by Dee Palmer
“I think we should take this inside,” the commander offers, his tone formal. We all file in, and it’s just as awkward and ominous inside the house as it was outside, only we’re seated and facing each other.
“I’m very sorry to inform you that Senior Chief Petty Officer Marlon Serrano has been critically injured. He underwent emergency surgery on location, has been airlifted back to base, and is scheduled for more surgery just as soon as he’s stable. But I have to advise you to prepare for the worst. He was lucky to survive the crash.”
“Crash?” Finn has no color left in her face, and she’s gripping my hand so tight I’ve lost all feeling in my fingers.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much more than that. It’s classified, but we can take you to the hospital.” As if sensing my question, he looks away from Finn and directly at me. “Lieutenant Martinez is still MIA.”
“How long?” Tug asks, but Finn’s broken voice is the only thing I hear.
“Forty-eight hours,” the captain confirms and my stomach drops.
“MIA? What’s—” She breaks her own question with a sob and a cry of understanding. “No! No Pink, that can’t be right? Missing? Charge is missing?” Her breathing is ragged, and the pitch of her voice is edging toward hysterical, and I really don’t blame her.
“Finn.” My own voice catches, but I’m trying to soothe her. I pull her into my side, but she pulls away, shaking her head with disbelief and despair. Devastation darkens her face, and her eyes fill with tears. “Please, Finn.” I try to draw her back into my embrace, but she stands, wrapping her arms around her body, which is shaking, and breaking right in front of my eyes. I can’t stand it—none of it. I rise as Tug does, and we enclose her in our arms to try and contain the unbearable sadness pouring from her.
“I can assure you we have every available resource searching for him, ma’am.” The captain declares. I know he thinks his words might offer some comfort, but even if they do for Finn, they don’t for Tug and me. It’s a bigass ocean. Hell, it’s a bigass world, and the first forty-eight hours are crucial. My guts twist, and my fucking chest feels like I’ve taken a bullet. I hate that when I catch Tug’s eyes, I know his concern echoes mine. If they haven’t found him by now…
Finn nods her understanding, but she’s crumbling , piece by piece, with every tiny bit of new information, and her lips are clamped tight, so she doesn’t actually speak.
“Would you like us to take you to the hospital?” the commander asks.
“No, we’ll follow you. I want to pack some things, so at least one of us can stay over.”
“Of course.” He coughs to clear his throat, and his brows knit like he’s about to give more devastating news. What could he possibly add to this carnage? “You and Lieutenant Gervais are next of kin, but only family will be allowed on the facility, do you understand?’”
“No, I don’t fucking understand!” Finn spins round with venom and fury in her glare. The captain and commander both look shocked as hell at the outburst, but she’s far from concerned about their reaction. She turns to Tug and me. “They can’t. Please, they can’t not let me see him.” Her momentary outrage dissolves like spun candy in the rain, and she’s a sobbing wreck in my arms once more.
“She’s his fiancée, I think that counts as family, don’t you?” I explain to the officers.
“It’s not on his record?” the commander looks briefly at his file, but I clarify.
“It happened just before they were deployed. He was technically still on leave.”
“Of course. Then that will not be an issue.” They both stand. “Don’t take too long following,” the commander adds, and I have to scoop Finn into my arms as she buckles into a mess of uncontrollable tears. Tug shows them out and this unbearable cloak of sadness descends on us, and the only sound we hear is our girl’s broken heart.
“We need to go.” She sniffs back and roughly wipes the streaming wetness from her face with the back of her hand. Her eyes are raw, but she looks determined. Her shoulders stiffen, like every muscle in her body is fighting to hold her together.
“I know, baby. But why don’t you go and grab a sweater and change into something comfy. Hospital waiting rooms can be cold, and the seats are like concrete, trust me. Hours sitting on them is no fun.” Hoping my insight will offer some sort of distraction.
“You’ve done this before?” Her shocked and incredulous tone is heartbreaking, and she throws her arms around me when I nod.
