Holy hell. Writing sure has been put on the back burner lately, especially with college and other life things getting in the way. I'll be honest, it just doesn't come as easy as it used to.

Anyways, there's a lot of Melanie's POV in this chapter, but it's totally necessary, and totally worth it. Strap yourselves in, everybody. I'm throwing some drama your way.

Enjoy.

P.S. I experienced some technical difficulties uploading this. Please let me know if anything seems wrong!

Chapter Seventeen: Rolling With The Punches

Justin

I never thought I'd pick up the habit of biting my fingernails, but I'd be a liar if I said I had any cuticles left at the end of the day. I'd lingered outside of the hospital as much as I could without looking strange to others, but when Melanie's father and Sergeant Fenix came marching out with angry looks on their faces, I was honestly too scared to approach them. All I could do was wait out the rest of the night, and hope that I'd be allowed to visit tomorrow.

As I trudged exhaustedly back to my barrack, I was deep in though, my eyes at my feet as I mulled over everything that had happened during the last few days.

I had never once regretted my decision to join the COG. Never. But even so, those past few days had really gotten me thinking.

Did the COG really have our best interest in mind when they sent us out to that wasteland? Yeah, I know, the COG needed to do anything they thought necessary, and they'd exercised that practice thoroughly in the past. But honestly, I think all of us thought that mission to be anything but necessary.

Then again, who was I to question anything a higher up asked me to do? This was the military after all, and no one had forced me to sign the dotted line. Sure, my choices had been pretty limited then, but still.

I sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of my nose before unlocking the door to my room. My firm bed was calling me, and it took me only seconds to rid myself of my boots and plant myself facedown in my sheets.

I groaned. "What the hell," I muttered into my pillow. "I don't know what to think anymore."

I really needed to talk to Mel. She'd know what to do. Or, at least she'd know what to say to calm me down.

Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, I flinched as I was suddenly assaulted by the memory of her limp body sprawled atop a pile of rubble.

"Argh!" I cried, abruptly shooting back out of bed to sit at its edge. I let my face fall into my hands, utterly confused at the twisting anxiety in my stomach. What in the hell was wrong with me? I couldn't shake it! No matter how many miles I put in between me and the battlefield, I just couldn't seem to change my mindset.

Decarlo was dead, along with that other woman who had simply been doing her job. That's two soldiers. Two soldiers who would never see the light of day again because of some absurd intel request. Two soldiers who lost their lives for nothing.

It had almost been three.

As I ran both of my hands through my hair, I gripped it momentarily, desperately, before letting my fingers go limp.

What would I have done? How would I have even kept going if she had died out there, on my watch?

I'd promised her. On that first day. I'd shaken her hand and I'd promised that I'd always have her back no matter what. And where was I this time? Sitting back, watching, as she put her life on the line for another squad mate? It would never be cowardice, but heroics that got her killed. She felt like she needed to save everyone. To do everything by herself.

Because before she met you, there was no one but herself.

I understood that. I did. Everybody had lost someone. Most had lost it all. But still, even with nothing, there was something in her blood that drove her forward. Something that ignited in her eyes when the bullets started to fly. Something that took hold of her thoughts, spiked her adrenaline and guided her actions during the worst of times. Something that made her think jumping in front of a grenade for Hunter Abel was a good idea-

My eyes drooping, I pressed the heels of my hands against them and slumped back into my bed. I took a few deep breaths. That was enough morbid thinking for one night.

After the first night, time passed by slowly, spaces of boredom and normal patrols clogging my day and numbing my brain. Hunter and Finn stood as my partners, not that I needed them. Guarding the gate paled pathetically to the battlefield. At the end of my first morning shift, I knew I was going mad. Because I'd started missing the intense rush of shooting for my life.

I'd been allowed to visit Mel, but only for a few minutes, and under the gleaming eyes of her father. Something gave me the idea that he hated me, but I did my best to ignore him, as Melanie requested. Embarrassingly, I admitted to myself that seeing her face had melted the stress in my shoulders like snow in mid Thaw.

Poetic, I know.

During my highly uneventful patrolling, I'd had a lot of time to think to myself. About the most random things. And let me just say, too much thinking could drive a man insane. There was no one to talk to! No one to snap me out of it when I drifted off. No one to keep me entertained. Well, at least no one I was willing to be entertained by.

