A Warriors Angel!
It was after the war. A year or so. He began to lose track of time. He only remembered that one moment he was in the war, put to bed
and tied down, and given a shot of morphine while his fellow soldiers surrounded him in the barracks, and the next moment, he was in a
ward full of patients. He began to speculate that he had mysteriously time travelled without his awareness. For a moment, he didn't
know where he was. He began to think it had all been a strange dream. But no, it wasn't a dream. He was back in the veterans'
hospital... again. He had been here before, hadn't he? The blanket was over his head. It was quiet outside.
''Hello, Jerry,'' he heard voice say.
He peeked out from under his blanket. It was none other than his fiancé, sitting on the visitor's chair. Her name was Valencia Merble,
he remembered. Valencia was the daughter of the owner of the Ilium School of Optometry. She was rich, that much was apparent. She was
as big as a house because she couldn't stop eating. She was eating now. She was eating a Three Musketeers Candy Bar and wearing tri-
focal lenses in harlequin frames, and now the frames were trimmed with rhinestones. The glitter of the rhinestones was answered by the
glitter of the diamond in her engagement ring. The diamond was insured for eighteen hundred dollars. Jerry had found that diamond in
Germany. It was a body of war and he hated it.
Jerry didn't want to marry ugly Valencia. she was one of the symptoms of his disease. He knew he was going crazy when he heard himself
proposing marriage to her after the war, and begged her to take the diamond ring to be his companion for life.
Jerry said, ''Hello,'' to her, and she asked hi if he wanted some candy, and he said, ''No, thanks.'' She asked him how he was, and he
said, ''Much better, thanks.'' She said that everybody at school was sorry he was sick and hoped he would be well soon, and Jerry said,
''When you see 'em, tell 'em, 'Hello'. ''
She promised she would.
So it goes.
A pale ghostly form slowly slid from bunk to bunk. Around his neck, lay a small chain. On this chain, was a small dove, for peace. He
was the Hospitals only person of solace. Someone to call on when a Vet began to lose his fight, and to call to when one wished for help
in learning to walk, talk, and do basic things again. He was shy and only spoke when needed to. Other than that, no one knew his real
name, just Light. He was young for a person of War, but losing his home made him turn to all he’d known. It was all he could do now, or
at least for now. To help those who lost their fight, and help those as they tried to learn to live again. One person in this Hospital
had caught his steel colored eyes however, but being as shy as he was, only silently passed like a ghostly shadow. Going when called,
and leaving when no longer. “Move it or lose it Pasty!” A nasty voice snarled and promptly knocked into the pale blue Monster. His
chain broke lose without his knowing, the chain was old and worn, his Grandmama’s! He shrunk back and hid, not daring to reappear till
again, he was needed. Till then, he went over the prayers and blessings he’d been taught, and silently hoped one day, he’d be freed
from this hell.
The monster assigned to the bed next to Jerry's was a former infantry captain named Michael ''Mike'' Wazowski. Wazowski was sick and
tired of being drunk all the time. He was partially blind from a shrapnel wound, and drank to drown out his pain. He was Polish, spoke
partially broken English (hell, he was improving though) and was small and round, like a beach ball. Because of his size, he was known
to suffer from an intense Napoleon complex. It was Mike who introduced Jerry to science fiction, and in particular, the writings of
Kilgore Trout. Mike had a tremendous collection of science-fiction paperbacks under his bed. He had brought them to the hospital in a
steamer trunk. Those beloved, frumpish books gave off the smell that permeated the ward- like flannel pajamas that hadn't been changed
for a month, or like Irish stew.
Well, there was Wazowski. And then there was Light.
“Light, get Mr. Wazoski another bottle, come on then, up, up!” Light gave a soft sound, but hurried to do his task. He knew Mr. Wazoski
spoke Polish and when he neared the beach ball looking Monster, bowed slightly and asked, “Jak Pani się miewa dzisiaj kapitan?” More or
less, ‘how are you today Captain?’ But not waiting for a response, Light hid quickly after the Monster in pain reached his thin arm out
for the drink. He was in the presents of the Monster he felt something for. ‘How DARE you even THINK of such folly! Such a daft idea
you’ve got in your brain you twitter brained snort!’ He cursed at himself. The Monster, Jerry, was to be married. What a foolish thing
to think! Then, as he reached for the chain around his neck, for supportive feeling and assurance, he gasped and grew cold. It was no
longer around his neck. And the vast Hospital area, it could be anywhere and maybe even nowhere now. He couldn’t be caught in tears; he
couldn’t be caught being so emotional, not even for what was left of his Grandmama. The last thing she ever owned, and the last thing
he remembered of her loving kindness, before the bombs shattered his very life’s core.
Jerry had noticed the pale monster before but never gave him much mind. He was almost like a mirror image of Jerry, and this fact
terrified him to his very rotten core. He often observed the Ghost of a figure making his way in and out the rows of bunks. Sometimes
he often prayed for the other vets who had literally lost their minds. Jerry didn't believe much in prayer anymore. Both him and
Wazowski found life meaningless, partly because of what they had seen in war. The other part of them abandoned faith entirely. Jerry,
born a Christian, was never all that pious to begin with, but after the war, he knew there was no God. Wazowski, a Jew, never believed
in a Messiah let alone a Messiah ever walking the earth. There was no Jehovah in his mind.
