Chapter Text
-.. .- -.-- / ---.. .....
“We have a lot to cover, so let’s jump right in, shall we?”
Fade, Viper, and Brimstone sat in the wardroom with a digital representation of land intelligence one last time. The drills had concluded, and any more work on the new software or acoustic models would be continued on land.
“Petty Officer First Class Eyletmez, I am… impressed. You executed the drills well under the guidance of Commander Callas. While we will need ample more testing, your contributions give us great momentum to further our endeavors with this new sonar technology. Anomaly classification improved by twelve percent. Sonar technician proficiency remains a limiting variable, but that will be improved upon with time and advancement of the prototype. The bugs reported have been replicated and identified, and they are actively being resolved. Petty Officer, you will continue to aid in the advancement of this technology, and your name is on the list for leadership opportunities if this evolves into a program itself. More information will be given once you return from your rotation."
Viper didn’t look over, but she could sense Fade swallowing beside her. She touched her boot against Fade’s, and she clasped her hands together in her lap.
“As for you, Commander Callas-”
She stiffened at the change in direction. Not in surprise, but habit.
“Your ability to maintain operational clarity throughout everything this rotation has thrown at you has been flagged for strategic placement. That level of composure is rare at your rank. You were already right on track, but consider yourself expedited. We will discuss placements as soon as your post-deployment processes have concluded.”
She didn’t blink. She didn’t smile. Just a single, sharp nod that looked rehearsed. Her boot shifted.
Fade looked over at the loss of contact, and in that moment she understood. For the first time since the beginning of the deployment, she didn’t see Sabine. She saw the officer that the Navy shaped her to become. The one who made survival look like leadership. The one who knew how to leave without saying goodbye.
Brim glanced over at Viper- not with pride, but with the resignation of someone who’d seen her shed a piece of herself before. He fed her the ladder, rung by rung. And for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he saw the woman he mentored or the officer he’d helped shape too well.
“You’ve earned it. Don’t you agree?” the intelligence officer inquired.
“I’ll proceed as directed.”
Her voice came out sharp and rehearsed, like she picked her response out of a handful of approved Naval responses from her back pocket.
For the first time in any of these meetings, the intelligence officer smiled. He dropped the documents on the table with a resounding thud.
“Captain Byrne, your leadership is as expected. Get our sailors home safe. I know that the two of you have a meeting shortly after this one, so I won’t keep you any longer. This meeting is dismissed.”
Nobody moved once the screen went black. Viper kept her eyes where the intelligence offer had been displayed. Fade turned her attention to the documents in hand- the lines turning into a blur. And Brim? He watched the commander.
Fade blinked twice, but the words didn’t get any clearer. Brim continued to wait for Sabine to come out, but she never did.
Suddenly, Fade pushed her chair back with a resounding screech.
She stood slowly, her fingers slid off the coffee mug- she always left it in Viper’s stateroom. Viper always returned it to the wardroom. Tonight, she left it to go cold.
One by one, she gathered her notes with calculated movements. She didn’t rush, nor did she hover too long. Fade left just enough time for either senior officer to stop her.
Neither did.
She forced the lump forming in her throat to go away, “I’ll leave you two to prepare for your next meeting.”
She kept her voice steady, but it didn’t feel like hers. Without another word or any acknowledgement from either officer, Fade took her leave.
Silence suffocated the room once the door clicked close.
“Sabine-”
“Not now.”
Viper clenched her jaw as she stood up. She moved towards the coffee station to brew another pot- anything to keep her hands busy.
Brim sighed as he rubbed his forehead. He eventually moved to display the presentation for the following meeting and grab the next set of documents. As he flipped through the folders, his fingers hovered over one in particular. He glanced up to see Viper tapping her fingers on the counter while watching the coffee drip.
He placed the meeting documents on the table and held onto the other. It was a singular page- an email.
“Her merit package went through.”
Viper flinched. Not enough for the Navy to have caught it, but enough that Brimstone did.
