The cycle of waking and going back to sleep seemed like it would never end. Waits wanted to force himself awake, but finding the strength for that was proving impossible. It had to come naturally. When he finally stayed awake for more than a minute, he felt his senses try to come back to life as well. He could no longer smell smoke, just the strong, burning smell of something sterile. The room was white, rather than a dingy gray. The only sound was his own breathing and a heartrate monitor. His right shoulder was bandaged and immobilized with a sling. The tight, clenching sensations in his chest had stopped, but a dull ache was still there.

Is it really over, or is this just a dream? Waits glanced around, seeing he was alone in the room.

A half-hour passed before someone entered the room, a young doctor with dark hair. He smiled upon seeing Waits.

"Good to see you're awake, Marshal," the doctor said. "How do you feel?"

"I have no fucking clue where I am, what happened, or why. How do you think I feel?" Waits moaned.

"You're back on Earth, and you've been unconscious for almost twenty-four hours. You suffered a dislocated shoulder, a concussion, third-degree burn, smoke inhalation, and the toxic compound from the forest fire had clogged your lungs. Took us several hours to clear it out. We also found some hairline fractures in the lumbar region of your spine, along with evidence of old injuries that hadn't healed properly. You'll be off duty for some time."

Waits grunted. "I don't care, what about the others?"

"Pardon?"

"The others. Marshal Brooks. Administrator Naraleth. Marshals Shea, Aslett, Nicosia, Faulkner. Nurse Sabilline. Are they okay?"

"I can't answer that at the moment. I'm sorry."

"Damn you, I'm not gonna rest until I know."

"I'd tell you if I knew. I only know Brooks was just taken out of surgery. I'll let you know about the others as soon as I can." The doctor turned to leave. "Are you alright for company? There's a USCM general here to see you."

"Let him in. I've slept enough," Waits grunted. He tried to sit up as straight as possible when a tall, muscular man with very short blond hair walked in, taking a seat across from Waits.

"Marshal Jethro Waits, right?" the general asked.

"Yes, sir," Waits said.

"I'm General Avery Jarecki. It's an honor to meet you."

"Me? Sir, I owe you a debt I don't think I can fucking repay. You saved our lives."

"My Marines did that, but many of the survivors are telling me that you displayed a hell of a lot of courage back there, going out and facing the enemy head-on. I certainly hope your superiors commend you for your actions."

Yeah, they're gonna fucking commend me by forcing me to retire early. Waits kept that to himself. "I appreciate the visit, sir, but I feel like there's something else involved."

"I know your boss, Marshal Brooks, is out of commission at the moment. Given that you're his second-in-command, I feel like this information should be passed to you. I don't want to burden you too much, you know, with your injuries and—"

"I need something else to think about, General, go ahead."

Jarecki nodded. "First off, the USCM is going to be leaving a detachment on LV-112 for the foreseeable future, in case the aliens try to return. They took a hell of a beating when we arrived, but some managed to escape in retreat. You will still be in charge of law enforcement. This is just a precaution."

"I have no problems with that."

"Second, we captured an alien soldier and had him transported to a remote facility on LV-510. This species calls themselves the Dheldroi. They're a race that lives beyond the colonial borders. However, they used to occupy territory that we now possess, including LV-112, LV-510, Cetii Epsilon IV, among others. They lost these planets in a war with another race over a century ago, and now that they've built up their forces again, they're trying to take these planets back."

"How did you figure all this out?"

"Archeologists on LV-510 had found pieces from the Dheldroi's time there and were trying to translate the language for the last several years. We have a rough idea of the language, but not a complete one. We'll be keeping the prisoner alive in order to learn more."

"Why does this matter to me?"

"I thought you'd want to know why this happened. I can't imagine a surprise attack with no way of understanding your enemy was easy for you handle."

"I never cared why they were there. I only cared about stopping them from slaughtering the civilians. For the record, General, don't ever let me near that prisoner, because I'll kill him the first chance I get for what his people did to us."

