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It had been a little over two days since the accident, yet an uneasy buzz still made its way through the Allied Nations’ encampment. They had won their last battle - that was to be expected. However, things don’t always go perfectly. This time, the unthinkable had happened: Wars World’s guardian of the skies was sent plummeting to the ground, his wings now clipped.
Rachel paced her way through the maze of tents, her boots crunching each time they hit the dead ground. She couldn’t help revisiting the events from a few days ago. Nobody could.
I guess that goes to show how crucial he is to everyone here, she thought.
Everything seemed to slow the moment Eagle’s jet made impact. Heads turned. Eyes widened. Sami had entered a full-on sprint before any other CO had the chance to say a word. She had to be corralled by Jake and Sonja, the two of them struggling to keep her at bay. Sami was persuaded, much to her chagrin, to let the medical staff do their jobs uninterrupted.
Dinner that night was… different, to say the least. The atmosphere was, understandably, solemn despite the earlier victory. Everyone ate in silence, their minds preoccupied with the condition of Green Earth’s air ace. Even Hawke and Lash had enough decency to read the room and keep their mouths shut.
Rachel arrived at her destination, a tent about twice the size of the others around it. A Green Earth soldier standing guard gave her the OK to enter. She unzipped the flap carefully to ensure she wouldn’t disturb the man resting inside.
The first thing Rachel took note of was how hot it was in there. Then, to her annoyance, the incredibly dim lighting. Rachel strained her eyes, searching intently for the pilot. She found him soon enough. Eagle lay on his side beneath a quilt, resting as best he could on top of a makeshift bed. His breaths were heavy, rhythmically interrupting the silence. The weak scent of medicine permeated throughout the space. As Eagle shifted in his sleep, Rachel became aware of an IV tube running from his left wrist to a nearby pole.
That’s odd, she noted. I’d expect him to have some serious trauma, but why administer intravenous fluid? Is he sick?
“He’s a sight for sore eyes, ain’t he?”
Rachel whirled around in the direction of the voice with a start.
Slinked away in the corner of the tent was Grit. Rachel didn’t even notice him when she scanned her surroundings. He grinned.
“Gotcha good, didn’t I?”
“No, you jackass!” she whispered furiously. “Could you imagine what Eagle would do if we woke him up? He’d lose his mind!”
Grit’s smirk vanished. “I don’t think he’s in any condition to do such a thing. A doctor explained everything to me a while ago. He’s in rough shape.”
Concern flashed in Rachel’s eyes. “He’s stable though, right?”
“Yeah, but still. He got banged up a lot. Lacerations from the shattered windshield, a busted eardrum, a concussion, torso contusions, a broken collarbone and five broken ribs. It’s a miracle he wasn’t thrown out of the damn thing.”
Rachel exhaled sharply as she turned to observe Eagle further. Nearly every part of him that wasn’t under the quilt’s cover was splotched black and blue, scattered red cuts contrasting against them. Grit stared as well. He continued to speak softly.
“The real kicker is the deal with his arm. A big piece of metal got lodged in his shoulder. As you could imagine, it was a pain to get out. Then the wound went and got itself infected.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “You’re telling me it happened that quickly?”
“Yeah. Pretty hard to imagine with the wonders of modern medicine and all. The poor bird’s definitely been through it. Now the infection is in his lungs. I thought he was about to hack one up when I first got here.”
“So that’s why he’s hooked up to an IV pole.”
Grit hummed in response. He and Rachel sat there for a few minutes more, taking respite in the quiet space that contrasted wonderfully from the chaotic battlefield. They only wished their comrade was healthy, not sickly and beaten.
Eventually, Rachel made her way back to the tent’s entrance, yawning as she did so. Grit followed her and unzipped the flap quietly. They both eyed Eagle for a final time before they wished each other a good night and headed back to their quarters.
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The sky had turned from canvas to a vast expanse of the deepest blue, distorted in a haze and fervently shifting about. Eagle craned his neck and looked around, expecting to feel the excruciating pain he had become all too familiar with. There was none. The heat had abruptly ceased and the world felt wonderfully cold for once. A brisk wind whipped at him, seeping into his searing bones and boiling blood. The chill calmed the aching in his lungs - it felt great to just breathe.
“... not getting any better,” a voice drifted through the back of his head. “He’s still burning up. It would be wise to prepare another IV of acetaminophen.”
Eagle jolted around in an attempt to find the noise’s source but could find none. A breeze blew again, but there was no chill this time. This wind was hot and unbearable. There was frost forming on fresh blades of grass, and yet he felt as if his insides were on fire. He panted heavily now, his breath noticeably billowing out into what seemingly was frozen air, but there was no cold anymore. His head throbbed at what he couldn’t comprehend.
