"Morning," Ryker grumbled, sounding like the walking scrap heap Rusty as he dragged himself into the kitchen with heavy steps. An attentive pair of green-blue eyes gazed at him, scrutinizing him closely and with growing amusement.

He didn't even manage to drag himself around the table before a cup was already being held out to him. The aroma of fresh coffee wafted into his nose.

As if remote-controlled, he reached for the china. His fingers slid towards the longed-for morning drink before Eve snatched it from under his nose with a playful twinkle.

"Good morning?" Eve chirped with a hint of mischief in her voice. His gaze lingered on the cup in her hand, which she had now turned so it half disappeared behind her back. A slight tingling sensation spread through his chest, awakening his senses as playfully as the first rays of sunshine, but he didn't flinch.

"Coffee," he murmured softly, barely audible as he took a step closer, and the distance between them narrowed to a fine line. Close enough that he could detect her scent over the coffee - pastry, flowery, fresh. A smell that he secretly preferred to the coffee on such a sleepy morning, even if he didn't say so. Almost automatically, his gaze found hers, and Ryker heard her breath slow.

Seizing the moment, Ray quickly reached for the cup behind her back and felt a slight smile on his lips as he took the cup from her hand and gave her a glance that carried a mixture of silent laughter and a cheeky grin. She would have to think of something else if she wanted to annoy him. After all, he was a head or two taller than her.

Ryker liked it. The playfulness between them that had grown out of a tense situation and now felt so easy.

"You look like you've been hit by a bus," he heard Eve continue after she bit her lip for a moment, and he sipped his morning drink. He ignored the thought that she always looked sexy when she did that.

"You okay?"

'Shit, Ray, focus!'

He sat down at the large table and slowly looked over at the young mother, who turned her attention from the pan on the stove to him. There, she had scrambled a couple of eggs into an omelet with bacon, which was now threatening to burn. That was unusual. Ray felt his eyebrow raise questioningly. He must look awful if Eve was so distracted and chose such direct words. Usually, that was more Riona's style.

"Just slept badly," he lied, smiling reassuringly at her. He'd spent the whole night studying the papers he'd printed out at Bluebirds and had lain awake the rest of the time, his conscience gnawing at him like a beaver.

"Um, Eve? The stove," he finally remembered when he saw the scrambled eggs starting to smoke.

"What? Oh, crap!" Eve cursed and hastily turned back to the pan. That made him grin, even though he could almost have slept standing up. "You went upstairs so early. What was going on?" the young woman asked, wrinkling her cute nose, annoyed at the burnt scrambled eggs.

"I had some work to do. Private paperwork," he mumbled, his cup to his lips as he noticed a slight movement out of the corner of his eye.

Hidden from Eve's gaze, he saw Liam. With a pot on his head, as if he were wearing a helmet, the boy grabbed one of the wooden cooking spoons.

'What's that whirlwind up to now?' he asked himself silently, his mouth open but quickly closed again. All that remained was the twitching of the corners of his mouth.

After all, no one liked tattletales.

🍂🗝️🍂

Barely an hour later, he was standing on a small ladder in front of the terrace, swinging the paintbrush, which he dipped into the narrow metal bucket attached to the side at regular intervals. He carefully reviewed the wooden beams, which had probably not seen a protective coat of paint for years.

His stomach was packed from the hearty breakfast Eve had placed in front of him, and the coffee was also starting to take effect. The combination with the fresh air slowly awakened his spirits, so he whistled to himself, lost in thought.

>>BAMM<<

Ryker winced, and the large body made the ladder wobble. Rattling, it swayed slightly beneath him, dancing across the wooden floorboards and seeming not to know whether it should fall over or find its footing. The precious and expensive liquid sloshed dangerously into the metal bucket, and individual drops splashed onto his hand, which clung to the rail in front of his nose.

>>BAMM BAMM BAMM!<<

His gaze first fell on the house as if stung by a tarantula, but the door and window were firmly closed. Adrenaline immediately shot through his veins. His eyes flew wide open, out into the courtyard, where Liam kept banging on the pot, and the tinny clatter mixed with the sound of the wind.

