So, I've decided that I'm in LOVE with the Die Hard movies. Especially "Live Free or Die Hard". I'm a sucker for all the tech stuff AND Bruce Willis. I mean really, who doesn't love the older men with the bald heads? I honestly think, they are by far, the hottest people around::laughs like a moron:: But seriously, this movie was GREAT and now I'm going to write some fanfiction! I can't wait to see what this turns out to be, but you can probably already tell by my first chapter! Oh, all the chapters in this story are going to be short, seeing as this is going to be a short story because it really doesn't have anywhere to go. The chapters are more like time blocks for you all to get your heads in the right places. Good luck!

Simplicity and its Faults

Chapter One

John McClane was a simple man. He liked his coffee black, he liked his six and a half hours of sleep (if that much), and he liked his guns loaded. John McClane did not like, however, confusion. Confusion, and anyone looking at his daughter. Other than that, he could deal with mostly everything that gets in his way. By taking it out and beating it or shooting it. Simple really. Well, it was simple until someone by the name of Matthew Farrell stepped into his life.

On one hand, the boy was a genius. Given that he was clumsy albeit good with people anyways. Most young men that had the brain capacity of Matt as well as the clumsy nature, tended to stick to themselves and did not get involved with anything other than their own whims. Sadly, their own whims is what normally gets them into trouble. With Matt, it was just that. Luckily Matt was able to help John and become a little more self assured and confident that he could be more than the smart guy with legs that wouldn't listen to him.

Yes, John McClane liked his coffee black, but he couldn't understand the puzzle of Matt Farrell.

"Matt!" John grunted out in a slightly pained voice.

"Yeah?" A younger, and higher pitched voice answers.

"Where 're ya?" the older man asked in a sleepy voice still pained from the stitches being strained.

"The other side of the curtain. I think, I mean I can't tell really…" the younger man, Matt said as he starts to mumble to himself.

"Matt? You still hopped up on that morphine?" John asks soundly concerned.

"I dunno? I mean, I can feel my leg but if I touch it like this…it don't hurt!" The voice coming over the curtain that John can now see, sounds amazed at the fact.

"What do you mean, touch it? What are you doing?" The older man looks incredously at the curtain, what would the foolish young man be doing to his healing body?

"Just touching it. A little. I mean, I'm just poking it. Oh, I don't think it's supposed to bleed though." Says the very unconcerned Matt, which concerns our infamous NYPD cop more than usual.

"Then don't TOUCH it Matt! You're supposed to let it heal!" John says angrily, ripping the curtain back to glare angrily at the younger man.

"Sorry, sorry! It's fine see!" Matt points to his still mangled leg.

"No, it's not fine! You got shot!" John rubs his temples, trying to will away the headache that was on a fire line for his brain.

"But scars are cool…you said so!" Matt reacts with a child like response.

"Just…don't touch it again!" the hardened city cop fixes Matt with an icy glare.

"Alright, alright." Matt agrees while pouting.

"Good. Thanks." John returns to his earlier silence. Contemplating why he found this new character in his life so confusing and frustrating to him.

The boy had no common sense when it came to danger and he was a risk to the nation for being an accomplice to the most huge terrosit threat to happen to the nation on record so far. Sadly, he was an unknowing accomplice for the attacke. Still, it would earn him some time in jail or a lot of time in house arrest. The poor kid was still that, just a kid. John didn't know how to deal with the fact that he was so young and was already condemned to a life of questioning and guilt for all the lives he had disrupted and for all the terror that had been caused.

John was also more than willing to bet that Matt would limp for the rest of his life as well as be in pain from the gun wound. The bullet had ripped through bone, muscle, tendons, and other important features of his body that made his knee. It would be a miracle for him to walk with out a can or a crutch for the rest of his life, at that. John was lucky this time, his shoulder would ache almost constantly but he could still function and work with the pain. Matt, was doomed one way or another.

Sighing angrily, John looks to the ceiling as if it would have answers before hearing a sleepy voice call out to him.

"John? Thanks for…..for saving my life and stuff. Like all the time…and letting me come wiff you man." The voice says, getting softer and softer as the speaker tires and starts to let syllables and pronunciation get away from him.

"Yeah…not a problem kid." John responds, feeling his heart beat a little more painfully in his chest.

The young man was so innocent, so naïve to the ways of the world. He was so absent of the knowledge that he would be put out for the public to point at and for everyone to blame for the breach in the US's defense system.

John felt himself give a little under the knowledge that this young man, this boy, in fact would soon be nothing but a shell. A scared and lost shell of a man that was once brilliant and courageous. John looked over again at the now sleeping man.

"Not a problem at all." Saying it quietly, tracing the other's face with his eyes. It would be a long stay at this hospital, if nothing else