Author's notes:Hey everyone. This is my first foray into GI Joe fanfiction, so please go easy on me. Also, I grew up watching the DiC series, so most of the characters appearing are from that series. Since the subject matter in the story is heavy, you may want to arm yourselves with tissues. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Survivor Guilt
Pathfinder was standing in the middle of a cemetery, in front of one of the many headstones dotting the ground when all of a sudden, a hand broke through the ground. "What the-?" He backed away slowly as the body that had been under the headstone rose to the surface. Pathfinder recognized who it was immediately. "Ambush?" He was shocked. "But, I thought, I thought you were dead."
"I am dead." The corpse that was once Ambush replied, "and it's all your fault." As it continued to approach Pathfinder menacingly, bits and pieces of it's clothing fell off. So did it's skin in some places.
"Ambush," Pathfinder pleaded, "I tried to warn you. I pushed you out of the way. I thought you wouldn't get hit."
"No!" The corpse shouted. "You killed me!" It reached out with its withered hands. "And now, I will kill you." It wrapped its rotting, bony hands around Pathfinder's neck, and squeezed...
Pathfinder sat bolt upright in bed. He was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. This was the second time since Ambush's death in which he had a nightmare about it. And the funeral service had only been a week ago. But things were only beginning, and they were about to get worse.
It had happened when Pathfinder and Ambush were leading a GI Joe team through the jungle in Madagascar after receiving reports that the Cobra were storing up weapons in a hidden base. As Pathfinder was cutting a way through the thick trees, weeds and brush, Ambush followed behind him closely, the both of them watching for anything out of the ordinary. Because those Cobra were slick, and since this weapons storage was as huge as they heard, there may be booby-traps. So far, everything was going according to plan. That is, until Pathfinder inexplicably stopped cutting. He just stood there, looking around. "Hey, what's the problem buddy?" Ambush asked.
"I don't know. " Pathfinder replied, still looking around. "Something doesn't seem right." Ambush tried to find what he was looking for.
"I don't see anything."
"Neither do I. But, I just have this feeling, something is out of place." He looked upward, and through the trees, Pathfinder could see what made him stop. On either side, he could see that a cross-bow, loaded with arrows, tied to the trees. But why? What were they doing up there? A small gleam of light caught Pathfinder's eye, and he followed it to the ground, where he saw a thin wire stretched between two trees. The same two trees that the cross-bows were rigged to. Ambush continued forward, having not seen the wire he was about to touch. "Ambush stop!" Pathfinder yelled. But his warning came too late. Ambush's leg touched the wire, setting off the cross-bows. Pathfinder jumped and shoved Ambush out of the way, but not before some of the arrows pierced them. One arrow hit Pathfinder in the back, another in his leg. "Whew! That was close." No response. "Ambush?" Pathfinder wriggled himself out from underneath his friend, and saw that an arrow had hit him in the chest. And the area around it was starting to bleed.
"I'm hit." Ambush groaned.
"So am I. Damn, they hurt something awful." Pathfinder replied. "Hang in there, I'll call for help." Pain seared through his back as he reached around for the radio. "Stretcher, we need medical help, now!"
"We're on our way." Stretcher replied.
"Hang on buddy." Pathfinder laid Ambush on his back to make him comfortable. Another arrow had hit him in the leg also, but it was the chest wound they had to worry about. The bleeding was getting heavier, and the blood was starting to soak through Ambush's uniform. "If I didn't have this damn arrow sticking out of my back, I could use my vest to stop this bleeding." Then he had an idea. Pathfinder pulled out his knife and cut off pieces of Ambush's uniform. He placed the pieces around the wound and held them there with his hands to stem the blood flow.
"Pathfinder," Ambush struggled to say, "You're hit too."
"I don't care. Right now, I gotta keep pressure on your chest." Pathfinder said. Ambush tried to breathe, but ended up coughing. He coughed up blood and some it splattered on Pathfinder's vest and shirt.
"Sorry about that."
"Don't worry about it. Just keep trying to breathe, and stay still."
"Pathfinder, I don't think, I'll be able to make it."
"Don't say that. You gotta hang on. You can do it buddy." Pathfinder told him. Slowly, weak from the blood loss, Ambush raised his hand, grabbing Pathfinder's hand.
"Yo, Joe." Those were his last words, before his grip loosened as he passed out.
"Ambush?" Pathfinder patted his face. "C'mon buddy don't do this to me." He shook him gently. "Ambush wake up!"