Her jaw clenched, and her fingers paused mid-tap. She poured her coffee and moved to sit in her seat, but she didn’t drink.
Brim looked at the door then back at Viper. He took a seat beside her, “Was that the plan?”
“Plans change,” she stated factually.
“It may not seem like it, but you still have some control, Sabine.”
“I know I have control, but not enough to stay.”
She gripped her mug tighter as she started into the dark liquid. Her voice wavered in only a way Brim could hear.
“There’s still time to learn. You don’t have to choose between her and the Navy.”
Sabine furrowed her eyebrows and minced her lips, “You never spoke of KJ like this.”
“You didn’t look at her like this,” Brim admitted, “I trained you how to lead. How to compartmentalize. How to survive.”
He sighed in defeat as he allowed himself to slouch in the chair, “But I didn’t teach you to stay.”
Viper pulled her mug imperceptibly closer.
“That’s on me,” he placed the single paper in front of her, “You’re going to have to unlearn a few things… if you want her to believe you’re worth returning to.”
A knock at the door, and the silence broke. Viper swiftly moved the page behind her other documents as Brim moved to sit at the other end of the table. Junior officers found their places at the table- some with quiet fatigue while others tried to hype themselves up for the home stretch.
“Everyone, welcome to the last five days. Today, we will discuss return protocols and what is to be expected during the first week back at port,” Brimstone’s commanding voice boomed throughout the room.
Viper picked up the meeting documents, but her fingers gripped the loose page in the back. As Brim spoke about the future, Viper replayed Fade’s exit on repeat.
-.. .- -.-- / ---.. -....
Hazal couldn’t sleep.
She stared at the bunk above her with her hands clasped over her chest as the night before replayed over and over in her head.
Strategic placement.
She wasn’t an officer, but she knew what it meant. And for the first time ever, reality came crashing down on Hazal. She knew she would have to fight for Sabine’s love. She had cracked through the commander’s armor twice before, and she was determined to do it over and over again. The soft smiles and words from the woman were more rewarding than any medal or title the Navy could give her. She planned to fight for it, but she forgot it wasn’t just the commander who’d get in their way.
The Navy was unforgiving in time and distance, and the meeting from yesterday reminded her of just that. Viper was fast-tracked to commanding entire fleets from an office across the country. She wouldn’t just be in charge of one ship, and Hazal would blend into the thousands of names on countless documents.
She realized she had not once ever asked Sabine her plans. Not for when they got off the ship, not for the next several years. Selfishly, Hazal assumed she would be inscribed into the commander’s future.
Yet when she looked over in that meeting, there wasn’t a piece of Sabine under the uniform. Just a gear in a well oiled machine ready to accept any challenge until it broke her.
Her eyes stung, but she wouldn’t cry. Careful not to wake her bunkmates, she turned onto her side and pulled out her sketchbook and pen from underneath her pillow. She pulled the curtain of her bunk to the side just enough to shine light onto an empty page.
She didn’t think- the pen had a mind of its own. Stroke by stroke, the page came to life. The only sounds that accompanied Hazal were the scrapes of her pen and the hum of the submarine. They intertwined with one another to slow Hazal’s beating heart.
Hazal adjusted the grip on her pen to start shading, but she froze when she finally looked at the sketch. There was a kitchen counter. Mugs scattered the sink haphazardly. Some sat upside down while others sat half filled. A few had ring stains capturing memories. And then there was a thermos that sat upright in the top-left corner of the drying rack. It wasn’t just any thermos- it was Sabine’s. Hazal had captured the dents without even realizing it.
Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled around the corner of the page. The paper crinkled underneath her fingertips as her eyes jumped around the sketch. She didn’t mean to draw this- she knew she couldn’t have it.
But she couldn’t let it go. She released the corner and smoothed out the page. Then, she carefully tore it out, folded it twice, and slid it in her locker.
Not long after, the scraping of curtains being drawn and yawns signaled the eight hours of expected rest had come to an end. The Navy didn’t offer time. It never did. Just the shuffle of boots and the reminder that her heart would never dictate her schedule.
