4338.206 · July 25, 2018 AD
Permission to Stop Fighting
The surgery is over but the silence that follows is its own ordeal. Jamie lies in the tent with a woman he's insulted and a wound that won't let him forget its presence, waiting for Luke to return with supplies. When the medication finally arrives, surrendering to it feels less like defeat and more like wisdom.
Some surrenders are victories in disguise.
Jamie can't escape Glenda's presence. Can't apologise for his hostility. Can't do anything except lie on the mattress and catalogue his failures while she organises supplies at the other end of the tent. The silence stretches between them—thick, uncomfortable, a ceasefire rather than actual peace.
When Luke returns with medication, the relief is almost spiritual. The needle slides home. Warmth spreads through veins that have known nothing but fire for days. The pain doesn't disappear—it simply turns down, becomes ignorable, releases its death grip on his consciousness.
For the first time since arriving in Clivilius, Jamie doesn't fight the darkness. He chooses it. Lets go of the need to stay vigilant, to perform strength, to resist help from people he's pushed away. Duke's weight against his leg. The murmur of voices growing distant.
Not defeat. Just the first smart decision he's made in days.
