A/N: Please take moment before reading to have some food for thought to help put you in the mindset when you get there.

What stuck out to me during MW3 in Blood Brothers, after the explosion, Price runs over and pulls the debris off Soap. Knowing the outcome of the game, and looking back, that scene is an incredibly powerful moment of sadness.

If you've ever been there when someone, or something is dying, you try to convince them they're "going to be alright." I think we are really just trying to convince ourselves. We'll be alright. We'll make it through this horrible ordeal because deep down, we know that our loved one isn't going to pull through. They're not come home with us. Not this time. It's denial.

Now go enjoy.

Ch7: Ghosts of Christmas Past

It's the first morning I've slept in during my brief conscious time at the hospital. I get a new nurse I've never met before – Naomi- who just about gets herself incapacitated when she wakes me up from a dead sleep. Grabbing an unsuspecting female by the collar was not how I intended to start my morning. We stumble through the awkward improv greeting and things improve from there. She's quite the opposite of Elle –not just in looks, but attitude. Naomi is shyer than Jakob, and not nearly as assertive. Nervous too –but then again, with the kind of first impression I had made too, I'd probably feel the same way. I feel like I'm coaching her through what needs to be done for this morning.

I survive through the botched break in routine. The hospital is both quiet and lively throughout the day. Numerous visitors popping in and out, presumably visiting friends and loved ones who couldn't make it home. I don't expect much out of today, though I can't stop thinking about getting back outside again. I ask Naomi if I can get a little time back out in the atrium hallway that leads out to the courtyard to get a good walk in. When she takes me there, I get to enjoy the light when the sun finally breaks the horizon close to noon. The grounds are far larger than I expected, and I can make out the tops of several more buildings beyond the ones confining the courtyard Elle and I had taken a stroll on. I take out my journal and start sketching the view. It's a lot easier to draw with my left hand than it is to write. I also add to the rough layout I've started on this place.

When I'm escorted back to my room I start to get…irritated. Maybe it's feeling a little stir crazy, maybe it's because I'm still sore from yesterday and without the painkillers. It's also my first morning without Elle. In our short time getting to know one another, she's established a rapport. She's been sharp enough to dodge around my issues and provide the support I've needed. It's easy to tell she has a greater grasp with hands-on experience than Naomi does when it comes to rehabbing. Even Jakob –he's not afraid to step up and take initiative.

I finish out my evening with Elle's gift. The binding is already broken in and opens easily. I'm a good ways into the first couple chapters when someone knocks at my door frame.

I'm surprised to see Elle in the doorway.

"I thought you had the day off." I ask as she enters, stuffing her gloves into her pockets. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, her hair in a large messy braid that's caught up in the hood of her parka.

"I do. I just finished dinner with my family. I figured I'd check in with you and see how you were doing."

"Couldn't you have just called in?" Not that I was complaining. I was actually quite happy to see her. It was a relief, rather than dealing with the nervous-Naomi.

"And miss seeing my favorite patient?" she laughs. I'm caught off guard when she invites herself into my personal space and gives me hug. Really caught off guard. It's the first initiated contact and I feel a little uncomfortable. But it's…not unwelcomed either. Elle's brought the chill of the outside world and the clean crisp air in with her. She's grinning ear to ear when she lets go and resumes leaning on the bed rail.

"I didn't think you were allowed to have favorites." I try to shake off the overwhelming sensation. Feel a little hot even.

"We're not supposed to, but, you're a special exception." She leans in close, dropping her voice to a mock whisper.

"You actually have quite the little fan club around here."

"Do I now?" I can't help but smile at that. "That's the first I've heard of it."

"Well, I didn't need you tripping over your ego. You're one of our top five high profile patients. Especially with your reputation preceding you. You had a waiting list before you ever set foot through our doors. Half the staff around here would kill to get the opportunity to work with you."

"I don't think I'm that special." Hell, I couldn't even remember how I got here in the first place.

"Don't sell yourself short John. There are a lot of people who would want to get their hands on you." I catch the double talk. I'm safe for now but outside the walls of the facility, it was a very different world. One I probably wouldn't recognize.

"How did you end up as my primary?" I was curious.

"My experience, my research, and a file cabinet full of recommendations. I have one of the best records for patient recovery and rehabilitation. You're in good hands."

