The Infirmary Blues (Open)

[McMillan, J.]

0715 Hours, June 19, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) /
Aboard UNSC Vengeance, B-Deck, Med-Bay,
Alpha Phoenicis System

McMillan had looked forward to a soft bed and a long slumber all the way from the surface of Phoenix III. He had endured sleep in the oddest of places the last three days, and it had not been particularly comfortable or healthy for his back and neck. The prospect of an actual bed to fall asleep on was a heavenly concept.

However, as he ascended the ladderwell up to the Crew Deck, the nagging thought of the Marines he had sent off for medical care lingered in his mind. At first he tried to deny its influence, quietly mumbling to himself that sleep was his number one priority; but, in the end, the thought of them son out. He stopped at a t-intersection and looked to his left. The passageway carried on a long ways before veering off to the right slightly. That corridor would eventually lead him to the infirmary.

Jim turned his eyes to the corridor before him. If he continued down that path he would wind up at the berths for the company, and further down, the compartment he shared with Private Wilkas. It would be there that he could enjoy a nice, comfortable bed, and a long period of uninterrupted sleep. So much of him wanted to continue moving forward, to ignore the detour entirely in favor of satisfying his exhaustion.

He turned left. Jim was alone, the corridor surprisingly void of life. Normally the thoroughfare to the infirmary was littered with personnel from every corner of the Vengeance. Despite his surprise, he was too exhausted to speculate on the plethora of possible reasons why the passageway was empty. He just decided to take it at face value and carry on with his business.

Mac arrived at the infirmary minutes later. He stepped inside and immediately had to step aside as a pair of doctors hauling a stretcher rushed past. Jim heard shrieks of pain somewhere deeper within the infirmary, the sound racking his brain. Images burst across his vision of the last ninety-six hours, where that sound became all too familiar to him.

Jim shook his head and focused on the task at hand. He needed to check on the wounded, not get lost in his memories. The corpsman composed himself and approached the receptionists desk. Seated behind the desk was a little crimson-haired petty officer, her uniform immaculately ironed and pressed, every ounce of brass polished to a glossy sheen. She was rather attractive, Mac noted. "Hi," he greeted.

The petty officer tore her eyes away from the computer built into her desk and looked at him as if noticing him for the first time. "Oh, 'hello," she said with a discernable Australian accent. "How can I help you?"

Mac shifted uncomfortably as two corpsmen stormed into a room, a giant syringe grasped tightly in the grasp of the older man. "Uh, I'm looking for a couple people. They should have been admitted a couple days ago."

"Okay. I need name, rank, and units."

Mac nodded curtly. "Staff Sergeant Mason, I., and PFC Gray, L., they're with Oscar Company, Second Platoon."

The receptionist started to type away, her fingers a blur across the keyboard. McMillan leaned against the desk with his arms crossed, elbows pointed outwards, in an attempt to shift weight off of his tired legs and aching knees. His body had been through hell over the course of his visit to the giant snowball in space. He's never been so cold and so physically active in his life. He'd thought the battle on his homeworld had been bad, but it could never hold a candle to Phoenix III.

"I've found quite a few from your unit pop up," the petty officer stated dryly. "A few of them just transferred from the Mercy earlier this morning."[/i]

That caught McMillan by surprise. There had been a couple Marines from the platoon that were evacuated to a hospital ship on the first day of the battle. He hadn't expected their condition to stabilize enough for them to be transferred back to the ship that quickly. "Okay," he replied, "are they in recovery?"

She nodded. "We managed to give them all neighboring rooms. Recovery rooms sixteen through twenty."

Mac nodded. "Thank you."

"Uh huh," the receptionist replied, her focus back on the computer terminal in front of her. McMillan stood there for just a moment before walking off, deciding it best to leave her alone. Her attitude could have used a great deal of improvement, but it might just have been that she was busy and under a lot of stress. He was accutely aware of the stresses and difficulties of working in a shipboard hospital setting.

Jim made his way into the recovery ward and marched down the line of rooms, paying particular attention to the room numbers. He reached room sixteen and observed that the door was open. He stepped inside and found a single bed inside, a medical diagnostic machine placed beside it, and the likes of Private Gray beneath the covers. She was dressed in a dull gray hospital tunic with her name stenciled on it with what he guessed was a sharpie marker.

"Gray," he said, announcing his presence, "how are you feeling?"

[Silva, J.]

