Till the Dawn

by Echo 27

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Drama, Shining Armor, Sex, Flash Sentry, Sunset Shimmer, Big Macintosh, Gore, Twilight Sparkle (EqG), My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Human
Length: 131036

You and I have come a long way since then... And now here we are, so close to the end I can almost taste it. We’re almost free, free to live our lives the way we always wanted. So don’t give up on me now… you promised.”

“You gave me a promise all those years ago. You promised that you’d come back to me. We swore to take care of each other right to the very end- no matter what end it was.
You and I have come a long way since then. We’ve struggled. We’ve cried. We wanted to give up but we never did, because our promises to one another always meant something. We tried to make sure of that. Even when I thought I’d lost you, you did everything you could to keep your word.
And now here we are, so close to the end I can almost taste it. We’re almost free, free to live our lives the way we always wanted. So don’t give up on me now… you promised.”

Published 2017-12-10 21:40:06 UTC
Last updated 2019-05-13 19:03:22 UTC

Chapter One: Savannah

Make it your goal to create a marriage that feels like the safest place on earth.

-Gary Smalley

He watched her as she worked, cracking a pair of eggs over the frying pan and tossing the empty shells into the nearby garbage can. Her movements were fluid, gentle and slow. A rhythmic pattern developed over the years in the time that he’d been gone, he guessed. If he knew anything, he knew to recognize a rhythm.

“You didn’t wake me up, you know,” Sunset said quietly.

Marcos, his mind drifting away from the kitchen and towards another land, suddenly found himself pulled back into reality by the sound of his wife’s words. “Huh?”

“I didn’t wake up because you were having nightmares,” she said. “I just… figured you’d want to know.”

She grabbed the cups of coffee sitting on the nearby counter and handed the larger of the two to him, Marcos accepting it quietly and bringing it to his lips.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, taking another sip. “I checked when I first woke up.”

“Oh. OK.”

He looked over the rim of his mug at her. “So why did you wake up, then? It’s Saturday. You get weekends off.”

Sunset shrugged, settling upon her own mug. “I don’t know,” she answered softly. “Just did, I guess.”

The two sat in silence as the morning sunshine slowly started to filter in, illuminating the soft colors of their home and erasing the miasma of gloom that had so easily pervaded it. She could still feel its presence from time to time. Sunset knew there were places she couldn’t reach yet- barriers he hadn’t yet knocked down. Remembering her last conversation with Cadance, she knew better than to push it. Let him come back at his own pace, she counseled herself. He’ll return in his own time.

Marcos regarded Sunset, watching as she returned to their breakfast and set their plates. Her hair was shorter than it had been when they were young, now falling to just beyond her shoulders rather than the waist-length waves she had once adorned. Her face was paler and her body thinner, simply signs of the times she had endured on her own. Whether it was because of his physical absence or his emotional he didn’t know. Likely an unanswerable question. He felt a squirm of guilt begin to form in his gut, wondering how much of her suffering he had intentionally dealt-

You can’t go down that road, he cautioned himself. You don’t have to think about the what-if’s. Another lesson he was trying to learn. It had been a recent technique, one he was still cultivating. It would take some time.

“Do you still wanna go today?” She asked, setting down her mug to look at him. “I mean, we don’t have to, it can always be another time.”

He had to kickstart his mind into hear to remember what she was talking about. Where had they been planning to go? Savannah, he reminded himself, the memories of the plan returning to the forefront of his mind. A trip off the installation to the nearby city less than an hour away. It had been something the two had been planning for most of the week- and honestly the first day trip they had taken together for quite some time. Good medicine to get away from the same old sights they saw every day.

“It is a Saturday, after all,” Sunset added, playing with her breakfast- another habit she had picked up, Marcos had noted. “We can just sit around the house and relax, it’s a beautiful spring day- I was thinking I could get some work done on the garden out back and you’d been mentioning that the car needed an oil change soon-”

“It’s OK,” he said suddenly, interrupting her absent-minded monologue. “We’ve been talking about going for a while… and it’d be good for us to go relax a little.” He looked up at his wife, meeting her gaze with his. “Yeah, we’ll go.”

Her eyes were ringed with black circles from months of exhaustion but it seemed as if the darkness faded a bit when they crinkled with an early morning smile. “Thanks. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Marcos gave a nod and returned to finishing his meal- watching as, yet again, Sunset barely touched any of hers, nibbling away for a while before rising up to toss her plate in the sink. “You barely ate any of it…” he said weakly.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not very hungry yet, I’ll be fine,” she said lightly, tossing her dishes aside. “I’ll be in the bathroom if you need anything, alright?”

“Yeah.”

Her footsteps were soon swallowed by the sound of a door closing and Reyes found himself alone once more in the house that wasn’t his- true, it was technically his property, but living on a military installation usually meant no building was truly yours. At least the belongings inside belonged to him- unfortunately, the memories that came with it also bore his name.

He walked into the living room and looked across at the mantle above the fireplace, his gaze settling on the various pictures Sunset had set there. A pair of smiles visible on each other’s faces, a token from their wedding day. An old photo, the first one they had ever taken together, from an old Christmas party years prior. Another from a night they had spent with their friends- Rarity had invited the entire group over for a celebration of her first show a couple of years ago. It was the last time he had seen any of his old friends- he remembered Rainbow had refused to come and visit, something the fashionista had declined to discuss. He had never figured out why.

The rest of the mantle was empty, save for a small basket of dried flowers Sunset had put there as a decoration. No new photos, no memories worth keeping. He could hardly blame her- the words and deeds that had been dealt were likely still fresh in Sunset’s mind. Hopefully it wouldn’t stay that way.

His gaze drifted, falling down across the floor before simply settling upon nothing in particular, the patterns and colors blurring and blending as his vision became unfocused and distorted. Time began to lose its meaning and memories began to replay themselves-

Marcos gave a shake of his head and walked away a bit, doing his best to refocus. Listless again. Not a place where he needed to be. Occupy your time, he had been told- he reached for the TV remote and settled down to watch. It was better than nothing.

Early morning news. Whether it had been his fault or Sunset’s that this was the station it had been left on he didn’t know.

“And we move now to news coming straight to you from the front lines, as the war against the Crystal Empire continues on,” said the woman, a pretty blonde woman looking more like a teenager than an adult. “With the fight to recover from the Iron Surge and the fall of Russia still in progress, Coalition joint staff released a statement today declaring that forces have successfully pushed the Empire out of Coalition-led territory, and also the successful capture of a third nuclear stockpile.”

Reyes leaned in, feeling a tension begin to throb in his right leg as trained instinct was awakened. Where were they now? What would he see?

Footage of troop movement somewhere in Europe- southeastern, if he had to guess by the terrain. Footage of a city in ruins as friendly forces celebrated over a toppled statue of King Sombra that lay straddled across a broken street. It had been a while since he’d seen a success like this.

The news segment had continued on without him, now showing some war analyst talking over the story. “With this latest push against Imperial forces, it marks a new stage in the Coalition advance. It simply looks like the Empire is starting to run out of steam, and that the Iron Machine we’ve known for the past nearly two years can no longer sustain itself. With any luck, the majority of Imperial ground forces won’t be able to hold on any longer and we can head straight for the heart of the Empire itself.”

Reyes’ mind constructed a map- the continent covered by bits and pieces that displayed the colors of Coalition and Imperial forces sprawled across a single great line. They had finally been able to recover the territory they had lost against the Empire, putting them right back in the same place they had been at the start of his second tour. Maybe, with a little luck, the Coalition would be able to break through this time and start to bring an end to it all-

“Hey, come on now,” said a soft voice that broke him from his reverie. Marcos looked up to see Sunset powering off the TV. “You said you were going to lay off for a little while, remember?”

“We’re winning again,” he said with a flat voice. “We started moving back in, we’re pushing against them again.”

Sunset gave a sympathetic smile, settling down next to her husband. “I know it means a lot to you, and I know you worry about it a lot,” she said, “but right now it’s not really helping you. You get nervous and you can’t relax, and that’s what we’ve been trying to work on. So, at least for today, can- can we not talk about the war? Or listen to any of the news? We just cut off the rest of the world and do our own thing, can you try that for me?”

Marcos felt his insides squirm with guilt. She was right- as per usual, just as it had always been. It had been something he’d been instructed to do for now- Until you become more at ease, he had been told. He owed Sunset more commitment to getting better than this. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “Sorry, it was… it was just on. I’ll cool it.”

“Thanks.” She gave his leg a squeeze, getting back to her feet. “Shower’s open if you want it, I’ll get one later when I’m a bit more awake. I kinda want to relax for a bit.”

“Sure, thanks.” As Marcos walked down the hall he felt a sharp jolt course through his right leg, from the heel all the way up the calf, causing him to stop in his tracks. “Mmf.”

Sunset noticed his sudden halt. “Is it hurting again?”

Marcos lifted his leg slowly, checking to see if it would happen again. It’d given him trouble in the mornings before. “Just a bit, I think it’s good.”

“Do you want me to take a look at it?”

He set it back down on the ground, testing how it took his weight, feeling nothing but the muscles beneath. “Nah, it’s gone now. I’m good.”

The sun was higher in the sky, having crept beyond the horizon and up into the clear blue of a brilliant morning. The open southern air was crisp and comfortable; a tinge of coolness could still be felt, speaking for the remnants of winter that lingered. But with every passing day, the warmth of their southern home would creep in ever deeper, the humid air making its way into the world once more.

Sunset glanced out the passenger window and out into the wilderness, their home on-base well behind them. Their morning had gone relatively smoothly, the drained atmosphere that had been so prevalent between one another having lessened somewhat in the bright sun. She thought of the condition of their house as she watched the world go by: she’d done her best to make it look nice, but the gloom was pervasive, despite her best efforts. This was a good idea, she thought pleasantly, we both just need some time to relax. That’s all.

She looked over at her husband who was behind the wheel, his gaze flickering across the scenery rapidly, grip tight on the steering wheel. He was scanning, looking for something that was amiss. A habit formed from living in a world she couldn’t even imagine. Just give him the time he needs. I can’t make him break the habits he’s got, all it’s going to take is time.

“You could’ve let me drive, you know,” Sunset said to him, watching as his eyes flickered between her and the road. “I promise I haven’t forgotten, even if it’s been a while.”

A small smile formed on the side of Marcos’ face and the uneasy appearance he bore disappeared for a moment. “Nah, it’s nothing. Besides, you deserve a chance to relax for a little while.”

“I’m fine, it’s OK,” Sunset replied pleasantly, perking up somewhat. “I’m sleeping better, I’m feeling better- you don’t need to do anything.”

“But this is your day,” he replied. “And I know you’ve been looking forward to it, so… I won’t promise anything but I’ll do what I can to make sure you have a good time. I think you deserve that.”

He had taken his eyes off the road ahead, looking directly at her. He had meant every word and she knew it. “Thank you,” she said quietly, giving him a small but sincere smile.

Marcos turned back to the road, looking down at the clock on the radio- silent as per Sunset’s request. He felt a small bubble of pleasure welling inside him as he glanced over at his wife- she looked more awake now, the whisper of a smile still evident on her face. Maybe it would be a good day after all. It’s still gonna be a big step forward, he cautioned himself. Don’t get too optimistic yet, it’s going to be a long day ahead of us- unless you screw it up.

He felt his bubble of happiness pop and he gave a shake in consternation. No time or place for doubt, he decided. It wasn’t going to be THAT big of a deal.

Soon the scenery turned from farmlands and trees and into residential areas filled with classic architecture and beautiful, mossy trees hovering over cobblestone streets. The city was relatively quiet this Saturday morning, only a few people could be seen meandering down the streets. But the promise of a beautiful spring day was too enticing for most and the two doubted it would stay quiet for long.

“It’s going to be a great day to be out here,” Sunset remarked as she exited the car, settling her purse across her shoulder. “I mean, yeah it’s a little cool out still, but it’ll feel great once it hits noon or so.”

“Mm.” Marcos’ eyes were on his wife, studying her from head to toe. She looked lovely, he thought: her wavy hair draped over her shoulders, a simple grey long-sleeve over a pair of faded jeans. It might not have been anything special, but she was still beautiful. She’s always beautiful, he thought. You should tell her that.

“So I know we don’t really have any sort of plan,” Sunset said slowly.

Marcos felt his heart begin to pound. Come on, say something you fool-

“So I was thinking we could just spend our morning at the park before heading further downtown. That sounds alright, right?”

All you have to do is say something nice to your wife, hurry up already or else it’ll be too late! Marcos screamed silently.

Sunset stared at him, waiting for a response. “Umm, so how does that sound?” she repeated. “I’m up for any suggestions if there’s something you wanted to do…”

He shook his head and gave a defeated sigh, realizing his efforts were futile.

Sunset gave a smile and said, “Alright, then. It should be a good time, it’s a beautiful day, wonderful weather… it’ll be good to relax.

“Mm.” Marcos felt deflated, despite the positive start to the morning. A simple compliment was all you had to do, he thought despondently. It was so simple…

The park, surrounded and filled with pecan trees and willows, was a lovely sight in the spring as the multitude of buds and flowers across the green expanse began to open and flourish. The recent rains had aided in the growth, leaving the area lush and vibrant. As the couple walked through, they watched as the few who had taken advantage of the pleasant weather enjoying their time in the gardens. The glistening fountain nearby sprayed crystal-clear water into the air, sunlight giving the area the color of rainbows.

“We don’t really have to do much of anything for a while, really,” Sunset commented, taking a seat on a nearby bench and motioning for her husband to join her. “Come on, why don’t we relax, people-watch for a bit?”

Marcos hesitated before nodding and settling down beside her, allowing for ample space between them- something soon remedied by Sunset, who shuffled down and laid back against his side.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said defensively. “You know full well you’ll be swarmed by a bunch of girls if I don’t make it clear you’re mine.”

He couldn’t help but give a quick laugh, soft and quiet as the dawn. “Because that’s happened before,” he replied jokingly.

“Well, doesn’t hurt to take preventative measures,” she said proudly. “Just in case some southern belle gets any funny ideas.”

Marcos laughed again, feeling a weight begin to lift from within. He gave a rusty sigh and relaxed as he felt his wife’s comforting hearbeat against his own, settling in and watching the world go by. A young man and his dog playing fetch in the grass; an elderly couple who waved and said “good morning” as they hobbled along by; the various joggers and friends who came to work out and enjoy the air.

“You know, I haven’t asked you in a while, but how are you?” Sunset said. “How’ve you been? You’ve been kinda quiet this week.”

Marcos sat there in silence, wondering if he should say anything or not. Part of him wanted to stay silent, another wished for a lie. But the small part of him that loved his wife said otherwise. “I’m alright, I guess,” he said slowly. “Sorry for not saying much. I haven’t been feeling bad or anything, just…”

“Just didn’t have anything to say?” she guessed.

He looked at her and flashed a smile. “Yeah. Just working on it, y’know.”

“Yeah, I get it. Has it been hard?”

He shifted in his seat, pulling a face. “Eh… a little. Waking up and going to sleep is still difficult, but I slept through the night every night this week.”

“Hey, that’s good. You’ve looked better this week, too,” his wife said cheerfully.

The weight on his heart lessened further as she opened him up. While he had been in his therapy sessions, Sunset had dove into whatever knowledge and help she could find. The early days of it all had been stressful, but she had found her rhythm as time had droned ever on. She knew how to help him speak now, to comfort him.

And, in this particular instance, to help him be a husband again. “What about you?” he asked.

She looked at him. “What about me?”

“How are you holding up?”

Sunset sat there for a bit, rocking back and forth as she thought it over. “I’m OK,” she decided finally. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“You sure?” he pressed gently, just as she had done to him many times before.

She gave a small look of surprise. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah. Of course,” he answered. “Is something bothering you?”

“Hmm? Oh, not really. Just the usual frustrations at work,” she replied smoothly. “You know I’ve told you what it’s like sometimes.”

“Mhm.” Sunset’s desire to work in physical therapy hadn’t anticipated a world war, leaving her to deal with many wounded and disfigured soldiers that had returned from overseas. An already difficult task now made more arduous by the thought that her husband could very well one day join them- or worse, the soldiers who had never returned.

“You gonna be alright?” he asked.

Sunset gave a tiny little nod. “Yeah. I’ll be OK. Some days are just harder than others,” she said.

Marcos nodded in assent, knowing the sentiment far too well. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I’m OK for now. But thank you.” She looked up at him. “You know you can always come to me for anything as well, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Just checking.”

Their time in the park came to an end, the rest of their journey too enticing to ignore. Leaving the lush gardens behind, the couple headed further into the city they had hardly ever explored.

“So, where to now?” he asked her, watching her settle in the seat beside him. “We didn’t really have an agenda, so I’ve got no objections to where he go next.”

Sunset mulled that question over for a few moments. “You know, I really don’t know,” she admitted. “I was wanting to go to River Street later, but I was hoping to be there during evening hours- you know, eat and relax there. But before that…”

“So whatever then?” he surmised. “Alright, wherever traffic takes us.”

The old car pulled out of its parking spot and went down the road, eventually rejoining the hustle and bustle of the city enjoying its weekend. Weaving in and out wherever they could, the couple meandered this way and that until they found themselves surrounded by cobblestone roads and rustic properties of an era long gone.

“I think it’s the historic district,” Sunset said, looking out at their surroundings. “I know it may not be all interesting to you, but…”

Marcos nodded but pulled over to look for a parking spot nevertheless, easily able to read the eager interest on his wife’s face. “Wherever we feel like going,” he said pleasantly.

The area here was more crowded than their morning at the park, the denizens of Savannah now mingling with tourists who had come to see the historic sights of the antiquated city. The sun now shone brilliantly in the blue skies, its rays streaking through the thick foliage above and onto the streets below. It was a lovely sight, serene and peaceful.

Marcos looked down at his wife. “Lead the way,” he said quietly. The two departed down the lane at a leisurely pace, heading towards the river as they passed by a nearby antebellum house-

The streets rang with the sound of machine gun fire, the instantly recognizable Crack! of a burst-fire weapon screaming in Reyes’ ears. He whipped around in a frenzy as he scanned the area for the position of the aggressor. The crunch of a sidewalk breaking apart joined in the chaotic racket as gunfire rattled the streets and he caught sight of a man in grey work-clothes wearing a neon vest… atop a jackhammer, standing next to a pair of men in construction hats.

A construction crew was opening up the sidewalk near the church on the opposite side of the streets, digging down to the wires and plumbing below. Reyes surveyed the trio of men, looking at them intently: one with a bristly beard that looked unkempt, darker hair beneath. The two men beside him were obviously locals, judging by their thick accents. His gaze scanned the entire street for signs of any foul play- a sniper in the window, an explosive buried beneath trash or a pile of leaves, someone that didn’t belong, anything-

“Hey, are you alright?” another voice cut into his established search, his eyes still raking the environment for anything suspicious. Reyes’ heart was pounding frantically inside his chest, his ribs practically clattering against the pressure. His head was pulsing, his breathing short and rapid-

“Hey, look at me,” said the voice again, someone gently grabbing his arm and pulling him aside. The grip on his arm disappeared, replaced by a soft pair of hands on his face. His brown eyes were led down to meet the cyan eyes of his wife’s, her gaze hard and focused. “Look at me,” she said once more. “Now breath in and out, gently. Relax…”

Danger! Stay alert! Concentrate! His instincts screamed, honed from years of warfare and violence that stemmed deep into his childhood. But fighting against them was the warmth and comfort she brought, the feeling of her touch against his skin…

“You’re alright, you’re alright, there’s nothing here that’s going to hurt you…”

Reyes could feel his heart still pounding, his head still pulsing, pleading for the warnings to not be ignored, to not be suckered in and torn away. Lives could be lost if he didn’t concentrate- no, lives would not be lost…

“That’s right, look at me. Don’t let go, OK? Keep breathing normally, you’re fine.”

The pulsing and pounding faded away, the screams and echoes of gunfire faded, becoming background noise to the gentle pattering of civilization, of the warm southern breeze brushing past his ears, the reality of where he truly was coming back to him…

Marcos closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly just as he had been taught. His mind refocused, disappearing from the war-torn cities he had known: He was in Savannah, in his home country, beside his wife who cared for him. He was not in danger, there was no machine gun, no threat. He was safe.

“Are you alright?” Sunset asked, looking up at him with concern, her hands still upon his face.

“I’m OK,” he said, his voice remaining shaky. He tried again, his voice clearer as he spoke once more, “I’m fine. I’m alright.”

“What happened?” The sound of the jackhammer met his ears once more and he looked out into the bustling streets at the workers. Sunset followed her husband’s gaze and caught sight of the trio of men. “Just simple repair work. You’re safe, I’m safe, there’s nothing dangerous here,” she said soothingly.

Marcos nodded slowly, squeezing his wife’s hand in a rhythmic pattern, his heart finally relaxing its assault against his ribs. “I know, I know,” he said, looking shamefaced. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry about,” Sunset replied. “You feel better?”

He looked around at the passersby, wondering if their gaze ever flickered towards him. “Did anyone notice?”

“Just you and me,” Sunset answered. “Do you want to relax for a bit, or just head back home?”

“Home..?” The idea of quitting now was appalling to him. It would be a huge step back in his progress. “No, I’m alright,” he said firmly. “Just- just gimme a bit and we can keep going. I’ll be fine.”

The two waited in silence, relaxing underneath a small sapling as they watched the world go by, Marcos still latched onto his wife’s hand. Slowly, subtly, he felt her hand move from within his, her fingers intertwining with his and giving a squeeze of her own. “Proud of you,” she whispered.

The afternoon continued on smoothly, albeit in relative silence after their small incident. The historic district offered them a leisurely stroll through beautiful surroundings, the glorious weather of the spring day helping to ease the remaining tension. Through ancient churches and pre-Civil War architecture they went, the serene atmosphere helping Marcos’ and Sunset’s anxieties fade away into the past- where it belonged, she thought. The quiet pair continued on through the afternoon and beyond until the sun fell further and further into the sky, the horizon tinged pink and orange as night came creeping inwards.

Sunset heard a strange gurgling sound from somewhere beside her, and she turned to see her husband cradling his stomach with a displeased expression on his face. She couldn’t help but giggle at his obvious unhappiness, surveying him with pity. “Fine, we can go find someplace to eat, I’m feeling kind of hungry myself. Come on, we’ll head to River Street.”

Marcos gave a sweet sigh of relief and perked up immediately, looking eager at the prospect of a welcome meal. “Any idea of where you wanna go?”

Sunset came to a halt. “Um… we’ll find out, I guess,” she replied. “Let’s go see.”

The activity around them had only increased in the evening hours, even more so as they reached the riverfront. Throngs of people gathered here, moving this way and that as they tried to find a suitable restaurant for themselves, or simply to find a place to relax and enjoy the view.

“It’s a bit more than I expected,” Sunset remarked uncertainly, her eyes settling on the nearest restaurant to them. “How about this one?”

Marcos surveyed the building, taking note of its fancier, more elegant air. “Looks expensive,” he remarked.

“I’ll ask for a menu real quick,” she said, leaving him behind and heading inside.

Marcos shifted uncomfortably where he stood, feeling exposed without a partner beside him. The lesson had been drilled into him continuously since his first days of training: always have a buddy wherever you go. Whether it was the midst of a warzone or not, he had stuck to that rule as best he could. No, without the one he trusted most, every face he saw hid a threat against him, the potential to wreak unimaginable havoc. He could feel his heart begin to shudder again, the tremblings of fear taking over-

He gave himself a rough shake, trying to relax. “I’m OK, I am safe, I will be alright,” he said, repeating the words over and over. “This isn’t Toruń, it’s not Gronowo. I’m gonna be fine.” He felt his heart slow, his anxiety replaced by a small glow of pride. He could do this after all.

Sunset appeared from within and walked back over to him, looking rather shell-shocked. “Wow,” was all she could mutter.

“So can we not afford-”

“No. Let’s move on.”

Marcos felt his stomach gurgle once more, but accepted defeat and moved onwards down the street. They surveyed the assorted cafés, taverns, and diners that lined the street. Some sparked little interest in either of them, a few were far too crowded for their patience to take. As each minute ticked by he found himself becoming more and more anxious for his next meal, even Sunset beginning to show some interest in food.

“How about this one? It looks like we won’t have to wait too long,” she suggested.

Marcos surveyed the small restaurant known as The River House, his stomach immediately rumbling with pleasure. “Looks good to me,” he agreed.

They found themselves in a roomy, brick-wall affair, lined with booths and tables of assorted sizes. A server took note of their entry and immediately walked over. “Welcome, just the two of you?” He was a man about Marcos’ age, bearing a soul patch and spiky black hair.

“Yeah,” Marcos nodded.

“Excellent, a two-seater just opened up, come on in,” the young man replied, picking up a pair of menus and guiding them over. “Y’all know what you’d like to drink, or do you need a minute?”

“I think we’ll need a bit,” Sunset said, taking her seat across from her husband.

The two fell silent as they looked over their menus for a time, letting the sounds of clinking silverware and the chatter of their fellow guests take over. It was noisy in such a small space, but to Marcos it was strangely comforting: a reminder that even in the midst of a war, life still went on.

“Why did it take us so long to do this?” Sunset said.

Marcos peered over at her, setting down his menu. “What’s up?”

Sunset let her menu fall to the table, a look of distress overtaking her. “Why are we just now trying to get back to where we were? Before you left the second time, I mean.”

Marcos felt unease begin to well within him, watching her emotions begin to roil beneath the surface. “Sunset, not now…”

“I know, I know, I’m- I’ve been trying to take it slow, I promise,” she said in a rush, tears starting to form in her eyes. “It’s just- you’ve been through so much and when you got back, and I didn’t know what to do. I… I’m sorry that I didn’t understand what was going on right from the beginning, that I didn’t see how hurt you already were. I should’ve known better, and… I’m sorry.”

Their waiter moved towards their table and hesitated at the sight of Sunset hunching over her seat, taking a quick glance at the two and shuffling quietly away. Marcos sat there quietly as he watched his wife take a deep sniff and try to recover from her momentary outburst.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sunset said thickly, wiping at her eyes. “Really, I’m fine. I- we were trying to make this a pleasant day. I guessed I messed that up, didn’t I?”

“Sunset…” Marcos reached out with his hand and found hers, a gesture of comfort he hadn’t performed in months. She gave a start at the sensation, looking up at him in surprise. “It’s OK. I- I messed up, too. I should be thanking you more- you’ve been putting in a lot of effort to get the both of us back on our feet and I should’ve said something about it… and I should’ve been helping you, too. So I appreciate what you’ve been doing.”

Sunset looked at him with wide eyes that spoke of shock, the expression quickly changing to one of happiness. “You really mean it,” she said. “Thanks… thanks, it means a lot.”

“You feel better?”

Sunset gave herself a quick shake and nodded. “Yeah, I’m OK. And a little hungry, too.”

“Good, because I’m more than ready to take your order,” said their waiter, suddenly appearing at their table. “What can I get y’all?”

“Oh, umm…” Sunset hurriedly scanned through before deciding on a small fish platter, Marcos following suit. As their waiter left to gather their drinks, the two leaned back and rested, feeling a bit more at ease.

“I think this’ll be pretty good,” she remarked, looking around at the restaurant and their fellow patrons. “It looks real nice.”

“Yeah, hopefully…” Marcos’ gaze drifted around as he too surveyed his surroundings- and immediately becoming stock-still.

Sunset noticed his sudden rigidity. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I think- holy jeez it is- hold on,” he said suddenly, leaping up from the table and rushing outside.

Sunset turned about to see him depart through the door, racing out towards a disheveled man with grungy clothes in a wheelchair. The two men exchanged hurried words, Marcos wide-eyed and obviously concerned for the crippled man’s wellbeing, who seemed highly uncomfortable through it all. Her husband motioned towards the restaurant door, perhaps offering him a place- but the unkempt man shook his head in denial, obviously eager to depart. Wheeling himself away as fast as he could, the man soon disappeared out of sight, leaving a disappointed Marcos in his wake.

“Marc… who was that?” Sunset asked as her husband returned, watching him sink into his seat in despair. “Are you alright, what’s wrong- no, not Collie-”

“Yes,” he replied. “That was him.”

“But- but what happened to him? He was getting treatment, wasn’t he?”

Marcos nodded. “He was supposed to keep up with me, too. Wasn’t doing that, either.”

“Is… is he well?”

“No. He’s not.”

The young couple sat there in defeated silence as the clatter and talk of the restaurant filled the void, their momentary bubble of happiness having been irreversibly destroyed. The setting sun was faded, and the blackness of the night was steadily creeping in.

Their day was over.

The evening was crystalline as they returned to their home, the lights of Savannah far behind them as they journeyed across the interstate back to the installation. Marcos found himself behind the wheel yet again, his wife resting silently in the seat beside him as the night sky glittered overhead.

“You still awake?” he asked her.

“Yeah.”

A sleepy response, he noticed. He took a small breath, hoping he had chosen his words wisely. “I know it scared you,” he said. “Seeing Collie like that.”

Sunset remained quiet, watching the countryside pass them by.

“We did everything we could to help him when it first started,” Marcos continued. “Mac tried to talk with him, First Sergeant did, even Captain Armor brought him in. We all tried to get him out of it.”

“But it didn’t matter,” she said, turning to look at him. “He’s lost everything, and now look at him.”

Marcos shook his head miserably, the sight of his old friend- once strong, brash and confident, now reduced to a wheelchair and misery. “We all had a chance to get better. I don’t know why he didn’t take it.”

“I’m just… you’re still not back yet,” Sunset said. “You’ve come so far, but we’ve both still got such a long way to go, and anything can go wrong. That could still be you someday, wandering down the street with no hope, no happiness-”

“It won’t be,” Marcos replied, the resolve in his voice surprising even himself. “I promised you I was going to do what it takes to get better. “Maybe I haven’t made it there yet, but I’ll come back. I mean that.”

Sunset closed her eyes, an expression of longing on her face. “You took another step today. At least we have that.”

“Yeah. We do.”

“Promise me you’ll keep trying.”

“Of course I will.”

The two drove on in silence, moving on as the lights of the main gate came ever closer.

Author's Note

The hardest part of a soldier's life is not always the firefights. The blood and violence, though great and terrible, can often become background noise, or simply "what life is." Spend too long in the battlefield, and soon enough the battlefield is all that you can remember.

The hardest part? Oftentimes, the hardest part is leaving it behind. To let the silence sink in, and for that to be OK. To drop your guard and let yourself breathe once more. After all, when everyday you've spent was in mortal danger, it can be hard to believe that you're truly safe.

Chapter Two: We've Gone Respectable

“I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me.”

– Roy Croft

Three years earlier…

The sky blazed as if it were made of gold, the sun’s rays shining down upon the crowd as if the very star itself could not contain its happiness. The brilliance of the spring day was evident to all who were present, a glorious moment that would be held within their hearts forever. At the end of the rows stood the two, he in the dark colors of his uniform and she dressed in a dress of purest white. Flower petals from the cherry trees above fell upon their heads, the couple too deeply wrapped in their embrace to notice or even care. Even the sounds of cheers and applause from their friends would not rouse them from their moment together, a day that had been longed for and dreamed of for so long that it seemed like a childish fantasy never to come true. But now, as they pulled apart at last, their faces aglow with irrepressible joy, their moment had finally, finally come.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said, kissing her again for good measure.

“And don’t you ever make me wait so long again!” she replied, her face shining with irrepressible joy. Every inch of her shone, her dark red hair flowing with an energy that seemed to radiate from deep within her very soul.

Captain Davis, the chaplain who had overseen the ceremony, took his place behind the couple and stood as tall as he could manage. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you for the first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Marcos Reyes!”

The sound of cheers met their ears once more, a deafening clamor that nearly knocked them off their feet. Marcos could only smile at the sight, not knowing which memory would stick in his heart longer: Lieutenant Armor sitting in the midst of the crowd and giving him a tip of his Stetson, their old school friends practically jumping out of their skins in excitement (and Rarity absolutely bawling through it all), or the fact that he was seeing any of it at all. He looked over at his fiancé -no, his wife- and saw the same smile, the same joy he felt reflected in her, and he settled on that instead.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” he said, taking her arm in his and the two raced out and away from the crowd, all decorum and ceremony forgotten- he may as well have been wearing street clothes, with all the respect he gave his uniform. To him, all that mattered was the beautiful woman at his side, the hope and dream he had waited for his entire life. As long as she kept smiling, then he knew it would be alright.

The reception was a boisterous, raucous affair, in no small part due to Marcos’ fellow Cavalrymen who had been invited. Most still young enough to be mistaken for young boys, their party-centric attitude was in full display, no thanks to the bountiful alcohol that flowed from the open bar. Staff Sergeant Iron Will, a man long ago recognized for his lack of inhibition, had simply decided to park himself as close as he could manage, already tipsy and eager to continue.

“Colorful group of friends you’ve acquired,” Sunset remarked, giving a giggle as a young man named Brenner talked eagerly with Applejack- unaware of a very displeased older brother nearby. “I don't think he'll know what hit him if he makes a mistake.”

“Ah, don’t let it fool you, they’re best friends,” Marcos replied pleasantly. “They’d fight and forget what it was about ten minutes later.”

The two sat nestled together on the premiere table in the hall, overlooking the others and watching the commotion and camaraderie that permeated the venue. Sunset looked out and saw the faces of her old friends, her roommate from college, even her mother-in-law; the entire crowd seemed ecstatic to celebrate the occasion, even perhaps a bit relieved.

“I think they needed this,” she whispered to him. “A reason to be happy and forget for a moment.”

“I think we all did,” he said, looking around at the pristine setting, his eyes wide as he soaked it all in. “I’m… I’m here. Am I really here? Did we seriously just get married?”

“Yes. Yes! You’re with me again, right where you should be!” Sunset cried, her cheeks aching from the smile that stretched across her face. “And you get to enjoy it all.”

Marcos looked down at her, taking her face in his hand and gently placing a kiss on her lips. “You look unbelievably beautiful,” he breathed. “Even more than usual.”

“There’s the man I’ve missed,” she said, kissing him back- and once more on the nose for good measure. “I almost forgot how cheesy you can be.”

“Sunset! Sunset!” A slender, elegantly-dressed woman raced up to the table where the newlyweds sat, reaching across the table to give her friend a back-breaking hug- or as best as she could manage. “I’m so happy for you both, I know you’ve waited so long for this, we’ve all been wishing this for you and now it’s here!”

“Rarity! Good to see you, it’s been ages since we last met!”

“Rares, you actually stopped crying! Congrats yourself!” Marcos said cheekily.

“Oh don’t even get me started again, I’ve already ruined my makeup,” Rarity replied, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief for safe measures. “Oh, but you don’t know how long we’ve all been hoping and praying for you- both of you, it must’ve felt like an eternity…”

Sunset laughed. “Rarity, I get that people cry at weddings sometimes, but maybe you went a bit overboard? It’s supposed to be a happy day!”

“And it is darling, I don’t know if I could be happier really, I just… oh, forget it then. It’s such a lovely wedding! And so many new faces, are all the men in uniform your friends?”

“Somehow, yeah,” Marcos answered. “Apparently the Army thinks I’m an alright guy.”

“And you most certainly are, darling, you are! And I must say…”

Rarity drifted off into thought, her eyes settling on any man wearing a uniform while her hand went to her chest, a smile suggesting her breath might have been taken away.

Sunset giggled. “Umm, Rarity? Still there?”

“Oh yes, yes, of course,” she replied, albeit rather distantly. “I- I must say… tell me Marcos, your friends… are any of them –erm- free at the moment?”

Sunset and her husband did their best not to laugh aloud. “I think… just about any of them would love to talk with you,” Marcos said.

“Would they really?” Rarity said happily. “Well, I must… it’s been such a lovely wedding, I can’t tell you how happy I am…” she began to drift back into the crowd, inching her way towards a group of Second Platoon soldiers. “Truly, it has. I- I’m going to see if I can get a- quick word in…”

The couple immediately broke out laughing as she walked towards the table of young Cavalrymen, who seemed awed by the presence of their beautiful friend.

“Rarity, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sunset sighed. “Oh no, I don’t know who to feel worse for.”

“I feel like I just fed her to the wolves,” Marcos said.

“They’ll never know what hit them.”

“Judging by Brandt’s face, her presence was a blow enough.”

Sunset laughed, her smile fading somewhat, becoming tinged with a bemused sadness. “It’s so strange,” she said simply.

“What’s strange?” he asked, turning to look at her. “You alright? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really,” she said, “I just started thinking… you’ve spent nearly two whole years with these men and this is probably the first time I’ve ever seen any of them. It’s like you went and started a whole other life that I’ve never seen before.”

He took her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance. “They’re part of your world now, too,” he promised. “And they’ll love you, too. Come on, let’s meet a few of them!”

“Huh? Marc, wait-” Sunset almost stumbled and fell as her husband took her by the arm and towed her along, heading into the tables to mingle with their many wedding guests. Marcos’ eyes were peeled for his closest friends, whom he soon found sitting together at a table off in the corner.

“Hey, the man of the hour!” Collie roared, leaping from his seat to give his closest friend a hearty greeting. “Congrats man, you sure as hell know how to throw a good party.”

“Thanks, man. What’re you doing back here in the corner, I figured you’d be right in the thick of it.”

“Ah, this is closer to the booze –by the way, the lineup you got is fucking awesome.”

Marcos gave an uncomfortable chuckle and turned to his wife.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, sorry about that, uh…” Collie stumbled a little bit, his face growing a deeper red every second.

Sunset gave a gentle-hearted laugh. “You’re fine, I understand how easy it is to be rough. It’s nice to meet you, Mr..?”

“Uh, Collie. Specialist Wil Collie, ma’am,” he replied, taking off his Stetson and giving her hand a friendly shake. “I’m in the same platoon as your husband, we’ve been together since OSUT over in Fort Benning.”

“It’s great to see you in person, Marcos has talked a lot about you.”

“Lady, not as much as he’s talked about you,” Collie said brusquely. “I’ve been around this Hispanic wackjob for almost two years and I don’t think there was a day he didn’t mention your name. We could not get him to shut up about you at all, he was completely obsessed with you.”

“That certainly sounds like him,” she said with a grin.

“I like bragging about you, it doesn’t bother me,” Marcos said plainly.

“Yeah, now I understand why,” Collie replied. “Dude, how did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Come on, she is so out of your league, man. Your wife should be a supermodel, not an Army wife. There is no reasonable explanation for how high you pulled.”

Sunset’s eyes flared, though her smile remained. “I don’t think I could have found anyone better,” she replied defensively.”

“Huh? Oh, no, I’m just messing with him, your husband’s a great guy,” Collie said quickly, noticing her discontent. “He’s- he’s one of the best. Brave to the point of insane, there’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”

“I could hardly agree more,” said a new voice from behind, and Marcos turned around to see Lt. Armor standing behind him, a pleasant yet tired smile upon his face. “Congrats, Reyes, I know you’ve waited a long time for this.”

“Sir!” Marcos cried, giving a small start of surprise. “I didn’t know you’d come, I thought you said it was up in the air.”

“Cadance convinced me I should go and relax for a bit.” Turning to Sunset, he gave a small bow and said, “My apologies for the absence of my wife, Cadance. We’ve got a little girl at home and she’s not been feeling her best lately, so she had to stay home.”

“No, I understand, it’s alright,” Sunset said pleasantly. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“And the same to you, Mrs. Reyes. Your husband’s been telling us about you for a while, I think he might like you.”

Sunset turned to Marcos. “Did you talk about anything else besides me?” she asked.

Marcos pondered it for a moment. “No, not really,” he answered.

Lt. Armor laughed as Sunset shook her head in embarrassment. “I hope you enjoy your time in the Army. I’ll make sure my wife drops in on you to help you settle in, it can be a difficult transition sometimes.”

“Thank you, very much,” she said gratefully. “I can’t wait to hear all about it.”

It felt like the evening would never end. The newlyweds spent their night meeting with friends both new and old. They laughed and told stories, and danced the night away. To Sunset and Marcos, it felt like a fairytale; a dream so deeply longed for that it could never actually come true. Neither wished for it to be over.

Before too long, the night grew dark and the moon’s pale light seeped out into the southern skies, signaling that it was time for the festivities to come to an end. The two found themselves thoroughly exhausted yet filled with extravagant joy they said their final goodbyes, departing in an aged sedan for a quiet, secluded hotel in which to be alone.

It was late when the couple arrived, quietly checking in and heading to their room. It was a pleasant thing, cozy and inviting with a single king-size bed nestled in the corner.

Without hesitation, the two headed over and immediately collapsed upon its plush sheets, the commotion of the day having wrung them through. “Wow,” Marcos breathed. “I didn’t realize weddings were that stressful, did you?”

“No, I really didn’t,” Sunset groaned, rubbing her eyes. “I should’ve gone for something simpler, that was exhausting. I feel so bad for the girls, they were even more worn out than I was.”

“So now what?”

“I think I’m gonna wash up,” Sunset said, managing to rouse herself from the bed and walk over to the bathroom.

Marcos pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his face this way and that. It had been an exhausting day, yet also the best day of his life. Finally, after nearly two years of waiting and all the chaos in between, they were finally, finally-

Sunset gave an ear-piercing shriek of ecstasy and Marcos suddenly found himself flung into the wall by his new wife, her arms around his neck as she barraged him with a flurry of kisses. “It happened, it finally happened, it finally HAPPENED!” she screamed, her face afire with absolute delight. “I can hardly believe it, we’re finally married, we’re really together!”

Marcos found her joy impossible to ignore, laughter erupting from within him as he held her close, felt her lips against his own, felt the softness of her hair as it brushed his face, her warm body in his arms. It was all impossible, a dream too good to be true, yet here she was. “You’re mine at last,” he whispered. “I waited every day for you, just to see you again.”

“And here I am,” she said, leaving a lingering kiss upon his lips. “And I’ll never let go.”

Their eyes met, the joy burning inside them suddenly became solemn, the two suddenly becoming aware of one another. He could feel her hands on his chest as she sat on his lap, her breasts against his hands. She felt his body stiffen with a desire so long dormant it may as well have just been born. Her eyes, as clear and soft as pools of water, met the darkened gaze of her husband; they could scarcely look away from one another, as if they were seeing one another for the very first time.

She rose to her feet and stepped away from him, looking upon her husband with an overwhelming desire, a hunger she never knew she possessed. “Go on,” she whispered. “Take it off.”

Marcos didn’t have to ask what she meant. His body pulsed with longing, the feelings he had kept dormant for a time too long. Slowly, surely, he undid his shirt and tossed it aside, the rest of his clothing soon to follow.

Sunset gave a gasp, her eyes showing her shock at his appearance. The strong, muscle-bound boy she had known had disappeared, replaced with a proud, battle-hardy warrior. Though some of that boyishness remained, what now stood before her was something new. War had stolen his youth from him, instead blessing him with a quieter, deeper strength. Her desire did not lessen, but instead deepening as she gazed at the man she had loved for so long, the one who she now called her husband.

“Now you,” he said.

She felt a tremor in her heart. “You already know what you’ll see,” she said faintly. “What I’ve done to myself.”

“And nothing you’ve done could ever hope to stop me from loving you,” he replied. “Don’t be afraid. I want to see you again.”

The words of affirmation set her insides aglow, a small smile blossoming upon her face. Sunset took her time, each bit of clothing being removed with a delicate, sensual grace that Marcos never knew she possessed. She was teasing him, tormenting him with his own longing. Naked as he was, it was impossible to hide from her. Her eyes had not drifted from him, her gaze glowing as she watched his desire grow. His yearning for her heartened Sunset like nothing ever had before.

Sunset threw her bra aside, laying herself bare before her husband, allowing him to bear witness to the many scars and burns she had suffered. She could hear the taunts from those who had once hated her, the sound of her own failures rung in her ears. The mark of her sins would fade, but she would bear them forever. She watched tears form in his eyes and for one horrific moment she believed she saw pity in his eyes.

“You’re more beautiful than I ever remembered,” Marcos said, walking towards her and taking her in his arms. “More perfect than I could’ve imagined.”

She leaned in and kissed him, a deep, passionate kiss that she could hardly bear to break. He kissed her again, his lips running down her neck and onto her bare chest. She felt a rush overwhelm her senses and she fell onto the covers, his powerful body atop her. His strength gave her comfort unlike anything in her life before, to be so deeply desired and loved by such a man. To her he was a hero returning from conquest, victorious and as glorious as a king from days gone by.

Marcos could hardly bear to tear himself away from her body, her skin soft and inviting as the warmth of the seas. Her hair was a crimson river that flowed across the sheets, and her face more beautiful and resplendent than any priceless jewel. That such an elegant, beautiful thing such as her could love him brought him delight unfathomable. To him, she was the very form and figure of perfection.

“I waited so long for today,” he said, his eyes shining with unbearable happiness. “I missed you.”

She pulled him to her and kissed him once more. “Welcome back, my love,” she whispered.

And for a while, neither of them said much of anything.

Marcos wasn’t sure what roused him from slumber at first, a warm contentedness having taken hold of his body. He felt sore, worn and fatigued, yet filled with a peace that he knew he could never name. He reached across the bed for his wife, to feel her in his hands, but instead he grasped at empty air. He rose and saw that the sheets, too had been tossed aside, his wife standing at the balcony with a bedsheet wrapped around her naked frame.

“What time is it?” he asked, taking her in his arms.

“Almost sunrise,” she replied, caressing his cheek with her free hand. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t sleep. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“Not at all,” he replied warmly. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.

Marcos gave a gentle laugh. “Are we really going to start this marriage off by lying to one another? Come on… tell me the matter.”

Sunset’s expression became clouded, emotion beginning to well within her. “It’s… it’s just…”

“Just what?”

Sunset didn’t say another word, simply whirling around and fiercely kissing her husband, holding him so tightly that is was as if she feared he would leave her. He stumbled backwards, her passion nearly toppling him over. When she finally released him he saw her chest was heaving, her eyes glistening with tears. “You don’t know what it’s been like,” she whispered. “It’s like you’re back from the dead.”

Marcos said nothing, holding her in his arms and giving her all the assurance and comfort he could, simply letting her speak when she was ready.

“Every day felt like an eternity, it could be so easy to believe you were never coming home,” she said. “And I was always afraid that if- that if something happened to you then I’d never hear about it because I was only your fiancé and not your wife. What if you had died and I’d never known? I would’ve spent a lifetime waiting to see you again, and you never would have come home.”

“It’s OK,” he whispered gently. “I’m here. I made it back. I came home.”

Sunset looked up at him and smiled. “Thank you. Just for coming back, thank you. I can’t imagine what you’ve had to go through.”

As she rested against his chest, he could feel it in the distance. The sound of gunfire and explosions and screams, the heat of fire and flame, the crushing roar of steel and metal and that all-consuming terror that always threatened to overwhelm. His body turned cold only for a moment, and then disappeared. He was not there, but back in a hotel on a summer morning, watching the sunrise with his beloved wife.

“I hope you never do,” he said.

The alarm on his phone erupted with a din so unpleasant that it could be harkened to the scream of a dying cat. In the darkness, Marcos’ hand fumbled around for the one faint light that he could see. After more than a momentary struggle, he managed to find the snooze button and gave it a gentle tap, silencing the dreaded beast.

Slowly, with much yawning and groaning, he managed to rouse himself from the covers of his very soft, magnificently warm bed, and take a peek at the time. 0500, Monday Morning it read. The beginning of another work week. He noticed a small notification in the corner, a text message sent about ten minutes ago. Flipping it open, he found a small note from Big Mac:

Room inspections this morning. Section Leaders take charge on this one.

“Great,” he muttered.

“..Mm? What’sthematter?” Sunset said sluggishly, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Ah, Mac wants room inspections done,” he said. “I gotta go, see you tonight.”

“Later,” she replied, turning back into the covers and going to sleep.

She had barely been awake for that, he thought to himself. He gave himself another groan and began to fumble for his PT uniform. It would be a long Monday morning.

In less than ten minutes he was out the door, freshly shaven from the weekend and off towards the barracks where several of his soldiers lived. Though it was early, the roads on-base were already filled with activity. People all across the installation, and even more from off-post, were hurrying to their workstations for first formation of the day.

Before too long Reyes found himself outside a quiet barracks building, not far from work. The place was quieter than the rest of the base, many of the soldiers within unwilling to awaken early. Such was the life of the single soldier, Reyes mused.

After a few knocks, the barracks room door swung open to reveal a disheveled young man with dirty blonde hair, his eyes still heavy with sleep. “Oh, yeah. Hey, Sergeant,” he grunted.

“Hey, Bright,” he replied, walking into the small room.

“At ease-”

“Shuttup,” Reyes said with a wave of his hand, surveying the room as quickly as he could manage. A few plates on the countertops, a trash bin set to overflow, and a stained bathroom sink. “Eh, better than last time. You know what needs fixing.”

“I gotcha, Sergeant,” Bright replied. “Early morning for you?”

“I hate you,” Reyes replied.

“Course you do, why else am I your Gunner?”

Reyes finally laughed, breaking a quick smile. “Aight, finish getting ready, be at Squadron by 0600. You know the drill.”

“You got it.”

Reyes headed for the door, pausing before going through the threshold. “Call ‘at ease’ and I swear I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Sarnt,” Bright said as the door slammed shut.

The process continued for several more rooms, Reyes fulfilling his duties as a non-commissioned officer. It wasn’t a rank he had particularly fought for, but one he had gained soon after their last deployment. Despite his initial misgivings, he had discovered that he possessed a real knack for the job, though no desire to truly advance any further.

“I have yet to discover why Black is such a continuous slob. You’d really think he would’ve learned how to clean his dishes by now,” Marcos said as he entered his platoon’s office, seeing Big Mac already hard at work on the computer. “If it weren’t for Wenseley in the other room, I don’t think it would ever get clean.”

Big Mac ignored him, continuing to work on a spreadsheet and ignoring his friend.

“Oh come on, Platoon Sergeant Macintosh, you haven’t suddenly gotten too big for your boots have you? Sure, you’ve got the E-6 and I’m only an E-5, but come on, relax a little.”

True to form, Big Mac said nothing, only turning to give his friend a withering glare before returning to work.

“Gee, thanks. Nice to know your first friend in the Army is now beneath you,” Reyes said drily.

“I could make you do pushups,” Mac replied, his gravelly voice finally entering the fray.

“As if to prove my point. You made me do room inspections, I get to annoy you a bit. Let it happen.”

Big Mac gave a small sigh and continued to work. “We’re running today. You gonna be good?”

“You mean my calf? Yeah, should be,” Reyes said lightly. “Sunset’s been checking on it every now and then, said it’s healed well. It’s just gonna take a lot of time for it get used to a lot of use.”

“You mind leading, then?”

“Nah, I got you.”

“Good.”

Reyes regarded his friend as the older man continued to work, fulfilling his duties of Platoon Sergeant as diligently as ever. The two men had enlisted the same day, trained together, and had fought together for years now, the two men near equals in their prowess of war. Yet, when the absence of a Platoon Sergeant arose, it surprised no one that Big Mac had been the one to receive the nod, and the rank therein. At first, during harder times, the choice had galled Reyes. But after a year of being in garrison –and through his own troubles- it was quite truly the most logical decision. Big Mac was older, more mature, and despite the hardships they had endured, had shown little wear under the circumstances. Though a man of few words, he was a highly qualified leader.

As time went on, the sounds of activity began to reach their ears from the floor below, as the rest of Knight Troop slowly filtered into the bay. In tired, lowly voices, the men discussed their weekend events, random topics and exploits, and –in true military fashion- their great desire to not be at work at all.

“How’s AJ and the others?” Reyes asked, turning to Big Mac. “I know Sunset’s been in touch with her lately, but I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”

“Mm.” Big Mac gave a shrug and didn’t respond. His once-unbreakable relationship with his younger sister had grown strained in the years since their enlistment, the needs and brotherhood of the Army having slowly taken primacy in the older man’s mind.

“Granny Smith finally retire from working the cafeteria?”

“Mm.”

“… Has talking to them been that bad?”

Big Mac sighed and slammed his decrepit laptop shut. “Don’t really know how to anymore,” he admitted, his eyes darkened with displeasure. “Hard to fit.”

Reyes gave a rueful nod, understanding his friend’s troubles all too well. “Maybe it’ll get better when the war’s finally over. You’ll get to go back home.”

“Eeyup.”

“At ease!” came the cry, as the doors opened and in sauntered a man far larger than life- First Sergeant Iron Will, a mountain of a man with self-confidence more mighty than his own ego. Having been with Knight Troop before the war, he was an admired and rightly feared individual for his unparalleled battle prowess and strength. Uncompromising in his discipline, he was a fearless leader of his soldiers.

“Morning, fuckers!” he roared with his usual enthusiasm, the early morning doing nothing to dampen his spirits. “Sergeant Mac, Sergeant Reyes, 1st Platoon all here?”

“As always, Top,” Reyes replied, having long grown accustomed to being Big Mac’s mouthpiece.

“Alright, let’s get this shitshow going. Commander’ll be here in a minute.”

“Hooah,” was the reply, and the two men walked outside for the first formation of the day, the sun only just beginning to creep over the horizon.

The Army, however mundane and irritating it could be, provided a rhythm for its soldiers. Morning formation, PT, everything scheduled as best as such a massive organization could muster. In the chaos of life, it gave Reyes comfort- there was some order in the world still.

“Hey, mind if I join you guys this morning?” Reyes looked behind him and saw the quiet, friendly smile of his leader: Captain Armor, Commander of Knight Troop and –in Reyes’ eyes- the finest soldier in the Army. An efficient leader, down-to-earth, and relentlessly brave, Cpt. Armor was a personality that inspired other soldiers to follow his lead.

“Morning, sir,” Reyes said, giving his leader a quick salute. “We’re running this morning if you’re up for it.”

“Course, always,” Cpt. Armor answered. “Let’s get it started.”

Reyes’s leg was still twinging, even after a hot shower and some rest. Perhaps it was the change in temperature, or maybe he had overworked it in the platoon run. Either way, the pain was an unwelcome guest, the muscle throbbing with every step he took.

“Has Sunset looked at it lately?” Cpt. Armor inquired, noticing his soldier’s ungainly pace. The two men were walking through the motorpool together as each vehicle’s Gunner and Driver set to work on their vehicles, performing that unwelcome, most loathed ritual of the Cavalry: Maintenance Monday.

Reyes shook his head. “It was hurting a bit on Saturday, but I figured it was nothing. Dunno why it’s acting up again.”

“Keep an eye on it, make an appointment if you think you need it. You’re one of the last senior leaders I have left in this Troop.”

“I’ll make sure, sir,” Reyes said, watching Bright work on their vehicle, the younger man’s face suggesting a growing displeasure. “Bright, what’s up?”

“Ah, the fucking thing’s got an oil leak,” Bright answered angrily. “Stupid-ass piece of shit, why does every humvee in this god-forsaken place always suck shit?”

“Write it down, make sure the mechanics get to it,” Reyes replied. “It’s not on the ground, is it?”

“Nah, not enough to overflow, Sarnt. But enough for the thing to be dry. I’ll get it taken care of.”

“Always the model of Army efficiency,” Cpt. Armor remarked as the two continued on.

“And the antithesis to Army discipline,” Reyes replied. “His work ethic is the one thing that saves him from getting kicked out.”

“Has he given you any issues lately?”

“No, sir, just very mouthy as always. I’m ready for it all to be over with.”

Cpt. Armor looked at the war-worn Sergeant. “How long until you leave the Army now?”

“Eleven months. Sunset’s been trying to urge me to find a technical school somewhere, or use the GI Bill to go to college.”

Cpt. Armor laughed. “Sergeant Reyes, a college man. You should go for it- after all, it’d be free.”

Reyes shook his head. “I’ve got skills elsewhere, sir, I’d just waste my time. I’m looking at maybe taking up a trade somewhere, maybe on the West Coast so Sunset can go after her Masters like she’s been wanting to.”

“Have you started making plans?”

“Only just. Other things have… been in the way, I guess…”

The older man studied his subordinate. “Have you two been doing OK?” he asked.

“More or less. We’re not at each other’s throats and we’re not ignoring each other. It’s just been a bit awkward more than anything.”

“And you’ve both been keeping up with-”

“Yessir, she’s been staying in counseling with Cadance, I’ve been staying in therapy. My next appointment is tomorrow.”

“Good man,” Cpt. Armor said, giving Reyes a friendly whack on the back. “Get yourself back together. When all this is said and done, I’ll do my best to help you transition back to being a civilian.”

“Thanks, sir,” Reyes said, the two men departing as Reyes continued to hear Bright’s violent curses rippling across the motorpool. “Such is the workday.”

“Heads up. New guys incoming,” Big Mac said the moment Reyes walked in the office.

“We’re getting new soldiers?” Reyes echoed in surprise. “When?”

“Friday,” Big Mac replied. “They’ll be put under you- two new dismounts.”

“Did we get anyone else?”

“Sergeant Buck’s getting one. 2nd Platoon is getting a new Lieutenant.”

“Wow, it only took them almost a whole year. Wonder why now of all times.”

The two men avoided looking at one another, each having their own private suspicions as to the nature behind their new additions, but neither would dare speak that horrible fear aloud in case it came true.

“It’s 11:30. Go eat,” Big Mac said, turning to the battered min-fridge in the corner of the office and extracting a microwavable meal.

Eat. Lunch, mine should be in there, Sunset made one for me last night- “Oh come on,” Reyes groaned, bending down to peer at the fridge. “I am such an idiot.”

“Mm?”

“I forgot my lunch at home,” Reyes said unhappily, slamming the fridge shut. “Ugh, I’m gonna go grab some Subway or something. Be back at 1300.”

“Eeyup.”

Reyes walked slowly to his car, fumbling in one of the many pockets of his uniform as he searched for his keys. The day was a warmer one, the southern springtime slowly beginning to dominate the air and push the last remnants of winter away. The warmth of the sun was a welcome guest.

As he settled in the driver’s seat, Reyes grabbed his phone and saw he had a message- from Sunset:

Hope you have a great day today, love you!

Without warning, a smile broke across his face. The gesture had been so simple, but the simple words of affirmation had heartened his spirits. “Still, even after all of it,” he mumbled. “Love you.”

As he drove along, he checked his watch; plenty of time for a bite to eat and then some. As a plan began to form in his head, his mind drifted to the physical therapy center not far away. Maybe he could do something nice for a change.

Sunset pushed her hair out of her eyes as she pored over her notes, transcribing her morning’s work onto her computer. Each patient she worked with had been under her care for some time now, whether it be an amputee learning to walk again or a soldier healing from muscle damage, each one was given the same level of care and skill she could possibly offer. It was difficult work, but for Sunset, the milestones she was witness to made the time and struggle worthwhile.

“How’d it go today, sweetheart?” said Rose, a fellow staffer at the clinic. A geriatric woman with a knack for gossip, she nonetheless was a good friend of the younger woman.

“Well Mr. Morrison was his usual gloomy self, as you might’ve guessed,” Sunset answered. “He’s not making progress as quickly as I’d like, but I know my frustration will only make it worse for him. This new prosthetic just isn’t adapting as well.”

“I thought I heard him,” Rose said drily. “And smell him, too.”

Sunset sighed, pushing her notes aside. “Yes, he reeked of alcohol again. I don’t think he has much in the way of support ever since he was discharged. He was never married, no children to speak of.”

“What’re you going to try and do?”

Sunset threw her hands in the air. “I’ve recommended counseling, but he never takes it. I’m starting to worry about his condition. It’s like he lost his sense of self when he lost his leg.”

“Same thing happened to my husband way back when. Never was the same when he lost his eye.”

“Yes, you’ve told me before,” Sunset said distantly, starting to settle in her own thoughts. Conversations like this made her nervous, particularly when she knew how close she had come to losing her own husband forever, and the two of them were by no means out of the woods yet.

“Sunset…”

“Mhm?”

Rose peered down the hallway, a confused expression on her face. “Is… is that your husband?”

Sunset rose from her seat with a start and stared down the hallway to find, to her great surprise, Marcos walking down the hall with a look of great uncertainty on his face. “Oh- oh my gosh. Umm, see you-”

Marcos had only been to Sunset’s workplace once before, long before his last deployment. With each passing moment, his uncertainty grew louder in his brain- perhaps his great idea hadn’t been so great after all. Where even was she in this place?

“Marc- hey, it’s great to see you, what’re you doing here?” Marcos felt a pair of arms around his waist, and suddenly found his face buried in the beautiful crimson and gold hair of his wife. She released him and looked up at him, happiness and confusion written across her features. “Hey, stranger,” she said warmly. “Don’t think I’m not happy to see you, but… why are you here? What’s up?”

“Umm…” Marcos hesitated. “Forgot my lunch when I left this morning,” he said, his words stumbling. Come on, dude, she’s your wife. Relax a little.

Sunset smiled. “Yeah, I noticed when I got up. Sorry, I should’ve brought it to you before I came to work.”

“No- no, it’s alright, I grabbed lunch,” he said, holding up the Subway bags in his hand. “And, I started thinking, well… I dunno if you’d had- food, or something…”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “Are you asking me to have lunch with you?”

Marcos felt his confidence shrivel. “Only if-”

“Of course I will, I don’t know why I haven’t offered it to you before!” Sunset said, her face absolutely beaming. “This is so sweet of you-come on, I’ll take you to the lunchroom.” Without another word, her hand slipped into his as she gently guided him away.

The lunchroom was plain, though surprisingly accommodating, with several plain black tables for all who worked here. A microwave and fridge sat in the corner, and a table near the center of the room was occupied with a small group of workers, all of them too focused on their food to bother noticing the new arrivals.

“Thanks for this, by the way,” Sunset said, leading her husband over to a table near the window. “I’m honestly starving, I didn’t realize it’d been so long since I last ate.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome,” Marcos said nervously, taking a seat across from her. Oh for the love of God, stop being such a pussy. You’re trying to do the right thing, don’t screw it up.

Sunset, taking notice of the seating arrangements, arose from her seat and took a place directly beside her husband, giving him a warm smile. “I don’t bite, you know,” she said playfully. “I think you would’ve found that out by now, don’t you agree?”

Marcos nodded as he started chewing, avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t explain his newfound apprehension, or what could possibly be making him so uptight. He had to calm himself, he had to…

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sunset put down her food and took hold of her husband’s free hand. “Marc, look at me, OK?” her soft eyes met his haunted gaze, and she again broke out a smile. “Thank you so much for this. I love it, you were so sweet to think of me- and so spontaneous, too! It means the world to me.”

Finally, after a moment that seemed to last forever, Marcos began to relax, giving his wife a small, but distinct smile. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “And thanks for the message this morning- it meant a lot.”

“You’re very welcome,” Sunset said happily, her insides practically glowing with pleasure.

Their lunch went by with little more conversation, the young couple simply enjoying the company of one another as they ate. Sunset felt the tension leaving her husband’s body with every passing moment, hearing his breathing relax and become calm. And, though she wouldn’t say it aloud to anyone, she thought she felt his gaze stealing glances at her every now and then. The thought made her smile.

Finally, after a time, Marcos drew his phone and checked the time. “I’ve gotta get going,” he said plainly.

“I understand. Have a great rest of the day, OK?” Sunset said, standing up and walking with her husband to the exit. “It was great to see you. We- we should make a habit of this. Do it every now and then.”

“Sure, if you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” Sunset said stubbornly. “There’s no other man I’d rather spend my time with, and don’t you forget it.”

Marcos smiled, and even shook with an internal chuckle. “Thanks, Sunset.”

“I’ll see you when I get home, OK?” Sunset said, giving him a hug. As she pulled away from his chest, she looked up at him, considered him for a moment before leaning up and planting a soft kiss upon his lips. “Love you!”

“Love you, too,” Marcos said as she departed, for some strange reason finding himself breathless. He could still feel the warmth of her touch, the softness of her lips upon his, even as she walked away. She looks great. Maybe… maybe you did alright today.

Sunset turned and watched him leave, hardly able to contain her happiness. Her misgivings and discouragement from the morning had disappeared, replaced by the thought of her husband’s genuine efforts. It was a small, tentative step he had taken, but every smile he had given spoke of a renewing confidence, and a resurrection of his spirit.

Maybe, after all this time, he was finally coming back.

Author's Note

Want to know something interesting? This is the first thing I've written in nearly a year. So odd to think the last work I put in was in March of last year.

If you can't tell, 2017 was a difficult year.

Either way, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave your thoughts below- and here's hoping I can be better about updates in the future.

Chapter Three: We Will Never Give Up

Long-lasting love doesn’t happen by accident. We don’t find ourselves holding hands after twenty-five years with the one that we love by pure chance. Love is deliberate, it’s intentional, it’s purposeful, and in the end it’s worth every minute that we give of ourselves to another. -Darlene Schacht

“What?! New dismounts? You gotta be fucking joking!”

“They’ll be here on Friday,” Reyes replied, poring over his latest counseling paperwork without even a glance at his subordinate. “My guess is they’ll get in late, too.”

Bright gave a groan of displeasure, leaning back in his seat. “Does that mean I have to help them get all their basic hygiene shit and shit?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too, it won’t just be you. What are you worked up about, anyway?”

“Me and Roan were planning on getting drunk and going to Foxy’s that night,” Bright said.

Reyes scrutinized his gunner. “Really? More strip clubs? Can you not find better things to do with your time than blue-ball yourself?”

“Better than fucking strippers? Hell no.”

Reyes gave a sigh, finalizing the counseling and pushing the laptop away. “Tell Roan to get up here so I can give him his counseling. Has he been sticking to his diet?”

“Think so, Sarnt, he hasn’t gone drinking with us in a while,” Bright said, jumping to his feet and heading to the door, only to pause and ask, “All these new guys… are- are we going somewhere?”

Reyes shrugged. “C.O. says he doesn’t think so, or at least he hasn’t heard anything about it yet.”

“Do YOU think so?”

“Not yet at least. The Squadron’s not back up to full strength yet, and it’s been over a year since we got back. We won’t go to war unless all the Troops are 100%.”

“May we be forever stuck at 99,” Bright prayed, disappearing out the threshold and out of sight.

Reyes let his mind drift, staring blankly into the ether. Bright was one of the Five, so it was no surprise he was hesitant about a return to battle. After Toruń, it felt like the world had changed for the few that had made it. It had been the reason they’d been sent back to home, after all. The Brigade simply had suffered too many losses to reasonably continue the fight. With the sights and smells and sounds of war slowly welling within him, Reyes felt himself start to shake. What if all these new personnel were a sign, an indicator that they really were going to war once more?

No, Marcos thought to himself, taking a long, slow breath and releasing a thin hiss of air. “No matter what happens, I’ll be alright,” he told himself. “And right now, you’re safe at home.”

“No way… Marcos?”

Reyes gave a start, unused to hearing his first name from anyone other than his wife. “Who on earth-” he wheeled himself about to see, standing at the door, was a skinny young man with a shock of hair upon his head, a butterbar upon his chest, and a fresh eager face still untouched by military life. “Flash?”

Holy shit, Marcos, hey man!” said Flash Sentry, rushing in to give his enlisted counterpart a vigorous handshake. “I don’t believe it, I thought you might be here when I saw Big Mac, but- how are you, how’ve you been?”

“What are you doing here, I- wait, are you second platoon’s new Platoon Leader?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I am. Surprise!”

“When did you get here, I heard you were coming in Friday?” Reyes replied.

