chapter four : walking the wire

"- Nice work in there," Hunt told me as we scrubbed out of surgery. It was one of the toughest surgeries I had to deal with so far and we almost lost the patient a dozen times, but in the end, he managed to pull through.

"- You too," I answered him, starting to wash my hands.

We ended up in surgery together, once again. It had been happening a lot recently, because apparently, everyone, including our superiors, thought we were a great surgical team, so they were spontaneously sending us to the same surgery. It was kind of true though, I couldn't deny it. We fit together in the OR. He's got that incredible skill of anticipating every move I do, and with every surgery, his moves become clearer and clearer to me. Sometimes, words are unnecessary, and we just know what we have to do, and what the other will do, and we just… synchronize, and this feeling is incredible. I love being in the OR with him, more than with anyone else. There's nothing else I'd rather do, but I'm certainly not gonna tell him that.

He was still trying to be my friend, no matter how much I tried to push him away, and it didn't make any sense to me. I couldn't even recall one day during the past week when he didn't come to see me, just saying hi and asking me how I've been, or making a stupid joke that always made me smile – once he was out of sight, though – and he even brought me food once, a day I had been in the OR non-stop. He always seemed so happy to see me. It didn't make any sense. He wasn't supposed to do that, he had absolutely no reason to, and yet, he was the best friend I could hope for, given my behavior.

I tried so hard to ignore him, to just be polite and professional, and not to let myself care about him, but… I was slowly starting to allow him in, and it was scaring me to death, because we were in Iraq, and every person I ever loved had died. Some of them were entirely my fault. It was a guilt I would always feel in the back of my mind, coming back like an insidious poison every time I didn't have anything else to think about. A ghost forever haunting me. I just couldn't take the risk of losing someone else, of risking to double every feeling dragging me down. It was something I knew I couldn't take. The grief was already so much to bear, I was wondering why I was still standing sometimes. In a way, it would've been so much easier to just give up, and let go. I was already so close to it sometimes, that if I had to lose someone else, the grief would completely annihilate any of my strength left, leaving me empty, a blank shell waiting for her death.

I wasn't the one that would be the most impacted, though. His family. His friends. He probably had a girlfriend, hell, maybe a wife for what I knew. I couldn't do that to all of his significant ones. I knew all too well the destructive pain it represented, the heart-drenching feeling, and the eyes of my old roommate flashed in my mind – and she didn't even know the most important part of the story. I couldn't bear anyone else losing a part of their heart because of me, again. It would destroy me more than anything else.

"- You're spacing out, Altman?" he asked me, taking me out of my thoughts, and his smile was filled with so much happiness that it took me aback for a second. Who could be that happy in the middle of a warzone? I was so unfocused that my words slipped out too fast, before I could even think about stopping them.

"- I'm not. Why do you seem so happy today?"

I instantly bit my lip in regret, but it was too late. He was already way too close, and I couldn't afford to encourage him in that way. I couldn't let it happen again, couldn't let my guard down, or he would sneak inside the cracks and get too close.

"- Oh, that? I'm going home in two days. It was a little bit planned at the last minute, but I'm glad I can go home. I miss my mother, my sister and my fiancée."

"- I see," I answered politely, sticking to my resolve. It was just a reminder that I was right, he had a lot of people who would care if he died. Hence, we couldn't get close. I also didn't want to explore the slight throb in my chest when he said "fiancée", that I shouldn't feel. He had just confirmed my early supposition, that someone as good as him was loved by someone. Nothing surprising. I didn't have more time to think about it, because I spotted Dan Mooney coming towards us.

"- Hunt, Altman. How's it going?" he asked us. Dan was a good chief. Always focused, fast, effective. He wasn't wasting his time or ours, and I liked that.

"- We stabilized him temporarily, but he needs to get a proper fix as soon as possible," I answered. "He needs to be transferred to the green zone."

"- Then we'll put him in the Medevac," Dan decided with a nod. "Which one of you is going with him?"

"- Me," I answered spontaneously, without even asking Hunt. It was completely childish and probably stupid, because we were in a warzone, transporting patients struggling for their lives, and it was as serious as it could, but I just wanted to see the desert from above. I could only imagine how spectacular that must be. It felt like a children's dream. Another thing rather enjoyable, I'd be able to avoid Hunt's attempts to create a friendship for the rest of the afternoon, and to put some distance between us for a while.

