Warning: Everything in this story is my imagination. And I am sorry for the grammatical mistakes, that's because English is not my first language.

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A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself. 

I growled and shot a deadly, blood-curdling glare at Fiona who was being mulish as hell. With a firm shake of my head, I made to stand up, but Fiona rested her gloved hands on my shoulders and pushed me back on one of the medic tent's beds instead.

"Blade, you have to allow me to look at this, your wound can get infected," Fiona hissed in a distressed tone. I rolled my eyes at her again and endeavored to stand up. She placed her hands on my chest and shoved my body back harshly.

I was in my flighty, bloody combat suit. My shirt was torn and it stunk of sweat and dry blood. I had my rifle propped securely against the table next to the tiny bed as my shoulder was unable to handle its weight.

"Troy we have to hold him." I frowned at her. "I have to get the bullet out of his arm or else he won't be able to use his hand," Fiona ordered Troy, completely disregarding me. Troy stood there with a grim look, he mourned over Mason's death.

"Fiona let it be, it's a reminder of what happened, " I said stiffly. She glared at me then seized my wounded hand.

I hissed and snarled in pain.

"Blade be realistic, this is ridiculous," she argued desperately, her eyes turning dark as anger simmered further in her blood.

Reluctant I permitted the doctor to clean the blood and put some bandages around my wound. After I was done with the vexatious meeting with Colonel I was sent here. The wound was still bleeding and Fion's hawk-like eyes had seen it and demanded an explanation. I informed her I wanted the bullet to be in my arm just to remind me of the day Mason died.

"I have to go," I rose to my feet for the third time; this time Troy pushed me back.

"Colonel won't like this shit," he narrowed his incensed eyes at me almost daring me. He twisted his head towards our doctor. "Get the damn bullet out Fiona," he spat in his that voice that held authority and would work on anyone else but not on me

A growl broke in my throat, and with a clench of my jaw, I opened my mouth, about to fling a merciless comment at Troy. However, my eyes widened when I saw who stood behind Fiona. She wore a loose cotton tee shirt and loose pants, with a tray of medical supplies in her hands. She stared at me with petrified, wide eyes.

My breath hitched when a pair of alluring green eyes met mine. "You have to allow them to take the bullet out and y-you need to calm down," spoke the most melodic voice I had ever heard.  I gaped at her like a doltish soul.

She could talk?

I looked at Fiona with a deranged look and demanded, "She can talk?" Fiona rolled her eyes.

"Of course, she can, now will you please let me look at that," she replied, pointing at the bandages around the wound on my right hand. I simply gave a short nod, the girl with green eyes handed Fiona some cleaning medicine and new bandages.

"She works here?" Troy interrogated, disquiet and amazement observable on his face.

"Yes, her father used to be a doctor," Fiona jabbed a damn cream on my wound, water stung my eyes. "So she has ideas on how to aid patients, and she is brilliant in helping me and other doctors. Today is her second day here," Fiona explained, as she wiped dried blood from my skin

I glanced at the girl on my left as she cut a dressing not looking up. She could talk! A smile shadowed my lips as I stared down at her. Even though I sat on the bed, I was still taller than her form. Damn, she was close, so close that my breath fanned her hair. I could smell her intoxicating scent; it was of roses and rain, a faint smell of roses. My eyes followed the way her hair cascaded down her shoulders and caressed her creamy skin. Oh, crap!

I quickly turned my head and looked at Troy who had his brow lifted with a knowing look in his eyes. 'What' I mouthed, he chuckled.

I sighed, then hissed again as Fiona jabbed the damn thing in my wound to get the bullet out. My skin was almost numb so I couldn't feel much of the agony. Moments later, a ding sound caused me to twist my head and scowl at the bullet drenched in my blood on a small steel tray.

I frowned as Mason's face displayed before my eyes. I inhaled sharply to cease emotions that rose in my chest like a beast.

Coming back from the treacherous mission, our Humvee halted at the Base. Soldiers sprinted towards us and helped take Mason's body out from the vehicle I had been informed to have a meeting with Colonel. An encounter I knew would screw my mood further.

When I made sure the others would take good care of Mason,'s body. I made my way towards his tent.

I sat on a chair across Colonel. We were alone in his tent and his wrath howled at me, yet all he did was to stare at me, with no damn expressions on his face. Like I said before, this man knew how to intimidate anyone. And hell I was terrorized.

"You gambled and jeopardized your squad member's lives in danger by going there to get his body, and you did not follow orders given to you," Colonel begin with a low, deep voice, he leaned back in his chair, not averting his piercing gaze from me.

"Yes sir," 

"And you understand what are the consequences of breaking rules?" he interrogated.

"Yes sir,"

"Very well," Colonel inhaled, "Give me an explanation of your actions, soldier," then demanded, leaned forward to rest his hands under his chin. Here I got infuriated. I have been through shit and now this crap drove me insane.

"Sir, I couldn't forget what you had once told us when this mission started," he cocked his head." That 'I will bring my men back dead...or alive," I reminded and something flashed in his eyes.

"What you did was risky," he growled.

"Aren't we laying down our life at risk every second we are here, sir?" deadly silence lapsed between us. I then spoke again, "I think it was worth it," my voice held confidence.

