Chapter 5: The Man behind him
1157 Words
Chapter Five
The psychiatric wing had finally settled into silence.
Hours had passed since the incident in Room 36, yet Fiona couldn't stop thinking about it.
The fear in Grey's eyes.
The panic.
The way he'd looked around the room as if ghosts were standing in every corner.
After reviewing several patient charts, she eventually set her pen down and rubbed her tired eyes.
A nurse appeared at her office door.
"Doctor?"
Fiona looked up.
"The lieutenant's arm dressings need changing."
Fiona nodded.
"I'll handle it."
The nurse seemed surprised.
"You will?"
"Yes."
The nurse left.
A few minutes later, Fiona grabbed a fresh dressing kit and headed toward Room 36.
The hallway was quiet.
Most patients were asleep.
Only the distant hum of hospital machinery broke the silence.
When she reached Room 36, she knocked lightly.
No response.
She opened the door.
Grey sat on the edge of his bed.
Awake.
The room had been cleaned after the earlier episode.
The broken glass was gone.
The overturned furniture had been replaced.
Only the bandages and scratches remained as evidence of what had happened.
His gaze shifted toward her.
"Doctor."
"Lieutenant."
The formal exchange almost made her smile.
Almost.
She closed the door behind her.
"I'm here to check your wounds."
"They're fine."
"That's not your medical opinion to make."
One corner of his mouth twitched.
Not quite a smile.
Not quite annoyance.
Something in between.
Fiona pulled a chair closer.
"Arm."
For a moment he simply stared at her.
Then he rolled up his sleeve.
Fresh scratches ran along his forearm.
Fiona carefully removed the old dressing.
The skin underneath was red and irritated.
She reached for antiseptic.
"This might sting."
Grey watched her.
"I've had worse."
Fiona began cleaning the wound.
"I don't doubt that."
His eyes lifted briefly.
Their gazes met.
Something unreadable passed between them.
Not hostility.
Not trust.
Something quieter.
The beginning of mutual respect.
Fiona finished cleaning the deeper scratches and applied fresh medication.
As she worked, she noticed older scars scattered along his arm.
Some faded.
Some barely visible.
None accidental.
Military life left marks.
Some visible.
Some not.
She wrapped the final bandage around his arm and secured it.
"There."
Grey glanced down.
The room fell silent again.
Eventually he spoke.
"You shouldn't have come in."
Fiona looked up.
"When?"
"Earlier."
His jaw tightened.
"When I lost control."
For a moment she simply stared at him.
Then she leaned back in her chair.
"I wasn't going to leave you alone."
A bitter laugh escaped him.
Short.
Humorless.
"That's what most people do."
The words landed heavily between them.
Fiona studied him.
For the first time, she wasn't looking at a patient.
She was looking at a man who had spent years convincing himself that everyone eventually walked away.
She stood.
"I'm not most people."
Grey looked away immediately.
As if he didn't quite know what to do with that answer.
Fiona gathered her supplies.
"I'll check on you later."
He nodded once.
Nothing more.
Yet somehow it felt like progress.
---
Back in her office, Fiona closed the door and headed straight for the coffee machine.
She needed caffeine.
And answers.
The machine hissed as dark coffee filled her mug.
A moment later she sat behind her desk and pulled Grey's file toward her.
Lieutenant Colonel Kieran Grey Ashford.
British Army.
Decorated officer.
Exceptional service record.
She flipped through page after page.
Commendations.
Promotions.
Letters of recommendation.
Every report painted the picture of an outstanding soldier.
Then she reached the restricted section.
Her eyebrows pulled together.
Entire pages had been redacted.
Black bars covered names.
Locations.
Operations.
Dates.
Nearly everything important had been removed.
She turned another page.
And another.
Still nothing.
The deeper she dug, the stranger it became.
Then she found a psychological report.
Her expression darkened.
Sleep disturbances.
Recurring nightmares.
Severe anxiety responses.
Hypervigilance.
Trauma-related episodes.
Recommended psychiatric treatment.
Her stomach tightened.
The report was dated shortly after a classified mission.
A mission whose details no longer existed inside the file.
Or at least not for her to see.
She leaned back slowly.
What happened to you?
The question lingered in her mind long after she closed the file.
---
Nearly an hour later, Fiona finally decided to leave.
She gathered her things and headed toward the exit.
Then she stopped.
Room 36 sat at the far end of the corridor.
For some reason, she found herself turning toward it instead.
Just one last check.
Then she'd go home.
The hallway was dark and quiet.
When she reached the observation window, she glanced inside.
Grey appeared asleep.
The blanket rose and fell steadily.
Fiona relaxed.
Good.
Maybe tonight he'd finally get some rest.
Then she heard it.
A whisper.
Faint.
Barely audible.
She frowned.
The whisper came again.
"No..."
Another pause.
Then—
"Lisa..."
Fiona froze.
The name was soft.
Broken.
Filled with pain.
She slowly opened the door.
Grey remained asleep.
But his expression had tightened.
His breathing quickened.
His hands clenched the sheets.
"Lisa..."
The name came again.
Then another.
"Mum..."
A pause.
Darkness seemed to settle over his features.
"No..."
His head shifted restlessly.
"They said..."
The rest faded into an unintelligible murmur.
Fragments.
Pieces of memories.
Pieces of guilt.
Whatever nightmare held him captive, it wasn't letting go.
Fiona quietly stepped closer.
"Kieran."
No response.
"Kieran."
His breathing became heavier.
"Lisa..."
Then suddenly—
His eyes snapped open.
For several seconds he looked completely lost.
His chest rose rapidly.
His gaze darted around the room.
The walls.
The door.
The window.
The shadows.
Then finally—
He saw her.
Standing beside the bed.
Watching.
Waiting.
Not judging.
Just there.
Slowly, reality returned.
The nightmare faded.
The hospital room came back into focus.
His breathing steadied.
Fiona folded her arms.
"Bad dream?"
To her surprise, he didn't tell her to leave.
Didn't shut down.
Didn't retreat behind that cold military mask.
Instead he looked away.
"Something like that."
The answer was quiet.
Honest.
Fiona pulled the chair closer and sat.
For several moments neither spoke.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable.
Just tired.
Eventually she broke it.
"Who was Lisa?"
Instantly his expression changed.
The openness vanished.
The walls rose again.
Higher this time.
Stronger.
His jaw tightened.
"Nobody."
Fiona didn't believe him.
But she let it go.
For now.
Instead she asked another question.
The question that had been haunting her all evening.
"What happened on that mission?"
The reaction was immediate.
Every trace of vulnerability disappeared.
Grey's face became unreadable.
Cold.
Controlled.
Guarded.
The officer was back.
He stared at the darkness beyond the window for a long moment.
Then finally spoke.
His voice low.
Dangerously calm.
"You don't want the answer to that question, Doc."
Fiona held his gaze.
But something told her otherwise.
Because whatever answer he was hiding...
It was the very thing that was destroying him.
And she had a feeling she was only beginning to uncover the truth.
- Writer