“I got bumped up early so I could in-process with the unit faster,” Flash answered, looking down at the chevrons on Reyes’ chest. “Sergeant, huh? Not surprised you and Mac both got promoted quick.”

“And not so bad yourself, sir,” Reyes said, eyeing the golden bar on Flash’s uniform. “How- when did you get in, I didn’t know you had a commission?”

“Well, for a while I didn’t. About senior year of college I got accepted into the officers program and I’ve been working towards here since.”

“Well, I mean… it’s good to see ya, it’s gonna feel like high school all over again.” Reyes paused, his eyes darting back and forth. “I gotta know, though…” he whispered. “Are you still dating Cpt. Armor’s sister?”

Flash said nothing for a time before finally releasing a smug grin. “Oh. Oh yeah.”

Reyes roared, his laughter echoing throughout the bay walls and causing more than one of his fellow soldiers to stare curiously at the battle-hardened NCO, from whom the sound of mirth had been rare.

“So what’ve you two been doing, long-distance and such?”

Flash shrugged. “We do what we can to make it work. Just do me a favor and don’t tell the Commander. He doesn’t actually know about it.”

Reyes’ eyes went wide for a split-second- only to become slits that gleamed with mischief. “Oh… OH, that’s gonna be fun.”

“Please don’t.” Flash began to turn pale, his face stark. “I’m serious, I just got here and that is not information I want spreading.”

“I’ll only use it to screw with you, I promise,” Reyes swore. “I’ve taken enough of your time, sir, I’m guessing your platoon will want some time with you.”

“Good to see you again, man,” Flash replied, turning about and heading towards the nearby office.

Reyes settled back into his chair as one of his soldiers walked in, patiently waiting for his counseling to begin. As the two went to work, Reyes couldn’t help but feel the urge to laugh. It’s gonna feel like high school all over again in here.

“Your pace has started to slow, Mr. Morrison. How does it feel right now?”

The scarred man gave a grunt as he moved his prosthetic, walking at a pace that suggested discomfort. “It keeps rubbing against my fucking stump- I mean my LEG! “Goddamnit, it hurts,” Morrison breathed. His forehead dripped sweat with each step he took, his gait slowly becoming smaller. “Fucking hell…”

“Do you want to keep going or-”

“I just said it fucking hurts, what the fuck you think I wanna do?” Morrison roared, turning to snarl at the startled young woman. Though the loss of his legs had robbed him of his size, and recovery his strength, the former soldier was still a formidable and intimidating figure and his rage was more than enough to make Sunset take a slow step away.

“Mr. Morrison, if you want to stop now, that’s fine,” she said calmly, turning to her desktop and closing down the program. “But if you’re injuries are causing you pain, then I can’t let you leave just yet. Your wounds will need to be addressed.”

“Just get this fucking shit off me,” Morrison growled, tearing at the many wires and sensors that covered his body and tossing them aside. “Fucking hell, I don’t feel like a goddamn man with this shit on.”

“Mr. Morrison, please be careful not to damage any of it!” Sunset said sharply, hurrying over to gently put as much of the equipment out of harm’s way. “Hey- hey, wait!”

While she had worked, Morrison had stalked off on his mechanical appendages, heading to a nearby bench and wrestling with the straps keeping his prosthetics connected. As each connection fell away the furious man gave a grunt of pain, before finally letting the expensive items fall to the floor with a clatter.

Sunset couldn’t help but grimace at the sight of his legs rubbed raw, stubs ending just below the knee dripping blood. Whatever protection had once been kept there had long worn away due to constant friction and use.

“Mr. Morrison, how much time are you spending on your feet-”

“They’re not my fucking feet,” Morrison interjected.

Sunset took a deep breath, biting her lip to prevent her frustrations from leaving her. Morrison was one of her most difficult patients, proud and stubborn to the end. While some excelled in their recovery, others found it more difficult to return from such heavy trauma. Morrison, a former Major and double-divorcee, seemed to go out of his way to make his recovery difficult for everyone involved. This is why his wife divorced him, she thought- and instantly regretted it. It would be difficult for anyone to cope with the loss of their legs, and the freedoms that come with it. Morrison had reason to be upset.

“Mr. Morrison, I know you want your leg muscles to recover, but if you’re wearing through the gel in your prosthetics then you need to let me know so I can get you the help you need. I’m here to help you have as much of a normal life as possible, but you need to help me do that.”

Morrison looked like he was willing to argue further, but just as he opened his mouth he simply deflated, the fight leaving his eyes and he leaned over in a slump. “You’re right. You’re right,” he muttered, aiming an imaginary kick at his prosthetic limbs. “I hate this. I used to run marathons, now I can barely walk.”

Despite his previous anger, Sunset couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. “That’s why we’re doing this. So you can get back to where you were again. It might not be the same, but given time, you’ll be able to run marathons once more.”

Morrison snorted. “I wish. I’m too old and fat.”

“Oh please, you’re not even forty,” Susnet chided gently. “All it’ll take is getting back into the right habits- which means less alcohol and more exercise,” she added pointedly.

Morrison stared at her, his glare as cold and hard as stone. “And what reason do I have to keep trying? I don’t have a wife, I don’t even have join custody of my son… I don’t have a reason to keep trying.”

Sunset felt a lurch in her stomach, his morose words sounding horribly familiar. “You are the reason you have to keep trying,” she told him. “I know it may not sound like much, but quitting will feel far worse than what you’re feeling now.”

Morrison didn’t respond, staring down at the earth with an expression that suggested he’d very much like to be swallowed by it. His anger was unpleasant, but his defeated attitude was unnerving.

“Come on, we still have time left today,” Sunset said, rising to her feet and clapping her hands together. “Do you want to keep trying stretches for today-”

“I’m good,” Morrison said shortly, reaching down and grabbing his prosthetics. “I think I’ve had enough for today. I’ll get myself cleaned up, and… and I’m going to go home for the day.

“But…” Sunset had a clear idea of his current state of mind and knew solitude would be a poor choice. “Sir, maybe you should try again, just in case-”

“I’m good!” Morrison said sharply, before giving another weary sigh. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t be mad at you. Just ignore me.”

Several minutes later and he was gone, limping his way out of the building and towards a waiting car, leaving a visibly frustrated and tired Sunset Shimmer in his wake. With a wearied groan she returned to her office, putting her records away and poring over the notes she had taken. There was plenty to do, but her mind simply had no heart for it; her distraction was overpowering.

“Everything alright, dear?” Rose peered into the threshold, noting her young coworker’s miserable countenance.

“Yes, Rose, I’m fine,” Sunset said quickly, turning to give her friend a tired smile. “Thank you for asking, I just have a lot to go over.”

As soon as the older woman had left, Sunset’s gloom returned, clouding her mind like a poisonous fog. You can’t help, a wriggling little voice said. You’re only making it worse.

Sunset gave herself a shake, trying to rid herself of the voice’s foul words. Instead they seemed to only cling all the more tightly, twisting and worming their way into her brain.

You couldn’t even help your own husband. All you did was nag and torment him until he fell apart, and there was nothing you could do to put him back together. You were a hindrance.

Sunset felt her breathing grow rapid, a stinging beginning to form in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands, pressing them so deeply into her forehead that she began to see stars. “Block it out, girl,” she said quietly. “You can make it, I promise you can.”

Your help only makes the lives of everyone around you worse. You can only cause them pain, the voice said, sneering and cruel. You’re not capable of saving anyone.

She could hear him grumbling before she entered their bedroom, the sound of his own unpleasantness mingling with the sound of clothes being thrown around. Sunset peered in and found herself staring at a myriad pile of clothes, uniforms and military gear permeating the floor, all the while her husband was busy in their closet, searching wildly for some hidden objective.

“Come on, come on, where is it? I left it on the top shelf, I wore it last Friday…” Marcos paused, finally taking note of his wife’s presence. “When was the last time you cleaned in here?”

“A couple days ago. What’s wrong?” she said, her voice brittle.

“Where’s my Stetson? I had the thing sitting in its case above my uniforms and now it’s gone,” he said, taking hold of his dress blues and tossing them onto the bed in frustration.

“Oh jeez -I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you- I went and brought it to get reshaped for you the other day, it’s sitting in the back of my car,” she replied.

“Well why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, looking incredulous. “That’s not yours, don’t just take my stuff and act like it’s not a big deal.”

“I was just trying to help-”

“I need it for tomorrow, we’ve got new guys coming in and CO wants us to greet them wearing full uniform- where are my gold spurs? Don’t tell me you tried to get them cleaned or something.”

“I wasn’t trying to be difficult-”

“Well congrats, you were. Now go to the car and get me my Stetson- now.”

The last word was enough for her to flare up. “Hey, I am not one of your soldiers, you do not talk to me like I am someone you can just order around. Are we clear?”

“Just go get it, will you? I’m not gonna sit around here-”

“If it’s that important, then go get it yourself, I don’t have a reason to stand around here and be bullied by a jerk who still acts like he’s the kid who got locked up in juvi!” Sunset fired back.

Now it was Marcos’ turn to be wounded. “Hey, that is way out of bounds-”

“Yeah? Well so is acting like I’m one of your ‘guys’ who just sits there at your beck and call. See if I ever help you in anything again, so good luck if you have another panic attack.”

Sunset stalked off from the room, leaving a devastated silence in her wake. For a few brief moments, she felt a heated satisfaction at the way she had left him –vulnerable and on his own- but the sensation only lasted until she reached the living room, where her insides shriveled and she fell onto the footrest of the chair. That had been a mistake.

The sound of footsteps met her ears and she looked up to see her husband fall to the floor beside her, giving a winded, unhappy sigh. “That was our first fight in a while,” he said. “Are we back to fighting again all the time?”

“I- I hope not,” Sunset said meekly.

“I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you,” Marcos said. “I’m sorry. You were just trying to help.”

“I shouldn’t have said what I did, either. It was an awful thing to say.”

The two sat in a forlorn silence as the last rays of the sun beamed dimly through the windows. Sunset felt the gaze of her husband rest upon her, studying her every move and breath she took. It was a sensation she had forgotten, the way he truly tried to understand; how dedicated he had once been to her.

“Your eyes are red,” he remarked.

“I’m fine,” Sunset said tersely. She may have forgiven him for his words, but to let him in right now, when she was so vulnerable… not yet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to hide from me-”

“Rainbow’s dead.”

The words were so unexpected that it took Marcos several seconds to fully process them. “What?”

“Rainbow Dash is dead,” Sunset said, her voice unwilling. “Fluttershy called me this morning to let me know. Rainbow was shot down a few days ago when her unit came under anti-air fire.”

After she finished came such a weight across her shoulders that Sunset thought she would surely topple to the ground. There was such a finality in them, now that they had been spoken aloud. Rainbow Dash was dead. Strong, confident, brave Rainbow Dash was gone forever and would never come back. Her career as a fighter pilot was gone, her future with Soarin was gone, all the life and strength she’d possessed was gone, burned away without hope of return-

Sunset felt something warm slip underneath her hand and she recoiled- only to find it was the gentle grasp of her husband, reaching out to her hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. At first she tried to resist, to pull herself away, but he persisted nonetheless, reaching for any part of her he could reach until she relented and found herself in his arms, her face buried in his chest so the pain couldn’t reach her, no tear could grow.

Marcos said nothing, simply sharing in her grief and letting it pass away into the ether. His old sparring partner was gone. A competitor and friend was gone, a sister-in-arms lost to the fire. Rainbow Dash, who had deserved a far better fate than this.

“Is this what it feels like?” Sunset said wretchedly. “To lose someone?”

Marcos thought of all the friends he had known in his mere years of service. Those who had fallen the very first day in Almeria, the ones he had lost on his first deployment, those who fell in Toruń and the savagery that had followed…

“It always feels like this,” he said, knowing nothing else to say.

The two simply held one another into the darkness, their pain permeating the air until it disappeared completely. The sorrow of death slowly became overwhelmed by the memories of a friend who was dearly loved, in this life and onto the next. As the night crept in, their grief soon fell into the shadows. They had made it through another day- and this time, they had finished it together.

Ever since he had received his commission, Shining Armor had been told he was destined for the military. His leadership skills were often called exceptional, his physical prowess was nigh unmatched, and his shooting skills were enough to receive serious attention from Sniper School. He had also been told that the greatest time of his military career would be when he was the Commander of a Line Troop.

No one, in all of their words of advice, had bothered to mention all the paperwork! Whether it be brainless soldiers failing PT tests or not showing up or -God forbid- public intoxication or a DUI, it seemed like the amount of paper that went across his desk was roughly equal to half the Amazon Rainforest. With all that he had to cover, more often than not he found himself working late or bringing his work home, neither of which were particularly desirable. If the Army wanted you to have a wife, they would’ve issued you one with your pair of boots, he had been told. Somedays, he found himself believing it.

He heard his wife’s footsteps over the sounds of the TV and soon felt her weight settle on the couch next to him. “You’ve been focused on it all night, you know.”

“I’ve still got time,” he replied. “Hours.”

“It’s past nine, Shiny.”

Her words gave him pause. “Really?” He looked over at his phone to confirm it, shaking his head. “Jeez, I’ve been at this pile for three hours now.”

“Mhm. And you let your dinner get cold.”

“An accusation?”

“Sympathy,” Cadence replied, leaning over and tugging the pile of papers from his hands. “Come on, you need something to eat. I’ll reheat it for you if you go get our daughter to settle down.”

“How is she today?” he asked, getting up and stretching, feeling his knees popping as he did so. His wife was right, he had been stationary for far too long.

“The fever’s gone down, but I don’t want her going to school tomorrow. One more day ought to do it, I think,” Cadence said. “She’s been missing you all day long.”

He felt a pang of guilt, realizing work had sapped away his time completely. “Well, I haven’t a moment to lose, then.”

Flurry Heart had been born during his first deployment, early on in the war. He had not been there the day she entered the world, and she had already been a year old by the time they first met. Now, having just passed her fifth birthday, it seemed like time was rushing them by all the more quickly- she was growing up with her father –more often than not- half a world away.

“Hey, Little Princess,” he said, kneeling down next to her bed, stroking the hair from her eyes. “You feeling any better?”

Flurry, a typically hyperactive child, only gave a weak smile. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, her voice cracked and creaking.

Shining couldn’t help but laugh. “Still not great, huh?”

“No.”

“You’ll be back in shape in no time, sweet pea, I promise,” he said, leaning in and kissing her on her forehead, eliciting a giggle. “You been having fun staying home with Mom all day?”

“Mhm. We’ve been watching Mickey Mouse cartoons and she lets me eat ice cream.”

“Hey, that doesn’t sound so bad. I’m a little jealous!” he replied with a grin. “Sorry I haven’t been much fun lately, sweet girl. Daddy’s been pretty busy.”

“It’s OK, Daddy.”

He suddenly found himself in the grips of an idea. “Hey, tell you what,” he said slowly. “This weekend, if you’re feeling better by then, how about we go to the zoo and have some fun, OK? Would you like that?”

“Yeah!” Despite her exhaustion, Flurry’s tiny face glowed with excitement. “I promise I’ll be better by then!”

“I bet you will,” he said. “So let’s make sure to get plenty of sleep tonight, OK? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Shining tucked her in and flipped off the nearby lamp, pulling the door to as he watched his daughter give a wide yawn. If his guess was sure, she would be out in mere moments.

“She’s bigger every time I see her- and I feel like I barely see her at all,” he said to Cadence, walking past her and collapsing on the couch, watching as the Braves landed another homerun against Miami. Having never been a fan of baseball, the sight did nothing to raise his spirits. He felt a heat nearby and saw his wife hovering a plate of food above his face.

“Come on, enough moping,” she said briskly. “You’ll feel better with some food in you.”

They were both college graduates, but she was the one with the Master’s in Psychology. He accepted her words without a fuss, taking a stab at the recooked meatloaf and letting the flavor seep into his mouth. Within minutes, the plate’s contents had disappeared.

“Better?” she asked, a sly smile on her lovely face.

“Much, actually,” he said, planting a kiss on her lips as thanks. “I appreciate the effort.”

She gave a snort of laughter and turned to the TV, relaxing next to her husband as silence fell in between the two. She was the smarter of the two and she knew it, but thankfully possessed the tact to not rub it in.

Shining regarded his wife. She had a beauty comparable only to the greatest of supermodels, flawless in every possible dimension. For a time she actually had been a model, garnering a strong reputation across the country before diverting her time to college, where he had met her. They had worked well together, her matter-of-fact demeanor clashing well with his sports jock attitude. With enough cheek to keep him in check, she was no wimp, having been raised around a boisterous family. The marriage had worked well in the time they had actually spent together, which was less than he was willing to accept.

“It’s really bothering you, isn’t it?” she asked him.

“Huh?”

“You look like you’re thinking about something,” she remarked.

He mulled his words over before speaking. “Does it bother you that I’m never really around?”

“You’ve been back for about a year now,” she said.

“Yeah, I know I’ve been back in country, but am I really here?” he asked. “Do you know what I mean?”

Cadence gave a small nod. “I do. I wish you were more available but at least I know why. I’m not happy with it, but I learn to live with it. I’m more worried about Flurry than myself. She misses you tons, but what’s going to happen when she gets older and she turns to being bitter about it instead?”

“I know,” Shining said heavily, “when the war’s over I’ll take a look at my contract. Maybe I’ll go Reserves- it’d be a big change, but I might be around more often.”

“It’s a good thought, then,” she said pleasantly. “No counseling session needed this time.”

“Speaking of counseling session,” he said, “how’s Reyes been doing? You’ve been working with him for a good six months now, right?”

“Shiny, you know I can’t say anything. If I truly thought he was in danger of killing himself, you’d know by now.”

“Can you not tell me anything?”

“Not a word. What goes on in his sessions is between him and me.”

Shining pulled a face, but didn’t pursue the matter. “How’s his wife doing?”

Cadence paused. In the time she had been at the unit, she and Sunset had become close friends and confidantes, and Cadence had been the first person Sunset had turned to for help all those months ago. This was not the same issue as between she and Reyes, but the respect between friends. “She’s tired,” she admitted.

Shining didn’t say a word but took note of her posture. She was slumped, more huddled together. He may not be a psychologist, but he could tell she was more concerned than before.

“They’re both tough, but she’s been pushing through for the both of them for a while now. They had a day trip into Savannah over the weekend and she said it was an improvement, but she’s sleeping and eating less. With work and stress at home I’m worried she’s going to simply up and collapse one day.”

“Marc will show up,” Shining said assuredly. “He may not have been in the best place but he’s still a good guy. You never really met him before the second deployment. When I first met him in Africa all the way past his wedding, he couldn’t stop talking about her, so many guys had to tell him so shut up. She means the world to him.”

“I don’t doubt that, but she needs him to stand strong again. She’s been doing this alone for a while now.”

“He’s not just sitting there anymore. He’s been having lunch with her every day this week.”

Cadence perked up at that. “Has he really? I haven’t talked to her at all this weekend… how’s that been going?”

“Good, I guess. He’s not telling me details or anything, but he looks better and he’s been acting calmer,” Shining said.

“Well, that’s good. Hopefully it’ll help Sunset feel better as well-”

Shining’s Blackberry began ringing, vibrating madly across the coffee table in an erratic frenzy. “What’s she calling for?” he muttered, taking notice of the number.

“Twilight?”

“Yeah. Hold on a sec,” he said, taking the call. “Little Sis! What’s going on, you’re not still at work are you?”

“Are you?”

She was friendly, but her conversational skills were lacking. “No, I’m not. At home with Cadence-”

“Hey Twilight!” Cadence interjected.

“And trying to relax. What’s going on?”

“Listen, you need to be tracking this. There was another airstrike aimed at Discord this morning. They had him cornered in a town near the Bulgarian border.”

Shining felt his body tense. “Did they kill him?”

“He got away again. That’s the third airstrike that’s failed to a get a confirmed kill. Word from up top is that they’re looking at trying to send in strike teams armed with GoPros so they can get the kill confirmed on record.”

“Are- are you sure you should be telling me this? You’re Intelligence, this could get you in a lot of trouble…”

“Doesn’t matter right now,” Twilight replied. “But they’re not going to send Special Forces after him. They’re going to likely be focused on infiltrating into King Sombra’s capital city so they can end this whole thing. The SecDef suggested sending high-performance batallions after Discord instead, and yours came up on the list.”

Silence. “Are you sure?” Shining asked after he regained his composure.

“Completely. I saw the list myself.”

Shining gave a sigh. “Who are the others?”

“The usual suspects. 2-22 Infantry from 10th Mountain, 2-501 from 82nd Airborne, and 1-506 from 101st.”

“Is there any way of knowing who’s highest on the list?”

“No, not anymore. Only one person has the right to that decision now.”

“Alright… alright. Thanks for the heads-up.”

“Be careful.”

“I will. Thanks, Little Sis,” he said, ending the call and turning to his wife who sensed his disquiet. The night had been a peaceful one, but now it had been torn asunder like cloth. In the silence of his home, he could hear the sounds of war again.
“What’s wrong?”

Shining took a deep breath, trying to gain his composure. “You need to hear this.”

“Sweet fuck, it’s way too fucking late for this,” Bright said unhappily, readjusting the straps on his spurs. “When the fuck are these assholes gonna show up?”

“The whole unit has several people in-processing today,” Cpt. Armor said. “These two guys aren’t the only ones who are showing up today. Relax, Bright.”

Bright merely pulled a face and gave a sigh. “I could be drinking right now,” he said mournfully.

“Oh relax you fuck, the world isn’t gonna end if you don’t booze it up right now. Besides, fucker, I gave you a weekend for that,” replied 1st Sergeant Iron Will.

“Hooah.”

“That looks like Sergeant Tyre with the new guys,” Cpt. Armor said, peering off into the sunlit distance. “Hey, Reyes!”

Reyes, who had been ignoring the others with his nose buried deep in a notebook, initially took no notice. They had been parked outside the barracks for almost an hour now, waiting for the new arrivals.

“Fuck, Reyes, wake the fuck up!” 1st Sergeant roared, startling the younger man out of his absorbed state.

“Oh, jeez- sorry, what’s up?” he said, putting down his pencil and notebook.

“They’re here, boss, time to meet the new meatsacks,” Bright said cheerfully.

“No dark stuff, Bright,” Reyes cautioned.

“Spoilsport.”

“You mean, ‘Roger, Sergeant!’” 1st Sergeant added.

“I need out of this job,” Bright muttered, but was luckily unheard by the others as a group of freshly buzzed, nervous young men approached the building, eyeing the group of seasoned Cavalrymen with caution.

The group came to a halt and stood in formation while a young Sergeant approached Cpt. Armor and gave a salute. “All new soldiers present and accounted for, sir,” he reported.

“Thanks, Sergeant. Go home, we’ve got it from here,” Cpt. Armor replied, looking over at his newest soldiers. “Well… welcome to Fort Stewart, gentlemen. I’m your new Troop Commander, Captain Armor. This is First Sergeant Iron Will. Over to my left are the leaders of Second Platoon, Second Lieutenant Flash Sentry and Sergeant First Class Nye. To my right is First Lieutenant Pharaoh and Staff Sergeant Mac, leaders of First Platoon. You’re probably not gonna see much of me, but these four men will be the ones you work for on a daily basis. Trust them and do what they tell you- I promise they’ll lead you right.”

1st Sergeant immediately leapt onto his Commander’s words, giving the small speech he always gave to incoming soldiers. He gave them his expectations and guidelines, warning and encouraging them to live up to the standards asked of them. The group of young men were hesitant and tense but answered quickly, and before too long were divided up into their various platoons.

“Reyes!” Big Mac yelled, calling his oldest friend over.

“Who’ve Bright and me got?” he said, his eyes settling on two men sitting down next to their new Platoon Sergeant. One was fairly short but was well-built and his eyes were bright and eager, as if the whole experience was something to learn from. The other was wispy and thin as a pencil, watching the others with a nervous air.

“He’s your first line,” Big Mac grunted to the two boyish individuals, hardly old enough to enlist. “If you got any problems, you go to him. Understood?” He then turned to face Reyes without waiting for an answer. “Short one’s name is Rumble. Other one is Featherweight.”

“Alright then,” Reyes said, surveying the two with interest. “Evening, boys. This guy here –Bright, get over here- is my gunner. He’s smart and knows his stuff, so learn as much as you can from him. He’ll be your sponsor, so ask him for anything you need.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Rumble said, facing the seasoned NCO with confidence.

“Yes, Sergeant,” Featherweight replied, still appearing anxious.

Before too long, the new arrivals were settled and given rooms to drop their stuff, and allowed to change out from their uniforms, much to their relief. Soon the group of four was out on the road again, hunting for food and whatever home supplies they would need. Despite Bright’s advice to simply sleep on a mattress, the two followed the words of Reyes and bought a set of plush bedsheets.

“Never, ever, sleep on the barracks mattresses with nothing on them,” Reyes cautioned, taking a bite of his sandwich. “They’re older than you are and you’re not the first person to sleep on them either.”

“You just had to ruin it, didn’t you?” Bright asked, still surveying the two soldiers with distaste. “I had it perfectly set up…”

“No, you didn’t. You had no point whatsoever,” Reyes said, his gaze returning to Rumble. “Rumble… that is your name, right?”

“Mm? Oh, yes Sarnt,” he responded, nearly choking on his burger.

“OK. Rumble, have I met you before? You look really familiar but I can’t think of why.”

“Umm… no, I don’t think so, Sergeant,” he responded, for the first time displaying hesitancy.

“He’s got a brother who’s in,” Featherweight added.

“Wait a minute…” Bright scrutinized the young man before him. “Yeah, he looks like someone I’ve seen- wait a minute, I got it!”

“Oh jeez, now I see it!” Reyes said, pulling out his phone and flipping through. “I shoulda known- you’re Thunderlane’s little brother, aren’t you? I know that guy, I’ve jumped out of his chopper more than once.”

“Does… does he know I’m here?” Rumble asked unhappily.

“Not that I know of, why? You two hate each other or something?” Bright asked.

“He really didn’t want me signing up,” Rumble admitted. “Thought I’d get myself killed or something. He’s always been way too protective.”

“Well, you know he’s stationed here, right?” Reyes said. “We’ve worked with him a lot over the years, you’re probably gonna run into him.”

“I know, I just… don’t really want to get into another argument about it.”

“Mm. Fair enough,” Bright said, wiping his mouth free of ketchup. “Now come on, I wanna get out of here. I got a thing of Buffalo Trace sitting in my cupboards I wanna destroy. You guys can drink, right?”

“Bright.” Reyes’ face was flat and devoid of emotion. “Don’t. Don’t get them in trouble the very first night they get here.”

“But that’s the fun.”

Reyes could do nothing but shake his head, praying to the highest of heavens he didn’t receive a phone call the following morning. It had been a long enough night already.

“Marc…t..me to wake…”

Marcos couldn’t bear to rouse himself. The sheets were too soft, too warm, too perfect to leave. Sleep was where he dwelled now.

“Marc… babe, you alright?”

The voice was persistent. Marcos cracked one eye open to see his wife standing next to the bed, looking down at him with a smile on her face.

“He lives,” she said pleasantly, leaning down and gifting him with an unexpected kiss upon his lips. “Hey, it’s a gorgeous day today. Why don’t you get up and help me get this house cleaned up? I could use your help.”

Marcos, barely awake, found himself giving a groan. “Really? That’s how we’re gonna start today? We’re gonna fight?”

“Oh hush, I do really need your help,” Sunset said. “Come on, I’ve got breakfast ready if you want anything.”

As she walked from the bedroom, Marcos found himself watching her as she left, taking note of the waviness of her hair, how her t-shirt hung loosely on her petite frame, the camouflage booty shorts-

“Wait a minute,” Marcos said, jolting upright and instantly awake. He found himself reliving the memory over and over again, watching his wife’s derriere sway with every step. Perhaps that was worth pursuing- if only for a moment.

However, the moment he took his first steps Reyes felt his right leg give way with a sharp Pop! and he fell to the ground in a crash, roaring in pain.

“What’s up?” Sunset said, entering the room and finding her husband struggling to stay erect. “It got injured again, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. Help me out here, I can’t stand too well,” Marcos said through gritted teeth. He took his wife’s arm and limped slowly to the living room where he was deposited on his cushioned seat with a groan.

“Let me take a look,” Sunset said, gently taking hold of his leg and feeling her way across the muscles, looking for signs of damage. Marcos held his breath, trying to ignore the pain that was emanating from his right leg. It was far, far more painful than he was willing to admit.

“Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Has it been hurting all week?” Sunset inquired, staring at her husband with an icy glare.

Marcos hemmed and hawed, trying to avoid an answer. “Well, maybe a little,” he finally confessed. “It’d twinge every now and then.”

Sunset gave an exasperated sigh. “Marc, come on. You know you can’t do stuff like that. You’re trying to get better, not make things worse.”

“It healed months ago-”

“Yes, I know it did, but you knew it could get reinjured. Why did you just act like everything was fine?”

“I didn’t want you to worry, that’s all.” Marcos became gloomy, avoiding looking at her. “You’ve been going hard for a while now. I didn’t want you having to deal with something else going wrong.”

“I appreciate the thought, but did it really work? Look at yourself now!”

“I know!” Marcos said angrily. “I just… I’ve been enough of a pain in your neck.”

“A pain in the neck I chose to marry,” Sunset said, taking hold of his face in her hand. “And good or bad, I want to be there with you. Stop trying to ignore that, OK?”

“Sunset…” Her gaze had lost its frostiness but remained firm. “Yeah. Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Lemme get you some ice for it,” she said. “Then try to stay off it until you can get seen on Monday, OK?”

“Yeah,” Marcos said, doing his best to ignore the fiery pain in his leg. Judging by how it felt, it had likely been severely damaged once more. Where shrapnel had torn through muscle, a painful wound had continued to fester even after the holes had been filled. Perhaps it had become permanently damaged.

Sunset returned, carrying an ice pack in her hands and placing it strategically on his leg. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?” she said. “I’m gonna get back to work.”

Marcos watched her leave, finding himself again transfixed by her. Why was he doing this? He’d literally seen her naked, why was a clothed version of her so arousing to him?

“Hey, Sunset,” he said slowly.

“Mm?” She paused in the hallway.

“You said you were gonna need my help to get stuff done, right?”

“Yeah, I was going to do some repairs on the shower,” she answered. “Why?”

“Well, I’m not doing much today, it seems,” he said, his mind beginning to formulate a plan. “Why even bother trying on your own? Seems kinda pointless to me.”

Sunset gave a half-smile, already knowing where his mind was going. “Babe, I actually have work to do,” she said.

“Do you now? Do you really?” Marcos replied, shifting over in his seat to afford some extra space, a perfect slot for a young woman to fit beside him.

“Babe, please.”

“Yes, please. Come on, let’s sit around and do nothing all day. You know you want to.”

“Oh hush,” Sunset said, giving a laugh and throwing her cleaning supplies aside. “Well… what have I got to lose?”

“That’s the spirit,” Marcos said enthusiastically, his body glowing as she snuggled in beside him. “Now, what’re we wanting to do? Co-op gaming, Netflix, or plain old TV?”

“Co-op? You coward,” Sunset replied, a vicious smile forming on her features. “I’m going to thrash you and you know it.”

Before too long, the pair of them were exhausted, Marcos by pain pills and Sunset by pure physical exhaustion. As she slowly fell prey to the warm southern sun, she leaned in against her husband, gently falling away into a dreamless sleep. Marcos only gave a small laugh, giving her a small kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks, beautiful girl,” he said.

Author's Note

Holy hell, what year is it?!

So much for doing regular updates. This took forever to rouse. I've been staring at a blank screen for months. Whether it was the two months of training we just completed, endless bs, or other stupid crap, it's like I've barely had time to concentrate on much of anything. My bad, y'all.

I think this is one of the more unusual chapters I've done- I don't often have so many cuts or scene changes in my work, so it was interesting to have more differing viewpoints happening than in She's Gonna Kill Me! It was an interesting challenge to take. Hope you enjoy it, and be sure to leave comments and corrections below!

Chapter Five: Come Home

“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 Note

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.

Chapter Six: I Won't Let You Go

Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated the silent screams continue internally heard only by the one held captive. When someone enters the pain and hears the screams healing can begin.

- Danielle Bernock, Emerging with Wings: A True Story of Lies, Pain, and the Love That Heals

Eight Months Earlier

Sunset had discovered she had developed a new habit these past few months- a tic that seemed to arise whenever her mood swung towards proverbial panic. Wringing her hands so tightly that she could feel the circulation begin to cut off had become a soothing act, a means for her to focus on something beyond the pain of her present reality.

How fitting, she thought to herself, that I can’t even focus anymore. Worthless, pathetic, useless brain! How do you expect to help if-

“Excuse me, Miss Reyes?” The voice of the receptionist broke the young woman from her reverie. Sunset’s hands, blotched white and red, unraveled and she hastily wiped the sweat away.

“Yes?”

The receptionist smiled. “Sorry if I bothered you ma’am, but Miss Cadance is ready to see you. She’ll be here in just a minute.”

“Yes, thank you,” Sunset replied shakily, a fresh wave of nerves rising and she fought hastily to quell them. She took a breath, begging herself to remain focused. It’s alright, it’s alright, you’re here on your terms to try and find Marc help. You are calm, collected, controlled… She felt her heartbeat slow, her breathing normalize. She could do this.

The door swung open and the beautiful figure of her friend stood before her. “Sunset, it’s good to see you,” Cadance said pleasantly, reaching out her hand. “It’s been a while, I haven’t seen you in- well, in quite some time.”

“Yes, sorry about that,” Sunset said, giving a smile more meant to encourage herself. “It’s been… it’s been busy at home and at work, you know how it can get.”

“I’m sure. Come on, let’s go back to my office.”

Sunset was led through the decrepit building, a worn-down relic from decades past that likely should have been condemned. But, in true government fashion, the Army continuously found a way to avoid the inevitable through endless work orders and maintenance.

“Here,” Cadance said, gesturing to an open door. “Sorry about the temperature, the heating hasn’t been working lately.”

“It’s fine, really,” Sunset replied, settling down on a cushy loveseat placed against the wall. She watched Cadance as the older woman settled in her office. Her every move was deliberate and graceful, as though she radiated calm, even her office setting seemed to be built to aid in relaxing those who dwelled in it. Sunset could feel her body unclenching, the tension starting to ease.

“I haven’t seen you at any of the FRG meetings lately,” Cadance said lightly, taking a seat at her desk. “I was hoping I would see you there. It’s been good, you know. Some of the spouses have been supporting the families… of those who didn’t make it. It’s been soothing.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” Sunset felt hot guilt bubble in her veins as she tried to find an excuse. Yes, she had problems to deal with, but her friends had lost their loved ones only a spare few months ago. Surely that was far more-

“It’s OK,” Cadance interjected, taking note of Sunset’s struggle to speak. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I know it’s been hard for everyone. Truthfully, I’m glad you called me the other day to set this appointment up. I was going to have to meet with you soon enough anyway.”

“You were?”

“Shiny’s been watching his soldiers for potential issues ever since he took command,” Cadance explained. “One or two have quietly been referred either to me or Behavioral Health for counseling or medication… he’s been debating whether or not he should arrange help for your husband.”

“Oh.” Sunset’s mind flashed over the past several months. The arguments that devolved into shouting matches, the constant night terrors and broken items, the nights where Marc simply wouldn’t sleep but would instead spend hours rambling into the mirror, the overdrinking or, worst of all, the moments where he would simply retreat into himself and go completely cold…

“I’m glad that you’re here, because it means you want to help,” Cadance said. “That, and you might be facing some struggles here yourself.” The beautiful woman gave a gentle smile. “So please… tell me what’s on your mind.”

Sunset had waited for her to say this. She had spent days thinking over what she should say. She wanted to explain everything, make it all so easy to understand, to impress the seriousness of the situation but keep her husband’s honor intact. Instead, Sunset gave a meek smile, opened her mouth, and promptly burst into tears.

Cadance said nothing, simply letting the exhausted woman before her release her tears, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder as Sunset’s petite body was wracked with heaving sobs.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” Cadance said gently, “Let it out.”

Sunset tried vainly to gain some self-control. “I’m being stupid, I’m sorry,” she cried.

“Don’t be sorry,” Cadance replied. “I just wish you’d come to me sooner.”

Sunset heartily agreed, earning yet another round of tears as reward for her sentiments. Finally, as the time passed, she felt the tears lessen and she was able to slowly gain control of herself. “It’s been… I don’t know what to do, I would fight with him so much when he first came back and I think I just alienated him and made it all worse. Now he won’t even talk to me, he won’t talk to anyone, and I’m just terrified that I’ve pushed him away forever. I’m a horrible spouse and after all we went through before even coming here…”

“Do you think you can tell me what’s been going on, from the beginning?” Cadance asked. “Take a deep breath, and let’s go over this together. OK?”

She was still shaky on self-control, but Sunset gave a small nod. “When he first came back, he was sort of… distant. Like he wasn’t used to having normal human contact. I figured it was simply because of his injuries and that he was just having culture shock. But then he started having random outbursts-”

“Like angry outbursts?” Cadance inquired.

“Or moments where he seemed to be afraid. Like he was just absolutely gripped by whatever emotion he was feeling, almost as if he was overloaded by something. Then he started having nightmares, or some days I’d wake up and he’d be guarding the front door for something.” Sunset could feel the words leaving her body, a poisonous sludge within her finally being extracted. “We- we started fighting a lot. I didn’t understand what he was doing and I would get mad at him for small things, or if he got angry then I’d say something mean or derisive and it just enraged him. He started drinking heavily- something I’ve never seen him do! He’ll wake up in the middle of the night and have these horrible conversations with himself, or he’ll be so drained that he simply can’t rouse the energy to speak. It’s all my fault, I should have seen what was going on and instead I simply made it all worse.”

Cadance watched as the young woman sank into herself, burying her face in her hands as shame weighed down upon her shoulders. When she was certain that Sunset would speak no more, she put a few additional notes down and took a breath. “Sunset, thank you for telling me this. I know it must have been a miserable thing to do. What I need you to do now is look up at me, alright?”

Teal eyes, red and bloodshot, looked up into Cadance’s tranquil gaze.

“Has your husband told you anything of what he’s done while he was deployed?” Cadance asked “Either this deployment or his first.”

“N-no, never,” Sunset answered.

“Shining has opened up to me a little- but only a little. He’s never given me any hard details, but he has told me bits and pieces. And truthfully, there are times where even he has trouble comprehending the things he’s seen and done over there. War is a horrible, horrible thing, and what the damage it can deal to a person can be extensive. Do you think Shiny is the same person he used to be?”

“Could I have done anything?” Sunset asked. “Anything to have helped Marcos not go into this pit he’s in?”

“Sunset, I can’t answer that. Every person reacts to trauma differently. Some may simply brush it aside, for some they may actually appreciate their life more deeply, be more grateful and joyful for the things they have. For the unlucky few, they have to learn how to cope with what they’ve seen. Your husband may simply be one of those unfortunate few who simply can’t find a way to make sense of what they’ve seen.”

For the first time, Sunset felt a glimmer of displeasure. “Marcos isn’t weak, he’s-”

“No, of course he’s not weak,” Cadance said hastily. “Suffering does not equal weakness. His mind has simply betrayed him, and doesn’t know how to deal with the horrible things he’s seen in war. Shiny has told me only a little, but what he has had to do is beyond anything you or I can imagine. Think about it, Sunset. Marcos has lost friends, people he cared about, and he lost them in horrible, violent ways. He may be shutting himself off from you because he associates himself with that level of violence. Has he ever been present in violent circumstances before?”

A cultish gang built on violence and sacrifice. A childhood of abuse and crime. A bleeding woman on the sidewalk, an all-out war that they both barely survived. “He… had a rough childhood,” Sunset admitted. “He messed up, and- and he nearly lost his mother. He blamed himself.”

“Marcos may simply be, by the logic of his hurt mind, trying to protect you from what he’s had to deal with,” Cadance suggested. “You said he initially enlisted as a means of protecting you, correct? So maybe this is just an extension of what he already was trying to do.”

“What should I do?”

“The best thing you can do is simply be there for him,” Cadance said. “And it starts with you being able to control and manage your emotions. If you’re calm, then he’s more likely to be calm.”

“Should I try to get him to open up, or-”

“With time, hopefully he will- but never, ever force it. Be supportive, be loving, and be there to listen when he’s ready to talk. But let Marcos take the initiative. He needs to feel like he’s in control of his life again, and part of that means being in control of what he says or doesn’t say. Odds are he’ll frustrate you still, and that there’ll be times where you don’t even want to help. Just… be patient. I suggest doing some research on PTSD on your own, if you want to be more informed. I can certainly give you some more things to look at.”

“Cadance,” Sunset said softly, looking down at her hands. “Will this even help? Can I help at all?”

The room went silent, becoming as cold and distant as the stars on a winter’s night. Cadance’s expression was thoughtful, mulling over her thoughts as Sunset awaited her answer anxiously.

“You can, but- but Sunset, it really is up to Marcos,” she said slowly. “He could be ordered to see Behavioral Health, counseling, anything. But if he truly wants to get better, then the choice is entirely up to him. No one can make that choice for him. All you can do is encourage him, and pray that he makes the right choice.”

SPORTS. Acronym for correcting a malfunctioning weapon. Primarily used to clear jams in the firing chamber.

The revolver gleamed in the light as Reyes continued to polish and clean the firearm, the silver barrel sparkling as the evening sun shone through the nearby window.

Slap the magazine. He released the cylinder, rubbing hard against it with a dry cloth, brushing away grime and scorched gunpowder that remained.

Pull the charging handle. Observe the round leaving the chamber Taking a brush, he pushed a small strip of cleaning paper into the various chambers, working thoroughly until every area he could see had been stripped clean.

Release the charging handle. Tap the forward assist. Finally, with none else to polish, he slid the cylinder back into place and slid behind the sights, checking their accuracy. His many days of care and upkeep had paid off; the powerful handgun was as beautiful as it was deadly.

Squeeze the trigger. Reyes let the weapon fall back into his hand, the weighty barrel sitting heavy in his grip. A small strip of blue caught his eye- the box of ammunition he kept hidden away in his nightstand had become uncovered. Perhaps, in his occupation with the revolver, he had dislodged it.

Squeeze… He felt a tremor course through his body as he reached down for it, a horrible coldness in his chest that only intensified as he fished out a small handful of rounds. Slowly, carefully so as not to set them off, he slid each round into the chambers and slammed the cylinder into place, quickly drawing back the hammer. His hand had begun to tremble. Perhaps instinct was now taking over, the primal fears of man rising as he realized what he was trying to do. He slowly slid the revolver in his hand until it pointed squarely beneath his chin-

A series of gentle knocks against the door and the weapon slid back down between his legs. Heart racing, Reyes turned to see the form of his wife peeking through the door.

“Hey, babe,” Sunset said pleasantly, apparently unaware of what she had interrupted. “You alright?”

“Pussy.” Reyes’ mouth went dry and he struggled to form his words. Finally, after forcibly extracting them from his throat, he managed to reply, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“There’s some leftovers in the fridge if you need anything,” Sunset said. “I was about to heat up that chili from Wednesday and I wondered if you wanted any. I can get you a bowl if you want…”

“I’m fine,” Reyes replied, leaning down to slide the still-cocked revolver underneath their bed. He rose to his feet and walked out, sliding past his wife and disappearing down the hallway.

Sunset let a few moments pass, waiting until she was certain he was out of sight. When she could no longer hear his movements, she rushed over to the bed and went down on her knees, reaching around until she at last had hold of what she was all too certain she would find-

“Oh jeez…” the round had been chambered. If she had been just a moment too late, it might- might’ve-

Sunset sealed her eyes shut and squeezed hard, forcing herself to find a means of calming down. Her heart was pounding in her chest and her breathing wanted to intensify. No. I will hold on. I can’t do this now.

As carefully as she could, she uncocked the weapon and threw the rounds away. She rose and was determined to confront him, weapon in hand- but hesitated. He was not in his right mind. Seeing a weapon in someone else’s hand might set him off, he might lose control simply for being found out. Uneasy, she set the weapon back underneath the bed and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to rouse her brain into thinking.

“What do I do? What am I supposed to do?” she whispered to herself, begging her mind not to betray her. “Oh, Marc, please talk to me. Don’t do this, please.”

“You won’t commit. You’re lukewarm. Do you know what that means?”

“Shut up. I don’t have a reason to listen to you,” Reyes replied.

The rasping, grating sound of his father’s voice broke through his willed thoughts, rising to the surface of his mind. “Ha! You don’t get it, do you? Just how similar we really are… you may as well be my clone. A replica of the life I once had. The one you will eventually lead.”

“I don’t have to- I won’t. The last day we ever spoke to one another I swore it. I will let your legacy stay dead forever.”

“My legacy?” Estevan’s tone was derisive, mocking. “Every day you stay alive ensures my legacy lives on a little further. You may be lukewarm now, but someday my blood will run hot within you. Either you’re gonna put a bullet in your skull or you’ll be my son after all.”

“I’d rather die. I’ll kill myself before that ever happens.”

There it is, there’s the fire! You lukewarm coward, you’re like vomit in the mouth of God. Make a goddamn choice. You know you need to.”

“I will never be like you.”

“You already are, little boy. So get up and act like it.”

Reyes’ grip strengthened and he suddenly felt a stinging pain in his hand-

“Oh shit!” Reyes relinquished his grasp and found a broken glass in his hand, several shards deeply imbedded in his palm, his blood running with the water and soap that fell into the sink below.

He threw the broken glass into the nearby garbage can and turned off the spout, turning to his wounds, delicately removing each shard that poked from his hand. The extraction was a painful process, his damaged hand protesting with each movement and flex of muscle. It was as if every breath he took only caused more pain.

“Let me help,” said Sunset, suddenly appearing beside him and taking his injured hand in her own-

Reyes gave a start and pulled away-

“Hey, it’s just me! It’s just me,” Sunset said soothingly, pulling away in appeasement. “I just thought it’d be easier if I tried instead. I can help if you want.”

“I’m fine,” Reyes said, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m good.”

Sunset scrutinized him, Reyes unable to meet his wife’s gaze. He was terrified that if her eyes met his- maybe, just maybe- she would see the shadow of his father within his eyes; that what little of Estevan was within him would come crawling back to the surface. He felt something within him tremble. Perhaps he should finally speak up about his fears-

Sunset gave a smile. “Alright, then,” she said warmly. “Go get yourself fixed up, I can handle it from here. You didn’t leave many dishes, anyway.”

Reyes nodded but didn’t leave his place, watching as Sunset took over at the kitchen sink, scrubbing away at the few dishes that remained unclean. She set dutifully to her work, her efforts soon coming to fruition as the remaining pots and pans were soon left to dry. She had chosen to do this, clean up after his mess. He looked down at his feet, noticing a growing pool of blood that dripped from his injured hand, yet another mess she would have to deal with.

“Sorry.”

His voice was barely audible against the flow from the sink. “What’s that?” Sunset paused, turning off the water and turning to look at her husband, uncertain of whether or not he had even spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Reyes said, his voice a little stronger than before.

“For what?”

“You shouldn’t have to… deal with me, I guess.”

“What does that mean?” Sunset asked, a hint of a laugh in her voice.

“You deserve better than this. I don’t know if you could have done worse than me.” Reyes said, deflating with each word.

To his surprise, Sunset laughed and shook her head. “I don’t know if I could have picked someone any better,” she replied.

“You don’t need to say that,” he replied.

“I know. But I still believe it.”

“You shouldn’t.” Reyes rose from his place at the table and walked away, her words of affirmation and comfort somehow draining him of what spirit remained.

“She’ll never suspect a thing. She’s too stupid to leave.”

“She’s loyal,” Reyes countered.

“So was your mother. Didn’t work out too well for her, did it?”

“I will not become like you. I promise I won’t.”

“Ha! The screaming, breaking furniture, the terror you bring? You’re well on your way already. I can’t wait to see what you bring.”

Reyes found himself in the living room, sinking down into his chair. The TV was on, perhaps accidentally left on by Sunset. A news broadcast was on, a group of reporters discussing the history of the war. Almeria. Cordoba. Salamanca. Toruń…

“You did that.”

“I did it to keep people safe.”

“Sure. Protecting people by killing others. Don’t deny what you are. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”

“I did not. I will not follow in your footsteps.”

“All you need is a little push, a chance to let go of your conscience. Then we’ll see the gloves come off.”

Sunset wondered whether or not she should even be doing this. After all, it was likely to be an uncomfortable conversation no matter what happened. Perhaps it was against her better judgement, but she pushed forward nevertheless. “Thanks for taking the time, Marta. I know it’s been a while since you and I have talked at all.”

“I’m sure you and Marc have been busy, dear,” Marta said, her voice as warm and welcoming over the phone as it was in person. “I’m just glad he’s back safe at home.”

Sunset felt her heart sag. “Well, actually… Marta, I’m- sorry, it’s been a rough few months here.”

“Is everything alright?” Her mother-in-law’s voice suddenly became concerned and taught.

“Well…” Sunset hesitated. She knew how Marta was; emotional, heavily invested in her family’s wellbeing, but time and abuse had done a great deal of damage to her and her strength was not what it had once been. Sunset decided that some of the truth, not the whole of it, would be brought to the surface here.

“Sunset? Are you still there?”
“Yes! Sorry, I kinda drifted off for a moment there. I was just wondering… Marc never mentions it but I was wondering- well, about his father.”

“Estevan?” even through the phone Sunset could hear the dread and pain in Marta’s voice.

“Marta…” Sunset looked back and forth, wondering if Marc had made his way back home yet. She checked the halls, peering out through the window before she was satisfied. “Marc’s been struggling lately, and I can’t seem to get through to him. He’s been so weighed down by something that I can’t seem to reach him. Sometimes I’ll catch him talking to someone and- and I think it’s his father. I just wanted to know what the two were like together. Who Estevan was.”

There was silence over the line as Sunset waited, knowing what old bones she was uncovering. The two had suffered at the hands of the man, though she never knew the true extent. Part of her wondered if her decision to inquire about it was even wise.

“Estevan,” Marta croaked, “was the most wicked man I have ever known. When I first met him all those years ago, he presented himself as a gentleman. At first maybe he was, but early on in our marriage, he… he changed. We were poor. He tried to find ways of making money and fell in with Wanyama. From that moment on his attitude changed. How he treated me, how he eventually treated Marc, would only become more awful. He started out with words and arguments. He would belittle me and Marc, taunting me and mocking me. Eventually he resorted to beatings and hurting me. If Marc ever tried to stop him, then Marc became the target.”

“How did Estevan react when he first started abusing you?” Sunset inquired.

“He seemed guilty at first. When it was just words, he would do what he could to make it up to me, but later on, when he began to put his hands on me…” Marta sighed. “After that, there was no real return. He simply hardened and never looked back.”

“Does Marc know the whole story? About how it all went down?”

“He was alive for almost all of it, really,” Marta replied. “The day Estevan finally went to prison, Marc promised he would never be like his father ever again. But in many ways they are similar. Temperament, looks, attitude. Marc is what Estevan should have been.”

“How did the two treat one another?”
“Marc despised his father and feared him. He hated that man more than anyone on earth. Yet, somehow, Estevan managed to bring Marc into Wanyama for so many years. Estevan was a figure of torment to him, but was able to influence him so greatly that I couldn’t do anything to undo the damage. Probably no one else has influenced Marc so badly- save for you.”

Sunset sighed. “I don’t know how much of an influence I have anymore. Marc just seems so defeated all the time. There’s times when he gets so angry, but nowadays it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

“What has Marc been doing?” Marta’s voice was suddenly sharp.

“He’s… Marta, when he deployed, he never came back. It’s like something in him broke. I can’t say I’ve been all that helpful, but we’ve been fighting a lot and he’s acted differently-”

“Has he hurt you?”

“No, never!” Sunset replied. “Every time we fight he seems to break a little more, I can’t imagine what it would do to him.”

Sunset could hear the sound of tears being shed across the line and she willed herself to remain calm. If both of them broke down here then the conversation would be lost.

“Sunset, that boy is my son. My only son,” Marta said. “He hated his father so much that he swore he would rather die than become like him. If he hurts you -truly hurts you- then run. Do not get sucked into the same mistakes I did.”

“I’m not giving up on him,” Sunset said firmly. “He is not Estevan, he is not his father. Marc never has, and never will be. Estevan chose to be wicked, what is happening to Marc is not his fault. The moment he lets me help him, then it will get better. I know it.”

“Just make sure then, dear,” Marta said sadly. “Because once you go into that pit, you may never come back out.”

The sound of a car driving in alerted Sunset to her husband’s return. “I’m gonna have to go, Marta,” Sunset said swiftly. “Thank you so much, it was good to talk to you.”

Her phone was put away and Sunset had taken her place in the living room, going over a handful of receipts as Marc walked in, eyes sunken and devoid of light.

“Hey, Marc,” Sunset said cheerfully, giving her husband a glowing smile. “Work alright today?”

Marc said nothing, turning towards the kitchen and walking in, the sounds of him slumping into a chair reaching the living room.

When Sunset finished with her work, she went into the kitchen and found Marc clutching a glass of bourbon, the drink still untouched in his hands. He seemed to be struggling internally with his decision, part of him perhaps unwilling to continue with his plans.

“I’m gonna get to work on getting dinner ready,” Sunset said. “Are you gonna be alright with that?”

Marc said nothing but allowed a small nod.

As Sunset went to work her husband remained silent, not even the slightest movement to betray his presence. He may as well have been a statue, so immovable was he. But to Sunset his presence was a gaping void, a darkened presence that consumed her thoughts.

“I talked with your mom today,” Sunset said lightly, making sure to choose her words carefully. “She misses you. I told her you’ve been busy, but you’d call when you get the chance. I really think you should, it would make her happy.”

“Mm.” It was not a true response but it was the first sign he was listening.

Sunset pored over her efforts, desperately trying to think of a way to continue. How much should she reveal? What of Marta’s words could be used here without distressing him further? And you call yourself smart. Get a grip, girl!

“You came up in conversation, actually,” Sunset continued, “Your Mom spoke pretty highly of you. Apparently you were her little hero when you were a kid. Said you’d always try to protect her from bad things.”

“I wasn’t good at it,” Marc croaked.

“You haven’t been perfect, yeah. But you-”

“I went and joined a gang.”

Sunset hesitated. “Well… yes, you did. But you didn’t stay there. You helped take them down, too. Your father never did that.”

Sunset could have kicked herself for saying that aloud. The moment Estevan was mentioned she felt a change in the air, a distinct effect on her world. It was as though a toxin had been released into the air, and burrowing its way right into her husband’s heart.

“What does my father have to do with this?” he said, his voice deep and dangerous.

Sunset realized she would have to roll with her blunder. “I know you talk to him, Marc. It’s like he’s a specter in your mind that you can’t shake off.”

“I’m his son.”

“But that doesn’t make him you. Who cares if you look alike, or even sound alike? You’re nothing like him! And I don’t believe you’ll ever hurt me.”

“Neither did my mother.”

The world suddenly became frigid. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t tell you, did she?” Marc said. “My mother used to get the living shit beat out of her. When you’re a little kid, it seems like those moments happen every day. He would taunt her, mock her, take hands to her- it just never seemed to end. That rat bastard would crush her- and every time it’d happen, I’d try to stop him. You know how it is- it’s your mom, you’ve gotta protect her. Of course, since I was little, he’d beat me up too. So I’d be in my room licking my wounds when my half-dead mother would drag herself into the place and patch me up, telling me that he beat us because he loved us, that he didn’t really mean it. That the broken furniture and the beatings and every hateful thing he said didn’t really mean nothing. She was so sucked in by Estevan that if it hadn’t been for a- a random cop car, passing by as he tried to strangle her in the front yard… she would’ve died because of him, defending him right to the very end. He didn’t kill us both because of sheer dumb luck.”

Marc gave a sigh, rubbing his fingers through his hair as he sat there, tossing his bourbon aside. “You never saw pictures of Estevan when he was my age, did you? I may as well be his clone, we look so alike. We’re almost exactly the same.”

“Almost- not exactly,” Sunset said. “I refuse to give up on you.”

“Well maybe you should!” Marc flared up, turning to her with anger in his eyes. “Look at me, Sunset! God, it’s like I can’t hammer it through to you! He wins- Estevan always wins, that’s what he does! He may be dead but he sure as hell is alive in me, and I don’t- I don’t know, maybe I’m cursed. But it’s like the whole cycle’s starting all over again. I just- I just want it to stop.” His anger abated just as quickly as it had arrived, Marc slumping into his chair with tears glistening in his eyes. “I hate this. I can’t make it stop, I can’t make it better. I don’t want to be like him but…”

Sunset’s heart quickened, begging desperately for her husband to break. He was so close, so close to finally relenting and letting down the wall that had been built up for months. She reached out for him, her fingers tracing his shoulder-

Marc jumped from his seat, moving away as quick as he could. “You should leave. Leave before it’s too late.” Without another word he disappeared down the hall, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

Sunset stood there, slowly taking a seat and buried her face in her hands, her tears stinging as they ran down her face.

Sunset crept into the bedroom hours later, finding Marc already fast asleep. It had been his way for some time now, sleeping the day away or simply tossing and turning all through the night. When the darkness fell, he would be sucked away into his own world where she couldn’t quite reach.

Sunset dropped her clothes where she stood as she turned on the shower, letting the water grow warm and gently wash away the melancholy the day had brought. Sunset wanted to scream in frustration- so close! Every time Marc seemed finally willing to open up she would have to go screw it up. One wrong word said, a gesture too late or too early- Sunset could have kicked herself for her stupidity.

Never, ever force it, Cadance had said. “As if I’ve listened,” Sunset said bitterly. “Oh, Marc, if you’d just talk to me!” Impatience and worry was making her act in haste. Marc was getting closer and closer to actually opening up, true, but it seemed like he was headed for a fate far more grim. She only hoped that he’d let her in before things got out of hand.

Sunset stood there for a time, letting the warm water pour down her body as she let her mind wander. Finally able to rouse herself, she finished up and quietly dried herself, finishing her night’s hygiene before quietly climbing to bed. She turned to face her husband, staring intently at the lines and shadows on his face. He was so young, but it was as if the violence of war had aged him into someone else entirely. The once-confident, determined man she had come to love was gone, not even the hint of a smile upon his face.

She didn’t know how long she lay there before she fell asleep, but the next moment that Sunset opened her eyes the room had gone dark. She turned to check her phone- a little past two in the morning. Why had she woken up?
The sheets rustled and a grunt. Sunset turned and saw her husband in a fit of terror, his dreams becoming a nightmare as he descended into some unknown horror.

“Marc, wake up,” Sunset said softly. “It’s just a dream, wake up.”

Marc tossed himself about, flinching as he gave another grunt- fear, confusion-

“Marc, wake up!” Sunset said, her voice growing. “I promise it’s just a dream, listen to me!”

Marc gave a horrible cry and his arms flailed, reaching desperately for something-

“Marc!” Sunset reached for his shoulder-

A scream of rage and suddenly Marc was atop her, his hands fighting against hers as he pushed past her defenses and squeezed tight against her throat.

“Move! Move, goddammit, keep moving!” Lt. Armor was incensed, his face bloodied as the bombardment began behind him. “Get to your foxholes!”

“Where’s Reyes?” Iron Will bellowed. “He was supposed to be guarding our retreat!”

Both men looked at one another and came to the same horrible conclusion. “Reyes!” They turned and saw a young man running as fast as he could manage, a bloodied leg slowing him down to a haphazard limp, the terror evident in his eyes-

“Reyes, get down!”

A shell fell in between the men, Lt. Armor and Iron Will being tossed back against the brush, a cloud of smoke and dust obscuring the sight of their remaining soldier-

Reyes gave a cry of terror as shrapnel struck against his body, tearing across his cheek and through his armor, a jagged piece taking root in his ankle. He gave a scream of pain and fell to the ground, covering his head as the bombardment continued, his world becoming an endless hellscape of metal and smoke, fire and dust rising and threatening to choke him out-

He didn’t dare move, one simple motion in any direction perhaps his final step towards death. He could feel rocks fall upon him, the concussive blast of the enemy artillery pulsing against his body with a throbbing pain-

In an instant it stopped and the world fell silent. The plains upon which they had fought were still obscured by smoke and the sound and fury had left him disoriented. Reyes, daring to believe he might still be alive, rose to his knees and looked about him. “Sir? Sergeant Iron Will! Sir!” his voice, thin and ragged, was barely audible over the empty plains.

Footsteps from somewhere behind him. Reyes turned to see a pair of figures walking towards him and his heart leapt. “Here!” he called out-

A bullet flew past his ear and Reyes dropped, firing blindly at the two figures and watching one of them fall-

Click! His weapon jammed and Reyes gave a curse, hobbling up as fast as he could and running away, anywhere away from his would-be killers-

The sounds of pursuit came behind him and he heard a throaty roar of a charging man. Reyes hobbled faster, each breath coming in ragged gasps that tore at his throat-

The sound of a weapon being cocked and Reyes braced for the impact-

Nothing came. A curse met his ears and the soldier behind him threw down his weapon, rushing forward and grabbing Reyes about the waist, bringing down to the ground-

The two men threw themselves against one another, Reyes fighting with everything he had to tear the Imperial soldier away from him. Punches and kicks were thrown in a haphazard fury, each man trying to outlast the onslaught of the other. Finally gaining an edge, he threw himself atop the lesser man, clutching him by the throat and slowly choking the very life out of him, watching as the light faded from his eyes…

And then in an instant the world changed, the blood-covered world of war fading away and turning black as the night. The soldier he had killed turned to ash and dust, brown hair turning red, transforming into-

Sunset felt his hand unclench instantly and she sucked in a single, ragged gasp of air, coughing and spluttering as her throat tried to resuscitate her back into the living world. The sound of a weight hitting the floor roused her and, still coughing, she rose to see Marc pressed against the wall nearly out of his mind with horror.

“Oh Jesus, oh Jesus,” he said over and over again, panic overwhelming him as his sleeping nightmare became a waking one. “No, no, goddammit, no…”

“Marc,” Sunset choked, falling to the floor and trying to make her way over to him-

“STAY AWAY!” he screamed, getting to his feet and running down the hall-

“Marc!” Sunset rushed to her feet and tried to catch up, only to hear the front door slam and the sound of a staring engine. In one fluid motion Marc raced out of the driveway and off into the night, leaving a half-strangled, fully terrified Sunset standing at the door.

The world had become a daze as he drove, Reyes turning this way and that in a frenzy, the sound of his father’s laughter in his ears. He was everywhere and nowhere, a horrible cacophony of noise that seemed to bore into his very soul. The line, that unalterable, unbreakable line had been crossed.

He didn’t know how long it had been since he had arrived here, some stretch of woods in the middle of nowhere. His Mustang heavily damaged and bowed face-first into a tree. Battered, Reyes had climbed out and simply slumped against a nearby tree, his face buried in his hands.

He felt the cold, unforgiving metal against his leg and slowly Marc extracted it from his pocket, letting the revolver gleam in the faint moonlight. Each chamber was loaded, six rounds more than capable of doing what needed to be done. Cocking back the hammer, Reyes turned the barrel towards his head, pushing hard into his skin until he was sure it drew blood. His finger lay across the trigger, merely waiting for the slightest squeeze-

Tears came, unbidden and unwelcome. This was how it would end, it had to be done. There would be no renewal of the cycle, no new Estevan. Here it would all end- but why couldn’t he simply pull the trigger?
“Come on, dammit, come on!” Reyes snarled, his voice wrenched by unwanted sobs. “Pull the goddamn trigger, COME ON!” He screamed, willing himself to simply pull and let a bullet fly through his skull-

A sound came to his ears- his phone, lying in the cupholders of his car. In an instant he dropped his weapon and rushed to grab it, recognizing the gentle sounds of his wife. Without hesitation he answered, coming to a halt as his voice went cold.

“Marc, I know you’re there. Can you hear me?” Her voice was all too sweet, gentle and clear as the night sky that filtered through the trees.

“Do you remember when we were just kids? I know it must feel like a lifetime ago, but please… try and think back.”

Reyes gave a shuddering gasp, his mind still racing with the sights and sounds of dying men and the choking gasps of his wife-

“We went to a park one day in the spring. It was beautiful, warm and peaceful… it was like the day had been made just for you and me. We laughed and cried together that day. Do you remember it? Close your eyes and think about it.”

The sounds of gunfire began to fade, the smoke and darkness became distorted. A deep, shuddering breath wracked him and Reyes closed his eyes, the simple memory of all those year ago beginning to rise to the forefront of his mind.

“We had endured so much already,” Sunset said gently. “We’d both suffered. You nearly lost your mother… but we both came through. Because of one another. Because we promised we would always be there for each other when we needed it most. We loved each other.”

Reyes felt tears, white-hot and painful, seep down his cheeks. The memory of such a simple moment had become a potent, powerful agony against him. He wanted so desperately to push the phone away, to never hear another word and to simply pull the trigger that would take his life.

“Marc, I love you,” Sunset declared. “Nothing in this world, nothing anywhere could ever stop me from loving you. The man who defended and fought for me like no one ever has- or ever will. You are my hero. And I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to do this alone. So please, come home. Come home to me. No matter what happens, I won’t let you go.”

MReyes simply sat there in silence, bereaved and wracked by a whirlwind of emotions and agony. He grabbed his pistol and emptied the chambers, letting the unfired rounds clatter to the forest floor. His mind decided, he turned off his phone and walked towards his battered Mustang, turning it on and driving off. It would be a long road back.

Sunset paced back and forth in the living room, her heart hammering madly inside her chest. The phone had been silenced of his own accord, but that meant nothing- he simply could have turned it off and done the unthinkable. She debated whether or not she should call the police, a decision that could potentially leave Marc locked away somewhere. She screamed at herself in rage, wondering if there had been any way to stop him, anything that could have been done to prevent all of this from happening. Please, please let him come home. Please-

The sound of an engine met her ears and headlights flashed through the window. A car died and the world went quiet, soon replaced by footsteps walking slowly to the door.

Reyes staggered through the door, looking this way and that until he saw his wife, wide-eyed and fearful at the sight of him. He walked towards her, stopping as he said, “I messed up the car.”

“I don’t care.”

“I’m not hurt.”

“I’m glad.”

The two stood in silence, each waiting for the other to say something, anything-

Marc’s face shattered like glass and he fell to his knees, a horrible, gut-wrenching cry escaping his lips. “What is wrong with me?” he cried.

Sunset rushed to him, taking him in her arms and letting the world fall away as she held him, gently sushing him with each cry, watching as each tear fell. “It’s OK, it’s OK,” she said softly, feeling his body shake with overpowering emotion. “It’s going to be OK, I promise. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.”

Minutes ticked by, threatening to turn into hours as his energy was finally spent. “Look at me, Marc,” Sunset said firmly, taking her husband’s head in her hands and bringing his bloodshot eyes to face hers. “Listen to me: you and I are going to get through this together. No more secrets-” her voice threatened to break as her own tears began to fall. “We’ll work through this together, for as long as it takes. I will not give up on you. Not now, not ever. So don’t you give up, either, alright?”

Marc gave a small nod and Sunset held him tight, the two intertwined as one, sitting together until the rays of the dawn cracked through the skies.

Author's Note

Because there's simply nothing else left to be said.

Comments and corrections below.