"Do not teach me what was worth it or not, you could have got killed and could have gotten all the men killed in the bloody team," he hollered, his eyes glaring straight in mine. " Therefore you will stay here for a month and will patrol on the refugee camp as a punishment of you actions,"

He is got to be shitting me! I froze and subconsciously clenched my fist. A month without being on duty, how the hell is that gonna work for me? I am a soldier not a watchman.

"Now all you need is some rest, so does Troy. I don't comprehend why you were sent here when they knew you had a bullet in your hand," Fiona's voice brought me back.

"They didn't know he had a bullet, the bandage on his hand made us all think he was fine," Troy elaborated, "As for Blade being here, Colonel wished for him to patrol here for a month because of breaking damn rules," Troy explained exasperated, I grit my teeth. 

"Why? What did Blade do now?" Fiona frowned.

Troy sneered and revealed everything to her. I looked down, what had happened two hours ago, pissed me off. I am exhausted, wounded and everything that occurred around me almost suffocated the hell out of me. When Troy finished, I looked up to find they all looked at me. Fiona gaped at me for a few seconds, sighed, shook her head, and walked away.

Great, just bloody great.

I turned my head to the girl, who gathered trash and bloody dressing, preparing to leave. What should I say? How are you? No. I was in my own mental fight when she rotated and looked me straight in the eyes. I gulped.

"Thank you for everything," she glanced at Troy. "Thank you both," her eyes met mine once again. When her green eyes bore into mine, I felt my stomach tip over. What the hell?

Blade, utter something!

"It was our duty Ma'am and it's good to see you are fine," I told her, she nodded and walked away and I exhaled.

"She can talk," Troy whispered.

"No shit," I deadpanned.

"Man, why the hell were you looking at her like that?" Troy interrogated. I glared at him then leaned back on the bed.

Things are going to get riveting now. 

**

When a man is enforced to rest on a bed and not do anything, they become very temperamental. Especially a man like me, who never desires to get tied down to the bed. Two days crawled and I have been on bed since then, I was unable to hold my rifle because of my damn injured hand.

My team had departed a few hours ago, leaving me behind for the first time in my life. Troy had bid his farewell to me and had been a little sarcastic, he attempted to cheer my mood up. I was disconsolate and devastated to an extent that even Fiona was terrified of me. The look on my face scared patients around me. Of course, I was given the best treatment that won't help my mood and fury that annihilated my forbearance. 

Here I lay on the bed, and literally entreated to get up and do something useful.I couldn't because I was ordered to rest. I was also aware that when I was over with this shit, I will be off to do some patrolling. Which I should add sounds exceeding fascinating at this moment.

Tomorrow will be that day!

I rested my left arm on my forehead, closed my eyes and attempted to calm my head. My bed was far from the other patients, even after Fiona had pulled out the bullet, other doctors had come in to check the wound.

 I sighed. It was then I felt a presence standing next to me.

"Fiona, I need to be alone for now, come later," I dismissed her in an vexed tone. After a while my eyes opened a little, a shadow was still there.

Stubborn as ever.

I was about to snap at her. Fiona seized my right arm, gently then started to replace the bandages. I threw my left hand that rested on my forehead and opened my eyes fully. However, they widened at the sight.

Promptly I sat straight, wiped the annoyed look off of my face, when I cam face-to-face with the owner of the green eyes. The girl blinked and looked down at my hand; she cut off the bandage around my wound and put it on the tray, her gloved hands working professionally.

"What are you doing here?" I blurted. Way to go with the question prick! She simply pointed at my arm.

"Doctor Fiona sent me to change your bandage," she spoke in a small, timid voice.

I had to hiss when she started to clean the wound, but I didn't because I peered at her like a freak. She had casually tied her hair back and left a few strands loose on the front to frame her face. She wore the same cotton t-shirt and pants I had seen her in two days ago.

The thing is she was not intimidated by me. I am well aware of the fact that women are always edge and uncomfortable around me. On the other hand, she was merely busy with her task like I wasn't even there, or maybe she was immensely good at shielding her feelings.

The girl cut a big dressing and placed it on the wound, then cut pieces of medical tape to attach the dressing with the skin on all sides. While busy that, she didn't look at me. I wanted her to look at me, why? I really don't know. Why is it a girl, a girl younger than me has this effect on me? I am a damn soldier and my feelings are supposed to be on place, intact. Then why, why is it when she is around my feelings are at all places?

At last, which was sooner than I thought, she encased a cloth strip around the injured area, and it was over like that. We did not talk; all I did was to gaze down at her.

"I will come to check on you later," she spoke not looking up, grabbed her tray and rotated to depart.

Oh no you don't.

"Thank you ma'am."

She looked over her shoulder and gave a short nod, a strand of those river-like hair fell on her face.

"Can I know who I am thanking, ma'am?" I asked with a straight face, but inside I was apprehensive if she will trust me enough to let me know her name.

"Avalina and you are Blade," was her reply and I almost smiled but stopped myself. She knew my name.

"Yes Ma'am," I nodded, with that she left. I threw myself back on the bed, well I suppose this is not that bad.

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