Page 19 of Something Borrowed

A breaking news bulletin flashed on the teleprompter and she stopped listening to Tommy. Her heart seemed to stop beating as the words came out of Tommy’s mouth.

“This just in, we’re sorry to report troops in the Middle East have been met with gunfire. No further details at this time, but we’ll bring you the news as it comesin.”

Bile filled her mouth, the acidic taste seemingly mocking her as she forced her smile to remain in place. Images shot about her mind in rapid fire – Jaxon on the ground bleeding, Jaxon helplessly trying to save someone’s life, Jaxon lying in a puddle of blood, his eyes closed forever. A gasp escaped her, and she quickly covered it with a cough.

“Sorry about that, New Orleans, I guess I need some water.” She forced a laugh and a placid smile to hide the way her stomach churned.

Tommy made a crack of some sort and continued on. A chill began to envelope her, starting at her heart and quickly making its way to her extremities. Jaxon couldn’t be injured, he just couldn’t be. Besides, there has to be more than one troop in the Middle East, we don’t even know where yet or where Jax evenis.

The thought helped to slow her breathing. Slowly, she regained her control, convinced that the news bulletin couldn’t possibly have any relation to Jaxon. Her nerves however, were fried. Keeping a smile on her face was more work than it had ever been and for the first time in five years, she wasn’t listening to anything, just reading the words the words on the screen before her to get through thehour.

“That’s all New Orleans,” Tommy started.

“And goodnight.” She finished, still in ahaze.

“That’s a wrap!” A cameraman somewhere to their left hollered.

Her shoulders sagged as a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding was expelled.

“You okay, kid?” Tommy asked, his brown eyes scrunched up with concern as he swiveled in the chair to faceher.

Tears sprung into her eyes and she was unable to stop them as theyfell.

“Oh, goodness. Kid, it’s all right. What happened?” Tommy didn’t hug her – that would be inappropriate – but he did place his hand on her shoulder and look at her with all the concern she’d ever seen fromhim.

She sighed, feeling completely embarrassed but unable to stop herself. “I’m seeing someone who’s currently deployed to likely somewhere in the MiddleEast.”

“Shit,” Tommy ran a hand over his thick gray hair and leaned back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Adrianna. If you need anything, we’re all here foryou.”

Nodding, she tried her best to blink away the tears, but her vision remained clouded by them. She didn’t get to respond before an announcement was shouted.

“Great production tonight. Meet in the conference room as usual to discuss.” Louis, the producer, called with a smile.

Closing her eyes, she felt the final tears fall. When she opened them, Tommy was still looking at her with apprehension.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Because that’s all you can tell yourself until you talk to the Donovan’s, she thought nervously as she pushed back from the anchordesk.

Jaxon couldn’t shakethe ringing from his ears. It had been nearly six hours since a surprise grenade and gunfire had thrown the entire basecamp into a frenzy. Six hours of absolute and utter hell. He thought to himself as he leaned back in the rickety wooden chair. By the grace of God, or whatever deity looked over battlefields, no one had been seriously injured. Two of the local contractor’s had taken some pretty close-call bullets, but were out of medical and completely fine. As far as he knew no one had lost a limb and none in his unit had suffered from a bad injury.

That hadn’t stopped him from spiraling down a dark path. The bright, sweltering heat of the desert had dissipated the moment the sand had exploded into the air. He’d been in an abandoned building of some sort down in the slums of Brazil. Blood seeped from a stab wound to his thigh, and the youngest member of the tactical team lay with her head in Jaxon’s lap, life rushingout.

He’d slammed to the ground, determined to cover the imaginary figure of a woman long dead from the situation that was happening around him. His mind was trapped, only seeing as the life filtered out of the young woman’seyes.

The shouting around him had penetrated, though he couldn’t say for sure if he understood what was being shouted or if he’d only heard his old commanding officer shouting for them to move as they’d raced from the building, dodging a hail fire of bullets as they ran for their vehicle.

“What happened here today was not something we could conceal from our country.” The base commander spoke, drawing all heads toward him. “We were fortunate today that those who attacked suffered from severe bad aim and poorly coordinated efforts. The government assures us that what we experienced does not represent the whole. A small faction does not want us here – they feel we have no business helping them after all we’vedone.”

A few people grunted and Jaxon knew his head was nodding in agreement. He would do anything for his country, and he admired that they took responsibly over the damage the War on Terror caused to locations that had no business being battlegrounds. However, he’d never been keen on sending men and women to a land where they are highly undesired. Granted, if they didn’t, his unit wouldn’t even be deployed.

“I don’t know how many of you have been out here since the war itself was declared over. When an incident like this happens, everyone gets a shot at phoning home. No news is good news is all well and good, but with social media fucking with things, we want everyone to make a cursory call. You will be granted a short, five-minute call to the person of your choice. Rank supersedes all in the order, but those with dependents will go first.”

Jaxon’s mouth gaped open at the oddity of the policy. Though he figured it made a great deal of sense. Social media meant any death or injury could be leaked if the wrong source got hold of information that didn’t belong tothem.

Looking down at his hand he noticed the slight shake as it rested on his leg. He’d gone through countless therapy sessions after each mission and not one had found him mentally unfit, not one had checked that horrid little box forPTSD.

That didn’t mean he hadn’t felt like he had it. Each round of gunfire was different than the one before it. Most times, his head was where it belonged in the present. Every once and awhile, when he hadn’t had more than a few hours of sleep, he slipped away to any number of deaths he’d witnessed to gunfire or IEDs. In the beginning he’d felt like less of a man for it. As he’d continued to grow within the Marines he understood that they all did. Not one person walked away from a wartime tour of duty without being affected. PTSD was a label, but that didn’t mean they all fit within that label.

It typically ended when the dust cleared and everything was calm. To his knowledge, none save for the therapists had ever known about his episodes. He hadn’t even told his father. He wasn’t embarrassed any longer, but he didn’t want to give anyone a reason to worry. It was selfish, but if they knew anything troubled him they’d hound him to retire until he did it just to shut them up. Oddly though, he wanted to tell Adrianna and he wanted to do it her soon. He hadn’t had a moment to email her due to shitty reception in a few weeks.

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