Silva's recovery had been the most agonising process, she barely recalled most of it, either being unconscious or off her face on painkillers. She dimly remembered receiving the great news that she was to be transferred back to the Vengeance. However, this good news possessed a sting in the tail. This sting came in the form of her being rather than rejoining her unit, instead she went to another infirmary. Silva was stable, but no where near recovered yet in the eyes of the medical professional.
Janet chest still hurt with each breath, but the pain in her mind was a good thing. It reinforced the fact that was alive. She wondered what occurred after her medical evacuation, if Oscar Company made it out okay, if her fire team managed to survive without her there manning the light machinegun.

The hospital bed she loved, it was comfy beyond all measure, almost beyond all reason. Yet, despite this luxury, Silva would trade it all just to get back to her unit. Janet awoke today to find a solitary letter addressed to her lying on the bedside table. Immediately she meant to move, grimacing at the fresh pain it caused her. Agony exploded in her as she forced herself to sit up before reaching for the letter.
Eagerly she ran her eyes over the letters, flipping it over in her hands several times as if to check that it was real. She could barely recall the last time she received a letter from home. Silva's hands shook with wild excitement, eager fingers tore the envelope open. Quick as a flash she spilled the paper goods from the envelope's carcass. Carefully, she unfolded the letter, however... The letter was not one which she would have wished to read.


Dear Janet,

I do apologise for the delay in my responses to you and I am sure you have been wondering why I did not write to for such a period of time. I am very sorry for that, I know your job is hard and worrying about your girlfriend back home is probably not going to help you. Janet, my love I wish I was writing to you with better news than this, but it is what it is. The reason for my delay in corresponding with you is grim, dark beyond all measure. New Paris is no more, the Covenant found it and... I am sure you can guess the rest from there. It is my current sad duty to inform you that your family failed to make it off world. Your father pushed me on board one of the evac shuttles and he got on another with the rest of your family. Their shuttle failed to reach orbit, the Covenant shot it down. Oh Janet, I am so sorry this is not what you wish to read, but you deserved to know. Please find enclosed my new address, a photo of me and Janet, I know reading this will be hard but come back to me alive please. You are all I have left now, my family did not make it out either.

I would have written to you sooner but it took a while to get settled in, at first I found myself unable to write. Yet I knew not doing so would break your heart and my silence once you discovered the fall of our world would appear to you that I was no more. I miss you Janet, I know we talked about our plans for after the war on New Paris, I guess we will need to think of a new plan now right? I'm sorry about your family and I feel as though I failed you by not writing sooner. Please write to me as soon as you are able to. Let me know that you are alive and that you are alright. I love you Janet.

Eternally yours
Morgan

Janet put the letter on her lap, the paper already stained with tears. Numbly she turned the paper over, finding that Morgan indeed had written her new address on the back. She fold the letter shut, moving it to the bedside table as tears slid down her cheeks. She picked up the remains of the envelope, fumbling around to find the picture which her girlfriend spoke of to her.
Janet smiled at the picture, putting it on the bedside as well, smiling at the blurry picture. She remembered taking that picture back before enlistment, good days. She hoped there would be more good days in the future, days like that would be desperately needed. She tossed the envelope onto the floor, settling herself back down in her bed. Janet found herself suddenly feeling uncomfortable, her mind imagining the fall of her home world. Janet believed that she had failed them, letting everyone down.
A terrible feeling of emptiness tugged at her heart. She stared blankly up at the ceiling trying not to cry.

[McMillan, J.]

James stopped dead in his tracks at the mouth of the recovery room, his focus upon the unmoving form of Private First Class Gray. She had not stirred in the slightest when he spoke, and closer inspection revealed it was because she was fast asleep, covered by a thin layer of hospital sheets. He stood there in the doorway for a moment, scrutinizing the medical equipment beside her; he paid special attention to the biomonitor that beeped alongside her heartbeat, checking to make sure all was fine before dipping back out the door.

Despite his concern for the PFC and the status of her recovery, he was not about to disturb her slumber. Jim knew that rest was likely exactly what the doctor ordered, and he was not about to make her disobey orders just for him. Her health and well-being was far more important than any conversation he had intended to have with her.

McMillan walked to the next room and stopped at the door. This time he intended to be more cautious - and mindful of the person occupying the room beyond the threshold. The door opened automatically to his presence, but he did not step through, this time opting to knock first. He raised his fist and wracked his knuckles on the doorframe three times. He lowered his fist and waited for an answer.

