Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
NOAH
I step out of Jessica’s tent. I kissed the top of her head. What was I thinking?
I walk toward the medical tent, hands in my pockets, boots crunching against the gravel. The stars are out, but they don’t offer comfort. Just cold light and distance.
I should be in the command tent, reviewing the evac protocols, checking on the civilians, but I can’t focus. Not after seeing her like that.
Jessica’s strong. Fierce. The kind of medic who doesn’t flinch when the blood starts pouring, but tonight, she looked like she was drowning.
I’ve seen soldiers break before. I’ve seen the thousand-yard stare, the tremble in the hands, the way they stop sleeping. I’ve seen it in the mirror.
But with her, it’s different. It’s personal.
Langston’s death hit everyone hard. He was young, sharp, always cracking jokes even when the bullets were flying. I keep hearing his voice in my head—“Come on, Captain, you call that cover fire?”
I should’ve pulled him back sooner. I should’ve seen the angle of that sniper. I should’ve—
I stop walking. Guilt is a familiar companion, but tonight it’s louder.
The wind picks up, carrying sand and silence. I stare out into the dark, trying to find answers in the emptiness.
I think about what she said. “I made a vow. No one dies on my watch.” That kind of promise breaks people.
I’ve made my own vows. To protect my team, to keep civilians safe, to never let emotions cloud judgment. That last one’s already slipping.
I kissed her. Not on the lips, but the top of her head. Gentle. Barely a touch, but it felt like crossing a line I didn’t know I’d drawn.
I don’t regret it.
I step into the medical tent to find Captain Kim waiting. She’s got that look, tight jaw, arms crossed, eyes like radar.
“She’s not fit for duty,” Rachel says without preamble.
“I know,” I reply.
“She needs time, and space.”
“She needs someone who understands.”
Rachel raises an eyebrow. “Is that you?”
I don’t answer, because I don’t know, but I want to be.
“She’s written down every soldier she’s treated,” I say. “Langston’s name is in her notebook now.”
Rachel softens, just a little. “She’s carrying too much.”
“So are we all.”
She nods. “Keep an eye on her, but don’t get too close.”
Too late.
I leave the tent and head back toward Jessica’s barracks. I won’t sleep tonight. I’ll sit outside her tent, just close enough to hear if she stirs, and yet far enough to pretend I’m not falling.
The night stretches on. Somewhere, a generator hums, but all else is quiet, almost like the desert is holding its breath.
I think about Brooklyn. About the soldier I lost on my first rotation. He bled out in my arms, just like Langston. I didn’t talk for three days after that. Didn’t sleep for five.
Jessica’s stronger than I was, but strength doesn’t mean she’s invincible.
I hear her shift inside the tent, before I hear a soft sound. Maybe it’s a dream, but probably a nightmare.
I don’t go in. I just sit there, watching the stars fade into dawn, knowing that when she wakes up, I’ll be here. Though I don’t know if that will be enough.
Shortly after, I hear her call out as her breathing gets erratic. I know for sure she is in the middle of a nightmare now. I get up and walk into the tent.
I can see her fighting with her blanket as she moves her head side to side. Sweat and tears cover her pale face and my chest tightens knowing she’s hurting.
“Jessica,” I call out, but she’s so far into the nightmare she can’t hear me.
I sit down on her cot and pull her into my arms. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you and you are safe,” I tell her as I place her head against my chest and I rub her back.
Her hands grip my arms, but her breathing starts to slow down. I continue whispering softly to her and she finally relaxes in my arms.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles into my chest.
“Don’t be sorry. This is to be expected. You’ve carried far too much and it was only a matter of time,” I whisper.
We stay like that for a few more minutes before she pulls away from me and looks me in the eye.
Tears streak down her face and I can’t help but to wipe them away. Her eyes are red and glassy, but they’re locked on mine. She doesn’t look away, doesn’t hide.
“I didn’t mean to fall apart,” she whispers.
“You didn’t fall apart,” I say. “You cracked. That’s different.”
She lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “Feels the same.”
I shake my head. “It’s not. Falling apart means you’re done, cracking means you’re still fighting.”
She nods slowly, like she’s trying to believe me. Her hands are still gripping my arms, her fingers trembling.
“I keep seeing his face,” she says. “Langston. My brother. All of them.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I see them too.”
She leans into me again, just for a moment. Not for comfort, but for grounding.
“I don’t know how to keep doing this,” she admits.
“You don’t have to know,” I say. “You just have to keep showing up.”
She pulls back again, wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt. “You’re not what I expected.”
“Neither are you.”
We sit in silence for a while, the kind that doesn’t need filling.
“I should get up,” she says, voice low.
“You should rest.”
She nods, “I should but I need to check on the soldiers.”
“Captain Kim is more than capable of handling the load today.”
“I should check on the civilians,” she says, not giving up and I know I can’t force her to rest.
She’s afraid, afraid of the memories, the faces, and the loss.
“You should at least eat before starting work,” I tell her with a sigh.
She nods, “Will you eat with me?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” I tell her.