5. K+ (Carry Me and I'll Carry You)

Some nights I'd stay awake and think about how my life used to be. How I had grown up with many different siblings and parental figures and friends, how my life shifted so much it seemed like I was a different person every time I moved. It wasn't fair for me to grow up like that; a dead mom, a dad who abandoned me, and too much fear.

Fear of losing another family was what was mostly on my mind. It was a regular thing to wake up one morning with my bags packed for me and a plane ticket to a state I'd never seen before. I always tried to take it in stride. I pretended those people hadn't ever been my family and I was on a long adventure.

The only person I ever truly counted on was Alex. My admiration for my big brother was bordering hero-worship. He had been there for me through everything.

The night when Alex and father fought I cried all night long. Father never came to see me. Alex sat with me and hugged me and even cried a little too. He slept on my floor.

He carried me on his back when we left home after our dad abandoned us. He walked with me clinging to his shoulders, my backpack full of belongings weighing him down. He didn't falter though. He kept me close.

I'll never forget that mile he walked. Everything was beautiful. Then I didn't understand what was happening. I was too young. We were just on another adventure when daddy was at work. I didn't understand. I didn't understand for a long time. The walk was long and Alex must've been so tired from carrying me. He never set me down though. The grass was green, dotted with the nodding heads of yellow dandelions and purple violets that seemed to sing spring. It was the first day the sun had shone so brightly. The breeze was light and kissed my cheeks as Alex carried me along the side of the dirt driveway. Dust tickled our noses. Alex's shoes were damp from dew. My feet were bare. He carried me the whole way down to where the dirt met pavement. "Which way do you want to turn, Em?"

My little brow furrowed with thought. These adventures were always left up to me. Alex always let me choose. I thought for several minutes and he remained patient, bouncing me lightly. "Right."

"I was thinking the same thing." He smiled. I wonder now how I missed the sadness in his eyes, how the smile wasn't genuine. But, then I giggled and pointed right and he kept walking along.

I trusted my big brother with everything I ever knew. He was the best in my life. I didn't ask him why he had me gather all my favorite clothes and a few of his in a backpack. I never questioned why he let me take all five of my stuffed animals instead of telling me to only take one like he usually did. I didn't complain when he said no snacks, even though it was tradition for us to have a picnic when we played.

Nobody knew me the way Alex did. He knew when I needed to be left alone and when I really needed to be held. He never went to a friend's house if I was sick. He missed school sometimes for my own well-being. When daddy was at work, Alex would stay and make lunch. When daddy didn't come home at night, Alex would tuck me in. I wasn't ever alone when there were monsters under my bed and I'm nearly positive he spent more time in my room than he did in his room.

It seemed to take so long to get to where we were going. It was obvious to me that Alex had a set destination in mind, since he'd been so careful to keep to the road instead of veering off to visit one of the neighbors or take a break to explore the park. I simply held on and let him walk.

The breeze kept us cool and the sun led us up the driveway to a little building. The yard was fenced in with a white picket fence. Flowers in hanging baskets and pretty pots lined the porch. A latched gate with a sign across it urged Alex forward. It was there that I lived the next year of my life. It was there that I would discover my father left me. It was there that I became a declared orphan.

I'll never know how Alex knew we'd be taken care of here. I do know, however, that the sign read, 'Aunt Julie's Home for Children'. It was my first new family. If I said I remembered anything about the house other than the green shingle roof, yellow shutters, wide backyard, and my own bedroom, I would be a liar.

I do remember the way Alex had set me down, took my bag from my shoulders, held my hand, and bravely explained our situation to the little old lady who opened the door. The way she'd ushered us in. They way she'd cared for us. I remember little about the other children there, other than the fact that we enjoyed being around each other.

At the end of that year Alex woke me up with my backpack in his hand and his own duffel back over his shoulder. It was time to find a go to a new home…a new house.

Our next foster home kept us for 5 months; the next 9; the next 3. One house in particular grew on me. I had a 'mom' and two 'sisters' and of course Alex. We lived there from the time I was 8 till I was thirteen. I became best friends with Elaina and Tiffany and our adoptive mom took care of us and loved us dearly. Sometime during the summer after my tenth birthday Alex was graduating high-school. He sat down at the dinner table one night with 'great news'.

