Page 10 of Night in a Waste Land

“She’s the kind of fucked up that wants to throw herself at every big, bad thing she runs into, until they’re all dead, or she is.”

His throat got tighter. “I don’t know that I’d say she’s suicidal.”

“I would. Which, given how short-handed we are, and how ugly this damn war is, I don’t see myself turning away a willing gun…or knife,” she allowed with a fast gesture toward the dagger, “just because she’s got a death wish. But I won’t have her in the field if she’s going to get all of you killed. Is she a liability to your company?”

He knew she wouldn’t accept any hedging, not about this. If he lied outright, she would smell it on him.

He took a breath and said, “She’s the only person who’s ever been a part of my team who’s killed a conduit outright. No Grenades, no bystanders.”

Bedlam studied him a long moment; he swore this meeting had added to the little lines that branched off from the corners of her eyes. Then she nodded. “Fine. If something changes, I’m reassigning her. She can have her knife back, I guess. I don’t want it.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” He picked up the dagger – it was heavier and warmer than he expected, than he remembered.

“Du Lac.” Bedlam stopped him when he was at the door, and he glanced back over his shoulder. “You brought one ofthose thingsonto my base.” He heard the faintest shiver of fear in her voice. “Don’t make me regret keeping you around, either.” A clear warning.

“No, ma’am.”

~*~

The infantry stationed here all slept in a communal bunk room, but the Knights had some modicum of privacy: tiny, shoebox quarters, with just enough space for a bunk, and a wedge of floor to stand on. It wasn’t much, but it was better than listening to a hundred other people snore all night.

Lance rapped on the door of Rose’s room, and waited for her muffledcome inbefore turning the handle.

She sat on the edge of her bunk, boots already off, in the process of peeling down her thick socks. She paused and lifted her head to see who it was when he leaned in the threshold. Her gaze shifted quickly from his face to the dagger he carried.

“Captain says you can have this back.”

She reached for it quickly, like she was afraid he’d try to retract it. Held it a moment, once he’d passed it over, thumb tracing over the largest ruby in the hilt; then she set it carefully aside on the mattress and went back to removing her socks.

“You know, you coulda pried the rubies outta that thing and pawned them. You could be living in a mansion right now instead of slogging through the trenches with us,” he tried to joke. It would have fallen flat with anyone; with Rose, it fell like a case full of bricks.

She balled up her socks and tossed them lightly into the laundry sack hanging on the wall. Her feet, when she set them down on the cold, concrete floor, were pale, with high arches, and slender toes. Delicate, girlish feet that clashed wildly with the look she gave him.

He sighed. “Look. You know that can’t happen again, right? I told Captain Bedlam that you aren’t a risk to the rest of the team, but you can’t go off half-cocked doing your own thing on a mission like that.”

She stared at him, gaze inscrutable.

“Rose, tell me you understand.”

“You think I’m insane,” she said.

“I think you’re reckless. I think you’re still hurting really bad, and that you don’t care about your own wellbeing.”

She blinked, a brief surprise flaring in her eyes before she drew it back.

“There,” he said. “Right there. You’re so clamped down it’s like you’re not even all there.”

Her brows went up a fraction, mouth setting in a sour line.

“You have to compartmentalize in this line of work. You can’t feel everything, or you’ll drown in it. Hell, I lost a guy yesterday, and I don’t even remember his name.” He felt an inward lurch of shock at his own confession. He hadn’t meant to say that; hadn’t meant to let frustration bleed through like this.

“It’s good that you’re tough,” he said, starting again with a deep breath. “That you’re hard. And God knows you’ve got the skills. But you didn’t know what would happen today. You acted on your own, off book, and you could have gotten my whole team killed.”

Her gaze flicked away, lashes lowering. He chose to see that as remorse, because the alternative – that she didn’t care if any of them lived or died – hit too close to home.

“I’m glad to have you on board, but if you’re gonna be on my team, you have to be a part of that team, and not a free agent tagging along for the ride. Got it?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

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