"Pathfinder!" A voice yelled in the distance. It was Stretcher with his medical staff.
"We're over here!" Pathfinder shouted. Finally, Stretcher and his team got to their location, and loaded them onto their vehicles.
"You gotta hurry. Ambush lost consciousness about a minute ago."
"It's the loss of blood. We'll do whatever we can." Stretcher replied.
Because of how dangerous the booby-trap was, and with the possibility of more, equally dangerous ones, the mission was aborted for the time being. Meanwhile, back at headquarters and in the medical ward, both Pathfinder and Ambush underwent surgery to remove the arrows. Simply pulling them out would've caused a lot of skin and tissue damage, not to mention the possibility of one hitting and artery and acting as a plug to keep it from bleeding out. When the surgery was finished, Pathfinder was recovering in one of the many recovery rooms on the base. But what about Ambush?
When Pathfinder awoke several hours later, he found himself alone in the room. "Ambush?" He tried to get out of bed, just as Stretcher came by to see how he was doing, and stopped him.
"Whoa, hey, you're in no condition to move."
"I want to see how Ambush is doing." Pathfinder said. Stretcher didn't say anything. He didn't want to tell Pathfinder the truth. "Where's Ambush?"
"His surgery, took longer than expected." Stretcher replied, trying to break the news gently.
"Okay, so his wounds were more serious. Damn it Stretcher! I already know that! I was there! Now is Ambush okay or not?" Pathfinder was getting frustrated.
"No, Pathfinder. He's not."
"H-How?"
"When we removed the arrow, it bled profusely because it had entered his heart. We tried a blood transfusion, and got the wound closed. But, it was too late." Pathfinder got a knot in his stomach.
"No, he didn't-"
"Yes, he did. I'm sorry Pathfinder, Ambush died on the table." Stretcher told him solemnly. Pathfinder sat back on the bed in dismay, reeling from what he had just been told. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach.
"No. He can't be dead." But it was the truth. Pathfinder was never going to see his best friend ever again.
At the request of his parents, Ambush's body was flown back to the town where he grew up. Many people attended the funeral at the local cemetary, civilian and GI Joe alike. The only person not in attendance was Evy, for she was a part of Cobra. The pastor from one of the town's churches led the ceremony, then Captain Grid-Iron read his eulogy, along with one written by Pathfinder which Captain Grid-Iron read on his behalf. Pathfinder stood behind the crowd. He didn't want people to see the tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face. The pastor said a few more words, then Ambush was honoured with the traditional twenty-one gun salute. His parents were presented with neatly folded US flag, as per military tradition, as Ambush's coffin was lowered into the grave.
At the church, everyone had gathered for the post-funeral reception. Many of those who worked with Ambush were there, such as Captain Grid-Iron, Bullhorn, Rampart, Stretcher, Lady Jaye, Salvo and Sargeant Slaughter. Many GI Joes worked with him, and had come to pay their respects. When Pathfinder showed up at the reception, Mrs. McMahon saw him, and was not happy. "What is he doing here?" She snapped, storming up to Pathfinder with her husband in tow.
"Now now, he's a friend of our son." Mr. McMahon said.
"Friend? What friend would let our son, our only son die?"
"Mrs. McMahon, I'm really sorry for-" Mrs. McMahon cut Pathfinder off.
"The hell you are! It's your fault he's dead!"
"Honey don't you think you're being irrational?" Mr. McMahon tried to calm his wife down.
"I am not! I heard about how he died, and he could've stopped it from happening!"
"I-I think I better leave." Pathfinder muttered, and walked away.
"Yes! Go! Leave! I don't want to see you again, ever!" Mrs. McMahon yelled as Mr. McMahon pulled her away. Everyone was talking amongst themselves about what just occurred as Pathfinder left the church.
"Pathfinder, wait!" Captain Grid-Iron called after him. He caught up to Pathfinder outside on church steps.
"No, Captain. I shouldn't be there."
"You have every right to be there. What Mrs. McMahon said in there was not true."
"How do you know?" Pathfinder asked.
"Ambush's death is not your fault. Mrs. McMahon didn't know what she was saying. It was the grief talking." Captain Grid-Iron said.
"I don't think so."
"Just give her some space. She'll realize that you tried to save Ambush."
"That's exactly why I should go, Captain. It'll give her all the space she needs." Pathfinder said as he walked away, leaving Captain Grid-Iron standing on the church steps alone.
