AN:

Chaos: YM did exist. Its first issue was in 1944. I mentioned it earlier in the story with the 'signs he's in love with you' or something. Of course they would have called it Young Miss but I'm too lazy ;). Thanks for the compliment.

Ikinder: you make me laugh ;)
Amazing-Otter: Why on earth would you think of Weezer in a time like this? Shocking. Heh. That girl who killed Michael is evil. I've talked to her and determined that she is sadistic.

MICHAEL:

I woke up in a hospital. "What the hell? Where am I? What's going on?" I screamed.

A nurse rushed over to me. "Michael Moscovitz? Sir?" she asked, looking very concerned.

"Who are you?" I asked pushing myself against the pillow.

"My name is Hannah," she said softly.

"A-Are you an angel?" I whispered, realizing we were surrounded by whiteness.

She laughed, "No. Just a nurse."

I licked my lips, "What the hell am I doing here?" I asked.

She looked behind herself, "Let me go get the doctor."

I tried to remember what happened. I remember reaching into the machine, like I'd done dozens of times before, then everything went black. I looked at my left hand to make sure I still had my wedding band. I did, thank God. But I hadn't reached with my left hand, I reached with my right.

Oh. Dear. God.

The top of my middle, index and ring fingers were all bandaged up. I looked up to see an older looking doctor smiling weakly at me. "I'm glad to see you rejoined us, Moscovitz. How are we feeling today?" the doctor asked. I saw his name was Doctor Gianni. An Italian guy.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked. "Why are my fingers bandaged up? Where is Kevin? Where-"

"Slow down, Michael," he said, sounding like my dad did when I was six and wanted to go ride my bicycle in the snow. "There was an accident on the ship. You were hit with friendly fire."

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"An American ship gave the wrong coordinates and thought…they thought your ship was a German one."

"How is that even possible? We have an American flag right up there!" I said pointing up in the air.

"Quiet down, son," the doctor said in his soft Italian accent. "Other patients are sleeping."

"What happened to me?" I asked. "I mean, you guys are acting like I've been gone."

"You've been in a coma for the past two weeks. Technically, you have been gone. You were hit by shrapnel and carried out by one of your crew members."

"So that explains the bandages on my right hand-"

"No. We are assuming that some shrapnel sliced through the top of your fingers. We had to remove some of the skin on the top because of infection. You will work with a therapist to learn how to write with your left hand."

I covered my face with my left hand. My only real hand left. "Why?" I screamed. "Wait, what's wrong with my face?" I asked, feeling bandages there too.

He took my hand away. "We had to scrape some dead skin off from the explosion. It will grow back. You won't have scarring, at least not much. Your legs were also both broken and you will need to go through some physical therapy."

"I want to go home," I said quickly thinking of Mia. She must be terrified. I was staring at my legs which were covered in a plastered cast. Both of them.

"You can write home once you get your energy back. They'll be notified of your location. I'm sure you have mail on its way right now."

"My wife…I need to see my wife. Where's Kevin?" I was going crazy. I needed someone from home.

"Kevin who?"

"Kevin Fitzsimmons. He was on the ship. He was with me. He's my best friend. Where is he? Bring me to him!"

Hannah looked up from her clipboard and shook her head to the doctor.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked, the pit of my stomach eating away at itself.

"Son, get some rest-"

"No. I've rested for two weeks. Where is my friend?" I said frantically, almost knowing the answer already.

"Michael…. he didn't survive the explosion."

"No!" I screamed. "He's…he just got married. He's having a baby, well, his wife is. Look again, Hannah."

"I'm sorry."

"We'll leave you alone for a spell," the doctor said softly. "By the way, my name is Frank Gianni. I run this hospital. If you need anything you can call for Hannah. She's the nurse for this section."

I stared at her coldly. I just wanted to be home. "Just one thing. Where the hell am I?"

"London," she replied as the doctor walked away. "Well, a village near London. I'm from here," she started chatting away.

"I'd like to be alone," I cut her off. "Would you mind?"

She turned red, "Sorry, sir."

I stared at the ceiling. My best friend was dead. I basically had no hand. All I have left is Mia, and she's thousands of miles away from me. And I was stuck right here. Until God knows when. I could hear the moans of the other guys around me. We were only given the privacy that a curtain could offer.

Another week went by before I gathered the courage to ask Hannah to stay with me a little while. I needed some company. "Well, I am about to go on break," she said, blushing.

She took a seat next to my bed. "What is life like for you back home? Where are you from?"

She already knew I was from New York. It was in all my paperwork. "I left school when I turned eighteen and joined up. Me and all my buddies….um…well, I got married," I said, wiggling my wedding band to her.

"Oh, you are married. I thought you were just…I thought it was the medication we put into you."

"No," I said laughing. "I had a picture of my wife in my pocket when it happened, it probably got ruined though."

She went into the drawer next to my bed, "You weren't in that rough of shape. The fire didn't really touch you, from what I hear. The intensity of the heat caused the marks on your face.Is this her?" she asked.

I looked at the picture and it took my breath away. "Yes. That's my Mia."

"She's…pretty," she said reluctantly. "How old is she? She looks quite young."

"Sixteen," I replied. "But she'll be seventeen in May. She's a lot older than her age would make her seem to be. She's more mature than a lot of girls at school."

"Childhood sweethearts?" she asked, handing me the picture.

I stared at it, "No. We met at the end of last summer. She's from Genovia. Her family sent her to live with mine for safety reasons. I just….I fell in love with her."

"In such a short time?" she asked.

"Sometimes you just know," I replied. "Like…on the exterior she seemed snotty and stuck up…but she really…I looked in her eyes and knew right away that we'd be together. It took until October for us to actually get together…but I just know its right. What about you? Got a guy?"

She smiled weakly, "He broke up with me before he left. He didn't think it'd be fair to leave me behind wondering. His name was Colin. High school sweethearts. But I'm sure once he gets back we'll be together."

"Do you write to him?" I asked, an idea forming in my mind.

"No, of course not. He's…he's busy."

"Well, if you wouldn't mind…would you help me write to Mia? To let her know I'm okay? So she can be prepared for all this?"

She looked like I had slapped her across the face, "Sure thing. No problem. I uh…I gotta go back to my rounds. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow, Hannah."