None came. Must be asleep, he figured, and turned to walk away. He took a step forward and then stopped suddenly. He heard a noise come from the open door behind him. Jim turned back around and leaned in the doorway, listening closely for a sound to indicate the room's occupant was awake. That was when he heard it; a faint wimper followed by a sniffle. Mac rounded the corner into the room and spotted Private Janet Silva propped up in her bed, a letter clasped in her hand. Tears streamed down her pale face, her cheeks an auburn-red.

James closed the distance between the door and Silva, taking a seat in the chair beside her. "Silva," he said, his voice laced with concern, "it's Doc. What's wrong?"

[Silva, J.]

Silva saw the blurry form of someone enter her room, she blinked the tears from her eyes to recognise McMillan. She forced a smile onto her face, this was the man responsible for her surviving and not bleeding out on the battlefield. Janet looked at him her first words unable to come out, her pain and grief choking her vocal cords.
With clear reluctance, Silva passed him the letter for him to read. "My home..." She choked out. "New Paris is gone." Janet whispered her voice filled with dark horror, a bitter pit of poor emptiness opened up within her. Silva's home, the world she fought to defend, to protect and the one she hoped to return to was gone, glassed by the Covenant.

"I lost my family." She sobbed, not carrying who saw her tears fall. Silva turned over on the bed, grimacing against the pain to grasp the photograph she left there. "Only my girlfriend made it out." She looked at the picture, staring at it for several minutes before handing it over for the medic to look at. This was the first time Silva ever brought up the conversational topic of her possessing a girlfriend.
"She's the only one left, New Paris is gone I should of been there, I should of..." Her face contorted into an agonising mask of raw pain. The news that her home planet lay a burning cinder hurt far worse than any injury. The UNSC, NPMD all was powerless to defend the planet from the tide of the Covenant.

New Paris had been the most beautiful world, a green blue marble in space whose peaceful history lay forever blighted by the horrific civil war which waged out of control for the world, the New Paris Uprising. Veterans like Janet, remembered those dark days bitterly, each possessing a deep hatred for the Innies and what they did.
Now, all those men and women who gave their lives in the defence of the world was for nought. The Covenant destroyed what the traitors ultimately failed to.
The number of veterans of the New Paris Uprising now fell dramatically, she wondered if any of her friends made it off world before the glassing. Silva happened to be afraid to find out. At the very least she managed to find some small measure of comfort in the fact that her girlfriend survived.

She took the picture back from McMillan after a few moments. "She wants me to reply." The flow of tears halted for the moment. "I do not even know what to write in said reply." Janet stared at the picture, mentally imagining several different letters and discarding all of them.
She accepted the necessity of a swift reply but on the other hand she had no idea what to tell her. Janet doubted her beloved's ability to cope with too much negative information.
She might therefore be wise to not include getting shot and reading the devastating news whilst in hospital .
"I cannot believe it is gone."

[McMillan, J.]

James accepted the paper letter hesitantly. He didn't exactly feel comfortable prying into the personal business of another, especially the business was conveyed via personal letter. The corpsman briefly glanced at the letter, reading the very first lines, before tearing his eyes away from it. He did not wish to read any further.

What he did not extrapolate from the letter, Silva clarified, pouring out her sorrow before him. Tears streamed down her face despite the weak, forced smile that creased her features. McMillan stood there and listened, expressionless, and unsure of what to say. It was not like he couldn't empathize with her feelings. He too had suffered through the loss of his homeworld, and to this day had not heard a peep from his family; he presumed none of them had made it off Propitious alive.

The difference between him and her was that he had long ago accepted what had happened and moved on. He had joined the Navy and became a corpsman because of the fall of his homeworld, a decision he would not have made were it not for that event, and so in a weird, twisted way, he was partially thankful for the experience. It did not diminish the painfulness of the loss, but it did remind him that from all the negative, something positive had come of it. That was how he rationalized what had happened to him.

James furrowed his brow, deep in thought. What could be say to perhaps alleviate some of the weight upon her shoulders? What would make her feel a little bit better? He considered his options, tossing out those that he felt would be detrimental to the achievement of his goal. He needed to console her and brighten the mood without coming off insensitive to her feelings.

After a moment he decided on a course of action, and in the back of his mind, decided he was much better at medicine than he was human relations. He knew the ins and outs of being a corpsman, but none of that trained him to be a decent human being.

