A/N: TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF- HARM. Do not read if you can't handle. Take care. xx
Roman stood in front of the mirror from his waist up naked and stared with dead eyes straight ahead. He wasn't even looking at anything in particular, his mind was racing with all the things that could be going wrong in the next few weeks. How he could lose everything he had ever known in the split of a second.
Focusing on his reflection for the first time since he had gotten up fifteen minutes ago he looked himself over. His eyes found every little thing that had molded him into who he was today – all the things that could be seen from the outside that is – and he thought if maybe he would've turned out differently if any of those things hadn't happened to him.
His eyes found the most obvious scar first. The first one he ever remembered getting. The first thing everyone saw when they looked him in the face.
As if he was in trance his fingers found the ugly scar tissue that decorated the right side of his face from his forehead to the corner of his mouth. He pulled the corners of his lips up, grimacing at himself in the mirror. Carefully he followed the scar across his face remembering the pain he had endured getting it.
He remembered how it had taken more of his innocence than his supervisors ever could. In that moment he had realized that people – to their very core – were evil and that they were forever lost to the world even if they would ever be recovered, because their souls had been scarred irrevocably.
The boy, he had already forgotten his name, who had given him the mark had only been after their coin. It had been his, Roman's, fault really. He hadn't been careful enough in hiding their most valued possession from everyone. One day after he had taken the obligatory weekly shower the older boy had watched him put it back into the pocket of his pants and had followed after him, throwing him to the floor with a strong push and demanding the coin. Roman had refused.
He remembered looking for Remi frantically – the one person who had always protected him – but she had been nowhere to be seen. She had still been in the showers with the other girls and didn't even hear of the fight until it was all over.
Roman had tried to struggle from the grip the other kid had had on him, giving everything he had into his fight for freedom. He tried kicking, punching, biting and screaming. But no one cared. The other kids around them were watching them with dead, empty eyes, not even reacting when the other boy had pulled out a knife and held it in front of his face.
"Give it to me. You're dead anyway. Doesn't matter who actually kills you."
The words – so full of hatred, more than a kid of 6 years should've had – still followed him everywhere he went.
You're dead anyway.
In a way - that he only realized now more than 25 years later – the boy had been right. He had been dead anyway whether or not he would've killed him. He never had made it out of the orphanage. Not really. None of them had.
Still fixed on the scar on his face he remembered not only the actual part when the boy had sliced his face in two but also the moment that Remi had come charging in, pushing her way through to him and pushing the boy so hard to the ground that the knife he had just held a minute early tore into his own flesh but his sister had only had eyes for him.
He had still been in shock and couldn't move, simply watched the movements around him. He had watched her take him into her arms and walk him away the farthest away possible from any thread, to a corner in the basement all of them used every once in a while. She had taken him there, cradling him in her arms even though she had only been a few years older than him. She had tried cleaning the wound to the best of her abilities but it had still gotten infected.
For a few days he hadn't even been fully conscious, slipping in and out of it, as the infection got better and worse and finally – after days in which he had been sure he would die – it had passed. To that time Remi had already brought him the wrapping foil of a gum that he should keep near him. Hiding is valued possession in plain sight.
Against all odds he had survived, Roman thought grimly letting his hand sink from his face and move to his chest. There were a lot of scars there.
Bullet wounds. Scratches from very small fingernails. Burning marks.
It was a real collection. All accumulated after he had gotten the first one. It had turned a switch in his head and mind, had made him more aggressive. From that day on he had started fighting like a man who had nothing left, when in reality he had still been a boy. But it hadn't mattered. They had gotten out eventually.
The adoption had started a time in which he had stopped gathering more scars but one he had still gotten. With a wry smile he thought back to that time when even his own body had almost killed him. An appendicitis really wasn't a joking matter.
The pain was everywhere. It felt like – from one second to the next – it had exploded inside him and now scattered around his whole stomach. Rolling onto his stomach he gritted his teeth and tried to keep quiet.
He had been sitting in class when the pain had started and had himself excused to the bathroom. It being a school on a military base, where their new mother worked, they didn't like it very much but since he had never before missed a single minute of a lesson the teacher didn't ask too much about it.
And now he lay on the floor in one of the stalls and tried to bite his lips so he wouldn't scream but soon he started tasting blood and simply stopped caring. The tears began flowing shortly after that and he tried to keep it as quiet as he possibly could.
He didn't want to be weak. With his 7 years he had already seen what happened to weak people, had already felt on his own body what happened to those showing the slightest signs of vulnerability. There was no way he would let anyone see him like that if he had any say in it.
But the pain wouldn't stop. It got worse with every passing second and soon he couldn't even see straight anymore. His surroundings became nothing but a blur and suddenly everything around him went black.
"Roman!"
The boy felt someone shake him first before the burning in his stomach made him groan involuntarily again. "Stop it" he whispered rolling together hugging himself and keeping his eyes shut tightly "Make it stop." He didn't care about showing weakness right now.
"Roman! It's me" he recognized Remi's voice but he couldn't possibly move he just shook in agony.
"Please. Make it stop, Remi" he sobbed when she picked him up and tried soothing him with a few whispered words. He could make out that she would bring him to a doctor but he couldn't see anything of their surroundings. Nor did he care.
He heard her murmur something to him but he couldn't make out the words at first.
"Roman? It's going to be okay. They're going to bring you into an emergency surgery. But it's alright. It's only your appendix, you'll be fine" he could only manage to nod and lean into her hand who was stroking his cheek.
