To Love and to Honor

A 52nd Novel

Jesse Jordan

First of all, I’d like to thank my family, without whom I would never have had the courage to put fingers to keyboard and start writing.

Next, I’d like to thank my friends, editors, beta readers, and everyone else who helped me with this story. Their advice, while not always followed, helped me immensely. So as always, any mistakes are mine, and any good ideas are yours.

Third, I’d like to dedicate this book to all of those who have served our country. I started the 52nd Series because I have had numerous members of my family serve, and a few of my loved ones go through West Point. I was moved to write stories that covered not only the good, but the bad and everything in between. I hope that if you’ve ever been a member of the Long Gray Line, that you recognize yourself, classmates, situations you’ve been in. Not all made it through, but all were touched by that institute on the Hudson River. I love you all.

I’d like to take a few lines here to say that yes, I recognize that some of the things I’ve written are not totally factually correct about USMA or the Army. Sometimes, I simplified for the sake of clarity, sometimes I intentionally changed things for artistic license. Sometimes, I just flat out made mistakes. For those, I apologize, and beg the forgiveness of anyone who notices.

Finally, for those of you who like the story, please take a moment to friend me on Facebook, or support me on Patreon.

There’s more coming in this series! Want to know the second I release a new book or be the first to know about exclusive giveaways? Sign up to my newsletter.

Contents

1. Ashley

2. Simon

3. Ashley

4. Simon

5. Ashley

6. Simon

7. Ashley

8. Simon

9. Ashley

10. Simon

11. Ashley

12. Simon

13. Ashley

14. Simon

15. Ashley

16. Simon

17. Ashley

18. Simon

19. Ashley

20. Simon

21. Ashley

22. Simon

23. Ashley

24. Simon

25. Ashley

26. Simon

Epilogue

Also by Jesse Jordan

Ashley

It's not a perfect day, sitting in the stands of Michie Stadium surrounded by the twelve hundred other people who will, by the end of the day, become new cadets at the United States Military Academy. It's just a shade too hot for my taste, but maybe I've been spoiled going to college in Washington for the past two years. Better the heat than rain though. Dad and Grandpa have filled me in on today, I even got to watch some of it as Gavin went through it himself fifteen years ago. Dad offered to be here to support me, but I thought that I'd be able to bear up to the stress better if I did this alone.

Remember, you need to be twice as good to get half the recognition, I remind myself. Regardless of if West Point has caught up a little with the real world, there's still a long way to go in terms of women getting equal shots in the Corps of Cadets.

“Please say goodbye to your loved ones now, and proceed up the steps of the stadium,” the speaker, a Colonel, says into a microphone. He's been speaking for about five minutes, and I must be more worried than I thought, because I don't remember a damn thing he said.

With nobody to hug or kiss goodbye, I walk up the stadium steps, where I'm met by a cadet in the classic 'white over gray' summer uniform. He's intense, and I know that despite the so-called softening of the Corps over the generations since Dad went through and even since Gavin and Julius went through, there's still a feeling of intimidation to R-day, the day we start Cadet Basic Training.

“Proceed to my right, your left. Form up into two lines HERE!” he barks, some of the people around me flinching at his loud voice. Thankfully I grew up in this. Still, it puts a little bounce in my step, and I quickly find myself in two lines, sweating lightly though my t-shirt.

Once we're broken down into lines of what I think are fifty each, another cadet, I can see from the epaulets on his shoulder that he's a Cow, or junior in civilian speak, takes over. “Forward MARCH!”

The line moves, more like a chain gang than a military formation, and a few dumbasses behind me start talking. “AT EASE THAT TALKING!”

The next three hours are a chaotic, hectic blur as I'm sent through the Rube Goldberg contraption of a system that takes twelve hundred people and in the course of eight hours processes them into the military.

“Shoe size,” the civilian worker in front of me asks, bored. She's probably been doing this since before I was born, handing out tens of thousands of pairs of these ugly ass uniform shoes, old school black leathe. You're a New Cadet, you're not given rights until you get Recognized, a whole nine months from now. Until then, you shine your shoes the old fashioned way.

“Eight and a half,” I tell her, my blue nylon laundry bag already half full. It's heavy, and it's going to get a lot heavier before I get to put it down.

“Do you have another pair of shoes?” she asks, looking at her computer. “Lots of women wear eight and a halfs.”

“Yes,” I reply, and she nods, happy. I'd hate to be the poor girl who gets issued only one set of shoes and doesn't have another set. We're going to be putting a lot of miles on these shoes over the next few weeks, and you get no slack on inspections for only having one pair while supply catches up. I'd planned in advance and bought a set of uniform shoes online, they're ready to go in my civilian bag, which I can raid at some point today.

The worker puts another box in my bag, and it's off to the next station. The whole time I respect the basic rule, which is to shut up unless spoken to, at which I pop off with the loudest voice I can muster.

My bag bulges with probably fifty pounds of stuff by the time I finish going through the basics, changed out of my t-shirt and jeans into an Army PT uniform. The Cow that herds a now smaller group of us onto the huge swath of concrete that makes up the area outside Eisenhower barracks looks us up and down. He's one of the squad leaders in my company, I've at least learned so far that I'm supposed to be assigned to Alpha Company for Beast.

“This is the position of attention,” he says, assuming the heels together, thumbs running down the black seams on the sides of his trousers position that we're supposed to learn in these next five minutes. The cadet walks up and down the line, checking positions after he gives us instructions. When he gets to me, his eyes flicker up and down my body, and for the first time I feel a little bit dehumanized. I'm used to men checking out my body, I've got decently big boobs for an athletic girl, but he doesn't notice them at all, instead looking at my hair. “What's your name, Red?”

Yeah, I've been called Red most of my life, along with Scarlett, Ginger, and any other name you can think of for a girl with dark red hair and green eyes. “Carlyle, sir!”

“Good pop-off, Carlyle. But when you get inside, adjust your hair. Good for PT, but you'll need to pin it up better for changing into white over gray, got it?”

“Yes, sir!” I reply. As a new cadet, you are allowed four responses, something that's been screamed into the faces of just about everyone so far. Unless asked a question such as my name, I am limited to saying 'yes, sir,' 'no, sir,' 'no excuse, sir,' and the final catch all, 'sir, I do not understand.' All of life, condensed into four responses. And I used to think about studying poetry.

We are quickly run through the rest of the preparation for the next step in our day, Reporting To The Cadet In The Red Sash. Red sashes are reserved for senior cadets, Firsties, something brought in from the old Army as well. It's only after successfully doing this that we're allowed into the barracks, to try and move on with our afternoons. Suddenly, it's my turn.

“Step up to my line, do not step on my line, do not step over my line, drop your bag and report!” the female cadet says, her black hair pulled back into a fierce, nearly painful looking bun that's tucked underneath her white hat. I step up smartly and drop my bag, horrified as before I can even start to report the bag by some strange combination of the crap inside tips over... directly onto her shoes.

“Pick it up and do it again!” the female Firstie yells, and behind her I can see a few smirks from some of the other cadets who are taking a moment to rest before it's their time being the cadet in the red sash. There's only one person who isn't, a Cow with almost aristocratic, sensitive features except for a scar that extends from the right corner of his mouth. “REPORT!”

I pick up my bag and twist it in my arms, hoping this time it falls properly, but yet again, like some sort of magnetic attraction, it tips directly over onto the Firstie's shoes. “New Cadet, you better figure out how to report properly or else you and I are going to get to know each other very closely,” the Firstie says, all humor dropping from her voice. “Now report!”

This time when I pick up my bag I snag the blue nylon drawstring of the bag with the middle finger of my left hand and thankfully, when I drop my bag and it leans over, the cord catches, my bag a small but precious three inches above the tops of her shoes. I quickly snap up the best salute I can, hoping it's enough. “New Cadet Carlyle reports to the Cadet In The Red Sash for the first time, ma'am!”

The Firstie, I see her last name now is Mitchell, makes a tick on her clipboard. “Carlyle, Alpha Company. Pick up your bag and proceed into the barracks. Your squad leader will give you further orders.”

My room is on the second floor of Eisenhower barracks, where three of us are jammed into a two person room. So far my one roomie is already there, and she looks scared out of her mind.

“Tamara Price,” she introduces herself, fiddling around with her uniform shoes. They're fresh out of the box, and she's fumbling with the laces, so nervous she's forgotten how to tie them. “Where are you from?”

“Army brat, but I was living outside Seattle before this,” I tell her, changing into my shoes as well. I feel bad for Tamara as she tries to get her shoes done, and I know by the end of the day she's going to have a blister on her toes somewhere. “Hey, here's a hint. Really, really stretch them wide, before you put any polish or anything like that on them. You have any insoles?”

“No,” Tamara says, looking up. She's younger than me, probably straight out of high school, and I can read it in her eyes, this is the first time she's been away from Mommy and Daddy. There's something else about her though, she's genuinely scared for another reason too. “Why?”

“You'll need them these three weeks. Chill, I have two fresh sets in my bag, they allowed me to keep them. You can have a pair. We'll dig them out before the parade. For now though, wear them just as they are, the extra space will help out.”

Tamara nods gratefully, and gets her shoes tied just as two thunderous knocks come at the door. “PRICE!”

“Yes, sir!” Price says, rushing out, her New Cadet Handbook in her hand. I'm only a few seconds behind, although we're in different squads. There aren't enough girls in the Academy for more than one or maybe two per squad.

Down in Central Area, the quad that's formed mostly by Eisenhower Barracks and Bradley barracks, we go through the rest of what's needed to cram the basics of drill and ceremony into the now thoroughly confused new cadets.

Still, even with the confusion I bear up well, and when we move back into Ike together, not a varied group but instead second squad, first platoon, Alpha company, our squad leader, Cadet Mandrews, stops us in the hallway outside his room. “Go back to your rooms, prepare your uniforms. At sixteen hundred, report to my room here for check offs. Don't make me chase you down, understood?”

“Yes sir!” I pop off, and Mandrews looks over at me. I was the only member of the squad to really pop off, and he gives me an evaluating look.

“Carlyle, you look too old for being fresh out of high school. How old are you, anyway?” he asks, his nose about six inches from me. He's no Marine Drill Sergeant, but it's good enough for most of the people here today. The combination of heat and stress has a lot of people on edge already.

“I'm twenty years old, sir!” I reply, lowering my voice enough that I'm not blowing his eardrums out.

“Twenty? I just turned twenty last week, what the hell are you doing as a twenty year old new cadet? Prior service?”

“No sir!” I reply, almost going on. Four responses, four responses.

“Explain. Speak freely,” Mandrews says, stepping back. One of my squadmates, a guy named Timms, is fidgeting, stopping when Mandrews gives him a glare. “Go ahead, Carlyle.”

“Sir, my father and brothers are graduates,” I say, not going further. Talking about Gavin and Julius is hard enough, I don't need that right now.

“Military family, huh? So are you famous, like Carlisle Barracks?” Cadet Mandrews asks, smirking, trying to be a wise ass. “Your Daddy a General, Carlyle?”

“No sir.”

Mandrews nods and steps back. “Okay then. Second squad, fall out to your rooms, prepare for parade.”

Part of the period to prepare for parade is to see if people can work together, I know. My second roomie, Lorraine Washington, shows up just as I'm putting a quick buff on my shoes from my bag, glad that I wrapped them in a nice soft cloth. “Where am I bunking?”

“Top bunk, sorry,” I apologize. “Alphabetical order.”

Lorraine shrugs and tosses her stuff up there, pulling out her white shirts and gray trousers and hanging them up. “You been in here long?”

“Just about a half hour,” I admit, looking at the pile of stuff on my issued desk. Belt buckle looks good, shoes are nearly there, hat brass... looks totally untouched, but that's going to take a long damn time to get buffed up properly. At least we don't have rifles yet. “What was your hold up?”

“Medical,” Lorraine says quickly. “They didn't get my eyeglass scrip before I got here, so I'm stuck in my civilian glasses for two weeks.”

A tense silence falls over the room as the three of us work to get things done. “So you said Army brat,” Tamara says as she tries to work on her shoes. She's doing a terrible job, but there isn't time to teach her how to do much more right now. At least she can use the shoe brush to clean off the worst of the fuckups. “Is that why you applied?”

“Something like that,” I admit, keeping that information to ourself. “What about you?”

“I... I'm not sure why right this second,” Tamara admits, her fingers trembling.

“Then don't think about it, just focus on the next two hours,” I advise her. “It'll come to you in time. Hey, either of you got someone back home?”

Lorraine shakes her head. “I broke it off with my boyfriend before coming. Figured might as well get that shit outta the way before it hits out of the blue. You?”

I nod, smiling. “John. He's going to be a junior next year, we were taking classes together.”

“Yeah? So what the hell brought you here?” Lorraine asks. “I mean, going to college already, a boyfriend, what else were you looking for? You bucking for something?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “No.... just felt the need to. Another time though, okay?”

Lorraine hums and before I know it it's three forty five, or fifteen forty five as I'm supposed to think of it now. I quickly strip down and change, grumbling at the fit. The Army's idea of making a pair of uniform pants meant for women is clearly lacking, and I don't even have a big ass.

“How do I look?” I ask Tamara, who looks up and gives me a shy smile. “Decent?”

“Good,” she says, and I wonder about the way she says it. She didn't say if she left a boyfriend behind, and perhaps she was just shy about that side of herself, but maybe because she's not interested in boys. If that’s the case, she shouldn't have to worry. I'm not interested in girls, but that doesn't mean I'm going to flip out about it either.

“Thanks. Good luck, see you later,” I say, grabbing my gray cap and heading to Cadet Mandrews' room. We're not allowed to wear the white cap until after completing Beast, one of the hundred tiny steps between R-day and Recognition that slowly brings us back to feeling like real people again.

Cadet Mandrews is waiting when I get there, but there's still three guys from the squad missing, and he's not looking happy. “Westman! Lilly! Parker! Get your butts out here!”

Mandrews storms off, yelling for my three tardy squad mates, and I feel a tremor of fear. We didn't act as a squad, which is one of the cardinal sins that I should have remembered. We should have met as a squad before reporting down here en masse, all ten of us.

The blood in the water of seven unattended New Cadets in the hallway soon draws the sharks, unoccupied Cows and Firsties who have seemingly nothing better to do than turn the heat up on us. Our platoon sergeant and platoon leader are first, and I quiver when I realize that my platoon leader is Cadet Mitchell, she of the angry face and scuffed shoes.

“Ah, New Cadet Carlyle, I remember you,” Mitchell says, giving me a grin that would turn the Wicked Witch of the West to jelly, “tell me, what are your four responses?”

“Yes ma'am, no ma'am, no excuse ma'am, and ma'm I do not understand!” I pop off, hoping against hope that it's going to appease her. Out of the corner of my eye I see another face come in, the same one that was there the last time Mitchell and I talked. That scar makes him identifiable anywhere, but also, there's something about him. Probably because he's the only upperclassman I see who is not yelling at someone or making demands right this second. I spare a half second and see that he's named Lancaster. It fits him, he's got that sort of patrician, blue blood look to him, but he's also got a look to him that says he's not snooty in the least. If he were civilian, I'd say he'd be cute.

Cadet Mitchell however, pulls my attention back before I can notice anything else about him. “New Cadet Carlyle, I've heard you're Old Grad family. Is that true?”

“Yes ma'am!”

“Then give me... oh, we can't be too difficult, it's only R-day... give me Benny Havens.”

Benny Havens, one of the pieces of so-called 'Plebe knowledge' that everyone is supposed to learn, is an old drinking song back in the eighteen hundreds. Unfortunately, I don’t yet, it's nothing that I'm supposed to know for quite a few weeks. So I stand mute, and Mitchell's shark's grin grows an inch. “Oh, don't know it?”

“No ma'am!”

“What do you know, Carlyle?” Mitchell asks, stepping back. “Anything outside your four responses?”

It's a test, for sure. I mean, I could lie my head off, and say I don't know my ass from the back end of the Army mascot. Nobody could bust me for that, it's too easy to say I brain farted. But Dad raised me to be better than that, to be someone of true honor, and I raise my voice. “Ma'am, the Alma Mater!”

The other upperclassmen stop, intrigued. The Alma Mater isn't R-day level knowledge, hell that's like week three or even four knowledge. Even Cadet Mitchell gives me a raised eyebrow, and gestures for me to continue. “Oh... but sing it, if you can.”

Fuck. I can't sing! Even in karaoke, give me some Sir Mix-A-Lot, give me Dropkick Murphys, but to actually sing the Alma Mater? Fuck me sideways. My voice is already harsh just from a full day of popping off loud and proud, and now she wants me to sing. Still, I swallow the lump of fear in my throat and try my best. “Hail Alma Mater dear... to us be ever near...”

I'm nearly crying by the end, I can see the bad reaction on the faces of the upperclassmen, but I get through it all, and Mitchell nods. “Fine. Two things. First, report to my room at nineteen thirty tonight with a one page paper explaining why you should check where your stuff is going to fall. Second, until you get some voice lessons or something, don't ever sing again. I'm in the Glee Club, and that made my ears bleed.”

Mitchell moves off, and Cadet Mandrews comes back with my three tardy squadmates, who look as flustered as I feel. Just as I go to wipe my eyes, the quiet cadet, the one who has the scar on his face, steps up and whispers something to Mandrews, who nods. “Gotcha, man. Second squad, this is Cadet Lancaster, the company counselor. He's gonna give me a hand. Also, if you need a moment, someone to talk to, or you feel like doing something stupid and hurting yourself, this is the man to talk to. Do any of you need a moment?”

None of us do, and Mandrews starts our uniform checks. As I'm waiting, Lancaster steps up to me and looks me in the eyes. He's taller up close, and in his face I see that he's got handsome, deep brown eyes, and he's studying me intently. “You did well,” he says quietly, looking over my uniform. Even though I feel like hell, the way he’s looking at me gives me a thrill. “You're going to catch hell for a little while, they like to push Old Grad blood around here, so get ready.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, my voice low. He nods, and I take a moment to wipe my eyes before going back to attention, and he looks me over again.

“Good. Now, let's get those epaulets down tighter, they're supposed to be at the seams. You mind?”

Things go into fast forward again, and the next thing I can realize is us standing out on the parade ground, my right hand up, swearing to uphold the Constitution and serve to the best of my abilities. There's no hugs or family reunions, nobody's got time for that even if it were allowed. Instead, after marching past the stands and 'passing in review', we head into Washington Hall for our first real meal as a squad and as a Cadet Basic Training Regiment.

Welcome to West Point.

Simon

“Ah my Gawd, man, I'm so ready for this detail to be over!” I groan, stretching my arms up over my head. At least I get to wear ACUs for today, it’s a lot more comfortable than white over gray, and nowhere near as hard to clean up.

“Hell Simon, you got the cushy job,” my roommate, Jim Easton, says. “You're the counselor, not a platoon sergeant.”

“You think I wanted this job?” I ask, laughing. “I'm Foreign Languages, not Psych. I asked for a leadership slot. You know how many whines and complaints I get to deal with on a daily basis? Oh, and the fact that half the new cadets see me as some sort of bastard child. You try being both counselor and cadre. They don't open up to me if they're scared shitless like they are of you.”

“I hate the whole intimidation act myself. But, three more days, and we start handover to second detail,” Jim reminds me casually. “Then off to SRT school for me.”

“Special Reaction Team? You want to be an MP?” I ask, and Jim nods. “Nice school then. I'm off to Air Assault personally. Figured I'm not going to get a chance once we graduate, if I get what I want.”

“What's that?” Jim asks. He and I aren't normally in the same regiment, we don't talk much, and it's been cool rooming with him the past four weeks.

“Aviation,” I tell him, not trying to brag. Just passing the physicals for Aviation is hard enough. “And yes, I understand the irony of wanting to jump out of a perfectly good helicopter as a pilot.”

Jim laughs. “Don't sweat it. This is just playtime anyway. Think about it, those new cadets, they're all running around like scared rabbits, but you're able to get over to Arvin, you'll be squared away PT wise for Air Assault. Where you doing it?”

“Campbell,” I tell him. “No use jacking off for another detail.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing with Mitchell the other night?” Jim asks, and I have to laugh. Okay, so I'm a player. Mitchell's pretty hot when she unclenches her ass, and she and I have flirted before. Besides, we both knew, this was just sex. A little fun, and we both left the area up by the laundromat with our stress relieved. “Damn near wore her out from what I could tell.”

“Whatever man. Seriously, it ain't no thing...” I start to tell him when there's a knock on our door. “Yeah, what is it?”

Jake Mandrews, the second squad leader of first platoon, sticks his head in. “Hey, Simon, you got a minute?”

“Duty or just to shoot the shit?” I ask.

“Duty, man. One of my new cadets, just got the Dear Jane phone call. She's looking pretty broken up, and with her roomies. I'm thinking you'd be more helpful than Price or Washington right now.”

I nod, standing up and grabbing my ACU top. “So... that's Carlyle, right?” I ask. “How's she doing until today?”

Mandrews shrugs, smirking. “She's got her shit down pretty well for a three week newbie. Also handling the spotlight okay too. Still, she's got a few cracks showing, thought you could lend a hand.”

“Sure,” I say, walking down the hall with Mandrews. Jim and I are on the end of the hall, next to what right now doubles as both a storage room for all of the new cadets' civilian gear as well as my office.

I understand Jake's concern about Carlyle's roommates. Washington's compensated for the stress by becoming a bitch, plain and simple. While in duty ways that works, the TACs love to call it 'warrior spirit,' she's not earning herself any friends, and she's going to find her ass flapping in the breeze sooner rather than later.

On the other hand Price has her own issues. Confused about her gender preferences, something she's kept secret from everyone but me in a counseling session, she's still got this idea that West Point is back in the old DADT days, when homo or bisexual cadets were kicked out. I'm not saying it's easy, there’s still unofficially ignorant dickheads, but Price doesn't need to be stressing about it the way she is.

Carlyle is sitting in her room, a stunned look on her face, and things are pretty much like I'd expect. Washington's shining her shoes while Price is fidgeting, wanting to offer comfort but afraid of looking like she's too 'into' Carlyle. Considering that Carlyle taught Price how to shine her uniform shoes, I'm not sure if Price is lesbian, bisexual, or just socially retarded, because Carlyle has no issues about Price at all. “Yo, Carlyle. Come with me.”

She's follows me almost silently to my 'office', which is normally a company dayroom, the place cadets can go to relax and watch TV. I unlock the door with the key that only I have before leading her inside and slightly closing it. I'd like to close it fully, but the rules are the rules. Male cadets and female cadets are not to be in a closed door room together. Unless you're Mitchell and I getting frisky on top of WKDT.

“Have a seat, Carlyle,” I tell her, giving her a smile. “And until you leave the room, chill out. Don't even have to use sir with me, okay?”

“Yes si... okay,” Carlyle says, taking a deep breath. “Sorry to disturb your after dinner.”

“Meh, don't sweat it. All I was going to do was waste some time,” I tell her, shrugging. “So your squad leader tells me you had a pretty rough phone call there. Wanna tell me about it?”

Carlyle nods, and sits back on the chair. Dayrooms don't have great furniture, it's all leftovers from the Army, but it's probably the softest thing she's sat down on in three weeks. “I was using my phone time tonight, I had already written my Dad so he wasn't going to expect anything, so I decided to call my boyfriend. When the phone was picked up… well....”

“It wasn't your boyfriend,” I complete, and Carlyle nods. As she does, I notice something about her. A lot of the upperclass men have noticed her breasts, she's got a great rack for a female cadet. I think that's part of the reason Mitchell's all over her, boob envy, but also because Carlyle's got a massive case of RBF, resting bitch face. I can see it, she's not trying to be bitchy now, but still she comes off that way. Maybe it's the nose, or maybe the shape of her jawline, but to a lot of people, she's not classically pretty. Still, I have to admit, if she weren't a new cadet, I'd hit on her very quickly. That red hair and green eyes? She's ticking boxes in my book.

“No, it wasn't,” Carlyle says, sighing and giving me a watery look, her eyes not quite tearing up. “It was... it was my best friend. Come to find out that they'd been sneaking around behind my back since even before I left to come here.”

Damn, that's straight up cold shit. I mean, I've had more than my share of girls, but I've never tried to snipe a girl that was with another dude, not before she was publicly single again. Not my style. “How do you feel about it? I mean, I'm not trying to knock you down more, but that was happening even before West Point.”

“I know,” Carlyle says, then sighs. “Still... I think it's a little natural to hate this whole scene right now.”

I laugh, I can't help it. “Carlyle, let you in on a secret, only sociopaths like Cadet Basic Training. You might in the end look back and say that you learned a lot, you might look back and say there were some fun moments, but nobody actually likes Beast. Did you think it would be fun?”

Carlyle shakes her head, laughing despite her hurt feelings. “No, Dad made sure I knew that much.”

“I remember you mentioning that back on R-day, you're a legacy, right? What's it like, being second generation, if I can ask?”

Carlyle shakes her head, ruefully grinning. “Third. Granddad, Dad, two older brothers, then me, the baby of the bunch. Fifth member of the Carlyle family to go through R-day.”

I whistle, that's impressive. The amount of pressure has to be massive. “Damn. But you went to civilian school for what, two years? What brought you here after that amount of time?”

Carlyle blinks, and I see tears trickle down her cheeks for the first time. “Gavin was first, he was a lot older than me. I was seven when he went through R-day, I sat in the stands with both of my parents and Julius, my other brother. Gavin... he graduated about the middle of his class, then in Ranger school he... he died in swamp phase. February in the Everglades, and there was a freak cold snap, night temperatures dropped below freezing. They... they were soaked to the bone, and Gavin and two others died, and five were permanently profiled from the cold weather injuries.”

“Jesus,” I whisper, sitting forward as I'm drawn towards her. New cadet or not, that's not the sort of burden anyone should be carrying going through here. “And Julius?”

“I was fifteen then, I didn't go with my parents to R-day. Julius... Julius jumped from the top of Thayer Hall when he was a Cow. They say he had taken a shot in intramural football, perhaps he had a concussion that the medics missed. There was a note, but it was garbled, and his roomie said Julius had been acting strangely prior. Unfortunately, his head was too injured in the fall to make a clear determination.”

“And you still came here? Why in the hell would you do that?” I ask, flabbergasted. “I mean seriously!”

Carlyle looks up at me, and when I see the strength in her eyes, I understand. “At first I tried to stay away too. But this school, it's in my blood, sir. For three generations a Carlyle has served this country, and served it with honor. My family's name is stained, even if there were accidents that weren't my brothers' faults. You see... Gavin was the patrol leader of that class that got hurt. I won't let it end like this. Even if I don't go career, I won't let it end like this.”

I nod in understanding. “You have a reason to be here, Carlyle. That's better off than some of the other new cadets around. Already we've lost twenty five people who came here not knowing what the hell they were getting into. You've had that advantage at least, and you need to keep using it. Sometimes, when you've got your back against the wall, that's what's going to get you through.”

“Does every cadet have that?” Carlyle asks, and I shrug.

“I don't really know. I know what's between my ears, I can't tell you much beyond that. I know I have something, though.”

“Can I ask what, sir?” she asks, and she smiles a little. It changes her face totally, it makes her actually really pretty, in a nontraditional sense. I feel a stirring down below, but I clamp down on it, she’s off limits.

I give her a genuine smile still and shake my head with a little bit of regret. “Nope, Carlyle, sorry. Maybe later on, but not to a New Cadet in Beast. You're going to have to earn a few cool points to get that story out of me. But you're sounding better. You still angry at your ex-boyfriend?”

Carlyle nods, her right fist clenching. “He better be glad he's not in rifle range of me.”

“Oh? What did you shoot?”

“I hit thirty seven. But that one hit on the far target was a lucky shot.”

I'm impressed, thirty seven out of forty is very good, the USMA range is notoriously difficult. “Still, good shooting. And yeah, I think your ex better be grateful you're in New York right now. So, are you feeling any better?”

“I am, sir. Thank you,” Carlyle says, standing up. “If it's okay, I'd like to go back to my room. The under arms inspection is in two days, and Price still has problems with her manual of arms.”

“Keep that attitude, Carlyle,” I advise her, standing up as well. “You'll do better than way than you will Washington's way in the long run. And if you need any more help, talk to me, or talk to the next counselor.”

“I will, sir. Thank you.”

I give her a reassuring smile and open the door the rest of the way for her. “Good luck, Carlyle.”

She leaves and bounces her way down the hallway, her head high. I watch Carlyle for a minute, and she gets back to her room unharmed, so I lock up the dayroom and return the key. I think about going back to my room, a little old school Starcraft would be fun, but I'm still too troubled by what Carlyle said to really be able to focus on the game. Instead, I change clothes and head downstairs, out into the warm night.

I find myself walking, but instead of across the Plain like I'd planned at first, I head over towards the library. I pass Patton's statue, then come to the edge of Thayer Hall, Carlyle's words running around in my head. I walk up the ramp to the rooftop parking lot and head over to the far side, looking down. There's a full moon out tonight, and I can see down a long, long way. I don't know how far it is from the top of Thayer to the rocks on the edge of the Hudson below, but it's a certain death. And her brother flung himself off this very roof.

“Wherever you are, Julius Carlyle,” I whisper, looking up at the moon. “Be thou at peace.”

I hear footsteps approach, and I turn to see a figure in the night. “Hey, Simon.”

It's Mitchell, her black hair gleaming in the moonlight, pretty goth vamp in a way. “Hey Ronnie,” I say, knowing she doesn't really like being called the short version of Veronica, but that doesn’t stop me. “How'd you know I was out here?”

“Saw you heading downstairs out my window,” she says, shrugging. “Heard you talked to one of my new cadets, and you looked worried. Everything okay?”

“You mean with Carlyle?” I ask. “Yeah, she's fine. Got Dear Jane'd, just had to let off some steam about it.”

Mitchell nods, then crosses her arms across her chest. “And you? Simon, I know you and I just play around for fun, we're both certified single, but I do at least make sure I like the guys that I fuck.”

I laugh and come closer to Mitchell, pulling her in close. We're breaking regs sure, but it's very dark on top of Thayer right now. “So you like me, huh?”

“You're a good guy, Simon,” Mitchell says, patting my cheek. “Do you need to let off a little steam too?”

“I might,” I acknowledge, “but how about we wait a few days? After we get off this detail, we go down to Newark or even just out to Highland Falls and tear the headboard off of someplace.”

“I could be down with that,” Mitchell purrs, patting my butt through my PT shorts. “You certainly know how to use what you've got. I wondered why you always wore compression shorts under your PT shorts, now I know why.”

I smirk and pinch Mitchell's butt, making her gasp and laugh slightly. “And I never knew you always wore thongs under your gear. Now I know why, too. Come on, Ronnie. Let's get through the next few days with the darling new cadets.”

Ashley

I don't care how much you like the military, doing a fifteen mile ruck march in the third week of August sucks. Seriously, what idiot decided that the first half mile of the route had to go up a rocky trail at five forty five in the morning when nobody could see?

The people ahead of me give a cheer, and as we crest the hill that we've been slogging up for the past ten minutes, I see why. It's the Ski Hill, and people are starting to sit down, enjoying a rest break. After this is two miles or so downhill through post to Central Area, where we're broken down into our academic year companies.

I groan with relief as I sit down, happy to take some weight off my feet. I've held up better than I thought I would during Beast. After that one night of doubt, things have gotten better with second half cadre. Our squad leader, Cadet Payano, drops his ruck to the ground.

“Okay second squad, check your feet, suck some water, and if anyone needs to pop a squat, now's the time,” he says, looking up and down the line. We had Parker quit a week and a half ago, and Payano's feeling the stress of it. I can't blame Cadet Payano though, all of us could tell back in Beast 1 that Parker wasn't going to make it.

“Sir, I've got a blister,” Westerman says, peeling off his boot. “Should I pop it?”

“Negative,” Payano says, coming over and taking a look. “Okay, we've got a while here before we start to move out, about twenty minutes, so I'll see if I can get Doc over here. Don't touch that blister in the meantime, just let your foot breathe. The rest of you, loosen your laces, take off your boots if you want, wiggle your toes. Remember that this day's hardly begun!”

His cheerful words get a groan from some of the squad, and I can understand. After we finish this damn ruck march, we still have to go to our Academic companies, where the hazing starts all over again. I already know where I'm going, I-1, Ironsides.

“First platoon!” our second detail platoon leader yells far too soon. He’s a much more laid back guy than Mitchell, with the memorable last name of O'Shaunnesy. “Five minutes, on your feet!”

“I thought we'd wait until everyone arrived,” Westerman gripes. “What gives?”

“You see room for eight companies of new cadets on this hill?” Cadet Payano asks. “Pull your head from your fourth point of contact, Westerman. Two companies in, then the lead company moves out to make room for the next.”

“Huah, sir,” Westerman gripes, heaving to his feet. I pull my boots on and follow suit, and when the company commander hollers for Alpha Company to move out, we lope down the slope, ready for that final lap into post.

It's slower covering the last two miles than before as with a half mile to go, the squad leaders take time calling cadence. We reach the Plain, where we march along the long concrete one last time as members of Alpha Company.

We sit around for a while before the final ceremony for Beast is finished, and we're told to fall out to our academic companies. It's the first time I've met a sophomore, or Yearling/Yuk, cadet. “Right, face!” he squeaks, unfamiliar with giving orders. “March!”

We go around Ike Barracks, and instead of going through Central Area we go around the far side, towards Pershing Barracks where I-1 is located. As we get closer, the sound builds, growing and growing. It's cheesy, it's damn near thirty years old, but it still is intimidating as Charging Fort Wagner fills the air outside Pershing. “Welcome to The Agoge!”

The quad area around Pershing Barracks is filled with Yearlings and a few Cows, all of whom have a sort of predatory look in their faces. There's also a few uniformed officers and NCOs, TACs who are there to make sure the fun doesn't get out of hand.

“Halt!” the Yearling marching us calls, and we come to a stop. “Left, face!”

“At ease!” a Firstie the shaded sallyport calls, casual in his PT uniform. “I'm Cadet Price, your company commander. Standing next to me is your First Sergeant, Cadet King. You can call her First Sergeant. Welcome to Ironsides, and welcome to The Agoge.”

I glance around, and with the music blaring, Pershing’s certainly got some aura going for it. Cadet Price continues. “Next up, your platoon sergeants are going to have you fall out to your team leaders. First Sergeant!”

First Sergeant waves, this isn't a formation after all, and turns to us. She's short, but between the muscular look to her arms and the look in her eyes, I can see she's nobody to fuck with. “We'll have our formal get together later on tonight, but for now, know that I expect each of you to bust your butts and give me your best. I'm Cadet King. Team leaders, take your New Cadets!”

There's another flurry of noise as the Yuks start calling off names. Thankfully they don't all start hollering at once, and some of the team leaders actually go around, tapping their New Cadet and pulling them along. Suddenly, I hear my name. “Carlyle!”

“Sir!” I respond, picking up my rifle and double timing it over, my pack heavy on my shoulders. My team leader's tall, a total blond surfer dude type it looks like, his hair is just a bit long for the Corps of Cadets. “Come with me, I'm Zampesi, your team leader. A lot of the upperclassmen call me Z-man, so keep your ears out for that, too. Let's grab some shade before it's all gone.”

