His Reflection In Her Eyes
Summary: Another squad member falls, and the squad, consumed by grief, unleashes their pain on their General. The weight of their loss drags Dmitry down like an undertow, pulling him deeper into the abyss of his own demons. As he sinks further, lost in the darkness of his mind, Lane fights with everything she has to reach him, before he drowns completely.
Another squad member had fallen, a crushing loss that weighed heavily on everyone. The General had faced the agonizing choice of sacrificing him to save the rest, but the decision left the entire squad reeling.
Anna screamed in anguish, tears streaming down her face as she relentlessly pounded her fists against the General's chest.
"How could you do that to him? How could you sacrifice him like that?! I never imagined you could be this heartless! I hate you! I hate you so much!"
The General stood motionless, allowing his sister to vent her pain on him. He didnāt meet her gaze, it was too terrifying. Her eyes burned with hatred. Anna had hated him before, many times, because of the brutal decisions he had to make for the squadās survival. But this time was different. This time was worse.
Dmitry had long come to terms with the reflection of the monster he saw in his sisterās eyes - the monster he had become while fighting against monsters. He had accepted his fate. Yet now, for some reason, it felt harder than ever. What had changed?
Greg stepped forward and pulled Anna away from Dmitry, but not before casting a sharp, judgmental glare at him.
Lane watched silently from the sidelines, her heart breaking as she watched the squad turn on Dmitry for a decision he had no choice but to make. She understood their pain, their anger - she truly did - but it didnāt lessen the ache she felt for the man who had carried them through hell, bearing more than anyone should.
She hated how grief made people blind to the weight others carried. The way it made them selfish. Strength didnāt mean endless endurance, and just because someone bore their burdens without complaint didnāt give others the right to add to them. This was why responsibility was so feared, it demanded impossible choices, risks, and sacrifices that often came at an unbearable cost. And not everyone can handle the weight.
While they enjoyed camaraderie and warmth within the squad, Dmitry bore the brunt of making impossible decisions - decisions that kept them safe, and endured their anger and hatred silently. He never complained once.
Lane knew one thing for certain: he didnāt deserve this.
Yan stepped forward with a smirk that was anything but friendly. "You know, General," he said mockingly, "Iāve always wondered what youād do if you found yourself in that situation again - with Pavel. Well, now I have my answer. You never disappoint... General." He bumped Dmitryās shoulder roughly as he walked past him.
Yan clung stubbornly to his resentment toward Dmitry. He still couldnāt forgive him for sacrificing their best friend Pavel, even though deep down Yan knew Dmitry had no other choice back then either. But pain and anger are relentless, they donāt easily yield to reason or understanding. Yan didnāt want to understand, he only wanted to judge. And Dmitry had grown used to this hatred from everyone around him.
He understood that his position as General meant he couldnāt expect friendships or warmth from others, loneliness came with the territory. Yet deep down, disappointment lingered, because now more than ever, he needed his friendās support. But Yan had always been powerless against his own anger.
Lane felt paralyzed as she watched them tear Dmitry apart all over again. They thought he didnāt feel anything, that his stoicism meant he was immune to pain. Thatās what happens when someone stands strong for too long without complaint: people stop seeing them as human. They forget they suffer just like everyone else, regardless of rank or title.
The General avoided Laneās gaze entirely, he feared what he might see there. He could endure Annaās hatred and the squadās collective judgment, but not hers. Lane - the one woman who truly understood him - had always seen through his walls with just a glance into his eyes. She never judged him, she always understood.
The thought that she might hate him now, that her warm eyes might reflect the same monstrous image, was unbearable. If Lane saw him as a monster too, Dmitry knew heād never be able to see himself any differently again.
He reminded himself not to hope, not to allow himself the luxury of believing someone would always understand him, believe in him, or be his sanctuary when the weight of the world grew too heavy on his shoulders. Hope was dangerous; it wasnāt something he could afford, not as a General.
Laneās heart sank as she noticed how dark his expression became, how he seemed to retreat further into himself with every passing moment. She took a hesitant step toward him, desperate to stop him from shutting down completely, but his sharp voice froze her in place:
"Get back to deciphering the book, Lane! Donāt get distracted!" His voice was cold and commanding as he turned away from her without meeting her eyes.
