc went through the doors and out into the halls, heading for his car as quickly as he could manage. The day had been filled with taskings from Squadron command and higher, leaving him with little hope for rest. It was going to be a long, likely unproductive, day.

Marc checked his phone as he settled in the car seat, noticing a pair of texts from Sergeant Mac. With a sigh he opened them, checking their contents: Get the new guys to CIF, get them their gear.

Rgr, was Marc’s only reply. He sighed again, leaning back in his seat. He’d been s caught up in his own injuries that he’d almost forgotten Rumble and Featherweight still needed their equipment. He looked back in his car, knowing he wouldn’t have enough space. He’d have to call for Bright’s help.

A ping from his phone and he looked down. A message from Sunset: How’d it go?

Marc checked the clock. Ten minutes past nine. He’d have to call so he could keep driving.

“Hey,” Sunset greeted, her voice cheerful and bright. Even through the weak connection, Marc could hear her happiness and felt his heart lift. They’d been doing better recently, and more often than not he found his mind drifting to thoughts of her. “How’d it all go?”

“Good, actually,” Marc replied, pulling out of his slot and weaving through the parking lot. “I’m still on profile, but it isn’t a permanent one. I should be good this time next month.”

“Told you it’d be fine,” Sunset teased. “And you were certain you’d be crippled for life.”

“Hey, it hurt, babe,” he replied, her voice intoxicating him and filling his mind with desire. Pay attention to the road, you idiot! “What else was I supposed to expect?”

“Probably not the worst,” she said. “Hey, look, I’m running a little late to work and I just pulled up, I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Sure. You still wanna meet for lunch at the PX today?”

“I don’t know if I can make it today, I might be busy today. I’ll let you know if I can make it, alright?”

“Fair enough. See you, Sunset,” Marc said, pulling out onto the main road towards Squadron.

“Love you,” Sunset said quickly, the phone going silent a moment later.

Love you. Marc smirked, the sound of her words joyous to his ears. “Ha,” he murmured, his eyes scanning the road ahead. “She loves me. Beat that, Uncle Sam!”

Sunset knew she was late enough already. Her first appointment should have started ten minutes ago- and with her most cantankerous patient, Mr. Morrison. Today was not going to be a pleasant day.

Oh hush, today will be fine, she counseled herself. Her mind flickered back to her conversation back with her husband, their ease and flow of talk with one another having returned to its pre-deployment normalcy. Everything felt so right, so good. Only one small thing was missing, and Sunset simply couldn’t put a finger on what.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Sunset said, noticing Rose standing across from her office. “I got a bit mixed up this morning, forgot to grab lunch in case we have to work through it. Has anyone noticed?”

“Not yet,” Rose replied, her countenance low. She clutched her cup of coffee as though it were a lifeline.

Sunset took notice of her friend’s pained expression. “Rose, are you alright?” she asked. “How’s Caleb, his eye hasn’t gotten an infection again, has it?”

“No, Caleb’s fine,” Rose said hesitantly. “Sunset, we got a call earlier today, a bit before you came in.”

Sunset looked at her in confusion. “What’s wrong? I just talked to Marc, he’s fine.”

“No, Sunset- Sunset, Mr. Morrison committed suicide over the weekend.”

The world stopped. Sunset’s eyes went wide, hardly able to believe what she had heard. “What? What happened?”

Rose stared down at her coffee mug, shaking her head bitterly. “He… it looks like he shot himself. He’d talked to his son just a bit before he died, they think. Neighbors heard the gunfire and called the police.”

“When was this?” Sunset demanded.

“Saturday night. When we received the call, we decided it was best someone told you in person. I’m sorry.”

Sunset sank into her chair, her once-cheerful mind now left reeling from the news. Mr. Morrison- Major Morrison, a war veteran and double-amputee, a man who had endured trials and tribulations and the fires of conflict, only to die in his home country at his own hands. It was a sickening thought to process.

You could never save him, said that creeping voice in her head, the blackened snake within her mind uncoiling and coming to whisper in her ear. You can’t save anyone.

“Sunset? You alright, dear?” Rose laid a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Sunset shook herself from her thoughts, realizing she had been staring blankly for several seconds. “Sorry, Rose,” she said distractedly, a whirlwind of emotions roiling within her. “… Rose, I need a minute alone. I’m sorry, I just-”

“You’re fine, Sunset,” Rose replied, retreating to the door and pulling it to. “I’m just across the hall if you need anything.”

Sunset nodded as Rose departed, staring at the open crack of the door before she could stand it no longer and slammed it shut. The sole source of light in her office came from a dim lamp beside her desk, leaving the room covered in a gloomy pale light that made Sunset think of the color of bone.

That wretched snake that resided in her mind unwound itself once more, twisting and turning in her brain until it could whisper in her ear, its slithering voice clear as day. You failed, it sneered, the snake’s voice a soulless hiss. You let him die.