Chapter Seven: The Little Things that Give You Away

“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 Note

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.

Chapter Eight: Begin Forever

I am my beloved and my beloved is mine. -Holy Bible, Song of Solomon 6:3

The room was still dark. A thin filament of sunlight peeked through the windows, obscured by the thick blinds that kept the bedroom darkened, safe and secure from the prying eyes of the world. The Queen-size bed that lay in the center of the room had become nearly undone in the night, the bedsheets now a tussled mess that spoke of a night both wild and wondrous, its denizens still fast asleep beneath a heavy layer of exhaustion and covers that weighed them down and held them hostage in their dreams. Their fingers remained intertwined, a grasp unbroken since the night had begun so many hours ago, and unbroken even in their deep slumber.

The sound of breathing, gentle and slow, began to grow restless. A pattern broke and faltered as his eyes fluttered, the smallest ray of light finding his face and giving birth to the morning. He at first tried to resist, eager to continue in his wondrous slumber, but the march of time would not avail him. A soreness began to creep into his muscles as the joys of the night returned to him once more. He had awoken.

Marc pushed himself to a sitting position, every muscle and sinew voicing their discomfort with each movement. He smiled to himself as he let the pain flow through him. His body was tired, worn and weary, but within him dwelled an infinite happiness that spoke far more loudly than the pain could ever hope to reach. The night had been long awaited, and what a night it had been! He could hardly contain himself, simply letting the memories of him and his wife flow before his eyes.

A muffled voice speaking into the pillows alerted him to his wife’s awakening. Sunset slowly, gently, roused herself from her comfortable spot nestled within the sheets. Her hair was a tussled mess, wild and unkempt, and every move she made was slow and deliberate. Yet as she caught sight of her husband she gave a smile as radiant as a thousand suns, her eyes feasting upon his presence.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she said, leaning towards him and leaving a kiss upon his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” Marc said, creeping back down into the sheets and resting beside her. “How about you?”

“About the same,” she replied, and the two laughed softly as the morning crept into their chamber. “Mmm… I forgot how good you felt.”

“I’m sorry I kept you for so long,” Marc said, pulling Sunset closer to him. “To wait as long as you did, I-”

Sunset silenced him with another kiss, a long, lingering thing that glistened with gossamer strings in the sunlight. “It was worth it,” she whispered happily.

The two lay there together, exhaustion creeping out and reaching for them already, calling for them to rest and slumber once more. Marc’s eyes drifted towards the ceiling as he let his weakness flow, his mind afire with a burning passion he had not felt in years.

Sunset could not bear to rip her gaze from her husband, loving and warm as a spring sunrise. He was scarred and broken, far more rangy and thin than he had once been, the great muscle and mass of his fighter days long forgotten. Yet to her, Marc was a magnificent titan, a god of ancient days untouched and perfect. He had endured fire and flame and the agony of his own tortured mind, but had returned triumphant and more than he had ever been before.

Marc’s internal reverie was interrupted as he felt a weight press upon his chest. Sunset slid across his side, leaning gently against him. Her figure was marked and blackened from burns and scars of days long past, yet he only saw the beauty and purity of her nakedness, the sweet tenderness of her exquisite spirit. He could not help but be aroused by the mere sight of her.

Sunset took notice, giving a tired laugh as she peered down. “Ready for another round, are we?” she asked.

“It’s been two years, Sunset, I’m gonna be hungry,” Marc replied.

Sunset laughed once more, her hand reaching slowly down towards his waist. “So am I, but…”

“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongey and bruised,” Marc laughed, wincing as he tried to position himself. “Maybe we should cool it for a little while.”

“I’m good this evening, if you wanna go again.”

“I’ll be there,” Marc chuckled. “So what are we gonna do today, babe? Got a whole weekend to ourselves, and nothing to do.”

“You feel like going into town again today?” Sunset inquired. “The weather’s been nice all week, it’ll be a good time. We can stay as long as we want, and maybe relax along the river. I know I’d like to.”

“Sure, sounds fun,” Marc agreed, rising from the sheets and pulling a face. “Babe, we, uh… you know what we smell like.”

Sunset laughed. “I call the shower- ladies first,” she said, throwing the sheets from her naked figure and walking towards the bathroom. Her steps were slow and elegant, each movement like that of a dancer in form, a simple thing that seemed so sensuous to her adoring husband. His gaze bore into her with a primal hunger, and Sunset was not surprised when she turned about and found him staring at her eagerly. “Like what you see?” she said, laying back against the wall and flaunting herself before him.

“Yeah,” Marc said happily, obviously struggling to keep himself in check. “Uh, you- you sure you don’t wanna hold off for just a minute and we pull-”

“Tonight, Marc. Lady’s promise,” she said, pulling the door to and turning to the shower, letting the water flow and turn hot before she stepped in. As she bathed, she could hardly keep herself from laughing, the image of her husband’s barely contained excitement flashing in her mind. It was better than she had ever remembered, the hunger and desire he felt for her so apparent. It was nothing like they had once shared; their first year together had been somewhat awkward and uncertain. Full of love and excitement, yes, but nothing like this! He had become so wild and passionate, and completely under her thrall. She did not know whether it was the time they had spent separate from one another or something else entirely, but he had become something to behold.

Sunset felt the soreness in her body yet again and she smiled. “Oh, I’m glad you’re back,” she said.

The southern sun shone hot, its rays reaching down from high in the sky and bearing down upon the city below. Savannah was already sweltering as the beginnings of summer fell and made its way through the cobblestone streets. The denizens of the shoreline city crept from shadow to shade in an effort to keep themselves cool, away from the unrelenting heat of the sizzling star that shone above. Not even the breeze from the waters could sate the unremitting blaze.

Sunset and Marc had done their best to avoid the sunshine, seeking shelter in the cooler parts of town as they made their way through the beautiful city, even making a quick stop at a local ice cream parlor to find respite from the sun. However, even they had been forced to find shelter elsewhere, desperately seeking a means to keep cool.

Despite the heat and the sweat on her brow, Sunset’s glorious mood could not be defeated, she still radiant as she made her way alongside her husband. To think it had only been two months ago that they had been here, trying to shakily restore a broken marriage that had nearly disintegrated before their eyes. Yet here she was, alongside him still, and growing stronger with each passing moment. It was a prayer long held, finally finding fruition.

Marc fell into the car seat with a sigh, wiping a thick layer of sweat from his face. He felt the stare of his wife upon him and he turned to her, finding an inattentive look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said distantly, reaching out and tracing the muscles in his arms with her fingers.

Marc raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because you seem a bit occupied.”

“I’m fine,” Sunset said, her fingers now falling down his chest and down to his waist and began to undo his belt, her gaze so vacant it may as well have been a subconscious gesture.

“Sunset, we’re in a public place,” he reminded her.

“Are we?” she asked.

Most unwillingly, Marc took her hands and pushed them away, her look of disappointment nigh unbearable for him to witness. “Look, how about a plan?” he suggested.

“Mm?”

“We were already planning on going to a nicer restaurant, right?” Marc said. “We’ve got our change of clothes hanging in the backseat, how about we just make it a little staycation and we find a nice, quiet hotel and we relax here tonight? Get drunk and fool around?”

“Ooh, I like the sound of that,” Sunset said, her eyes still fixated on her husband’s groin. “Just make it quick, will you?”

Marc laughed, pulling the car out of their parking spot and driving off through downtown until the two of them found a place suitable, an elegant hotel nestled in the historic district.

“Hey, sweetheart? Small confession,” Sunset said.

Marc closed the door to their room, taking their clothes and hanging them in the nearby closet. “What’s up?”

“You remember this morning?” Sunset asked, her voice becoming tight.

“Yeah.”

“And how I said we’d need to wait till the evening?”

“Uh-huh,” Marc said slowly.

“Yeah, I lied,” Sunset replied quickly, upon her husband and kissing him fiercely before he could even say a word. She threw him into the wall, desperately tearing at his clothes in a frantic attempt to rid him of their presence.

“Babe,” Marc said, barely able to make a sound as her lips pressed against his.

“Get them off,” she said hurriedly, pushing away for a moment as she tossed her shorts from her legs, a wild look blazing in her eyes. “Come on, I can hardly stand it!”

Marc paused momentarily, laughing at his wife’s insatiable hunger. “Where did all this come from?” he asked, throwing his belt aside.

“I have not had sex for two years until last night, it is an ocean in my panties right now so you better take that stuff off or I am gonna lose my mind!” Sunset cried, grabbing Marc and throwing him on the bed, snatching his clothes and tossing them aside, already straddling him before he could even say a word.

The moment was sudden, beautiful, and brief, Sunset laughing joyously as Marc fell to the side of the bed, absolutely bewildered by his wife’s sudden voraciousness. He was surprised by her forcefulness, yet she could see it only intoxicated him further. It was a happiness so real, a passion so fiery, she could hardly believe it was real.

Sunset stretched out, turning herself on her side so that her beauty was displayed before him. “I forgot how good you felt,” she said.

“So did I,” Marc said, giving a breathy laugh. “You were never like this before. So… wild!”

“Does it bother you?” she asked, a tinge of concern beginning to take root in her mind.

Marc snorted. “Are you kidding? This is the best sex I’ve ever had,” he said, leaning in and leaving a trail of kisses across her breasts, each trace of his lips stealing her breath. “I didn’t realize I missed you this bad.”

Sunset laughed. “And don’t you ever forget how good I am,” she said haughtily. “What were you thinking of doing tonight? You said you had a place in mind before we left the house.”

Marc pushed himself upright, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, I, uh, I was looking at the Pink House. Sound good to you?”

“We’ve never been, have we?” Sunset said. “I know Cadance enjoyed it when she was there once before, it should be really good.”

“Cool. What time you think- around six or seven?”

Sunset leaned over and checked the clock on her phone. “That’ll be a couple hours from now,” she said. “Plenty of time to get ready… and maybe have a little something to eat.”

Marc looked at her in confusion. “Uh, Sunset, we’re going to eat. I think I’m gonna hold off until then,” he said.

“Oh, not anything big, just something light. You know, something quick,” she said invitingly.

He was intrigued. “Yeah? And what did you have in mind?”

Sunset shifted towards him, spreading her legs and giving an inviting smile. “Well, how do I sound?” she asked.

Marc, she soon discovered, was happy to oblige.

Marc couldn’t stop laughing, the sight of his wife’s red face too much for him to keep silent.

“Oh shut up, it’s not funny,” she said angrily, her embarrassment still holding fiercely.

Her anger only made him laugh more deeply. “It’s extremely funny,” he said. “All it means is that I’m good at what I do.”

“Will you shut up?” she said, poking him in the ribs in the hopes that pain would silence him. “It’s not funny!”

Marc fell silent, though his body continued to rock with mirth. Their afternoon outing, and the commotion thereafter, had apparently been more raucous than they had realized. Soon after Sunset had finished, there had been a discreet knock at the door from the hotel staff, notifying a near-naked Marc that other hotel guests were complaining of “loud noises” coming from their room.

Sunset, standing next to her husband as they waited for their table, was immediately aware of her husband’s silent laughter. “Will you shut up?” she asked, beginning to laugh herself. “It was embarrassing, I can’t believe you think it was funny!”

“It’s only embarrassing for you,” Marc retorted. “All it proves is that I’m very good at what I do.”

Sunset shook her head, burying her face in her hands. “I will never live that down.”

“I’ll keep your moans in my dreams,” Marc teased, Sunset promptly pushing him in retaliation.

A few minutes later and they were seated at their table, an elegant, yet minuscule place nestled in the corner of the antique building, a relic of days long past. Marc watched his wife, studying her as she took in their surroundings and the warm candlelight that lay on the table before them. She was herself again, the pallor she wore for nearly a year having finally disappeared. For a moment, Marc felt shame begin to well within him. He had caused that pain, the suffering she had endured. And yet, despite it all, she had stayed. And when she needed him, he had answered the call –and in so doing- restored a love that had nearly been broken forever. She had returned, and so had he.

“What’re you thinking about?” Sunset asked, breaking Marc from his internal reverie. He gave a start and noticed he had wandered into his thoughts, now finding his wife gazing at him with a caring smile.

Marc shook his head. “It’s nothing, Sunset,” he said brusquely. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried,” she said. “I just want to know what you’re thinking about.”

Marc gazed at her, giving a dreamy sigh at the sight of her. Her dress was a simple thing, a lovely forest green color that fell just below her knees, a modern yet elegant outfit that fitted the atmosphere. Her eyes shone as she smiled, her face aglow with the inner light that had so entranced him even as a young man. Her hair, long kept short since the beginning of their marriage, was flowing once more like a wave of crimson. No longer was she the young, uncertain girl of their high school days. Sunset had come into her own.

“Are you going to say something, or just keep staring at me?” Sunset asked playfully, she unable to hold back a small bout of laughter. “What has gotten into you tonight?”

“You,” he said simply.

Sunset laughed again. “What about me?”

“You’ve… changed, is all. You’re better than you were before.”

“How so?”

“You look like you again,” Marc said. “Except, more like yourself than you’ve ever been. I don’t know how to explain it, but you’re you- really you. And something a little more.”

Sunset smiled, her fingers tracing the rim of her wineglass. “Because I have my husband back,” she said. “My other half is whole again.”

“Thank you,” Marc said, taking a small sip of wine. An exquisite red, crisp and delightful to the taste.

Sunset cocked her head. “For what?”

“For staying,” Marc said. “After all I did, all the times I was gone, and what I was like when I came back… I just don’t know why you didn’t leave.”

Sunset watched as a part of her husband began to wilt and wither, his countenance starting to fall as the past year began to flow before his eyes. Her heart went out to him, knowing full well the fear he had faced, watching as he had nearly become the man he had sworn to never be.

“Did you really think I was going to leave you?” she asked.

Marc pulled a face, avoiding his wife’s eyes. “I thought that… the moment I put my hands on you, it was over. That that would be it. And after all the… the yelling and the shouting, just…” he faltered, his expression untwisting and becoming a grateful smile. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

Sunset laughed, twirling her glass in her hands. “I was never going to leave,” she said firmly. “I always believed you would come back- even if I didn’t know how. I’ll be with you until the end, Marc. Till death do us part.”

Marc smiled softly, leaning forward to take her hand in his, delighting in the warmth and comfort it brought to him. “Thanks, Sunset,” he whispered. “For everything. You’re more than I could ever imagine.”

Sunset took a deep drink of her glass, her eyes aglow as she gave her husband a joyous smile. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

The moon was high in the sky by the time the two departed from the Pink House, both still eager to continue their little adventure. Under Marc’s guidance they made their way towards the riverfront, Sunset’s inexperience with alcohol leaving her tipsy and somewhat imbalanced in her heels, the cobblestone streets only adding to her troubles.

Marc laughed, feeling his wife shift on his arm as she stumbled again. “You had one glass,” he whispered into her ear.

“Oh hush, ‘Mr. Let Me Drink This Bottle of Bourbon in Ten Seconds,’” she scolded, trying to regain her footing as she held her husband’s arm for support. “You may have a tolerance already, but I don’t. I can’t say this… really my thing.”

“You’re not going to walk barefoot, are you?” he asked uncertainly, having seen his fellow soldiers do far more foolish things while drunk.

“Not on your life,” Sunset replied, her uncertain speech suddenly steeling in resolve. “Just- take it slowly, please. I’m not sure how I’m going to do.”

“Alright,” Marc said dutifully, easing their pace to better aid her. “A few dessert places are still open. Wanna find one and sit down for a bit?”

“Yes, thank you,” Sunset replied. “I think I’ll be fine without anything to eat, though.”

“Something small, got it,” Marc replied, laughing as she gave him a scolding push.

The night was a lively one, many people still walking up and down the street and enjoying the splendid evening. Couples both young and old walked with hands intertwined, friends and families sat at their tables, laughing and enjoying the company of one another. Marc grinned as he saw a small group of drunken young men walking by, their words loud, crude, and raucous as they meandered shakily by- easily identifiable as soldiers.

“Here’s good,” Sunset said, the two taking a seat outside an ice cream parlor, still packed to the brim with people even in the late hours.

“Are you OK?” Marc asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Sunset said with a smile, still obviously tipsy. “I’m not going to get sick, if that’s what you mean. I’m just not- well, not used to feeling my head buzz like this.”

Marc laughed, turning to enjoy the exquisite view before them, the lights of man and nature reflecting off the water. Their small excursion had become a fantastic adventure, another tale and memory to keep treasured in his heart. It was more than he deserved- and more than he had ever dreamed of ever owning.

Sunset turned to peer into the store behind them. “I don’t know whether I’m thirsty or hungry,” she said aloud.

“I knew it,” Marc said triumphantly. “I knew you’d want something the moment we sat down.”

“Not anything big, just- a glass of water, or something!” Sunset said defensively.

“Yeah. Sure. Cookies and cream or chocolate?” he asked, already getting to his feet.

Sunset gave a sigh, accepting defeat. “Cookies and cream,” she said meekly.

Sunset’s mood never faltered, even as the night bore on and the streets began to empty. The group of soldiers Marc had seen earlier passed by once more, shuffling back to where their ride home awaited them.

“Well?” Sunset asked, licking the creases of her spoon for every spare drop she could find.

“Well what?” Marc asked, turning to her, his cup long having disappeared.

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Of course I did,” Marc said. “Look who I have for company.”

Sunset beamed, the effects of the alcohol still not quite yet worn off. “I’m glad you’re back, Marc,” she said sweetly, her words becoming unfocused as she gave a deep yawn.

“Ready to head back?” he asked her, reaching for his phone as she nodded. “Alright, I’ll call an Uber.”

It was nearly midnight when the two found themselves in the hotel lobby, the pristine establishment quiet and darkened as they entered into the main hall. The clerk at the desk gave them a small smile and wave as the tired couple made their way upstairs, Sunset aided gently along by her husband. As discreetly as they could manage, they entered their room and shut the door, Marc immediately unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside.

“I’m beat,” he groaned, leaning back on the bed and giving a huff. “It’s been… a busy day.” Sunset’s gaze was fixated upon him, she leaning back against the wall with a coquettish smile on her lips. “What are you smiling about?”

Her smile only widened, her eyes gleaming with a playful light. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

Marc pushed himself up onto his elbows. “What does that mean?” he replied.

“Do you trust me?” Sunset said again.

Uncertain but curious as to her meaning, Marc decided to play along. “Yes, I do.”

“Close your eyes,” Sunset commanded, Marc giving a sigh before obliging. “Now stay where you are.”

Marc’s lack of vision deprived him, his senses beginning to work in overdrive. A rustle somewhere to his right and he turned-

“Keep your eyes closed,” Sunset said, her voice suddenly close to his face.

“Sunset, what are you doing?”

“Trust me,” she said playfully, leaving a teasing kiss upon his lips. The rustling began again, and the sound of fabric being brought forth met his ears.

“Don’t move,” she said gently, and Marc felt a cloth wrap around his head, covering his eyes and leaving him blind. “Do you still trust me?”

“Always,” he whispered.

Pressure against his lips. A small kiss, loving and soft. He felt the heat of her breath on his face, the softness of her hair brushing against his cheeks. A sound and he knew her hands were upon his clothes, the sound of a belt being unbuckled reaching his ears.

“Every day since the day you first left, I waited for you,” Sunset said, her voice right before him. “The day you left to go to war, a part of me has always been with you. A ceaseless, unquenchable thirst. You had been torn away from me.”

His shoes were the first to go, gently slipping off his feet and soon followed by his socks. “You created a hole in my heart, you know,” Sunset said. “You had come to mean so much to me, seeing you leave was unbearable. I worked. I studied. I did everything I could to fill the void you had left behind, because the very thought of you was more wonderful and more terrible than I could bear.”

Marc felt his pants begin to slide downward, he lifting himself somewhat to aid her. “And then you came back, changed and older than before, but you came back whole, and more perfect than I had even remembered you. I could hardly bear to be away from you, for the mere sight of you made me feel more alive than I had ever felt. You were home. You became my husband. We were happy, even if it was only for a little while. You were mine.”

Marc felt the bareness of his skin against the sheets beneath him, and a gentle pressure of her hands upon his body pushing him further back into the bed. “But then you left me again. Off to try to finish a war that was not your own. You were heroic, brave and perfect. The void you left behind grew, and every day was an agony. I waited patiently- until my patience fell away, and all I could do was dream of you, night and day the memory of you burned like fire in my head.”

Her hands pushed upon him once more, holding him upright as she lay atop him, just at the edge- enough to tease him and cause his breath to quicken. “You took your time in returning. You hobbled and stumbled your way back home. It hurt to see you, to know that the void in my heart would not be easily filled again. I hungered for you, but you weren’t ready. You hadn’t yet come home. So I brought home to you. I met you and took your hand in mine, walking with you and waited. I believed in you, because I knew that if there was any man in the world who could stand at the edge and fight his way back, it would be you. My beautiful, wonderful, magnificent husband.”

Marc felt her raise and then lower, sliding gently atop him and stealing his breath. Though his eyes were darkened, his senses had suddenly come alive, a pulsating joy erupting through him and it had only just begun. In all his years, never had he felt anything like this.

“I could never love you enough,” he whispered, his hands reaching out for her and wrapping themselves around her waist.

“Then don’t leave me,” she said, her breath beginning to quicken. “Not again. I need you. My body needs you, my heart needs you.”

As his breath was stolen from his lungs, he wondered if anything in the world would ever be strong enough to tear him away.

The weekend came and went, and far too quickly they found themselves facing the inevitable morning of a new Monday- PT formations, long work hours in the Georgia heat, foolhardy decisions of young soldiers, and the strict and joyless life of the Army. It was a lifestyle Marc was ready to depart from, but one he awoke to face nonetheless. As his alarm went off on his phone, Marc gave the device a hardy slap, his fingers fumbling for the snooze button as he gave a groan. The weekend had left him sorer, and more properly exercised, than he had felt in many months.

“Mmm…” Sunset, awoken by her husband’s movements, leaned over to watch him leave the comfort of the sheets. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past five,” Marc replied, grabbing his uniform from the dresser and beginning to dress himself. “Go back to bed, I’ll see you tonight.”

“You sure?” Her voice was muffled, still drowsy with sleep. Marc smiled, wondering if she would even remember waking up in a few hours.

“Yeah. I’m good, babe. I’ve got everything I need today.”

Sunset flopped back down onto her pillow, the excitement of the weekend keeping her worn down. “Love you,” she whispered dimly.

“Love you too, Sunset,” Marc said, grabbing his tennis shoes and heading for the door.

Marc’s day went by before him quickly. Monday was often dismal, the foolishness of soldiers over the weekend often coming to cause trouble for those who had been left unaware. Yet for Marc, little seemed to faze him. Yes, his enthusiasm for the military life had waned, but he felt a shield covering his soul as his day flew by. PT came and went, then morning formation followed by vehicle maintenance. Whatever shield that safeguarded his spirit could not be broken, leaving Marc glowing like reflections of the noonday sun.

Lunch call came, and Marc watched as the Troop Bay began to empty, the multitude of single soldiers departing for the chow hall or the nearby food court. Marc, and a handful of other married individuals, remained behind, waiting for deliveries or simply bringing forth meals from home.

The young NCO turned about and saw Bright taking a seat, moving gently as though in pain. “What are you still doing here?” he asked.

Bright initially said nothing, easing down into his seat and giving a long, weary sigh of unhappiness. “Fuck my life,” Bright muttered.

It was more than enough for Marc to guess what was wrong. “Still hungover?” he said cheerfully. Bright gave his Section Leader a glare but said nothing, wise enough to fear reprisal, and causing Marc to laugh. “Not gonna eat anything?”

“If I eat anything I’m gonna throw up.”

“Fair enough. Mind if I eat?”

“Chow down, Sergeant,” Bright said dully.

Marc sat down beside the wretched Cavalryman, easing into his seat as the aching joys of the weekend still settled on his body. “Man alive,” he muttered.

Bright opened his eyes and eyed his leader suspiciously. “What are you so sore for?” he asked. In an instant his eyes went wide as his mind conjured forth the answer. “Holy shit.”

“Shut up,” Marc dismissed.

Bright began to laugh, promptly regretting his decision to do so. “Oh, fuck me… Just- damn, son, the sex was that good?”

“How do pushups sound right now, Bright?” Marc said casually.

Bright’s already pallid face turned green and he stifled a small wretch. “I’m good, Sergeant.”

“Thought so.” Marc returned to his ham sandwich and continued to eat in peace, his mind drifting to thoughts of his wife, the multitude of new experiences and sights blending together into a tapestry of resplendent joy that Marc held precious to his soul. It had taken them so long to reach this point, to come back to where they had once been- no, even better than the life they had shared before. It was deeper, sweeter, more fulfilling than it had ever been before. If only we had time to make it last, Marc thought to himself.

Then the wheels began to turn in his brain, and a thought entered his mind: Why not ask for some time? Pondering the thought, Marc turned to his phone, opening it and going to his messages.

When was the last time we took any time off? He asked of his wife. Marc set his phone down, leaving it on. If he knew her schedule like he thought he did, she would reply in only a few minutes.

His guess was spot-on. A pop-up appeared on the screen, with the words: Not in a couple years, why? What are you thinking?

I think we need a vacation. We have plenty for it now that I’m not paying for the Mustang. I know I should be getting into the ‘Use-or-Lose’ levels of leave, too.

I’d have to ask work. And it’d have to be a few weeks down the road. But I like the idea! Where are you thinking of?

Let me put in the paperwork for it, and I’ll see if I’m clear, Marc responded. But how does Cali sound?

Not LA, Sunset said promptly, and Marc chuckled. Her second roommate at Stanford had been from Los Angeles and had caused Sunset no small amount of irritation. Yes, Rarity lived there and stayed in good contact with the both of them, but this was to be a personal trip, some true time for them to be together. Nah, too crowded. I have a better idea, Marc replied.

“San Diego?” Sunset asked, taking a seat as she passed a plate of chicken and broccoli to her husband. “It could be fun, actually.”

“That’s my thought,” Marc said, taking a stab at the breast before him and taking a good bite. “Got stuff to do, nice beaches. Good seafood,” he added, knowing her great love for fresh seafood. “We’d have a good time.”

Sunset considered the thought for a moment before giving an approving nod. “Yeah. Yeah, it’ll be fun. I say let’s go.”

“Cool. I’ve already got my pass paperwork put in, I don’t know what you need to do to get time off at the therapy center-”

“Neither do I, honestly,” Sunset said. “I don’t think I’ve asked for vacation time since I’ve been there. Have we really been working that much?”

Marc pulled a face. “I’d say, considering the circumstances of the past couple years? Yes.” He took another bite of chicken, letting the juice of the meat flow in his mouth. “Something else about San Diego, too. It’s got a Navy base there, too. So if we end up needing or anything, or –God forbid- something happens, we’ve got somewhere we can go for safety.”

“No trying to work on vacation, alright?” Sunset said firmly, pointing her fork at him. “I want some time alone with you- not you and whatever work they ask you to do.”

Marc snorted. “Like I’d ever try to bring work with me. I don’t even really wanna work now.”

Sunset became confused. “And what’s that mean?”

Marc sighed, finishing off his chicken breast. “Sunset, I’m fed up with this. My contract has barely a year left, I don’t want to do this for the rest of my life. I think… I think this contract will be it. No extension, no new contract, nothing. I’m ready to be done.”

There he had said it. The words long dormant within his mind had finally come forth, his frustrations and weariness no longer willing to remain dormant. Marc’s days as an NCO had been enough to convince him that this was not what he wanted for his future, nor for his wife’s.

Sunset smiled. “I was hoping that was what you’d choose,” she said. “So what’ll we do?”

Marc shrugged, unsure of an answer. “I’ll figure out something. I don’t have any college, but I can do blue-collar work- and I know I’ll get disability pay for the leg, so that’s something to help us a little way. I’ll have Veteran status too, so that’ll help. And you’re smart- I’ll throw my school benefits your way so you can finish your Master’s degree and that should be more than enough for you to get a good job, right?”

“A Doctorate would honestly be best in my field, but a Master’s should be good enough to get something stable,” Sunset said, nodding slightly. “Would we want to stay here in Savannah?”

“I say no,” Marc said with a shake of his head. “Not back home, either. Someplace new, where we can start over again. Maybe San Diego, I dunno!” he added, leaving Sunset giggling. “Charleston, maybe. New York, someplace nice. Where we both can succeed and have a good life. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Sunset said cheerfully. “And Marc?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

Marc smiled, devouring the last of his meal. “No problem, Sunset,” he said.

“Done.” A folder slapped the table before his face and Marc gave a jump. Big Mac walked by and flopped down at his computer, sinking into his seat. “CO signed it yesterday. Just remind me you’re leaving the day before you go.”

“Too easy,” Marc said excitedly, grabbing the folder and tearing out his leave form, looking at Captain Armor’s signature as though it were the handwriting of God. “Sign out at Staff Duty or the barracks?”

“Staff Duty,” Mac replied.

“And with that, the countdown begins,” Marc said triumphantly, heading to his car to deposit the paperwork, but not before grabbing his phone and sending one simple message:

California here we come.

The weeks did not pass quickly enough for his tastes. Each day began to feel like it dragged, the countdown towards their departure slow and ponderous. The more he anticipated the forthcoming adventure, the more it seemed to elude him. Each day felt as though a lifetime until finally, after the inevitable eon of waiting, Sergeant Reyes came to the desk at midnight and signed out on leave, joyously able to depart on his next adventure. Ten days of leave was all he could manage, but it was more time to rest, relax, and recuperate than he had been given in years. The long, slow wait was over. The holiday was to begin.

The morning was cooler than it had been in several days, Marc and Sunset taking a quiet Uber to the airport in the early morning as the sun began to rise. Marc couldn’t stop himself from laughing, imagining his friends and peers awakening for their morning PT. The atypical hatred for the dawn, the desire to be anywhere but work would be prevalent among them. Well, look where he was now!

“We got Pre-Check, so we should get in and out quick,” Marc said, leaving the airline’s desk and returning to his wife with tickets. “We’ve got almost an hour to go until they board, so I say we grab a quick nap.”

“Sounds good,” Sunset said listlessly, not even bothering to look at her husband.

Marc regarded his wife with confusion. “Something wrong?”

“I feel terrible,” she replied, her eyes still closed. “Let’s go. I want to sit down.”

Marc kept a dutiful eye on his wife as they continued on their journey. From going through security to boarding the plane his eyes remained open, continuously watching her for the most minute sign of something wrong. Sunset did little but rest and breathe, hardly able to look anywhere but the ground. Even as they boarded, Sunset immediately took a seat and took a bowed position, not bothering to say a word to her husband.

“That bad?” Marc said caringly, placing his hand on her shoulder.

“Hands off,” Sunset said, and Marc quickly relinquished his grip. “Just tell me when we get there.”

Marc grinned. Well, it was not the most ideal beginning to their journey, but the journey was to begin nonetheless. In a few minutes they were on the tarmac and then soon airborne, the jet racing high into the sky as they began the cross-country trek towards the west coast. As Marc continued to wake, and the reality truly set in, excitement filled his veins and left him abuzz. They were actually on vacation! So many things to do, and places to go! They had a magnificent city awaiting them, chock-full of activities and little adventures of their own. It would be more than enough to keep them occupied- and give them many ways to enjoy their time together. It would be a most magnificent adventure.

A sound rang through the plane’s intercom, and a voice crackled over the speakers. “Attention passengers, this is your captain speaking,” it said. “Just letting you know we’ll be keeping the seatbelt light on for a little while longer, we have some mild turbulence ahead that could last a little while. We’ll do our best to keep it comfortable for you.”

“Oh, God help me,” Sunset groaned, having hardly moved from her defeated position. “Please, just let it be over.”

Marc snickered, earning one well-shielded, yet vicious, glare from her eyes.

Soon enough the turbulence made its mark, sending the plane bouncing about in the skies. Sunset clutched her head frantically, beginning to sweat profusely and grabbing at the seat before her. “Please don’t, please don’t,” was all she could manage to say over and over again. Finally, unable to take it any longer, she retched, grabbing a bag from the seat back before her and beginning to be sick.

Marc laughed as the sound attracted attention from the rest of the plane, watching as Sunset’s face became more red than the deep crimson of her hair. As she shakily took the bag away from her mouth, Marc leaned over and whispered, “Having a good flight, are we?”

Sunset’s glare was venomous, and sharper then a fleet of daggers. “Say something else and I’ll stick my tongue in your mouth,” she replied dangerously.

Marc was immediately repulsed. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

“I will if you don’t shut up,” Sunset said, leaning back in her seat and giving a groan of misery. “Oh, just let this miserable flight be over please.”

The plane shook again and Sunset fell forward, grabbing another bag. It was to be a long flight.

The sky was a glorious mixture of pink, grey and orange as the two opened the door to their hotel room, their home on Coronado Island for the next week and a half. It was a plainly decorated, modern-style room with little more than a bed, a TV, and the usual comforts of basic furniture. But it was a welcome sight to the two of them, having endured a long trip from the other side of the country.

Sunset was still shaky, but the worst of the sickness had left her the moment they had departed the plane. Marc, visibly worried about his wife, encouraged her to head for the bed and close her eyes for a time, advising her that some rest would do her worn body good.

“I’m fine. Really, I feel much better,” Sunset pressed, pushing against Marc’s guiding hand.

“You were throwing up almost constantly for almost two hours,” Marc said sympathetically. “Lie down, get some rest, I’ll get you something to drink that won’t keep you sick. There’s gotta be a gas station around this hotel someplace.”

Sunset’s steely gaze met Marc’s ironclad eyes, battling out for dominance. Finally relenting, Sunset gave a defeated sigh and laid back against a cushy set of pillows. “Sorry this is how we kick it off,” she said miserably.

“It’s not your fault, pretty girl,” Marc said gently, squeezing his wife’s hand. “I’ll be back before too long, OK?”

“No goodbye kiss?” Sunset said playfully, and Marc visibly shuddered at the thought. “Just thought I’d ask.”

“Babe, just- eww.” Marc shook himself to rid his mind of the thought. “Be back as soon as I can. We’ll try again for some fun tomorrow.”

The sun was shining through the blinds, a sensation to which Marc was most unused to. Squinting as the light seemed to perfectly find his eyes, he stumbled over to the window and desperately tried to find a means of adding cover. “Stupid sun,” he grumbled.

Sunset awoke at her husband’s ill-tempered voice, shifting in her place on the bed to look. “Oh gosh,” she said, barely able to open her eyes as illness and sunlight struck her in full force. “Please just let me die.”

Marc turned about, surprised to find her awake already. “Feeling any better?” he asked.

Sunset shook her head. “Not yet,” she said woefully.

Marc sat down beside her, his heart hurting for his beloved. They had planned this trip for weeks, a romantic getaway for the ages in a faraway city to celebrate a restored marriage. Instead here they were, with Sunset too ill to even get up.

“You, uh, want me to go grab you some meds or something?” Marc asked, unsure of what to do next. His medical skills went as far as keeping a person alive so the more experienced could work their magic. Healing was a lost art to him.

“Just let me get back to sleep,” Sunset said. “It’s not as bad as yesterday. Just a late start, I think.”

Marc sat down at the desk, looking disappointed. He had planned a special breakfast for the two of them at a nearby café and had kept the visit a surprise. In secret, Marc had actually made several reservations for their trip in an effort to surprise his wife. Unfortunately, it seemed like their first might not even happen. “Do you just want to skip breakfast entirely?” he asked dully.

“I’ll be fine in a little while,” Sunset said. “I may just need a bit.”

Marc nodded, putting on his shoes and heading for the door. “I’ve got my phone in case you need anything,” he said, heading outside into the cool morning air.

The coast was unlike anything Marc had yet experienced. At first used to the heat of his hometown, and then the brutal southern heat of Fort Stewart and Savannah. But on the west coast, the magnificence of the morning was more than he had ever dreamed. The weather was pristine, cool and pleasant to the touch. The sun was already glowing in the sky, and hardly a cloud in sight. It was going to be a magnificent day to spend outside- if only Sunset would actually feel well enough to be out in it!

Marc’s steps took him as far as he could will himself to go, eventually relenting and turning back to the hotel, opening the door and hearing the sound of the TV on and finding Sunset in an upright position, looking far more at ease than he had anticipated. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah, actually. It just went away all of a sudden,” Sunset said cheerfully, setting down the remote. “How was your walk?”

“Good. This place is gorgeous,” Marc said, tossing his shoes into the corner. “I’d kill for this kind of weather all the time. Way more comfortable than Savannah.”

Sunset laughed. “Why else do you think so many people live here?”

“I can believe it. Gonna take a shower, be out in a bit.”

Though it had been a pleasant morning, Marc felt the grit and grime of sweat and dirt from their flight the day prior beginning to wash away, a pleasant comfort enveloping him as the warmth of the water cascaded down his body. All the stress of the past year, all the tension of his work and duties that kept him pensive began to fade as the reality of his present circumstances set in: he was really on leave, he was on vacation. He could relax and spend real time with his wife. It was wonderful to behold, it was-

The door to the shower opened and Marc gave a start as a head of crimson hair entered through the steam. “Sunset!” Marc could hardly believe it.

“Morning,” she said pleasantly, closing the door behind her. “What? I needed to get clean too.”

“I get that, I just didn’t expect- well, this,” Marc replied.

“Oh?” Sunset’s voice turned sultry. “Am I making you… uncomfortable?”

It was not the word he would have chosen. Whether by instinct or desire, Marc’s gaze was fixated upon her, watching as the water ran down her skin and caused it to shine in the light, every inch of her now sopping wet and steaming.

“Ooh, I feel so much better,” she said happily, running the water through her hair as her poor husband could do nothing but watch helplessly. “Feels so good to get clean. Doesn’t it, babe?”

“Yeah,” Marc rasped. He had seen the view more times than he could count, but could hardly bear to turn himself away.

“Excuse me.” Sunset leaned in close, nearly atop her husband as she reached past his shoulder for the soap, bringing a cascade of suds down her body. “Need any help? You look a little dirty.”

“Sure.” It was all Marc could manage; anymore and he would have likely lost his voice.

“I’ll help you in a bit. Just let me get done first, OK?” Sunset took her time with each movement, rubbing herself down in a glorious display that left her soaked husband absolutely raging- something she did not miss. “Something wrong?”

Marc took a breath, wondering how long he would be able to hold it together.

Sunset smiled, leaning down to clean her legs slowly, letting the soap and water flow down her exquisite legs-

And in that moment, Marc decided he simply couldn’t take it anymore. Sunset gave a shriek, and then hardly a word was said for a while.

Sometime later, the flow of water fell silent and the young couple exited, making their way back to the bed. Not a word passed between them as they put on their clothes for the day, silent as the TV was turned on and they took a seat, Sunset settling down rather gently.

Sunset looked over at her husband, who bore a grin wide enough to stretch from one side of his face to another. “Been waiting to try that?” she asked drily.

“Sort of,” he said. If the words were supposed to shame him, they had failed spectacularly.

“I wish you’d warned me.”

“You were trying to start something,” Marc protested.

“I wasn’t expecting for you to put your- nevermind.” Sunset shook her head, unable to think of further argument.

Silence reigned between them. Marc twitched. Sunset ran her fingers through her hair.

“Did you have a place in mind?” Sunset asked, determined to bring an end to the uncomfortable silence.

“Yes,” Marc answered.

“Then we should probably get going, shouldn’t we?”

“Yes.”

Sunset sighed, rising to her feet, standing before her husband and shaking her head wearily, a smile on her face. “Warn me next time, OK?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“… I’ll be up for it next time.”

“YES!”

The rest of the day passed by in a haze of memories and sunlight. Whether it was the food, the scenery, the people they met or the things they did, Marc and Sunset found the day more wonderful than they could ever have hoped for. Even if the trip had only been for a day it would have been enough to satisfy them, the beautiful coastal city welcoming the tired, happy couple into its arms. It was a day that they were not likely to forget, and a memory to recall when they were old and grey.

They saw the ocean, watching as the magnificent seas lapped against the sands and their toes as they walked along the shoreline. Taking their time along the pier was another adventure, perusing a small sea shack and having a small lunch above the waves, watching as both young old, veteran and newcomer took their rods to the seas below in the hopes of a bite. As the sun continued to rise they spent their time along the seaboard and eventually into the waves, the water cool and inviting as they waded. Though Marc was not much of a swimmer, Sunset took to the water joyously, relishing the feel of the salt against her skin. Her husband, quickly tiring, fell back to watch as she made her way through the surf, every move she made the pinnacle of elegance in his eyes. After they had dried, they returned to the hotel and cleaned up, Marc having made a dinner reservation on the mainland. They dined, they laughed and talked merrily, even as the sun fell and the moon began to rise on the eastern horizon. Eventually they grew tired and relented, unable to continue their adventure further.

As the two relaxed and watched the local baseball game on the TV, Sunset’s head began to bob back and forth, her eyes becoming more and more glazed with each passing moment. Finally, after her head struck her chest, she gave a cry of defeat and grabbed the covers. “That’s it, I’m done,” she said. “I’m going to bed, so turn it down if you’re gonna stay up.”

“Alright.” Marc muted the game, continuing to watch as a Padres player hit a blistering homerun over right field. Marc’s gaze flickered over to his exhausted wife, watching her steady breathing flow through her body, the rhythm comforting to his sight, a relaxing, peaceful thing to witness-

He yawned. “Screw this,” he muttered, turning off the TV and settling in himself.

The morning was serene, Marc waking up slowly as the sun’s light began to filter through the blinds on the window. He sighed, allowing the peace of the quiet dawn fill his very lungs, simply taking each breath as the simplest blessing. Eventually growing restless, he got to his feet and peered through out into the glorious morning, the sunlight dimmed by the morning fog. To some it was commonplace. To Marc, merely being alive to see it was a gift.

A groan from behind him. Marc turned to see Sunset getting out from beneath the covers, heading towards the bathroom in a stupor. “You alright?” he asked.

“Mmf,” was all the reply he received as she shut the door behind her, turning on the fan and essentially cutting off the rest of the world.

Marc slipped back into the covers and rested, closing his eyes and letting the time pass comfortably, a part of his mind wide awake and keeping tabs on the sound filtering through the door, wondering if he should be concerned or whether or not he should take her to a doctor. The Naval base was nearby- it wouldn’t be hard to get some sort of care.

Eventually the door opened and Sunset slipped into the sheets beside her husband and put her arms around him, her breathing heavy but gentle and slow.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Kinda,” she whispered. “I’m tired.”

“Then we’ll rest a bit,” Marc said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. “The morning can wait.”

The morning grew brighter and began to fade, the morning sun becoming the high noonday light as it crept closer and closer to the afternoon. Marc and Sunset, quite comfortable where they were, felt no great desire to depart from their place of comfort, though the sun continued to beckon and plead at their eyes until they could take it no longer and decided they would have to truly awaken.

“So what it going on with you?” Marc asked, putting his arms through his shirt and beginning to button it. “That’s the third day in a row you’ve been sick or felt sick. Do I need to get you to a doctor or something?”

Sunset sighed, unsure of an answer. “I don’t know,” she said frustratingly. “I feel terrible in the morning but it fades and then I feel fine the rest of the day. I don’t get it, I’ve been fine all day except mornings and it’s just nausea or throwing up, nothing else. I just-”

Sunset gave a gasp so great that Marc nearly jumped out of his skin. “What was that for?” he demanded angrily. “You gave me a heart attack, I thought someone was forcing their way through the door or something!”

“Quiet for a moment!” Sunset began counting on her fingers, mouthing words to herself that Marc could not make out. Sunset gave another gasp, sharp and quick as she brought her hands to her mouth. “Ohmygosh.”

“What?”

Sunset rose to her feet, albeit shakily. “Ohmygosh,” she said again, her voice faint. “I can’t- ohmygosh. I didn’t realize, we were both so occupied with other stuff- oh my gosh.” Her hands fell from her face, which had become stark white as clouds in the sky. “I need to borrow the car for a bit today,” she said. “I shouldn’t be gone too long. Is that alright?”

Marc was left thoroughly confused, at a loss at his wife’s suddenly erratic behavior. “What on earth are you going on about? You’re not making any sense to me.”

“Please, I just need to go somewhere- real quick! I shouldn’t have to be very long, I just need to go somewhere and check something, please!” Sunset pleaded, absolutely incensed by whatever idea had come to consume her.

“I mean, I guess- OK, bye,” Marc said, watching as Sunset grabbed the keys and sped out the door in a hurry. Opening the door behind her, he called, “And what am I supposed to do all day, huh? Just sit and wait for you?”

Marc found himself floundering as the absence of his beloved wife fell heavily upon his soul. So eager was he for her presence that every activity he partook in felt dulled and joyless, no matter what he did to excite himself. Everyplace he went felt devoid of life, every person was soulless and empty. It was as though Sunset’s absence gnawed at his very heart until he could feel neither joy nor the warmth of the sun.

Marc traveled listlessly across the island, walking along the seaboard and watching the waves, even finding a surf shack with ice cream that kept him comfortable and cool in the afternoon sun. It was truly a glorious place to be, though he hardly felt it. Soon finding a small brewery nearby, Marc busied himself with the drinking of ales and the company that passed in and out, as well as the business and affairs of the bartender, letting their words and stories take him away from his anxieties and loneliness. Even when he finally left he felt no joy nor happiness, craving the presence and warmth of his wife. Unable to take it any longer, Marc walked out onto the pier, hoping to cast his sadness and cares into the waves below. As he peered down into the waters, watching a man nearby struggle with his fishing rod as others called cheers and encouragement, Marc felt his pocket vibrate and a familiar jingle reached his ears.

He picked up immediately, eager to hear her voice. “Hey! How’s everything?” he asked.

The other end of the line was silent for a moment, the sound of wind and waves meeting his ears. Finally, as though from a distance, he heard Sunset saying, “Where are you?”

“I’m out on the pier,” he answered. “Are you alright? What did they say?”

“I need you to come back to the room, OK?” Sunset said. “I- I just- I don’t really know how to say it.”

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Marc demanded, his voice rising and catching the attention of those around him.

“Just come back, alright? I’ll explain when you get here,” Sunset said flatly, unwilling to speak further.

Marc gave a sigh, exasperated at her tight lips. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said. “I might be a bit, I’ve gotta walk my way back.”

Marc tried to keep a steady pace. He walked for a time, trying to keep his emotions in check. If she was truly sick, she would have told me, he counseled himself. If something was really wrong, she would have let me know right off the bat. She’s fine. All his thoughts and wise counsel did nothing to avail him, and Marc soon found himself racing down the seaboard to his hotel, nearly crashing through the door and finding a pensive Sunset awaiting him.

“What’s happened? Is it cancer? A blood disease? Something else, just tell me!” Marc pleaded, grabbing hold of her so tightly that Sunset flinched.

“Marc- Marc, listen to me!” she said, relinquishing herself from his grip and distancing herself. “Maybe… Maybe you should take a seat, OK?”

Marc made his way over to the bed and took a seat, appearing nowhere close to being placated. “What’s wrong? Are you gonna be OK?”

“I’m going to be fine, I’m just-” Sunset hesitated, appearing at a total loss for words. “Marc, I really don’t know what to say…”

“Oh God help me, you’re going to die,” Marc said, rising back to his feet. “What happened to you, who did this-”

“Marc- really, sit down. I’m going to be alright. I’m going to live for a very long time, I just…” Sunset’s words failed her once again and she began to pace back and forth before her husband. “Marc, are you willing to listen to me for a bit?”

“What’s wrong?” Marc demanded again.

“Nothing’s wrong. So, umm- you remember a few weeks back, when we were in Savannah for a weekend, we had a little mini-vacation?” Sunset asked.

“I do. Best sex I ever had.”

Sunset laughed, her voice still high-pitched and anxious. “Yeah, it was for me, too, honestly… but, umm, something was supposed to happen that week that didn’t, and I really didn’t think about it until just recently.”

“What was supposed to happen?”

Sunset bit her lip. “Marc, I missed my period. I didn’t even notice, I was so occupied with you finally being better, but I missed my period. It was supposed to be that Monday, if I was right.”

Marc, who had been prepared for the news of fatal diseases and incurable cancers, was taken absolutely by surprise. “What?” he breathed.

“I went onto the Naval base and got a test done. Twice, actually,” Sunset said, rattling around in her purse and pulling forth a small pregnancy test from her purse. I did one on my own just to be sure. Both mine and the doctor's were positive.”

Marc was shaking his head by instinct, fully at a loss for word. “That’s not possible,” he said flatly. “You told me yourself. You couldn’t get pregnant, there was too much internal scarring from when your powers overloaded. Your body isn’t able to get pregnant.”

“They said it was unlikely that I would get pregnant,” Sunset said. “Almost impossible. But… Marc, I’m pregnant. We’re gonna have a baby.”

Marc’s jaw remained opened, completely slack with shock as his wife’s words fully sank in. pregnant. A child, a real child, his child, was going to come forth into the world. A living, breathing, screaming and crying human child was going to be born into the world, and it would be one to call his own. After the years of trying and hoping and simply no longer believing, the unexpected, the utterly unlikely, the completely impossible had actually happened.

Marc felt his weight shift and turned to see Sunset sitting next to him, the smallest hint of a smile upon her face. “Are you OK?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said breathlessly. “Just- you’re going to have a baby. Holy crap…”

“I am. I really am,” Sunset said, her smile growing until it became infectious, a glorious glowing thing that shone more brightly than the morning sun. “We’re going to have a baby, Marc. It’s actually going to happen.”

The two sat together until Marc could stand it no longer, he sweeping his wife off her feet and twirling her about as Sunset could hardly contain her laughter of sheer delight, the two laughing and crying as their long-awaited dream had finally come to pass.

We’re going to have a baby.

Author's Note

If there was ever a 'win' that needed to happen, I think this was it. I'm glad that this is the longest chapter the story has had yet. They deserve it.

First off, happy New Year, everybody! Sorry for the lack of updates, I've been busy trying to get ready to leave the Army (I've got three days left, so I'm damn close) and preparations for life afterwards, so my apologies for the lack of content. I honestly haven't had much time for it. I should have updates for this story, along with Love Letters of the Princess of the Sun coming along regularly for the rest of 2019, as well as an announcement sometime this year. Likely when this story comes to a close.

On another note, I don't think I've written so much sex before.

Comments and corrections below, as always. Enjoy, everybody!

Chapter Nine: What It Costs

“Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.”

– Ursula K. Le Guin, The Lathe of Heaven

The boardwalk along Belmont Park was packed to the brim with people of every shape and form, crowded together as they walked, biked, ran and made their way across the streets and into the shops or the sands of the seashore, a cacophony of noise and sound that deafened the ears of those nearby. Through the midst of it a young couple walked hand in hand, enjoying the company of one another as the crowd of humanity pushed against them.

“How’re you feeling? Need to take a rest?” Marc asked, looking down at his wife with concern. His brief years upon the earth had not yet brought him into the whirlwind of pregnancy yet, nor one as close to him as his wife. Every day he plied her with questions, eager to care for her wellbeing.

Sunset laughed, taking a sip of her drink and tossing it into the nearby trashcan. “Really, Mark, I’m fine. I’m still early,” she said gently. “You can stop worrying.”

“Really? After this morning where you spent a good half-hour headfirst in a toilet bowl? You want me to not worry,” Marc said.

“Yes, I do,” Sunset replied, “because though you are very sweet, your worrying can get annoying. It’s pregnancy, Marc. It’s going to be a long nine months if you don’t learn to relax.”

Marc nodded but still appeared unconvinced. Nevertheless he remained silent, the two continuing their stroll down the boardwalk, surrounded by the masses of humanity that teemed along the shoreline.

“It’s so weird,” he remarked.

“What is?”

Marc pulled a face, attempting to gather his thoughts. “It’s- we’re still at war. Not like the days when we were kids, but a big, massive war- and people are still here acting like it’s peacetime. Just doesn’t seem real to me.”

Sunset peered about the boardwalk. A spare few signs for military recruitment, a few propaganda posters against the Crystal Empire, and a few sailors walking along and enjoying their time off. But Marc was right- it was if the war had never come to these shores. “Discord’s last attack was only two years ago,” she said. “And in LA, too, not far from here. You’d think people would be more nervous.”

“The war’s over to these people,” Marc said. “To them it’ll just be a bunch of videos and news clippings.”

The sunny day had become somewhat darkened by their words, the midday sunlight above suddenly starting to dim. Sunset felt the tension in her husband’s grip, the sudden unease he felt as thoughts and memories of horrors beyond reckoning began to swirl through his brain. It was as though she could see the virulent strain growing in his mind, vicious and cruel as it taunted him. He needed to be shook from it.

“Come on, there’s an open bench up ahead. I could use a rest,” Sunset said briskly, quickening her pace and tugging on her husband’s hand.

“Hm? Yeah, sure,” Marc said, the disquiet he possessed lessening as his senses returned to reality, the cloud within starting to dissipate. “You al-”

Sunset shot him a piercing look that spoke of her exasperation-

“You’re fine,” Marc said calmly, raising his hands in surrender.

“You will seriously need to learn how to calm down,” she said, shaking her head with disdain. “How are you ever going to survive being a father?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, his countenance beginning to fall. “It- it just hasn’t really set in yet.” He peered off out into the waves, his gaze traveling beyond the horizon and not looking back. “I’m going to be a father.”

“You’re going to be a good father,” Sunset reminded, already guessing where his thoughts would be heading. “Because there’s more good in your little finger than there ever was in your father’s whole body. Don’t you ever forget it.”

“I know. I’ll be better than he was just because I’ll do whatever it takes to not be like him. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be a good parent. It just means I won’t be what he was.”

“So what do you mean?”

Marc’s gaze stirred, glancing over at his wife before trailing down at his feet. “It’s… it just needs to be more than that, you know?” he said. “I don’t want my life to be about doing everything I can to not be Estevan. I can’t spend my life doing a comparison between the two of us. I want to be good- truly good, not… not just in comparison to him. But good because I truly am.”

“And you are,” Sunset said encouragingly. “You’re more than anyone would have dreamed of you. You’re such a far cry from your old life that you’d be unrecognizable if you went back now.”

“It’ll never be good enough,” he said softly. Taking note of her concerned expression, he gave a laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s not anything bad. I just- I want that part of my life to be something small. Insignificant in the whole story. Not a chapter, just a small little blip on the radar. I want to be… defined by something, well, greater. I want to be something worth being. Something worth- emulating, I guess.”

“Start by being you,” Sunset said. “The best version of you that you can be. You’re already making your way.”

“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be,” Marc said. “Or even what it all means.”

“I don’t think anyone does, really,” Sunset said with a laugh in her voice. “We just, sort of, find our way through. Like muddling our way through the dark. Stumbling about, but eventually we find the light.”

“That’s a pretty optimistic way of looking at things,” Marc remarked. “Are you sure that it’s the right way of seeing things?”

“I know it’s right,” she said confidently. “You’re proof of it. And, just so you know, you already are worth emulating.”

Marc’s darkened mood flickered away and the sun regained its light, the joy of the afternoon with its revelry and happiness weaving its way through the masses. Giving a sigh, Sunset leaned over and rested against her husband, comforted by the steady sound of his heart pulsing within his chest.

“I’m glad you’re with me, Sunset,” he said simply.

“So am I.”

The afternoon passed them by like a heartbeat, fast, momentary, and fleeting. It was not long before they watched the sun set and the desire for food overtook them. The two departed from the beach and headed inland, making their way through the city and watching as the shadows of the sun filtered through the skyline and the darkness became inundated with the pinpricks of manmade light. It was a lovely night, peaceful and calm as the moon rose and cast its glow down upon the seaside city, the young couple letting the night fall deeply upon them until they could bear it no longer. Sunset was the first to falter, nodding off as they drove back to their hotel on the island.

“You can just go to sleep, you know,” Marc said, keeping an eye on the driver ahead of them as the bridge began to unravel before them, a towering serpent of cement across the darkened waters.

“I’ll wait,” Sunset replied, her voice low with exhaustion. It had been a long day. “I’ll sleep better if I wait till we get back. Besides, I still need a shower.”

“I call dibs.”

Sunset gave him a look of displeasure as he began to grin. “Jerk.”

“Slowpoke,” he replied.

The hotel bed seemed to draw them in from the moment they stepped foot into the room, Marc doing his best to resist its call as he made his way into the bathroom and turning on the shower. Sunset, however, hardly seemed to put up a fight and crashed upon the bed, her eyes gazing about listlessly as she waited for her husband to finish up.

Before too long the sound of rushing water came to a halt, followed by the sound of footsteps upon tile as a wet-faced Marc returned to view, drying himself off with a small towel. “It’s all yours. Come on, let’s get to bed,” he said.

“Marc?”

“Yeah?”

Sunset’s gaze began to harden, waking somewhat as a thought wormed her way into her brain. “Can- can I ask you something?”

Marc shrugged, reaching for a pair of boxers. “What’s up?”

“What happened to us?” Sunset asked.

Marc paused his efforts, one leg halfway in a pair of pajama pants. “What does that mean?”

“Why’d we let things get so wrong between us? We were –are- better than that,” Sunset said, rising up to a sitting position. “What happened to us that what… what happened was OK?”

Marc thought it over and gave a simple shrug of his shoulders. “War happened,” he said simply. “Bad things happen and they happened to us. All there is to it.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy though,” Sunset countered. “Think about it, Marc. Before you left were fine- nearly flawless. Do you remember how we talked to one another before you enlisted? We’ve never been able to go back to that.”

“We probably never will. It just is, Sunset. We’re not kids anymore and the world’s changed. We changed right along with it.”

“And that’s fine with you?” Sunset asked.

“Well… no,” Marc admitted. “But it’s done and over with. No point worrying about it now.”

“That’s it? Because we’re fine now you think it’s just going to stay that way? Marc, come o- listen to me!”

“I am listening to you,” he said defensively. “I just don’t want to start a fight when we’re both in a good mood. Come on, babe, we’re on vacation in a great city, you’re pregnant, I’m here- it’s more than we could’ve asked for. Why are you getting so bothered about something that’s over and done with?”

“Because I don’t ever want to go back to that again-”

“And we won’t!” Marc said in a huff, turning his back to her as he reached for a worn-out t-shirt on the dresser.

“Marc, will you- forget this,” Sunset muttered, casting out her hand-

Marc didn’t see it until he ran into it- a brilliant, emerald-green barrier the size of a door blocking his path to his own clothing. He gave a snarl, turning back to his wife who was staring at him, her cyan eyes absolutely afire.

“Take it away! You know someone could see you!” Marc said.

“Don’t turn your back on me!” she said heatedly. “You’d never let one of your soldiers ever do that to you, don’t give me that sort of disrespect!”

“Turn it off, Sunset! You’re not my mother.”

“I’m not. I’m your wife,” she said sharply, giving a snap of her fingers and extinguishing the barrier in an instant. “So when I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you it means I want your help. Don’t just push me aside just because you don’t want to deal with it!”

“Of course I don’t want to deal with it. I want to go to bed!” Marc said angrily. “I am tired. I am worn out. Just stop and get a shower so we can go to bed!”

“Until we get this figured out, we’re gonna stay up and fight. I don’t want to go back to those days, so I want to know where we went wrong.”

“What went wrong?” Marc was incensed. “I’ll tell you what went wrong. You didn’t want anything to change! You thought I was just going to go off to war, kill people and watch my friends get torn up and just shrug it off like it never happened. You wanted me to just act like none of it ever happened. And when I started having trouble you just made it worse!”

“I wanted comfort- I needed you to be back!” Sunset fired back. “I thought I could never have a child- that my own screw-ups from when we were kids had done so much damage that I was barren- forever!” Her eyes, still blazing, began to swim with tears. “I didn’t know how to cope, and I needed your help. I waited nearly a year before I told anyone because I wanted to make sure you were OK.”

Marc averted his gaze, unable to see his wife’s distress without feeling a measure of guilt.

“Marc, I am sorry- I am sorry I didn’t notice something was wrong right from the beginning, but, but I never thought you’d- you’d already gone through so much. I didn’t think you would struggle, and I am sorry I wasn’t there for you the moment it happened. I know I made it worse, and if you’d just asked for help I would’ve been there. I would’ve…” Sunset bowed her head and shook her waves of crimson hair as she paused to take a breath. Suddenly she whipped up and glared daggers at her husband, more incensed than Marc had ever seen her. “You never asked for help! The entire time you just pushed everyone away, pretended like nothing was wrong! You even tried to help Collie but wouldn’t let anyone help you! I tried to get you to talk to me, to just say anything- but you wouldn’t let anyone in!”

“I know!” Marc shouted. “I am aware of what I did wrong, and, and- don’t you think that haunts me? That I don’t regret everything I ever shouted at you, or did, or- or all of it! Every time I think about it I just- God, Sunset, I hate the memory of it! I went to war so you would never have to see it, do you think I’m proud that I brought some of it back with me? Who I almost became? No! It’s sickening, I-”

Marc suddenly found himself at a loss for words, crashing against the nearby armchair and falling to the ground. His eyes became misty as the horde of terrible memories came before his eyes in a whirlwind of pain and wrath. “Sunset, you’re- you’re my best friend. The first person, the only person, I have ever truly loved. Hurting you in any way… it’s not what I ever want to do- ever. I just… I was afraid,” he admitted lowly. “Afraid of just about everything. Nothing felt right, and I didn’t know how to make it any better.” He shook his head, taking a hand across his face to push the water away. “Why’d you have to do this? I don’t wanna fight- not you.”

“And I don’t either,” Sunset said, sliding down off the bed and sitting across from her husband. “I should’ve thought of a better way to do this. I’m sorry.”

Marc looked about the room before landing upon his wife and giving a small laugh. “It was your turn to start a fight, anyway,” he said.

Sunset smiled in reply, letting the silence fill the gap between them as the night continued to press on. “Marc, I know we can’t ever go back.”

“That’s on me,” he said. “I chose this for us, and… I wish I hadn’t.”

“You did it because it was right. Because you’d changed too much to just hide away,” Sunset said. “We’d promised each other that we’d drive one another to do better- be better.”

“I don’t think we did a very good job,” Marc replied. “It’s been rough.”

“We’re still together, though. Through it all we somehow made it together. That should count for something.”

“We broke our promise. A lot of fights, yelling, and just…” Marc sighed in defeat. “So much for that promise.”

“Do you regret it?” Marc looked up at her in confusion. “Choosing me? Loving me? Marrying me?”

“And what kind of silly question is that?” he retorted.

“Then we trade that broken promise in for a new one,” Sunset said firmly. “That no matter what, we don’t give up- not one ourselves, not on each other. That we promise to keep pushing, even when we don’t want to- and there’s going to be days we’ll want to do just that.”

“We don’t need to,” Marc replied. “You know why?” He smiled and held up a golden band on his finger. “Cause we already did. No more childhood promises, Sunset. Just a commitment to what we already have. To make it good- and each day better than the one before.”

Sunset smiled, shuffling over to sit beside her husband. The two gazed at one another, the fire and rage they once bore having extinguished, his tired brown eyes staring right into her hope-filled gaze that shown like stars.

“What?” he asked.

“I just couldn’t have said it any better myself,” she said. “Proud of you.”

Marc chuckled. “Thanks, Sunset.” He leaned over and put his arm around her, giving his wife a comforting squeeze. “Are you still mad at me, or are we friends again?”

Sunset laughed, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “We never stopped.”

The days went by quickly- too quickly for Marc’s liking. The return to reality loomed ahead of him like a great chasm, a mighty wall that blocked his path into a normal life. His stomach filled with dread as he thought of it- morning formations, back-breaking work in the scorching heat and humidity, the miserable hours. Every time the thought began to churn his insides, he turned to look at his wife and found a smile on her face, a glowing grin reserved just for him and he would smile in return. Eventually, Marc found a peace within. No matter what, she was at his side, and that would be more than enough to help him through.

The morning for their departure came quickly, and soon the two found themselves working through airport security and headed for the terminals.

“We got through quick. I didn’t expect it to go so fast,” Marc remarked. “How much time have we got till the flight?”

Sunset checked her phone before glancing at the tickets in her hand. “Almost an hour. We’ve got time to kill.”

“Not really what I intended, but alright,” he said. “Want to grab something to eat?”

“I’m good,” Sunset said flatly, the memories of their incoming flight still vivid in her mind. I think I’ll let the Dramamine be on its own for a while-”

Her words were interrupted by a ringing in Marc’s pocket, a loud screeching noise that was loud enough to garner curious glances from passerby. “Marc, what is that?”

Her husband’s face, once relaxed and at ease, suddenly was ill-composed. “Military contact,” he said quietly, pulling out his phone and staring at the name. “It’s Mac.”

“What’s he calling for-”

“Hold on,” Marc said, answering the phone and bringing it to his ear. “What’s needed?”

“Where are you?” Mac’s voice was thick, filled to the brim with tension.

“The airport. Why, what’s going on?”

“Get to a TV. I’ll text you the details.”

Mac hung up immediately after, Marc hardly able to make sense of his words before the line went dead, leaving the young couple in their confusion.

“What did he say?”

“Get to a TV,” Marc said hurriedly, already walking off towards a nearby restaurant. “Come on!” As he got nearby, he motioned to the bartender to attract attention. “Hey! Turn it to a news channel, please!”

Sunset, having been in a cheerful mood all morning, suddenly felt a great disquiet in her stomach. Something was not right, Big Mac had been too brief for it to be something simple.

As the channel changed, the TV suddenly displayed the face of the President, standing at a podium and looking grim-faced as he continued to speak. “The Crystal Empire’s fall is coming- no matter how hard they try to avail themselves. However, as the fight towards the heart of the Empire continues, more and more of our brave men and women continue to fall in battle. The longer this conflict continues, the greater harm will befall our soldiers. In an effort to bring a swift conclusion, the order has been given for additional troops to be sent in order to aid in the fight. To aid the 101st Airborne in their march towards the Imperial heartlands, the esteemed 3rd Infantry Division will be sent forth once more, now fully rearmed and ready for combat operations.”

Sunset gave a gasp of horror, turning to her husband with a stricken look upon her face that was too terrible for words.

Marc went rigid. His mind flew to the past, cascading through nightmares and memories far better left buried. The sounds of the real world left him, now surrounding him with the sounds of explosions, screams, and gunfire unceasing. It was happening all over again.

He was going back to war.

Author's Note

First arc is almost over. One more chapter and then the second will begin.

... I'm sorry that this has to happen. I really am. But there's one last fight to finish. And it has to be seen through by one who can see it done.

Comments and corrections below.

Chapter Ten: Look Around You

Halfway down the trail to hell

In a shady meadow green,

Are the souls of all dead troopers camped

Near a good old-time canteen

And this eternal resting place

Is known as Fiddler's Green…

-Fiddler’s Green, U.S Army Cavalry Journal, 1923

One month till Departure

The return flight was silent, neither of them too shocked, or too frightened, to have anything to say. No gestures of reassurance, no words of comfort, just a cold emptiness that sat between them like a predator ready to strike.

Sunset refused to look at her husband. At first he supposed it anger against him for his inevitable departure, but as time passed, Marc began to realize the truth. It was fear of what he could possible become. From her point of view, she may well see a corpse.

“We’ll find out more about what’s going on when we get back,” Marc said quietly, about halfway through their final flight in. “We barely know what’s going on.” Sunset didn’t even move, not the smallest hint she had heard him.