"- We're leaving as soon as possible, let's get him inside now," Dan told me, and I nodded. I grabbed a towel to dry my hands quickly, and Hunt helped me move the patient.

"- I'll see you there," he told me with a smile, and I just nodded and climbed into the Medevac, fighting my urge to smile back. I just couldn't understand how he could always be so optimistic and smiling, even if we were in Iraq and people were dying around us everyday. Despite the fact that he probably had seen worse than me during the year he spent here. Still, he never stopped smiling, or hoping for the bright side for the month I had known him. I honestly couldn't tell if I liked that about him or if it was just irritating. It probably was a little bit of both.

The door shutted and we took off the ground slowly, elevating then moving forward. Soon, we reached our cruise speed, flying above the desert, and I finally peeked at the window. The view was breathtakingly gorgeous, the bright golden sand shining so much that it was almost blinding at first. It was clashing with a bright blue sky, both extending towards the infinite in all directions of space. I stayed here, amazed, just staring at this incredible landscape, absorbing myself in it. I let it totally overwhelm me, taking over all my thoughts – especially the ones about Owen Hunt or Allison Brown. I lost time observing the dunes, their shapes and their shadows under the sun, losing myself into empty thoughts.

So much that when a flash tears the sky and the silence is broken by an explosion, it takes me a whole second to react.

I tried to protect myself with my arms, but it didn't do much because there wasn't anything flying in my direction, and when I looked up again, I could see the huge hole dug into the helicopter's shell.

The helicopter lost both his balance and ability to fly, and we started spinning and falling, the ground approaching at a scary speed.

Then, the wind started roaring inside the helicopter, and I realized with a shiver that nothing was holding me inside. I tried to grab something, anything that could help me, but the wind was so strong around me, I couldn't hold on.

I lost my desperate grip, and the wind threw me outside the helicopter like a doll thrown across a room by a child. I screamed.

I had wanted so badly to fly, but now that I was experiencing the sensation for real, I was absolutely certain I didn't like it.

I couldn't stop screaming as the gravity pulled its strings on me, free falling, free flying atop the desert, and when I saw the ground coming closer and closer, I was terrified like I had only been once in my life. Last week, when I faced the shooter.

I only stopped screaming when I hit the sand, because the air totally deserted my lungs.

I rolled over several meters, and when I finally stopped moving, it took me a couple seconds to find my breath again. I took a couple shaky breaths, and then, pain flashed through my whole body, out of nowhere, and I let out a scream.

I finally opened my eyes, and I realized that I was alone. I couldn't see the helicopter anywhere, no matter how hard I looked, and another kind of fear creeped along my spine. I needed to find the others. See if they needed any help. I needed to get help myself. I also was afraid that they wouldn't bother to look out for me if I was alone. Why would they? The fear was stronger, and I summoned all my strength to try to get up, but when I did, another flash of pain resonated through my whole body, even worse than the previous one, and I fell into black.

When I woke up, I knew that several hours had passed, because the sun was lower in the sky than it was when I fell, now going down towards sunset. I knew it couldn't be good. With a fall that high, that fast, I most probably have internal bleeding, on top of the broken bones I couldn't have avoided. I noticed my breathing was impaired, though, and it was worrying because it could be anything. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I knew it could be so many things, and none of them were good. I tried to move my fingers and my toes, and I could, which was basically a miracle. It was something good, at least, but it wouldn't help me.

I was still stuck here, alone, and I didn't have anything to treat my injuries. A chill ran down my spine, then spread to my whole body, leaving it freezing cold. The fear started creeping on my heart, and I could feel my eyes damp. This kind of terror was different from the shooter. It wasn't the perspective of a short, immediate death. It wasn't the sudden and overwhelming fear, no, it was more subtle. It was slow, and insidious, and quietly expanding, taking over each and every piece of me. It was the promise of hours of slow agony on the sand. More than everything, it was the deep despair, the hopelessness in my heart.

It wasn't wanting to die as much as not wanting to fight anymore. I was face first in the sand, just laying there, and a first tear rolled down my cheek, soon followed by another, and an ocean of others behind that, creating a puddle under my head. I just couldn't stop crying. Loneliness, despair, sadness, pure darkness were hovering around me, swallowing me whole and leaving only my bones on the ground. I didn't have any strength, or will, or anything left to fight. It was a darkness I couldn't see the end of, and that was sucking absolutely everything out of me. It was rock bottom.