I follow Cadet Zampesi into the shaded area, thankful. “Okay, drop your stuff here, get your rifle cleaned quick. About me, I'm NCAA volleyball, so I've got practice most of the year. I won't be around to hold your hand when you fuck up. That also means I'm jonesing for sleep nearly all the time. You stay squared away, and I'm not going to be all up in your space. Actually, if you fuck up, the squad leader's going to be on your ass instead. He'll be down later, after you get your rifle turned in.”

“Roger that, sir,” I reply, shifting a little from my four responses but not too much. He may be a NCAA volleyball player, and maybe he looks like he should be an extra in a remake of Top Gun, but I don't want to make any stupid assumptions.

“Good. Now, how're you feeling?” Zampesi asks. “March back wasn't too bad?”

“No sir. I am ready for a bed though, I had to sleep on a lump out at Lake Frederick.”

Zampesi laughs, nodding. “Sounds like my Frederick, except it rained on us. I got flooded out one night actually. Okay, I'm going to go check your room number while you get your rifle cleaned. How much time you need?”

“Ten minutes, sir?” I ask. Zampesi looks incredulous, but says nothing, moving off. I've already popped my upper receiver out while he talked, and now I use another trick that Dad taught me. I take a string from a chunk of parachute 550 cord that has a long strip of t-shirt tied to it and run it through my barrel. Two passes and it's clean enough I could drink water through it, and I'm working on my bolt with a toothbrush when Zampesi comes back.

I feel good when he checks my barrel, and whistles in appreciation. “Phew, that's damn near perfect. Hey Squad Leader, check out my smack!”

Another upperclassman wanders over, I'm too busy looking down at my bolt to notice, but when he talks, I'm surprised. “Well, well, well. Carlyle. Glad to see you made it.”

I look up, slightly flustered for some reason when I see Cadet Lancaster handing my rifle barrel back to me. “Thanks, sir. Good to be here.”

“Alright then. Get your stuff squared away, and everyone meet by my room at seventeen hundred, we'll do the squad introductions before dinner formation,” Cadet Lancaster says, turning around. “Zampesi will get you pointed in the right direction.”

Lancaster walks away, and I get back to my work. He's right, Cadet Zampesi is an okay guy, he's nowhere near the douchebag that some of the Yuks are. I get my rifle turned in quickly, and Zampesi takes me up to my room. “Nice thing about being a female,” he notes as he shows me my room. “With four Plebe females, that's two per room, no tripling up for you. Start clearing your stuff, the room downstairs is unlocked for you to get your things and start hauling. I'll be back at sixteen forty five to make sure you're still alive. Got it?”

“Yes sir. Sixteen forty five. Thanks.”

“Don't mention it,” Zampesi replies, disappearing. I dump my ruck sack, helmet and all that crap on a bed and hustle downstairs, down to the storage room where everyone keeps their things in between semesters. I find my trunk and haul it first, it has the most essential things I need for setting up my room before I start worrying about my other uniforms and stuff.

I'm surprised when about twenty minutes after I start unpacking, Tamara Price comes in, still super shy. “Uh... hi. Guess we're roomies again.”

I nod, smiling. I know what's up with her, but I don't need to push that point just yet. “Yeah, that'll be nice, right? At least we've got a cleaning routine down already.”

“Y... yeah, that is nice,” she replies, putting her rucksack down. “Hey, who's your team leader?”

“Zampesi. He's okay, I think. Guess who my squad leader is, though,” I answer her, grinning. “Lancaster. Remember him, from Beast?”

Tamara nods, smiling. “Yeah, he was nice. For cadre, I mean. You got lucky, I'm late because my team leader and squad leader decided to spend the whole time seeing how much of my Plebe knowledge I passed off in Beast.”

“Ouch,” I comment, groaning. “You okay with that?”

“I'll get through it,” she says. “I mean, it can't stay that way forever, right?”

“Right.”

* * *

I'm glad that at least for today, the Corps is still in ACUs instead of white over gray, I don't want to worry about tucking my shirt or the shine on my shoes right now. I'm in Cadet Lancaster's room, and looking around, the first thing I'm aware of is that this man is the definition of squared away. His roommate's stuff looks like you'd expect, with a little bit here and there that isn't quite up to inspection standard, but it's the afternoon, you're not supposed to be.

Not Cadet Lancaster. It's not stuffy, but I almost think I could take a picture of his desk and it could serve as a template for everyone. He's sitting on the top of his footlocker, relaxed and, I have to admit, handsome despite the scar on his cheek. “Okay third squad,” he says, looking around. “Introduction time. I'm Simon Lancaster. New cadets, it's sir or Cadet Lancaster. Yearlings, well, we had our share time earlier, so let me tell the smacks what I told you guys. I'm not a yeller. I'm not going to haze or harass or ride you like an idiot.”

A wave of relief washes over me, but I can see in Cadet Lancaster's not finished. “But what I do expect, and this is for every member of third squad, is that you bust your ass, even more than First Sergeant said earlier. New Cadets, that means your rooms are going to be held to standard, and I don't miss a single scuffed mirror edge. It means that when it comes time for the TAC to check your grades, there isn't going to be a single D in the entire squad. I don't even want to hear that you're getting Cs. When it comes to military and athletics, I don't expect Brigade Champions, but I do expect to hear that you're all busting your butts out there. And yes, I'll check. Finally, get this out of the way, I'm the company Cow Honor Rep. You can guess I take that one very, very seriously. Any questions so far?”

There are none, and Cadet Lancaster nods. “Also, and this is something that will come with time, I want you also to try and find some sort of relief from this place. Z-man, you've got volleyball, I know, but the rest of you... by the end of the week I want to know what you're going to be doing to try and stay sane around here. Smacks, I'm going to be getting with you also one on one, making sure you're adapting well. You got any problems, my door's open. Now let's go get some dinner.”

* * *

The early morning sun doesn't warm me too much, it's too late into the fall for that to be worth anything until at least after breakfast. Still, I'm not cold enough to change into my full sweats uniform, one of those Plebe rules that I hate.

“Good morning, Carlyle,” Cadet Simon says, coming out of his room. It's only five thirty, but he's looking fresh as a daisy. “Ready to run?”

“Huah sir,” I tell him, and we start off. It's a short run, just to Thayer Gate, around Buffalo Soldier Field and then back, a little over two miles. “I stretched already.”

We still start slow, going from a brisk walk outside the barracks to a slow jog, and by the time we get onto the sidewalk past Mahan Hall, we're in normal run mode. It's not a fast run, this is a monthly thing he's done with all of the squad's Plebes to check on us in a more relaxed setting than Cadet Area.

“So how's French going?” he asks, laughing lightly. He's a Foreign Language major, and as a weird twist, I've got my Foreign Language requirement as a Plebe instead of as a Yearling like most get. He's even taking French himself, although it's a lot higher level than I ever want to go. “Got your test back?”

“Ninety three, sir. Messed up the listening,” I tell him, smiling a little. It’s hard not too, Lancaster’s a handsome guy, and even though I know he’s just doing his job, it’s nice to have one on one time with him. “I'll get it next time.”

“Not too bad. I struggled with listening at first too. Now that I'm taking Russian, I can't complain about any Romantic language any more,” he says, picking up the pace. “Think you can hang?”

“I'll do my best, sir,” I huff, striding it out. He's still nowhere near his top speed, but it's reaching mine, and I'm feeling the sweat. Cadet Lancaster watches me the whole time, and as we start to circle Buff Soldier he slows down. “I can hang, sir.”

“I know you can. Actually, I'll give it to you, you're the most squared away Plebe in the squad,” he says as we round the first corner of the field. “You make my job easy. I'd appreciate it if you could continue that.”

“Thank you, sir. Actually, I have to thank you for something, too.”

“What's that?” he asks, and I feel myself blush a little.

“Back in Beast, that night we talked... I was thinking of quitting. Beast itself was pretty easy, although Cadet Mitchell didn't make it any fun. Then your advice sank in, and I found that I do have the right reasons,” I tell him. “So I'm doing it for me, too. Not just my family. I want to see where my breaking point is, or at least if the Academy can push me there. So far... it can't.”

“Good,” he says, and we round the last corner on the field. “Then let's see just how much I can push you on this mile back. Try and keep up.”

Simon

The Corps is feeling down, but it's been expected. Losing to Navy has everyone in the dumps, especially with end of semester exams just around the corner.

For me though, it's the start of my favorite time of year, the plan up for Sandhurst. The Sandhurst competition is a military skills competition open to cadets from around the country. Each company in the Corps puts up a team, as well as having teams from other schools like VMI, Texas A&M, and the Citadel. Even the Brits send two teams, which kind of makes sense considering Sandhurst is the name of their military academy, RMC Sandhurst.

The competition is fierce for bragging rights, and I love it.

“Hey Mike,” I say, knocking on the door of Mike Price. He's already signed up to run the Sandhurst team next semester. “You busy?”

“Nope, what's on your mind, Simon?” Mike asks. He's a good guy, and has done a good job as company commander this semester. “You ready for that Honor Class with the Plebes tomorrow?”

I step inside and take a seat on his footlocker, leaning back against the footboard of his bed. I don't know why, I like sitting on footlockers more than chairs. “Not a problem there. No, I wanted to ask you about Sandhurst.”

Mike grins, sitting back in his chair. “I wondered when you'd come by on that. I heard your rep before you joined I-1, you tore the course up as a Yuk in your old company. What's up?”

“Well, what're we looking at so far? I mean, there's you and I, but that's still nine more slots to put up, and two of those need to be female in case one of the girls gets hurt.”

Mike hums, nodding. “Yeah, we're looking good on the male side, we've actually got twelve guys who want to go for it, us included. But we're short on the female side.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “You mean King doesn't want to? I figured she'd be charging the damn course, she's such a fireplug.”

“A fireplug who's going out for the submission grappling team next semester,” Mike explains. It makes sense, Cara is a beast with a build perfect for wrestling, she's got better traps than a lot of the guys in the company. “I asked her about it, but she said nope. Said she wanted to twist some arms, work off some frustration. I can't fault her for that, so... got any ideas on who to recruit?”

I think about it, then nod. “Yeah... what about Carlyle?”

“Red?” Mike asks, referring to Carlyle's nickname. Better than JR, the name some joker in G-1 called her, after Jessica Rabbit. I had to straighten that shit out real quick, I won't accept that sort of disrespect. “You sure? I mean, I know she's impressed you Simon, but think she can hold up?”

“I think so. Besides, do you know her rifle score from Beast? She hit a thirty seven during week three of Beast, man. That's some pretty impressive shit,” I admit. “She took advanced swimming, got an A in it, and she's got the right attitude, man. Seriously, I don't think she's got the natural talent for being a super high rank in the Corps, but she's never going to quit on us.”

Mike hums, then nods. “Okay. I'll let you talk to her then. I'm going to talk to Betty Lawton, she's a good athlete. Her military skills are a bit lacking, but she tabbed her IOCT. That's hardcore shit.”

I shrug, not impressed. I know Betty, she's flirted with me a few times, but since the beginning of the academic year, for some reason I've been backing off on my playing. It's not like I'm losing interest in girls. But for a reason I won’t even admit to myself, I’ve stopped being a player.

I don't know if I'd want Betty on the squad. She's a great athlete, but she's a fucking rock in the water, she barely scraped through Plebe swimming if I remember right. Looks great in a swimsuit, but that suit ends up on the bottom of the damn pool far too easily. “If you think, Mike. You know her better than I do. But head to head, I'd put my money on Carlyle. Those two ever throw down, I think Carlyle'd scrap harder than Betty.”

“That's fine, man. We'll talk about it as the training progresses. First we've got to get them on the team. You don't mind though, I've got a paper to knock out , and then me and the boys are going to go down to the day room, watch wrestling. You game?”

I shake my head, not all that interested. According to what some old grads told us back in September, the Monday Night Wrestling Crew stretches back twenty years or more. I like traditions, but still, not my scene. “Nah, man. Thanks though.”

* * *

“Okay, so quick one minute review,” Major Campos, our TAC officer, asks, looking around at the collection of Plebes in the day room. “Price, gimmie the Honor Code.”

Price, who's perhaps the shyest Plebe I've ever known, speaks up. She's the complete opposite of Mike Price, sharing only a last name even if they aren't related. “Sir, a cadet will not lie, cheat, or steal, nor tolerate those who do.”

“Exactly,” Major Campos says, looking around. “Now, so far this year, we've covered the basics. Not a problem to figure out what a basic lie is, you all have known that since you were about four or five years old.”

There's a little laugh around the Plebes, which I'm glad for. Despite the stuffy image and the intimidation that the Honor Committee has, I want them to relax and really feel it. We're not the Spanish Inquisition.

“Good. But there's areas that we're going to get into over the next three years that gets more difficult. I'll turn it over to Cadet Lancaster now. Simon?”

I give the Major a nod, waiting for him to take a seat in the back of the day room. “Okay everyone, let's talk cheating. Here in the Academy, what constitutes cheating?”

The answers are predictable, and boring. Yes, sneaking notes into a class, copying someone else's paper, intentionally not citing your stuff properly, all pretty clear, and all of them covered months before. “Okay, all good answers, and all things that'll get you in the hack here at USMA. But I want to ask you all something. Is there a time when cheating is not only allowed, but perhaps encouraged?”

The Plebes sit for a while, thinking, then Carlyle of all people raises her hand. “Sir.... what about in war?”

“How so?” I ask, encouraged.

“Well sir, the whole point of war is to take advantage of your enemy,” Carlyle says. “We use technology all the time. Better radar, night vision, better... well, just better stuff to beat our enemy. We even intentionally lie and use unfairness in our war tactics. Some could call that cheating.”

I nod, impressed. “Good point. Where else? Even here in the Academy, where is being unfair not cheating?”

It's a good discussion, and as the hour goes on, the Plebes are looking thoughtful, which is what I want. They're growing past the 'monkey see, monkey do' stage of the cadet experience, and I like seeing them thinking. “To wrap up, let's review. There are some inherently unfair things that the Honor Code does not see as cheating. Just because Galloway is six foot four and Justino is five foot nothin', doesn't mean Galloway's cheating if they play basketball. And yes, if you have an advantage within the rules that you can exploit in a sport or other competition, you use it. Okay, I know you all have finals next week, I'll let you get to studying. Dismissed. Carlyle, wait up a moment.”

There's a few jokes for Carlyle as she sits back down, and Major Campos holds fast too. He's big into Sandhurst, and he probably knows what I'm going to talk with Carlyle about. “Relax, Carlyle. I just wanted to ask you about something.”

“Sir?” Carlyle replies, and I can see it in the way she looks at me, not intimidated or freaked out, but just measuring. She's the person I want on the team, she won't crack. There’s something else there, and the forbidden little whisper in my head repeats itself. She’s more than cute, and I’ve had a challenge being professional with her as her squad leader.

“I don't know if you are aware, but I'm the lead Cow for the Sandhurst team,” I tell her, giving her a smile. Normally around unrecognized Plebes my straight laced side comes out, but Carlyle is different. “What do you know about it?”

“Military competition sir, between the companies in the Corps and some outside teams. Gavin did it back when he was here,” she says, and Major Campos sits up, interested.

“Excuse me, Carlyle. I don't mean to interrupt, I noticed the name before. But... Gavin Carlyle, was he in G-3 as a Firstie?”

Carlyle turns, surprised. “Sir? You knew Gavin?”

“I was in G-3 my Plebe and Yuk years. I heard about his accident... my condolences. He was a good man, Ashley.”

Carlyle swallows and nods gratefully. “Thank you, sir. But, Cadet Lancaster, why me for Sandhurst?”

“Because we need two women to step up,” I tell her honestly. “Cadet Price's going to talk to Lawton, but I don't think she'll keep up when the mud hits the boots. Yeah, she's got a better APFT than you, but you've... you've shown me grit. And you shoot really well, something that can make the difference in the competition. It'll qualify as your Intramural credit for second semester, but it also takes up a lot of your military days too. So it's not easy, but it's worth it. What do you say?”

Carlyle thinks about it for a moment, then nods. “I'm game, sir. When do we start?”

“Formal practice will start during Winter Intercession, but I'd advise you to get workouts in starting ASAP. The Sandhurst is four hours long. When do you have gymnastics for DPE?”

“Next cycle, sir. Is it helpful?”

I nod. “Put it this way, everything we'll do in Sandhurst, you'll do in gymnastics. Don't sweat it now, but come January we'll get some extra work in on it all. I'm not guaranteeing you a slot on the team, but you'll be squared away for summer, I can guarantee you that.”

Carlyle gives me a smile, and again I'm struck by just how pretty this girl can be when she smiles. She might have major RBF, but when she smiles, she makes my blood run a lot warmer than I’ve felt in a while. Still, she's an unrecognized Plebe, and one who is in my squad to boot. I can’t do a thing. “Okay, sir. I'll get the workouts in starting tomorrow. Can I get workout tips?”

“Sure. I'll send you an e-mail with a training plan tonight. For now, go get some dinner,” I tell her, and Carlyle gets up, heading out of the day room. After she leaves, I look over at Major Campos, who's giving the now empty door an interesting look. “Any thoughts, sir?”

The Major nods. He's not much of a talker, he's more of a hard charging kick ass type, and he's in his last year as a TAC officer. “I wasn't sure, and to be honest I didn't check because I didn't want to be unfair to her or the other Plebes. But... she's a lot like her brother. You're extraordinarily fortunate to have her as one of your Plebes, Simon.”

“Thank you, sir. What was her brother like?” I ask, and the Major laughs before growing serious and contemplative.

“Funny. Intense, too. He was the sort of dedicated fool that'd sacrifice his life giving his poncho and gear to the other guys in his patrol, so that they can live while he freezes to death in a Florida swamp,” the Major says softly, shaking his head. “Never, ever doubt that Ashley Carlyle doesn't come from a strong background. And I suspect that come Sandhurst, you're right, she'll be the female on the team while Lawton cheers on from the sidelines.”

Ashley

I'm rushing up the stairs, sweating lightly even though it's below freezing outside. The problem is that my second period class is Psychology, which is on the second floor of Thayer Hall, while my third period class is all the way up on the fifth floor of Washington Hall. That’s a long way apart.

I get into class with seconds to spare. We start class quickly, with the instructor, a visiting Captain in the French Army going off most of the time in liquid French that's about twenty percent faster than anything we listened to last semester.

“So, zhe key is to focus on your subject,” the instructor says in one of his few bursts of English. Unfortunately, I think I'd prefer if he stayed in French, because his accent is so thick I can barely understand a damn thing he's saying. “And remember zat zhe conjugation flows from your subject.”

I struggle to keep up, but I know about halfway through the class that the only way can is if I bust my ass studying at night. Well, at least there's plenty of resources to help me practice. Hell, if anything I can talk with Cadet Lancaster, he's a foreign language major.

After class, I'm heading down the hall when I hear someone call my name. “Yo, Carlyle, wait up.”

I turn around and it's a Cow from class. We sat on opposite sides of the room, but up close I can't help but think he’s handsome-ish. About six feet tall, with a body that's obviously seen the good side of a weight room pretty often, he's got sandy blond hair and a handsome face, kinda looking like a young Brad Pitt. “Sir?”

“Cade Edwards,” he says, waving off the sir. “I saw the way you looked in class. Let me guess, you're feeling like you just got chucked into the deep end of the pool?”

“How'd you guess, sir?” I reply, smiling. Okay, maybe it's a bit of a stretching of the rules, but I haven't had a guy do more than yell at me or call me by my last name since July. Well, there’s Cadet Lancaster, but he was my squad leader… I can’t think of him as a guy. Cade’s obviously flirting with me, and to be honest, I've missed it. “Was it the sign on my forehead that said I have no damn clue what the instructor said?”

Cade laughs, nodding. “Something like that. Listen, I was wondering... well, French isn't my main language, that's Chinese, but maybe we can help each other out. I saw the roster, you're in I-1, right?”

“Right, sir,” I say, before Cade shakes his head. “What?”

“Drop the sir act in the class area with me,” he says, shrugging. “I hated that my entire time as a Plebe. I did a year and some change active duty before I got in here. Seriously, Central Area do what you need to do to avoid fire, but up here, chill out.”

“O… okay,” I say, realizing after all this time it's harder than I thought. I guess some of that cadet act soaks into you after all. “How did you find it?”

Cade shrugs and gives me a mischievous smile. “Not too bad. But, I was thinking... well, how about you come by my room tonight, we can review what Captain Le Peu spewed today? Say, after nineteen thirty?”

I can't help it, I lick my lips a little, it's a habit I've had since I was a kid, and it's held me pretty well when guys try and hit on me. “Uh... sure. Where do you live?”

“Bradley, room 224,” Cade says with a smile. “And come in your PTs, it'd be easier on you. You can relax in my room, just be on the bounce outside of it, okay?”

“Okay,” I reply, and he smiles. It's wolfish, a little daring, and I gotta admit it's flattering. “I'll see you there.”

Cade nods and turns. “Okay. As for me, off to Chinese. Trust me when I say that sucks. See you tonight.”

I have fourth period off, which is nice since that means I'm totally prepared for lunch formation. I get back to my room and set my books down, yawning a little. My shoes for lunch are already shined, so I take out my history book for my after lunch class period and start reading. I'm surprised when Tamara knocks on my door about halfway through the hour, she and I aren't rooming this semester. “Hey, Ash?”

Tamara's the only person in the entire company who calls me by my first name, and I like her, even if she is painfully shy with everyone else. I know she's already having problems with her current roommate, and I feel bad for her. “Come on in, Tammy. You have fourth period off too?”

Tamara nods, and sits down on my footlocker. “Yeah, I just hate going back to my room without needing too. Not quite as much fun as last semester.”

“I gotcha,” I tell her, closing my book. “You and Breisling not getting along still?”

“Nope. Total Cold War ever since we caught two hours punishment apiece for that mess in the sink,” Tamara says, sighing. “She's barely talking to me at all since then.”

I shake my head, knowing about the incident. I think a little blame could go to both girls, I mean Tammy was in a rush when she shouldn't have been and didn't wipe out her mess from brushing her teeth, but I suspect that Breisling screwed up in not checking the sink before she left the room too. Either way, it was only two hours. “Damn. Well, you can hang here for a while. Aren't you calling minutes this week?”

Tammy nods, blushing. “They put me outside Cadet King's room. She says that me having quiet minutes is a good thing, she hates it being too loud. She's actually really nice in her own way, she came out and talked to me yesterday.”

“You mean she's nice in a butch way?” I ask, broaching the subject. Tammy blushes, and I decide it's time to have the talk that I've been meaning to have with her since about two weeks into last semester. Getting up, I close my door. “Let's talk, Tammy. You and me, we were roomies since R-day, right?”

“Yeah,” Tammy admits. “You spent a lot of time in Beast and last semester saving my ass. Why is that?”

I sit down in my chair and lean back, letting my elbows relax on the arm rests. “Tammy, did you know that back in Beast, I thought I'd end up the first half with only one roomie, that you'd be one of those that would quit? You didn't, and I saw something that most of these idiots around here haven't seen, maybe because most of the Corps came here straight from the stupidity of high school drama. Where are you from again?”

“Idaho,” Tammy says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Ketchum, Idaho.”

“Population?”

“Two thousand, eight hundred, and twenty three,” Tammy replies.

I hum, nodding. “So I'm guessing that growing up, there weren't too many girls like you around?”

Tammy looks up at me, half scared. “What do you mean, girls like me?”

I cock an eyebrow and smirk. “Tammy, my college in Washington has a freshman class bigger than Ketchum, Idaho. You don't think I met a few girls who were at least bisexual if not full out lesbians? I even got hit on by a girl in my dorm, and more than one girl in the dorm ended up doing a little experimenting. So chill, I'm not worried about it.”

Tammy bites her lip, then sighs. “Thanks. I guess I'm just worried that the word would get out. And I'm not totally lez, I've been with a guy. I guess you could call me... well, I don't know what to call myself. Just....”

“Just you've been crushing on me for a little while,” I interrupt her gently. “And I'll be honest, it's flattering even if I’m not vibing the same way. You've got a lot to offer a guy or girl you're into, Tammy.”

Tammy blushes, then looks at me out of the side of her eyes. “So you don't mind that I want to hang out with you a lot?”

I shake my head, relaxing and smiling. “Nope. Everyone needs a friend, and I am happy to be yours. Long as we recognize that friends is all we are going to be. I'm not going to lead you on, and I won't play you either.”

Tammy smiles again, then nods. “I can live with that. Besides, my crush is kinda fading.”

“Oh really?” I tease, raising an eyebrow. “And you wouldn't be thinking of a pretty muscular studette of a former first sergeant now, are you?”

“She is pretty in a pro-wrestler kinda way,” Tamara admits. “But, she's a Cow, and I'm just a Plebe. Can't even call her by her first name for another two and a half months. And I'm just Price, not Tamara and certainly not Tammy to her. Oh, and she's also straight. Or at least she's got a picture of a guy above her desk, I saw it when I delivered laundry to her room.”

I laugh. “I figured she ate boyfriends for breakfast and whipped them BDSM style for lunch.”

Tammy bites her lip, and I chuckle. “Down girl. You need to let off steam, go take a long shower, the water masks the noise pretty well. Trust me, I know.”

Tammy laughs, and nods. “Actually, and please don't freak out, but there were a few times when I'd do it in my bed when you were asleep. I'm pretty quiet when I want to be.”

I don't want to tell her that at least once I knew, but instead nod. “Still, safer that way. You don't want to be fingers deep when a roomie wakes up needing to take a piss, you know? Personal experience from civilian college talking here.”

Tammy laughs again, and leans back. “Thanks, Ash. Really. I've spent months now wanting to just have someone I can be myself with, even if it's not romantic or whatever. Maybe now that I know I can just be myself around you, I'll drop the stressed out act, you know?”

“I know,” I tell her. I check my watch, chuckling. “And you need to post yourself outside King's room, you got just a few minutes. Hey, you going to come watch Sandhurst practice this afternoon?”

Tamara shakes her head, blushing again. “I signed up for submission grappling for Intramurals.”

I blink, stunned. “You what? Have you ever wrestled in your life?”

She shakes her head, and her blush deepens. “Nope, but I'm trying to learn. And I get to roll around and get sweaty with King on the mats, she's the only other female on the team. Nice side benefit, you know?”

“Good point.”

* * *

I've never been in Bradley Barracks before, even though it's right next to Pershing. It's the realm of Second Regiment, there's no reason for me to be poking around there. Better not to play with fire.

But I've got my French book, and I'm wearing my full PT gear, which means that I'm a little anonymous as I walk down the hall to Cade's room. The only thing I do that gives away my Plebe status is knocking three times on his door. “Come on in.”

I open the door, and Cade's there by himself, his roomie absent. “Hi.”

“Hey Carlyle, come on in,” Cade says, waving me over. “Ben's out of the room for a while, so grab his chair and pull it over here.”

His room is laid out differently from mine, with an L-shaped desk that looks like it'd be more at home in a normal office than a cadet room, but I'd seen those before. Unfortunately Pershing doesn't have enough room in our rooms for the big L-shape, I’d like the space. “Where? Not a lot of space on the other side of the desk.”

“Then slide over here next to me,” Cade says, laughing. “The door's open, Carlyle. Or can I call you Ashley? At least during studying?”

It is one of those things that is unique in the foreign language classes, we refer to each other all the time by first name. “Ah, I guess. Sure.”

I grab Cade's roommate's chair pulling it next to his, and he scoots over, letting me in as best I can. Still, it's a tight fit, and the arms of our chairs are touching as we get started. “So let's try the first script, see how you're doing with translating it,” Cade says, opening his book and putting it halfway between us. “You go ahead.”

I feel like as we run through the script that I'm actually getting this better than Cade is. My pronunciation sounds a lot closer to the instructor’s, and as we try changes to the script, I'm a lot more accurate with the variations than he is.

Still, Cade's charismatic. But when he knee brushes against mine, at first maybe accidentally, but the second time for sure on purpose, I don’t like it. Leaning so close over the book that I can feel the warmth from his body on my skin, I'm shocked when his finger traces mine while we're going through our lines. “Cade....”

“Shhh,” he whispers, shaking his head. “Sometimes it's fun to break the rules, you know.”

His eyes are full of meaning, but I shake my head, standing up. “Thank you, but no. I... I need to get back to my room.”

“Your loss. See you in class Wednesday,” Cade says casually, waving. He's not flustered at all, in fact he looks like he's just expectant, like he knows how I'm feeling, and as I quickly leave Bradley and head back to Pershing, I'm trying to keep my head from spinning.

One touch. One fucking touch, on my hand no less, and my goddamn hormones are jacked up to eleven. I understand it, I haven't exactly had attention from guys in the past few months. But Cade? He's not even my type. Sure, the bodybuilder build is nice, but he's got a fake bake tan, and he rolls the hems on the sleeves of his PT shirt which is already a size and a half too small! Hell, he might as well have been from Jersey and asked me how I'm doin'?

But it doesn't matter, my body is flying right now on hormones, and I need release. I just need to make sure that whatever I do to release it, I'm not going to think about those ripped biceps or the way his thighs were warm where he touched my knee... FUCK! God fucking damn it all!

I get to my room and quickly make a decision, I'd told Tammy about it earlier today even. Grabbing my towel and shower kit, I head to the bathroom. I step into the changing area and peel off my clothes, turning on the water and stepping into the stall to give me my own personal space to do what I have to do.

For me, nothing beats letting off sexual energy in the shower. Cupping my breasts, I tweak my nipples, biting my lip as the hot energy sparkles inside me, the burning feeling good as the water splashes against my stomach and runs down between my legs, warming me even more.

I've let my body maintenance slip since joining the Corps, and my fingers catch a little in the full bush I've grown, but it doesn't matter, the slight pull is good as my fingers slide between my pussy lips, rubbing the slick folds until I slide my finger deep, moaning as I do. I work quickly, pumping my finger in and out letting the waves wash over me, the heel of my palm grinding against my clit. It's been my guaranteed move since I was thirteen and figured out what my body can do, but something's missing.

My mind starts drifting, and I start thinking of what I need, a man who can be my fantasy lover. Tall, for sure... his body athletic, but leaner than Cade, a little taller. More serious, none of the playboy bullshit. And I like brown hair...

The image comes into my mind while my orgasm grows inside me, and I let my head fall forward, the water soaking into my hair as suddenly Cadet Lancaster comes into my mind. He's tall, and there's a strength to him, refined and cultured, but with a hint of inner passion that pulls at me. No man could ever be as good as he is without a strong wild side, one that I want to be able to see, to make him let loose.

My body trembles, and then the waves all harmonize, my clit and g-spot coming together is a tsunami that leaves me smiling. My entire world stretches out and washes white and pure before my thighs tremble, the afterwash leaving me relaxed and happy.

I finish up my shower, putting some conditioner in my hair while my fingers stop trembling, and I wait, thinking while the vitamins do their work. Cadet Lancaster? He's a Cow, but at least he's respectful. When he invited me to join the Sandhurst squad, he didn't hit on me, he was totally cool. And last semester, as squad leader, he certainly made my pulse race a little.

Hell, he's not too bad a fantasy, a lot better than Cade Edwards. Even with that scar on his mouth and cheek, he's a lot more my type anyway. He's actually got his act together, and I don't sense any fakeness from him.

I rinse out my hair and chuckle, drying off. Okay, so I've been denying myself pretty hard since Beast. Instead of a healthy sex life, I've lived like a nun. This sort of release is something I need, and now that the stress of first semester is over, maybe it's time that I reacquaint myself with my inner fantasies and with my body's needs. It's about all I've got right now.

Simon

Hayes Gym is the oldest part of the Arvin Gym complex, dating back to the early 1900s. There's still two floors of it left, the first floor which holds a pair of workout rooms, while the second floor is the gymnastics gym, where we are today. The room's totally dedicated to the gymnastics techniques that the Department of Physical Education calls “Military Movement.”

“Okay team, last year the Ironside lost a lot of time on the one rope bridge. Half of it was the setup. But,” Mike Price says, looking around, “we lost a lot more time because we moved like sloths on the damn rope. So today it's all about bodyweight movements.”

“So that's why we're in court shoes,” Betty Lawton jokes, looking down. I have to admit, ACU pants and tops with court shoes is pretty stupid looking, but we can't wear combat boots here. “Realism in training.”

“Be glad we're not in helmets too,” I tell Betty, who rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue at me. “What?”

“You're nuts, you know that?”

Mike taps his foot, shutting us up, and looks around. “Okay, okay, enough of that. Simon, I want you to take Carlyle, Gilbert, Jones, and Hunt, you're going to be doing shelf, the bar walk, the balance beam and the monkey bars. Upperclassmen, are with me, we're going to work the two sets of ropes, vertical and horizontal. In a while we'll switch.”

I take my people, the four Plebes on the team, over to the horizontal shelf. Carlyle looks at it with a bit of concern, while Gilbert, Jones, and Hunt, who have taken gymnastics, aren't so worried. “Okay you guys, review time. While there is no shelf on the Sandhurst course, you will need to maybe do this for the rock climbing, or getting on the rope. Now, to do it in pants is a little different from when you were in spazz-nastics, so watch.”

I grab the edge of the shelf overhead and pull with my arms, swinging my heel up to the side just like DPE teaches us, then getting my knee and thigh on the shelf before rolling my body over the edge. Once up, I get to my knees and look down. “Try it this way. Carlyle, you're going to have to give me a bit of a jump to grab the edge of the shelf, so the pull's going to be different for you. Show me what you've got. Carlyle on my right side, Gilbert on the left.”

Gilbert's over six feet tall, so for him the shelf is pretty easy, but Carlyle struggles at first. She's never done this before, even if she's heard about it from her family, and the sideways crunch you need to be able to do is totally unfamiliar. She tries a few times then drops off, wiping her hands on her pants. “Jones, Hunt, left side,” I command, shifting my attention to Carlyle. “Carlyle, give me your hand.”

“No way. I can do it,” she grumbles, jumping and pulling again. She almost gets it, her heel gets into the little groove of the shelf, but she's not at the right angle and dangles helplessly for a minute before dropping back down again, muttering a curse under her breath.

“Carlyle, come on. On the course helping your squadmate is normal and encouraged,” I tell her, offering my hand. “Come on.”

Carlyle shakes her head, her auburn hair shaking back and forth and there's as much fire in her green eyes as her hair. “Fuck off, sir. Course is one thing, this is training.”

I could yell at her, she did just tell an upperclassman to fuck off, but she's showing me the same heart that she did all of first semester, and I sit back, watching in anticipation as she tries it a third time. Besides, that fire is hot, and now that I’m not her squad leader, I’ve found myself looking at her a lot more. I’m going to keep myself professional, but maybe after recognition, I could see if she’s as hot inside as she is outside.

But the shelf is a lot like drowning or boxing. You go down two times, there's a damn good chance you're going down for a third and last time too.