Hazal told herself she’d ask tomorrow, even as she knew Sabine had already given herself to the Navy.
-.. .- -.-- / ---.. --...
We need to talk.
Those were the words that echoed in Sabine’s mind as she tried to review documents she needed to sign off on before the morning. At the end of her watch shift, Fade had passed by her and uttered those four words and walked out. She didn’t linger by the door, and she didn’t look back. Viper had stared at where the sonar tech disappeared for at least half a minute before Brim pulled her back into work by clearing his throat.
And now, she waited. Sabine knew what it was about- the intelligence meeting came with a harsh reality check that they couldn’t stay on this ship forever. She sat alone, tapping her pen against her desk at a rate that didn’t compete with her racing heart. She had given Sage some flimsy excuse that would keep her out of their stateroom for the next couple of hours. Something about organizing medical and inventory documents in the wardroom in preparation for docking. Sage easily read past it, but went without a word anyways.
Two raps on the door in quick succession, and Sabine’s pen and heart paused. She stood up halfway.
“It’s open,” Sabine closed her eyes as she willed her voice to not tremble. She didn’t know if she could face Hazal right now.
The door creaked open and locked shut with a quiet click, and only then did Sabine turn around. Hazal leaned against the back of the door, her arms crossed over her chest.
“So…” Hazal started, “What’s your plan?”
Sabine swallowed the lump in her throat. Her hands gripped the back of her chair as she spoke just above a whisper, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Hazal scoffed. She pushed herself off the door and walked past Sabine, their shoulders brushing. She took a seat on Sabine’s bed without invitation and shoved her hands in the front pocket of her hoodie.
“You’ve thought about it. You always do. So tell me. Am I in it?”
“I want you to be,” Sabine answered softly. She moved to sit beside Hazal, but left about half a foot between them. She gripped the end of her cot to ground herself as she watched Hazal’s side profile.
“Wrong answer,” Hazal hung her head. Before Sabine could question what she meant, she lifted her head to stare straight at her, “Your choices are: yes, I am, or no, I’m not. So which one is it?”
“That’s not fair.”
“There’s nothing fair about the Navy. Answer the question.”
Sabine furrowed her eyebrows as she shook her head. Irritation bubbled in her chest, “Are you trying to make me say no?”
“No… but the fact that you aren’t trying to convince me that I am in your future tells me a lot.”
Hazal stood up now and faced Sabine. Now face to face inches apart, they could both see how much this decision had been weighing on them. Hazal looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and Sabine felt the same.
“If you really wanted me,” Hazal whispered, “You would lie to my face. You would tell me you would do anything to keep me, even when we both know there’s next to nothing we can do about it.”
She cupped Sabine’s cheek and rested her forehead against hers. Sabine could feel her shudder.
“Please,” her voice cracked as she held onto the last threads, “don’t erase me by refusing to speak.”
Sabine’s breath hitched. She reached up to rest her hand over the one on her cheek, “Hazal…”
Her touch trembled, light. Too light.
“Say my name,” Fade whispered. Her voice strained to hold onto any strength she had left, “Say my name, and tell me you want this. Or tell me to walk away.”
'‘Hazal, I-”
“We don’t have time. You tell me what you want tonight. I’m not walking off this ship without knowing where we stand.”
“This isn’t fair,” Sabine’s voice shook. Defeat reverberated in the air as her grip on the hand tightened.
“It’s never fair. It never will be. Not now, not tomorrow, not ever… But not even putting up a fight is worse.”
Silence. Nothing but ragged breaths and racing hearts filled the room. Neither dared to break first, and Hazal focused on the hand gripping hers like it was the last strand of hope.
Then finally-
“I can’t.”
Fade’s hand slipped free, the connection gone. She ran it through her hair as she took a step back.
“Okay…” She nodded more towards herself than to Sabine, “then I won’t push anymore. Thank you.”
Before Sabine could reach out or stutter another excuse, Hazal walked towards the door. It felt like miles away, and the handle was heavy under her hand.
