It felt surreal, being a part of this family like nothing was wrong. Chucky sometimes wondered if it wouldn't backfire on him, like one of these days they were all going to turn on him and say, "Just kidding, why would we want you? You don't deserve this. Get away." and throw him out like so many other people had done. He had fought with himself about it, trying to decide whether or not to just shut them out and kill them, like he'd always done.

But then he'd remember what happened when he treated Andy that way, how much he'd lost, and then he'd lower the knife and chop the vegetables for the salad instead, pushing away his doubt, trying to convince himself that he would be alright, that these people loved him like they said they did. But it still felt so raw, his wounds still bled inside, and he still felt like he was only betraying himself when he hugged the girls or laughed with Mrs. Barclay and Maggie.

He still felt like he didn't belong.

Maggie felt it. Karen felt it. Johnny, in one way or another felt it, but he and the boy kept their distance. They were still warming up to each other. But the women knew. They saw the way the boy constantly apologized, for things that weren't necessarily his fault. Maggie had been in the dining room when he'd dropped one of the plates he'd washed on the floor. She didn't understand at first if he was crying about the loud noise, or the fact he'd dropped it, until he started wailing, "I'm sorry," over and over again. It took her half an hour to reassure him that it was fine, no one minded, and that everyone dropped or broke things on accident once in a while.

Karen knew it had to be more than just his small mistakes. She was in the kitchen, slicing a bruised tomato, when she discovered this. He was watching her; curious as to why she didn't just throw it away, since it was so black and ruined already. "Oh, it's fine, Charles, don't you see?" she explained. "I just have to cut the bad parts out. The tomato just has to go through a little bit of pain..." here she trimmed away the bruised, gross section of the red fruit, "but after that, it's fixed and ready to be a tomato, and we can still eat it. No harm done, see?"

He had put his head down against the table, and she knew his shoulders weren't shaking because he was laughing. She just put her arms around him and let him figure it out, the poor dear. She couldn't begin to imagine what was going on in his mind, but she hoped that what she'd said hadn't been bad. She and Maggie both knew that what he was going through was hard. Changing was a hard thing.

***

It was desolate. Things were not looking good at all. Andy barely even flinched anymore as another bomb went off near their encampment. He looked up from his letter, which he soon crumpled and threw away, frustrated. He didn't know what to say. There were so many things going on in his mind right now. Howard was studying the battle plan on the table; he didn't jump at the loud explosion, but Andy saw his eyes widen in surprise. He hoped that they'd all make it out alive, but then again, what solider didn't want the same for his comrades? He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling the weight of the war. He just wanted it to be all over.

The tent flap opened just as another blatant screech sounded in the air. Krista's head popped in, eyes wide. "Andy? You've got that kit, right?" she asked worriedly. He stood. "Yes," he replied, searching her face. "Why?" She wrung her hands. "You know, I never thought I'd say this... but... it's Shelton. I'm worried about him. He's wounded. Badly." Andy swiftly picked up the black tote he carried around; he had not forgotten the desire to be a doctor and not a soldier at all. "Where is he?" he asked, reaching her side. Howard looked up, and Andy could see that the young man was struggling whether to truly care or not, and he couldn't blame him. Shelton had been a thorn in all of their sides, even now. But he had long forgiven that man. Grudges were too heavy to carry when he had more important things to worry about, like his mother.

Or little boys with blue eyes, ones who were holding on to a promise that he would come home.

He could hear the pained sounds before he entered. "Shelton?" he said cautiously. The injured man looked up at him with a scowl. "God, can you fix this, you sonofabitch?" he groaned, holding his severely bleeding side. Andy laughed; for some reason, that sort of voice and language made him think of an old "best friend" he'd had once upon a time. "I've got this, Shelton," he said. "This isn't as bad as it looks-or feels- I promise." Shelton grunted and laid out flat so Andy could see the wound. "Well, damn it, you better do it right, or..." his threat was cut off with another howl of pain. Andy shook his head at the large gash and began cleaning up the oozing blood. "It's really deep, Shelton," he said. "I'm going to have to stitch it up. You want anesthesia?"

The bulkier man grunted some more profanity, but Andy took it as a yes. He placed the gas mask over Shelton's face and had him count down until he finally went under. He then took a look into the wound, and grimacing, grabbed forceps out of his bag and reached in to pull out the shards of glass that had dislodged themselves into Shelton's body. Krista stood at his side, and gave him whatever he needed when he asked for it. Howard just looked pale, wringing his hands nervously as Andy slowly removed each shard, one by one, until they were all out. "Needle, Krista," he said, gesturing. "And the thread." Krista nodded and pushed one end of the thread through the eye of the needle, flinching. "I don't know how you do this without feeling nervous, Andy," she said. He smiled. "Come on, Krista, weren't you the one that liked battles and blood?" he asked teasingly, trying to ease the tension. He took the needle and thread from her and began stitching, his mouth in a tight line. "Yah... but not like this..." she said, looking the other way, as Andy brought the needle in and out of Shelton's skin.

