She hadn't moved when she felt herself being lifted into the air by strong steady arms, her head lolling against someone's chest. Her body refused to come to life, her limbs and arms just swaying along with the steady movement of the man carrying her to wherever. Every inch of her body ached, every muscle hurting with any slight movement made. But at least she was able to numb her mental torture: Breathe, don't think, and repeat. Breathe, don't think, and repeat. The same cycle over and over; the identical ragged breaths escaping her lips, fading into the choked air. Her lungs were burning from the smoke but at this point in time she wanted nothing but death to invite her to wherever it takes its victims. 

 Her sight began to blacken, her consciousness fading into nothing. Maybe this was it? No. She couldn't give up now. Or could she? Oh who knew?! Everything was just too complicated, too difficult to handle. The world just seemed empty at this point, without Jake to hold her back down to the earth it felt like she was just floating in the air, unable to control where she goes. Now his weight was gone, abandoning her to fight on by herself. Finally she began to feel herself slipping away from the world and the arms that held her, the hands that cupped her skull, and the chest that supported her head.

"Jake," she murmured. The last name that she might ever get to mutter before she passed out; and if she was never to wake up at least her savior would know of a name that was worth remembering..

She opened her eyes to a blinding and unwelcome light and a casual beeping of a heart monitor, the dreaded sound counting each heartbeat per minute. Gradually other sounds began to be known to Ara; the squealing of trolley wheels, the cries of other patients, casual conversations in the halls, doors opening and closing, trucks rolling in the rubble outside. Numerous things going on all at once in each second. Amazing, how life can be almost back to normal after a war..

The door to her right opened and a nurse came in with an army hospital outfit, holding a clipboard with paper and a pen in his right arm. He was clean-shaven with short brown hair, smiling at her with a comforting smile. Ara began to panic and started to pull off the bed covers, aware that the note of the monitor was getting quicker. The nurse's expression turned to wariness as he dropped his clipboard and pen to the floor and slowly put his hands up, in line to his head, his fingers spread out. As he spoke he looked her in the eyes, bending down only a little. 

"It's okay, I'm not here to hurt you," he reassured. 

"I'm here to check on your wounds." Ara, stood next to the bed, was staring him down for a few seconds until she was convinced that he was telling the truth and cautiously sat back down, inspecting him for any sign of treacherous body language that would indicate an attack. He picked up his stuff again and walked over to the bed, only to place his clipboard and pen onto the table at the foot of the bed. Gently he lifted her nightie just above a cast on her thigh, undoing the safety-pin and unrolling the cotton until the wound was uncovered. Quickly, Ara turned away from her leg, not wanting to look at it. Feeling the pain was one thing but seeing what caused it was completely different. 

"I'm just going to clean the wound and replace the dressing, this will only take a few moments. Please lay back and try to relax." Nodding, Ara leaned back and placed her head back on the pillow. She closed her eyes as he cleaned and re-covered her thigh. 

"How long have I been here?" she asked. It had felt like forever since she had last been awake.

"Two days, you were clearly exhausted-"

"How much longer must I stay here?" Ara looked up into the nurse's eyes; they were green, dark green like holly leaves. He looked back, his iris un-moving and steady.

"Only a few more days if there is no infection, but we must make sure there are no more pieces of the bullet in your leg or it will get a whole lot worse." Thinking over the new information, Ara nodded and smiled.

"Thank you..?"

"Nathan" he replied, smiling.

"Nathan." 

******************* 

~ One week later ~ 

Opening the door to her flat, Ara took in the familiar surroundings. She chucked her keys into the dish next to the door and walked through to the living room and threw herself onto her couch. Everything for a second seemed quiet, no crashes of bombs or gunshots from machines, for the first time in years the city was silent. 

Soon enough London will go back to its old self, buses queuing up and down streets, people running to catch the Underground, musicians busking on the streets, marketers selling products in Camden, tourists visiting whatever famous sights had survived the war.. 

Life in London might go back to normal but Ara's never can, the horrors clinging onto her dreams and her old and still existing feelings following her like a ghost, haunting her every step. Gunshots echoing in the back of her head, bombs exploding behind her eyes.

She was a shell, only remorse and heartbreak filling the void. But her promise to Jake must be kept, she cannot allow herself to stay like this forever; a rotting corpse rid from happiness and compassion. No, she must give love another chance.. Just, not yet. 

His funeral was the following week, the only attenders included Ara and the Colonel, who had expressed such anguish when he talked to her, shook her hand and gave her Jake's bravery medal, along with it permission to go to Jake's place and to take whatever she wanted. For two days she had gone backwards and forwards in her mind about actually going to his flat, arguing with herself about invading his privacy if she were to go through his stuff and feeling guilty with herself if she took something from it. In the end she went, only to collapse sobbing against the bed for what seemed like hours, memories of him taking care of her on that one night after the fall in the snow. Feelings corrupting her mind. However when she left, Ara only took with her his scarf that he had always had and loved. When she left, she felt she had taken a part of him with her, taking him home.