I tried everything I could. He didn’t want to be saved, Sunset fired back, closing her eyes and leaning forward in her seat. She controlled her breathing, focusing on the air that flowed in and out of her lungs. To focus on something, anything other than the death that lay before her until she could keep the emotions in check.

You could have done something, the snake replied, the oozing voice weaving through her brain and dominating her thoughts. You could have known what to say, what to do. But you failed to do it. You didn’t care.

That’s not true. I did everything I knew to do, anything I could do to help, Sunset replied. Look at Marc. I eventually got through to him.

And not a moment to lose, the serpent hissed. A moment that came because of wiser minds than yours. Without help, you would have hounded your husband into the grave and never felt a shred of guilt.

Sunset pressed her hands into her eyes until she saw sparks fly, desperately trying to snuff the life out of the serpent that tormented her. His words were searing, half-truths built to tear her down. “I will not listen to you,” she said tightly. “I would have done anything to help. Anything, if he just would have let me in…”

And no one ever will. Because you hurt all you try to heal. Tormenter, torturer, desecrater. All you ever do is make the world worse.

And as Sunset finally felt tears form in her eyes, a part of her broke.

Marc slid into the open parking spot, a fair distance from the Troop bay due to his lateness. “Typical,” he muttered, sliding out of his seat. “I’m not even half-an-hour after work call and the whole place is full. Like I my broken bod needs to walk half a friggin’ mile.”

As he made his way towards the entrance, the door swung open and Bright appeared, looking displeased and already upset about something. Marc gave a groan at the sight of his gunner, asking, “What’s happened now?”

“Wanna guess who’s here, Sergeant?” Bright asked.

“No. Just tell me, dude,” Marc said.

“Thunderlane.”

Marc paused mid-stretch. “What? Why’s that idiot here?”

“He found out his brother’s here and he’s wicked pissed, Sergeant Mac and First Sergeant are trying to get him outta here. You can guess what he was doing.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Marc said, pushing through the doors towards the bay, finding a heated argument between three men- one of them wearing a camouflaged flight jacket. “Are we really doing this, Thunderlane?”

Thunderlane heard Marc’s voice, whipping around and revealed to be in a heated frenzy. “Asshat!” he said, pushing past Mac and Iron Will to reach the young NCO. “You could’ve told me my brother was here, he’s under you!”

“He’s not your responsibility, why are you here?” Marc said heatedly. “Get out, go back to your own company. You’re not even in this Squadron.”

“He’s my brother! He’s my damn responsibility more than anyone else’s!” Thunderlane shot back.

“He’s an adult, he made his choice. Now get out. Go, Thunderlane.”

“Fuck you-”

“Enough!” First Sergeant roared, the entire bay going quiet as the titanic man took hold of the situation. “Sergeant Thunderlane, turn the fuck around and face me- right the fuck now!”

Still fuming, Thunderlane slowly turned about to face the colossal soldier-

“Get to parade rest, fuckface!” Iron Will snarled.

Thunderlane snapped to position, bracing himself for the coming onslaught. The air was tense, each man holding their breath in preparation for the audible assault.

“Sergeant, I do not fucking care if he is your brother. I wouldn’t fucking care if he was your best friend. I wouldn’t fucking care if it was your goddamn wife and she was letting the whole goddamn squadron suck on her fat titties! You are causing a goddamn ruckus in my goddamn bay and if you don’t haul your ass out of here in the next five fucking seconds I will tear your asshole so wide open you’ll be able to squeeze a tank right into your ass! Now get the fuck out before I start making fucking calls and force so much paperwork down your goddamn throat you’ll be shitting trees! Or would a visit to your Sergeant Major be more pleasant?”

Thunderlane was absolutely fuming, but refused to say a word. Usually a good response, but First Sergeant was not in the mood for silence.

“Well? How about a fucking answer, you load of shit?” he demanded.

“I’ll leave,” Thunderlane said bitterly.

“You’ll leave what?” Iron Will asked.

“I’ll leave, First Sergeant!” Thunderlane yelled.

“Get the fuck out!” Iron Will said, a knife-hand pointed to the door.

Without waiting a moment, Thunderlane wheeled about and stalked out the door, slamming it shut and leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

First Sergeant gave a sigh. “Sweet fucking hell, I can’t believe that just happened,” he muttered. “Sergeant Reyes?”

“First Sergeant,” Marc replied, shuffling forward uneasily, not wanting to be the next victim of his leader’s rage.

“You know that fuckstick. Why was he here?”

“Private Rumble is his little brother. The only family he’s got, First Sergeant,” Marc replied. “Super overprotective, I think. Rumble did say Thunderlane didn’t want him to enlist.”

“Fucking hell.” Iron Will rubbed his brow, swinging his patrol cap from side to side. “And we jump out of his chopper, too.”

“Roger, First Sergeant.”