She didn’t turn back, but she waited. One, two, three seconds. Silence. She had her answer. And with that, she left.
-.. .- -.-- / ---.. ----.
“Surface contact bearing two-eight-five, range ten nautical miles. Civilian vessel, speed steady at seven knots.”
“Control, come right three degrees starboard. Maintain speed.”
“Depth decreasing ahead. Current one-three-zero feet, decreasing to one-one-zero within two nautical miles.”
“Control, reduce depth to one-one-zero.”
“Harbor traffic increasing. Multiple contacts within six nautical miles.”
“Control, reduce speed to five knots. Novikov, prepare for port authority contact.”
Fade gripped her pen as she continued to report entities. Countless frequencies scattered her mind as she quickly identified each of them. They were the only thing keeping her head on a swivel the past few days. Silence had become an uncomfortable uncertainty, and she even sought out louder spaces on the ship when she wasn’t on watch.
“Dock in sight. Pier lights visible bearing zero-nine-zero. Landmass confirmed, shoreline steady,” the sailor on the periscope reported.
“Control, maintain approach. Prepare for mooring detail. Novikov, make the call once we are two nautical miles away.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Signs of landfall appeared on Fade’s screens, and she forced herself to not concentrate on its steady approach. She focused on calling out other entities, hoping one of the other sonar techs reported their distance.
The room felt electric. Everyone was ready to jump off the ship- to get fresh air, see sunlight, reconnect with their families. Shuffles in seats could be heard, and everyone’s legs bounced just a little more than usual. But Fade? It felt like an impending doom.
Not once had Viper stood behind her seat during watch. Not once had their eyes met beyond a mental roll call glance at the beginning of their shifts.
“Landfall, four nautical miles.”
Fade glanced towards the sonar tech to her left. He leaned forward, ready to continue his countdown to the end. She looked right and saw the same thing.
The waterfall display started to show fewer pings, and with that silence started to hover. She searched her screens for anything at all to report, but her team caught all the smaller items before she could. She even closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds, but she couldn’t find anything.
“Landfall, three nautical miles.”
Her grip on her pen shifted. Her knuckles turned white as the pings turned less frequent.
Fade felt a presence behind her, but it wasn’t one she was used to. A quick glance told her it was Sova. He held a phone in hand, waiting to make his call.
“Landfall, two nautical miles.”
“Port authority, this is Valorant, inbound from rotation. Requesting clearance to enter harbor. Over.”
“Inbound vessel acknowledged. Maintain current course and speed. Proceed to berth two. Over.”
“Proceeding to berth two. Maintaining course and speed. Out.”
“Team one, stay on sonar. Team two, begin end-of-rotation protocol. Eyletmez, you’re in charge of logs. The rest of you perform system checks,” Sova ordered once he hung up with the port authority.
Fade stood up first out of the three sonar techs on team two. She removed her headset and dropped her headset on the console with a low exhale. She moved towards the side table where she started to fill out the reports.
“You’ve proven why she chose you,” Sova commended quietly from behind her.
She paused, her pen leaving a stray dot before she returned back to writing, “Just following orders, sir.”
Sova gave a low hum of acknowledgement, and then he was gone. Fade furrowed her eyebrows as she focused on the words on the page. Now without her headset, the silence started to seep further into her bones. She strained her ears for any sounds that could save her. Call-outs, levers, buttons, anything.
“Sonar clear. No contacts.”
Fade tensed as the final sonar call came through. Now just hundreds of feet away from port, it was up to the rest of the team to dock the ship. She finished the logs shortly after with one final signature. With a deep breath, she took the documents to the command workstation.
“Commander Callas, here are the end-of-rotation logs.”
She didn’t look Viper in the eyes, she couldn’t. She just kept her eyes on the desk as Viper took the pages out of her hand. Once Viper herself signed off on them, she set them behind the other documents on the table. Fade’s fingertips gripped at the sides of her pants while she awaited a reply.
