He still saw them, his mother, dead on the floor before he even arrived, nothing he could have done, and his father, still alive with injuries he could survive, if only Bashir could fake him somewhere safe, instead of leaving him alone to die just to save himself, not even because he wanted to, but because there would be no hope for his sister if she was left alone.

Therapy helped, but it couldn’t make his ghosts go away, not when he was surrounded by triggers; he loved that he was finally able to return to his work, but being in a hospital was a constant reminder of what he lost, and of the guilt that came from surviving when it was just luck he wasn’t there at the time of the explosion.

The difference was that now he knew, it would do no good to run away, he couldn’t go back, and the only way forward was through.