"Silva, I understand what you're going through, and I am sorry for your loss," he said, trying to be gentle and sympathetic. "I too lost my homeworld to the Covenant. It is never an easy thing to carry with you, and it will be hard to cope with sometimes."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "I don't know what happened to my family, but it can be assumed that they didn't make it. Aside from a few people that I went to school with, I don't have anyone I can honestly say I'm close to from those days. You, on the other hand, have your girlfriend," he forced a smile, though he felt like doing anything but. If he were to be honest with himself, he wanted to retreat from this conversation and find something else to talk about entirely. However, he couldn't bring himself to do that. Silva needed to hear what he had to say.

"She understands what you are going through, as she experienced it firsthand. The two of you need each other. I wouldn't push her away if I was you," he said. "If you're wondering what to tell her, tell her you're okay, and that you will be able to see her in a few months. This deployment is almost over from what I've gathered, and she can meet you on Reach when we return. Tell her to find a way there."

He paused, debating whether or not to tell her what had happened down on Phoenix III in her absence. Considering her state of mind at the moment, it would probably be detrimental to tell her the planet was lost to the Covenant. No, he would spare her that information, and only tell her the bare necessities.

"In case you're wondering," he started, forcing a smile, "we completed our mission. FROST DRAGON was a success. We won."

Jim debated on whether or not to mention the status of Gray, but realized if he did not tell her, someone else would anyway. "PFC Gray was injured during the bridge defense and had to be CASEVAC'd. You'll be happy to know she is fine, and is actually recovering in the room beside you. If you feel up to it sometime you should pay her a visit.. pending an okay from your doctor."

[Silva, J.]

She wondered if anyone could truly understand the pain of losing a homeworld. After all pain tended to be relative, yet she knew that losing his own world must have been tough. "Sorry to hear that Doc... The pain will never fade I should of been there." Silva wanted to have been there to defend her planet, but it would be far too late if she rocked up to the destroyed planet now.
Silva nodded silently, struggling against the urge to cry again all of her family was gone, never to return.

"Okay." She whispered quietly knowing that she needed to write to her girlfriend as soon as possible. Silva almost died, she imagined how terrible the news of receiving her death may be to Morgan.
The news of being able to see her girlfriend caused her to momentarily perk up. "Is that true?" She inquired quietly, her voice nervous, tired and a sad. Though she did not know what they would do, the war hit Janet hard and now she could not leave the UNSC. New Paris burned and so the Covenant would therefore be required to pay for their sin in blood, lots of blood.

"I'm glad we won showed those Covvie bastards that the UNSC won't let them burn our worlds."" She sounded pleased that the UNSC won. She did not yet know however that the world she bled for lay destroyed like her homeworld. "Thank you for keeping me alive on the bridge Doc." She added in a quiet voice.
She barely remembered anything after she took a round on the bridge. A lot of screaming, pain and probably more than her fair share of blood exiting her body to mark the bridge as her own.

"I am glad to hear that Gray is fine and nearby." She forced a smile onto her face, she did not feel much like smiling. Janet however was delighted that her friend and fellow fireteam member happened to be alright.
She found herself suddenly chuckling, though she stopped after a few moments as pain lanced up from her chest. "I'll be sure to chat the doctor up so he will let me visit her." She lay back in the bed. "I'm glad you stopped by Doc... I... I don't want to be alone right now." She said the latter part in a quiet voice.

[Stringer, K.]

Stringer finally caught a break. Between getting Lawrence squared away, along with his own gear, then turning in the after action report, request for a new helmet, and filing the loss of what little equipment he shot off or lost, he had his day full of shit. He thankfully had the good new from Durant that both Gray and Silva were in the infirmary, saving his the trouble of needing to arrange a transport to the medical ship. He found this out when he went to talk to the lieutenant about doing so.

So, here he was, making his way through the corridors of B-Deck, now out of his combat gear but still wearing his BDU, not having showered yet, still smelling of combat. He had his M7, as always, on his right thigh, that being the only place he had on combat gear because of the magnetic retention system that held the weapon in place. He only had that and the one magazine in the weapon to defend against hostile boarding parties.

Stringer finally made his way to the door, it coming open quick enough he didn't have to stop to wait. He stepped up to the reception desk and leaned down a bit, looking at the red head sitting behind the desk. Stringer watched her look up and jump back a bit, most likely catching the petty-officer by surprise. She cleared her throat, then gave him a glare, as Stringer just chuckled.

