[u][b]Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, Ramstein Air Base, Germany. 
[/b][/u]

The last few days (or was it weeks?) had been hard to keep track of. Sergeant Chambers remembered their patrol had discovered evidence of a bomb-making facility in the tiny village they'd been sent to investigate. Before they were able to start apprehending potential suspects, gunfire and explosions rang out. From there, he could recall he had been shouting and directing his squad to cover, then calling in to his platoon sergeant to set up suppressive fire. After that, it was a blur. He knew that he had engaged targets with aimed shots, and that at least one of his men had been hit by sniper fire. He also remembered getting hit more than once, but everything was such chaos, he couldn't remember if it had been a bullet, a grenade, or something else that had brought him down. Something had hit his plates, he remembered feeling the brutal thump, but then other things had broken skin, and from the sensation of pain he could remember, likely bone.

His men had gotten him into an MRAP, and a little later some medics had hovered over him. Then there was a helicopter ride. Then he was in a hospital. He didn't remember being lucid whenever he awoke- a lot like waking up several times in a night but going right back to sleep after.

At least he was somewhere safe, though. He knew that, and it allowed him to relax, as much as he could, anyway. Pain seemed to emanate from all over his body, but it felt distant, like he was feeling it from far away. Opening his eyes, Sergeant Chambers looked around and took in a sterile environment with dim lights and a Thomas Kincaid painting on the wall. He was propped up in an uncomfortable bed with tubes and wires and some kind of apparatus attached to him. He felt something restraining his arms and legs, and when he looked, his right leg was lifted up off the bed, with small cables coming from it. A sling held his right arm against his chest, with a heavy, cold pack wrapped around his shoulder, while his left arm was in a full cast stemming from his palm all the way up to his shoulder.

As soon as he saw the extent of the damage, the pain started to hit him, with a dull ache coming from both his arms and his chest, but strangely enough, he couldn't feel any pain in his knee. Looking at the bandaged and casted-up limb, the gears in his head started to turn and he glared at his foot, propped up at eye level. Gritting his teeth, he willed his toes to wiggle, but nothing happened. In horror, his eyes darted to his right leg- which seemed to be uninjured beneath a blanket- and he tried to lift his knee. Again, no response.

Immediately his mouth went dry and he could feel his heart racing. He wanted to call out, but he didn't think anyone would hear him. looking down at the arm draped across his chest in a sling, he saw a remote control under his wrist and tried to maneuver himself to grab it, but his shoulder was so stiff and sore that he broke out into a sweat just trying to turn and shift his forearm. Tears of frustration, rage, and panic began to stream from his eyes. His fingers were working, and he used them to painfully try to walk his hand toward the remote attached to the frame of his bed with a thick power cord.

Before he was able to find and grab it, though, the door to his room quickly opened, spilling in light from the hallway outside, and a woman in pale blue scrubs rushed toward him. He looked up at her with confusion, terror, and anger in his eyes. Chambers mouth opened, but he didn't know if he wanted to ask a question- too many flooded his mind at once- or say something to express his frustration. All he could muster was an incoherent strangled gasp that just managed to escape his dry throat.

[@honorandpride]