by Cory Mccoy
Chapter 38
As the surgeons began work repairing Connor's back and arm, they had put him on Fentanyl patches. It was basically a time released dose of morphine. I would still catch him taking other pain meds on top it. I couldn't imagine how much pain he was in at the time. No man could have handled it really. Yet, we turned our heads and refused to see it because Connor was the General. We needed him too badly to try and intervene.
He would often sneak off, wandering the city with no body guards or companions. The trips usually ended in a bar somewhere. An unsuspecting patron would say the wrong thing and Connor would tear into them. Seattle was huge and the population was actually growing because of the influx of fighters. Of course vendors had to follow, so most businesses stayed open. The city was thriving, it was probably the only place on earth experiencing significant growth. In a dark bar, with people still mostly in cold weather attire, no one would notice him. Until he beat the shit out of someone and left that is. He was losing control.
He could take out an entire platoon by himself, yet he could not cope with losing the love of his life. The poor bastard had lost literally everything in his life. They had been together so long that Liz was part of his identity. He no longer knew who he was without her.
She wasn't doing well either. I talked to her and JoAnne almost nightly. Liz wanted to be with him so bad, but knew that he wouldn't let her come back. She understood that as hurt and broken as he was, that if she were to die it would destroy him. In a way all of our fates were contingent upon her safety. If New York was attacked again, Connor would have immediately ordered an all out assault. If she was taken hostage, he would have moved the Earth itself to get her back. Occasionally they would talk, but it was formal and seemed forced. Both much too afraid to tell the other how they felt, unable to bear hurting each other anymore than they already had.
Connor often talked to her parents though. After all, they were the only family he had left. They never knew exactly how much resources he committed to keeping them all safe and secure. Two people, perfect for each other forced apart by circumstances that even God could no longer control.
In retrospect, it all seemed so evident. It's as if Connor had laid his path out on a chalk board in pretty colors. He was screaming for help. He was in agony and we all stood by and let him slip further away.
The End of the Road
Chapter 39
