The Ward's Guard

So by forcing you to think on it long enough to explain it, we've forced you to loose the game, too?

"Nico?" He shook his friend, "Nico!" Fischer began to practically run, shouting for someone, anyone to help him.

"Is she . . ." Fischer cleared his throat, trying to hide his conflicted emotions on the subject. "Is she nice to you?"

"A . . . girl?" He furrowed his brow, "but I thought tha' . . ."

'Do I-" He paused midstep, "uh, I thin- It's differen' now, bu' I think I still do."

Fischer glanced quickly at his old friend, "stay wif me. C'mon, tell me somefin' 'bout the years we were apar'."

'Oh come on," Fischer said as he adjusted his grip on Nico. "Ya said tha' you're a coward, bu' you chose ta face forcing me ta leave than watching us die. Tha's a different kinda bravery. Ya did wha' was best for the both of us even when I was thinkin' tha' wasn't the case."

"Righ', you're worth more than tha'." Fischer nodded to himself, "you're the bes' thing that happened ta many people, I suspect."

"See, now you're star'in' ta sound like me when we were younger." Fischer dragged Nico out of the room, heading towards the closest medical center he knew of. "I don' care wha' ya think, you're worth saving."

Fischer grabbed Nico under the arms, and heaved him up. "C'mon, ya don' wanna be a fool like me."

"I didn' wanna believe it," Fischer checked over the bandages once more before nodding. "Can ya stand?"

"I was talkin' 'bout you," he said as he yanked the blanket tight around Nico's waist. "I thought it would be better if I died by your side ven continue withou' you. Obviously I was," Fischer cleared his throat again, "I was wrong."

"No, you're not," Fischer told him as he worked harder on the blanket. "Being a man matters nothing a' the end of the day, all it'll end up doing is getting ya dead. It's more abou' those ya do good to." He paused for a moment, having to force the words out as a whisper. "Like saving a life, even if they think they don't wan' it."

Fischer tried to continue putting on the blankets, but all he could manage to do was apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding while his mind whipped between thoughts faster than he could track. ""Do ya think that uh, that maybe being a man ain't what matters?"

Fischer paused, thoughts clouding his focus no matter how hard he tried to return to the focus. He cleared his throat, "what uh- What do you think makes a man?"

"Why?" Fischer asked to keep Nico talked while he returned with the blankets. The sight of blood hardly phased him as he kept his mind in the battle space, moving to wrap the blanket around Nico to slow the bleeding.

Fischer tried to hide how he winced at the wound, "you're gonna be fine, pal." The amount of blood he had already lost was worrying to say the least, but he was still conscious, which was a good sign. "Listen here, I need you to keep talking, ok?" With the pang of regret over leaving his equipment that held the bandages back at the barracks fresh in his mind, Fischer rushed to the bed and ripped off a blanket.

"Not happenin' buddy," Fischer told him as he tried to find the wound on the man. A sense of relief came over him when Nico could speak, but he had to clear his mind to return to the singleminded focus of the battlefield. "Where are ya bleedin' out at?"

At the stench of blood, Fischer's mind cleared of any semblance that resembled emotion as he dropped into a combat stance, immediately scanning the room before seeing the blood that surrounded Nico. He rushed to the man's side, the thought of scanning the room fleeing his mind as a sense of panic took hold of him. He hesitated when he reached Nico's side, but he forced himself to take a deep breath of air to bring back the focus of battle. He gently touch the other man's shoulders, "Nico, can you hear me? Are you awake?"