So when the Ghost passed by Jerry's bed, Jerry couldn't help but think to himself, 'Religious nut.' Valencia had run off to the
bathroom, so he was free to observe his ''reflection''. He watched as the Ghost disappeared before turning to Mike and asked, ''Who is
As Mike took a swig, he said between gulps of brandy, ''He is from the Poland like me.''
''You don't say 'the' before Poland,'' Jerry corrected, having to still help his bedside companion improve on his English. But he
shrugged it off. Mike's broken English was the least of his concerns right now. ''So he's Polish, too?'' Jerry pressed.
'' JEST Żydem,'' Mike replied.
Jerry didn't understand, so he continued, ''Why does he pray like that? People just don't want to go on living anymore, and here is,
praying. It's annoying.''
''People be surprise they know how much this world is due to prayers,'' Mike tried to say, but Jerry only raised an eyebrow. ''Prayers
fuck this world.'' Mike clarified, and Jerry nodded, agreeing.
Light watched Jerry’s bride to be go to the bathroom and just silently looked where she had come from. If he couldn’t find his chain,
he COULD watch the hero he felt shouldn’t be here and in the condition he was in. He heard the words Wazoski spoke and frowned. ‘I’m
not a religion nut… Am I?’ He didn’t believe in what they called a God. He spoke for those who did though. Light frowned deeper. If
JERRY thought he was a religion nut, than by all means, what chance would he ever have? ‘There you go again, ya sick twisted bastered!’
He snarled and cursed, kicking himself as he began to think badly. ‘He thinks I’m a God lover, and hates me..’ He sighed and slowly
scanned the bunker. But a shiny something caught his steel colored eyes. He whimpered. There, close to Jerry, lay his Grandmama’s
chain. The very object he had of her left… ‘Is this REALLY the work of someone above, or am I desperate?’ He willed for an answer,
looking upwards. “Stop day dreaming and help this man out!” Shouted a Doctor, wheeling out a dieing vet. Light shivered lightly. This
poor soul gasped and twitched. Hardly any effort was placed upon him. And now he was left in the ‘hallway’ as they called it, for the
rest to watch and see the death. Light cleared his throat and softly walked over toward the mangled body. His voice was low, but very
wise sounding as he breathed, “I’m here for you..” He saw the tags and repeated gently, “I’m here for you Peter Rotty!” He also saw no
religion on his tag. ‘Finally!’ The ghost whispered to himself and breathed, forgetting the rest in the room, “Close your eyes Sir…
That’s right; do you have a fond memory Sir?” “Freedom!” Rotty replied in a gurgled rasp. With the nod of the Doctor before he left,
Light slowly drew up his hand, and closed his eyes, “Close your eyes then Sir, and you’ll be free of this hell you were brought into!”
And without another sound, stopped the Monster’s deathly chilled breathing, his large seven fingered hand gently placed over the
suffers mouth. After the final jerk, Light got up, bowed and gently whispered, “Whatever lives above or below, will take you, no one
should die this way, but it’s all I could give you.. Forgive me!” Then he silently left. He never watched what they did with the
bodies. He couldn’t. He was Jewish yes, and he new vagly of the Chambers. He prayed to whatever lived anywhere, that the poor soul he
just let die by his hand wouldn’t be taken through a hell as horrible as that.
When Valencia returned from the toilet, she asked Jerry if there was anything she could bring him from the outside, and he said, ''No,
I have just about everything I want.''
''What about books?'' said Valencia.
''I'm right next to one of the biggest private libraries in the world,'' said Jerry, meaning Mike Wazowski's collection of science
fiction. Both him and Jerry were dealing with similar crises in similar ways. So they were trying to re-invent themselves and their
universe. Science fiction was a big help. So it goes.
Wazowski himself was on the next bed, reading, and Jerry drew him into the conversation, asked him what he was reading this time.
So Mike told him. It was Jesus and the Time Machine by Kilgore Trout. Jerry's fiancée had finished her Three Musketteers Candy Bar. Now
she was eating a Milky Way.
''Forget books,'' said Mike, throwing that particular book under his bed. ''The hell with 'em.''
''That sounded like an interesting one,'' said Valencia.
Mike changed the subject now, and congratulated Valencia to the best of his ability on her engagement ring.
''Thank you,'' she said, and held it out so Wazowski could get a closer look. ''Jerry got the diamond in the war.''
''That what attractive thin about war,'' said Mike. ''Absolutnie wszyscy się trochę coś, nie? Absolutely everybody get a little
So it goes.
~ ~ ~
Light hadn’t left to far, and herd the conversation, eyes bleeding silent tears. He was stuck here, the place he’d only know for so
long, and now the passion he felt, was VERY wrong! Jerry was to be married, what on the whole of the world, would he want with
something as ill looking as me? Light stared at the hand that silently sent Rotty to his death, and whimpered. He never wished this,
now never wished this upon anyone, even his enemy. His heart broke, his mind bled. He curled up, hidden from the eyes around, and
weeps. Emotions with the ghost, won’t ever acknowledged anyways. Who’d care if he disappeared a while?
Mike had emptied his brandy yet again. ''Where he go?'' he said to himself, craning his body around the hospital room, his partially
blind eye searching for Light.
''You lookin' for that bloke?'' Jerry asked the scarred Cyclops, who only nodded. Jerry knew when the Pole didn't get his brandy, he
would have a breakdown right there.