“Sergeant Reyes, make sure he’s not waiting outside in the damn parking lot or some other dumb shit, and tell him to beat it. If I see him again and we’re not jumping, I’ll fuck his life up.”

“Hooah.” Glad to be leaving the scene, Reyes hurried out the bay and through the main doors, unsurprised to see Thunderlane waiting nearby.

“Really? Are you actually serious?” Marc asked, going to confront the man. “He’s an adult. Let him be, Thunderlane!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Thunderlane asked angrily. “You knew he was my brother, you know he’s all I got.”

“He asked me not to,” Marc answered. “It’s his own life, he can do what he wants. Why did you even think showing up here was a good idea? I can’t believe you did this.”

“Because-”

“Know what? Shut up. I don’t even care,” Marc said, waving away the soldier. “I really don’t care. Your brother is one of my soldiers, and if you pull something like that again then I’ll make sure you get kicked out. Yes, I would, Thunderlane. I don’t know what you expected to gain from this. If anything, he did it to piss you off.”

“Try to get him a headquarters assignment,” Thunderlane said. “He’s small, dude. He-”

“He signed up like everyone else,” Marc said. “He knows what he’s doing. Let him do it. Bet he makes it through without a scratch.”

Thunderlane hardly looked satisfied, but began to stalk off nonetheless. “He’s my little brother, Marc,” he said, turning back to face the Cavalryman. “He’s my family.”

“He’s a Scout,” Marc replied. “He’s got more brothers than just you now. Let him be part of it. He obviously wanted to.”

Thunderlane’s expression was torn between anger and sorrow, he turning towards the parking lot and departing. Marc gave a sigh of exasperation and returned to the bay, finding Bright and Featherweight laughing hysterically at a furious Rumble.

“That fucknugget!” Rumble said, stalking back and forth between the lockers. “Such a complete, smothering assface! Total prick, I can’t believe he’d do something so cringey!”

“Cool it, soldier,” Marc ordered, the three of them becoming silent. “How’d he know you were here? I thought you wanted it secret.”

“I don’t know, Sergeant!” Rumble replied. “Me and Featherweight went to the PX for food, maybe he saw me there! I dunno, but he called me and asked which unit I was.”

“Why’d you tell him if you didn’t want him to know?” Marc asked, giving an exaggerated groan. “That was so stupid. Look at what happened.”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, Sergeant,” Rumble said. “I’m really sorry, he wasn’t trying to be- I dunno- traitorous or anything.”

“I know. He’s just an overemotional idiot,” Marc said. “Bright, get your keys. We gotta get these two knuckleheads to CIF and get their gear.”

“Goddammit, I just cleaned the car. Of course,” Bright complained. “Come on, you two. We’re getting your duffel bags from the barracks. Well come on! Fucking hell.”

Rumble’s ill mood had continued throughout the day, the young man becoming snappish and hostile to his fellow soldiers, finally being subdued when Marc stepped in, addressing him in the simplest way he knew how: corrective training.

“Amazing how a temper gets you into trouble, isn’t it?” Marc asked, watching as Rumble continued with his pushups, each one becoming more and more difficult.

“Yes Sergeant,” Rumble replied, a bead of sweat beginning to form on his brow.

“Bright, what do you think? Maybe he’ll be more hot-tempered than you, you never know.”

Bright laughed. “He’ll be a gunner. You always put the angriest guy on the heaviest firepower, isn’t that how it work?”

“Eh, maybe. I didn’t choose it for you.” Marc stretched himself out before taking a seat, peering over at the struggling Rumble. “Having trouble, are we?”

“Yes Sergeant,” Rumble answered, his voice now becoming strained.

“So when an NCO tells you to calm down, what are you going to do next time round?”

“I’ll calm down, Sergeant.”

“Good. Position of Attention, move,” Marc barked, watching as Rumble fell to his knees, eventually finding the strength to get back on his feet. “I get that you’re mad, but you’re here to be a professional. Not an idiot. You’re going to be my driver, I need you to do exactly as I tell you when I tell you- or else we all die. You hear me?”

“Hooah,” Rumble breathed, his chest rising and falling from exertion.

“Now go get some water and cool down. Remember I need a list of anything you got that was damaged or missing parts- Featherweight, that goes for you too.”

Marc returned to his seat beside Bright as the two junior soldiers waked away, Featherweight laughing at his friend’s restrained anger.

“I like him, don’t you?” Bright asked cheerfully.

“If he gets his temper under control he’ll be great,” Marc replied. “I mean, he didn’t ask for his brother to act like a complete jackass, but he still needs to learn how to stuff it when it matters.”

“Still think we’re not going to war again?” Bright asked, his voice becoming subdued.

Marc didn’t answer, his mind drifting to his counseling sessions- and wondered if he would even be allowed to return to the fight at all.

The house was dark as Marc pulled into the driveway, tired from the day’s events. He perused his phone for a few moments, sifting through the various texts and updates he had received during his drive home. Counselings to be written, vehicles to be repaired, and his next session with Cadance tomorrow afternoon. The week looked fully prepared to be a long one indeed.