Quite literally. Her hand has abandoned its post on the bed rail and found its way to mine, her thumb moving across my knuckles.

"I think you got your work cut out for you then."

"You're right; you're probably one of the most extensive cases I've dealt with aside from my RAD patients."

"Rad?"

"Radiation Exposure." There's a sad look as she says it. Elle gives a little squeeze before she lets go.

"I'm actually heading over to visit a few of them next. But I wanted to see you first, John."

"I appreciate the surprise drop in, Elle."

"Merry Christmas John." Elle goes in for another hug. I fumble my way through far more comprehensively than the first one.

"I'll see you in the morning."

"I'll see you then."

Just before she exits the door, she smiles and gives a parting wave.

I delve back into my book once she's gone, but find myself re-reading the same paragraph for the fourth time before I prop the book open on my thigh. I'm mulling over my brief conversation with Elle. I already know she's hinted that someone having basically bought and paid for my life by getting me into this hospital. I need answers. I need to know what's going on in the outside world. I'll fish on the issue tomorrow. Maybe work an angle with Jakob if Elle decides to stonewall me. Someone had to know something, and I wasn't into the business of secrets. Secrets got people killed.

I dog ear the page and go to put book on the bedside stand. A small green bag covered in a snowflake pattern is sitting on there, tufts of stuffing paper poking out. I grab the bag from the stand and inspect it before pulling it apart. There's no tag, but I know Elle left it behind. She's sneaky like that. I turn the bag upside down and shake it out. A small note card falls out with the present.

Call it bribery, but I understand why Elle comes with such high recommendations. She has insight. She's thoughtful.

I use my good hand and play with my new toy. It's one of those fancy gripmasters that rock climbers use, each finger able to articulate under a tension spring. I like it. A lot.

I set the spring down and read the note card.

"Put it to good use." And there's a little smiley face at the end.

I about nearly drop the tensioner on the floor when I try to get a hold of it with my right hand. It takes a good amount of focus to position it into place, but when I do, I feel pretty accomplished. Each finger struggles to press against the grip pads, but one by one, I manage to jiggle the spring, ever the slightest. It's weak, but it's progress. I can't feel anything specific, but there's still motor function. Minimal, but functional. That's all I need. That's all I've ever needed. If there's a will, there's a way.

My evening goes on relatively quiet, until Naomi comes back again. She's all flustered. I tolerate her short comings. Midway through the evening close out procedures and dinner I get the epiphany that maybe I'm just a bit spoiled by Elle. Naomi's nice enough, even though she won't look me in the eye. Maybe she's just thrown off from her own routine too.

I turn on the TV and watch whatever cheesy typical reruns of classic Christmas movies while I bounce away on the gripmaster. By 2000 hrs I'm feeling exhausted but I can't sleep. I'm wound up. I have the itch for the morphine and I doubt I'm getting any this even. Anxious. On edge. Every sound from the hallway has me jumpy, festering as an unfounded fear. I fight the feeling through the night, biding the evening with my journal.

…

…

…

"John."

God my neck hurts.

"John, time to wake up."

I recognize Elle's voice, and her touch. But I don't want to move.

"No." I groan, dragging my hand over my face. I feel like I've been run over. Absolute, rock bottom. I don't think there's a part of me that doesn't hurt.

Her voice softens.

"Didn't sleep well last night?"

"That's a nice way of putting it." I snap. I know it's not her fault but I can't help it. I physically can't.

"Ouch." Elle feigns injury. I feel her removing a book from my lap.

"Sounds like you're already having rough start to the day."

I finally make eye contact with her. She's giving me a look I can only describe as empathetic as she's holding my charts.

"From reviewing your records from last night, it looks like they skipped on the morphine. I know the game plan is to get you off of it, but not if it's going to backdraft on us. You've been a heavy opioids user in the past, and long term."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I feel like it's a personal attack. If there was one thing I wasn't, it was a user.

"Think of an alcoholic who's fallen off the wagon. Quitting is that much harder. At least for a dependent body."

Elle's pulling on a pair of gloves as she prepares to draw blood. I'm grateful for the port line, I don't think I could handle being poked this early.