"You two will never have the opportunity to interact, I can promise you that." Jarecki gave Waits a sympathetic look. "I know it's not something you want to hear, but we do need this knowledge in case they attack again."

"I get that." Waits adjusted himself in bed, a dull ache starting up in his lower back. "I just don't want to be involved unless it's to put the bastard out of his misery." He tried to get comfortable, though nothing was working. "Anything else, sir?"

"Not at the moment." Jarecki stood up. "I should leave you to rest. Feel better, Marshal."

"Nice meeting you," Waits said. "Oh, General?"

Jarecki turned.

"Do you know anything about... anyone who survived?"

"Anyone in particular?"

"Marshals Shea, Aslett, and Nicosia."

"I don't know, but I'll ask. Excuse me." Jarecki stepped out into the hallway. Waits could hear muffled voices, and a few minutes later, the general stepped back in. "Shea is alive, but he'll be in intensive care for awhile. Aslett's body was found in the colony compound, and Nicosia was found alive in the woods just outside the colony with a badly burned and broken leg. He's expected to survive."

"Did you say, 'Aslett's body?'" Waits felt his heart start to break.

"I did. I'm sorry." Jarecki stepped closer to Waits. "Do you need anything?"

"I want to be alone, but thanks for asking." Waits's throat closed as Jarecki left. His hands were shaking and there was a horrible twisting and sinking feeling in his stomach. His chest hurt worse than it did when he was pulled from the Bureau. His hope of seeing Aslett again had been ripped from him, and he felt like he was bleeding profusely. He wanted to curl up and hide, but his injuries wouldn't let him.

She's gone. She's really gone. Fucking hell, why? No, no, she can't be gone. That had to be someone else. There has to be some fucking mistake. There has to. Waits wanted to draw up his knees and rest his head on them. Anything to make himself smaller. The pain in his back was growing more intense each time he tried, and finally he stopped trying. He leaned forward, though that was just as painful. He didn't care. Tears streamed down his face, and suddenly he wanted to feel nothing. A part of him wanted to die.

Nights in the hospital were long and riddled with nightmares. The sounds, feelings, memories, voices, and thoughts in Waits's mind were overwhelming and deafening. He couldn't lay awake, and he couldn't sleep. Sadness, anger, loneliness, and grief swarmed him. It's my fault Lace is dead! I should've ordered everyone to run before things got bad. I shouldn't have tried to be a hero. I'm not a hero. I shouldn't be commended for what I did. I'm not courageous. I'm a fucking idiot.

That thought replayed frequently, and it was usually followed by, I'm only doing this job because I'm good for nothing else. What have I accomplished? I have no relationships. I push everyone away. Everyone pushes me away. What's my fucking purpose? I just make things worse.

When sunlight spilled through the window in the morning, Waits felt like he had been listening to the same recording of his most negative attributes for hours. It was physically and emotionally exhausting, like he had been running aimlessly. He felt alone. His chest felt hollow. The hollowness was tinged with a raw soreness, combined with the perpetual bleeding of his heart.

After a nurse checked on him, she mentioned that General Jarecki had returned, so Waits did his best to not look like he had been crying for most of the night. He took a deep breath before saying, "Let him in."

Jarecki was holding a cup of coffee when he entered, and Waits was tempted to ask for a cup. Damn doctors definitely won't let me. That's what happened after my accident. Not worth it, but it would be nice right about now.

"How are you doing, Marshal?" Jarecki asked.

"I don't know. That's my honest answer," Waits said.

"I noticed you became upset when I told you about Aslett yesterday. Were you... close to her?"

Waits let out a sigh. There really was no point in hiding it anymore. It wasn't something he could be punished for. It wasn't like he was going to be partnered with her ever again. "I was close to her. Close, as in, romantically involved."

"I'm sorry for your loss. The hospital's been having trouble getting ahold of your point of contact. Your sister, right?"