How many days had Mel been in the hospital? Oh yeah. Only two.

I needed to get some new friends or something. But I guess she was the one who made everything else in the world bearable. I just wanted Melanie to be better so we could make fun of Hunter and take turns guessing what Finn was thinking about like we used to. Because honestly, patrolling, talking, and life were all pretty damn boring without her.

See. It's weird things like that that come up when I've got too much thinking time on my hands.

Melanie

Why. Why would they put a clock in here. A clock the ticks, no less.

That clock would be the death of me. It would drive me mad with its tick, tick, tick and its glacial pace and its undying and consistent show of how slow time was passing in this ungodly hospital.

I was feeling better. Still weak. Still tired. But better. There was no reason for them to keep me here. Couldn't I ride out the rest of my down time in my barrack? Or patrolling? Nothing ever happened anyways. I'd willingly stand at the front of the base if it got me out of this damn bed.

With so much time on my hands, I worried a lot. I had a strange, uneasy feeling crawling around in my stomach, and I wasn't a hundred percent sure why. It would hit me in waves sometimes, especially after my father left at the end of daily visiting hours. He took his presence, along with my calm, with him. It just felt wrong, sitting back in a hospital bed when a world war raged. Or not being out with my squad or my father when they were doing who knows what.

On the morning of day three, Doctor Hayman seemed a bit more frigid than usual, her eyes in permanent slits as she gave me my daily check-up. Tight-lipped, she'd insisted I'd be able to leave on day four if the stitches at my hip continued to hold without any signs of infection, but only if I continued to rest for the next couple of weeks, and only if I'd visit her regularly throughout the duration of my downtime.

I suddenly found myself wondering which walls would be more interesting to stare at: the walls of the hospital, or the ones in my barrack?

At least Justin would be able to make the latter more interesting. I felt my mind wonder to what he was up to.

I didn't go too far down that road, however, because Hayman was poking her head around my curtain with a deep scowl on her face. "Visitor," she told me, obviously none too pleased with the idea.

When her face disappeared, confusion washed over me. It wasn't visiting hours yet, and so far Hayman had been extremely adamant about them. Stiffly, I sat up straight in my bed as I waited.

Seconds later, a male soldier walked in, dressed in a formal COG uniform and so tall I thought his head may graze the ceiling. My breath caught in my throat. I suddenly felt small.

Though obviously a soldier, he lacked qualities that the rest of my comrades and I had. He looked clean, his haircut sharp, his uniform wrinkle-free. And most noticeable of all, he looked well rested.

This man sat behind a desk most of his day.

"Private Melanie Santiago," he addressed me in a deep voice, his hands clasped behind his back. "I've been ordered to deliver your new assignment."

I blinked. "New assignment, sir?" I inquired. "I've just been ordered another two weeks of bed rest." Not that I wouldn't happily give them up to somebody else.

His dark eyes stayed cold. "You have your orders, as I have mine. I'm simply the messenger." Then, he unclasped his hands from behind his back, revealing a white envelope. Without another word, he handed me the letter, gave a small nod of his head, and then swiftly turned to leave. I sat quietly as I watched his departure, the envelope hanging heavily in my fingers.

I sat silently for a minute before slipping a finger under the envelope flap to rip it open, confusion and anxiousness settling in my brain. The paper tore open, and I retrieved the letter, folded over three times, from the inside. Slowly, as though my COG career depended on it, I began to read.

After the first read through, I was still confused. The letter made no sense. More diligently, I read it again.

The second time, I did better. The words began to register in my mind, and take form.

The third time, it hit home, and I hadn't reached the end before I was shaking.

Private Melanie Santiago, the letter formally began.

Due to recent events, your place in the Coalition of Ordered Governments has been evaluated. It has been decided that because of your current condition, a frontline position is no longer fitting.

As your female responsibility towards humanity, you will now be assigned for repopulation purposes. Your options are standard law. You may choose a male partner, a male can be chosen for you, or you may be relocated to a repopulation facility.

You will be given a 30-day contemplation period. After this period is over, you will be assigned to where the Coalition believes is best for you.

