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“How about you, Chief ? Eager to get home, I imagine?”
“Stop it. The moment she steps foot in her house, she won’t have a minute to herself. Right, Rio?” Alice said with an undisguised laugh.
“Between a five-year-old son and a wife pregnant to the gills, in her own words, it’s a definite no. Take my advice, Evans, never get married. For better or worse, my ass.” Rio replied with a wide smile on her face.
“Alright, let’s finish this…”
BOOM
“Ms. Vidal, stay with me! I need blood, page the bank, it’s urgent. Ms. Vidal, stay with me, don’t close your eyes, do you know where you are?” Rio struggled to answer, the commotion around her was deafening.
“It’s Sergeant-Major.” She managed to say between gasps for air.
“Yes, but excuse me, Sergeant-Major. Now tell me, do you know where we are right now?” the doctor asked again.
“At the hospital?”
“Good answer, you are currently at the Landstuhl Military Hospital in Germany. You were the target of a ballistic missile strike, during your return to your home base. You are severely injured in your left leg and left arm. We need to take you to surgery immediately. Your…”
“My wife…”
“She will be informed of your condition in a few hours, once your situation is stabilized.” “No… don’t tell her… she’s pregnant… please call my mother…”
Then everything went dark again for Sergeant-Major Rio Vidal.
The clinking of a syringe against a metal cup woke Rio. The pain was still there, dull and throbbing, but the painkillers made it more bearable. She opened her eyes and turned her head. In the bed next to her, Alice, her arm in a sling and a bandage on her forehead, looked at her with a tired smile.
“Well, Chief,” Alice said, her voice a little hoarse, “looks like we had a close call, huh?” Rio returned her smile.
“I was looking for you, Alice. I was glad to hear you were okay.”
“I got lucky, nothing serious. Just a few splinters and a good bump on the head. You, on the other hand… they really carved you up, my poor friend.” Alice grimaced, looking at Rio’s thick bandages.
“Yeah, I think the surgeon worked overtime,” Rio replied with a sigh.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m already bored, to be honest. I feel like I’m on forced vacation.” Alice pouted.
“You know, this is the first time we’ve shared a hospital room? We’ve been on every mission together, but it took a ballistic missile for this.” Rio chuckled softly, which caused her a grimace of pain.
“That’s irony for you. But at least we’re here. And we’re both alive.” A comfortable silence settled, filled with the sounds of the hospital. Then Alice spoke again, her voice graver.
“They’re already talking about our repatriation, you know. As soon as you’re stable, we’ll take the first plane to the US.”
The words “repatriation” brought a wave of conflicting emotions to Rio. The relief of soon being back on American soil, close to her family, but also the apprehension of having to face the reality of her injuries.
“Really? That’s… fast,” Rio said.
“It’s the procedure for serious injuries. Less risk of infection there, and better-suited rehabilitation facilities. I heard the doctor talking about a specialized center in Virginia.” Alice sat up a little.
“You know, I think they’re going to keep you there for a while. It’s going to be long, Chief.”
Rio closed her eyes. Long. The word echoed in her head. She thought of Nicky, her five-year-old son. And Agatha, seven months pregnant. How would she manage all that?
“And our families? Do they know we’re being repatriated?” Rio asked.
“No, not yet, I don’t think so. They’re waiting for the doctors’ green light. But they’ll be informed. And you, you’ll finally be able to talk to Agatha. What are you going to tell her?”
Alice looked at her, her brows furrowed with concern. Rio sighed. It was the million-dollar question.
“I don’t know, Alice. I really don’t.”
The phone rang, shrill, breaking the quiet of the late July 2026 afternoon at Lilia and Sharon’s home in the United States. Lilia, 55, picked up, a disagreeable premonition tightening in her stomach. It was an unknown number, but she immediately recognized the formal tone of a Marine Corps officer.
“Mrs. Vidal? This is Major Thompson, Marine Corps. I have news regarding Sergeant-Major Rio Vidal.”
Lilia’s heart skipped a beat. Her blood ran cold. She forced herself to reply in a voice she hoped was calm.
