Sobbing penetrated through his flashback. People didn't sob in Iraq. The sand ground was gone, replaced with sand-colored Berber carpet. There was no more glass and the blood, he realized, was his own. His leg hurt, but after closer inspection, he found no blood. No gunshot. The gunshot was in the past.
The realization that he'd just had a flashback and a bad one hit him like a semi-truck. "Oh God," he choked out. He scrambled to his feet, not caring how much it hurt. He'd hit Lynne. Nothing could hurt compared to that realization. Oh God. He'd hit Lynne. His head was screaming that sentence back at him over and over. He'd hit Lynne.
He found her on the floor outside of the bathroom crying. He knew she must be scared...and probably hated him. He sank down in front of her, giving her plenty of room. He spoke softly, "Lynne. Baby. I'm so sorry. I'm back. I'm sorry. Lynne, please." He felt fresh tears prick his eyes as he watched her huddled on the floor, scared.