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It was another long day on Vectes. Dom entered the barracks of the old naval base and proceeded to his room. He had finished his patrol recently and Sam had warned him to hurry to the mess before the fresh catch of the day disappeared. Dom had gone without breakfast, but he wasn't hungry. Not now.
He had been on his way to get some lunch until he spotted Maria. He knew it wasn't really her; it wasn't even the woman in Pelruan who resembled Maria. It was a ghost—his imagination. The hallucination had sent him running for the privacy of his room.
Dr. Hayman had warned him there would be days like this; he could already tell good from bad days. Some days he could put it all out of his mind—he could forget his once perfect life and dive into the work ahead of him. Those were the days he prayed for. He needed work, anything and everything that would keep him busy.
Dom stripped off his chest plate, ran his hand over his sweating face, and inhaled deeply before slowly releasing it. He grabbed the photos from his shirt pocket. He opened the plastic bag that protected them and pulled out the picture of him and Maria. Sitting heavily on his cot, he studied the features of the face he longed to kiss. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel her, smell her perfume, and sometimes he could hear her voice.
Dom rubbed his hand over his chin. Maria once commented that she liked him with facial hair; it made him look like a hardened warrior. What would she think now? Another month and he was sure he'd have a full beard.
He slid the photo back into the bag and pulled out another. His parents and brother smiled back at him, oblivious to the future heartache they'd face. The night Carlos died had been the same night Sylvia was born. Carlos never had the chance to meet his niece; he rarely had time to spend with his nephew, Benedicto.
Dom had always looked up to his brother. He was strong and loyal; even Marcus respected him. The three of them were closer than brothers. They had been inseparable as children. Dom had worked hard to pick up where Carlos left off, especially with Marcus; he seemed indifferent, but Marcus needed the support of his friends more than anyone. But Dom couldn't help wondering what would be different if Carlos had survived Aspho Fields. What if he was with Dom during Hollow Storm? Could he have saved Maria? Dom didn't know what to do; Marcus didn't even know. Could Carlos' strength have made a difference?
A knock against the door jolted Dom back into the present. He looked up to find Cole in the doorway.
"You feeling okay, Dom?" he asked. It was an unspoken rule that no one asked a fellow Gear about emotions; everyone was dealing with loss, no one was alright, and most Gears liked to keep it private. The fact Cole asked meant Dom looked worse than he felt.
The sudden increase of attention hadn't gone unnoticed to Dom; he knew Dr. Hayman warned them to watch him. Some days he felt like he didn't have a spare moment alone—and he was thankful for that.
"Yeah," Dom replied, realizing he had been crying. He wiped his hand across his eyes, cleared his throat, and tried to sound normal. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's up?"
"Marcus is almost done with his shift. He thought you went to the mess . . . we tried raising you on the radio." Cole was quiet for a moment as he leaned against the doorframe. It was the silence that made Dom feel guilty. Marcus had panicked; he wouldn't show it, but Dom knew it. Cole must have noticed it too and come to check on him. "Not accepting calls today, huh?"
Dom laid the photographs on the cot beside him and shrugged. "Phone bill's getting too high," he joked lamely.
"You wanna talk about anything? The Cole Train's got a good ear. Not too bad dishing advice, either; at least Damon thinks so."
A weak smile crossed Dom's lips. He couldn't imagine the late night counseling sessions Baird put Cole through. Baird had way too much shit on his plate.
Cole entered the room and grabbed a rickety chair from the corner, setting it across from Dom. He rubbed his hands together and grinned as he sat down. "Alright, tell ol' Cole Train how you feel. Is it the monster eels around here? Did Damon do something? I told Boomer Lady to get him a shock collar."
Dom could never explain Cole's charm. The man was a godsend in these conditions—his smile and laughter were infectious, and he could definitely brighten a room. He seemed to always put others before himself. As long as Cole was around, Dom felt they could survive.
"It's just another bad day. Unexpected," Dom said. "I don't really want to talk about it, man."
"I understand, I do, and yet I can't help thinking that keeping it bottled isn't good. We all dealing with hurt somehow, but you gotta learn to talk about it."
