Updated Mar 23, 2026 • ~5 min read
Chapter 18: Thirteen days of torture
RYAN
Thirteen days.
He had said it and he had meant it and he had also not fully considered what thirteen days of knowing and not acting was going to feel like in the specific conditions of a forward operating base with a closed perimeter and a very small mess hall.
The first two days were manageable. He ran the standard operational protocol — morning briefing, mission prep, equipment checks — and the professional register held because it was the default. The default ran without his active attention.
Days three through seven were harder.
He had kissed her. She had kissed him back. They had both agreed to the thirteen days and they were both keeping the agreement and the agreement was correct and also the most specific form of patience he had exercised in recent memory.
He ran the final mission prep. He reviewed the last intelligence reports from the Karesh region. He updated the regiment on Echo Team’s operational record for the deployment period. He played the keyboard in the recreation room at 2200 and did not think about who was on the other side of the wall.
Torres said nothing.
Torres’s silence was, at this point, more eloquent than Torres’s speech.
On day seven, Madison came to the command post with the final mission documentation and sat across the desk and reviewed it with him for two hours with the professional register that she’d been running since the wall.
He ran the professional register back.
At the end of two hours she said: “Six days.”
He said: “Six days.”
She said: “The final transport booking is confirmed?”
He said: “Transport at 0600, day fourteen.”
She said: “I’ll be there.”
He said: “I know.”
She said: “Ryan.”
He said: “Madison.”
She said: “Six days is manageable.”
He said: “Extremely.”
She looked at him.
He said: “Are you asking me to tell you it’s manageable or are you telling me.”
She said: “Both.”
He said: “Both, then.”
She left the command post.
He sat at the desk and thought about the two hours of professional register and how she’d held it with the same quality of deliberate maintenance that he’d been running for two weeks — the maintained distance that both of them knew was maintained, which made it more charged rather than less.
He thought: *six days.*
He ran the keyboard that night — the Satie pieces, which he could play adequately, and a jazz standard he’d been working on for five years and could now play almost exactly as it was written. He played until 2300 and went to sleep and ran the pre-transport briefing at 0700 the next morning.
On the last night — night twelve, one day before the transport — he went to the perimeter wall.
She was already there.
He said: “Tomorrow.”
She said: “0600.”
He said: “Stateside, sixty hours later.”
She said: “I’ve been thinking about your dinner proposal.”
He said: “Have you.”
She said: “I have requirements.”
He said: “Tell me.”
She said: “Somewhere with actual linen. Not because I need linen — because any restaurant that uses linen has invested in the food.”
He said: “Yes.”
She said: “A wine list with at least one wine I don’t recognize, because an unfamiliar wine is a data point.”
He said: “You approach wine as data.”
She said: “I approach most things as data.”
He said: “I know.” He paused. “What else.”
She said: “No one from the unit.”
He said: “Agreed.”
She said: “And I’m buying the second bottle.”
He said: “We don’t have to buy —”
She said: “I’m buying the second bottle. That’s the requirement.”
He said: “Done.”
She said: “Good.”
They stood at the wall.
He said: “How’s the shoulder.”
She said: “Better every day. Fischer says full bilateral function in ten days.”
He said: “The regiment review.”
She said: “Is in three weeks. I’ll be at full function.”
He said: “And the next assignment.”
She said: “I don’t know yet.” She paused. “Do you.”
He said: “I’ve been asked to command a new unit. A reformed element, Pentagon oversight, advanced tactical intelligence integration.” He paused. “I’ve been asked to propose the team composition.”
She looked at him.
He said: “I was going to ask you before I knew about the dinner.”
She said: “As your team member.”
He said: “Yes.”
She said: “That’s a significant complication.”
He said: “I know.”
She said: “If I’m in your unit again —”
He said: “The fraternization issue returns.”
She said: “Yes.”
He said: “I’m aware.”
She said: “So what are you asking.”
He looked at the ridge.
He said: “I’m asking if you want to consider both things at the same time. The dinner and the assignment. Both.”
She said: “You’re asking if I want to navigate both.”
He said: “Yes.”
She said: “You could ask someone else for the team composition.”
He said: “I could. I don’t want to.”
She said: “Because I’m the best available for the role.”
He said: “Yes. And because I want you to have the opportunity, and the opportunity is legitimate regardless of the personal complication.”
She said: “Ryan.”
He said: “Madison.”
She said: “I need to think about both things.”
He said: “You have sixty hours.”
She said: “That’s not much time.”
He said: “I know.”
She said: “Tomorrow.”
He said: “Tomorrow.”
The last night in Karesh was cold the way the desert was cold — the absolute cold of a sky without cloud cover and a ground that had been heated all day and was now releasing everything. She pulled her jacket closed.
He did not cross the distance.
He thought: *tomorrow.*
He thought: *sixty hours.*
He thought: *and then.*
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