Passion
Being a mercenary was very much different from being a soldier - as he begins to realize. It was, for one, much more detached. After all, fighting for another, fighting for some other cause but his own, didn't serve to make him passionate.
Not about fighting.
Not about caring.
He never really understood the difference before - never understood why countries would not just surrender, never understood why they would just keep on fighting even though the odds were stacked high against them.
He thinks he understands it much better now.
After all, he has something precious to protect now.
Granted, it was nothing as large as a country, nor nothing as important (to others) as his other missions. Yet...it was precious.
And now, he can feel the passion.
He can feel the adrenaline coursing though his veins - even as they continue to bleed dry.
But it does not matter.
He has someone to protect and he will die before he allows anything to happen to her.
It is sad, he thinks, that he had never understood before.
Never understood the meaning of dying for one's country.
Never understood the passion behind it all.
Never understood where that drive came from.
A smile graced his lips.
At least - he understands it now.
And it is not too late.
Not for her anyway.
(c) blade 2006
Whoo! This was hard, and i think there are some really blaring grammar mistakes there... but then again, i'm not too sure. So yeah.
Well...yeah. Happy Birthday S'pore!!
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