Marc sighed, opening up his phone and looking at the text Mac had sent him:

BDE says we’re leaving in a month, headed for Camp Mattis on the Hungary-Romania border. No official word but rumor says we’re not going to be part of the Bucharest invasion. Biggest thing I’ve heard so far is that we’re going after Discord himself.

Everyone’s been called back from leave. CO hasn’t told me whether or not you’re gonna go, but he wants a meeting with you, me, him, and 1SG, so they’re gonna try to send you.

Let me know when you get back in.

‘Busy’ was not the word Marc would have used to describe the upcoming situation. ‘Absolute chaos’ was more likely to be fitting. A month of time to have every soldier ready to deploy, have all equipment packed and shipped, every weapon made ready, not to mention the absurd amount of smaller details that he was forgetting… the next month was to be monumentally terrible.

But would he even go? Cpt. Armor knew that Marc was on the non-deployable list, but if he wanted a meeting with the chain of command, then the odds that they would be trying to send him anyway was likely.

Of course she’s pregnant now, he thought. Right when I may be leaving again. He felt a rage in his blood that sent his body boiling. The timing could not have been worse.

The flight landed and the two were soon off back to their home, hardly a word passing between them as they made the return journey. Sunset remained stoic, even as they came home and began to unpack. The night began to fall and still she said nothing. Marc cooked a quick meal for the two of them and Sunset said nothing as they ate until she could take it no more-

“Why are they going to send you?!” she cried, rising to her feet, her crimson hair giving the impression that her very body was afire. “Haven’t you done enough in this? What more does this world need from you?”

Marc sighed. “It’s about experience. I’m one of the few people who was there at Almeria and made it all the way through still intact. There’s only four of us from King Troop still left- me, Mac, First Sergeant, and CO.”

“That doesn’t justify sending you! You’re not even supposed to be able to deploy at all!” Sunset looked on the verge of tears, so great was her anger.

“Cpt. Armor wants to meet with me, so I guess they’re gonna try to take me off the non-deployable roster,” Marc said. “They’ll need written approval from a medical professional too, so they’ll have to ask Cadance whether or not she agrees with it.”

“And if she says yes? What will you do?” she pushed.

Marc gave a heaving sigh, burying his face in his hands. “I don’t know, Sunset,” he admitted. “I’m not gonna have time to think about it, I’m just gonna have to- decide.” He looked up at her. “What do you want me to tell them?”

“To tell them no! That you don’t need to go back! Look at what you’ve already had to go through, you don’t need more suffering!”

“And then someone else has to go suffer. Someone who doesn’t know Bright, or Rumble and Featherweight. They won’t know my guys like I do, they may not even have the experience to lead them safely.”

The reality of the fact was enough to make Sunset stumble. “I know, but- why does it always have to be you? Why do you need to be right in the thick of every fight the world has? Can it just be enough?” she pleaded.

“I… I don’t WANT to go, babe, I just…” Marc sighed again. “Dammit, couldn’t they have just let us watch this one from the sidelines? I don’t want to go but I know that if they ask me whether or not I can fight-”

“Don’t you dare,” Sunset snarled.

“-Then I’m going to say yes,” he finished. “Sunset, it’s the truth. I can go back. I may not want to but I can go back.”

“You don’t know that. You’ve barely been back here,” she said. “Do you not remember how long it took for you to come back last time? What happens if I lose you in the fight again, but this time no one can drag you out? What if you go and this time you come back in a coffin?”

“Neither one is gonna happen,” Marc said firmly.

“You don’t know that. Marc, it’s bigger than just you or me now. If it’s another year-long deployment than you’re going to come back and see your child- your child!” Sunset said. “And that baby will need a father, one that is whole and here. Not one that was never able to leave the fight behind.”

“I know, Sunset,” Marc said wearily. “But if I don’t go, then who? Someone else’s son? Somebody else’s husband, someone else’s father? Do you want me to live with that?”

“I want you alive- alive and whole,” Sunset replied. “This isn’t about trying to be a hero, it’s about being where you need to be.”

“I need to do what’s right! And if that means going to war one last time and seeing it done, then so be it! I can’t-”

“Marc, just do it!” Sunset pleaded.

“I can’t be a coward and turn my back on this! Sunset, we’ve had this conversation already!” Marc said. “You ask me to be a better person, a better man, but then you turn around and tell me to do the exact opposite. I have to do the right thing because I need my conscience to be at peace with itself. Don’t ask me to do something I can’t do!”

Sunset gave a groan and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. “Absolutely infuriating,” she muttered. “Not because you’re stubborn but because I know you’re right and I hate it!”

“I don’t want to be right,” Marc said defensively. “Trust me, I don’t wanna go- but if I believe I can throw myself back into the fight then I’m going to go and finish this.”

“Do you have any doubts that you might have another panic attack?” Sunset pressed. “Any at all?”

“I mean- a little,” he said. “It’s always on my mind.”

“And what if you have one right in the middle of a firefight? What good are you going to be able to do?” Sunset pressed. “If they ask you whether or not you’re mentally ready to fight again, you need to be able to answer that question.”

“I’m aware,” Marc replied. “And I’ll- be able to. I know.” He sighed again, slumping back in his chair with an air of absolute dejection. “I wish I didn’t have to do this anymore.”

Sunset could only give him comfort, coming by his side and taking him in her arms as their reality continued burning to the ground.

29 Days till Departure

Marc hadn’t been in Cpt. Armor’s office since he had been asked to deal with Collie nearly a year ago. The place was tidier than, Cpt. Armor having not yet truly moved in to the office that once belonged to Captain Dyke. Now strewn across the table were various folders and records of soldiers, trinkets and tokens of a warrior’s life, various pictures and mementos of home. It was more than Marc cared to know about, or even knew how to deal with.

Cpt. Armor sat before him and Mac at his side, while First Sergeant Iron Will stood behind the pair, all of them having been summoned to the meeting earlier that morning by the Commander. No one tried to beat around the bush or pretend they didn’t know what had brought it about. They all knew.

Cpt. Armor sighed, listlessly going through a folder of paperwork that sat before him, Marc seeing his name on nearly every paper that was filed through. It was a hefty list of counselings and health reports, most having been in the last eight months, though a few had been prior to that. It was not something he was particularly proud of.

“Sergeant Reyes, you know why I’m wanting to talk to you,” Cpt. Armor said heavily. “At least, I’m assuming you do.”

“You’re wanting me to deploy with the Troop,” Marc guessed.

Cpt. Armor nodded. “You’re one of our most experienced NCO’s and that’s not something I want to devalue, nor push aside. We all know what you’ve been going through, but if there’s a chance that you’ve come along far enough to be allowed to return to combat, I wanted to discuss with you those options.”

“This isn’t the time to lie or bluff, Sergeant,” First Sergeant said, typically a calmer and more rational person than his countenance suggested. “You’re a helluva soldier and if I have you as one of my NCO’s then we’ve got one helluvan asset. But if you’re not going to be able to deal with going back, we need to know. I can’t afford to find out on the battlefield.”

“Sergeant Mac, how has he been faring these past few months?” Cpt. Armor inquired. “Is there anything to suggest that he isn’t fit for deployment?”
Sergeant Mac shook his head. “No sir. Always been a good worker, but overall attitude and countenance has improved the past several months. Reyes has been doing better.”

“And Sergeant Reyes? Anything to add?”

Marc bit his lip, filtering through his thoughts slowly and tediously as he dissected each and every idea and opinion he had as he tried to conjure the most truthful, most rational answer he could manage.

“Your last report, as per your counseling reports,” Cpt. Armor said, reading from a piece of paper, “Suggest that your overall mental health and wellbeing has been improving steadily. And that your self-perception has become more positive as well, with fewer negative traits being on display. Is that true?”

Slowly, but certainly, Marc nodded. “If you need me, sir, I can fight. I can do this,” he said.

“If I had you take a psychiatric evaluation, say, tomorrow, would you pass it?” Cpt. Armor inquired.

“I believe so, sir.”

“Believe… or know?” First Sergeant asked.

“I know, First Sergeant,” Marc said firmly. “I’ve gotten better. The nightmares have stopped, I generally feel better. I’m not going to be a danger to anyone but the enemy.”

“How’s your wife feel about you going?”

Marc grimaced. “Unhappy about it, as I am, but we both know it’s the right thing to do. I won’t lie, sir, I really wish we weren’t going. But if the Troop is going, then I’m going to be there with them to see it through.”

Cpt. Armor mulled it all over, gazing down at his desk as he considered every option. “All right, then,” he said. “Sergeant Reyes, tomorrow you report to Behavioral Health for an evaluation. If they see nothing wrong, then I’m going to get you on the Deployable roster. Afterwards, I’m going to make a push to get the both of you promoted. Brigade is wanting to fill whatever gaps every unit has, and right now they’re looking at Knight Troop and they want both platoons lead by a Sergeant First Class, along with at least once Staff Sergeant. Right now, they want to replace you both with someone else- not gonna happen.”

“Can that even happen, sir?” Sergeant Mac asked.

“They certainly want someone new in, but I’m not gonna have it. You two are way too experienced in your current positions for me to let you get replaced. I’m going to try and get you up to the rank your position requires and see if that solves it.”

“What do you need us to do in the meantime, sir?” Marc asked.

“Work like hell,” Cpt. Armor said. “Make sure our new soldiers are ready. Have all our things ready to be shipped off by next week. It’s going to suck, but we’re gonna get it done.” Cpt. Armor took to his feet. “SRP is in two days, gentlemen. That’s when it starts for real.”

20 Days to go

To little surprise, Marc passed his psychiatric evaluation with ease, and was immediately put back on the roster for deployment. A day later, he and Sergeant Mac were promoted before the Troop- Staff Sergeant Mac to Sergeant First Class, and Marc to Staff Sergeant, as well as First Platoon’s role of Top Scout. Almost immediately they found their hands full with a veritable multitude of tasks. Soldiers to prepare, gear to be checked, packing lists to be made, vehicles and equipment to be stored and shipped off, wills to be checked and verified, not to mention their own personal lives that needed to be sorted. The chaos that was coming, as of now, felt insignificant to the chaos in which they dwelled.

Three days before their bags were to be packed in the connexes, Marc found himself in his living room standing over a small mountain of gear and equipment, a piece of paper in hand. “Sunset! Come on, I need your hand with this!”

“I’m coming. Calm down, it’s not going to take all night.” Sunset appeared from the hall, her expression grumpy. As the days rolled by, a barely noticeable bump had begun to form over her belly, the first hint that a newfound life was indeed forming within her. To Marc, it was both an exciting and terrifying prospect.

“Come on. It’s gonna be a pain to pack all this, so I want to get it done now,” Marc said, handing her the paper and turning to face his gear. “Alright, let’s do this. What’s the first item?”

“Your assault pack,” she said, peering down at the list.

“Right there. Got all my pens and pencils in it, too,” he replied.

“Pair of underwear and socks?”

“Two of each,” he answered. “Just in case.”

“Headlamp?”

“And a pack of batteries.”

For nearly an hour they continued, working down through the list. The smallest details were counted, each amount needed perfectly filled, along with a few extra items Marc considered worth carrying. When they were finally done came the real struggle- actually packing everything. Huffing and puffing, struggling against a zipper on the breaking point, Marc finally managed to close his bags and tossed them in a corner, to be left untouched until the day came for them to be shipped away.

“Well, good riddance to that crap,” Marc said happily. “I’m gonna have to go over the guys’ stuff tomorrow to make sure we’re all good… You alright?”

Sunset had come to a standstill at the entrance to the living room, a hand over her mouth as the hint of tears grew in her eyes. “It’s actually real,” she whispered. “You’re really going to go.”

“Sit down for a bit,” Marc advised, settling down on the ottoman and reaching for her hands. “Come on. Relax for a bit.”

“I’m fine, Marc, really,” she said thickly, settling down beside him. “It’s just actually starting sink in, that’s all.”

“You gonna be OK while I’m gone?” he asked. “I mean, you’re not really going to be alone this time.”

Sunset laughed, glancing down at her growing baby bump. “It’ll give me something to look forward to, at least,” she replied. “I’ll find ways to manage. And I know what to expect this time around.”

“Are you still mad at me for leaving?”

“Well… a little,” she admitted. “But I’m proud of you for going anyway. I don’t think I would’ve married you if you were the kind of man who’d run from a fight.”

“Lord knows I want to,” Marc replied, causing her to laugh. “Thanks, pretty girl. Hey, actually- hold on for a second.”

“What is it?”

“Stay here,” he said, turning towards the hall and disappearing for a minute, before reappearing with a green notebook in his hands. “I want you to have this.”

“An Army notebook?” Sunset said, appearing confused as she began to flip through the pages-

“Don’t open it!” Marc cried, slamming it shut on her fingers. “Not yet, alright? When I’m gone, and only when I’m gone.”

“What have you got in here that’s so secret?” Sunset asked curiously.

“Just- trust me on this,” he said cryptically. “When I’m gone, and it feels like you’re alone in the world, I want you to open this and take a look inside. I’ve been working on it for a while now, and I thought… well, if I’m going to be leaving again, I want you to have it.”

Sunset gave a small laugh. “Now it’s going to be a real struggle to not sneak a look,” she remarked. “Thank you.”

Marc pulled her in close, kissing her on the forehead. “I’m going to miss you, you know that? Every day, I’m going to miss you.” And a bitter unhappiness, as wretched as the taste of blood, fell upon his spirit.

14 Days till departure

Every Trooper in the Squadron was out in the motorpool that morning, all of them heading for the vehicles as they prepared to ship them off. A long, arduous journey was ahead of them as their course would go across the Atlantic to France, where they would take a long train ride to Camp Mattis, where an eager and battle-ready Squadron would be waiting for them.

Marc sat out next to his vehicle, overlooking his entire section’s armament of Humvees. Now an official Section Leader, a sizeable group of soldiers now fell under his command, and he intended to make sure their departure would go smoothly. Marc gave a sigh of relief, thankful that Bright was dependable enough to ensure their own vehicle would be taken care of, as the load of new responsibilities he now dealt with was consuming his entire focus.

“Sergeant Tran, where’s your Driver?” he called down the line.

“Fox started getting sick, Sarnt! He’s in the latrines right now,” came the reply.

“Great. Perfect time to start throwing up- what on-”

The sound of treads and a thriving diesel engine met his ears. The entire Squadron turned to look as a small group of Bradley’s came around from behind the mechanic’s bay, their steel hulls glistening against the scorching noonday sun before settling in at the front of the motorpool line.

“Hey, what the hell!” Bright yelled, leaping from the TC seat and gesturing towards the group of Bradley’s. “Who the fuck they think they are to pull that sorta shit? Where the fuck they coming from, anyway?”

“They’re ours,” First Sergeant declared happily, walking up to inspect his Troop’s vehicles. “We just got ‘em yesterday- all brand-new M2A4 Bradley Fighting Vehicles, just for us!”

“A4’s? I thought they weren’t gonna release the prototype,” Marc said.

“Fucking search me,” First Sergeant remarked. “But they’re ours. Every light unit that’s deploying is getting one, one for each Troop or Company to help offset the firepower of the Empire’s T14’s. Word is the Imperial tank fleet is still pretty damn sizeable.”

“Who’s getting it in Knight Troop, Top?” Bright asked.

“Second Platoon. Sergeant Dieter. They’re going over to Benning for a month of training before joining us at Camp Mattis.”

Bright and Marc both grimaced at the thought. It would likely be the highest-pressure, lowest-reward job anyone in the Troop could have. A stressful training course at Armor School merging right into a deployment was not on anyone’s list of desired tasks.

“So glad it ain’t us,” Bright said as First Sergeant continued walking down the line.

“Thank God it isn’t,” Marc said. “Where’s Featherweight?”

“He’s helping the Armory get all the guns and shit packed, Sergeant,” he reported. “I checked our 50 .Cal before I came out here, too. All our stuff is looking good.”

“Good man. You got all your personal belongings ready to be put into storage?”

“Ready as I can be,” Bright replied, giving a heavy sigh. “Man, fuck these stupid Gyps. Goddman war is a stupid-ass mess.”

Marc said nothing, knowing none of them wanted to go back to the hellscape that had nearly consumed them all.

One Day till Dpearture

Marc remembered the feeling. The nervousness right before a drop; the long, slow descent into the deep that he felt before every deployment. No amount of time, no experience or familiarity helped to push it away or lessen it bite. Despite every skill he possessed, the best Marc had ever been able to achieve was to learn how to simply let it flow, uninterrupted until he grew numb to its presence.

Tomorrow afternoon would be the time it all began. All soldiers were to report to the Armory for their personal weapons before heading to the parade field where they would wait. Wait, wait, wait, until the buses finally arrived and took them to the airfield from which they would depart. After that? What came next was anyone’s guess.

Marc felt the softness of the bed beneath his fingertips, the sheets and blankets calling for him to rest, to fall under their spell one last time. But no amount of desire was enough to calm his restless spirit, nor soothe the anxiety that spun in circles within his chest.

He was going to war again. To fight, kill, maim and destroy- and perhaps be destroyed in turn. He did not know, nor could he know. He had dealt with these thoughts before. Each and every time the day came he felt that same stark terror in the face of the unknown, but now it held more bite and strength than it had ever held before.

If I die, Sunset will be on her own, he thought. On her own with a child. A single mother with no family and left behind to deal with the turmoil on her own. It was a risk unlike anything he had ever taken, nor one he ever would have chosen.

A face appeared in the doorframe, followed by a growing belly. Sunset walked in and sat down next to him, saying nothing as she took her husband’s hand in her own, squeezing it so tight that it caused him pain. Marc didn’t mind. The pain was a sign that he still breathed, still lived upon this earth, that the woman he loved sat next to him and was real.

“You should sleep,” she said calmly. “It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

“I can’t sleep,” he said, his voice strained.

“You will.”

“I don’t know about that.”

Sunset gave him a sympathetic smile. Her hand left his and came to rest on his face, turning his head to face her as she stared him straight in the eyes. Her cyan eyes remained calm, as placid and peaceful as the seas after a storm, a calming presence against the turmoil within his own, muddied gaze.

“You’re going to make it through,” she said to him. “You’re going to come back to me.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked faintly.

“You will. Because I’m not going to believe in anything else.”

“Sunset…”

“Don’t you try and tell me otherwise,” she said firmly. “You’re going to believe that you’re going to come back, you hear me? You’re going to come back to me and see our baby, you’re going to come back and be a Daddy, and we’re going to see this war come to an end so we can really let our lives begin. Don’t you believe anything else, because if you don’t then it won’t come true. You say it to me, right now.”

“Sunset-”

“Say it.”

Marc looked around the room, his eyes wild as he searched for a way to say it, seeking out the smallest bit of strength to override his deepest, most desperate fears. “I’m…”

“Be brave,” she whispered.

Somehow, he found the strength, even if it was only for a moment. “I’m coming back,” he whispered, his voice faint as the wind at night. “I’m coming back to you.”

“And don’t you dare believe anything else,” Sunset said, kissing him again and again until she could bear it no more. “You hold on to that. You hold on to that promise and you come back. Do you hear me?”

The night came and fell upon their world, the young couple eventually being overcome by exhaustion. Though their fears remained strong, their apprehension great, weariness soothed their spirits to allow them rest, sleeping peacefully through the night and past the dawn until finally, the moment had arrived.

It was time.

Day of Departure

When Marc awoke, there was no flutter of the eyelids, no soft gentle rousing from his slumber. Simply a single, sudden movement from the world in his dreams to the waking one. The moment he awoke, Marc found no exhaustion nor desire to sleep further. His mind was as clear as the summer day, knowing what was about to come. He looked over at his still-sleeping wife and smiled. For all he knew, it would be the last time he would ever share a bed with her. Slowly, carefully so as not to wake her, he slipped from beneath the sheets and headed to the bathroom for a shower. The day had come at last.

Marc finished quickly, finding time was beginning to move slower and slower with each passing moment. How long did he have? Hours? A few minutes? It all felt the same at this point in the game. There was only here and now- until it wasn’t. Still moving along quietly, he found his way into the kitchen, staring out through the window into what looked to be a gorgeous morning. Of course it was. One last gift before the sendoff.

As he started to brew a pot of coffee, the sound of footsteps from behind alerted him to his wife’s presence. Without bothering to ask, he reached up and grabbed a second mug before heading to the fridge to grab breakfast.

The plates were made and the two settled at the table, picking at their food peacefully and letting the silence speak all the words it needed.

“You sure you have everything?” Sunset asked.

“I do,” Marc answered.

“Need anything extra before you throw them in the car?”

“I’ll be good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

No matter what they spoke of, their conversation was short, brief, and to the point. There was nothing left for them to say. They did little but sit together, waiting for the moment to finally arrive.

At last the afternoon came and it was time to depart. The young couple threw a trio of bags into the back of the car and began to drive, eventually joining a veritable flood of vehicles that were all heading for the same place. They didn’t need to guess why.

“I’ll stay here with your gear till you get back,” Sunset said, helping him hoist his duffel bags onto the already growing pile. “How long do you think you’ll be?”

“Not long. Just gotta check to see who in the section has already grabbed theirs,” Marc said, already hurrying off towards the Troop Bay.

“Good to go?” First Sergeant asked, standing next to the armory door as soldiers filed through to grab their weapons.

“Should be, Top,” Marc replied. “Bright and Sergeant Tran come through yet?”

“Bright? Yes. Tran? Not yet, his car popped a tire on the way over,” First Sergeant replied. “Check your phone, he said he sent you a message.”

“Might’ve, I’ve got the thing on vibrate. We know when the flight’s leaving?”

“Late.”

It was a better answer than he could have hoped for. Marc walked to the armory door and signed for his weapons. In an instant he slung the M4 across his back while he settled the holster of his M4 on his hip, whilst depositing a pair of NVG’s in his pocket. Just like that, he was done.

“That’s more than you usually have,” Sunset said, taking note of the pistol at his side. “Since when did you carry that?”
“Since now, I guess. You seen Bright?”

“Haven’t seen him.”

Marc gave a small snarl. “Come on, I need him to keep watch over the new guys-”

“He’s coming up behind you,” Sunset said, gesturing to behind her husband. Marc turned around to find the disgruntled Specialist walking up towards him, a solitary M9 at his hip.

“I just grabbed Bright and Featherweight, they’ve got all their shit together so that should be it for our Vic,” Bright reported. “Who else we missing?”

“A lot,” Marc said bluntly. “Half the section ain’t even here yet.”

“Fucking hell. As if proof no one wants to do this shit again.” Bright’s gaze, still scowling, flickered over to Sunset’s displeased face. “Oh, hey Sunset. Sorry.”

“I didn’t expect anything else at this point, anyway,” Sunset replied.

Marc’s gaze stared out into the growing crowd, finding his soldiers beginning to appear in groups of two or three, even four as the section continued to file in and present themselves. “Bright- grab hold of Featherweight and Rumble, get the serials from their stuff onto a piece of paper and bring it to me. I’ve got to get the rest of the section.”

“Hooah,” was the only response, and the veteran soldier disappeared into the throng, shouting obscenities at a pair of nerve-wracked young men. Marc found his Sergeants and young leaders, ordering them to do the same. In time, several folds of paper found their way into his pocket as he waited for the call to come, finding shade and settling down beside his wife.

“So now we wait?” she inquired.

“Now we wait,” he said. They sat together, watching the sun rise and begin to fall as evening slowly pressed forward. The heat was relentless, the march of time unavailing, and still they waited.

“I love you,” Sunset said. “Just in case you forget.”

“I know.” Marc squeezed her hand, giving her the smallest of smiles. “Love you too, pretty girl.”

“Bus leaders! Start getting your soldiers in line!” The call rang across the parade field and all heads turned to face the sound. Finally, in one single call, the time had come.

“I gotta go,” Marc said, rising to his feet and taking his rifle in his hands.

“Be brave,” Sunset said, kissing him one last time. “And remember that you’re coming back to me.”

“I will.” Marc walked out onto the field, finding a small group of three soldiers awaiting him, one a grim-faced, war-hardened veteran with the snark and sneer to match, the others still baby-faced and frightened.

“This is it,” Marc said, turning to the younger pair. “You guys alright?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” they mumbled, even Rumble’s usually confident visage subdued.

“Listen to me. We’re gonna be alright,” Marc said encouragingly. “Bright and I have done this before, and done way worse than what we’re gonna do here. We’ll get you both through this.”

“Just listen to us when we tell you to do something,” Bright added. “We’re gonna fight, kill, and kick ass- but if we tell you to do something, do it. It’ll probably save your life.”

“Only person that you listen to is Bright when it comes to that vehicle, you hear me?” Marc said. “And the only person who overrides him is me. You work hard, you move fast, you shoot fast. We’ll make it through. You can do this, you hear me?”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Neither looked fully convinced, though their voices had lost a hint of their tension.

“Soldiers, continue to move to your buses!” came the call, echoing across the parade field, and Marc realized the four of them had been standing together for some time.

“Alright, get moving. See you on the plane,” he said, pushing the two young soldiers on the way before turning to Bright. “Keep eyes on them.”

“Like a hawk,” Bright replied, slinging his rifle over his shoulder and sauntering towards the bus.

Marc took a steady breath, focusing on nothing but the air flowing in and out his lungs. The time had come, the moment arrived. It was time to do what needed to be done. He glanced over his shoulder and found her, the crimson hair flowing gently in the soft breeze. Sunset found his gaze and smiled, giving him a small wave of goodbye, the tears beginning to fall from her eyes like droplets of clearest rain. Marc smiled in return and gave a wave of his own before turning his back upon her and heading towards the bus. One last breath and the time had come.

The world of war had returned.

Author's Note

Arc One is over. Now the setting will change, the cast will be made new, the world will darken, and blood shall be shed.

I will always remember how the world changes when you're about to deploy. It's a strange, exciting sort of horror I can't really describe. I don't know if I ever will. It's just something you know, or you don't. There really is no describing that last, great leap into the unknown.

Comments and corrections below. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter Eleven: Sgt. MacKenzie

“We do not seek peace in order to be at war, but we go to war that we may have peace. Be peaceful, therefore, in warring, so that you may vanquish those whom you war against, and bring them to the prosperity of peace.
– St. Augustine

Five months later

Sunset woke slowly, the weak fall sun creeping through the nearby window and gleaming down upon her face, slipping across her eyes in an attempt to wake her. She squinted and promptly brought forth a hand to shield her eyes, pushing herself to a sitting position as a yawn escaped her lips. Trying to shut her eyes and dream once more, Sunset hoped for a continued rest. As time went by, however, sleep was to be impossible. The light had roused her.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” she grumbled, admitting defeat and gently extracting herself from the covers, her feet unsteady from the growing weight of her unborn child. The once minute bump had become more a bulge, the third and final trimester finally arriving. Peering down at her growing belly she mumbled, “This is all your fault, you know. I used to sleep through the night until you came along.”

A small kick from within her was the reply and Sunset tried not to laugh at her child’s swift retaliation. “You’re mine, alright.”

Breakfast was an informal affair, Sunset laying out a plate of biscuits and a heaping pile of bacon. As she began to eat, a niggle of guilt made its way up her spine. You’re eating for two now, she tried to tell herself. You should try eating healthier than this. Sunset ignored her shoulder angel and took another piece, deciding that the cravings would win this round.

After a long, comfortable shower and a leisurely beginning to her day, Sunset saw a light flicker on her phone- unread messages. Running towards it as fast as her pregnant body would manage, Sunset tore the phone from the charger and opened it hungrily, her heart soaring as she saw a pair of messages from Marc.

3:31 am: Hey, just letting you know I’m alright. Boring where we are, not much happening. Might be able to call you today, depends on the schedule.

5:15 am: I’m going to have a free evening tonight if you want to talk. Send me a message if you’re up for it.

A simple “Yes” was all she needed to say and the countdown began in her mind. Though she didn’t know where in the world he truly was, his semi-regular phonecalls and video chats were typically around the same timeframe, allowing her to make the guesswork and conjure a likely answer. Her best guess? Too close to danger for her comfort.

“You hear that, little Naomi? Your Daddy’s going to give a call tonight,” Sunset said, peering down at her bulge with a soft smile on her face. Having discovered the gender of the child nearly a month ago, Sunset had made the decision to keep the news a secret to her husband for the time being, waiting for the right moment to surprise him. A small part of her, not quite so certain of herself, held out hope that the war would end and he would be home before the birth even occurred.

Sunset gave a wistful sigh, her countenance falling as her small, unfettered hope roused itself within her heart. “Marc, I wish you were here.”

Sunset had dealt with the anger at his absence before. It was a tearing, snarling thing whenever she felt it, more akin to a virulent wyrm within her than a feeling of the heart. She would feel it, deal with it, and let it pass on every time, knowing better than to give it residency. Marc hadn’t asked for this deployment, nor for her to be pregnant at such a poor time. It merely was and that was all there was to it. She tried to feed her pride in him instead, knowing that he had chosen to do the right thing despite his own unwillingness to leave.

Still wish he was here instead, though, a small voice in her mind said. And that was something Sunset could admit.

Camp Mattis, the Imperial Border

Marc could see where his target hid, behind a small knoll only about 100 yards out. The two had been in a dance for most of the day, Marc having been in his position for so long now that his legs had become stiff. A bead of sweat formed on his cheek where his weapon pressed despite the cold, his breath arriving in puffs of hot air that obscured his vision. He squinted his free eye nearly shut as his other disappeared behind his scope, waiting patiently, silently, for the moment when his target would rear its head and reveal itself-

A flash of green ahead of him and a figure revealed itself all the way to the torso, the outline of a weapon in its hands-

Marc squeezed the trigger and released a round, the bullet flying and catching the target squarely beneath the arm, and gave a small grunt of satisfaction as he watched it fall back behind the knoll. Satisfied, he peered at his chamber, finding it empty. “That’s my last one,” he said, turning to Mac who stood watching behind him. “Can you clear me?”

Mac checked his weapon and gave a nod. “You’re good,” he reported. “Check with Top, he should be getting the scores in.”

“Good.” Marc rose to his feet, albeit stiffly as his knees voiced their displeasure. “Jeez, that target hasn’t been working all day,” he said. “Between the rifle jamming and that stupid thing, we’ve been out here waiting almost half an hour.”

Mac nodded, looking down the range as others began to clear themselves from the firing line. “Looks like we’re finishing up.”

“Good, it’s getting cold,” Marc said, feeling a tinge of what he suspected was snow falling against his face. “Man, why’d we have to come back here for winter?”

The Troop had been out on the firing range for most of the day, doing what they could to practice and spend their time wisely. As the final invasion, the last great strike against the Empire came into focus, they found their time painfully empty, especially with the lack of details on the Squadron’s overall mission. With no indication of Discord being in the region, and the Green Berets preparing their fight in the Imperial capital, complacency had become a serious enemy.

As Marc was cleared from the range, he saw the bulky figure of First Sergeant descending down from the tower, a series of papers in his hand. “Not bad, Sergeant Reyes!” he called. “37 out of 40, that puts you right in the mix with CO and Sergeant Mac.”

“Who’s on top, First Sergeant?” Marc asked.

“Bright, as if anyone’s surprised,” First Sergeant answered. “Bitches like no one else, but that dude could shoot the hairs off a gnat.”

“Good,” Marc said with a grin. “I’d rather it be him.”

“You can get him to shoot, but not to shut up,” Mac muttered behind him.

“Why do you think I never recommend him for promotion?” Marc replied. “He never stops whining, I can’t have that dude lead more soldiers. He’s good at his job, but he doesn’t have the attitude.”

“Hey, listen up Knight Troop!” the voice of Cpt. Armor rang out across the range, and all eyes turned to face their Commander. “Start packing everything up, just got a call that a winter storm is moving in, I want us out of here before it hits. NCO’s, if you have spare personnel, send them to the ammo point so we can get cleared off the range!”

Marc gave a booming reply and his eyes searched across the group of young men for his soldiers, finding Rumble and motioning for him. “Go help 2nd at the ammo point,” he ordered. “I’ll have Bright and Featherweight grab your stuff and get it into the LMTV, alright?”

“Hooah,” was the reply, and Rumble was off like a shot.

“And not a moment too soon,” Marc said, seeing a sizeable snowflake fall before his eyes.

It had been five months since their departure from home, and little to show for it. What the brave and aggressive had hoped would be an instantaneous, fiery campaign, had turned into a waiting game at best, and a cat-and-mouse exhibition at worst, with multiple operations getting called off at the last minute due to bad intelligence. As the time had rolled by, more and more continued to believe that their participation in the war’s final days would never come, and that their deployment had been for nothing. As Discord seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth, there was little likelihood that they would be sent to kill him.

At dinner that evening, Marc had found dining companions in the form of Lt. Sentry and Mac, the two of them deep in a discussion about the odds of finding Discord at all.

“I’m telling you, the guy is not here. Why would he be here, right in the middle of the battleground when he’s never done that before?” Lt. Sentry said, taking the opposing viewpoint of Mac. “He’s always been moving wherever he felt like, why would he strand himself in the heart of Imperial territory when he could be anywhere in the world right now?”

“Cause we stranded him,” Mac replied. “Marines and Seals are all over the eastern border and Russia combing for him. I bet he’s gonna try to wait it out and see if he can sneak out last minute.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Discord likes taking risks, sure, but he’s never put himself out in the open, especially not like that. He sneaks around like a damned snake.”

“Marc,” Sergeant Mac said, one of the few who used the warrior’s first name in a relaxed setting. “You think he’s here?”

Marc thought it over for a second, then shook his head. “I think he’s already dead,” he replied.

“Yeah? What’s your motive?” Lt. Sentry asked.

“Either the Empire killed him or he died somewhere out in the Russian wastelands,” Marc said. “The radiation all across the area up there is insane, won’t go down for decades. You can’t survive it for long, no matter how much you want to. If he didn’t succumb up there trying to escape, then the Empire killed him for ruining their lives. They were the only other superpower in the world besides us, and now they’ve only got one country left out of what used to be twenty-four. I bet everyone in the Empire wants him dead.”

“That’s… that’s actually not bad reasoning,” Lt. Sentry said, taking a bite of food and grimacing. “Jesus, what the hell is this shit?”

“Supposed to be meatballs, I think,” Mac remarked, stabbing at his and peering at it with distaste. “War’s almost over and they still can’t bother to feed us.”

“Makes me wish my wife’s cooking,” Marc added. “Well- just makes me miss my wife period.”

“I’m gonna be pissed if we came out here for nothing,” Lt. Sentry remarked. “I signed up to do something, not just- just sit here.”

“Trust me, sir, it is way better like this,” Marc replied, taking a large chunk of meatball and pushing through the bitter taste. “Yeah, screw this. I’m giving up and heading back to the barracks. I wanna make sure the new guys are doing alright.”

“Don’t forget Featherweight’s training!” Mac called, watching as his friend disappeared toward the DFAC exit.

Marc was immediately greeted by the cold and a blowing wind fraught with snow, tearing at his exposed skin and turning him icy. “Jeez,” he remarked, pulling his jacket up to guard his face. Knowing there was no alternative, he pushed out into the storm and muddled through, doing his best to follow the familiar path he knew by heart until at last he saw the shoddy, grey buildings coated with steel and wood- makeshift barracks for the enlisted personnel with minimal heating and little to guard against the cold.

Marc could hear the trio laughing and making a ruckus the moment he pushed through the door, the sound of music, video games and camaraderie meeting his ears. Despite being indoors, the building was still cold, and Marc’s breath came in a slight mist. It’ll be freezing cold trying to sleep tonight, he thought to himself, walking down the hall and opening the door to find Bright sitting on the edge of the bed, with Rumble and Featherweight sprawled across the wood floor. Catching sight of him, Featherweight jumped up to his feet and cried, “At ease-”

“Shut up,” Marc replied immediately, cutting off the sound he so loathed. “Featherweight!”

“Yes, Sergeant?”

“50 pushups, let’s go. Come on, now!”

Featherweight’s countenance clouded but he obliged, falling the floor and immediately giving as many pushups as he could manage, his small frame having continuously struggled to improve since he had come to the unit. As he reached the forty mark, his body began to struggle and his breath came heavy.

“Come on now, you still got ten more to go!” Marc said, squatting down and becoming eye level with his dismount. “Don’t quit on me, boy!”

Featherweight nodded, trying to concentrate on keeping his body level as each movement became a struggle to maintain balance. 41, 42, 43…

“Keep your back straight, asshole!” Bright called, watching the performance eagerly.

44, 45… 46… 47…

“Almost there,” Marc said. “Dig deep.”

48… 49, 50… 51… Exhausted, Featherweight fell to his knees, gasping for air as though he had just run a marathon, all the while his spectators cheered.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Marc said approvingly, helping the tired soldier to his feet. “Good job, you’re improving already.”

“He’ll get there eventually,” Bright said. “Told you all he needed was a little push.”

His face was red, but Featherweight beamed, his long struggles with fitness finally getting the encouragement and drive it needed to overcome his wispy frame.

“Hey Sergeant, was there any news from CO today about what we’re doing next?” Rumble asked. “We’ve been just sitting on our asses for months now.”

Marc shook his head. “Not a word,” he answered. “I’m hoping that we get told he got captured and the Empire surrendered so we can just go home.”

“Fucking same,” Bright said. “Then I can finish my contract in fucking peace and get the fuck out of this goddamn Army. Fuck this shit, man, I want to do something useful.”

“Stopping the Empire isn’t useful?” Rumble asked.

“Dude, it’s almost fucking over,” Bright countered. “They don’t need us for this dumb shit. We’re here so we can scare the piss out of the Empire and force a surrender early, that’s all.”

“That’s bullshit, man!” Rumble said, his young face clouded with frustration. “I want to kill Gyps, not just sit around and do bum-fuck nothing!”

The room fell silent immediately, the cold outside now nothing compared to the iciness of Marc and Bright.

Rumble did not notice at first the change until his gaze began to dart between the two Cavalrymen. “What? What did I say?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for, man,” Bright said, his voice unusually deadpan. “Combat is the worst fucking thing I’ve ever done. I fucking hate it.”

“But you guys did stuff! You fought the Empire and won, you killed Gyps!”

“Bright, listen to me,” Marc said, his voice calm yet as thunderous as a sea in a storm. “I’m one of the few people who was part of this unit before it was Knight Troop, back when it was King Troop under Captain Dyke. Bright joined up with us when we went on our second deployment, and we were in Toruń when all hell broke loose.” He turned to his gunner. “Show him.”

Bright nodded and pulled off his shirt to reveal a dark, twisted burn that had seared his flesh right above his waist. “I had a piece of metal fall on me,” he explained. “Burned through my gear and I had to get skin grafts for it to heal. The metal came off the Humvee of a buddy of mine- Taylor Robbie. He’d been struck by a T14 round and was killed instantly.”

Marc pulled off his shoe and sock to reveal a gruesome scar across his ankle, making its way up his leg, causing Rumble to visibly wince. “I got hit by shrapnel- two days before we evacuated,” he said. “It gets worse every year. Eventually I won’t even be able to run on it, and then someday I may not be able to walk without help.

And Rumble?”

The young soldier looked up at his leader, his frustration now replaced by unease.

“There were 130 people assigned to King Troop when we made landfall at Almeria. Out of all of them, only four of us have made it through and not been replaced. Me, First Sergeant, CO, and Mac. The rest are either injured- or dead.”

The two inexperienced soldiers were speechless, stunned into silence by the grim words of their experience brethren.

“Trust me, I was the same way when I got here,” Bright said. “Wanted to go kill fucking Gyps, and shit. And then I did… and it fucking sucks. Know what I’m gonna do when I’m done? Be a damn teacher somewhere. Fuck this shit, this shit sucks donkey cock, I fucking hate it. This isn’t a life worth having.”

“What about you, Sergeant?” Featherweight asked. “What’re you gonna do when the war’s over?”

Marc mulled it over, sorting through his own thoughts before giving a simple shrug. “I don’t know,” he said. “But not this. When I’m done with this, I’ll never take another life again.”

The cold had not yet begun to affect him when he made his way back to his building, Shining Armor’s face still caked with sweat despite his walk through the snow. His evenings were a rare moment of solace in the turbulent life of an officer, and he spent them as wisely as he could, often working out in the gym or talking to his family back home. Today’s workout had been grueling, and he knew he would awaken with a sore body. But despite the pain he was certain would come, he felt a sense of pleasure at his performance. He would be a specimen to behold when he returned home.

As he entered the hallway and made his way to his room, the place was quiet, most of the occupants still busy or occupied elsewhere. He peered into the room beside him and found his right hand, First Sergeant Iron Will, busy studying a pile of paperwork, a look of deep dissatisfaction upon his face.

“The meeting with Sergeant Major go alright?” Shining Armor asked, gently knocking on the door as he entered the room.

“Some idiot soldier tried to sneak alcohol onto the camp,” Iron Will muttered. “He wants the NCO’s to do some checks to make sure none is hidden in the Joe’s rooms.” The hardened soldier caught the expression on his Commander’s face. “Attack Troop soldier. Not us, sir.”

“Oh, thank God,” Shining replied. “Anything else worth reporting?”

“101st might start the initial invasion tomorrow night, but it’s still unconfirmed. Sergeant Major still wants us to make sure we’re ready to roll out in case we get word to go out into the countryside on mission.”

“I bet we don’t go until a few days later, if we go at all,” Shining said. “I bet the Seals find him before we do.”

“It’d be a relief. The war’s almost over, we can go back home. You going to stay in after it’s all said and done?”

Shining Armor had been considering that very thing for some time now, the answer still as uncertain as it had been months ago. True, he had a natural talent for leadership and warfare, but the constant absence from home and his family, the grueling hours and physical duress- not to mention Flurry would grow up constantly moving around with no solid place to call home… “I don’t actually know, really,” he admitted. “I can’t make up my mind yet.”

Iron Will appeared surprised. “I figured you’d be a Lifer,” he remarked. “I could see you moving up the ladder pretty quick.”

“Yeah, but I want to do what’s best for Cadance and Flurry. I’d make up my mind when the whole war is over with so I have time to think about it. I’m guessing you will, though?”

“Well, I got three years till retirement,” Iron Will grunted. “I just haven’t decided if I’ll stay in till I get Sergeant Major or not. I might just do my last three years and let that be it.”

“When this is all said and done, what are we gonna do with all these guys?” Shining mused. “Wartime protocol will be over, guys will start splitting off to go to different units. I don’t know who to encourage to stay in or not.”

“I’d like to see Sergeant Reyes stay in,” Iron Will said. “He’s a good leader, gets the lower enlisted working well. He’d be good at it.”

Shining shook his head. “Not a chance. He already said he’s gonna leave at the end of his contract, go do something else. I think the last deployment was enough for him… Sergeant Mac, maybe?”

“I don’t know. He’s a decent platoon sergeant, but not great. If we go on mission I’ll be able to make a better judgement. He’s hard to rattle, though, so that’s a good trait he’s got.”

The two went on for some time, discussing their futures as well as those of their soldiers, all in the hopes that the war would end soon, and that their part in it was already over.

An undisclosed location, US

Twilight rubbed her eyes, trying to wring the weariness from them before accepting defeat. “I need more coffee,” she muttered, walking to the back of the room for another heavy cup. She had been on shift for nearly fifteen hours now, suffering the curse all new Lieutenants faced: unwanted shifts, little rest, and the need to prove herself.

She was the polar opposite of her brother. Where Shining Armor was an Olympian, Twilight Sparkle was an intellectual machine, her mind always two to three steps ahead of everyone else’s. She, like so many other young people, had volunteered for the service, but had soon found herself selected for special services, eventually making her way here.

Her brother knew little of what she actually did. She couldn’t even tell him where she worked, much less specific details. The less the world knew, the better.

Her eyes became glassy and she gave them a thorough rubbing, trying to push off sleep a little while longer. She had little more than an hour to go, and it would do her no favors to begin nodding off.

“Ma’am?” One of her subordinates was motioning for her.

“What have you got?” she asked, coming around to stare at the images on the computer screen before him.

“Satellite survey of the Crystal Empire. New images have just come in, I might have found something worthwhile,” he said.

“Anything particular?”

“Lots of Iron Guard movement, just outside the town of Sighisoara. I compared it to the last five days and there’s been a steady buildup with no real indicators as to why.”

“Sighisoara…” Twilight found it unusual. “Not exactly a major target. And too far to be of help to the capital city defenses…”

It didn’t make sense. All major forces had been moving to the Imperial capital for weeks now, preparing for a final defense against the inevitable invasion that would follow. Everyone in the world knew it was coming. So why put the Iron Guard, the Empire’s genetically enhanced supersoldiers, out in such a small town? What were they hiding? Maybe…

Twilight commended her subordinate’s work and excused herself from the room to make a phone call. Someone would need to verify it to be sure, but she may have actually found him.

Sunset felt the kick in her stomach, her baby’s frenetic energy only adding to her excitement. The moment had been planned for months now, and as she waited at the airport, her anticipation was palpable. The two friends hadn’t seen one another in months.

She saw the tussled blonde hair before anything else, and soon Sunset found herself wrapped in the arms of an old friend, she just as eager for the day to arrive.

“AJ! It’s great to see you, it’s been forever!” Sunset said, squeezing the farmgirl tightly. “I’m glad you could make it!”

“Ah wouldn’t miss the chance for anything,” Applejack said brightly, her typical farmgirl garb clashing with the uptight world around her. “Besides, I’ve been wanting an excuse to come visit ya for forever.”

“Well, come on, let’s get your stuff and get out of here! It’s so good to see you…”

The trip had originally been Marc’s idea, suggested to Applejack before he had deployed. Worried that Sunset would suffer through her pregnancy alone, he had requested friends and family to check in on her while he was gone. Having attachments to the Army through her brother, Applejack had volunteered immediately, much to Sunset’s delight. To have an old friend who knew her was something she treasured.

“So how long do you think you’ll be able to stay?” Sunset asked as they made their way through the crowded parking lot.

“Ah don’t really know- maybe a week or two? It’s been so cold back home there really isn’t much to do on the farm right now,” AJ answered. “But we’ve got enough hired hands and people working that me being gone will be no big deal.”

“Has it been alright, AJ?” Sunset asked, feeling a tinge of hesitancy. “With Apple Bloom off at college now, Big Mac deployed, and… and Granny Smith-”

“It’s alright,” AJ said bracingly, her voice unnaturally pleasant. “Ah mean, yeah, it gets lonesome every now and then, but ah stay busy so it’s not so bad. It’s what Granny would’ve wanted.”

Sunset said nothing as the two entered the car and began to drive away. The world had changed so much for the both of them, an Applejack had been left on her own to be the leader of the family while her brother fought a war. It had to be a struggle, but in her typical fashion, she gave no indication that there was an issue.

“How’ve you been, Sunset?” AJ asked a few minutes later. “It’s been a while since we talked. You said you and Marc were doing better…”

Sunset laughed, patting her growing stomach. “As if you could hardly guess,” she said cheerfully. “He’s himself again- more than himself, really. I wish he was here to tell you himself, but he’s changed so much. He’s… gentle, I don’t know how to say it. He’s got a compassion he never had before.”

“Does he know it’s a girl yet?”

“I haven’t told him. I want him to know when he comes home and sees her for the first time.”

“It can’t be long now until the due date, can it?”

“Just two more months,” Sunset said excitedly. “Then the real trouble begins. Can you imagine me having to deal with a teenage girl in the future?”

AJ laughed, remembering Sunset’s emotional capacity during their high school days. “Have you decided on a name yet?”

Sunset shook her head at the start, but eventually nodded. “It depends,” she said, “on who she looks more like. I sort of like Naomi, but I sort of like Valeria, if she ends up looking more like Marc. I think his mother would like that.”

“Speaking of Marc, how’s he been? Big Mac never calls when he’s deployed.”

“He’s fine, and happy that he hasn’t done anything yet,” Sunset said. “He won’t say where he is, but he’s been talking to me every week for a few months now. I was actually going to try and call him once we got to the house, if you want to say hello.”

“Won’t he be busy?” Applejack inquired.

“He’s usually been answering when I call, so I don’t think so,” Sunset said, peering at the clock on the dashboard. “I guess we’ll find out and see.”

Marc had found, much to his surprise, the joys of reading helped to ease his time during the long hours of deployment. A habit he usually only employed during wartime, a good book was almost always kept in his pocket in case the hours began to tick by aimlessly. If he was not working, he read. If he was not exercising, he read. It had become a marvelous pastime for him, and he often marveled that he had once avoided the subject. With some calming music emanating from his nearby phone, the world he was trapped in melted away.

“What’ve you got?” Mac asked, walking into the room with a freshly used towel draped across his shoulders.

“Ender’s Game,” Marc replied, his eyes not moving from the pages before him. “It’s been really good- real thick, though. I’m gonna try to finish it this week-” His words were cut off by the instant silencing of the ambient noise, the sudden blaring of a ringtone from his phone drawing his attention.

“Your wife?”

“Looks like it,” Marc said delightedly, tossing his book aside as he reached for the phone and answered, the screen coming alive as the video call erupted. “Hey!”

“Marc! Sweetheart, how are you?”

“Good! Just relaxing right now, we sort of had a long day,” he said, noticing Mac beginning to lean in over his shoulder. “You doing alright, baby coming along fine?”

“Of course, I’d tell you right off the bat if I wasn’t,” Sunset said. “Take a look who I’ve got with me today…”

As the freckled face of Applejack came into view, Marc’s face split into a smile of delight. “AJ, hey! Thanks for coming down and checking on her, it’s been forever since I last saw you!”

Marc felt the atmosphere of the room he dwelt in become altered, almost hearing Big Mac begin to stiffen as the eyes of his younger sister scanned the background and fall upon him.

“Big Mac? Big Mac, it’s me! Your little sister!” AJ called.

Big Mac avoided looking in the direction of the phone, instead hurriedly putting on a pair of shoes and disappearing towards the door.

“Hey, Big Mac, just- wait a minute!” It was too late, as the former farmhand fled the scene and slammed the door shut, leaving his younger sister alone on the other side of the world, and obviously unhappy.

“Mac, jeez!” Marc muttered, turning back to the camera. “What was that about? Is he still not talking to you?”

“He hasn’t said a word to me in months, not since Granny Smith died,” AJ replied angrily. “The whole family’s still mad at him, and Apple Bloom refuses to talk to him. It’s been messy.”

“Do you want me to say anything to him? I’m the only one here who knew you all,” Marc suggested.

“No,” AJ sighed. “Thank you, but no. I’ll- deal with him once he comes back for good.”

“Will he come back?” Marc asked. “I’m not trying to start a fight, but if he’s avoiding you deliberately…”

“He better!” AJ snarled, her anger flaring up, and just as quickly fading away. “Ah’m sorry, I just… I’ll excuse myself for a bit. You two talk to each other- it was good to see you, Marc!”

“It was good- to see you…too,” Marc said as AJ’s face disappeared from the screen in a flash, leaving a sympathetic Sunset alone in the frame. “That was unfortunate.”

“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Sunset remarked. “Has he told you anything?”

“No. I thought they were fine.” Marc groaned, the once-strong family having begun to unravel as the loss of its longtime matriarch truly began to sink in. Another problem he would eventually have to confront when the return home came. “Well… you been alright?”

“Yeah, I have,” she said. “Baby’s coming along fine, no complications so far. For it being so difficult to even have one, we’ve been really lucky.”

“You gonna tell me if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Sunset laughed. “You going to tell me where you are?”

“Not likely.”

“Then I won’t say a word. Just that we’ll both be waiting for you when you get back.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Marc said, a deep sense of longing rising from within him at the sight of her. His hand reached out for the screen, trying to stroke his fingers along her cheek. “I really miss you, you know. Like, really bad.”

“I know. It won’t be long, though,” she said encouragingly. “Soon it’ll be done and over with, and you’ll be back home. Right?”

“Right. So, when I get back, you won’t be pregnant, so… prepare your body.”

Sunset stifled a laugh. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Babe, I eat pudding cups without a spoon, I’m gonna make you cry is what I mean.”

Sunset laughed again, her eyes darting towards where AJ had disappeared. “Umm… so AJ actually just stepped back into the room,” she said.

And in that moment, Marc had never so deeply wanted to disappear.

“Hey, both of you, wake up!”

The booming voice of First Sergeant rang through the cramped bedroom, and Marc found himself rustling his way out from his sleeping bag.

“Mmf… First Sergeant,” Marc muttered, hearing Mac rise slowly from his bed, a weary grown escaping his lips. “What’s needed?”

“Get dressed. We think we found him.”

There could only be one person in the world he meant. “Discord- are you serious?”

“We just got a confirmed sighting in about an hour ago. Don’t even worry about shaving yet, just get to the TOF and get ready for the brief.”

“Holy- on our way,” Marc said, his weariness instantly forgotten as both he and Mac raced to don their uniforms, only pausing to tie the laces to their boots before racing down the hall. Marc made a quick stop at a door near the entrance, shoving it open and waking Sergeant Tran who was asleep inside.

“Jeez, fuck- Sergeant, what the hell,” he protested, trying to turn into his pillow and avoid eyesight.

“Start waking the guys, get them dressed and moving down to the motorpool,” Marc ordered. “We’ve got a mission- it might be Discord.”

“Sweet fuck!” Tran threw himself up and off the bed, trying to rush for his boots and falling onto the plywood floor. “I’ll be out there getting stuff rolling.”

Marc rushed to reunite with Mac who was several yards ahead, almost at the TOF by the time he caught up again. The both of them tried to ignore the hygienic mess they obviously were, still unshaven and kept awake by mere adrenaline.

First Sergeant was the first to notice them, motioning for the two Sergeants to join him, Sergeant Nye of Second Platoon standing beside him. Sergeant Major Brennan was already in mid-brief, poring over a massive map of the region that carpeted the table.

“We’ve had large massing of Iron Guard all across the area, more and more pouring in from the Imperial Capital,” he said, pointing to a highway that ran a great length of the country. “Right now, their base of operations seems to be right here, at Sighisoara, a small town here in this hilled area. Satellite scans can’t identify what they’re transporting, beyond military personnel. We don’t know if it’s nuclear materials, various Imperial VIP’s, or Discord himself. Either way, they’ve been digging themselves in and are trying to set up a supply point. We’ve been ordered to move ahead and see what they’re up to so the rest of the brigade can take the supply line down. If it’s nuclear materials, call it in immediately so we can get decontamination crews in to dispose of them. And if it is Discord, only hesitate to attack if you do not have any tactical advantage. Otherwise, move in and rake that son of a bitch over the coals and bring his corpse to the President’s feet. As of now, there is no timeline for departure beyond ‘soon as possible,’ so get your Troops armed and ready to go. Dismissed!”

Marc felt his heart begin to pump faster, the adrenaline in his blood roaring at the prospect of a real mission, one that might end the war once and for all.

“Where’s the rest of the Troop?” First Sergeant asked.

“Sergeant Tran woke them up, should be down at the motorpool right now, Top,” Marc answered.

“Good. Start making sure they’re ready to go. I’ll get Supply to go by each vehicle and make sure you’re topped off with water, MRE’s, fuel- whatever shit we’re gonna need. Your Gunners are the ones in charge of grabbing ammunition, Drivers need to be checking their vehicles for any last-minute problems. Last thing we need is someone going down for maintenance issues in the middle of this shit. Any questions?”

“Where’s CO?” Mac asked.

“With the Squadron Commander. He won’t join us until the OP-Order goes through, busy drawing up a battle plan. Now get going, I’ll deal with the shit here!”

The entire base came alive with the sound of chaos, the entire brigade suddenly ready to unleash itself out into the war’s dying throes as each battalion armed itself for the inevitable battle ahead. Marc found himself shoving his way through the slog of people, often having to resort to bullying his way through lower-ranking soldiers in order to push through. When he finally arrived at the motorpool, he found a veritable well of madness as Cavalrymen darted this way and that, reaching for last-minute items and equipment, rushing to bring weaponry and ammunition to their vehicles. When Marc reached his own Humvee, he was pleased to see Bright atop the vehicle, barking orders to Rumble and Featherweight below, the entire vehicle largely more well-equipped and prepared than all those around it.

“How’re we looking?” Marc asked.

“Everybody’s bags are here ‘cept your assault pack, Sarnt,” Bright said. “We still don’t have MRE’s or weapons, though. When’s Arms Room opening up?”

“Should be open now, go there and start grabbing our gear- two M4, two M9’s, your M2 and that 240L, alright? Grab Featherweight and you two get on it,” Marc ordered. “Rumble, start doing a last-minute lookover of the vehicle, check fluids- coolant, fuel, oil. When I get back we’ll make sure everything’s tightened up and tied down. Move it, people!”

Marc rushed off back to the barracks to grab his assault pack, hesitating only to toss in a small picture of Sunset into a discreet pocket- for luck. Rushing back, he found himself in the midst of the freneticism of ensuring the platoon was ready to depart, Big Mac largely dealing with the overall Troop in First Sergeant’s absence. Every weapon was checked, equipment was thoroughly inspected, vehicles were refueled and tested. As the morning crept on and the sun rose, the noonday light began to threaten them. It would be far better to travel under cover of darkness…

“They’re heading back!” Bright called from atop the Humvee.

Marc turned about to see Cpt. Armor walking alongside Lt. Pharaoh and Lt. Sentry, the three of them speaking hurriedly to one another. The young NCO watched as Lt. Pharaoh split from the group and began to inspect his Platoon’s equipment.

“Mac’s over at First Sergeant’s vehicle, been watching weapons draw!” he reported. “The Platoon’s all topped off, sir, and everyone’s been given MRE’s and water. We’re ready to roll!”

“Good. We’ll be leaving within the hour, if CO gets his way,” Lt. Pharaoh replied. “How are the guys?”

“Eager, sir. When’s the mission brief?”

As if on cue, the hulking figure of First Sergeant strode through the crowd, gesturing for everyone to come near, Captain Armor standing beside him with a series of maps in hand and an expression that suggested eager anticipation.

“Everyone form up, time for mission brief! Come on, get moving!” Marc roared, pushing through the vehicles to find his soldiers. “Move it, let’s go- it can wait until after the brief, move!”

Finally, when the entire Troop was assembled, Captain Armor peered about the host of Cavalrymen and gave a vicious grin. “You ready to kick some ass, gentlemen?”

“HOOAH!” Was the roaring reply.

“Alright, listen up, here’s what we got,” he said, turning to his notes. “About two days ago, a team of Iron Guard was detected moving supplies into the town of Sighisoara- we don’t know what, or who, they’re moving. Either way, there’s now a damn battalion’s worth of Iron Guard all across that region, and it’s been narrowed down to two different options: nuclear weaponry getting smuggled out of country, or it’s Discord himself. Brigade Commander wants us in there to gather intel but make no mistake, gentlemen, we will almost certainly be engaging the enemy in due time. It took some convincing, but I got us the big job in the entire operation- performing recon on Sighisoara itself. It means we’ll be largely cut off from the rest of the Squadron, but if Discord is in that town then we’re gonna be the ones that get him. That sound good to you?”

A roar of testosterone was given in response, as each man present felt the reality of their mission begin to sink in.

As the brief went on, maps of the area were handed out and dissected, with each platoon claiming space and perches from which to observe their prey. Potential hazards and likely troop emplacements were suggested and refined. Every potential advantage and danger was discussed until they could wait no longer: the time had come.

Marc slid into his seat, looking around at his soldiers. He wished that Featherweight and Rumble were a bit older, a tinge more experienced, but shook those thoughts away. They would have to prove themselves just as he had, all those years ago.

“Bright, you ready up there?” he called, slapping the legs of his Gunner.

“Ready!” Bright shouted.

“You two good? Rumble, Featherweight?”

“Hooah, Sarnt,” they replied, their faces pale with eyes wide. The reality of what was coming had begun to truly sink in.

“We’ll get through this. I promise we will. Just do what I say and we’ll be alright,” Marc said reassuringly. “Start it up, Rumble.”

“The engine roared to life, and the Humvee slid into the line of vehicles ahead, waiting patiently for the Troop to form up and begin the mission.

“We on the right frequency?” Marc said, holding the radio handmike to his ear.

“We should be, Commo filled it themselves,” Bright replied.

“Come on- there we go!” Marc said, giving the radio a slap and suddenly finding a veritable flow of chatter meet his ears. “Alright, get the speaker on.”

The four men waited on bated breath for the chaos over the air to calm, waiting for that one single command for it all to begin. Their thoughts of home had evaporated like mist met by the morning sun. No desires of quiet and calm consumed them. All that filled their mind was steel and fire, tactics and training.

“Knight Troop, begin your exfil, I say again, begin your exfil,” came the call over the radio.

“That’s us!” Marc cried, watching as the line of vehicles began to pour out of the gate. “Rumble, not yet- keep about fifteen meters between you the vic in front of you- that’s it, keep this speed… that’s it…”

The Troop roared out into the wild forests and mountains of the Crystal Empire, leaving safety behind as they flung themselves headfirst into the last great battlefield.

Despite all their best efforts, troubles of communication and maintenance met them almost immediately, with a Second Platoon vehicle popping a tire less than fifteen minutes after they departed. A recovery vehicle was called in, but the early loss made the older soldiers nervous: less firepower when the conflict inevitably arrived.

The Troop pushed on into the Empire, rolling across highways, through forests, over and under hills for nearly a day and a half until the thinnest outskirts of their goal came into sight, the sun beginning to settle in its place atop the skies.

“Alright, platoons- spread out, get to cover and find a good OP setup,” Cpt. Armor ordered. “Spread out, but don’t let yourself get too thin. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Bright remarked, looking down on the town as their vehicle drove into the hills. “Shit, that’s a fuck-ton of ground to cover, there’s gotta be 30,000 people down there.”

“25,000, reportedly,” Marc replied, his eyes scanning the horizon for an optimal place to settle their vehicle. “Iron Guard’s been doing some kind of hostile takeover, don’t know if that’s gonna mean they evac’d civvies out or not.”

“God, I hope so. I’m done shooting fucking kids,” Bright said, his words causing Featherweight to shiver.

The terrain became unforgiving as they pressed on, Rumble being forced to move slowly across the forested grounds as bushes, limbs, and trees blocked their every path. Each bump felt like a cliff face, every stone a roadblock.

“Up there, see those trio of trees ahead?” Marc said, pointing to their right. “Try to push it right into that bunch there, it should provide us enough cover… Bright, if you can’t see anything up there you gotta let me know.”

“It should be fine, long as we get the camo nets up for cover,” Bright replied. “I’ve got pretty good visibility with the binos right now… here! Don’t go any further!”

The Humvee came to an immediate halt, unsettling those within. “Kill the engine,” Marc ordered, and suddenly a great silence met them all as the rumble of the engine faded away and into nothingness. The ambience of the forest greeted the soldiers, the sound of wind coursing through leaves and branches accompanied the sparing sound of winter birds. Marc held his breath, listening for the slightest sound of human activity, for anything, until he gave a small sigh of relief. “No one,” he said. “Alright, keep your eyes open. We’ll stay alert for a couple more hours till the sun goes down, after that it’s two-hour watch for each man through the night. Comms are probably gonna be sketchy in all this…”

“Are we on our own?” Featherweight asked.

“Only sort of,” Marc answered. “It’ll be difficult to get everyone, since we’re spread out all over the valley- map!” as the paper was thrust into his hand, the NCO extracted a marker from his assault pack and went to work, marking locations where his fellows remain hidden, potential targets within the city itself. “We’re still in range of three others right now,” he murmured. “1-1 and 1-4 should still have comms with CO, so if anything goes to hell we can raise them.”

“Now what do we do?” Rumble asked.

“Now,” Marc sighed, turning towards the town below and staring. “Now we wait and see.”

A day passed, the sun rising and setting on the Troop of wary, well-hidden warriors. The fog of war descended upon them all, as their isolation from the rest of the world became complete. No knowledge of other units existed in their minds, no talk of home escaped their lips. All they knew and trusted was what lay before them- a town full of enemy personnel who were, for the moment, unaware they were being watched.

“I didn’t realize it was this quiet,” Rumble said, watching as Bright and Sergeant Reyes traded binoculars back and forth. “Is it always like this?”

“Sometimes. Before it gets loud,” Marc answered, leaning forward as something within the town caught his eye. “I see a defensive emplacement in the square, looks like a launcher system. Bright, you see it up there?”

“Hold on… yeah, I see it,” Bright said grimly. “I don’t have the firepower to take it out, maybe Sergeant Deiter’s Bradley could- but I’d hardly make a dent with what I got.”

“Call it in, see if anyone else has eyes on it,” Marc ordered, turning to his sole dismount. “You ready to move?”

“Me, Sergeant?” Featherweight asked anxiously.

“I need you to be an extra pair of eyes for us- and to perform perimeter security,” Marc said, grabbing the young soldier’s assault pack and perusing its supplies. “I’ve got us pretty well covered here, but if people come nosing around I need you as a warning- grab a radio battery, I can’t have you losing fill if it dies.”

Featherweight, always the less confident of the newer soldiers, appeared petrified by the prospect. As Marc showed him on the map where he was to head, his fear did not once leave his face and kept his features stark white- something his leader couldn’t help but notice.

“Hey- Featherweight, listen to me,” he said, tapping the young man’s head to grab his attention. “You’re alright. You can do this. If you get into a tight spot and need help you call it in, we’ll be there to help you dig your way out… make the right sort of judgement calls, OK? Can you do that?”

“… I- I’ll do my damndest, Sergeant,” Featherweight said hesitantly.

“Not good enough, soldier- can you make the right calls to keep us safe?” Marc pressed.

Featherweight took a deep breath, closing his eyes and exhaling before looking up at the NCO. “I can do this,” he said. His voice was small, but held all the determination he could muster.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Marc said. “Grab an extra MRE just in case. Once nightfall comes around, make your way back here, OK? Now move- quietly!”

“Do you think it’s safe to send him alone?” Bright asked, watching as the skinny soldier darted off into the woods.

“He’s my only dismount,” Marc said unhappily. “I tried to get us another, but nothing. I didn’t send him too far, either, so hopefully he won’t get caught in something stupid.”

The morning passed and the afternoon turned, clouds moving in and bringing down freezing rain upon the secluded soldiers. Cursing up a storm, Bright hastened to cover his weapon, fearing the effects of the water upon it and the ammunition.

“Goddamn it, of course it starts to fucking rain, when else would it bother?” he snarled, shoving a can of 50 .cal ammunition below his legs. “Fuck these stupid Gyps, making me come out here and waste my goddamn time.”

“Tell him to shut up,” Marc murmured to Rumble, bringing the radio handmike closer to his ears in an attempt to hear.

“Hey, shut up!” Rumble said, slapping the Gunner’s legs to get his attention.

“Fuck you, Boot, I ain’t doing shit-”

“I want you to shut up, Bright,” Marc said loudly, effectively silencing the young man’s rantings. “I need to hear, it’s coming in weak.”

“Red One, this is Red Four, observe armored vehicle moving into the square.” Cannot identify, can you get a visual, over?” Faint but readable, the voice of Big Mac came through over the sound of rain and mutterings. Marc held his breath. They were armed for an anti-personnel conflict, even the Bradley wouldn’t be a match if it was T14. Please, please…

“Roger, Red Four, vehicle looks an enemy BMP, no exposed weaponry, over.”

Marc and Bright, who had leaned down to listen, both gave sighs of relief. “Thank God, the Brad can outmaneuver that thing easy,” Bright said. “Fuck me, they’re moving down there.”

