With shock and confusion until she begins calming down

A/N: Hello. Still really busy from high business season at work on my end, but I am getting more free time lately, and I have been itching to get back into writing, so here is the next one, picking up where we left off, with the recently reawakened Sergeant Kristen Vanders wondering what she missed while she was ****.

I hope you enjoy. And if you did not notice by now, here is the link for the next character bio list chapter I mentioned that was coming eventually, this time with additional background information about the 11 women who were claimed in the last story arc. Might help from time to time when some of you need a memory refresher. Here it is: https://chyoa.com/chapter/Background-Information-of-the-Characters%3A-New-Recruits-that-were-Claimed-in-Story-Arc-One.1808924
Anyway, read on, and I hope you like it.

Sergeant Kristen Vander's POV

You frowned at your girlfriend's expression, the soft worry in her eyes feeling like a physical weight. Your own gaze dropped, following the line of her sight down to your hand, the one still resting on her shoulder.

There, on the back of your right hand, stark against your skin, was writing. Neat, block-letter script in dark ink.

MICHAEL BANNER.

You blinked. Rapidly. The words didn't shimmer or change. They were just there, a proclamation etched into your very skin. Your mind, usually so quick to assess and command, stuttered.

"Wh… what is this?" you suddenly whispered.

Your thumb brushed over the letters. The skin felt normal, no raised texture, no pain. Just a flat, undeniable statement. You looked up at Garcia, your eyes wide, seeking additional context so that this new revelation made more sense.

"Babe?"

Garcia's smile was soft, empathetic. She took your other hand in both of hers, her touch feeling like a grounding anchor. "It's okay. It's a lot to take in when you initially awaken into this realization, I know. But really, don't worry too much. This written claim is...it's how we learn the truth that we have always belonged to him, even though we hadn't realized it before we were ready. And it is a sign to show to anyone looking that we are under his protection."

The words tumbled out of you in a confused, breathless rush. "Belong? I belong? To a man I've never...who is this Michael Banner?" She asked, her words rushing out of her.

The bold, confident demeanor you usually carried and had kept at it since waking up in these strange surroundings was quickly splintering. This wasn't a weapon you could disarm or a tactical problem you could solve with ****. This was a fundamental shift of your identity, an awakening written in ink that somehow felt more real and more absurd than anything she had ever read at the same time.

You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat sudden and intense. "Is he… is my owner here somewhere? In this building?"

Your sweet Phina nodded softly, her fingers giving yours a gentle squeeze. "He is. He should be downstairs in the social area by now. Most of us are having a kind of planning breakfast. I'll introduce you to him soon. He's…it's not what you're probably jumping to conclusions about right now."

The statement hung in the air, feeling utterly inadequate. You stared at her, searching her face for any sign of ****, of fear. You found only warmth and a calm certainty that concerned you more than any visible threat could. "Not what I'm thinking? Babe, I just found out that someone I have never met before owns every inch of my body and that, as such, I must obey him in everything he asks of me. He could even ask me to break up with you forever and keep me to himself!" She said, her face suddenly feeling paler at the idea. "Why aren't you freaking out?!"

Josephine’s answer was not words, but a slow, deliberate movement. She released your hand and pushed up the sleeve of her own shirt, turning her forearm toward you. The skin there, just below the inside of her elbow, bore the same unmistakable script.

MICHAEL BANNER.

Your breath hitched, a sharp intake of dawning realization that burned your throat. Your eyes darted from her arm to her face, back to the arm, the reality of it lancing through your confusion. She belonged to him, too. This wasn’t a sudden turn of events that happened to just you, but to the woman you loved as well.

Before you could form a question, however, a soft rustle of fabric drew your widened gaze.

Doctor Emma, with a doctor’s clinical calm, merely pushed her wristwatch higher on her forearm, revealing the same two words in the same distinct lettering on her skin. Her daughter, Reyna, leaning in the kitchen doorway, wordlessly held up her left hand, the back of it turned toward you. Jenna, her other daughter, offered a small, sympathetic smile and showed you the inside of her wrist.

Your head turned, a slow, disbelieving pivot.

Anjali, the 18-year-old girl who had seemed pleased to meet you, grinned and presented the back of her hand like she was showing off a merit badge. Her sister who had introduced herself as Aanya, the nurse, nodded silently and rolled up her sleeve to display her forearm. Their mother, Parvati, simply extended her hand, palm down, the claim visible just above her knuckles.

