There was a time when Simon wouldn't have been able to conceive himself in the position he's in, right now.
A time when death, in all its indifferent bleakness, was all he could understand. It was everywhere around him.
He subject to it. He doling it out. It burrowed in slumber and vigil alike. Constant, certitude, continuity.
Years unfeeling to loss stacked upon his shoulders, weighing his frame down into the bog of war.ย
Quicksand rising up to meet his throat, an inch to a bullet. Scorching in his lungs.
Banshees in his ears, borne of muzzle and mortar and memory of holidays long past.
A momentum begun when young, a careening slide to a point of no return.
His lot in life, heโd always thought. On helos combat- and peace-bound both.
A home to the man without. A family to the man alone.
The likely grave he could not wait to go back into.
But, secretly, Simon had always hoped itโd unfold this way.
Some part of him, buried deep and calcified over.
A yearning so visceral he feared it, sometimes.
And, as he sinks into Lethean watersโฆ
He can only think of names.
Kate Laswell. Kyle Garrick. Friends.
Price. Captain, found father.
Written as my contribution toย Wanna'sย Hindsight 20/20ย event!
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Divider by @gildui / @friarslantern
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