''Gówno,'' He cursed in Polish under his breath as he was about to slide out of bed and go find the Ghost, but Jerry held out a hand to
''Wait, wait, wait. Hold. Lie down before you fall down. I'll go find him for you, okay?''Mike slid back into bed, shrapnel wounds all
over his limbs causing the bed springs to squeak in agony, and Jerry took the struggle out of bed for his friend.
''Sit tight, okay?'' Jerry told him as he got up, looking around to make sure there were no doctors or nurses in sight. Mike only
blindly watched him as he slid out of the hospital wing to in his search for the Ghost.
Light had silently cried himself nearly to sleep. His mind so foggy and harmed by the many deaths he either helped along, or witnessed
before he could end their suffering. Many would have shut themselves after the first one they witnessed. Light didn’t. He couldn’t! He
hadn’t a clue why, but he couldn’t. ‘It’s the coward’s way out!’ He snarled to himself and slowly uncurled from his saddened state. He
looked up and spied some lonely stars, his eyes fogging and blurring the rest. He opened his mouth and began to sing softly, one thing
he loved most in the world he lived in now. No one told you to shut up! As long as you didn’t grow too loud, you’d be fine. His soul
rushed upwards and he closed his eyes and sang from deep, to soft, to every depth in between. His heart slowly beat with the time he
sang and stopped for air. He never took notice if anyone listened or watched. Why should his guard be up now? So he sang till tears
slid from his closed eyes, and he began to sing a broken song of Polish and English. Of loss and of never been their affection and
It didn't take long for Jerry to find the Ghost. He silently exited the hospital only to find none other than the pale monster himself
curled up into a fetal position under the lonely black sky. Jerry slowly approached him. ''Hey, man, Wazowsi's out of brandy again.
Could you-?'' but he stopped when the Ghost looked up at him with a tear-stained face. He had been weeping. His soft, grey-blue eyes
held all the suffering of the world. What he must've seen. He only knew part of the horrors. Wazowski, for instance, had shot a
fourteen-year-old fireman, mistaking him for a German soldier. so it goes. And Jerry had seen the greatest massacre in European
history, which was the fire-bombing of Dresden. So it goes. But there were unspeakable horrors in the eyes of the Ghost. ''Dude, you
alright?'' Jerry asked.
The Ghost cleared his throat. ''I'm ... dobre ...'' he choked out, but that was all he could say.
Light silently looked away. How could this handsome Warrior of Freedom even look into the cold, almost deathly steeled eyes of the
Monster before him? He whimpered, trying to hold himself together, but lost it. The pain of liking this Warrior, and knowing it was
wrong. The War that brought him so close to this fine form, but pulled him so far away, that he couldn’t even fathom. “I’m sorry..”
Light whispered sadly to Jerry, all he could muster, eyes bleeding more tears. No longer for the War, but his broken soul.
Suddenly, the sad and lonesome sight of Ghost struck a chord deep inside Jerry. He had promised himself he would never love anyone. But
here he felt empathy like he never had before... and for someone so pathetic a sight as this creature. But there was something about
this Religious Nut that drew him closer like a firefly to light. In all his days since entering the Veteran's Hospital, he never
thought he'd be sitting down on the grassy knoll beside the Ghost he never gave a second glance to. But they had something in common.
They both had suffered. Everyone here had seen something. Everyone here had a horror story to tell. But there was something different
about the Ghost. This Ghost who called himself ''Light''. And ''Light'' he certainly was.
And Jerry travelled in time.
Light took instant notice of the vet, Jerry, sitting down beside him. His heart stopped, than lit into over drive. Either he was being
more open, or this vet knew how to mess with the mind like the War often did when they finally left. “Con.. Congratulations on the..
Marriage Sir.. She’s a lucky Monster…. I mean, lucky for such a brave vet shall be her savor..” He mentally shot himself for Jerry. He
looked away and hugged his knees. ‘You’re such an idiot!’ Light cursed to himself. But the chain no longer hung along his neck, so when
he grabbed, all he meat was air. His eyes teared again. He lowered his hand from the nakedness of his throat and sighed sadly. This
Warrior would one day leave the Hospital, and leave him alone and lost, as he had before he even meat the brave fighter. Alone and lost
was all Light ever assumed he’d be, forever and more. Lost and alone forever and more.
Jerry began to lose his grasp on the concept of Time. He felt there was no Time anymore as long as he was alone with the hours and the
minutes with this sorrowful Ghost.
''To be honest,'' Jerry began. ''I don't love Valencia and perhaps I never will. It was just one way out to leading a normal life.
That's all.'' He looked deep into the grey-blue eyes of the companion beside him before blushing a bright rose colour and looked away.
''So you're from Poland?'' Jerry dumbly asked to change the subject. Time seemed to stop then. ''That's what Wazowski told me. Where
''Kraków. And you?''
Jerry was almost afraid to answer. ''Does Monstropolis ring a bell? I mean, I'm both Irish and German, but I come from this city across
the ocean from Europe. Ever heard of it?''
Light shook his head slowly. ''I can't say I have.''
Jerry shrugged. ''No one would.''
They both laughed. Jerry felt he was able to let down all previous barriers. He lightly punched Light's pale arm. ''Hey, you're okay. I
mean, you're not a Religious Nut or anything. I'm sorry if I offended you.''