"Yes, what can I do for you corporal... Stringer?" Stringer saw the women look to his name tag on his BDU when she paused for that brief second.

"I'm here to check on two members of my fireteam. Private Janet Silva, and PFC Louise Gray. I heard from Lieutenant Durant that both of my marines are down here in the infirmary and not the medical ship."

"So you are their Fireteam Leader, correct?"

"Yes Ma'am, that is correct." Stringer waited, as the petty-officer checked her computer. He only hoped that both marines were alright, and not in need of some serious surgery or something worse. After a few moments though, the woman looked back at Stringer, and was smiling.

"Both of your marines look like they are gonna make it, Corporal. PFC Gray is being monitored for any complications from her head injury, and Private Silva is recovering from her wound sustained in combat."


"Thank god... Would it be fine if I talk to them both? Might help to raise their morale a bit if their fireteam leader stopped by."  Stringer watched as the woman nodded and pointed to recovery rooms.

"Sixteen through Twenty. Most of the members of your company were transferred this morning, so check those rooms and you should find your marines."

"Thank you, petty-officer. I appreciate your help." Stringer didn't wait for a response, as he walked past and check the rooms numbers as he walked down the hall. When he finally got to the first room and checked inside, he saw Gray laying there. He said her name once, but when she didn't even stir, Stringer figured she was asleep, and decided to check the other rooms. That's when he saw in the next room was both Silva, and McMillan. He was surprised to see the corpsman here, of all places, but didn't mind. Probably wanted to check up on them as much as Stringer wanted to.

"Doc, didn't think I'd see you here. None the less, good job down there. Silva, how you doing marine?"

[Gray, L.]

Lawrence remained quiet throughout the trip back to the Vengeance. Like Stringer and her fellow marines, she was exhausted and was also extremely worried about Gray. The two had been best friends since the first day of boot camp. Once back on the Vengence, Lawrence followed Stringer as if she was on auto pilot. On her way to the infirmary, she ran into Gray's brother Jake, a corporal in second platoon, November Company. As they walked to the infirmary they conversed for a while about what had happened down there and the latest Scuttlebutt.

Jake sighed as he heard the gossip. He didn't understand why there was such intense rivalry between Oscar and November companies. He personally had no beef with Oscar especially now his sister was with them, in fact if anything he personally admired Oscar Company and had a more than healthy respect for them, however due to the fact that he was in their rival company, he had always been careful to keep how he really felt to himself.


Once they had arrived Lawrence approached the petty officer sat behind the desk. The officer looked at them both shrewdly. "Oh, 'hello, How can I help you? Private Lawrence and Corporal Gray" She said looking at the name tags.



"I'm looking for a couple people. Private Janet Silva, and PFC Louise Gray. they're with Oscar Company, Second Platoon." Lawrence said nervously as Corporal Gray nodded to back her up.



"Rooms sixteen through twenty. Most of the members of your company were transferred here this morning, so check those rooms and you should find your fellow marines." The woman said to Lawrence before turning her attention back to her computer.

"Thank you Petty Officer." Lawrence said before looking at Corporal Gray and nodded at him. The two then turned and walked down the corridor, looking at the room numbers. When they finally found sixteen, they suddenly heard a loud groan and stepped inside to find Private First Class Louise Gray, in the process of slowly waking up, unaware that she had already had had two visitors who were now checking on her recovering team mate in the room next door.

[Durant, M.]

Lieutenant Durant had taken a detour. Admittedly, it had probably been done in poor taste, what with all that he had on his plate. There was much paperwork to be done and the thought of the debrief that was to occur later lingered on his mind. Visiting his wounded could have waited til later in the afternoon, but he figured he would be too busy.

Besides, his Marines were more important than any desk work. It was a well known fact by now that he loathed deskwork. Durant was a warrior, built for war and bred to inflict righteous death upon his enemies. If there was an opportunity to skirt the tangential duties of officer for even a short period of time, he would gladly take it. It was a statement to his subordinates that he cared about them and their welfare. No Marine should feel disliked by their platoon leadership.

Durant barged into the Infirmary like that of a man on a mission. He had a singular purpose and he planned to execute. The desk jockey behind the receptionist desk barely acknowledged his sudden appearance, apparently consumed with whatever she had open on her terminal. "How can I help you, sir?"

