Do you know who you are?

"Listen to me Harry, the doctor will figure out how to get the bullet out, and you will be in pain. But I will be here, I'll take care of you, and soon the war will be over, and you will go back to your family, and your friends, and you will get married, and have children, you'll even get a dog, and on a Sunday afternoon like this one you will be on your front porch drinking wine and you will remember that nurse Maeve was right, okay? That she was right to not let you die, okay darling?" the tears were running down my cheeks like rivers in spring and I wasn't sure if my little story was directed to Harry or me. His head fell on the side to face me; his green eyes were glowing as the tears started forming in them while he looked at me. "You promise?" he asked. He looked like a little kid asking his mommy is Santa was real, dreading a negative answer but also having an unexplainable certainty that he was in fact real. "Cross my heart" I whispered leaving a very unprofessional kiss on his shattered fingers, but I guess at this point professionalism was the least of our concerns.