“There’s someone you haven’t mentioned yet,
Commander. Someone who, unless I’m mistaken, has
played a significant role in your life these past eleven years.
The newsfeeds have varying opinions on your relationship,
and the nursing staff yet another – I was hoping that you
could help me understand it better. Certainly you have let
this person closer to you than anyone else, even Conner
Tripp.”
Up remained silent throughout this speech, gripping the
armrests of his chair very tightly.
“Tell me about Lieutenant Taz.”
Up stared at the psychiatrist for a long moment, then got
up and walked out the door.
Beatriz waited for Don Martin behind a black veil.
When he saw the veil, matted with drops of blood and
clinging flesh, he dropped to his knees before her and
pulled it carefully away. Where there had once been eyes
were blackened holes, her cheeks open craters. Kissable
lips had become nothing but a horrid, gaping grin.
“My love,” he whispered. “What have you done?”
She could not speak.
“Beatriz,” he said, “It is not for your beauty that I love
you.”
Tears fell from her monstrous face.
“Only this morning I asked your father for your hand,”
Don Martin said, tears shining on his own. “And my
intentions have not changed. Beatriz de Velasco, will you
have me for your husband?”
He knew what she was going to say when she came to
his door that night, dressed not in sweats but a full Ranger’s
uniform, swinging her hands together nervously, like she
did before a fight.