He'd joined the army. I was happy for him; he'd always wanted to serve our country. Elaina and Tiffany glanced at each other for a moment before turning their wide eyes towards Alex. He remained sitting in the same relaxed position as before.

Our adoptive mother, Irene, stiffened. "What was that?" A vicious aura had taken hold of the room.

"I've enlisted. I head off to training at the end of the semester." Alex wasn't swayed by the sudden change in attitude.

"Girls." Irene's voice became icy. "Get upstairs."

Elaina and Tiffany both shot out of their chairs and headed for the stairs. I didn't understand, of course, Irene had never been short tempered in the two years we'd lived there. Even whenever I did something really wrong she'd remain calm and kind. Now my two 'sisters' looked as if she raised a fist anytime someone let a hair fall out of its place.

I didn't move. Irene smiled at me, the expression tight and looking more like a grimace. "Emily, get upstairs."

Shaking my head I crossed my arms, "No."

Alex now looked at me sternly. "Emily. Apparently, Irene doesn't want anyone to hear the conversation." I didn't flinch. "Go."

"No."

I didn't mean it out of disrespect for anyone. I was tired of waking up in the morning with my favorite blanket folded, my clothes packed, and Alex carrying me out to a taxi. I was tired of having other people deciding they were tired of having me around. I was tired of forgetting about every one of my families. I was tired of running away from the fact that my own father had left me. More than anything, I was tired of being tired.

"I'm not going anywhere."

I needed somewhere to rest. I needed someone who really loved me. I needed Alex. And he needed me to stay at that dinner table, no matter how uncomfortable it made me. He wouldn't have admitted it, but he did.

"Fine." Irene's charade still didn't falter. For the rest of the conversation I didn't exist. "Alex, didn't we talk about this."

"Naturally."

"And what did I say?"

"You told me you didn't want me to join."

"So why would you?" Irene's voice rose in pitch. I shifted uncomfortably. I remembered flashes of listening to Alex and father argue.

"Because it isn't about what you want."

"You'll go and kill lives even though your own mo—"

"I'll be serving my country!"

"What about risking your own life?"

"It isn't all about me!"

"THEN WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR MOTHER?" Irene shouted wildly.

"DON'T!" Alex yelled back. This silenced the older woman and a shocked expression overtook her face. "You. Are not. My. Mother!" He growled dangerously, shoving away from the table.

"Where do you think you're going?" She trilled at him.

"Anywhere but here."

"You can't leave this one behind."

That hurt. I was pointed out with such utter contempt and annoyance. She didn't even seem sorry or flustered.

Alex halted in the doorway.

"You walk through that door, Alex James Robins-Hoffman, and you and your pet are going out on the street."

Alex looked defeated. He started to give up. I could see in his eyes that he was going to give up for me.

"Fine." I snarled. "I'll get my things."

Tiffany begged me not to go. Elaina reminded me about the cute boys at school who liked us. Of course I wouldn't leave for such a silly reason! They didn't know me, not really. They knew the Emily who put on a smile and bore the world for everyone else. They figured with enough begging and bribes I'd give up and stay for them.

But Alex had carried me. It was my turn.

6. T (Movie Night)

"DIBS!" Meat shouted obnoxiously, stuffing his hand into the bowl of popcorn. Scarecrow swatted his arm away. "HEY!"

"Save it for the movie, Meat. Popcorn is rare." The older man pretended to scold him. "You know our supplies are important. Infinite value goes into every little kernel." Meat grumbled a few profanities but kept his hands to himself.

Ghost plucked the DVDs from my hands and read the choices, "We have Batman; The Dark Knight, Law Abiding Citizen, Ace Ventura, and…" He raised an eyebrow above the red tinted shades. "The Next Three Days."

Ozone groaned. "No gore?"

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "They're all awesome though. Votes?"

"Let's watch two!" Worm and Toad shouted at the same time. "Jinx!" Again in sync. Both of their mouths dropped open.

"Now we get to pummel you guys if either of you say a word." Archer grinned evilly.

"Focus people!" I ordered. "I vote Batman first."

"You would." Royce scoffed. "The Next Three Days for me."

"Same." Meat said around a mouthful of popcorn. I slugged him in the shoulder, earning a loud "HEY!"

