Permanent Variables - An international romance (M18+)

Lara was out for a run late Monday evening, hoping a bit of fresh air after dinner would finally help her sleep. The past three nights had slipped by in a haze. Restless thoughts since Damon showed up kept her awake.

It was just past 9:15 p.m. She slowed at the traffic light, the rustle of leaves and distant city hum around her.

Her phone buzzed sharply in her pocket. She glanced down. Number withheld.

She answered, her heart tightening.

“Hello, is this Lara Dharani Kathirselvan?” The voice was calm but serious.

“Yes,” she replied cautiously.

“Good evening, ma’am. This is Captain Ben Parker, Military Liaison Officer with the U.S. Embassy in Singapore. I’m calling to inform you that Major Damon Curtis was injured during a recent assignment. He is currently stable and receiving medical treatment.”

Lara drew in a breath, holding back words.

“Due to operational security, details are limited. We will keep you updated as information becomes available. A Casualty Assistance Officer will be assigned to support you. They will be your main point of contact for updates and assistance.”

“Captain Parker?” Lara said tentatively.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Long shot, but can you tell me what exactly ‘stable’ means? And when I might be able to speak with him?”

“Ma’am, I wish I could provide more details, but this is all I’m authorized to share at the moment. ‘Stable’ means he’s not in immediate danger. For further information, the Casualty Assistance Officer assigned to you will have the latest updates and coordinate communication as needed.”

Lara processed that briefly before responding. “Thank you, Captain. This can’t have been fun for you.”

The line went quiet for a second.

“Lara… let’s just say it’s a good thing ghosts tend to walk away from things most wouldn’t.”

Lara nodded even though it didn’t make sense to on a phone call.

Captain Parker made sure she was okay and didn’t have any more questions before he ended the call. She took a deep breath and dialed Aly’s number.

The line clicked on almost immediately.

“Hey, it’s me. Sorry I’m calling so early,” Lara said, trying to keep her voice steady.

There was a calm pause before Aly answered, her tone measured but warm. “Did you hear something?”

Lara swallowed, then gave a quick summary. “Yeah, I just got a call. They said Damon’s been injured but stable and receiving treatment. That’s about it.”

A brief silence followed before Aly’s voice came steady, like a lifeline. “You holding up okay, sweetie?”

“I don’t know,” Lara admitted. “Damon always says the quieter the better. My mind keeps running to what ‘stable’ actually means. But the officer said something cryptic — that it’s a good thing ghosts walk away. I’m going to take that as a positive.”

Aly’s breath was soft on the other end. “Yes, focus on that. If I hear anything through my channels, I’ll call. Call me anytime, even if you just want to talk.”

Lara exhaled, the weight on her chest lifting just a little.

“Thanks, Aly,” she said. “I might take you up on that.”

“Lar, between you and me — I got them out of the Rangers, got Dame out of ISA. Next phase is getting them out of the Army.” Aly chuckled. “It’s underway, but it’ll probably take a while. I know the next move to get Dame chained to a desk — just have to make him think it was his idea.”

“Hey Aly,” Lara’s voice dropped, “do you think he was only called in due to geography? As in because he was here — Because of me?”

“Don’t do that Lara,” Aly said firmly. “You are connecting dots that aren’t there. Focus on the fact he’s safe in a hospital somewhere now. You’ll be calling me complaining about his hovering again before you know it.”

Lara let out a short laugh, the tension easing from her voice. But inside, she knew one thing for sure, she’d never complain about his hovering again.

Three days later, a C-17 thundered down the runway at Paya Lebar Air Base, its massive engines shaking the cabin as it cut through the thick, humid night. Outside, bright floodlights carved pale corridors through the mist, vapour curling low over the asphalt. Damon felt the aircraft decelerate with a heavy, deliberate drag, the roar of the engines easing into a deep, steady growl as the wheels bit into the runway.

For the first time in days, the ground beneath him felt different. No more chaos of a mission, but somewhere familiar. Singapore. Close enough to touch, yet still behind the Army’s wall of rules. He’d made it through, patched up and stable.

Still, all he could think about was the voice he wasn’t allowed to hear yet. Relief mixed with frustration, leaving a restless feeling he couldn’t shake.

Damon cooperated, letting the MedEvac team stretcher him off the aircraft toward the secured van waiting on the tarmac. The van had a gurney ready for transfer, but when they stopped to shift him over, he’d had enough.

“For fuck’s sake, I can move myself,” he snapped, gingerly lowering himself off the stretcher before anyone could respond. Caught by surprise, the medics fussed over settling him onto the gurney.

Out of the corner of his eye, Damon spotted a familiar figure in RSAF uniform at the edge of the secure apron. He was about to turn towards him when another voice carried over the hubbub.

“Ghost still doesn’t play by the rules, I see. Good to have you back, Major.”

Damon’s eyes flicked up. “Parker,” he said with a half-smile, “didn’t realize they’d put you on the welcome wagon today.”

“Yeah, I drew the short straw.” Ben chuckled.

“Hey Cap,” Damon motioned for Ben to lean in. “I need to talk to that Singapore Air Force guy — Lieutenant Colonel Pravin Nair,” he said, nodding towards Pravin.

Ben gave him a look.

“Come on, man, just two minutes alone with him. If anyone can make it happen, it’s you. He’s already seen me, I’m not going to compromise OPSEC.”

Ben sighed, straightened up, and glanced at one of the medics. “Is he on any meds that make him drowsy?”

“No, I’m not,” Damon said as they wheeled him into the van.

“He’s not,” the medic confirmed after skimming paperwork.

“That’s the problem,” Ben muttered. “Should have put him on something that knocked him out.”

A few minutes later, Ben returned with Pravin and asked the medics and security detail to step outside for a moment. The two men climbed into the van.

“How’s…?” Damon began cautiously, choosing his words. “Everyone at home?”

Pravin gave a faint smile. “Okay. Quiet. Unusually quiet,”

“Everyone coping all right?” Damon pressed.

“I think so. Haven’t seen everyone in a while — just traded a few texts. But everyone seems okay, keeping busy with work.”

Damon nodded, silent for a moment as his thoughts drifted.

“You make a habit of showing up at these things, Colonel?”

Pravin’s mouth quirked into a half-smile. “No. This one came across my desk, and I had a hunch. Wanted to see if I was right.”

He gave Damon a slanted smile, patted his shoulder, and stepped out of the van.

After two more days under medical observation, Damon was finally cleared to return to his apartment. They transported him at night, keeping the journey discreet and quick. They arrived just before 1 a.m. on Sunday.

Fatigued, with a dull ache throbbing in his side as the painkillers wore off, Damon struggled to settle his thoughts. Relief at being home mingled with frustration at the continued communication blackout. Due to some developments post mission, the security level had been raised.

Damon stood with the medic and his assigned escort, Ben Parker, just outside the front door of his unit. The security team had arrived earlier and should have finished sweeping the apartment, but they were still inside. By Damon’s assessment, returning to his empty apartment was a low-risk affair. A sweep seemed like going overboard, but they had to follow protocol.

“Those guys on security, is it their first day today?” Damon grumbled to Ben. “They know they don’t have to literally sweep every inch, right?”

“They’re just doing their job. If you’re uncomfortable, we can escort you back to the car ,” Ben replied, amicable but firm.

“Marines, sir,” the Army medic, Eric Brooks, spoke up. “They’re slow at everything in general.”

Ben, a Marine, shot him a look.

“Just keeping the Major’s morale up,” Eric replied with a grin.

Damon cracked a small smile. “Maybe they found my box of crayons.”

“Very original,” Ben said dryly, giving Eric a brief, appreciative look.