Pathfinder was standing in front of an open casket, looking at Ambush lying peacefully in there when suddenly, his eyes flew open. Pathfinder gasped in shock and backed away as Ambush sat up and pulled out a knife. Before Pathfinder could react, his best friend plunged the knife into his chest...
Pathfinder woke up with a start, sweating profusely and breathing so hard, it was almost to the point of hyperventilation. Another nightmare. When are these nightmares going to stop? Pathfinder thought as he drifted back to a restless sleep.
Two days later, the mission in which Ambush had perished was back on. Captain Grid-Iron assembled his team which included Pathfinder, Rampart, Heavy-Duty, Bullhorn, Salvo and Lady Jaye. They were going to return to Madagascar and attempt again to destroy the Cobra weapons storage. "Remember, watch carefully for booby-traps. As demonstrated last time, Cobra have made them even more deadly." Captain Grid-Iron said, briefing the team.
"Who's going to be leading the mission?" Rampart asked.
"Pathfinder is." Normally, everyone was okay with Pathfinder leading a mission. But not this time. Some of the team looked nervous, and it showed. They whispered amongst themselves.
"Pathfinder?"
"Is he crazy?"
"Doesn't Grid-Iron remember what happened last time?"
"I don't know if I want Pathfinder in charge."
"Oh come on guys!" Salvo spoke up. "This should not be a problem. You all know that Pathfinder is the best at navigating through thick jungle terrain."
"Yeah." Lady Jaye added.
"Maybe you trust him, but how do we know another one of us won't get killed?" Heavy-Duty asked them.
"Do you have a problem Heavy-Duty?" Pathfinder sneered, getting in his face. "How about you say it to my face?"
"I said, how do we know one of us isn't going to get killed, like Ambush did?"
"Don't talk about that!" Pathfinder shouted.
"I'll talk about it if I feel like it!" Heavy-Duty yelled, giving Pathfinder a shove.
"Why you..." Pathfinder growled and decked Heavy-Duty in the face. That was a mistake. Pathfinder may be strong, but Heavy-Duty was bigger and stronger. He punched Pathfinder in the stomach so hard it nearly lifted him off the floor and sent him flying across the room.
"That's enough! Both of you!" Captain Grid-Iron bellowed, getting in between them. "Heavy-Duty, hit the showers! You're on report, and you're off the mission!"
"But Captain-"
"Don't make me bench you for another one!" Heavy-Duty knew better than to continue arguing and protesting, and walked away, grumbling under his breath. Captain Grid-Iron went to help Pathfinder, who was curled up on the floor, the wind knocked out of him.
"Are you alright there Pathfinder?"
"Anybody get the number on that truck?" Pathfinder asked, still in a daze.
"Trust me, that was no truck." Captain Grid-Iron replied as he helped Pathfinder to his feet. "You tried to go a few rounds with Heavy-Duty." That brought Pathfinder out of the fog.
"Where is he?" He growled.
"Whoa, slow down. He's been benched. And I'm sorry to say, so are you."
"What? But Grid-Iron-"
"You're in no shape to lead the mission."
"But the only one who can lead a team through that jungle!" Pathfinder protested.
"I'll post-pone the mission." Captain Grid-Iron said.
"Is this because I got in a fight?" Pathfinder asked.
"That's one reason. The other is that it's shown me you're not the right frame of mind to focus on the game plan. I can't have someone leading a team when their head's not screwed on straight."
"Grid-Iron, don't do this." Pathfinder pleaded, "I know I can make the mission a success. I know I can give those Cobra bastards major hell."
"I'm sorry Pathfinder. The mission is off. I won't let you get killed too. Now I want you to report to Psyche-Out's office."
"What? You're sending me to a shrink?"
"He's not a shrink, he's the best psychologist in his field. And I think having you talk with him about what's troubling you is the best game plan right now." Captain Grid-Iron said.
"But what good would that accomplish?" Pathfinder asked.
"Pathfinder, don't make me order you to report to Psyche-Out's office. I'm asking you not as your Captain, but as your friend. Humour me, will you?" Pathfinder sighed.
"Okay."
Dr. Kenneth Rich, known to the GI Joes and especially those in the Psy-Ops as Psyche-Out, was at his computer when there was a knock at the door. "Come on in." He turned around in his swivel chair as Pathfinder entered his office. "Ah, you must be Pathfinder. Have a seat." Pathfinder looked around the office, noticing only an extra chair.