He was surprised at the emptiness of his home when he walked in; the living room was silent, the kitchen light off. Marc peered into the dining room where Sunset typically preferred to work and found it empty.

“She wasn’t working late today, was she?” he asked himself, throwing off his jacket and patrol cap onto the chair before calling out into the house. “Sunset?”

Silence greeted his ears, though he thought he could hear a rustle of sheets. Marc walked down the darkened hall and found the bedroom empty- no, not empty. There in the darkness was the silhouette of a person lying down, huddled on the corner of the bed.

She’s asleep, he thought to herself, quietly stepping back into the hall and pushing the door to- only to hear the distinct sound of a damp sniff, and the subtle sound of movement across fabric.

“Sunset?” he called, watching as the silhouette stiffened at the sound. “Babe, you alright?”

“Please, just go,” Sunset replied, her voice sounding utterly defeated, a tone that quite unnerved her husband.

“That sounds like a no,” Marc said, walking over to sit beside her.

“Marc, leave me alone,” Sunset said, turning her back to him.

Marc said nothing, studying the sound of her voice. So flat and empty of emotion he wondered what had caused her to be so spent. Trying to think of something to say and failing, he simply accepted defeat, but not before planting a small, quiet kiss on her cheek. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything,” he whispered.

Pulling the door to, Marc departed and returned to the living room, beginning his evening workout. His mind, however, never left Sunset’s side, and he wondered what could have disturbed her so.

The night came and went, Sunset not leaving her place on the bed. Marc went through his nightly routine, taking care not to disturb her. As he left the bathroom to change, he glanced at her still form, unmoved from her little corner of the bed. If he was right, she was feigning sleep and simply trying to ignore him.

When morning came, Marc was the first to wake, leaving his wife asleep on the bed, she finally having found slumber sometime in the deep of the night. As he prepared to leave, Marc knelt beside her and left another kiss on her cheek. “Love you,” he whispered, leaving the darkened room behind and heading out into the morning.

Marc’s mind was elsewhere throughout the day. PT went by him like a blur, the workday swirling before his eyes as the morning past and transformed into the afternoon, and soon enough he was heading down the hall to Cadance’s office for his weekly session.

“You’re here a bit early today,” Cadance remarked as he walked into the office. “I think that’s a first for you.”

“Really?” Marc asked, peering over at the clock. “Huh. When am I usually here?”

“Usually right on the mark,” she remarked, taking her usual seat and leaning back. “How’ve you been doing since last week?”

“Good, actually,” Marc replied. “Not y’know, just some typical boring answer, but actually, truly good. I’ve felt better.”

“You’ve been saying that for a while, do you know that?” Cadance said. “Ever since you came here with Sunset, you’ve been growing at a faster pace. I think your opening up with her helped you more than you realize.”

Marc laughed, his smile quickly turning to a frown as the memory of his wife huddled on their bed resurfaced.

“What’s wrong?” Cadance asked, taking note of his fallen countenance.

“Sunset,” Marc replied. “She was acting out of sorts yesterday. Seemed like she was worn out, but when I asked her what was wrong, she didn’t talk to me.”

“She didn’t talk to you?” Cadance echoed.

“No.” Marc scrutinized the woman across from him. “Did she call you about something?”

Cadance gave a groan, leaning back in her seat and deflating. “I warned her this would happen if she wasn’t careful.”

“What did she do?”

“How often does your wife talk to you about how she’s doing?” Cadance inquired.

Marc wanted to answer, but found the past several months flowing before his eyes. As the time between his breakdown and now went by, he realized that his wife had hardly spoken a word about her well-being. “Not… not often,” he answered. “She’s been working hard and I know she isn’t sleeping much.”

“She’s exhausted, Marc. I think what happened yesterday likely was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She needs you.”

“She wouldn’t even talk to me yesterday, Cadance.”

“Give her time. Be there for when she needs you to be,” Cadance said. “Are you well and truly doing better now?”

Marc heard her words as a challenge. He stiffened in his seat, straightening his back as he faced her. “I’ve come a long way,” he said.

Cadance stared right back at him. “Then right now is when she’ll need you most.”

Sunset struggled to her seat, shakily leaning down and falling against the seat back, her breath heavy with exhaustion. That shouldn’t have been so hard, she told herself. All you did was walk from the bedroom to here.

The sound of the front door opening sent her into a panic and she returned to her feet, her vision becoming clouded as she did so. She stood stock-still at the counter, trying to regain focus. Come on, clear up. Clear up! She silently screamed.

“Easy, easy.” Marc’s voice rang softly in her ears and she felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist. “You’re trembling like you’re about to go down.”

“I’m fine,” she said brusquely, still trying to regain her sight.

“Sit.” Marc’s tone was absolute as he led her over to the kitchen table, gently placing her down. As her vision finally returned she could see Marc kneeling before her, staring at her intently.