"Shh" he heard her "They already gave you something for the pain. You'll go into surgery now. You'll be okay. They aren't going to hurt you. Trust me. I'll be here when you wake up. You're not going to be alone."
To her caressing words he closed his eyes and when he opened them again she was indeed sitting next to him, holding his hand, not giving him a chance to freak out in the unknown location, like she knew he would've otherwise.
"How are you feeling?" she smiled down at him tiredly pressing his hand lightly.
"Better" he whispered hoarsely "It doesn't hurt anymore."
"That's good. It will hurt a little when the anesthetics have worn off and you'll always keep a scar on your belly but it's nothing bad."
He rolled his eyes at her "I think I can handle a scar."
"Yes. You can."
It was an ugly scar, he decided, looking down at it. It was a thick layer of scar tissue that had never left his lower abdomen. Had he had had the surgery in basically any other hospital he probably would've only kept a faint pink line but being on a military base had limited his options drastically. But he had been right – I handled that scar pretty well.
Moving his gaze to his arms now he looked at some minor scars that trailed all the way down his biceps to his lower arm. On his left wrist he stopped, taking his right hand to move a finger across the most agonizing scar on his whole body. It was almost an inch long and it had been pretty deep when he had pulled the razor down his arm.
Mesmerized he watched the blood pool around the cut and let the razor fall to the floor. He felt the warm liquor run down his lower arm and simply stood to watch it. He felt so much of his built up tension leave his body and simply collapsed to the floor clutching his arm to his chest.
He had promised Remi he would take care of himself when she had left to join the military. And what had he done now?! He felt tears well up in his eyes and quietly he started sobbing. He couldn't do it without her, he was too weak. She had always been the strong one of the two of them.
For what felt like an eternity he just sat there on the floor of the bathroom weeping to himself watching the blood leave his body. It was so much blood. It had never been so much blood before. Realizing he was making a huge mess on the white tiles he scrambled to get some toilet paper, all the while spreading the blood even wider.
He wanted it to stop. He wanted to scream. But he couldn't. He couldn't have Shephard find him like this, couldn't have her see him so broken because she would push him out of her home and he didn't have anywhere else to go.
The tears made a blur out of everything and then there was the blood which lay like a red filter on everything. He hit his head on the sink and sank down to the floor once more.
Roman could already hear her steps, closing in on the bathroom, calling his name.
Nonononono. This couldn't be happening.
He pressed his hands to his ears, covering himself in blood now as well. Not that it mattered. He was a dead boy anyway.
Suddenly she was standing above him and he could feel her pull him in a sitting position. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the disappointment he expected to find in hers.
"Roman" she said loudly "Look at me." It was a command not a suggestion and his eyes flew open to find hers looking at him sadly and only a little angry.
"What are you doing?" she wanted to know sitting down next to him, not caring about ruining her clothes holding him at a distance to look at him properly.
"I- I'm sorry" he whispered hoarsely "It won't happen again."
"While I do hope so, that wasn't my question."
"You know what I was doing!" he spit out immediately regretting his outburst when he saw the anger in Shephard's eyes but it left as quickly as it had appeared.
"My sweet Roman" she caressed his bloody cheek and he leaned into her touch as he only did with Remi's usually "Why did you feel like you had to hurt yourself?" she wanted to know softly.
He stared at her, trying to find the right words, "I- There's so much- So much of everything inside me" he pulled his right hand to his chest clenching it to a fist "It's eating me up alive. And I-" he felt the tears in his eyes again and he tried his best to keep them at bay "I can't stand it anymore. I have to get it out somehow. I don't know how else to let it out."
"Shh" Shephard wiped away the few tears that had spilled over "It's not a solution to hurt yourself" she whispered to him and pulling him closer to her "I know the anger you're carrying with you. Believe me I know" she stroked his hair gently "But don't take it out on yourself. There's so much wrong in the world. Take all your anger and we'll fight against all the bad things. Instead of hurting yourself you should hurt the people who did this to you and all the people who hurt other people. It's their fault. Not yours."
She had stayed with him for almost half an hour after that, whispering soft words, talking him down and repeating her words over and over again. That he should hurt other people not himself. It had stuck with him like nothing ever had.
Looking down at this scar he realized it was still a battle scar. A very different battle – the worst one he had led so far – because he was fighting himself in his head and no matter how it ended, he would lose. He had done what Shephard had told him, bundling all his anger to fight for what's right, to bring justice for the people who weren't getting justice by anyone else.
Now they were setting up for their biggest battle yet and he didn't know how many scars his body and soul would be able to take. This time it was possible that he'd lose something that couldn't be replaced by scar tissue. This time he could be losing his sister.
"Roman. Are you ready?" it was Remi's voice and as always she came charging in without knocking and he was standing in front of her in only his boxer shorts.
Her gaze softened "Did you just get up?"
"No."
She frowned at him in confusion "Then what are you doing? We're going to start in just a bit. I wanted to come say goodbye."
"I've been thinking. About everything we've lost. About everything we're about to lose" he looked at her. His sister looked ready for battle – she always did – and her eyes had the power to make him finally move.
"It's not forever" she said with such deep conviction that he had to nod "While you're getting dressed. I have something for you."
She had pulled out a small wooden box. "I know you're not really into puzzles but I thought if you ever needed something to remind you of me, maybe this can be it."
Taking it from her and caressing the box gently he looked up at his sister who was ready for whatever came next and he knew – for her – he could be ready too. He would be there for her in any way he could in this new battle they were facing. And for her he would take any scar that came his way and long as he didn't lose her.