[color=silver]
Then it came.

In the matter of seconds a briefly lived victory was turning into a bleed.

The sudden blast sent him to the ground in a panic- or so his body processed. It was ear deafening. The violent quakes of the earth rumbled and roared. The beast of war demanded more! He began to breathe, taking in the moment and trying to collect himself as he realized this was it! Do or die!

He moved lower, trying to help his comrade in arms. She was unconscious! Shit! There was dust everywhere. He coughed, wood and dust scattered everywhere with the sounds of artillery waking him from his brief trance. No time to waste!

He grabbed Mila, hoisting her into his arms as he did Melanie and briefly looked to the girl on the rocks.

“Not my squad!” He stood shakily, blast after blast pounding in and around the trenches with ungodly power. He kept low as he held her close to his person, listening as Middleton called the retreat. Good! They could make it out with their lives! They just had to- 

More shelling!

Thump after thump and Franz found himself ducking into the dirt from a blast that deafened him. If he had jumped over right then and there that would have been it! Dirt covered him and his wound… he had to make do. He looked back, tossing Mila over just enough before… He took a look at his hands… [color=#8f1c1c] blood… [/color] [color=gray] did he… [/color]

There was a sudden pain in his gut, looking down briefly and seeing it on his uniform… today… was he going to die already? No… not yet! He needed to get her out of there! Hazed vision gripped his eyes as he forced himself over and scrambled for Mila’s body while the shells kept coming. He watched the air, listening to the sounds of the wind as he pat her face idly. [color=#115DA8] “We’re almost there! Stay with me!” [/color]

Boots climbed down while he looked up, running with everything he had he followed spots that had already been bombed under the logic that lightning would not strike in the same place twice. Not so soon. He kept running, the dispersed shelling giving him tension in his muscles as every huff felt as though it would be his last. He took one more look at her face…

He knew very little of her. He hoped to learn of her. In her face he saw peace. He saw a life that could be. Perhaps she could be a friend? What chaotic thoughts! Very briefly there was a warmth in his boots again and knowing there was a wound in his stomach he had to act fast before they perished!

[color=Gold]Wagner… [/color]

With determination he kept going, shelling caught by the ear. For a brief moment he paused and turned 180, kneeling and digging into dirt as shrapnel below scattered.  Once it was safe he quickly stood again, running down the path and then running fast as he could to the rest of the army with a man grabbing him by his shoulder as he exited the shelling zone. He jerked the hand off, muffled screams coming his way as he kept running. He had to get her to medic, but where?

He searched quickly, reaching a medic and screaming in the poor man’s ear to explain the situation.

[color=#115DA8] “Medic! She’s unconscious! You need to help her!” [/color]

The medic looked at Franz in a shock, saying something the rifleman just couldn’t hear. What was he saying? Was it his gut wound?

[color=#115DA8] “I’ll be fine! Just make sure she gets help first!” [/color] He shouted, putting her down on a solid board and quickly turning to the medic who grabbed him by his shoulders with that insufferable ringing blocking what he was saying. 

He squinted, looking at the medic who had a look of worry on his face. Why? Why wasn’t he helping her?

[color=#115DA8] “I said I’m fine! Help the girl!” [/color]

He was shaken harder! What was he doing?! Did he speak the same language?

[color=#115DA8] [b]“I SAID FUCKING HELP THE GI-”[/b] [/color]

[b]“SHE’S [u]DEAD[/u]!”[/b]

[i]The ringing cleared… The ringing…[/i]

His eyes reluctantly looked over to her. His vision began to straighten. One foot after the other he slowly marched to her and noticed the dry blood. He noticed… the shrapnel.  He felt his gut... [i]nothing…[/i]

“Private? Private you need to come with me. Private?”

Franz ignored the man, stepping closer and closer until he was at her feet with the medic’s hands lightly grabbing his arm. He looked at that lush face now turned pale and thin. He looked at the eyes which remained closed and cold.