''Nie Nie- No, you didn't offend me.'' And he smiled the most beautiful smile that Jerry had ever seen. He was no longer a Ghost. No,
instead, he was an Angel. An Angel of Light. Jerry began to see him with new eyes.
“Is this Monstropolis nice?” Light asked gently, looking into the navy blue eyes of Jerry. ‘So close, so very close.’ He whispered. He
didn’t like his bride to be.. ‘I don’t blame him really..’ Light mused, till Jerry’s voice spoke up. “It’s alright. Kind’a crowded and
makes your skin crawl. Nothen grab, sorry. Where of Poland are you from? Anything better then what I just spoke of?” Light smiled and
replied calmly, “It is very beautiful… Was…” He looked down sadly. “Till the War destroyed everything..” He clasped the nakedness of
his neck once again and whispered, “It took not only my home, my freedom, and life, but my Grandmama! I turned to this place, since
it’s all I ever new.. All I ever heard about, and was spoken to about.” He looked up and breathed, “And, funny to say so, I have a name
in Irish, it is Ailbe, it means White. White Light is my name and trying to help, I guess is my game.”
Jerry smiled. White Light, like a Passage to Light. He admitted, even to himself, that he liked it.
''I'm- uh...'' he didn't know how to voice his sympathy towards this broken soul, who, like him, had lost almost everything. Light had
lost his family and his innocence, and Jerry had lost his dignity and the will to live. So they had something in common. ''I'm sorry
about... everything,'' Jerry lamely finished. Light only stared so he continued, ''About your... home... and your grandmother. I know
no words can heal your wounds, Light, but...'' his voice trailed off into the still night.
In the silence, Jerry swore he could hear their broken hearts beating as one.
They didn't touch, then, but somehow, they were closer than the stars to the sky.
“It’s alright.. This War has given me something worth living for, now more than ever I’m glad to say.” Light smiled sheepishly. Jerry
stared at him and he quickly looked away, then stopped a second and spoke up rather out of nowhere, “If you don’t love her, why do you
let the illness hurt you, and stay with her? No freedom?” He stared hard into the strong, rather beautiful eyes of the Warrior before
him and whispered, “Or are you forced?” ‘You’re stepping on glass, stop while you still sit beside him!’ Light cursed and worried
silently to himself. He didn’t dare look now. He’d know soon enough if his wrongly used words had ended everything he had worked hard
Jerry was amazed by how much this Angel could actually see through him. He cleared his throat and replied, ''If you're talking about
Valencia being pitted against me, then you're right.'' Light stopped and stared straight through him with those piercing eyes only a
mythical creature could possess. ''My parents arranged the marriage before the war. I was still a senior in High School when we wee
betrothed. She's damn rich, I tell you. My parents don't have a cent in their bank account since the stock Markets crashed. They need
the money. What better way than to marry me off to some...'' he couldn't even say it. ''Look, all I'm saying is that I'm being forced
to marry that pig for her father's dough. Nothing more, nothing less. The worst part is, she's madly in love with me. I think it
happened when I got drafted. See, we never talked much before... I only met her maybe once or twice after I graduated. But then the war
came, and I was supposed to ship out before the wedding. It was a disaster for both our families. There was nothing anyone could do
about it unless I A) fled to Canada illegally or B) went to college, which I couldn't afford, even with student loans. So I was in a
bend. There was no way I could get out of it. My fate was secured.'' He paused, and took a deep breath before continuing, ''I think she
realized she might never see me again. I didn't know her motivations then and I still don't, but maybe she figures no one would marry
her ass except me. So I guess she fell in love, I don't know. She wrote me every day since I entered the service. I must've got 200
letters from her. I only replied to two. Everywhere I went; I got one of them bloody things: Japan, Korea, France, Russia, Germany.
Didn't matter. She seemed to know EXACTLY where I was. And then... after the war, I ended up here. And she found me, too. I don't know
if I can ever escape her.''
Light lowered his head. ‘Don’t even THINK it!’ He snarled to himself, thinking selfishly. He didn’t have money to help. All he had was
the chain that now lay near Jerry’s bed. He voiced his own sorrows however, looking forlorn and lost for the vet, “I honestly would
help.. I would! I’m just sorry it couldn’t have been different..” He stopped and went silent. ‘Could have been different? Great, just
blab on you pale pasty excuse for a corps.’ He felt Jerry’s stare upon him. He hadn’t the power anywhere to speak of his feelings.
Maybe it would end up for the better. ‘And this War will end and everything will be right with the world forever and ever!’ He
concluded and sighed. “Maybe I could teach you what I know? I’m young, but I can teach! Unsure how good that’ll do you though.. I’m
sorry I can’t help you in anyway..” He snickered and said lightly, “She does scare me, your bride to be?! She’s rather scary!” He herd
Jerry’s laughter again and he melted. Maybe, just maybe.. He stopped again. No matter how warm and comforting that laugh was, he
couldn’t try and speak his mind. Never would he try!
''Don't worry,'' Jerry said. ''No one can help me now.'' But the look in Light's eyes told him otherwise. ''You've helped me enough
already just by listening to my sob story,'' Jerry laughed. ''And if it makes you feel better, she scares me, too.'' He stood up then
and stretched out a hand to his new friend. ''Come,'' he said softly. ''It's late and we should get back before the doctors suspect our
disappearance. Besides, Wazowski is needing his brandy.''