“Red Four, this is Red Two,” Marc said, calling across the frequency. “Been observing, I’ve only been seeing military personnel. Do we know if civilians were evacuated before they occupied the area, over?”

“Unknown, but I haven’t seen any either,” Mac replied. “Have they moved the launcher from its position in the central square?”

“Negative, no movement beyond what look like patrols,” Marc answered. “Continue to observe, over.”

Time passed slowly, the rain dulling their senses and clouding their vision. Marc remained tense, his gaze darting this way and that in fear of an unseen enemy. The weather, along with the forest brush, was the perfect cover for a sneak attack on their position. They could be under observation right now and not even know until it was too late. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the rain ceased and left the ground prepared to freeze over and become ice when darkness fell.

“Red Two, this is Red One, over.”

Marc reached for the handmike. “Red One, Red Two, over.”

“Start spreading word to the others if you can reach them. Charger Troop just got engaged about fifteen miles from here. 3-15 is sending one of their Infantry Companies to help us out when we move in. CO’s calling for an attack at dawn.”

Bright whistled as the words escaped from the speakers. “Roger, will try to make contact with the rest of the Platoon, over,” Marc said before setting down the handmike. “It’s on now.”

“Red Two Actual, this is Red Two Dismount, over.” The secondary radio suddenly came to life as the voice of Featherweight broke through, the line covered with static and his voice low as though intentionally hidden.

“Red Two Actual, what have you got?” Marc called.

“Two enemies moving into the woods, heading towards your position over,” Featherweight said hurriedly. “Continuing to observe.”

Marc felt his stomach drop as the news met his ears. Bright instinctively dropped lower and hid directly behind the M2, trying to obscure his profile from view. “Roger, keep yourself out of sight. Let them pass us,” he commanded, before turning to the primary channel. “All units, be advised enemy patrol moving near my location, more patrols may currently be active across the area.”

Slowly, as quietly as he could manage, Marc slipped out from his seat and crouched down beside the vehicle, his rifle pressed against his cheek as he switched off the safety. He would fire only if necessary, knowing that a single shot would be all it took to expose the entire Troop. He listened on bated breath for the slightest sound of movement to alert him- a broken branch, the sound of boots on leaves, anything-

“Red Two Actual, they’re moving straight towards you,” Featherweight called again-

“Tell him to go dark!” Marc hissed, his gaze flickering down his scope as he waited-

He heard their voices before he saw them. Imperial tongue greeted his ears, soon followed by the sound of twigs snapping beneath ironshod boots. Finally, off in the distance, he saw the outline of a pair of figures: two young men armed with rifles walking along through the forest, obviously on patrol and hardly making an effort to observe their surroundings.

“Do not move,” Marc breathed, sliding down onto the ground and inching towards the nearby brush in the hopes of concealing himself. He honed in on the lead man, his sights aimed directly at the man’s unprotected face. If there was the slightest indication they had been seen, he would have to fire and their cover would be blown-

A Snap! came from deep within the woods and the two men halted their movement, their heads turned away from the concealed Humvee and peering out into the depths of the trees. Risking a glance, Marc leaned out and saw, far out in the distance, a sign of movement in the underbrush- Featherweight had been tracking them.

Please do not see him, Marc prayed, watching as the two Imperial soldiers crept dangerously close to the concealed Dismount. Marc hoped that Featherweight had camouflaged himself well enough. If his luck could only hold a little longer…

The two men came to a stop and Marc held his breath, watching as they continued to look out into the trees rather than down at their own feet. The silence was palpable, each second a torturous agony-

The leader of the two men gave a shrug and they turned away again, heading back to their patrol route and carrying on, Marc giving a silent sigh of thanks-

The spell of good fortune shattered and one of the Imperial soldiers slipped and fell backwards, landing atop Featherweight who couldn’t stifle a cry of pain. Suddenly the two men were alight with fright and anger, shocked to find an enemy combatant right in their midst-

Marc leapt up and fired immediately, the round bursting forth from his rifle and striking the first of the two right beneath the eye, piercing through flesh and bone and stealing his life, the man’s body falling to the ground like a ragdoll-

His companion gave a cry and reached for his own weapon, only to be dragged down by Featherweight who grabbed his assailant by the arm and threw him to the forest floor-

The Imperial soldier gave a scream and was quickly silenced by a sharp punch to his throat from the dismount-

“Move your hands!” Marc yelled, leaping over and extracting his sidearm, firing point-blank into the man’s head and killing him. “You hurt?”

“N-no,” Featherweight stammered, the blood of his foes now staining his uniform. “Holy shit…”

“Cat’s out of the bag now,” Marc said angrily. “They probably heard those shots. If not, they’re gonna come looking for this patrol. Back to the vehicle, come on!”

“What the fuck was that?” Bright called angrily-

“They know we’re here,” Marc said-

“Fuck!”

“Red One, this is Red Two, we’ve been engaged. Enemy patrol is neutralized but we were exposed. They’re gonna be right on top of us,” Marc reported.

The silence across the radio was painful. Marc knew the situation had just spiraled into a potential nightmare, the last great threshold having finally been crossed. Whether they wished it or not, they had fired the first shots-

“Roger, CO’s making the call- we’re moving now. Rally Point is 4610 by 2479, you have five minutes!”

“Gun it, Rumble!” Marc roared, and all secrecy and concealment was tossed away in an instant. “Bright, you ready?”

“Locked and loaded!” the Gunner roared.

“Friendly vehicle on our right!” Rumble called, and Marc peered over to see Sergeant Tran’s Humvee racing alongside them.

“All vehicles, Knight Six,” came the commanding voice of Cpt. Armor across the radio. “All vehicles, form a ten-to-fifteen meter spread as we move in. First Platoon, move across the western perimeter, let Second Platoon punch a hole with the Brad. The moment you see contact, you call it!”

The forest began to clear as the terrain became intermixed with man-made pathways, the main road to the town blocked by barbed wire and blockades of concrete. Marc watched as the vehicles beside them began to peel away and make the spread, the line of Humvees roaring straight towards their target. He scanned the buildings ahead, looking out towards the town entrance and every window, looking for the slightest sign of movement-

And suddenly, about fifty yards ahead, the figure of a lone soldier on guard exited a building, a haze of cigarette smoke pouring from his mouth. As if oblivious, he turned to peer out at the incoming wave of vehicles.

Sunset awoke so suddenly she wondered if she had even truly slept. Her every sense was on alert, her stomach churned, the baby growing within gave a kick. Carefully, as though under observation, she moved silently from her bed and crept towards the window, peering out into the darkness of the early morning. No sight frightened her, no figure stood in the distance. It was only the same landscape and world she knew, peaceful and undisturbed in its slumber. Yet still her unease grew-

A wave of cold, a feeling of such utter iciness and frost, overtook her very being and settled within her heart, a hideous unrelenting horror that she could not shake, burying itself deep within her until she feared she would freeze from it. She had felt it only twice before. “Marc…”

Author's Note

It has begun.

As always, comments and corrections below. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Twelve: Burn Them Out

“When you become a leader you give up the right to think about yourself.”

– Gerald Brooks

“Contact!”

Bright didn’t hesitate for a second, opening fire on the enemy ahead and scoring a direct hit, the rounds traveling its way up the barrier of sandbags and tearing the man apart as bullets made their mark-

“Contacts at the windows!” A storm of hostile fire erupted from a nearby apartment building as the soldiers within caught sight of the incoming attackers, peppering the armored Humvees with light fire-

“Keep moving! Down the road towards the second entrance!” Marc roared, and the vehicle swerved to avoid fire and raced down the path, leading the charge with a sister vehicle beside them-

“What about those machine gun nests?” Bright yelled.

“Second Platoon has the main entrance. Push into the city, raise some hell!” Marc ordered.

The city was now alive with activity as their presence had instantly become known to all who could hear the gunfire, Imperial soldiers scrambling from all across Sighisoara to their battle stations and defend their territory. As they ran out into the streets, their panic became their undoing as First Platoon charged into the town center and caught them unawares-

“Contacts ahead!”

Bright unleashed a volley out into the crowd, the thick group of soldiers spraying red as round after round found their man until the streets ran red, the Humvee not stopping as scores of soldiers were crushed and killed underneath their tires-

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” Rumble muttered over and over again, his eyes as round as saucers as his first taste of war erupted before his very eyes-

A building wall splintered and crashed out into the cobblestone streets as a heavily armored behemoth of a man marched out into the streets, covered head to toe in steel and raising his hand towards the oncoming vehicle-

“Swerve! Go around him!” Marc yelled, and the Humvee nearly rolled over to avoid colliding with their steely foe. “Bright, get him!”

“On it!” Bright swiveled in his turret and turned to open fire-

“Heads down!” A spray of bullet fire erupted from the armored soldier’s weapon, spraying the Humvee’s back window with deadly accuracy-

Bright found his mark and unleashed a punishing salvo of 50 caliber rounds, each bullet finding its target as it pushed against the steel armor-

At first the foe only staggered, bruised by the oncoming rounds, until two, three, four, then five rounds found their place, one punching through and tearing flesh from bone and sending the colossus toppling to the ground-

“What the fuck was that?” Rumble yelled-

“Iron Guard Commando!” Marc replied. “Genetically modified Imperial soldiers. That won’t be the only one we see…”

“We’re coming up on the square!” Bright reported, as the winding, narrowed street began to open up to the once-beautiful heart of the city, now consumed by military equipment, barricades and soldiers, and a powerful rocket system right in its center-

“Down that alleyway!” Marc commanded, and the Humvee careened down a tight lane between two houses, the launcher system automatically locking on and preparing to fire-

“Bright, can you do any damage to that-”

“No, not with a 50 .cal,” the Gunner replied. “That truck is too heavily armored for me to do anything.”

“We’ve got to keep its attention on us,” Marc said. “It’ll pulverize the Brad before it can get in range. Take a left here, get back into view of the square. Bright, when you get a glimpse of it, aim for the tires and see if you can immobilize it!”

“Fucking hell!”

As the Humvee turned the corner, the peeling wail of a horn met their ears and Marc turned to see an incoming truck crawling with enemy soldiers-

“Push through the intersection!” Marc yelled, the collision missing its mark by only a heartbeat as the truck passed through unscathed. “Now reverse! Get back in and follow it!”

The Humvee screeched to a halt and sent the soldiers within rocking before pulling back into the city street and pushing ahead, now directly behind a well-armed squad of Imperial soldiers-

Bright, the consummate killer, did not hesitate, spraying the truck with fire until each soldier lay dead and the truck crashed into a nearby building, its hulking mass twisted and burning from its punishment-

“Back to the square!”

“Sarnt, we’re gonna get killed!”

“Do it anyway! Second Platoon is almost there, immobilize that thing!” Marc fired back, and the Humvee gunned down the street until the open square came into view and the enemy encampment was exposed-

Bright’s round ricocheted off the iron shod hull of the launcher, one round even flying past the Humvee and threatening their own lives, while a dozen others flung themselves across the city street and sent Imperial soldiers scrambling for cover-

The launcher, its internal systems detecting it was under fire, became active again and focused its aim onto its attacker, ready to fire at any second-

“Get back into cover!” The Humvee flung its occupants back against the seat as it darted back into hiding, pulling back out into a secondary street-

The building beside them erupted in an explosion of fire, steel and brick as the launcher fired, the rocket detonating upon its impact with the nearby house and sending a cascade of debris down upon the launcher’s assailant-

“Fuck!” Bright dipped down into the vehicle to avoid being struck by the larger shards of rubble. “I can’t do that a second time over, there’s no way-”

“One more pass. Rumble, go around the west side- Bright, you have to get it to face towards us.”

“What the fuck-”

“Second’s about to be in range, we’ve got to keep Deiter covered. Move, Rumble!” Marc barked.

The Humvee roared through the wreckage that covered the ground and sent its occupants rattling in their seats until it found the lane it desired, racing down the street until the square came into view yet again-

Bright opened fire and aimed low, the bullets piercing stone as it eventually found rubber, the wheels of the truck launcher sagging under the pressure of incoming fire-

“Brad in range!” Off down the road, the formidable silhouette of the Bradley came into view, TOW Launcher prepared to unleash its payload out into the world-

The launcher turned towards the attacking Humvee, unaware of its impending doom-

“Pull back!” Marc cried, the Humvee racing out of view just in time as the soft Thoom! of the firing TOW launcher met them-

They did not see the missile strike, but their vision became clouded as a furious storm of fire, smoke and metal flared from the square and down the street-

“YEAH! Get some, you bitch-ass motherfuckers!” Bright roared-

“Second Platoon has the square, move across the river!” Marc ordered, and the Humvee raced towards the nearby bridge, leaping across the water and into the town outskirts-

“Contact! Machine gun nests, righthand side!”

“On the way!”

Before the Imperial soldiers knew what had struck them they were dead, Bright’s deadly aim eviscerating them and sending what remained of them toppling to the ground in a bloodied heap-

“Keep pushing forward!” Marc yelled, and the Humvee followed the road on and on, the streets emptying of enemy activity as they moved until they found no sign of hostile presence, save for a solitary guard at the town’s outlying edges, the pair of men gunned down by Bright in an instant.

“Where the hell are we?” Rumble asked.

“Edge of town,” Marc breathed, peering to their back and listening for the sounds of gunfire, hearing only the slightest tinge of warfare behind them. “It’s gone real quiet. Bright, you see anything?”

“Smoke’s still coming from the square, but that’s all I can see,” he reported. “The Guard must have moved inside to get some cover.”

Marc shuddered at the thought of moving into an occupied building. Corners and rooms their foes would know far better than they. “I don’t like it. It was too easy.”

“I don’t either- friendly vehicle moving our way!” Bright called out.

The friendly Humvee came to a halt beside them, the TC-side door opening and Big Mac revealed himself, motioning for Marc to come and join him.

“What have we got?” the younger man asked.

“City’s gone quiet. All remaining hostile forces have moved indoors,” Mac replied. “CO doesn’t like it, but we’re gonna have to do a building-by-building search.”

“What- that’s stupid, why not just blow them all to hell-”

“Civilians are still inside the city,” Mac reported, his face turning grim. “Cpt. Armor’s with some city official right now, trying to find out which ones were getting used by hostile forces. Once we know, we move. Keep here and don’t let anyone through.”

“Hooah,” was all Marc could summon, and returned back to his Humvee, watching as Mac raced back down the street and into the heart of the city.

“What’d he say?” Rumble asked.

“We’re gonna have to clear buildings,” Marc replied.

“Fuck me…”

“We’re trying to know which were occupied,” he continued. “For now, we stay here until we get word to move in. Bright, make sure you get a positive ID before you open fire, do not fire on civilians here. We’re too close to the end to screw it up now.”

“Shit. I’ll do my best,” Bright said anxiously, his gun towering over the cobblestone streets, waiting for the smallest sign of enemy activity within his line of sight.

The wait was excruciating. Each second felt longer than a lifetime, the fear that boiled within them did not falter. Their exposed position at the end of the road, right in the center of the street, was unsafe and every one of them knew it. At any moment, a solitary head could pop out from view and send fire their way- all it would take was one well-placed RPG, one lucky grenade, and all of them would burn and die in a fiery tomb.

“Shit, fuck me up the ass,” Bright said tersely. “Let’s fucking go already.”

“Stay quiet,” Marc ordered, his eyes scanning the row of houses beside them. Was that a figure near the window he saw? The outline of a rocket launcher, held against a man’s chest? The wait was tortuous for him.

Suddenly the radio went silent for a momentary heartbeat, until the voice of Cpt. Armor broke onto the frequency. “All units, ensure the roads are clear before continuing mission. Captured personnel indicate that specific buildings have been put under military occupation. Second Platoon with cover the southwest side of the city, First Platoon will cover the northeast. Keep your guard up, people. They’ll be waiting for us now.”

“Fucking right they will,” Bright said, peering down into the vehicle and watching Marc grab the handmike. The NCO was listening intently as the Platoon radio frequency came alive with orders, each squad given a specific area of ground to cover. When Marc was satisfied, he set the handmike aside and turned to his map, identifying his targets. “First target is just ahead,” he reported. “That small market ahead was getting used as a medical facility. Rumble, drive ahead and get us close. Featherweight, soon as we’re outside we jump out and we clear that thing, understood?”

“Yeah? And what the fuck do I do, just play spectator?” Bright challenged.

“You cover my back and keep the road clear,” Marc said as they charged forward. “If something goes wrong while I’m dismounted, you call for me immediately and we rejoin you, understood?”

“Fuck me, this plan is shit,” Bright said unhappily, but agreed nevertheless. “This is it.”

The Humvee came to a halt and Marc raced out immediately, centering his aim right at the marketplace entrance, scanning for the slightest movement that indicated life within. “Featherweight, you see anything?”

“Nothing, Sergeant,” the young Dismount replied.

It wasn’t enough to soothe his nerves, but Marc settled for what lay before him. “Bright, if you see a machine gun you open fire,” he ordered, creeping out from cover and heading towards the door, Featherweight kept at a distance on his left.

The two men crept towards the door and Marc pushed it open, the locks already destroyed and thrown aside by someone else’s hurry.

“I take right, you take left, alright? We scan each aisle before we’re clear,” he said.

Featherweight gulped. “Sarn’t-”

“Do not mess this up,” Marc said fiercely. “You wanna live? You do this right. Now three… two… one… move!”

The door was flung aside and Marc rushed inwards, turning right and taking position, hearing Featherweight do the same behind him.

“Clear?” he asked.

“Clear,” came Featherweight’s fearful reply.

“Good. Now, nice and smooth,” Marc breathed, taking steps down the aisles with Featherweight tucked closely beside him.

The pair moved quickly and quietly until they reached the back of the market, finding a series of beds and medical equipment kept nearby, apparently a field hospital of sorts for the military personnel stationed there. However, the room appeared untouched by the afternoon chaos, and the offices nearby were empty and devoid of activity.

A rumble rocked the building, jars of food clattering to the ground and shards of glass flew across the tiled ground, precious wines spilled across the floor.

“What the hell was that?” Featherweight asked nervously.

“Explosion,” Marc said grimly. “Something just detonated.”

“Was it one of us?”

“I don’t know. Come on, this building is clear, time to get moving.”

As the two soldiers exited the building, Bright waved them down from atop his perch in the gun turret. “What’d you find?”

“Field hospital,” Marc reported, hurrying over to the radio. “What was that rumble we felt? Has it been called in?”

“Second Platoon lost a squad. Sergeant Nye’s vehicle,” Bright answered. “Iron Guard Punisher armed with an RPG hit it dead-on.”

The pressure in the air stiffened, becoming hard and unyielding as steel. None of them had expected to make it through unscathed, but to lose a senior leader in such a simple, singular instant…

“Jesus,” Featherweight murmured. “How many?”

“Four KIA, three more wounded.”

“Next building is further down the road,” Marc said brusquely, knowing that any rousing of emotion within them would hinder their progress. “We’re gonna be careful when we reach it, alright? If more Iron Guard are still in the city then we need to stay focused. Keep it moving.”

Featherweight appeared somewhat affronted by his NCO’s almost cavalier disregard for the moment, but nodded nonetheless and took his seat in the back of the Humvee. Marc motioned for his Gunner and Bright dropped from sight, appearing out of the door a moment later.

“We’re gonna stop about five meters from the next target,” Marc said. “I want you to keep the vehicle somewhat concealed while Featherweight and I move in on it from the side. If something jumps out at us, you light it up, alright?”

“And if you’re in my line of fire?” Bright asked.

“Then tell me so I get out of the way,” Marc said. “But if you think you have the shot, take it. That’s an order.”

Bright seemed willing to argue further but said nothing, pushing himself back into the Gunner’s turret with a mutinous look on his face. The resistance from his stalwart fighter was concerning to Marc. Was he taking too many risks here? Had that suicidal risk he once dealt with daily started to resurface? He prayed it wasn’t so.

“Keep moving down the road. Across the river, then take a left,” Marc ordered Rumble. “We’re looking for a hostel that got commandeered as a makeshift barracks. Featherweight, that means you and I will be going in and out of a lot of rooms, make sure to stay on your toes.”

“Hooah.”

The Humvee pressed steadily forward, moving down the road at a pace that kept them from being easily traced. The entire group, once feeling confident from their earlier successes, had been put on edge by the loss of one of their fellow squads. When the hostel came into sight, the foreboding that settled upon them was palpable.

“Time to rumble. Grab the radio,” Marc ordered before turning to Bright. “Once we clear the main floor, I want you to pepper the upper floors with some suppressing fire. I’ll give you a heads-up when we’re moving.”

“Too easy,” Bright said, wheeling the gun about to get into position. “Don’t do anything stupid, please.”

“Not the plan,” Marc replied, taking position at the corner of the nearby building and peering out at their destination. The windows were shattered, but remained open. The shadows within were too thick for them to distinguish any movement within. Turning to the younger soldier, he said, “I’ll give you cover. Move right towards the door, stay on its side and out of sight, understood?”

Featherweight could only nod, his fear keeping him silent. “Alright… move!” Marc lunged out from cover and kept his rifle steady while Featherweight shuffled past him, moving towards the hostel door. Marc’s eyes remained peeled, scanning the darkness within for any sign of life within its depths-

Featherweight crashed against the door and slipped down next to it, putting himself in position to cover his leader as Marc raced over to join him. As he moved across the open space, he thought he saw a trace of shadow churning inside, just out of the corner of the nearby window-

“Down!” What remained of the window erupted in an explosion of glass, brick, and mortar, a viciously armored foe breaking through the wall and sending Marc sprawling-

“Holy shit!” Featherweight raced forward, peppering the steely colossus with all the firepower his rifle could muster-

Distracted, the Guardsman wheeled about and raised his weapon towards his assailant, easily exposed out in the open-

Marc scrambled forward and crashed into his opponent, heaving his weight and trying to stagger the Guardsman and send his weapon flying-

“Out of the way! Out of the way!” Bright yelled, the Humvee rushing into position as Marc fell back to avoid the Commando’s sweeping arm, trying to unseat his challenger and crush his bones-

Marc weaved back and forth, his old boxing skills keeping him alive as each blow fell and missed by the smallest of margins, each heave closer than the last-

Featherweight rushed forward and buried the muzzle of his rifle into the shoulder of the Commando, firing again and again until the armor weakened and a spurt of blood flew forth from the exposed hole-

“Get clear!” The two soldiers flung themselves out of danger and huddled against the wall as the Guardsman staggered-

A hailstorm of fire erupted from within the building and pelted the Humvee stationed in the street-

Bright released a salvo of fire upon them, first gunning down the injured Commando before battering the hostel with round after round, firing until at last every weapon that lay hidden inside went silent. Marc, crawling slowly out from cover, dared a peek through the shattered window above him and saw nothing but a host of bloodied corpses surrounding a small machine gun. “You guys alright?” he called.

“Bright’s been hit!” Rumble called, and Marc raced out into the street to check on his steadfast Gunner.

“It’s not bad, it’s not bad,” Bright said quickly, nursing a gash across his right hand. “Ricochet. Lucky sonuvabitch nicked me.”

“Get it wrapped. Can you still fight?” Marc asked.

“Yeah, but the 50 is toast. A round pierced the chamber, I don’t think it’s gonna fire. Gonna have to switch to the 240 for now until I can get it fixed.”

They had lost their best form of firepower. “How much ammo have you got?”

“Good enough to last us.”

Marc grimaced, knowing that Bright was wishing for more. “Pick your targets carefully,” he said, turning back to the hostel and motioning for Featherweight to join him. “You ready?”

Featherweight nodded and kicked open the door, rushing through and clearing the open floor. “We’re good.”

The two moved up to the stairs as quietly as they could manage, their ears pricked for sounds of life above them. The sound of whispering, a board creaking, a door opening…

Marc came to a halt in the stairwell, pushing Featherweight back against the wall before motioning for the handmike. “Bright, can you read me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Give the upper floor some heat.”

“On the way.”

Their caution was justified. As soon as Bright opened fire, a series of cries for cover erupted from the floor above them, bullets tearing through flimsy walls and finding flesh and blood-

As soon as the volley had begun it ended, Bright trying his best to conserve ammunition. Above them Marc could now hear groans and struggling, some of their foes still clinging on to life. “Take left, I’ll take right,” Marc whispered, creeping slowly up the stairs with the hopes of remaining silent. He turned the corner above and came into a bullet-torn hallway, some of the doors now spattered red with gore-

A shuffling sound came from the end of the hallway and a bloodied Guardsman staggered out into the hall, catching sight of Marc and struggling to raise his rifle up-

One squeeze of the trigger and the soldier fell, Marc’s aim true and his bullet swift. Featherweight came up behind him, moving his way down the left-hand hallway.

The rooms were empty, save for the solitary bedroom at the end of the hall. Crowded with dead and dying Guardsman, Marc entered and cleared it easily, taking note of the state of his enemy. Two still clung on to life, albeit barely. One had been struck several times by Bright’s onslaught, a pair of gaping holes in his chest where his pierced lungs resided. The other lay broken on the floor, his legs immobile and bleeding heavily, while he stared up at Marc with the cold, unfeeling eyes that all the Iron Guard possessed. Bred to fight without fear, the horrific augmentations that had been performed upon them had dealt their damage, rendering once-human men and twisting them into callous, unsympathetic warfighters that knew neither fear nor pain.

A Pop! from the other room and the sound of a body collapsing to the ground, and Marc knew Featherweight must have come across the same scenario. Pointing his rifle at the two wounded soldiers he fired straight in the head, killing them before they could bring a curse against his name. The building had been cleared.

Marc exited the room and found a vacant-eyed Featherweight standing in the hallway, his weapon trembling in his hands. “Are you alright?”

“He wouldn’t stop trying to reach for his weapon,” Featherweight said, his voice empty of emotion. “I tried to tell him to stop, but he tried to point it at me.”

“The Iron Guard are war machines. They look human, but all they know to do is fight and kill. He never would have stopped,” Marc said. “There was nothing you could do.”

Unconvinced, the two men went down the stairs and back out into the open, the agony within Featherweight’s soul as real and as raw as the blood of a dying man. The young man, boy-faced and soft-spirited, had joined the ranks of the killers.

“What have we got… next…” Rumble’s voice faded as he caught sight of his close friend’s countenance, taken aback by the haunted look now upon his face. “Jesus, what happened?”

“A house down the Strada,” Marc said. “Nothing special about it, I don’t get it…” a tinge of cold grew in his heart, mixed with foreboding. Something about this was horribly familiar…

Perturbed by their actions, Rumble nevertheless moved down the street and came onto the main road. “We’ve got another vehicle up ahead,” he called. “Looks like Sergeant Tran.”

“Halt the vehicle, then,” Marc ordered. “Featherweight and I will walk this one.” As soon as he exited the vehicle, the Humvee up ahead moved forward to meet them, Sergeant Tran exiting from his seat and making his way towards the two soldiers.

“You guys found anything?” he asked.

“Unused field hospital and a hostel turned into a barracks,” Marc replied, noticing a bandage wrapped around Tran’s right arm. “You guys been hit?”

“Bad luck,” the young NCO reported, wincing as he moved his arm about. “Some punk-ass in an attic clipped me, I can barely move the damn thing. Grenke, my Gunner, got hit too, he’s with the medics right now. Should be OK…”

“What’re you doing right now?”

Tran motioned to a small schoolhouse across the street. “CO’s suggestion,” he said. “He thinks it would’ve made a good command post, so he wants me to check it out. Apparently whatever town official he’s talking to is kinda sketchy.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Marc muttered, turning away and heading back to his vehicle. “You see anything in the upstairs windows?” he asked of Bright.

“Not a damn thing,” Bright said tersely. “Sergeant, I don’t like this one. Let’s wait for Sergeant Tran to get done and get some extra bodies in there.”

“There’s not going to be anyone in there, Bright,” Marc said.

Bright’s eyes went wide as the memories began to flood into his mind. “Jesus Christ- fuck, you don’t think-”

“Give it a volley, just to be safe,” Marc said, Bright happily obliging as he scored hits across the walls and through the windows, not the slightest sign of life coming from within. “Thought so.”

“Sergeant, I still don’t like it,” Bright said forcefully. “We’re not gonna like what we find in there.”

“If you see movement in the upper floor, you fire,” Marc ordered. “Featherweight and I are gonna take the cellar.”

“How do you know there’s a goddamn cellar?” Bright called, his words ignored as the two Cavalrymen moved inside, finding an empty home with a built-in storefront at the door. Marc’s stomach dropped. This was horribly, horribly familiar. He feared what he would find in this building’s depths.

“Fuck,” Featherweight wheezed, turning to retch in the corner. “What is that smell?”

“Rotten meat,” Marc said, bile boiling in his throat and he willed himself not to vomit. No, no, please no…

The two moved into the back halls, pushing through the kitchen and finding it empty. Just as Marc had predicted, a cellar stairway was present just to the right of the back door, the wooden doors sealed with a large padlock.

“Oh my God, that is unreal,” Featherweight gasped as he stood beside the cellar, pulling back in disgust from the host of flies that tried desperately to push through and reach its contents. “What the fuck is that?”

“Stay up here,” Marc said, pointing his weapon at the padlock and firing, the solitary bullet cracking the lock and sending it flying. Pulling open the doors, a reprehensible stench of rotted flesh met them and threatened to bowl them over, the putrid, fetid stink of death unmistakable. Unable to withstand it, Featherweight turned to vomit, collapsing to his knees as he tried to recover from the unrelenting reek.

Marc began to tremble as he descended, each footstep more precarious than the last. Visions of days gone by swirled in his brain and obscured his vision, mingling with the present day and bending his resolve. He knew what he would find in this cellar, though he wished so heavily against it. Please, anything else, anything else but-

Marc slipped and fell down the few remaining steps, his feet slipping on semi-dried blood that had settled upon the stone, sending him crashing down into the dark and muck of the cellar. A small scream escaped his lips and he rushed to regain his footing, pushing himself off the floor and his movements came screeching to a halt as he caught sight of the bloodied figure that lay bound before him.

A group of eight corpses stood there, each one stripped naked and bloodied, bound by their hands and feet and left hanging from the ceiling. Several had begun to rot, the blood within having dried and evaporated into the ether. Two still bled slowly, a steady drip falling from their open wounds and down onto the cold stone below. Scars and scorch marks disfigured them, while others had been eviscerated and their insides left exposed. And around each of their neck, tied by rope, lay a simple sign that stated, I am impure, unholy, or a coward, and have brought danger to my people.

Marc’s heart stopped beating, his eyes wide. Each breath was left a struggle, desperately trying to cling to life as a terror long forgotten came crawling from the deep blackness of his brain, unbidden, unwanted, horrifying in its familiarity.

He had seen this before.

Toruń, Two Years Ealier

“And you are absolutely sure of what you found?” Lt. Armor demanded.

“Absolutely. Sir, I’ve never seen anything like it. Just… it was like they were being treated like animals or something. Just all carved up and mutilated-”

“How did you find it?”

“Pure accident. Martinez and I were checking the farmhouse when we smelled this awful smell, so we followed the trail and went down into the cellar, and found… fuck, sir, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The pressure was mounting with each passing moment. The chaos that had just ensued was still fresh in their mind, Marc’s mind playing the battle on repeat. The hilltop exploding beneath his feet, the rush to stop the oncoming assault, his assault on their foes, Collie mutilated and injured, and now a massive force heading straight towards them…

“Reyes!” Marc’s reverie was interrupted by the calls of his Platoon Sergeant, Iron Will rushing over to join the group of soldiers that strode towards the outlying farmhouse, the village of Gronowo still some miles away. As Iron Will joined them, he motioned for the young soldier to join him at his side, which Marc promptly obliged.

“Tell me everything that’s happened,” Iron Will ordered.

“Enemy broke through the line. They were- I dunno, I’ve never see anything like that before,” Marc answered. “Collie’s injured pretty bad, Lt. Pharaoh and Mac are with him. Sergeant Nye found something when they were clearing the farmhouse.”

“Do we know what?”
Marc could only shake his head, a sense of foreboding growing in his stomach, each step towards the antiquated farmhouse only increasing the tension within him. Something about this was desperately, desperately wrong, and he feared what they were going to find.

“Have you still got him?” Sergeant Nye yelled, one of his squad standing guard at the front door, adjacent to the cellar. As soon as it came into a view, a horrendous reek assaulted Marc’s senses and he staggered back, the smell so repugnant that he could hardly keep his eyes open.

“Jesus,” Lt. Armor cried, the stink causing the steadfast officer to retch. “What the hell…”

“Bring that guy we found walking around out from there,” Sergeant Nye ordered. “Where is he?”

“Martinez has him,” Biles replied, turning around to knock open the door and yelling something inside. In a few moments, a tussled, bruised, and obviously terrified man fell to the ground, screaming in a language Marc couldn’t understand.

“What were you doing here?” Sergeant Nye demanded of the man, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and bringing him to his feet.

“Nie mieszkam tutaj. Nie wiedziałem,” the man replied, trembling and clearly petrified at the sight of so many soldiers surrounding him.

“It’s all he says. Over and over again,” Sergeant Nye said angrily. “He was screaming some shit at us when we found us, but the moment we went down into the cellar this is all he’s been saying.”

“Let’s try this, then,” Lt. Armor said, kneeling down until he was at eye level with the man, giving him a stare that was as sharp as knives. “Jak masz na imię?”

The man appeared stunned, and somewhat displeased, to hear his own tongue come from the mouth of his opponent. “M-Marcin,” he managed to stammer.

“Co jest w tej piwnicy?”

“Kazano mi sprawdzić. Nic nie zrobiłem, przysięgam,” the man said as his face showed signs of panic.

“We’re not getting anything,” Lt. Armor said angrily. “Keep him here, we’re going down in.”

“Sir. I don’t know if you wanna do that-” Sergeant Nye said hesitantly.

Lt. Armor ignored the man, wrenching open the cellar door and unleashing an appalling stench so horrid that the entire group of soldiers found their eyes and throats burning as though gassed. “Jesus…”

Marc’s trepidation only increased, but he followed his XO down into the dark nonetheless, trying to ignore how even the very air he breathed felt rotten, tainted by something horrible-

“Jesus fuck!”

Marc’s stomach dropped at the sight: dozens of mutilated corpses, skinned and butchered like animals led to the slaughter. Dried blood caked the walls and floors, flecks of gore easily evident within some of the fresher pools. Figures of all kinds were present before him; men and women, young and old, fat and fair… it was a scene so dreadful, so nightmarish, that Marc wondered if he had descended into the very depths of Hell itself. “What the fuck,” he whispered.

“What’s that around their necks?” Lt. Armor asked, his voice tremulous as though he was about to be sick.

“A sign of some kind,” Sergeant Nye said. “I’ll- try to get one free…” He unsheathed a knife from his side and made his way over to the nearest body and began to cut through the tightly bound rope around the man’s waist, pressing deep into the knot until the cords began to sever-

“Shit-”

The knife broke through and sliced through the rotted flesh, the swift cut ripping open gangrene flesh and a putrid smell washed over the cellar as the man’s decaying inside spilled out onto the floor-

Marc’s vision churned and his stomach lurched. He scrambled for the dim light he knew to be the exit and staggered out into the air, falling to his knees and vomiting. He lay there, barely able to keep himself above his own pool of sick until his vision cleared and his strength returned, though he knew the image of that dead flesh, the smell, would linger in his memories forever.

He had only just recovered when Lt. Armor and the others ascended the steps, a wrathful look upon the officer’s face. He strode over to the now-rambling civilian, bringing out his pistol and burying it in the man’s neck.

“What the fuck was that supposed to be down there?” he demanded. “Every single one of them had a sign around their neck that said they were impure, or unholy. What does that mean?”

The man gabbled away furiously, a line of sweat now dripping down his brow. Infuriated, Lt. Armor whipped him across the face with his sidearm, again and again until the man’s face ran red. “Who did this to them? What did you do?” he roared, his voice as terrifying and thunderous as a mid-summer storm.

“Otrzymaliśmy rozkaz. To nie była nasza wina. Śledziliśmy tylko zamówienia,” the man said, tears now falling down his face as he pleaded-

Lt. Armor’s face flashed with rage and he shot the man dead, letting the now-lifeless corpse fall to the ground. “We’re heading to the village,” he said. “Start setting up a CP. When we get there, we find everyone who was responsible for this. Do you understand me?”

Marc’s conscience quavered at the implication now before him, but fell silent as the images of the death within that cellar resurfaced before his eyes. He trembled once more, but rose to his feet as steady and firm as steel, his vision red.

“Sergeant… Sergeant, what the hell do we do?”

Marc’s heart still pounded within his chest, his vision remained blurred. But as the words rang through his mind, a tinge of clarity came upon him and the spell began to weaken.

“Sergeant, please, what the hell is this?” Featherweight stood beside him, absolutely beside himself at the sight of the flayed bodies that lay strung before him.

Marc regain focus and shook himself to stake his claim. No, he was not outside Gronowo, nor was he surrounded by his leaders. He was here, in the midst of death once again, and this time the charge was to be his own. He summoned all his willpower and commanded himself to take control.

“Get out of this place and get me a chemlight from the vic,” he ordered, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Bring it back to me, don’t say a word to anyone else.”

Featherweight was more than happy to oblige, rushing up the stairs and out of sight. Marc forced himself to wait until the younger man’s footsteps disappeared before he followed suit, running out into the open air and gasping for breath, the tinges of panic tearing at his brain. His mind was screaming at itself, one side desperate to lose control as the memories of his past mingled with the sights of today, begging to break free and be calm no more. Marc closed his eyes and bit down hard into his knuckles, the pain clearing his mind and allowing him to maintain control. He would not falter here, he would not succumb to panic. Not after all the struggles to regain his mind, not now!

“Got it, Sergeant,” Featherweight said, reappearing at the kitchen door.

“Good man,” Marc said gruffly, taking it and cracking the chemlight, shaking it harshly until the light within glowed brightly in the dying throes of the evening sunlight. “We’ll have to mark the entrance to the building, too. Don’t let me forget.”

“Roger… Sergeant, what was that?” Featherweight asked.

Marc shook his head. “Something awful,” was all he could summon, brushing past the man and heading back out into the streets.

Bright stared down at him as Marc made his way over to the radio, his expression stony. The two men had been there that day in Gronowo. They both knew what it meant. Neither wanted to remember.

“Knight Six, this is Red Two, over,” Marc called. “I say again, Red Two calling Knight Six, over.”

Marc waited as seconds turned into a minute of silence. Finally, just when he thought he would have to call again, the radio came to life. “Red Two, this is Knight Six, over,” Cpt. Armor said.

“Knight Six, we just came across a Chamber,” Marc said. “Down in the cellar, standard setup. Building is marked by a green chemlight outside the front door and the cellar entrance, over.”

The radio remained silent, before a wearied, “Copy,” broke through the static. “Was anyone present in the building?”

“Negative. Building is empty.”

“Roger. We’re setting up a CP in the square, get down here and join up once you’ve finished your checks. I’ll call it in.”

“Roger, over and out,” Marc said, tossing the handmike aside and turning to his squad. “We keep moving,” he said firmly.

The vehicle moved on down the road, their next destination awaiting them.

Author's Note

If I can imagine it, someone else has done it already. And that is a frightening thought.

The tale continues. As always, comments and corrections below. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Thirteen: The Town Square

“There is no such thing as closure for soldiers who have survived a war. They have an obligation, a sacred duty, to remember those who fell in battle beside them all their days and to bear witness to the insanity that is war.”

― Harold G. Moore, We Are Soldiers Still: A Journey Back to the Battlefields of Vietnam

“Brigade has sent their S2 to assess the situation. Should be their way out here now,” Cpt. Armor reported, leaving the bullet-ravaged building where the CP had been erected. “Apparently the entire invasion force has been finding a lot of them since we started moving.”

“Sergeant. You touched nothing when you were in there, correct?” First Sergeant asked of Marc.

“Nothing. I can still smell the place, touching anything would have made it worse,” Marc answered. His flesh still crawled as though the maggots and flies that swarmed those corpses had settled upon him.

“Good. Last thing we need is for some random shit to be fucked up now.”

The Troop had taken residency in the town square just outside the city hall, much of the building’s entrance now having been converted into a fortified shelter. The few dead they carried, and whoever had been injured, were now tucked safely inside and far from prying eyes. As the afternoon pressed on and the sky began to become tinged with orange and pink, the leaders among the Troop had completed their duties before converging back on the square where Cpt. Armor had taken residency.

“Alright, Sergeant Mac is filtering through those that surrendered now, we’ve got them holed up in the nearby house here,” Cpt. Armor said, gesturing to the building behind him. “Family’s missing. My guess is they’re down in the cellar you found.”

“What are we hoping to find in the POW’s?” Marc asked.

“The one responsible for it,” Cpt. Armor replied. “And maybe a reason why. We’ve come across Chambers before, but that’s the fourth in the span of a few hours, and those are only the ones our Brigade has come across. I want to know if there’s a reason behind why we’re finding so many.”

“What about him?” Mac asked, nodding towards the town official sitting in his misery nearby. “Does he know anything?”
“Only that it happened. Doesn’t know why,” Cpt. Armor answered, unable to keep the disgust free from his voice. “Odds are he just tried to comply and let it happen so he could save his own skin.”

“Fucking Gyps,” Mac muttered under his breath.

The square had become a hive of activity since the Troop had commandeered it, the soldiers having formed a defensive line at all entrances into the town. With half stationed at the town outskirts, those that were not at full combat power had been quietly diverted into the city center, where the wounded were treated and those still capable of fighting began repairs. Marc, out of the corner of his eye, saw Rumble beginning to argue with Bright who stood atop the turret, the two being tasked with assessing the damage their Humvee had suffered. Their drive into the square had been more sluggish than Marc would have liked, and he feared that a critical component had been injured.

“Sir, do we even know what they were doing here?” Lt. Sentry asked, the young officer having been unusually quiet throughout the entire operation. “It looks like it was a supply line, or a sort of refueling checkpoint. What brought them here?”

The question remained unspoken, but the burning curiosity in his voice was undeniable. Marc felt his body tense instinctively, wondering if perhaps they had indeed found something worth looking into. If maybe, just maybe, Discord was here, then they would be responsible for the apprehension of the most wanted man in the world.

“If you’re asking whether or not Discord is here, the answer is no,” Cpt. Armor answered with a shake of his head. “I searched through all the POW’s, he’s not here. But there is definitely evidence that someone important was here, and not very long ago. If it was Discord, then we would have just missed him by maybe a day or two. I’m sorry, gentlemen. He’s not here.”

An unbidden, unwelcome collected sigh of disappointment coursed through the group of battle-weary Cavalrymen, the tension that had settled among them fading away and being replaced by a cold, dispirited unhappiness.

“Who’s on guard for 1st Platoon right now?” First Sergeant asked.

“Sergeant Fouk’s up in the northeast entrance in, Top,” Mac answered. “He’s made through pretty well. I’ll have Reyes replace him in about an hour.”

“Good. And second, sir?”

Lt. Sentry gave a sigh. With his Platoon Sergeant gone, all duties of leadership had fallen to him until the new chain of command could be properly implemented. With too much to do and more ground to cover than they had anticipated, security had become a genuine issue. “I’ve got Sergeant Caster out the way right now. He got clipped clearing a house earlier but he was asking for the position nevertheless. I’ll keep them rotating in and out so the guys can get some rest.”

“How’re we doing on ammo?” Cpt. Armor asked of them. “I’ll need to give a report to Squadron in an hour or two, if you need any then now’s the time.”

“First Platoon is amber right now, sir,” Marc answered, having been tasked with gaining the information by Big Mac some time ago. “I’m still green on 50 .cal ammo, but Bright’s gun got struck, I don’t think it’ll fire. Sergeant Tran says he’s still green, Sergeant Mac is amber, and so are both Sergeant Fouk and Sergeant Gael. Sergeant Mendez’s ammunition is gonna get distributed through the rest of the platoon since his crew will be down for a while.”

“Good. Keep getting reports from all of them, and make sure to keep the guard rotating throughout the day and into the night. We might be secure, but this is still enemy territory. They’ll be vicious now since they’ve no place to run and hide anymore.”

The leaders continued to pore over details and recount over the battle. Everything that was considered worthy of remembrance was summoned forth, every fallen enemy to be counted and checked to see if they still yet lived. The worst was over, but much still remained to be done. Marc tried to convince himself that they would be here in this town for some time- perhaps he could find a good shower and a genuine bed somewhere here- but he could not fully swayed. Their mission may yet have them pushing out into the hills before too long. Stifling a yawn, he forced himself to pay attention to the conversation and ignore his weariness. It would be a long time before he slept properly again.

As he stood there, Marc felt the presence of another person standing behind him. He turned about to see Featherweight standing there behind him, his body at parade rest.

“Knock it off! You don’t know who’s watching!” Marc hissed, instinctively ducking in fear of an enemy’s unfired rifle.

“But you’re a Sergeant-”

“This is the field, Featherweight. Salutes and all that crap don’t matter out here. You don’t display rank for a reason. Now what’s up?”

“Bright sent me, Sergeant. He said they found some damage under the hood.”

His fears were confirmed. “Did he say what was hit?” Marc asked.

“He said a belt was damaged, and part of the fuel line had been severed, though he didn’t say where.”

Marc groaned. He had been made immobile by poor luck. “Great. Great,” he muttered. “Wait here just a minute.” The young NCO turned back to the discussion, leaning over to Big Mac and whispering in his ear. “Bright’s saying the vic was hit pretty bad. I’m gonna go take a look and see if it’s as bad as he says. I might not be moving for a while.”

Mac swore under his breath. “See if the parts can be replaced and I’ll let CO know so we can get someone from FSC up here to look at it.”

“Too easy.” Marc turned back to his bright-eyed dismount, giving a sigh as he shook himself. “Alright… let’s take a look at this crap.”

The two men began their walk over to the damaged vehicle, Marc already able to hear Bright’s curse-laden vitriol even from a distance, watching as both he and Rumble were waist-deep beneath the hood. As he walked, Marc thought he could hear the faint whine of an engine roaring and growing ever stronger, a sound far too powerful for a Humvee engine to emit-

“Incoming!”

A wall burst and the house clattered in a crash of mortar, wood, and brick as the dominating hull of a T14 crashed through the building and into the square, its gun flared and zeroing in on the nearby group of targets-

“Scatter! Move, move, move!” The square was frenzied with soldiers running to and fro, some leaping for cover while others rushed to their vehicles in an effort to drive out of sight and range of the titanic vehicle-

“Holy shit!”

Marc felt a cold flash of terror as the tank’s gun went immobile, preparing to fire-

“Get down!” he leapt atop Featherweight and crashed them both to the ground as the thunderous, all-powerful Boom! of the main cannon reverberated through the square like a shockwave, the round careening through the sky and connecting with Sergeant Deiter’s Bradley, tearing through the hull and into the turret, detonating with violent force and killing the vehicle just as it had begun to come alive. The sputter of the engine fading could be heard as flames and smoke licked at the sky from within, shards of metal and fiery patches fell to the earth like a demonic snowfall-

“Move! Spread out, get out of sight!” Their main source of heavy firepower eliminated, the outgunned Cavalrymen were desperate to keep out of sight, the T14 now dominating the battlefield unchallenged-

Marc shoved Featherweight into a nearby house, shoving the soldier into the door and sending him crashing through, hoping that the young man would have the sense to keep out of sight-

Out of the corner of his eye, Marc saw Bright yelling at Rumble, the Driver in the back of the Humvee where he searched for their Javelin, perhaps the only weapon that could punch through the tank’s unyielding hull-

The T14’s turret swiveled at the sight and zeroed in on the two men. Bright held a look of horror on his face as he realized what was about to come, attempting to leap down from the turret and run into the nearby alley and possibly escape his fate-

It happened in an instant. The enemy tank fired and the shell detonated on contact, the Humvee erupting in a fiery column of shattered metal and gasoline, the once-powerful war machine turned into a scorched hull that breathed smoke and shrapnel into the air. Bright and Rumble disappeared in the flash of fire and wrath, all traces of their existence wiped away with the firing of a single round-

Marc’s words were stolen from him as an all-consuming horror fell upon him with the force of a bomb. His soldiers, his responsibility, both of them dead and gone in the span of a single instant-

The tank wheeled through the square, its gun searching for any potential targets that could be found. This sole, last defense the Iron Guard could muster against them had overpowered its foe in only a few heartbeats and now was free to roam unchallenged-

“Sergeant, what the hell was that?” Featherweight asked, his voice nearing a shriek.

Marc crashed down beside him, huddling against the wall and out of sight as the sight of fire consuming Bright and Rumble clouded his vision. There hadn’t been time for them to feel pain, no time for them to scream and shout aloud in agony. A simple, bright flash of fire and all was done, gone and blown away into a billion tiny pieces of torched flesh-

“Bright and Rumble just got hit,” Marc said, willing himself to stay calm and collected. With all the courage he could muster, he peered out into the square and searched for signs of life. Had Cpt. Armor and the others managed to escape? He could see a spare few bodies splayed out in the courtyard but were too far away to identify-

“They’re dead?” Featherweight sounded as though he were on the verge of panic.

“Yes! Now shut up, I need you to stay calm. We’re going to have to go back out there and see if we can find the Commander,” Marc said. “That tank is about to start moving through the streets, soon as it does we run to the city hall and see who we can find.”

“Sergeant, are Bright and Rumble-”

“Yes! And we’ve got to find a way to stop this from getting worse!” Marc roared. He settled himself beside the broken door, peering outside and waiting for their moment. The T14 was almost out of sight, slowing moving its way southward towards where Second Platoon had retreated. “Get ready- now!”

The courtyard had become unnervingly void of activity, only the burning wreckage of what had been his Humvee filling the silence. Marc willed himself to not look over, lest he see the broken corpse of one that he once called his soldier, forcing his eyes to focus upon the building ahead. He stumbled over a bloodied body that had been nearly severed at the waist and he saw First Sergeant Iron Will had been hit, much of his lower jaw now missing-

As soon as he made it through the door, a powerful pair of hands gripped at his armor and threw him against the wall-

“Reyes! Jesus, what the hell!” Mac released his friend and watched as Featherweight came racing in behind him-

“Is the CO here?” Marc asked.

“Right here. Reyes, I need your help,” Cpt. Armor said, kneeling beside his Driver, Private Kelly, with a radio at his fingertips. “I’ve got a bird on its way but I’ve got to get smoke on the damn thing to make sure they spot it. Where is it now?”

“Heading south towards Second’s barricade-”

“Shit. If it gets mixed in with our own guys- come on, we need to slow it down!” Before anyone could stop him, Cpt. Armor had crashed through the door and out into the street, leaving his stunned soldiers gawking before they, too, ran back out into the fray.

Marc could still hear the strong roar of the tank’s turbine engine as they ran down the streets, the sound growing ever louder as they approached their target. His heart was pounding from both exhaustion and terror as one small mistake could prove to be fatal yet again-

The turret came into view and the secondary turret swung about to cover them, the Kord machine gun narrowing down its intended target-

“Scatter!” Cpt. Armor’s command came just in time as the men flung themselves out of sight, a spattering of rounds peppering the ground where they had just stood-

Marc rushed through the small home where he had taken cover, leaping out through the back door and running down the compact alleyway, searching for a way to get behind the vehicle. The machine’s defense systems would activate if he fired upon it, perhaps he could keep the machine occupied elsewhere-

The colossal hull of the machine roared out before him as Marc darted out of the alleyway, barely missing being crushed by the treads, his breath stolen away as he flung himself across the road and out of sight-

Boom! the T14 fired point-blank, a devastating 125mm round barreling through the walls of the home and Marc flung himself to the ground, watching as the shell punched a hole through the entire building, detonating somewhere just outside. Marc, now covered in a mixture of debris and dust, slowly raised his head from the floor, hardly daring to believe that he had somehow survived by some miraculous-

The sound of treads coming forward and Marc knew he had been discovered. He thrust himself forward and away, bracing for the impact when the tank again found its target-

A series of small Pops! Met his ears as someone opened fire on the steel beast, the turret swinging about and focusing on its aggressor. Marc rushed for safety, knowing he likely had seconds before their attention was again diverted-

A second thunderous Boom! reverberated through the haze of smoke and dust as the T14 fired yet again, at who Marc could only guess. Against all instinct he peered back out into the street to see the tank still moving steadily southward towards Second Platoon’s location-

A hand slapped his shoulder and Marc leapt away, suddenly finding Cpt. Armor standing behind, the field radio nestled in a bag that hung across his shoulders. “I thought you were done for,” he breathed.

“So did I.”

“Bird’s gonna be here soon, can you land a smoke grenade on top of the damn thing if need be?”

“I can if we need to.”

The handmike came alive with chatter and Cpt. Armor held it up to his ear. “He’s got the place in sight. Come on!”

The two men rushed out into the open and down into the street where the T14 dominated, the secondary turret firing upon a pair of fleeing 2nd Platoon soldiers and making its mark, the bullets scoring through their flesh like a knife through butter-

The scream of an engine overhead and Marc dared to tear his attention from the iron colossus ahead of him. What was only a pinprick suddenly became a monstrous bird of prey as the twin-engine roar of an A-10 rushed overhead, the sound eliciting cheers from across the city as the besieged soldiers saw their salvation flying-

The tank immediately came to a screeching halt and diverted course, trying to burrow its way into a nearby house where it could get out of sight of the more maneuverable Warthog-

“Don’t let it get to cover!” Cpt. Armor roared-

Marc pressed forward and took aim at the T14, peppering the hull with rounds from his M4 in a desperate attempt to keep it occupied-

The turret swung out wildly, crashing through the upper floor of the surrounding buildings and centered on its antagonist, the hull still pressing through the nearest structure in the hopes of hiding-

“Smoke out!” A Click! and a canister careened through the air, a thin wisp of green filtering out into the acrid air-

The roar of the A-10 overhead grew ever louder and the metallic dragon crept closer to the earth, pulling a wide turn as it centered itself on its prey-

“Everyone get clear!” Marc roared, throwing himself into the corner between two houses as the fiery whine of the Warthog’s gatling gun came to life and opened fire. Sparks and wreckage flew into the air as the unpleasant shriek of gunfire on metal crashed in their ears, the T14 unable to fully conceal itself from the flying machine’s unrelenting barrage-

The unsteady hum of the tank’s engine continued to press on and echo through the streets, the vehicle made unsteady but still pressing on, not yet willing to fall in battle-

“OH COME ON!” Marc roared, watching as what remained of the T14’s cover slid off the hull in a haphazard mix of brick and mortar, the machine riddled with bullet holes but still functioning. The secondary turret was destroyed, now only a small hole in the main turret, but the integrity of the hull remained somewhat intact, the front of the vehicle able to withstand the heavy barrage-

The A-10 tore across the skies and prepared its secondary approach, diverting its flight path so as to intercept the target from behind-

The T14 pressed forward and slid out from cover, shakily breaking through out into the open and coming to a halt a few yards away, the turret wheeling about as it tracked the Warthog’s flight path-

Marc felt his blood chill. It was a risky gambit, but the tank crew was trying to line up a kill shot on the bird overhead. If somehow, by pure luck they managed to score a hit, the entire Troop wouldn’t be able to survive the aftermath-

He aimed his weapon and felt something jam. He screamed, tossing his rifle aside and firing wildly with his sidearm, scoring a series of hits along the rear of the vehicle-

The tank turret, its defense systems automatically activated, swiveled from its intended target and took aim at Marc-

A furious buzz of bulletfire raked across the tank’s hull and cut through the softer portion of the hull with ease, round after round eating through steel and devastating the interior, filling the world with sparks and heat and the unmistakable stench of spilled blood. The constant hum of the tank’s engine sputtered and began to die, the sound and smell of flames burning from within meeting those who still stood. The A-10 circled overhead, as though gloating over its kill, before screaming off into the distance and out of sight, likely bidden to further operations elsewhere.

Marc’s breath came in short, uneven gasps as he stared wide-eyed at the now smoldering hull, praying that the machine would not find the will to resurrect itself. He listened for a sound of movement, any sign of life from within, but his ears were only met by the hungering licks of flame that consumed all, their tongues filtering through the bullet holes and prying at the open air. If there had been anything left alive in the machine when it had been conquered, the destruction now being wrought inside it would be more than enough to finish them off. He gave a long, weary sigh of relief and the pounding in his chest began to finally relent.

“Reyes! Jesus fuck, you alright?” Marc turned to see Mac and Cpt. Armor rushing towards him with Featherweight close behind. “What the fuck were you thinking, you dumbass? They had you!”

Marc pushed himself into a sitting position, the adrenaline that had raced through his blood now ebbing away and leaving his body shaking. “I thought they were trying to line up a shot,” he said, “So I tried to stop them.”

“No goddamn fear,” Mac said, helping his friend to his feet, though Marc remained shaky. “You get hurt?”

The younger NCO shook his head and peered over at his soldier, who seemed to be holding his arm tightly against his side. “Featherweight, did you get hit?”

The shell-shocked soldier shook his head before transitioning to a nod. “I got clipped by something, Sergeant. I’ll be alright.”

The four men stood there for a time, simply unable to truly comprehend what had just transpired. Slowly, surely, until it all came crashing onto them, the reality of their situation finally came into play as the unmistakable cry echoed through the air: “Medic!”

“Oh shit,” Cpt. Armor whispered. “Mac, Reyes, get moving! Featherweight you’re with me, we need to get medevacs called in.” The group split apart and filtered out into the aftermath, seeking out the wounded before it would become too late, and finding the damage had already been done.

“That’s fifteen so far,” Cpt. Armor muttered.

“Sir?” Marc asked.

The two men had returned back to the city hall with all the dead and wounded they could find, the air soon becoming a nauseating mixture of blood and bile as the number of casualties continue to mount. Additional help had been brought in as most of the Squadron’s Medic platoon had been stationed in Sighisoara to help with the overflow of injured, but still most present were exhausted.

“Fifteen KIA,” Cpt. Armor explained. “And twenty-nine wounded. Sergeant Nye, First Sergeant… Knight Troop got hit hard.”

“Where did that thing come from? It couldn’t have been waiting for us,” Marc mused.

“I don’t think so. This whole city was being used as a supply area, tons of fuel here too. Most likely they were just coming back from operations for a resupply and found us instead. Squadron is going to set up the TOC here, so I’ll see what info I can get from the SCO on the matter.” Cpt. Armor looked down at the NCO. “You good?”

Marc felt a tremor eager to run through him but he resisted the sensation for a moment longer. “Gotta check my vic, see what survived,” he said flatly. In truth, he had busied himself elsewhere with whatever distractions he could manage before the blunt truth began to stand before him like a grim specter: it was his vehicle, they had been his responsibility. If anyone was to see if their bodies had somehow survived, it would have to be him.

Cpt. Armor seemed to understand the man’s hesitancy. “Do you want me to get you some help?”

“I’d rather do it myself,” Marc said in a voice that did not sound like his own. Bright’s wry smile flickered before his eyes-

The smoke still filtered out of the wrecked hull of the Humvee as he approached it, Marc holding his breath for fear of breathing in their ashes. The tank had struck it perfectly, scoring a direct hit right on the engine. The fuel must have detonated instantly and blown the vehicle sky-high. Now nothing more than an amalgamation of metal and scorched rubber, all that had remained in the vehicle –or nearby it- was gone. Most of Marc’s gear, left stowed in the trunk, was no more, and what little he still possessed now remained in the assault pack that lay across his back.

Marc felt the hesitation and sighed. He was desperately conjuring reasons to delay the inevitable, a way to not do what he must. Steadying himself, he pushed forward and began to feel his way through the wreckage, pushing aside shattered pieces of the hull-

“Can I help, Sergeant?” Marc jumped and looked back to see Featherweight standing a short distance away, a thick bandage now tied around his arm.

“Go back to the CP, Featherweight,” Marc ordered. He was young, he didn’t have to see what could possibly be found beneath all this.

“He was my friend, Sergeant.” Marc saw the haunted look in his eyes. Though the shell-shock had worn off, the brutal, unrelenting reality had settled upon the young soldier like an unbearable weight, driving him to find some way to cope; perhaps even a need to see it done had settled upon him.

“… Start helping,” Marc said quietly, and the two pushed through the wreckage, tossing aside battered metal and broken glass, sifting through ash and soot until Marc felt something solid in his hands that was neither metal nor rubber but instead the sensation of flesh. He sighed, gently pushing a torched piece of the turret aside to find Bright dead beneath it, his skin burnt irreversibly black until only the bone remained. Most of his lower body was gone, likely crushed when the vehicle had been flung by the resulting detonation, leaving little more than a charred, nigh unrecognizable torso that seemed to weigh far too little. Bright had once stood tall, a skinny, vibrant man who had towered over Marc, but had trusted his leader with his very life. Now, he was small, lifeless and barely recognizable as a human being.

“Sergeant, I think I found him,” Featherweight said in a small voice, struggling to lift a large piece of what looked like the top of the vehicle. Marc moved over and the two gave a heave to toss it out of the way, a small, violently mutilated figure that had once been Rumble lying underneath it. His left arm was missing all the way up to the shoulder, with a good chunk of the left side of his face having caved in under the weight of steel upon his bones. Little remained of him, he likely having been nearer to the explosion than Bright had been, only a portion of his body still remaining to be recovered. Bright had been confident to the point of arrogance, believing himself invulnerable. He had joined against his brother’s wishes and desperately hoped to prove himself- and he had accomplished both. Marc remembered how Thunderlane had worried over his younger brother, fearing for his life. Somehow, somewhere, he would be receiving the news that he had lost the only member of his family he’d ever known.

Marc bent to pick up what remained of Rumble, but Featherweight leaned in and cradled the body of his friend, every inch of his tiny body trembling with the willpower that kept him from falling into his grief.

“You don’t have to do that,” Marc said.

“He was my friend, Sergeant,” Featherweight said, his voice shaky but nevertheless determined. Steadily as he could manage, the young soldier carried the body of his dead friend towards the city hall where a body bag would be waiting for him. As Marc watched him go, he saw the gentleness with which the young man held the body that had once been his brother in arms, and within that last act lay all the feeling and camaraderie they had ever known.

God, I love these soldiers, Marc thought. He took a breath and took Bright in his arms, hoping that his tears would hold on until he could hide himself from the sight of others, where strength would no longer be needed.

Before sundown the restructuring of the Troop had been completed. Now the senior NCO in the Troop, Big Mac would become acting First Sergeant until a suitable replacement became available, with Staff Sergeant Rankin taking the place of Sergeant Nye for Second Platoon. Marc filled the void that Big Mac had left behind, now responsible for the forty soldiers of First Platoon that remained intact. Six of his platoonmates had been killed in the melee, and approximately eight injured, Second Platoon suffering a far worse fate as the Imperial T14 had roamed directly into their blockade. For now, the Troop had been put on security detail in Sighisoara to allow the lesser casualties time to recover and rejoin the fight, therefore putting the Troop back in combat-ready status. The rest of the Squadron would continue to push north, snuffing out the supply line that appeared to head into the former Russian territories, and pray that Discord would be found in the meantime.

Marc found himself unable to sleep that night, the frenzy of the afternoon unwilling to grant him reprieve. Though he had found an empty room in city hall, and a bed in a nearby house that he had acquired, the comfort and warmth of his surroundings only mocked him. He was alive, and the very air he breathed seemed too perfect. It was wrong.

He gave a groan and flung himself to a sitting position, trying to do his best not to wake the other soldiers that shared his quarters. As silently as he could manage, he slipped on his boots and gear, grabbing his weapon before heading towards the door and making his way to the main entrance of the building. As he peered towards the light that filtered in through the barely open door, he saw the silhouette of an armed figure nearby-

The figure gave a gasp and seemed to move in his direction, Marc knowing he had surprised the man-

“I know nothing,” he said calmly, continuing to move forward.

“But you’re not Jon Snow,” the figure replied, the voice revealing itself to be Sergeant Tran. “What’s up, Sergeant?”

“Just checking things. How long you been on?”

“About an hour now. Place only just now stopped buzzing, most of HHT is in the basement keeping tabs on the other Troop’s movements. They were pretty loud a little bit ago- they wake you up?”

“Nah, I’m just not tired,” Marc said. “Tran, if you’re tired, I can cover down for you, I don’t think I’m gonna be sleeping tonight.”

“You sure, Sergeant?”

“Yeah, get some rest, man, I’m good. How’s the arm?”

“I’ll be fine in a day or two, Sergeant. My crew will be up when the time comes.”

“Good man. Now get some sleep.” Marc took his place at the door, settling in the chair and leaning back, the frosty midnight air creeping through the slit of the threshold, its bitterness filling his lungs and awakening him further. There would be no rest for him tonight, and he would not have it any other way.

Marc stared out into the night, the movement of the moon and stars turning into a blur as the minutes ticked by and turned into hours. He barely moved, his eyes peeled out into the square where the remaining vehicles had been parked. This city had been full of life, the normal comings and goings of regular people. He began to wonder just how different their lives had been from his own. Did they fear the invading soldiers? Despise them? Or had the weariness of this long, brutal war resigned them to a desire surrender? King Sombra appeared willing to fight to the last man, and many would die in this last, climactic assault. The Empire was going to lose, with simply no way to hold off so many advancing fronts. But the casualties would likely be catastrophic. More and more people would die.

The sound of feet on marble from behind him and Marc looked over his shoulder at the shadowy figure of Cpt. Armor walking towards him. As he grew closer the moonlight flashed across his face, and a look of surprise fell upon it as he recognized the soldier on guard. “Sergeant Reyes?”

“Evening, sir,” Marc replied.

“You supposed to be on duty right now?”

“I just couldn’t sleep, sir, that’s all. I took over for Tran. What are you doing up so late?”

“Just got done dealing with Squadron, actually. Place is still going nuts. It’s gonna be a long operation. You mind if I join you for a bit? I could use some fresh air.”

“Take a seat, sir.” Cpt. Armor drew a nearby stool and sat opposite Marc, the two men staring out into the slowly fading night as the stars continued to move on the horizon.

Cpt. Armor was the first to break the silence. “You don’t have to blame yourself, you know,” he remarked. “You can look at the situation again and again, but you’re never going to find a way for it to fit and feel right. Just doesn’t happen.”

“Sir?”

“You feel guilty. I’m guessing that’s why you’re up here instead of sleeping.”

“Mm.” Marc tried to ignore him, staring out at the town and trying to ignore the bodybags that now lay in the distance corner, waiting for the morning to be retrieved and sent home to their loved ones.

“You gonna be alright?”

“You mean am I gonna fall apart, sir? No,” Marc answered. “I just… wish I could’ve found a way to stop it. Maybe shout something and get them to move.”

“What-if’s will do nothing for your life, Marc,” Shining Armor said, their professional pretense dropping and falling to the wayside. “Don’t waste your breath on something worthless. You know who’s really responsible for all this?”

Marc knew who he meant. “It’s not-”

“Not my fault? I’m the Troop Commander. Those soldiers answered to me. Now fifteen of my good soldiers are gone and I can’t bring them back.” Shining Armor’s voice faltered for a moment and he struggled to maintain composure. “Tomorrow I’m going to have to start working on paperwork that will go with them and see them home. I’m going to have to bury good men. Nye. Iron Will. Rumble. Bright. All of them were good soldiers, and I was proud to call them mine. And they died because I ordered them to fight, and that order got them killed.”

Marc wanted to argue but nothing he conjured within his mind was good enough, wise enough to settle the feud that would follow. It was a conversation that would never see its end.