"Yeah." Waits found himself unable to decide if he should be angry or unsurprised. "Don't worry too much about contacting anyone." I don't care.

"You will need someone to help you recover—"

"Well, it won't be coming from Em. I don't know what her husband's claim will be this time, but so long as he hates my guts just for being committed to my job, I can't expect help from her. I'm completely alone, and I don't fucking care."

Jarecki fell silent for a moment. "Waits, no one should have to do this alone."

"Well, I'm not gonna have much of a choice, now, am I? I did it with my damn accident five years ago, I'll do it again. I don't need anyone's help or support."

"You don't want to do this alone, Waits."

"I don't care."

Looking defeated, Jarecki hung his head. "I'm not in a place to give your orders. I'm just making a suggestion. If you think you can do this alone, fine, but I'm speaking from experience. You don't want to make this recovery alone, especially if you're grieving. It's not healthy."

"Right now, all I want is to be left alone. I appreciate your concern, General, but you have more important things to do than argue with me. Trust me when I say that's not a battle anyone can win."

"Okay, fine. You want to be alone, I'll leave you alone." Jarecki sighed as he stood. He looked more frustrated than angry. "I tried doing something nice for you when I found out about your sister and Aslett. Is this how you treat everyone who tries to help you?"

"Why am I worth helping?! I'm the one who fucking got Aslett killed!"

"That wasn't your fault in any way, shape, or form!"

"I should've told everyone to evacuate the colony, not stay and fight! I tried to be a fucking hero, and I paid the price for it."

"That's war, Waits. There are going to be unpleasant results and casualties no matter what decision you make. You did what you thought was the right thing."

"I don't know if what I did was the right thing to do."

"That's not something I can decide for you. I wasn't there. You assessed the situation as you saw fit, and it's not like you wanted people to die."

Waits nodded a little. "It was just me and a few other Marshals fighting. We certainly didn't have numbers on our side."

"History is full of stories of people fighting on the bad side of the odds, and yet many of them came out victorious. Hell, why do you think one of our ships is named the USS James Gavin? He and his men went up against over 700 Germans during the invasion of Italy in the Second World War, and they held out until more troops and tanks arrived, just like you did."

"I guess I see the parallel."

"What happened on LV-112 wasn't your fault, and your actions are commendable. You didn't try to get Aslett killed. You knew her best—would she have wanted you to give up?"

"No."

"There you go. I think you did the right thing with what you had. Frankly, you probably saved us some trouble by harassing the bastards and letting them know we're not a people to be fucked around with."

"Good point."

Jarecki smiled a little. "I'll let you get some rest, Waits."

What scared Waits the most was the fact that he would be off-duty for two months. He didn't want to be alone with his thoughts for two months, but he couldn't decide if that would be better than going to his sister's. Maybe Ashton would be less of a pain. Or he would just get worse. Waits could already hear his brother-in-law accusing him of being a leech, a waste of space, taking up their time and money and food and not giving anything in return. He didn't want to deal with that.

On the day he was released, Waits was surprised to see Brooks sitting in the waiting area. A patch covered Brooks's left eye, and his left arm was shaking a little. He was hunched over, a far cry from the firm Head Marshal Waits had known on LV-112.

"So, they're letting you go, too, huh?" Waits asked, deeply unsure of how to start this conversation.

Brooks looked startled for a moment, then breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing Waits. He went back to hunching. "It's gone. It's completely gone. I-I can't remember anything..."

Waits sat next to Brooks. "Hey, relax, sir—"

"Don't call me that! I'm not in charge anymore! I'm done! That's what they said. I can't c-continue."

"What do you mean?"

Brooks sniffed, tears running down the right side of his face. "My career's over. I'm being honorably discharged."

"Better than dishonorably discharged, that's for sure." Waits immediately regretted saying that. "I'm sorry."

"No. It's okay." Brooks looked at Waits. "Did they tell you about Aslett?"