Nobody's told that to Ashley Carlyle though, and she take a deep breath, jumping and pulling with an unladylike grunt that would impress anyone on the powerlifting team. She gets her heel up, and then pulls with her hamstring, just like you're supposed to, getting her hips closer to the shelf until she's able to get her knee and thigh in, and she rolls over the edge, on the shelf by herself. I give her a bit of silent applause, totally authentic. “You did it.”

She looks at me, her eyes sparkling, and I notice again just how pretty she is. Maybe I do want to check her out, but I really need to make sure that I don't let her know about it. She's still got three months until Recognition. “Sorry about the fuck off, sir. But thanks.”

I nod, and feel something unfamiliar on my face, a genuine smile, come out. I don't ever give Plebe girls my real smile, just my 'professional' smile. Carlyle though seems to get it out of me. “You keep performing, you can tell me to fuck off more often. Still... I've done this a few times now, don't ignore my advice, okay?”

Her smile grows and she nods. “Huah, sir. So now what?”

“Now,” I say, looking around at my Plebes, “it's time for the horizontal bar walk, then the shelf again. Trust me, all of you are going to get sick of this shelf before we switch up.”

The bar walk goes easy, it's more of a confidence thing than anything else for people who have a problem with heights, and the next time we do the shelf, Carlyle does it right the first time, still slower than the guys but close enough that I don't have to have her run it by herself. We work for about fifteen minutes before I take them across the balance beam, letting them get their muscles back for the next hard challenge, the monkey bars.

I look over at Mike, who's got the upperclassmen going across the horizontal rope, and they're doing an okay job. I can't help it, I check out how Betty Lawton's doing, but this is her sort of environment, a 'clean sweat' if that makes any sense, and she's flying across the rope nearly as fast as some of the guys.

I know I'm playing favorites here. I invited Carlyle to join the team, and maybe I just want to be proven that I'm right. She's better than Lawton when it all comes down to it, either because I've worked with her for so long, or maybe it's her family thing. It for sure can't be that she and I are about two weeks apart in age and she's... get a fucking hold of yourself, Simon.

“Okay, monkey bars!” I tell the Plebes, leading them over. I go down the ladder, hitting every bar with my hand for the training effect. “Down and walk back.”

Again, Carlyle struggles compared to the guys, but she fights, hard. Her legs are pumping and her lip lifts in a little sneer as she looks up at the next bar and the next, dropping to the mat at the end and walking back without a single complaint. We’re here to make sure that the Ironside Team is fit all around, not just runners. Mike and I agree, we want a team of overall studs.

“Last challenge,” I tell them, looking on as all the Plebes flex their tired hands. They're about to get a lot more tired, but I want them pushed to that point, so that the ropes have to come down to technique and heart, not hand strength. “Down, loop, and back. Watch.”

It's hard even for me, the idea of turning around on the monkey bars is hard. When I get back, my shoulders are aching, and the Plebes look at me with a lot more respect than they even did before. “Jones, you're up. Hunt, you're next, then Gilbert, then Carlyle. Go.”

Jones gets to the turn around but can't figure out it out and drops, cursing and shaking his hands. He's got potential, he wants to go again but I tell him to get some water instead. Next is Hunt, who disappoints me by giving up at the turn around. He could have made it, he had the hard part of the turn done, but instead he drops, and I bite back a comment. No need to bust their ass just yet.

Gilbert's tougher, getting three quarters of the way back before his forearms just seize up and his fingers let go of the bar, hitting total failure. I pat him on the back and look over at Carlyle, nodding. “Go, Carlyle.”

Carlyle, who's been watching with an intent look on her face that I know is the reason people think she's got an everpresent bitchy expression, grabs the first bar and starts. She's smart, skipping bars while she has the energy until she hits the turn around. Unlike what I did, twisting and taking a lateral grip for two swings, she takes a parallel grip on two bars and starts pumping her legs, her face a mask of pain as she inches forward and across the small gap, then starting back the other way.

I can't help it, I start cheering her on as she keeps fighting, bar by bar. “Come on Carlyle, do it. Ten more bars! Eight more!”

She's working so hard that I can see either sweat or tears trickling from the corner of her eyes, but she gets there, jackknifing her body the last foot to put her feet on the steps and standing clear and triumphant. She sticks her fists into the air, and turns, looking at me with a clear smile that takes her from just pretty to beautiful. “YES!”

I look over at Mike Price, who's stopped what the upperclassmen are doing to watch, and he gives me a little nod. He saw, and he knows.

* * *

After dinner, I head down the hall, intent on getting some homework done. I've got military history this semester, and it's actually a lot of fun. I'm just turning the corner from the stairs when I hear soft cry of pain, and I stop, concerned. I follow the sound and see that it's Carlyle's room. The door's open, and I knock softly, not with the two knocks of an upperclassman, but the three knocks of a peer. “Carlyle?”

She's holding her hands in front of her, hissing in pain as she cries, and I step in, concerned. She sees me move and sniffs quickly, tucking her hands under her desk. “Sir?”

“Show me your hands,” I tell her, coming closer and kneeling down. “Come on.”

She takes her hands out and I see that they're a mess. Huge blisters cover her palms, with one on her right hand near the base of her fingers already ruptured and bleeding a yellow-red mix of blood and fluid. “S... sir, it's okay.”

“Bullshit, Carlyle,” I admonish her gently, taking her hand. “Why didn't you tell me or Mike Price?”

“I didn't want you to think I'm weak,” she sniffs. “It didn't hurt until I tried to clean them. The... the alcohol stung a lot.”

I look at her desk, there’s an uncapped bottle of rubbing alcohol, and I shake my head again. “First off, putting rubbing alcohol on something like this is just asking for torture. Even I'm not that hard core. You got any peroxide?”

She shakes her head, her body still trembling from the pain she’s in. “Okay, well, it doesn't matter for now, the nerves are fried. Still, use peroxide instead. If you forget to pick up any, stop by my room and get some. However, in the future, you stop before you get to this point.”

Carlyle growls lightly as she shakes her head once more, this time looking up at me. “I won't stop, sir. Cadet Lawton made it look easy today.”

I laugh softly, and look around. “Mind if I take a seat? It's your room, you know.”

“Go ahead, sir. Billie... I mean, Cadet De Soto won't mind. She’s gone for a basketball game.”

I grab De Soto's chair and sit down, and look at Carlyle, who's getting back under control. I've had alcohol poured in a cut, it does suck big time. “Carlyle, let me fill you in on Cadet Lawton. She's one of the better female athletes in the company, and today she smoked everything. But Sandhurst isn't done in Hayes Gym, it's done on the ranges and hills around post. And there... well, let's just say that she fell out of both the march back from Frederick and Buckner, and she’s struggled in the field. Some people are great in the clean zone, and some can keep it going when there's dirt under their fingernails. Me personally, I asked you because I think you're the second type. You showed me that today, and you're showing it to me now. I had no idea you were hurting all during practice.”

“I... I don't want you to think I can't hack it, sir. I know they talk about motivation a lot around here, and so much of it's crap, but you've always treated me square. No looking down, and none of the sexual harassment crap that it seems is dosed out around here to every female cadet. You just... you're real.”

It's touching, and I can't help it, I smile again. Real? Yeah, well Carlyle, maybe after Recognition I’ll show you just how real I can be. “Well, we've got a long way to go to Sandhurst, Carlyle. In the meantime, put the alcohol away, and I'll bring down some ibuprofen pills that I've got in my room. They're the Ranger Candy type, 600 milligrams that the docs gave me last semester. So only one for you, got it?”

* * *

“Simon, can you follow me?” Major Campos says, a strange look on his face. The winter's starting to let go, although now instead of cold it's also rainy. That’s just as bad, especially with the competition coming up so soon. “I just got some difficult news, son.”

“What's that, sir?” I ask, confused. “Did I screw up something?”

The Major shakes his head, and takes a deep breath. “No, not at all. Actually, I think you and Mike Price have been doing a great job with the Sandhurst team, we may just get bragging rights. But that's beside the point. I got a phone call while you were in class... son, your father was in a car accident. He's.... he didn't make it. I'm sorry.”

The news hits me like a punch in the chest, and I sit, looking at Major Campos like he's an alien from another planet, not understanding a thing he's saying as he continues. Finally, I find some words. “Dad's dead?”

“Yes, Simon,” Major Campos says, his eyes full of concern. “Now, I've already talked with my higher ups, and your leave is already approved. You'll be flying out of Newark and expected back next Tuesday.”

“Tuesday? No way, sir.”

“Simon, your father just died. Don't you think....” the Major says, but I cut him off.

“Sir, the Sandhurst competition is this weekend. And Dad and I, we had an understanding. Me leaving home meant I was leaving home. He... he'd want me here, with my team, doing the competition with my brothers and sisters in the Ironside, not standing next to some grave in Colorado in my dress gray and watching as that bitch who gave birth to me pretends to cry as he's lowered into the ground. So with all due respect, sir... I'm not going on leave.”

The Major gives me a look, then nods. “Your choice, son. Still, you're excused from all military duties for the rest of the week, formations included. If you want run Sandhurst on Saturday, that's totally your choice. But I'd advise you to take some time and grieve, or at least think. It helps.”

I get up, and nod. “Thank you, sir. I'll do that. Uh, I'd prefer if the company didn't know about this, sir. At least, as much as possible. I don't need the sympathy.”

Major Campos agrees, and I leave his office, going back to my room. I sort of space out, skipping the afternoon formation to just watch out my window as the rain stops and the sun goes down. When the cold starts to creep in through my window, I change into warm PT gear, and sit back down, trying to think of something to do. I skip dinner, not feeling hungry at all, and my thoughts are interrupted only when I hear a soft knock on my door. “Sir?”

I turn around and see Carlyle standing there, also in her PTs. In the eight weeks of train up for Sandhurst, she's never let me down, and I already talked with Mike about it, she's going to be our female team member come Saturday. She deserves it, honestly. “Hey Carlyle. Need something?”

“No sir,” she says, coming in and setting a protein bar on my desk. “But you missed dinner. My Dad sent this in a care package, and I thought you could enjoy it. I hate peanut butter protein bars.”

I pick it up, and look at the wrapper. Nice brand, they're pretty expensive. “So I guess the whole company knows?”

“Not really, sir. I heard it because Major Campos was standing behind me talking to Sergeant Hardwick. I've got really good hearing. But no, no public announcement. I just... I guess I should go.”

Carlyle turns, and I sit up, raising a hand. “Wait, Carlyle. If you don't mind, I could use a chance to share some of this with someone who's willing to listen. I actually got some snacks of my own in my desk here, you mind splitting a can of honey roasted peanuts with me?”

Carlyle thinks for a moment, then grabs my roomie's chair and sits down. I open the protein bar and cut it into quarters with my scissors, setting it on a sheet of printer paper before popping the lid and seal on the peanuts. “Thanks, sir. So you're not taking leave?”

“No, this is my family now,” I tell her, munching on a peanut. “This company, the people in Sandhurst, you guys are my family now. Now that Dad's gone, I won't let my family down.”

“I didn't know you lost both of your parents,” Carlyle says, taking a peanut and munching. “What happened?”

I sigh, and rub at my face. “You asked me, way back long ago it seems, how I got this scar. Remember?”

“I do. You said I had to get a little more street cred with you to be able to get that story. Do I have it yet?”

Still so feisty, no wonder she turns me on. “You do. And keep this in between your ears, okay? Not too many folks around here know the story of Simon Lancaster and his half a Glasgow smile.”

Carlyle winces, but takes another peanut. “I thought that's what it was. I knew a guy back in school in Washington that had a full one, he got it from messing with the wrong gang in his neighborhood. You?”

“My mother,” I say simply, and Carlyle drops the peanut that's in her hand. It clatters on my desk, where it sits, totally forgotten. “When I was seven, she said I had a smart mouth, so she was going to take care of it for me. She took the kitchen scissors from the block in the kitchen and shoved them in my mouth. I thought she was just threatening me, she made a lot of threats to me growing up. Called me a lot of things that…. Anyway, when she stuck the scissors in my mouth, I thought she was just fucking around, so I didn't punch or kick her, I knew that'd just get me a beating from her that was even worse. Then... she closed the scissors by using both hands, and I had my half smile. I ran into the night, screaming so loud the neighbors took me in and got me to the hospital.”

“What… what happened to her?” Carlyle asks, and I shake my head. “What?”

“She claimed when the cops got there that I did it to myself, and the cops believed her. My mother always had a very persuasive personality, she's somehow convinced man after man, including my father, that she is a worthwhile person. It's another reason I won't go to his funeral. I know that Dad's will states she gets two thirds. I'll get a little, I'm putting it into trust, I don't need it… but yeah, that's my mother. Good ol' Brenda Lancaster.” I take a chunk of the protein bar, and pop it into my mouth, chewing. “Say, this is pretty good. Thank your Dad. To answer your unasked question Carlyle, yes, during Spring Break I'm going to go and visit the grave site. I'll talk with the lawyer, stuff like that. But until then, I'm going to focus on Saturday.”

Carlyle takes a piece of the protein bar and chews it herself, then swallows. “All right then, sir. Let's get through the rest of the week, and we can kick some ass on Saturday.”

Ashley

I'm feeling strange, dressed in my full dress uniform. Up until now, I've only worn it for parades and uniform inspections, but tonight is different. The night air is warmer than it's been in months, and I can't help but have my fingers tremble a little as I try to fix my collar.

“You ready, Ash?” Billie De Soto, my roomie, asks. She's tall, nearly six foot two, and towers over even a lot of the guys. We don't get along as well as Tammy and I did, but she's okay. “Ready to get your name back?”

I laugh, and pull on my white cotton gloves. “Yeah, let's do it.”

Out in the hallway, the platoon that's been tasked with calling minutes fires up, calling a ten minute warning for dinner formation. I give Billie a fist bump and we book it out of our room, knowing what's coming.

It's the last chance for the upperclassmen to get a little bit of hazing in, but there's a different feeling to it, tonight. For most of the upperclassmen, it's a ritual, sort of a last bit of a rub before we get recognized.

We reach the formation area and fall in, standing at attention as the upperclassmen circle, playfully sniffing the water. There's a few already talking with the Plebes, asking them knowledge and generally harassing them. The Plebes are giving it back too, in our own way. Cadet Price, it's going to be good to refer to him as Mike since Tammy has the same last name, comes over, a toothy grin on his face. “Carlyle!”

“Sir!”

“Start The Corps!”

I decide to give him a little bit of sass, I think I've earned it. After all, I-1 took top honors among the Corps of Cadets for the Sandhurst Competition, and second overall, losing only to the RMC Sandhurst Red team. “Da da da, dadadadada.... Sir, the Corps’ out of gas!”

Cadet Price steps close until we're nearly nose to nose, his smile dropping but still with a twinkle in his eye. “Are you trying to be funny, Carlyle?”

“No sir!”

“Are you a comedienne, Carlyle?”

“No sir!”

Price hums, then shakes his head in mock exasperation. “All right. So tell me, what was your favorite part of Sandhurst?”

“Sir, the rappeling. It's kinda fun, sir.”

Price grins, nodding. “You helped give me a hell of a send off from Sandhurst, Carlyle. Thank you.”

“Thank you, sir.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Tammy talking with Cadet King, and I wonder just how fast Tammy's pulse is going right now. King kind of took Tammy under her wing during submission grappling, and now she's definitely mother henning Tammy, keeping her busy with just enough hazing that she looks like she's being harassed and away from the other upperclassmen who have a bad opinion of her. I'm glad. I don't know if she's still got a crush on King, maybe she does by the way we talk sometimes, but it's good she's got a mentor at least.

“Fall in!” the current First Sergeant calls, and we go through formation, everything normal until the First Sergeant calls for all the Plebes to come forth and be recognized. We form up in a long line, and starting with Major Campos, who's out here in his dress blues tonight, we shake hands, giving them our first names and them giving theirs to us. From this moment on, we're not just 'smacks,' or 'Plebes,' or any other of the nicknames they've given us. I'm Ashley again.

From the corner of my eye, I see Cadet Lancaster, and my heart speeds up a little. During the Sandhurst run, he was the man, nobody able to tell that he's going through what he's going through. From what I can tell, other than his roommate, and he doesn't have the full story, nobody else in the company knows.

“Congratulations, Carlyle,” he says, offering his hand. We shake, and I swear there's a spark that jumps between us, maybe I've just had him as a playtime fantasy for too long and I need to find some celebrity to rub one out over. “Simon Lancaster.”

“Ashley Carlyle, and thanks.” There isn't time for much more, he's got to move on to the next Plebe and the next Plebe. Of the thirty one that started academic year, we've still got twenty nine, two guys quitting to transfer to civilian schools after one semester.

Dinner isn't all that great, the mess hall staff at West Point is not Michelin starred. Still, it's good. The biggest part is the fact that for the first time, I feel like the meal actually is, as the Academy advertises, family style. For the first time, I can laugh and joke with everyone else. The past nine months aren’t forgotten but still there's a sense of bonding there that wasn't there before. I'm even surprised when Cadet Mitchell, who I haven't seen since Beast, comes around from wherever she sits during the rest of the year and offers her hand. “Congrats, Carlyle. Veronica Mitchell.”

“Ashley. Or Ash, I don't mind that.”

“Groovy,” Mitchell says, and I laugh. It's an old joke, but hey, it's been a long time and I kinda like it again. “Where's Price?”

“Tammy's three tables up,” I tell her, pointing. Veronica nods and goes over, shaking hands with Tammy and all the other Plebes that she used to command when we were new cadets.

Dinner runs long, but it's mostly a celebration atmosphere, so nobody really minds, and besides, the desserts of fresh cherry pies with ice cream are pretty damn awesome. They even sent two to every table, so instead of getting a tiny little wedge, I'm able to eat a whole quarter of a pie.

After dinner, a lot of the cadets indulge in another old tradition, sharing a cigar. That's not my thing, so I head upstairs, shucking my full dress and instead doing my own little indulgence, wearing my PT t-shirt along with my long pants instead of just the shorts. Ah... the life of a semi-normal person.

“Yo Ashley, how you doin'?” Cade Edwards asks, sticking his head in the door. He's got his full dress still on, although it's half unbuttoned and he reeks of cigar smoke. “Enjoying recognized life?”

“Pretty much,” I answer, trying to be polite. After that first study session, when I realized he was trying to make a move on me more than anything else, I paid attention, and came to realize that Cade's just not all that smart. “Thanks for coming by.”

“No sweat, beautiful. Listen, I was kinda wonderin', you know when we get back from Spring Break and all, if maybe you'd like to catch a pizza at Grant Hall or something?”

A date? Jesus, I've turned him down twice for further study sessions, and now he's asking for a date? “I don't know, Cade. No offense, just... not all that interested. I mean, I appreciate your offer, but I'll have to say no.”

Cade doesn't look happy, but he accepts it. “Fine. I'll see ya in class tomorrow. Good luck on the test.”

* * *

“Dix minutes de la fin, les cadets."

I look up quickly, and yep, there's ten minutes to go. Thankfully the few questions I have left are all simple word translations, on the test simply to give folks a chance to pad their scores. The Department of Foreign Languages does understand that most of us don't really give a damn about French, it’s just a requirement.

I see something that catches my eye, and I look at Cade, who's looking down in his lap, his hands under the edge of his desk. It's just weird, and when he takes his hand out a moment later, he writes down an answer before he does it again, then again. What the hell?

The Captain warns us again, and I quickly finish the last four questions on my test, and take a moment to review my answers as time wraps up. I'm feeling pretty good, but still seeing Cade on his test gives me some questions. After the end of class, I look, and see what looks like a watch on his left wrist, but it's got a big face, like maybe a smart watch? I'm troubled, but before I can say anything to Cade, he's out the door, another strange thing from him.

I know what the Honor Code says, that I'm supposed to talk with Cade first if possible. But... he's still a Cow. I've been recognized for a total of fourteen hours, and I turned him down for a date last night to boot. I don't want to, but I need to talk with the instructor. “Sir? Sir, do you have a moment?”

“Miss Carlyle?” the Captain replies, stopping the gathering his papers. “What can I do for you?”

“Sir... I'm not sure, but I think I may have seen Cadet Edwards cheating on his test,” I say, feeling every word. I can't take this back, not with Honor. Still, it's the right damn thing to do. “In the last ten minutes, I saw him with his hands under his desk twice, then take his right hand out to write an answer. After class, before he left, it looked like he was wearing a large faced watch, like a smart watch or something.”

The Captain hums, then nods. “Okay. Thank you, Miss Carlyle. I know this is not an easy thing to say. I shall look into it, and take care of it. I appreciate it. Good day.”

I leave, heading back to my room, where I find Tammy sitting on my footlocker, grinning. “What are you so happy about?”

“She... she said she wants to be my friend too,” Tammy says, blushing and grinning. “You know, Cara.”

“Cara King?” I ask, grinning. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tammy says, still starstruck. “After Recognition, she said she wanted to tell me she was impressed by my guts in sub grappling, and she kinda asked if I'd like to train more with her. I e-mailed her back, and she invited me to go on a run this afternoon, intervals up the hill from Arvin to Michie. She wants to talk training for me for the rest of the semester and Buckner before she jets off on Spring Break.”

I give Tammy a high five, and sit down, laughing. It's a lot better than worrying about Cade Edwards. “So... do you think?”

Tammy shrugs. “After nine months here, my gaydar is so on the fritz I can't tell. But hey, even if she isn't, a hot chick wants to wrestle with me and let me roll around with her. Uh, yeah, awesome time!”

We just girl talk for a while, happy as we've got a week now with no upperclassmen. It’s just a chance to let off some stress and breathe again, to get comfortable with the new reality of the Corps. When lunch comes, we relax going out, where I see Simon, reminding me of what I told the Captain. I do hope it's just a misunderstanding, but I'm ready to live with it either way.

* * *

“Hey Ashley?”

I'm heading up the stairs, but Simon's coming down. It's the week after Spring Break, and he's looking better than even the week before. “What's up, Simon?”

“Well, I was just heading out to do some free running in the woods. Wanna join me?”

I think about it, and grin. “Sure. To be honest, going back to normal workouts has kinda gotten boring. Gimmie ten minutes to change into my shorts and long sleeve shirt?”

“Okay, I'll stretch,” Simon says, smiling. There's more than just a desire for a good run in that smile, and I'm blushing as I pull my shorts on. When I get downstairs, Simon's stretching, his compression shorts stark white underneath his shorts. I noticed that last semester too, and I've wondered why a few times. It's not common among cadets, even if it is allowed under our PT gear. “Hey, you ready?”

“As long as you don't mind walking up towards the woods instead of just running off like a deer, I'm a bit stiff after classes,” I tell him, swinging my arms. “How was your day?”

“Good. I got my summer assignment, I get to do CTLT with an Aviation unit. Four weeks of shadowing an actual Aviation unit, that's sweet,” Simon says, chuckling. “How about you?”

“Not bad at all,” I reply, bouncing some on my toes. I've always had the tightest calves and ankles, it's the last part of me to loosen up. Thankfully Simon agrees with my idea of walking, and after we pass Arvin and start heading up the hill towards the pond, I'm loose. “Do you mind if I ask you a question? For a friend.”

“Sure,” he says as we reach the dirt trail and start off. “Figure we can take this for a quarter mile, then cut up the side of the mountain. If you're up for it, there's even some rocks we can climb.”

“We'll see,” I answer, enjoying the warm sun and the feeling of the nature surrounding us. “Anyway, Cara King....”

“Ah, I see where this is going,” Simon says with a laugh. “Your bestie's crush isn't exactly top secret to me.”

“Really?” I ask, shocked. “Nobody ever said anything to me about her.”

“That's because I'm the only other person she's said anything about her sexuality to,” Simon replies. “She came out to me in Beast. I'll tell you, I think your friendship is the whole reason she's been able to make it this far. Now, as to your question, Cara and I have never discussed her love life. She's quite honestly like a total mystery when it comes to that side of her around other cadets. That picture in her room is her brother, by the way. But if you're asking if Cara's hanging out with Tammy because she's interested, I have no clue at all.”

“Okay. Thanks. Just... I'm not into Tammy that way, but I do like her, you know? It's like...” I start to say, but I should have been keeping my eyes on the trail. Maybe it's a tree branch, or maybe it's a rock, but I trip over something and go sprawling, tumbling to the dirt hard. The impact on my shoulder and chest hurts bad, but I can't say anything as the wind is driven out of my lungs and pain makes everything go white.

“Ashley?” Simon says, and I realize he's kneeling down next to me in the leaves and dirt of the trail, his face filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Y... yeah,” I groan, trying to sit up but instead just floundering. “Little help?”

Simon puts his hands on my shoulders and carefully helps me to a sitting position, sitting down next to me. “That looked like it sucked.”

“Pretty much,” I agree, stopping when Simon brings his hand up, brushing my hair. I see a leaf tumble to the ground, but his hand stays there, and I like it. We both go quiet, and I see the look in his eyes, we've exchanged them during Sandhurst practice, I know that he thinks I'm attractive. Still, we're in a no PDA area of post, and... and... “Simon....”

I want to say no, not here, but he doesn't give me a chance, pulling me in and kissing me. I resist at first, but maybe only a half second before I'm kissing him back, his lips and tongue invading my mouth and tasting me. He's aggressive, but not disrespectful, and when I kiss him back, he hums happily, both of us just leaning into each other, the kiss going from hard to soft, to the point that when we part, we're both smiling, and looking for another. “I've wanted to do that since... well, since about September.”

I hum, nodding. “I could tell, maybe. I didn't think you'd make a move, though. Thought that Mitchell was more your type.”

Simon laughs, then blushes. “She and I... we used to fool around, so you're not that far off. But I haven't been fooling around in a while now. Someone... you've been on my mind too much to fool around. I'm a player, but not a dog.”

I cup his cheek, and nod. “Okay. I can live with that.”

Simon's hand drops from my cheek to the top of my right breast, brushing away a little more dirt but at the same time, the way his fingers mold and caress me, I'm biting my lip, trying not to groan as my nipple becomes so tender and I want him here, in these woods, right now. “Simon... please....”

He stops, shaking his head. “No, not yet, Ash. I... I don't know why, but I don't want to just play with you. Uh, I know this is a weird thing to ask here on this trail, but would you like to go out with me? On like, well, what passes for a date in the Corps?”

The humor of it all makes me laugh, and I nod, taking his hand from my breast. “Tell you what. Friday night, we can go down to Grant Hall and share a pizza, and then after that... well, I've heard that Flirty Walk is quite nice in the moonlight. You're paying though, I'm just a Plebe still, they don't pay me jack squat.”

“I like that idea,” Simon says, getting to his feet and helping me up. “If you don't mind though, how about a walk together for now? You've got a scratch on your forehead, you might want to clean that later.”

I touch my forehead, and wince a little. “Yeah, it's not too bad though I think. You've got a....”

Simon stops and raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Go ahead. I know that I've got a scar on my face. I'm not ashamed of it, it's not like I caused it.”

I blush and nod, then laugh. “Okay. And... I guess that means get comfortable with my boobs.”

Simon laughs again, and reaches over, taking my hand. “I know you've gotten some flack for them. Kinda like my face, we can't exactly get rid of them.”

“Well, I could have them cut off, you know,” I tease, laughing. “No, I get more flack for my bitch face, at least from the other Plebes. I know I have one, can't help it. I am smiling, you know.”

“I know. And I saw that it was RBF way back in Beast. Even when you sleep, you've got it. Not that I mind, I think you've got a pretty face.”

I stop, pulling Simon to a stop too. “Say it again.”

“What?” he asks, surprised. “That I think you've got a pretty face?”

I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss, smiling. “Yeah. I like being a cadet, but it's nice to feel like a woman, too. Kinda hard most days.”

“You are both to me,” Simon says. “But right now... yeah, I like you being a girl. Sandhurst, I like you being that kickass cadet. We'll figure out the balance.”

Simon

Watching the Yearlings come in from Camp Buckner, ready to start their second year at the Academy, I have to admit that I'm looking for one in particular, the long red ponytail that Ash wears when she's in her PT gear. Instead of marching in this year, the Superintendent decided that the Yearlings would run in from Buckner.

I'm chilling out in my room, looking out towards Central Area, most of my stuff put away after getting in two days ago. It's the start of my last year at the Academy, and I'm feeling good.

“Hey Simon, she's not going to be back any time soon,” Cara King says, sticking her head in my room. She's the Company Commander this semester, and I'm the Executive Officer, so my room is right next to hers, very convenient.

“Hey C-K, what're you talking about?” I ask innocently. “Besides, you're looking for a friend to come in, too.”

Cara laughs and sits down in the other chair, my roommate isn't in yet, he's out at Beast and won't be in for two days. “Come off it, Simon. You and Carlyle were practically joined at the hip for two months last year, and from what I hear from a friend who was her CO out at Buckner, you two were swapping phone calls on the regular.”

I shrug, admitting it. “Okay, okay, we're a confirmed couple. The player isn't playing any more. What about you?”

Cara's eyebrows knit, then relax. She's kept herself under wraps for a very long time, and I wonder if she's letting me in to see something nobody else knows. “Yeah, I guess so.”

I nod, not pushing it. I don't know what it's like being a woman at the Academy, but I do know that it's stressful. “You know Cara, Tammy looks up to you as well as likes you.”

“I know. And I'll let you in on a secret, I kinda like the attention. She doesn't overlook me like most people do around here,” Cara says, smiling wistfully. “Half of the Corps dismisses me because I have a vagina, while the other half and the TAC department wants me to be some sort of transsexual MacArthur. With Tammy, I get to be Cara.”

I hum, nodding. “And Ring Weekend? You have plans for that?”

“Why? I thought you had a date?” Cara teases, and I know she isn't going to let me in any more. That's okay, I don't need to pry. “Unless you think you can finagle some sort of three way with me and Carlyle.”

I shake my head, laughing. “No plans there, Cara. Actually, Ash and I... well....”

Cara stops, and gives me a surprised look. “Simon Lancaster, you are one hundred percent in love with this girl, aren't you? Admit it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I knew your rep even when I was in G-2 and you were in H-3 as Plebes and Yuks. We girls talk, you know. If you had an itch that needed scratched, and you didn't mind not having your emotions mixed up, talk to Simon Lancaster. You even tagged my squad leader, if you didn't know. Ronnie Mitchell.”

I nod, humming. “Actually, Ronnie was my last fun time before I just... well, I started seeing Ashley for who she is. I didn't know you knew Ronnie.”

“She and I weren't buddies, probably why. I respected her, she did it her way, and she let me do it mine as one of the Yuks in her squad. Still, point stands... the player ain't playing any more.” Cara looks past me, and a smile comes to her face. “Well, they let the Yuks outta formation early. Look who I see.”

I turn around in my chair and my heart jumps, I admit it, to see Ashley crossing Central Area, and I'm sticking my head out the window of my room. “Ashley!”

She waves, and while she looks tired, she's smiling when she comes up the steps to me. We stop, a foot apart, and I feel the frustration of being part of a cadet relationship. Inside cadet area, I can't even hold my girlfriend's hand. “Hi.”

“Hi,” she replies, the sweat glistening off her skin like droplets of diamond. Her PT shirt is dark and clinging to her skin, and her hair is nearly blackish red, it's been a warm day today. She’s absolutely beautiful. We finish our walk up the stairs, and head down the hallway towards my room. “How're you doing?”

“Good,” I tell her lamely, feeling shy until Cara laughs from behind us. I glance over, and she just shakes her head before pulling her head back and disappearing back into her room. “How about you have a seat and we can chill a little, then we'll start to get your stuff unpacked?”

Ashley smiles and lets me lead her over to my footlocker, the cool metal feeling good on her legs I’m sure. “So you enjoyed CTLT?”

“It was awesome. A Blackhawk unit, so not what I'd like, but it was still awesome. And I got to do quite a few ride alongs, the warrant officers were cool that way,” I admit. “But....”

“But what?” Ashley asks, and I look over, embarrassed.

“I missed you. I mean, I know you were at Buckner, and we talked a lot, but...”

Ashley shuts me up by putting her hand on top of mine, and giving my fingers a squeeze. “I missed you too, Simon. You would have enjoyed watching me do the Recondo course. I kicked some ass.”

“Really?” I ask, impressed again.

“Best female time in my battalion,” Ashley says with a little excitement. “So thanks, Sandhurst boss.”

I laugh. “I hope I'm more than that. Say, Cara reminded me... I haven't formally asked you to go to Ring Weekend with me. So... Ashley Carlyle, would you be my date for Ring Weekend?”

Ashley hums happily, nodding. “I'd love to. First though, lets get my stuff unpacked from downstairs, and see where I'm staying.”

“Oh, that's easy. I'm the XO you know, I got to assign rooms. You and Tammy are rooming together again, you can pick the room you want.”

* * *

“Oh my God, sir! What a beautiful ring! What a crass mass of brass and glass! What a bold mold of rolled gold! What a cool jewel you got from your school! See how it sparkles and shines? It must have cost you a fortune! May I touch it, may I touch it please, sir!”

The new Plebes mob us, reciting the traditional “Ring Poop” that they all do after we've gotten our class rings, another of the little petty games that lets us get through life at West Point. There's no way in hell I can avoid the Plebes, who get to harass us and make the Firsties all run around like idiots in order to avoid the next Plebe who's going to orgasmically expound over our rings. It lets everyone get a little steam out.

I play along with the tradition, knowing that in a half hour all of the Plebes will be back at doing their Plebe stuff, while I'll be getting ready for the Ring Weekend Dinner. I'm already in my white uniform, prep won't be too damn hard, but still, I want to look good for tonight.

“Okay, okay, enough!” I laugh as a fourth group of Plebes finishes. “I've got a dinner to get ready for!”

In my room, Reggie Stroud, my roommate this semester, is already brushing his hair. “They let you off easy, man. They're still chasing Cara around Central Area last I saw, some of them are pretty fired up today.”

“She'll outrun them,” I reply, wiping my forehead. “When's your date getting here?”

“I'm meeting her in forty five,” Reggie says, glancing down at the clock we put next to our shared sink. “Is Ashley getting ready?”

“She went to the ceremony, but stood in the sallyport so she could get a better view,” I said. “We walked back to the barracks together, but she peeled off, said she was going to let me run the smack gauntlet by myself. Besides, she's got her stuff ready, I'm sure. A lot less complicated than what your date has to choose from.”

“True,” Reggie replies, taking out some hair spray and spritzing. I have no idea why a man with a cadet haircut feels the need for hairspray, his hair's an inch long on top. “Hey, anyone given you shit about taking her to the dinner and dance?”

“You mean have I heard any comments about Firstie Brass, Yearling Ass?” I ask, and Reggie nods. He's a good guy, and it'll be a fun semester rooming with him. He's already been cool with Ashley hanging out in the room all the time when we're not studying. “Of course. Same joker in G-1 who called Ash 'JR' last year, actually. Had to really get on his ass. Thankfully, Captain Franklin was there and backed me up. I've talked with Ash about it, we don't really care. Besides, everyone in the Ironside knows they talk shit about Ash, and they'll have me and Cara on their ass. Cadet power might be play power, but still, XO and CO on your ass? Nobody wants that.”