“I just- I hate this job,” he said. “I hate it. It’s like everywhere I go, someone dies. I feel like the grim reaper and I can’t stand it. Is this all I’m going to do with my life? Kill, steal, and destroy? I need more for my life than all this.”

“Then don’t do it. You have less than a year on your contract, and I highly doubt this war is going to last much longer. The moment it’s said and done, start moving on,” Shining replied. “Marc, you’re a good guy. If there wasn’t rank between you and I, I think we’d be friends. And for all the crap you’ve had to do, and go through, you’re a better person than you think you are. I don’t know if there’s a soldier in this Troop more respected than you. Hell, your wife thinks you’re incredible and I trust her judgement- so does Cadance.”

“I still chose to do this. No one made me.”

“You chose to fight because you wanted to protect something you held valuable. No one can ask for more than that. When this is done and over with, go. Go into the rest of your life and never look back. I think your wife will be all the happier for it, too. So if you’ve got to hold on to something, hold on to that.”

The grief had not fully ebbed away, but its weight had somewhat lessened. “Did I tell you Sunset’s pregnant?” Marc asked.

“Really? How? I thought you said she was barren,” Shining said, his voice suddenly lighter.

“We don’t know. But she’s getting bigger every day,” Marc said. “She should be about seven months pregnant right now. I may have a child by the time we get back.”

“Now that’s something to hold on to,” Shining remarked. “So don’t hold on to this and miss it. Your child is gonna need their dad, alive and whole. You can’t fill that role while still clinging to the dead.”

Off in the distance, the faint tinge of pink could be seen as the smallest hint of the sunrise grew in the distance. A sound of boards creaking back in the building met them and another soldier headed towards them, ready to take the place of Marc on shift.

“It’s been a long night, Marc,” Shining said. “Go get some sleep.”

Marc nodded, his body feeling heavy as he moved from his seat and headed back towards the rooms, thinking he might be able to rest after all.

Author's Note

I lost a friend a few weeks back. I deployed with him. He was a good guy. Friendly, hard-working, intelligent. He was my friend. And now he's dead.
It never will feel right again. And nothing can change it.

This story will be receiving updates alongside Love Letters of the Princess of the Sun, since both are the same chapter length away from completion. As to why, I can't say just yet. But it will make sense in time.

Comments and corrections below. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter Fourteen: Always

Chains do not hold a marriage together. It is threads, hundreds of tiny threads which sew people together through the years. ~Simone Signoret

Sunset felt the warmth of the summer evening beneath her feet as the long grass brushed against her sandaled feet. The scenery was truly resplendent, she standing atop the hill as she looked down at the waters below, the sun slowly setting behind her back. As she looked down towards the shoreline, she could see the tiny shape of her daughter running about as the waves lapped gently on the sands, each wave splashing against her legs and delighting her endlessly, Ashley’s shrieks of laughter easily audible even far away.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and knew by the gentle pressure that it was Marc, he coming to a halt beside her and giving a sigh. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her like this,” he remarked. “It’s a good thing we came out here today. Ashley needed to be a little girl again.”

“We’ve been too busy lately,” Sunset said. “It’s been a big transition.”

“I’ll find a job, don’t worry about that,” Marc said confidently. “We haven’t been here long, is all. It’ll get easier the more I look. Someone will want a veteran, right?”

“I’d feel better if I was working, too,” she replied. “I know you think I should finish school, but is this really where I should be?”

“I think so. And I want you to finish. We worked hard to get here.”

Sunset smiled, leaning against his shoulder as they watched their child frolic in the ocean waves. It was a blissful picture, a moment she had dreamed of for years upon years. The Iron War had prevented this for so long, but nothing could truly stop it. Marc had lived, and he was home. Her world was whole again. She turned to face him, to feel his lips upon hers-

An empty space existed where Marc had been, where she had felt him. No longer did his arm settle against hers, nor did she lean against his shoulder. He had disappeared into the void, like he had never been there. For a time she floundered until a small flash of memory from a lost space within her mind reminded her: Marc had not yet returned. This was not real. It was a dream.

And so she awoke. Sunset reached out for the emptiness in her bed, hoping the broken dream had merely been an awakening into another, where her husband had not yet left her. She found nothing beside her, no weight or presence. She was alone in her bed, in her room where the night was still moving steadily. Slowly, on unsteady feet, she looked out into the night and saw no moon in the sky; the sun would be up soon, if she was to make a guess. Should she try to go back to sleep and wake when the morning had truly come? She closed her eyes and the fragments of her dream returned to her, so painfully real that she felt her whole body shudder. A small kick in her stomach and she looked down at her unborn daughter. “Mommy’s alright, little girl,” she whispered. “Don’t worry.”

Sunset sighed and grabbed a nearby book, flipping on the light as she began to read until the dawn came. With the dream still so close by, she feared to sleep.

There was a knock on the bedroom door as Sunset continued to brush away the wrinkles on her dress, and perhaps convince herself the pregnancy bulge was not as massive as she imagine it to be. The knock came again before she realized it had even occurred. “What’s up, AJ?” she called. “You can come in.”

“You alright? You’ve been in here a while,” AJ said, pushing the door open gently and giving a smile at the sight of her friend. “It’s not long now, is it?”

“It can’t come soon enough,” Sunset said. “Every time I look in the mirror I feel fat.”

“You’re pregnant, ah’m pretty sure you’re supposed to get a little big,” Applejack said with a laugh.

“Ugh, you know what I mean. I feel like an overstuffed sofa,” Sunset replied. “I’m sorry, I know I’m keeping us from going. Gimme just a second to grab my phone.”

“You sleeping alright, sugarcube?” Applejack asked. “I woke up about five and saw your light was on. Was wonderin’ if everything was OK.”

The dream flashed again in her mind and Sunset stiffened. “I’m fine, Applejack. Really, just couldn’t really sleep. It’s been like that ever since the first trimester ended.”

“Hmm…” Applejack scrutinized her friend with suspicion, shrewd enough to know the whole truth wasn’t being told. “If you say so,” she said lowly. “You want me to drive?”

“Yes, that’d be great.”

The two women drove into the city, Applejack’s two-week visit now in its tenth day. It had been a welcome reprieve from the solitary waiting Sunset had endured the first few months, and it had been so long since they had last seen one another. However, with no contact from Marc since over a week ago, Sunset found herself worrying more than ever. If he was in combat, as she had guessed, it could be some time until she heard from him again. To Sunset, each day had come to feel like a week.

“You need to eat, ya know,” Applejack remarked, taking note of Sunset’s nigh untouched plate. “Not just for your baby girl, but for you, too. Do you even hear me, Sunset?”

“Huh?” Sunset’s reverie was broken and she immediately felt guilty. The meal was Applejack’s treat, and the establishment was superb, it wasn’t fair to keep fading away like this. “I’m sorry. Yes, you’re right.”

“Why don’t you just say what’s bothering you rather than letting it eat at ya?” Applejack asked drily, watching eat bite her friend took. “Ah get you’re used to holding the fort down while Marc’s gone, but letting it chew you to bits can’t be good for you.”

Sunset sighed, taking another bite of her omelet. “I know, just- AJ, do you ever worry about your brother when he’s gone? It’s just the same thing; I wish Marc was back already.”

Applejack’s mouth tightened. “Big Mac… doesn’t say much anymore,” she said. “He stopped talking to me and Apple Bloom about a year ago, just a bit after he came back the last time. Like he was ashamed of something and didn’t want to see us. Maybe a call or two in between, but only maybe.”

Sunset’s thoughts drifted to conversations with her husband, the stories he had told during his therapy sessions. If Big Mac had been there with him, it was likely the ghoulishness of his experiences that hindered him. “Do you think he hates you or something?”

“Ah don’t know, Sunset. He’s not the same brother Ah knew before he left. He’s changed.”

“Of course he is. Big Mac went to war, that’s hardly a light task to deal with.”

“Ah know. Just- just didn’t think anything could faze Big Mac,” AJ said. “Ah hope he comes back to Sweet Apple Acres when it’s all over. Ah don’t wanna run that place on my own anymore.”

Though the winter sun was bright as it shone through the nearby window, the light had been sucked out of the day as their conversation had continued, leaving the world grey and cold to the eye. Sunset hastily finished her meal and pushed the plate aside. “You wanna get out of here?”

“Yeah.”

They had returned to the installation before too long, a heavy cloud cover rolling in from the west and turning the November day from chilly to frigid. With no real desire to explore or relax elsewhere, the two women found no reason to stay out any longer.

When they settled into warmer quarters, the TV was turned on, the screen inevitably turning to coverage of the Iron War, as the whole world watched the last vestiges of the Crystal Empire fade away on bated breath. It had been a long, unforgiving conflict, with more lives lost than any had ever dared to imagine. Just to see it end would be an answer to the prayers of billions.

“As you can see, I am here in the town of Girgiu, the battle for control of this city having only ended a few hours ago. As the 82nd Airborne continues to eliminate the capital city’s supply chains, the chokehold on Bucharest and King Sombra’s regime will only grow tighter, until the Crystal Empire finally suffocates,” the reporter said, standing before a ravaged town of battered buildings and bombed-out roads. “The Coalition’s hopes are that by surrounding the capital and putting it to siege, perhaps a surrender can be achieved, rather than continuing the conflict.”

Sunset and AJ waited on bated breath. Though it was not Marc’s unit, perhaps the location would switch and they would catch a glimpse of him. A mere sight, proof that he was alive, was all that Sunset asked for.

“Ah can’t imagine what they’re doing over there,” Applejack murmured. “Are they having to kill everyone they see, or are people just giving up at the sight of them?”

“I don’t know,” Sunset replied, hoping she wouldn’t see footage of Marc in combat. She knew he had taken lives before, but she felt no desire to see it in action.

The screen flickered to a map of the Crystal Empire, highlighting the various units that were moving across the territory. With the 101st Airborne moving towards Bucharest, the 82nd further south, the Marines moving from the former Russian border… He’s in the north, Sunset realized. 3rd Infantry has to be up north. He’s away from the main conflict, but what are they doing up there?

The answer was so obvious she could hardly imagine why it hadn’t clicked immediately. They’re searching for Discord.

A jingle erupted and both women jumped, both heavily focused on the screen before them-

“Jeez- sorry, that’s me,” AJ said hurriedly, extracting the ringing phone from her pocket. “It’s Apple Bloom. Give me a minute, sorry.” She was gone down the hall to find privacy before Sunset could say it was perfectly fine.

She found herself alone to her thoughts again, staring at the TV as she hungered for a sight of her husband. There seemed to be no interest in his part of the conflict, all the focus on the final assault of the Imperial capital. Please, anything. Just a simple word on how they’re doing. The longing for him had grown to the point of painful, Sunset’s loneliness radiating from within her. There was no reprieve from her solitude, not until he returned at last. The thought only deepened the wound.

A green notebook flashed in her mind and Sunset stood up instantly. Marc’s notebook, his gift to her before he’d left! Hadn’t he left it for moments like this? It had sat upon her nightstand for so long now that she had almost completely forgotten it even existed. It was the perfect time to see its contents.

Sunset quietly crept by the kitchen, trying to do her best to allow Applejack a private conversation. As she slid into her room, she closed the door behind her before making a rush to the book and tearing it open as though it contained the answers to the great mysteries of existence-

Sunset stared at her own face. She gave a start, at first uncertain as to what she was looking at. But then the lines became clear in her eyes, the faded marks where mistakes had been erased, the soft streaks where the lead had gently been pressed against the paper.

He drew me. He’s been drawing me. Marc, where did you learn to do this?

Sunset could only marvel at the work before her. Each picture she filtered through was more beautiful than the last, his skill and talent growing with each sketch. No matter what page she turned to, the focus of his work was abundantly clear. A simple drawing of her in her wedding dress. A picture from their childhood, she wearing the dress he had bought her for Christmas. She standing in a field, wings of fire radiating into the sky. She sleeping peacefully, a smile on her lips. Over and over again, a talent developed and mastered in utmost secrecy until the time was right. As she turned to the final page, she found his untidy handwriting now greeting her.

Sunset,

I started this journal so I could have a reminder of why I wanted to get better. Instead of writing down the reasons, I found myself thinking of you instead. Your eyes, your hair, your smile. I had my reasons, but I didn’t think words were enough. I hope this works instead.

In case you ever feel alone, know my every thought when I am gone is of you.

Her tears fell unbidden, she hardly able to see. It must have taken him so long to do this, each mistake a frustration for him. But he had persevered because of her, for her. It was a gesture so meaningful that Sunset could hardly believe someone loved her so deeply. She held the notebook tight against her, praying that her feelings would radiate forth and protect him.

Suddenly, as though in response, a horrid, unrelenting panic swept over her like a tidal wave and she found herself trembling. Something’s wrong. He’s in danger, he’s hurt. He’s going to die, he’s already dead! Marc, please! Something is wrong, please run!

Pain beyond words. A hideous, merciless pain seized her whole body until her very breath was stolen away from her lungs. Sunset doubled over, struggling to stand and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She stumbled to the door, clumsily pushing it open as another wave of pain wracked her body.

Applejack walked out of the kitchen with phone in hand, giving a sigh. “Well, ah may need to head back early, actually. Apple Bloom was telling me-” She caught sight of Sunset. “Oh my gosh- Sunset!”

Sunset gave a faint cry as a third, unpitying, devastating quake of pain ravaged her and she collapsed to the ground, so wracked was she that to move was impossible. She could feel hands upon her as Applejack tried to help, the pounding of feet against the hard floor, but her mind floated away towards distant shores, the pain and terror engulfing her mind until the whole world went white before her eyes.

Something is wrong.

The trio of men stood silently as they watched the screens before them. The footage was murky, flickering between qualities as the connection dropped over and over. The drone was flying low, an easy target if it was to be shot down. No one spoke a word, all silently praying that the gambit was to be worth it. If the tipoff was correct, then the world was about to change forever…

“Take it in again. The house right by the lake, do a low sweep.” The drone pilot, in a clean, air-conditioned room on the other side of the world, obeyed the command from the Squadron Commander. “Zoom it in. They’re moving inside right now.”

A group of four men, all heavily armed, snuck towards the entrance of the building. One seemed to gaze up in the sky, perhaps hearing the light hum of the drone’s engine overhead. The drone buzzed away, fleeing from the sight of its targets.

“Was it enough?” Cpt. Armor asked.

“We wait and see, Captain,” the Squadron Commander replied. “Might be a few minutes. Intel has to confirm it first, and then send it our way.”

The wait was agonizing, each minute a torturous agony. Slowly time pressed on, taunting those who waited on bated breath. Surely it could not be real. It was too easy, too simple. To find him like this after all these years with barely a sighting…

A phone rang and the Squadron Commander was on it instantly. He spoke quietly to whoever was on the other line, his words hurried and hushed. With one simple movement, he turned to Cpt. Armor and gave a nod.

“Holy shit,” Big Mac breathed.

“Wake the Troop,” Cpt. Armor said, turning to Marc. “Assault pack with only basic necessities. Grab water, ammo, and one MRE for each man. Be ready for debrief whenever.”

Marc nodded and ran out of the basement, rushing up the stairs and taking three steps at a time. Throwing himself down the hall, he saw the lights on in the sleeping area, hearing voices talking excitedly until he appeared in the doorway and the world fell silent as all eyes rested upon him.

Marc gave a simple, singular nod. “It’s Discord. We’re going in.”

Author's Note

Yes, it really is Discord. Yes, foreshadowing has occurred.
Yes, it's about to get very bad.

Comments and corrections below. Enjoy the ride.

Chapter Fifteen: Engage Direct

“Anything in life worth doing is worth overdoing. Moderation is for cowards.”

-Shane Patton

The square was alive with an agitated sense of activity. Vehicles that had once been neatly parked and set in corners were moved out of the way as quickly as possible to allow for the incoming aircraft. If any had been sleeping before, none did so now, as the flurry of activity was sure to echo through the forest and over the hills for miles. The darkened streets were lit bright, the town becoming a beacon to the coming arrivals.

Within city hall, the chaos had reached fever pitch. The sleeping quarters were rampant with curses and the shuffling of feet as gear was donned, equipment was carried both in and out, boxes of ammunition and MRE’s were tossed about for every man to claim their share. Loads of any additional equipment was kept to a minimum, most preferring to store extra magazines rather than any unnecessary weight.

“Come on, come on!” Marc yelled, trying to bring the disorganized Troop into some semblance of order. “One at a time. Grab your MRE, grab your ammo, and get out, alright? If you need anything added to your assault packs, do it now before you get in line! Remember, keep it light, we’ll be jumping!”

A knock on the door behind him and he turned to see Big Mac standing behind him, gesturing for them to follow after him. “Do it later. Debrief, let’s go! Move!” The chaos burst out of the sleeping quarters and headed downstairs where HHT had consolidated, the entire room frenzied as mounds of intelligence and communication equipment was readied for the operation.

Cpt. Armor waited outside the debrief room, watching as each of his soldiers entered. “They haven’t drawn ammo yet, have they?” he asked.

“Not yet, sir, were just about to,” Marc replied.

“Good. Hold off until we get whatever radios and other bullshit we’re gonna need. I want some guys to ease off anything extra for now.”

“Hooah.” Marc’s voice rattled, the cold winter air of the Crystal Empire having seeped down into the stone basement, the walls freezing to the touch. It would be good to be packed tightly into a dense group of people, just for the body heat.

“Attention!” The call rang forth as the Squadron Commander, Lieutenant Colonel Noel, entered the room, a grim-faced man that somehow appeared more stern than usual.

“At ease, gentlemen. We’re gonna make this quick as your flight is already inbound,” Lt. Col. Noel said, promptly launching into his debrief. “Approximately one hour ago, we received confidential information that Discord was being transported to the former Russian border, where he would be then allowed to escape into the wildlands of the former country and live in hiding. When we were briefed this info, we were also given a potential exfil location and we had a drone sent in immediately to confirm his location. When we found his location, we also received visual confirmation of various pieces of CBRN equipment, water purification equipment, and other survival materials that are likely meant to help him survive in the wild. As of now, Discord is in the mountain village of Băile Tușnad, and a series of continuous artillery fires are being used to surround the area and allow no access to the village until we say so. Gentlemen, you are going to go in to his safe house and you’re going to kill this rat sonuvabitch and show his corpse to the whole damn world. If we lose him here, then we may never find him again. Get in, get confirmation of the kill, and get out. As soon as you complete the mission, you’ll head back into the nearby mountains for pickup. Any questions?”

“Why us, sir?” Marc asked. “We’re the Cavalry, we’re not heavily trained in clearing buildings. Why not the Infantry?”

“Because you’re the unit closest to his location, and Knight Troop is the Troop with the least amount of casualties,” the SCO replied. “Believe me, gentlemen, a lot of people are going to be fighting hard to make sure you can get in and kill this man.”

“Why not just blow up the house if you’ve got him cornered, sir?” asked Lt. Sentry.

“Presidential order, gentlemen. Discord has escaped tactical strikes three times now, they want to see him dead. Three of you are going to be mounted with cameras to display the feed. One will be your Troop Commander, the other two are up to his discretion.”

“Sergeant Mac, Lt. Pharoah,” Cpt. Armor said loudly, his strong voice echoing across the stone room. “See me right after this and we’ll be fitted.”

“Any further questions? Dismissed, you’ll be leaving in thirty minutes. And God help you,” Lt. Col. Noel said, rising to his feet and exiting the crammed room.

“That’s it, let’s move!” Cpt. Armor ordered. “Get your ammo and all available equipment out to the courtyard and prepped for upload onto the choppers. First Platoon, you’ll be moving into the safehouse while Second provides overwatch- no bitching!” he added as a round of grumbling began to rise from the remnants of Second Platoon. “Each Platoon gets a radio- Featherweight, Joel, come with me. Sergeant Reyes, get the rest of the Troop outside and moving!”

If there had been chaos before, it was nothing compared to the commotion that erupted now. As the thrum of the helicopters came roaring down to the earth, the cold night air became freezing and the soldiers were carpeted in dust from the gusts of the rotors. The moment the wheels touched ground, crews of soldiers rushed to meet them, armed with all available equipment they could possibly need- first aid kits, additional tourniquets, stretchers, IV’s, and – as discreetly as they could manage to hide them- bodybags. Marc stood strong amidst the turmoil, seeing that all the moving parts for the execution of the operation ran smoothly. Ammunition was distributed, each man was provided an MRE, weapons were checked for any flaws or damages. Even a rehearsal, as quick as they could manage, was performed. As he deliberated over any additional tasks to be completed, he saw movement from the nearby doors and both Cpt. Armor and Big Mac were moving to join them.

“Get to your positions, we’re heading out!” Marc roared, trying to make himself heard above the din. “Everybody onboard, let’s go!”

“Everyone ready?” Cpt. Armor asked of him.

“Yessir, all equipment uploaded as well,” Marc said, walking alongside the two men. “Your assault pack and Sergeant Mac’s are also onboard, your ammo and MRE are inside.”

“Good work. Get yourself steady, we’re flying fast and low,” Cpt. Armor replied, leaping onboard and settling his rifle in hand before poking his head into the cabin. “We’re green!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the two aircraft reignited, the engines turning into a strong thrum as the rotors spun ever faster, the two helicopters soaring into the air before taking off at top speed, their wheels barely avoiding the trees below.

Cpt. Armor began to speak on his headset while Big Mac settled himself with checking on the Troop. Marc glanced over at the door where Thunderlane sat, hunched over his M2. His brother was gone, the man that had been Marc’s responsibility to keep alive- yet he had said nothing. Perhaps tonight, on the night of nights, there was no need for rage against one another. Tonight there was to be a reckoning.

“Everyone get to your stations, let’s go! Lieutenant, what’s their status?” Colonel Roark asked.

Twilight stood from her chair and turned to face her superior officer. “They’re inbound now, sir. Both vehicles just took off, ETA 40 minutes. But I still don’t have the necessary information on the friendly unit.”

“It’s being sent to you now. Make sure all your tactical data is uploaded as well.”

Twilight nodded and returned to her computer, beginning to type madly as she fired keystroke after keystroke into the PC. Whatever tiredness she had known only a few hours before was gone completely.

She had been awoken not along ago with an emergency call to head to operations. No explanation given, no further details, only the solitary command. When she arrived thirty minutes later, hair frazzled and still half-asleep, she and the entire team were informed that critical information related to the exact location of Discord had just been delivered, and it was their duty to confirm it for a team to go in and take him out. Immediately she had come to life, working furiously. No coffee could hope to match the exhilaration she felt now. Finally, after all the years of searching, the millions that had died, he was going to be brought to justice.

“Info sent, check your inbox,” came the call from the other side of the room, and Twilight switched from her observations to her email, downloading the files without another thought and letting the myriad voices speak across her as she continued to work.

“Fires is calling in, one weapon has proceeded to malfunction due to overheating. They need to know when the team will be in range so they can cease fire.”

“Respond that team is inbound, ETA thirty minutes. If they need to get a gun replaced, tell them to do so.”

“They won’t like that, sir.”

“I don’t give a shit what they like. Tell them to continue their fire, no one is leaving that village unless we say so.”

The massive display screen centered at the front of the room went live, the sight of over a dozen men and women packed tightly into a control room flaring before them. All present within the room stood at the sight.

“Mr. President, welcome to Operation Fallen Angel,” Col. Roark greeted, the stalwart soldier unfazed by the gravity of the situation. “I’m Colonel Roark, the Intelligence Commander helping to spearhead the operation.”

“Colonel Roark, what is the status of the team right now?”

“Knight Troop is inbound, sir, should arrive in less than half an hour,” Col. Roark replied steadily. “Troop Commander has been briefed and three of his team are displaying live footage. Please be advised that all live footage is three to five seconds delayed due to time.”

Knight Troop? It can’t be. Twilight felt her heart seize and wondered if anyone had noticed.

“Live feed on display. Check your screens.”

Twilight watched as the feed went live before her, her heart sinking with every passing second. “Oh God…”

“Lieutenant?” Col. Roark paused in his dealings to look down upon her, the sound of her distress alerting him immediately.

“Nothing, sir! Just muttering aloud!” she said, hastily trying to cover her tracks. That’s Big Mac- and Reyes! Twilight tore through the file on the friendly unit. 3rd Infantry Division, 2nd Brigade, 6-8 Cavalary Squadron. Knight Troop-

Shining Armor’s Troop. He’s in command, he’s the one going in. Twilight’s heart seized and she wondered if she would even be able to conduct herself with fair judgement during this operation. Should she tell anyone? There was no way she could simply remove herself from the room without causing suspicion. As the turmoil rose, she forced herself steady and decided to press on in silence. No one will know. No one can know. The best, strongest asset he had right now on this side of the world was her. She would do what she could.

God help him.

“Jesus.”

Even from the great distance, the sound and rage of the incoming barrage was evident to both eye and ear. Marc dared to lean out from his seat and saw before him a column of fire and smoke unlike anything before seen on earth, a wrathful, vengeful hellscape that burned the very air he breathed. Though they were still far away, the unrelenting barrage of artillery had cut through the skies and now superheated the area. For ever on, he knew there would be none who witnessed this that would ever forget the might and awe of such a display.

“They’re about to cut the fire so we can move in. Keep eyes on it in case the shelling continues!” Marc felt the words rather than hearing him, Cpt. Armor’s hand gripping his shoulder as he leaned out. Marc turned back to see the man still connected to the headset, already having turned aside and returned to the constant radio chatter.

This is it. We’re gonna end this, Marc thought, the gravity of what they were about to do thrilling him unlike anything could have ever dared to hope. Manhatten, LA, the whole war, all of it is about to be avenged.

Suddenly the furious crescendo of the shelling ceased, the last round falling just outside the lake that dwelled near the village, only the smoke and fires still filling the night sky-

“Shelling’s stopped!” Marc yelled.

“Roger! Take us in!” Cpt. Armor cried to the chopper pilots. Suddenly the pressure shifted as they began to make their descent, careening through the haze of smoke that now surrounded the village, flying low over the nearby buildings-

“Get ready to jump! Reyes, take point!” Cpt. Armor yelled-

Marc shuffled towards the door as the chopper began to slow, he grabbing hold of the nearby rope and preparing to make the leap-

The floor beneath his feet shifted as the aircraft settled on its position-

“Now!” Marc leapt out into the broiling night, sliding down the rope and landing roughly on the ground, preferring speed to elegance. Detaching himself from the cord he rushed out into the dark and keeping eyes on the safehouse as he took position, waiting for the others to accomplish their descent-

The Troop filtered out into the desolate area, the fires burning around them giving the whole town a hellish feel, no sign of life to alert them that their presence had been discovered-

“We’re on the ground, let’s move!” Marc felt the hand of his Commander on his shoulder and he rushed towards the door, crashing into the side of the wall with no care for subtlety as Lt. Pharaoh joined his side, taking the opposing side-

“Clearing the door!” Marc yelled, tracing the entire outline of the door for any sign of wires or explosives attached. Satisfied with nothing, he prepared himself and gave a vicious kick just beside the door handle, crashing it open and rushing in. “Move!”

The Troop filtered in as a single unit, each man set to cover a different position as each room began to be cleared, one by one-

A silhouette rushed out from the nearby kitchen-

Marc fired immediately, the Imperial soldier falling as the bullet struck through his chest and pierced his lungs-

With Lt. Pharaoh by his side, Marc dashed into the kitchen and found two more men awaiting him, the soldiers gunned down with a pair of bullets that struck through armor and flesh, sending them sprawling as the round tore through their insides-

“Room clear!” Lt. Pharaoh roared, the two men turning back and heading down the hallway-

“Jesus! Scared me half to death!” Big Mac yelled as he came down the stairs, Marc and Lt. Pharaoh startled by the man’s sudden appearance-

“Find him?”

“Nothing. He’s not here, unless there’s some sort of goddamn basement in this place-”

“Search everywhere! Some sign of a cellar, basement, anything! Move!” Cpt. Armor commanded-

The Troop filtered back out in the house, tripping over the dead as they kept their heads pointed down to the ground, searching for a hidden door or pathway-

“Reyes! Look at the kitchen floor!” Lt. Pharaoh hissed, and Marc paused to see a small handle, the same color as the stone, carefully hidden just beneath a fallen body-

“We found it! Kitchen floor!” Marc yelled-

Lt. Pharaoh wrenched the handle free of its socket and gave it a twist, unlocking the hidden door and he threw it aside-

A spray of bullet fire erupted from the revealed exit, a stray round cutting through the man’s shoulder and rendering it inert-

“Man down!” Marc dashed towards the hole and fired wildly, hoping to cease the oncoming assault. Featherweight rushed to join him and began dragging the injured Lt. Pharaoh away from the conflict, doing his best to calm the wounded man-

“What happened?” Cpt. Armor roared-

“They were waiting for us!” Marc replied. “Someone was set as a lookout, they’ll know we’re going in!”

“Going in? What in the- holy hell,” Cpt. Armor whispered as he rushed down the cellar stairs.

The cellar, likely used as a vast winery, had been converted into a massive maze of walls and rooms, deliberately reoriented to confuse and disorient the unwary and unfamiliar. The entire place looked more akin to a labyrinth rather than any simple room-

“There’s some sort of pathway leading out, it must go under the lake!”

“They won’t get through, must’ve caved in by now!”

“Then we’ve got him cornered, come on!” Cpt. Armor joined Marc down below, with Big Mac and the others not far behind-

“Joel, Sieg, keep watch at the door, call a 9-line for Pharaoh! Do not let anyone through!” Big Mac yelled behind them-

Marc rushed down a path and stumbled past an empty hallway just in the nick of time as an emplaced machine gun opened fire, tracing the empty hallway with round after round-

“He’s close,” Cpt. Armor breathed-

“I’ve got this one, gimme a sec,” Marc said, reaching into one of his many pouches and extracting a grenade. He pulled the pin, counting down two seconds within his head before peeking out from safety and throwing it down the hallway, a cry of panic meeting their ears-

A small Boom! erupted from down the hall and they paused, waiting for the sound of continued fire but found none. Marc rushed forward first, stepping over the dead that now lined the end of the hallway-

The hall twisted and turned before opening up into a faux living room and Marc felt himself freeze. At the opposing end of the room lay a destroyed pathway, now covered in a mass of rock and earth that blocked his opponents from continuing their escape. Standing in the midst of a group of Imperial soldiers, a fiery expression upon his face that was intermixed with panic, was Discord-

He paused by instinct, the shock more than enough to do so. After all the years of hiding, narrow escapes, the endless searching, there he now stood like a mouse trapped in its cage. Almost too perfect for words-

Marc felt the rounds brush past his skin, he leaping to cover just before they could refocus their aim and bring him down and he slid behind a thick beam-

“Keep him down!” Cpt. Armor yelled, firing wildly into the opposing crowd and finding his mark as one of the Imperial soldiers fell-

Marc leaned out from cover and fired at will, hoping at least one would strike home and take the man down-

Discord retreated behind the wall and took cover, reaching out from the corner and firing a pistol blindly-

“Where is he?” Cpt. Armor asked-

“Just beyond that corner,” Marc answered, giving a quick peek before retreating back to cover. “We need him to just show his face once…”

“Don’t move,” Cpt. Armor ordered, steadying his rifle on Marc’s left shoulder as he let out a breath, trying to relieve his trembling hands-

Discord dared a glance out from his hiding place, perhaps checking to see if any of his stray rounds had found their way towards his enemies-

One squeeze of the trigger and Cpt. Armor fired, a clean-cut shot that burst from the muzzle and rang forth through the air, racing forward until it found flesh and buried itself through bone and further within-

Discord dropped like a broken doll on the ground, the bullet having driven itself deep into his skull-

“Down! Target is down!” Cpt. Armor, aided by Marc and Big Mac, pressed their advantage on the remaining Imperial fighters, taking them down with precision as they advance forward. When they were satisfied that all their targets had been neutralized, the three men rushed ahead and grabbed hold of Discord’s body, checking it for any sign of a pulse, the smallest sign of life that could be found-

“Screw this!” Marc pointed his rifle at the man’s chest and fired two rounds into his heart. “Just in case he thought about getting up-”

“Target is confirmed down, I say again, target is down,” Cpt. Armor said, his voice triumphant at the sight of their long-time enemy finally having been brought to justice. “Damn- I can’t get contact through the stone, we need to get out so we can reestablish contact.”

“What about the body?” Marc asked-

“Bring it upstairs and leave it, the whole building is about to get blown to hell once we leave it!” Cpt. Armor said. “No one’s gonna bury this sonuvabitch- move!”

Lt. Pharaoh, one hand to his still-bleeding shoulder, looked at them with a sort of desperation as the trio of soldiers ascended. “Please tell me-” He went silent as Marc and Big Mac rose from the ground, heaving the lifeless corpse of Discord out into the open for all to see. “Oh my God…”

“Everyone out. Move!” Cpt. Armor yelled, and just as quickly as they had entered, the Troop departed, running out into the fire and night of the silent village-

“Why did they stop firing? Shouldn’t they have continued shelling?” Marc asked, the silence almost deafening after the chaos of the battle within the safehouse-

“Everyone shut up! I can’t hear this message!” Cpt. Armor slapped his headset in and pressed deep, trying to amplify the sound as he listened in to the broken static and chaos of the comms. “Damn it all!”

“What’s wrong-”

“The pickup point has been moved about five clicks east! We need to move, now! Something big is coming this way, Empire knows we’re here!”

The elation at the defeat of Discord did not last, their revelry turning swiftly into dread as the new order came forth. Moving as quickly as they could manage with their many numbers, numerous equipment, and what wounded they had, the Troop moved out into the darkness, heading towards the forest in the hopes of returning to safety.

Author's Note

And down he goes. But the night is long, and it is only just beginning.

Comments and corrections below. As always, enjoy.

Chapter Sixteen: Tribal War

“A true leader has the confidence to stand alone, the courage to make tough decisions, and the compassion to listen to the needs of others. He does not set out to be a leader, but becomes one by the quality of his actions and the integrity of his intent. In the end, leaders are much like eagles… they don’t flock, you find them one at a time.”

– Unknown

Twilight forced herself to watch the feed, the terror in her bones more wretched than she could have imagined. Her brother was leading the forefront of the strike, his movements keeping him in the very thick of the firefight. It seemed as though he felt the need to clear each room personally before he was satisfied. He was in his element, he was built for this; she hated it. If she had to sit here and watch her older brother be killed…

“Oh my God.” As the sight of Discord came through on the screen before them, the sound seemed to murmur through the entire crowd. The face of their long-hated enemy was finally there for all of them to see.

Twilight felt sweat trickle down her brow and she discreetly wiped it away, hoping no one had noticed. The moment was almost over.

Shining Armor settled himself next to Sergeant Reyes, using the younger man’s shoulder as a means of stabilizing his rifle. When Discord peered out from behind his cover, Shining didn’t hesitate to fire and caught him just above the right eye and they watched as the body of Discord fell to the ground, the round killing him before he had even fallen to the ground.

Cheers erupted across the room as both Shining Armor and Reyes moved forward to check the body, eliminating all remaining resistance as they pressed on. When they had proceeded to confirm the kill, Shining Armor’s words rang as clear as day: “Target is down, I say again, target is down.”

“Oh thank God,” Twilight murmured.

“Is the exfil team moving towards the LZ?” Colonel Roark asked of his team.

“Already at location, sir,” Twilight replied, her relief evident as she responded to her superior. “Should I tell them to begin liftoff procedures?”

“Do so. The faster we get that team out the better,” Col. Roark said.

“Colonel? We’ve just got an update from SATCOM,” a quiet voice said to Twilight’s right, and she turned to see one of her comrades pulling away from his desktop. “Survey of the area shows a large-scale force of hostile movement heading towards the village.”

Silence.

“Say that again, Sergeant?” Col. Roark asked.

“SATCOM just sent an emergency scan of the area. Iron Guard are inbound right now, about five clicks south of Knight Troop’s present location.”

“How old is the data?”

“Five minutes, sir.”

“Then they’re three clicks away. Push back the LZ to further in the forest and inform Cpt. Armor that he needs to pull his team out immediately. Everyone, this mission is not over yet, keep to your stations,” Col. Roark commanded.

Twilight’s heart had fallen somewhere below her stomach as she watched the information be relayed to her brother, Shining Armor taking a moment to confirm the report before turning to his soldiers. Three were injured, the rest could still stand. They would need to move quickly if they wanted to stay out of sight. Where is that LZ? They’re pushing it east back into the mountains.

“Sergeant, get back with SATCOM and get me all possible information on this enemy movement. What are we looking at?” Col. Roark demanded.

“Not much now, sir, only that it is a confirmed Iron Guard unit, what looks to be approximately a battalion’s worth,” Sergeant Green answered. “Survey shows no armor support… they have artillery following behind.”

“They’re gonna try to counter our artillery barrage of the area. Is Knight Troop in range?”

“They will be in five minutes, sir.”

Oh God help us.

Shining Armor led the Troop further into the treeline, his breath coming in hot and ragged as they moved. Big Mac took the center of the group, keeping his head on a swivel as he surveyed both ahead and behind to ensure no man began to fall back. Marc, sticking closely to Lt. Pharaoh and the other wounded, kept himself turned to their rear in case they found themselves being pursued. The journey had been at a brutal pace, Cpt. Armor desperate to keep them out of range of the incoming hostile force. Each man struggled to keep himself moving, their adrenaline all that helped them continue to press on. The movement into the mountains had already been grueling enough to move back to the original LZ. With the extra distance, every man seemed to be all the more weighed down.

“Get me a check with Reyes,” Cpt. Armor said quietly, each man passing it down the line until the message reached. He dared a peek back: the answer was already headed back to him.

“Sergeant Reyes says we’re still clear, sir,” Featherweight replied. “No one’s on our tail yet.”

“Get me an update on the wounded.” The new message went down the line once more, the response slower as each detail was verified. Any poor communication this late in the game could be fatal.

“Lt. Pharaoh is still bleeding pretty badly, sir,” Featherweight answered. “They’re helping him move but he’s starting to get weak.”

We need to get there now. More pressing than the incoming hostiles was the potential loss of one of his own. Cpt. Armor knew the fear of their enemy would keep them moving, but to be weighed down by injury could bring disaster, and let their foe drop right on top of them.

“Sergeant Mac’s asking for an ETA, sir. Wants to spread it down the line,” Featherweight said.

“Click and a half. We’re almost there,” Cpt. Armor answered. He hoped that would spur them on, give his soldiers the push they needed to go the final distance. They would be safe and away from danger, where real beds and a warm meal awaited them- more than they would dare ask for.

Cpt. Armor heard the buzzing in his ear and dismissed it as more radio chatter, distorted and garbled by static. His connection had disappeared almost exactly when he left the village; with the mountains around them growing ever taller, it would not be long before the connection dropped completely. He only hoped that they would be extracted before that moment came-

“That sounds like an engine,” Big Mac muttered, his deep voice echoing through the trees as clearly as though he stood beside each man.

Cpt. Armor raked off his headset, listening for noise above the breeze and the creak of trees- there! The distinct hum of a Blackhawk engine, and getting louder with every step they took. “That’s our ride! Come on, move! Sergeant Reyes, get Lt. Pharaoh over to the chopper and get him uploaded!”

As the clearing came into view, each man leapt into action and began the performance all over again; some stood as sentries, gazing out into the wilderness for signs of activity. Others began to load equipment and men onto the helicopters, while the wounded simply waited to be given aid.

“Sir, we need to get moving! We’ve got a lot of incoming-”

“I’m tracking, Lieutenant!” Cpt. Armor said, cutting through Lt. Sentry’s words. “Where’s the third chopper? You’re short one!”

“Conducting sweeps, clearing is too small for three birds to be on the ground,” Lt. Sentry replied. “They’re on their way back now, should be less than a minute. Second Platoon is all loaded and ready to move.”

“Good. Sergeant Reyes, are the wounded aboard?” Cpt. Armor called.

“Yessir! She can take two more!”

“Sergeant Tran, take Seig with you and get onboard!”

The wearied yet exhilarated Cavalrymen watched as the aircraft swept up into the air and disappeared from sight, a second bird appearing from the darkness as though from nowhere and began to make its approach, maneuvering itself so as to fit into the tightly contained clearing-

“Incoming!” The cry was heard only a moment before the sound of metal screaming through air tore into their ears and the second Blackhawk was struck perfectly, the round boring through the tail and igniting the bird-

“Oh shit-”

“Get clear!”

The chopper exploded in the night sky, sending fire and shards of metal onto the clearing below, the bulk of the machine crashing down in a blazing heap of twisted metal-

The lone aircraft still left on the ground, seeing the cataclysm reigning down from above, pressed off from the earth and tried to swerve out of harm’s way, its rotor slashing through branches before smashing against the thick trunks of the ancient trees-

The clearing emptied as each man ran for cover, desperate to save themselves from the fire and fury that now came from above, a second salvo of enemy fire crashing down onto their position and turning their world into blinding flashes of light and searing heat. The sound of screams, groaning metal, shattering wood, thunderous artillery and burning fire erupted in their ears in a horrible amalgamation of hellish sounds, each new pulse tearing against them until it seemed all the world was agony and horror and unfettered noise-

The salvo ceased its fire and the world became far too quiet, only the sound of burning steel and the groans of metal easily heard. Cpt. Armor, covered in dislodged branches that had fallen from above, dared to lift his head out from cover. He turned to his right and saw Featherweight huddled down beside him, the young man trembling from head to toe and his face still pressed down into the earth.

“You hurt, Featherweight?” he asked.

Featherweight raised his head, displaying a youthful, fearful face now covered in dirt. “I’m alright, sir,” the young man answered. “What just happened..?”

“Someone knew where we’d go…” Cpt. Armor replied, turning back to face the now-burning clearing; one chopper now lay in ruins, its hull barely recognizable from the impact and its descent. The second still lived, though its rotor lay mangled and twisted from its contact with the treeline, and the aircraft’s tail now severely bent from the hard crash into the frozen earth. “Check for wounded!”

Slowly, each man becoming certain that they had even survived the encounter, began to creep out from cover and head back into the clearing, their tremulous footfalls transforming into full-on sprints as they raced towards the downed vehicles, a spare few bravely diving into the burning wreckage of the shot bird in the faint hopes that perhaps at least one of their brothers had survived, no matter how unlikely it would seem. The majority rushed out towards the less-damaged of the two, leaping into the damaged aircraft to look for the survivors-

“Dammit.” Cpt. Armor heard the squelch beneath his boots the moment before he caught sight of it. Thunderlane, the stalwart gunner and crew chief of the aircraft, had been tossed underneath the bird as it had tried to escape its fiery fate. The sharp steel beneath had cut through his body instantly and crushed what remained, leaving a horrific mix of smashed flesh and bone intermixed with the debris-

“Sir, are you hurt-” Featherweight had jumped in beside his Commander and his eyes immediately fell to the awfulness below him. “Oh Jesus-”

“Get to the cockpit,” Cpt. Armor ordered, knowing the further they dwelled upon it the worse it would become. Worse still, they now had no means of escaping the area easily, and their enemy would soon be on top of them-

“Co-pilot’s alive!” Lt. Sentry, who had been the first into the wreckage, was already hammering against the glass of the cockpit, trying to create an opening. “He’s hurt bad but he’s alive! I need help moving him!”

The screams were enough to prove the pilot still lived. Cpt. Armor threw himself into the cockpit and began to help, trying to ignore the slickness on his fingers that was the man’s freely flowing blood-

The sound of shuffling skin against metal and Big Mac appeared at the malformed entrance to the hull, a look of panic upon his freckled face. “They’re coming.”

Cpt. Armor didn’t even bother to ask who ‘they’ were. The pressure in the small cockpit pressed down upon them like an iron fist as the two officers struggled to rescue the downed pilot-

“I need you to stay quiet, please,” Lt. Sentry said as the helicopter pilot gave another shriek of pain, his bloodied waist pressed up against the glass. “I know it hurts but if they hear us we die.”

“I’m trying, I swear,” the pilot replied, his voice slurred from pain and panic. “Give me my sidearm, if they get here and you can’t get away-”

“No one gets left behind,” Cpt. Armor said fiercely-

“Don’t die because of me, I can give them something to shoot at-”

“Sir, we’re running out of time-” Big Mac breathed, still stationed at the entryway.

“I’m aware, Sergeant! Come on, Lieutenant, we may just have to force him through-”

“I don’t want to cause him any more pain-”

“Pilot, bite down on something, this is gonna hurt-”

Cpt. Armor gave a grunt and pushed the already injured body through the glass, the razor-sharp shards of glass tearing through the tattered uniform and slicing against flesh as though it were knives-

The pilot’s face became tinged with blood, the hand that had been in his mouth now dripping from where he had bitten down-

“We’re out! To the treeline!” Cpt. Armor commanded, and the three men raced out from the wreckage with their wounded cargo-

“Reyes is up ahead to your left,” Big Mac said, the younger NCO appearing from the bushes and waving frantically, all the while the sounds of machinery and a massive group of people came ever closer-

Lt. Sentry, holding to the wounded man as tightly as he could manage, suddenly stumbled over a mangled piece of the burning hull, his steps faltering as he crashed towards the ground-

The sudden lurch had been too unexpected. As Lt. Sentry fell to the ground, the bruised and bloodied body of the injured pilot fell with him, slamming into frozen earth and extracting an unwelcome scream that echoed across the clearing and through the trees, easily audible over the background noise of burning metal-

A series of cries in an unfamiliar tongue roared forth from the woods as the Iron Guard advanced forward, now alerted to the possibility that some of their enemy still yet lived-

“Come on, get to cover!” Cpt. Armor hissed-

“Gimme my goddamn sidearm, soldier,” the pilot snarled, a bubble of blood beginning to form at the edge of his mouth. “I can buy you some time, get moving.”

“Jesus, I can’t just leave you-”

“Get your men out of here!” The pilot snarled.

Cpt. Armor hated himself for this moment, one that seemed to last a thousand lifetimes as he did so. As gently as he could, the seasoned commander set the dying pilot down on the ground and placed the M9 in the man’s hand, locking eyes with the warrior as he did so. Though each breath came with a wave of pain, though they had been numbered since the crash, the fire that still burned in the pilot’s eyes was unmistakable, a sight that Cpt. Armor hoped he would remember for the rest of his days. With no words left to say, the three Cavalrymen tasted poison in their mouths and dashed to the treeline where the remainder of the Troop awaited them-

Cpt. Armor threw himself to earth just as the sounds of the Iron Guard came into the clearing. The huddled group of Cavalrymen quaked in their boots at the enormity of the sound; though none dared to look, they knew that they were overwhelmingly outnumbered-

The sound of a scuffle, a mocking tone to a strange tongue as the wounded pilot barked curses at his enemy, a pair of 9 mil. rounds being fired before a vicious volley of rifle fire rose to meet it. None needed to see it to know what had just occurred-

Cpt. Armor looked about at his ragtag group of survivors: Sergeant Mac, who seemed far too large to be easily hidden. Lt. Sentry whose face was clouded by a vicious guilt. Sergeant Reyes, who had rushed to the aid of the burning helicopter and would now have to bear memory to its dead occupants forever. Featherweight, small, inexperienced and terrified. Joel, a lighthearted man who now appeared overwhelmed by the insurmountable odds before them. The remaining lives of his soldiers now rested in his hands, and he needed to find them a way out of here before they were found and killed. Where was he? Think. Remember back to the map, dammit- they had been moving east ever since they had departed the village. His map, tucked securely in his MOLLE pocket, had shown a route through the mountains going northeast. It was not a direct route, but the easiest path back to Sighisoara where Squadon had HQ set. It was their best bet, and he had to try.

As quietly as he could, Cpt. Armor raised a hand and waved, gaining the attention of his soldiers. “Stay on the ground, keep low,” he mouthed. “Follow me.”

The tongue of the Iron Guard met their ears as they began the slow, horrible crawl deeper into the woods, praying that the watchful eyes of the enemy would not find them.

Twilight watched in horror as the feed cut out just as the helicopter had been struck, the communication equipment decimated and eliminating contact. “Oh my God.”

“What just happened? Why did their feed drop?” Col. Roark demanded-

“The equipment must have been in the downed aircraft, sir, the uplink is gone!” Twilight replied.

“Get me a backup!” As Col. Roark’s command roared through the room, every man and woman went into a frenzy as they tried to find a means of reestablishing communication, all the while trying to filter through the exorbitant flow of information that now flashed across their computer screens. Col. Roark turned to the main screen before them speaking to the leadership directly as he tried to explain what had occurred.

Twilight, meanwhile, threw herself beneath her desk in an attempt to hide her panic from the others. Her brother may have just been killed. The Iron Guard would be on the location at any moment, and if he had not found a way to escape, then he would most certainly be killed. Twilight’s chest flashed with pain as her breathing escalated rapidly- no, she could not lose control now. Her brother was in trouble and she needed to find a way to help.

Think, think! She commanded herself. Where would he go if he was trying to lead them away? Oooh… map!

Twilight threw herself back into her chair and quickly brought up the map of the region, her eyes scanning every possible route and location that would come to her brother’s mind, forcing herself to copy his thinking and tactical prowess. He’s here… Sighisoara is further back east, which is the furthest point the Squadron has pushed into Imperial territory. It’s his closest place that he would consider a safe area. So how would he get there..? Here- this pass through the mountains. Rough terrain, he may not know that- but it’s the fastest route there and doesn’t have him climbing mountains. So if he’s survived, how do I reestablish contact- drone!

“Colonel!” Twilight leapt out of her chair and rushed towards her commanding officer. “I may have an idea where they’re headed!”

“What have you got, Lieutenant?” Col. Roark demanded.

“If Cpt. Armor and his Troop survived, they’re going to try to make it back to Sighisoara. That’s here on the map,” Twilight said, gesturing towards the village on the screen. “But right now they’re blocked off by bad terrain. It’s too rough for potentially injured soldiers and going up and down that terrain could slow them down. I think they’re going to take this pass northeast and try to go around it and reestablish contact with the forward line. If we can get a drone out in the air and find them again, we can get some sort of communication pattern established.”

“It’s a plan. Get in contact with the Air Force and see what we can fly. Ask for a Harpy with video feed,” Col. Roark demanded-

There was a sudden crash at the door and the entrance to the facility was forced open as a towering man appeared, his appearance enraged and suggested a wrathful omen of things to come.

“Who has been talking?!” the man demanded, his screams taking the room by surprise and causing a few to jump. “Whoever has been speaking, surrender your phone now!”

“General Whitlock,” Col. Roark said, trying to shoulder the brunt of the officer’s wrath. “Sir, what is the matter?”

“The mainstream news has just announced that Discord has been killed, via an anonymous source,” Gen. Whitlock announced, the fire still evident in his booming voice. “There are only two places in this country that are aware of the event having even occurred- the White House, and here. All personnel are to be searched for any sort of communication device to the outside world until we find the source of that goddamn leak!”

The whole world’s going to know Shining is out there- and he’s still being hunted, Twilight panicked. This is a nightmare.

Col. Roark rose to his feet. “Every person will be searched individually, I will call you forward by name,” he said. “Until you are called forward, continue in your duties. Lieutenant,” he added, turning to Twilight, “the moment you have something, alert me immediately.”

Twilight nodded and turned to her desk, racing to gather her information and find someone close enough who could help. It was only a matter of time now.

Cpt. Armor felt the stitch in his side and ignored it, continuing to plunge further into the forest. Each step forward and uphill was torturous, the weight across his shoulders agonizing. Each breath ripped pain across his body until his whole chest was screaming from the pain. Still he did not stop, forcing himself on ahead, knowing that his soldiers would follow. If he moved forward, so would they. If he stopped, so would they- and then they would die.

It had been almost an hour since they had fled the clearing, miraculously escaping the Iron Guard without detection. As soon as the sight and sound of the area had disappeared, the group of Cavalrymen had risen to their feet and began to run forward into the night, desperate to leave their foe behind. Their speed was slow, worn from battle and given no relief from the poor terrain and incline of the environment- an insidious setback that the Iron Guard would surely use against them. Still they pressed on.

“Reyes, status!” Cpt. Armor gasped, calling to the back of the group where the hardy NCO kept watch.

“Nothing, sir,” Marc answered. “We’re still clear.”

“Keep moving, we’re not out of the woods yet,” Cpt. Armor said. “Come on, the incline should lessen soon. We’re almost at the mouth of the pass.”

“What’s the terrain look like ahead?” Big Mac asked.

“Mountains. Rock,” Cpt. Armor answered.

“That’s not much cover,” Marc responded grimly.

It wasn’t and Cpt. Armor knew it. No matter what path they took, it would be incredibly risky- speed was where he placed his bets now. “Status?” he called again.

“Still nothing, sir-”

“What’s that?” Joel whispered-

“Down!” The soldiers fell to earth as the smallest whine met their ears, the sound faint and weak as though from a distance, although it grew stronger with every passing second.

“We’re under watch,” Marc said. “That’s a drone.”

“Keep your eyes peeled,” Cpt. Armor ordered, bringing his weapon against his cheek as he scanned the black horizon for a sign of the robotic stalker. The whine only grew louder until it seemed on top of them-

“Above us!” Big Mac leapt into the air like a tiger and grabbed hold of the machine with his hands, ignoring the slicing of the rotor blades as they cut through his gloves and dug into his skin-

Cpt. Armor drew a knife from his gear and prepared to bury it deep into the drone’s machine body, suddenly spotting a small flag in the center of the machine-

“Hold it, that’s one of ours!” he said, wrenching it from Big Mac’s grasp and releasing it back into the air-

“Holy fuck-”

“Come on, let me know if you hear me!” Cpt. Armor said, waving his arms frantically before the drone’s camera. “Dammit, it doesn’t have a microphone!”

“So we can’t talk to them,” Big Mac said dejectedly.

Cpt. Armor, however, was not willing to accept defeat just yet. “I’ve got an idea. Hold on.”

Twilight watched the feed as though she could not tear herself away, the environment surrounding the small drone flickering by at breakneck speed. The world was grey and black, cold and lifeless as though the forest had been struck dead by the iron grip of winter.

Her contact with the Air Force had been sudden and immediate. As news of Discord’s death had quickly spread, every able unit in the region was willing to aid with further operations. To her benefit, Twilight had managed to gain contact with a unit performing surveillance flights across the diminishing Imperial territory, one of them carrying a small deployment of drones. With one now on the ground and searching rapidly, all she could do was wait.

Col. Roark sighed impatiently, Gen. Whitlock standing beside him as they communicated with the feed still connected to the White House. “So, an aide accidentally leaked the information,” Col. Roark muttered.

“He texted his wife the news, and his wife let the information spread,” came the reply from the other end of the line. “White House had plans to announce the strike the moment the Troop had been secured, but it’s too late now. The whole world’s gone apeshit over it.”

“Where’s the President now, sir?” Gen. Whitlock asked.

“With the SecDef. Word is going out that the strike team is still engaged, though the press doesn’t know the name of the exact unit. President is going to confirm Discord’s dead, but beyond that we don’t know.”

“Please keep us posted, sir. We’re doing our best to restablish contact with them now,” Col. Roark said-

“I have something!” Twilight called, the entire room suddenly on edge. “Six targets moving northeast towards the pass, fifty meters ahead!”

“Tell the drone operator to get to them and switch from infrared to night vision, get a visual confirmation,” Gen. Whitlock ordered as Twilight hastened to respond-

The drone circled the group of now-stationary soldiers, suddenly coming to a halt directly above them. As the camera switched to night vision, the world suddenly spun and became distorted-

“What the-”

“They just grabbed it out of the sky!” Twilight gasped as a face came into view, blurry and still somewhat distorted-

The camera clouded once more and suddenly the drone was hovering again, pointed directly at the group of soldiers, led by her brother. He’s alive.

Shining Armor mouthed frantically, waving his arms at the camera, apparently frustrated at the lack of response. “He thinks he can hear us,” Twilight whispered.

“Do we have any audio reception on the drone?” Col. Roark asked.

“Negative, equipped with camera only,” Twilight answered. Come on, think! We need a way of talking to each other!

Suddenly Shining Armor halted his erratic movement, his hands diving down into a pocket of his gear where he extracted a battered piece of paper. He turned back to the drone, placing his finger directly before its camera, moving his it slowly up, and then back down. He mouthed a single word.

“What’s he doing?” Gen. Whitlock asked.

“He’s trying to establish a means of communication,” Col. Roark said. “Up and down- he wants the drone to move up and down when we want to say yes- Lieutenant!”

“Alerting the operator now, sir,” Twilight said hastily, her eyes darting back and forth between her own computer screen and the live feed of her brother above. She caught a glance as Shining began a new motion, moving his finger left and right- “No…”

“Is the operator tracking?”

“Yessir-”

“Let’s talk with him.”

Shining Armor unfolded the battered piece of paper, revealing it to be his map of the region. He took his finger and pointed it at a location near the pass, then pointed back at himself, his fingers wrapping together to form a thumbs-up.

“He’s wanting to confirm location,” Twilight said. “Is he where he thinks he is?”

“I’m looking- roger, he’s in the correct grid square,” came the reply.

“Give him yes!”

The drone flittered up and down, and Shining Armor gave a wide smile in return at the news. His finger darted back to his map, tracing a line from their location to the mountain pass, pushing through one way- and then a next, then another, and another. After he completed his motions, he returned to his very first line, giving another thumbs up.

“Direction. Which path should he take?” Col. Roark demanded.

“Estimating now. First path is unfavorable, would go right up a mountainside. Too risky.”

“Tell him no.”

The drone shifted back and forth and Shining Armor gave a grimace. He glanced back to somewhere behind him before turning back to the drone, giving a second line across the map.

“His second path?”

“Too long. The Iron Guard are moving faster than they are.”

“Again.”

The drone shifted and Shining Armor began to look panicked. He took to the map again and traced a third line-

“Third!”

“It’s good! A tight strait between two mountains. Rough terrain but manageable!”

“Respond!”

The drone lifted up and then back down, Shining Armor giving a look of relief. He stuffed his map haphazardly back into his pocket and then began making shooing motions towards the drone.

“Get that drone back up in the air and out of sight,” Gen. Whitlock ordered. “Keep them in sight, but don’t alert the enemy to its presence. Keep that drone operating at all costs!” the officer turned to the room at large, his war-worn features now cold and wrathful. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am giving you full discretion to act in whatever means necessary to bring these soldiers home safely. Air support, overwatch, anything we can muster to hold off the Iron Guard and buy them time to escape. I want a means of extraction, whatever it may be. Get them cover and get me intel on enemy movements- I don’t care whether it’s by air, on the ground or somehow below the ground. Whatever the Empire is doing, I want to know. Now get to work!”

Twilight turned back to her computer, searching across the entire country for any hopes of air support or rescue. Her mind flickered to Cadance, left at home and no idea at all that her husband’s life was now in jeopardy. Twilight swore to herself that she would bring Shining home- for both their sakes.

Author's Note

So the last, desperate bid for survival begins. We're in the endgame now.

Comments and corrections below, everyone. Hold tight.

Chapter Seventeen: The Last Resort

“I offer neither pay, nor quarters, nor food; I offer only hunger, thirst, forced marches, battles, and death. Let him who loves his country with his heart, and not merely with his lips, follow me.”

– Giuseppe Garibaldi

Sunset was in more than merely in pain. She was enraged.

Her memories of yesterday were foggy and, no matter how she tried to piece them together, uncertain. She remembered panic and terror, followed by a horrendous pain, and then suddenly nothing. The world became a haze until she had awoken in the hospital with no one beside her.

At first, Sunset had begun to panic. She felt trapped in a nightmare; what had happened to her, where even was she? It was though she had just awoken for the first time. Yet the more she struggled, the louder the sounds around grew until she finally began to focus somewhat and found her thrashing about had set off a number of alarms, alerting the nurses to come and check on her. Their expressions suggested that Sunset was in a graver state than she had perhaps realized.

“Where am I?” Sunset had asked, each word scratching at her throat as though she had swallowed sandpaper. How long had it been since she had even had anything to drink?

“You’re at Winn Army Hospital on base, ma’am,” one of the nurses had answered, a younger woman with a friendly, resting expression upon her features. “And right now you need to calm down or else you could do yourself and your baby some serious harm.”

“How’d I get here?”

“Your friend brought you here earlier today not long after you collapsed. She’s sleeping in the communal area right now,” the nurse replied.

“What happened to me?” she had asked.

“You had a severe panic attack. Your body tried to enter labor prematurely, but we may have been able to cease functions for now. But you need to stay calm to keep that from happening.”

The news was barebones and horrible. She had tried to give birth? How could she not remember it? The pain had been the most horrific thing she had ever felt, worse than even when her power had overloaded and nearly consumed her. How could she not panic, knowing that she may very well restart the whole process without even trying?

“Can I at least have something to help me sleep?” Sunset had asked.

The nurse hesitated before answering. “I’ll see what I can bring you.”

Whatever they had given her was worthless, for Sunset had failed to sleep the entire night and now found herself in a fit of exhaustion and rage. The morning had already come and gone, yet still she had yet to meet her actual doctor, who had departed before she had even awakened the night before. With little food, no rest, and the terror of possibly going into labor now hanging above her head, she was in a foul mood that bode ill for all those around her.

“Sunset?”

At last, a voice she recognized and was glad to hear. “Applejack!”

“You’re alright! Thank God, when ah first brought you here I was worried you were in real trouble,” Applejack said, rushing to her friend’s bedside and immediately resisting giving Sunset a tight hug but thinking better of it. “How do you feel?”

“Furious. Tell me you’ve seen my doctor,” Sunset said, her voice already dangerous.

“Ah haven’t. Ah didn’t- is it like this a lot in the Army?” Applejack asked hesitantly.

“It very well shouldn’t be,” Sunset growled, pressing a button at her bedside that called for a nurse. A few minutes passed and the friendly-faced nurse from last night appeared at the door.

“Mrs. Reyes? I was actually about to come check on you, I hope nothing’s wrong. Do you need something to eat?”

“I’m not trying to be a bother, but I’d like to speak to my doctor, is he even in this building or is he making you deal with all his problems?” Sunset said, her voice sinisterly sweet.

“Dr. Grey is in the building, though I don’t know where he is at the moment. I’ll go see if I can find him and send him to you. Is that all you needed at the moment?”

“Yes, please.” Sunset tried to let the venom leave her voice, knowing her fury had no reason to be directed at this helpful woman- rather that her doctor had not even bothered to yet show.

Applejack watched her friend intently. “Do you want me to leave?”

“I’m sorry if I’m being unpleasant,” Sunset said, giving a long-winded sigh. “If you want to leave, I certainly don’t blame you.”

“Ah can stay for a while, don’t you worry,” AJ replied.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the figure of Dr. Grey appeared at the door. Sunset’s first impression was that he seemed to be very on edge, with an expression that suggested he was about to be sick. How could such a queasy-looking man be capable of being a doctor?

“Mrs. Reyes! My apologies for the delay, it’s been mad here,” he said, coming to sit down beside her. “My name is Captain Grey, I know you must have some questions for me.”

“How did I get here?” Sunset said.

“You can thank your friend here for her quick thinking to bring you here,” Cpt. Grey said, gesturing to Applejack. “As your nurses may have told you, you had a severe panic attack and your body attempted to go into labor. Fortunately for your baby, it failed to do so. Unfortunately for you, your body seized and nearly collapsed from the failed effort. Right now, you’re still in a sort of middle ground between normal pregnancy and a premature birth- meaning that if you have another panic attack, your baby will certainly come early, if it even survives the trauma your body would produce from such an event.”

“So I’m just supposed to practice calming techniques, so I don’t freak out again and possibly kill my own child?” Sunset asked. “And how am I supposed to do that without any help? I already had one panic attack over something I couldn’t control, but now I’ve got to make sure I don’t lose it over that and possibly killing my baby?”

“I know it seems daunting, but you are stabilizing- slowly. We took a look at your womb and found some unusual- it almost appeared to be as though you had scarring inside your body. The internal damage is likely what caused your panic attack to have an adverse effect on the child. It thought there was a threat and tried to be prematurely born,” Cpt. Grey answered. “I’ve taken a look at your medical history and you seem to have no indicators for this- is there something I should know about?”

If she kept the secret now, her child could be at risk. Did she dare reveal herself? Not yet, not if there was a chance she could escape detection. “No. Not anything that I’m aware of.”

“Right now, you need to let yourself relax. If all goes well, you could be released by as early as tomorrow. Today, you’ll be staying her under observation. Is there anything else you need from me for now?”

“Nothing I can think of.” Sunset remained stoic as he left, Applejack’s gaze burning deep into her as she watched the man depart the room.

“What happened?” AJ asked.

“Marc’s in trouble,” Sunset said quickly. “Which means Big Mac is in danger, too. I don’t know how I know, but I do. Something bad is happening- or may happen, I don’t know!”

“Sunset, please, try to relax,” AJ said soothingly. “We don’t want you or your little girl to get hurt, right? So- so try to keep calm, and maybe it’ll be better. You might just be worryin’ over nothing.”

“And it might not!” Sunset said hotly.

“Alright, it might not,” AJ said peaceably. “But still, try to relax, sugarcube. It’ll be OK in the end, won’t it?”

Sunset hoped so, but still found the day dragged by slower than a snail’s pace. Everything about the day seemed incorrect. She tried to keep her mind occupied, forcing herself to focus on simple, brainless things, but no matter her efforts the thought still remained- something was wrong.

As evening began to creep in, Sunset felt the sensation intensify. She watched person after person walk by her room with a sense of hurry and urgency, quickly whispered words spoken into people’s ears. Something’s happened.

“Sunset!” Applejack crashed into the door at full speed, struggling to regain her balance and enter the room.

“What’s going on, AJ? This whole place is moving like mad-”

“You need to see this,” AJ said quickly, speaking over Sunset’s angry words and fumbling for the TV remote, quickly powering the cheap machine on and flipping over to a news channel. “Look- you were right-”

The screen showed crowds lined outside the White House, another camera showing throngs standing anxiously in Times Square, all of them glued to the news as information continued to pour in. “… with the whole nation at a standstill as confirmation comes in from the President that the terrorist known as Discord, the mastermind behind the Manhattan Bombings and the Los Angeles Port Bombing, has been killed only two hours ago. However, the reports that the team behind the mission to kill Discord is still currently engaged with enemy forces has yet to be confirmed. For now, this information has yet to be verified by any official source, though the anonymous leak states that the team has been engaged by Imperial forces and still remain under fire in hostile territory.”

Sunset’s heart dropped. Marc. It had to be. The one unit whose movements weren’t being reported, the one unit not involved in nuclear cleanup or the invasion of the Imperial capital. It had to be him.

“Do you think it’s them, Sunset?” Applejack asked, her voice beginning to quaver.

Sunset’s fury reignited and she slammed down on her help button, calling for the nurse.

“Mrs. Reyes? Something wrong?” the nurse asked.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I have a question for Dr. Grey, do you know where he is? I’d love to speak to him,” Sunset said, her sinister tone nearly giving her intentions away.

“I’ll let him know you were asking for him,” was the reply and the nurse disappeared from sight. Minutes passed in silence, save for the noise emanating from the nearby television where the reports on Discord’s death continued to come in.

“Mrs. Reyes, I was told you were asking for me,” Cpt. Grey said, entering the room and coming to a halt at the foot of her bed.

“Captain Grey, you’re in the Army just like my husband, correct?” Sunset asked, her voice oozing a false sweetness.

“I am,” he said, seemingly uncertain of her intent.