Fischer awoke later, he was unsure how long he had laid there in his tears, and how long he had slept, but he still felt a horrible pit in his gut. He stirred slowly, his arms and legs aching from the position he had laid in for so long. He would have jumped when he turned to find Nowak at the foot of his bed, having held his position from the last time that Fischer saw him. The older sergeant looked somber, sitting and staring towards his shoes. He didn't think that Nowak had noticed him stirring until he spoke. Nowak's voice was low and hoarse, but Fischer was caught off guard with how deliberately gentle it was. "I . . . I know I'm not your father. I'm no one's father, really. But I do care." Fischer opened his mouth to interject, but Nowak cut him off. "Just let me try. We're meant to be a team, and this team needs to always be at it's best, otherwise people die. So even if you don't think I care on a personal level, I do on a professional one. So tell me, what's wrong." "It-" Fischer coughed softly, his voice far more gravelly than he thought it would be. He cleared his throat, and continued. "I don't want to share." Nowak nodded, "then I'll stay here until either you do, or you're fit for duty." "Why won't you leave?" Fischer whined at the sergeant. Nowak looked up to meet Fischer's eyes, "because I've seen things like this before, and bad things have happened to good men who I've left alone like this. Now, what happened?" Fischer groaned, "a friend of mine who was . . . Very close to me long ago met up for the first time in ages." "That's a good thing," Nowak pointed out. "Is that who you were going to see when you left, then?" Fischer only nodded, causing Nowak to lean forward. "I'm guessing you two didn't quite see eye to eye after these years." "He said-" Fischer took a deep breath to try and force away the tears, "he admitted that he was the one who did something horrible to me, years ago that betrayed our trust and caused me years of pain." The sergeant paused, taking it all in. "Do you know why he did it?" "He said," Fischer felt his chest tremble slightly with another breath. "He told me that he was doing it for our own good. I guess . . . I guess I can see it now, but still . . ." Nowak leaned back, obviously considering the situation. "There's two things I can see you doing, Fischer. You can either choose to cut him out from your life and try to move on, or try and reconcile with him." The sergeant turned to meet Fischer's eyes again, "you know the situation better than I, so I can't really tell you what's better, only that I've lost too many good pals because of some differences and perceived betrayals. Sometimes I think ti was worth it, other times I'm left thinking about whether I did what was right." Fischer looked away, "I don't know . . ." Nowak stood up from the bed, "whatever you choose, we'll have your back. We Praetorium Guard stick together, no matter what." He performed a short salute before walking away from Fischer, but he found a spot where he could still keep an eye on him if needed. Moments after tossing and turning in his cot over everything he had said and heard, Fischer sighed as he reluctantly sat up and got his boots on. He marched out of the barracks, nodding to Nowak as he left. After asking around quickly, Fischer finally found his way to Nico's room, and he knocked on the door, only to be surprised by it hanging ajar. He stepped inside, only to pause at what the room contained.

The wind on Fischer's back was cold when it pushed him back towards the eating house where he had left Nico. He pressed on, trying to control his tears through consistent breathing, in and out. Each breath trembled within his chest and it only slowed the flow of tears, but it was a good way to center himself. He looked up at the barracks, hesitating for a moment at the front door. It was taller than he remembered, and it seemed to look over him. He swallowed any sense of intimidation from it, and rushed through the door. It felt as if every eye in the room turned to looked at him, but he didn't care. He didn't care when he rushed through the room with heavy footfalls, staring at the floor to ignore the undoubtably judging eyes that followed him even after he reached his bed. The pillow provided little comfort when he tried to bury his face in it, with it barely soaking up his tears. His very diaphragm trembled shuttered with every tearful breath, no matter how many times he tried to breathe deeply and get control of himself. But every time he thought he managed to slow the tears, the image of Nico's face in tears broke him down again. He hardly noticed the abrupt shuffling of feet until his cot shook as if someone sat on the end of it. "Hey pal," a familiar voice called out, "you doing alright?" Fischer peeked up just enough to see sergeant Nowak looking back at him. "I'm fine," he hissed before turning his head back into the pillow. "I've seen fine, corporal, and you're not it." "What do you care?" Fischer demanded with his voice muffled by the pillow. Nowak shifted on the cot, "I just figured that it would be better if you talked about it. Use it as a way to organize your feelings." "Go. Away." "You need someone to talk to. This isn't the first time I've seen something like this, kid." "I'm not a kid!" Fischer lifted his head and turned to shout at the sergeant, "and you're not my father! So leave. Me. ALONE!" Without bothering to see Nowak's reaction, Fischer planted his head back into his pillowed, and continued to cry uncaring of who saw. He didn't care what they thought, he didn't care what anyone said. He didn't care . . .

"A perfect couple?" Caden kissed her again, smiling. "I think I'll agree with you on that."

"Now why," Caden wrapped both of his arms around her waist, "would you say that?"

The general kissed her back, but his lasting just a moment longer. "I still think you're positively terrifying."

Caden lifted his hand onto her shoulder, "My dear Riva, if you were anything near docile, then I would have never let you in the same room that I sleep in, let alone the same bed."