"Batman sounds fine." Archer reclined on his bean bag chair (which he guarded with his life). "You two have a preference?"

Worm and Toad both pouted. Ghost chuckled. "Let's watch Law Abiding Citizen first, then Batman."

"Batman gets no love," I sighed and loaded the DVD into the rec room television before plopping down onto the loveseat between Scarecrow and Royce. Ghost sat down on the easy chair. Toad, Worm, and Meat took the couch.

Not ten minutes into the movie Scarecrow's pager went off. "S'rry." He muttered, slipping out of the room. I shrugged, eyes glued to the screen. He didn't return until the main character was fashioning a key into a bump-key. "What'd I miss?"

"Guys wife is suspected of murder, he's trying to bust her out."

"Who was that kid?"

"Their son."

"Shhhhhhh." Meat hissed.

Scarecrow threw his shoe at him. "Is he dead?"

"What?" I wrinkled my nose. "No! Why would he be dead?"

"Shhhhhh!" Royce poked me. I elbowed him. He shoved me against Scarecrow. "Stay quiet!"

I sighed and shimmied off the couch and onto the rug, my feet on the coffee table. "Fine."

Not five minutes later Scarecrow's pager went off again. I shifted out of his way, watching as the main character now made more specific plans. Meat made snide comments every now and again about how the guy would never get away with a jail break in this day and age. "With our security you can't even walk into a mall without the whole government knowing!"

"First of all," Ghost pointed out, "Old movie. Like…5 years or something. Second of all, that's false. There's a law against that. Lastly, shut up."

We all chuckled at Ghost's dry tone. He seemed to be the only one who could shut Meat up in one fell swoop.

Scarecrow re-entered hurriedly. "Gotta run, I just got pulled for an underground mission in Japan or something. They said something about Godzilla." He rolled his eyes, grabbing his SAT phone and dog tags from the coffee table. "I'm sorry I didn't see the end." He said, looking at the shoot-out going on in the movie.

"I won't ruin the end for ya, but I promise it's a good one." I grin. "Good luck, man."

"Don't need it." He laughed.

7. T (Insecurities)

Ghost and I were having one of our quiet moments, walking along the abandoned hallway of the infirmary. We'd just visited our favorite pilot, 'Centaur,' who'd taken a nasty fall off of the training building. His team had been careless and didn't check the ledges for loose boards. He was all right though; if his still happy-go-lucky demeanor was any clue.

Our hands were clasped and we walked slowly, enjoying the quiet. Our relationship had never really been much but these quiet moments, and as the base wasn't too terribly busy at the moment we'd been spending more time together. "Gad—Emily?" Ghost hesitated, looking down at his boots and stopping.

"What is it, Simon?" He winced visibly at the name. "Sorry."

"It's fine, really. I'm just…concerned."

I released his hand and stood directly in front of him. Upon examination I could see his hands clenched and eyebrows furrowed just above his shades as we looked each other over. "What's wrong, S—Ghost?"

"You pity me. That's the only reason for…well…us."

I stepped back as if physically struck by this. "Why would you think that?"

"The medics who've seen my face, Shepherd…even 'Tavish…they all pity me! Everyone…" He sighs, pulling off his sunglasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's the only reason I'm still here. I overheard Shepherd and one of the higher ups talking and he said the only thing keeping me around after so many injuries is the fact that I'm on the brink of becoming bloody insane! He knows that when I retire I'm heading straight for the wacky shack! He pities me so he keeps me around as long as my talent holds up!"

I bit my lip silently, recalling an instance where Mactavish brought up the same point. I had never realized just how insecure Ghost was about his mentality. Of course, he'd told me about the nightmares and the occasional hallucinations, I had witnessed an ever expanding number of his fits. But, I never really knew how he felt afterword. He would apologize meekly for the episode and we would continue life the way it'd always been. He never let on that he was so deeply wounded by his own issues.

I slowly reached out and removed his glasses, tucking them in the front pocket of his jacket. I then looked deep into his eyes, eyebrows knit together and my lips pursed with focus. He looked back at me, pale blue eyes smoldering with a devotion I'd never seen before, yet there was something beneath the bravery and the strength and love. Underneath all of his qualities there was something else. Something sinister. Terrible.

