They watched him fall, watched the life flow from his body, never to return. Over and over, they heard the crack of the bullet and the 'thump' as he hit the ground. They replayed that scene over and over in their minds, not able to quite understand how it all went so wrong. How another TR officer could lose their life.
He never told anyone how he felt. He never confessed to being scared, being alone and being weak. Why should he? He had no reason to do so and no-one ever asked him for fear of an outburst.
They should have predicted what was to come, but no-one saw the build-up, the slow burn of self-hate, depression and self-depreciation until it was too late.
Each of them blamed themselves for the death, for not noticing something was wrong, so very wrong that their team mate died.
Each of them cried that night, cried for their loss and cried for their own stupidity. The next morning they gathered at the spot where their team mate died and each wondered how they could have prevented it.
They wrapped their arms around each other, fresh tears coursing down wet cheeks to land on the dry ground, drop by drop.
They never knew why Seargent Brendan Joshua had taken his own life.
But they all heard the word whispered so softly that they all questioned each other about it later.
'Goodbye'.