A bright blush and smile lit Light’s pale blue face at Jerry’s adoring words. He beamed and clasped Jerry’s helping hand and smiled an
amusing smile in return. “That poor Cyclops needs better care then what he’s granted, you all do! But yes, I need to get back to my
duty.” He didn’t wish to let go of Jerry’s hand, the strength in just helping him to his feet alone, made him weak and melted. “Need
anything Sir? I’ll be glad to retrieve anything, brandy, and a different set of books, anything you please.” He felt protected by
Jerry’s presents, and what slipped out, made him mentally scream, “Maybe a guard for you to sleep soundly?” He bit his tongue and bowed
deeply. “I meant.. As a.. As a friend I meant.. I’m sorry, pardon my rudeness, and my boldness.. Please..” He didn’t look into Jerry’s
eyes, he just couldn’t!
''Anything you wish,'' Jerry said and lead him back through the hospital doors. He swore to himself the Angel lit up like a Christmas
When Mike saw the two of them enter the ward once more, but without any brandy in sight, he sighed. ''What going on?'' he demanded?
''Gdzie jest mój brandy?'' Where's my brandy? he asked. Without a word, Light disappeared to fetch the blind Cyclops what he so
desperately craved. Jerry was in a good mood as he sat down at the edge of his bed next to Mike's. ''You the friend with him now?''
Jerry only shrugged. ''Sorta,'' he replied. ''He's good to talk to when you really need someone to listen, you know?'' But Mike wasn't
listening. His non-existent nose was buried between the pages of ''Jesus and the Time Machine''.
''Read me something,'' Jerry said. ''It might help you improve on your English.''
Mike sighed, but quietly obeyed. ''It's year 2011,'' he began, ''and you're standing alone in front of your recently commissioned time
machine of all things.
''You're a religious man, and you feel as if the thirty eight million dollars you sent on the time machine might not have been worth
it. After all, there are so many worthy charities. But the temptation to meet your Lord has proven too great. In the height of fervor
or arrogance (your Minister disagrees each time you bring it up with him), you had taken your Wellian dream to Switzerland, where the
scientists nodded, and began working.''
Just then, Light entered the ward with not brandy, but beer. ''We're all out,'' he apologized, but this time Mike didn't complain. He
only shrugged and took the case of beer from Light. ''Join us, yes?'' Mike invited, by surprise. Light shyly sat down on the floor
below Jerry's feet.
''Up here, man,'' Jerry said as he patted the spot on the bed beside him. Light faintly blushed before sliding almost hesitantly on the
bed next to Jerry.
''So Jer tell me you the friend now.'' Mike said, indicating to Light. The latter only nodded. ''Me and Jer here, we be the friend for
long time now. Since I admitted here to the ward.''
Jerry nodded and chided in. ''When I first met this one here,'' Jerry said, indicating towards Mike, ''he was a rag and a bone and a
hank of nothing. And that was a whole year and a half after the Russians liberated the camp he was in. He was a POW when the Germans
took him at Dresden. How much was it you weighed, Mike?''
''Thirty-eight. Thirty-eight kilos.'' Mike said in his thick Polish accent.
''Yeah, about thirty-eight pounds. Can you imagine? He was a wraith.''
''How much do you weight now, Mike?'' Strobe shyly asked.
''One hundred and ten pounds,'' Jerry translated, ''which still isn't enough for his frame and height. He should weight about one-
seventeen, but he's getting there. We'll make a nice big milk-fed American boy of him in no time.'' Jerry patted Mike, then, ''But boy,
was he a wreck when I first got a hold of him. Here, drink some beer, dude. It'll help make you fat.'' Jerry handed Mike a beer. He
gulped it down but it was obvious he preferred brandy by the expression he made.
''I was real wreck,'' Mike put in, his tone affectingly light-hearted. ''I looked like an old witch- I mean, you know, the thing that
chases birds away. The scarecrow? I didn't have hardly any fat and my legs ached. I had the scorbut-''
''The scurvy,'' Jerry interjected, ''he means-''
''I know.'' Strobe said, blushing ever so lightly. ''He means he had the scurvy. I speak, Polish you know.''
''Oh, right.'' Jerry said, blushing in return.
''Le scorbut- scurvy I mean, I had.'' Mike continued. ''I lose my teeth! And typhus. And scarlet fever. And anemia. All of them. I was
real wreck. But then I meet Jerry and him and science fiction take care of me.''
Light smiled, feeling very good. He felt in the mists of friendship, and never knew how good it felt, till he smiled and said, “You’re
looking very good considering what happened Sir Wazoski! Very well now indeed!” His foot caught hold of something cold and small and he
blinked and looked down. “My Grandmama’s chain!” He scooped it up and smiled with pure joy. ‘This HAS to be a sign! I’ve been spoken
too, listened to, and now in the company of friends, shall I dare speak such folly!?’ “A dove with an olive branch? That’s the chain? I
thought maybe it’d be a cross, or a.. A religious kind’a thing..” Jerry quired and stared at the small metal bird in the Ghost’s hands.