The emotional scars Ghost had built up had gathered deep within his mind, worming their way into his soul and ultimately his very being. Ghost was insane, I knew that. There were times when the Simon Riley I loved fell away and reverted to the vengeful creature Roba had forever scarred within him. There were times when the man I knew and was close to became someone I could never understand. He was insane.

This revelation frightened me, but at the same time reminded me of something, something of incredible importance.

"Simon." I said, my voice stern and yet reassuring in the same moment. I pulled his mask off as he stood rigid and silent. "I know you're afraid of what happened to you back when you were a POW. I know that you're afraid of hurting me because you feel like you aren't strong enough to cope. I know you're afraid of losing everything all over again."

I looked over the scarred skin that laced over Simon's face. I examined the bruises and the sallow cheeks and the ever-present purple circles beneath those blue eyes that were still blank and fretful. I let myself get lost in the simple image of the true ghost that hid himself from the world so he didn't have to be afraid anymore.

"Simon," My voice became soft and gentle, I stepped towards him, arms reaching out and fingers tracing over the scars. "I love you, the scarred bits too. Not a single thing I do is done out of pity for you."

He leaned forward, hands automatically in my hair and kissed me deeply, then simply hugged me close and shook. I rubbed my hands soothingly on his back, calming him, not saying anything at all. Just being there helped. As his fit ended he quieted down and straightened up. "You're too poetic for my own good." He teased, knocking my arm lightly.

I smiled and held his mask out. "One step at a time, Ghost; we can't rush you into anything."

He slipped on the balaclava, replaced his sunglasses on his face and looked down at me. "You need me too, Emily. Don't think that I don't see the sadness."

"Shut up and walk with me."

8. T (First Blood)

My breath came in short, desperate puffs, my lungs screaming for more oxygen and my head swimming with pain. Unimaginable, horrible, mind-searing pain. I gasped for air like a dying fish and writhed in agony, scrabbling at my gear and crying out. Lame little whimpers shook my body. I panicked.

I started screaming out my comrades' names, coughing up dust and sobbing. Tears choked me and I struggled to breathe evenly. I continued to scream and writhe and sob for what seemed like forever, not able to hear anything but gunfire.

Slowly, the adrenaline wore off and I felt like I weighed a thousand pounds. I couldn't do anything but lay face down in the dirt and blink slowly, still whimpering and coughing. My eyesight zeroed in on a tiny, perfectly round, white pebble. That…That pebble is going to be the last thing I ever see… The thought hit me like a freight train traveling at ten thousand miles an hour and my heart rate picked up again. I couldn't find my voice or move or even cry anymore. All I could do was stare…

"Private!" A far off voice shouted. The sound bounced around in my mind, echoing. "Private Robins!" It didn't register to me then that someone was calling my name. I didn't hear any footsteps but somehow somebody was there, in front of me. They crouched down and gently rolled me onto my back, "Easy, girl. Take it easy."

I couldn't get myself to look straight at this person who was talking to me, couldn't get myself to listen to him. Instead, my eyes fastened on the gray clouds past him, making incoherent murmuring noises.

"C'mon, Private, look me in the eye." He commanded, moving his face into my line of vision. "Tell me your name…now."

I blinked slowly, my eyes closing. A rough hand connected with my cheek and jerked me to attention. I managed to identify the man as a medic, according to the patch on his arm. "Private…uhmm…Private…Emily—y Robins."

"How old are you Private?" The medic demanded, beginning to look me over. When I didn't answer he shook me a bit. "Talk to me, Robins."

"…Eighteen?" It came out as a question and I squinted at the sky. "No…nineteen…since last week…"

"What's your CO's name, Private?"

"Erm..." I started to black out again, trying hard to remember. "It's…It's…" I coughed weakly and ran a hand across my lips. I tasted blood. I looked at my hand, heart freezing up and lungs tightening. "There's…there's blood…There's a lot of blood…"

"Easy, easy." The medic pushed my arm down. "Tell me, Private, how long have you been here?"

"On the ground…?"

"No, in the army."

"A…year…A year."

"Have you ever seen combat before?"

"No, sir…first mission."

"I see…Well, you've been shot, Private."

I blacked out shortly after hearing the news.

458-25

Trololol, welllll I'm done for now. My brain is fried.

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