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Joakim sat quietly in his relatively empty room, it didn’t have anything of his or any flare to it that screamed “THIS IS JOAKIM BRODÉN’S ROOM”, in fact, it was very basic and plain,
He had a bed that was large enough for two, of which it was very comfortable to lay down on, two windows, a closet, a desk, a chair, and a nightstand,
It wasn’t much but it was ‘home’ as that man, Pär, had put it to him,
He had been reassured by him that he would be able to decorate it to his heart’s content to make it feel more like him,
like his safe space,
his haven,
Joakim turned his head and looked out his window, and allowed his mind to wander,
What he saw in his head was the faces of his brothers in arms, he could still hear their voices in his head,
They were more than just his teammates from the Iraqi military,
They were his brothers in arms,
His friends,
His family,
He could feel tears roll down his cheeks, he tried blinking them away but they kept falling despite his attempts at stopping them,
After their deaths, he hadn’t even thought about collecting their dog tags from when they died,
He mentally kicked himself over that,
He had nothing of them,
Nothing to remember them by,
He could feel more tears run down his cheeks
Shakily he took a breath of air and wiped away at his tears,
Then, he felt his mind wander over to the people who he’ll now be living with: Pär Sundström, Hannes Van Dahl, Tommy Johannson and Chris Rörland…
‘…Chris Rórland…’
Why did that man’s name ring a bell in his head?
He frowned and closed his eyes, pulling himself into deep thought,
His mind flashes back to earlier this morning when he saw Chris drawing into his sketchbook, he had drawn a man and a woman in high detail, they weren’t photorealistic drawings, but realistic drawings where the person’s likeness was visible,
His eyes snapped wide open,
‘That’s it!’ he thought, although he knew that he didn’t have anything of them, like belonging of theirs, to remember them by, he knew that if he asked Chris, the artist, to draw them for him, then perhaps,
he would finally have something that would allow him to mourn and remember them with,
He nods and gets up from his desk chair, he proceeds to make his way out of his room and head downstairs to where he thinks Chris is currently at,
Eventually, he finally finds the artist and lightly taps on their shoulder to gather their attention,
Chris lifts his head from his sketchbook, “Oh, Joakim! Hey… what’s up? How are you feeling? Do you like it here so far?” he asked him, curious to know how the newest member was doing,
Joakim gives him a small smile followed by a nod, “I’m good and yes, I do like it here… it’s… better than where I was before…” he explains and Chris nods,
“A-…” Joakim pauses, “-C-Can I ask you to do something for me? P-Please?” he asks, obviously nervous,
Chris nods, “Sure thing man, what can I do?”
Joakim takes a seat in front of him, “Ah… I-I was wondering if you could do a couple of sketches for me if that’s ok…?”
A nod, “Sure, of what?”
“People…”
Another nod, “friends?”
“More like family…”
Chris nods again and turns the page of his sketchbook to a fresh one, “Ok, how many are we talking?”
“Four”, Joakim watches as Chris nods and sharpens his pencil and cleans his eraser,
“Ok, do you have pictures of them?” Chris inquires,
Joakim shakes his head, “No, I don’t… b-but I can help you through my memory… i-is that ok?” he questions,
“Yep, that’s fine!”
Joakim breathes a sigh of relief and quickly he gets to work with Chris on describing his fallen brothers in arms, his lost family…
“Done…!” exclaimed Chris, as he smiled onto his sketchbook, gently, he tore at the edge of the pages, pulling them out of his sketchbook, he handed them to Joakim,
Joakim examined the sketches and found himself smiling wide at each one,
They all looked just like them,
He could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, he quickly wiped them away, he didn’t want to cry in front of his new friend,
Instead, he willed himself to power through his sorrow and give Chris a lovely wide smile,
“I-I-It’s p-perf-f-e-ect…!” he manages as his voice breaks off towards the end,
Chris gives him a smile in return, he can feel just how emotionally raw he still was, despite having helped him through his own panic attack and then later Tommy’s,
Joakim was a strong man in his own way, one who was more willing to help others first and worry about himself later,
Truly, a gentle soul whose innocence was taken away too soon,
“No problem, man… any time…” he replies back,
Joakim nods, he can feel his breath hitch as he tries to swallow back a sob,
He’s breaking at the seams in front of him,
‘Fuck…’ Joakim thinks to himself, he’d better leave before he makes things awkward,
But before he does, he gives Chris a quick yet tight hug before taking his leave, sketches in tow,
Chris says nothing as he hugs him back and then watches him leave,
He can hear Joakim choke back yet another sob, quick footsteps follow up the stairs, as he hears him run to his room, closing the door behind him,
Chris leans back into his seat on the couch, he can feel tears of his own roll down his cheeks, the boys’ grief has gotten to him,
He’s suffered so much, this Chris knows as he feels horrible for him,
Upstairs, he can hear Joakim openly sobbing, not caring if he is heard,
Pär suddenly comes into view as he enters the room that Chris is in,
He frowns as he watches Chris cry, “What happened?” he asks him,
“It's Joakim… he’s-… He’s mourning his loss…” is all Chris replies with,
Pär sighs heavily as he listens in to Joakim's sobs…
Above, Joakim has placed the images of his fallen brothers in arms on his bed,
He’s on his knees in front of his bed, he didn’t even make it to the bed in time as he collapsed onto the floor,
His heart is once again torn open as he openly cries out for those who he has lost,
He hears their laughter in his ears,
He sees their smiles in his mind,
He remembers the feeling of their touch,
And he cries harder,
He’s crying so hard that he can no longer see anymore,
He’s clenching the bedsheets so hard in order to keep himself grounded to reality,
He knows that they’re forever gone,
He knows that he’ll never get them back,
He knows that he’s now alone,
He knows that he has to fight this fight by himself,
He knows,
And it is that which pains him,
He doesn’t know what he did to deserve this,
He knows not what sin he had committed that warranted such a divine punishment from the gods above or the devils' bellow,
But what he did know is that he still had some shred of hope left in him,
As he sobbed, he gathered his strength to clasp his hands together in prayer,
On his knees, he prayed,
To whom?
He did not know,
But he prayed nevertheless,
He prayed and hoped that the people who he was now with would take care of him, in the same way, that his brothers in arms once did to him,
He prayed that he would not be used, manipulated, nor hurt; be it physically, emotionally, or psychologically,
He prayed for safety,
He prayed for a better future,
He prayed for friendship,
He prayed for love,
He prayed for peace,
He bit his lower lip and allowed a sob to escape his lips,
Shakily he took a breath,
“I-I d-don’t know wh-who you are, o-or what kind of a god you are… bu-but all I ask f-for is your mercy… pl-please…”
Pär stood on the other side of the door as he quietly listened on,
He clenched his hands into fists and quietly sighed, before letting out a hushed prayer of his own,
“Óðinn, allfaðir, heyrðu bæn mína, því ég óska ekki annars en friðar og miskunnar yfir þessum manni ... því að hann hefur þjáðst nóg. Ég óska eftir að hann lendi í engu nema gleði, ást, friði og góðvild í lífi sínu ... vinsamlegast ... hlíft honum.”
“Odin, All-father, hear my prayer, for I wish nothing but peace and mercy befall this man… for he has suffered enough. I wish for him to encounter nothing but joy, love, peace, and kindness in his life… please… spare him.”