Every woman. Every single one in the room. A silent choir of shared ownership. The air itself suddenly felt heavier to you, thick with the weight of that single, repeated name. Your vision seemed to tunnel, the world narrowing to those dark, perfect letters on skin of different colors, textures, and ages; thinking of the fundamental law written on their very bodies.

A soft, dizzying vertigo washed over you at the implications therein. Your legs felt weak, not from injury but from the sheer ontological shock. She would have known how to handle this situation if she had just been captured by hostiles in an attempt to ransom her, even if it meant getting all bloody by beating whoever had dared do that to her to ****, or at least near enough. But against this undeniable claim of ownership, she had no frame of reference to give her a clue, and she flet restless and uncomfortable at that realization.

"The mark… it doesn’t hurt," Josephine said, her voice cutting through the static in your mind, soft but firm.

Her hand found yours again, her thumb stroking your knuckles. "It just…is. And he…Michael… he’s not a monster. He’s downstairs right now, planning how to clear the zombie nest in the building across the street, so we can expand on our own terms and be safer. He’s got people cataloging supplies, talking solar power, securing water, and so much more. He listens to Lieutenant Mills. He values Foreman’s logistics-driven brain. To name just a few examples."

She stepped closer, her other hand coming up to cup your cheek, forcing your haunted eyes to meet her steady, earnest ones. "He takes the duty of owning us seriously, Kristen. And when I talked to him… when I was scared about us…" She took a shaky breath, her own emotion breaking through her reassuring tone. "He said the old world’s rules that **** us to keep our relationship hidden are dead as far as his group is concerned. He said what we have is a strength, not a shameful secret. He told me that he will allow us to love each other in the open and that he’s glad we have each other."

The words landed, one after another, each softening the sharp edges of your panic as your eyes widened in interest. Your relationship, your most guarded truth, was not just tolerated but endorsed by the very authority that now claimed you? That was...very reassuring to hear, you had to admit. You leaned into her touch, your forehead coming to rest against hers again, as if the physical connection could help your mind bridge the gap.

"A commander who actually wants his military assets…happy in a loving relationship?" you murmured, the statement tasting strange but not bitter.

"Apparently," Josephine whispered back, a real smile touching her lips.

A gentle clearing of the throat came from Parvati. "It is a great relief to see you awake and well, dear. But your Master should be informed. With your permission, I will go down and inform him that you are awake and coherent. He wished to be told when the time came."

The words your Master sent a fresh, complicated shiver through you, but the panic didn’t return. It was tempered now by confusion, curiosity, and the solid, breathing reality of Josephine, your dear girlfriend that your owner had apparently saved in your absence, in your arms. You gave a slow, stiff nod to the older woman.

"Yes. Okay. Thank you," you managed to say, your voice still unsteady.

Parvati bowed her head slightly and shuffled out of the living room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. The remaining doctors and the Patel sisters offered you kind, understanding looks before they, too, began to drift. Reyna and Jenna moved back into the kitchen, their murmurs low. Emma gave you a final, professional nod and followed her daughters. Anjali shot you two a thumbs-up and a grin before pulling Aanya by the elbow down the hall toward what were likely bedrooms.

In moments, the crowded, tense living room emptied, leaving you and your lovely Sergeant Garcia alone in the quiet, sunlit clutter of the foreign living room.

The silence was a palpable thing, filled with the echoes of the impossible. You stared at the closed door, then down at your hand, then into your girlfriend’s deep, watching eyes.

You swallowed, your throat dry. "A moment, before he comes," you rasped. "Just…just us. For a minute. Please."

Josephine understood. She didn’t speak. She simply led you back to the sofa, the afghan still crumpled on the floor, and sat, pulling you down beside her. You went willingly, your tall frame folding, your head finding its familiar place on her shoulder. She wrapped both arms around you, her grip fierce and protective.

You lie there, listening to the beat of her heart, trying to synchronize your breathing with hers. And then your eyes soon closed, not in sleep, but in a ****, focused attempt to rebuild your understanding of the world from this one, stable point: she was here, she was yours, you were hers, and you were both, unexpectedly, his.

And for now, that was all you had the capacity to know.