“Thank you, Petty Officer First Class Eyletmez.”
A pause. She could feel Viper’s eyes roam over every inch of her, but she didn’t lift her gaze.
“You’re dismissed.”
The order didn’t come without a tremble. One only Fade could hear. Silently, Fade moved back to her sonar station. She picked up her sketchbook and pen, and left.
Viper watched her every step of the way. Her jaw clenched as Fade exited the room, not once looking back. Nothing was louder than the final click of the door.
She considered calling Fade back, inventing some excuse about the logbook. But duty kept her tied down to the workstation. Instead, she pulled the logbook to the front. She opened it and skimmed her fingertips across the ink. Each line cemented in time that they worked together and nothing more.
Sabine’s chest ached as she looked over where Fade’s sketchbook always sat during their watch. She got to walk away with a book filled with their history, and all she had were sterile documents that were bound to be turned into the Navy. A part of her hoped Hazal wouldn’t destroy the evidence of them, but another part selfishly hoped Hazal wouldn’t hold onto what she couldn’t have.
Once they reached port, everyone dispersed. Enlisted and officers alike rushed to grab their belongings and climb out of the submarine. Viper waited at the command workstation until everyone left. The finality of the rotation started to wash over her as she stood alone in a room of machinery.
The hallway started to fill with laughter and shouts of joy. Cheers rippled through the ship as the hatch opened, and the sub as a whole emptied. Finally, Viper moved. If she didn’t she probably would have stayed rooted in her spot forever.
She carried the documents under her arm as she took the short trip to the officer’s country. Only her footsteps echoed throughout the halls now. When she reached the wardroom, her hand hovered over the handle. Memories of shared coffee and stolen glances flashes through her mind. She shook her head and moved to her stateroom.
The door was open when she arrived, telling her that Sage had joined the rest of the sailors in their departure. All that remained were Viper’s belongings stuffed in a singular duffel sat on top of her bed. She took a seat beside the bag and placed the documents to the side.
She rested her head against the wall with her eyes closed, but that didn’t last long. The air suffocated her as she could feel every touch from Hazal. She could hear every laugh, every stroke of Hazal’s pen. Suddenly, the silence wasn’t so silent. With a resigned sigh, she moved the documents to a secure drawer and grabbed an inventory sheet.
Viper moved to the officer’s storage closet. Here, nothing but duty remained. The dimly lit room carried no laughter or hushed whispers. All that remained was the hum of the single light bulb above her head.
She sat on the ground with the inventory sheet in her lap- she didn’t even bring a pen. She knew Sage had already counted this room at least three times over, but she needed to hold something in her fingertips.
Two hours passed before she finally left. She entered her room only long enough to grab her duffel. A flicker from the control panel caught her eyes on her way out. Her hand subconsciously traced the bumpy skin where she had been burned, and she quickly turned the device completely off- leaving the room in silence.
-.. .- -.-- / ----. ...--
In the following days, Fade had fallen into a quiet routine on base. She still had to return to the ship a few times for post-deployment duties, but she spent most of her time in the sonar labs. She had crossed paths with Viper a few times as they went in and out of the ship, but they brushed paths as if they were any other sailor, both rushing to their next objective.
She sat on a stool in front of one of the sonar stations in the lab as she analyzed the new data. The constant pings kept her grounded, reminding her of her purpose in uniform. Here, she didn’t keep her sketchbook by her side. She left it in her bedside drawer the moment she got home and hadn’t opened it since.
A knock on the open door drew her attention. She shifted her headset off one ear as an officer walked in.
“Petty Officer First Class Eyletmez, your presence has been requested by flag officers. Report to the West office building no later than 1900.”
“Understood,” she responded with a sharp nod. She looked over at the time: 1430.
The officer left with no further comment, and she returned to her work.
“What could they want from me?” Fade muttered under her breath as she turned the volume up. Her brows furrowed as she tried to decipher the request and the signals at the same time. The latter was easier- she continued to record her observations with ease.