Reggie finally gets his hair the way he wants, and puts his brush down, turning to me. “Want my opinion man? You won't hear a damn thing from any Ironside, not because of you or Cara, but because Ashley's got a lot of respect around here. The Firsties and Yuks know she held her own last year. Well, Lawton's hatin' on her, but that's because she got showed up. The Cows are cool, and the smacks... well, the smacks are smacks. But tonight, we'll just have some fun.”

I hear the Plebes outside, Cara's decided that instead of them calling minutes, the minute callers will go around to the Firstie rooms and just give us a quick ten minute normal voice announcement. When Justino, Ashley's Plebe, knocks on our door, I'm ready. “We got it, Justino. Thanks.”

“Huah sir,” he says, stepping back quickly and knocking on Cara's door. I grab my hat and glance in the mirror, nodding. “Okay Reg, how do I look?”

“I'd kiss you,” Reggie jokes. “I'll see you at dinner.”

I feel a little nervous going over to Ashley's room, but she meets me at the door, and I feel my heart stop. The 'dress mess' uniform that female cadets are issued is certainly old fashioned, but there's a certain classiness to it, and Ashley looks beautiful in it, her body not highlighted but still evident underneath the jacket, and the full skirt looks nice. “Wow.”

“Wow yourself, Mr. India Whites,” she says, smiling. “You ready?”

Since this is a 'social' occasion, I'm allowed to actually escort Ashley down the steps and across Central Area, with her slipping her hand through the crook of my left elbow as we walk towards the Mess Hall. I hear a few whistles, but I ignore them, I know it's just part of the Plebes letting off tension. Most of them haven't seen a dressed up woman in two months, and they're sort of half tamed monkeys right now. Besides, let them. I’ve got a beautiful girlfriend on my arm, regardless of if she’s uniform or a civilian dress.

“The natives are restless,” Ashley jokes as we mount the steps to the mess hall. “Guess it's my perfume?”

I laugh and pat her hand. “No, it's that you're so beautiful that you make my head spin.”

“Flatterer. So I was thinking....” she says, then shakes her head. “Never mind. This is your weekend.”

I stop, we're just inside the doors of the mess hall, and turn, taking both of her hands. “What, Ash?”

She steps closer, and we're on the limits of what's allowed even if we're in the relaxed rules of a social setting, and whispers in my ear. “After this dinner... instead of the hop, I want to sign out on leave immediately. Forget dancing, I want to spend as much of the weekend with you I can.”

I smile and nod, and look around at the mess hall. “For sure. I can skip one Ike Hall dance. Come on, let's have dinner, and get out of here.”

We’re sharing our table with Cara, whose date tonight is her brother. I give Ashley a glance to measure her expression, and she leans over. “We'll talk about it later.”

“Okay,” I whisper back, then offer my hand across the table. “Hi, Simon Lancaster. Cara's never told me your name, sorry.”

“Nate,” Cara's brother says, shaking. He shakes hands with Ashley as well, then looks around. “This is my first time in here. I'm glad Cara agreed when I begged to be her date.”

“You begged to be her date?” Ashley asks, a little surprised. “No offense... why?”

“I got in, and Nate....” Cara says, then shuts up. Nate though smiles and pats Cara on the back.

“What my sister is too shy to say is that I wanted to come, but I couldn't pass the physical. Nothing major, but I've got a liver issue. So Cara gets to do the cool stuff, while I go to Julliard.”

“Still, Juliard... damn Cara, are you that musically talented too?” I ask, and for the first time in the time I've known her, Cara King blushes.

“I'm not in the music program,” Nate says, “I'm in the drama program, with some cross training with dance. And yes, don't let her fool you, she's a tremendous dancer. Did ballet up until her senior year of high school.”

I look at Cara with newfound respect as she turns pink, but then laughs under her breath. “You two let that out and I'm taking you out Simon with an arm bar, and Tammy's going to put Ashley in a Twister.”

“Your secret's safe with us,” I reassure her. Pretty soon the rest of the table fills up, and we sit down. Dinner's good, the Academy really splurged for Ring Weekend this year, the Alumni must have ponied up money or something. Conversation is fun, and as we wrap up, I notice that Cara's checking her watch when she stands up, grabbing her hat. “You okay?”

“Kinda want to sign out on leave,” she whispers, leaning over. “Nate's going back to NYC, and I'm.... I'm going off with someone else.”

“Enjoy it,” I reassure her. “We're doing the same thing.”

“I promised Nate one dance at the hop, then I'll be out after that. You two have a good weekend, okay?”

Ashley

I'm nearly skipping as Simon and I head back towards the barracks, where he lets go of my arm reluctantly. “Okay, I'll go change. Uh, do you want me to get my car and meet you back here, or do you want to walk up with me to the lot?”

“We'll go together,” I reassure him, smiling. “I like walking with my boyfriend, you know. And I've never seen you in jeans before anyway.”

“I've taken leave before,” Simon laughs, “you had to have caught me in civvies at least once last year.”

I shake my head, smiling. “Nope. You somehow even managed to duck out on Spring Break and even heading off to CTLT without me seeing you in civvies. It'll be a nice gift.”

Simon smiles heads back to his room while I rush down the hall. I packed my backpack earlier, it's only got a change of clothes and some toiletries, but I am surprised when I see that Tammy's also in civilian clothes, chewing her lip and looking out on the area. “Hey, you're taking leave too?”

“Hmm?” she says, turning. She's not as shy as she used to be, but still she's nowhere near the social butterfly. “Uh, yeah. Was going to head out pretty soon. Thought I'd stick around and say have a good weekend.”

I close the door to our room and take off my dress mess, taking a few extra moments to hang it up. When I strip down all the way and take out my recent mail order purchase, a lacy set of lingerie I ordered from Victoria's Secret, Tammy whistles. “Damn, his head's going to explode when he sees you in that.”

“Kinda what I was hoping for,” I laugh as I pull on my jeans and a blouse that I picked up during summer leave. “What about you, you rocking a thong under those shorts?”

Tammy blushes deeply, and I turn, smiling as I unpin my bun and let my hair drop over my shoulders before brushing it out. “Much better. But seriously, Tammy. Have a good weekend, with... well, whoever. And she was checking her watch, she said she promised her brother one dance.”

“Thanks. Hey, you play it safe. No glove, no love, got me?” she shoots back, smiling.

“Everyone's a safety officer!” I tease with the old sarcastic reply, and grab my backpack. Simon's waiting for me by his room, and to say he's handsome as he leans against the wall is an understatement. He's wearing a casual but still nicely fitting checkered button down, black slacks, and instead of Nikes like I expected, he's rocking some Timberland boots, a little off the height of fashion but still, they fit what I think of as ‘Simon Lancaster.’

“Ready?” he asks, holding out his hand. “Oh, wait, you gotta sign out.”

I hand him my bag and run down the walkway to the company CQ desk, where I sign out on leave and run back. I see Cara coming out of her room as I do, and she's changed as well. I give her a nod. “You guys have fun.”

“Thanks,” Cara says, and I run back to Simon, who reaches out and takes my hand. We're not in uniform, it's okay now. As we walk, I feel something strange, or maybe I guess a lack of something I expected.

“Where's your class ring?” I ask, looking down at his left hand. “Wearing it right handed?”

He holds up his right hand and I see there's nothing there, and I'm confused. Simon smiles and pulls me close, we're on the upper level of cadet area, and while it's not quite safe, we kiss, the thrill nice. “I put it away,” Simon says as he lets me go. “This weekend, from this moment, it's not about the Academy, or the Army, or anything like that. I want to spend time with the woman I... shit.”

“What?” I ask, slightly surprised. “The woman you shit?”

Simon shakes his head, and growls under his breath in frustration. “No. I was going to save this for later, but... Ashley, you're special to me. Like, I've never felt this way about a woman before.”

I take his hand, and place it on my chest, above my heart. “You're special to me too, Simon. And I like your idea, so let's just go be Ashley and Simon for a little while. Leave USMA behind.”

* * *

It's not a five star hotel room, we didn't want to waste money on some spot in New York City when we knew that we wouldn't be leaving the hotel room for the most part, but the Overlook Lodge is still beautiful, with a view from our second floor window that overlooks Hessian Lake and a lot of the Bear Mountain State Park. It's with a little regret that I close the curtains, but I know we've got the time to look around later tomorrow.

Tonight is about something that's been building between Simon and I for months, something that we both have burning in our bellies in every word, every conversation we have. I've already unbuttoned my jeans, and my back is turned to him as I unbutton my blouse, leaving it on but open. “Ready?”

“Yes,” he rasps from the bed, which I am happy is huge, bigger than a king size. He's been taking off his clothes too, and when I turn around, my mouth goes dry, he's wearing just a pair of black boxers as he reclines on bed. Next to him, on the nightstand, are the condoms and lube, we made sure we were clear on that. “I.... I don't have words.”

“Me too,” I whisper, stepping forward and letting my blouse fall from my shoulders. “I... I kinda feel like back when I was a virgin again.”

Simon nods, and gets up, knee walking towards me until he's in the middle of the mattress. “Would you believe, it's been over a year for me?”

“Me too,” I reply, getting on the bed and kneeling in front of him. His eyes flicker down to my breasts and I bite my lip. “You can do more than look now. You've felt them enough out on Flirty or in the woods.”

My little joke breaks Simon's hesitancy, and he leans forward, kissing me. He's a great kisser, and as his lips suck and nibble on my neck, I let him push me back onto the mattress, washed over with the pleasure of having his skin pressed against mine. For long, wonderful minutes we nibble and kiss each other, just happy with the feeling of skin on skin contact.

“You're beautiful,” Simon whispers in my ear, sitting up some. “Truly... beautiful.”

“You let me feel beautiful,” I reply, reaching up and stroking his chest. In a little spurt of fun, I tweak his nipple, and he hisses, smiling. “Like that?”

“Only if I get to return the favor,” Simon growls, reaching for the clasp on the front of my bra. “This is sexy, and silky, and all sorts of words that I can't think of right now, but....”

He undoes the clasp and frees my breasts, his words cut off. I feel something between my legs and look down, my eyes going wide as I sit back, shocked. “Wait.... whoa there, what is that?”

Simon looks down, and realizes that his cock is sticking out the fly of his boxers. Even with the bit hidden by the fabric, he's huge, easily nine inches or more, and thick. Good God, no wonder he wears extra support when he exercises. “Uh....”

Getting over my initial shock I turn over onto my hands and knees, and lick the tip of his cock, silencing him again as I slide him into my mouth, humming happily as the spongy, thick head drags over my tongue. I've always been a bit of a size queen, and in Simon I've got the biggest, most perfect cock I've ever seen in person or even on video, and my pussy flows with juices as I suck him as deep as I can, until he bumps into the back of my throat. Still, I can wrap my entire left hand around his shaft as I pull back, and suck him again, this time Simon putting his hands in my hair and moaning thickly. “That's it... oh fuck you suck so good....”

I pull off of his cock and smile at him naughtily, licking my lips. “I'm just getting started. After I suck your cock, you're going to fuck me with this thing properly, right?”

Simon, recovering a little of his cockiness, grins, his eyes sparkling. “You have no idea how hard you're going to come.”

“And you have no idea who you've lucked into,” I tease back, running my tongue around the edge of the head of his cock again before swallowing it. He's stretching my mouth, but I don't stop, sucking him deeper again, ignoring him when his hands pause but suck another inch into my mouth before drawing back and then sucking deeper, pushing myself even as the thick, hot shaft of his cock starts to block my throat until my nose pushes against the black cotton of his shorts and I swallow, massaging his cock with my throat as Simon gasps and groans at the feeling. Letting him out, I suck and pump his cock, letting Simon start to thrust and fuck my mouth. Reaching inside his boxers, I find his heavy, egg shaped balls and roll them, pulling on the sack a little to stop him from coming so quickly.

Simon moans and fucks my mouth harder, and I stop trying to suck, and instead hold still and let him do what he wants. His cock is thick and heavy, and even though I love it, I'm gagging at the same time, but I don't want him to stop. I want it to last for hours, but Simon's not lying, it has been a long time for him, and his cock swells, and I pull back, until just the head is in my mouth when he groans, and my tongue is coated in the sweet-salty creamy taste of his come. It's thick, and never seems to stop, making me moan it's so fucking good.

When he finally pulls back and his cock slips out of his mouth, I look up at him and show him my full mouth before swallowing it all, grinning. “I guess I should have told you, I'm a bit of a size queen with an oral fetish. The things they teach you in regular schools, huh?”

Simon laughs shakily, and scoots back, his eyes still blinking at what just happened. “Well, you showed me something I've never had before. I hope I can return the favor.”

“Just go slow, and I'm sure you will,” I reply, humming and laying back. “For now though... how about some cuddles? You're not one of those type, are you?”

“I love cuddles,” Simon laughs in reply, laying out and pulling me close next to him. “I don't get to cuddle enough, quite frankly. Damn roommates never seem to want to cuddle.”

I giggle, the image of Simon cuddling with one of the guys he's roomed with absolutely ridiculous, and snuggle into his arms, exchanging kisses with him. My body's humming, the desire to feel him inside me nearly overwhelming, but there's still time, plenty of time.

“So,” I ask between little kisses, “just what were your plans for the rest of the weekend, now that you got me?”

“To keep you right here, order room service, or if we get bored try one of the on-site restaurants,” Simon chuckles. “I'm thinking clothing totally optional for the next day and a half.”

“Aww,” I tease, wiggling a little. “I bought these panties just to entice you.”

“And they are sexy as I could ever imagine,” he replies, cupping my satin covered butt and squeezing, “but it's not the panties that are sexy. It's the woman inside them. And I knew you were a remarkable woman from the first day I saw you.”

“I noticed you too,” I purr, stroking his back, enjoying the muscles that are strong without being showy, pretentious. “Mainly because you were the only one not screaming at us.”

“I always hated that kind of 'leadership,'” Simon says, shaking his head. “It always came off as jerks playacting because they aren't really sure of who and what they are. Besides, you weren't some pimply faced teen right out of high school, there's no need to treat you like a child.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” I murmur, kissing his neck and along his ears, licking the lobe, “sometimes I like to be babied.”

We continue to just caress and bond, taking our time, until I feel something stir against my thigh, and I grin, reaching down and stroking the shaft of his cock. “Someone seems to have caught his breath.”

“He is. Time for him to suit up?” Simon asks, and I nod. He rolls onto his back, grabbing the condom and lube, something I realize why now that I've seen the monster he's got. At first when he put it on the table I thought maybe he wanted my ass, which I'm not opposed to, but there's no way he's getting that thing in my ass without a lot of preparation. A lot, like hours and weeks of preparation.

“You know, you're a little intimidating with this,” I tease as I pump his cock, smiling as it grows to it's full impressive size again. On a whim, I try and wrap both hands around it, and do it easily, with even the head of his cock sticking out the top. “I may be too tight for such a beast.”

Simon growls and laughs, moaning lightly when I pump his cock slowly. “I have never, ever had a woman totally swallow me, and now you say you're too tight? Well, if that's the case I'm going to have to use my tongue on you, although I think that's something I'd like more later.”

“More than just a giant cock,” I smile, taking my hands off his cock and laying back, pulling my panties off. “You are a keeper.”

I watch, the anticipation building inside me as Simon rolls the condom down his cock, which even though it's one of those special large sizes still strains as he gets it on before he squirts lube into his hand and strokes himself until the latex is glistening, almost sexually, erotically alien. The whole time, I rub at my pussy lips, not needing any more heat but still I can't help it, I've been wanting him for so long now.

Simon finishes and gets to his knees, lifting my right leg and straddling my left, his cock already nudging open the lips of my pussy. “Is this a good position for you?”

I half turn, wiggling onto my side and letting his cock spread me open a little more, and nod. “This is wonderful. And Simon?”

“Yes, beautiful?” he asks, stopping as he starts to push, pausing a little nervously. “What is it?”

“Once I'm open... I like it a little athletic,” I purr, smiling. “You promised me something I've never seen. I'll hold you to that.”

“Challenge accepted,” Simon hums, pushing in more. I know how big he is, but still it takes my breath away as he stretches me, his cock rubbing my pussy in ways I've never felt before. He's not even a quarter of the way in, but I'm trembling, the head of his cock rubbing against my g-spot with every short stroke.

“Uh, yesssss,” I gasp as I feel him slide in deeper, loving it. My pussy is filled, stretched almost beyond anything I've ever done before, and I love it, my eyes rolling back when he reaches around my body and kneads my breast, pinching the nipple and sending sparks through my stomach to mix with the hot, liquid churning below my waist. “More.....”

Simon pauses, and I look back over my shoulder, lust addled, but understanding. I nod, and Simon swallows. He takes a deep breath and thrusts hard, and the pain and pleasure of his cock sinking all the way until I'm speared on him makes me cry out in ecstasy. This is what I love, this line where I'm feeling everything, the nerves in my pussy crying out with everything they have, and I know that I have to have Simon more, I don't care what it takes.

He pauses, letting me adjust and let the pain drop down a little before he pulls back and thrusts again, and I'm nearly coming already, my stomach clenching as Simon begins thrusting faster, pushing deep inside with every movement. I can't help it, my pussy squeezes and I moan, coming around his cock. I've never come this fast before, it's amazing, but even more as Simon doesn't stop, his hips driving his wonderful cock again and again into me. My already on fire body is blasted by the pleasure, my mind caught up and I'm crying out, not in pain but in amazing pleasure, begging Simon to give me everything.

Simon adjusts, sliding his leg off of me and pushing my other leg up, a full missionary as he hammers into me, my stretched and filled pussy shocked at the change in angle. It feels different, and a new wave of heat builds inside me as he looks into my eyes, kissing me while his hips pound me into submission. I've almost always been the 'leader' in bed with a man, one suck of his cock and I've had men begging me, but Simon's different. Respectful, yes, but unrelenting, taking me as his, nearly animal in his hard thrusts, but just on that line where it becomes too much.

I feel another orgasm building inside me, bigger than before, and I claw at his neck, afraid and wanting what he can give me. Simon bites my lip in reply and it pushes us, both of us abandoning all restraints and going hard, my pussy squeezing his cock as he swells. When he's on the edge he growls one more time in my ear, claiming me. “Mine!”

“Yours,” I groan in response, and his growl of possession turns into one of triumph as his cock swells, and he comes. The last driving thrust pushes me over and I'm coming hard too, both of us desperate for each other. Time stretches out, and I feel my heart whisper that I'll never be the same. I don't care, I want this man, and I care for him deeply.

When the frozen moment passes, Simon stays inside me, kissing me tenderly. “Sorry about the lip,” he whispers, gentle. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I tell him honestly. “I wish I had one more thing.”

“What?” he asks, concerned, reassured when I stroke the side of his face with my knuckles. “What?”

“Some time, not this weekend I know, I don't have a scrip for the pill, but... a cock that big shouldn't stay inside a condom. That would make it perfect.”

Simon nods and kisses me again, pulling me close. “That would be perfect.”

We both yawn almost simultaneously, and I smile sleepily. “Cat nap time?”

“Sure. Mind if we spoon some?”

I purr and turn, enjoying the warm strength of his arms wrapping around me. “I love spooning. Oh, and Simon?”

“Yes, beautiful?” he hums, relaxing.

“That was amazing. And I want more.”

Simon hums happily and kisses the back of my neck. “When we wake up.”

* * *

My hips are sore, deliciously so, when we get back Sunday night, signing in just ten minutes before we have to. Simon gives me a tender look, but we agreed to spend the rest of the evening apart, both to let us focus on classes tomorrow and to let us get some perspective on this weekend.

I know what my body is saying as I slowly make my way to my room, that it needs Simon about as much as it needs food and water. Never, in my entire life, have I been given so many toe curling orgasms in such a short time, each of them powerful and wonderful. Whether with his cock, his mouth, his hands, it didn't matter, I've spent most of the past two days in sexual bliss. And with that, my heart is saying things too, but we both need to get a little perspective on it all.

I get to my room and find Tammy sitting at her desk, also in her civvies still, leaning back and a silly little smile on her face. I close the door, and she looks over, giddy. “Wow.”

“Yeah, that's one way to say it,” I groan as I flop down in my chair. “Tell me you have some energy, because I'm pretty much boneless for the next twelve hours. In fact, remind me to e-mail our Plebes, no team leader time in the morning, I can't imagine getting up before six thirty.”

“Already told my Plebe the same thing,” Tammy says, biting her lip as memories run through her head. “I never thought... well, never mind. You look exhausted.”

“It's a happy exhausted, trust me. You look the same.”

Tammy smiles and leans forward, getting up and walking slowly to her footlocker, where she pulls out some PT gear. “I'm in love, Ash. Head over heels in love.”

“Wow. And her?” I ask, not pushing for a name. We don't need one.

“Yeah, it's mutual. Uhm, I know you can make guesses as to who, but we agreed to let that stay down low for a while. You mind?”

I shake my head, and open the drawer of my desk, pulling out a twenty I've had stashed in there under a DVD case for times like this. “Tell you what. You get changed, take this twenty, and go downstairs to get a bacon pizza that you share with your bestie. Bring it back, we sit down like a couple of goofy girls, and if you bring back one of those cherry Pepsis that they've had down there for a while, I'll even do your toe nails in that totally non-cadet pink that you have in the medicine cabinet.”

“Deal,” Tammy laughs, pushing her pants down and pulling on her PT shorts. “And you don't mind I don't say a name?”

“That's totally on you. You're my best friend, Tammy. That's what's important,” I tell her, sighing happily. I want to sit back and sing love songs, or at least hum them because even Tammy says my singing is pretty bad, but instead I sit up with a groan, heaving myself to my feet. “Guess I'll get changed too. It'll be nice next year when we can wear civvies more often. Then we can sit around and chill next year the whole damn time.”

Tammy laughs and pulls on her t-shirt, checking herself in the mirror. “Never worn sexy lingerie with PTs before. Kinda like it.”

“I bet. See you when you get back.”

I've barely gotten my shirt on when there's a knock on my door, and I turn, still a bit lost in romantic dilly dallying. “Just a second, changing!”

I check that my shorts are up and tuck my shirt in. “Come on in!”

The door opens, and a male cadet I've never seen before is standing in the doorway, in class uniform. He's compact and stern, and on his collar I see five bars and a black shield, he's a very high ranking Firstie. “Ashley Carlyle?”

“That's me. How can I help you? Come on in,” I say, sitting down at my desk again. I'm just too tired to stand up right now.

“I'm Keith Bennett, the Brigade Honor Captain. I'd like to say I'm just paying a social visit, but I'm here on duty business.”

A stab of fear goes through me, but I can't think of anything I've done to attract the attention of the Honor Committee. And after dating Simon for the past few months, I'm not as concerned about it like I was as a first semester Plebe. “What can I help you with, Keith? Have a seat. Oh, my roomie might be back in a bit with a pizza, is this something she can listen in on?”

“I'll be fast, if she's the girl I saw coming down hall when I came up, it'll be enough time. Last year, you were in French class with Cade Edwards, right?”

The memory of talking with my instructor about Cade comes back, and I understand. “Yes. Is this about the test?”

Keith nods. “Tell me what you saw, please. I've got the statements of the instructor, Cade, and another cadet, but since you're the one to make the first approach to an instructor, I need your point of view too.”

I re-tell my story, trying my best to stick to just what I remember. “Is there something coming from all this?”

Keith nods, and purses his lips. “Yes. The Supe's asked me to call a meeting of the Honor Committee. Cade's facing an Honor Hearing.”

I nod, not upset at all, and accept it. “So you're wanting me to testify as well.”

“Of course. The Hearing Officer will be in contact with an exact date,” Keith says, rubbing his hair. “I just notified him about it via e-mail.”

“May I ask who it is?” I ask, and Keith nods.

“Simon Lancaster, your XO. His name was pulled from the group of Honor Rep Firsties randomly.”

I blink, shocked. “Uh... you might have a problem. Simon and I... well, he's my boyfriend. We've been dating for a few months now.”

“Not an issue. I already talked with the Commandant about that, it's known. Simon's totally levelheaded, and the hearing is nine people. He's going to have one vote on the board, that's it. Don't worry, I'll have your Cow rep come by and talk with you about it. On that note, I do have to ask you that you and Simon not discuss the hearing until after it happens. I've got your word on that?”

“You got my word,” I promise, and Keith grabs his hat.

“Okay. Sorry to screw with your Sunday night, to be honest I wish I'd have had a better Sunday night myself. Thanks for your time.”

Tammy comes in with a pizza just as Keith turns, and she steps back, surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi. Enjoy the pizza,” Keith says, moving past Tammy and leaving. Tammy looks out at him before setting the pizza and my cherry Pepsi on my desk, pulling over a chair.

“What was that?”

“Brigade Honor Captain. Seems they've called a hearing,” I say, opening the box and sniffing. “They want me to testify. And to top it off, guess who the Hearing Officer is.”

“Shut up,” Tammy says in wonder. “You scared?”

I think about it, and half shrug. “Nervous. But not scared. I just have to say what I saw. That's it. I'm more scared that I'll pass out from hunger before I get any of this pizza in me. You are sharing, right?”

“Damn straight,” Tammy says, pulling off a slice and handing it to me. “There, and who says I'm not a lady?”

I take the slice and chew slowly, relishing the cheap pizza. “So this is your secret. The good old pizza seduction trick.”

“Gotta use what I've got,” Tammy jokes, taking a slice for herself. “I don't have epically awesome boobs like you.”

“They're C cups, hardly epic,” I protest, chewing. “And why does everyone look at my tits and ignore my ass?”

“For West Point, C cups on an athletic body is epic. As for your ass... well, not everyone ignores it,” Tammy replies, smiling.

“Sexually harassed by my own roommate and bestie. Sheesh, what a life,” I sigh melodramatically, putting my hand on my forehead like a damsel in distress. “Oh, why can't some big strong man save me?”

“Because he wore you out over the weekend,” Tammy shoots back, “and because I'm too cute to be denied forever.”

I laugh, sitting forward. “Why, Tammy Price, I do believe that finding love has cracked that shell of shyness and insecurity you built around yourself. Good to see.”

Simon

Nininger Hall, the last remnant of the true “Old Corps” buildings in Cadet Area, isn't often used for Honor Hearings any longer. But, there's a mock trial going on in the law department today, so Nininger it is.

The room is somber, and it carries with it some of the heavy responsibility and tradition that comes with the Honor Code. I know that a lot of people, especially the witnesses and the accused, say that an Honor Hearing is scary. But, to be honest, I'm just as scared. I know that if I make a mistake today, I could change someone's life forever.

We start right at nine o'clock, and after some statements from both sides, we start with an audio testimony from Captain Gautier, the French instructor who made the formal accusation who's gone back to France and has to testify via telephone.

Cade is getting assistance from one of the JAG officers, and looks confident.

“So Captain, did you actually see Cadet Edwards using the supposed smart phone?” one of the board members asks.

“I believe the question was about a smart watch,” Captain Gautier answers, and his accent is no problem at all to me. “But no, I did not see it. The room was arranged in a standard U shape, and Cadet Edwards sat at a corner position.”

After Captain Gautier, Ashley is called. I've felt nervous about this the whole time. I appreciate Keith and the Commandant's vouching for my impartiality, but I'd still rather have had someone else in this chair.

Ashley's testimony starts with her repeating what she saw, and I have to suppress a smile as she faces up to the Board. Once her statement is completed, the Board starts questions. I lead off. “Cadet Carlyle, did you see Cadet Edwards actually manipulate his watch or any other device underneath his desk?”

“No,” Ash says evenly. “The angle of our desks, I could not see that area. I was merely suspicious.”

“And you didn't approach for clarification from Cadet Edwards why?” one of the Cows asks, and Ashley sits back, resting her arms on the sides of her chair.

“I was a Plebe, the day after Recognition, and Cadet Edwards and I had studied together. I felt uncomfortable in approaching, so I talked with Captain Gautier.”

Cade indicates that he'd like to ask a question, and I nod. “Cadet Edwards?”

“Thank you. Cadet Carlyle, if you would, tell the Board about the nature of you coming to my room to study.”

Ashley looks perplexed, then at the Board. “I don't see how that's germane. The Honor Code states that an approach for clarification is recommended, it is not required.”

“Point taken. Cadet Edwards, what is the point of this question?” I ask, trying to give him some slack. Maybe I'm giving him a little too much leeway, but I can't be sure.

“I'd like to show the Board that the base of this accusation is not grounded in merit, but rather in the jilted feelings of a Plebe who was trying to garner an advantage and to break the rules with me,” Cade says, and I have to restrain the urge to jump across the room and choke his fucking neck.

“I am not jilted in any way,” Ashley says before I can reply. “And as for the study session, you asked me to your room. When you hit on me, I left. That's all.”

“Really?” Cade asks, and I can see what he's doing. He's casting doubt, and as I look at the Board, I can see the doubt creeping in. They don't know Ashley the way I do, she'd take me to task about breaking the rules if she felt it was needed. A hysterical, hormonally driven Plebe female pissed about a handsome upperclassman who rejects her. It's outlandish, it's sexist as hell, and it can work.

Ashley sees the trap though, and shuts up, looking to the Board. “I saw what I saw. I approached Captain Gautier. That is it.”

The Board however, isn't so satisfied. “Cadet Carlyle, are you certain you saw what you say you saw?”

Ashley nods, convinced. “First off, I'm not a person who goes into hysterics or gets jealous or jilted. Second, I saw his hands under the desk. Like I told the Board, I don't know what he was doing under the desk, but he had his hands there. And I saw a large faced watch, I thought it looked like a smart watch. That's all.”

The Board seems satisfied, but I can tell they don't quite believe Ashley's story. However, another cadet came to Keith the other day and said he wanted to testify as well. “The Board calls Cadet Benjamin Richards.”

Cade looks surprised, and raises his hand. “Excuse me, but I was not informed about Cadet Richards' testimony.”

“It was in the hearing packet you were given. You may take a moment to discuss this with your JAG rep if you'd like.”

Cade whispers with the JAG officer, who tells him what I checked with Keith when he sent me the update last night. This is totally within the standards of the Honor Committee, as Ben Richards had been interviewed earlier and had been on a potential witness list. Finally, he turns back, and gives us a surly nod. “I'm ready.”

Ben Richards sits down, and after stating his name, begins his testimony. “Second semester last year, I was Cade's roommate. We lived in the second floor of Bradley Barracks, and for the most part got along well. But when the committee came to me to ask about the events in question, I grew angry.”

“Why?” one of the Board members asked, and Ben nods.

“Because when I heard the story, I immediately thought of my smart watch. It was a gift from my grandparents, who thought that I could use it. They didn't quite get the fact that living in Bradley, you can't get a signal outside of the USMA WiFi signal, and that it was basically useless to me except as a toy until I got off post. I didn't even set it up with a carrier, it's no good to me,” Richards says.

“Did you talk with Cadet Edwards about your thoughts?” I ask, and Richards shakes his head. “Why?”

“Because I didn't know, and I didn't want to pile on. The days Cade had French that semester, I had DPE in the mornings second period, and then mech engineering fourth period. Honestly, I usually left the watch in my room most days anyway. But, after I heard about the hearing, I had to know for sure. I feel like crap honestly, not just doing this earlier, and I talked with my TAC about it and my company Honor Rep, I don't know if this is a toleration offense or not. But, Sunday afternoon I checked my watch.”

“Checked it for what?” another board member asks, and Richards sighs.

“I checked the browser history. From up in the DFL classrooms, I know you can get a cell signal, I've seen instructors use cell phones up there. And my watch was sent to me unlocked, my grandparents said they didn't know what provider USMA uses. They're a bit... technically behind. I'd on a whim for a trip to New York set it up with some prepaid data and minutes. It'd been months before, but there was still plenty of data on the plan, I guess. The browser was used during the time of the test, accessing Google Translate.”

“Objection! Calls for conjecture!” Cade shouts, but he shuts up when Ben takes out his watch and stands up. He brings it over to the Board and hands it to me. “Objection!”

“Noted,” I reply, turning on the watch. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ashley looking on, content, and I shut it off. “Cadet Edwards, the Board will have this verified by the Goldcoats computer experts, but I'd like to give you a chance to question Cadet Richards at this time.”

Cade talks with his JAG rep, who whispers strongly to him. Cade and him argue for a moment, then Cade cuts him off. “Fuck off, it's my only choice!”

Cade turns back to the Board and stands up, putting his hands on the table. “I'd like to change my initial status from contested to admitted. I admit to using the smart watch, I took it from Ben's desk and used it to cheat on the test. I ask for the Board's mercy.”

I look around, willing to take Cade's words at face value, but down on the end, one of the other Firsties, Elise Stuckey, interjects. “And of your statement about Cadet Carylyle? About her being a jilted Plebe that you dumped on? That statement's already been called into question by Cadet Carlyle herself.”

Cade turns red, then looks down. “I hit on her. Cadet Carlyle never violated regulations with me.”

* * *

“That had to be hard,” Cara comments as I sit in her room, rubbing at my temples. I'd talk with Ashley, but she's got fifth and sixth period classes right now. I know we'll talk later, but I need to destress right now. “How'd you handle it?”

“We'll see what the Comm and Supe say, but after his more or less lying about Ashley, the Board wasn't feeling very merciful. They recommended separation.”

Cara hums, nodding. “I bet. You never knew Cade Edwards, did you?”

“I'd seen him around DFL, we're both foreign language majors,” I reply, “but our languages didn't overlap. I'm focusing on French and Russian, while he's in Chinese, and I guess French was his secondary language.”

“Then you don't really know how he operates. He and I were in the same battalion as Plebes and Yuks. He made a lot of enemies, not that anyone would really say it to his face. He had that year of prior service, and the TACs loved the guy. I mean, look at him. He's a goddamn recruiting poster brought to life, with that build and everything. But... fuck Simon, he's one of those types who have the up front charisma to work his way into your confidence, but I'd heard from people, he'd use what he learned against you. Never directly, but a lot of people who tried to oppose him got hamstrung when their backs were turned. He tried to come after me at one point when he figured out about my.... never mind.”

I nod, and sit up, sighing. “Either way, it's in the hands above us now. You would have been so proud of Ash, Cara. She sat there and never once blinked. I don't think I had balls that big when I was a first semester Yuk.”

“Not what I've heard, big boy,” Cara teases, then shakes her head. “Jesus, how do you do it?”

“What?” I ask. “Talk about my balls so much?”

“No, you idiot. You realize when I was First Sergeant, the last person I wanted to be buddies with was you? I knew your rep, like I said you tagged Ronnie Mitchell. I've had my fill of players in my life. But now here I am, and you're one of my favorite Firsties in the company. How'd you pull that off?”

“You can thank Ash for that, I think,” I reply honestly. “She's special like that. Kinda like Tammy is, I bet.”

Cara looks over, giving me a measured look, then nods slowly. “Maybe. Either way, I'd say you can spend the rest of today not worrying about the Honor Board, but just be a good boyfriend. Hey, mind if I ask you a personal question on that?”

“Fire for effect, go.”

“You love her?” Cara asks quietly after a moment. “I mean, are you in love with her?”

