things we lost in the fire.

[docwithablog]

Title: Things We Lost in the Fire
Canon Point: Pre-series. PSL canon.
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After the ambush, Sholto stops talking. In the beginning, naturally, it’s due to the pain of the mutilation he’s suffered, leaving the entire left side of his face unrecognisable, but weeks into the healing process, when the worst nerve damage should’ve been effectively numbed, either by his own system or by the administered drugs, he still hasn’t said a word. Written quite a few of them, though, they communicate primarily through (one-armed) gestures and pen on paper. Most of what they talk about are practical issues in regards to his well-being, pain scale 8, left shoulder feels dead, though once in a while a glimpse of something else slips in, like I’m sorry or will they forgive me, John, do you think. John is head physician on his case and stays long into the night to sit with him, observe him as he sleeps, because the alternative would be to return to their container and be alone.

As things progress and it becomes increasingly obvious that the man is in no state to continue his deployment, neither psychologically nor physically, John realises it won’t return to what it was. War changes people, they say and he’s known that, of course, going into this one, too. He’s sent literally hundreds of soldiers home traumatized and injured, some of them blasted to bloody pieces, but still it didn’t really sink in, did it? Because it wasn’t someone he -- Well, someone who’d keep him company at night or wake him up when he had nightmares or throw boots in his face when he snored. Major Sholto and he have shared a container since John’s arrival to Helmand. It’s been more than a year this way. More than six months of -- And now Sholto’s returning to British soil without him.

They’ll award him the Victoria Cross, rumour has it and John wonders what it’ll help, will it bring a whole group of young recruits back, will it undo the damage done to the man’s body, to his soul? Will it take any weight whatsoever off his conscience? Everybody knows that it won’t, John does, Sholto does and the senders of every single pitying glance that follows him as he is wheeled down the hallway of the hospital unit towards exit do.

Many things ended with that fateful attack, John’s and Sholto’s affair was just one of them and John lingers on it as little as possible, because anything else would be futile and more selfish than he can afford to be in his line of work at any given time. Now, as well.

For the record, he signs Sholto’s paperwork with a flourish only slightly slower, softer than his usual one.