The next day had brought her back to the hospital, which was filled with soldiers wounded from an airstrike on a troop transport. Sasha had spent nine hours without a break, helping Dr. Brandt cut clothing off of horribly burned young men. She’d applied slick gummy burn dressings and changed IV drips of painkillers.

The day was long, bloody, and brutal. Four men died in front of her eyes and there was no time to really think about it. She knew she should have been more horrified at what she was seeing, but the exposed organs and burnt, shriveled limbs didn’t feel like parts of people. Even the screams felt more like road hazards, or bad weather, than damaged pieces of human beings. They were obstacles to be dealt with. She and Dr. Brandt dealt with them well.

A still, small voice in the back of her mind recoiled in horror at the sheer volume of human misery she saw that day. But that voice was quieter than it had been on other days. And it grew quieter as the day went on and the death toll mounted. Sasha had read about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder back in school. She understood the mechanics of it, that people tended to cope with terrifying situations by suppressing their fear. But this didn’t feel like that. It felt like she was just doing her job. And she enjoyed her job.

Before she knew it, ten hours had gone by and Dr. Brandt demanded she find a ride back to the House of Miriam and get some rest. That was the first time in the entire day when Sasha felt truly scared. It started in her chest. Her heart fluttered faster and faster until the flutter turned to a pounding so loud it felt like someone was smashing a hammer on the inner walls of her cranium. She pressed her back hard into the seat of the jeep and hoped her growing panic wasn’t obvious to the driver.

He dropped her off on the other side of the square again. She didn’t see Alexander or his comrades near the House of Miriam this time, but she knew that didn’t mean they weren’t watching the place. She had plans to meet Emmanuel again, anyway. Sasha half-expected him to have moved on since she’d been so late. But he was there, standing out in front of the Cafe Clement when she arrived.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said. He shrugged in response.

“I just got here myself. They dismissed us late. We had a special lecture before dinner, about– ah…” His face grew red and he trailed off.

“About what?” she poked.

“Maybe let’s just sit down first, eh?”

So they found a seat and ordered their coffee. Manny tried to change the subject by asking Sasha about her day. But she was curious about his reaction and would not be dissuaded.