A/N: It's been a long time. Life happened -moved, bought a house, had a kid. And yet, my mind keeps coming back to this story. Also, the release of the new MW2 has breathed life into the community. Sorry, this is still set in old MW times. To whoever finds this, and might like it, please enjoy. This story has been a breakthrough for me, and I hope you find the same joy in it as I do.
Chapter 24: Reflection
Day 75, Wednesday, March 1, 2017
I find myself lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling, short of twiddling my thumbs. The clock on the far wall reads 0553hrs. It'd be another couple of hours or so before my day would start, but my mind was functioning on high alert. Outside my room I could hear the hospital coming to life as the staff started making their routine rounds. A new patient is wheeled down the hall on a large bed, fresh out of surgery and escorted by two nurses.
That was how it had all started. My journey here. At one point I had been the patient being wheeled out on a bed, unsure if I would make it through one hour, to the next. Completely oblivious to what was going on around me as my body struggle to cling to some semblance of life. Now I was closing in on my 5-month mark of recovery. In the grand scheme it wasn't that long ago, but in the same respect, it also felt like a lifetime.
I extend my right arm upward toward the ceiling, slowly articulating each finger into a clenched fist and stretching out again. My index and middle struggle to close completely. I won't say the feeling or movement has come back to them yet, but I try to remain optimistic for my own sanity. On the counter point, my thumb now constantly feels like pins and needles, but has gained a significant range of motion. Small steps, I have to remind myself. Small steps.
When 0615 rolls around I'm up and going through my own morning routine. I'm feeling energized. Not necessarily in a good way. More nervous. Anxious. Consuming dread. And I can't place the source of it. I just know I want to get out of this place. I decide to occupy myself with low grade stretches as I pace the short length of the room back and forth, counting out each set to myself. By 0651 I've run out of options and my thoughts haven't slowed down one bit. Outside my window the dark blue sky is just starting to warm up on the horizon. Every passerby has me feeling on edge like something bad is about to happen.
The voices of strangers I hear in the hallway blend into ones I recognize. Roach, Ghost, Gridlock, Archer, Ozone, Buck…all of them. All of us, bullshitting around in our shitty rec room. One last good laugh before we would be flying out at first light and turned loose on our next operation. It all fades into a sharp ringing in my ears as the memory flickers by.
"You're up early I see."
I almost didn't hear Elle's voice as she enters my room. I steal a quick glance at the wall clock. The large dial face reads 0704. I look back at her as she reaches for the charts tucked in the plastic wall box, going about her usual business. She stuffs the papers into her clipboard and flips back to the previous pages, her eyes moving across the data. It's a moment before I realize she's staring straight at me, frowning.
"Are you alright John?"
The sound of her voice grounds me. The ringing in my ears has subsided to a low lulling hum that I can tolerate.
"I'm…alright."
"Just alright?" She's focused her eyes on me with that scrutinizing gaze of hers, setting the charts deftly back into the plastic box. There's no point in lying about it, but I'm not ready to deal with it.
"I've been better. It's just, one of those days. You know?" I hate the weakness I hear in my own words.
"You don't need to explain, John. I promise, we'll keep it light today." Elle speaks softly, reassuring her pledge with that disarming smile.
"How are you feeling overall this morning?"
"Physically?" She nods, awaiting a response as she stands poised. I run a mental diagnostic.
"I feel solid."
"That's a good starting point." Elle looks pleased with my answer.
"We'll get underway with our usual PT session and go from there, alright?"
Elle and I go through the motions of PT, but all the while it's in silence, other than any instruction she gives. At first I thought it would bring me some peace of mind. Avoid the poking and prodding, the questioning. Asking about my feelings. Back when I was with the SAS and serving as Captain in the 141, it had started becoming common practice to hold exit interviews following each sortie after an influx of suicides started cropping up across several branches. Multiple service trainings were given to the echelons of supervisors, staff, and all other personnel trying to promote the counselors and support systems available for anyone who was struggling with the invisible effects of the war. It was an absolute joke.
I hated sitting in the office, seated across from someone who hadn't the slightest clue of what we went through every time we went out. What we experienced. What we had seen. What some of us had done. Most of my sessions were curbed to simple answers and silence. I had been taught by two of the greatest schools of thought the moment I showed up on the SAS's doorstep. While I was still earning Price's approval, Gaz had taken me under his wing, bestowing onto me the savvy trade secrets of how start my new life with the 22nd SAS. As a father of two, Gaz had raised his family in the shadow of his military service, working to find the balance between his life at home, and his life on base. He had always preached, "It's a career, not a crusade." To find purpose outside of the uniform. Stay social, travel, take up hobbies. Take time just for yourself, even if it meant lounging on the couch all day. He spoke with melancholic sympathy when he mentioned how many good men had slipped to bouts with the bottle, pills, or other vices. Unfortunately, the words were a little lost on the invincible youth of a man in his early 20s.