A half an hour before she was due to report in front of the flag officers, Fade packed up her station and walked to the office building. As soon as she stepped inside, the receptionist greeted her.
“Eyletmez. Office 120.”
Fade nodded and made her way towards the room. The blinds were sealed, so she couldn’t even guess why she was there. With a glance at her watch, she waited outside.”
“Petty Officer First Class Eyletmez, enter.”
Fade took a deep breath before entering the office. She caught the sight of two admirals before standing at attention with her eyes on the bookshelves in front of her.
“Petty Officer First Class Eyletmez, you have been awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Achievement Medal for meritorious service during your last deployment. Your performance exceeded expectations and contributed directly to the success of your rotation.”
Fade stiffened further, “Understood, Admiral.”
The second admiral spoke up. He sat leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, “This recommendation did not come lightly. Captain Byrne initiated the motion, and Commander Callas attached a personal letter in support. Both spoke very highly of you. In fact, Commander Callas has never submitted a personal letter with a merit package until now.”
She fought to ball her hands into fists at the mention of Sabine. After a brief moment of silence, she responded, “Understood, sir.”
The first admiral continued with the procedure of medal recognition, “A ceremony will be held in the next three weeks. You will receive an email with more information on that. Should you choose to accept your medal privately, you will respond to that email with your request to do so. Any questions?”
Would Viper attend? Would she be the one presenting the medal? Would she want to talk-
“No, sir.”
“Very well. You’re dismissed.”
Fade saluted, pivoted, and stepped out. Suddenly, the air outside the ship felt suffocating, but she kept her head held high and kept moving.
-.. .- -.-- / ----. -....
The end of the post-deployment week was coming to an end. Viper found herself on the sub once again with her fellow officers conducting the final clearance check. Only the hums of light bulbs and their boots echoed throughout the ship. Most of the machinery had been turned off, turning the space into a hollow metal tube.
Viper rounded the corner towards the first berthing area of the enlisted as she initialed for the storage room she had just left. Most rooms only took a quick glance through. All the curtains were pulled back, the lockers remained open, and the floors were clear of any clutter.
A few curtains she had to pull back, but besides those everything went by fairly fast. She didn’t let herself linger too long on any one bunk. It wasn’t like there would be any identifying factors on them anyways.
She flipped to the next page after she descended into the second berthing area. About halfway through, a closed locker caught her eye. She tucked the clipboard under her arm as she fetched the master key from her belt.
Opening the locker, she was greeted with a singular paper folded twice over in the back corner. Viper pulled it out of the locker and turned it over in her hands as she looked for any identifying marks. When none were found, she unfolded the paper.
Her breath hitched.
She recognized the pen strokes. Her fingers glided over every stroke as if pressing too hard would destroy it. Her grip tightened as she looked at the sketch as a whole. It was undoubtedly Hazal’s, but that wasn’t what caught her attention.
Her thermos sat on the page, dents and all. Then, her eyes traveled to the wrinkled parts of the page and the jagged edges on one side. The paper was folded neatly, but these imperfections told another story.
She returned her attention back to the drawing. She had learned how to decipher some of Hazal’s sketches, and her heart picked up as she saw the bigger picture. Every line depicted a life she threw away. A life she could never have. The past six days taught her to walk away from it all, but now she had evidence of “what if” in her fingertips.
“Everything okay?”
Viper snapped her head to find Brim standing in the hallway with his clipboard in hand. She cleared her throat as she folded the sketch behind the locker door and slid it into her pocket.
“This locker was locked when I walked in. All clear.”
She kept her gaze at the locker door.
Liam almost spoke up, to remind her of protocol when personal belongings were found post-deployment, but then he recognized where Sabine stood. She wasn’t in front of just any bunk. Brim himself had passed by a few times to find the sonar tech silently sketching while on rotation.
With a soft clear of his throat, he nodded, “Good. Everyone else is done- I ‘ll finish the closets. Take your time here.”
He left before Viper could respond. Her fingers ghosted over her pocket. She hovered them as if the paper inside would disappear. She stared at the bunk for a moment longer.