I consider the option carefully. I've never said I've been in love before, to be honest after what my mother did to me I've had a hard time trusting any woman. Until Ashley, sex was just a fun game, a partner based way to blow off a little stress, and I'm damn good at it. But Ashley... she's different. “I... I think I may be. What about you?”

“Yeah,” Cara says, smiling a little shyly, something I've never seen her do, and it makes her look cute. “We're going to stay down low, but yeah, I do. Who the hell knows if it's going to last. I hope it does, but yeah, I really do.”

“Congrats. So does that mean you're not going to choke me out if I fuck up, oh great grappler?”

Cara laughs, and shakes her head. “Nope, no choke outs. Break your arm maybe, but no choke outs. Come on, chill. We're Firsties, we find out our branch in two weeks, and we've got the whole world in the palm of our hands. Enjoy it.”

Ashley

When I sat in the stands at Michie Stadium four years ago, I thought that perhaps the Academy had people sit here because they were being efficient. It's a good place to process a lot of people quickly.

Walking onto the turf now, dressed in my full dress with a white skirt, a new thought comes to me. Perhaps it's a result of my major, I loved doing Art, Philosophy, and Literature, or maybe I'm just feeling a bit... I don't know, prematurely nostalgic. I mean officially, I'm not even graduated just yet, I've still got about two hours to go.

The line of my fellow classmates in front of me is long, after my Yearling scramble I ended up all the way in the back, I-4, the “I-beam” of the Corps. Or, as some of my more sarcastic company mates called us, “Last To March.”

The ceremony begins, I'm soon sort of lost in a daze. In what seems like an instant, it's time for the speeches. The Supe, in his last year here before retiring, talks quickly, keeping his comments short and to the point. Then, he turns it over to the Secretary of Defense.

“It is perhaps with a sense of irony, I feel, that the Superintendent, the Commandant, the Dean and myself get to hand out diplomas, deeming you ready to take on the mantle of leadership of the Army,” the Sec Def says, already boring me to tears and he's barely two minutes in. “We, who grew up in a world where the big bad guys were from one place, and rose through the ranks in a world with unchallenged American hegemony, only to see the challenges of the most recent generation, we're supposed to be saying you're ready. For a world with challenges we have never faced, a world where the problems are due to the mistakes of our generation, and we're asking you, the newest group of officers, to clean up our mess.”

Now this is interesting. I wonder if the Sec Def is going to have a job after this is all over, but at least he's showing personality in his speech.

“But this is not a challenge the Corps hasn't faced before. Douglas MacArthur, in his famous speech to the Corps, said it better than I ever could. From your ranks come the great captains who hold the nation's destiny in their hands the moment the war tocsin sounds. The Long Gray Line has never failed us. Were you to do so, a million ghosts in olive drab, in brown khaki, in blue and gray, would rise from their white crosses thundering those magic words – Duty – Honor – Country. Look to your left and right, for there you will find the strength to continue and to prevail in the new world upon which you are embarking. Looking out on you now, I am certain that the Long Gray Line is in as sure a set of hands as when MacArthur gave his speech over fifty years ago. Thank you.”

There's scattered applause at the somber tone of the Sec Def's speech, but soon the cheers and applause start again as the diplomas start to be handed out. When it's I-4's turn, I stand along with my company mates and walk towards the stage, taking my diploma from the Commandant before walking off stage and saluting Captain Preston, I-4's TAC and going back to my seat.

“GO ASH!” I hear from the stands, and I can't help it, I smile at the voice. Two years since his own walk in Michie, and while we've said it numerous times: when he graduated, when he had to go to flight school, when I missed out on Aviation because of my barely less than perfect eyes and ended up with the Transportation Corps. We’ve said so often that we should take the time to see other people, but we've always circled back to each other. One of us would reach out to the other, an e-mail, a phone call, something... and we'd be back together again.

As I cross the area by Second Regiment, I see Tammy sitting with her company mates in E-2, and she gives me a thumbs up as well as a laugh. I return the gesture, and return to my seat.

I barely have a chance to sit down before we're all standing up again, this time to sing the Alma Mater before holding up our hands and swearing an oath to uphold the Constitution, similar but slightly different than the oath I took on R-day. Five minutes later, and we're dismissed, with the familiar flinging of our hats into the air in celebration.

“Tammy!” I yell, looking for my friend. She's looking for me too, and we hug, clapping each other hard on the backs and congratulating each other. “We did it!”

“Thanks to you,” Tammy says, setting me down. She's gotten stronger, added pounds of muscle that have taken her from the little waifish girl I knew to a stocky Amazonian figure, but she's still got that same sweet personality that's made us besties. “I heard your cheering section.”

“Yours is just too disciplined,” I tease, leaving my arm around her shoulder as we look around. “Where are they, anyway? I figured they'd sit together.”

Tammy tugs on my arm, and I see Simon, grinning as he crosses the turf, and I let go of Tammy to run into his arms. Simon grabs me and swings me around in a circle before setting me down and kissing me hard. We haven't seen each other face to face since Christmas break, and it's good to hold him in my arms again. “Hey you, I should send you away more often if you're going to greet me like that every time.”

“If I need to, I'll kiss you like this every day to keep from being sent away,” Simon growls, his hands bumping against the two brass buttons on the back of my uniform that delineate my lower back from my butt. “Damn, forgot how those get in the way.”

I laugh and kiss him again, smirking. “Why do you think they left them there? The Academy knew men like Simon Lancaster would try to play grab ass with their girlfriends.”

“Speaking of girlfriends...” Simon says, pointing. I'm nearly moved to tears as Tammy pulls Cara King close and for the first time in the three years that I've known about them, I see them actually kiss. I'm shocked though when Cara gets down on a knee and pulls out a ring box.

“Tammy… would you give me the honor of being my wife?” Cara asks Tammy, who nods and wipes at her eyes, crying. The happy couple embraces, and I think they're both surprised when they're pounded on the back and congratulated by quite a few of our classmates, I know Tammy was never 'out' her entire time at the Academy.

Simon, who's been holding me in one arm, gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Now that's just beautiful, don't you think?”

“I do,” I say, but before I can say more, Tammy and Cara are there, and I hug them both. Cara's grown her hair out some more, it's got to be hell fitting it all under her uniform cap, but she's prettier than she was as a cadet, not as angry looking all the time. Tammy found her soul mate after all. “Congratulations, guys. Cara, it's been too long, you look good.”

“Thanks Ashley. And I see you're still dragging this guy around, too. Simon, good to see you,” Cara replies, giving Simon a hug. “How's the flying?”

“About as good as the missiles,” Simon jokes, commenting on Cara's position in the Air Defense Artillery. “Tell me Tammy, did that have any influence on your decision to go ADA?”

“Maybe... more than a little,” Tammy says, blushing. “Thankfully, we got lucky and we're going to be assigned to the same post. I mean, it's still Ft. Sill, but it'll be together. And now....”

“Now you gotta figure out how to book the Chapel on short notice,” I tease, and both of them shake their heads, almost in unison. “Oh?”

“You're the only two people that we felt comfortable being ourselves with around here,” Tammy explains. “I mean, the timing was a surprise, but Cara and I kinda talked about this before. Four years, and we weren't comfortable being ourselves here. I couldn't go to her Ring Weekend, or 100th Night. And Cara never got to go to anything as my date either. Speaking of which, how's Nate doing?”

“In Los Angeles, trying out for TV roles,” Cara says, still half hugging Tammy. “I'll tell you about it on the way back down the hill to help you get fully cleared out.”

The fact that I still have a few duties to do at the Academy makes me sigh melodramatically, and all of us laugh. It's not like I didn't help Simon clear out his stuff when he graduated as well. “Okay... oh hey, there's Dad!”

Cara and Tammy leave, holding hands, Cara taking Tammy's white cap and sticking it on her head as they leave the field, and I tug Simon over towards where Dad is waiting, right in the end zone near the touchdown bell. “Relax Simon, you've been my boyfriend for three years,” I reassure him, “I've told Dad all about you.”

“Yeah, and we've never met still,” Simon says, uncharacteristically nervous. “I guess though if we were going to implement our idea, it's kinda necessary.”

“Kinda,” I agree with a chuckle, then Dad's there, and I run over, hugging him. “Dad!”

Dad hugs me back, kissing me on the cheek as he does. “Ashley! Oh I'm so proud of you!”

I hug Dad for another moment then let him set me down, turning as I do. “Dad... I know you know who this is. Simon Lancaster, this is my Dad, Henry Carlyle.”

Dad offers his hand to Simon, who shakes with him. “It's a pleasure sir. Regrettably long overdue, my fault totally.”

“Hardly just your fault. I know you'd love to talk, but I suspect Ashley's ready to get out of her uniform, so how about you two go head back to cadet area, clear out her stuff, and we'll meet you at the restaurant for dinner. Go on, Katherine's very excited to meet you too. Just, the memories here are a little intense for her, she's already headed back to the car.”

Simon nods, and Dad gives me another hug. As he does, he whispers in my ear. “Gavin and Julius are very proud of you right now, I know it. Thank you.”

Without waiting for a reply, Dad walks away and we leave the stadium. Simon's looking a bit perplexed as he and I walk past Lusk Reservoir, holding hands. “You Dad is... well, he seems like a nice guy.”

“Dad plays things close to the chest,” I reply, smiling. “Don't sweat it. Really. Put it this way, Dad's probably just as nervous as you are.”

Simon gives me a questioning look, and I stop, turning and taking his free hand. “Simon, I know that I've told you a few times to go and find another girl. You told me the same, that I needed to find another boyfriend. Yet, we keep coming back to each other. How many times have we 'broken up' without breaking up?”

“Three, maybe four,” Simon says, thinking. “When I graduated, after my OBC but before flight school started, when you missed Aviation.....”

“Don't forget Christmas of my Cow year too,” I remind him with a shake of my head, it's the last time I truly got shitfaced. “Remember, I got drunk and melodramatic on leave, calling you up?”

Simon laughs, remembering. “Yeah, that lasted what, five days?”

“I'd say a week, tops. You called me on New Year's Eve, but we didn't really say we wanted to give it another go until I got back here from leave. Can I ask you something I've never asked you before, Simon?”

“Go ahead. I think I know what the question is, though. So I'll ask you instead. Did you ever hook up with a guy during the times we were broken up?” When I shake my head, he nods, half smiling. “That's what I thought. I tried, I went out on.... let's see.... two dates, once during my two months post-grad leave, and another when you got Transpo but before we got back together. Both times women down in Ft. Rucker. But it just wasn't you.”

I tug on his fingers, any my body yearns for him, it's been a long time since we've been together. “I tried one date. Another male cadet, and it was terrible. Nice guy, he graduated today too, but just... let's face it Simon, we're so into each other that we can't help but be together. It's why I asked you to take a long chunk of leave before you report to South Korea and stay at the house with me. I want to make a real go of this. I... I want to stop fucking around, Simon. Let's really make a go of this, okay?”

Simon grins, pulling me close. “No fucking around?”

I laugh and push him in the chest, stepping back. “We'll see about that, stud. For now, let's get back and you can help me clean out the rest of my crap from my room. Then after dinner with the rest of my family, maybe we can talk about making up for some lost time.”

Simon

I was worried about Ashley's family at first when I came into the restaurant a Japanese teppanyaki place that I'd never been to but had heard about. But now, ten minutes into our dinner, I'm totally at ease, smiling and laughing along with Henry as he tells an Old Corps story.

“So anyway, my platoon leader is totally wasted, I don't even want to know how many beers he had at the Firstie Club, and he kicks in the door to my room, flipping on the switch.

“Of course, the door goes banging off our wardrobe, and my roomie and I are sitting up in a flash, but before we can do anything else my platoon leader yells. 'Hey, Carlyle! Who's this company's favorite Jew?'”

Katherine and Ashley, who have undoubtedly heard this story before, both laugh lightly, and I have to admit, I try not to choke in surprise on my pre-dinner sake at the outrageousness of the question. Finally, when I can speak without coughing, I ask a question. “Well, what did you say?”

“What could I say?” Henry says, grinning. “I said, 'You are, sir!' My platoon leader just nodded and harumphed, first time I ever heard someone actually do that, and said, 'You're goddamned right, and don't you forget it!' before closing our door and going down the hallway. I got up out of bed to turn off the light, when my roommate says, 'Isn't he this company's only Jew?' I didn't really know what to say.”

I laugh, it's stupid, it's juvenile, but I can tell by his conviction as he says it, Henry Carlyle is totally telling the truth. It's not even the most outlandish thing I've heard of happening in the Corps actually, and I tell him my crazy story. “When I was a Yuk, we had an Old Grad parade, and our TAC told us that some had asked to do a walk around of the barracks. Well, I mean, these were guys who were coming back for their fiftieth reunion, a lot of them had served in Vietnam even, what were we supposed to do, say no?”

Ashley, who's never heard this story before, leans in, interested. I don't know why I never told her, and she's into it. “Well, what happened?”

“My company had to clean our rooms of course,” I continue, “and after the Old Grad parade, we went back to our rooms, stayed in full dress over white, which sucked major ass. Anyway, a few old Grads filter through, none coming to our room, and at noon, we close our door to change. My roomie goes to the bathroom, and I was down to my PT shirt and had just pulled on my shorts when there were two knocks on the door, and I popped to attention. 'Enter, sir!'

“It's not an officer or an NCO, it's an Old Grad, this grizzled old guy who had enough scars that even I felt bad for him. Cheery dude though, and he holds up a finger, shushing me as he closes the door. I understood, the Old Grads were supposed to be escorted by someone, but I wasn't worried. Then, the old guy pulls a knife out of his pocket and flicks it open, and walks over to sink area and opens my side of the medicine cabinet. Thank God I had set it up for inspection, there was barely anything in there. He runs the knife along the corners of my cabinet, and out comes the whole back panel! He reaches in, pulling out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label. 'Thanks for keeping it safe, my boy,' he says with a wink, slipping the bottle into his jacket pocket. 'A hint for you. Remember these days, they'll never come again.' Then he just walks out, disappearing like a ghost.”

Ashley blinks, stunned, while Henry smiles, laughing. “What did you do?”

“Well, the first thing I had to do was try and explain what the hell happened when my roomie comes back from the toilet, of course! We taped the thing back up, and then next time he went on leave, well... let's just say I've got a little present waiting for me when I have my own Old Grad day.”

Ashley laughs, then looks at Henry. “You believe him, Dad?”

“Honey, that's not the craziest thing I've heard go on in the Corps,” Henry says, chuckling. “We all know some of the things the Corps gets up to. But what can you expect? Ashley, you’re unique, you knew what real college was like, and not just the fishbowl of the Army or the Corps. It's why I knew you'd make it, and do as well as you did.”

Ashley blushes, and I take her hand. “Your Dad's right. I never, ever doubted that you had the strength to make it through the Academy. If I had any doubts at all, those were erased the first day of Sandhurst practice. I still remember the look in your eyes when you told me, and I quote, 'Fuck off, sir.'”

Henry gives Ashley a smirk, and I nod. “You've got a remarkable daughter, Mr. Carlyle.”

“Henry,” he says. “And thank you. I'll give the credit to Katherine though, I was away from home too much during Ashley's childhood to be as good a father as I should have been.”

Katerine, who's been quiet for the most part other than with gentle questions, smiles, shaking her head. “They always were Henry's children more than mine. I'm just... sorry, today's been difficult in a few ways. Simon, Ashley's told me about her invitation that you stay with us for six weeks before you have to report to Korea... I hope that I can get to know you more during that time. I feel like I haven't exactly given the best impression of myself today.”

I shake my head dismissing her apology. “Katherine, Ashley told me your family's history back when she was in Beast. I'll be honest, I spent a few nights wondering how strong you had to be to let your daughter even step foot anywhere on post. So before you give the credit to Henry, take a look in the mirror. I have a sneaking suspicion that your daughter's strength is as much from you as anything else.”

It's the right thing to say, and I can see in Ashley's smoldering eyes as dinner continues, I touched her deeply. Still, we take our time with dinner, until Henry toasts us with a single glass of sake. “To Lieutenant Ashley Carlyle. Congratulations, and here's to a great future.”

I toast along with the others, and as we ride back towards the hotel, Ashley looks over at me. “You have never, ever been sexier than you were tonight at dinner.”

I smile and look back at her. “Oh really?”

“Really. And I hope you're ready to not get any sleep tonight, we may just have to check out of the hotel late tomorrow before we get on the road back home.”

* * *

Making love for the first time in Ashley's home is a bit strange. By the way she blushes and giggles afterwards, I'm guessing she feels the same way, but there's no way we've been able to keep our hands off of each other except for when we've been driving. Her family's home in Virginia is large though, and I don't feel like we made too much noise when we put the king sized bed to good use.

“Hey, Simon?” Ashley asks, yawning. I understand, it's almost two in the morning, and we've been making love for nearly three hours including foreplay and talking.

“Yes, Ash?”

“Can you get me some mineral water from the kitchen? I'd get up, but I'm not wearing any panties.” Ashley wiggles her cute little butt underneath the sheet that I pulled on top of us, sighing happily. “Not that I want to anyway.”

“Sure, I think I remember where the kitchen is,” I tease, kissing her on the neck. “I won't be long.”

I'm not, but when I get back, Ashley's snoring lightly, her knees pulled up and a smile on her face. I watch her for a little while, then head back to the kitchen. I'm not quite sleepy yet, and I don't want to wake her up unknowingly. I'm surprised when I see a light on, I thought I'd turned everything off, and I'm even more surprised when I see Henry sitting at the breakfast nook table, sipping a cup of milk. “Sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you.”

“No, I kind of figured that you and Ashley would... well, do things that as a man I understand, but as a father don't want to quite think about yet. She may be twenty four, she may be a Lieutenant now, she's a member of the Long Gray Line, all of that... but part of me still sees the little girl who dressed up as Pippi Longstocking for Halloween when she was six years old. But you two didn't wake me up, I've always had problems sleeping through the night since... well, since Julius died. Gavin I could at least understand, but Julius... it was harder for me and Katherine to accept. I know what the evidence says, but still, it's hard.”

I put the mineral water away and sit down. “Is that why you encouraged Ashley to go to a civilian school at first?”

Henry shakes his head. “I never encouraged the Academy to any of my children, Simon. Actually, I discouraged it in a lot of ways. I saw what was going to happen to the Army when it got to be their generation. My father got all the way to one star before he retired. The Army of his era was actually pretty home based. Other than doing one year in Vietnam, he was always posted somewhere that my mother and I could be with him. Bragg, Campbell, Germany... he'd still be there most evenings and weekends. So for me, it was easy to choose to go to West Point. Hell, they even offered me a shot at the baseball team. Bet Ashley never told you about that.”

“No, she didn't. I played baseball in high school, but I knew my stuff wasn't good enough for an NCAA level team. Didn't matter, I knew I wanted to be a pilot even as a little kid,” I reply, tapping the table.

“Well, when I graduated, I saw what was happening. We'd had a decade to shift to an all-volunteer force, the troops left had to do a lot more work on a per soldier basis. I missed a lot of time at home. But, there's something about the Academy, isn't there? We hate it, and at the same time we love it.”

“One of my roomies called it the bitch-goddess,” I add, understanding fully. “I thought it was a pretty good description. And we're the ones who actually did pretty well at USMA, I'd hate to think about how those who struggled there or in the Army feel.”

Henry nods, and sips at the glass of milk he's poured for himself. “That lure pulled my two sons first, and when Julius.... when he died, I did everything in my power to not actively discourage Ashley, but instead to show her that there's a lot out there in the world besides the Corps. Still, she's strong, and when she applied, I knew she'd make it. I still have concerns, Simon. You're a good man, and I know how Ashley feels for you. I don't want to rain on your leave, but have you two thought about what a long term relationship means for you two?”

“What do you mean, sir?”

“I mean, in the modern military, if the two of you do end up staying together and getting married, the military's going to put pressure on your relationship. I think it may already have, I always wondered why Ashley put Transportation Corps as her number two choice after Aviation, her class rank was certainly high enough she could have picked almost any branch of the Army and gotten in. But that's just the beginning. You're being posted to South Korea next, right?”

“Correct, sir. I'll be at Camp Humphries. Ashley too, actually. The Army was nice enough to set that up.”

Henry nods. “And what if, three months after Ashley finishes her officer's training and gets posted to Camp Humphries, the Army decides that it's time for a pilot like yourself to be rotated back to the States, or sent on a year long deployment to the Middle East? What happens if Ashley's offered a position as a company XO, or a sweet staff job with an influential Colonel or General, and you're faced with a choice over whose career to prioritize?”

I hum, nodding. “I don't know, Henry. I know how I feel about your daughter, and to be honest at this moment I am content to grow our relationship as deep as I suspect it can be.”

“And I approve of that,” Henry says, trying to smile. “If I didn't, I would not have approved when Ashley came to me with this cockamamie idea of you staying with us this whole time before you report to Korea. It's still my house, after all. You've proven yourself time and time again to be a good man to her, Simon. Even to the point you waited. Did you know that she was attracted to you even before she was recognized? She called me up one night, just checking in with her family, and she started talking about this Cow that invited her to be part of the Sandhurst team, and in the way she talked about you, I just knew.”

I nod, and Henry gives me a searching look. Wordlessly, he gets up and pours me a glass of brandy, handing it to me. “You've never told her, have you? How you feel about her?”

I shake my head, and sigh. “Before meeting Ashley, I was a pretty big player. You mentioned some of the things the Corps can get up to... I could tell you some of the things a mixed Corps can get up to, because I've done them. Ike Hall, WKDT, the steam tunnels under Thayer Hall, even Trophy Point, that was risky as hell... but I did quite a few of them.”

“Sounds a lot like I was as a cadet,” Henry admits. “Of course there wasn’t the issue with female cadets, there were so few back in my days, but I get your point.”

I sip my drink, staring into the deep amber liquid as it burns down my throat. “There's a reason for it, and not just my scar. Oh, I'm sure some shrink could say that Brenda's abuse left all sorts of Freudian issues, but really I'd say most of it goes back to high school. I fell, and fell hard for a girl in my freshman science class. We dated for most of freshman year, and into sophomore year too. Then... well, she broke my heart pretty coldly when our school's big stud showed interest in her. She taught me a lesson, play or be played. So I decided to be a player. Until... until Ashley.”

Henry hums, and lets me finish my drink. “If you don't mind, I think I'll turn in, Henry. Thanks for listening.”

* * *

I'm still troubled a week later, and as Ashley and her mother go to town to do some mother-daughter time, I take a walk in the woods near Ashley's house. As I tromp through the pines, I think. I think about Ashley, and my feelings for her.

I remember what I told Cara, that Sunday night of Ring Weekend after we got back. I never said the word love, but I know that's the word most people would use. I still don't know what to do though when my phone rings, and I see that it's actually Cara of all people. “Why Cara, you must be psychic, because I was just thinking about you. How's life?”

“Good,” Cara says, grinning. “Listen, I was talking with Tammy, and we were wondering... would you and Ashley like to come to our wedding?”

“You two serious?” I ask, surprised and shocked. “I mean, of course I would. Ash is out with her Mom, but I know she'd say yes too. Where and when?”

“We decided to do it in a spot near St. Louis, Tammy's never been there. Uh, just to let you know, her family's not attending. Kinda... well, you know.”

I swallow, and nod. “I understand. Well, tell Tammy it doesn't matter, you guys will have family there anyhow, me and Ashley. You're my sister from another mister, Cara. And Tammy's gonna have Ash there too, I'm sure of it. When you doing it?”

“Three weeks from tomorrow. I'll send you the details. You know Simon, you don't have to. I'm sure part of you has your own lovey-dovey stuff you'd like to be doing with Ashley instead,” Cara says half-teasingly. She must read something into my silence though, because I hear her sigh on the other end of the line. “You still haven't said it yet, have you? Not to her at least.”

“No,” I sigh, leaning against a nearby tree. “But come on Cara, after all this time, don't you think she knows?”

Cara groans, and I can see her in my mind shaking her head on the other side of the phone. “Jesus Simon, you can't even say it to me, can you? You've got to, though. Come on, say it. Say that you love her. I'm not trying to yank your chain or anything, this can be important.”

“Why? Why is it that I have to say a single, stupid four letter word that doesn't even contain all the feelings that I have for Ashley, and can easily be used to describe the feelings I have for you, too, even though they're totally different?” I fume, knowing I sound like a petulant child. “Why can't I say it in French or Russian, at least they know that the word is just too damn limiting in English!”

Cara's silent for a moment, then when she speaks again, her voice is thoughtful. “You're a good guy, Simon, but you don't understand, do you? What we went through there. You go in, or at least I did, thinking like a normal person. I was sure that I'd find someone, that there'd be a chance at romance, maybe some fun because hey, I'm going to college just an hour from New York City after all. That the other cadets would be better than the pack of retards I went to high school with, because after all, West Point's supposed to have the 'best and brightest' going there. Then you're stripped, not physically although it seems that way, of what makes you feminine. You're told you are weak, that you can't measure up to the guys. A lot of them on one hand dismiss you and on the other hand treat you like a walking Fleshlight. Some of us... some of us lose our sense of what it's like, being a woman. I know I nearly did. And let's not even get into the whole fact that, while I denied it for a long time, I like women. You wanna know the truth about why nobody in the Corps knew about my dating life or sexual life until Tammy?”

“Why?” I ask softly, shocked by Cara's admission.

“Because I hadn't had one. Hell Simon, I was so inept at it that I actually convinced myself that my first feelings for Tammy were just friendly ones. I mean honestly, who makes a first date of doing wind sprints up the hill behind Arvin? She had to make the first move and tell me that she loves me. You know what that one word did, Simon? It reminded me of my feminine side. But there's a bad side, too. I nearly lost Tammy because I couldn't tell her I love her. We saw each other out at Buckner, I was first detail cadre. And the whole time, I was like you, I knew how I felt, but couldn't say it. Then... you don't know how much I hurt Tammy not taking her to the Ring Weekend dinner. We fought during that leave, until she said she loved me, and it was like a dam burst, Simon. Ashley's a good woman, and I have no idea how you two haven't broken up permanently during all this time. But you need to tell her. So say it, Simon. Tell me how you feel about Ashley.”

I gulp, and scratch at my head, trying to work up the guts to say it. “I... I love her, Cara. I love Ashley with all my heart.”

“There, that wasn't so bad, was it?” Cara laughs on the other end of the line. “I bet it feels good actually. Am I right?”

I hum, and realize she's right. “It is. So I guess I have to tell her now, don't I?”

“It'd be a damn good idea. Okay, I gotta go, Tammy and I have some shopping and stuff to clear up so that we can get into base housing, if not she's going to be staying at my crappy apartment. Listen, if you need anything, give me a call, okay? Because you're right, you're my brother too. Talk to you later, Simon.”

“Yeah, bye. And thanks for the invite, get me the details,” I tell Cara, hanging up and sitting down in the pine needles. It was hard, but Cara's right. I told her in a roundabout way I loved Ashley as far back as three years ago. I can't go my entire life without telling Ashley how I feel, not if I want her to stay with me.

I know what I have to do.

Ashley

It's been too long since I've been able to go shopping with Mom, and the few hours just being mother and daughter again feels great. Sure, we spent too much, but I've been wise with my money, so I don't feel bad wasting five hundred bucks on an afternoon with my mother.

“You know Ashley, you didn't need to buy me new earrings,” Mom says as she touches the platinum loops in her ear. She's the person I got my red hair from, even if hers is starting to lighten in the approach of gray, and I think the platinum looks distinguished in her ears. “Really.”

“Mom, Dad's going to love those on you, and besides... you didn't say anything about my new piercing,” I say, touching my stomach. “I thought you'd flip your lid.”

“You're a grown woman, Ashley. While it's not my style, I can understand you wanting to express a little individuality. Besides, you didn't go nuts with the design, it's a silver stud. And.... well, you could have gotten a lot of other places pierced,” Mom says, about as outlandish as Mom gets. I remember the first time she visited me in college out in Washington, and asked me what exactly a Prince Albert was, apparently it was on some poster around campus. That took a little more explanation than I'd like.

“Either way Mom, thank you. And this was fun. I know it's going to be a few months before we can get together like this again. I already talked with the people at the Transport School, they said that Christmas break is only ten days,” I tell her as we pull up at the house. Maybe it's larger than a lot of people's, but I like the fact it gives us plenty of privacy, which Simon and I have taken advantage of over the past few days quite liberally. “So can I help with dinner?”

“You certainly can,” Mom answers with a grin as she parks. “I know the military at least taught you how to wash dishes, right?”

“Sorry, that's for the enlisted. Us officers are above getting our hands dirty with such manual labor,” I say in a false snobby accented voice, and both of us start laughing, giggling. It's fun, and as I help Mom in with our shopping bags, I feel as far from a new Army officer as I think I can get, in a good way.

When we get inside, Simon's got this intense look on his face, and I set my bags down, worried. “Simon? Is anything wrong?”

“Yes and no,” Simon says, coming over to me and taking my hands. “Would you mind going for a little walk with me? Katherine, I know I'm probably stealing your kitchen assistant knowing the way you guys are, but I really need this time.”

“Go ahead, I'll just put you to work too when you get back,” Mom says lightly, smiling. I can see Dad behind Simon, and he's got a little smile on his lips as well, and I relax. Dad wouldn't be so happy if there was a possibility that Simon's news would be bad.

Simon and I walk out the back path of the house, off the property and into the pine woods, holding hands. He's silent for a little while, until it becomes too much for me, and I can't stand it any more. “Okay, okay, we're out here. Now please, stop giving me a heart attack?”

Simon stops and turns, pulling me in for a hug. “First, let me say something that I haven't had the guts to say before. I... Ashley, I love you.”

His words stop me in my tracks, and I push back, blinking. “Eh?”

“I said I love you,” Simon says nervously, his voice quavering. “I realized after the phone conversation I had today that I'm going to tell you about that... we've dated on and off for three years. And never once, in all the time that I've been with you, have I said it. I love you, Ashley.”

“I... I love you too,” I tell him, smiling. It feels good to say it, and even better to hear it finally. “I never thought … but I've loved you for a long time.”

“Me too,” he rasps, his voice choking. “I... after talking on the phone with Cara today, I realized something. I wanna be the man who you want to spend the rest of your life with. So, no more holding back anything, no more reservations or restraints. I love you, and I want to be all in with you. So... I'm here, however you want me. I love you.”

He's so vulnerable, so open, and I have only one reply as I step in and kiss him tenderly, our lips melting as we join our souls as much as our bodies. When we stop, I kiss him on the lips one more time, and I realize I'm close to crying. “I'm all in with you too. And right now, the thing I want more than anything else is to make love with you. But... tell me about Cara's phone call first?”

Simon smiles and his hands stroke up and down my back to rest on my hips, just above the pocket of my jeans. I know regardless of the phone call, we are going to make love. The only question is if it's going to be here or in the house. “We've been cordially invited to their wedding. Cara's going to e-mail me the details, but she said in about three weeks in St. Louis. It's right before I have to fly out to South Korea, but I told her that we'd be there. Is that okay?”

“Perfect,” I tell him, reaching down and squeezing his butt through his pants. “I can think of only one other place I'd like to be before you fly.”

“Oh?” he asks, cupping my ass and grinning. “Where's that?”

“In bed with you. But I think we can manage both.”

“Hmmm,” Simon says, kissing me again.“And what about right here in the woods?”

We've never done it this way before, and I like the idea. We're all in, right? Then let's have a little fun exploring new ideas. “That's pretty damn good too.”

* * *

I'm blinking, trying to hold back the tears as I watch Cara and Tammy, both in their dress blues, go back down the aisle at the church. Unwilling to say who was the 'groom' and who was the 'bride,' they entered together, and from there the ceremony got even more personalized and special.

It hurts my heart to see that nobody from Tammy's family attended the wedding, and on Cara's side only her brother found the time to attend, but it doesn't matter. Somehow, in the past two weeks Simon's pulled magic out of his hat, because the pews of the small church are at least half filled with classmates and people who know the two. Half of them are old Ironsides, including Mike Price and even Betty Lawton, while I recognize a few others, most notably Ronnie Mitchell, beautiful in her pregnant dress. “How'd you do this?”

“I happen to have kept in decent touch with both the Association of Graduates and my class President on Facebook,” Simon says. “And give your Dad credit too, he made some phone calls as well. What does he do, anyway?”

“Ahhh, political consulting I think,” I reply, “Dad is like you, he plays things pretty close to the chest sometimes.”

Simon hums, then shrugs. “Okay. Well, he pulled the right strings, I know Ronnie for example when I called her said that she'd love to, but that she had duty this weekend at Leonard Wood. Henry makes a call, and she's here. Seems the Old Grads still pull weight.”

Tammy and Cara finish their retreat down the aisle, now Tamara and Cara King (Tammy's request), the whole audience applauding for them. The reception is literally upstairs, the ceremony's being held in a hotel in St. Louis overlooking the Mississippi, and after the first dance, the party starts. Like most military parties, it's got a weird mix of class and crass, with polite, almost stuffy manners giving way to something that borders on a college kegger by the time the cake is gone. Cara and Tammy are inseparable, and when it's time for Simon and I to give our congrats to them, Tammy finally peels away to wrap her arms around me, not letting go.

“Thank you,” she keeps repeating, and I know what she's thanking me for, and it's not just coming to the wedding. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” I reply, finally getting a chance to breathe after her rib creaking hug lets up some. She's followed in Cara's footsteps, and while she's still feminine in my eyes, she's strong as an ox too. I hope nobody in the ADA ever mistakes Tammy's normally soft spoken nature for weakness, she'll straighten them out very quickly I suspect.

“My family didn't come,” she says, looking around. “Not my blood family at least. But you did. We've been besties for years now. Can we... can we be sisters too?”

I think I surprise Cara and Simon both when I grab Tammy's cute cheeks and kiss her on the lips, hard but not open mouthed. “You already are, Tammy. At least in my heart you are. And if you ever need me, you call me. Actually, I've wondered that. Why did Cara call Simon instead of you calling me?”

“Simple,” Tammy says, laughing when Cara grabs me in a bear hug and swings me around to welcome me to the family, “you didn't have a cell phone when you left school. Or at least you never gave me your cell number, all I had was your e-mail. And we figured it wasn't something to just e-mail you guys about, so since Cara had Simon's phone number....”

“Then I'll e-mail you my number as soon as I get back to our hotel room,” I tell her, to which Tammy gives me a raised eyebrow and looks over at Simon, who whistles innocently. “What? He told me he loves me. I think that's deserving of a shared hotel room, don't you?”

Tammy surprises even me by grabbing Simon and kissing him full on the lips and hugging him. “Then I have a brother as well as a sister. Took you long enough, dammit!”

Simon laughs and hugs Tammy back, patting her on the back. “Well, I'm not going to hold back any more. I love her, and I love her more each and every day. And if I ever forget to say it, you and Cara can both shoot my ass down, okay?”

“Careful, we may take you up on that,” Cara says with a smile. Looking around, she whispers in Tammy's ear, who giggles and whispers back, nodding. “Okay. Listen, we're going to pull our disappearing act, and start the honeymoon. I'd say you two should do the same.”

