The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-37-

"Gerard!  Gerard!"

"Oh my God, is he dead?"

"No!  He can't be!  Come on, Gerard!  Come on!"

"Jesus Christ...."

"Someone get Ryan!  We need a medic!"

"Medic!  Someone, help!"

An amalgamation of muffled, panicked voices tries to break through the sharp ringing in my ears.  All I see is the bright blue sky above me.  All I feel are endless waves of pain shooting through my body with every breath I take.  A hot liquid gently trickles down my forehead, and I can't seem to focus my mind on what's happening.

I remember the bomb going off right in front of me.  I remember getting thrown back by the force of the blast, but why can't I think straight?  Countless thoughts muddle my head and drill against my skull, and I can't make it stop.  And why are people shouting?

Then my eyes focus on something other than the cloudless sky, and everything comes crashing down before me once again.

"Gerard!"  Mikey cries as I try to peel myself off the ground.  "Oh my God, are you okay?"

His worried voice is still muted, battling against the piercing screech inside my head.  Every word he says pounds on my skull, feeds the the pain coursing through my limbs.  Even the simple act of sitting up is enough to make me bite my tongue and hold back a yelp of agony.

Man, that was a powerful bomb.

"I think so,"  I manage to say, squinting against the bright sunlight.  A cough racks through my chest, my lungs burning.  That same hot liquid drips down the bridge of my nose and onto my lip, and the metallic tang of blood fills my mouth.  I must have a cut on my forehead.  No wonder my skin burns up there.

Well, there are more pressing matters than a cut on my head.  I almost got blown to bits.  I'm lucky to even be alive right now.

"Jesus Christ, don't scare me like that!"  The pure terror in Mikey's voice makes my heart pang, along with all the other pain pulsing in my body.  "You weren't moving!  I thought you were dead!"

As the shrill ringing inside my ears begins to lessen, I wipe the blood off my nose and force myself to stand; thankfully Mikey is there to keep me upright when my knees threaten to buckle beneath me.  "Well, you're in luck.  I didn't lose any limbs this time."

I'm not surprised when he hits me on the shoulder.  Probably not the best time for lighthearted jokes.

I'm almost disturbed by the lack of deafening gunfire and explosions around us.  Sure, they're faint in the distance, but what happened to the air strike?  The battle for the town?  Did I really black out and miss the entire fight?

Then I hear a whimper of agony rise up into the still air, and I remember exactly what happened mere seconds before I was knocked out.

"You're gonna be just fine, Josh.  Some medicine and bandages will fix you right up.  Don't worry.  I promise."

Near the corner of a broken building, Ryan kneels beside Josh, whose face is covered in blood and cuts as he lies back against the wall.  He's still alive, but Christ, that bomb hurt him a lot more than me.  It was right in between the two of us.  How come he got it worse than me?

Mikey must see me watching them, a horrified glint stuck in my gaze.  "Some of the building exploded in the blast, cut up his face and body,"  he says quietly, as if he read my mind.  "Ryan said he'll be okay, though.  He'll just need some time to rest."