“That’s one more thing about me no one seems to graspe.” His steel colored eyes flashed warmly as he said, “I’m no more a believer then
you or Sir Wazoski here! Grandmama did deeply.. Now she’s gone! If anyone loved their people.. Why have this hate and death?” Light
looked straight ahead sadly and silently. “So much death, pain, loss.. It gets to your very soul, till you wonder what sick twisted
puppet keeps us under its hands, strings as our only movement?!” He noticed the odd looks he was getting and smiled lightly. “I’m a
deep reader.. I do apologize..” He blushed and held the bird close to his chest. ‘Be calm, no more blabbering! These two don’t need
it..’ He piped up suddenly, changing the matters, “Did you know your name, Jerry, meant Warrior of the Spear!? It suites you well! I
bet you were and still are a grand fighter. Sorry if this is corny, but, I bet you were and still are a grand fighter for what you
believe in!” He looked at both Monster’s and smiled, “Both of you, grand fighters!”
Jerry sniffed in embarrassment. ''It's a little corny, but we're honored. Right Mike?'' But Mike's nose was back in his book. Jerry
pointed a thumb to him, though, and whispered to Light: ''If anyone's the grand warrior, it's him, not me. I did nothing grand. But
Mike there, Captain Wazowski, that is, was theoretically saved as soon as the camp was liberated. That is, he wasn't going to die. He
was a fighter alright. The doctors put him on massive doses of ferrous sulfate and he began to bloom like a rose.'' Jerry paused and
looked down at his bedside companion. He joked, loudly enough for Mike to hear, ''A rose. A rose. A beautiful fucking rose.''
''Wyłączenie fuck!'' Mike laughed as he playfully threw a pillow at Jerry. ''Shut the fuck up!'' was what he said. He continued to mock
in return, ''And thank you for making me to bloom like a rose.''
At once Light became aware of the way in which Mike echoed so much of Jerry's diction. Indeed, he was Mike's dialogue coach, a fact
which became more directly evident now as Light heard Jerry begin to correct Mike in detail, like a patient instructor at a Berlitz
school. '' Not 'TO bloom','' Jerry explained, ''just 'bloom.' You must begin to learn just when and where to add the preposition 'to'
to the infinitive verb, and when to leave it out. and it's tough, you see, because in English there's no hard, fast rule. You have to
use your instinct.''
''Instinct?'' Mike questioned.
''You have to use your ear. For example, you could say 'causing me to bloom like a rose' but not 'making me to bloom'. There's odd
tricks to remember this.''
''Such language!'' Mike groaned, and in mock pain clutched at his brow. ''Too many words. I mean just the words for szybki. Fast. In
English there's 'rapid'. 'Quick'. All the same thing!''
'' 'Swift,' '' Light added.
''How about 'speedy'?'' Jerry said.
'' 'Snappy!' '' Light laughed.
''Stop it!'' Mike said, laughing. ''too much! Too many words, this English. In French is so simple, you just say 'vite'. ''
''How about some more beer?'' Jerry asked.
And the night wore on till they all fell fast asleep, fat, drunk and happy.
Warm comforting dreams filled Light’s mind. He hmmed and snuggled into the warmth more. He never knew how grand it felt to be allowed
to be in the presents of such friends. However, something to this warmth stirred Light. Something that began as a wonderful thing, to a
horrifying thing within seconds. Morning light woke Light. He noticed he was on a bed, instead of the matt like thing they gave him
since he wasn’t a fighter nor a real priest. He also soon noticed, his arm was over a warm and sleeping body. His eyes flashed wide
open. His blood ran from cold, to icy. ‘PLEASE no one wake yet!’ He screeched and tried moving slowly out of the bed he had fallen to
sleep upon. ‘Beer isn’t something to consider.. No! What if we did something, or spoke aloud stuff… Could someone be listening?’ He
panicked and forgot to be quite. He slipped and fell backwards, right into the tin table most beds had that doctors would use to give
medication to patients. A loud clatter echoed thought the Hospital wing. But all Light could hear now, was his pounding young heart.
“What the hell happened?! Oh geez, it’s that Ghost! Hey Pasty! You know how much this shit costs? All ruined cause you wanted to sleep
where it was warm and wild dogs wouldn’ta taken you away while you slept!” A Nurse snarled when he took note of the damned items Light
had run into. Light cowered. He shivered silently. Bad enough he slept next to his hero, now he just might have cost his life at the
Jerry woke up to the sounds of voices.
“What the hell happened?! Oh geez, it’s that Ghost! Hey Pasty! You know how much this shit costs? All ruined cause you wanted to sleep
where it was warm and wild dogs wouldn’t a taken you away while you slept!”
He sprint out of bed to met with the sight of his Angel cowering before a stern white uniformed nurse, a syringe cart of precious
sedatives overturned, needles scattered everywhere on the tile floor.
The nurse was scolding Light for ruining the medical supplies that had been scarce since the end of the war. Without thinking, he stood
up on his shaky hinges and stepped in front of Light. ''Hey,'' he said. ''It was an accident. Why don't you leave him alone?''
“Sir, you’re tired. Please, we’ll deal with this Pasty little child soon and you’ll be able to sleep.” The Nurse growled at Light, who
feverishly tried picking up all the broken pieces he’d ruined. A swift kick sent him into the rattled mess, small cuts stinging his
pale hands and face. “Get the fuck outta here ya rat! You’re worse than the plague!!” Light whimpered and quickly got onto his hands
and knees, getting up before he was struck again. ‘Tail’ between his legs, he vanished. Embarrassed and ashamed for the crimes he had
committed. Tears blotted his vision, the pain from the small cuts stung and burned as he tried finding some place to hide. Back inside,
the Nurse grumbled and snarled to a Doctor about the mess before him. “Should get rid of that pest! Not even a fucking priest doesn’t
know the word of God, that hell raiser!”