"I talked it over with Doc Hayman once—"
"Once," Cole said sternly, "is not enough. Now they may all be too manly to say anything, but The Cole Train don't run on pride, baby; he runs on honesty and compassion. We don't know what it's like to do . . . what you did," he said quietly, "but we want to understand. We want to help you, Dom, and tip-toeing around you like we have ain't the way. You and Marcus might not need to talk about it, but Damon and I . . . well, he may play the perfect jackass, but he's real worried for you. Bernie, too. Hell, we all are."
Dom felt the anger rising before he understood why. "Did Marcus put you up to this?" he demanded. "Or was it Hoffman? I've been pulling my weight, damn it, I haven't let this slow me down! Don't treat me like a kid, okay? I'm fine!"
Cole remained seated and calm. He raised his hands in surrender. "No one asked me to do this. I'm doing this out of concern. Ya haven't taken the time to grieve properly."
"Properly?" Dom asked with a bitter laugh. "There's no body to bury or anything! How am I supposed to feel after I killed my wife? How can I live knowing that her husk is out there in the ocean with all of the grubs we flooded!"
"I never had the chance to bury my loved ones either," Cole said quietly. "Shit, they never found my mama. But I took the time to grieve; I quit the team only a few days after E-Day. Was my manager happy I was going to join the army? Hell no! But I found my way of coping. I became a Gear so I could save lives, and I write letters to my dead mama after every mission. I tell her about my friends and accomplishments. That's how I cope." Cole sighed, and the anger seemed to rush out of Dom too. "You got somethin' special, Dom. Pictures and Maria's necklace. I can't even remember what my family looks like."
Dom saw the hurt on Cole's face, and he knew he was seeing Augustus Cole—not the lighthearted Cole Train. This was a man who had suffered loss and still knew how to smile—his family was gone without a word, the millions he'd put in the bank was gone and useless. Dom never realized how lucky he was to have a few mementos, to be able to see his parents, his brother, and his wife and kids every day. He hung his head with a sigh.
"You're right, Cole. God, I never . . . I'm sorry. I just . . . I've done everything I can not to think about it, but it's only made things worse. Shit, I don't know what I'm doing anymore. If only she stayed in the house, if only I'd been there."
"So you feel guilty for not being there?"
"All the time."
"Don't, man, it's not worth it." Cole shook his head. "I wonder what would have been different if I was with my family. I felt guilty and upset. I thought if I had been there, I could have done something. But I woulda died too."
"This is different. If I had been home the day Maria disappeared, I could have stopped her. I know I could."
Cole was silent for a moment. Quietly, he continued, "Marcus told me a bit about her. Dom, she woulda disappeared in the middle of the night, while you were in the bathroom—anytime she thought you weren't looking. She wanted to find her kids; no amount of medicine would fix that. I ain't gonna lie; it's rough, man, and it sucks. But you gotta take time for yourself. Don't put her behind you, but don't let her stand in your way. Fight for your beautiful lady, just like I fight for my wonderful mama. I wanna make her proud when I see her again, so I fight with all I got."
Dom thought he had been fighting to avenge Maria, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he killed so the pain would stop. He was being selfish. He knew Cole was right; Dom had to handle this without work for a while.
Cole stood and set the chair back where it belonged. "We're brothers, Dom. We might not have the connection you and Marcus do, but we're family. I look after my family." A thought crossed his face and he chuckled. "Man, funny how things hit you. Remember back in the day, all the ruckus about helmets?"
Dom nodded.
"I just remembered what I told a rookie. I said I don't wear a helmet because it would mess up my hair," he said, running his large hand over his shaved head. "But I was thinking entirely different. I don't wear a helmet 'cause I want to look those scaly bastards in the eye. I want them to see vengeance about to gun them down; I don't care how ugly they are, they don't scare me. I got the support of a nation, and I ain't gonna let them down. You and me, we understand that now. It's not just revenge, but preventing those bastards from turning anymore lives upside down."
Cole slapped Dom on the back. "Hey, why don't we go to the mess and get a drink? Marcus should be there by now, and I'll talk to Mathieson on the way about rearranging some schedules, get you some downtime."
Despite the heavy tension, Dom stood and gave Cole a one-armed hug. This was it; this was his family, his support, now. He was fighting for the memories of his loved ones, and preventing more damage to other families, alongside others doing the same. Everyone knew how the other was feeling; they all experienced the same feeling of loss and hopelessness, but there was always something or someone to bring up morale. The chain of support in the COG was unmatched.
"Sounds good to me, Cole Train," Dom said with a smile.