The air inside the military hospital on land carried a cold, sterile scent, as if every corner had been designed to erase any trace of humanity. White floors, pale lights, endless corridors—a place where soldiers were stitched up just enough to be sent back to the battlefield.
A maintenance shop for human tools.
Grayson had been transferred there because some tests couldn't be performed on board—especially given the shortage of resources on the vessel.
PACK, PACK, PACK...
Marin walked with firm steps, uniform immaculate, posture unshaken. Protocol required authorization and specific procedures for officers visiting hospitalized soldiers—particularly in cases under investigation. Her visit had been arranged by the captain before departure, and her rank made the process less bureaucratic.
At the entrance hall, the receptionist glanced at her briefly, without showing any emotion.
She announced her name and rank; the woman only nodded before pointing to the right sector.
"Room 212."
"Thank you," Marin replied, turning away, then hesitated. "Do you know if the corporal has received any other visitors besides the investigative board? Family? Friends?"
"No. He hasn't had anyone."
She had already read his file on the way. Indeed, there was no family contact listed. In cases of assault by fellow unit members, the family was notified—and he had filled out the form as if he had no one.
An orphan, like her. That's what she thought.
Still, the question hadn't come from empathy; it was part of the investigation. When a soldier is assaulted by comrades, a formal inquiry is opened: temporary suspension, mandatory sessions with a psychologist, interviews with naval defense, and continuous medical supervision. The victim's safety becomes priority—which, in this case, included an armed guard at the door and recordings of all visits, hers included. Permission for the meeting depended on accepting those terms.
PACK, PACK, PACK...
She moved down the corridors, controlled steps. The air was filled with minimal noises—the echo of boots, murmurs among doctors, the steady beep of heart monitors. In the distance, occasional groans of the wounded—men lingering between combat and oblivion.
She stopped at the door to room 212. A military guard stood at the side, rifle steady in his hands.
He recognized her and nodded respectfully.
"The conversation will be recorded, Lieutenant. For your safety and the integrity of the process."
"Understood," she replied before pushing the door open.
The room was silent.
Joshua lay on the bed, motionless, breathing slow and steady. His face, less swollen now, still bore the marks of the brutality he had suffered.
Eyes closed. Peaceful sleep—or the effect of sedatives.
She sat on the chair beside his bed.
No sound.
No words.
Just observation.
She had never felt any particular interest in the man. He was just another under her command.
Yet, he didn't displease her. Efficient, discreet, and his presence carried an odd sense of calm… like the sea breeze.
Home.
The word crossed her mind.
Why?
The memory of her first home dissolved like bubbles breaking on the surface of water. Why did something so important vanish so easily? Why had she thought of home when looking at him?
She shook it off internally.
Such thoughts disturbed her.
It wasn't the time for introspection. She was there for him, to settle matters about the incident.
Just another inquiry.
She looked at him again. It was strange seeing him like this—quiet, vulnerable. She didn't know him well, but the rookie usually radiated a constant energy, even if reserved. Now, surrendered to forced rest, he seemed like someone else.
Guilt—always guilt—returned, tightening her stomach like an anchor.
She should have been more careful. More strategic. She should have seen the signs before a subordinate nearly died under her command.
She thought of Sullever. His calm firmness.
The way he inspired respect without imposing.
She admired that.
She didn't want to be a leader, but since she was, she had to act like one.
At that moment, however, she wasn't a commander. She was simply someone who had failed.
Joshua stirred.
Fingers twitching, breathing uneven.
He was waking slowly.
His eyes opened, meeting hers.
TUM, TUM, TUM...
His body tensed immediately.
He tried to sit up instinctively, but the pain in his ribs made him choke on the movement.
She leaned slightly forward, expression unchanged.
"Don't strain yourself."
He sank back against the pillow with a frustrated sigh.
"Damn it..."
She stayed silent, just watching.
"It's strange to see you here, Lieutenant."
"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"
He gave a tired, playful smile.
"Great. Ready to get back tomorrow."
She raised an eyebrow.
"A week at minimum. And no intense training for at least three."
"I don't like being idle."
"It's not about what you like. It's protocol."
He muttered something inaudible and turned his face away.
An uncomfortable silence settled in.
He tried to break it.
"I may have taken a while, but… thank you. Thank you for saving my life."
She sighed, closed her eyes briefly.
"Don't thank me. It was my duty. You're under my protection."
Still, the bitter taste of failure lingered.
"Even so… I want to thank you," he said, looking away. "I don't remember much, but… you were incredible."
"Thank you," she murmured, voice nearly inaudible.
Silence again.
Almost a full minute passed.
While she kept her gaze locked on him, he instinctively held his breath.
It was suffocating him.
He'd rather take another beating than sit there being studied as if he were an indecipherable riddle.
She stared as though judging his very soul.
"Aren't you going to ask?" he suddenly blurted, breaking the agony.