"What, no couch?" Psyche-Out chuckled.
"You were expecting one?"
"You're a shrink, aren't you?"
"A psychologist. There's a difference. And the couch is just a stereotype. Anyway, Captain Grid-Iron told me to expect you."
"Yeah, that's pretty much the entire reason for my being here. I feel like I've been sent to the princepal's office. I mean, what other reason could there be for me to even be here?" Pathfinder asked with a hint of sarcasm, his arms folded across his chest.
"Well, Grid-Iron seems to think there's something bothering you." Psyche-Out replied.
"Probably because of what happened with Heavy-Duty earlier. It was a simple disagreement."
"Grid-Iron doesn't seem to think it was. A simple disagreement doesn't turn into a brawl, just like that." Psyche-Out snapped his fingers.
"Sure it does. Happens all the time." Pathfinder replied nonchalantly, sitting back in the chair.
"Actually, it seems that when he mentioned the name 'Ambush', that's when all hell broke loose." That got Pathfinder's attention. "Hmm, it seems I'm onto something.
"Yeah, well now you're off it." Pathfinder snapped.
"Look, I know it's not easy when someone dies. Especially when that person was your best friend."
"With all due respect, no, you don't understand. And for your information, I've been handling things well on my own." Pathfinder got up. "Now all I want to do is get on with my duties. I'm sorry, but I think this has been a waste of both our time." He stormed out of Psyche-Out's office, slamming the door behind him. A few seconds passed, then Psyche-Out picked up the communicator to contact Captain Grid-Iron.
"So how did it go?"
"Not very well I'm afraid." Psyche-Out replied.
"I heard about what went on with Psyche-Out." Captain Grid-Iron said when Pathfinder came to see him.
"Captain, I just don't see how talking about things is going to solve anything. I'd rather just get on with my job." Pathfinder insisted.
"He told me that when he mentioned Ambush's name, that's when you left his office."
"Well he doesn't know what it was like Captain. He doesn't know what it was like to see your best friend die in front of you, to have his blood on your hands, and know that could be your fault."
"Pathfinder, Ambush's death was not your fault. You pushed him out of the way, but he still didn't make it. You did your best. That's all there is to it." Captain Grid-Iron told him.
"Then why are people acting like Ambush's dying was my fault?" Pathfinder asked, frustrated.
"Nobody's blaming you. Not intentionally. I talked with Heavy-Duty earlier and he says he apologizes for his comments. But, people are concerned about you, because they think Ambush's death is affecting you a lot deeper than you realize."
"Well it's not Captain. And quite frankly, I want everyone else to mind their own damn business, and let me do my fucking job!" Pathfinder snapped. Captain Grid-Iron sighed, dejected with Pathfinder being so stubborn.
"Pathfinder, I hate to do this. I really do. This was a last resort, but since you won't talk with Psyche-Out, it's one I'm going to have to take. I'm placing you on temporary leave of absence."
"What? Grid-Iron, no-"
"No buts Pathfinder. And it's not a request either." Captain Grid-Iron said firmly. "Go home. You need time to clear you mind." Reluctantly, Pathfinder gave up trying to reason with Captain Grid-Iron.
"How long will I be gone?" He asked.
"As long as it takes."
"And what about the Cobra weapons storage? What are you going to do about that? Who's going to lead the team, because you know I'm the best when it comes to navigating through thick jungle terrain."
"We can take care of it without you. We're GI Joes. Improvising is a part of what we do." Captain Grid-Iron reassured Pathfinder. "Don't worry about it. You just take care of yourself."
And with that, Pathfinder left Captain Grid-Iron's office to pack up his things. So he was going home. But where was home? Home, was back in his hometown of Key West, in Florida.
"Did you get the cigars I like?" William Iannotti, Sr. asked when he heard the front door open.
"Dad, don't you know those things'll kill you?" Pathfinder commented. Mr. Iannotti put down the newspaper he was reading.
"William?"
"Hi Dad."
"What are you doing home?" Mr. Iannotti got up and gave Pathfinder a hug.
"I had some time saved up, so I figured with not much enemy activity, I could visit with you and Mama for a while."
"Well it's good to see you son." The front door opened again as Peggy Iannotti returned home. "Peg, look who's here."
"William." She gave Pathfinder a hug.
"Hi Mama."
"It's nice to see you. Although I must say it's unexpected."
