The Wolf and the Soldier

~|Chapter 12: It's to You, I Will Always Return|~

And now, after the two chapters of pure pain, we come to some happiness for our characters. Really hope you enjoy this, and feel free to vote and leave a comment. I love reading them :3

Oh! There's another song for this chapter: 'I Will Always Return' by Brian Adams.

And I realize it's 3am as of posting this. Do I care? Not particularly X3

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~~May 2012~~

"Curve ball, high and outside for ball one."

~~~~~
I hear the wind call your name
It calls me back home again
~~~~~

Sea-green eyes slowly blink open in the gentle light of the room as a radio plays in the background. A gentle breeze blows in from am open window. His brow creases slightly.

"So the Dodgers are tied, four-to-four. And the crowd well knows that with one swing of his bat, this fellow's capable of making it a brand-new game again. Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field. The Phillies have managed to tie up at four-to-four."

He glances up at the spinning fan and looks to his left as an open window casts light onto his legs. Cars honk outside. With stiff movements as his muscles protest, Steve braces his hands against the bed and slowly throws his legs over the side to the floor. Tan pants and brown shoes greet his eyes and he's wearing a white SSR shirt. The bed creaks slightly with the movement.

"But the Dodgers have three men on. Pearson beaned Reiser in Philadelphia last month. Wouldn't the youngster like a hit here to return the favor?"

He sits for a moment, eyes narrowing and brow creasing a bit further with a slightly slack jaw. 'Where am I?' His eyes slowly move over the white and pale green walls while listening carefully, turning to quickly look over his shoulder at the window first, the other building visible through the open drapes. A radiator rests underneath it and he finally looks at the radio to its left. It's sitting on a small dresser with a vase of white roses in front of a mirror.

"Pete leans in. Here's the pitch. Swung on. A line to the right. And it gets past Rizzo. Three runs will score. Reiser heads to third. Durocher's going to wave him in. Here comes the relay, but they won't get him."

'I remember that game...' Steve stares at the radio, hands staying against the bed beside his legs before the door opens. A woman steps into the room and smiles warmly.

"Good morning." She turns momentarily to close the door and steps forward a few paces to glance at her watch. "Or... should I say afternoon." Her hands rest in front of her, one hand over the other's wrist. A white shirt with a black tie is tucked into a green skirt reaching just below her knees. Dark maroon lipstick and mild makeup match her dark, curly, shoulder-length red hair.

"Where am I?" He asks with a low and mildly rough voice, carefully watching her response.

"You're in a recovery room in New York City." She answers him with an air of politeness and his brow furrows a bit more, eyes traveling over her to study her attire. Her tie is too long, too wide; it's a men's tie. Her hair is fully down instead of being carefully pinned back - at the least, and the game.  He turns a bit to look at the radio again, making sure.

Something's wrong... extremely wrong...

"The Dodgers take the lead, eight-to-four. Oh, Dodgers! Everyone is on their feet. What a game we have here today, folks. What a game indeed." The announcer speaks excitedly and he listens carefully. The emptiness of the room speaks volumes as well. Where's Dakota?