“Yes, Major. I’m listening.”
Major Thompson continued, measuring each word, but the terms resonated like hammer blows in Lilia’s mind:
“Your daughter was injured during an operation in Iraq. A ballistic missile…”
Lilia felt the ground give way beneath her feet. A missile. Rio, her daughter whom she had welcomed at 12 years old, the strong and indestructible Sergeant-Major, injured. She held back a scream, held back tears. Sharon, who was reading nearby, had looked up, sensing the tension in Lilia’s voice.
“…She is currently at the Landstuhl Military Hospital in Germany. Her injuries are serious: she was hit in the left leg and left arm. She is stable, but she underwent major surgery.”
Lilia put her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob. “Is she… is she going to be okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Vidal. Her vital prognosis is not engaged. She is strong. She is also with 1st Sergeant Alice, who has minor injuries. They are both conscious. We are preparing their repatriation to the United States as soon as possible, once her condition allows.”
Repatriation. A word heavy with meaning, but also with hope. Lilia felt a faint glimmer break through the horror.
“She… she requested that her wife, Agatha, not be informed of the severity of the situation for now.”
Major Thompson said. The most difficult task fell to Lilia. Agatha, seven months pregnant with their second child, and Nicky. How to deliver such news to an expectant mother, already so fragile? Lilia thanked Major Thompson, hung up, and turned to Sharon, tears finally streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s Rio,” she managed to articulate.
“She was injured in Iraq. Seriously.”
Sharon hugged her tightly, her face paling. “Oh, my God… What about Agatha?”
“She mustn’t know the extent of the injuries. Rio doesn’t want to worry her. We have to go, Sharon. We have to find the words to tell her… gently.”
With a heavy heart, Lilia knew that the most delicate mission of her life had just begun: to protect her daughter-in-law and grandson from the pain, at least for a while, while bearing the burden of worry for her daughter herself.
Sergeant-Major Rio Vidal slowly emerged from the cottony darkness of sedation. Her body felt heavy, but she sensed a familiar presence by her bedside. The light was no longer the impersonal white of Landstuhl, but a softer, diffused glow. The scent was no longer that of distant Europe, but a distinct blend of American antiseptic and a faint, incredibly familiar fragrance—the scent of home. She painfully opened her eyes. The ceiling was different. No doubt, she was back in the United States, specifically at the Alexander T. Augusta Military Medical Center in Virginia.
What immediately caught her gaze, and made her heart flip, was the figure sitting, bent over at her bedside. It was Agatha. Her Agatha.
Her wife had fallen into a deep sleep, her head resting on her folded arm on the mattress, her brown hair forming a halo around her serene face. Her round belly was clearly visible under her T-shirt. Rio observed the faint dark circles under her eyes, the tension still perceptible on her features even in sleep. She was there, watching over her, present.
Rio tried to move her uninjured hand. The searing pain in her left leg and left arm brutally reminded her of her new reality. But the slight movement was enough to rouse Agatha from her sleep. She lifted her head, her eyes half-closed for a moment, before a glimmer of recognition and relief appeared in them.
“Agatha,” Rio murmured, her voice hoarse.
Agatha straightened abruptly, her face lighting up with a mix of joy and relief. “Rio! You’re awake! Oh, my love!”
She gently leaned in and kissed Rio’s forehead, her silent tears streaming down her cheeks. “I was so worried… Lilia and Sharon came to the house, they explained everything. The incident… the missile… How are you? Do you need anything? A glass of water? A pillow?” Her voice was a mixture of tenderness, concern, and a slight reproach.
Rio felt a deep sadness. “I’m sorry, my heart. I didn’t want to worry you with the baby. I knew Lilia would tell you gently.”
“Gently means partially,” Agatha replied, a sad smile. “But when they said you were being repatriated to Virginia, I understood it wasn’t just a little bump. We came right away, Nicky and I. He’s with Lilia and Sharon for now, they assigned us lodging during our stay here, but he wants to see you, he wants to see his Mami.”
Rio felt a rush of love and gratitude. Her family was here. The path to recovery would be long, but she wasn’t alone.