“I’m fine,” she said again, her voice a bit stronger than before.

“When was the last time you ate?” he asked her.

Sunset didn’t look him in the eye. For Marc, the answer was already evident. “Wait here, he said, turning to the cabinet and extracting a small can of soup and some crackers, setting to work. In two minutes a bowl sat before her, steaming chicken noodle soup with about a dozen saltines.

“Eat,” Marc said, forcefully but not unkindly. “It’s not much, but if you’re feeling nauseous then it’ll be easier to stomach.”

Sunset looked at the bowl, then at her husband. Her gaze was distraught; to him, she looked like a shame-faced schoolgirl.

“I’m serious. Eat,” Marc said again, pushing the bowl a bit closer. “You’ll feel better, and then you can tell me what’s going on.”

Relenting, Sunset took a small spoonful and slowly consumed the bowl. Marc was right- each sip rejuvenated her spirits, unlocked her mind from its prison. Her countenance remained low, but the darkness had been transformed into a dim twilight. Perhaps it would get better.

“I know that you’ve been working hard,” Marc said, watching as Sunset pushed the empty bowl aside. “And I know you’ve been hiding from me a bit, too.”

“I haven’t been hiding anything,” Sunset protested.

“I know you don’t sleep much,” he said. “And that you hide your tears. You’re trying to be strong.”

“You needed someone to rely on,” Sunset said.

“And so do you,” Marc said gently, taking her hand in his, feeling the softness of her skin against the roughness of his own. “You’re not in this alone, you know. We’re in this together.”

Sunset couldn’t meet his gaze, her shame starting to rise once more. He was growing strong again, and he was doing it without her.

“Hey, quit it,” Marc said sharply. Sunset snapped out of her reverie to find her husband staring at her with displeasure. “Don’t be sorry for anything. You don’t need to be. I’m your husband, aren’t I? I’m here to help, whenever you need it. Even if that means listening.”

Sunset wanted to say she was sorry, but knew that would hardly be acceptable. She tried to regain her muddled thoughts and found herself totally lost, simply laughing at herself softly.

“She laughs again,” Marc said pleasantly. “Now come on, I know something’s eating you. Cadance said she got a call from you yesterday. What happened that made you so upset?”

Flashes of the news rang in her ears and Sunset’s world went cold. She found herself starting to shiver, finally saying, “Someone died.”

Marc studied her. “Someone died?”

“One of my patients,” Sunset said feebly, huddling as if cold. “Mr. Morrison.”

“I think you told me about him before,” Marc said. “What happened?”

Sunset’s memories of Morrison became intertwined with those of her husband. “He- he shot himself.”

Marc said nothing, simply keeping her hand in his. “I’m sorry,” he said finally, the silence having run its course. “You weren’t there when it happened, were you?”

“No. He shot himself over the weekend. Rose told me as soon as I got in.”

“I’m sorry. I really am. That must’ve been hard,” Marc said. “I know you were trying your best to help. Weren’t you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said bitterly. “I did everything I could to help and it never mattered.”

“Of course it matters,” Marc replied. “You tried to make his life better. You worked to help him heal, that’s a noble thing you did.”

“And now he’s dead, Marc,” Sunset said sharply, her eyes clouded with pain. “I did everything I could and now he’s dead. I… I couldn’t help him after all.”

“Feels awful, doesn’t it?”

Sunset looked at her husband, seeing the same pain she bore reflected in his eyes. “Yes,” she said. “I just sit there and think, is there anything I could have done to make a difference? Anything I could have said?”

“You did all you could,” Marc said. “I know you –don’t say no!- I know you, and I know you would’ve done everything you could to help. Sometimes… sometimes people just don’t see any other way. And so they’ll go down into that pit of black, and sometimes they go so far down that they’ll never come back out.”

Sunset took a deep breath, trying to expel the virulent serpent from her mind. Try as she might, its coils would not loosen their grip. “I just… I could’ve- I can’t save anyone.”

“You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved. No one can. You can do everything you can to help, but if someone doesn’t want to make it through, then that’s it.”

The silence fell as the two went quiet, the snake tightening its coils as Sunset’s mind flickered over all the moments that had passed- any moment where she could have said something that would make a difference. Nothing came to mind.

Just as the snake tightened its grip, the coils suddenly lessened as a familiar, comforting sensation met her lips- her husband had pulled her in and kissed her, a feeling so strong and warm that Sunset felt like a ray of sunlight had taken residence in her heart. All too soon the moment was over, and Sunset found herself staring into the dark brown eyes of her husband.

“I know you may not believe me right now, but I am alive because of you,” Marc said. “If you hadn’t called when you did that night, I wouldn’t be here. You saved my life. Try to remember that, OK?”

Marc kissed her again and rose to his feet, departing for the bedroom to change- and leaving Sunset feeling as though a storm was raging inside her, fighting against a lone ray of sunlight.

