“Now that you’ve managed Rouen, we’re gonna take you a little further south to…”

David Halloran sat there at the back of the room, sans his hat, leather jacket and Mae West, staring at the back of everyone else’s heads.

He hadn’t slept well last night, or the night before, or the two nights previous to that. He had had nightmares. And he had been relieved of duty for a while after he had become a shivering wreck one morning on the tarmac. At first, they had laughed, certain he was being facetious, but then they saw there was something wrong. He had spent the rest of that day in bed. But he still turned up to briefing, if only to hear where the rest of the base was going today, so that he could stay back and imagine it. Or pray for them.

His dreams had been laden with images of Margaret and Paul Sellinger, of Cimino and Hyer and the rest of his crew, of flames, of blood and of desperate fear. He regularly woke in a cold sweat to find someone looking down at him, checking to see if he was alright.

And he wasn’t, not by far. But the briefings were helping him get away from the terrible dreams.

And the room, vast and smoke-filled, Bart’s voice echoing from its walls, was somehow comforting. This room was where they had always sat together, together without fear of flak or fire. This had been the last place they had shared a joke together without anxiety.

Bart was still talking to the others about how it should be okay today and, strangely, Halloran felt no desire to smirk, or to make a snide remark. He wanted to listen to Bart, remind himself that he was still here. That the mission would have killed any other crew who had been assigned. That it wasn’t his fault.

“And, once you’ve hit your primary target…”

But movement caught his eyes, just to Bart’s right. Someone else was walking up onto the stage. Bart would notice him any second now. He had to, the man was walking right up to him.

But Bart seemed not even to have noticed the man was standing there, let alone the fact that he appeared to be trying to attract his attention. And, Halloran wondered, why was no one telling Bart the man was there? He obviously wanted to talk to him.

Slowly, the man reached out to Bart and made as if to grab his arm-

But then he stopped, and turned to face Halloran. Not to look at the men in front of the stage, but directly at Halloran.

And all that stared at him was blood and burned flesh.

~~~~~ 

Halloran awoke in his hospital bed, sweating, shaking and gasping painfully. For a moment, he had no idea where he was, and, when he detected movement to his left, he was sure for one terrible moment that he was still in the grips of a nightmare.

But then a light flicked on, blinding him momentarily, and a nurse was watching him fearfully.

“Major, are you alright? You’re in an awful state!”

"Yeah,” he confirmed, breath shuddering. “Was a nightmare. I’m okay.”

And he thanked God that a nightmare was all it had been. This nightmare was one of a few that recurred on a regular basis whenever he was not feeling his best, and, what was worst about this particular one was that it had, at one time, been an actual hallucination.

He remembered vividly the moment a faceless, bloodied replica of Hyer had walked up onto the stage beside Bart and stared at him, only a few weeks after the death of his crew. He also remembered being completely frozen for a good few seconds until instinct had forced him to react. With a short cry and a frantic scrabble, he had been on the verge of fleeing until a moment’s clarity forced him to accept that what he was seeing was not real, could not be real. It had then been a matter of excusing himself from briefing amidst all the odd expressions directed at him, and not looking over his shoulder when he returned to his bunk across the base to curl up beneath his blanket.

The final straw had come one night after a particularly horrific nightmare. Eames had woken him up after listening to his anguished moans and watching him writhe in unconscious distress for half an hour. When he awoke, he found he had managed to wake the entire barracks, and that they were all staring at him uncomfortably. He was lucky to have a friend in Eames, but, at the time, he had scarcely noticed. For there, opposite his bed, in the doorways, at the windows and in the bunks were his crew, faceless, bloodied and staring straight at him.

He had scrambled out of bed, backed himself into a corner and covered his head with his hands, yelling incoherently and sobbing helplessly about the men he was sure he had betrayed.

And damn everything if it wasn’t Bart who had personally come into the barracks and helped him up and out, supporting him as he staggered, shielding his face so that, not only could his comrades not see Halloran, but so that Halloran could not see whatever monstrosities his mind was bestowing upon his consciousness.

He remembered the conversation, even now…

~~~~~

“Halloran? Halloran! Look at me!”

Shaking, knees drawn up to his chest while he sat on Bart’s own bunk, Halloran lifted his head from his hands so that only his eyes were visible.

“What did you see?” Bart demanded.

Halloran squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, willing himself not to vomit.

“Tell me what you saw, Lieutenant!”

“I…I saw…”

Halloran swallowed hard.

“My crew!” he whispered.

Bart had clearly not been expecting quite such a revelation, for there was a huge pause, and his voice immediately became less severe, even if it lost none of it’s firmness and authority.

“Halloran,” he said, resting a hand on Halloran’s arm, “do you see them here? Are they in this room?”

Slowly, pain etched across every line of his face, Halloran nodded.

“Where?” Bart asked.