Then, she pulled her clipboard out, initialed the page, and moved to the next.
-.. .- -.-- / .---- ....- ..---
“Why are we even entertaining this? It’s 10pm. The shelter is probably closed,” Sabine rolled her eyes as she trudged behind her two officer friends.
“I agree this isn’t the smartest of times to adopt a cat, but the lights are on. I guess it couldn’t hurt to check?” Sage suggested with a glance over her shoulder. She immediately moved to stable their stumbling friend.
“Not helping, Ling Ying!”
Their friend continued to mumble on and on about all the cats they could possibly choose from. After a rare night out at the bar with some of her friends, Sabine had hoped to have a peaceful walk back to base where she would promptly pass out. To her misfortune, one of her friends spotted a flyer for a cat shelter not too far from base, and that was how she found herself walking up the gravel parking lot.
The bell above the door chimed as the three officers walked in. Sabine offered the woman at the desk an apologetic look as her friend stumbled their way to leaning both elbows on the desk with a lopsided grin.
“Hiiii. I would like to adopt the cutest, most adorable cat pleaseeeee.”
“Oh! Um,” the shelter owner glanced between Sage and Viper, hoping to make more sense of the situation. Sage just whispered for her to play along for now, “Well, we have cats of all ages and breeds here. All of which are caught up with their medical records. How about you tell me more about what you’re looking for.”
“I’ve always wanted a black and white cat. You know? How they’re so cute with their little paws and how some of them have…”
Sabine rubbed her hand over her face as she shook her head. Movement out of the corner of her eye had gotten the best of her, and she turned her head to look through the glass door that separated the lobby from where the cats roamed. One cat had jumped up towards a counter while another walked across the room. She moved to take a step towards the door for a closer look, but then she froze-
Tucked between two sets of cabinets sat a sailor in uniform. The hat sat on top of the counter with a cat cuddled around it. Navy-issued boots peeked out beyond the edge of the cabinets. And then, a cat she recognized sauntered its way towards the counter, stretched, and jumped on top.
She had never seen the cat in person, but she could recognize its unique pattern from a sketch she’d been trying to forget for months.
Sabine took a step closer, and her breath hitched. While she couldn’t see a face, she recognized the sketchbook that sat in the sailor's hand. Her friend’s rambling turned into background noise as her hand touched her back pocket. Still, she made no move.
A hand on her shoulder jolted Sabine out of her trance. She looked over to see Sage looking right where she had just been looking. Sage shoved her shoulder lightly.
“Go talk to her,” Sage whispered encouragingly, “I’ll be damage control out here.”
Sabine wiped her hands across her jeans- she didn’t know when they had become so sweaty. She closed the distance between her and the door in three swift strides, and her hand hovered over the handle. The sailor had yet to look up.
The door creaked open, and all eyes shot up to her, but hers locked on brown and blue ones. Some of the cats ran towards Sabine while others scattered around, but neither woman in the room moved.
Countless words sat heavy on Sabine’s tongue. She gripped the door handle behind her as she worked her mouth to try and say something.
Fade beat her to it.
“You should probably close the door… don’t want the cats escaping.”
The room suddenly resumed in motion as Sabine looked back at the door and closed it with a little too much force, “Right, right.”
“So…” Hazal leaned forward to glance towards the desk in the lobby before leaning back. She had an amused upturn of the lips as she looked back at Sabine, “A little late night cat shopping?”
Sabine restrained an eye roll as she walked towards Hazal, “Yeah a friend they… saw a flyer on our way back to base and now we’re here.”
She stood awkwardly in front of Hazal, her hands pressed firmly to her sides as she looked down. Hazal scooted over until there was room for both of them. Sabine hesitated at the gesture, a strange noise escaping her.
Hazal only tilted her head, “We’ve shared smaller spaces, haven’t we?”
Sabine took a deep breath before she sat down beside Hazal. She drew her knees towards her chest and kept her arms loosely wrapped around them. Closer to the sailor, she could see some noticeable differences.
