Come Here Kid

Marcus is in the doorway. Two guards behind him. They've seen everything.

"Sir." Marcus moves toward Hugh, pulling a cloth from his pocket. "You're bleeding. We need to—"

"I'm fine." Hugh waves him off. Presses his own hand to the cut on his neck. It's shallow. Superficial. "I'm fine, Marcus."

"He attacked you. We need to take him to—"

"No."

The word cuts through the room. Final. Absolute.

Marcus stops. The guards stop. Everyone looks at Hugh.

He's still standing where I left him. Back against the wall, blood seeping between his fingers. But he's not looking at Marcus. He's looking at me.

At the wreckage on the floor.

"Everyone out," Hugh says quietly. "Except Jamie and Zoe."

"Sir, I can't advise—"

"Marcus." Hugh's voice doesn't rise, but something in it makes Marcus step back. "Please."

A long moment. Then Marcus nods. Gestures to the guards. They withdraw, closing the door behind them.

Silence.

I'm still on my knees. Zoe's still holding me. Hugh's still bleeding.

And then he does something I don't expect.

He crosses the room. Slowly. Each step deliberate. He crouches down in front of me, bringing himself to my level.

His eyes meet mine.

"Jamie."

I can't speak. Can't look away. The man I just tried to kill is kneeling in front of me, and there's no anger in his face. No fear. Just something that looks terrifyingly like understanding.

"Look at your hands." His voice is quiet but not soft. "Shaking. Because you've spent eight months trying to survive out there, and now you don't know how to stop." He pauses. "You think you're the only one here who's done things they can't stomach? I've got three hundred people in this castle. Most of them have blood on their hands too."

He should hate me. He should be calling for the guards.

"I should have seen it sooner," Hugh continues. "Should have recognized the signs. Should have done more to help you feel safe here." He shakes his head. "That's on me. Not you."

"I almost killed you." My voice is barely a whisper. "I had the knife at your throat. I was going to—"

"But you didn't."

"Because Zoe—"

"Because you didn't want to." Hugh reaches out. His hand rests on my shoulder. "You did what you had to do. Out here, that's what everyone's done. Now sit down before you fall down."

Something cracks inside me. Not clean, like before. Messy. Jagged. All the walls I've built coming down at once.

"You don't understand." The words come out broken, barely coherent. "You don't know what I am. What I've seen."

"Then tell me."

And I do.

It pours out of me. All of it. The thing I've never told anyone, not even Zoe. The weight I've been carrying since before the frost, since before the cabin, since before any of this.

"There was a man in my unit. His name was Liam." I can barely get the words out. "He was... he was just like me. Regular soldier. Nothing special. But steady. Calm. The kind of person you wanted beside you when everything went wrong."

Zoe's hand tightens on my back. She's never heard this. I never told her.

"We were activated together. Disaster relief that turned into occupation. Glasgow, after the power went out." I close my eyes, but the images are still there. Always there. "There was a riot at a rationing point. Hundreds of people, desperate, hungry. They rushed the barriers."

Hugh doesn't speak. Just listens.

"They put us on the firing line. Liam and me, shoulder to shoulder." My voice cracks. "The order came down: fire into the crowd."

The room is very quiet. Just my ragged breathing and the distant sounds of the castle.

"Liam followed orders. Did exactly what he was trained to do. Fired center mass, just like they taught us." I can barely get the words out. "He killed five people. Unarmed. Hungry. Just trying to get food for their families."

I force myself to continue. The part I've never told anyone.

"I was right next to him. Same line. Same order." My voice drops to barely a whisper. "I fired over their heads. I disobeyed."

"He saw me do it. Afterwards, he found me. Said—" I choke on it. "Said 'You fired over their heads. I saw you. You're better than me.'"

The room is very quiet. Just my ragged breathing and the distant sounds of the castle.

"But I wasn't better. I was just lucky. Lucky I hesitated. Lucky my instinct was wrong instead of right." I open my eyes. Hugh's face is blurred through tears. "And Liam couldn't live with what that meant about himself."

After that, he changed. Not all at once. Slowly. Like watching someone fade. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Kept going over it, again and again, trying to figure out what he could have done differently. They sent him to talk to the chaplain. Some vicar who'd never held a rifle in his life. Told him it wasn't his fault. But he couldn't hear it. Couldn't believe it.

"Jamie." Zoe's voice, soft. Broken. "You never—"

"I found him." The words are barely audible. "Six weeks after we got back. In his flat. He'd used his service pistol." I'm shaking now, the whole story ripping out of me like something alive. "He left a note. Said he couldn't live with what he'd become. Said the killing had hollowed him out and there was nothing left."

Hugh's hand is still on my shoulder. Anchor. Lifeline.

"That's why I left the army. Why I couldn't stay. I saw what the killing did to him, the weight of it. And I swore I'd never let that happen to me." A sob tears through me. "And then the frost came. And the pagans took Zoe. And I killed nine people in that clearing and I didn't feel anything. Nothing. Just like Liam at the end. Just like—"

I can't finish. Can't breathe. The words dissolve into something raw and animal, grief that's been locked away for years finally breaking free.

"I'm becoming him." I'm choking on it. "I'm becoming what destroyed him. And I can't stop it. I don't know how to stop it."

Hugh pulls me into his arms.

"Come here, kid. Come here."

I break completely.

Everything I've been holding in pours out. I'm crying into the shoulder of a man I just tried to kill, and he's holding me like I'm his own son.

Zoe wraps herself around both of us, her tears mixing with mine. And for the first time since Liam, since the clearing, since the nine bodies in the snow, I'm not alone with what I've done.

I don't know how long we stay like that. Long enough for the candle to burn low. Long enough for my sobs to fade into shudders, then into silence.

Finally, Hugh pulls back. His face is wet too. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, not embarrassed, not hiding it.

"Your friend." Hugh's voice is rough. "He was alone with it. That's the difference. You're not." He wipes his face again. "Look, I'm not going to pretend I know what you went through out there. But I know what it looks like when someone's drowning. And I'm not going to just watch."

"I don't know how to come back from this."

"You don't have to figure it out tonight." Hugh grips my shoulders. "Right now you need sleep. Real sleep. The rest of it can wait."

"The cells—"

"Not the cells." Hugh almost smiles. "A bed. With Zoe, if she's willing. And tomorrow, we'll start figuring out how to put you back together."

I look at Zoe. Her face is streaked with tears, but there's something else there now. Something that looks like understanding.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says. "I should have—" Her voice breaks. "I should have seen it. Should have known something was wrong beyond just the paranoia. I'm sorry I didn't listen."

"You couldn't have known." I can barely get the words out. "I never told anyone. Not even you."

"You're telling us now." She takes my hand. Holds it tight. "That's what matters."

Hugh stands. Extends a hand. Helps me to my feet.

"One day at a time," he says. Then, quieter: "Your friend gave up. You didn't. That's what matters."

I don't have words for what I'm feeling. I'm too tired to name it.

But for the first time in months, the weight feels slightly lighter. Still there. But shared.