Well, I'm on a roll for writing now, saying I've written how many chapters for various stories in the last few days? Anyways, this next chapter is out, and I hope you enjoy it. I have to warn you, this one's dark... and slightly odd, but only because it's quite hard figuring out how a plane would feel in Rush's situation. A lot of hard work was put into this chapter, I only hope it is done well and that you will enjoy it. Enough babbling about my worries...

MovieGirl44~ It's your time to find out what happens next. Oh, and you'll like one of the characters I've introduced. For once there's more dialogue in a chapter. :P

My eyes opened, it was night, and I was still in the same spot on the carrier. Only two of the twelve Corsairs on the USS Midway were awake, they were patrolling around the ship, watching for subs and enemy ships. All the others were sound asleep, a few of them snoring loudly. What had waked me up was Lisa. She was pointing to the elevator of the ship and solemnly nodding. It was time. My engine might work after tomorrow, and then no more being pushed by forklifts. I nodded back.

She pushed me to the elevator, where she left me. She threw a switch and the elevator moved slowly downward with a rickety click, click, click. "Hey there, boy," Razor greeted me, "Good luck." He gave a salute for luck and rolled away. This made me nervous, just everyone's odd elusive speech as if they were holding back something that I should know.

The mechanic that had been working on me earlier pushed me into the same repair room. He began to better clean my cowling with disinfectant. The stuff stung on my still new wounds. I gritted my teeth together as hard as I could, that seemed to help the pain a bit. The mechanic looked at me with kind eyes, "Sorry 'bout that, but it needs ta be done." He then opened my cowling and detached it. For a moment there was unimaginable pain where the hinges were and then I could not feel the top of my nose. This annoyed me greatly, until the mechanic re-attached a new cowling, one that was darker than my original paint, to fit my nose. This caused another wave of fresh, intense pain to wash through me. I wished it to be detached again. The mechanic winced, "I have to do this part when you're awake."

"Why?" I howled through gritted teeth.

"Because sometimes planes' cowlings will stick when they're asleep," he explained, "it's far worse when that happens."

I nodded, but only enough for the mechanic to feel it but still not disturb his work. "I understand."

"Good, because yer going to have to take this," he showed me a tube that would wrap over my nose and mouth, "It's to put you to sleep. Let's face it, Rush, yer gonna be in a lot of pain afterwards, I don't even want to know how bad it would be during the operation." He worked on attaching a wire to the tip of my good wing, and beeping ensued. "That is to keep track of your vitals, we don't want your engine power to completely die during the operation, or even get near that."

I shivered and smiled sheepishly, "O-okay then…" The mechanic attached the device. A sort of gas entered through the nozzle and hose, forcing me to breath the dense air, searing my engine and starving it for air. I began to laugh, though I don't know why, and in only a few short minutes my vision dimmed and blurred, this process lasted a few seconds then my vision grew sharper and sharper until I could read the fine print of a poster across the room. That was not to last, for the edges of my vision began to grow dimmer and dimmer, until it was like looking through a straw. The slight beeping of what I guessed was my vitals was growing far away. I was wrapped in the deepest sleep I had ever been in. It was almost like nothing was on, not even in the least. It felt like I wasn't even alive. I remember nothing more of that night, but I do remember when I awoke.

My engine was hot from the procedure and being on for who knows how long. I was sore all across my nose beyond belief. The flaps that allowed intake around my nose were stiff, so stiff, in fact, that I couldn't move them. It was then that I looked at my nose for the first time, "What?" White bandages wrapped around my cowling and across my nose.

Sampson was next to me, no, facing me, his amber eyes boring into me, "You're okay! Oh, Lord, you're okay!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright," I groaned. The more consciousness I gained, the worse the pain in my nose became. "Or… not so much," I yelped.

"Rush, you're okay, the mechanic said you'd be okay!" Sampson stared at me almost fearfully, "Come on Rush, stay with me."

I was growing dizzy from pain and tunnel vision was beginning to act up, "Sampson, please, just…" my eyes rolled back and my eyelids grew heavy. I was not ready to be up and searing pain was overtaking me.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Gasoline? Anything? Just let me know," Sampson panicked. "Just let me know, okay Rush?"

"Okay, now please," I sighed, "I'd just like to go to sleep."

Sampson backed off, "Oh, sorry, sorry…" he looked down at his landing gear, "I'm so sorry…"

I just wanted him to stop talking. I folded my good wing in, which it had been extended, and into a more comfortable sleeping position. I drifted into a deeper sleep and Sampson's voice faded. I then heard the mechanic trying to wake me. I didn't care; I was too far gone to be revived for now. I heard yelling but it seemed far away at this point. "Rush, stay with us, come on soldier, I know you can. Come back, Rush." I heard no more, darkness surrounded me.

When I awoke it was dark and I was on deck. Nobody else seemed to be awake. I say seemed because I must have made a sigh when I awoke. Sampson was there, the plane was really beginning to get on my nerves. The Corsair had a look of exhaustion. "You're alive!" he shouted. A few of the planes on deck startled awake, casting malicious glares at me and Sampson before settling back into their sleep. "Rover said he almost lost you, but then later he said you'd be fine. And you are!"

I groaned, "Not completely fine." My entire engine felt as if it was cased in flames and every breath burned, my voice was scratchy and different, like my throat was sandpaper, and my eyes were dry and only wanted to close once more.

Sampson smiled, "But you're alive, that's all that matters." I sunk lower on my landing gear, did I deserve to live? No, not when all the other planes in my squadron were dead. Then again, maybe death was too good for me and that this was my punishment for helping lead six Corsairs to their deaths.

Just then, the mechanic came up, "Yer a strong plane. Ya made it through the night. Yer lucky yer alive. Rush, I lost you for a few precious moments there, so I told Lisa to get Razor and then Razor got Turkey. We thought you were gonna die."

Oh, that was pleasant news, I almost died. At this point, I wanted to. "Great," I mumbled. All I wanted to do was slip back into that numb abyss of unconsciousness. It seemed the best thing that could happen to me at the moment. I took a deep breath, one that seared my throat and engine and closed my eyes. I willed the darkness to come, to take me away. I wanted this to be over, for death to come.

Sampson slapped my good wing, "You aren't doing that again, Rush."

Razor had been awoken by Lisa and the two came up to us, "No, Rush, you can't give up. I know it's probably what you want, but you can't. You have a whole life to live, and if God wanted it to be that you died, he would have done so. You could have drowned or been killed instantly but by some sheer luck or great destiny, you survived. Honor your comrades by not giving up, they would have wanted it."

I hardly listened, but opened my eyes. "Razor, Sampson, how long 'til I get home?"

Sampson snorted, "Please, call me Turkey, everyone else does."

Only Razor answered my question, "In a few days, we are going to pull into New York. The Mayday will restock supplies and you'll be brought home."

I nodded, sleep overtaking me. I was going to be back home in Arizona in only a few days. I wanted to just be alone in my hanger, to get away from the war, and to forget about Glendalcanal and the Jolly Wrenches. And it was then that I gave myself to sleep, despite the coaxing and demands that I should not.