“Yeah, darling, I’ve done this before.” I pull back and sweep the slick hair, damp from her tears clear of her face. “Come on, Toxic needs us.” She clenches her jaw so tight, I can hear her teeth grind, and she gives a sharp and stoic nod that breaks my fucking heart.
She returns in no time, wearing some soft-grey track pants and a hoodie so big, I know it belongs to Charge. She looks so damn tiny in it, and her face? I have never seen something so deathly white. Even the red from all the tears adds no color or life.
“Come on, darling.” I hold my arm up, and she’s quick to step into my hold. One arm threads around my waist, while the other reaches out to take Tug.
I drive us to the base and straight to the military hospital only to be told he has been taken to Sharp Memorial since they had a donor match. I didn’t ask what that meant, I just turned the truck around and headed into the city. The silence in the truck is oppressive, but there’s nothing to say. Nothing will help. The only fragment of comfort each of us cling to is each other, our tight hands held together with hope and prayer.
We make our way to the transplant unit as instructed and are asked to wait. This is the bit I remember. I pull Finn into my lap and stroke her hair. I’ve been here with Tug and Toxic before, waiting on Charge. I remember everything like it was yesterday, and it’s the reason I left the Navy. I didn’t want this. I know it’s the job, and I’d never ask the others to quit, but this nearly fucking killed us last time, though this is ten times fucking worse. Now we have Finn. Charge is missing in action, and we are damn well on the verge of losing Toxic too. I won’t fucking cry, because that has never done me any good, but that doesn’t mean this fucking pain in my chest isn’t ripping me apart. It’s tearing us all apart.
“Here, sugar.” Tug offers the flimsy plastic cup filled with scalding hot tea to Finn. She stares blankly, as if she isn’t registering much of anything, but she eventually shakes her head to decline the drink. He doesn’t push her, just sits beside me and settles in for the long haul.
GOD, WITH THIS PAIN IN my chest, I can’t fucking breathe; It’s like a vise gripping the very life from each beat of my heart as it struggles to do its job, pumping blood and keeping me alive. It’s unbearable. My life has been far from rose-tinted, but I don’t ever remember pain like this. But then, I have never loved like this.
I did take the next coffee Tug offered, if just to help me stay awake. My whole body feels like it’s shutting down, utterly exhausted and empty. We’ve been here for nine hours and there’s still no news. Even with my very limited medical knowledge, I know a lengthy surgery time can’t be good.
“You were here for Charge?”
“Yeah. Dumbass nearly got himself killed one time trying to be the hero.”
“What happened?”
“Oh just stupid shit that involved him not listening to orders to save our asses. He went back for one last sweep and got hit.”
“Is that when he got his scars?”
“I’m not telling you, Finn. This is his thing, and he will tell you. He was going to come clean about it all before he got called away, so how about we still give him the chance?” He keeps his tone so gentle, I don’t feel the rejection, but I know he’s right.
“Yeah, okay. I want him to tell me.” I let out a sad sigh. I have to believe that day will come. I can’t let anything else enter my head or I will simply curl up and die.
My sore lids close, and something catches my peripheral vision just before they seal shut—green and bloody scrubs.
I scramble from Tug’s lap and rush toward the tired looking surgeon, Pink and Tug by my side, quickly linking their hands in mine. The doctor rubs his neck; he’s a small man, eye level with me with dark graying hair, a light tan, and sharp blue eyes.
“Marlon is stable, the surgery went well.” He offers a tight smile and I start to sob, sucking the sound back in and holding it there with my clenched fist, because he isn’t finished. “He’s had a pancreas transplant, and there was severe damage to his liver and right lung. There was a great deal of internal bleeding that needed to be repaired, but we are cautiously optimistic. The next twenty-four hours will be critical. He’s being settled into ICU right now. You can see him, but please prepare yourself. We aren’t by any means, out of the woods.” His tone is somber, but after that godawful list of injuries, it’s understandable.
“Thank you.” I grab his hand and shake it.
I know the list is horrific, but all I heard, and all I will cling to, are the words stable and optimistic. Lifesaving words for me at least.
