Niall Horan Imagines

The War Within

"I got a new one for you today," Your boss said, without even providing a 'good morning' as you strolled into the office. Though, considering your position and where you worked, you didn't really expect him to be very friendly. It was already a rough morning and the bombs just kept falling. "We're under attack," He mumbled, staring at the report on his desk, "But we're always under attack." You watched as he lifted his thin glasses from his desk and carefully placed them on his face. He took the report in his hands and gave it one last look-over before handing the paper to you.

He waited for your eyes to skim over the report before he continued, "His name is Niall Horan. Twenty-two. Infantry."

"Infantry, huh? They always seem to come from the infantry," You commented, continuing to read the information provided about your newest client - Niall Horan.

"It makes sense," Your boss shrugged, "They see things - up close and personal, that people like you and I can only have nightmares about. They've seen death, they've had it at their fingertips. They've felt it, they've smelled it... hell, they've caused it. They're murderers, (Y/N), but they're trained to think that it's okay. Killing is no less ordinary to them than eating toast for breakfast is for you and I. It's a part of everyday life for the men and women in the infantry, and that - most likely - is why all of our cases always come from the infantry. Everyone has to crack at some point." He let out a deep sigh and took a sip from his coffee mug before wiping his mouth and quietly saying, "He'll be here in a few moments."

You nodded, and without any further words, disappeared into your private office, where you always took your clients. It was a soothing environment with comforting chairs and walls that were strong enough to block out the sound of gunshots and shouting voices from just outside. The counseling building, in which you worked, was located on a rather active part of the military base. It was beside the hospital, making it easier for patients to be transported back and forth between the therapy unit, where you worked, and the health unit - the hospital. Several of your clients were injured, but Niall Horan, thus far, seemed to be in decent physical condition, as there were no marks on his report about being injured.

The man himself, dressed in a grey t-shirt and camo pants, strolled into your office about fifteen minutes later. He was escorted by an officer, as your clients always were. Several of them were considerably unstable, and often they broke down during transport to the counseling building. It was required that an officer escort them, should something go wrong. Niall exchanged nods with his officer before taking a seat on the other side of your desk. He kept his eyes locked on you as he scooted his chair closer to your desk.

"Hi," You sweetly smiled. You knew not to extend your hand for a handshake, not until you actually knew your client and what their intentions were. Some were not okay with being touched or approached without warning. "I'm (Y/N). Pleasure to meet you, Corporal."

Niall nodded and remained silent. This was typical. If your clients weren't sobbing by now, they were usually quite silent and reserved. "I see in your report that you have a lot of good notes about you, Sir," You said, smiling up at him, "You must be well-liked among our community."

Niall stared at you blankly, as if he was zoned out. You were certain he hadn't heard what you just said. "Corporal?" You squeaked, chuckling as you waved your hand in front of his face, "Are you alright? Would you like a glass of water?"