Thank you for your service and cooperation,

Chairman Richard Prescott

Coalition of Ordered Governments (COG)

I sat still for a very long time. Somewhere along the line of my disbelief, I'd dropped the letter to the bed, and brought my knees up to my chest.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be. It didn't even make sense. I was an active soldier of the COG, and they weren't supposed to drop you like a sack of bricks just because they'd decided they didn't need me anymore.

They did need me. Soldiers died left and right, and it's not like they were sprouting out of the ground like fucking Locust.

Your place in the Coalition of Ordered Governments has been evaluated. Bullshit.

I felt an animalistic rage bubble in my chest.

Total and utter bullshit.

How dare they do this to me. After I'd laid my life on the line hundreds of times for them, under their orders. After I spilled my blood, sweat and tears onto the battlefield for their cause. And after they sent me and my squad on a goddamn suicide run out in the middle of nowhere!

He's going to throw this in my face? Fuck this!

Before I knew it, I'd grasped the letter and thrown my legs over to the side of the bed. I refused to stay there, in that COG hospital, a minute longer.

Dom

"Tap out, Baird!" I demanded smugly. I could feel the huge grin on my face. "Do it! I'll break it, dude!"

Baird's face was bright red and smashed against the mats. I had his right arm in a hold, tugging it back and up towards his head as I held him still with my knees at his back. He was squirming painfully, cussing and growling at me.

"Fuck you, Santiago!" he snarled, attempting to free his arm again. I gave it a good yank. "Agh! Stop it, you dick!"

"Tap out!" I ordered again. "I've got you pinned, man, you're not going anywhere."

Baird sighed angrily into the floor. "You sound pretty confident for a high school drop out," he grunted, trying to reach me with his free arm.

I wrapped a hand around his free wrist. "And you look pretty hopeless for a guy who's supposed to be a genius," I retorted.

This went on for a few more minutes, his arrogance at an all time high as I continued to strain the muscles in his right arm. Marcus and Cole had finished up off to the side, both standing patiently with their arms crossed as they watched Baird struggle.

"Last call, Baird," I teased. "Tap out now or I'll choke you out."

He snarled. "I think it's time to knock you off of your high chair, Santiago."

"What?" I laughed confidently. "You gonna do it?" I torqued his arm back for emphasis.

"Maybe," he started, wincing as he attempting to catch friction against the mat with his feet. "Maybe I'll ask your daughter for help. Get her to bat those eyelashes at you and put you under her spell."

I felt myself glare.

"Watch your mouth, Damon!" Cole joked from the side. "I wouldn't go too far down that road. You're not in the best position, if you ask me!"

"Oooh, touchy subject?" Baird asked snidely, his breathing labored. "Too embarrassed to address how tightly she's got you wrapped around her finger?"

Still glaring, I smirked. "You seem to be under the impression that as her father, I actually have a choice in the matter."

Baird continued to mouth off. "And you seem to be under the impression that all fathers give a shit!" Then he adjusted his tone, almost becoming conversational. "But back to the point. You're not the only one she's got the attention of."

My glare turned vicious. "Baird…" I said in warning. My grasped on his arm tightened.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault," he went on. "It happens to the best of 'em. Now you'll just have to watch as she runs off to her boy toy instead of you. Of course, they'll probably do a whole lot more than talk-"

His rant suddenly broke off as I gave his arm a single, violent tug. He gave a strangled sound, ripped his left arm free and began to smack the mat repeatedly until I let him go.

Baird groaned loudly into the mat. "You bitch," he mumbled, lying still for a few moments as I stood. Marcus and Cole walked over to gaze down at him, very little empathy on their faces.

"You knew what was comin', Damon," Cole sighed, kneeling down to nudge Baird and help him stand. Baird glowered at me as he did.

"Satisfied?" he accused, rotating his arm at the shoulder as he attempting to ease away the lingering ache. "You've got a worse temper than she does."

"Everyone's got a temper around you, Baird," Marcus said, giving him a sideways glance. "You're special that way."

Baird's eyes narrowed to slits. "Yeah, hardy har har, motherfuckers. Isn't it time for you to visit go your spawn, Santiago? Maybe today you can give her a crash course over sexual education. Or you can just get Miller to do it."

As much as the desire to slam him back down into the mats burned, he was right. Visiting hours were coming up.