“Yeah, thanks, Doc.” Tug and Pink each shake his hand, and we are led through to the ICU.
“Oh, God.” I hold back the sobs that want to burst from my heartbroken chest at the sight. Toxic’s strong, fit body is covered with wires, tubes and so much bandaging there’s barely a scrap of skin to be seen on his torso. I rush to his side and carefully pick up his heavy hand, holding it in both of mine. “Marlon,” I whisper. His name hangs on my trembling lips, because I have no words. I don’t know what to say. This is so fucking awful, my heart feels like it’s been cleaved from my chest. Tug lays his hand on my shoulder, and Pink stands at my other side. I welcome his heat, their strength.
“It’s gonna be okay, Finn. He’s a fighter, remember that, and he loves you, so he’s got something real to fight for. Just talk to him, okay?” I nod, because I know if I speak now after what he’s just said, I will be a blubbering mess, and I need to think about Marlon.
Tug pushes a chair against my legs, and I sit. “Look, guys, I’m going to go back to the base, see if I can get some intel on Charge.”
Another wash of pure, unadulterated agony slices through me. How the fuck am I supposed to function? This is too fucking hard. I just can’t even think. One damn fucking tragedy at a time, please. “It’s okay, sugar, stay here. I’ll call when I have news, okay?” I grind my jaw and fail to swallow the lump choking me, holding back the dam of sadness.
Pink sits beside me, and we try to comfort each other in our joint desolation. I probably shouldn’t compare my sorrow to his or Tug’s. Toxic is a brother, Charge too, and I have only been in their lives for five minutes, but it feels like a lifetime. This certainly hurts like it’s been an eternity.
“Is that a skull?” Pink’s fingers twist the ring I have on my engagement finger. I let out a soft flat laugh.
“Yeah, it’s the only one I have that fits the finger and I was worried someone would ask, you know, since you said we were engaged.” I lean against him, my weary body utterly spent. “Thank you, by the way. I don’t know what I would’ve done if they hadn’t let me see him.”
“I know, darling, and trust me, they would have stopped you. Anyway, you’re here now and that’s all that matters.” He plants a soft kiss on my forehead. God, why does even a sweet gesture hurt so damn much. So much pain.
Pink is great, managed to charm the nurse in charge to let us both stay on the promise we wouldn’t get in the way. He’s been chatting to Toxic all night and even making me laugh on occasion, which felt wholly wrong and good at the same time. I keep checking my watch, because each second seems to take a lifetime. The doctor said the next twenty-four hours would be crucial, and we only have three more to go. Stupid, really, clinging to those words like they are Gospel, but I am. I don’t want to leave even for a moment, but that coffee has finally worked its way through me, and I have to excuse myself. My legs are tingling from being in the same position for so long, and my body is numb from the agony of the last excruciating twenty-one hours. I run the corridor to the ladies. Fumbling with my sweatpants, I’m rough, urgent, and have the fastest pee in history. My pants barely cover my bum again when I burst out of the stall and run flat out back to the ICU.
All hell has broken loose in my two minute absence. How can that be? Pink is pressed back against the glass partition as a frenzy of activity, a blur of moving bodies against the soul-crushing sound of a single, unbroken heartbreaking bleep. No. No. No.
Four Weeks Later
IT’S BEEN ALMOST A MONTH since my heart stopped beating. That sound nearly took two souls with it that night. Tug told me Toxic was a fighter, and that night, he needed to be. He flatlined for two whole agonizing motherfucking minutes, and when they brought him back, I could’ve killed him all over again for putting me through that. I dropped to my knees, shaking so much, my body looked like it was seizing as I sobbed, and I couldn’t breathe. I’ve never known pain like that, high definition horror no one can touch, but I fucking felt it in every fiber, when I was a useless bystander to a real life play of life and death.
Toxic came home last week and has been taking it easy. The sad thing is, for me it’s a bittersweet reunion, because I have decided to go back to London when my Visa runs out at the end of the month. It’s the hardest decision I have ever had to make, and I’m going to tell them tonight.
