Dominic's hands were still shaking as he stepped out of the cockpit. The cold, sterile hallway of the warship greeted him like a tomb, the bright lights overhead flickering faintly, as if reflecting the darkness that had taken root in his mind. The crew, busy with their tasks, paid him no attention, too caught up in the aftermath of the battle to notice the emptiness in his eyes. The warship hummed with life, but to Dominic, everything felt silent, hollow.
He couldn't look at anyone. He couldn't talk to anyone. He couldn't even look at his own reflection in the metal walls. He had lost Zara. The one person who had been there with him, through everything. She was gone. And it was his fault. If he had just been quicker, if he had reacted faster, maybe she would still be alive.
But it didn't matter now.
Dominic's footsteps echoed in the corridor as he moved mechanically, his mind numb, his body on autopilot. He didn't know where he was going—only that he needed to escape, to drown out the unbearable weight of her loss.
Finally, he found himself at the ship's bar, a dimly lit corner of the warship that seemed to promise solace. The bartender, an older man with graying hair, gave him a knowing look as Dominic slid into a seat at the bar.
"You look like you've had a rough day, kid," the bartender said gruffly, pouring a drink before Dominic had even spoken.
Dominic didn't respond. His eyes were distant, unfocused, as he grabbed the glass and downed it in one gulp. The alcohol burned his throat, but it was the only thing that made him feel anything. He didn't care if it hurt. He didn't care about anything anymore.
Another drink followed, and then another, each one dulling his senses just a little more, until the world around him became a haze. The noise of the bar, the chatter of the soldiers, the clinking of glasses—it all faded into the background. It was just him, the drink, and the crushing weight of his thoughts.
He didn't even realize how much he had drunk until he felt the room spinning. His vision blurred, his body numb. He leaned heavily on the bar, trying to steady himself, but the alcohol had taken its toll.
And then, it happened.
The memory came rushing back in a flash, as vivid as if it were happening all over again. Zara's face, pale and bloodied, her last breath rattling in her chest as he held her hand, helpless. The sound of the missile's explosion, the shudder of the Eagle's Talon, the pain in her eyes as she died in his arms—it was all too real.
"No..." Dominic whispered, his voice shaking as the room around him twisted and contorted. The walls closed in, and he could feel his breath quickening, his heart racing.
Zara… I couldn't save you…
The memories overwhelmed him, the guilt and sorrow drowning him like an ocean. He gripped the edge of the bar, his knuckles turning white, but it didn't stop the flood of emotions that crashed over him.
"Zara..." he murmured again, his voice barely audible over the noise of the bar.
The memories twisted into something darker. The nightmares he had been trying to outrun came back with a vengeance—visions of the explosion, of Zara's final moments, of her eyes locking onto his as if begging him to do something, anything, to stop the inevitable.
But he hadn't been fast enough.
The flashbacks began to blend with the real world, the lines between them blurring until he couldn't tell what was happening and what had happened. He was drowning in his own grief. His stomach churned, and the room spun violently. He couldn't breathe. His vision went dark, and before he knew it, he collapsed onto the bar, unconscious.
When Dominic awoke, it was with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. His body ached, his muscles stiff from the way he had collapsed on the bar. The low hum of the warship's engines filled the air, a constant reminder that the world outside was still spinning, still moving on without him.
His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he saw was the dim light above him, flickering erratically. For a moment, he didn't know where he was. Then the memory of the bar, the alcohol, the overwhelming grief, came rushing back.
He groaned and pushed himself upright, his head spinning as the nightmare-like flashes of Zara's death resurfaced. He had failed her. The guilt gnawed at him, relentless and unforgiving. He couldn't escape it.
Why didn't I do more? he thought bitterly, clutching his head as if it would stop the voices in his mind. Why couldn't I save her?
He stood up, unsteady on his feet, and stumbled out of the bar. The corridors were silent, almost deserted. He couldn't bear to look at anyone, couldn't face their eyes, their pity. The weight of his failure pressed down on him with every step.
Dominic wandered the halls of the warship aimlessly, lost in his own thoughts, his mind trapped in a cycle of grief and self-loathing. The flashes of Zara's death haunted him at every turn, playing out over and over again like a broken record. It felt like a weight he would never escape from.
And then, just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, the nightmares began.
In his mind, the explosion sounded again—the sickening roar of the missile striking the Eagle's Talon, the impact of the blast throwing them both off balance. Zara's blood-soaked face appeared before him, her body shaking, her eyes pleading for help, for anything.
Dominic...
Her voice echoed in his mind, but he couldn't save her.
Dominic… don't let it happen again.
He staggered, his legs giving out from beneath him as the visions of her death consumed him. The walls of the ship felt like they were closing in on him, the air thick and suffocating. His breath came in shallow gasps as he fought against the darkness that was slowly pulling him under.
But no matter how hard he tried to fight it, the truth remained: Zara was gone. And he would never forgive himself for not being able to save her.
The nightmares were back, and this time, they weren't just in his head.