Chapter Text
The last thing Michael remembers is the noise. It was the loudest noise he's ever heard. He has flashes of being carried off, being on a helicopter, maybe. But they could be dreams. He remembers the hospital tent, although it's hazy given the number of drugs he must have been on. From there, he's in and out of consciousness until he hits the army hospital in Birmingham.
The first thing he remembers with true clarity is his mother's voice. "Oh hush, George," She scolds his father. "Micky doesn't care about footy results."
"Of course, the lad cares about the footy results. He didn't let being out in the desert fighting a bloody war stop him from following the footy. I doubt a little coma’s going to get in the way." His dad counters.
"For the last time, he's not in a coma." That's his brother's voice. "It’s just the anaesthetic wearing off.”
“Either way, they said talking to him would help,” his mother replies.
“Yeah, and that’s what I was doing!” His dad counters.
“You were reading the footy scores! That’s not talking to him.”
“Then what the hell else is it, Ruth?”
“A bloody news broadcast!”
Michael can’t help it. He starts to laugh, or at least tries to. What comes out is more of a wheeze, then he starts coughing.
“Oh my god! Call the doctor!” His mum panics which only serves to make Michael laugh more, and, therefore, cough more. He holds a hand up, waving her off.
“I’m fine, mum,” he manages to say in a croaky voice. His mother is immediately back across the room and throws herself into a hug with him. He manages to get one arm up to hug her back, but the other has tubes in it that Michael doesn’t want to disturb.
“Oh, Michael,” his mum says wetly in his ears. “We were all so worried.”
“Me too, mum,” He replies, “but it’s okay. I heard Dad say we beat city.” His mother gives out a wet laugh, and his brother and Dad join in. He looks over his mum’s shoulder at the two of them. His Dad sitting down at the side of his bed, and Jake is loittering at the end.
“Glad to see you up, son.” His Dad says, reaching over and squeezing his shoulder as his mam detaches herself from him.
Michael takes stock of himself, he feels alright, but he imagines they’ve got him on some good painkillers. His right arm has bandaging all the way up, and when he moves to look at his, something pulls on his cheek. He lifts his hand and can feel a bandage that spans his cheeks and over his ear.
“Major surgery?” He asks, looking at Jake. His mum is likely to sugarcoat anything, and his Dad’s always been bad at giving details, so he trusts his brother to tell him the truth.
Jake clears his throat, “yeah, you were pretty banged up.” Then it’s like reality hits him. It’s almost like being in a hospital, waking up with his family around him, wasn’t of consequence, an everyday occurrence. But now he remembers the Humvee hitting an IED, the explosion.
“The squad, Taylor and Evans, do you know what happened to them? They were upfront.” Michael asks desperately.
Jake swallows heavily and subtly shakes his head. For a moment, Michael can’t breathe, he closes his eyes against the force of the emotions. He’s known far too many soldiers that have died. It never gets any easier.
“Jake!” His mother hisses, “you shouldn’t upset him.”
“He has a right to know Ruth,” his Dad interjects. His Dad was an army man too. If anything about the army or Michael’s service gets brought up, it’s about the only thing that his mother ever backs down from a fight over.
Michael takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. “The rest of the squad.”
“They all made it, just a random IED. Not an ambush.” Jake replies - that at least is a comfort. That he hasn’t let his whole squad down. “There’s something else.” Jake continues, and Michael looks up to where Jake is tensed and posed on the spot. When there’s nothing immediately forthcoming, he looks over to his Dad, who has his eyes on the floor and then over to his mum, who’s started to cry again.
“What?” Michael breathes out.
“They er…They couldn’t…you’ve lost both your feet and a partial bit of each leg. They were crushed, and by the time they got you here, they couldn’t save them.” Jake explains.
“What…” Michael starts to ask because surely – surely, he’d have noticed that immediately. Except he looks down at the bottom of the bed, and there are no lumps where feet should be. He tries to move them. He swears he could feel a second ago, but nothing happens, there’s nothing there. He rips off the sheets. His legs end in bandages.
“They said that you were very lucky, that they can fit you with prosthetics, and you should be up and walking again in no time.” His mum hastens to add, but Michael isn’t really listening. He’s staring down at the space where his feet should be. “I’ll go get the doctor. They’ll be able to explain better.” His mum says, rushing out of the room.
Xxx
“Micky!” Digger shouts as he approaches Michael where he’s waiting outside the café. He gets pulled into a bear hug once his friend is within arm's distance, making Michael smile. Digger is one of the few people taller than Michael that Michael’s met in real life. He’s also built like a brick house.
“You’re suffocating me, man!” Michael grouses into Digger’s chest, where his face is smushed.
“Deal with it,” Digger grumbles, giving one last bone-crushing squeeze before letting go. “I let you out of my sight for one tour, and you get yourself blown up! You should be happy I’m letting go.” Digger laughs, and Michael joins in, shaking his head.
