Walking up the front of the university for seemed like the hundredth time, John Watson could practically feel the eyes of the other students burning into him as they carried their cases away from the school. Excited for a short break. Through their excitement they still seemed to be able to allow themselves short glances towards the soldier. Ever since his return, he was regarded like an outsider. He never told anyone why he was sent back, why he had a limp or why he seemed to be constantly in the grips of a terrifying nightmare most nights. And because he had never spoken about it, rumours flew. The looks he received grew from curiosity to pity because of elaborate stories of torture and angst. He didn't care to correct them, they would never understand the truth. Today was no different than the rest. Glancing around, he made eye contact with a brunette girl, Molly. She blushed deeply and averted her eyes.

He took each step one at a time, leaning heavily on his cane. At first he hated the thing. It made him feel old and useless. Now he simply didn't care. He sighed in relief when he came to the top of the seemingly endless, uneven steps, until he heard his name being called from a distance. Awkwardly turning, he saw one Greg Lestrade pulling up in his car.

"John! John Watson!"

John stretched a false smile across his face as the older man climbed out of his vehicle.

Lestrade was one of the only people he would actually be able to call a close friend. He didn't ask about the injury or his time away. They had simply met in a pub down the street and for the first time in years, John had had a good time. He had been home only a few short weeks, still trying to get use to London again. After waking up that morning from yet another horrid dream, the rest of his day having been getting progressively worse, he made the decision to follow in his sisters footsteps for one night, and get flat out drunk. Around his third beer he realized his mistake, this wasn't helping at all and now he had to wake up from not only another terrible night, but to a hang over as well. Thats when Lestrade had walked in.

Now, months and many nights at the pub later, the 26 year old soldier finally had someone he could call a friend.

"What are you up to tonight?" Lestrade asked, bounding up the steps two at a time.

"Nothing, I suppose." John answered cautiously. It had been almost three weeks since he had heard from Lestrade. Positive he had been forgotten.

"I was wondering if you'd be up for a night at the pub?" The older man beamed at him, a warm smile etched in his face. Though through the smile, John could see something of regret in his eyes, obviously a little guilty for not being around as of late.

"I can't tonight" John lied. "I've got… a huge test in a few days and I should probably study." He cringed slightly at the obvious lie, he had always been terrible at that. He was sure Lestrade had seen through the lie, but the man simply smiled, said the predicted 'maybe next time' and proceeded to climb into his car and drive away. John watched the spot where the car had been, unaware of how long he had stood staring. When his mind logged back on, he realized all the other students had left for the break, he was one of the only ones left at the school. A blessed five days without stares and whispers, without class.

When he reached his room, he stood at the door and took in his empty room. He had developed a very plain existence in the previous months since his return. A plain, perfectly made bed was pushed up in the corner of the room. 'The Hobbit' was perched precariously on the edge of the end table, along with a week old bottle of water. Excitement at its finest.

Sighing, he made his way over to his wooden desk and pulled out his laptop. He browsed his Facebook with little interest, Karen had posted a new photo of her and some bloke named Matt. Jones was expressing his fondness for a kind of truck John had never heard of and he also discovered the word 'you' was now missing two of its letter. With something of utter disapproval, he shut the computer down and simply stared at the wall with a blank expression. He was wrong. He already missed the stares and dull classes. As if unable to comprehend the next five days, his mind wandered and he soon fell asleep at his desk. His shoulder was going to pay for that when he woke up.

o0o

'I've got to get to her' I keep thinking. 'I've just got to get to her.' I see bodies. Countless bodies. Most of them my friends, the people I've spent the last year with. I've laughed with them, cried with them, survived with them. One specifically stops me in my tracks. My eyes grow wide and I feel them fill with tears. "No…" It can't be her. I don't hear the words that I begin slurring together as I collapse to my knees. Rolling over the female soldiers body, I feel my heart stop. Her heavy eyes shift towards me.

"John…"

"Shh, its fine. You'll be fine. Everything's fine." I lie through gritted teeth. Oh god, why her, of all people, why her? I feel a sob rising in my chest as I press my hand down on the dreadful wound staining her fair skin, seeping through and covering her whole leg. She's lost so much blood. "I'm going to get you out of here." It's the least I can do. I can't just leave her.

"Joh… go…" She struggles.

