Chapter 12: The Night Observation Post

James assigned me to a two-man Observation Post (OP) on the jagged ridge overlooking the northern pass. Usually, he’d pair me with Jax or Miller, but tonight, the roster was different.

"It’s you and me, Specialist," Captain James said, his voice a low vibration in the dark.

We climbed in silence. The only sounds were the crunch of shale and the rhythmic clink of our gear. When we reached the summit, we settled into a narrow crevice. The valley below was a sea of ink, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of a distant cooking fire.

James pulled out his thermal optics, his shoulder brushing mine in the tight space. He didn't pull away. The heat from his body was a sharp contrast to the biting wind.

"Your skin," he said suddenly. It wasn't a question, and it wasn't an insult. It was the first time he had brought it up since the cave. "Does it hurt?"

"No," I whispered, looking out at the horizon. "It’s just... missing pigment. It’s just me."

"I spent ten years in the Army learning how to read people," James said, his gaze still fixed on the optics. "I looked at your files before you arrived. I saw the commendations. I saw the scores. But when you got here, all I saw was a soldier trying to disappear behind a mask. I hated you for it."

"You hated me for being afraid?"

"I hated you because I knew why you were doing it," he admitted, finally turning to look at me. The starlight caught the hard line of his jaw. "And I hated myself for being the kind of Commander who made you feel like you had to."

The honesty was more jarring than a physical blow. He reached out, his gloved hand hovering near my face, before he slowly pulled the glove off. He touched the white patch on my cheek with his bare fingers. His skin was rough, calloused, and trembling.