This randomly came to me out of nowhere while on break at work.

DISCLAIMER: Boukenger and Sōta belong to Toei, not me.

WORD COUNT: 496

Wednesday, February 15th, 2006

Mogami Sōta woke up with a start for the third time that night. His arm shot out automatically to grab the bucket he kept under the nightstand, and he retched and heaved into it for the second time that night. When he was done, he sighed and wiped a hand across his sweat-covered forehead before getting up and trudging to the bathroom.

As he began the habitual routine of washing it out, Sōta looked at his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, the blood drained out of it like it had drained out of his teammates' bodies-

'No,' he reminded himself, bracing himself against the sink with shaky arms as his legs grew weak at the memory, 'Don't let it get to you. It's over. There's nothing that can be done to change it. Put it behind you.'

But he couldn't put it behind him, no matter how hard he tried. God, how he tried. But the blood-soaked dreams reminded him every night of assignments gone wrong, of decisions he'd made that'd gotten colleagues, friends, and poor, everyday people just going about their lives, killed.

Sōta couldn't remember a night he'd spent without those dreams since graduating high school, except for the times he was drugged up on painkillers after an especially bad day.

He staggered back to bed, setting the bucket back in its place, a habit he'd gotten into… God, it seemed like he'd been doing it forever. Lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, he wished for the billionth time he could forget it all.

He felt like a hypocrite. He said he was focusing on moving forward, but only when the sun was up. Alone in his room at night, within the relatively soundproof walls, he found himself buried in the past and the shame and fear that came with it.

This time, it had been the face of that enemy agent who'd attacked him and one of his allies while the two slept. Sōta had retaliated and snapped his neck without hesitation, only to realise that the 'man' couldn't have been any older than seventeen. He hadn't even been able to save his ally, either.

When he woke up for the fourth time, it was to his alarm clock, thankfully. Sōta dragged himself out of bed and went through the motions of getting ready for the day, dressing, brushing his teeth, and making sure that no sign of his sleepless night showed.

The last thing he did before leaving his room was check his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Staring back at him was a face that had seen too much death in its twenty-two years, but it was soon replaced by the mask of a smiling adventurer.

His morning routine complete, he turned away and headed to the main room, whistling as he went.

THE END

I figure there has to be more to Sōta's past than the little bit we're shown in Task 23. He's probably seen and done a lot more, and some of it was probably really nasty. I just don't see how anyone can be so cheerful after that.

The particular incident mentioned with the young soldier is inspired by an episode of Criminal Minds in which a vet suffering PTSD is reliving the war, particularly an incident like this.