Hello again^^ Well, I have to say I'm quicker than I've expected... God bless youtube and all the nice Johnlock-videos for inspiration. And thanks for the warm welcome to this - for me at least - entirely new fandom and the nice comments. So, without any further ado, the new chapter. Get a look inside dear John's traumatized mind ;)

Chapter II

Over

There was only one sound.

One particular sound that long ago had etched itself into his memory. It was ineradicable, like it had always been a part of him. Something he would always associate with war.

A monotonous clatter and bang.

Bang, bang, bang.

It never ceased. Sometimes it grew quieter, became dull and indistinct but it never stopped. It was always there.

"Watson!"

Someone was screaming, yelling for him but he had no idea who that faceless person was that had turned around, stared at him out of a face deprived of all human features. Simply a blank mask hovering above a uniform.

Out of nowhere the world around him suddenly got entirely black and hazy, he felt like he was hurled through the air like a leaf in autumn and with a horrible thud that pressed all remaining air out of his aching lungs he hit the dusty ground. Sand was filling his mouth and throat, made it so damn hard to breathe and a piercing pain expanded from his shoulder, rankled through his entire body like lightning.

He was hit.

He knew he was hit.

He had no idea how and where, but he knew he was. Suddenly he felt terribly dizzy, a sickening nausea was about to take control over him while everything around him started to turn round and round like a carousel getting more and more out of control.

Yes, there it was. The moment every soldier feared.

The raging sound of war was surrounding him, swallowing up all signs of life until there was nothing left but a dull, hollow burr wrapping itself around everything like a heavy woolen coat. Silencing everything. All voices faded, the cries for mercy, the shouts for help, the omnipresent shooting of the heavy artillery and the never stopping machine guns, they all slowly faded into an ongoing howling noise that worked itself into his mind, into his brain, into his very being until he heard nothing else but that ongoing sound. As if the whole world suddenly had held it's breath and was humming.

For once the bang had ended.

The dust in his lungs made him cough, frantically he tried to gasp for sufficient air but it still felt like he was suffocating. Dull eyes were hectically scanning the darkness, his heart beat raced behind his temples - where the hell was he? Where had his battalion gone? Within the blink of an eye he was all alone. There wasn't anyone left. Only the pain, the searing pain in his upper chest which steadily became more and more unbearable.

You'll die. You'll die here!

Faces.

Faces flashed before his inner eye like a passing train - friends, family, persons he so long had forgotten about suddenly scurried by in a raging river of memories, moving faster and faster with every elapsed second. And suddenly the howling stopped.

Bang, bang, bang!

The sound of war was back again.

God… please God… don't let me die here… don't let me die… let me live…

"John!"

At first it was nothing but a hoarse whisper. A strange whisper somewhere in the distance that just didn't seem to fit into this scene. It felt so terribly misplaced. He could feel the concrete ground beneath his trembling body, the dust and sand everywhere and he was all alone except for that voice. His trembling hands reached out, tried to grasp for something, anything for support. He somehow knew that voice… he was so damn sure he knew that voice shouting his name over and over again but it wasn't right here. The voice wasn't right.

"John! John!"

A small smile tugged at his bleeding lip. Was the voice getting worried? Was that someone who was calling him actually getting worried because he was lying here?

The nausea was becoming vicious when suddenly someone, something, was shaking him violently, his entire body was moving back and forth, tossed around like a mindless ragdoll. His shoulder… his goddamn shoulder, it hurt so bad he had to grit his teeth until his jaw ached to suppress an anguished cry of pain, did his best to hold back those pathetic tears but it was in vain. He could feel them, slowly, relentlessly they were running down his burning cheeks like drops of boiling water, rolling down, down, down.

The pain was getting consistently worse, a sharp sting worked its way from his shoulder through his whole body, eating through his chest, took his breath away. Was this how dying felt like? Hearing ghostly whispers of voices long ago faded?

"John!"

His throat hurt and felt like sandpaper, bruised lips had problems to move, his tongue seemed to be twisted in his mouth but finally he managed to mumble. Nothing but a stutter at first but he desperately struggled to utter these last damn words:

"Please God, let me live!"

Without even realizing it, the whispered words grew on to become shouts. He was shouting against the pain, against the tears and against the overall chaos of war surrounding him. Shouting and screaming at the top of his voice until his lungs ached and his voice snapped. Only screaming this only fervent, all-consuming wish, addressed to the strange voice that was still yelling his name.

"Whoever you are, don't let me die here!"

"John… wake up, John! Wake up!"

He blinkered.

A dark ceiling found its way into his field of vision.

He could feel the soft, slightly wet sheets under his body, his rigid fingers that had digged itself into the cloth like the claws of some wild animal, felt the moist lines on his hot face slowly drying up. All he could hear was his own heavy breathing and the frantic racing of a heart. The echo of his scream still lingered in this little room. It was his bedroom… beige walls, a dirty curtain, his bed.

It was over. It was just a dream. All that was long ago over. Over.

"So you are finally awake."

See you soon.^^