Reeves did not react.
She controlled her breathing.
In for four counts.
Hold for four.
Out for four.
It was a technique she had learned long ago for managing stress and remaining present.
Sarah Mitchell occupied a bunk two spaces away.
She watched Reeves through the weak light entering from the windows.
The recruit’s body was perfectly still, but it was not the relaxed stillness of sleep.
It was the controlled alertness of someone standing watch.
Sarah had seen the same posture in trauma patients who could not completely relax even inside safe environments.
The body remembered danger long after the mind tried to forget.
“Are you all right?” Sarah whispered quietly enough that only Reeves could hear.
There was a pause.
“I am fine.”
“I do not know your story, and I am not asking you to tell me.”
Sarah shifted onto one elbow.
“But if you ever need somebody to speak with, I am here. I worked as an EMT. I have seen a great deal.”
Reeves turned her head slightly.
“Thank you. I am good.”
Sarah nodded and allowed the conversation to end.
She remembered the interaction.
Sometimes people needed help before they knew how to request it.
Across the base inside the men’s barracks, Marcus also remained awake.
His conscience, which he had successfully ignored during the confrontation, began troubling him.
His father had taught him better.
Colonel Caldwell had always emphasized discipline, respect, and treating fellow soldiers as brothers and sisters regardless of their circumstances.
Marcus had ignored all of it.
He had been performing for an audience, establishing his place inside the social hierarchy of training.