Begrudgingly, I made the decision to kick his ass afterwards.

"Let's get a move on, ladies!" Cole ordered, clapping Baird and I on the back as he and Marcus began their way towards the exit. I gave Baird one more vicious glare, and then we followed after, jogging lightly to catch up.

We'd hardly even walked through the entrance of the hospital when Dr. Hayman was in our faces, a grimace embedded on her face as she started snarling at us.

"Alright you cretins," she growled, glaring up at all of us. "You better not have anything to do with this, or you'll all be leaving with a boot implanted in your asses."

Baird was the first to retort, as always. "Sounds like you've already got one," he snapped immediately. "What's your problem?"

Hayman's gaze narrowed, but she looked away, suddenly resigned. "Let me guess," she said, crossing her arms. "She didn't come running to you idiots, either?"

I stepped forward. "What? What's that supposed to mean?"

Hayman was suddenly bored with us. "The Santiago girl's up and gone," she recited. "Disappeared about an hour ago. We thought she may be with you, but I guess not."

I felt my blood begin to simmer. "Gone? What does-what are you even saying? You let her walk out?!"

Hayman shot a vicious look at me. "What am I, a babysitter? I've got more shit to deal with than keeping an eye on you kid, soldier. She's an adult, I wouldn't have tried to stop her if I had the chance anyways. I've got far more important responsibilities on my shoulders! Now," Hayman whirled and put her back to us. "Get out of my hospital. I've got things to do." Not even seconds passed before a nurse suddenly stole Hayman's attention from us, drawing more shouts from her for a completely different reason. They marched down the hallway, leaving me and the rest of Delta with cryptic expressions on our faces.

I didn't waste any time. Spinning on my heel, I jogged out of the hospital, Marcus, Cole and Baird following right behind me.

"Dom…" Marcus undertoned, warning in his voice as he chased me down the steps. "Hold on a sec, here."

I hardly heard him at all, my eyes already scanning the immediate area as if Melanie would be there, waiting. The fact that she wasn't spiked my concern immediately. "I gotta find her, Marcus," I told him, distracted. "This isn't like her. What would spook her enough to run off? She should have come to me."

Cole stepped forward. "Well think about it," he said with reason, shrugging his shoulders. "We've been occupied for the past few hours. Who's to say she ain't looking for us now?"

"Or who's to say she doesn't want us knowing why she went AWOL," Baird put in. I shot him an angry glare.

"That doesn't make any sense, Baird," I told him sharply.

"Nothing makes sense until we find out the details," Marcus added, his icy stare connected thoughtfully with the ground. He shook his head slowly, a grimace forming on his face. "Damn it," he groused, putting his hands on his waist after a minute of contemplation. "Let's not waste any time, here. Split up, Delta. Find the rook so we can figure out what the hell's going on."

Melanie

I shook. I shook with rage. My fists clenched into tight, dangerous weapons at my sides as the urge to hit something burned. My eyes shifted about Delta's apartment like those of a predator, genuinely wondering how good it would feel to pulverize any object nearest to me.

I was still drunk from the bar. Drunk and pissed.

Nearly tripping over the corner of their worn down couch, I almost lost it then, stumbling to the middle of the room as my fury continued to climb.

Those traitorous bastards. Those selfish, good-for-nothing, traitorous bastards.

My hands twitched as they begged to grasp a weapon. I wanted to shoot something. And surprisingly, the living target that appeared in my mind didn't have gray skin and pointed teeth.

Calm down, my conscious urged, quickly drowning in wrath and inebriation. I smothered it quickly. I had no desire to be calm.

A clumsy mess, I straggled my way into the kitchen, needing something to sooth the lingering burn of whiskey from my throat. I ducked under the sink faucet ready to douse myself, when an empty turn of its handle resulted in nothing. I scowled. Of fucking course the water wasn't working.

A rattling came from the front room. The door swung open, then slammed back shut.

"Melanie?!" My father called out, his keening anxiousness resonating painfully through my ears. I hunched over the sink with my eyes screwed shut, and clamped my hands to the sides of my head.

No, no, no, no, no. His voice burned. It burned worse than the rage.

"Mel!" he tried again, loudly stomping around until I heard his heavy feet stop at the entrance of the kitchen.