Jerry's blood was literally boiling in his veins as he watched his Angel being treated this way. But as a former soldier of dignity and
honour that he had lost during the war, he couldn't possibly publically disgrace himself in the presence of his nation that looked up
to him. But what was more right? Standing up for a friend or standing by silently to preserve what little honoru he had? He couldn't
call it honour if it were only for himself. So he approached the nurse and said simply, ''What? Like you don't make mistakes?''
She sighed. He could tell she was getting impatient with him. ''Please, sir-''
But he cut her off. ''No 'please sir', me. I can't abide begging especially from you of all people. You should know that out in the
battlefield none of us were perfect. Do you think I survived Dresden because I was perfect? Do you think ANY of us survived because we
were flawless human beings? What about those who got stuck in the mud and were left there to die in a pool of their own blood? Did
those men die because they were 'pests' or 'hell raisers' ? What do you think? I didn't watch my buddies die in my own my arms because
I was perfect. No... I survived by chance. I don't much believe in fate, or the word of God, or that things happen for a reason. I
believe those men died as heroes BECAUSE they weren't perfect. Look around you,'' and here Jerry turned his long body around the room,
arms outstretched, and his fellow comrades looked on in silence, their faces compelling and full of pride. ''Do you think ANY of us
here are heroes? No! I received a Purple Heart for being wounded at Dresden. I received the Bronze and Silver Stars while walking point
in that dense, steaming jungle, but do you think it was worth it? Is it worth getting rewarded for losing my dignity? Huh? You tell me,
ma'am, if I came home with hardly a scratch, would I get rewarded? No, of course not! It’s only these cursed scars that make me a
bloody hero! Right? It’s only these scars that make me worthy of a medal, as I understand it! Well, I’m not a hero!'' He pointed to a
man without a leg and a missing eye. '' You think he wanted to cut his own leg off, or yank his eye out from the tendon that kept it
inside his head?'' He pointed to a man with only half a face. ''You think he wanted to lose half his face just to get him some wanking
award! There’s just not enough scars, is there? Not enough sacrifices. I’m sure you’d make me leader of this whole gaddmaned fecked up
country if it meant showing up to work one day with half me torso blown to bits and me insides hanging out. No? Or maybe I came home in
a box, then? You’d stick the original Betsy Ross on me coffin, I bet. No? I didn’t think so. So why must I get rewarded? Why must I get
promoted when all the men who died deserved it so much more than I? You tell me. These scars are nothing compared to the death I
dwelled among every day of my life. I might as well be dead. I am dead. A dead man. And yet, the dead men in unmarked graves lay there
rotting and no one even remembers their heroics. Why? Because they’re dead. That’s why. They’re dead. But I’m dead, too, you’re just
too blind to notice it! What if one of them saved my life? Who’d remember it other than myself? But do they get an award?''
The nurse protested, ''Please, clam yourself. I only though it’d make you happier if-''
Jerry rose to his full height and exploded. He could no longer contain the rage inside him building up over the countless months since
being in that God-forsaken ward, ''Happier? You want to know what makes me happier? Seeing them young men remembered and honored like
the heroes they were rather than being forgotten and spit on like the prick bastards they weren’t! You know what I’d do? I’d rip every
medal, every ribbon of me uniform that I ever received and throw it into their grave, where it belongs! Those medals should have been
theirs, not mine, long ago! Like most vets, I thought I buried the war after coming home. Surviving the horrors of war meant I could
handle anything, right? Wrong! There were no odds to explain the supernatural protection I received. After two months, that covering
extended to everyone around me when I walked point. Over time, that unbelievable 'luck' turned into a curse as walking point and going
home became vexing choices between life and death. And the reason why I tell you this, is because Light, MY Light is a HERO, you hear?
A FUCKING HERO, not a 'pest, not a 'hell raiser' and certainly not a MISTAKE!''
Jerry gasped for breath. ''He was there for me in a time no one else was. I don't even know him... but he saved my life yesterday. He
made me realize I was still alive.'' Jerry turned towards the hospital door as the nurse stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. All eyes
were on him. ''I have nothing more to say to you. Go fuck yerself.'' Jerry said as he wheeled out of there. And the sounds of cheering
from the other men followed him into the morning.
‘Cheering?’ Light wondered as he licked his wounds, literally. ‘I’m taken it, someone thinks I’m gone for good, or someone spoke up!’
He bit out painful pieces of glass and buried them for no one got hurt from them further. ‘He stood up for me.. ME!’ Light thought with
an affectionate mind. No one in their right mind would have dared. Half the time, they couldn’t! ‘Those poor men..’ He whimpered as he
saw two dead getting wheeled away to the place where they would rest for the rest of their days. “Ive było zabezpieczone i pomógł
Grandmama existing to coś!?” He asked with a warm, teary smile. Maybe for Jerry’s standing action, the Ward exploded inexciment!? “Taki
jest bohatera one Jerry Hes wybraną śmierci i scorn aby zobaczyć tego Uśmiechu!” Light sang, meaning, ‘Such is the hero they Jerry he
is Hes worth death and scorn to see that smile!’ He flinched when a cut got dirt inside it, but bared the stinging and licked more.
