Chương 5
“I managed them.”
“You hid them.”
The word struck harder because it was true.
Mercer gestured toward the classified folder.
“This changes my understanding of your scars.”
He tapped the computer.
“It does not change what you just told me.”
Marcus shifted forward.
“What does she need to do?”
Mercer looked at me instead.
“She needs an evaluation with someone experienced in operational trauma.”
“I've already had psychiatric screening.”
“A screening isn't treatment.”
“I don't need treatment.”
Marcus made a quiet sound.
I turned on him.
“What?”
He rubbed his thumb against the handle of his crutch.
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
He looked at me.
“You've called me every Thursday for three months and never once asked what happened after you passed out.”
My mouth went dry.
“I knew you lived.”
“That isn't what I said.”
Nobody else in the room moved.
Marcus's voice remained quiet.
“You ask about my leg.”
He tapped the brace.
“You ask whether I'm eating.”
“You live on protein shakes.”
“They're efficient.”
“They smell like drywall.”
“You ask whether my wife is sleeping.”
He paused.
“You never ask about the helicopter.”
I looked away.
The gold insignia had left a red mark in my palm.
Mercer did not interrupt.
For once, neither did Bennett.
Marcus reached for the second crutch and pulled himself upright.
The movement cost him.
I could see it in the way his mouth flattened.
He stood anyway.
“I don't think you're a coward, Elena.”
I stared at the floor.
“I think you're scared.”
That was worse.
He moved closer.
“So am I.”
I looked up.
Marcus's face had gone pale from standing, but he held my gaze.
“I haven't been inside one since.”
The admission changed something I could not name.
He had spent his career going toward danger with a kind of irritated practicality.
Marcus Rowe feared paperwork, bad coffee, his wife's credit card statements, and apparently nothing else.
Except helicopters.
Mercer closed the classified folder completely.
“No one is ending your career today, Lieutenant.”
I looked at the screen.
“No.”
He nodded toward my clenched hand.
“But if you keep treating survival like something you have to earn every morning, you may do that yourself.”
I almost snapped back.
The words formed.
Then I looked at Marcus balancing painfully on two crutches, his chest bare where the gold insignia had been.
I opened my hand.
The pin lay against my palm.
For the first time since the helicopter came apart around us, I let myself consider that keeping Marcus alive had not made me invulnerable.
It had only made both of us survivors.
And surviving, apparently, was going to demand things from me that courage never had.
Mercer scheduled the trauma evaluation before I left the room.
He did it in front of me, which I suspected was his way of making sure I could not disappear into the gap between recommendation and follow-through.
“Thursday at thirteen hundred,” he said.
“I have clinic.”
“You no longer have clinic Thursday at thirteen hundred.”
“You're very comfortable rearranging other people's lives.”
“So are surgeons.”
“I'm not a surgeon.”
“That explains your personality.”
Marcus made a small choking sound that might have been laughter.
I stared at Mercer.
He stared back.
For the first time that morning, neither of us looked away.
“Is that a joke, Captain?”
“Possibly.”
“It needs work.”
“I have other skills.”
Bennett checked his watch and told the legal officers to secure the classified folder.
The younger officer slid it into a locking case with the solemnity of someone handling a live grenade.
Marcus lowered himself back into the chair before anyone could pretend not to notice that his leg had started shaking.
I watched the movement.
He caught me watching.
“Don't.”
“Don't what?”
“Do the doctor face.”
“I don't have a doctor face.”
“You absolutely have a doctor face.”
“What does it look like?”
“Disappointed parent mixed with tax auditor.”
Bennett opened the door.
“Senior Chief, your transport is waiting.”
Marcus nodded toward me.
“She's my transport.”
“No, she isn't.”
“I can drive.”
“You took pain medication forty minutes ago.”
Marcus looked offended.
“That information was provided in confidence.”
“You announced it to the corpsman in the hallway.”
“I didn't know you were listening.”
“You announced it.”
Marcus turned toward me.
“You see what I deal with?”
“I've seen worse.”
His eyes flicked to my arm.
The joke died before either of us touched it.
Bennett stepped into the hall and spoke quietly with one of the legal officers.
Mercer remained behind his desk, typing his amended note.
I should have felt triumphant.
Instead, fatigue came over me so suddenly that my knees felt hollow.
The room had held too much anger for too long.
Now that there was no one left to fight, I could feel how tired I was.
Mercer glanced up.
“You're pale.”
“I'm always pale.”
“You're Irish.”
“Half.”
“Which half?”
“The inexpensive half.”
Marcus laughed.
This time it hurt him.
His hand moved instinctively toward his side.
I was beside him before I thought about it.
“Pain?”
“Fine.”
“That isn't a number.”
“Four.”
“You said two outside.”
“Outside was less judgmental.”
I crouched to check the strap of his brace.
He put one hand on my shoulder.
Not to stop me.
To steady himself.
The gesture brought the helicopter back harder than rotor noise ever had.
His weight against me.
His blood under my hands.
The terrible softness in his voice when he had said my name.
I froze.
Marcus felt it.
His hand lifted immediately.
“Elena.”
“I'm fine.”
He did not argue.
That was worse.
I stood too fast and nearly knocked the examination stool sideways.
Mercer watched without commenting.
I hated him a little for learning restraint.
Marcus picked up one crutch.
“Come get coffee.”
“I have to drive back.”
“Coffee helps with driving.”
“That is not evidence-based medicine.”
“It is senior enlisted medicine.”
“I've seen your medicine.”
“Worked on me.”
“Barely.”
He smiled.
May you like
There was relief in it.
He had been waiting for me to say something cruel enough to sound normal.