The pilot saw that snow was beginning to fall, and yet his body burned, ears ringing, sweat pouring down his face, his back, and right into the gash in his shoulder –
The sky changed once more, now dark and sparkling with stars. The pain that returned so suddenly was gone again in an instant. It was cold once more. Eagle’s body relaxed.
Upon the return of his hearing, he picked up the voices of his comrades; Sasha chiding Colin over something trivial, Jake belting out lyrics to those horrible songs he likes so much, and Sonja chatting with Javier about strategies for the next battle.
Eagle chose to sit and stay put. Contrary to popular belief, he truly would like to indulge in frivolous socializing for once. Now was not the time for that, however; the matters of war required a clear mind. He simply resorted to pulling his knees to his chest, propping his chin up with his hands, and studying the sky.
His facade of indifference came under threat of shattering when a certain special forces genius appeared in his peripheral vision.
“Hey, you mind if I join you?” Sami quietly asked him. He’d never mind her company.
Eagle merely murmured a “go ahead” in response. Sami stayed close to him, her shoulder brushing his arm. That alone was enough to make him shiver. He’s silently grateful for the weather.
“I assume it doesn’t tend to get like this in Green Earth.”
Eagle nodded slightly. “Rarely. Maybe by the mountains. And what about you? There must be better things to wear right now than something without sleeves.”
Sami smiled at him and his heart skipped a beat. “I guess I’m just used to it. You can’t let a little cold get in your way.”
“I can’t argue with that logic.”
“It would be wise if you didn’t.”
Sami stifled a snicker with a hand as Eagle’s eyebrows shot up. She’s certain she saw his lips twitch into a smile, if only for a moment.
The two of them fell into a comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Sami shook slightly at a particularly strong gust of wind, prompting a knowing look from Eagle. She resorted to flicking his shoulder, this time laughing freely as she did so.
Eagle came to the conclusion that he’d like to hear more of the same. On his lips. In the shell of his ears. Reverberating through his chest. He’d like her to ruin him. He wants all of her. And as she leans into him and links her arm through his, he can’t help but wonder if she wants all of him, too.
... ... ...
Eagle can’t recall exactly when his eyes drifted shut, but he did clearly register the sky splitting open over the horizon. Dazed, he clumsily stumbled backwards as thunder rang overhead. He skinned a hand as he fell; his brain pounded as he tried to fathom why that was so. The snow was gone. The grass was gone. Sami was gone. Eagle found himself alone atop a massive, jagged cliff that overlooked a sea rough with winds of the oncoming storm.
He froze as everything came together in his sluggish mind.
This… this is where Dad...
Ranger’s Bluff. It used to be one of the main training grounds for the air force. After Green Earth’s armed forces lost who was arguably their best soldier, they mandated a selection of another location out of respect.
Eagle remembered that day perfectly. His father was selected to test a new-and-improved battle copter and he was invited along with him. The conditions could only be described as perfect; the sky was completely clear and there was barely any wind. Eagle, along with several officers, watched in awe as their country’s pride maneuvered about the skies. Everything was going according to plan.
It all went upside down after that - literally. Something within the copter malfunctioned and the machine flipped vertically, never able to right itself. It entered an immediate nosedive and ultimately hit the water at an angle that split everything up. It was not a survivable crash. Eagle knew that, even at a young age. His father’s broken and disfigured body is a sight that will haunt him for the rest of his life.
For now, the young pilot vowed to steel his resolve for the battles to come. A preoccupied mind has spelt doom for many the soldier. Sentimentality has no place in war, and Eagle will keep it that way…
Ideally. But there’s no such thing as an ideal world, is there?
There isn’t a day where he doesn’t wish to see his father once more. There’s been times where he’s dwelled on all of this too much, striking doors and walls again and again, leaving him with raw knuckles and chipped nails. Eagle couldn’t help it. He still can't. He needs to see his father. He has to. He’s still too young for this, too inexperienced. There’s so much he doesn’t know. And the one man able to fix everything rests six feet under, never to return.
Eagle lifted his head to the sky, fists balled. It’s raining now, the droplets from the clouds providing noise to drown out his thoughts somewhat. Lightning danced across the sky in brilliant purples and blues once more. This light was blinding, more intense than it previously had been. He winced at another roar of thunder, lowering the hand he’d raised to shield his eyes.
His father was there. Right there. Right in front of him.