“I’ve been shown protection and care, I MUST’NT show weakness after that!” Light swore and finished his painful work. His ear twitched
at a sound, but he didn’t wish to leave right now. He still hurt inside. How dare HE, Light, White Light, intrude upon such a Warrior,
a Hero! “You’re a worthless sack of shit.. Just as those Doctors call you..” He told himself to deter himself from the bad thought of
even falling for the bride to be man.
''You should go to after him,'' Mike had said to Jerry that afternoon.
''What do you mean?'' Jerry asked.
''You stand up for him, now go to find him, you sick bastard.'' Mike wise-cracked, but Jerry was in no mood. He still had not
completely calmed down since this morning’s event. But now he couldn't walk into the wing without comrades swarming him, patting him on
the back, telling him he was a hero. But he didn't feel like a hero. He felt like nothing. Even with his new friend, Light, he wasn't
so sure what he was anymore.
He would be out of the hospital in a day or two, and he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his friends behind. And once he came home,
he was trapped in Valenica's web. But how to get out of it?
''What wrong, mój przyjaciel?'' Mike asked. He had called him his friend. Jerry looked up and told him about his reluctance to get out
of the hospital.
''You know what's waiting for me,'' Jerry said. ''That house and her candy bars.''
Mike sighed. ''You know what they did when they time travel to find Jesus?''
Mike cracked out his book, and read aloud from a page he dog-eared: ''For a moment, you toy with the idea of letting the scientist
know that you'll be going to visit your Lord Jesus Christ, but you decide that the less he knew about the entire operation, the better
it would be.'' He closed the book and said, ''As long as Valencia doesn’t know anything, it can't harm her, yes?''
Jerry nodded, not sure what Mike was trying to say. But then a light bulb seemed to light up inside the Cyclops as he hopped off the
bed, putting weight on his good leg.
''It just gave me idea!' He cried. ''Thank you, Jer, you real pal!'' And Mike kissed Jerry on the cheek before he ran out of the wing
as fast as his damaged legs could carry him.
Jerry only sat dumbfounded on the edge of his bed, staring blankly after Mike. He wiped his cheek with the back of his hand and
wondered aloud, ''What the hell was that about?''
For the afternoon, Light stuck around the outside of the Ward. Better to stay away from the hate then let it eat him inside and out. He
felt bad though that he had left Jerry and Mike. He held the Dove chain gently and gave whatever form of a pray up to his Grandmama for
a sign of ANY kind, any, that could fix this entire matter. He new Jerry was leaving soon. He couldn’t bare that in mind. “Proszę
Grandmama Wyślij znak co czuję w moje serce existing niewłaściwy me!” He called gently to the sky above. ‘If she answers, then Jerry
was MEANT for me!’ He declared, than became subdued. “What in the whole damn world have you been sniffing White… He’s to be MARRIED!”
He beat his pale fist into the hard packed earth below him and growled. “Damnit all, all I ever try to do is help. I fall in love,
honestly have FEELINGS and feelings returned in a nice way and he’s taken!! DAMNIT!” He sprang up from his hidden shady post and seemed
enraged. Life wasn’t fair, why should he be fair? “An answer Grandmama would be WONDERFUL!” He howled to the sky above, like a sign
would drop dead before him!
Light was interrupted by a familiar voice: ''Kochasz go, prawda?'' It was none other than Mike. ''You love him, don't you?'' he had
said. It was not really a question, but more of a statement. Light looked at him in surprise, his mouth gaping open. ''Nie wydaje mi
się, że mogę nie zostać zauważonym.'' he continued. '' Don't think I haven't noticed.'' Light sighed, sinking down to the floor.
''He will be discharged in two days,'' Light wailed. ''I might never see him again...''
Mike approached Light without hesitation. The former Captain had no idea what he was about to say- doubtless some gauche words of
comfort- but it was the Angel who spoke first, behind hands clenched to a tear stained face. ''Tak jest to nieuczciwe z niego,'' he
sobbed. ''It is so unfair of him.'' He continued to sob uncontrollably. ''Oh, uwielbiam go!'' Oh, I love him so!
Mike did the clumsy thing they often do in movies at such a point, when dialogue is a problem. He pulled a bandage from his bad leg and
silently gave it to Light as a handkerchief. The Angel took it readily and began to mop at his eyes. '' Oh, uwielbiam go!'' Oh, I love
him so much! he exclaimed. ''Tak wiele! Tak wiele! A on sam jeszcze nie wie! CHCĘ umrzeć bez niego.'' So much! So much! And he doesn't
even know! I'll die without him.
''Nie, nie istnieje,'' Mike said, or something equally awful. ''There, there.''
Light's eyes implored him, as if to say, ''Can you help me?'' And he was shaken by more sobs, and more tears poured forth, turning the
handkerchief into a wet little monogrammed sponge. His nose was now swollen with grief and the pink tear stains marred his
extraordinary pale cheeks.
''Światło światło! Cheer up, mam pomysł!'' Mike said as he wrapped his bony green arms around the pale monster. ''Light Light! Cheer
up, I have an idea!'' he had said.
''What's that?'' Light asked, wiping his eyes.
There was a strictly self-serving scheme hatching behind that giant blind eye.