The questions were something Higgs should've expected. They made sense, especially in the context of their conversation. But Higgs hadn't. As she asked them he realised why. Higgs had told this story to the support group but it was a support group filled with war vets. People who'd experienced war didn't really ask you about roadside bombs. They didn't have to. They all knew the dangers, most had lost at least one friend in an incident like that. But here Higgs was, talking to a teenager. Ironically, of course, he'd been younger than Caitlin was now when he'd joined the army.
"Close," Higgs replied a brief flash of light scream heat blood running through his head, with something at the back of Higgs' mind whispering 'not quite shrapnel', before he shook his head. "I spent three months in the ICU last summer," he offered. That, presumably, went a long way to explain to Caitlin how badly he'd been injured. Had almost died. And yet, oddly, the three months in the hospital had been less problematic than the year following it.