A/N Just a short fic this time, a quick look at Scott's thoughts as he goes for his daily run.

Thanks to everyone for their very kind reviews of my other stories!

The Need To Run

I have this burning need to run.

I need to run to forget, I need to run to remember. I need to run to clear my head of all the screams and shouts of anguish.

I need to run to remember who I am.

My feet splash through the lapping shoreline waves, the hard, wet sand a perfect platform for my angry strides. My legs are sore already from the hazards of the job, my head pounds like a boulder rolling unchecked down a hill.

It's only 6am, and it's already getting hot. I swipe sweat from my brow, breathe fast in jagged gasps.

I turn inland when the beach runs out. My feet propel me forward over mud tracks and soft grass, and take me past the stunted palm tree and the gravel pit. My breath is all I hear above the sound of morning birds, a swirling, angry cloud of thoughts like bees inside my head.

Only Virgil really knows how much I give a damn. By this, I mean he knows exactly what I'm thinking when we're in the field, he knows that while I look and speak and act like I'm in charge, the burden of responsibility is shared.

Without him there beside me, I'm a boat adrift at sea.

It's not easy for me to acknowledge, but I'm not as tough as people think. I'd like to be, well, heck, who wouldn't? At six foot two, I look the part, I'm not a shrimp, by any means.

But what goes on up top, in here, well, they'd be surprised, I think.

My feet pound over rocks, my calves are burning now. My shirt is damp with perspiration, clinging to my back. I can't get rid of imagery, of piles of rubble, twisted metal, broken arms and legs and frightened faces peering upwards.

I can't crack under pressure, I don't think that I'd know how. I'm trained to follow orders and to give them in return. I set my jaw and do my job, and don't let indecision cloud my view- someone has to hold their nerve while all around there's chaos breaking out.

Don't get me wrong- I love my job. Most times, I wouldn't want it any other way. But when it all goes wrong, or when injuries prove fatal, there's nothing in the world I wouldn't do if it would stop the pain.

I'm heading back towards the house- I've had enough of running now. I need to sleep, if truth be known, but sleep eludes me all the time. I'm lucky if I get one night a week where I don't wake. My dreams are full of outstretched hands, of widened fear-filled eyes and frightened shouting, and only Virgil knows I lie awake through endless hours, and pray for all those souls we couldn't save.

Only Virgil really knows how much I give a damn.