Jack Mitchell's right hand trembled slightly as he lifted the cup of coffee to his mouth. He sipped it, ignoring that it was a little bitter for his taste.

Meanwhile, outside his apartment's window, Puget Sound's calm, rippling waters were dotted with a few kayakers out to enjoy the morning before it became cluttered with the usual harbor traffic. Beyond them, the sun peeked over the horizon, creating an orange, golden smudge that was gradually melting away and turning the sky its usual cobalt blue. The city's streetlights, headlights of the light streams of traffic flowing through the streets, and the bacons of the iconic Space Needle presiding over it all.. winked out, one after the other. A few American Goldfinches, taking advantage of the many bird feeders charitably set out on balconies, added their song , and high above, a lone westbound airliner traced a long white river of a contrail as it set out for a distant destination.

It was a beautiful sunrise, one he'd seen countless times growing up. It wasn't just a sunrise over a city, or even one by the shores of the Pacific..it was Seattle's sunrise. Not LA, or San Fransisco..Seattle. It was always there to greet all 600,000+ residents of Emerald City every day. Mitchell had come to identify his hometown by it, and had come to admire how the Earth could still produce sights far prettier than what man could make.

He had loved it.

Mitchell stared at the glow, slowly taking another sip. He was vaguely aware of the thousand yard stare he was probably sporting right now, but he didn't care.

Buzz..bzzzt..

" Damn it.."

Setting the coffee down on the sill, Mitchell reluctantly turned around and walked back the kitchen counter, where his smartphone lay vibrating incessantly. Silently cursing himself for not setting it to vibrate, he checked the screen:

Caller ID: Sgt. Cormack.

Cormack, again. Mitchell had stopped counting the number of times his former commander had called him since he'd been back. Cormack had called virtually every day, but Mitchell had never answered. He wasn't sure why, only that every time he saw who was calling, he simply didn't answer. Let the phone ring itself quiet, every time..

Avoidance.

That small voice in the back of Mitchell's mind spoke up. He silenced it it once, but even as he did…he knew it was right. Not about avoiding Cormack's calls becasue he didn't want to talk to him, but becasue…

He reached out and hit " Accept "

Why the hell did I do that..!?

" Rise and shine, leatherneck. " Cormack's distinct, gravelly New England accent came through strong and clear. " Mitchell…good to hear from you. "

Well..now what ?

Mitchell was silent for a few seconds, trying to come up with a response that would'n't be expected, or cause for a line of questioning he didn't want to answer. Not that Cormack was some kind of shrink, or counselor who would ask such things….

" …Its been a while, hasn't it ? I'm alright..getting by day by day. "

That was a half truth. Day by day, Mitchell was getting by, or so he thought. Since coming back to Seattle, he'd floated through life, like a ghost would. Falling into the routine of an average citizen, but without thinking about what happened each day. He didn't feel much, as far as emotions went, or least the ones he expected to feel. Anger, overwhelming stress, even self loathing….they were seemingly absent.

What Mitchell felt most..was cold, chilling guilt. Guilt he could let anyone know how deep it went..becasue to him, it was his burden to bear alone.

He must've been quiet for longer than he intended, becasue Cormack suddenly spoke again.

" Mitchell…can you talk to me ? "

..What ?

" Cormack..? "

" Do you feel like you can talk to me ? Mitchell…we were both there. I know neither of us walked away unscathed, especially me. "

Again, the back of Mitchell's mind held the answer: he'd known that already. Cormack had ended up with Mitchell's blood on his hands that day, keeping him from bleeding out on the wet concrete of that Seoul plaza. After the explosion…

…A deep, throaty boom tore the air, and shrapnel and debris rained down in a daisy pattern like a metal hailstorm..

Mitchell felt himself slowly clenching his right fist. " I know…but like you said, you were there. Its not what happened to me…"

…" He's alive ! ", Mitchell gasped. The act of speaking felt like he was breathing copper, and he wondered for a few milliseconds exactly how badly he'd been hurt, before he remembered who was right there with him at the moment of the blast..

" Mitchell ! Stay conscious, dammit ! MEDEVAC's inbound ! "

Cormack was leaning over him, dust and water smeared across his face. His familiar, booming voice was like cold water in Mitchell's face, and he blinked, drawing in another painful breath.

" Sergeant…you seen Will..? "

A sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him, and his eyes threatened to close. Mitchell fought back, hoping that maybe the pain of breathing would help keep him awake. However bad his wounds were, he wasn't ready to black out just yet.

" ..Oh, hell…he's not…" Cormack glanced at something outside of Mitchell's field of vision

The direction of the explosion. The blazing, mangled beyond recognition wreckage of the HAVOC battery..

Where Will Irons had been.

"..You're right too. I do know. " Cormack's tone softened a little more. " And that's why I'm talking to you. I was your Sergeant, and one of 2 people you knew well, at all, in the Corps. I knew he was the nearest thing to a brother you had, even before you both signed up. "

Mitchell's fist relaxed, slowly. "…And you're the only person I'd feel comfortable talking to, about Will. "

" I suspected it would take time, till you felt like you'd be willing to talk to anyone, even me. "

He's right…somehow, he's right.

" Mitchell…we both know talking about it may not help at all. But leaving it lie…that can't make things better. "

There was something to be said over it, but Mitchell honestly didn't know where to begin, at all. Where does one begin to talk , when your friend for most of your life gets himself blown up ? It was a void, as far as memories went. Mitchell was unable to stop thinking about that day.

Part of him didn't want to.

Will deserved to be remembered…