He was pushing her away - she could feel it - and retreating into his own demons again. Lane wanted desperately to help him, to stop him from losing himself, but Donovanās sharp voice cut through her thoughts.
"Now, Lane," Donovan ordered firmly before following Dmitry herself, leaving Lane standing there in frustration and agony.
__________________________
Two days passed since Lane last saw Dmitry in such a state, and she was so worried. Donovan had sent him on a solo mission after everything that happened, likely hoping it would give both Dmitry and the squad time to cool off and process their emotions rationally.
But Lane knew better than anyone that Dmitry didnāt need distance or distraction right now, he needed support, and no one was giving it to him. He was left alone with the demons inside his head again. Her worry consumed her entirely, she couldnāt focus on deciphering the book at all.
When Lane heard from one of the soldiers that Dmitry had returned hours ago, she waited impatiently for everyone else to go to sleep so she could sneak into his room unnoticed.
Finally, Noah and Lester stopped bickering and retreated into their rooms for the night. Quietly slipping out of hers, Lane made her way toward Dmitryās quarters as stealthily as possible - aware that Donovan had been keeping an eye on her movements lately.
Reaching his room successfully, Lane knocked softly on the door but didnāt wait for an answer before slipping inside.
The room was dimly lit by a single desk lamp, cigarette smoke hung heavily in the air alongside scattered whiskey bottles near his desk. The spacious room was divided into two sections - a workspace and a bedroom - and Dmitry stood by his desk, his back to her with a cigarette in hand.
As her light footsteps drew closer behind him, Dmitry tensed. He couldnāt face her - not now. He probably looked terrible, he hadnāt dared look at himself in the mirror since everything happened. He couldnāt bear to see the reflection of the monster staring back. He hadnāt slept at all, and the thought of meeting her gaze, seeing the disappointment - or worse, the hatred - in her eyes, would be the breaking point. It would destroy him completely. Without thinking, he quickly started sorting through the papers on his desk, distracting himself from the inevitable.
"Not now, Lane... Iām busy," he muttered tiredly without turning around. His voice lacked its usual commanding confidence - the tone that always made Laneās heart flutter - and instead sounded dull and lifeless.
Lane felt an ache deep in her chest at hearing how broken he sounded. Slowly and cautiously, she stepped closer to him. Her heart pounded in her chest - she had missed him so much. She missed the way he would carry her in his arms when she was too exhausted, tucking her into bed with such care. She missed the warmth in his icy blue eyes, a warmth reserved only for her. That look was hers alone.
She missed his prickly stubble that always tickled her whenever he kissed her, the way his hair fell over his eyes when he was asleep, giving him a boyish charm that softened his otherwise commanding presence. She missed his embrace - the way it made her feel safe no matter how chaotic the world around them became. With each step closer, the ache in her chest deepened until it became almost unbearable.
It was in that moment Lane realized she wasnāt afraid anymore - not of her feelings or of what they meant. She understood now just how much this man - who had carried her on his back when he found her at the rift - had brought her back to life. Dmitry had become everything to her, and she wasnāt going to run from that truth any longer.
Dmitry tensed further with every step she took toward him. He took a long drag from his cigarette, bracing himself for what he feared would be far more painful than the smoke burning his lungs or the demons clawing at his mind.
But instead of words or accusations, soft arms wrapped around his waist from behind. Lane rested her head gently against his back, listening to the rapid thudding of his heartbeat. Dmitry froze at the unexpected tenderness.
For a few moments, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy but comforting in its own way. Finally, Dmitry turned slowly to face her and leaned tiredly against the edge of his desk. Even with them now at eye level, he still couldnāt bring himself to meet her gaze.
"You... you donāt hate me? You donāt think Iām a monster?" His voice cracked slightly as he asked the question that had been tormenting him for days.
Laneās heart shattered at the sight before her. He looked utterly exhausted - dark circles shadowed his red-rimmed eyes, and his hair was disheveled from running his fingers through it repeatedly. His stubble was longer than usual, and his posture sagged with weariness. Yet what broke her most was the pain etched across his face as he avoided her gaze.
"Never," Lane whispered without hesitation, her voice soft but firm. "Youāre the strongest man Iāve ever known. If it werenāt for you, none of us - none of the squad - would still be alive."