He sucked the cool air into his lungs, took a deep breath, and watched the boy running across the lawn, wholly absorbed in his game. Chief was only an arm's length behind him, wagging his tail happily.

'Calm down,' Ray admonished himself and closed his eyes. His fingers were still clutching the spar as if it were his lifeline. So tightly that they turned pale and cold. With the metallic clang, his heart began to hammer wildly in his chest. Suddenly, he found it harder and harder to breathe.

"They're just pots," he tried to calm himself down. But he could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, which broke out in a flash and began to cover his skin like damp morning dew. Shivering, he tried to breathe more controlled and draw air into his lungs.

'It's just a child playing.'

>>BAMM BAMM BAMM!<<

Again and again, he winced under the clanging. It was getting worse. The tightness around his chest increased, and the noise in his ears grew louder. The pulse, which was far too high, was visible on the strands of his neck, where it fluttered under his skin. The white protruding knuckles began to tremble, and Ray forced himself to let go. His fingers slowly detached themselves from the beam and clawed at the ladder. Down. He had to get down. Before he had a seizure. Quickly. Faster! Everything around him was suddenly loud and booming. The dog's barking, the roaring in his ears, the wind...

'Raven? RAVEN!'

Ray almost fell backward off the ladder. Panting heavily, he staggered across the wooden floorboards and hit his back against one of the massive supports of the porch roof.

His eyes were still squeezed tightly shut; his hands ran into his hair at the sides of his temples. They clutched convulsively at the strands. Another tap on the pot - and the otherwise firmly locked box with the locked memories inside burst open. Memories of the desert, the day that had taken everything from him, rolled over him like an avalanche - and there was nothing he could do about it.

Voices mingled together, forming an unholy jumble until he no longer knew what was reality and present and what was memory.

"FIRE!" Liam's voice cut through the noise, loud and clear. Harsh as an order.

>>WHAM!<<

Colorful sparks flew as little fingers squeezed the trigger of a squib gun. Paper rain in all colors fell, glittering like raindrops on the grass at the boy's feet. Glitter powder and confetti sparkled like a hundred stars but remained invisible to Ray's eyes. He only heard the bang. The sound cut through the air like a knife sliding through soft butter.

' ... cease-fire!' the voice from the past continued the boy's words. A call that had burned itself into his memory and that he would never forget, no matter how hard he tried.

'Cease fire!' it echoed in his head again while his fingers dug desperately into his hair and yet found no hold. The taste of ash and blood was on his tongue. Everything was twisted, distorted, formless.

Suddenly, Ray felt a glowing heat on his skin, just as he had felt it back in the field. Far from home, trapped in this hellhole between bombed-out houses and rubble. At the same time, he felt as cold as if he had jumped back into the waters of the lake to save the drowning boy. His breath was just as thin and shallow, rising in delicate haze clouds. His perception was far from rational.

Despite the beam at his back, he swayed dangerously. The seasoned man struggled to keep his balance as his legs threatened to give way under his weight and the weight of the phantoms.

Ray could feel beads of sweat running down his face. Caused by the imaginary heat he felt, which simultaneously made every fiber of his body tremble as the real icy cold dug into his damp skin like knife wounds.

"Stop it..."

It was a thin sound, no more than a hint of his voice that broke free from his lips. A whimper, silently pleading for release that no one heard.

"Please," he gasped as the door flew open before him and slammed against the house wall with a crash. It seemed like an eternity to him, caught between the gunshots - but only a few moments had passed.

And Ray flinched again. His nerves were as tense as the strings of an instrument while Eve appeared in the doorway and fixed her son with wide eyes. The illusions wavered, and the veil seemed to lift - but not enough.

"Liam!" he heard Eve's voice, looked at the smaller figure, and only noticed in passing that she looked paler. The mischievous smile she had given him had disappeared. Instead, there was an anxious unease on her features. In another situation, he would have been worried. But at that moment, his mind couldn't grasp it.

As if on a signal, his heart still pounding wildly in his chest, he staggered towards the open door. Ray could only think of escaping the madness that threatened to engulf his mind.

He felt the soft fabric of the sweater and narrow shoulders under his fingers as he pushed Eve aside to escape inside. With uncertain steps, he hurried past her, headed straight for the stairs, and stormed to his room.