NoPixel Imagines/Blurbs

The Truth

Daphne loved Solomon, that much was obvious. They'd been together for nearly a year, and had finally decided to move in together. They'd bought a small apartment near City Hall and were happy there. It was nice to have a place they could say was theirs, and it was something Daphne herself hadn't done since... well, she didn't like to think about him. 

She was laying in bed beside Solomon, listening to the storm outside. Solomon. He was perfect for her, she had to say. He balanced her out, and she balanced him out too. They supported each other as much as they could, they trusted each other more than either had trusted anyone else, and they were happy to just be with each other. There was just one thing that he didn't talk about that made her... curious. He never talked about when he was having an episode. She'd witnessed him regress into his mind when things reminded him of his past - every time he came back from his so-called trips, when they'd gotten into a gunfight while on a security job, and when he had been shot by Mandem - but he never spoke about why or if he was okay.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she felt the bed shifting. She kept her eyes closed as she listened to soft bared footsteps leave the room and close the door behind him. She opened her eyes, looking at the door. She waited for a few minutes, sure he'd come back to bed after getting a glass of water. He didn't and she worried. She bit her bottom lip and sat up. She threw on a robe to cover her lingerie-clad body, then slid on some slippers as she walked out the door. In the darkened apartment, he sat at the kitchen table with a glass of whiskey near one of his hands, the bottle of it just in front of him. The lightning outside the window flashed, showing the look on his face.

His face was... numb. His eyes were widened slightly but they had no emotion in them, his face itself expressionless. He was staring at the glass in front of him and not blinking much. Underneath his eyes were purple-ish bags, as if he hadn't slept well. His hair was a mess, and he clutched something in one hand. When she saw the chain pouring out of his hand, she recognised it - his dog tags. He carried them with him wherever he went, she'd asked him why once and he had told her it was to remind him where he was, who he was, and why he stayed in Los Santos. He also clutched them tightly when he wasn't... himself. The way he was now.  She hated this, seeing him look like this, seeing him look so empty and exhausted.

Daphne swallowed and sat in front of him. She didn't want to surprise him, so she cleared her throat to attempt to clear the lump in it. Sol's eyes shot up with a flash of panic in them, his face again being lit by the brief illumination of the storm outside. She smiled softly at him to try to soothe him.

"Hey." She said in a soft tone. He blinked then downed the entire glass of whiskey. He poured himself another glass, not looking at her.

"Hi." He mumbled, still refusing to look at her. He knew what she saw, he knew she saw a broken man with mysterious horrors in his mind. He also knew what he would see if he looked up at her, a look of compassion and hurt. He knew she wanted him to open up about what he was going through, but he'd always refused to do so. He wanted to be strong, and while he was better at not showing this part of himself than some of his brothers in arms, he still saw things or heard things that weren't part of his life anymore. 

This night was one of those nights. He'd been struggling to fall asleep and when he finally had, the thundering outside had twisted his dream into a terrible memory. It had been about the first snatch and grab he'd led as Captain. While they'd accomplished their mission in the end, the plan hadn't gone as planned. The platoon had intercepted on a convoy transporting some high-ranking member of the Iraqi army to a different base. They'd gotten their guy, but in the process, an enemy had thrown a grenade in hopes of wiping out Solomon and his crew. It landed on the first vehicle, and the man who'd been standing near it with his gun pointed at the others hadn't noticed it. The Jeep had blown up, taking him with it - blood poured for a moment as if it were raining, his body completely unrecognisable and in pieces. The Captain then shot their enemies, the automatic rounds echoing in the nearly soundless night.

"Are you okay?" Daphne's cutely accented voice shook him from the memory. He knew she wanted him to be honest, and he wanted to tell her everything. He was worried, though. He worried that she would see him differently if she knew the things he'd done and seen. He worried she'd love him less and would abandon him if she knew what he'd done. He couldn't lose her, but he also knew that there was a potential to lose her if she thought he didn't trust her. So, he decided what to do.

"No. No, I'm not." He simply said, sipping the whiskey. She cocked her head to the side then gently rested her hand on the hand that clutched the dog tags tightly. 

"What's wrong?" She asked him lightly, trying to sound calming and casual. He sighed and looked up at her. Her light eyes showed him how much she loved him, how much she cared about him, how loyal she was to him.

"I'm... remembering things I don't want to." He answered her. She was somewhat surprised, he never talked about it like this with her.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"I-I... I guess I should." The stutter in his voice surprised her slightly, when he was talking about something that was serious, he only stuttered when he was nervous or scared.

"Okay." She softly smiled at him. With that, he told her about the dream. When he started, he couldn't stop. He talked about the boy who'd been torn to pieces by 120mm rounds from a tank, he talked about the time he'd found a soldier who couldn't take it anymore and had ended things for himself, he talked about the time he'd bombed a building on the order of their General and had later found out that the building was only allegedly holding an enemy General but had actually been a school, he talked about the time he'd been hit with an IED, he talked about the time he'd tried pulling a man from a bush who was begging him to help but upon pulling him out of the bush revealed that he was blown nearly in half, he talked about the time he saw one of his best friends be ended with a sniper's shot through his head.

By the end, they were crying together and the storm had let up, the sun rising and lighting the room they sat in together. He looked at her with wet cheeks and a haunted expression on his face.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Sol. I'm sorry you went through all that." Daphne said, shaking her head in disbelief that the man who so many loved and idolised was so traumatised. 

"Not your fault, gorgeous. I would do it all again, I'd never take any of it back." Solomon told her with a sad smile. She sighed and gently squeezed his hand.

"I know, but I also want you to know that you can talk to me about this. I don't want you to suffer alone anymore, okay?" She said, though it sounded more like a gentle order. He laughed once without humour, finished the whiskey he had in front of him, then nodded.

"Okay."