Labeling his condition as “poor” would be putting it lightly. Eagle thought his father looked absolutely horrible, perhaps even worse than the day he lost his life. His eyes, boring into those of his trembling son, held no light. At impact, the man’s forehead smashed into the control panel in front of him, resulting in a grisly sight of exposed pulsing brain and blood clots. His left arm bent the wrong way at the elbow, bone jutting out through the sleeve of his red-stained uniform. The right was in no better shape. It hung limply; the top of the bone detached from its shoulder socket. A rotary blade punctured a lung, wedging itself between two ribs. The older man forced an arm up, curled his fingers around the blade, and yanked, blood and other viscera spilling from the cavity onto the stone below.
Eagle only stared in horror as his father limped towards him, blade clattering to the ground. His body was screaming at him to move, he should, but he found himself unable to, petrified.
This is what you wanted, isn’t it?
His father reached him, willing his broken arms to wrap around his son’s back. He huffed in exhaustion, brain dripping through his nose and onto Eagle’s head. The corpse sighed then, the terrible, wet noise churning the other man’s insides.
“I love you, Kid.”
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Eagle choked on his own tears.
... ... ...
Eagle was running as fast as his legs would let him. The monster who had almost brought Green Earth to its knees followed in hot pursuit. After the pilot thought it prudent to make an attempt to put water under the bridge, Hawke chose to burn the whole thing down. Eagle should’ve known better; it was unlike him to try and reconcile in the first place. Perhaps he’d unknowingly been goaded into the former Black Hole commander’s plan. Perhaps he was just an idiot.
Hawke made up the distance between them easily. He lunged forward, feet leaving the ground, grabbed a fistful of silver hair, and slammed Eagle’s face into the hard ground. Eagle could hear his nose break, the crack accompanying the awful pressure building between his eyes. Hawke’s heavy hand threatened to crush his skull. Eagle’s limbs scrambled, trying to find a means of escape as his body writhed, but the grip wouldn’t lessen. Instead, another hand made its way around his neck.
Hawke rose, flipped Eagle over, and held him at face level. Both hands wrung the smaller man’s neck now, his vision starting to swim. Eagle raised his head; whether in a sad act of defiance or some semblance of self-defense, he wasn’t certain. The motion made blood drain from his nose back down to his throat and eventually settle in his stomach, causing him to sputter even more. He spat at Hawke, who ducked out of the way and sneered.
“Pitiful. I expected more out of you. All talk and no bite.”
Eagle couldn’t see straight. It took all of his willpower to not pass out in this chokehold. He managed to wheeze out one word.
“...Traitor.”
Hawke laughed, the sound prompting Eagle to glare and grit his teeth. “How so? An opportunist has no true allegiance. You should’ve known better.”
And with that, Eagle’s head was railed into the ground once more, this time mercifully knocking him out cold.
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Eagle’s eyes flew open. He immediately made to get up but his body refused to. Everything hurt. The pain started at his shoulder and snaked its way throughout the rest of him. He was quite sure his head would explode. A whimper escaped his lips as he spasmed, inwardly cringing at his own weakness and forcing his eyes shut. He wanted to rip those fucking tubes out and prove he could power through this, through anything, but he was just so tired.
He was hardly conscious when he noticed a doctor enter the tent. Eagle didn’t bother to open his eyes or give a greeting.
“Are we feeling any better at all?”
Eagle tried to not enter a coughing fit and failed. The doctor was immediately at his side, helping him lift his head.
“I’m taking that as a ‘no.’”
Eagle let out some half-growl-half-grunt that he hoped told the doctor to cut the shit. Thankfully the white-clad man got the message. He hummed to himself as he eased Eagle back down and busied himself with whatever he’d brought in his bag. He kneeled down, holding a syringe.
“I’ve got something to make you feel better. I’m sure it’ll feel like nothing compared to what you’ve already been through. Breathe in for me.”
Eagle did, chest rattling. The doctor gently took his right wrist and guided the needle above a visible vein.
“And out.”
Oddly enough for someone in his state, Eagle was rather hyper-aware of the syringe’s contents entering his blood. Whatever it was, it made him delightfully cold. He sighed, almost involuntarily, making the doctor chuckle in response.
“I know you want to get back out there as soon as possible. We’ll work as fast as we can. In the meantime, you need to rest more.”
“Th… Thank you.” Eagle’s words slurred. His tongue felt too thick for his mouth.
The doctor said something else as he left the tent, but Eagle couldn’t make it out. His thoughts didn’t make sense anymore. He chided himself for his frail state. This was never supposed to happen. He should be better, like his father. But he never will. He’d never be anything but a burden.
Eagle wanted to open his eyes. To stay awake. He wanted out. He wanted Sami. He wanted to simply be enough.
His lungs and shoulder didn’t burn. He could breathe. He felt nothing.
Is this how Dad felt, drowning in darkness?
As if to answer him, Eagle’s world finally turned black.