Rose heard footsteps outside her door and crept over to the door, peering out into the hallway to see Sunset walking down the hallway, a small bag thrown across her shoulder. “Morning,” the older woman called cheerfully.

“Morning, Rose,” Sunset replied, her voice even but firm. She threw her bag onto her desk, sitting down in a heap as if she was weighed down.

“Feeling any better from yesterday?” Rose asked.

“Yes, I’m doing better,” Sunset replied, giving her friend a small smile. “I’m just really tired, is all. I didn’t sleep much.”

“Well, good thing it’s a light work day, right?” Rose said, trying to raise her colleague’s spirits. “Shouldn’t be too much to do today.”

“Yeah. I just hope it goes quick,” Sunset said, beginning to unpack her bags, taking hold of her lunch and suddenly feeling something light slip past her hand. She glanced down at her desk and found a crumpled envelope at her fingertips. Did I leave something in my bag yesterday? She wondered. As she opened the envelope, she saw the handwriting was not her own, but instead that of her husband’s: a simple note and photograph. She took the picture in her hands and saw herself- a picture of her and Marc early in their relationship in high school. The picture had been part of a collection, a wedding gift from Applejack. She laughed as she saw Marc’s face; bruised and battered, with that one missing tooth easily evident. Yet still he smiled, his eyes focused on her and she in return. It must have been taken shortly after her powers had awoken.

Sunset put the photo down and read the note: To the woman who saved my life more than once, you’re still my hero.

Your loving husband.

Sunset felt a genuine smile grow on her face and her vision grew blurry from tears. She felt as though a small, personal sun had taken root in her heart, illuminating her spirits and giving her strength. Maybe, just maybe, today would be survivable after all.

The day went by quickly. And so did the rest of the week, Sunset pushing through as best as she could manage. The serpent stayed with her, slithering through her brain and whispering in her ear. But try as it might, it could not work all the way through, its path constantly blocked by a light, burnished by her husband.

Thursday afternoon had brought about another surprise for the young woman. Sunset had taken her time for lunch, feeling genuine hunger in her stomach once more- a sensation she hadn’t felt in days! When she made her way back to her desk she felt a lightness within her.

She could hear a commotion in the hallway before she even came around the turn. A group of her coworkers were beside her office, a few of the younger one giggling like children as they caught sight of her.

“Hey Sunset, wanna swap husbands for a couple days?” one of them called.

“What are you talking about?” Sunset asked, bewildered by their delight. “Why are you all outside my office..?”

“I’m just saying, I’m jealous,” another one replied. “How did you train your man to be that good to you?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Sunset said, walking through the group of women and coming to halt. Her eyes went wide as she caught sight of them: a dazzling bouquet of flowers sat atop her desk in an exquisite vase. “Oh my gosh,” was all she could muster.

Rose laughed, making her way through the group and standing beside her friend. “A young man came by while you were having lunch,” she said. “Said he knew you, and brought those by. In case you were wondering.”

“Marc was here?” Sunset asked, her eyes still fixated on the flowers. She came towards them with a strange reverence, reaching out to touch them as though she doubted their presence. “Wow…”

Her coworkers laughed. “I think he surprised her. You sure you don’t wanna swap for a bit? He could teach my husband a few things.”

“Oh hush,” Sunset said, waving them all away. She turned back to the flowers and saw a small note hanging on the edge of the vase, snatching it up immediately and holding it close to her heart. She couldn’t bear to read it, fear telling her the words would break the spell. “Marc, what are you doing?” she whispered delightedly.

Friday was born and Sunset felt something roiling inside her. An anticipation had come to rest in her, an expectancy of something she could not quite name. She looked over at the other side of the bed and found it empty, Marc having long left for PT. She reached out for him, feeling where he lay and the warmth it brought to her fingers. Her thoughts became wild and sensuous, memories of her husband rising up and misting her eyes. Before she even realized what she was doing, her breathing had become rapid. She peered down and felt a flush of embarrassment; she needed a shower or else she may lose her mind.

“Reyes! Sergeant Reyes!”

Marc snapped out of his daydream and looked up to see Lieutenant Pharaoh leaning out of the Platoon office with the air of a man who had been trying to get his attention.

“Yes! Sorry sir, what’s up?” Marc replied, getting to his feet and coming before the officer.

“Hey, I think I can get your vehicle in for services today,” Lt. Pharaoh said, handing the NCO a folder of paperwork. “Grab your guys and get it over there. If it gets in, try and get One-One in there as well, it’s next on the list.”

“Too easy, sir,” Marc answered, taking the folder in his hands and perusing its contents. “Annual or Semi-Annual checks?”

“Annual. One of your guys may need to stay overnight with it until it’s done, too,” Lt. Pharaoh said grimly. “Sorry, but we need these done. Squadron is breathing down our necks.”

“Roger. Hey Bright!” Marc called, grabbing the attention of his Gunner.