They called off the search for Charge and the remainder of the missing crew after the wreckage from his plane was found.
They wouldn’t give much more information than that. Tug hit red tape whenever he tried to find out more, and Toxic remembers the plane being hit and not much else. His brain clearly shut down enough to focus on surviving and not much more. I don’t think I have ever cried so much. I know I have never hurt like I do, and as hard as this decision is, I can’t be here and not relive the nightmare time and time again. There’s not a single thing in this house, or about them that doesn’t remind me of him. Or remind me I had made my decision and never got the chance to tell him. Hell, I never got the chance to say goodbye. I’m never going to get over that; at least back home I can try to forgive myself, try to move on. That can’t happen if I stay. I’m a heartbroken coward.
“Hmm… this smells so good, darling.” Pink wraps his arms around me from behind. His strong body is such a comfort. He kisses my neck, and I still get a full body shiver whenever one of them touches or kisses me, though it’s not the same. Nothing is the same since Charge never came home. I stir the gravy and give him a sedate smile. Everything has changed between us and I can’t bear it. I know there’s still a great deal of love between us, but without Charge we’re not complete and the hole is just too damn big. I’m a permanent reminder of his absence and I know they won’t admit it, but while I’m here they will never be able to move on. I’m here because it was what the four of them wanted. They aren’t a unit of four anymore.
“Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, veg, followed by spotted dick and custard.” I turn and watch his nose crinkle in disgust.
“I’m not eating anything made of dick.” He grimaces, and I snicker.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” I nudge him with my hip and let out a laugh when he balks and gags. “It’s a steamed pudding with raisins. It’s very British. You’ll love it, I promise.”
“I guess if anyone can make dick taste good, it’s you.”
“Thank you…I think,” I quip, not sure where the compliment is in that remark, but his tone certainly made it sound like one. “Can you go call the others? This is just about ready.”
“You want me to carve?” I falter and give a brief nod. That’s what I’m talking about; everything is a reminder. Charge carved, Charge cooked, and Charge wanted me.
I wait until they all push their plates back and satisfied smiles brighten the ever-present sadness, if only for a moment.
“That was really good, Finn. It felt like an occasion meal, though. We haven’t missed an anniversary, have we?” Pi
nk gives a nervous laugh, and I shake my head.
“No, nothing like that.” I can’t keep the eye contact though, and my stomach is a tight knot of anxiety.
“Oh, but it’s an occasion?” Tug picks up on the evasion.
“Um. Look, I’m just going to say it, because there’s no easy way.” The wave of dread and sickness drenches me like a tidal wave. I push through, pinch my eyes shut, and just say it. “I’m going home at the end of the month, for good.” I add the last just in case there’s scope for misinterpretation. I force my lids open and see what I hoped I wouldn’t but really knew I would.
“Why Finn? Aren’t you happy here?” Tug’s voice is soft, but his jaw is twitching with tension.
“None of us are happy, Tug.” I reach over, taking his hand, big and strong. My fingers thread through his, and I grip tight.
“That’s not true,” Pink argues, his tone clipped and hurt.
“It really is.” With my free hand, I take Toxic’s hand beside me and force my eyes to meet Pink’s gaze opposite. “This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it’s the right thing, too. I’m a constant reminder of what we can no longer have. How can any one of us be happy with that?” My voice catches and tears spring to my eyes, but with my hands occupied I have to let them fall.
“We can give it time, that’s what we could do. You don’t have to run at the first sign of a bump in the road.” Toxic’s voice catches, and it’s like a sucker punch.
“This isn’t a bump though, is it? It’s the Grand fucking Canyon in the road.” I shake the tears from my eyes that keep clouding my vision.
“You can’t mean this?” Pink’s voice drops to a soft whisper.
“Tell me truthfully: When you look at me, you don’t see us all together, you, me, Pink, Tug, and Charge. It’s how this was supposed to be, and anything else just won’t work.” I sniff back the tears, my voice scratchy and desperately sad.