Waits felt like he had been punched in the chest. "Yeah. General Jarecki told me."

"How... How are you holding up?"

"I don't know. Why do you ask?"

"Because I know."

"You know what?"

"I know you two were seeing each other."

Waits wasn't sure whether to feel embarrassed or not. "How did you—"

"The way you guys acted around each other. I only let it go because she made you more tolerable." Brooks tried to smile through his tears. "I can remember how she'd look after you left a room, how she'd... stare at the door, as if waiting for you to come back."

"Why she liked me is still a mystery," Waits muttered. "Doesn't matter, though."

"No. You two were good for each other. I can't believe she's gone."

"You served with her longer than I did."

"Yeah, but you loved her. I can't imagine what you're feeling right now."

Waits looked up at the ceiling, struggling with putting his feelings into words. There were dull aches pulsing through his body, and they suddenly intensified when he started thinking about the fact that there was no bringing Aslett back. "I never said goodbye."

"None of us did. I mean, we'll be able to when they have her funeral, but I know it's not the same."

"This is gonna sound dark, but I'd always thought I would be the one dying before her, simply because I'm reckless." Waits snorted. "And older."

Brooks nodded, managing to grin a little. "She and I were always the voices of reason whenever you flew off the handle."

"Yes, you were. Thank you."

The two were quiet for a few minutes, listening to the PA system paging doctors and nurses. Waits looked at his watch. His flight to Massachusetts was in a little under two hours, but he didn't want to leave Brooks alone. Sighing, he asked, "When are you going home?"

"Soon. About two hours," Brooks said.

"Same as me, then."

"At least you should return to service once you're healed."

"I hope so. I don't want to retire. I don't know what the fuck I'd do. I know I told Lace that I wanted to retire on LV-112, on the lake, but now... I don't think I can ever go back."

"Honestly, I don't blame you, but I hope you don't let that take over your life. I'm sure LV-112 will be good as new in a few years, and we'll make sure something like... what happened doesn't happen again."

The murmur of voices and sounds of Washington's Metro station drowned out Waits's thoughts. He tried to focus on everything around him rather than everything inside his head, but as the car left the station, Waits became aware of the fact that he was inside a long dark tunnel. What if the car stops? What if we get stuck in here? He slowly sat down, gripping his seat. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. His heart was beating louder and faster, until he could hear and feel it in his head. The sound and sensation of it quickly became unbearable, and he was quickly overcome with an urge to throw up.

Not wanting to throw up on a moving car with lots of people, Waits kept his eyes shut, and continuing trying to breathe evenly. When the car came to a stop, his stomach lurched along with it, and even though it wasn't his stop, Waits staggered off the Metro, frantically searching for the nearest restroom. Relief washed over him when he found a restroom, and nearly collapsed in a stall to empty what little he had in the hospital before leaving.

His sudden movements didn't help his shoulder or his back. It hurt to walk when he headed back to the Metro station to wait for the next train. The acidic taste in his mouth was irritating, but the last thing he wanted to do was spit in front of people, even if it was in a trash can.

This wasn't the first time he was going to an airport alone, but there was something different about this time. Before going to LV-112, he didn't care that he was alone. He had accepted it. Now, he felt like something was wrong. Something—or someone—was missing. He felt like he didn't belong there, or anywhere, and it felt like he was having a bad dream.

When the next train arrived, Waits was trying to convince himself that taking time off would help him relax. He didn't have to visit his family; he could just get a hotel room by Cape Cod and do nothing. Even though it was tourist season, he knew he could find places to just be alone. That was all he wanted.

He managed to calm down as he thought of the peace and quiet of a beachside hotel. Preferably with a balcony. The calmness didn't last long, though. I talked to Lace about taking her to Cape Cod and Deerfield and Boston and everywhere in between. He could see her in his imagination, and his heart wrenched when he realized that was the only place he would ever be able to see her now.