[i][color=#115DA8]“Not my squad!”[/color][/i]

His knees buckled as his own words came back to haunt him. He fell to one knee, feeling tears in his eyes. His gut hurt again, but this time it ripped with a pain his skin couldn’t match. It tore into his soul. This loss… this rending… He couldn’t even explain it to himself as he felt his entire stomach being ripped out and fed back to him. Why? Why did it hurt so badly? He barely knew her! [i][b]Why?![/b][/i]

He crawled to her, gently patting her face. [color=#115DA8] “Wagner? Wagner. Wagner please wake up! We made it! We made it! Please!” [/color] He felt a surge of anxiety, a collective attack of nerves being hit at once as the medic grabbed his arm tighter.

“Private… please come with me.”

Something deep inside triggered. Flashbacks of a time years ago. An instinct locked away for the chaos of war. He lost control.

[color=#115DA8] “Why don’t you do your fucking job?!” [/color] Aggressively grabbing the medic he pulled him closer to the ground with the shuffling of feet from a shocktrooper putting him on edge. 

“Private! There is nothing I can do! Nothing!”

[color=#115DA8] “You will god damn try! I didn’t just carry her from the god forsaken hills just to be told that you think she is dead without even putting your miserable back into it you swine!” [/color]

A foot slammed against his jaw, sending the Darscen to his back as the shocktrooper dragged him out of the medic’s range. He grappled with the soldier, the bigger man smacking him across the face with a solid hook and pinning him by the wrists.

“Listen to me, Darscen! Unless you have a death wish you calm the fuck down right now! Am I making myself clear? Brass is going to hear about this and she won’t be the only one in the ground! [b]Firing squad[/b], your god damn choice!”

He felt the life drain out of him. His struggling hands softened with the tears still rolling. Cuffs came off and the man crawled to his knees. Held up by elbows and weak knees he thought of what could have been and focused on what was. 

“Private… I’m sorry. That is just what happens in war. I took this position so I could save lives.” The medic began, kneeling in front of Franz and lifting the boy’s head. Oh Franz… [i]Oh poor Franz.[/i] He shook uncontrollably. Something in his eyes spoke of a child looking for its mother. The stress breaking his mental fortitude as his screams of pain came out silently. He felt his throat spasm, mouth and jaw locked in place as he rocked back and forth with hands clenched again. He couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stream tears heavily with every passing moment. Why wouldn’t any sound come out? Why couldn’t he get his pain out? Why didn’t it stop hurting?

“But I learned! I learned that half of the faces you will see today you will never see again. It hurts… I lost my friends who joined me in this war. I lost all of them. Do you understand?”

The man weakly nodded, his eyes closing more as the medic tucked the young man into his chest. Within seconds the coat was puddled with salt water. He took in a long breath, flesh pink and bright as he felt the medic’s arms wrap around him.

“All we can do is move forward and save who we can… That’s all we can do...”

It started as a whistle. Another deep breath and gasp later and finally the dam was broken.

[color=#115DA8][b]“WAGNER!!!”[/b] [/color] His sobs became violent, the sound of a man who lost something so dear to him. The roar of a lion in the world of the ants. Even now he wasn’t sure why it hurt so much… Amber… Melanie… Wagner… How many people did he have to lose just as he was coming to know them? Sides ripped as he went limp in the medic’s grasp. His howling reduced to whimpers as the light inside of him [color=black] died [/color]. It all felt so cold. Everything felt so awful. The thoughts in his head- the feeling in his body! He kept trying to describe it but he couldn’t put the words to the feeling!

[color=#115DA8]“Wagner… [/color] [color=#0f5397] I’m sorry...” [/color]

[H3] [i]Sometime Later...[/i] [/h3]

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had begun digging the grave. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had lowered her in and said goodbye. He didn’t know anymore. His eyes just stared at the name he carved into the wood. He stared… and stared… Was he even thinking anymore? What did time even mean anymore? Had it been seconds? Minutes? Hours? Had it been a decade? Was the war over? He didn’t know. Time seemed to have lost its meaning. He was up here, she was down there. With dry cheeks he simply blinked, expressionless motions indicating a change as he thought about all of the blood she leaked onto him. He thought about how she gave her life to save his.

