Who: Nike [narrative], Jared [NPC] What: Tying up loose ends - three month recap. When: June, July, August 2009 Where: New York, New York Warnings: None
The desert of Iraq was different compared to the white forest of Bastongne. Compared to the jungles of Vietnam. Compared to the muddy trenches of Germany and the biting cold of Stalingrad. Or the pass of Thermopylae. The blue watery planes of the ocean near Actium.
A different war, a different setting. A different purpose, a different way to kill.
A different army, a different enemy.
To a soldier, despite the setting - land, air, or sea - it was all the same. The same rules of engagement, the same blood spilled everywhere.
But to a fading Greek goddess, it was another story.
It was irregular for her to wake up in a bed than in a cot or with the sand all around her, constant gunfire in the distance.
It was even more irregular for her to find herself sleeping at all.
Sometimes with her eyes half-open, the ceiling fan reminded her of the rotor of the helicopter that had taken her off of the field. She was on her back then, lying in the bloody sand, just counting the rotations as the medics pulled her onto the stretcher.
Staff Sergeant Victoria Apteros. Only casualty during routine patrol when a roadside bomb tore off the front end of the Humvee.
Honorably discharged.
If the medics or the officers at the Dover Air Force base knew that they were pulling Victory off of the front lines, they might have reconsidered.
Nike didn't think it made a difference.
Seven years, five days, twenty-four minutes, and thirty two seconds.
That was how long it had taken Nike to realize that she was no longer part of the war that went on in the desert.
It had not been an easy decision. Whether or not that was tied into the relationship she had developed with her unit, it all came down to her purpose.
But she had made her choice and here she was, three months, one day, thirty minutes, and fifteen seconds later. Drinking out of a white coffee cup rather than a metal canteen, looking over job ads than mission briefing reports. Not being called on by any army, not even the leader of her pantheon.
She supposed she could have been worst off than many of her "kind". Love affairs, drama since the ages of old, new events that would cause Homer to weep. Her affinity for common sense at least kept her clear of those.
Whether or not she could be satisfied with that, it took several more days, several more hours for her to realize that maybe something was missing.
It only took a phone call in July to confirm it.
---
"Hello? Victoria Apteros?"
"Speaking. Who's this?
"Good morning, m'am. This is Dr. Kaufman from New York Veteran's Hospital. I'm calling regarding a Private Williams. Your number was the only contact that he gave us upon admittance and we just wanted to inform you tha--"
"...Private Williams? Jared Williams? What's happened?"
"Yes, ma'am, Jared Robert Williams. I understand that you might have questions concerning about him, however, we cannot disclose the details at this time. Are you a family relation?"
"I was in his unit in Iraq. I know the rules about disclosure, doctor. What is his status?"
KIA.
"He's just come out of surgery, ma'am. He's recovering. Would you happen to know where his parents are? Their phone number apparently has changed and we wer--"
Mr. Jared and Molly Williams. Wisconsin. Social numbers 225-51-54--
"No. Can I see him?"
"Yes, ma'am. Our visiting hours are from eight in the morning to eleven at night. I'm sure Private Williams would be happy to get visitors."
If.
"Thank you."
"Good night, ma'am."
---
"Private."
She tries not to let her eyes wander down his left side, which is entirely wrapped up in white bandages. He stands out against all the other occupants in the white room, especially those that have a blank look upon their faces as they stare up at the ceiling. Nike finds many of their faces to be quite familiar, but she doesn't have a chance to prod at her extensive memory before a rustling of sheets in front of her pulls her attention back to awakening Williams.
"Hey." His voice sounds raspy. It doesn't sound like him at all. "I thought the sudden dead silence sounded familiar."
Nike reminds herself that the man in front of her is wounded. No cuffs to the neck today.
"Thanks for coming. I couldn't...let them call my parents. You didn't tell them where they were, right, sir?"
"No. I didn't."
Jared sighs. She wonders if it had been a long time worry on his mind, since he looks just tired now. Like one would when exhausted and not so much because of the burden they carried.
"Thank you, sir. I just couldn't...I can't...tell them. About--"
Blue eyes try not to look at the half of his body that is covered by bandages to complete the sentence.
"They'll understand."
They never do.
"Didn't think they'd actually reach you. You were in the hospital, last we heard. Guess I got lucky, huh, sir?"
"I healed quickly." Pause. "I was lucky, too."
"Yeah. Lucky."
He can't see her from his position, not with his left eye covered, so she looks around for a chair. Finally finding one, she pulls it up to the bed and sits down on it.
Regardless of having not seen it, he hears it anyways.
"Going to read a bedtime story to me? Okay, that's fine with me. Just don't make it Sleepy Hollow, for some reason I get a lotta nightmares when I think abou--"
"Williams."
Despite the bandages covering a good half of his face, Nike could still make out the familiar grin appearing from behind them. No cuffing.
"So...you were discharged?"
She makes sure he sees the raise of her eyebrow.
"Correct."
"Okay. So technically, I don't have to call you 'sir' anymore, can I call you Victoria?"
There's a moment of silence. Mainly because it takes Nike a moment to remember that it's her name he's asking about. At least to him.
"You can."
"And you could call me Jared?"
His voice sounds softer now. She finds herself looking away from the missing digits on his hand to see if he's looking at her, waiting for her response.
He's not. He's just fallen asleep again.
His chest rises in a slow and steady rhythm and Nike makes sure it does it more than thirty times before she looks elsewhere.
It takes seven years for her to figure out that she's not needed in a war that's over oil and world power and she's no longer responsible for the fate of any soldier on the battlefield.
But it only takes her less than ten minutes to realize the real reason why she's been in it in the first place again.