"It is a little disturbing," he admitted. "But it's got to be done." He pulled the needle through one last time and finished the stitching. "Okay, we're good. Can you go get some water?" Krista nodded and hurried out, happy to leave the scene. Howard glanced over Andy's shoulder and shuddered. "Is he going to be okay?" he asked nervously. Andy couldn't place his bloody hands on the boy's shoulder, but he elbowed him gently for comfort. "He'll be fine, Howard," he said. "It really isn't that bad. It just looks serious." Krista came back into the tent and handed him the bowl. "It's getting bad out there," she said. "The other guys think the enemy is moving in closer." Andy took the bowl and nodded, but said nothing. "He may wake up with an infection or a fever. Howard, can you watch him for me for a second? If he should wake up before I get back..." he took out several vials and began mixing them into a bottle. He sniffed it before closing it with a lid and shaking it. "...give him this, got it? It's an antibiotic." Howard nodded. "Where are you going?" he asked. Andy gave Krista sideways glance, and they shared a secret look. A worried look. "I'm going to go check out what the rest of the regiment is talking about. Stay here, understand? Don't leave him here alone." Howard just nodded again, but he noticed the looks the two had exchanged. Something was wrong, to make them nervous like that. "I got it, Andy," he said. "I'll be here until you get back."

"Thanks, Howard." And with that, Andy followed Krista out of the worn down tent.

Howard heard his watch ticking. Tick, tick, tick. Minutes passed by. Shelton was stirring. Andy and Krista were still not back. But he had to stay. He couldn't leave Shelton alone, although he was scared to death of what the man would say when he found it was them, alone. Shelton had been cruel to him. Shelton would probably still be cruel to him. The subject murmured something. Howard reached for his shoulder nervously. "Shelton?" he asked timidly. "Wha... what are you doing here, Whitehurst?" he slurred out. "Did that womanizer fix me?" Howard nodded his head quickly. "Yes... yes he did. He says you'll be fine now, but you need to take this..." he held up the bottle, "...to stop the infection you might have." Shelton tried to swipe it out of his hands, but stopped midway from the pain. "Here, I can give it to you," Howard said, but Shelton shook his head. "I got it, Whitehurst," he grunted, sitting up slowly. "Where is he? Barclay." Howard shrugged. "I don't know," he said. "He told me to stay here and watch you."

There were a million things that came to Shelton head about what he could say to Whitehurst right then, but he stopped. This boy had stayed here? And watched over him? Why? He studied the boy's thin quivering frame, from the small, dainty hands all the way up to the glasses that covered his child-like eyes, and suddenly realized something. This boy didn't belong here. This war was horrifying him, and he, Shelton, had done nothing to help it. Why he cared now, he didn't know. But he did, and it bothered him that he had been nothing but selfish and immature. There was no one out here to impress, no girl to show off his power over the weaklings to. Come to think of it, it didn't seem to work anyways. "Whitehurst," he said, taking the bottle. What was it the girls liked? He had seen it in the movies. What was it they liked again? "We've got to go out there. When I was hit, I saw..." he flinched as he tried to slowly heave himself up. "They were close. They're probably waiting to ambush us. But I wasn't sure." Howard grabbed his arm and tried as best to support him as Shelton hobbled out into the ruined land. Some of the other men were huddled, talking. Shelton reached them. "Where is Barclay?" he asked. They looked nervously amongst each other, until finally one spoke up. "He and De Silva went to scope out the southwestern border, where you came from," he began. "They were supposed to come back and tell us what they saw. We're planning an attack soon."

Shelton shook his head. "That way?" he asked, confirming where they'd gone. The men nodded. "They need more backup," he said stiffly. He looked at the boy who was holding him up. "Come on, Whitehurst," he said. "We're going." Some of the other soldiers protested, telling him he was injured, he shouldn't have to, they would go. But Shelton insisted. "He saved my life. I owe him. If he's in trouble, I want to be there for him, like he was for me." He couldn't believe some of the things he was saying. But he had been unfair to Andy, and this man had helped him anyway, with no hesitation. He owed this to him. So he took each step there, eventually ignoring the throbbing pain and telling Whitehurst that he could walk on his own now, and to follow behind.

They came upon Krista after a while, and she put a finger to her lips and beckoned them over. "He told me to stay here, and that he thought he saw something," she whispered, answering Shelton's repetitive question. "I've been waiting for what feels like hours, but the time is only seven minutes. I'm thinking, we wait three more, and if he doesn't come out, we go in after him. Sound legit?" They nodded, Shelton noticed but didn't mention that Howard was clinging his sleeve quite fiercely. The rock they hid behind was rough, and Shelton was finding it hard to lean against it. Time went by. Agonizing time. They had a minute left. No one spoke. There was a movement, but they weren't sure what it was. They waited some more. A figure came running towards them.

It was Andy. He was shouting something at them. "Get back! Get back!" he yelled. "Move back, now!" Krista stood, not sure if she should leave him or not. "Go back!" he shouted again, and then there was a loud explosion. Howard screamed, and Shelton shielded the boy with himself. Grabbing Krista's hand, he pulled her and Howard back as orange and yellow lights filled the sky, and pieces of wood and concrete flew everywhere. Krista was calling for Andy. Shelton looked around, looked for Andy, but there was smoke in the air, smoke all around them, and he couldn't see a thing. He had to take them back. He had to save them. He had to save them all, but where was Andy?

Where was Andy?

***

Chucky shook in his sleep, and loud sounds filled his mind. He clutched the pillow and cried softly.