Simon's eyes are smoldering as he looks at me, pulling me close. We also wore our uniforms, so there's a little bit of restraint in his kiss, but not much. “Shall we?”

I nod, whispering in his ear. “Tonight I want it to be special. So yeah, let's go.”

We make our way up to our room, where I immediately retreat to the bathroom and take off my uniform, leaving myself totally naked and take the little treat that I wanted out of my toiletry kit and palm it, walking back into the bedroom area to see Simon, already naked as well, laying on the bed. He's so handsome, even with the flaw on his face that I've traced so many times, either with my fingers when we've kissed or with my tongue when we've gone past simple kissing. His body is fit without being overly muscle bound, and he's still got that sort of aristocratic look to his face that first attracted me to him, a sense of inner calm that I know is the steely nerves that makes him a good pilot as well.

“What's that?” Simon asks, smiling as I bite my lip. “What? Come here, this is hardly the time to be shy.”

I blush and crawl onto the bed, kissing him deeply. The feeling of his skin, of his body under my hands is never anything but electric, and I can feel my body stir just from his hands stroking my arms. “I have a secret, I've never told anyone.”

“What?” Simon asks, kissing me again. His mouth is so distracting, I nearly forget what I want to tell him, and when he pushes me onto my back, I can't resist, and the warm tremors in my belly work their way lower to my pussy as he runs his hand along the back of my thigh. I'm actually moaning in disappointment when he stops, and kisses my nose cheekily. “I'm going to keep teasing you until you tell me, you know.”

There's a whine in my voice when I answer, and I am amazed again how quickly Simon can make me putty in his hands. “I... it's a cock ring.”

Simon arches an eyebrow, intrigued. “Am I coming too quickly?”

I shake my head, and push him back, Simon letting me and changing the mood to playful in one simple movement. “No, silly. Just... I've had a deep secret. I love your cock, I told you long ago I'm a size queen, but.... I've always had the deep desire to be literally fucked senseless, or even unconscious. That's a hell of a marathon to ask any man. Actually, until I met you, the only ideas I had for it involved toys or multiple men, which I wasn't interested in at all. But you.....”

“I'm honored that you think I could do such a task,” Simon purrs, kissing along my neck. “And I'll be happy to try.”

“One more thing,” I tell him, before his fingers and mouth drive all words from me. “I want it no condom. I think we can trust each other that much now, yes?”

Simon stops, and looks me in the eye. “Ashley, you know what you're asking. Even thought you're on the pill, there's a greater chance.”

“I know,” I reassure him, kissing his lips. “And if you want to know the truth... I want to take that risk.”

Instead of answering, Simon pulls me in tighter, kissing me deeply, his tongue caressing mine as he cups my ass and squeezes, my moan swallowed by his lips and mouth. Simon kisses down my throat and circles around my right breast until he lowers and sucks my nipple, gentle at first and then harder. Despite their size my breasts aren't as hyper sensitive as they seem, but still heat builds deeper in me, and I'm squirming when Simon moves off of me, laying next to me as his hand moves from my ass to the lips of my pussy, rubbing. “I love your fantasy, but I know even with the cock ring, your body is so wonderful, so tight and perfect for me, I'm going to need everything I can to please you. Is that okay?”

I hum happily, my eyes fluttering closed as Simon slides a finger inside and finds my g-spot. We've been making love so much that he knows exactly where it is, and the pleasure is immediate and intense. “Oh, that's so nice....”

I turn my head and kiss Simon again, his finger working with perfect strokes, not too hard, not too soft while his kisses on my lips and throat and along the curve of my ear, his breath tickling my ear as his finger brings me higher and higher. “After this,” his breath whispers into my ear, directly into my brain and hacking it, making me shiver with ever word, “I'm going to lick your pussy for another orgasm, and then, oh then my love... you know what's going to happen.”

I nod, groaning as my pussy tightens, and then I'm coming, my back arching as Simon's finger doesn't stop, but builds me higher, riding with me until I'm trembling again, a chain reaction I've never felt before, poised on another orgasm. Simon pulls his finger out and strokes my clit with the wet, slippery tip of his finger, and I'm clutching at his back again, swept away in a wave of pleasure that leaves me breathless. When I can focus again, Simon's smiling at me. “Should I stop?”

“More! Give me more!” I beg breathlessly, fear and arousal shooting through me as Simon kisses down my body, pausing to kiss my belly button stud before lowering his mouth to my pussy, the new sensation both energizing and paralyzing me it feels so good.

Simon's got a tremendous cock, and he knows how to use it, but where he's an absolute virtuoso is with his mouth and tongue. First he licks my labia, his tongue so light that I don't even feel it until it's already past, and there's nothing but humming, singing nerves that are crying out in ecstasy. When they're on the limit of not being able to take any more, he dips deeper, licking my inner folds and causing me to grab his head and grind my hips into his mouth, groaning and crying out his name over and again. I'm breathless again, washed in wave after wave of wonder and pleasure as Simon keeps me on the edge, and I'm reduced to begging. “Please Simon, let me come.”

He hums and laughs softly, the vibrations adding to the orgasm rolling inside me, ready to be unleashed, and looks up at me. His eyes find mine as he drags his tongue up and starts circling my clit, my eyes literally crossing it feels so good. He never seems to repeat the same stroke twice, and all of them feel amazing. My stomach clenches, and with a light scream I'm coming again for a third time, grinding my pussy into his lips and tongue, Simon pausing just enough to let me breathe before he turns me over and grabs my hips, pulling my nearly limp body up slightly roughly. “Main event time.”

I look back and see him strap the cock ring around his base, and I swear his already huge cock grows bigger, and I know I'm not just going to have a fantasy fulfilled, but a whole new fantasy created and achieved by the time he's done. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Simon says tenderly, but there's no tenderness in his cock as he thrusts into me hard, his hips smacking hard into my ass and sending a jolt of pleasure and a little bit of pain all the way up my backbone to explode in my head.

“Ugh!” I grunt, pushing back. Oh, he wants it like that, huh? He knows me well enough to know that I love athletic sex, and I abandon myself, pushing back into him. You want to fuck me, I'm going to fuck you too, and let's see who can hold out first, my loving man. I love you, but I'm not going to let you just pound me into the mattress. “Give it to me!”

Simon pulls back and thrusts hard again while I squeeze my pussy around him, both of us groaning and gasping as the nerves are lit on fire. Without any mercy he starts hammering his cock hard and fast into me, stretching and filling my pussy over and over, my body already feeling like I'm going to explode. I'm not holding back any, not tonight, and my first orgasm hits me like a punch in the chest, driving the breath out of me and leaving my hands clawing at the sheets. “Moreeeeee....”

Simon doesn't stop, grabbing my hair and pulling me back, growling deep in his chest as he keeps stroking, his cock pistoning in and out without any mercy or forgiveness. I'm his, I can't hold back any more, and even as my exhausted body tries to squeeze and massage him I sag onto the bed, Simon letting go of my hair and holding my waist while he thrusts over and over. I lose all sense of time, I just know that I'm being washed away, every rocking, quaking orgasm that sweeps through me breaking apart a little more of me, leaving me more and more breathless. Finally, with the last of my conscious mind, I groan. “Last one.... please....”

“Last one,” Simon gasps, his voice trembling on the edge of exhaustion himself. I hear a snap, and then he's thrusting with new, renewed power and strength, a final wave building inside me. It's huge, my pussy is puffy and raw from all the pounding, and I'm barely able to breathe from the sensation of Simon's cock rubbing over my g-spot so much. Even the way his balls slap into my clit with his thunderous strokes builds more inside me, and tears trickle from my eyes as I feel the biggest orgasm in my life growing inside me. Simon's right behind me though, I can feel it in the frantic movement of his hips, and with a long, hard thrust he's coming, his hot seed inside my body for the first time. It's enough and I come, trying to scream it feels so amazing but the breath is gone, my nerves are gone, and instead grayness fills my vision, and I'm left unable to do anything.

I don't know how long I'm out, or where I am when I come to, except that my body is warm, and that Simon is holding me carefully, exhausted but still stroking my hair. “Are you okay? You went into convulsions.”

“I... I'm okay,” I whisper, unable to even raise my voice. “That was... my dream.”

“You are my dream,” Simon whispers, holding me gently. “Don't ever forget that you are my dream, and I love you.”

I hum and close my eyes, letting the post-sex exhaustion whisk me off to sleep. I know that tomorrow Simon flies for Korea, but that's okay. Distance isn't going to stop us now.

* * *

“Simon... just what did you do to this woman?” Tammy asks with a smirk as he and I stagger into the restaurant for an early dinner. Simon flies on the red-eye to Tokyo, where he's going to catch a military flight from Japan to Korea, so an early dinner is our last chance to spend time with our friends before I take him to the airport and head back home to spend next week getting ready for my own training.

“Everything I wanted and ever dreamed of,” I say greedily, hugging his arm. “I'll be paying for it on the ride back, but I'm fine with that. Besides, you two probably have no room to comment.”

“Except that our room was right above yours, and you put on one hell of a show,” Cara mock complains. “Sheesh, I know what to send you guys for Christmas... soundproofing!”

Simon laughs and holds my chair for me, a gentlemanly gesture that for some reason touches me a lot. “Yeah, yeah... let's not make our dinner obscene. Or else you two have to tell tales about what you did as well. Do you really want to go there?”

Tammy grins and looks at Cara, who actually blushes and shakes her head. “Okay, point taken. We may be close enough to be family, but that means there are some things that we don't normally discuss. Let's talk what's for dinner instead. I've had another friend who's been to Korea, and Simon, we're going to have to get you some Italian food, plain and simple. The Koreans kick ass at fried chicken, and apparently their burgers aren't bad either, but for a nation that does lots of their own noodles, they can't do Italian for anything.”

Dinner goes great, and at the end we exchange hugs, Cara and Tammy both getting into their Tahoe to drive back to Ft. Sill. “Remember, you need anything, you call us,” Tammy tells me as we hold hands through the window, unwilling to let go. “I promise you, I'll move heaven and earth to be there for you guys.”

“And the same goes here,” Simon says. “I promise you that.”

Cara and Tammy drive away, and Simon pulls me close, kissing me. “I don't have a father or a mother any more... but I think after this weekend I for sure have two sisters.”

“You don't even have to think,” I reply, kissing him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Simon says before biting his lip. “I was thinking when I woke up this morning, we talked about going all in, right?”

“Right,” I tell him, curious where this is going. “Why, what's on your mind?”

“Well... Camp Humphries isn't a base that lets people live off post, except for the troops married to Korean nationals. But... well, what about instead of you and I living in separate bachelor officer's quarters, maybe we put in for a shared unit in family housing?”

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” I ask, secretly thrilled. “As in making this even more formal than it is?”

“Gimmie time, Ashley,” Simon begs, laughing softly. “It took me three years to work up the guts to say I love you. And I don't have an engagement ring handy right this second. I don't even have an onion ring, we ate them all.”

I smile and kiss his cheek, nodding. “Tell you what. We've got eight months to talk about it, that's how long I've got until I finish up school and start coordination with Korea. So how about we talk about it, you check out base housing, and gimmie a few photos. I'm leaning towards saying yes, but if those BOQ's are sweet enough, maybe we can just stay over at each other's place instead of the rigmarole of family housing.”

Simon nods, not disappointed at all. “Okay. So, by my watch, we've got two hours before I need to be at the airport. Think we can spend that just... together? I'd say making love, but I think my penis is on vacation for a couple of weeks after last night, it's still in shock.”

“That'll be good then,” I tease. “None of those Korean mama-sans have to concern me for a while, do they?”

Simon laughs and kisses me tenderly. “You've ruined me to all other women. I love you, and that means I'm exclusive to Ashley Carlyle only.”

“Shucks, and here I was thinking I might see if I could get Cara and Tammy to join us for some fun some time,” I tease, and Simon laughs. I kiss him again, and smile. “It's something I enjoy hearing, though. I'm exclusive to you too. I love you, Simon.”

“Come on, let's not spend the whole two hours in a restaurant parking lot,” he says, taking my hand and leading me towards my car. “I'm sure there's something we can do between here and the airport that'll let me spend time with the woman I love.”

* * *

I didn't choose Transportation Corps for the fact that it's headquartered at Fort Lee. Sure, it's convenient that I'm going through school less than an hour and a half from home, and if I get rotated back to be part of a transportation battalion stateside, there's a very good chance that I'd be posted nearby.

No, I didn't choose Transpo because of that. I chose it because of the flexibility that it gives me, Transportation officers are assigned all over the Army. I knew even when I put in my choices, I wanted to be close to Simon, and Transpo is one of those branches that gives me all those opportunities.

Basic Officer’s Leaders Course, or BOLC, is located inside the ‘Army Logistics University,’ a pretty damn pretentious title if I do say so myself. Sitting in the classroom with the other seventeen members of my class, I wish West Point had figured out how to make classrooms this good. Large, spacious desk with a decent chair, a power outlet built in so I can use my laptop as needed, and even a side spot where I can stick my backpack and a drink? Hell, all this desk needs is a mini fridge and I'd never have to leave it all day.

Class itself is going well. Up front, Captain Bali, our class mentor, points to a picture of a UH-60 Blackhawk that has a bunch of lines coming from it to highlight areas. “All right, so who can tell me the primary concerns you would have in organizing a movement operation involving Blackhawks? Carlyle?”

“Landing zone area, security, movement time, and slingload capabilities of the unit,” I state, remembering my notes. Captain Bali doesn't mind us using our computers at our desk, but we're supposed to be able to recall facts from our heads, there may not be a computer with you in the field. “It is very important to make sure you have every item to be slingloaded done properly with a supervising Loadmaster.”

“Very good,” Bali says, turning around. “Now, Lieutenant Offut, can you tell me the differences in landing field selection in the field between Blackhawks, Chinooks and Ospreys?”

Ospreys? Oooh, that's a tough one, and Offut stumbles, we just haven't had enough time to really get into the nuts and bolts of the Osprey. It isn’t used by the Army, but the Air Force and Marines. Finally, Captain Bali lets him off the hook. “Relax, Offut. A good rule of thumb, and this is true with any cross-service options, is to get on the horn with your counterpart on the other side. They know their equipment just like you're supposed to know Army equipment. If you can't do that, talk to the pilot. They want to cover their ass. All right, let's take a break for lunch. Be back here at thirteen hundred hours, we're going over the introduction to railhead operations.”

The class files out, and I rush outside, where I can get a good phone signal. As I do I rub my tummy, it's not feeling good the past few days, but then again with the first test coming up, I'm sure it's something to do with nerves. But my mind is focused on other things. I go into my e-mail, and type out a quick message to Simon. It's nearly one in the morning his time, and even though it's Friday night his time, I know he might have crashed already.

You up?

I don't have to wait long though, as my phone's Skype rings, and I see it's from Simon. “Simon?”

“Hey beautiful,” he says. While we will often use video chats when I call him at what I think of as our 'bookend' times before or after our duty hours, my phone's camera sucks. I didn't buy it for video chatting. “I was just thinking of trying you before crashing for the night.”

“Pilots aren't supposed to crash,” I remind him, making him laugh. “How was your day?”

“Not bad. Looking forward to waking up in the morning and talking with you before chillin' for the day. By the way, I've got a flight on Sunday morning, so we'll have to nix that long talk we planned for your Saturday night. I'm going to be doing flights Sunday through Thursday.”

“Awww,” I mock pout, but I really don't like it. We've been apart for a month, and I'm already counting the days to when I can go to Korea and rejoin him. “Even if I just wear my sexiest lingerie for the video? We can... play some.”

I hear Simon groan, and I know how he feels. After that night in the hotel room, once my body recovered, my libido's been on fire, to the point that some of our video chats have become long distance sex chats for each other. It's not something I'd normally have thought about, but I need him. “Baby....”

“I know, I know. We get started, and I'm going to be late for afternoon class anyway,” I huff, sighing in frustration. “My fault. Just... I keep dreaming about you, Simon. I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Ash. And I talked with the people at family housing. I got some photos that I'll upload and send to your e-mail tonight before I go to bed. It's not bad, actually. Not great, but not bad.”

I smile, and hum. “So... you still want me to move in with you then?”

Simon's happy hum more than answers the question for me. “Yes. Ashley... there's other things I'd like to talk about with you when you get here, too,” Simon says, and I feel a little thrill in my heart. Ever since he said engagement ring in the restaurant parking lot, my mind's kept coming back around to that idea, turning it over and over in my spare moments, and liking it more and more each time. “Even just this month has meant so damn much to me, I know it showed me a few more things that I need to discuss with you face to face.”

“I understand. Okay, well then send your e-mail and get some sleep. If we can't play around Saturday night, maybe I can be convinced to wear that lingerie tomorrow morning or something. I love you.”

“I love you too. And I'll be thinking about you during the flight. 'Bye.”

Simon

“You ready, sir?”

“Let's do it,” I tell Chief Warrant Officer Jensen, my gunner today. “One more flight, and then it's back to piloting a desk until next time.”

“Ah, you know you love doing the paperwork, El Tee. Face it, that's why they have you commissioned officers in the wing,” Jensen jokes, and he's not that far off. The warrant officers of the wing may be crack pilots, and they've got balls of steel when it comes to helicopter skills, but they are the closest thing the Army has to fighter jock types. They blow off paperwork like it's nothing.

“Yeah well, just remember that when your leave request to go to Okinawa for New Year's gets mysteriously lost and you end up being barracks OIC for the whole time,” I joke, and Jensen laughs. He and I have flown together now for three weeks, and we're at the point now where we are starting to work together as a crew and not just two professionals.

We climb into the cockpit of our AH-64D Apache, loaded for a patrol mission. We're not loaded heavy, but it's still enough to tear some shit up if we need to. These sorts of patrols are routine, and the NKs might holler a lot, but they know not to start any stupidity with us.

Yung Sool Kwok, our Korean Army attachment, is just finishing up his final preflight checks as I warm up the electronics. “Hey Kwok, looking good?”

“You clear, sir!” Kwok calls back in his very strong if accented English. I've spent a good chunk of the time since getting to Korea learning the local language, expanding on something I started back at Ft. Rucker. I figure if I'm going to be here a year or more, I might as well know when someone's been talking shit about me.

“Good. Clear the area,” I call, firing up the engines. The engine whines a little, but catches just fine, and we've got two good engines quickly enough.

“Gimpo Flight Control, this is Gambit One Two. Requesting clearance for takeoff.” We're not at Camp Humphreys, having ferried from there to Gimpo in order to be closer to the DMZ. The first time I flew close enough to realize that off to my left shoulder, easily visible, was North Korea itself, I felt a rush. Now, it's still enough to put my adrenaline pumping, but it's nowhere near as scary as it was.

“Roger Gambit One Two, you are cleared for takeoff. Good flying, boys,” the air traffic control unit calls back.

I feed more power to the rotors, until we're just at that moment where everything in the Apache trembles, like a racehorse ready to jump out of the gate. The wheels are just barely touching the ground, if I feed in any more power we'll take off, but if there's an issue now, Kwok can give me the cut signal, and there's nothing damaged. Instead, Kwok pops me a salute that I pop back. I give the rotors full power, and we're off.

“Set nav for checkpoint Alpha,” I tell Jensen. He's got a full set of controls up in his seat, the Apache can be flown by just one person, but it's nice to have him up there worrying about weapons and checking radar scopes and listening in on the radios.

“Checkpoint set, sir. Just remember, if you have to veer off course, try to veer south,” Jensen jokes, and we start off. The patrol route is a sort of looping wobbly triangle, mostly following a series of country highways from Gimpo to another village to the west, before heading back. All in all, it's not that hard of a flight, and only a few times will we be within spitting distance of the border.

“So Jensen, the North Koreans whining at us yet?” I ask as I make a course adjustment for Jiseok-Ri, one of our checkpoints. My first flight up here, Jensen took over the controls for ten minutes while I got to listen to the wider radio band, and the nearly constant chatter from the North Koreans telling us in alternating Korean and English that we were in danger of violating their airspace, we'd be meeting our makers, and oh by the way they'd be happy if we defected and joined the glorious communist revolution and happy place known as the Democratic People's Republic of Korea. I think they actually have live people over there reading the damn script. That's gotta be a fun job.

“Of course, sir,” Jensen says, still keeping to the honorific. I don't have a nickname yet, so I'm either El Tee or sir. After this exercise, I'll get one, I'm sure. I hear they're kicking around either Joker, because of my facial scar, or Artie, after King Arthur, since I have an admittedly aristocratic look to my face. Well, other than the half a Glasgow smile. “You getting any better at understanding their gobbledygook?”

“A bit,” I admit. “But the accents different. Imagine someone from Ohio being sent to Scotland to talk to the folks up there. Kwok told me that the closest word the South Koreans have to the Northern accent is the equivalent of calling it redneck Korean. No offense, Chief.”

Jensen, who's from Kentucky, shakes his head. “None taken. Kwok just better remember that when the shit hits the fan, it's us rednecks who are going to save....”

Suddenly, red lights go off all over the cabin, and my Apache starts to buck and shimmy in the air. “What the fuck? Gimpo control, this is Gambit One Two, I've got major mechanical problems with my aircraft. Over.”

“Roger, Gambit One Two. Can you set her down?”

I try my stick, but there's no movement left or right, and I hiss. “Chief, you got any stick?”

“Negative, sir!” Chief yells. “Shit, we're headed north!”

Goddammit, this had to happen just as we were looping to the north for the return leg of the patrol. “Understood. Gimpo control, we are dead stick, I repeat, dead stick. I'm heading north, I'm going to try and cut power and ditch before we cross the border. Notify the North Koreans that I am not hostile, repeat, not hostile.”

Not hostile, right. Like they're going to fucking believe that the hundred and forty rockets, my chain gun, and the Stingers on my outboard points are just because I want to make sure I don't get blown out of the sky. “Chief, start resetting any and every fucking thing you can. I'm going to dump gas.”

It's a risky move, dumping my fuel, but I'm less than two miles from the North Korean border. I reach for the hard line that's connected to the emergency dump and pull, the big plume of mist behind me at least telling me my engines will be sucking dry in fifteen seconds. I hear the turboshafts sputter, then come to a stop, and we're coasting on autorotating, the closest thing to a crash landing system in the Apache. “What's our altitude, Chief?”

“Nine hundred feet, sir!” Chief yells, and I curse. Goddamn minimum flight levels set by not wanting to scare the locals and their pets more than save my ass! It's just high enough that we're going to coast over the line into North Korea.

“Get the survival kits ready, Chief! Hope you liked SERE school!” Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape, or SERE. Where you learn what it's like to be dumped behind enemy lines and forced to get your ass back to the good guys. Not fun as a school, yet still nowhere near as bad as the real thing, I've heard.

The radio cuts out, some circuit or another frying, and I can only watch, trying with a dead stick to do something, anything to lessen the impact of what's about to happen. I hear a pinging sound on the outer skin of the chopper, and I realize that whoever the hell is over there in North Korea, they're shooting at us. Thankfully, the cockpit is protected against anything short of a fifty caliber round.

The ground rushes up, faster than I'd like, and I send up a quick prayer. If there's any higher power protecting me, I just hope that I can see Ashley again. I never told her the question I wanted to ask, if she'd marry me.

There's scrub trees, and some brush. A rice paddy comes up, and my Apache splats into the middle of it, probably saving my life. Still, my head rocks forward, and I feel a tremendous jarring before everything goes black.

Ashley

I sit in class, wondering if the Army is joking. Maybe it's that the knowledge of long distance road transport is considered so important that they're baby stepping us, or maybe this test was derived from the enlisted tests, which were designed for people who may have only had a high school education.

Whatever the case, I'm looking down at a completed score sheet, and there's still over an hour left on our test time. Hell, maybe I missed something, so I go back to the beginning, and start re-reading the test again, checking what I would answer against what I marked on the test. Nope... no, this is just an easy test.

Screw it, it's early enough that I might be able to send some e-mail to Simon, or give Dad and Mom a call, I haven't left the Ft. Lee Lodge enough over the past few weekends to get back home to see them. I head up to the front of the room to drop off my test, but when I do, Captain Bali motions for me to follow him out into the hallway. “I'm sorry to delay, I wanted you to get your test done first, but I got word, you need to report to the company office.”

I nod, kind of perplexed. Officially, the members of the class are organized into a company, even if we're much smaller. So we have a company office, and even have a company commander, first sergeant and clerk. “Roger sir. Uh, should I take my stuff?”

“I don't think so, but I'll make sure your gear's secured,” Captain Bali says, his brown face filled with disquiet. This is strange for him too, whatever the hell's going on.

I make my way down the hallway to the stairs and head down, still wondering what's going on. When I get to the basement, I find the offices of Bravo Company, 71st Transportation Battalion, my assigned unit for school. I knock on the door, and the company clerk, Specialist McCray, looks up. “Hi El Tee. What can I do for you?”

“Hi. Captain Bali said that I needed to come down here. I'm Lieutenant Carlyle?”

“In here,” a voice booms from the company commander's office, and SPC McCray looks over, shrugging. He unlocks the half door that keeps the school Lieutenants out of the company office area unless needed, and I go through to Captain Simson's office. I find the Captain in there along with another person, a chaplain of all things, and my worry level jumps off the charts. “Have a seat, Carlyle.”

“What's this about, sir?” I ask, sitting down. “Did something happen?”

“You've been listed as the next of kin for a Lieutenant Simon Lancaster, did you know that?” Captain Simson asks.

“Uh, yes sir. He's my boyfriend, we've been dating since I was a Plebe at the Academy, and he asked me to move in with him when I report to Korea. Why, has something happened?”

Captain Simson looks over at the chaplain, who nods. “Simon's been in a helicopter crash.”

“Oh no,” I gasp, feeling my stomach turn over. “Is he...?”

“We don't know,” the chaplain says. “The crash... his helicopter crossed over the border to North Korea. He went down there.”

Things are still not quite registering, and I just want to know about Simon. “He... is he?”

“The North Koreans aren't talking,” Captain Simson says. “Carlyle... Ashley, you need to prepare that he may not be coming back.”

His words trigger something inside me, and I slam my fist down on Captain Simson's desk, growling. “Fuck that! He's coming back, even if I have to.....”

The world goes swimmy, and I sit down, holding my head. I can hear people talking, but I can't understand what anyone's saying, and I can feel myself moving, but I don't know how.

* * *

“She's waking up. Ashley? Hey, Ashley?”

I blink, and realize I'm laying on the floor of Captain Simson's office, my head on something soft and my feet up on a chair. I blink, and look around. Captain Simson is kneeling on the floor next to me, a concerned look on his face, while the chaplain comes back in with a cup of water. “What happened?”

“You passed out, more or less,” Captain Simson says, taking the cup from the chaplain and setting it on the floor. “You were giving me the start of what sounded like an epic rant, then collapsed into the chair. We helped you down, how are you feeling?”

“Ah... my stomach hurts,” I answer. “Sorry about the fuck that, sir. I have a tendency to mouth off when I get upset. And Mom's always said I have a little too much soldier in my vocabulary.”

“I know, I read your Academy files. In this case though, I think it's acceptable. Still, I'm going to run you over to the clinic, just to get you checked out, make sure it was just stress and not something else,” Captain Simson says. “I already sent McCray up to see Captain Bali, he'll get your stuff and bring it down. McCray should be back in two or three minutes.”

“I don't... okay, okay,” I start to protest before seeing the expression on Captain Simson's face. “I feel like an idiot. Tell me about Simon's accident, please?”

“I don't have a lot of info. He was on a routine patrol when he said he had major mechanical failures. He tried to dump his Apache on the South Korean side, but he coasted over the border. The chopper went down on land, but that's all that we know for now. I'm sure that the forces in Korea are doing their best right now. But here's McCray, let's get you to the clinic.”

It's not far from the school to the wellness center, and by the time I get there my headache is gone, and I'm feeling kinda stupid walking in. Still, Captain Simson stays by my side as they take me into an exam room to wait for the next doctor. As we wait, he sits down casually, trying to look unconcerned. “So how did you and Simon meet?”

I smile, leaning back on the exam table. “Actually, he was in my Beast company, as the company counselor. I first noticed him because he was the one cadre who wasn't yelling on R-day. Are you a Pointer, sir?”

“No, I went to Florida State, ROTC,” Captain Simson says, “but I've heard about Beast. Go on.”

“Well, luck would have it that he was also in my academic year company, he was my squad leader first semester. He invited me to join the Sandhurst team, and after recognition... well, we started dating. It wasn't forced, I mean I kind of had a thing for him even before Recognition, he always respected me even though I was a Plebe. But yeah, that's how we met.”

“Not the most romantic tale I've ever heard, but a good one,” Simson says. The doc opens the door, and he gets up. “Okay, I've got to head back to the office. If you need a ride back to school, give the company a call. If not, go ahead and walk back, take your time.”

Captain Simson leaves, and the doctor, a civilian I see, sets her clipboard down. “Hi, so what happened?”

“I passed out in my company offices. I'm feeling fine now, though.”

The doctor hums, and makes a check mark. “Did you eat breakfast this morning after PT?”

“A little. To be honest, it wasn't much, my stomach's been queasy in the mornings for a while now, and we had a test. I'm in BOLC.”

“I understand. Okay, well, let's see what's going on then. Take off your top and lay back, we can check your vitals. What triggered the passing out?” the doctor asks as I pull off my top and t-shirt, laying back in my normal duty sports bra. “Anything stressful?”

“I just learned that my boyfriend's had an accident in Korea,” I answer, feeling slightly trippy still. Shouldn't I be upset, crying, shit like that? What's going on with me? “I guess... I guess that should count.”

“Of course. And how are you feeling in general, recently? You said you've had an upset stomach recently, what else?” the doctor asks, checking my heart rate. Her stethoscope is cold though, and I wince when it pushes into my chest. “Tender?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I whine, fidgeting. “I think it's this new sports bra, my breasts have really been sore the past few days too.”

The doctor hums, then has me sit up and listen to my breathing. “If I can ask, when was the last time you saw your boyfriend?”

“About six weeks ago, we went to our friends' wedding, and he flew out of St. Louis the next day. It was a great wedding, and their story is super sweet too,” I say, feeling sudden tears. I wipe at my eyes, and try to laugh. “I guess I do miss them, or maybe Simon's accident is finally seeping in.”

“Perhaps. If I can ask, were you and Simon sexually active when you were together? And have you been sexually active since?”

Now that's a strange question, but she is a doctor. “Yes, we had sex the night before he left. We were sexually active most of the weeks prior as well. Since then though, nothing. I even stopped my birth control pills, I'm not going to need the damn things. I figured that was the issue, that my hormones have been a little wonky from going off the pills. Why?”

“Well, there's a couple of different issues it could be,” the doctor says, tapping her clipboard annoyingly with her pen. Seriously, what is she doing, trying out as a drummer in a rock band? “It could just be the stress and shock. On the other hand, your heart rate's a little elevated. Not too much, and your breathing sounds clear, so unless you've got other symptoms, I don't think it's a virus or something like that. We'll take blood anyway, just to be sure, send it in for a full workup.”

“Then why ask about my sex life?” I ask, confused and upset. “Do you think I picked up an STD from Simon?”

“No, I doubt that. The way you talked about him, I'm sure that you two have been loyal to each other, and the blood screen will check those anyway. Actually, what I was thinking was... when was the last time you had your period?”

I stop, realizing what the doctor's saying. “About two months ago. But... I didn't stop the pills until after Simon left. I mean, I took one the day before the wedding.”

“Stress and other things can alter the effectiveness,” the doctor says gently. “If you stopped the day of sex with Simon, there's a chance you could be pregnant.”

I feel a tightness of worry in my chest, and I blink. “So what now?”

“Let's get you a pregnancy kit, that'll settle that issue pretty well. We'll take blood at the same time, just to make sure that it's not something else too. Do you take vitamins?” the doctor asks, going over to the exam cabinet.

“I've taken them since starting at the Academy,” I confirm. “A daily multi-vitamin, and when training or my exercise routine is extra tough I'll take some supplements with it, extra iron, things like that. Why?”

“Just in case, and it can effect results sometimes too. Want to eliminate any false positives,” the doctor says. She hands me a box, and points off to her right. “Have you ever used one of these before?”

“Uncap, pee on the stick, cap it up and bring it back,” I say with a chuckle, feeling better. “I helped a college roomie with this back when she was certain she was pregnant my freshman year in civilian university. She was freaking out, but it was a negative. Okay, I'll be right back.”

I go down to the toilet and pee, not even worrying. I mean, seriously, while I wouldn't swear on a stack of Bibles that I took the pill the morning Simon and I had unprotected sex, I know I did the day before, and it wasn't until afterwards that I stopped. Simon... okay, focus on the right now, and then I can deal with things later. Trust that he's going to be okay, I can't do anything about it right this second anyway.

I bring the test back, and the doctor sets it aside while she draws two vials of blood, setting them aside. “Well, let's see what the test says,” she says, giving me a smile. “Have any preferences?”

“Honestly, I'm not thinking about it,” I tell her. “But yeah, the idea of getting married and having kids with Simon has crossed my mind. I know a lot of people would say that I was thinking about it even in the past, choosing Transportation as my second choice for branch after Aviation. The flight physical is tough!”

“So did that affect your choice?” the doctor asks. “I mean, what about him versus the Army?”

I think about it, watching as she scribbles some notes on her chart. “I've had that thought recently. If I had to choose between the Army and my family, my family comes first. The Army's taken enough, it owes me a little bit of payback. What's the test say?”

The doctor picks it up, reading the results window quickly before smiling. “Congratulations. You're going to have a baby.”

* * *

In the two weeks since I learned that I'm pregnant, I've been a crazy headcase. I know Captain Bali has noticed, and he's cut me some slack, but I can't screw off too much, I still have to pass my tests. The doctor at the clinic said she doesn't have to report my pregnancy to Bravo Company, since it's a non-deployable school unit, and it's still early enough in my pregnancy that I'm not under any sort of profile beyond don't get punched in the stomach or try to run a marathon.

Simon's been in the news, and it hurts to see his face every day as the cable news companies milk the story for everything it's worth. One group keeps blaming Simon, saying he was too untrained a pilot. Never mind that Eric Jensen, his co-pilot and gunner, was an experienced five year Apache crewmember as well, who had his own set of controls in his part of the cockpit.

Then there's the other groups. You have the people who just shrug their shoulders and say that this sort of stuff happens, and we should just ask the North Koreans to return our servicemen, and pretty please? Of course, the North Koreans haven't said shit for two weeks, even at their little side of the Joint Security Area in Panmunjom. We can't even officially confirm that they are alive.

This silence has led to the rise of the other side, the one that I can at least sympathize with, that says we need to go kick some fucking ass and get our men back. It's the news channel of choice around Fort Lee, but to be honest, it's gotten sickening as the drumbeat for war has drowned out the men who are being held by the Koreans. It's a drum that I've heard before, played the loudest by chickenhawks who never actually have had their ass or the ass of anyone that matters to them on the line.

