The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-37-

Still.  Even though the injuries aren't life-threatening, it pains me to look at him so broken and hurt.  Blood cakes his face, trickling into his eyes and onto his lips.  Broken debris from the building litters the ground around him, some stained crimson.  The poor guy.  I should've reacted quicker, should've tried to push him out of the way before the bomb hit.

But what's done is done, and that's the part that tortures me the most.

"You're both damn lucky to be alive, if you ask me."  His brow furrowed in consternation, General Armstrong approaches us, his gun still in his grasp.  "I had boys lose legs back there in the explosions.  Some even got their eyeballs blasted out.  I don't know how the hell you both walked out of that with only cuts and bruises, but you're fuckin' blessed.  Be thankful you still have your limbs."

I don't know what to say to something like that, so all I can do is muster up a nod.  People lost their legs?  God, how horrible.  The thought of it alone is enough to make me sick to my stomach.  I can't even imagine going through something as terrible as that.  Josh and I are both lucky as hell to still be able to walk after an explosion that violent.  How did we even get so fortunate?

I'm not sure, but I won't question it.  I'm just thankful I'm still alive and kicking.  There are so many horrible ways that this could've ended, and I don't even want to think about any other possibility.

"We have most of the town secured, so make use of your time and help the injured,"  General Armstrong goes on.  "Meet up in the city hall building in an hour.  We'll give a briefing then."

And with that, he disappears down the street, leaving us amongst the scattered debris and injured soldiers.

Most of Delta Company has gathered together, either checking on me or making sure Josh is okay.  For the most part, everyone looks relatively unharmed, and I'm beyond relieved.  I was so afraid that something terrible was going to happen, and that was even before the air strike hit.  To see everyone together and safe after something like that is enough to take a thousand pounds of weight off my shoulders.

Delta Company lives to see another day, and another life-threatening battle.

After making sure I'm well enough to stand by myself, Mikey hurries over to Josh to check on him.  In his place, Brendon, Pete, and Ray help me stay balanced and ask how I'm holding up.  They must have been the other voices I heard in between the screeching inside my ears.  Either that, or they were with Josh.  It's impossible to tell since I was entirely convinced I'd gone deaf back then.  I'm surprised my hearing came back at all, if I'm being honest.  That was the loudest thing I've ever experienced in my life.

As our company regroups and begins to make our way toward the city hall building in the distance, it's difficult to miss Frank walking by himself, his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

And it's difficult to miss the melancholic glances he keeps flashing in my direction.

*  *  *  *  *

"Well, Gerard, luckily the gash on your forehead isn't too deep.  After some antibiotic ointment and bandages, you should be good to go."

The sharp odor of medicine and blood swarms the air around me as I sit on the edge of an old table in the bustling city hall building.  The place is packed to the brim, full of injured people in need of treatment as well as those awaiting our next instructions.  Most of Carentan belongs to us now, but that doesn't mean our work here is done.  We still have plenty to do, and it's not even midday.

God, I've never been so exhausted in my life.

Heaving a sigh, squinting as another tiny droplet of blood tries to leak into my eye, I watch Ryan gather a cloth, a small bottle of ointment, and a roll of gauze.  For a guy who's been taking care of wounded people all day, his composure is perfectly calm and relaxed.  At least, that's what he's putting off.  I don't know how he does it.  He really does make a great medic.