"Damn civilians." Her stuff is everywhere again. I can't stand the disorder and straighten up before hopping in for a quick, hot shower.
When I emerge, she's seated on the edge of her bed, concentrating hard on wrapping her right wrist with her non-dominant hand. It's instinctive for me to help out younger Marines or distressed civilians. Tossing my t-shirt on the bed, I automatically cross to her side of the room and kneel in front of her.
"Did you ice it?" I ask, taking her wrist in one hand and the bandage in the other.
"Yeah."
Her smooth, toned legs are on either side of me, and she's in a long-sleeved t-shirt again, as if I hadn't already seen the scars on her back.
I unwrap her wrist and start over. "You want to alternate so it creates more stability," I explain and slowly begin wrapping.
She's unusually quiet.
I glance up at her face and pause. Her eyes are rimmed with red. Her wet hair is in a braid down her back, her gorgeous hazel gaze on her wrist.
"Does it hurt?" I ask.
"A little."
"What's wrong?" Too late, I debated whether or not I should ask.
She shrugs.
I hate that response, little less than the none of your business answer she gives me. Choosing to ignore it and the stir of my blood at being so close to her, I focus on wrapping her wrist.
"Jenna's fine," I say.
"The medic called to tell me. I'm glad." She sighs.
"Is that what's bothering you?"
"Does it matter?"
The testy answer is confirmation. For once, I'm not in the mood for a fight. "You did good today, Katya."
"No, I didn't! It's my fault she fell." Her voice trembles.
"You saved her."
She tries to yank her arm away. I keep it tight.
"Sometimes shit happens, even if you do everything right," I say firmly. "You can't always control all the circumstances. You go off your best judgment and then make a call."
She's silent.
Another look at her face stops me once more. Katya is the worst person I've ever met at hiding emotions, and those swimming in her gaze are more intense than usual. She's gazing at me a little too openly for my comfort. Petr's shared insight has me thinking I know why she's looking at me this way, like she's both waiting for more and uncertain she wants me to continue.
"Sometimes even if you're ninety nine percent certain of an outcome, something else happens," I add. "You do what you did today: react as intelligently as you can. But it's not your fault she fell, Katya." Those words are the hardest to say, because I feel responsible for the decision that cost Mikael his life.