Finally, I can't stand it any more, and I drive home on a Friday, leaving as soon as class is finished up. When I get home, the sun is already setting. Parking my car, I open the door to the house to find Mom and Dad sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying some dessert. For some reason, probably the hormonal swings that I read come with the early onset of pregnancy, this pisses me off. “Glad to see Simon's situation hasn't ruined everyone's appetites.”

Mom looks hurt, but the look in my eyes causes her to gather up the dishes and clear the table. I feel bad, but I'm still too hormonally pissed off to tell Mom that I'm sorry when she puts the dishes in the sink and leaves the kitchen, Dad and I silent the whole time. Finally, when the kitchen door closes, Dad folds his hands on the table and gives me a measured look. “I thought I raised you to be more polite than that. Even for an Army officer, that was rude as hell.”

His calm tone pierces the cloud of anger, and I deflate, sighing. “Dad... I'm sorry, okay? I just, I need your help. I need to understand what's going on, because nobody at Fort Lee is telling me a damn thing. Apparently being listed as next of kin means I get the run around constantly. I'm getting sick of it.”

Dad nods, and stands up. “Walk with me, and you can apologize to your mother later. Are you staying overnight?”

“Probably. I'm not signed off of post, but I'm close enough that I could make it back for a recall if I busted ass,” I tell him, and Dad nods again. Technically, I'm supposed to sign out, Dad's house is just over the free travel line. “Mind if I ditch the uniform?”

“Probably better,” Dad says, and I take off my hat and ACU top. I'm not worried about having clothes for sleeping, I know there's still some of my old stuff around the house somewhere.

We walk through the back yard and towards the woods, where Dad sighs. “I know that it looked like Katherine and I were just relaxing without a care in the world, but that ice cream was just an attempt to try and have some peace in the past two weeks.”

“I know,” I answer, sighing. “Dad... before we go on, I'm pregnant.”

Dad stops, then laughs, happy and relieved. “Congratulations. Explains a lot, too. Katherine went through horrible mood swings when she was pregnant with Julius and Gavin. They tapered off when she had you, maybe because she had a girl inside her, but more than likely just her body was used to it by then. Here, can I give you a hug over it?”

“I'd like that,” I tell Dad, hugging my father hard. It's been hard, being his little girl. Dad's always tried his best, he’s never quite understood girls the way that he understood Gavin and Julius, but I love him anyway. “I know I should have told you as soon as I found out, but it's been a hard two weeks, Dad.”

“I know, honey, I know.” Dad holds me close, and for just an instant I feel like a little girl again, comfortable and safe in my father's arms. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”

I take a deep breath and step back, starting to walk again. “Dad, the whole time you were active duty, I never quite knew what your job was. I think that was on purpose, because when I took a look at your uniform photo that you keep in your study... you were Special Ops, weren't you?”

“I was. Why?”

“It came to mind again when Cara and Tammy had their wedding. At least two people who said they wanted to come but couldn't somehow got their schedules cleared up after you make some phone calls to people. Simon says that it's just the Old Grad network, but I think there was more in it. Dad, you've still got friends in high places. I know you, you're keeping your ear to the ground. So give me the real shit. What's going on?”

Dad nods, and when he looks at me, there's a look in his eyes that I'd never seen before, he's looking at me not just as his daughter but as a respected adult as well. “You're smart, Ashley. Okay, fine. Yes, I've been keeping in touch with people, who are telling me stuff that the news isn't. First off, Simon's alive. The co-pilot they think is dead, but the South Koreans were able to get a photo of the crash site, they pulled the pilot out for sure.”

Tears come to my eyes and I blink, wiping them away. “Then what the hell's going on? I looked it up, the North Koreans have shot down our choppers before, they harass the shit outta the pilot for a while, but they’re eventually repatriated.”

Dad nods, and wipes at his cheek, he's got a day's growth of stubble. “That was during Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il's times. They had the respect of their country and Army, and were friendly with the Chi-coms as well. Lil' Kim though, he's not the same as his Daddy and Grandpappy.”

Lil' Kim… the nickname makes my lip curl. “What's that fuckhead want?”

“Nobody knows, but the best bet is he wants to prove how tough he is,” Dad says. “After the last nuke test, he lost a lot of swing with the Chinese and with us. The administration's tired of his game. Get concessions, waste them, set off a nuke test or something similar, ratchet up the tensions, then wait for us to buy him off with a couple hundred thousand dollars of grain or rice or a million bucks or so of something else. It's a playbook he learned from his father, and it's one that Lil' Kim plays well. And it worked for twenty years, more or less. But after that last nuke, even the Chinese have had enough. They've got their own shit to deal with, so they more or less told Kim to get his shit right.”

“So he's looking for a new leverage point,” I say, fuming. “Simon's it.”

“More than likely, although to be honest it's harder to predict this Kim than either of the others,” Dad says, sighing. “I'm being honest, he's just fucking crazy or stupid enough to actually start something.”

“So if he's using Simon as bait, as some sort of leverage, why not just go in and get him out? We've got to know where they're holding him, right?” I ask, desperate. “Fuck, the Pentagon's got satellites that can listen in on when someone's playing Pokemon GO on the toilet, I'm sure they can figure out where Simon is.”

Dad shakes his head. “They might know, nobody I've talked to will confirm that much. But even if they have, the Administration won't go in after him.”

“What?” I ask, pissed. “What the fuck happened to Duty, Honor, Country? What the fuck happened to No Man Left Behind?”

I turn, angry, and kick a small tree, the heel of my boot crashing into the thin sapling and cracking the wood, I'm so angry. “The man I love, the father of my child is being held in some North Korean hell hole, and you're telling me that the country I swore to defend is going to let him rot?”

“The South Koreans would love for us to go in, give Kim a black eye. Hell, they have units whose whole job are these sort of cross border raids and fuckery, although they don't advertise about them. But the Chinese have said in no particular terms that if we send units after Simon, and the North Koreans kick back, they'll have the North Korean's back,” Dad growls, angry at the situation. “The Administration fears that if we go in after Simon, we trigger World War III.”

“This is fucking bullshit!” I fume, shaking my head. “Christ, give me an M-16 and some gear, I'll go in there myself after him.”

“What you need to do is stay where you are and take care of that baby in your belly,” Dad replies, pulling me in for another hug. “I'm doing what I can, Ashley. I can't tell you everything, but I'm doing what I can. You're not alone in this, honey. I promise you.”

I nod, hugging Dad fiercely. The tears start, and I don't feel any shame hugging my father and crying, there are so many things that I have to cry about right now. But his advice touches me, and I gather strength from that. “You're right,” I say, stepping back. “This is Simon's baby, and my baby. I need to take care of him.”

“Hoping for a boy, huh?” Dad says, smiling. “Well, boy or girl, I hope they have your eyes. I never told you, but that green that you get from your mother was one of the first things that caused me to work up the nerve to ask her out.”

I laugh, I like my eyes. “Gingers. We have no souls, remember?”

Dad laughs and puts an arm around my shoulders, leading me back towards the house. “You have plenty of soul, Ashley. Plenty of soul indeed.”

Simon

“Wake up, imperialist dog!”

The freezing cold water splashes onto my body, and I'm immediately soaked, jolting me from what I can't call sleep but instead unconsciousness. I've been in North Korean custody for what I think is ten days now, at least my slit window’s changed from dark to light to dark ten times.

I sit up, sputtering on the rough concrete floor of the cell, my body crying out. Maybe it's by design, maybe it's just that North Korea is broke as hell and can't afford better, but there's no furniture in my cell, and the bare concrete is cracked and rough, making comfortable rest impossible.

The guard, I call him Moby because of his bald head, laughs and walks off, leaving the bucket behind like a little trophy. I sniff, and realize why. He threw a bucket of cold piss on me, and what he left behind is my latrine for the day.

I should probably be complaining to someone that I need to have the bucket inside my cell in order to take a shit, but the pure fact is that nobody here cares. I'm fed so little that I've had to only crap once in the entire time I've been awake, and what came out looked more like something a rabbit would do, not human. The day that happened, I was able to edge the mess out of the cell with the toe of my boot.

They've left me my uniform at least, probably because even with the extreme diet that I'm on, I'm a good six inches taller and fifty pounds bigger than any of my guards. I sigh, and sniff my flight suit again, and I wonder if I'm losing it already. Probably not, I can still think relatively clearly, must just be my nose is getting desensitized.

Time passes, I don't know how much, I just go into fantasy world. It's a nice place, and in it Ashley's there, the two of us hanging out on a beach together. She's wearing a green swimsuit, the same color as her eyes, and as she and I talk, she tells me about her day.

“So after Tammy and I got done talking, I decided to take the boys over to their house, you know how much they love playing with their aunts,” Ashley says, laughing softly. “They think I don't know, but Cara's already teaching them how to wrestle some.”

“I'll keep my arms ready,” I tease, turning onto my side and looking at her. She's radiant, her hair long and wavy, perfectly auburn in the light, and as I lean in her lips spread into a little smile. “What?”

“You don't want to start something on this beach that you're not able to finish, dear husband,” Ashley purrs. “You really want to make love on a beach?”

“I want to make love with you every day, every place we go,” I retort, kissing her softly, our tongues wrapping around each other. I bring a hand up to cup her breast through the nylon of her suit, and we both moan as her nipple grows hard under my fingers. “I love you, Ashley.”

“Show me,” she half moans, pulling me on top of her. “Be the man I know you can be....”

“Get up!”

There's a crack of a stick against the bars of my cell, and I come back to the real world to see Moby standing there with a few more of his helpers, one of whom has a gun with him.

“Fine, fine. Fuck, does anyone else in this shithole speak English besides you?” I groan, rolling over to my knees and then using the wall to get to my feet. I sway with lack of food and water, but I won't let these fucks see me on my knees yet today. “What does it take to get some room service, by the way? I would love a good steak.”

<Yankee is making jokes again,> one of the guards says in his thick North Korean accent. <What's he saying this time?>

<Demanding food,> Moby translates. <What did you expect?>

<He did talk about fucking us,> the first guard says. The guards don't know it, but I've been able to decipher most of their accent, and can understand a lot of what they say. That's a little secret that I keep to myself, there's no need for them to be let in on that. Thankfully, Moby's English is pretty damn poor, and he misses a lot of my comments. <Maybe he's gay?>

<He said fuck, dumbass. It’s a curse,> Moby says, and I keep my silence as they lead me down the hall to the interrogation room. At least I get to change scenery.

Not that the room's all that impressive. The floor's smoother, but there are stains that I suspect aren't old dried paint, and the only chair in the room isn't for me. Moby shoves me inside, his two lackeys going to the corners of the room while he sits down. My ankles are shackled, but at least my arms are free. They haven't pulled out the interesting toys yet.

“Tell me your radio scrambler codes,” Moby says, starting with no prologue today. Damn, I was hoping to get him ranting about Yankee Imperialists or something similar today. Three days ago I was able to save myself hours of pain by getting him going on an epic rant about how the glorious people of the DPRK were going to sweep over the hedonistic dogs of the South and cleanse the Korean peninsula in a sea of fire that'll burn away any and all American sympathizers or cultural impurities. “We know your frequencies.”

“Lancaster, Simon. First Lieutenant, United States Army. Serial Number Seven Five Three....”

“Shut up!” Moby yells, cracking his club on the floor. One of the guards kicks me in the back of my right leg, and my knee buckles, the hamstring a line of fire. “Give us code!”

“The code? Ah yes, the code, the code, the code....” I hiss, trying to support my weight with just my left leg. “Now where did I leave that code? Oh yes, I remember. I left it with your mother, right after she got done sucking my cock.”

It's one of the lessons that they taught us in SERE, and it comes so easily to me. The classic lines of name, rank, and serial number don't do shit. I'm in a country that doesn't care about the Geneva Conventions anyway. I already know that they haven't told the Americans or the South Koreans that I'm alive, or that Chief Jensen's dead. That one hit me hard, he was a good guy.

So instead of playing by the rules when you're captured nowadays, you take a page from the Vietnam Vets, and you fuck with your captors. The thing is, they're either going to kill me or they're not. As long as I don't give up information or make statements against the United States, giving North Korea what they want, I'm either going to be killed or kept alive. That's it.

Moby I think is clueing in to this state of mind, and this time, when the guard kicks me in my other leg and I drop to my knees, he chuckles. “You think you funny, Lieutenant. That fine. No more beatings today. My orders are clear on that. But should not be happy, this is our last time to spend time together.”

“Really? You numb fucks finally giving me the limo to Panmunjom?” I say wryly. “Kimmie's gonna drive it himself, the fat fuck? You know, for a country full of starving skinny guys like yourselves, he's just getting fatter and fatter. What's he doing, eating children or something?”

Moby turns red, and I wonder if he's going to let his guards work me over a little more, but instead he takes a deep breath and lets it out. “You will find out, American. Take him back to his cell.”

The guards help me to my feet and half drag, half walk me back to my cell, where they throw me in and shut the door. I'm thirsty, hungry, and exhausted from bad sleep, but I won this round. Bring it the fuck on.

* * *

“Hey Simon, wake up. I got dinner for you.”

The voice is somehow familiar, and the accent isn't Moby's, so I open my eyes. It's evening, and the single forty watt bulb in the hallway isn't exactly LED floodlights, so it takes me a minute for my eyes to adjust. “Wha...? Who?”

“Long time no see,” the voice says again, squatting down. They slide something through the bars, and I crawl over, smelling the food. It's not much, maybe a quarter cup of rice, something that might be vegetables, and who the fuck knows where the protein came from, but it's the biggest meal I've eaten since getting captured, and I eat it hungrily, forcing myself to take small bites so that I don't throw it back up. Survive, survive.

When the food is gone, my eyes have adjusted, and I look up, sure I've lost my mind. The person on the other side of the bars is a ghost from the past, and it takes me a minute to put a name to the face. He's lost weight, but that face is still familiar enough. “Cade Edwards?”

“Yeah, it's me,” Cade says, holding his hand out for the tray. “Need that back if they're going to give you any more. I've got a little bit of swing with these rice monkeys, but I'm not high man on the totem pole around here.”

I hand the tray back, and Cade passes through a soup cup, which smells delicious. “Careful, it's salty as fuck, but I can get you some fresh water later,” he says, and I sip at the tepid soup. It's probably not much tastier than week old oceanic dishwater, but I drink it down gratefully, handing the cup back. “Good. You know, Yung's pissed at you.”

“You mean Moby?” I ask, leaning against the concrete wall. “The bald one?”

Cade laughs, nodding. “He does look like Moby, doesn't he? I'll remember that. But yeah, he's lost a lot of cred with his higher ups, he swore he'd have you singing by now.”

“He overestimates his skills. They haven't even broken anything yet. Hey, what the fuck are you doing on the other side of the bars, anyway?” I ask, too tired to get angry but still feeling a hint of it. “You turn?”

“After I got kicked out of the Academy, that sort of black flag doesn't go away,” Cade says with a sigh, sitting down in the hallway. “I tried, but was approached by some men for what they called overseas protection work. I knew what they were, mercs, but hell, I always wanted to be a soldier. So I signed up.”

“And that led you here how?” I ask.

“The group that hired me supposedly represented the families of the Japanese the North Koreans kidnapped a couple decades back. The Japanese government keeps saying they're doing something, but they're just jacking off more than anything else, they don't give a fuck. Our job was to get in, find evidence that the kidnapped Japanese were still here and alive, and get out. My employers figured that with hard evidence, they could get someone to take some action,” Cade says, giving me a half grin. “Unfortunately for me, the merc that was supposed to be this hotshot boat pilot couldn't outrun the rifle fire from the Coast Guard boats who jumped our asses before we even got within a mile of shore. The boat was damaged, and instead of dealing with the Coast Guard, I grabbed a lifejacket and jumped, figuring that I could float my way down to South Korea. Got close, but not quite.”

“The NK's got you. And how'd you end up here?”

Cade shrugs. “Once the NK's figured out that I wasn't actually active military, that I was just some merc, I figured I was a dead man. I mean, I'm a disgraced cadet, nobody's going to stick my face on the nightly news like they're doing with you. Oh, you were the cover story for Fox last night just to let you know, they've got a TV with satellite around here. Anyway, I figured I was dead. That was two years ago, right about when you graduated, right?”

“Close enough. So you've been a prisoner the whole time too?” I ask, and Cade shakes his head. “What's the deal, then?”

“I'm kinda in limbo. There's no way in hell they'll let me go. I’m like a trustee in a prison. They let me have a real room, a real bed, at least what passes for one around here. I get to eat closer to my fill, for this place at least. They even have a rough gym that I get to work out in three times a week. My life isn't exactly sweet, but I get by.”

“So they sent you to me to get me to talk,” I reply, shaking my head. “Jesus Cade, if you think that's going to work, either they fucked with your head more than I thought possible for two years, or else that Honor Board did the right damn thing. Fuck off if they think I'm going to be broken by a handful of rice and an American face.”

Cade sighs and shakes his head. “I tried, man. Don't you get it? Dear Leader's not fucking around, even if they send the entire Third Army and a couple of carrier groups in here. He knows the Chinks will back him up in the face of American guns, and he's just cocky enough that he'll put a bullet in you and piss on your corpse before handing you over. You play along, you'll at least live.”

“Living how, without honor? Isn't that what got you in trouble last time?” I ask, and Cade gets up.

“Like I said, I tried. Word is that there's a new interrogator coming in, someone special. Name's Song, from what the guards are chatting. There was fear when they said it, too. Consider that.”

Cade leaves, and I scoot back into the corner of my cell, closing my eyes. Before I do, I look up at the slit window, and say a quick prayer. Wherever you are, Ashley.... I love you.

Ashley

Looking at the schedule for next week, I know I can't keep it a secret any longer. I am worried about Friday, where we're going to the gas chamber. Apparently, the heads of Training and Doctrine Command, TRADOC, have decided that Transportation Corps training needs to fit that real Army spirit. But exposing my body and potentially my baby to chemical agents, even if it is just military grade tear gas? Fuck that.

As class ends for the day, I gather up my things and go up to Captain Bali's desk, where he's shutting down the last of his computer stuff for the day. “Sir?”

He's small for a man, barely over five five, but he's a good teacher, and I've liked his classes. He's been kind as the weeks have passed, and my hormones have finally stabilized enough that I'm not feeling like alternatively crying and raging on people. “What can I do for you, Carlyle?”

“Sir... can we speak privately?” I ask, looking around. “Like, just hang around a few minutes?”

“Sure,” Captain Bali says, leaning against his instructor's desk while everyone else files out. Once the door closes, he gives me a supportive look. I'm glad he's Transpo, he's too damn nice to be combat arms. “How're you holding up?”

“As best I can, sir. Almost everyone put two and two together once Simon's situation hit the nightly news. He and I were one of the longer term couples at the Academy. But that's not what I wanted to talk to about. At least, not directly,” I say, shouldering my bag. “Sir, before Simon left for Korea, him and I were... well, I'm pregnant. It's Simon's baby.”

I gotta give it to the Captain, he takes my news in stride. “I see. Well, that explains some things. Does Captain Simson know about this?”

“No sir. When I passed out, he took me to the clinic, but left before the test. I just told him the doctor cleared me to return to duty, and to take it easy,” I say, sighing. “Maybe not the most honest statement, but I wasn't sure how to handle it.”

“Okay,” Captain Bali says, chuckling. “Well, first off, congrats. I take it that if you haven't told Captain Simson, that you want to keep this private as long as you can. What changed your mind on telling me and the chain of command?”

“The gas chamber sir. No offense, but I don't trust the military with chemicals and my baby's health. I barely trust them with my own.”

Captain Bali laughs hard and stands up from where he's been leaning against his desk, patting me on the shoulder. “I totally understand. Okay, that's fine. I'll talk with Captain Simson, but I think this won't be a problem. This is Transpo, not MPs or Engineers. Most of the course is classroom based, which you can do for as long as you want. As for the gas chamber, it's not a graduation requirement, just something someone at TRADOC thought would make us look tougher.”

I shake my head. “You know sir, my Dad's a retired combat arms officer, did some stuff I'm still not too sure of. I remember his opinion of when people tried to look tougher than they really were. His comment to me was that he couldn't do what the Finance people do, and he can't do heart surgery, so it's kinda stupid for accountants and doctors to be playing Ranger just to look tough.”

Captain Bali nods in understanding and opens the classroom door for me. “That sort of wisdom is rare in a Lieutenant, although it is second hand. Careful, you just might common sense yourself either into a General's star or into an early retirement. For now, relax, you'll probably have to talk with Captain Simson next week in order to get things squared away on prenatal care as well as school work, but relax for tonight. I'll see you Monday at six for the APFT. You can still run it, right?”

“Run it? Hell sir, I plan on badging the thing,” I say with a smile, just a little bit cocky. “See you Monday.”

I walk back to the Fort Lee Lodge and change out of my uniform. I pull on some comfortable yoga pants and a USMA t-shirt and lay back on the couch in my room, trying to relax. The Fort Lee Lodge is used by all unaccompanied students, although officers have a room to themselves.

I check my e-mail, and see that I've got a message from Tammy, checking up on me. Pulling out my phone, I call her up. “Hey Ash, I see you got my message.”

“I did. How's ADA School?” I ask, sighing happily. I'm not hungry yet, but I'm feeling like tonight might be a bit of a cheat meal night. Since learning I'm pregnant, I've been eating as much as I want, but it's been healthy foods, lots of vegetables, lean proteins, stuff like that. But right now, a cheese-in-crust pizza sounds perfect.

“Doing just fine. Of course, having a wife who can help me bone up on the tests makes it easy. Have I mentioned I love her?” Tammy asks, before growing serious. “Oh hell, I'm sorry Ash, I didn't mean to say that.”

“That you love your wife? I think that's the best thing I've heard all day,” I tell her honestly, smiling as I stare off into space. “Seriously, don't ever hide that fact. Actually, I have to apologize, I've got something I need to tell you too. Uh... I'm pregnant.”

The excited squeal on the other end of the line nearly whites out the speaker on my phone, and Tammy's hopping for joy. “Just a minute,” she says when she can speak again. “Is your laptop on still?”

“Of course.”

“Pull up Skype, I want you to tell Cara yourself,” Tammy says. My phone goes dead, but when I open Skype there's already an incoming call, and I open it, seeing Tammy's excited face. “Okay, she's on!”

Cara comes over, and she looks tired, but smiles anyway. “Hey Ash. Okay, what's the big news, because Tam here is about ready to yank my damn arm off she's so excited.”

“I told Tammy, I'm pregnant,” I repeat, and the smile that spreads on Cara's face makes it all worth it, even as Tammy hops up and down like an excited teenager next to her. “Nearly three months now, from what we figure is the conception date. I was apologizing to Tammy for not telling you guys earlier.”

“That's okay, although if you keep us out of the loop any more I'm gonna kick your butt next time I see you,” Cara says, wiping at her eye. “Jesus Ash, a baby? Simon's going to be so happy when he gets back.”

I love that about Cara, she's talked about Simon's capture by the North Koreans like it's just a temporary thing, an annoying delay in travel plans. Always with her, it's not 'if' Simon gets back, but 'when.' No wonder I love her as much as I love Tammy. “Thanks. On that note, I know I should probably talk with Simon about this, but I think he'll approve. Would it be okay if the baby has two godmothers?”

Cara and Tammy both stop what they're doing and look at me, wonder in their faces. “But... but Ash, we're Army. And well, you know...”

“Together?” I ask. “Yeah, you two can chuck that out of date idea out the door. If something ever happened to me and Simon, I'd want our child to be raised by two people in a loving family. Mom and Dad are too old to be trying to raise a baby, and Simon's mother I'm not even telling her about my pregnancy. I've gone our entire relationship without talking to Brenda Lancaster, and that's going to continue. So who better than my sisters to raise my child? I know you'll love the baby, and you'll be good parents. So, what do you say?”

Cara looks at Tammy, who whispers in Cara's ear. Cara whispers back, and Tammy turns to the camera. “We accept, on the condition that when Simon gets back, he approves too. Get the paperwork ready, after you talk to your folks. But you just remember, we get to be aunts first, this whole godmother thing is just a backup plan.”

I swear, if the Almighty ever needs someone to remember the Ps and Qs of the world, I know two women who can help him keep track. “For sure. Okay, with that, I'm going to talk to my Dad, and get back with you guys later. You two busy over the weekend?”

Cara raises an eyebrow and smirks. “We're busy every weekend, but we'll make time for you. Give us a call tomorrow or Sunday. Love you, Ash.”

Tammy blushes at Cara's comment, but echoes the sentiment, and I end the call. They're funny, and I know that I made the right choice in asking them to be the baby's godmothers. I'm feeling a little hungry, so I call over to Pizza Hut and order a medium stuffed crust pizza, there's no need to be ridiculous about it, then call home. “Hello honey. How was the school week?”

It's Mom. “Oh, hi Mom. Actually, things are okay. I told my chain of command about my pregnancy, they said it shouldn't be a problem, so that's a good thing. How're you doing?”

Mom laughs, and I swear she sounds younger. “Oh honey, this has been an interesting week. I swear, your father hasn't been this busy with work since you were in junior high school. I know I should be upset, but it lends a lot of energy to the house, if you know what I mean.”

I can't be upset with Mom, I know she means well. “Of course, Mom. Speaking of Dad, is he around?”

“He's in his study, dear. Let me bring the phone to him. Henry? It's Ashley!” Mom, despite all the culture and good manners, never has quite learned how to cover the mouthpiece of a phone when she yells, or how to use a hold button. I listen in as Mom walks down the hallway, knocking on Dad's study door before opening it. “Henry? It's Ashley.”

“Bring it here. Thanks,” Dad says in the background before speaking into the phone. “Ashley? How are you doing, sweetie?”

“I'm okay Dad,” I reply. “I'm still worried, but I'm trying to keep my mind focused on what I can do. And right now, what I need is to keep my focus on our baby, and to do my best to make sure that when Simon comes back, that we're going to have a good home ready for him.”

“Good. So school's going well?”

“I probably won't make honor grad any more, I boned a test pretty hard, but that's okay. Also, I told my chain of command about the baby, there was no way I was going to go into the CS chamber being pregnant. Thankfully my OIC was totally cool about it. I guess the Army has, huh?” I joke, using the old shorthand for 'the Army's changed since the old days.'

“Sure has. Actually, I was thinking about that when your friends got married. Back in my day, both of them would have been kicked out of USMA, branded as some sort of freaks,” Dad says, shaking his head. “So this Old Grad says the Corps has. And you want to know what? I'm fully of the idea that it's a good thing. Time for the Academy and the Army to actually represent the nation it's supposed to protect.”

“Speaking of that... Dad, have you gotten any more news on Simon?”

Dad hums, and I can hear him shuffling through papers. He must really be working hard, he's an incessant note taker. It tapered off my senior year of high school, but if he's got multiple pages going again, he's got to be busy.

“I've got good and bad news. The good news is, they know where Simon's located, or at least the area. It's to the northeast of a town called Changp'ung, about fifteen kilometers from the DMZ. I was surprised at first, but I checked with some friends, and they tell me that's quite normal with the North Koreans. Basically, the more politically sensitive the thing is, the farther from Pyongyang and the China border they want it. It's far enough away from the border that they feel they won't be spied on, but close enough that they can claim plausible deniability if shit hits the fan. Sorry.”

“It's okay Dad, I understand you're giving me the straight info. You said that's the good news. What's the bad news?”

Dad sighs, and I can hear the frustration in his voice even before he says anything. “Our frustrations are mounting. There's two groups that have emerged in the intelligence community. A lot of them think that it's worth the risk to get Simon out. Hell, it's less than twenty klicks Ashley. A Delta or SEAL team could HALO in and get him out in one night.”

“But?” I ask, fearing but knowing what's coming.

“But the White House is listening to the other side right now, the side that's willing to let him sit over there and not do a damn thing. They figure the political fallout is already at peak, and with a good jobs report or something else happening in the world, the general public's going to forget about Simon. The South Koreans are kind of eager to forget too, now. Turns out that the problems with the Apache was found to be a North Korean agent, the crew chief no less. He already admitted to the charge, saying his mission was to specifically target Simon's helicopter. That's confusing the hell out of everyone, honestly. Why target Simon? No offense Ashley, but he's not a high value intelligence asset. It's just... it's puzzling. Think you can shed any light on it?”

I shake my head, not knowing. “The only thing I can think of Dad is that Simon was a foreign language major. While he studied Russian and French, he told me when he was on leave that he started learning Korean in his spare time. When I talked with him on the phone, he said he was coming along, but that isn't going to make him an intelligence asset.”

Dad huffs, and I understand his frustration. “Dad, what can I do?” I ask. “Please, there has to be something that I can do. What?”

Dad hums, tapping at his desk. “I can't be sure, but I have a contact who has resources in the South Korean government. If the North Koreans can get their men into the South, I'm sure the SKs can get their agents into North Korea as well. Maybe we can get a message to Simon. What I want you to do is write a letter, small as you can. Keep it less than a half sheet of paper, and then bring it by the house tomorrow or Sunday. I can't promise anything, but I can try.”

I swallow, emotion suddenly choking my throat. Dad's retired, there's no way he's getting this just by chatting with buddies over beers. “Dad... how much cred are you burning with this? How many favors are you calling in?”

“It doesn't matter, honey. If I have to call in every favor I am owed, and then go doubly into debt in repaying those favors in order to get Simon back to you, I'll do it. I will not let the Army take away from our family again. Okay?”

I have to stop, wiping at my eyes and rubbing at the bridge of my nose to control my crying. “Okay. I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too. Now, I'm going to take the phone back to Katherine, and you two can girl talk some. Try to have a smile in your voice when you do. You know, security and all.”

I don't quite like it, but I understand. “Okay, Dad. I'll be chirpy when Mom comes on. And I'll come by tomorrow, think we can do dinner together?”

“That sounds great, honey. Okay, here's Mom.”

Simon

A strange sound comes to my ears, and I open my eyes, wishing for the first time that I had a blanket. Korea may be hot as hell in the summer time, but we're coming up on October… I think. Fuck I'm not too sure, and I'm starting to get cold at night. A ratty flight suit isn't doing anything for me, although my boots are still in pretty good condition.

But what I'm hearing now isn't combat boots, or even shoes. It sounds like... high heels? What the fuck?

I hear someone turn the corner at the end of the hallway and come closer, and I see a woman in a skirt and suit come to a stop in the doorway of my cell. One of the guards is with her, not Moby and not Cade, who I haven't seen since he brought me that plate of rice and salty soup. “Well, if the Beast doesn't work, I guess Kim's going to try Beauty.”

She is pretty, I have to admit. Tall for a Korean woman, she's probably about five foot six, and well built, with a trim figure that fills out her suit well enough that I can tell she's certainly not on the typical North Korean diet of little and less. She's got intelligent eyes, and as she looks down, there's a certain sense of dominance in her look. This is a woman who knows what she wants, and most often gets it.

“The Great Leader has personally assigned me to make sure your re-education about life in the Democratic People's Republic of Korea goes smoothly,” she says in flawless, West Coast accented English. “My name is Jenny Song, or at least my American name is. Come, get up, your shower awaits.”

“Shower? Oh, Moby gave me a shower a few days ago when he threw a bucket of piss on me. No thanks,” I reply, laying back down on the bare concrete. “I understand North Korean showers.”

“You have a choice,” Song says, squatting down to bring her closer to my level. She does it in a way to just tease me with what’s up her skirt, but I’m not interested in the least. “You can behave as a man, or as a dog. If you wish to behave as a dog, you will be showered with a cold water hose, fed scraps that the men of this camp no longer wish, and in general treated as a dog. With winter coming on, I seriously doubt that you'll survive to see the New Year that way. Or, you can behave as a man. While you are showering and shaving, your clothes will be laundered and brought back to you. You will be fed the same as any other soldier in the camp, and be given appropriate bedding for your cell.”

“What's the price of this?” I ask, sneering. “A few statements I have to sign? Maybe a little speech in front of a video camera where I denounce my country? The codes to my radio, like Moby wanted?”

“None of those things at all,” Song replies, standing up. “I just want you to behave as a polite man, and not a wisecracking jackass. The man you call 'Moby' recorded all your interrogations, you have quite the mouth on you.”

“That's what she said,” I joke, and I'm surprised when I see Song chuckle. “You got that one.”

“I lived in America for seven years,” Song replies, “and I am given more access to harmful Internet influences than most of our citizens. Come, stand up and talk with me. Shower first, then we can have brunch, and just talk. I promise, no questions about your helicopter or anything sensitive.”

“And the shackles?” I ask. Song shrugs, the meaning clear. They stay for now. I ponder my choices, and nod. “Fine. But the first question or demand, I walk my happy ass back to this cell and proceed to start rotting.”

I get up, and the guard with Song unlocks the door, pointing with his rifle and going off in North Korean. I follow his instructions, making sure to pretend I don't know what he's saying, although after this long in captivity, I think even an idiot could figure out the North Korean word for “go!”

The shower, even though it's tepid, is glorious. Song was right, they even let me have a disposable razor to shave with. Hurts like hell, the soap they give me isn't exactly great for softening five or six weeks of beard, but I still enjoy it. I take my time, ignoring my guard who stands on the far side of the shower room, his rifle still ready the entire time, and wash my hair as well, taking the time to try and check out the sores on my skin. Jesus, I really have been kept like a dog for a while. I think I could start a YouTube channel off of these things.

Finally, the guard loses his patience and shuts off the water and raises his rifle. I get it, shower's over, and I walk out into the unheated locker-room like area, where at least there's a scrap of something that might be called a towel. While I'm drying, Song walks in, carrying my clothes. “Hey!”

“While impressive, it's nothing I haven't seen before,” she says, looking me up and down. Her eyes come to rest on my cock, and she raises an eyebrow. “I stand corrected. Too bad you need to wear clothes. Please get dressed and join me in the cafeteria.”

Song leaves, and I glance over at the guard, cupping my balls. “God bless America, bitch.”

They didn't do a great job with laundering my flight suit, but it's not quite as bad as it was before, so I guess I can't complain as the guard walks me to the cafeteria. Song's there already, already sitting down in front of a bowl of rice, some tofu based soup it looks like with some bits of floating green, and, surprise surprise, a hard boiled egg.

“Have a seat.” I sit down, and Song smiles. I don't think she realizes just how little that means to me. She might be attractive, but my memories of Ashley are more than enough to get me past a single pretty smile. “Do you say grace before you eat? While it's not normal here, I am willing to bend the rules a little.”

“No, I don't pray often,” I tell her, picking up the spoon. “If you're being nice like this, mind if I have a toothbrush or something to clean my teeth? I'm kinda feeling gross over here.”

“Sure.... as soon as you denounce your imperialist dog of a country, vow eternal allegiance to Dear Leader, and become his wife's love toy,” Song says evenly. I set down my spoon and stand up, and she cracks another smile. “Sit down, I was joking. I'll see what I can do.”

I force myself to again eat slowly, knowing that if I just hork it down, I'm probably going to throw up. “So, your agenda for today,” Song says as she nibbles at her rice, “you will be cleaning the halls from after this until three in the afternoon, then I will have questions for you until dinner. After that, you can return to your cell, where you will find that you have at least a blanket. It's not much by American standards, but in fact by North Korean standards some of the lower enlisted in the barracks will probably be jealous of you. That is something, yes?”