The worst of all was probably knowing that no one would look out for me. There will be no savior, no miracle, no one to even notice I wasn't still in the helicopter, no one to even think to bother to look further. Only me, the infinity of the desert and the thoughts spinning in my mind. It seemed a pretty accurate punishment, though. Pain, despair, and finally my life, as a compensation for the life that was lost because of me. Wasn't it, this final torment, what Allison had gone through by my fault?

Time passed, so slowly, and I couldn't do anything but watch it fly hopelessly. I couldn't tell how much, though, because minutes seemed like hours in that soulless state I was in. The world was colder now, and I was shivering with my whole body. I was more and more tired, too, almost dizzy. My thoughts were losing their clarity, and my eyes couldn't stay open anymore. It was probably from the blood loss. I didn't even try to fight. It wasn't like I had it in me at the beginning, anyway. It was long lost. I just let my eyes close themselves, well knowing I might never open them again, and fell into an ocean of darkness.

When I woke up for the second time, I felt good. More than good. I didn't feel any pain at all, I wasn't tired or desperate anymore, and my thoughts were clear. I tried to move my arms, my legs, and I could without any pain, my limbs were moving freely. I took a deep breath, and it got to my lungs without any problem. I even tried to get up, take a few steps, and I could. It wasn't normal. Nothing about it was normal, which only left one explanation: this wasn't real. Wherever this was, whatever this was, it wasn't the truth.

The sand was extending towards infinity, and the warm light of the sunset made it shine a bright orange, almost glittering. I turned around to enjoy the whole sight of it, but once I had done a complete turn, I jumped, almost screaming. Claire. Claire was here, in the middle of this surreal desert, looking straight at me – and her eyes were like knives aimed at me.

I knew what she was about to say. It was lingering in the air, so real already, even though she hadn't said it yet. I just knew it, and it was already like a frozen blade in my heart. It didn't hurt yet. It was just cold. The pain wasn't there yet, like ice on a wound.

"- You killed her," she simply said.

Only silence followed her words, the wind sweeping particles of sand off the ground. Her eyes were locked into mine, and the lack of emotions in those eyes was terrifying me, and the silence was a slow poison in my body. I knew that the moment she would really start to speak, I would regret it.

"- It wasn't enough for you to take her from me, was it?" she asked, but I knew that, even if she had been real, no words could have relieved her pain. Nothing could possibly be enough to relieve the pain I had caused her.

"- Even before you killed her. She loved me, and I loved her, God only knows how much I loved her. You can't even imagine it. It didn't stop you, though."

Guilt and memories started flowing back freely. All the secrets and stolen moments I got with Allison. All our secret breakfasts, our stolen nights, our hidden dates. All the happiness I had back then. The one I shouldn't have had. This perfectly unfair happiness, and each time, the guilt sneaking in in the middle of the night, like a snake in our fragile Heaven, ruining it as it went. Not enough to stop me, though. Nothing would've been enough to get me out of Allison's arms.

"- You snuck between us and you stole her from me, but you know what? She never loved you fully."

Each and every word was colder than the previous one, sending shivers through my whole body. It was as if her words were turning the weather itself colder, turning the desert into midwinter. I knew it. I knew Allison never loved me fully, and no matter how much she told me she loved me more, I just knew I wasn't enough of a reason for her to leave Claire. I wasn't enough. Never had been. Would never be.

"- She never loved you fully, because you weren't worth it. You weren't even worth a tenth – no, a hundredth of her love."

Her words were calm, steady, and it was just making it all even more painful. Every single of those words were a sharp knife in my heart, taking a scrape of it as it went. The air was leaving my lungs as my tears started to fall, the pain getting worse and worse. All this love Allison gave me never got her anything. I was sure I had only been a source of guilt for her, before leading her to the most unfair death in the world. She was happy, she was a sunshine, she was making this world better every day. She didn't deserve what I got her, then why would I?

"- You're not worth any love, and no one will ever love you. Why would anyone love you? You don't deserve it in the slightest."

It was almost as if she was vocalizing my thoughts. The pain generated by those words was even worse than I thought it would, worse than it looked in my head. The straightforward, naked truth was the most painful thing in the world. She was right about it, and this, whatever it was, was a nightmare. A crystallization of my worst fears and regrets. I started to believe that torturing me was the only point of that place. The memories were so heavy and tormenting already, I didn't need them thrown into my face and dragging me lower than the ground.

