Come Clean
mcat –
July 15, 2004
Challenge response to the photo on Erin's Adult Martinfanfic page.
God.
I should be feeling pretty good right now. After being up, and on the job, for thirty-six hours straight, after spending probably half of that in the cold rain, walking through mud, after saving that girl, after saving Danny...
I'm looking at the bottom of the shower stall. The dirt and mud have piled up, clogging the drain. Keeping the blood and mud on the tile, on my feet. Danny's blood on my feet. My hands.
God.
It happened so fast. He'd raised his hands, his empty hands. The girl ran toward us. Danny ran toward her. And then it went all wrong. She fell. Danny went to help. I got distracted. He screamed, pulled a gun, aimed at the girl. I shot. He shot. Danny saved the girl.
How can I remember every detail now? How the girl tumbled over and over as Danny shoved her away. How Danny's back arched as the bullet hit. The sound of his voice as he called out my name... as he whispered my name.
God.
There was so much blood. So much. I hated having to send that girl back into the cabin. Back to where he'd kept her. But I needed towels, sheets, blankets... anything to stop the bleeding. But she did it, God love her. I didn't miss the fact that before she went in, she gave his corpse a swift kick. I wanted to shoot him again. For what he'd done to her. To Danny. Oh, Danny.
He was strewn across my lap, those towels the girl brought out, pressed between my right thigh and his back, and he was making jokes. Or trying to. Because he knew I was scared. He was the one bleeding to death, yet he was trying to make me feel better.
God.
How did he know? How did he know how much I love him? How much he means to me? How did he know that if he died, I'd soon follow?
"Come clean, Fitz," he said to me as the chopper, and help, arrived. "Tell me you love me."
But I couldn't say the words. And they took him away from me. And now I don't know if I'll get another chance.
God.
God.
I should be feeling pretty good right now. After being up, and on the job, for thirty-six hours straight, after spending probably half of that in the cold rain, walking through mud, after saving that girl, after saving Danny...
I'm looking at the bottom of the shower stall. The dirt and mud have piled up, clogging the drain. Keeping the blood and mud on the tile, on my feet. Danny's blood on my feet. My hands.
God.
It happened so fast. He'd raised his hands, his empty hands. The girl ran toward us. Danny ran toward her. And then it went all wrong. She fell. Danny went to help. I got distracted. He screamed, pulled a gun, aimed at the girl. I shot. He shot. Danny saved the girl.
How can I remember every detail now? How the girl tumbled over and over as Danny shoved her away. How Danny's back arched as the bullet hit. The sound of his voice as he called out my name... as he whispered my name.
God.
There was so much blood. So much. I hated having to send that girl back into the cabin. Back to where he'd kept her. But I needed towels, sheets, blankets... anything to stop the bleeding. But she did it, God love her. I didn't miss the fact that before she went in, she gave his corpse a swift kick. I wanted to shoot him again. For what he'd done to her. To Danny. Oh, Danny.
He was strewn across my lap, those towels the girl brought out, pressed between my right thigh and his back, and he was making jokes. Or trying to. Because he knew I was scared. He was the one bleeding to death, yet he was trying to make me feel better.
God.
How did he know? How did he know how much I love him? How much he means to me? How did he know that if he died, I'd soon follow?
"Come clean, Fitz," he said to me as the chopper, and help, arrived. "Tell me you love me."
But I couldn't say the words. And they took him away from me. And now I don't know if I'll get another chance.
God.