The next few weeks passed by slowly. As I grew closer to the team and Jean in particular, I noticed that my nightmares became less frequent and I worried about Fletch less and less. I should be bothered by this fact, but I just wasn't. Jean was really a great man. I was honestly baffled by his horrid luck in the realm of women. I was happiest whenever I was around him…
The days grew shorter and colder and one day Jean wasn't at work. The day seemed to be normal. Hawkeye patrolled the room and everyone worked diligently. No one else seemed to be that worried so I nudged Breda. He raised his eyebrow at me.
"Where's Jean?" I whispered "Is he sick?"
Breda shook his head and we both looked back at our paperwork when Hawkeye made a sound of disapproval. A few moments later, Breda pushed a sheet towards my desk, his neat handwriting was written across the top and I glanced at Hawkeye before taking it.
"He's on a mission. Somewhere up north. He does spec ops work, and we can't contact him until he comes back. I'm not sure when that'll be, but he'll be fine." I finish reading the note and frown slightly at Breda who gives me a reassuring look.
"Second Lieutenant, Sergeant Major. Neither of you are leaving until your paperwork's completed." Hawkeye's stern voice cuts across the room and Breda and I both mumble "yes sir" and get back to work. I signed papers without really reading them; my mind was consumed with worry for Jean. I had to believe Breda though, these men were the best in their respective areas and I had to trust that Jean would be fine…The day passed by agonizingly slow, but eventually Hawkeye dismissed us. I stand and grab my coat before leaving and heading home. Light snow was beginning to fall, and normally I would have been excited, but my worry for Jean was like a heavy blanket that smothered all other thought.
When I got home, I cooked a small dinner, but didn't really eat, took a quick shower and climbed in bed. I eventually forced myself to sleep, but my dreams were filled with gory images of Jean and all the things that could possibly go wrong. I woke up tired and trudged through the day, not really giving a damn about anything.
Hours turned to days and days turned to weeks. It seemed like an eternity had passed after a month and I was beginning to lose hope of ever seeing him again. Gone. Just like Fletch. I had stopped wearing my wedding ring after the last letter. Fletch had given up. He told me to stay hiding wherever I was because he wouldn't be able to save me. I was alone. My sleeping habits had gotten so bad, that I had gotten into the routine of taking walks in the middle of the night. I would purposely get lost in the city and wander aimlessly through the snow.
Two months passed and still no word. My last nightmare had left me in tears and currently, it was somewhere between two AM and five AM, and I was sitting on a park bench in the snow, staring off into space. Shortly after my hands, feet and nose went numb, I could hear uneven footsteps coming up the path. I tried to ignore them, but a nagging feeling begins to claw at my stomach and I look around for the source of the noise. I saw a heavily bundled man hunched over and limping through the deep snow. Upon closer inspection, I realized he looked hurt. I stood, a bit worried for the stranger.
"Sir, are you hurt?" My voice was a bit worried, but I was incredibly cautious. The man stops and looks at me, blue eyes confused. I study him, wondering If he was some crazy drunkard. I squint a bit to get a better look and I realize his hair is blonde. It was so caked with dirt and blood, it looked brown.
"Emory?" His voice was quiet, and pained. My eyes widen in realization.
"Jean! Oh my God, Jean, are you ok?" I rush over to him and begin looking him over, a strange mixture of relief, worry and anger washed over me. "What happened?"
"Not here….somewhere warm….please…" He looks at me and I gently wrap one arm around his waist and drape his arm over my shoulder.
"It's ok Jean, I'm going to help you…" My voice was soft, but I was terrified. He was pale and had lost a lot of weight…He leaned heavily on me as we slowly headed back to my apartment. Once there, I unlock the door and lead him to the bedroom. I help him sit on the bed and rush out of the room to grab the first aid kit, several washcloths and warm water. I return to him and his eyes are closed.
"Jean…Jean, talk to me…Don't go to sleep yet…" I carefully start undressing him. His clothes were borderline frozen and he looked like he'd been soaked to the bone in them.
"mmm…..I wanna…sleep though…" He mumbled groggily. I fight with his shirt and finally get it off before moving to his boots and carefully pulling them off. He lets out a sharp cry of pain and I stop. "Please stop…it hurts…"
"I know Jean, but I have to get it off…" I try to ignore the nasty injuries on his chest as I pull his boots off as carefully as possible. He grunts and cries out in pain as they're slowly removed. His feet were covered in infected blisters and I curse under my breath. "What happened to you…." I fight back anger and sadness as I move to his pants and carefully remove them. He hisses as the torn fabric moves across a particularly deep cut on his thigh and I murmur soothingly to him as I get his pants off and get to work washing his wounds with a wet towel.
Almost two hours pass before I get him clean and bandaged up. I give him some pain medication and tuck him into my bed. He murmurs something that sound like a thank you and I hush him, but he's already asleep. I watch him a moment, anger rising. How could Mustang do this to him? I carefully clean up and close the bedroom door. I grab some spare blankets and a pillow before curling up on the couch. I'd give that bastard a piece of my mind in the morning, but for now, I needed sleep. I close my eyes and sleep peacefully, knowing that Jean was safe in the next room.