“Behind you!” Halloran answered, and then a fresh wave of sobs rendered him unable to talk for a minute or two.

“Look at me, Halloran,” Bart told him.

Halloran had raised his head but only stared fearfully at the back of the room.

“No, David! Look at me!”

Shock registered the fact that Bart had used his first name. After a moment’s hesitation, Halloran’s eyes had found Bart’s.

“You are safe here, with me, and we’re gonna get you to someone who can help. You understand?”

“Don’t leave me here with them!” Halloran whispered, eyes wide and bloodshot like a mad thing. “Not with them.”

Bart shook his head.

“I’m not gonna leave you, Halloran. I never leave a man behind.”

~~~~~

But after a long time, and a lot of care, David Halloran’s life had slowly returned to normal. Occasionally nightmares still visited him, but they were becoming less frequent, and usually only affected him during illness or weakness now.

He lay there, silently, as the nurse rearranged his pillows.

“What’s…the time?” he wheezed.

“It’s around two o’clock in the morning,” she said matter-of-factly. “Would you like me to leave a light on?”

Halloran looked at her uncomfortable. Yes, he realized, he did want light. It had been two days since Bart had visited, which meant it would be another eleven before he got leave again, not including today. No help for almost two weeks.

“Just the table lamp,” he said with a small nod, “if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” she answered and settled back into her chair. “You try and get back to sleep now, Major. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Big day? Halloran groaned. The last thing he needed right now was another big day!

~~~~~

“Well, you’re just as I remember you!”

Paul Sellinger, still endlessly jovial and incredibly well mannered, the same except for a few more gray hairs, stood by Halloran’s bed and shook his good hand, his coat draped over one arm, four days after Bart’s second visit.

“Thanks,” Halloran grinned, “although I have a few extra colors than usual.”

“Yes, you do look a little too purple,” Sellinger agreed.

Halloran smiled a moment longer and then something struck him as odd.

“Say,” he began, “what are you doing here?”

Sellinger raised his eyebrows as he shrugged his shoulders and settled into the chair by the bed after folding his coat over the back.

“Oh, I heard about the accident through HQ,” he said nonchalantly.

“And you thought you’d drop by to see how I was doing?”

Halloran sounded disbelieving.

“Well, I…I actually came to collect my wife but I thought I’d poke my head in and see if you were really as bad as they were telling me.”

“And?”

“Oh, yes. Worse, in fact!”

Halloran laughed a little. So Maggie still worked here. He hadn’t seen her so he’d assumed that she was elsewhere.

He still remembered her, not just the way she looked, but the way she spoke, the way she kissed, and he felt more than a twinge of guilt having her husband here talking to him, checking to see if he was alright. It was he, though, who had ended the affair, not Margaret. And he was sure it had been one of the best decisions of his life. For, despite the way he had felt, they both knew that discovery was only a matter of time, and that their feeling for each other were coming between themselves and everyday life. Someone had had to do it, and that someone had been Halloran.

But, while he had seen Paul Sellinger once or twice since the mission, he hadn’t seen Maggie since he had walked away from her at the hospital.

“How are you and your family?”

“Oh, we’re fine. Margaret – you remember Margaret, don’t you?”

Slowly, Halloran nodded.

Yes, you remember Margaret alright!

“Well Margaret gained a promotion. And Sarah’s doing extremely well in school. And David’s two, and managing words!”

Halloran froze.

“What? Uh, I mean…David?”

“Our son,” Sellinger clarified. “Named for you, of course.”

Halloran’s eyes widened.

“Me?”

“Yes. My idea. You saved my life, Major. Congratulations on the promotion, by the way.”

“Uh, thanks. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything.”

“Paul?” said a voice from the hallway outside. “Paul? They said you were in here talking to a patient. Aren’t we going home?”

“Come in! Yes, I am talking to a patient; you know him. Come on!”

“Ah, no, I’d rather not.”

“Oh, now, my dear! He won’t bite.”

Slowly, she edged into the room and Halloran’s heart stopped. There she was, just as he remembered, petite, still in that uniform, and still inordinately pretty. For the first time in two years, he was in the same room as Margaret Sellinger.

“Hello, darling,” her husband said and kissed her cheek.

She nodded and smiled, a little belatedly.

“You remember David Halloran. Saved my life on that mission?”

“I…Yes, of course.”

For a brief moment, their eyes met, and David saw there all the things she had felt for him before, the years they had denied each other together.

“I was just telling Major Halloran about David,” he said.

“Major?” she asked. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Halloran returned honestly.

Sellinger paused a moment, then grasped his shoulder.

“Well, I’m afraid we must be off. I’m sure Maggie will pop in over the next few days. Take care.”

Halloran watched them leave and then sighed. David? A son who was two years old? An awful feeling came over Halloran suddenly, and he prayed to God he was wrong.

~~~~~