Chapter 25: Victory and Loss
Slowly rising in the morning, the sun cast long shadows across the battlefield that had been their long home. The once-vibrant base has turned into a somber space, echoing the noises of the just-finished conflict. Burning and blood hung in the air mixed with the smell of the earth turned by the continuous conflict. Though not one of them could totally enjoy it, it was a victory.
Jax Ryker stood at the base's edge, staring far out toward the horizon where the adversaries had withdrew. Still dirty and blood-stained, his fists were held at his sides. Once guiding him through the fight, the Echo of Eternity now lurked silently in his brain. The pulse of its impact had dissipated, leaving him to pay for his choices by himself.
Before him lay the cost of their triumph: the bodies of his dead friends stacked in handcrafted shrouds. Others had joined along the road; some had been with them from the start. Though everyone had struggled hard, suddenly they were gone, leaving a void not words could fill.
Unable to absorb it any longer, he turned away from the spectacle. The dead tormented him, each face serving as a reminder of his command authority. He had guided them to war and rendered decisions about their futures, and now he had to pay for it.
The survivors trudged in a sad silence behind him. Their combat captain, Victor, was organizing the troops, still able for mobility. Though Jax could see the weariness in his eyes and the weight of their losses, his countenance wore a mask of stoicism.
Alina, the healer, was tending to their wounds while in the middle of the injured—her hands firm. Her usually cool demeanor was strained, and while she tried to save those who may be spared, her attention was relentless. Quickly arranged in the safest part of the building, the infirmary was packed with injured people's cries, and the air smelled strongly of antiseptic and blood.
Jax went slowly to the infirmary, his steps weighted with fatigue. Every step more difficult than the previous, he felt the weight of the conflict press down on him. His ideas were a mess of opposing feelings: elation at surviving, guilt over the lives lost, and growing future foreboding.
He was approaching the hospital when he saw Alina kneeling before a wounded combatant, her hands glistening slightly as she managed the meager medical supplies. Her face was pale, and the black circles under her eyes exposed her fatigue; still, she did not stop or even pause. She was the rock they all turned to, the one who kept them going as all else fell apart.
Jax glanced at her for a moment; the sight was horrible yet somehow comforting. He came to see the great sacrifice she had made as well as the ongoing giving she did without ever anticipating anything in return. These were the times he experienced the real weight of leadership: that he controlled others' lives and that he carried serious responsibility.
Alina turned to see him. Her eyes locked with his, and for a split second, the surroundings seemed to fade. She felt something inside her tighten, the heaviness in his stance and the weariness in his features. She had seen this before—his quiet, determined will to bear the weight of the world on his shoulders alone.
She said softly, "Jax," finished with the injured warrior, and then stood up. She walked steadily toward him, never turning away her eyes. "You have to rest."
He shook his head, jaw set. "There isn't time for that." We have to get ready for the forthcoming attack. This was merely the start.
She reached out and rested a hand on his arm, halting his stride. Look about you, "Jax. "Everybody is tired. People have disappeared from our lives. Like you, the fighters need time to heal.
He looked back at her, then momentarily felt driven to object, telling her he couldn't afford to relax and that too much was at risk. But the words died in his throat as he saw the concern in her eyes, the unsaid request for him to stop, just for a bit, and let someone else take the weight.
"I can't," he murmured softly, his voice raspy. "I am the one that has to keep us moving. If I stop, everything will fall apart."
Alina shook her head, then tightened her hold on his arm. "No, Jax." You are not alone in this. We all occupy this together. You cannot and never should try to achieve everything on your own. Let's assist you. Trust us to share part of the load.
Her remarks resonated with him profoundly, reflecting a fact he had tried to reject. He had neglected to look after himself, so he focused on being the leader and on seeing to it that everyone else was taken care of. He had forgotten that rather than bearing the weight alone, leadership was about distributing it to those who backed him.
Tiredness almost overcame him for a moment. His responsibilities weighed him, and he was under constant pressure to make the right decisions and keep everyone safe. Alina, on the other hand, saw hope, faith, and a reminder that he didn't have to do this alone.
"Alina, I...," His speech stammered, then he turned away, unable to find the words.
She stretched up and softly turned his face back toward her. "We trust you, Jax. You have to trust us, though as well. We are stronger together. This far we made it since we cooperated. "Remember that."
He looked at her, actually looked at her, and for the first time in what felt like days, let himself breathe. She was right. Their survival had come from standing, battling, and bleeding together. He was not alone himself; he did not have to be.
"Thank you," he said softly, his words weighty.
Alina grinned, a lovely, weathered smile that provided more solace than words could. "Get some rest, Jax. We'll take care of things for now."
He nodded, at last allowing himself to step back and release the continual observation, even if only momentarily. Alina watched him as he turned to go; her heart weighed heavily but yet felt strongly of belonging. She understood the war was not quite finished. She was, yet, also sure they would face it together as they had always done.
Away from the clamor and turmoil, Jax walked to a quiet section of the compound. He leaned back against the chilly stone wall and sank to the floor. He sat there for a minute, his body pulsing from exhaustion and his thoughts blank. A quiet hum in the rear of his consciousness, the Echo of Eternity was no more pressuring him; rather, it was a gentle reminder that it was still there, watching over him.
Closing his eyes, he went into a light sleep. Though not quite restful, it was sufficient to reduce his fatigue and provide him the will to push on.
The sounds of the base shrank with time, and the survivors sank into a disturbing stillness. Those who could still fight were watching the horizon for any indication of the next attack; the wounded were under treatment; the dead were ready for burial.
The sun had risen higher in the sky, bathing the base in a warm glow when Jax finally opened his eyes. Though he felt somewhat better, the weight of his responsibilities felt to him as like a physical force. But there was also clarity, a realization that had been building in the rear of his mind over time.
He should start depending more on his colleagues. Not only in fights but in everything. Though not flawless, the Echo of Eternity was a fantastic instrument. He needed the people around him—their viewpoints, strengths, and expertise. He neither wanted to nor could accomplish it by himself.
Rising to his feet, Jax headed back to the infirmery. Alina stayed on tending to the last of the injured. She turned to face him as he came in, and her face softened.
"Feeling better?!" She asked in a pleasant voice.
Rushing his hand through his hair, he muttered, "A little." Still, there is much to do.
"There always will be," she said patiently and then walked over to him. "You are not obliged to do everything at once, though. And you are not alone going to do this.
He nodded and inhaled long ago. "I understand. And I'm going to start paying attention to that counsel. I'm sorry for not starting earlier.
Alina shook her head, then grinned once more. "Apologizing is not necessary. Remember, everyone of us is in this together.
Jax smiled back, a small, tired one but real. "I'll." And Alina, thanks. 'For everything.'"
Sensing the intensity of his gratitude without hearing the words, she nodded. "Jax, we have your back here. Always.
Jax turned and left the infirmary with fresh intent. He realized he wasn't alone, even if there was still a lot to do and many obstacles to overcome. In this cruel new environment, he lived with family, friends, and his team. They would confront whatever was ahead together.
Jax felt a quiet resolve sweep over him as he meandered about the facility, making sure everything was as safe as it could be, and checked in with the warriors. Though the combat was not finished, the battle had been won. They would go through more hardships and losses together. That was ultimately what most counted.
Though the worst could yet strike, Jax felt ready to meet it—first in a long time. He was not by himself; he was surrounded by individuals he trusted. They would negotiate the future together, whatever it included.
Jax came to see that was their strongest ability.