Nine Lives | Lexie Grey

1

"Lyons!"
"Lyons get your ass over here right now!"
"LYONS!"

Milo ignored the voice coming from the helicopter. He knew he had to try and save just 1 more of his men. He already let so many down but he was in his sight. In his reach.

So Milo began to pull the debris off of the soldier. There was so much of it he was barley visible. Just his leg sticking out from one particularly large piece of metal. He lifted it up to reveal the beaten and bloodied face of his friend, Harrison.

Boy was he glad he came back.

"Harrison?" he said to him.

No reply.

Milo tried again.

"Harry?"

The man opened his eyes and smiled at him.

Milo sighed out of relief, "You scared me for a minute there Harry."

Harry opened his mouth to speak but he began to cough up blood. He didn't stop.

It went all over Milo's uniform but it blended in with all the other blood stains on it. He didn't care about that though. He just cared about getting Harry out.

Milo stood up from by his side and tried to push the remaining metal off of him. But with no success.

He kept trying though.

That was until he felt a tug at his pant leg that is. He knelt back down to Harry who was looking worse than before. He was pale and his eyes had gone bloodshot. He then stuck out his arm and tapped the gun in Milo's holster.

Milo just stared at him.

He tapped again.

He clicked on.

"No." Was all he said.

"Please," he replied weakly. "We both know that aint moving," he gestured to the metal on him. "and its really painful. Even if you do get it off, I'll die of bloodloss."

Milo refused. "The choppers right over there," he turned to point to were the helicopter was but there was nothing. They had left.

Harrison, unaware that it was gone said, "The nearest hospital is hundreds of miles away anyway Milo. We both know i wont make it. Please just help me." He pleaded.

Milo just shook his head, got up and again tried to move the metal off of him. Again unsuccessful.

He looked down at his friend with pity in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," was all he said as he pulled out his gun.

BANG.

Milo awoke with beads of sweat dripping from his brow. His hair was a mess.

He could still feel his blood on his face.

He shook that thought out of his head and got out of bed. He couldn't help but stare at the hands that killed a good man. Thats all he could see when he looked at them. Hands that killed a great man.

Even though he's a surgeon and saves lives for a living. In Milo's eyes, he truly is a murderer. No matter what his many therapists said back over there.

Oh shoot.

"Therapist appointment - 9" was written in his notepad by his bed. He looked at his watch.