"- That's the only thing you deserve for taking me Allison. Dying alone. With no one by your side and no one to cry for you."

I put my hands on my ears because I couldn't take it anymore. Mentioning her name, Allison's name, was more than I could take. She had been my everything. My one and only love. The reason why I smiled, why I kept going, the one that saved me and got me through the pain so many times. I didn't need that cruel reminder that I was the only reason why she was dead. I fell on my knees, screaming, crying, begging for it to stop. I knew all of that. No one would ever like me, let aside love me again, and no one would even try, because I had my lover's blood all over my hands.

"- You'd do a favor to the both of us, you know," she said, and her tone was so sharp, so rude, that it pierced me like a thousand knives. I looked up through my tears, at her hand, and what I saw wasn't what I expected at all, but it was making sense, in a way.

I could guess without any doubt that the thin, red ribbon she was handing me represented my own life. It was in a terrible shape, the end of it shredded and reduced to a single and extremely fragile thread at its end. It would've been so easy to just pull it and watch it break, and just see everything end. No more pain. No more despair. So simple.

I just couldn't do it.

I wasn't strong enough.

I could accept dying. I could accept something putting me down, acting like the justified hand of fate. I was just too scared to do it myself. I was weak. Weak and scared to die. This fear had been the only thing keeping me alive, the only thing that had stopped me from doing it myself. The reason why, deep down, I didn't stop fighting sooner, no matter how scared, hurt, sad I was. No matter how much I had wanted to give up. It was the case, until just a few minutes ago, but now…

Maybe I had to be agonizing on the ground to find the hope I thought was long lost. To fight the pain swallowing me. To find a lifeline. Also, this past month…

I wanted so badly to believe in the future he described. The me he described. Could I really be this person? Was I already? I wished it was true. I wished there was hope somewhere. If I couldn't resolve to give up, I was going to need something to get me out of the dark place I was. I couldn't get out of it on my own. The wounds, both physical and emotional, were just too deep. I needed someone, a hand, something, anything. I needed a savior, a help, a reason to live.

Despite all of that, it was difficult to imagine someone who would want to fit the bill. I was asking for so much. I needed so many things from one person, it seemed impossible. Without even mentioning the fact that I had pushed aside anyone who would've wanted to. I had gotten myself into this, mostly. It was necessary, but now, I was stuck alone, because no one was kind enough to bear with the broken girl who would push you away every chance she could get…

No one, except for a single person. Owen.

I held onto that thought, reassuring and comforting like a lighthouse in the darkness. Owen never stopped being kind and caring, no matter how many times I pushed him away. He already knew that I was broken, but he didn't seem to care. I remembered the words he had said to me last week. I would. Two single words he had told me, not lightly at all, I knew it. Two words that, so barely that I didn't notice it right away, had changed my world. If today was the catalyst of the change, those words were the beginning. Maybe even the day I met him.

On that neverending desert limbo, I made a promise that I decided to treasure. If I ever survived this, I would talk to him. I would talk to him until he was bored of hearing me. I would let him in, because loneliness was a poison a thousand times more aggressive than it seemed at first, a slow burn poisoning only revealing its worst effects when it was almost too late. So I'd walk in that dangerous line of appreciating someone in the middle of a war, and pray for it not to break. I would let him see my flaws, my mistakes, because I knew that he might save me. I also knew I couldn't survive here on my own, I couldn't survive a hell like that one again without someone to fight for.

I kept holding onto the thought of him like it was a lifeline – because that's what he might be. I still didn't know if I'd get out of it. I probably won't. I shouldn't be hoping, and yet, for the first time since that fateful September day, I am.

hey hey hey! look! i updated in less than a month! isn't it a miracle? i personally think it is. even though it was just a rewriting. because i had this chapter written, i finished it like... in august? and then i edited it all. i think there's only a few things left from the first one. like a few sentences. but i can't be fully proud of it because i loved the first version so much and i had such a blast writing it that the second version seems bad. also i want to thank my beta reader for her continuous support. she's the best because i don't know how she deals with my constant overthinking. i hope you will enjoy that chapter. any review i can get will make my day. love you all. thanks for reading.