“Sarnt!” Bright said, walking over and eyeing the folder of paperwork with distaste. “What have we got this time?”

“Get the vic into the maintenance bay, looks like we might actually get it worked on. Take the new guys with you. If FSC needs someone to stay with them when they’re working on it, have Rumble stay behind. He needs to learn as much as he can.”

“Too easy,” Bright said, taking the folder and walking away, already barking at his crewmembers.

“Well, that’s sorted,” Marc said, reaching for his phone and sending Bright the rest of his orders. “Now, back to… well, crap.”

“You’re boring,” Sergeant Mac said, appearing beside his subordinate and taking a seat.

“Thanks, I truly appreciate that,” Marc said, settling down beside his Platoon Sergeant. “You could be helpful and actually give me some ideas on what to do next. I’m only spinning my wheels here.”

Big Mac pondered the thought for a moment, closing his eyes and thinking deeply before solemnly declaring, “Nope.”

Marc gave a sigh. “Real helpful. Thanks, I have so many ideas now.”

The Cavalryman’s sarcasm was duly noted, Sergeant Mac raising an eyebrow at the younger man.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, we signed up the same day at the same place. I’ll mock you as much as I want,” Marc said dismissively, ignoring his friend’s displeasure. “I’ve gotta think of something, Sunset’s opening up to me again and I wanna keep it going. She’s on the verge of… of… something! I can’t just let this slip by and not do something!”

Big Mac shrugged, having long ago accepted the life of a permanent bachelor. “Search me,” he said. “Food or something.”

Marc’s brain began buzzing madly. “That’s- that’s actually an idea. Hold on, gimme a minute.” His phone came alive as he searched recipe’s, results running like a waterfall across the screen. “Aha! I think I got it. I may have an idea.”

“Stop the presses,” Sergeant Mac muttered, much to his friend’s chagrin.

“Hush. I may actually have an idea,” Marc said, getting up and beginning to pace wildly. “I may be late coming back from lunch. Just warning you.”

Sunset pulled into the driveway and came to a stop, immediately falling back in her seat and giving a sigh of utter defeat. The day had been long, grueling- even by her standards. Equipment had failed, tempers flared. All her hopes from the morning had died a horrible death, leaving her utterly worn down and deep in the serpent’s coils. No fate had spared her, not even able to leave at a decent hour, instead coming back when the sun was low.

She pushed open the front door and was immediately greeted with the wondrous smell of well-cooked food, a scent so remarkable that Sunset simply stood at the doorway and drank it in hungrily- not yet realizing that it was indeed coming from her own kitchen. When she finally made it further inside, she found her husband hard at work over a cutting board with fresh chicken sizzling on a frying pan.

“Hey, you’re home,” Marc said, a radiant smile across his face. “What took you so long? I was worried.”

“It was a long day,” Sunset said distantly, gawking at the mound of ingredients he was using. “What are you doing..?”

“Uh, making dinner,” Marc replied, turning back to his work and shuffling the pan’s contents about. “It’s been a while since I made anything, so I thought you might like something good- you know, rather than just something from a microwave.”

“OK…” Sunset was utterly confused by the whole affair that set before her and could find no way to reconcile her confusion. She settle for dropping her things and turning to her bedroom and beginning to clean herself up. As her mind became less clouded, she took a stroke of inspiration, donning a simple mini-skirt and top over her favorite pair of jeans.

“You look good,” Marc said, taking note of his wife’s apparel, a far cry from her atypical post-work wear. “I mean, just- I hope you aren’t mad, but I forgot just how good you can look.”

Sunset took in her husband’s appearance, the sleek body barely covered by a thin, dark-red Henley across a pair of blue jeans. It was simple attire, but something about him radiated.

The sun set and the dinner table was set, Sunset putting herself to work as her husband prepared the meal. Soon the two were dining again, a single candle setting the mood as the two laughed and took joy in their solitude. For Sunset, it was as if the past years of troubles had been washed away; all the pain and suffering they had endured suddenly seemed as though it were a bad dream. It was so sweet to the taste, and yet…

Marc paused mid-bite, noticing his wife’s falling countenance. What’s the matter?” he asked, setting down his fork. “I know the joke wasn’t great.”

Sunset stared down at her plate- completely clean, swept aside for nearly half an hour now as she had let her husband talk and laugh. Yet her breaths came like gunfire, rapid and sharp.

“Sunset, are you OK?” Marc said again, this time more forcefully.

Sunset’s world began to swim in her eyes. “This isn’t real,” she whispered, sinking back in her seat as though crushed.

Marc laughed. “What are you talking about? I’m right here,” he said comfortingly.

“We haven’t been like this in years,” Sunset said. “We’ve been at each other’s throats, we’ve been angry with one another. We just fought and fought like we couldn’t do anything else, and I just- I can’t believe this is real. There’s not a happy ending for people like you and me.”