What did this life mean to him?

Why was his life worth saving over her own?

He didn’t care if he died so why did she have to die?

Chaos. It all appeared to be unadulterated chaos. The madness that claimed the joy of so many men. This was what broke people. This feeling of emptiness accomplished by breaking a threshold you never knew existed. To keep fighting? To keep living? What was it for? What was it god damn for?!

He had to take a breath, a small squint as he tried to think. His dry lips pressing together as he held her tags in his hand. He shook it briefly. There was something he wanted to say- something he wanted to think! There was some answer somewhere! Where? What was even the question?

He tried not to think. Thinking led him into an unorganized mess in his scrambled mind.  He just listened to the war while the sounds of war became a kind of broken record in his mind. Memories slipped into his cracked shell. The sounds of gunfire and mean screaming with his mother screaming his name. An echo chamber of darkness.

He remembered that cold quiet room where he spent hours counting the possibilities. He spent hours savoring the time before the beatings. He spent days and weeks and years just thinking and imagining of all the things that could have been. He dreamed of a future where all could be rectified in this world he never asked for. He dreamed of a life outside of that cold room. He sought something more than scraps and tales in a book with a looming figure judging his every move. Rain and silence. They brought him comfort. They were his friends when his father locked him away. Shivering and sneezing or barely breathing they were the only things that spoke with him when he wept for the girl he would lose every time. He mourned for the times he so sorely wanted back. He clung onto every memory of the good times he had away from home and felt darkness envelope him as he took a step forward into that familiar cell.

Even when the bars turned from wood to iron he felt that same feeling. More noise but more of the same. In the dreaded times when he had been judged for what he had done he felt that creeping darkness tangle with his soul in the feud for his spirit. Hands of leather armed with blades of iron pulled him from his confinement. The roars of saviors as they tugged him along… The safety of having a new family… For a time he had more than the rain to help him. For a time he believed that lie. For a good long while he bought into a reality as the high of it wore off. The sun oozed from the sky and the light faded. The walls of the sky and terrain melted into the floor, draining down into the corners and edges of the cold dirt floor.

His feelings… His heart… They began to melt too…

There was that familiar silence. As his expressions once more dulled into neutrality he heard it quite clearly. A hand slowly crept onto the mound, feeling the bump in the earth and giving a slow blink. Despite his best efforts he ended up right where he began. He lost the mother he never had. He lost the future he would never know. He lost everything to the luck of the draw. One more god damn time he drew a joker from the deck in a game that forbade its existence.

He closed his lids, bending to touch the dirt with his forehead and whispered.

[color=#0f5397][i]“Thank you.”[/i] [/color]

The soldier stood, tightening the latch on his helmet and marching in rhythm. He marched at the steady pace, remembering their faces and simply regaining his thoughts.

The terrain looked familiar for once. He squinted, thinking. It then occurred to him that he was behind the intended target. 

[color=#0f5397][i]“Report to the NCO.”[/i][/color] The only thought that spoke within his mind as he stopped and listened to conversations and groans of other soldiers. He quietly listened and took a path after getting his hint that he was looking for. He walked and walked until he finally arrived in front of Jean and his fair maidens. He arrived and… felt nothing. He paused for a moment to think, speaking after.

[color=#0f5397]“Private Franz Blau reporting. Private Mila Wagner was K.I.A. in the bombardment. Shrapnel. Awaiting further orders.” [/color] His uniform was dried with blood. His voice was monotone. His form was stiff and his personality broken. If Jean had nothing more to say, no order to give, no actions to expect, then Franz would simply stand guard without movement. Quiet.[/color]

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