"Well, I have some vacation time, and there's not much enemy activity." Pathfinder said.
"I see. Well, your room is still the way you left it. Stay as long as you like." Mrs. Iannotti replied
"Thanks Mama."
Three nights later, Mrs. Iannotti awoke to a bloodcurdling scream. That came from William's room, she thought as she checked on her husband, who was still asleep. Mrs. Iannotti got up and went to check on Pathfinder, who was sitting up in bed, sweating and breathing heavily. "William?" She flicked on the light. "Are you okay?"
"Yes Mama. Sorry to wake you."
"Sounded like you had a really frightening dream." Mrs. Iannotti said. "You wanna talk about it?"
"No, it's okay. It's just your garden-variety nightmare. Go back to sleep Mama." Pathfinder replied.
"Alright son." Mrs. Iannotti left Pathfinder to go back to sleep. But in the back of her mind, she was a little unsure as to whether or not he was telling the truth.
Mrs. Iannotti's concerns were made even more obvious a week later, when Pathfinder left the house and was gone for hours. Now it was evening, and Mr. And Mrs. Iannotti were watching TV. "Will, do you remember where William said he was going?"
"No Peg, I can't say that I do."
"Well I'm getting a little worried."
"He's a grown man. He can take care of himself." Mr. Iannotti said. Just then, the door opened and in walked Pathfinder. Although, the walking part he was having some trouble with.
"William?" Mrs. Iannotti asked as she got up, "Where were you?"
"Nowhere, Mama." Pathfinder replied, his speech slurred. When his mom got near him, she knew immediately where he had been.
"William, you smell like a brewery."
"Guess he discovered the bar down the street." Mr. Iannotti commented, then got a whiff. "Whew! William, were you there the whole time you were gone?"
"N-no Dad, jush maybe an hour or two." Pathfinder said, nearly falling down. His dad had to hoist his arm over his shoulder to help Pathfinder maintain his balance.
"Geez Louise William, how much did you drink?" The smell was overpowering.
"I-I dunno, free maybe?"
"That does not smell like three, and it doesn't smell like beer either. I know bourbon when I smell it."
"O-Okay, m-maybe it wash bourbon. Sho what?" Pathfinder slurred.
"Come on." Mr. Iannotti lead him towards the stairs.
"W-Where we goin'?"
"Upstairs to sleep it off."
"But I-I'm not tired." Pathfinder said as his dad helped him into his room and onto the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Pathfinder fell asleep. Mr. Iannott left him to sleep, deeply troubled by what he had just observed. Normally, Pathfinder would enjoy a beer or two. But this time, he drank to excess, so much he could barely walk. It was very disturbing.
"Ohhh, my head." Pathfinder groaned when he woke up the next day. He looked down and saw that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. "Why am I still in my clothes?" The light flicked on as his father came in. "Arrgghh! The light! Turn it off!"
"How's the hangover?"
"Huh? What hangover? Is that why I feel so lousy?" Pathfinder asked.
"You don't remember?"
"No. Remember what?"
"You came home so drunk you could barely walk.' Mr. Iannotti explained.
"I did?"
"And you didn't have no beer either." Pathfinder tried to recall the night before, but couldn't.
"No. Still don't remember anything."
"I'm not surprised. I could smell the alcohol from a foot away."
"Wow. That much huh?" Pathfinder asked.
"Yep, and they say cigars are bad for you. You got something you need to get off your chest, son?"
"No. Why do you ask?"
"Because your mother and I are concerned." Mr. Iannotti replied.
"Come on Dad, what would you and Mama have to be concerned about?"
"Well for starters, your mother told me about the nightmares you've been having."
"I told her, they're just garden-variety nightmares." Pathfinder said.
"On a regular basis?"
"Well, no."
"And, you wouldn't come home smelling like you raided the liquor cabinet either." Mr. Iannotti replied firmly. Pathfinder sighed. He knew his dad was right.
"Dad, remember when I came home, and I said it was because I was on vacation?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, that's not the real reason why I'm here."
"I didn't think so."
"I was placed on a leave of absence. Apparently, Captain Grid-Iron thinks I'm depressed, or something." Pathfinder explained.
"Well, are you?"
"No, I'm not. It's not like I'm crying or anything."