Marc set down his fork and slowly got up from his seat to take his place at her side, kneeling down before her as he had done so often. “Talk to me,” he said gently.

Sunset was beginning to lose control of herself. “Every day I wake up and wonder if you’ll still be there,” she whispered. “I just sit there and wonder if you did pull the trigger that night, and everything I’ve ever seen and done since then is only a dream. Because there’s no way someone like me could save you.”

“Hey, you did more than anyone could have done,” Marc protested.

“Because I tormented you, I screamed at you, I wanted you back because I was so selfish,” Sunset said, ignoring her husband’s words. “I didn’t even try to understand that something was wrong I just kept pushing right on and hurting you like nothing had even happened-”

“And then you tried to make it better-”

“And then you ran, ran because I’d pushed you to a place so dark that I couldn’t even reach you and I believed I’d lost you forever-”

“Will you listen to me!” Marc’s words cut through like a sharpened sword, Sunset’s self-diatribe coming to an end as she felt the safe, comforting hands of her husband’s on her own. “Look at me, Sunset. Really look at me. I’m here- this is real. You helped save me, and look at how far we’re still going. We made it. It was bad, but we made it. And you’ve been pushing hard on your own since then, but you don’t have to anymore. I’m not letting go. Whatever you’re facing, we’ll meet it- together.”

Sunset looked at him and it was as though scales fell from her eyes. “You’re back,” she said. “You’re really back.”

Marc nodded. “And this time, I won’t leave.”

The two of them remained where they were, simply gazing at one another until Sunset could take it no more. With a smile as radiant as the sun she embraced him, clinging to him tightly as if every touch made it all the more real. Marc laughed, taking her in his arms and holding on as though she was a priceless treasure.

“Thanks, beautiful girl,” he said, his voice muffled by her hair. “I missed you.”

Marc made to let go, but as he did so, Sunset’s grip around him tightened, further and further until it was as though she was holding on for her very life. She began to tremble in his arms, a violent shudder coursing through her body followed by a loud, distinct sob.

“Sunset…” Marc felt a dampness on his shirt as she realized she was beginning to cry. “Hey, hey, it’s alright. I’m right here, I’m right here.”

Sunset could not be placated, her tears growing along with her cries until she could hold it in no more, collapsing to the floor in Marc’s arms, an utter mess of tears and fears and horrors that had been so tightly bound within her mind that they could bear to be set captive no longer. Marc said nothing, simply holding her tight as Sunset’s agony flowed forth, gently rocking her back and forth as she wailed.

“I thought you were gone,” Sunset cried, her words nearly incoherent from her tears. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m right here,” Marc said again, kissing her on the head. “I promise, I’m right here. I’m sorry, I wish it hadn’t taken so long. You’ve waited too long for me.”

“It was so hard,” Sunset sobbed. “I never knew if- if I was going to wake up one day and- and- and there you’d be just gone forever!” Despite all her husband’s assurances and comforts, her tears would simply not cease.

“I’m right here, I’m right here,” was Marc’s constant mantra. “I promise, I’m right here. I’m back.”

Sunset looked up at him, kissing him so fiercely that Marc was left absolutely stunned for breath. And again and again, practically climbing up the man and into his arms.

“Bade, what on earth-”

“I need you to take me! Right now!” Sunset said, her words ringing through the air like a hammer. “Please, or else I’m going to lose my mind, please!”

Marc leaned in and kissed her softly, a slow, wondrous thing that finally brought her tears to a halt. “Of course I will.”

Her hands wrapped around his neck, Sunset held on as though he were his lifeline, burying her face in his chest until she felt the soft touch of the sheets on her back. “Undress me,” she said. “Remind me this is real.”

Slowly, wonderfully, each touch of his hand setting her afire, Sunset felt her clothes peel away from her skin until she lay naked before him, an all-consuming hunger setting her ablaze. She was vulnerable, no wall left standing, yet somehow she felt more secure and at peace than she could ever hope to feel in all her life, holding on to the man that she loved with all her heart.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, kissing him as he held her close, the warmth of his body too much for her to bear.

Marc kissed her again, leaving one after another as he made a trail down her body, a gentle line of love that traced down her neck, across her chest and further beyond. She felt his weight, the muscle and sinew that testified to his strength as he lay upon her frame, utterly safe in his embrace. “I’m not going to leave. Never again,” he whispered.

She reached for him and kissed him once more, a simple call that spoke of a night long awaited.

Author's Notes:

Now this is how I wish I could write all the time. That last segment is damn near exactly how I imagined it. Fuck me, if I could do that all the time...

Sorry for the sudden, unexpected drop from a bunch of updates to none at all on anything. I kinda hit a wall, and I knew this is what I wanted to be completed first. Hopefully there'll be another one within the week, but no promises. I'm close to leaving the Army, so I've got a lot on my plate for departure and making my post-Army life ready.

Comments and corrections below. Hope you enjoy it.