A/N: Gameson221b, you know this already, but I cannot say it enough: Thank you! Always. For reading my mind and saying exactly the right thing in your reviews. Koram852, you are a wonderful sounding board...thank you so much for letting me ramble on about John and Sherlock.

Disclaimer: There are only so many ways I can say I don't own it. It hurts, ok... don't rub it in. ;)

Tuesday.

I don't want to be afraid of my past. I see the war every day...whether I'm awake or sleeping. Whole minutes pass, and I am trapped in the haze of what had been.

In basic training, they taught us to use any advantage we could... As the war in Afghanistan continued, priorities changed from any kind of freedom-fight to simply surviving.

We had gone to build schools and hospitals, and educate the people on how to protect and police their own. I still think our main purpose was good.

But too many of us died.

The count of our dead or wounded rose every day, and that was all I could think about. We were fighting in the foothills of a country we didn't know well enough, with a people that was torn between gratitude and resentment. They shook our hands and praised us for the help we provided...until it brought the aggression of the Taliban on them for accepting the help of "kaafir," heathen.

I had thought that we were managing to make a difference. Turning our hurt into good by helping the people who had been told to hate us... When among those people, terrorists had been raised and groomed for death.

I didn't say before, but the boy I had seen...the one from that dream the other night... I met his mother. Halima. She was young, not quite 30 years old. She was seventeen when she had given birth to him. She apologized to me. Her son was dead, and she apologized...?

Fate must be cruel.

I put myself through school to be a doctor, a medical physician. I joined the army... At the time, I thought I did it to keep people from dying.

But there was nothing I could do for the boy. She should have hated me... I hated me. Sometimes I still do. I took lives.

I was no better than the fear-mongers that hid in the caves. I could have bought or stolen a shoulder-fired rocket launcher. I could have destroyed a house... I could have killed a child for standing too close to my enemy...

A/N: John has removed a bit of his personal filter in this entry...

I do hope you are enjoying getting a little insight into the mind of our dearly loved doctor. Please do tell me your thoughts, I'd really like to know!