Sorry for the delay in getting this written, I've been focused on my other fic The Other Side of Me. But I'm back now, so I hope you enjoy this next installment of As I Recall. :)
Disclaimer: I don't own Rat Patrol. Wish I did, though...
As I Recall by boasamishipper
Chapter Four
(*) (*)
There is no pain you are receding
A distant ship's smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
When I was a child I had a fever
My hands felt just like two balloons
Now I've got that feeling once again
I can't explain you would not understand
This is not how I am
Pink Floyd "Comfortably Numb"
(*) (*)
Previously on Rat Patrol
Hitch sighs. "Well," he says hesitantly, "he'll be back with us in a few weeks, so...maybe...maybe Tully's memories will come back then."
Troy suddenly feels exhausted, and very old. He'd heard so much about soldiers who suffered amnesia from trauma...but he had never expected it to happen to one of his men. He doesn't know if he can handle an amnesiac Tully full-time, but the sergeant knows he has to. Not only for his sake, but for the sake of his men. "Maybe so," he says quietly. "Maybe so."
We aren't giving up on you just yet, Tully. Not by a long shot.
Present Day
Tully shifts uncomfortably, still not used to the crutch that Dr. Ames had given him to help with his walking. "Do I really need this?" he inquires of his day nurse, Darla.
Darla's laugh sounds like the tinkle of a door chime, and Tully knows that under different circumstances he probably would've flirted with her—she's definitely pretty, with her curly blonde hair and brown eyes...
But he doesn't want to. The only thing he wants is for his memory to come back. "Sorry, Private Pettigrew," she says with a small smile. He wonders why his questions constitute a small smile. "Doctor's orders."
He won't admit it, but he likes it when she and the other medical staff call him Private Pettigrew. It makes him sound professional—more than just some pathetic amnesiac. After all, in another time, Tully had been Private Pettigrew of the Long Range Desert Group. He'd been a respected soldier. He'd been a gunner and had driven a jeep.
He'd had friends, even.
But the past stayed in the past, and the past Tully couldn't even remember stayed there too.
"Private Pettigrew?" He realizes that Darla had been speaking to him, and blinks.
"Uh...I'm sorry, what?" Tully asks, feeling stupid.
Darla laughs again, and Tully feels slightly annoyed. "I just told you that your friends are here."
"They're not my friends," he mumbles, and luckily Darla doesn't hear him. "How can I be friends with people I don't even remember?"
The door opens, and Sergeant Troy, Sergeant Moffitt, and Private Hitchcock walk into his room. Tully feels uncomfortable, and looks at the floor, suddenly finding the dull brown rug very interesting.
"I'll leave you be," Darla says, bustling out of the room.
Tully coughs, unsure of what to say. Wow, he thinks sarcastically, this is the first time in six weeks that I've seen all three of them together at one time.
He notices that the men don't look too good—Hitch looks like he hasn't slept in a few days, and Troy's eyes are bloodshot. Moffitt looks well put together on the outside, but his hands are covered in ink and Tully knows that the Englishman probably has been searching for the cure to his amnesia for the last month and a half.
Little does Moffitt know, Tully thinks bitterly, there isn't a cure.
"So," Troy says awkwardly and adjusts his hat. Tully can't help but wonder if maybe he has a hat of his own, like Hitch's kepi or Moffitt's beret or Troy's cowboy hat. "You ready to go, Tully?"
Tully hesitates and looks around at the room, his room, with its lumpy bed, brown rug, and faded curtains. "As I'll ever be, sir," he says honestly. "As I'll ever be."
"Alright." Troy nods. "Let's shake it," he says, and they walk off, Tully limping behind them. He won't admit it, but he's thankful for the crutch—his leg hurts like the dickens without it.
As the men help him into the back of their jeep and Moffitt starts to drive, Tully can't help but think of what Troy had said.
Let's shake it.
Tully's eyebrows scrunch together, and he bites his lip, trying to pinpoint why that phrase sounds so familiar.
Let's shake it.
Shake what? Tully wonders, and it's only when the men look at him strangely that he realizes he'd said it out loud. The tips of his ears are bright red.
"What'd you say?" Troy inquires, his own eyebrows furrowed.
Great, he thinks. Now Troy thinks I'm a nutcase. "Nothing," he mumbles, thoroughly humiliated. "It's nothing, sir."
Troy looks like he doesn't believe Tully for a heartbeat, but he shrugs and tells Moffitt to keep driving, which the Englishman does, albeit reluctantly.
Tully doesn't say anything for the remainder of the ride.
(*) (*)
Sergeant Jack T. Moffitt forces himself to keep watching the road ahead of him, even while every instinct in his body clamors for him to turn around and check on Tully. His fists clench tight on the steering wheel of the jeep, because he just can't take it anymore. He can't take Tully being this way anymore—he wants his friend back.
Moffitt chastises himself instantly, because he knows that he doesn't have the right to think that way. It isn't as if Tully is just doing this on purpose to all of them. The private can't just immediately stop having amnesia. It's a sad, if not irrefutable, fact of life.
