Limp

by Jademarshal

Ian was used to getting burned; first Monica, then Frank, one after the other until Mickey; who burned him so bad he stepped on that bus and didn't come back. Three years and Ian doesn't know how to live without gunfire at his back and enemies at his front. He was told he saved an entire unit, he was to broken to fight, they sent him home, now he knows what its truly like to burn.

Limp. Step. Limp. Step. Limp. Pause.

Ian breathed and winced. With each step he could feel the stitches stretch and retract in his leg. Of course that wasn't all; the ruff polyester material of his shirt brushed uncomfortably against his sensitive chest and back.

Home was waiting; it had been for three years but it wasn't home anymore. Ian couldn't remember the last time he felt safe.