His breathing labored, my father's tone instantly wilted at the site of me.

"Sweetheart?" he inquired cautiously, the worry in his voice agonizing. "Melanie. Baby, are you okay?" His warm hand gripped at my side to turn me around.

My insides battled. They clashed, constantly in flux, as the desire to collapse in his arms suddenly surged.

Emotions. Hundreds of them stormed in my chest, and none of them would cooperate.

The alcohol, and the rage, powered through stronger than ever.

"Don't," I hissed, whirling around only to side step him into another corner of the tiny kitchen, putting as much space between us as possible. The action alone sent my head spinning. "There's nothing wrong with me, I'm fine."

What an obvious, terrible lie.

My father's outreached hand dropped slowly to his side, and he took on a guarded expression. "Mel," he said, brow furrowing. "What were you thinking, leaving the hospital like that? Why are you here? Everyone's been looking for you." Then he examined me closely, my posture, my hunched shoulders and emotionally hazed expression. He sniffed the air.

"Are you drunk?" he accused, anger and frustrating igniting in his eyes.

"Bingo," I muttered. "You've got a sharp eye."

His mouth opened as he struggled to choose where to start. Angry lecture? Reprimand? Questions about my wellbeing? About my strange behavior? I brushed past him before he made a decision.

"Wait," he told me, a wavering order. "Mel, wait." He turned as I walked aimlessly towards the living room, stumbling foolishly as I did.

"I'm not going back to the hospital," I said, bracing my hand against the wall farthest from him. The room continued to spin, and I let my head hang low. "Fuck that hospital."

My father walked after me, trying a different approach. "Melanie, baby," he urged softly. "I can't help you until you tell me what's wrong."

"I don't need help," I snapped ferociously, turning my head to glare at him. His concern was making everything worse. "I've gotten through life pretty god damn well without it!"

He flinched at that, at me, at the hostility I put forth. There was an old pain deep in his eyes, and suddenly, my emotions were overflowing in my chest, clawing desperately for an outlet.

My voiced reduced to a hush. "I should have known things were too good to be true," I murmured thickly. "That it was only a matter of time before this was taken from me."

As I turned to brace my back against the wall, hot tears spilled over and began flowing down my cheeks. I stared at my father's desperate expression, my legs trembling. "I trusted them," I breathed, sorrow clenching in my chest. "I trusted them, and this is what I got in return." Then my hands covered my face, and I broke down, pathetically sliding down to the floor in a pool of raging intoxication and conflict.

My father was there instantly, on his knees in front of me, his heated palms cupping my cheeks. He forced me to look at him.

"Melanie," he whispered fiercely, his dark eyes burning into mine. "Tell me what's going on. Right now. Talk to me." His fingers were urgent, hastily wiping the moister from my eyes as soon as it would appear.

I couldn't even hope to find my voice. Instead, I removed his hands from my face, and then reached into my pocket to pull out the weathered and tattered letter there. Giving me a questioning look, he quickly plucked it from my hands, and began reading furiously.

"What is this?" he asked after a moment, disbelief coloring his face as he waved the letter in front of him. "Melanie, what is this?"

I answered him silently, my eyes meeting his with a leveling, tearful glare.

My father could only stare back. His eyes stayed wide, and unseeing, for a very long time. So long that my tears ran out. They began drying on my skin as I watched him try his best to process the situation in his brain. As he was consumed by shock, just as I had been.

Now kids, Feral whispered darkly in the back of my subconscious. In the Santiago family, what step comes next after shock?

Suddenly, and viciously, my father finally responded, standing from his knees as the letter feel from his fingers. Then, after taking a moment fume, he let out a roar of fury before sending a voracious punch through the wall, located somewhere up above my head.

My shoulders shaking, all I had the strength to do was flinch. My tears building again, I buried my face into my arms, and let out a soft, pathetic cry.

Well that was a fun ride.

This chapter was a tiny bit shorter than the others, but I decided to end it there so I could just post the damn thing. Good luck to anyone starting school again, as I have. I know it can be stressful, believe me, but just take it one day at a time and all that. Oh, and you know, read fanfiction.

Thanks again for all of your lovely, continued support. You guys are amazing!