The sky is blue, the year is 1944.
And Tully Pettigrew has amnesia.
Moffitt pulls the jeep up to their quarters. "Here it is," he says to Tully, unable to think of what else to say. "Recognize anything, Tully?"
Tully shakes his head. "No, sir," he replies, and the last dregs of Moffitt's hope vanish. They lead him inside.
"We, um, all sleep on these cots here," says Hitch, chewing on a piece of gum. "And cook, talk in the makeshift living room..." He sits down in a chair.
"What do we do on missions?" Tully suddenly asks.
Hitch looks at Troy, who half-smiles. "Um, whatever's necessary, I guess? Search and rescue, get supplies—Dietrich likes to mess with us..."
"Hang on," Tully interrupts, frowning. "Sergeant Moffitt, you mentioned that name awhile ago. Who's this Dietrich guy? Is he on our side?"
Moffitt laughs outright at the thought of Dietrich ever being on their side. "He, erm, he's part of the Afrika Korps. High-ranking Captain."
"Well, why do you—I mean, why do we associate with this Dietrich guy if he's not on our side?"
Moffitt bites his lip, trying to figure out how to explain. "Well...he's an honorable man," he finally says. "He's not like the other Jerries—Germans," he corrects himself for Tully's sake. "Captain Dietrich has helped us before too, Tully." Moffitt doesn't know how to explain the Captain to Tully. Dietrich is an enigma wrapped in a puzzle wrapped in a cryptogram, after all.
Troy takes over. "He's hard to explain," the American sergeant says, "but he's a good person."
Tully nods, although a blind man could see that the explanation hadn't satisfied him. "Alright," he says, even though it isn't.
Moffitt sighs. "I'm going to make some tea," he announces. "Any takers?"
Much to his surprise, Tully nods. "Yeah, sure. Green, please."
Moffitt forgets to breathe.
"We can finish up that chess game too," he says with a wide grin. "I was only a few moves away from checkmating you."
Moffitt's eyes are wide. His mouth is slightly open. He supposes this is what it felt like to Troy when Tully had called him Sarge. None of the men move.
Out of nowhere, Tully's eyebrows scrunch together, his face twisted up in obvious agony. His fingers grind into his forehead, and his knees suddenly give and he collapses.
(*) (*)
Private Mark Hitchcock lunges for his friend and barely manages to grab Tully before he hits the ground. "Tully?" he asks, concerned and terrified. "Hey, are you okay? Tully!"
Tully's eyes fly open, and he looks disoriented. "Ow," he mutters, rubbing his forehead.
"Are you okay?" Hitch repeats, his heart still pounding quickly, because what the hell had just happened? Tully had seemed so...normal...for a moment, talking about chess with Moffitt, and then he'd suddenly collapsed.
He wants to punch something, he feels so utterly helpless and frustrated.
"I'm fine," Tully grunts. "Hitch, mind helpin' me out here?"
Wordlessly, Hitch helps Tully to his feet. He can feel his friend leaning heavily on him as he moves to get the crutch. Tully takes the crutch from him with a mumble of thanks.
"Are you sure that you're okay?" Hitch asks again.
"I'm fine!" Tully suddenly snaps, his voice growing louder as he continues to speak. "I am just fine, okay? I don't need you hovering over me like I'm some fragile china doll—"
"Tully, you just collapsed!" Hitch interrupts. "You have a head trauma, if you hurt yourself—"
Tully laughs sardonically, and for a second Hitch doesn't even recognize the man in front of him. "Look, Mark, in case you haven't noticed, I have amnesia. I'm willing to bet collapsing because flashes of memories that make me lightheaded is medically sound. I am just f—" his voice cracks. "I'm fine."
"Tully..." Hitch wants to punch something again. Part of him wishes that the Sarges would get involved and help him out, and another part of him knows that it is his job to reason with Tully now and he can't back out. "I know that we don't understand how you feel," he says, treading carefully. "I can't even begin to imagine how this feels for you—"
"Yeah, you don't!" Tully shouts, interrupting him. "You don't know at all how it feels, Hitch. None of you do!" He glares at a silent Sarge and Moffitt. "You have no idea how it feels to wake up and not know who you are. I have to remind myself what my name is..."
Tully is breathing heavily, and his eyes are red. "I don't even know who I am. I get these...these flashes of images and sounds that I think I should recognize, but I don't. I—I even hear snippets of voices sometimes." His voice cracks again, and Tully sits down in a chair, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders are shaking, and it takes Hitch a few seconds to realize that his friend is crying.
"Tully." Hitch swallows. "I'm sorry."
Tully looks up, wiping his nose on his wrist and snorts. "How am I going to g-get my memories back w-when I'm such..." he gestures to himself. "Such an emotional mess."
"You'll get them back," Sarge says firmly, finally speaking up. Hitch releases a breath he isn't even aware he had been holding. "Tully. Listen to me. You will get them back. I believe in you, and so does Moffitt and so does Hitch."
Moffitt and Hitch both nod.
Troy tilts his head, looking Tully over from head to toe. "Maybe it's time that you started believing it too."