When the engines screeched over the city, Stephen finally realized he'd seen too much shit in his life. Too much shit that made this event seem like it was a memory that had become flesh. But even when he wanted to cower somewhere in his room, his feet were already running until he hit a barrier of smoke, fire and screams. It stopped him cold and he drew in a shaky breath. But he managed a few steps as he looked out over the crash site - or were they many steps after all? Impossible to tell.
He only stopped when someone grabbed his ankle. And after looking down, he hadn't known it was even possible to be down on his knees this fast, but it was happening. And it had happened before - for some inexplicable reason, it had happened before and it had broken him before, driven him to reckless actions that eventually ... That was where those memories stopped - and they never lied. He grabbed the hand that reached out for him. "You're going to be okay." The biggest lie he'd ever told and the look in Frank's face told him so. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him. Only he would fucking do that to him while he was dying. Only he would give him that damn look and ... And just like that, there was just a body and no life.
Looking up and refusing to let go of his bestie, brotha from anotha motha and war buddy, he saw another face, with eyes staring up at the sky unseen. His vengeful angel, the so-called bitch in black who had made his life miserable, at least for a while. Also his bestie's ex-wife and the woman he'd trusted unconditionally from the moment they'd crossed paths in a certain army hospital in Vietnam. But that wasn't right, because there were other memories - new ones, conflicting ones.
Close by, another face he couldn't possibly forget, that of a man he'd learned to both abhor and treat like that family member you just ... learned to tolerate. His archenemy. And when his eyes fell on someone a bit too young, that was when he looked away, not even realizing that he was shaking and holding on to Frank for dear life.