Being sent to medical felt like being condemned to solitary confinement. The quiet, almost deafening room was the opposite of training with the rest of the platoon, and you didn't even want to think of how long they'd keep you here. The bright, fluorescent lights beamed into your eyes, worsening the state you were already in. Bedrest, really? You couldn't think of anything that could make your day any worse, other than the pain coursing through your body.

That was until the curtain separating you from the bed next to you slid open slightly. "What'd a guy like you do to end up here?"

It was another recruit—a cute recruit. He eyed you and the state you were in. Was he checking you out? He definitely was. You were a lot of things, but not crazy. He looked you up and down curiously, a tiny smirk creeping on his lips despite his roughed up appearance and busted up eye. "Looks like we're neighbors," he greeted. Then, he introduced himself. "Jones." Maybe the whole resting thing wasn't so bad after all.