The Return
Captain Watson, 5th Northumberland Fusiliers had been discharged from Afghanistan due to injury and other circumstances, upon his return home to London he had promised himself to keep in touch with the soldiers he had connections with, if they made it out alive of course after all this was a warzone.
[ TEXT : Mike Stamford
Hi,
Just letting you know that I have been honourably discharged from Afghanistan. I urgently need to discuss a matter with you, meet me at the park directly opposite St. Barts Hospital as soon as you can. I'm sat on the bench that overlooks the fountain.
Thanks,
- JW ]
He sent the text and put the phone back into his coat pocket and waited patiently for his old friend Mike to make an appearance who a few moments later, arrived on the scene and took a seat next to John.
"It's been a long time since I've seen you, Captain. How are you doing?" Mike asked.
"Oh you know explosions, people dying, bombs and the fear of not making it out alive is currently haunting every bit of my being but apart from that, I'm alright. Honestly, I'm fine. How are you? You're looking well."
John responded, standing his walking stick in front of him and gently turning it around between his fingers - a thirty nine year old man shouldn't have a walking stick, not under normal circumstances anyway but due to the injury that they called a 'psychosomatic limp' he was in need of one and it seemed to be supporting him enough in order for him to get around.
"I'm probably the same as you, apart from the fact that I got dishonourably discharged from Iraq a couple of weeks ago, I've been lingering around London ever since, trying to get back into the routine of normality, whatever that is."
"What did you get discharged for?"
Honestly he was only curious and Mike didn't have to tell him if he didn't want too but it seemed as though he would.
"I killed someone on our side, I didn't mean too; I thought he was the enemy. It only turned to be our bloody Colonel." He sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the bench, he didn't wish to discuss this anymore after the admission.
"Shit."
"Yeah, anyway I'm glad to be back in London. I might take up some more training in St Barts to boost my medical career and knowledge further. What are you going to do with yourself? You can't just mope around here for the rest of your days, I know you landed a few hours ago but you need to find something. Even with that injury of yours..." he spoke nodding towards him.
"Sorry, how did you know I had an injury?"
"The walking stick is a bit of a giveaway, what did they say you have?"
"A limp. Psychosomatic." John admitted, now placing his stick to the side not wanting to draw attention to it, it was bad enough having the bloody thing let alone people bringing it up in conversation.
"Oh that sucks." Mike added awkwardly, seeing that his friend had become uncomfortable.
"Yeah." John replied. "I better be going, the hostel isn't going to hold me for very long. I need to start searching for places."
"Oh by the way, I know somebody who is looking for a flatmate, you could always go and meet them?" Mike suggested.
"Who would want me for a flatmate?" John asked, standing up from the bench slowly, gripping onto the edge of it as he gently pulled his stick towards him, finally being able to lean on it once it was close enough.