“So I’m guessing someone who’s in charge of him already knows I’m here,” she guessed.

“I would assume so, we did send a Red Cross message.”

“But my husband didn’t get it, did he? Cause he’s in the middle of a firefight right now, isn’t he?”

“He- excuse me?” Cpt. Grey fumbled, his eyes flashing a barely visible look of concern.

It was all Sunset needed. The door slammed shut and the lock sealed itself, she coming to a sitting position, her face riddled with the fury of a thousand storms.

“Where is my husband?” she snarled. “You’re going to tell me- now!”

Twilight wondered how long she could simply sit by and watch. She had been working diligently for hours now, doing her best to see the mission through- but her will had begun to erode the moment the Black Hawks had been shot down. The hours that had passed since had become torturous in a way she had never known time could flow.

The drone that had first established contact with Shining Armor was in a steady position some several hundred feet above their position, following just ahead of their position in the hopes that the noise of its rotors would be too weak for the Iron Guard to overhear. It was all a gambit; trying to maintain contact with the remnant Troop could put them at risk of being detected, but losing contact would mean they would have no clue whether or not they even still survived.

Sergeant Buckner, what have we got for a potential rescue?” Col. Roark asked.

“I’m in contact with 4th Batallion, sir, but they’re having difficulty getting moving,” Sgt. Buckner replied, turning around to face his Commander. “The weather in the Empire is below normal winter temperatures and their fleet is struggling to warm up. They’re worried of freezing over during flight.”

“Dammit,” Col. Roark muttered. “The whole damn planet is against us getting these men home… how soon will they be airborne?”

“In approximately three hours, sir, with two hours flight time.”

Twilight, listening to the conversation intently, quickly performed the math in her head. Shining’s group was smaller than the Iron Guard’s battalion, but was moving at a slower pace. By the time five hours had passed, it might well be too late. There needs to be something faster.

“Holy shit!” the cry was so loud all heads raised to look at the source-

The screen suddenly flashed white-hot as an explosion filled the screen, obscuring Knight Troop from view for a brief period as the heat of the bomb passed away and was replaced by smoke-

“What the hell-”

“Imperial air forces,” Col. Roark said. “Lieutenant, get eyes back on that Troop!”

“Doing what I can, sir!” Twilight gasped, his words relinquishing her from her shock. She returned back to her screen, speaking urgently to the drone pilot, who began to swerve in and out of the smoke, trying to find the figures of the Cavalrymen once again-

Another flash of white, and then another. A series of bombs continued to cascade into the area, leaving the drone helpless and blind-

“We’re blind, sir. Unless we stop that bombardment, we’re not going anywhere,” Twilight reported.

“Someone get air support in contact. We need to free the skies so that Troop can continue moving. Who’s nearby?”

520th Fighter Squadron, 31st Fighter Wing- Undisclosed location

“Everybody up!” Cpt. Chang’s voice rang through the sleeping quarters as loudly as the normally quiet man could manage, he running to each and every bunk to wake his men. “Come on, get up! You guys need to see this!”

“Oh hell- sir, what time is it?” Lt. Schreiber extracted himself from his pillow unwillingly, staring about in the dark and seemed hardly awake.

“About one in the morning,” Cpt. Chang said excitedly.

“Sir, what’s going on, we’re supposed to be sleeping-”

“Never mind that! President just announced Discord’s been killed,” Cpt. Chang announced.

“Holy shit- you serious, sir?” Schrieber woke as though she’d just been slapped.

“Whoever did it might still be in trouble. Come on, word is we’re the closest air support unit nearby. We may be flying.”

The rest of the room suddenly came alive with activity as the rest of its occupants suddenly roused themselves, revealing they had been listening the entire time. Pilots rushed to grab their flight suits, struggled to don their boots, their sudden rise to the waking world seemingly staggering them.

“There’s coffee in the common room going. Start waking up, and fast. If the Squadron gets called, I want it to be us. You in?”

“You better fucking believe it,” Lt. Gibbons replied, forcing his foot down his socks and tearing a hole at the heel.

Ten minutes later, Dagger Flight was fully dressed and wide awake, glued to the TV along with everyone else who shared the building, every eye glued to the television for any hint of new information.

“Hey, shut up! I can’t hear it!” someone yelled.

“Turn the damn thing up!” another cried.

Someone nearest to the remote obliged, and the voices of the commentator grew louder until it dominated the room with totality. “Though the President will not officially confirm that the unit for responsible for Discord’s elimination is still engaged, all White House activity seems to point that some sort of major military activity is still ongoing, as both the Secretary of Defense and the President have not been seen since the announcement of Discord’s death. So far, neither the Green Berets of the Army, nor the Navy SEALS, have yet to claim any sort of responsibility for the operation.”

“So who the fucking hell was it, then? Marines?”

“They’re over in the Russian wilds with the SEALS, jackass.”

“So no special forces unit in the whole goddamn military killed the asswipe? So who the fuck did?”

“Like I know. Fuck.”

“Attention!” The chatter that had permeated the room ceased instantly as the commander of the Squadron, Lt. Col. Blythe, entered into the room to observe them all.

“There’s a unit in trouble. Pinned down by enemy air support. These are the guys who killed Discord and they’re in serious danger. We’ve been tasked to move in and break up enemy air.”

Every Wing Commander suddenly was in sight, each one eager to be the one to take the first flight against the Empire.

“Cpt. Chang, you’re already dressed,” Lt. Col. Blythe remarked, taking note of the man.

“Dagger Wing is ready to go, sir-”

“You’re it. Get ready to fly, move!”

It was exactly what they had hoped for. Wasting no time, the four pilots rushed out of the building and into the frozen air of the Imperial winter, caring little of the cold and zealous to be of service for such a moment.

Marc wondered if the bombing would ever stop. He tried to settle himself deeper into their hiding place but found nothing but cold, unforgiving rock at his back, allowing him no additional refuge-

Another thunderous Boom! struck the mountain, the device detonating so close that he felt the pulse within his own skull, his teeth screaming their displeasure. Each one that fell unsettled the area a little more. Their situation was desperate: either their hiding place would be blown open –and they along with it- or the mountain would fall atop of them and they would slowly suffocate in the blackness of the deep earth.

Another rumble outside, the blast falling dangerously close to the cave entrance. They were becoming more accurate with every passing second. Soon there would be a perfect hit.

“They just don’t fucking stop,” Cpt. Armor said, he having taken the position closest to the cave mouth. “Jesus, how much do they have?”

“They must be cycling through. Each run trying to do a little more damage,” Big Mac said. “It won’t be long, sir. They’ll make their mark- we either stay here or we try to risk it.”

Cpt. Armor gave a growl, knowing either decision would likely kill them all. He wanted to bring these men back home- alive, and in one piece. The hopes of doing so were becoming slimmer with every passing second.

Another payload fell near the cave mouth and Cpt. Armor leapt further back into the cave as smoke poured into their safehouse, crashing into the wall as he choked on the putrid fumes-

“Dammit! Come on already!” he snarled. “Alright, listen- that Iron Guard battalion is probably getting close. If we don’t get some sort of relief in the next couple minutes we’re just gonna have to take the risk and keep running.”

Marc felt his stomach twist at the thought of deliberately running out into a bombing run. His mind flashed to a memory of his wife and he immediately shook the thought away- he needed to focus on the here and now, or else he would certainly not survive-

Another earth-shattering rumble and suddenly the perpetual chaos outside ceased, with only the distant sounds of aircraft roaring through the skies. They held their breath, both dread and delight mingling within them: had the Iron Guard come at last, or had their opening finally arrived?

Cpt. Armor, his steps unsteady and slow, crept towards the cave entrance and dared to peek out into the heavens above him-

A pair of metallic screams coursed through the air, suddenly multiplied several times over-

“We’ve got air support, come on!” Cpt. Armor roared, leaping out into the mountains and charging forward-

Without another word, the six men rushed to join him and leapt out into the open air, a first left stunned by the chaos that now reigned in the skies-

Aircraft weaved back and forth amongst one another in a dazzling array of acrobatics and skill, Imperial fighters now being harassed by friendly forces. Marc saw the pristine fuselage of an F-16 ignite his foe and turn the Imperial craft into nothing but burning metal and ash-

“Reyes!” Marc’s trance was broken by his Commander’s call and he charged ahead to join them, trying to steady himself on the now-devastated earth. All around him the ground had been pock-marked by massive craters, some once-clear paths now left block by masses of rock that seemed insurmountable. He wondered if there was even a way out of this war-torn landscape-

Cpt. Armor continued to lead them onward, pressing through as quickly as he could possibly go, weaving in and out through the melee as he searched for navigable paths and means through. Whenever he found a route block by debris he would be the first to traverse it, forcing himself up and aiding those behind them. Their progress had been greatly slowed, but onwards they still pressed-

The sound of an explosion above and Marc dared to peek at the sky; a friendly fighter had been struck along the starboard wing and now careened down to the mountains below. Marc searched hungrily for a parachute but saw nothing fly out into the darkness and his vision was illuminated by flames and smoke as the fighter slammed into the rocks-

“Keep pushing! Don’t stop, keep yourself moving!” Cpt. Armor yelled out-

The fiery roar above and the fallen pilot was avenged, another Imperial aircraft struck from the sky and Marc saw the silhouette of a parachute against the soft moonlight of the winter night. The score was quickly falling against the Empire as the faster, better-armed aircraft of the Air Force continued to press their advantage-

“I’ve got an opening just ahead! Follow me down the path to the left, we’re almost halfway there!” Cpt. Armor cried-

The air just above their heads exploded with furious sound as a pair of fighters, entangled amongst one another, raced just above them and Marc felt something burst in his right ear-

The Imperial aircraft took an offensive pattern and plunged straight towards his opponent, releasing a single missile into the air-

The device struck home by the smallest of margins, ricocheting off the friendly aircraft’s hull and disabling it before exploding, the damaged aircraft now spinning out of control-

The Imperial pilot, perhaps by inexperience or by simple failure, could not evade in time and was struck, the two aircraft tearing through one another like knives until they at last fell to the ground and detonated-

The sounds of the dogfight fled from their ears and Marc, his right ear slowly bleeding, looked up into the heavens. Against the faint light of the night, two aircraft began to circle their presence, as though they were a pair of mechanized guardian angels.

“We’ve got protected passage,” Marc muttered.

“It won’t last. Keep moving!” Lt. Sentry said beside him. The young officer hoisted himself over a rock and promptly offered a hand to his comrade, the two running side by side just behind the others as they raced into the darkness, their dreaded foes hot on their trails.

Author's Note

Almost there. Not much further now. Are you ready for what's coming?

Comments and corrections below. As always, enjoy.

Chapter Eighteen: Requiem

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

-John McCrae

His chest was wracked by pain with every step he took. Their run had been ceaseless ever since they had left the LZ, with little chance for rest since. Their communication with the drone had been momentary, their shelter in the mountain cave had been brief. Now, with their path ahead still forging ahead and uphill, the hopes for any semblance of rest was long forgotten.

“Keep it moving, soldiers, come on!” Cpt. Armor called continuously, his voice as ragged and heavy as his men, though every word he spoke exuded encouragement. “Every step gets us closer to safety and they’ve gotta be looking for a way to pick us up. But we’ve got to keep moving, so keep it up!”

Marc’s sweat fell down his face despite the freezing air of winter that surrounded him. His exhaustion was unlike anything he had ever felt before, more tiring and wearing than even the great battle of Toruń. Every inch of him screamed its displeasure and he began to fear his muscles would seize if he ever dared to stop moving. With so little of him left to give, only adrenaline fueled him now.

“Reyes! How we looking back there?” Cpt. Armor called, his voice echoing across the rock and frigid night.

“Nothing yet, sir,” Marc replied in a tone that suggested more strength in him than he had previously believed. Perhaps there was more left in him than he had realized.

There was a sound of engines roaring overhead and their watchful guardians appeared yet again, their continuous patrol around their presence a great comfort for the weary Cavalrymen stranded below. Though it was no clear means of rescue, the skilled firepower that soared in the skies above was a welcome deterrent to any foe who might dare to come closer. Perhaps they held the Iron Guard at bay, and their rescue was not far off…

The pair of aircraft gave a low, slow swoop across the mountains as though trying to speak with the soldiers below, their flight path dipping dangerously close to earth before they increased speed and raced off into the distance, quickly racing out of sight into the deep black of the night.

“Where they going this time?” Lt. Sentry wondered aloud.

“To stop something from getting closer,” Big Mac guessed. “We’re not safe here.”

“Damn right we aren’t,” Cpt. Armor said. “Don’t stand and gawk, come on! We’re halfway there now. Don’t give up hope yet.”

This was the part Twilight dreaded in her work. When she had done all she could, and with no clear direction in which to push, she had to settle for waiting and watching, praying that all her efforts would not be for naught.

The air support continued it surveillance of the area like a pair of hawks, scanning the entire area with an unmatched vigilance as they reigned in the skies. So far, the Crystal Empire had yet to try and rebuff them- something that worried the young woman. Either the Empire’s air power had been drastically diminished, or they were already on their way with something far deadlier. The Air Force was worried about sending any further assistance, having already lost two birds on the mission in its earliest minutes. Those two pilots, now running with diminished ammunition and fuel, would have to find a way to hold the line until Shining Armor was brought home.

“They’re up, sir!” Sgt. Buckner’s triumphant voice boomed through the tiny room. “4th Battalion is up in the air and on their way to rendezvous with Knight Troop.”

“What’s their current ETA?” Col. Roark asked.

“Two hours, sir. Approximately 0618 local time.”

“Lieutenant!” Col. Roark barked.

“Sir!” Twilight already knew what his next query would be.

“Give me a status report on the Iron Guard. How long till they make intercept?”

Twilight turned back to her screen to check that her information was correct. “If Knight Troop can maintain their current pace and continues unabated, the Iron Guard will intercept in approximately two-and-a-half hours. The mountains have shuttered their artillery from any further movement, but the majority of their forces are still in pursuit.”

“And what would happen if Knight Troop is forced to delay?”

“Intercept time decreased to two hours, sir,” Twilight answered.

Col. Roark’s face was grim at the news. “That’s one thin line,” he muttered. “What’s the status of Dagger Flight? Get me a fuel and ammunition report immediately, if they need to be relieved I’ll get another flight on the way.”

“Dagger Flight is currently yellow on fuel, sir, red on ammunition. We’re cutting it close.”

“Sir, Dagger Flight is in communication,” Sgt. Buckner announced. “They’re refusing to be relieved until Knight Troop is picked up.”

Col. Roark’s face was twisted by his snarl of displeasure. “Damned flyboys. Fine- tell them to keep to them tightly until I can get some additional fuel in the air to their location, but if they will return to base immediately if they’re going to go black, understood?”

“Contact! Bogey inbound, flying low!” the cry cut through every individual conversation like a blade, and all eyes turned to the screen above to watch as a machine of war came rushing across the terrain at a blistering speed, its underbelly missing the jagged terrain of the mountains and hills by mere inches-

“Imperial transport helicopter, heading for direct intercept of Knight Troop! Five clicks out!”

“Alert Dagger Flight immediately, take it out!”

Sergeant Buckner immediately went to work, his words barely distinguishable from one another as he spoke in a rush to the circling pilots, informing them of the new inbound threat. The aircraft reacted immediately, performing a slow turnaround just above the Cavalrymen below before screaming off into the distance to commence their attack-

“Target three clicks out and closing!”

“Target in sight- locked on! Three, two, one-”

It mattered not to Twilight who fired, only that the missile shrieked across the skies and scored a direct hit through the cockpit of the soaring bird, detonating on impact and swiftly turning the helicopter into a malgamation of fire and metal and burning fuel-

Her eyes flickered to the lower side of the screen for only a moment- a hint of movement where no movement should be. The Imperial aircraft had flew over the area just seconds before, and its doors had clearly been open. Someone was inside- they airdropped someone into the area.

“Sir, that vehicle’s doors were ajar. I think they just dropped additional hostiles into the area,” she said.

“Is our drone still airborne?” Col. Roark asked.

“Approximately fifteen more minutes of flight time before it’ll have to return to base, sir,” was the reply.

“Get it to the area and get a thermal scan of the surroundings to confirm. God, I hope Knight Troop is hauling ass.”

The sound of the explosion, though distance and obscured by the ragged terrain of the mountains, nonetheless illuminated the skies in the distance and set them all on edge.

“What the fuck was that?” Featherweight asked.

“Their target. We’re not alone out here, someone just tried to cut through right to us,” Marc said. “Keep it moving, I know it’s unsteady.”

Their path was almost straight up now, the Troop having been forced into a narrow passageway between a series of small outcroppings. The terrain was forbidding and left all who entered wary; it was a beautiful killbox if their foes were to arrive. Marc, still holding watch at the rear of the group, tried desperately to ensure his mind played no tricks upon him. Every sound spoke of a hidden enemy- until he knew it was only the cold winds of winter. Every rock that fell was a foe creeping up the mountain- but it was only his brothers climbing the unsteady path ahead.

“Come on, Featherweight, almost there. Give me your hand and I’ll help you up!” Lt. Sentry said, reaching out and grabbing for the young soldier’s flailing hand. “Come on, hold steady- gotcha! Climb, that’s it!”

“Reyes, move.” Big Mac’s soft, heavyset voice filtered down the tottering steps of rock to the Cavalryman, who was more than willing to leave the lethal passageway and head on. He paused as he began his climb- a sound of rocks tumbling that echoed softly from elsewhere, though he could not quite place it.

“You hear that?” he said quietly to Big Mac, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hear what?”

“Someone else is with us.”

Big Mac remained stationary as Marc continued into his climb, the stone-steady sentry above the passage through the mountains as his comrade fought against the unsteady footing of the rocky stairway. A short time later, Marc felt the hands of Lt. Sentry and Cpt. Armor upon his gear and lifting him upwards and he was heaved up to the top of the stairway, his fingers rubbed raw against the rock and he gasping for breath.

“What did you hear?” Big Mac asked, rising to his knees to come beside his friend.

“Rocks shuffling. It wasn’t me. You see anything out there?”

“Nothing.” Big Mac and Marc stared out into the black, the moonlight above obscured by a veil of clouds passing overhead and leaving their surroundings sinister before their eyes.

“Keep an eye out,” Big Mac said, taking his place in the center of the group as they continued onward.

Marc’s sense of unease did not leave him even as they pressed forward, certain of what he had heard. But with his night vision gear quickly losing power, what clarity he had in the dark was swiftly disappearing. Before the night was over, he would be blind, and whoever pursued them would be free to make their mark.

A sound of metal on rock echoed through their surroundings. I brief, momentary sound that lasted for only a heartbeat, but loud and grating against the silence of the empty night. It was all Marc needed-

“Sergeant?” Marc turned about to scan his surroundings while he reached out and tugged at his nearest companion, who turned out to be Featherweight.

“Pass it up to CO- quietly. We’ve got company,” Marc said. His body tensed as though a foreign pair of eyes had come to rest upon him and he felt a thrill of fear as his growing sense of mortality reared its head. It only took one bullet-

The sound of a gunshot and a round flew through the air, severing the quiet of the night in an instant as the round made its mark, cutting through flesh and bone and wrenching a choked cry from Big Mac as the shot cut through his throat and spilled his blood across the mountain-

“Sniper!” The Cavalrymen sprang from their place and threw themselves to cover, a second round falling just short of Featherweight’s boot and missing by the smallest of margins-

“Anyone see him?” Cpt. Armor roared, all pretense for cover and security now gone-

“Negative, I got nothing!” Lt. Sentry called, crushed up against a large slab of rock beside Marc. “You?”

“I think he’s behind us,” Marc said quietly, bending low to the ground and leaning forward. “Can you give me cover while I sneak a look?”

“I can try,” the young officer grunted, his expression now grievous. “I’ll be firing blind.”

“Just a few seconds.” Marc shuffled to the corner of his hiding place, his breath coming in an unsteady shudder as the moment pressed upon him with unrelenting force-

A sound of distress met his ears and his focus suddenly shifted. The body of Big Mac began to move ever so slightly, his hand reaching out into the air for comfort as another mangled cry for help escaped his lips. “Oh my God-”

“Go!” Lt. Sentry fired the moment his rifle was flared, his rounds falling wildly across the mountainside in a vain attempt at finding their foe’s hiding place-

Marc, body low to the ground as he peered out with his darkened night vision, scanned the mountain for any sign of movement. A falling rock, a shuffled boot, a body pressed suddenly up against rocks in an attempt to secure cover-

A sudden shift in the rocks, about fifty meters out, just above a small outcropping of rock. Subtle, possibly even a reaction to one of Lt. Sentry’s rounds falling, but it was all he had. Marc slowly tipped his rifle against his cheek and peered through the sights at what might be his target-

A quick flash of light and Marc gasped, his right eye suddenly blinded. He fell back against his cover and shook himself as his eye saw stars-

A round fell where his head had just been the moment before. Both Marc and Lt. Sentry rushed back to earth as instinct kicked in-

“Fuck! Tell me you got him!”

“I think I do. Can you try again?”

“He’ll know we’re coming-”

“Get me five seconds!”

“Fuck me-” Lt. Sentry threw his body out from cover and took a standing position above the rock face, firing wildly and hoping to distract his foe’s attention long enough-

Marc dipped out from behind cover and searched the mountainside for the small outcropping, seeing a swift movement that could only be a human body shifting-

He knew it was coming the moment before it happened. Marc leapt away as another round struck the ground beside him and he refocused his sights, his reticle now place just above the sniper’s exposed weapon-

The sniper shifted forward and prepared to squeeze out another round-

Marc’s weapon fired a split-second before, the round tearing through the night sky and connecting with the sniper’s left eye and driving deep into the brain. The sniper’s body went limp and sagged, falling down the mountainside before falling broken in the pathway.

“Are we clear?”

“Clear!” Marc roared, leaping to his feet and running to Big Mac, who now flailed out wildly for any semblance of rescue-

“Over here, out of sight!” Cpt. Armor said, grabbing the wounded man as carefully as he could, with Marc taking Big Mac’s legs and trying to hold him down. “Jesus, he won’t stop squirming- Sergeant Mac, you’ve gotta keep calm!”

A bloodcurdling cry of fear and pain erupted from Big Mac’s lips, the full severity of his wounds now evident as they looked over him. Most of his neck had been torn away instantly, little muscle and bone still remaining. What had survived the blast now looked more akin to shredded rags dipped, tatters of skin hanging loosely as blood gushed out onto the ground-

Marc had never seen anyone survive such a devastating wound, and the sound of his friend’s cries cut into his soul like a knife. “Oh my God-”

“Help me hold him down!” Cpt. Armor cried. “Sergeant Mac, listen to me! You’re gonna be alright, we’re gonna get you out!”

Big Mac gave another twisted scream and his hand fell on Marc’s shoulder and gripping tightly as though his friend were keeping him alive-

“IFAK! Get his fucking IFAK-”

Marc remembered the day he first met Big Mac. A distrustful, sneering teenager still fresh from a life of vice and cruelty. Yet even his harsh attitude had done nothing to faze the reserved farmhand-

“That’s it, press down. Carefully! Come on, Big Mac, just hold on-”

They had worked together, for a brief few months. Marc’s new life had been a series of twists and turns, ups and downs, but working at the farm had been a delight. Hard work, pleasant company, not a single cruel word ever escaped the man’s lips. They had become friends and had barely spoken a word-

“That’s just our air support, we’re good! Keep working, don’t give up!”

When the war had broken out, he and Big Mac had enlisted together. They had trained together, learned to fight together. Marc wondered if he had ever had a friend as close as he, one for whom he would gladly give his own life. They had sworn that they’d get through it all and make it back, to go home and have lives truly worth living-

Marc suddenly noticed a deathly quiet and he broke from his thoughts. His hands, pressed gently against Big Mac’s shredded wound and drenched in blood, reached down to just above the collarbone and felt nothing. No pulse met his fingers and he knew it was over.

The silence of the surviving Cavalrymen became a horror. It had been so swift, such a sudden thing that none could believe what had transpired. Marc felt distant from them, his mind traveling back to his past one last time and watched as another thread of his old life was snipped away. Only one strand left untouched, and he wondered if that too would be lost to him tonight.

“We’ve got to keep moving,” Cpt. Armor said quietly. “Iron Guard are gonna be close now. We keep moving until we get picked up.”

“Sir, what about Sergeant Mac?” Lt. Sentry asked.

“Grab his SI and weapon. It’s all we can do.”

Featherweight looked appalled at the decision, his expression torn between distress and anger as he struggled to find the words for protest-

“We can’t carry him. We don’t have a way of doing so without slowing everyone down,” Cpt. Armor said. “We’ll mark the location with a chemlight for later pickup- but we need to move.”

Marc felt sick to his stomach. He reached out and grabbed Big Mac’s rifle and slung it across his shoulders, while Lt. Sentry took his night vision and maps from his pockets, stowing them within his own. When all his equipment had been secured, Marc stretched out his hand and pulled the dogtags from Big Mac’s hip, pulling hard until the chain broke and he stuffed them deep into his pocket.

Marc rose to his feet, knowing nothing would ever alleviate the guilt of abandoning his friend. “CO’s right- we keep moving,” he said firmly. “I’ll keep our rear secure. Let’s go.”

The Cavalrymen plunged forward into the dark, leaving their fallen brother behind.

Author's Note

And so the farmhand falls. I am so sorry.

Only three more chapters to go. Can you stay true till the end?

Comments and corrections below. As always, enjoy.

Chapter Nineteen: Still in This Fight

“Oh my friends, my friends forgive me

That I live and you are gone.

There's a grief that can't be spoken.

There's a pain goes on and on..."

— Marius, "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables", Les Misérables

Sunset wondered if she was going to be sick. She remembered the instructions the medical staff had given her clearly: relax, keep yourself at ease to prevent any further panic attacks, lest she risk harm upon her unborn child. It had been an easy task for some time now, with the help of Applejack to keep her mind occupied.

But now she was gone. Only a few short minutes ago, a pair of men in dress uniforms had appeared at the door and requested to speak with her privately.

How did they know where she was? Have they been watching us ever since I got brought here? Sunset wondered. All her suspicions about her husband’s current predicament seemed to be true, no matter how much denial she faced. But why are they- oh no.

“Sunset’s mah friend,” Applejack said tentatively, somewhat taken aback by the solemnity of the two soldiers that had entered the hospital room. “Whatever you want to say, you’re OK to say it here.”

“Mrs. Reyes? Husband of Sergeant Marc Reyes?” one of them asked, a withered-looking Major whose eyes seemed weary from a long night’s work. His gaze settled on the plate set upon the door, reading the name with a growing look of displeasure.

He knows who I am, Sunset thought. They’re afraid to tell Applejack in front of me because it could reveal that Marc’s in trouble. What if they wanted to speak to me too and they wanted it done separately? Oh, God help me.

“We would prefer that, under the circumstances, you come with us for the time being,” the Major replied.

“Ah’m fine here, thank you,” Applejack said politely. Sunset’s heart sank: Applejack was unfamiliar with the world of the military and didn’t know what she was about to hear.

“AJ,” Sunset said, her voice held under tight control so as not to reveal her grief, “Go talk with them. I’ll be fine on my own for a little while. Take all the time you need.”

“Are- are you sure, girl?” Applejack asked.

“I’m sure. Go on, they need you right now.”

Applejack remained uncertain but accepted nevertheless. Sunset wondered if she was truly prepared for what was about to fall upon her? Granny Smith was gone, Apple Bloom had all but cut off her family, and Big Mac was now gone- AJ was all alone in the world, and she didn’t even know it. Sunset’s mind wandered back to the multitude of conversations and phone calls they had shared over the years since the war began. All of them, without fail, had spoken of the day when her brother would come back to Sweet Apple Acres and help bring things back to normal. Of when her brother and best friend would be home again, how Apple Bloom would come around and start being part of the family again. Now, though she didn’t know it yet, that dream was gone forever. It was the most sickening thing Sunset could imagine, and her heart twisted in sympathy for her friend.

Marc is still out there, she realized. He’s still alive, but if Big Mac is dead, then he’s still in trouble- he could die today. The thought ran through her like a bullet and her blood turned to ice. This is it. The moment. The only moment. Marc is going to die and I’ll never see him again. His baby girl will never know her Daddy. He’s going to be lost to me and I don’t know if I can bear it.

Sunset gave a gasp as a hard kick from within her belly rocked her from her reverie. Another movement within, then another, each as unpleasant and harsh as the one before. Her baby was reacting to her mother’s distress- Sunset’s fear began to turn to horror.

I can’t lose control now. Not now! You have to hold on until this ends, so do it! Sunset flung her hand in her mouth and crunched down, pressing so deep into her skin that she wondered if she had drawn blood. The pain was terrible and did nothing to relieve her surging emotions that now roiled like a sea in a storm within her.

“Mrs. Reyes? Is everything alright?” One of the nurses, likely alerted by Sunset’s skyrocketing heartrate, came in to check on her. “You look like you’ve been having a rough night.”

“I’ve had better,” Sunset said, a massive understatement as far as she was concerned. “Please, I could use someone to talk to. Is there anyone here I can talk to for just a moment, please!”

The nurse continued with her checks, doing her best to ease down Sunset’s terrors. Finally, when she could do no more, the woman sat down in a nearby chair and faced Sunset, an expression of great grief clouding a soft-featured face that spoke of kindness.

“My name’s Ivy,” she said. “The chaplain’s busy helping your friend right now, I think. But if you don’t mind talking to me…”

“Her brother’s dead,” Sunset said flatly. “There’s no other explanation for it.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivy replied. “It must be awful for the both of you, you seem so close.”

“I wish I felt bad for her. Really, I do- but my husband works with her brother. They’re in the same platoon! And all I can think of is that I’m going to lose my husband tonight. What if he’s already been hurt? What if he’s been killed? How long will it be before they tell me? How am I going to do this alone?”

“Gently, gently,” Ivy said in a soothing voice, trying to shush out Sunset’s resurging fears. “I know you’re scared right now, but let it out gently. You’ve got a little girl inside you that needs you to stay calm.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sunset said, her voice beginning to become thick with tears. “I’ve waited so long for this stupid war to be over. I’ve wanted my husband back with me for years. It’s all we’ve planned for, talked about. I don’t know if I can go through all of this and him not be there with me when it ends. How am I supposed to raise my daughter without him? It’s not fair!”

“Of course it’s not fair,” Ivy said. “Nothing in this world’s fair. Good men and women go fight and die because some monster couldn’t resist killing people. A bunch of innocent people get killed, people’s lives are destroyed, and families are torn apart. War is never fair.”

“Am I selfish, then? Should I be ashamed-”

“Of course not. He’s your husband. Of course you want him back with you- but now you might have to be ready to face that he isn’t coming back. You might have to raise your daughter without him.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Sunset cried, her tears dripping down her colorless cheeks. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know. You’ll never know until the moment comes. But he’s still fighting now. Your husband hasn’t given up yet. So don’t stop believing in him just yet. He might just love you too much to quit and give up now.”

Sunset knew it to be true, but was grateful for the reminder. Strong Marc, brave and relentless Marc, the indomitable man she had come to love and marry who had fought across countries and wastelands, through battles of flesh and blood to heart and soul- her husband who fought still to come home and live. She knew it to be true, but struggled to keep believing.

“Can you stay with me, please?” Sunset asked. “I don’t know if I can be alone right now.”

Ivy held out her hands and Sunset gripped down tight, praying she would be ready for whatever came next.

The roar of engines overheard had increased triplefold. Marc watched in ever-growing horror as their friendly air support continued to fight on against the growing tide. The Empire, in its weakening throes before the finishing cull of death, had decided to fight their last battles to the bitter end.

“Don’t stop, come on!” Cpt. Armor cried, all pretense at secrecy and concealment having been forgotten with the Iron Guard growing ever closer. “We’re about to move through a choke point, it’ll slow them down! Don’t give up, keep pushing!”

The night seemed endless to the Cavalrymen, each step further only brought the deep black of the night down more heavily upon them until it seemed as though the whole world was pitch and void of light. Marc’s chest heaved with every breath, his head pulsed from the lack of oxygen, his legs shook under the weight. He was fighting for every step forward now, and all the world seemed to struggle against him and he began to fear that he would fall to his knees and collapse if he dared pause his journey.

“Empire’s giving them everything they’ve got,” Lt. Sentry gasped, reaching down and offering Marc a hand up the path. “They won’t be able to hold out much longer.”

“And if they don’t we’re screwed. So keep moving!” Cpt. Armor said. “Once we get through that choke point the whole damn lot of them are gonna have to maneuver in a straight file- no vehicle could get through, and they’ll be forced to slow down.”

“And then?” Marc asked. “Sir, if we don’t get an evac soon-”

“We’ll have one. We just have to hold out a little longer and they’ll make it. Don’t give up now!”

Marc’s oxygen-deprived brain struggled to believe him, the wear and duress of the endless night bearing down upon him until he felt crushed beneath the weight. Part of him was enraged by it all; the cruelty and malice of the Crystal Empire that had begun this miserable war all those years ago that had taken millions of lives and threatened to consume the whole world in fire. Another part wished for panic and a final, consoling release of the maelstrom of pent-up emotion inside him and simply be free of it all.

“Don’t quit- come on, we’re almost there!” Cpt. Armor yelled, still blazing his path forward and leading their movement. “Our route is just ahead of us, it’ll be in sight soon!”

Marc struggled forward, forcing himself to take each step with every ounce of will he could muster. I have to go on. I must go on.

Unbidden, unwelcome, the beautiful face of his wife appeared in his mind and the thought seemed to sear his senses; panic threatened to rise up and wreak havoc upon his ragged spirit. It had been months since he had last held her, felt her warmth against his weary frame. Had that been the last he would ever see of her? And his unborn child- was she to live without her father in a cold, unforgiving world?

No. I will not quit. I will not give up now.

A sudden burst of fire and all eyes looked to the skies as an Imperial fighter was struck down, their friendly air support refusing to go quietly into the night. The dogfight was now even, though the Air Force was likely to be weaponless soon-

She’ll struggle without me. She’s strong, but she relies on me for so much. She needs you to come back. You promised she would!

Another step taken and Marc felt something within his ankle crumble- he fell to the ground unable to support his weight, the pain a sharp flash as the muscle had finally begun to give way-

I’ve broken too many promises. I promised I’d never go back to Wanyama. I swore I’d walk away from the fight, I promised I wouldn’t go to war- please, help me keep this promise! I’ve got to go back!

“Reyes!” Lt. Sentry, having noticed his friend’s sudden absence, turned to see Marc struggling to rise from the ground and rushed over to help. “Give me your arm- that’s it, come on!”

“What’s going on? We get contact?” Cpt. Armor yelled.

“Reyes is hurt!” Lt. Sentry roared back.

“I can still move, sir!” Marc snarled. “Help me up, I can keep moving!”

“Stay by me, man- one step at a time, we’ll do this! We can do this!” Lt. Sentry’s voice was ragged and cracked, the brutal night having struck upon him with no forgiveness or release. He had watched his soldiers die tonight, he had watched old friends give their last breath and now faced the final specter of death himself but spat in its face-

A thundering Boom! in the skies and the battle overhead became raked with burning metal, one of the friendly aircraft struck dead-center and erupting in flames, the Empire suddenly regaining the strength of numbers, with only one friendly aircraft remaining-

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop, it’s just up ahead! Look, don’t give up now!” Cpt. Armor cried pointing to a thin, open space in the mountains that looked hardly able to fit a single person through its maw-

Marc’s every step was agonizing, he forcing himself to run though all his senses pleaded for him to cease. A fire raged within him now, desperate to keep on living though it seemed Death had encircled them all-

I will not quit! I’m going to get back! So fight- FIGHT!

A mighty crash and the last friendly fighter overhead was struck down, writhing in the air as its death throes became a cloud of fire, the pilot within fighting against the controls and somehow throwing itself against one of its foes, the two aircraft shattering and careening to the ground-

“Oh shit,” Lt. Sentry breathed. “Sir-”

“I see it! Don’t stop, the last fighter will take time to circle around! Don’t quit, don’t quit!”

The roar of engines met their ears in a deafening crash of artificial thunder and none dared to look at the vicious predator that now soared overhead, knowing its very eyes would be focused upon them-

A whistle through the air and the missile flung itself through the skies, tearing through the night in a blur of light as it careened into the mountain and detonated.

“Lieutenant, you mean to tell me you’ve neglected to tell me of your emotional investment in this operation from its beginning?” Col. Roark’s voice remained calm, though the crackling within it threatened an almighty storm.

“I deemed it to not be pertinent information, sir,” Twilight said calmly, hoping a rational, emotion-free attitude would be enough to free herself from this. She certainly hadn’t told anyone that Shining was her brother, and no one else in the room had known. Maybe, just maybe, this was some sort of test of her abilities.

“You didn’t think that perhaps your relationship with the Commander of Knight Troop –your brother- could be pertinent information?”

“Only if it became critical to the operation, sir,” she replied.

“Lieutenant, it should not take my superior officer, who is currently speaking with the Secretary of Defense and the President himself, to inform me that one of my soldiers is related to the men on this mission! Do you realize what sort of liability you are to the success of this mission?”

“I maintained a mindset that I would excuse myself from my duties if I could not control myself, sir. And I have done so-”

“What you think doesn’t matter! You let your emotions already get the best of you when you did not immediately alert anyone to this matter, and now you cannot be sufficiently removed from this operation without causing further detriment to their survival! If you panic now and it becomes a critical moment, I cannot have you replaced!”

“I’ve not been a liability, sir-”

“You have been a liability since this operation began by not divulging critical information!” Col. Roark roared, his voice as harsh and heavy as thunder. “Lieutenant, I cannot remove you from this operation now because I’d be imposing further danger, but you’d best believe-”

“Holy shit!” The cry was so strong that all conversation stopped and every eye moved to the screen as the whole world became white from fire and heat-

“What just happened? Status report!” Col. Roark said, his attention temporarily diverted from Twilight.

“Empire just fired on the mountain, sir! Drone may have been hit!”

“Oh my God,” Twilight whispered.

“Get out of the area and get a visual! Move!”

The drone moved further and further out until the entire area was under its scrutiny. The movement of rock and earth continued but slowed with every passing moment, the river of ground slowly petering out until it had become a mound before the broken spire of the mountain.

“What am I looking at here?” Col. Roark asked.

“What’s left of the mountain, sir. Empire created a landslide to cut off any ground-based movement.”

“Do we have any visual on Knight Troop?”

“Searching now.”

Twilight’s heart was in her throat. He had been so close- right on the cusp of possibly finding a way out. Her breath was held and draining her of life.

“Sergeant Buckner, how much longer till evac arrives?” Col. Roark asked quietly.

“Twelve minute ETA, sir.”

“And the Iron Guard?”

“Eight Minutes.”

The already-haggard officer sank to his chair and upon his face was a look of horror and defeat so great that few dared to look at him. He sighed after a time, rubbing his hands across his face and staring at the screen before him with a miserable air of finality. “If you are not currently involved in any essential tasking, leave,” he ordered. “Don’t stay and see this.”

Twilight felt his gaze rest upon her but she remained resolute and stood her ground, though the tears that had threatened her all night finally found their form and began to spill down her cheeks. She dreaded what was to come, but refused to give in and let her imagination take its place. This was her brother- she would stay until the end.

Author's Note

And so it comes- and the night still holds on. Only two more chapters to go. Can you be there when it ends?

I'll likely be away from updates for a time, possibly till the end of the month. With a big move ahead of me, I'll be occupied by other things until I'm fully settled. Hopefully it won't be too long.

As always, comments and corrections below. Enjoy.

Chapter Twenty: Forgotten

Every movement, no matter how small, was a monumental struggle to achieve. The earth that had rushed at him in a relentless, unstoppable fury now surrounded his body so tightly that any motion felt stiff and subdued.

Marc felt a small trickle of blood moving slowly down his forehead and he fought to stay conscious. Where was he? Was he even sure what had happened? There was a shadow over his vision that seemed to fall whenever he remained still, so he forced himself to keep moving. Some part of him that grew stronger with every effort he made begged him to stay awake.

“Reyes! Reyes, Jesus, man- you alright?” a voice called from nearby and, despite the suffocating dirt and rock that surrounded him, Marc managed to turn his head to the side in an effort to find the source. “Reyes! Marc!”

His name was enough to rouse him for good and suddenly his eyes flew wide and drunk in the severity of the situation. The mountain blew, he remembered. A flash of light as the missile had struck home, then another and another until the whole skies rained soil and stone in a horrifying, raging current of earth that had swept him clean off his feet. He was alive, but the more awake he became the worse his pain became. His already injured ankle pulsed angrily, and a thumping pain in his head spoke of further injuries. All across his body were aches and pains where stone and hard earth had struck blows against him that he had not first noticed- now they all came forth in a vengeance.

“Marc!” A hand reach out and grabbed his collar, trying to lift him out from his earthbound prison. “Shit- can you free an arm, anything?”

“Flash!” Marc gasped. He began to wrestle his left arm against the flow, then his right- the right felt lighter, which likely meant less weight was settled upon it. If he moved it back and forth, he might be able to free it.

“You hurt?” Flash asked, kneeling down beside his friend and digging furiously with cupped hands, trying to aid in Marc’s extraction.

“Not bad- just some bruise and scratches, I think,” Marc grunted, moving his right arm all the more furiously. “Try to my right, I think my arm is about to come loose- almost out!”

The ground erupted and Marc’s filthy, dirt-covered arm was freed from the grasp of the earth, reveling in its newfound freedom above the ground-

Flash grabbed hold and began pulling, the effort so great that Marc began to fear it would be pulled out of its socket-

Pain shot across his arm like lightning. “Too hard, too hard!” Marc cried, feeling the muscles within beginning to strain. “Stop, stop, stop- keep digging, I’m moving as best I can!”

“Shit, man, what do you want me to do?”

“Just keep digging at my side- maybe if we get one half loosened, I can work my way out,” Marc grunted, trying his best to ignore the relentless pain that struck his tired frame. The weight that rested upon him was horrendous, and even the smallest of movements brought little relief.

Bit by bit, piece by piece the two men worked, Marc writhing beneath like a fish caught on a line as Flash continued to dig further, eventually reaching down to Marc’s chest. “Do you want to give it another try?” the young officer asked.

“Go for it,” Marc said.

Flash reached from behind and wrapped his arms around Marc’s chest, pulling with all his might as the earth refused to relinquish its prize. Slowly but surely the ground began to crack and open up, Marc coming forth like a deep root buried in the dirt and being free to the open air.

“Shit,” Flash breathed, falling back beside his friend. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” Marc grunted, checking his weapon that was now smeared and marred by thick dirt. “You hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

Marc struggled to catch his breath but knew time still was not their ally. “Where are the others?” he asked. “Where’s CO?”

“He’s further up, I think. Can you walk?”

Marc took Flash’s outstretched arm and rose to his feet, hobbling his way across the sprawling landslide that had devastated the landscape. Wherever his eyes turned, the sight of half-buried boulders and loose earth met his gaze, and beyond lay a broken spire of rock and earth that stood shattered and hollow, a glorious mountain that had been all but destroyed-

Marc slipped and began to slide further down the newly formed hill, stopping a few feet later and halting his movements. “Watch where you’re stepping!” he called.

“Reyes! Reyes, is that you?” A voice choked by dust called forth in the darkness and Marc’s gaze peered out into the deep black. “Reyes, over here- move carefully, the ground is still loose on this side!”

“Sir!” As carefully as he could, Marc pushed onwards through the unsettled sea of soil and stone towards the sound to find Cpt. Armor on his knees beside a bloodied Featherweight, who now sported vicious gash across his young face.

“Featherweight- what happened?” Marc cried, kneeling down beside his soldier. “You with me, kid?”

“I’m alright, Sergeant,” Featherweight said, though his voice possess a tearful hint to it. “Just a bit scuffed up, that’s all.”

“Where’s Lt. Sentry? Joel, go look for him!”

“I’m right here, sir,” Flash replied, his haphazard pace bringing him to his comrades. “You alright?”

“They brought down the whole damn mountain on us,” Cpt. Armor growled, ignoring the man’s question as he scrutinized their surroundings. “They had us like fish in a barrel, why did they aim for the mountain?”

“To cut us off,” Marc guessed. “They knew the Iron Guard would be able to catch up before too long. They’ve got us trapped.”

Marc’s words worked their way through the battered group of Cavalrymen until they had become a poison. Featherweight’s face grew pale and his head darted this way and that looking for a means of escape, desperate to flee his leader’s defeated words.

“We’re not done yet,” Cpt. Armor snarled, rising to his feet and slowly making his way up the hill. “That choke point was just up ahead, it might still be open.”

“Sir.” Flash’s voice was tremulous-

“I don’t want to hear it- come on!” Cpt. Armor roared, charging forward against the slow flow of silt and rock that threatened to sweep him off his feet. “It’s right up here, we might still be able to make it-”

The narrow pass that had once been empty and devoid of obstructions now lay covered in an menacing wall of earth, as though nature had seen fit to fill the gap. The open space had been sealed off and in its place lay a mountainous doorway built of freshly broken stones and dirt.

“Dammit,” Cpt. Armor said, rushing up to the wall and examining it. “Maybe-” He gave a leap and tried to find some measure of grip in its sides, only to slip back down to the ground as a small current of silt fell upon his head.

“Sir, please,” Flash said again-

“Don’t!” Cpt. Armor cried, rushing forward again and scrabbling for a makeshift ledge along the wall, any possible grip that he might find- only to fall back down and stumble backwards. With a roar he charged a third time, leaping forward and failing yet again, loosening more fresh earth and sending a small landslide down the new hill.

Marc felt a bubble in his brain, growing stronger with every second. He knew what it was, but he could not heed it now- not now, when the hour was so close. All around him the terrain had been devastated as the Empire’s air power had struck without mercy. The already treacherous terrain had been turned into a death trap from which they could not escape. Their long, wearisome, bloody night had finally found its close.

Cpt. Armor fell to his knees and screamed out into the heavens, a sound of unmitigated rage and grief that tore through the sky like a jagged blade.

“So- what do we do?” Featherweight asked, his small body beginning to tremble. “There must be something- there’s gotta be something we can do, so we can get out of here!”

Marc gave a deep, sorrowful sigh as he looked at the young man. He had suffered greatly these past few days: his best friend had been killed, he had seen the ugliness of death up close, watched as his brothers had been torn away in the skies, seen the ravagings of a sniper’s bullet, and now would have to answer to death himself. It was so grossly unfair that Marc was sickened by the thought. “Featherweight,” he said heavily, “there’s nothing we can do.”

“So- Sergeant- so- so we’re gonna die?”

The moment it was said, there would be no turning back. “Yes.”

The truth had been revealed. Featherweight trembled violently and fell to the ground seemingly stunned. Marc suddenly saw just how young he was; the boyish face now stricken with impending terror, a figure that spoke more of a child than a warrior. Joel sat beside him, his gaze darkened and lost in his own thoughts.

Flash stood beside his old friend from years gone by. They had not always been this way, Marc knew full well. But after time had softened his arrogance and malice, as they had become adults in a world on the verge of chaos, they had found that they could indeed be friends. Marc knew he would regret the time he had wasted, glad that he still had a friend left to face the coming wrath.

“So, do we wait for them to show up?” Flash asked, his playful tone shaky and revealing his true fears. “Offer than a light and all that?”

“We give them everything we have,” Shining Armor said, rising back to his feet with a bright light now blazing in his eyes like a great wildfire. “They want us? Over our dead bodies.”

“Sir-”

“Don’t go quietly into that goodnight,” Shining Armor said firmly. “We won’t quit, not now! They want to take us from our friends, our families? They’ve killed our brothers tonight- so let’s make them fucking pay for it! This whole area is a bowl now, so we’ll branch apart and spread out. Grab your weapons and get set, we’ll make five men seem like fifty tonight! Flash, take the far left side. Joel, get about ten meters to his right and set a position in the dirt- Featherweight, you’re next. Marc, take the far right, I’ll be to your left. Now let’s do it!”

It was no true plan, merely vengeance and rage given form into action. But the empty blackness that filled their souls lessened somewhat and they found courage in the emptiness. Despite their hopelessness, they would not descend into Hell without a fight.

Marc, hobbling as quickly as he could manage, threw himself behind a pile of rocks and checked his sights. The weapon was dirty and battered, it might not even fire; it was still more than enough to fight and to kill. It would do both in one last act of service for its master.

“Look at that,” a voice called, Marc recognizing it to be Featherweight. “The sun’s coming up!”

A tinge of pink and gold, against the broken spire of the shattered mountain behind them, began to rise into the sky, growing stronger with every passing second as they watched the cold winter flee from before them. It would be the last dawn they ever saw, but their hearts were gladdened; they would not fall in darkness, but in the bright colors of a new day.

“Marc,” the voice was so calm that he almost mistook it for another. “You ready?”

“Ready as I can be, sir,” Marc replied. “You?”

“Always.” Shining Armor’s voice was taut and he settled beside his old friend. They had been there since the beginning, when Almeria had fallen upon them in all its wrath and fire. They had fought across foreign lands, through time, against enemies far greater than they. The two of them had hoped to see it come to an end. Instead, they would merely be another stepping stone for the final defeat. Discord had fallen, the Crystal Empire was dying. It was a future they had dreamed of, and would not die for.

“Marc?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.” Marc turned to face his friend, his brother, and was ashamed to see tears in his eyes. “You deserve better than this. I wanted to get you back home. I wanted you to see your family again.”

Marc struggled and forced his breaths to come steady and slow. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “And if it has to be now… I’m glad I got to fight with you.”

“They never were able to defeat you, Marc,” Shining Armor said. “Not the Iron Guard, not your own demons, no one. Remember that... I’ll see you on Fiddler’s Green.”

Marc chuckled at the thought. Fiddler’s Green, the resting place of the Cavalrymen. Where the dead settled and found solace before the mouth of Hell, where friends long past awaited their comrades. The peaceful realm of the Cavalryman alone- it was a thought worth holding to.

Sunset, Marc thought, speaking within his own mind as though she stood before him. Far off in the distance, as though his brain had begun to play tricks on his eyes, he could see her resting elsewhere in a maelstrom of grief. Sunset, my beautiful, wonderful Sunset. I am so sorry I couldn’t keep my promise. I tried as hard as I could- I promise I did. I wanted so badly to see you again… but I don’t think I’m going to. I’m sorry. If you were here right now, I’d tell you how much I love you, and I couldn’t wait to get back to see you and our child. I really wanted to be a Daddy, you know that? I wanted it all so bad. But I’m not going to be able to make it. So, if you can hear me out there somewhere, just know that I love you. And until the day comes that you join me, I’ll be waiting for you.

Off in the distance, the smoky silhouettes of their foes finally came into view; a menacing throng of heavily armed foes that hungered for their blood. Waiting diligently, Marc hesitated to fire until they had come to the perfect spot. Just as a face, fresh and clear, sought him out, Marc squeezed the trigger and let his bullets fly.

The two sides fought with all their rage and fire that they held within, The Iron Guard’s malice raining down upon Knight Troop like an unrelenting storm. Outmatched, outgunned, pinned down, Knight Troop threw all they had against the tide as their enemy broke against them. Body after body fell, the five men fighting without fear of the pain or death that now hungered for them. The dawn grew brighter and onward they fought, an unremitting frenzy of bullets and wrath that seemed as though it would consume them all before the sun could rise-

A bullet struck the rocks before him and Marc staggered back. They had him now, he needed to move positions before he was struck-

A Thoom! And the ground before him erupted in a flash of heat and shrapnel as a mortar fell dangerously close to him. Another fell behind him and Marc knew he had been bracketed. It was time to move-

Marc rose to his feet and stumbled as his legs failed him, sending the warrior staggering to the ground. He rose again, trying to stumble away from his hiding place but he could already hear the whistle that fell through the air and he braced for the impact-

Flesh was met by heat and metal, muscle was frayed and cut like rope as bone was broken and torn away. Marc flew through the air as his legs vanished in a sea of fire and he fell to the ground in a writhing mass as blood gushed into the skies-

“Marc!” Shining Armor was upon him in an instant, abandoning his position and running into the fray, dragging the screaming, blood-covered hunk of meat that had once been his friend. “I got you, I got you!”

Marc could not hear him, trapped within a storm of excruciating agony-

Shining Armor looked beyond him and saw Joel fall as a series of rounds made their mark- then Featherweight was struck in the chest, and Flash disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He had lost them all in the hurricane of fire and death-

A scream that rivaled the greatest of warriors burst from his lips and Shining Armor rose to his feet, firing blindly into the melee. A round struck him in the chest, then another- and more followed until he staggered to his knees, his armor cracked and he bleeding profusely onto the mountain rock-

Another roar and Shining Armor stood one last time, delivering one last bellow out against his foe-

The world exploded in fire. The Iron Guard scattered as a hailstorm of rockets and machine gun fire tore through their numbers with ease, the densely packed soldiers becoming easy targets. Shining Armor, his vision clouded by the sudden dust and pain, saw a series of aircraft soaring above him- friendly birds of war, a pair of them now hurriedly setting down before him. As he fell to his knees, he saw the figures of men rushing towards him and hands wrapped around his arms to pull him into the steel bird. He called to them, as though from a distance, to bring his men, do not forget his men. If anything was said to him, he could no longer hear it.

He was settled into the helicopter and Shining felt hands pressing against his chest. What were they doing? They were fighting, still fighting, just like he was still fighting. He must still fight for his soldiers, his brothers. He tried to lift his arm, but a weight had come upon him with such force that the effort was simply too much to bear. He fell to the floor in a heap, each breath a painful, unsteady rasp. He reached out for his soldiers as his vision clouded, his blood-stained hands grasping out-

A cold, weak hand met his and tried to hold on, but so faint was its strength that Shining knew it had to be Marc. He reached out again and held tight to his friend, urging him to hold on for just a moment longer- they would hold on together. But even has he reached, he could feel the weakness in his friend’s hand, and what little strength had been held began to quickly fade.

Shining Armor took another breath. Then another. And another. Each breath was a struggle, but he would fight on. He had to fight on. He would fight on, so his brothers would fight too. But the weight was so great, and so heavy was every breath that he wondered how long he could manage. He was tired, so tired. He had given everything he could hope to give, and more. He hoped that would be enough.

He closed his eyes.

“Tell them of us and say,

For their tomorrow,

We gave our today.”

– The Kohima Epitaph

Author's Note

May 13th, 3:00pm EST. The last chapter will be revealed... and the future for what comes next will be said, too.

Comments and corrections below. Enjoy.

Epilogue: Fight On, Fighter

The day was beautiful, clear, and clean; the summer had come, but had arrived with a gentleness that brought peace to the souls of those who dwelled in it. All around the trees and flowers flourished, birds sung as they weaved through the branches and into the open skies. The grass, a more verdant green than could be believed by mortal man, was soft and invited the world to rest upon it in the shade of mighty trees.

A young family walked along slowly, perfectly content to enjoy the sunshine for as many moments longer that they could grasp. The husband walked slowly beside his wife and daughter, his gaze settled upon the two so fiercely he wondered if he would be able to ever tear himself away again.

“You’re staring again,” his wife reminded him, a laugh so wondrous to his ears that it may well have been the voice of angels. “You’ve been doing that lately.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” he replied, taking his daughter’s balled fist in his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Doesn’t bother you either, does it, Princess?”

“No, Daddy!” she said, her voice loud and bright and full of life. “But you’re still super weird!”

“I should have expected as much,” he said, his wife laughing at their daughter’s bluntness. “I can always count on you to be honest, can’t I?”

“Yup!”

“She takes after you, alright,” his wife said. “Honest to a fault.”

“Well, she’ll cool down. After all, she’s yours too.” He paused momentarily, letting the warm air and sunshine fall upon him and wrap around him like a soft blanket, his eyes closed so he could do nothing but feel the vibrancy of the world on his skin.

“Hey… you OK?” his wife’s voice broke through the reverie and he opened his eyes to see her gazing at him curiously.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just…” he faltered, unable to find the words.

His wife smiled, kissing him on the cheek and resting against his chest. “You’ll be fine,” she said encouragingly. “I’ll hold her till you’re done. Take as long as you need.”

“Thank you,” he said, kissing her in return and leaving them behind as he walked on. Soon the gravestones were before him, a long, painful list of names and units and places that he had known all too well. A grief fell upon him as he recognized the name, or the land in which they had fallen. He had known them, laughed with them, fought with them- but here he still stood, while they slumbered beneath the ground out of reach of all harm of sorrow.

He knew that he should be grateful that he still lived. And truly, he was. But when he saw their names again, a lump began to form in his throat. SPC James Bright. 1st SGT Iron Will. SFC Big McIntosh. He felt a pull on his heart and he knew which one came next. As his eyes settled upon the next headstone, he came to a halt before it and slowly settled down on the ground, letting the fibers of grass play against his fingers.

“It’s a beautiful day out,” he said at first, his eyes darting to everywhere but the headstone. “It’s been great for a while, really. I just- well, I wish you were here to see it.”

The headstone remained silent, and finally he was able to look upon it, the countless memories of his friend now rising to his mind. Slowly, painfully, a small smile came to his face.

"It's been a while, I think. Since I last looked back and saw the day I made it and you didn't, I mean,” he said. “The world's pretty different now. It’s been three years –a long time, I know. There's no Crystal Empire. No Sombra. Just a world that still isn't sure of what to do next or how to really take it all in. I can understand that. There were times you and I couldn't find a way to explain it all. We just chose to keep pushing through it and find a way to stay alive a little while longer.

I’ve got a nice little thing going now, so you know. My wife and I are doing great, my little girl is getting bigger every day. We’ve even got another on the way. I never thought I’d have something this good- I always said I didn’t deserve it. But here it is- and it’s good. Real good. I wanted you to see it for yourself.

That night, I guess we figured that no one was going to make it. We’d made our peace and decided to go out with a bang. I got hurt real bad, you got hurt real bad. Thought that was gonna be it. But… well, here I am. I made it. Featherweight made it, the tiny little guy. He went back home and I keep up with him- he’ll be a college graduate soon, if you can believe it. I told him that I’m proud of him. I bet you would be, too. I just wish you were here to see it, cause no one fought harder to make it happen than you.”

A soft stream of tears fell down his face, unbidden but not evil in their form. A sudden spate of grief and gratitude roiled in him like a flowing tide and he smiled all the more widely.

“I don’t know what to do next. Even when I was a kid, I was always fighting against something,” he continued. “It’s like all I know how to do anymore is fight. But now it’s over, and I’m here trying to figure out where we go from here. I’m alive when I really shouldn’t be, and I don’t know who I’m supposed to be now. I just know that I don’t want to sit by and let the world keep on hurting. You died so the world could have a better future, so… so I want to carry on that mantle. I want to keep going, to keep fighting for those who need it. I don’t know how it’ll all happen- I just know it will. So, if you’re listening, I just wanted you to see that it’s going to be OK. I’ll take it from here.”

On unsteady, metallic legs that still remained shaky beneath his once-powerful frame, Marc rose to his feet and bid farewell to the grave of Shining Armor, walking towards a shaded tree where Sunset sat playing games with their daughter. She looked up to see him coming and rose to her feet, greeting him with an outstretched hand.

“I’m back,” he said.

She smiled, pulling him to her side. “I know.”

The three of them walked back through the grass and further on, reveling in the glorious sunshine.

~The End~

Author's Note

The story of Marc Reyes -criminal, boy, man, soldier and warrior- has come to an end. But the true story has only just begun.

More is coming. But how? Take a look here, and join me in the bittersweet future:Here

As always, comments and corrections below. I hope you've enjoyed this story.

Prologue: Landing Zone Peleliu

Time: 0630

Location: Three Miles off the coast of Almeria

They had been praying for open skies- early morning sun to obscure their approach. Instead, a thick, unbroken sheet of iron gray clouds dominated the atmosphere, turning their midnight black warbirds into easily identifiable targets. The first line of Black Hawks, a sprawling line of ten aircraft, thundered through the sky as fast as their powerful engines could carry them, burdened down by vast quantities of firepower- and the precious human cargo within. Behind the first line, some 100 meters behind, lay the second wave, followed by three others as the air squadron strode forward to complete their task- deliver the soldiers within their steel hulls safely to their intended destination.

A young man, still bearing the boyish features of his childhood, stretched out from his seat to peer out of the open doors, and down at the crystalline sea below that churned with warships. The Navy had brought whatever forces they could spare to aid in the conflict, as well as the delivery of the main body of the forces set to lay siege to the city. The sheer magnitude of the operation was obvious, as tens of thousands of human lives were strewn across the surface of the seas all for the sake of taking one single region- an operation that was occurring simultaneously at seven other different points across the southern coastline. It was one of the largest movements of warfare in human history, an event that had been planned and strategized and dreaded by innumerable souls ever since the word of its existence had begun to spread. This is it, he thought, a single sentence that rose out of the maelstrom of his terror and panic that threatened to break at any moment. This is it…

“Reyes! Eyes on me!” the young man snapped his neck back and focused solely on his commander, a man hardly older than he was- First Lieutenant Shining Armor, leader of first platoon and commander of the ten other troopers aboard the bird. “Alright, we’re gonna be hot in less than ten mikes, we’re gonna go over our route one last time!”

Every eye of every man aboard was riveted as Lt. Armor unfolded the small map he kept hidden in his right breast pocket, stashed safely beneath the mountain of Kevlar and tactical equipment attached to his body armor. He unfolded it as best he could in the howling wind that ran through the bird, his fingers tracing the lines that spoke of their intended routes beyond the desert to their true target.

“Last drone scan said that the amount of armor and manpower heading to support the SAM’s has increased in the past 24 hours, so it’s gonna be hot the moment we make the jump- as soon as you let go of that rope you make a break for the nearest cover you can find, you hear me?” he roared, doing his best to be heard above the screaming squall. “We’ve still got our job to do- take out the SAM’s, artillery, AA guns and whatever other shit they have nested in those hills so the Navy and the rest of the brigade can make it onto that beach with minimal casualties. If we don’t get this done, then we’re not gonna be getting out of here - Sergeant Hack!”

“Sir!” barked the young NCO, a miniscule man of 25 years boasting a pencil moustache.

“Take your squad along this line here, move as best you can across in bounding pairs- and keep an eye on that hill nearby, it’s a perfect position for a machine gun nest!”

“Yessir!”

“To the rest of you- remember your training, this is what you’ve been working towards for months now!” Lt. Armor roared, addressing the rest of his team- a motley band of Privates and Specialists from various corners of their home country, most hardly distinguishable from children. “Don’t let your fear get the best of you, you are better than them! You are Air Assault, you are the Cavalry! No one else can do this job but you! Stick to your training and we’ll make it through this day alive!”

The recipients of his small speech gave a throaty “Hooah!” barely audible above the roar of the chopper’s engine, the young men too consumed by their own overwhelming anxiety to truly be able to give much else. Some had truly reached adulthood, but most were fresh from high school and the homes of their parents- barely men, and nothing in life had truly prepared them for anything like this.

Boom. Boom. BOOM. The air was suddenly filled with concussive blasts from below as the first wave of birds flew above the shoreline of Almeria where a massive defense line had been set in preparation for the invasion force. Ship after ship made its way through the rolling surf and onto the pristine beaches where their enemy lay waiting with weapons capable of unthinkable devastation, more than enough to wipe out hundreds upon hundreds. The air was alive now as the Crystal Empire fired its first rounds against the invasion- the battle had begun.

A green light flashed nearby- the signal they had been trained to wait for. “Five minutes!” Lt. Armor barked, rising to his feet.

The others followed their leader, rising to their feet and bellowing, “Five minutes!” The ropes coiled safely in the back were brought forward and tied to the side of the bird in preparation for the impending jump that now lay only a few spare minutes away.

Reyes looked around him, his gaze flickering across the brethren he had come to call friends- how many of them were as panicked as he was right now? How many believed that this was not just their moment, but their last, final moment on earth? Would it be quick and painless, or bloodied and spent in torturous agony as they all knew it could potentially be? He couldn’t help but wonder if this was his time as well.

He looked across the bird and stared, wide-eyed, at his two closest friends: Wil Collie, a skinny teenager who’d run from home to enlist, and Big Mac, the only one in the entire troop who had known Reyes from the life before this life, back before this war had begun. “You guys good?” he asked, his voice almost absorbed by the latest explosion from beneath their bird, shaking them and nearly sending a few toppling to their knees.

Collie gave a retching groan and turned to vomit out of the open door, fear emptying his stomach. Big Mac gave a small nod but said nothing. His eyes were as wide as they could be, his face pale beneath his myriad of freckles. It was obvious he was terrified, and Reyes knew exactly why- he knew what Mac had left behind.

A quick movement caught his eye and Reyes turned to see his PL unbuckling his helmet and extracting a small wallet-size photo from beneath the interior and giving one quick kiss. A photo of his wife, most likely- she had recently had a daughter, something that must have been on the LT’s mind almost as much as-

“Oh, shit, please be there,” Reyes sputtered, his fingers diving beneath his armor and extracting a small picture of a young girl, his heart of hearts that he had left behind. She was safe, holding to a promise that he would return. She had promised to marry him when he came back. Reyes couldn’t help but wonder if their last goodbye would be just that- their last. He squeezed his eyes tight to hold back the tears of panic and slid the picture back into his pocket. He looked down at his left shoulder, where the emblem of a Huey borne by paratrooper wings rested. He was Air Assault trained, he bore the heaviest weapon the platoon could give him, a powerful 240L, and he had been trained in every possible way to prepare for this day. He had to believe he was going to make it, that he would live through this-

BOOM! The bird to their starboard side was met with an Anti-Air round straight through the belly, devastating the craft with an explosion of fire as its occupants were set ablaze and fell out onto the ground hundreds of feet below-

“Hang on!” The Black Hawk shook as the explosion rocked the surrounding airspace and sent the troopers within into a frenzy- the ropes were prepared, set out and ready to be thrown as the steel bird twisted and dove towards the hardened desert wastes-

“We’ve got hostiles beneath us!” yelled the gunner, a young man named Thunderlane as he set to work mowing down whatever movement he saw with his M240. “Multiple AA guns visible ahead! Get these guys the fuck out or they’re not gonna make it!”

BOOM BOOM BOOM! The whole world had erupted in fire and shrapnel as the numerous howitzers and machine guns buried in the foothills came alive, shooting into the swath of birds above their heads and slaughtering the soldiers within their steel hulls-

“Get the fucking ropes out! We’re jumping now!” Lt. Armor cried, snatching the rope for his side and throwing it out the side of the chopper, waiting in agony for it to strike the ground-

“GO! GO GO GO!” came the cry, and the eleven troopers rushed the doors and latched onto the ropes, instinct and training taking over where fear had once been held- terror was secondary now.