“Come on, big guy, I’m starving.”
The café is one of those hipster places that does brunch, somewhere he and Digger wouldn’t usually go, but Digger had been dragged here by an ex-girlfriend and assures Michael it’s the best breakfast he’s ever eaten.
They get taken to a booth by an attractive waitress whom Digger immediately starts flirting with. Michael rolls his eyes noticeably at Digger, and his friend chuckles.
“How you doing, man?” Digger asks.
Michael shrugs. He’s been back on UK soil for nearly a month, back in his hometown for a week. “Fine, probably too fine, but that’s a problem for future Michael.”
Digger laughs, “well if future Micky needs a friend, you know where I am.”
“Thanks. Anyway, how are you?”
“Living the dream, man,” Digger replies with a huge grin. “Oh man, you have no idea how good civilian life is. I can’t wait to give you the tour.”
“First stop brunch?”
“First stop brunch.”
The waitress comes over, and they order their meals, Digger managing to flirt once again. The waitress seems flattered, so Michael decides not to kick him under the table. By the time she leaves to put their order in, Michael’s gathered the courage to blurt out the question he wants to ask.
“You went to Taylor’s and Evan’s funerals?” he asks. Michael had missed them as he was in the hospital. He’d wanted to go, wanted to apologise for letting the families down, but he hadn’t been allowed to leave, it had been too soon after the surgery, and they had wanted him to rest, make sure he didn’t do any further damage to himself.
Digger goes solemn, nodding his head. “Yeah, yeah, I did. Some of the old guard came along too, Rogers and Peterson.”
“How are they?”
“Doing good, man, doing good. They mentioned getting together in a couple months, made sure to make me promise I’d invite you.”
Michael wants to ask how the families were, but it seems redundant. What else would they be but devastated? He’s saved from asking any further dumb questions by someone in the café saying his name. “Michael?” It’s asked in a breathless voice. Michael looks up, and standing by his table is Jon.
Michael’s up and off his seat before it’s fully sunk in. Then Jon basically jumps into Michael’s arms, hugging him tightly. Michael hugs him back, hard. Jon burrows into Michael’s neck and whispers “fuck” so gently with so much feeling that it makes Michael’s breath catch a little. He knows that they’ve been hugging longer than is deemed socially acceptable, but Jon hasn’t made to let go, and Michael isn’t going to be the first to pull away.
“Jon?” A voice asks. Jon tears himself away from Michael with such speed and force, he stumbles backwards, clattering into a table that was luckily empty. However, the sound of it makes some of the diners look around.
“Harry!” Jon says in an overly enthusiastic voice, “this is Michael. Michael, this is Harry.” Jon got a fake smile plastered on his face. It’s so wide that Michael thinks it must hurt.
“Nice to meet you,” Harry says slowly, looking between Jon and Michael suspiciously. “How do you two know each other then?” He asks before Michael can reply to the first sentiment.
Michael looks up at Jon for an indicator of what to say, and Jon just looks desperate. “We know each other through David,” Michael says, trying to give his most charming smile.
“Oh?” Harry asks, looking between them still. Something about the guy makes Michael’s hackles rise, “shocking we haven’t met before.”
“I’ve been out of the country,” Michael replies, trying to keep the edge out of his voice because the snide question is one thing, but it’s the fact that Jon still looks terrified.
“Anywhere nice?”
“Not particularly.”
A large hand claps down on his shoulder, “hi! I’m Digger.” Michael feels the tension that he didn’t even know he was holding bleed out of him. Digger’s here to play peacemaker. “Not to be a dick, but Michael, buddy, our food’s here.”
Michael looks, and indeed their food is on the table. He hadn’t even noticed a waitress come by. “We’ll leave you to it,” Harry says, putting an arm around Jon’s shoulders and basically manhandling him out of the café.
Michael watches, still standing, as Jon gives one final look back through the window from the pavement. Digger clears his throat. “So, that was pretty intense.”
Michael lets out a breath, shaking his head as he and Digger take their seats. Whatever that was, it wasn’t what he’d imagined bumping into Jon after coming back home would be like. Although he was right about the Jon running into his arms thing, the rest not so much.
"Want to talk about it?' Digger asks.
Michael shrugs his shoulder. "He…” Michael starts and stops. "I thought…" he stops again and sighs. "I met him on my last leave, and I thought we had something, but he didn't want to stay in touch, and now he's got a boyfriend, so I guess it doesn't matter what it was or wasn't...” Michael finishes. He looks up at Digger, who has an awkward look on his face. "Oh, also, I'm gay?
Digger and Michael look at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing. “That's one way to come out, I guess." Digger laughs.
Michael smiles at his friend, and despite bumping into his ex, this has been a good day.