Michael did not hesitate. "Second Platoon, O-Co. I'm looking for my Marines."

The petty officer nodded. "You and half the ship it seems," she replied with a detectable hint of annoyance. The Lieutenant debated whether he should remind her that she was conversing with an officer and that her attitude was not appreciated, but ultimately decided against it.

He wasn't those type of officers.

"We care about our own," he declared proudly.

"Uh huh," was her reply. "They're in recovery. Room sixteen through twenty."

Durant nodded. "Many thanks."

He did not stay to chat. The lieutenant walked off and oriented himself towards the recovery wards. He entered the section of corridor marked "RECOVERY" and found the first room with no trouble at all. Michael stepped inside to find Private First Class Gray in bed wearing an issues medical tunic. Private Lawrence and Corporal Gray, her brother, also occupied the small space.

"At ease," he said before they had a chance to straighten up at his arrival. "PFC, how are you feeling? The Docs treating you right?"

[Silva, J.]

Silva forced herself to sit up when her fireteam's leader entered the room. She could not have felt more terrible, yet she found herself unable to voice such a feeling to him. She shook her head slowly. "I am not feeling too well to be honest." She answered quietly, searching for the words to describe the pain which pierced her heart.
She handed him the letter from her girlfriend. "My family and my home is gone so..." She shrugged her shoulders, wincing against the pain. Her throat clenched as tears threatened to pour down once again. "I've been better." She eventually managed to force out, trying to keep the tiers suppressed. For the moment she managed to succeed but they relentlessly pressed against her will.

She turned and picked up the picture which came with the letter, staring into the picture with a grim intensity. Silva could imagine all to well the chaos of the fall of her home planet. The lives of so many given up in its defence... All wasted as it ultimately fell. Perhaps if the Uprising never occurred the New Paris Militia Division would have been able to effectively defend their planet from the alien invaders.
She doubted it as the militia proved incapable of restoring order or crushing the Innies who were responsible for heavy losses and the destruction of significant resources and assets.

"It is just hard to accept that they are all gone... That it is all gone." She whispered, able to feel a tiny fragment of joy that her other half managed to survive the destruction of New Paris. Silva joined up to defend the planet, to defend her home. To such end she now believed she had failed as the Covenant attacked whilst she was away.
Like the old Earth history classes were the soldiers attacked the tribe while the Braves were away from the camp.

The New Parisian fell silent continuing to stare at the picture wrapped in her memories. After a minute she put the picture back, trying her best to not let herself feel too wretched. After all she could hardly be held responsible for the fate of her home, despite this she believed she was responsible for its horrific fate.
After all she joined up to defend it. Now, New Paris was gone. Humanity would need to return to the world eventually. Somehow, someday they would go back.

[Gray, L.]

Louise Gray groaned as she woke up slowly. As she pulled herself together, she could hear the low buzz of conversation in the room where she was recovering. Sitting up slowly, she looked up to see her brother and her best friend in the room and that could only mean one thing...the battle was over. "What happened? Did we win?..Is Silva okay? What about our leader?" She said softly unsure as to whether she actually wanted to know or hear the outcome.

Lawrence and Corporal Gray glanced at each other and then back at Louise, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "We won....but....the planet was glassed in the end. I'm not sure about Silva yet either, you are the first one we came to check on. Oh and Corporal Stringer is fine" Lawrence said quietly her voice shaking a little as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Jake Gray smiled very briefly as he looked at his sister, the worry about the possibility of losing his remaining sibling evident on his face.

Gray looked stunned for a moment as she heard the news and then sighed softly. She looked at them and then smiled briefly. "I'm glad both of you are okay, Corporal Stringer too." She said softly, just the door to her sickbay opened and in walked Lieutenant Durant. At the sight of him, both Lawrence and Corporal Gray snapped to attention and saluted as did Gray as best she could from her hospital bed.

When he bid them to be at ease, all three of them quickly did so. The Lieutenant asked Gray if she was okay and the docs were treating her right. She turned her head to look at him, a dressing over the now stitched wound on her forehead above her left eye. Her face was visibly bruised, the bruising extended from under the dressing, all around her left eye and down to the top of her cheek. In all honestly the girl looked like she had been in a boxing match or something, however though she was still attached to a few monitors, she was healing nicely and the docs had said that pending one final check up, she would be able to be discharged to finish recovering in her quarters later that day.

