It's been 350 days since it happened. To say it's been difficult for John is an understatement. It's been difficult on everyone, really; Mrs Hudson, Molly and Mycroft. Even Lestrade. But it was worse for John.
The nightmares were back.
Dirt is flying everywhere.
His heart is racing.
Breathless.
The sound of gunfire is everywhere.
An overpowering stench.
He can barely see a thing.
He fires aimlessly.
Who knows if the bullets hit anything.
That's not at the forefront of John's mind though.
He only thinks of one thing.
Survive.
The firing stops.
Silence.
The dust and smoke begin to clear.
There's a figure in walking towards him.
Tall...
Curly-haired...
John can just start to make out a face when...
His eyes snap open, gasping for breath. His face is slick with sweat. This dream has occurred many times before, but it never failed to shake his nerves. He knows the soldier is him. John never sees his face, but he just knows.
Molly tried to get him to get help, but he refused.
"I look weaker, but it makes me stronger."
Nothing anyone said or did would change his mind. Even Harry tried to help.
Inside the metal chest, the soldier's heart is breaking.
