The Marine, Corporal Lance, is accustomed to speaking with visitors. He's personable and leads tours of the hospital and is unlike any other jarhead I've ever worked with.

"Hey, Gunny," he greets me using Marine Corps slang for my rank. With close-cropped dark hair and dark eyes, he's usually quick to smile but appears exhausted today.

"How you doing, Corporal?" I ask.

"Rough week. New physical therapist knows how to make a man hurt."

"Sorry to hear."

"How's the robo-leg?"

"Incredible. Been pushing it to the limit," I say with a grin. "If I break it -"

"- they can build you another."

We both chuckle at the common greeting. I turn to reveal the teen behind me. "This is Todd."

Todd shakes the corporal's hand. I pat the empty bed beside Corporal Lance in his wheelchair.

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"He here for a scare-'em-straight session or a military-is-awesome session?" Corporal Lance asks with a Marine's bluntness.

"How about we start with you telling him what happened," I suggest.

"Hope you have a sturdy stomach," the corporal warns Todd.

Todd glances at me uncertainly. "I think so," he murmurs.

Lance starts his tale. I excuse myself to go to the one part of the VA center where I won't take Todd until he's older: the psych ward. It's a travesty to me knowing this part of the hospital is as full as the rest. The doors at every entrance are secured. The orderlies know me by now, and I'm permitted entrance to the floor with the most severely disturbed.

The halls are quiet, and the rooms on either side resemble prison cells. Pausing to peer into one, I no longer fight the intense wave of sorrow and pain that washes over me. I let it come, and I let myself remember.

The day Mikael died, and I lost my leg, a total of four special ops soldiers were killed on the mission. Of those that survived, at least two were diagnosed with post traumatic stress syndrome. One member of our team, Sergeant Orion, had a complete psychotic break. According to the doctors and nurses, he exists in loop, reliving the ambush over and over, unable to break free of the night that destroyed so many lives. Transferred off active duty, he's been here at the VA hospital since shortly after the ambush.

I study him, heart twisting the way it always does. The formerly robust, strong warrior is drugged and subdued in his bed. They won't let him have visitors due to his violent outbursts. I stop by every time I come here in the hopes there's some kind of progress. Spec ops teams are close, like brothers, because it's the only way we survive out there.




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