Reyes was fourth on his line, his thoughts not on a girl or a home or a future but on nothing but proper movement and technique: Eight feet per second, no jerky stops so don’t grip too tightly- slide but don’t fall, watch where the man ahead of you goes so as to avoid getting struck-

A smattering of machine gun fire darted past him, their fatal blows missing his body by mere inches as he descended. His heart was hammering madly in his chest, threatening to burst forth from his armor and kill him then and there-

Focus! Eight feet per second, maintain proper grip, slide but don't fall, no jerky stops-

There was a horrible Crunch! sound and a burst of blood as the trooper above him, a young man named Stragazzi, was struck in the head-

“FUCK!” Reyes couldn’t hasten his descent fast enough to avoid the falling body and was struck full force by over 200 pounds of weapon, armor, and human flesh, tearing him from his grip on the rope and slamming him into the ground five yards below-

For a moment he thought he was dead. All of his senses fled from his body as he went numb with the force of the blow on all sides, forcing all air, thought, and feeling out from within him. Distantly he could see, hear, and feel the cataclysmic battle that had erupted around him, but as if from another world, another time and life of which he was not a part. He could hear the sound of bullets raking past his body, feel the spattering of blood as more troopers were struck down, the ground shaking beneath him as mortar rounds began to fall. He watched, unfocused, as another black hawk came crashing down in a putrid fireball and sent flames skyrocketing into the air, watching as the sole survivor crawled out from the wreckage, his body aflame and screaming from whatever was left of his lungs as his body was burnt to cinders-

“Reyes! Come on, man, move! REYES!” he could hear someone calling for him, filled with desperation. He tried to move, tried to summon himself back to reality, but the weight was so heavy… weight, weight, weight-

Reyes came back into focus and found himself staring straight into the bloodied pit that had once been Stragazzi’s skull-

he gave a shriek and pushed against Stragazzi’s dead body with all his might, not yet realizing the lifeless trooper’s weapon had become tangled with his own. He struggled to move, to get away from the man who had been his friend and partner in battle but was now a broken mixture of flesh and blood that flowed onto Reyes’ legs, the gore flying with each desperate attempt to get away-

“I got you, keep trying to get untangled!” said a voice, one he knew to be the LT, and he felt a pair of hands grab hold of his kit to drag him along. Reyes struggled against the tangle of equipment, his gloved hands slick with fresh blood until he could stand it no more- an open knife and Reyes cut through Stragazzi’s M4 sling, watching as the body fell to the ground and bleed onto the desert floor-

“Are you alright? Are you hurt!?” Sgt. Hack asked the moment he was pulled into cover, checking over the young soldier for any wounds, looking aghast at the blood that covered his armor-

“I’m good- I’m good, Sergeant!” Reyes said loudly, his heart still in full-panic mode from the incident that had nearly cost him his life. “I wasn’t hit- shit, Stragazzi had my additional ammo!”

“Keep yourself out of sight!” Lt. Armor replied, doing his best to keep himself beneath cover- a powerful duo of M2’s had been set across the nearby hill and were dominating the terrain with their superior firepower. The air itself felt explosive as the pure force of the weapon raked across the landscape, threatening to dismantle all who met its kiss of death. “Who have we got?”

The survivors who had managed to get to cover were cluttered together beneath a massive sand dune, thick enough to withstand the two guns above, though still leaving their number petrified and roaring with adrenaline. “We lost Stragazzi, Cpl. Hunt, Baker, and Roque, sir!” Sgt. Hack yelled back. “We’re about 500 meters short of our intended drop zone!”

“We won’t reach our intended zone unless we get rid of those 50’s!” Lt. Armor countered. “Get your team ready, we’ll bound forward- get your men ready to move! Reyes, Mac, Collie, you’re with me! Sgt. Hack, you take the others, get ready to move to that next dune! We’ll meet you beyond that hilltop!”

Lt. Armor motioned for Reyes, and the two men rushed to the peak of their dune, waiting just behind the tip of their cover. “Don’t fire until I say so,” the LT breathed. “When you do, aim straight towards those guns, moving up that hill- remember, short controlled bursts.”

Reyes cocked back his 240L and chambered the round- a belt of 200 7.62mm rounds now sat at the ready; meant for the sole purpose of destruction, and now awaited only the smallest squeeze of the trigger-

“Let ‘em have it!” Lt. Armor yelled, and he flung the muzzle of his M4 across the dune’s peak and opened fire-

Reyes threw himself out from cover and unlocked the weapon’s bipod, slamming it onto the peak of the sand dune and opening fire, squeezing down the trigger that unleashed a torrential volley of gunfire onto the open plain and onto the hilltop where the twin M2’s stood. The smell of gunpowder and hot steel erupted from the barrel of the machine gun as the trail of bullets cut across the desert sands and bringing the assaulting fire of the deadlier weapons to a halt as their gunners dropped to avoid being struck-

“They’re through! Drop!” The two men slid back down the dune to where Mac and Collie waited, their breaths coming in quick, ragged gasps. “OK, get ready for the others to start their covering fire!” Lt. Armor ordered. “That dune twenty meters ahead is where you’re gonna run, you hear me?”

They all nodded, unable to give a proper response as the booming gunfire of the 50. Cal erupted across the battlefield yet again, the thunderous sound threatening them once more-

The small, erratic Pop! of 5.56 rounds answered in response as Sgt. Hack’s team opened fire on the enemy position-

“Run!” the four troopers raced out across the open expanse towards their next place of safety, their boots tripping over rock and sinking into the thick sand churned by gunfire, but ceaseless as they ran behind their Lieutenant, with Reyes bringing up the rear, held down by his heavier equipment that only increased the terror in his chest-

Crack! Reyes slammed into the side of the dune as a mortar round hit its crest, showering the four men in smoke and sand-

“Shit! Try to find that mortar position!” Lt. Armor yelled, already dropping to the ground to sneak a glance around their cover.

“I’ve got nothing, sir! I think it’s beyond the hilltop, behind the two 50’s!” Collie coughed, choking on the thick cloud that had enveloped them.

“Then we’re gonna have to move quick! Return fire, give Hack’s team cover!”

Mac and Collie took their turn and peeked out from the right side of the dune, releasing a volley of rounds across the hilltop as their fellow platoonmates raced ever closer-

“One of them’s down, sir! Mac got one of the gunners!” Collie reported as they were called back.

“Alright, that can buy us some time, now get ready, we’re gonna hit the base of the hill just beneath those rocks- three, two- ONE!”

They gave another mad rush through the chaos-

The ground at their feet was peppered with round after round as the enemy above opened fire with whatever they could muster, their bullets darting in between the racing troopers as they tried to stay one step ahead of the bullet that sought their name, not one of them daring to stop for even the slightest second-

“Get ready to take it out! Reyes, grenade at the ready, I’ll go around the left side, you take right!” Lt. Armor barked, wrenching out the safety pin in preparation. “You’ve got just ten seconds to get into position, make sure to cook it.”

Reyes gave a nod and pulled the explosive from the pocket on his MOLLE, unlocking the safety pin and slinging the 240L across his back.

“One-” With a quick breath he was out into the open-

“Two-” Enemy fire was already tracing him, he could hear the sound of rifle fire-

“Three-” the sand beneath his feet felt like mud, so heavily churned despite being broiled by the scorching heat-

“Four-” flecks of dirt struck his cheeks as hostile fire struck the earth, begging to reach him-

“Five-” An outcropping just ahead of him was perfect cover, just one more step-

“Six-” He rushed beneath as the 50. Cal began to fire upon his position-

“Seven-” He would have to jump out from cover if he was to make the shot, he was too heavily concealed-

“Eight-” He squeezed down the handle of the grenade and took a step out from cover-

“Nine-” He swung his body back as he had been trained, instinct overwhelming his fear of the incoming fire that threatened to slay him-

“Ten!” The explosive was thrusted from his hand and into the open air, soaring high into the sky and disappearing behind the nest walls. Reyes darted back behind cover once more, waiting for the explosion that would signal his ascent.

Boom. The ground shook as both his and Lt. Armor’s grenades erupted on that hilltop, sending sand, rock and human remains racing down the hillside to rest at his feet. One second, two seconds, three seconds- Reyes leapt out and began to slowly climb the hill, his ascent made clumsy by the heftiness of his weapon and armor, but he soon found himself in the midst of the machine gun nest, leaping onto the broken body of an imperial soldier that now lay dying at his feet, most of his upper torso torn apart by the force of the combined blasts-

“Knock them down, and keep low to the ground!” Lt. Armor said, leaping over the barrier to stand beside him, giving a swift kick to the tripod that supported the first M2. Reyes joined him and tore out the firing pin of the remaining 50. Cal and tossing it into the desert, not truly realizing yet that the five men that had manned this nest had been killed by his hand-

“Done with that, now let’s get back to our original mission, we still need to hit the linkup spot with the rest of the platoon!” said Lt. Armor, and the two men rushed down the back of the hill, opening fire on the two remaining mortarmen that had chosen to stand their ground-

The plateau before them erupted in a series of explosions that sent them reeling and scrambling for cover, Reyes stumbling and crashing to the ground, his 240L catching him in the throat and sending him into a spluttering coughing fit-

“Mortars! Get to cover! Get to cover!” The two squads had reunited in the midst of the chaos, rushing through the horrendous din of powerful munitions that bombarded them. They were pegged, fish in a barrel ripe for the picking-

A thunderous boom and a mortar round struck home, detonating between at the feet of Merkel and erasing him from the face of the earth. Sgt. Hack, who had been following close behind, was caught in the blast and fell to the ground writhing in agony-

“MAN DOWN!” Mac and Reyes rushed back to their fallen NCO, nearly put into shock by the sheer magnitude of the damage. Hack’s right arm was a bloodied stump, chewed off just above the elbow and spewing blood like a fire hydrant, his weapon now a blackened wreck that had been seared to the front of his kit and most of his exposed flesh had been instantly scorched by the unfathomable heat, leaving him a screaming mass of what had once been a human being-

“GRAB HIS LEGS!” Big Mac yelled, putting his hefty arms around the man’s shoulders while Reyes tried to grab hold of Hack’s legs and instead slid the flesh straight off the bone-

“HOLY FUCK!” Reyes dropped his grip and the bare bone slammed into the ground, eliciting another shriek from Sgt. Hack as the two Privates tried to regain their grip once more-

Reyes put his hands on the man’s charred boots instead, taking special care to avoid any exposed areas, wondering how the man was even still alive after such appalling damage. As quickly as the two terrified young men could manage safely, they brought their squad leader out from the midst of the bulletstorm and into cover, where Lt. Armor was already performing a nine-line via the radio in Collie’s dismount bag.

“You’re dropping dismounts off at the SAME FUCKING LOCATION! Pick this guy up and get him the fuck out!” the officer shrieked, looking more incensed than they had ever seen him. “Casualty is a Priority, severe burns and missing right arm, we’re applying tourniquet now-”

“Sir, the rest of the platoon is incoming on our right side!” Collie yelled, pointing to where a set of about twenty men were crawling along the desert sand, barely obscured by rock and small mounds of dirt that pock-marked the landscape. They were far too exposed, but dared to push themselves across the madness for their last best chance of survival-

“GIVE COVERING FIRE! AIM FOR THOSE SAM’S!” Six different barrels set their aim towards the outposts ahead and gave volley after volley, Reyes’ 240L delivering its demoralizing power straight towards an exposed mortar team- a small cloud of blood erupted from one man and he fell out of sight-

“You two, do what you can to keep Hack conscious! Collie, I don’t care if you have to shoot the motherfucker but you get that bird to land and pick him up, you hear me?”

“Yessir!”

“And keep your heads down- Sergeant, how many have you got?” Lt. Armor asked as his Platoon Sergeant, Staff Sergeant Iron Will, slid next to his platoon leader.

“We lost a bird on our way in, sir- Sergeant Horton’s section is gone,” Iron Will reported. “Second platoon’s slant got cut in half, only one of their birds made it in. Those howitzers are too accurate, this operation isn’t going to last if we don’t get in there and take them out!”

“It won’t matter if we don’t take out the SAM’s, or else the rest of the brigade won’t land and give us the additional firepower!” Lt. Armor replied. “Where are those howitzers encamped?!”

“About half a click behind the line of SAM’s- lot of hostiles attached to their location, we’re not strong enough to take them on ourselves!”

“Then we’ve got to take out those SAM’s so we can free up whatever support we’re gonna have- Navy’s too scared to go in any further unless we cover their asses!”

“Sir, Captain Dyke’s on the ground, he says we need to keep moving, says the timeline is collapsing!” Collie yelled.

“What fucking timeline?” Lt. Armor roared.

“The Squadron’s getting pressure from Brigade command, the units down on the beach are getting hammered, they need whatever support we can give-”

“And they’re gonna fucking get it!” Lt. Armor snapped. “Sergeant, the two closest SAM systems are less than a click away, we need to hit them now or else the whole operation goes to hell. Take the section across the left lane and we’ll hit the right-

The sound of an explosion rocked the area and the roar of falling steel met their ears as a new Black Hawk was struck across the side by a fresh AA round, dismantling the fuel line and sending the bird falling lazily to the ground-

“EVERYBODY MOVE!” The platoon scattered in a race to avoid being crushed as the bird slammed into the earth, its rotor tearing into the ground before shattering and sending shards of steel and boiling hot metal streaking across the battlefield, every man rushing their position despite incoming fire-

Reyes and Mac raced after their platoon leader, doing whatever they could to avoid mortar fire and hostile elements across the landscape as their world seemed to be filled with nothing but sand and rock and metal and fire-

“Oh shit, oh fuck- fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Reyes breathed in a panic as he ran forward, desperate for any way to find safety once more, even if it was only a target he could eliminate, a rifle he could stop from firing. He felt his boot dig deep into the sand and find an overly large rock, sending him stumbling into the dirt. “Fuck -shit!”

“Get up!” Mac yelled, helping his friend back to his feet and the two ran on, not concentrating on anything but moving forward and closer to their eventual goal.

“Where’s Sergeant Hack?” Collie screamed as the two men arrived. “Did someone pull him out?”

Reyes felt a lurch in his stomach as he realized the downed bird had fallen exactly where they had once stood, with the savaged NCO right in their midst. They had been to occupied with survival and they had-

“You just would’ve died too, don’t dwell on that shit now! There’s a trench about fifty meters ahead- mortar teams are all over it!” Lt. Armor said, pointing to the barely visible M252 tubes that dotted the terrain. “I’m gonna pop smoke so we can get in close- Reyes, when I give the signal, you hit the right side and light ‘em up!”

“Yessir!” Burned and scarred Sergeant Hack, the easygoing NCO turned into a seared piece of human roast in the matter of a few seconds, transformed into something inhuman in almost an instant-

“Tossing smoke!” A dark grey canister was extracted from one of his MOLLE pockets and Lt. Armor heaved, throwing it like a football, and landing perfectly in the dip right before the trench and igniting, the thick, gray smoke slowly whirling out from inside-

“Not yet, not yet,” he hissed as Reyes shuffled himself. “It’s not thick enough, wait a little longer…”

The seconds ticked by in agony as each one of them knew the very ground where they stood had already been marked- they were easy targets unless those tubes were disabled-

“Go, go!” Shining Armor and Bic Mac leapt out from cover to give covering fire as Reyes ran ahead into the miasma of smoke that filled his lungs and threatened to choke him out-

Breathe, breathe, don’t freak out, you can’t freak out, you have to breathe. Every second in the impenetrable smoke was horrific torture as he knew one stray bullet would be all it took to bring him down. He could hardly see, he couldn’t open his mouth for a single gulp of air-

“Whoa!” His right foot fell into the air as he found the trench and fell into it, collapsing in a heap right next to a pair of mortarmen that nearly jumped out of their skin at the sight of him-

Reyes gave a yell and tried to right himself, hoisting himself off the ground as rapidly as his heavy load would allow, his left hand grasping out for the bipod for grip-

The two mortarmen reached for their rifles and it occurred to Reyes that they hardly looked any older than he was, as his eyes adjusted to the free air of the trench and caught sight of the other teams preparing to open fire-

The trench came alive with the muzzle blast of the 240L as 7.62 rounds raced through armor and muscle and bone, soaking the walls of the trench crimson as the mortar crews fell to the deadly machine gun’s firepower. One man, then two, then five- until no enemy was left standing. Reyes felt his first belt exit the chamber and spit the last round, his first 200 rounds now dispensed-

“We’re clear!” He yelled to his teammates, waving his hands in an attempt to signal them. “Trench is clear!” He felt a shift within himself as he saw the dead that now lay at his feet, believing them to be his first kills, his mind not having yet accepted the deaths on the hilltop or the fallen mortarman from before as his own-

Reyes could hear heavy footfalls and Big Mac landed right beside him, falling through the air just as he had done and landing in a heap beside him. Collie appeared next, taking note of his friends’ clumsy entrance and landed with more grace before being followed by Shining Armor, who took note of the havoc that had just been wreaked. “Alright, that’s one more obstacle out of the way,” he said, slapping the young Private on the back. “We’re almost there, guys, just a little further. Ammo count!”

“I’m down two magazines, sir,” Collie reported.

“Three,” Big Mac added, slapping in a fresh magazine into his rifle.

“Down three myself. Reyes, what do you have?”

“One 200-round belt, three additional magazines, sir, but I’ve got to replace the barrel!” Reyes answered, opening the feed tray to insert the next belt, pulling back the cocking handle and instantly feeling it jam- “Fucking come on!”

“What the fuck’s wrong-”

“Jammed, I think there’s a link stuck in the ejection port!” Reyes replied, pulling off his assault pack and reaching for his secondary barrel while his right hand dove into the ejection port, his fingers searching for a shell or a link-

The air suddenly roared with an overpowering thunder and the sky overhead was filled with fire and smoke as a massive PAC-3 missile screamed through the skies, followed by a trio of its brethren.

“We’re running out of time, the SAM’s are opening fire-”

“Working as fast as I can, sir!” Reyes yelled.

“Navy must be in range, those missiles are locked on to one target that’s gonna have a helluva lot of people onboard-” Collie cried.

“NOT! NOW- GOT IT!” Reyes replied, extracting the damaged link and tossing it aside. He pulled off the hot barrel and threw it into his pack, sliding the new one into position and chambering a round. “Ready to go!”

“Alright, we’re almost there- we’re gonna bound as buddy teams, Reyes you’re with me! Mac, Collie, provide cover!”

Lieutenant and Private jumped out from the trench and dashed ahead to where the SAM Launcher lay half-buried beneath the sand, the truck itself appearing to be swallowed by the desert leaving only its missile system above ground, the entire area surrounded by a well-entrenched hostile force that opened fire on the two men as they rushed forward-

“Open fire!” Lt. Armor cried as the two men slid behind a small mound of dirt and rock, lifting their weapons out from beneath their bodies and sending smatterings of fire over the heads of their foes to give their two remaining companions the time they needed to make their rush-

“We’re clear, we’ve got you covered!” came a thin cry, as Big Mac and Collie took cover behind a nearby thicket of brambles-

“All the way to it, let’s go!” Reyes leapt clumsily to his feet and rushed forward into the fray, leaping to the top of the enemy position and opening fire alongside his platoon leader as their fire mowed down enemy resistance until the team manning the installation was no more-

“Get up here with that C4!” Shining yelled, motioning for Big Mac and Collie to join them as he stood atop the cab of the MIM-

“Get down, sir!” Reyes cried, leaping backwards and slamming into his PL just as an all-powerful 125mm round seared through the air, ricocheting off the side of the MIM and exploding in the dunes beyond, detonating with the force of a small bomb-

“What the fuck was that?”

“Not just howitzers, sir- tanks, infantry, they’ve got a helluva lot incoming!” Reyes screamed, pointing to the mass mobilization heading straight for their position, well-armored and intent on pushing back the invaders-

Fuck- GET THAT C4 UP HERE NOW!” Armor yelled, catching the kneaded package Big Mac had just finalized. “Fuse and wire!”

The fuse, attached to a small thin yellow wire, was sunk into the package and kneaded around to ensure its stay, and the four men dropped out down below the system and encampment for some semblance of cover. “Alright, get ready- three, two, one-!”

The world exploded as the C4 detonated the system with a concussive blast that sent them reeling, the explosion sending billowing clouds of smoke that were marked by fire and shards of metal into the sky, falling to the ground and threatening their own lives-

“Incoming fire!” The four troopers watched as tank rounds and continued howitzer fire, interspersed with rifle and machine gun fire, tore through the battlefield, streaking towards whatever open target lay before them. Reyes watched as a nearby troop came under threat by a blast of 125mm that struck their path heading to a nearby MIM, obliterating a pair of troopers and sending others flying. The entire squadron was under threat as the impending failure of their mission blared through their minds as round after round after countless round met their mark with deadly results as countless lives ended in the matter of a few heartbeats-

“Sir, what do we do?” Collie asked, his face tinged with panic.

Reyes felt a flash of terror as he saw the fear in his PL’s eyes- he didn’t know what to do. Lt. Armor looked just as frightened as the rest of them and was grappling for an answer that would somehow save their skins and keep his men from losing control-

“Sir! What do we do?” Collie pressed again, every inch of his face plastered with terror as he began to realize his commander was struggling with the panic and reality that they were in a situation that was going to spiral out of control and turn into a massacre-

“Uh- fuck! How many MIM’s are still active?” Lt. Armor asked, somehow finding his voice again. “Get me a visual!”

Reyes and Mac slid to the very edge of their cover and peered out into the rest of the battlefield, assessing the conditions.

“I see one destroyed, three active, sir!” Reyes called.

“Two destroyed, two active!” Mac added.

“Uh… With ours that makes five down, five to go- uh, uh- shit, it’s not enough but it’s gonna have to be,” Lt. Armor said rapidly, his words and movements disjointed and clunky as he tried to force himself into rational thought. “Radio!” he finally yelled, snapping his fingers for the hand-mike. “This is King Zero-One calling any Leviathan unit on this frequency! We are BROKEN ARROW, I say again, BROKEN ARROW- We need immediate suppression on this location!”

Reyes swore his heart must have stopped beating at the mention of it- Leviathan was the operation’s primary source of firepower, the joint power of ground and naval artillery meant to shell into the city. “Holy fucking shit-”

“Leviathan 1-4, MIM’s are still active, but we are in ‘Broken Arrow’ protocol, we are not gonna make it unless you get into position! Standby for location,” Lt. Armor yelled, scrambling for his mini-map. “Grid as follows: 3696 by 2373- fire for effect, I say again, fire for effect!”

Reyes’s mind returned to the pre-mission debrief they had been given, his mind returning to the coordinates they had been forced to memorize and know by heart in the event of full destabilization and as he connected the numbers to where he stood now-

Lt. Armor waited on bated breath for a response before giving a nod and throwing the handmike aside. “It’s gonna be coming right on top of us, get ready!”

The four men huddled closer together, practically burying themselves into the ground as they watched the grim melee turn into a massacre as their squadron was becoming quickly overwhelmed by the enemy line pushing towards their location. A massive T14 roared across the landscape beside them as it opened fire on the incoming troopers-

Reyes felt the first round hit before he even knew it had arrived, watching as the cannon round exploded on a nearby MIM, killing both sides of the battle that were clashing on the wreckage-

Another round, followed by another, and then another until it seemed the entire world was alive with nothing but explosions and fire, dust, debris and rage as both forces came under threat by the same gunfire that sat both on and offshore as the combined forces of two powers sent their devastating payloads out into the wastes, striking against their fellow soldiers as well as their enemies, so finely merged together into a single lane that neither could escape the powerful onslaught that had been called down upon them-

The ground around him exploded as an arty round struck the remains of what had been the MIM-104 just above him and Reyes soon found himself coughing and covered by the debris sent barreling towards him and he saw the world around him disappear behind walls of smoke and fire and sand that were the thinnest of shields against his own end, and on and on the barrage went until he could think of nothing but the fact that he was going to die, he was going to die here and now in this desert hell or be buried beneath the sands and never to be found again and he grasped his helmet in terror and in that moment he heard a thin, shrieking scream of terror that he soon realized was his own-

He woke in an instant. No sudden intake of breath, no panicked yell, no throwing of the sheets. In a single moment he had gone from the battlefield to his own bedroom, no longer staring out into the sands and iron-grey sky. The ceiling above him was a light tan with a thin crack where the drywall had been soaked by rainfall through the roof. The curtains had been pulled shut, with only the smallest sliver of early morning light seeping through their thick folds.

He righted himself, coming to a seat and staring at the darkened walls painted a soft blue. He looked over at the battered oak dresser where their clothes were kept. He glanced at the nearby bathroom, seeing nothing but a damp towel hanging on the door from a late-night shower. His hands felt the soft sheets and fabric that sat upon his bed. His gaze settled on his companion, still asleep on the opposite side of the bed, breathing gently and undisturbed by his dreams. Judging by the state of the covers, it had been a quiet nightmare.

Marcos Reyes looked around the room before sliding out from beneath the cover, his unease having yet to be abated. He could see quite clearly where he was, but his mind was not so easily satisfied. His hardened instincts told him a different story. His feet, bare and not wearing his boots, settled onto soft carpet instead of hardened rock and sand, and took him away from his room and into the depths of his home.

He found himself in the kitchen, his throat parched as if he truly had been in the midst of a wasteland. Reyes reached for the tap and watched as clear, cool water fell onto the metallic sink before cupping his hands beneath the flow and bringing it to his lips. As he drank, his eyes caught his bare reflection in the window above the sink- slightly scruffy, as he hadn’t yet shaved that morning. All the youthful features of his boyhood were gone, replaced by the visage and scars of a man. He thought he could see his eyes in the man that looked straight back at him, feel that haunted look matching his own.

Reyes shut off the flow and looked around the room, taking in its peaceful stillness. Nothing wrong here- and likely nothing wrong anywhere else, he chided himself. He counseled himself to relax, as he had been taught, but still he failed to bring his anxiety to a halt. Try as he might, he at least needed to check the outside world.

He entered the living room and pulled back the curtains to the bay window, staring out into the misty morning, taking in the soft yellow and pink sky that spoke to the coming of the rising sun, barely visible above the treetops that stood on the other side of the streets. He looked over at his neighbor’s house on his left, and then his right. Nothing was wrong. Nothing at all…

He heard a movement behind him, a gentle, recognizable sound that did nothing to stir his fears. Slow, careful footfalls coming down the hall and stopping somewhere just behind him. He could feel her presence, the warmth that she dimly radiated even now. His love, his life, his heart beyond hearts… his wife.

Sunset Shimmer brushed the hair from out of her eyes and pushed it aside, slowly reaching for her husband’s hand, carefully intertwining her fingers with his as they had done so many times, so many years ago. She gave it the smallest squeeze, waiting patiently for the return gesture. The smallest bit of pressure on her hand, then more tightly as he returned her warmth with a bit of his own. “I’m alright,” he whispered.

Sunset gave a small breath and put her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder, feeling the tension fleeing his powerful frame. His muscles relaxed, letting the adrenaline escape his body in a slow, gentle pattern with each passing breath. It was a practiced movement now, a lesson the both of them had learned over time. She gave him the time she knew he needed, letting him relax and reenter the real world once more.

“Where were you?” she asked.

Marcos looked down at her hands, reaching for her arm with his left hand and holding on gently. “Almeria,” he whispered. “The drop.”

“How long ago was that?” said Sunset.

Marcos bit his lip. “Four years ago,” he answered.

“Is that where you are?” she queried.

Marcos took a breath, closing his eyes and giving a long, lingering sigh. “No.”

“So where are you?”

“I’m home,” he answered. “I’m in my home.”

“Are you safe here in your home?”

“Yes.”

“Are you with me?”

“Yes.”

“So what does that mean?” she asked finally.

Marcos turned to look at her. “It means I’m going to be OK,” he said, staring straight into her eyes that were still heavy with sleep.

Sunset gave a small smile. “Yeah, you are,” she replied. “You want to go back to bed?”

Marcos’ memory drifted back to the last explosion he could recall. “No,” he said firmly.

“OK, then. I’ll get some breakfast going,” Sunset said, letting go of her husband and heading to the kitchen. “You want anything special?”

“No,” Marcos said, turning to the front door to grab the newspaper. His mind was calm and the unease had left him.

It was 6:30 on a Saturday morning.

Author's Note

And we have returned at last.
So begins the tales of war, and the love that can overcome it.

Chapter Four: Pain, Loss, and Love

We who have seen war will never stop seeing it, in the silence of the night we will always hear the screams…

- Joseph Galloway

Sixteen Months Earlier…

Sunset felt disconnected from her body, the world around her so separate from her reality. She looked out as if a stranger, a phantom that merely haunted the world in which she dwelled. Her breathing was rapid, uneven chunks of air tearing at her throat. She struggled to keep her body erect, every footfall shakier than the last. Right as she was certain she would fall to the ground, a wild swing of her arm found the handle to the car door and she wrenched it open violently, collapsing on the seat.

It was the height of summer, the southern humidity bringing a sweltering heat to the region. Nevertheless she found herself shivering, Sunset wondering if she was about to be sick. Every inch of her body was trembling so fiercely she could barely keep her vision focused. Unable to bear it any longer, Sunset buried her face deep in her hands, blocking out all light until the whole world had turned to black. She willed herself to cut off her other senses, allowing a dull ringing in her ears to overwhelm even her own heartbeat. Desperately she tried to calm her breathing, forcing each breath to be slow and methodical as could be. Finally, after what felt like millennia, she finally found the will to control herself. Facing the words she had just heard, however, would be difficult.

Marcos had been gone for eight months now. In his absence she had done her best to keep busy, but also to confront a growing issue the two of them had discovered. Despite their best efforts, she had remained childless throughout their first year together. After he had departed for his second deployment, she had taken it upon herself to find out why. Finally, after months of testing, samples, and doctor’s visits she had discovered why.

Infertile. It was a word Sunset had never expected to hear in her life. After months of wondering why she and her husband had failed, the truth was that the blame lay with herself alone.

“Infertile..? But- but how?” Sunset had asked, at first stunned by the doctor’s prognosis. “Why, what’s causing it? Is it treatable? Can anything-”

“Hold on, ma’am, one thing at a time,” the doctor had replied, an older woman in her mid-forties. She appeared to be sympathetic, considerate of her patients’ emotions, but doubtless this was not her first experience with the issue. “I’ll try to answer you as best as possible, but please… slowly. This can be a lot to take in.”

Sunset fumbled over her words, trying to regain composure. “Just… how? Why?”

“There can be a combination of causes. Female infertility is typically more common than it is in men, so there’s always a risk a woman may find herself struggling. It can range from everything to age, dietary habits, and many other reasons.”

“Well… what about me? What’s my cause?”

The doctor seemed hesitant. “Were- were you ever sexually assaulted in any way? Attacked?”

“What? No, no, of course not!” Sunset had replied, horrified.

The doctor sighed, looking over her notes before passing a series of scans to her patient. “This is a look inside your womb,” she had said slowly. “The reason I asked about past trauma is because there’s several signs of serious internal damage, even what my colleague referred to as scorch marks. It was almost as if… someone had dealt very severe internal damage to you at one point. Parts of your reproductive organs received damage as well. Do you know why, by any chance?”

Images flashed in her mind from years long past, of the fire and fury that had surged inside her as she had given in to her rage, the potent energy searing her skin and burning her black. She had never, in her darkest nightmares, had ever considered the damage to have gone deeper. “I- I- no, I don’t,” Sunset said miserably. “Is there anything that can be done?”

“There’s always possibilities,” her doctor had answered. “Certain treatments and remedies can alleviate certain symptoms, or help increase the likelihood, but it’s never a certainty. Your situation is not in itself unusual, and sometimes trauma like what your body has apparently sustained is not always repairable.”

Sunset felt like she had been struck by a train. “I’m… I’m never going to have a child, am I?”

The doctor remained impassive. “I’m sorry,” she had said gently. “I can suggest materials for you to read. Or perhaps counseling with experts to help cope. I know it must be a hard thing to hear.”

“Can I leave now? Please?” Sunset had said desperately.

“Of course.”

Sunset, now cradled in the familiarity of her own vehicle, felt the pain of the words become fresh once more. No child would ever have her eyes, the strong warmth of her husband’s courage. She would never bear the man she loved a family to truly call his own. The man she loved, who had gone off to war and left her here in this cold and unfeeling place.

For the first time in her life, she felt a hatred against him. For abandoning her here in this miserable place, where none of her old friends could be found. She was alone, left to deal with her agony by his own stupid selfish desire to play hero. You couldn’t just leave it be! You had to be a hero and leave me here to deal with this mess!

She regretted the thought almost instantly, remembering his sadness at their departure. The weeks leading up to his deployment Marcos had remained quiet, desiring nothing more than to stay behind with her. He hadn’t wanted to leave. None… none of this is his fault. He just wanted to help, to keep me safe. It’s because of me, if I hadn’t been such a stupid teenager, if I had just let the old magic alone…

Overwhelmed, Sunset simply poured herself into her hands and wept bitterly, the weight of her grief and loneliness simply too great to bear.

Time: 1835

Location: The Outskirts of Toruń

“Alright, this is our position for now. Second platoon, take the west side and keep it covered. First platoon, take the east, let’s go!”

The tired, wearied Troop of soldiers grumbled as they trudged along, some riding atop their Humvees as they made their way down the cobblestone streets and out of the alleyways. It had been a long, unpleasant week for the unit, marred by the most minimal of sleep and erratic sniper strikes upon their locations. Though no one had yet been killed, two men had already been struck by stray rounds and were promptly evacuated from the front lines. The sudden loss of good, hardy Cavalrymen was demoralizing to them, particularly as the chaos within the city had begun to diminish. Despite the success of their campaign, the enemy simply would not cease.

Reyes trudged along, his rucksack having long ago dug itself into his shoulder, pressing down on his armor and tearing at flesh. Despite his numerous readjustments throughout the day, the camouflage pack simply would not settle correctly, causing his shoulder to scream its displeasure. Adding to that was the miserable condition of his feet, as their constant state of alert had kept him from even changing socks. With luck, there would soon be a break where he could air out his ailing feet.

He looked up and saw the fatigued outline of his old Platoon Leader ahead of him, the door of his vehicle wide open as he pored over various notes and numbers. “Hey, sir,” Reyes said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

Lieutenant Armor looked up and saw his former crewmates, giving no sign of greeting. Reyes noticed dark circles around his lidded eyes, and was willing to guess he had slept just as little –if not less than- as the rest of them.

“Hey, Corporal,” he said bluntly. “How’s Pharaoh doing?”

“Doing alright, sir. Doesn’t quiet have your skillset but he’s a good guy.”

“I’d trade with him any day of the week,” Lt. Armor replied, stretching his arms. “Being an Executive Officer fucking sucks, I can’t wait to be done with this job. Miss actually doing shit.”

“Don’t doubt it, sir.”

“Reyes, Mac! Need you two over here!” The call came from their Humvee, commanded by Second Lieutenant Pharaoh, the unit’s freshly acquired Platoon Leader. Green as grass but eager to learn, he had been given Reyes, Big Mac, and Collie as his vehicle team to aid him on his way, their experience and skillset having become invaluable. All three were waiting on their Sergeant stripes now.

“What’s up, sir?” Reyes asked as Mac stifled a yawn.

“Did either of you get any rest last night?” Pharaoh asked.

Big Mac shook his head. “Guard duty,” he replied.

“OK. Look, Captain Dyke’s given the order for it to be down to 25% watch per platoon so we can start getting some rest. I want you two to find a safe place to rack out, alright? Change your socks, air out your boots, you know the drill.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Reyes said, departing from the vehicle and heading into a nearby building, a gaping hole in the wall providing an easy entrance.

Big Mac and Reyes said nothing as they threw their rucksacks on the ground, their bodies suddenly feeling lighter than air. It was glorious to be rid of them at last.

“Sup, bitches?” said a voice, and the shadowed figure of Collie came creeping through the hole, settling in next to his two friends.

“Fuck you, Driver,” Big Mac sighed, trying to ignore his more jovial colleague.

“Oh don’t act so high and mighty, I haven’t slept in two days,” Collie snapped. “Jesus, it’s like you’re the only guy who can suffer around here.”

“I’ve gotten six hours in the last four days, Collie. Shut the hell up,” Reyes replied, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Collie challenged. “Well, you may wanna take a look at what I got. Supply brought in some mail for the Squadron, and we got a few letters.”

“Congrats to whoever did- I got something, didn’t I?” Reyes said, realizing where this conversation was heading.

“Why else would I tell you, you stupid fuck?” Collie said, taking the letter out of his cargo pocket and tossing it at Reyes’ immobile form. “It’s from your wife, so… can I see it next?”

“Hell, man, just grab a porno from a shop around here and be done with it, don’t be a creep,” Reyes said scornfully. He shuffled in one of his rucksack pockets, eventually finding a small headlamp and tore the envelope open, reading through his wife’s words hungrily. Sunset’s handwriting was vibrant, each letter playful and inviting to the eye. Even though she remained thousands of miles away and the letter written weeks prior, it was as if her warmth and love had been carried to him through it. Even better were the words within, his body had hungered for her these last few months. The sight of what he read only magnified his desire, his hands longing to reach out and touch her, to feel her against him once more.

Reyes sighed and put the letter down, his light shining through the thin paper and revealing a second item within. With blackened fingers he extracted the item, finding a photograph tucked in the very back of the envelope.

“Oh, my God, your wife is ridiculously hot.”

Reyes froze. His head snapped to his side to see Collie transfixed, staring ravenously at the picture of Sunset and his hands instinctively reaching down towards his trousers.

“Collie!” Reyes leapt to his feet and gave momentary chase, running his friend out of the building.

“I’m gonna hang onto that image in my head forever- later!”

“Collie, I am gonna beat the living hell out of you next time I see you!” Reyes raged.

Behind him, he heard a snigger. “Collie’s gonna fap to it,” Big Mac said smugly.

“Fuck off.”

The older man laughed again. “So much for not swearing anymore.”

“I know, I know, force of habit. I’ll kick it eventually,” Reyes replied, collapsing back onto his rucksack. “Oh, man…”

The silence crept back into their haven, the outside world still haunted by the sound of dying fires and occasional gunshots in the distance. Reyes felt his body drifting away, quickly falling to sleep…

“So she looked that good?”

Reyes couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re damn right.”

Three days later and King Troop was on the move yet again, finally leaving Toruń behind and heading into the countryside surrounding the city. The town had been settled as the Brigade’s main command post, offering the leaders an easily maintainable HQ and a place for the battalions to return to and rest. Though the battle had by and large been won, the new order was to pursue and neutralize resistance, punching a hole through defenses that would lead right to the heart of the Crystal Empire.

“Dammit, it’s been fucking cold out here,” Collie said as he drove the vehicle along, trying his best not to shiver. “Winter up here is hell, I can’t believe I ever bitched about Savannah.”

“Most of the Empire is pretty far north- or at least further north than home,” Reyes replied. “I guess it’s just gonna stay colder longer up here.” He had spent most of the ride attending to the crew’s weaponry, cleaning rifles and sifting through ammunition to ensure they would be ready to fight at a moment’s notice. He leaned over beneath the turret and yelled, “Hey, Mac! You good up there, man?”

“Eeyup,” Big Mac replied through chattering teeth, the freezing wind seeping through his layers of protection and chilling him to the bone.

“You sure? I can take the gun for a bit if you need it.”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“Aight, your call.” Seeing nothing else he could do, Reyes returned to cleaning his rifle. A stubborn stain on his barrel refused to disappear and he wouldn’t have it.

“All vehicles, prepare for the turn, be sure to maintain distance as you make the crossing,” came the order across the radio. “About ten more clicks and then we’ll spread out across the terrain, with First Platoon taking the northeast.”

“Roger, King Six, this is Red One, I copy,” Pharaoh replied. “Corporal Reyes, do you remember where we gotta go?”

Reyes pulled the map from a pocket strung across the seat before him. “Right here, correct, sir?”

“Right. I’m gonna find a place to conceal the vehicle once we hit the screen line, and after that I’m going to need you to take a radio and hoof it on your own. I need your eyes and ears on the road ahead.”

“Just gotta use BLUES, sir, and I’ve got you covered,” Reyes said, studying the map as he assessed the terrain. “A whole lot of farmland and grasses. Not much cover, and not much high ground either.”

“Is there anything good out there, or are you gonna need to play it by ear?”

Reyes scrutinized the path of the road, his eyes scanning the area surrounding it. “Perhaps right here sir, about 100 meters east of the road, should put me enough of a distance away from you that neither of us are given away. I’ll have to judge my cover when I get there.”

“Alright, good stuff. Make sure to grab an MRE before you head out.”

“Too easy, sir.”

It was early evening as they made their way down the countryside path, their vehicle remaining parallel to the road at a small distance, eager to keep watch over traffic and avoid possible explosives buried along the trail.

“There’s a small copse of trees ahead,” Lieutenant Pharaoh said. “Collie, there’s a small slot right to the side of it where we can set up, pull us in there.”

“You got it, sir,” Collie replied, turning the wheel and pulling their Humvee slowly but surely into a secluded spot in the treeline.

“Reyes, get out there. How visible are we?”

Reyes leapt out of his seat and dashed ahead, keeping low to the ground so as to avoid detection. After reaching a reasonable distance he turned around to look back on his crewmates. The headlights still gleamed, reflecting the sunlight, and he could see the movement of the soldiers within through the windshield, but both were fixable issues. As long as their 50 .Cal could have a clear shot, they would be perfectly settled.

“How do we look?” Pharaoh asked.

“Just need to get the camo nets out, cover over the headlights and the windshield, sir,” Reyes reported. “We should be pretty damn well covered, I was about thirty meters out and the vehicle itself had pretty good concealment.”

“Alright, grab them from out of the back and help Mac get them on. I’m gonna work on getting your radio set and then you head on out of here.”

In less than ten minutes, the once-visible silhouette of their vehicle had all but disappeared, leaving the well-trained Cavalrymen in a perfect position to strike. Once darkness fell they would be totally invisible to the world.

“All set. Got everything you need?” Lieutenant Pharaoh asked, watching as Reyes attached the handmike to his radio.

“Woobie, poncho, two MRE’s, two spare radio batteries, pair of boots, binoculars and my NVG’s… should be good to go, sir,” Reyes said, stuffing the radio into his assault pack and swinging it over his shoulders.

“Alright, give me a radio check when you reach the road, I want Mac to give you cover so you can traverse safely.”

“Wish me luck.” He was gone in an instant, hunched down as he ran towards the oncoming road in an attempt to obscure his profile. Before the grass broke he fell to the ground and remained concealed, his eyes darting this way and that as he scanned the road. All was quiet and well, but he was too low to the ground to make the judgement on his own.

“Red One Actual, this is Red One Delta, radio check, over.”

The response was clear as crystal, a rarity in communications. “Red One Delta, this is Red One Actual, read you Lima-Charlie. Are you at the LDA, over?”

“Roger, waiting on confirmation of safe passage. On your mark.”

“Roger, on my mark…” The moment was tense, Reyes’ muscles taught as he prepared to either leap forward across the road or back into the grasses for greater cover. Then the radio crackled to life once more. “LDA is clear, I say again, LDA is clear. Move now.”

“Moving!” Reyes thrust forth and exposed himself, the once-thin road suddenly a wide, exposed gash upon the world. The other side seemed so far away, each step so minute-

He disappeared in the heather on the opposing side in a matter of seconds, wheeling about to keep eyes on the road. “Red One Actual, Red One Delta, I am safely across the LDA, moving forward to the OP, over.”

“Roger, Red One Delta, get moving.”

The movement was slow but without danger, Reyes keeping his profile low as he moved, maintaining a moderately-paced march and keeping his head on a swivel. He was the primary overwatch for the entire platoon, the first person who would see the enemy coming. If anything broke through without being noticed, the guilt and inevitable blood would be upon him.

Several minutes later he found himself creeping up a hill, searching for whatever concealment he could find- which, he realized ruefully, was not much. The hill was not small but offered little shelter from prying eyes beyond some small rocks. Remaining low to the ground was a standard tactic, but on this sparse patch of earth it likely would not be enough. Reyes’ turned to face the sun, watching as its dying rays still gleamed on the horizon. By his opinion, it could not retreat fast enough.

Five hours had passed, uneventful and gloomy. Though Reyes was glad of the peace, he found himself wishing he had packed additional cold weather gear. The night had turned frigid beyond his expectations, and try as he might, his woobie cover simply was not enough to shield him.

The cold will keep me awake, he thought, trying to ignore the discomfort of his feet. It would not do well to catch frostbite out here. Wait a minute… the MRE! Reyes reached into his pack and extracted a brown bag, MRE #1- Chili with Beans. Opening the pack he grabbed for a small green pouch and filled it with a small stream of water, giving it a shake. In seconds the pouch emanated heat and was swiftly tucked away between Reyes’ chest and his uniform, the warmth giving him a reprieve from his unhappiness. Seeing nothing better to do, Reyes went to work on the rest of the MRE’s contents, eating a very cold meal that offered little pleasure to anyone.

As he worked his way through a vegetable cracker, Reyes took pause. There was a small, indistinct buzzing sound on the very edge of his hearing. He put down his meal and put his hand to his ear in attempt to help. Had his hearing finally become too damaged? No, the buzzing sound was still there… and growing ever louder as it turned from a buzz into a steady hum.

The hum of an engine.

Reyes reacted instantly. “Red One Actual, this is Red One Delta, we may have something. Unknown vehicle approaching,” he reported.

“Red One Delta, Red One Actual, can you get eyes on the target?”

“Searching now,” Reyes replied, reaching for his binoculars and scanning the land beneath him. The sound was still far away but growing ever closer, revealing itself as the distinct sound of a diesel engine- no doubt a war machine. “Come on, come on, show yourself,” Reyes snarled-

A flash of movement caught his eye, revealed by the sheen of light upon metal. Reyes refocused and felt his heart sink as he recognized the unmistakable profile of a T14. A tank with more than enough capability to destroy him and his crewmates.

“Red One Actual, we have one enemy tank, moving in the open, heading southwest towards your location,” he reported. “Confirmed T14.”

“Roger, is the target alone?”

“Affirmative, just one target. It’s avoiding the road and moving parallel…” Reyes realized exactly what would happen. The tank, through no intention of its own, was on a collision course with his Humvee below. The moment the two made contact their cover would be blown and the whole Troop would be in danger. “Red One Actual, target is moving directly towards your position, it’s going to collide.”

“Can it see us?”

“Negative, target is still scanning for hostiles, he’s likely on patrol or scouting. Request permission to call for fire, over,” Reyes said.

“Negative, don’t reveal yourself unless absolutely necessary,” Pharaoh replied. “We’re evacuating the vehicle now, hopefully the damage to the vehicle will cover our tracks.”

It was a poor plan, but Reyes found himself unable to think of anything better, watching as the almighty tank bore straight towards his friends below, and he could do was simply pray that they made it out in time before they were crushed to death –or worse, caught and killed by the Imperial soldiers within.

“Target 100 meters from your location and closing,” Reyes reported. “Still has not caught sight of you, remain low and get out of there.” He was frantic, a spectator to what would likely be an execution-

It was in that moment that Reyes gave birth to an ingenious, yet incredibly reckless idea. “Red One Actual, this is Red One Delta, preparing to cause diversion, over,” he reported, grabbing his rifle and peeking through the sights to locate the moving tank. It would be the most difficult shot of his life, the distance between the two already great, now worsened by the moving target-

He fired his first shot and missed, likely landing a good several meters short. He readjusted and fired again, watching as the shot hit the ground right below the treads. He steadied himself and fired once more, scoring a direct hit on the turret-

The effect was instantaneous. The tank’s automatic defense system kicked in, the turret swiveling around to face its attacker. The war machine grinded to a halt as the crew within attempted to locate their assailant-

Reyes fired again and again, peppering the machine with as many shots as he could land. No one would be hurt by his puny rifle, the tank’s powerful armor merely taking scratches, but it was enough to keep them occupied-

And then, to Reyes’ delight, the tank moved positions, heading closer to his position on the hilltop and leaving its collision course. It stopped at the edge of the road and the turret readjusted, the gun taking aim in preparation to fire-

Reyes’ time was up and he knew it. He grabbed his assault pack and began to run, revealing his silhouette for all to see-

He heard the shot only a second before it struck, the ground beneath his feet erupting and throwing the young man flying. Reyes was unable to stop himself as he fell down the hill, rolling and striking every rock and bump along the way. His head was screaming in pain, drifting in and out of consciousness from the concussion of the blow. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he found the bottom and his body stopped rolling, coming to rest at the base of the hill and settling there. His head still swam, his vision flickered and he could not move, and he could not stop the violent ringing in his ears-

He felt something push against him, his body being shook violently. Hands raked across his body as if searching for something. Through the ringing he could hear a muffled sound, a voice speaking words of all things-

Reyes gave a start and took a sudden chunk of air, the pain of his descent enveloping his body in full force. Every inch of him spoke of discomfort, bruised and battered beyond anything he had ever known-

“Reyes! Thank Christ, man, I thought you were fucking dead!” It was Lt. Pharaoh, searching across his body for any signs of damage. “Are you alright, are you injured?”

“I don’t think so, sir,” Reyes replied, trying to sit up and immediately struck by incredible pain. “Holy shit that was painful. Gimme a second.”

“He’s clean! No entry wounds far as I can tell,” said Big Mac, who Reyes had not noticed was scanning his legs.

“You stupid sonuvabitch,” Pharaoh said, his expression suggesting he wanted to strike his soldier. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know that?”

“Sure save your asses, sir,” Reyes grunted, forcing himself into a sitting position. “Hot damn… so what happened? Where is it?”

“It’s pushed through. Heading straight for our line.” Pharaoh became anxious. “Can you move? We’ve gotta go after it.”

“Yeah, help me up,” Reyes said. In moments they were on the move again, disregarding all protocol as they raced after their deadly target.

“Sir, you gotta hear this!” Collie said, throwing aside the handmike and raising the volume of the speaker. The sound of battle chatter erupted from it, along with the sounds of intermittent gunfire. The tank had revealed itself in full force.

“How bad?”

“Bad. One vehicle already down- it was Captain Dyke.”

“Jesus.” The four men were stark as the knowledge set in: their commander was dead and gone.”

“All units, do not attempt a head-on assault, keep that turret on a swivel!” came the commanding voice of Lt. Armor. “If it can’t keep a steady lock on you then it won’t attempt to fire. Keep it confused and don’t let it focus on a single vehicle.”

“We don’t have the firepower to take it down,” Collie said nervously. “Everybody’s gonna die.”

“Well we’re gonna have to figure something out,” Reyes said, his mind racing. “I’ve got an idea-”

“No, Reyes! You’re injured enough!”

“I can handle it, sir, I’m still fit to fight,” he replied firmly. “We don’t have the firepower to take it down but if I can get close I can jump it. I kill the crew then I kill the vehicle.”

“That is fucking stupid, that is really fucking stupid. This is not fucking Halo, you-”

“Target in sight, 90 meters!” Big Mac roared, cocking his M2 and opening fire-

“Collie, bank left!” Pharaoh roared-

The tank’s turret wheeled about and began to trace them, firing a shot that missed their vehicle by mere inches-

“Holy fuck!”

“Bank right, keep it moving! Don’t slow down for a single second!”

“Red One, disengage, you are in the hostile’s killbox, I say again disengage!”

“We’ve gotta stop it,” Reyes breathed, feeling himself beginning to panic. “It’ll tear the Troop apart if we don’t slow it down.”

“Reyes, don’t you try it-”

“Sorry!” Reyes said, opening his door and rolling out onto the frozen earth below-

His body screamed, already dangerously worn down from the last strike, but he commanded himself to ignore the pain, keeping a low profile as he raced towards the T14, seeing the machine gun come to life, opening fire on its nimble opponents. The goal now was to cripple its enemies, and let the main gun deliver the killing blow-

He scanned the profile of the vehicle, searching for any signs of weakness that he could exploit. Perhaps the treads were breaking down, a damaged part of the hull, but nothing. He would have to improvise-

A well-aimed round went screaming from the tank’s main gun, connecting with a rogue Humvee and sending it flying, the vehicle torn and burning as the deadly tank shell did its work-

Reyes gave a roar and opened fire with his rifle, giving the tank another target to deal with-

The machine gun swiveled and pointed in his direction, opening fire and releasing a stream of 7.62mm at his feet-

Reyes ran faster than he ever had before, each footfall just one step ahead of being struck by his enemy-

A spattering of fire struck the turret once more as a Humvee passed right in front of the moving tank, coming dangerously close to being run over-

The T14 spun around and opened fire again, like a bear trying to crush a mouse beneath its paws-

Reyes crept behind the vehicle and leapt up, his hands scrambling for something to hold onto. His first attempt was met with failure, falling to his feet and coming dangerously close to the treads-

He leapt back on his feet and tried again, his fingers latching onto something he couldn’t see, whether it be a piece of equipment or a grip of sorts he didn’t know. With all his might he threw the rest of his body onto the vehicle-

Gunfire peppered his position and he covered his face. Now that he was aboard he was at risk of being struck by friendly fire. This is stupid, really stupid! He thought to himself-

Reyes scrabbled to climb the turret, watching as the remote machine gun did its work, striking a Humvee ahead and damaging one of the wheels-

The Humvee hit a dip and began to roll, over and over in a horrible cycle until it came to rest in a ditch, immobile and nearly destroyed, revealing no signs of life inside-

Reyes fumbled about on his FLC, extracting a grenade and promptly pulling the pin. One… two… reaching for the turret hatch he wrenched it open and let the grenade drop, waiting for the inevitable-

A small Boom! And the sound of screams from within as those inside were struck, likely killed instantly by the explosion. Nevertheless the tank roared on, the driver safely nestled away from the rest of the crew, still able to present a threat-

Reyes took a breath of air and opened the hatch yet again, sending a spray of blind gunfire before sliding in himself. He forced himself to ignore the savagery around him, trying not to think about the flesh and blood he was surrounded by. He could feel something sticking into his leg that felt very much like a bone-

He gave himself a shake and kept searching, looking for a way to cripple the tank’s power. Every switch he could see he struck, praying frantically that the next one would be the one-

The vehicle’s interior suddenly went dark, screens dying and the powerful roar of the tank’s engine beginning to die. His task complete, Reyes scrambled to free himself from his blood-soaked prison and flung himself out into the winter air, giving a gasp of relief-

A bullet struck the surface next to his head, ricocheting and missing him by a hair’s breadth. The driver had extracted himself from his hole and was opening fire-

Gunfire assaulted the immobile tank and Reyes jumped to the ground and covered his head, waiting for the moment to be over-

Just as it had begun, the moment was over. The sound of war fled the countryside, replaced by the sound of wind and burning metal. Reyes, when he was at last certain of his safety, untucked himself from his hiding place and rose to his feet. He needed to find his crew.

“Lt. Pharaoh? Mac! Collie!” he yelled, looking around for any signs of life. He could hear the sounds of movement, friendly Humvees racing to and fro across the once-lively battlefield. Lights suddenly flashed before him and he shielded himself, listening as it crept towards him and came to a halt.

“Reyes? Reyes!”

“Lt. Armor!” Reyes replied, reaching out for his friend, still blinded by the vehicle’s lights.

“Reyes- holy shit, what’d you do?”

“I disabled it,” Reyes coughed. “Turned off the power. The crew’s dead, somebody else got the driver but I don’t know who.”

“You might’ve just saved our skins,” Lt. Armor said bracingly. “Where’s Pharaoh and the others?”

“You don’t know?”

“Were they… oh, no,” Lt. Armor whispered. “If they were one of the vehicles that was struck…”

Reyes felt his blood turn to ice. “The one that went into the ditch!”

“Jump in!” Lt. Armor returned to his seat and their vehicle raced off towards the wreckage, straining through the night for any signs of life. “Come on, come on,” was their simple prayer.

“Shit, it’s theirs,” Reyes said, leaping out from the Humvee and running over to the destroyed vehicle. “Collie! Mac! Can you guys hear me?”

“We’re here!” Came the faint reply, and a bloodied hand reached out from the window.

“Lt. Pharaoh!” Reyes rushed over and wrenched the door open, extracting his leader from the wreck. “You hurt, sir? Anything broken?”

“No, just pretty banged up, and a few cuts is all,” he said weakly, though still possessing a grin. “Good shit, Reyes, you probably saved our lives.”

“I need a medic over here!” came a bull-like roar, a voice that Reyes realized belong to Big Mac. He peered into the vehicle and saw his friend, heavily bruised and bleeding from a cut across his face, sitting next to an unconscious and grievously injured Collie.

“Oh Jesus,” Lt. Armor said.

“He’s hurt real bad, sir,” Big Mac said worryingly. “He’s bleeding all over and his legs are broken. I’m afraid to move him.”

“Get him awake, I’ll call up a Nine-Line,” Pharaoh said, turning to Lt. Armor. “I need your radio-”

“Of course, go ahead-”

“Sir, you need to hear this!” came the cry from Lt. Armor’s Humvee- Private Bowman was leaning out of his driver’s seat, face stark white. “It’s the Squadron Commander.”

Lt. Armor grabbed the handmike from the young man’s hand and began to listen, his countenance rapidly changing into one of terror. After a few moments he simply let the handmike fall from his hand, standing there in stunned silence.

“Sir..?”

“That tank was a scout,” he said quietly. “We just got a report from SATCOM- large numbers of enemy forces are headed this way for an intercept. Something happened on the Russian border but no one’s sure what.”

The once-peaceful night had been torn asunder for good, the horrifying reality settling upon each one of them. They were ill-prepared and already battered from this sole encounter, and now they knew hundreds, if not thousands more, were headed their way.

A second Humvee came racing towards them, pulling a screeching halt next to the group of Cavalrymen. “Sir! Sir!” It was Sergeant Nye, bristling with energy and looking like he was on the verge of panic. “Sir, you’ve… you got to-”

“I already know, Sergeant, I just got the call,” Lt. Armor replied.

“No, sir, it’s- there’s a village nearby, we retreated into it for cover, and- sir, you’ve gotta see this.”

Perhaps it was something in his voice, maybe it was the horror in his eyes, or the fact that such a hardy man had begun to panic that made them shiver. “What have you found, Sergeant?” Lt. Armor asked.

Sergeant Nye fumbled about, grasping for the words before simply accepting defeat. “I- I don’t know, sir. I don’t know.”

Marcos awoke instantly, giving a start as he rose from his seat. His heart pounded inside his chest, each beat a painful rattle against his ribs. He felt a soreness on his jaw from where he had lay, a trickle of spittle running down his cheek. The rain, splashing against the windowpane, only added to his confusion. The skies were a baleful gray, the light outside indicating it was somewhere around midday. Where was he?

He took a moment to calm himself, trying to recollect his thoughts and put them in proper order. No, he was not in Toruń- he was at home. It was not winter but springtime, a pleasant albeit wet day. He was not at war, he was safe and comfortable. “I just got off a 24-hour shift, I’m tired, and I fell asleep on the chair. I’m alright,” Marcos told himself. He put a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat come to a gentle thrum. He gave a deep sigh. “I’m OK.”

Footsteps behind him, and Sunset came around the corner. “That sounded like a rough one,” she said, walking over to place a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m alright,” he said, giving his wife a smile. “Just a bad dream.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

His memories recalled the dream, as well as the revelations that came after. He couldn’t help but give a shudder, saying, “No. Not yet.”

“You going to be OK?”

“Course I will,” he said lightly. “Don’t worry about me-”

“I know you say that to try and make me feel better,” Sunset interrupted, “but I don’t stop worrying about you. You know that, right?”

Her face was sorrowful, her eyes rimmed with dark circles. She was sleeping even less than before, he realized. “Yes, I know,” Marcos replied softly. “And I appreciate it.”

Sunset gave a smile and left, returning down the hall and disappearing from sight. Marcos turned back to the window, watching the rain fall gently down the pane. He closed his eyes and found himself seeing his dream once more, the nightmares of that day and the ones that followed still fresh in his mind. He gave himself a shake and stood up. He had done enough sleeping for now.

Marcos walked down the hall to their bedroom to find Sunset refitting the sheets, placing down everything with unusual tenderness. As she placed several dress pillows on the bed, she paused and brought her hands to her face, a shuddering breath escaping her lips. She wiped the tears away before they could form, trying to regain her composure.

“Sunset…”

His wife gave a start as he entered the room, his presence taking her by surprise. “Hey,” she said thickly, trying to paint a smile on her face and failing. “What are you doing? I thought you went back to sleep.”

“Came to see your pretty face, that’s all,” he said, feeling a grin begin to form as he watched her react.

“Oh… umm, OK, then.” She began to play with her hair, taken aback at her husband’s kind words. “Well…”

“You want some help?” he inquired.

“Huh?”

Marcos laughed, unable to help himself. “Do you want some help?”

Sunset was now completely at a loss of what to do. “Umm, well… if you want, I was about to start on the bathroom once I finished up with this.”

“Sure. Come on, let’s get to it,” Marcos said.

Sunset said little during their work, perhaps still flummoxed by Marcos’ sudden request. Though he was not unkind, the past few months had seen them spend a large amount of time separate from one another. Yet there he was, right beside her. It was such a strange, yet marvelous thing that she was uncertain of what to do.

“Anything else that needs to get done?” he asked, admiring their work.

Sunset shook her head. The place looked cleaner than it had in ages, the surface of the sink shining against the light. The shower was free of mold and stains, no soap residue trailing the sides. He had worked hard to help her. “I- I think we’re good for now, honestly,” she said.

“Alright then. I’m gonna go back and watch some TV for a bit, OK? Let me know if you need anything.”

“Um.” The entire situation had lasted only about half an hour but Sunset had never in her life been more thoroughly confused.

Marcos gave a laugh, a jovial sound that shook away the darkness from her mind. His eyes danced with a quiet light, one that she hadn’t noticed was there before. Her heart fluttered at the sight of it.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, barely able to hold back a giggle.

“Nothing, I don’t know, just…” he stumbled for the words. “It felt good to do something with you, that’s all.”

Sunset could hardly look him in the eye, feeling the heat rising in her cheeks. This was stupid, she was a grown woman, not some silly schoolgirl! Before she could say a word she felt his hands on her face and a pair of lips pressed against her own, the warmth he brought taking her breath away.

“Love you, beautiful,” he said quietly, and then left the room.

Sunset didn’t notice him leave, too overwhelmed to take in much of anything at all. She saw nothing but the gleam in his eyes, felt nothing but the firmness of his lips against hers. For that single moment it had lasted, she had felt so safe in his hands, so perfectly at peace-

“I almost forgot,” Marcos said, returning to the room.

“Yes!” Sunset cried, her heart pounding madly in anticipation- of what she wasn’t quite sure, but if it involved taking her clothes off she would be more than willing.

“Well, I didn’t realize what time it was.”

“Time?”

“It’s Thursday, remember? Every Thursday at 3 o’clock?” he reminded her.

“Oh. Oh yeah! Your counseling sessions,” she said, feeling somewhat disappointed. “Alright, hope it keeps going well for you-”

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked, suddenly becoming serious.

Sunset accepted that today would be full of surprises. “You want me there with you?”

Marcos nodded. “Yeah, I mean… Cadance has been suggesting it for a while, anyway. Maybe I should start making a habit of it, and you’re off today too, so if you don’t have anything to do…”

“Yes, of course I’ll come,” Sunset said happily. “Just give me a moment to put something on. I’ll be there in a minute!”

The drive to the MFLAC center was the most beautiful drive Sunset had ever been witness to: rain fell in a beautiful symphony, the trees seemed to glow in the gray light, the grass seemingly growing before her eyes.

“Hey, so…” Marcos hesitated. “So I wanted to give you a heads up about how they’ve usually worked. These sessions, I mean.”

“Alright, then. How’s it work? You sit on a couch and she asks you how you’re feeling?”

“Something like that,” he said with a grin. “It’ll be a little awkward, just because it’s always kinda awkward. But I want you to know I’m glad you’re here with me. I wish…”

“Go on,” Sunset said encouragingly.

“I wish we’d done this together a long time ago,” he admitted. “Couples therapy, marriage counseling or something. Maybe it would’ve helped.”

Sunset leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Neither of us was ready to listen to one another for a long time,” she said. “We still made it through.”

Before too long they found themselves in a reception area, greeted by a slender, beautiful woman who they both knew quite well. Cadance had given a look of surprise to see the two of them, but gave a smile nonetheless. The couple was ushered into a secluded room and for a time Sunset remained silent, letting Cadance and her husband do the talking while she remained a dutiful spectator.

Sunset regarded her husband, taking in his posture and the way he spoke. He was certainly uncomfortable, hands in his lap and tightly wrung, and his words were disjointed. But his eyes hadn’t lost that gleam, and he remained determined. She hadn’t realized how much effort he was putting in.

“Tell me something, Marcos,” Cadance said. “I’ve been asking you to bring Sunset along with you to your sessions for a while now, and you’ve always been very hesitant. What caused the sudden change?”

He thought it over. “I don’t know, really,” he said. “I had another war dream, and I just didn’t want to go back to sleep, so I thought the best thing I could do was be around someone- anyone, really. Sunset was right there, so…”

“So you wanted to spend time with her again,” Cadance suggested.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Marcos replied. “We’ve been doing a lot better lately- fewer fights, more time around each other. It’s been good to be around her- I feel more like myself when she’s near me.”

“What was the dream about?”

Marcos shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said.

“That’s unusual,” Cadance remarked. “I know these counseling sessions aren’t your favorite thing to do, but you’ve typically pressed on. Is your wife causing you to hesitate?”

Marcos glanced over at his wife for only an instant, but Sunset could clearly see his eyes had gone dull. Desperation was forming within him.

“How much do you reveal to your wife about your thoughts?” Cadance asked. “Are you two still withdrawn from one another, or have you become intimate again?”

“Um-” Sunset slapped a hand over her mouth but it was too late.

Cadance looked over at her, a patient smile on the older woman’s face. “You don’t have to worry about interrupting anything, Sunset,” she said kindly. “What was it you were going to say?”

Sunset knew she was blushing a deep red at this point, but she had been put on the spot. “Well,” she said hesitantly, “We’ve been- like he said, we’ve been doing better lately the past few weeks, but… I know there’s still stuff you’re not telling me,” she added, turning to her husband. “I know there’s dreams you have, memories- you won’t share them, and I think they’re hurting you.”

“I- I just-” Marcos hesitated, looking more distressed than before.

“Marcos, it’s alright. Relax for a moment,” Cadance said gently. “Take a breath, and give it your best shot. Nobody in this room is going to judge you.”

“I just… nothing I’ve seen over there- all the battles we were in- they weren’t things I wanted to remember. I saw some rough stuff when I was a kid, growing up with my father and Wanyama, but this was on another level. I joined this fight so I could protect her. So she wouldn’t have to see what I’ve seen.”

“I know you did, but you’re just letting it hurt you now,” Sunset said imploringly. “Holding on to those memories and letting them stay hidden isn’t doing you any good.”

“They’re- no. You don’t need to hear this,” Marcos said flatly.

“On the contrary,” Cadance interjected, “I believe it’s exactly what must be said.”

Marcos gave a look of surprise and fear and Cadance nodded deeply. “Yes, Marcos, I meant it. You two are a husband and wife- nothing should divide you. You’re a united team, or at least should be. If this is getting in between the two of you, then it must be brought out into the open. You don’t have to keep all the gruesome details, but she is your wife- she deserves to be let in, because all she will do is help you heal.”

Sunset said nothing, her heart hammering madly inside her chest. She silently willed her husband to open up, to let the light gleam in his eyes again.

Marcos gave a sigh, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said wetly. “I’ll… I’ll give it a try.”

And so he did.

Author's Note

What is this madness? We didn't have to wait two months for another update? Am I really back for good this time? Let's certainly hope so. I haven't been writing this much in quite a while. After a year-long drought last year, it feels good to be back on the ball again. Here's hoping I can keep it up.

As usual, comments and corrections below. Hope you enjoy!
And trust me... it's only going to get harder from here.