She cupped his face with both hands, cradling his rough stubble with delicate fingers as she gently coaxed him to look at her.
Reluctantly, Dmitryās eyes met hers - and what he saw there made him feel as though he could finally breathe again after days of suffocating under guilt and despair. Her gaze wasnāt filled with hatred or judgment, instead, it overflowed with worry, compassion, warmth, tenderness... and understanding.
How could he have doubted her? Lane didnāt just understand him - she felt his pain as if it were her own. With one look into his eyes, she saw everything he tried so hard to hide from everyone else. And in that moment, Dmitry didnāt see a monster reflected in her eyes, he saw himself - the man who had done everything in his power to make the best choices in impossible situations - to save as many lives as possible.
Because sometimes all it takes is one person - just one person who truly believes in you - to remind you of who you are when youāve lost sight of yourself in a harsh and unforgiving world. It's more than enough.
Laneās heart ached at the desperation she saw in Dmitryās tired eyes - they were silently pleading for someone to pull him out of the darkness threatening to consume him entirely.
Leaning forward until their foreheads touched, Lane whispered softly but firmly: "The world needs people like you right now - strong and reliable. Not emotional and weak, that's exactly why you're the General, not someone else."
She gently draped her arms around his neck, pulling him close, her body pressed against his, and the warmth of his presence enveloped her. The masculine scent of him - musky, sharp, and undeniably Dmitry - filled the air between them. Lane had never realized how intoxicating his natural scent could be. It was a mixture of raw intensity and something uniquely him, something she had unknowingly come to crave. It was the scent of comfort, of protection, and of everything she had come to love about him.
His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly close as he buried his face in her hair and neck, breathing in her scent like it was the very air he needed to survive. He held her with a desperate intensity, as though she was the only thing holding him together. If he let go, he feared he would shatter and lose himself forever.
Lane smiled softly as she ran her fingers through his dark hair, whispering soothingly: "Anna needs time... Sheāll come around eventually. She loves you more than anything, she just needs space to process everything."
Her words were like balm on an open wound - soothing and healing in ways nothing else could be. Dmitry continued holding onto Lane as though letting go would cause him to fall apart completely.
After several minutes of peaceful silence, Lane pulled back just enough to press a soft, tender kiss to Dmitryās lips - a kiss meant to offer comfort and reassurance. But before she could pull away, Dmitry deepened the kiss, his lips claiming hers with a quiet intensity, pouring all of his unspoken emotions into it as if expressing gratitude without a single word.
Laneās knees nearly buckled under the weight of his passion, her breath catching as she felt every ounce of feeling he poured into that kiss.
When they finally broke apart for air, she was left breathless, her heart racing, as though the world had stopped in that single moment of connection.
"You should get some sleep" Lane said softly after catching her breath. She tugged lightly on his hand toward the bed.
"I canāt sleep... Iāve tried," Dmitry admitted quietly - but even so, he allowed himself to be led by her without resistance.
"Weāll fall asleep together," Lane promised gently as she intertwined their fingers and guided him toward the bed.
Within minutes they were lying side by side on their backs before turning toward each other instinctively - faces just inches apart as they gazed deeply into each otherās eyes. This moment felt raw and intimate - stripped bare of all pretense or walls they had both built around themselves for so long.
For once neither ran from their feelings or hid behind duty, they simply existed together in this fragile yet powerful connection they had found in one another - a connection neither wanted to lose ever again.
Lane reached out hesitantly but affectionately touched Dmitryās stubble with trembling fingers before whispering: "Close your eyes."
Dmitry caught hold of her hand gently before pressing a deep kiss into her palm - a gesture so tender it sent butterflies fluttering wildly in Laneās stomach - before wrapping an arm securely around her waist again and burying himself against her warmth once more.
Lane smiled softly as she combed through his dark hair soothingly while listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing slow into peacefulness for what felt like the first time in days. For once she felt confident that she could give him what he always gave others: comfort and strength.
She had often feared sheād never be enough for someone as strong as he was - the General, of all people. But as she listened to the steady rhythm of his breath deepening into sleep, she realized that even someone as strong and unyielding as the General, still needed someone to lean on every now and then, a reminder that even the most steadfast need support from time to time. And she would always be there for him, as unwavering and steadfast as he was when he stood by her.