We go through our morning rituals, and go headlong back into PT. It takes twice as much to focus on the tasks at hand, I feel like I'm floundering through it. At noonish, during lunch break Elle gives me some good news. The stronger does of antibiotics is doing its job, there's a significant decrease in my blood work. She wants the port out. She pushes some pills my way too. Not as strong, but it should help take the bite out withdrawal and help with the pain.

I survive the ordeal of PT. Stairs. More conditioning. Neck, lower lumbar, range of motion. Longer walks. The pills have helped, but not as good as the morphine. It's part of the growing pains. The same soreness you get after a good workout. I try to convince myself of that at least.

After dinner Elle takes me on another stroll to the atrium and finds us a spot on a bench. I take my journal with me. I knew I wrote some questions in there that I've been meaning to ask her, but I'm in a half daze and can't find them. The page I was working on last night into this morning is a complete mess –nothing but crosshatching over something I had been drawing underneath. Elle glances over.

"The mind is a busy place John."

"Does it ever get better?" I don't quite know where that came from, but I know it's from a hopeless place.

"It'll get clearer. The human mind is incredibly strong. And yet, incredibly frail. Some things it can heal from, and other things it can't."

I feel her hand on my shoulder.

"You've seen a lot in your time John, and you've done an equal amount."

"What happened Elle." I keep my tone firm. It isn't a question.

I can see the look on her face. I've seen it before. Not here though. Another time, another life.

This is going to get ugly. Real quick.

"I don't know if-" I head her off before I get shut down. My tolerance for bullshit is at zero.

"I need to know Elle. I need to know what the hell is going out there. Don't fucking lie to me."

Elle flinches. I think it's the first time I've snapped at her without reasonable cause of pain. It's manifested from the hardened soldier who is at his wits end. When she finds her voice, it's quiet. Submissive.

"There's a box of your belongs in storage. Everything that was on you. I'll get that out for you. It'll take a couple of days."

Her hands are balled up in her lap and her head is down. She lays them flat and smooths out the creases on the thighs of her scrubs before she looks up at me.

"The world was at war John. And you were part of it. The top leaders have established a cease fire, for now. Vladimir Makarov is still alive and no one can find him."

Makarov

The name plunges a burning chill through me. Cuts like a knife. Every old injury awakens. I see so many faces and images flash through my mind at light speed. I can hear their voices. The weight lifting off my body. Hear his voice. He's grabbing the belt of my harness to roll me over. I want to throw up.

'Look at me! You're alright!'

I can taste the concrete dust with a hint of chlorine. Taste the iron in my mouth. Ash. I want to believe him.

I'm not alright.

I'm not alright, and someone's putting their hands on me. My adrenaline is spent and I feel…vulnerable. The tank's empty. It's realer than real. It's a horrible feeling, knowing you're dying. And yet you act calm about it, because all you're running on is shock at that point. I can't catch my breath. I don't want it to end. Not here. Not this place.

The pins in my ankle rattle. The pain where a knife once bit. The crushing pounding in my skull. My ears are ringing until I'm deaf.

John.

I can't tell if he's was trying to convince himself, or to convince me. I'm not alright.

"John."

A feel something run across my back. I can finally breathe again. I'm watching the ash fall outside the window in heaps.

"John."

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I smell perfume. Elle's staring at me. She looks worried. A shudder rolls through me. My hands can't stop shaking. Elle takes my hand into both of hers, rubbing in small circles.

"Where'd you go John?"

I struggle to find the worlds. The life has been drained out of me. It's gone as quickly as it had come. Like a mirage, it vanishes.

"I don't know." I do know I feel a thundering headache coming on. And nauseous. Elle runs her hand up my spine until she's at the back of my neck, pressing forward.

"Put your head between your knees."

I do what I'm told. And I'm able to hold onto my supper for a bit longer. Elle keeps rubbing along my back, whispering.

"Stay with me John. It'll pass."

'…stay with me son…'

I finally come up for air. I've never felt embarrassed like this before. Helpless. I can't handle myself physically. Definitely not emotionally. Elle gets me back to my room and pushes a few more pills my way. My choice though –the valium is optional, but I can't get the oxy if I do. I take her up on the offer. Work in my journal some more. I scribble down anything that comes to memory from that…episode. Another rabbit hole I was diving down. And the ground was coming up to meet me. Fast. Elle pulled me back out –again.

I wonder what would have happened to me if she didn't?

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave a review and let me know how this story is sounding.