"I'm alive, so I am all good sir. My head is still a bit sore but the docs have treated me well sir and with a bit of luck I will be allowed to leave later today, pending my last check up sir." Gray said with a brief smile as she relaxed a little bit.

[Durant, M.]

"I'm alright, sir."

Durant smiled warmly as Gray spoke. It was always uplifting to hear one of his wounded Marines were recovering nicely, and was pleasantly surprised to hear she might be returning to duty by the end of the day. He hadn't expected such a quick recovery time.

"That's outstanding," he said, smiling. "I'm sure your presence is sorely missed in your team. Having you back in action will uplift the spirits of your team, I'm sure."

A thought occurred to him, and he stepped forward towards the bed, the smile ever present on his face. "I will be recommending you for the Purple Heart and the Combat Action Ribbon. I don't believe anyone would argue you qualify for both, and that you deserve them. I will be submitting the paperwork this afternoon."

He turned and looked at Gray's brother and Private Lawrence. After all that had happened, he imagined they wanted time to catch up and talk. While he did not see his presence as an intrusion, he understood most people felt uncomfortable being personable with others in the presence of an officer. Michael looked back at Gray. "Anyway, PFC, I best be going. I have much to do and very little time to get it done. I hope things go well with your check up."

With that, he turned, and left the room.

((OOC: Not one of my best posts, but I was having pretty bad writer's block.))

[Stringer, K.]

Stringer saw Silva sit up when he came in, not wanting to tell the marine not to do so for her own good. He's been in the hospital before, and its nerve racking to just lay in a bed for hours on end when you aren't sleeping.

"I am not feeling too well to be honest. My family and my home is gone so... I've been better." When Silva handed Stringer the letter, he began to read it. How first off that Silva was dating a woman from her home planet, which was something he didn't see every day. He knew a few women who preferred members of the same sex when it came to dating, but he didn't expect one of his fireteam members to be the type. None the less, Stringer wasn't bothered by the fact. If anything, Stringer hoped it would be the reason she fought so hard. As for what he read next, it didn't come to him as a surprise, but he did hate that it happened to Silva. Finding out that your home and your family is gone can be one of the hardest things to deal with. Stringer still remembers the news of his father being killed by the Covenant, and then his mother committing suicide. It was the hardest time of his life. Stringer handed Silva back the letter and looked at the marine.


"It is just hard to accept that they are all gone... That it is all gone." Stringer stepped over and placed his hand on her shoulder, nodding once to her.

"I am sorry for your loss, Silva. Losing family is always hard, let alone the planet you grew up on. I myself lost my father to this horrible war. He died in combat, and my mother couldn't bare the loss." Stringer lowered his hand, looking at the marine.

"If you need anything, you let me know Silva. I look after my marines. We gave the Covenant hell though, and we will continue to do so. I know you will want revenge, but you rest for now. I'm gonna need you in tip top shape before we go kick their collective asses. Alright marine?" Stringer waited for Silva's response before nodding, then looking at McMillan and patting the Corpsman's shoulder.

"Again, good job down their doc. Keep me informed of my marines' statuses. I'm about to go check on Gray one more time. She was asleep, but she may be awake by now. I want to make sure before I go back to the barracks." Stringer turned and walked out the door, back into the corridor. That's when he turned and saw Lieutenant Durant, and snapped to attention and saluted.

"Lieutenant Durant, Sir!"

[Durant, M.]

Durant stepped out into the hallway of the recovery ward. He started to head to the next room, intent on checking on all his wounded Marines before returning to the berths, when he heard the snik of a door opening. Michael looked up to see the likes of Corporal Stringer exiting room eighteen. The Corporal turned, spotted him, and snapped to attention.

The Lieutenant sighed inwardly. Sometimes being an officer was a tiresome affair. He couldn't imagine what garrison life would be like when they finally returned to Reach. "As you were, Corporal," he said, returning the salute.

An awkward silence fell between them as Durant debated whether to engage the young NCO in conversation. Technically the CO had granted the entire unit the day off, and it was a reprieve that he thought the company was well deserving of, but Durant hated being idle. He enjoyed being productive; feeling that there was some task to accomplish or obstacle to overcome. When that was missing, he felt lost, lazy, and unproductive.

Michael shrugged. A little light conversation wouldn't hurt. "How are you, Corporal? Liking Oscar Company so far?"