He turned toward her as if rescued from death.
"Ask what?"
"About your attackers."
He looked away.
"It doesn't matter."
Her lips pressed together.
"You were nearly killed. How does it not matter? Don't you have blood in your veins? Don't you want justice?"
Nothing.
No answer.
She saw what she suspected. Blind loyalty? Foolishness? Both?
"Don't be a fool… That path leads to death."
"I don't feel anything for them… not even hatred, just nothing. I imagine they're already bearing the weight of their actions, and for me, that's enough."
She fell quiet.
"I just want all this to be over soon..."
"So do I." And in that moment, both seemed to find comfort in agreeing on something.
The officer noticed he looked calmer now. She seized the opening to press further.
"Why did you fight them?" she asked, changing focus.
"It doesn't matter," he repeated vaguely.
"I know it was because of me," she said bluntly.
TUM, TUM, TUM...
He choked.
"I… that's not it."
"Then what was it?"
No answer.
"Like you, I want this over soon, so you need to cooperate."
"Didn't the others say anything? Why are you pressing me instead of them?"
His expression was that of a scolded child sulking at unfair punishment.
She pressed on.
"You leave me with two options: either you don't want to be seen as a snitch, reporting your traitorous comrades, or you're trying to protect me, since I was the reason for the argument. So which is it? My bet is the second."
TUM, TUM, TUM...
Silence. Unable to deny it.
She continued.
"Have we met before?"
"No… I've never seen you outside the Navy."
She studied him.
TUM, TUM, TUM...
"Then why try to protect me? You don't owe me anything…"
Nothing. No explanation.
"Do you admire me? Like me?"
TUM, TUM, TUM...
"No?" she pressed. "Then romantically? Do you desire me as a woman?"
TUM, TUM, TUM...
"Lieutenant, no! It's not that!"
He was flushed crimson.
"Then say it! Why avoid the truth?"
TUM, TUM, TUM...
He drew a breath.
"Okay!" he finally yielded. "Maybe it'll sound strange. You'll think I'm weird…"
I already do, she thought.
He went on.
"I grew up far from here, in a mountainous region. The only family I remember is my older sister. She raised me."
She adjusted in her chair.
"She was… different. Sad, lonely. As if the world itself rejected her. And I wanted to cheer her up. Maybe that's why I'm like this today."
Oddly, Marin felt sympathy for that unknown woman.
Though she wondered, Where is this going?
"When she got sick, we moved here. The war worsened and… she made me promise I'd join the Navy. And I did. That's when I saw you for the first time. Lieutenant… you have the same energy she had. Not sadness. Something else. It's like… like going home."
TUM, TUM, TUM...
She went pale.
Could it really be coincidence he thought that?
She had never known romance. Never even had her first kiss. She imagined what it might feel like to fall in love. The world sold "love" in every shape and color. She was certain this wasn't that.
The same feeling between them… it had to be coincidence.
"And what happened to your sister?" she asked, forcing herself back on track.
"She died before I enlisted… cancer, you know?"
She nodded.
The air grew awkward again until she resumed.
"So that's why you fought in the mess hall? Because I reminded you of her?"
Joshua hesitated.
Deep down, he knew it wasn't only that. He just couldn't explain it.
Her head throbbed.
A sharp pain, without reason.
She needed to end this.
"You need to tell the truth in your deposition. I already know I was the cause of the fight; witnesses reported what happened in the mess hall. If I know, the investigators know too. I'm not so weak as to need protection from a rookie… There's no reason to hide it. End it now. I'll handle the consequences."
He hesitated, but in the end, relented.
After their farewell, she left the corridors in silence.
What happened back there?
The pain shifted to a tingling in her head.
My head hurts… I don't have time for this.
She tried to ignore it.
"Excuse me, Lieutenant," the receptionist intercepted her. "A package arrived for you."
"For me?"
"Yes. It has your name. I almost refused it, since we don't usually accept deliveries from patients or staff, but I remembered your name. I had just seen it when I attended to you. So I decided to accept. Coincidence, right?"
TUM, TUM, TUM...
Coincidence? Another one?
"But don't worry. Everything that comes in here undergoes strict inspection first. It's not a bomb," she joked.
Marin ignored her. Her eyes were locked on the seemingly harmless box.
"There's no sender… who delivered it?"
"It came through the government's delivery service. If you want more details, you should speak with them."
"Ah, I see… thank you."
She looked at the box. Brown cardboard, medium-small size.
Lightweight.
When she shook it, a metallic sound inside.
Curious, she set it on the nearest counter and tore the tape open.
TUM, TUM, TUM...
It can't be.
Her eyes fell on something she hadn't seen in years, but had never forgotten.
It was the old necklace—her late mother's gift.
That precious memory had found its way back to her hands…
And at the bottom of the box, something else stood out.
Something like a book.
To be continued...