"I'm not leaving you!" I scream, I can feel myself loosing control. Keeping pressure on the blood soaked area of her leg, I quickly scanned the surrounding area for the medics. I could see no one through the smoke, only the scattered limbs of those who were unfortunately out in the open when the explosions started and the surprise attack began. I aim my attention back to my wounded friend. Her eyes no longer open. "No!" I shout, feeling for a pulse. I find it, but its so weak. I can't seem to think straight, but the next thing I know I've wrapped my shirt around her bloody thigh and am crouched over ready to pick her up.

I sullen 'crack' fills the smoke filled air, and a burning pain shoots through my shoulder. I collapse on my side, head barely arms length away from hers. I look down to my shoulder. Blood is pumping out at a violent rate. Each heart beat of life driving me closer to death. I can't die now, not now! I've got to get up, I've got to help her!

"Mary…" I whisper, tears leaking out of my eyes and sliding down my cheeks. Staining them with grief. I look at Mary. Her chest is no longer moving. It doesn't take a doctor to guess her faint heart beat is now no longer existent. "No…" I sob. Reaching out, I take her mud covered hand in mine. Gripping her tight as if its all I need. I hate that I'm not able to help her. To at least carry her body out, to give her the respectful death she deserves.

"Please God, let me live" I hear myself murmur over the sounds of boots clumping on the soft ground. Eyes growing hazy, and soon everything is dark. I hear something that could have been my name. But I can't bring myself to care. The only word coursing through my mind it Mary. Mary. MARY.

o0o

"MARY!" John screams as he wakes. Toppling out of his desk chair and failing face first onto the light brown carpet. He groans into the soft fabric, not being able to will enough energy to move. As if an addition of mockery, his cane slowly slides from its leaning position and pitches forward hitting him in the back with a dull 'thump'. He almost laughs. Almost.

When the pain in his shoulder starts to become to much, he groans once more and begins to pull himself up off the ground, with sluggish movements. Looking up at the window, now on his knees, he realizes he's only been asleep for about an hour, it was still mid-day.

"Great" he mumbles towards the bright window. Now, staring at the dust specks floating through the air, his mind began running over an episode of Doctor Who he watched forever ago. He smirks at them memory of when Mary tucked under his arm as Doctor spoke of the shadows. Funny how these memories seemed so long ago.

Still lost in thought, kneeling on the floor, he didn't notice when the room seemed to grow brighter. When it was so bright, it seemed like someone was shining a spot light through his window, John snapped out of his mind and turned his head quickly towards the window, right arm shading his eyes from the blinding light. It seemed to grow brighter and brighter and he could feel a strong heat against his arm. The heat rapidly turned to burning and he dropped out of the light, shaded barely by the desk. Being cautious to not touch the light, he pulled himself into a tight ball under the desk.

A loud 'pop' filled the air and before he snapped his eyes shut all he saw was white.

After a couple seconds, he opened one eye vigilantly. There was a dull buzzing in his ears and the sun seemed to shine ever the slightest bit brighter, but other than that, everything seemed normal. Perplexed, med student slid ones hand shakily into the sun rays, disturbing dust specks as he did so. It didn't burn. 'Strange'… he thought, as he made his was out of the creaky door of his room into the hallway. Slightly shaken, he made his way outside, pushing the door open with a hesitation. Nothing seemed out of place. And yet everything seemed... different.

He walked forward, taking it all in until he stumbled across something. A suit case. Looking over a few more feet, he noticed a hand bag and two or three very dark areas on the heated concrete. Crouching, he reached a hand onto the long spot. It was cool to the touch. When he looked up, thats when he noticed.

There were cars crashed against each other, bags dropped and forgotten. Dark spots littering the front parking lot of the school. Jogging up to a smoking car, John noticed a dark spot in the drivers seat. Then it hit him.

"Oh God…" He mumbled in horror, remembering the burning pain he felt when the sun had touched his skin. The flash of hot white. He managed to stumble back a few yards before being sick in a nearby garden. 'Whats happening?' He thought deliriously. Running a shaking hand through his hair, he turned in messy circles, taking it all in. He didn't see anyone, the only sigh of life he could sense was a dog barking in a house down the block. He ran back to the school and called out. Begging for someone to answer his shouts.

After what seemed like hours of calling through the school and through the blocks close by, he gave up and slid down the wall in the auditorium.

He was alone.

All alone.