Price on the other hand, was the opposite of Gaz. He was a private man, only gleaning on the personal life he'd left behind under the cover of long dark nights with a Villa Clara in hand. One evening, it had all come out in a rush. He was divorced twice and had a son who was nothing short of a disappointment in his eyes after getting involved in a life of drugs, theft and last I heard, was serving a 15 year sentence. Operating was all that he had left that he cared about. Hardly trusted anyone above his own rank. Froth at the top, dregs at the bottom, but the middle ground was excellent. Everyone had an agenda and we were just the pawns on the playing field, set up to fall on the sword for them when it proved convenient. Remember that you are disposable, and you won't be disappointed. Don't let anyone get in your head, not even yourself. Price's reserved cynicism was supported by undisputed years of experience and tasted of harsh truth. Perhaps it was the tangible honesty of his words that resonated so well with me.
After lunch, Elle has me gear up for a walk outside around Steinn Aflinn. The air definitely has a solid bite to it at 4⁰C or so, but the clear skies and bright sun makes it feel rather pleasant. Most of the snow that once covered the courtyard has melted away, the frozen dirty piles the only remnants of winter's touch. The stone walls of the buildings weep coats of hanging ice. We walk a slow circuit around the perimeter, now making idle chit-chat that helps put my uneasy thoughts on the back burner now that my mind is engaged. She's so easy to talk too, and I find myself laughing out loud as we discover bonding solace swapping hospital gossip. When I recant Whitney and the crew's deplorable bets, and the chastising I had taken for it, she's a bit red in the face. Apparently, her best friend Anna heckled her for the complete opposite reasons, though she suspects there's a small lingering jealousy.
By the close of the third lap I acknowledge a small hitch in my step. My body is giving me a friendly reminder that it's still healing, and Elle does too when she has me pull up.
"Easy there, big guy. I don't need you undoing months of hard work I've put in."
"You put in? I'm pretty sure I've been doing the bulk of the heavy lifting here." Despite the discomfort, I feel light on my feet. This was exactly the kind of change I needed to get my head back in the game.
"It's too nice to be inside."
"There's a bench up ahead there." She nods in the direction of the enclosed pool house, where a wrought iron and wood bench sits under the bare branches of a dormant birch. Elle instructs me to walk ahead of her.
I wait for her to catch up before we both take a seat. I can't help but noticed the tired look on Elle's face. Even a little winded as she dry coughs into the crook of her elbow. She catches my wayward glare as she slowly lowers her arm.
"Don't worry. I'm not sick." She blurts out, reading my obvious reaction.
"That was a quick answer. You sure about that Elle?" I raise an eyebrow in taunting suspicion.
"Of course I am. The cold air bothers me sometimes."
"If you insist."
"I don't like that sarcastic tone, John." She tries to sound tough, but the ferocity is lost in the cute shallow dimples of her cheeks.
"Besides, not everyone is built all big and burley like you."
"Valid point. I've carried heavier gear into the drop zone than what you probably weigh."
"That's not really saying much, now is it?" she chuckles, lighthearted and with a smile, hitting me with that stupid feeling like it always does. We're snugged side by side, leaning into one another as the chilly droplets land on us from the overhanging branches. She rests her hand on the top of my leg, getting my attention.
"Do you want to talk about this morning, John?"
When I sigh it comes out in a labored shudder, the weight of my repressed conscious sitting heavy on my shoulders.
"It's…" I paused, catching myself, the teachings of Price stopping me in the moment. There was never a doubt in my mind that whatever Elle and I discussed was in complete confidence. I credited this woman with saving my life, helping to keep my head above water when things seemed at their darkest. I knew from the way we talked, from the way we understood one another, that there was a genuine openness. She cared. Genuinely cared. And in more ways than I wanted to dwell on at this point.
"I've been feeling, off. More often than not, as of late. It just comes and goes. I'll be fine the one moment, and the next –"
I can't find the right words, and try to collect myself with another sigh. I look down at the poured cement sidewalk stained with salt and sand.
"When it happens, I feel like I can't breathe. I'm paralyzed. And I can hear everyone's voice so perfectly clear. It's like I'm right there."
"Who's everyone?" Elle gives me a reassuring squeeze.
"My old team. It feels so real, Elle. It feels so goddamn real."
"It's hard to ask for help, John. And it's ok. I promise you, it'll be ok."
Our hands find one another's as we continue to sit in silence in the courtyard. Even though Elle's fingers are freezing cold, I find so much comfort in her small grip. It's grounding. She gives me another big squeeze.