The first, she seemed better rested. Which isn’t a surprise after recovering from three months on a submarine. She glanced down towards the sketchbook. It was the same one, but it was nearly filled. Indentations creased the cover as if it was bound for an extended period of time.
And then she looked at Hazal’s shoulder. She no longer donned the crow and chevrons. Instead, she wore the fouled anchor on her collar. Sabine glanced down at her plain black t-shirt and jeans, suddenly aware of how unprepared she felt. She gripped her fingers together to stop herself from adjusting her nonexistent collar.
“Chief Petty Officer Eyletmez,” Sabine tested the new title on her tongue. It came out as a crackled whisper, as if speaking it too loudly would erase their history.
Hazal cleared her throat, “Yeah. Changed about a month ago.”
Sabine just hummed, and they sat in silence. Both had questions and answers they were too afraid to voice. So instead, they just sat there. Hazal didn’t return to her sketchbook. She just stared at a random tile ahead of them.
Ultimately, Sabine broke the silence, “So, how does it feel to be on the other side of training?”
Their eyes met once again, and Fade tapped the end of her pen against her book, “Different. A good challenge, but I was prepared.”
Hazal pressed her lips together, swallowing the words in between the lines. She redirected, “It’s strange. Seeing them stumble through the same mistakes I made knowing I was just in their shoes a couple years ago.”
“Time moves fast, but the Navy moves faster.”
“That’s what I like about this place. No rushing, no deadlines, no schedules. Well, except for feeding.”
Hazal chuckled at the end, and Sabine's lip twitched at the sound.
Silence hovered over the two women once again. Hazal’s fingers brushed against the corners of her sketchbook repeatedly, hesitant to show what’s behind the cover.
Sabine watched her, and her hand reached for her back pocket. She hovered, the folded paper sat heavily between her fingertips. Sabine furrowed her eyebrows, once again at a loss for words.
She cleared her throat as she pulled the paper in front of them.
“I found this.”
Sabine unfolded the page and held it between two fingertips between them. Hazal’s fingers ghosted the page, “You kept it.”
“Yeah, I-” Sabine cleared her throat, “I was supposed to turn it in, protocol, but I held onto it.”
She adjusted the page between her fingers, “I didn’t think I would see you again so soon. I almost reached out. I wanted to, but then I realized I still wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to let go of this. I wasn’t ready to face you. And I didn’t want to put you through that again.”
“And now?”
Hazal’s voice barely came out as a whisper- Sabine nearly missed it. The sketch crinkled underneath Sabine’s fingertips as she shook her head.
“I’ve had time to reflect. But I still don’t think I’m ready.”
The admission felt like defeat. Sabine laid the loose sketch on top of the sketchbook. Hazal picked the paper up, feeling its weight in her own hands.
“Do you remember what I said back on the ship?”
“You don’t need perfection. Just someone who’s there.”
“And I still stand by that.”
“Hazal…”
She stiffened at her name. She hadn’t heard it from those lips in months, but she forced herself to relax. She turned to face Sabine, “I won’t ask again. But if you still want this…”
Sabine swallowed. She looked in Hazal’s eyes for any tests or lies, but only found sincerity. She nodded twice. Once towards herself, and another towards Hazal, “I’ll show up.”
Hazal’s lips twitched upwards as she rested her head against the counter behind her. She tilted her head to the side as she studied Sabine. She fidgeted under Hazal’s unrelenting gaze. She clasped and unclasped her hands around her knees, and her throat bobbed with unspoken words.
“Nerves don’t suit you, Commander,” Hazal remarked in a sickly sweet tone.
Sabine blushed as she looked away. She hummed lowly before meeting Hazal’s eyes once again.
“Can I bring you coffee tomorrow?”
“Does an intelligence meeting come with it?”
Sabine bit the inside of her lip and tilted her head, “I’m afraid not. Just a sunrise and a morning that doesn’t begin with orders.”
Hazal broke into a grin, “0530. East side. Don’t keep me waiting.”