Purpose

Completed: 3/1/2011

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John felt himself falling before his mind could even register he had been hit. All he'd felt was a sharp tug in his side before a great force pushed him off his feet, depositing him with a solid thud in the snow covered ground. He tried to grab for his battle rifle, still tethered to him by its sling, but an overwhelming tiredness engulfed him; his arms felt as though they were made of lead. He could already feel the slippery, metallic warmth of blood soaking through his cold weather uniform as his head flopped limply to the side, his cheek barely registering the harsh bite of the snow around him as it grew crimson before his eyes.

He tried to call out, but no sound escaped his throat, his lungs felt suddenly empty. He lay there as his surroundings quickly grew distant, the world around him growing more and more muffled, the bright strobing of muzzleflashes and tracer fire growing more and more dark as his mind fogged over. The rapid crack of automatic gunfire and the sporadic thumps of grenade launchers ebbed away to be replaced with a ringing in his ears as he almost felt himself begin to float, overcome with the urge to close his eyes and succumb to the welcoming blackness that he could no longer resist.

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There's a sharp pain and tightness in his chest when John comes to his senses. For a moment, it's the only thing he can focus on before he notices the soft warmth surrounding his hand and he gathers the strength to force his aching eyes open so he can find its source, though he already knows who it belongs to. It feels like an eternity to him as his eyes slowly adjust to the dim light bathing the tiny, damp room, and he can finally see Cameron, as he shifts with a groan, his hand still clasped tightly in her's. Her eyes brighten when they meet his own and her lips faintly upturn when he offers her a tired smile in greeting.

"Hi." He rasps. He wished he could say more but his painfully dry throat fails him. Before he can try a grab for the canteen laying beside the cot, Cameron's hand has already snatched it up and offered it to his parched lips.

"You suffered shrapnel wounds to your chest and lower abdomen. They were treated, but infection set in afterward."

He continues drinking in silence for a brief moment before she lowers and caps the canteen, returning it to its resting place.

"You almost died." She adds, her voice lowering. "Twice."

As dim as it is in the tiny room, John doesn't miss the downward gaze that follows her statement, and he suddenly misses that brief smile that had adorned her face when he awoke, and the softness of her hand on his. He hates to see her like this now, those eyes downcast and dulled.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. It's lame, and John knows it, but it's the best thing that comes to his mind at the moment.

"I'm responsible for your being injured. I wasn't there when…"

"Cameron." He cuts her off.

"I almost lost you." She declares, her voice heightened.

"Cameron, stop." He rasps, before forcing his aching body to sit up, propping his back up against the wall. Cameron complies, but when she doesn't return his gaze, he raises a hand to her chin and gently prises her to look at him. The tips of his fingers trace her jawline as he cups her cheek, and his thumb idly caresses the fading gouge he finds there. For a moment, they're caught in each others' gaze, and the hellish world around them almost ceases to exist.

"You didn't lose me…" He pauses briefly, his hand lowering to grasp hers. "And what happened wasn't your fault. You make mistakes; you aren't perfect."

"John, if I had…"

"Don't blame yourself for the things that happen to me when you're not near. I don't need a protector."

Her hand slips from his and she's staring at him now; there's the deepest sadness he's ever seen in her dark eyes, boring into his own with an intensity that makes him feel as though he just hurt her in the worst way possible.

"I just need you." He whispers. Cameron's gaze softens.

"I cannot deny what drives my existence." She pauses, looking away briefly. "There is nothing for me here without you. You are that which gives me purpose."

"I know." He pauses briefly. "But at some point in time… you'll have to let me go."

She leaves her spot on the floor and gently lowers herself to join John on the cot, careful not to aggravate his injuries further. His eyes follow her every move, smooth, deliberate and graceful as she lays down next to him. They share a brief moment of silence before she leans closer into him, a leg in between his, a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I don't want to." She whispers, her voice so low that John barely catches it. The heat of her breath tickles his lips before she closes the last bit of distance between them. He revels in the feeling of her soft lips gliding against his, of her nose brushing against his cheek and tickling his, of those warm breaths as his hands come up to caress her face and run through her hair. He's breathless when they separate and the only sound in the room is that of his ragged breathing as they lay there in the shadows, their foreheads touching, their arms around each other in a tender embrace.