"You're doing amazing, but you need to remember you're still recovering. And not just physically. It'll take some time."
"But why now?" I bark a little louder than I had intended, catching Elle by surprise.
"When things are finally starting to feel like they're coming together for me, this shite feels like a kick in the teeth."
"I don't mean to sound crass, but men like you John…sometimes you spend your whole lives pushing those bad things away and locking them down, deep inside. You don't give yourself enough time to deal with them. When you're ready for it, we can get you the help you need."
Elle's rubbing the back of my hand, as she's always done with me.
"Over the past couple weeks, I think you've really been coming around. You're smiling more. You're laughing. And don't think I haven't noticed you and Whitney working on your own PT program. All of you are doing so well together, which is why I wanted to take a moment to discuss some things with you."
Uh oh.
Immediately my thoughts come to a crashing halt like a derailing freight train. She chuckles when she sees the apparent look of dread on my face.
"It's nothing bad John! We'll be moving you into the second phase of your rehab. You can expect a more comprehensive regiment aimed at overall physical wellness, and new tailored programs to focus on your personal needs and recovery. There'll be a lot more down time for you to work at your own pace."
"So more of the same is what you're trying to tell me?" I feel a bit of relief as I try to comprehend the full scope of the information she's handed me.
"You'll also be getting a room upgrade into C-Wing with your buddies over there. We just had a large number of patients released, so we're trying to make room for new cases while all the transfer paperwork gets sorted out for the rest of you guys. Don't worry, I did not assign you to the same quarters with Mr. Whitney."
"There's a silver lining."
"He will be living across the hall from you though." She emphasizes the word, "Rafney will be your new charge."
Ding. There it was.
"And with the warmer weather moving in, we'll be getting a group of you outside to start incorporating extended walks and eventually running."
My mind is staggering a few steps back.
"It's a lot at once, but that's why I wanted to give you a heads up so it's not a complete blindside."
We sit in silence again, save for the light patter of the water droplets rolling off our jackets as a small breeze cuts across the courtyard.
"Will I still get to see you?" There's a hesitation in my words, because I don't actually want to hear her answer. Elle had been the one good constant in my life right now, and just the notion of not having her there is giving me a feeling that's worse than the flashbacks. Worse than the nightmares. She blinks at me, the surprise of my question not lost on her face, along with the pink blush now coloring her face.
"Of -of course you will. You just won't be waking up to the lovely sound of my voice as I prod you out of bed. You didn't expect to have me all to yourself this whole time, did you?"
"Maybe a little." The reply feels sheepish.
There's a suggestive bat of her long lashes, accompanied by a non-discrete rosiness that's starting across the bridge of her nose before warming her pale cheeks -an expression I have often found myself frequented by as our time together lengthens. But it seems now that time would be finite. She opens her mouth to say something, but pauses, retracting the initial emotion and replacing it with her professional, but reserved façade.
"Well, that's very thoughtful of you John."
Suddenly, I feel very self-conscious about the comment. I'd be lying if I said my thoughts hadn't strayed farther since my night out with Elle almost 2 weeks ago. Thoughts, that I feared, had been there a lot longer than I have first acknowledged. And they weren't just strictly carnal anymore. They were stupid daydreams that were best left exactly as that -dreams- and nothing more. But the longer I look at Elle, the more I think about not seeing her every day, about our morning routine and evening talks, the more I get a sinking feeling that makes my throat tighten. Elle's frosty touch under my chin draws me back into the moment, back into her gaze.
"You know, they absence makes the heart grow fonder." She teases, helping bridge the gap of silence. But the way her lips are poised, the way she keeps stroking her fingers under my chin and through my beard, suggest more.
"Perhaps I'll just have to make arrangements for another evening out on the town. Or, if you'd prefer, a quiet evening at my place."
I feel flustered. Lost between the intoxicating rush from her touch that's put my remaining braincells offline, and poorly navigating the blatant offensive flirting that was well out of my operating zone. Wait…did she just say her place?
"That sounds pleasant." I mumble.
"Which one?"
"Surprise me." I might regret putting it out there, but right now I couldn't formulate a rebuttal to save my life.
"I'll see what I can come up with."
We sit there in silence, except for the pattering of the melting ice around us. Foolishly, I return Elle's gesture in kind, taking her face in my hand, feeling the chill of her skin against my palm. Indulge myself in the moment.
Maybe Elle was right about opening up. I spent years of my life serving others, sacrificing everything I ever had, or cared about. I died for a cause I no longer belonged to. And now I had a second -no, third…fourth?- chance to do something for myself. To make a change.
I just wasn't sure how yet. But maybe this was a start.
A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the latest installment. I'm hoping to get into the thick of it here soon!