"William, depression can take on other forms. Excessive drinking is one example. Outbursts of rage is another. And so is taking risks without regard to your life." Pathfinder knew he did all three. Especially since that fight with Heavy-Duty was a risk, and an unnecessary one since he was bigger and stronger than him. "I know, because I saw this kind of thing when I was in Korea. Particularly, when someone was killed."
"What about nightmares?" Pathfinder asked.
"Especially nightmares. I've had nightmares." Mr. Iannotti said. Pathfinder sighed. He was ready to talk.
"Almost a month ago, my best friend Ambush and I were leading an attack on an enemy base when we hit a booby-trap. I pushed Ambush out of the way, but an arrow hit his chest. He died when the medical staff tried to remove the arrow safely."
"I had a feeling something like that was troubling you."
"But dad, why would I be feeling so lousy? I mean, we've lost other men and women before, and I've gotten over it. Just, not this time."
"William, you said it yourself." Mr. Iannotti replied, "Ambush was your best friend. That particular bond you shared makes his death harder to bear than just any other person's."
"He was also like a brother to me. I guess that's why we would disagree a lot. I used to hate that. Now, I really miss all of it, you know?"
"I know." Mr. Iannotti said, "I was friends with someone like that in Korea. When he got killed, I took it pretty hard too."
"How did you get over it?"
"You don't. William, nothing can erase the pain completely. But, it does start to ease over time."
"Okay. Now did anyone blame you for your best friend's death?"
"No, why?"
"Because when Ambush died, people blamed me for it." Pathfinder replied.
"What makes you say that?"
"I didn't push him away in time. I survived, he didn't."
"William, I don't think anyone was intentionally blaming you. Sometimes, people look for someone to blame when a person's death was senseless. They don't do it on purpose. It's just human nature. Also, you have survivor guilt, and that can make a person think others are blaming them on purpose, when in reality, they're not. When my best friend got killed, I felt the same survivor guilt, and thought people blamed me. But death is a part of life in the military."
"What about the nightmares Dad?" Pathfinder asked, "You said you had nightmares. Will they go away?"
"They will. Like anything else, it just takes time."
"Last night was the first night I ever slept without having a nightmare, and without trouble going back to sleep. Even during the day whenever I close my eyes, I still see Ambush dying in front of me, his blood on my hands. With each drink I had, it made the image fade away." Pathfinder said.
"That's not how you're going to solve your problems William. You are NOT going to became dependant on alcohol. Not on my watch."
"The how else can I make them go away?"
"Give it time William. It's the best thing you can do yourself. And above all, do not give up. You're an Iannotti. We never surrender. Your friend Ambush may be gone, but his memory and spirit will remain alive, in you. Remember that. He would not want to see you like this either." With that said, Pathfinder came to the conclusion that his father was right.
"Okay Dad." He replied, smiling a little.
"That's the spirit son." Mr. Iannotti replied. He handed Pathfinder a glass of water. "Here, this'll ease the hangover a bit."
"Thanks Dad. Now that I think about it, I definitely won't be doing that again."
"You better not. I'll be seeing to it."
Pathfinder stayed with his parents for two more weeks Over that time, the nightmares occurred with less frequency. And he did not drink to excess ever again. After that, he felt well enough to return to duty.
Back at GI Joe HQ, Pathfinder walked into Captain Grid-Iron's office. Psyche-Out was also there with him. "Welcome back Pathfinder." Captain Grid-Iron greeted.
"It's good to be back."
"Glad to see you're feeling better." Psyche-Out told him.
"Thanks Psyche-Out. I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time the other day." Pathfinder said.
"No apologies' necessary Pathfinder. I get it from others sometimes, so I'm used to it. By the way, I went and bought a couch for the office. You should drop by and have a look." Pathfinder laughed.
"Maybe I will."
"So how was your time off?" Captain Grid-Iron asked.
"It felt good to have that time off. So, thanks Grid-Iron. It was the kick in the ass I needed." Pathfinder replied.
"Good to hear.
"Permission to return to duty sir?"
"Permission granted." Captain Grid-Iron replied.
Epilogue
The original mission in which Ambush died was back on, and with Pathfinder leading the team, it was a success. The weapons were confiscated, and even though Cobra Commander and other major Cobra agents got away, the GI Joe team still managed to capture several minor Cobra agents as prisoners. Pathfinder looked over the base as it was destroyed.
"Ambush, you would've loved this."
And I don't cry for yesterday, there's an ordinary world, somehow I have to find.
And as I try to make my way, to the ordinary world, I will learn to survive.
The End