“Yes,” I agree, sipping my soup. “So, you lived in the States for what did you say, five years?”

“Seven,” Song says. “You're probably wondering then how a girl like me ends up in a place like this?”

“Not a pickup line at all,” I answer, keeping my face impassive. “But I am curious.”

“Simple, really. I chose to come here. I said I lived in America for seven years, but I am also not purely North Korean. My mother is, but my father is Chinese, and I was born in China. I have dual citizenship,” Song says. “It's helpful when it comes to shopping. Trust me, one thing I do miss about the United States is shopping malls. I am a girly girl when it comes to those. Thankfully most of the things you can buy in an American mall are made in China.”

“And the questioning?”

Song's face hardens, and her smile goes wintry. “You'll see, won't you?”

* * *

I can't get the voices out of my head. I don't know where they're coming from, but they won't stop. Jenny's questioning today was extra hard, and I tried my best to not get shocked again, but still, the stick came out. It's not a Taser, but I don't think it's a cattle prod either. Maybe it's something custom made, but I know that every time Jenny brings it out, I'm starting to flinch.

But then she puts it away, and she's so nice. Yesterday, she actually brought me some pieces of actual chocolate, and we sat in the sunny room on the east side of the prison, just eating them and watching the sky. She told me about her college life in California, not asking me anything but just talking, sharing herself with me.

“You know Simon, you're a smart man,” she told me after we finished the last of the chocolate bar. “I can understand perhaps why you wouldn't want to work with the authorities here, but a man of your talents could be quite well rewarded in China. And I know your background, you would pick up Chinese quite quickly.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, and Jenny laughs.

“Simon, you may fool the guards, but I pulled the same game when I got to a certain level of English in America. Pretending you don't know what the people around you are saying in order to listen to their real opinions on you. Like I said, you're a smart man.”

Today though, she wasn't so nice, asking me questions. Never ending questions, as soon as I answer one she asked another, about anything and everything. When I didn't answer correctly or if I was too slow, the stick came out, and I was punished.

Now, my body aches, my eyes feel like they've been dipped in rubbing alcohol before being jammed back in my sockets, and my stomach rolls as I try to keep down the food they gave me. I had sixty seconds to eat today, with Jenny holding the stopwatch in her left hand and the stick in her right. When I was finished, she pulled the bowl away, and for every grain of rice left in the bowl, it was another second of application of the stick. And if I threw up, that rice counted too.

I can't throw up, there's no way I can let my body reject these nutrients. I'm still losing weight, and can feel my ribs clearly against my skin when I run my hand along my side, and looking down, I'm not sure I'm actually looking at my body any more. I need every precious calorie, regardless of what it's doing to me right now.

But I can't get these voices to stop. They're with me all the time in my cell, whispering, whispering. I can't even recognize what they're saying, but they just don't stop. They won't let me rest, whispering even as I fall asleep.

I have to find some way to get them to stop.

* * *

“Put your arms over your head.”

I know better than to ask why, Jenny has commanded me to not ask any questions today. I've already been corrected three times today when I asked questions. I can't do that any more, it hurts too much. Instead, I raise my arms up over my head, and wince as the cuffs are latched in and my arms are raised up. I'm already stripped to my waist, my flight suit sleeves tied around my waist to keep me from being fully exposed.

“Now... who do you serve?” Jenny asks, her eyebrow raised. “Who is your Mistress?”

I know what she wants me to say. It'd be so easy, to just say that she's the one who controls me. That I'd do anything she wants, that I belong to her.

But I can't. Instead, I swallow, and stand tall. “I serve the people of the United States of America. Simon Lancaster, Lieutenant, United States Army.”

Jenny nods, and the man behind me, I'm not allowed to turn and see who it is, swings his whip, where it cracks against my back again. I can't move this time, and I struggle to stay on my feet.

“Let's try that again,” Jenny says, stroking my cheek. “Simon, my dear, lovely Simon, you keep getting confused. You're not in the Army, you serve me. You always have. I'm just helping you remember. Don't you realize Simon how much it hurts me when you are mistaken like this? Please, please baby, stop being naughty. Remember and come back to me.”

Her words are so silky, so easy to listen to. She cares about me, she says so. My mouth opens, and I lean into her touch, wanting to feel it more. “Ashley....”

“Who?” Jenny asks, snapping me back to reality. I've never said her name before in questioning, and I close my mouth. “I said... who?”

“Simon Lancaster, Lieutenant, United States Army.....”

The whip cracks again, and this time, I can't help it, the cuffs yank against my wrists, the pain going down my arms to my shoulders, and I struggle to get back to my feet again. “Simon..... Lancaster..... Lieutenant.....”

“Still so far to go,” Jenny says sorrowfully. “Still, Simon, you'll be mine again. You will be mine.”

When it's over, I hear a now familiar voice beside me, lifting me up before helping me back to my cell. “You really pissed them off today, man.”

“Yeah, I seem to be good at that,” I groan, leaning against Cade as we walk. “Think I'll still have my blanket?”

“I don't know. They did tell me to take your pillow, sorry about that.” We turn the corner, and there's only a little further to go. “You know, Mistress will be a lot more forgiving if you just tell her what she wants to hear.”

“I'm not her pet,” I rasp, dragging each five hundred pound foot along. A few more steps. “I'm not a pet.”

“Do you know the pleasures she can show you?” Cade asks, his voice full of wonder. “Do you know what they've taught her how to do?”

“I don't care. She's not Ashley.”

Cade stops, and helps me into my cell. A guard locks the door, and Cade sits outside the bars, thinking for a second. “You mean Ashley Carlyle? Wow, I haven't thought of her in years. You two still dating?”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “She's in BOLC now.”

“She as beautiful as I remember? She was quite the knockout back then.”

I look at Cade, who has a wistful look on his face. Sure, he screwed up, but he's trying to be a good guy, I can see that. “Still beautiful.”

Cade hums, then shakes his head. “That's gotta be hard, man. Okay, well I'm going to go find some food for you, Mistress can't be that angry at you if you've still got your blanket in there. Lay on your stomach to let those marks on your back air out, I'll bring you what I can.”

Cade leaves, and minutes later, the whispers start again. I bury my head in my arms, but they still won't stop, and I can't help it, the tears start. I'm weak, I'm just so weak.....

Ashley

“What's the situation, Dad?” I ask, desperate and impatient. We're sitting in the kitchen breakfast nook, I'm spending the weekend at the house again, it provides at least a little bit of comfort when I need it. I haven't had a lot of comfort over the past few months.

My first letter didn't get through, it's been nearly a month since I wrote it, and every day, I'm growing. My belly is swelling, and I've already started to do pregnancy workouts. Not that I'm taking it lazy, I'm going to have the healthiest damn baby the world's ever seen. Instead of running, I'm using the elliptical trainer at the fitness center or swimming, swimming is supposed to be really good for pregnant women since it takes stress off your joints.

But that doesn't mean that I'm feeling good. Every day, Dad's prediction has proven more and more true. Whether it's the run up to the NFL playoffs, or what movies are making waves in theaters, Simon's barely getting mentioned. Even the pundits who were using the Simon's capture to bang the war drums have moved on, going back to the standard sniping back and forth across the aisle, both parties saying that their opponents are sending the country to hell in a handbasket. I'm nearly at the end of my rope.

“We're still getting stalled, Ashley. I need you to try again. This one... this one I'm going to personally make sure gets into the right hands in Korea.”

I gulp, nodding. “Dad... I'm over halfway through my pregnancy now. He's been there for over three months. What's the hold up?”

“I wish I had a different answer for you, Ashley. I really wish I did,” Dad says. “I'm doing my best, honey.”

“I know you are Dad. It's just... I miss him,” I reply, trying not to cry. I've cried so much recently, I feel like I should own stock in Kleenex. “I need him back. He has to see his child be born.”

“I know, Ashley,” Dad says, reaching across the table. “I want him back too. He was... he is going to be a great son-in-law.”

My breath catches, and I see that Dad's been reading my mind again. I nod, then I can't help it, I start crying, and Dad comes around the table to hug me closely. “I... I think he wanted to ask me, too,” I whisper. “We kind of beat around the bush with it right before he left for Korea. He asked me to move in with him to family housing, and I was sure that once I got over there, he was going to ask me to marry him.”

“He'll get his chance, sweetheart,” Dad whispers. “He'll get his chance.”

I sniff, and for a few minutes, I let my emotions loose. In class, I'm getting tired of the sympathetic looks from everyone. Captain Bali has tried to keep things level, but as class has progressed and my pregnancy has become public knowledge, the sympathy has gotten to nearly paralyzing levels. I couldn't help it when I snapped at Jeri, a girl from a ROTC school, after she stopped and held the door for me like I was some sort of invalid. I know she was just trying to be nice, but it's too damn much sometimes, and I just need to let it loose a little bit.

Dad understands, and holds me while I let the tears burn my eyes and soak into his shirt, after which I feel better. Wiping at my nose, I pull back and try to smile. “Thanks, Dad. Hey, do you want to see something?”

“Sure. Can your mother see it too?”

“Uh-huh. Have Mom come in, we're done with the high security part of my visit,” I say, grabbing a tissue and blowing my nose. “It's good news.”

While Dad is out of the kitchen I grab my backpack and pull out the envelope I have inside, opening it just as Dad and Mom come back in. “Here, I had these done yesterday at the clinic,” I say, taking out the shiny photographs. “Say hello to your grandchildren.”

Mom stops, shocked. “Grandchildren?”

I nod, handing over the 3-D composite images. “The doctors thought that it was twins my last checkup, but they weren't totally sure, their heartbeats are so close together. But the ultrasound today confirmed it. Twins.”

Mom and Dad both look over the images, trying to hold back the happy tears. Finally, Mom clears her throat and looks up. “Do you know about if they're boys or girls?”

“No, they said most likely that'll be next month. I'm hoping for one each, although as long as they're healthy I'm a happy mother,” I tell her, taking the photos back. I reach into the envelope and pull out a SD card, handing it over. “Here, I copied it onto my laptop, so this one's for you.”

Dad takes the card and holds it carefully, like it's made of Swarovski crystal instead of plastic and copper, looking at it in wonder. “Ashley.... my God.....”

“I know, Dad. Trust me, I know.”

After dinner and dessert (hey, I'm not just eating for two but for three now, a little whipped cream isn't going to hurt me), I sit down in Dad's study. Behind his desk, in his large old fashioned leather office chair, I chew on my lip slowly, trying to figure out what to say.

There's a gentle knock on the door, and Dad comes in, dressed in his pajamas. “Hey honey, it's nearly midnight. Shouldn't you get some sleep?”

“I will, Dad. I just... I need to know what to say. I feel like I could write him a whole novel about the past three months. The little things like how classes are going, what Fort Lee is like, even my day to day thoughts,” I say, tapping on the small tablet. I know I don't have a lot of space. I point to the pile of balled up pieces of paper in the wastebasket, sighing. “As you can see, I'm having editing problems.”

Dad looks at the basket, nodding. “What did you say last time? Or I guess, maybe more importantly, if you were going to sum up everything you want to remind Simon about in less than a hundred words, what would you say? This is going to hurt Ashley, but remember. He's in a North Korean cell, I guarantee you that he's being psychologically and maybe physically tortured as well. He's lonely, he's confused, and he needs to be reminded of what the hell he's supposed to be trying to get home for. He needs your strength, Ashley. Remind him that you're here, and that you are ready for him when he gets home.”

I tap at my lip, thinking, then nod. “Okay Dad, I think I know what I need to write. I'll need to borrow your printer, though.”

“What for?” Dad asks. “It'd be better if you handwrote everything.”

“Yes, but this isn't about the letter. I know exactly what to send to Simon that'll remind him of why he needs to get home. First though, the letter.” I pull the tablet back in front of me, and start to write.

Simon

Waking up, I stretch in the space given to me by my cell and look around. The ground outside is starting to frost over, and I'm expecting that tonight's going to be colder, the sky overhead is already gray and flat. Shivering, I pull my blanket tighter around me, and huddle in the middle of the room, where it's warmest, the least amount of my body is touching the floor.

I still haven't earned my pillow back, let alone something to call a bed. Scraps of cardboard, a little bit of rice straw, something, it's all I want right now. Anything to keep me from having to roll constantly all night in order to prevent my body waking up numb and half frozen.

I pull my blanket over my head, trying to make a little cocoon of insulation, and force myself to shiver, even if I don't really have the energy to do so. I'm so tired, I'm not sleeping still as much as passing out, and even with the increased rations that Mistress Jenny is giving me, I don't have any energy.

Mistress Jenny... I know I shouldn't be thinking of her that way, but I can't help it. I know she's supposed to be the enemy, but I've been here so long, how can she be the enemy? She's the one who got me some real meat last week, she's the one who gives me my showers that let me warm up some as well as scrub my skin at least somewhat clean. She does so much for me, and all she asks for is one little thing. To give myself to her.

But... I know what that means. She's joked about it, but I don't think they're jokes. She wants me to say things, things that I know will make some people angry... but where are those people, so far away that sometimes I can't recall their names right off the top of my head? Where are the people, when Mistress Jenny is right here? She says that she cares for me, that she wants me even. She says once I'm a good boy again, that she'll make sure I'm fed and made stronger, and then she'll show me things....

A ghost of something whispers in my brain, red hair I think, but it's so hard to remember any more, it'd just be so easy...

I hear footsteps outside my cell, and try to pull my blanket back from over my head, they don't like it when I'm totally covered up, but before I can, I hear the boots stop. “Simon Lancaster.... a letter. You have ten minutes before Major Song Dai-yu gets here.”

There's a sliding sound as something rasps on the floor, and then the boots run off before I can get my blanket off. I blink, looking in the gray morning light at the tiny envelope that's sitting next to my knee. I rip it open, and two pieces of paper are inside. I take them out, unfolding them, the handwriting piercing the fog that's been in my brain even before I read the words.

My precious Simon,

I'm writing this to remind you that you are not alone. I'm here, in America, and I've been doing everything I can to get you home. You need to do whatever you can to survive, to get out. I need you to stay strong, my love. I love you, Simon. And your children will love you too. Yes, I'm pregnant, with your twin children. You must survive, and get out of there. Our babies need their father.

I love you

Ashley

I re-read the small piece of paper again, then look at the other page. It's a photograph that's been printed on regular paper, but I know what it is, a sonogram. The two heads, the tiny hands and feet. Ashley!

I want to re-read the letter, and I do it quickly, each loop and swirl of her handwriting searing into my mind and clearing away the cobwebs that Major 'Jenny' Song has filled my head with. I don't have time to read it a third time, I can't dare keep the paper in my cell, and even though it hurts me to take it away I tear it all into chunks, swallowing the last of it just as I hear Song's (how in the hell did I start thinking of her as Jenny or even Mistress Jenny?) high heels clicking on the concrete.

Thinking quickly, I huddle under my blanket, putting an eager look on my face as she comes into sight. “Good morning, Simon. You look happy to see me.”

“Yes, Miss Jenny,” I say, hating every word. I'm smiling on my face, but inside I am laughing. Your pathetic attempts at brainwashing me almost worked, Major 'Jenny' Song. Almost.

Major Song though doesn't understand my smile, she thinks that I'm actually happy to see her. Instead she gets a half triumphant, half pleased look on her face, and squats down. “Really? And why is that?”

I bite my lip, playing coy. It's not that hard, I was a player for so long, and it's not that hard to imitate what I saw girls try to pull on me when they were saying yes... but not yet. It works like a charm on Major Song, who smiles. “Come on, Simon. No punishment, just tell me why please.”

“I... I was thinking about you this morning. It was... nice,” I shyly say, half turning away. “I was thinking about how I'd like to make you happy.”

Major Song's smile broadens, and I can see the gleam of triumph in her eyes. “Really? Well, I think that deserves a little bit of a reward. How would you like to have breakfast with me this morning?”

“Yes Miss Jenny,” I reply, putting just a little bit of twang into my voice. It's an old trick I did as a player which tended to loosen up panties quite nicely. It works on Major Song too, whose smile becomes just a little more genuine. “Can I... can I serve you at breakfast?”

“I think that is a wonderful idea. And if you happen to sneak an extra bite of food, I won't be too concerned. Come, first your morning toilet and washing, then breakfast.”

Breakfast is luxurious compared to the past few months, with soft scrambled eggs, bread, and even some jam. The moan of pleasure as the marmalade hits my tongue is genuine, and my eyes go wide when I taste something else. “Is this... butter?”

“Not the best quality, but yes,” Major Song says, sipping on her tea. “I'm able to get a little bit through some channels, not much. So enjoy, you're eating my ration for Friday.”

It's hard not to smile as it makes the butter even tastier, and I have to resist the urge to try and get seconds, even though Major Song sees I want it. After we finish, she folds her hands in front of her and looks at me levelly. “So Simon, you said you wanted to make me happy. And how do you propose to do that?”

“I'd like to get some more exercise,” I say, looking down at my nearly skeletal frame. “I know... I know that you've said you would like to show me things, but I'd like to earn those by returning that in kind.”

“Exercise, hmmm? And what would that entail? Pushups, some work in that space that we give to Cade Edwards?”

I shake my head, and roll the dice, it's time to try and press my luck. “I'm more of an outdoors type, Miss Jenny. I was thinking, the camp has to have something it uses as a water heater. Wood or coal fired, I assume, I don't smell oil or diesel. So, maybe I can shovel coal or chop wood?”

“You want me to give you an ax?” Major Song says, smiling. “You must think I really trust you, Simon.”

“Please, Miss Jenny,” I beg, giving her my biggest puppy dog eyes. “I want to make you happy with me, and I'd like to have a body that you can be pleased with. I... I need you, Miss Jenny.”

Three hours ago, I probably wouldn't have been lying, but now it's the biggest pile of bullshit I've ever tried to sell. Honestly, I don't care what she's having me do, I just need to get outside first.

“How about we put you on garbage and latrine duty first, then?” she says with both a measuring gaze and a smile on her lips. “It's outdoors, there's plenty of heavy things you can work your muscles with, and you can earn some more trust with me.”

Perfect. I'd like to thank the Academy for this Oscar.

* * *

On the other hand, maybe I'd like to give that Oscar back. When Major Song said that I'd be on garbage and latrine duty, I didn't quite understand what that meant. Hell, I figured I'd be scrubbing toilets.

Nope. Apparently, the camp here doesn't believe in toilets that flush. I thought my bucket was bad, but other than missing a seat, it's really not that much different than what most of the soldiers in the camp have to deal with. Listening to the guard who is still watching me and jabbering along in North Korean, this is what enlisted people get to use. The primary differences between my bucket and their toilet are that they have a wooden seat and that the buckets they use are a lot bigger, namely cut down fifty gallon drums. When I get the building, the stench is already pretty bad, and the guard laughs.

<Now you see if you really want to be her lapdog or not,> he jokes, going over to a spot and sitting down. He's already going lazy, which is kind of what I expected. The entire North Korean population seems to either want to sleep, be in manic devotions to Dear Leader, or be generally lazy. I can’t blame them. They're half starving all the time, dulled by constant, inhuman demands from their higher ups. Now, maybe it's different in the villages, I don't know. But in this camp, that's how it is.

I go to work, reminding myself with every muscle aching pull of a heavy drum, every scoop of a bucket as I carry the human shit over to the fertilizer pile for the nearby village to use in their fields, and every eye watering pour of the fetid, stinking piss into the drainage ditch, that the work is for a purpose. I'm not working, I'm training.

I'm training my body, I tell myself, and training for Sandhurst was harder than this. I don't have to climb a rope, I don't have to paddle a boat, or any of the dozen other skills that I learned in the competition that I'm wondering if I'm going to have to use to get away.

Thinking about Sandhurst helps me focus my mind as well on Ashley. Her hair, the way it flows over her shoulders in a ponytail when she's exercising, so much sexier than when she's in her ACUs or when she was in her other cadet uniforms. I only got to see her in her active duty blues twice, once for a pinning ceremony where Henry put the rank on her uniform for the first time, and later on at Tammy and Cara's wedding.

And she's pregnant, with twins. I smile as I lift the next pair of buckets, my biceps quivering but my grip still strong. I hope it's a boy and a girl. I swear, I'm going to get back home before they're born. I'm not sure how long it's been, and I turn to the guard, taking a risk. “Excuse me, can I have water?”

I hate being polite to this guy, but I have to see if he knows any English. He doesn't, so I pretend to go into bad, baby level South Korean. <Water?>

The guard looks at me strangely, then comprehension dawns. <Water?>

I nod, and mime drinking. The guard gives me a thumbs up (I guess it's the universal sign to give Yankee imperialists when you understand them) and grabs his canteen, bringing it over. I actually am a little thirsty, but I'm more interested in just how careful he is with his weapon and himself as he hands over the canteen.

Like I expect, he's not as careful as he should be, probably after the weeks I've been here, especially the weeks of me becoming more and more compliant to Major Song, they probably think I'm whipped. Of course, they don't know how close I was to actually becoming the lapdog the guard thinks I am.

I swallow gratefully, and hand the canteen back. “Thanks, man. Merry Christmas.”

The guard smiles and caps his canteen, walking away, more importantly turning his back to me. When he turns back, he laughs. “Ku-ri-soo-mass? Santa, eh?”

I nod, giving him a thumbs up. “Right, Santa. Ho, ho, ho!”

The guard gives me another laugh and leans back on his spot. <Too bad Christmas isn't for another few weeks, I think.>

It's a clue. A clue, and maybe an opportunity. Combine that with the exercise, and I can make it. Now, I just have to avoid saying anything stupid during my interrogations, play along some, and then when the opportunity presents itself, make my move.

Ashley

“Okay, so with Christmas coming up, we here at the ALU don't get quite the same break as a lot of the units,” Captain Bali says, sitting on his desk and swinging his legs back and forth, relaxed. “Part of it is that you are in school still. No offense, but this is nothing compared to what line units do, they need the extra time off.”

I can't argue, even as my belly swells under my top. I feel huge as I sit in my seat, the chair just a little bit further back from the desk than it was yesterday it seems. I've actually gotten to the point where I can see the twins squirming and turning under my skin, it's kinda freaky and cool and weird in an Alien sort of way.

“With that being said,” Captain Bali says, “The Army has another reason to trim your Christmas break some. The Army wants to give the Transportation Battalions and all the other units that you are being sent out to the chance to integrate their new Lieutenants before the summer rotations begin.”

“Well, we did get two month's grad leave,” Felicia Hardy, one of the other Pointers, says. She's the class eternal optimist, the one who looks at rain clouds in the evening and is happy because it means that there's a chance we'll have PT the next morning at the fitness center instead of in the dirt.

“True, for you USMA grads,” Captain Bali says, tapping his fingers on the desk. “With that, the CO asked me to ask for volunteers for people willing to be OIC at the Fort Lee Lodge over the break. It'd be one day of duty, and we'd like to fill it with volunteers before we start handing out the suck. You'll be paired with a NCO who's in one of their school courses.”

“Is everyone pitching in?” someone asks, and Captain Bali nods.

“The CO told me he's already talked with the other school units, and here's the deal. We collect volunteers, and then names will be drawn from a hat to pick what days you want to be OIC. If there's more names than there are dates, then whoever doesn't get picked gets a pat on the back.”

“And if we do get duty?”

“I hear the dining facility is doing extra special meals all break long. Kinda nice to have the cooks course here, they really get to show off their goods at times like this. You'll be getting some extra yum-yums.”

I start to laugh at the term, but my laugh turns into a groan as a tight pain hits my stomach, and I wince, yelping a little. Everyone turns, concerned. “Carlyle?”

“I... oh God that didn't feel good,” I groan as the tightness continues. My wince becomes a hiss of pain, and I lean forward, my hands on my stomach. “Someone call the docs.”

There's a flurry of activity, and I'm reminded that despite the years of Academy or ROTC training, the future leaders of the military will frequently flip the fuck out as soon as they think a woman is in labor. Thankfully, one of the ROTC girls raises her voice and takes control.

“Everyone shut up and sit down!” she hollers in a voice that brooks no argument. My eyes are shut it hurts so bad, and I'm worried. It's early, far too early, and I can't be having the babies now. And it hurts, oh my God it hurts....

“Carlyle... Ashley, listen to me,” the same girl says, she's next to me now. “Okay, just take deep breaths. Captain Bali's already on the phone, calling for the medics. Can you walk? It'll help if it is the babies.”

“How do you know?” someone asks, and I have to smile even despite the pain at the derisive tone of her reply.

“Because I helped my cousin when she had a baby, okay? Y'all motherfuckers need to get out in the real world more, those granite towers made you retarded,” she says, before turning her attention to me. “Sorry, Woo-poo.”

“Not a problem,” I hiss, smiling. “I’m half retarded already, even with my civvie schooling.”

“Yeah, I know. Going to college for six years just to get a bachelor's? Might have to start calling you Tommy Boy,” the girl says, helping me up. “Okay, when you're steady, let's start walking towards the door.”

We get out to the hall, Felicia catching up a moment later with my bag and a grin on her face. “Can I help out?”

“You going to be chirpy?” I ask, cutting my eyes over. At school, we didn't run into each other that often, she was in third regiment her entire time and we never took classes together, but like most of the girls in my class, you at least develop a passing acquaintance with them. “Because I could really use it right now.”

“Sure. Hey, have you thought of names yet?” Felicia asks as we wait for the elevator. Captain Bali joins us, probably to make sure that I'm okay, but he's nervous. He's got two kids, what was he doing when his wife went into labor, deployments?

“Not yet. I had a few ideas, but I was holding out to run them by Simon first,” I explain. The door opens, and we get inside. “I'm worried I'm not going to get a chance.”

“Don't worry, this could just be a false labor,” Felicia says. “You know, my aunt had twins, and she got so huge that she had to be on bed rest for the last six weeks of her pregnancy. When they came, each of them were over eight pounds, and she did it naturally too.”

“Jesus Christ,” the ROTC girl says. “How'd she walk after that?”

“Actually, it was more like how could my uncle walk,” Felicia jokes, laughing. “About six weeks after my cousins were born, Aunt Karen sent Uncle Tim in for a little snip-snip action.”

Captain Bali groans, and everyone but me laughs, I'm still hurting too much. “Sorry. Male instinct at work here.”

“Don't worry sir, we won't hold it against you,” I gasp, before another pain grips my stomach, and I whine at the pain, squeezing Heather and Felicia's hands tightly. Suddenly, a rumble passes through me and I embarrassingly fart, loud and long, nearly a world record I bet, just as the door opens and we see the medics standing on the other side. “Oh.”

The humor of the whole scenario leaves us laughing, even as my face turns red, and the medics kind of look at us, confused. “Okay, I think that means you're also out of the OIC pool for Christmas break,” Captain Bali says, regaining his composure. “Still Carlyle, go with the medics to the hospital, make sure that your babies are okay. Hardy, follow behind in your car, be her battle buddy. Robinson, you and I get to go back to class.”

“Thanks Heather,” I tell her as I leave the elevator and sit down in the wheelchair the medics insist on. “You should have gone medical.”

“Wanted to, didn't have the grades,” Robinson says, shrugging. “No biggie. Give us an update when you get back.”

* * *

“So it was just gas?” Dad asks as I lay on the couch at home three days later. I'm on total profile now, no PT at all, no strenuous duty, none of that until after the babies come. I can still go to class, but the two weeks of Christmas break are going to be nothing but resting and gathering my strength. Apparently, twins tend to come faster than single babies, and while I'm massively early, I have to be ready.

“Just gas,” I tell Dad, sipping on my herbal tea. That's another thing I've cut out over the past few months, no more caffeinated drinks. “Although the doctors said that it's probably a sign that I might have more false labors. Basically the docs said that until the water breaks, I could feel like it's starting quite a few times. They want me to be careful, especially as month nine comes around. They're even thinking of pulling me from the class just to be sure.”

“Would you graduate if that happens?” Mom asks, coming in and bringing me a cheese sandwich. It's another thing about my pregnancy, I've gone cheese crazy. At least the calcium's good for the babies.

“They'll probably recycle me Mom, but that's okay, there's a group that's only like two months or so behind my class,” I tell her, chewing on my sandwich. “I won't get to Korea too much later, I'll be fine.”

“Well, in any case, it'll be nice to have you home for Christmas, and you don't even need to use any of your leave time for it,” Mom replies happily. “It's going to be so nice to have you here again.”

The evening continues, and when Mom goes to bed, I sit up with Dad, watching the flickering flames and glowing oak logs in the fireplace. “I got word today,” Dad says faux casually, sipping at a brandy, “the Koreans got the letter to Simon. The plant there said he's starting to request outdoor work details. I suspect he's playing them, trying to find a chance to get out.”

“Still Dad... after that gas attack, I'm scared,” I reply, sipping at my chamomile. “I'm losing my patience.”

“I know honey, but you need to hold on,” Dad says, and I can't help it, it pisses me off.

“Hold on... hold on... hold on....” I hiss, forcing myself to sit up. “All I ever hear from you or from anyone else on this is hold on. I've been holding on like a motherfucker for five months, Dad. I'm tired of just holding on.”

“So what are you going to do?” Dad asks, looking at me levelly. “You can barely sit up.”

“I can make calls to people, Dad. Maybe I can't go in, maybe the Army won't go in, but someone's got to be willing to do it for the right amount of money. You probably know exactly how much, too.”

Dad sips at his brandy again, nodding. “I do. You know me pretty well, Ashley. And if it was within any reach of our abilities, I'd have come to you with this option. But the cost is... prohibitive.”

“How much?” I ask. “How much is my children's father worth?”

“Ten million dollars,” Dad says, the second word like a punch between my eyes. Ten million dollars? “For a team of five capable operators to go into North Korea and do an extraction like that, ten million dollars, plus costs. Honey, I've talked to former SEALs, Delta operators, British SAS, and a few others. Nobody is willing to try it. Not without knowing their family is set up for after their deaths.”

“It's fucking North Korea, ten klicks from the border!” I hiss before taking deep breaths when the babies squirm. Calm down, Ash. Stress isn't good for the babies. “A million dollars per kilometer.”

“And there's a lot of North Korean forces between the DMZ and there,” Dad says. “Honestly though, the best route isn't even overland, but through the sea. The DMZ is the world's most heavily fortified, mined, and guarded spot in the world. Two and a half miles wide, and you can expect troops on one side or another to take a casual pot shot at stuff they think just might be moving around. You need the luck of a Vegas gambler to make it through in one piece.”

I sigh and lay back down, trying to get comfortable again. “There has to be something more I can do, Dad. More than just writing letters and praying.”

Dad finishes his brandy and shakes his head. “Sadly Ashley, there is little more you can do. Little more I can do, even. It's one of the toughest lessons that I learned when I advanced in rank and into the SF, and later on into what I do now. You think that you're gaining more power, but what you really learn is that while you know more of what's going on, there's still remarkably little you can do by yourself to get things done.”

“I'd still rather know than have my head in the sand any longer,” I groan, and Dad hums. “I mean it. I'd rather know the truth than be a sheep.”

“Perhaps,” Dad says. He takes his glass into the kitchen, and comes back out. “I'm going to go to sleep, honey. Would you like a hand to bed?”

I shake my head, and turn on my side. “No, the fire's nice. And if I happen to fall asleep out here, that'll be fine too. Thanks for listening, Dad.”

“Anytime, honey. Don't stay up too late, I'll see you in the morning.”

Simon

Gyeong, the nice but lazy guard who I've struck up something of a connection with, is the one escorting me again as I approach the gates of the camp. I've worked hard for five weeks now, I've even put on a few pounds I think, although I doubt I'm over a buck fifty now still.

Part of the reason I'm being let out of the camp is that I've done a good job shamming. Major Song thinks that I'm just on the verge of breaking totally, of submitting totally to her demands and making that video that I'm supposed to make. I actually promised to do so. But I remember some of the things I taught when I was a member of the Honor Committee, that while lying is against the code, there is no violation of honor in order to escape. I'd say my name was Bruce Wayne and that my night job was patrolling Gotham City if I thought it'd help me get out of here faster.

Gyeong, I learned his name by doing the whole 'tap your chest and say your name' schtick that's been used since Tarzan first laid some smooth game on Jane, walks next to me while I push my wheelbarrow along in front of me. Part of me feels bad about what I'm going to be doing to the man, but I can't help it. He coughs, hacking up a lungful of phlegm, which is the reason I think I'm being let out of the gates for the first time. Some sort of bug is running around the camp and probably the nearby village, and a lot of the guards and people I've seen are coughing pretty continuously. Whatever it is, I guess all those damn Army vaccination shots were good for something besides a literal pain in my ass.

“So tell me about your wife and kids,” I say amiably to Gyeong, the normal prattle that he and I have struck up when we're out of sight of the guard towers or other people. I want him at ease, and he is, he hasn't even unslung his rifle yet today. I shift to South Korean, and pretend to struggle. <Woman? Children?>

Gyeong nods in understanding, smiling. He corrects the word for wife, along with a name that I don't quite get, then holds up two fingers. <Boys!>

“Good for you,” I congratulate him, and while he doesn't understand the words, he gets the tone of voice and grins, thanking me with a nod. We keep walking a while, until we reach the outskirts of the village. My work area is up ahead, and it's the best chance I have for breaking free.

The rice paddy is half frozen already, but there's still straw standing, and Major Song explained to me why. The family that is tasked with this paddy and the neighboring ones was struck with tragedy when their child and then later their grandfather died.

“While the Great Leader wants people to abandon their old fashioned dark age beliefs,” Song told me this morning with the sneering tone that she uses whenever she talks about the villagers, “they continue to hold onto their old traditions. So, with all the traditional mourning, they were unable to harvest all the straw. The rice they were able to get, but the straw is still left behind. Your job is to harvest it so that there's enough for the local animals to eat this winter. And, if you get it all done today, you can save a bag of it for your own mattress.”

Of course that had made me seem eager, but I'm more excited about the fact that rice straw has to be harvested via cutting implement. I can see it in front of me, a slightly rusty one handed scythe, the edge gleaming where Gyeong let me use a stone to sharpen it to a wicked edge. I'd prefer not to use it, but I will if I have to.

I put my wheelbarrow down, taking out the string and the scythe, and judge my chances. There aren't any villagers around. Even the guard post to the camp is barely visible in the distance. I'm sure a really good sharpshooter could tag me, but that's a risk I'm going to have to take.

Why? Because the tree line is only a hundred yards in the distance, going up into the mountains. I'm no mountaineer, but it's better than what I have been doing. I don't want to get my feet cold and muddy, not before I have to, so I stretch and reach for the scythe, making sure Gyeong's behind me when I do. “Ouch! Ah fuck, shit!”

I'm holding my hand, hopping up and down and hissing in pain, the shackles on my ankles rattling. I'm going to have to get rid of those, there's no way I can run with them on.

Thankfully, Gyeong's soft at heart, because he comes over, concern written on his face. He thinks I've slashed my hand, and it makes it just a little hard to take my balled up hands and crack him in the chin, sending him sprawling to his butt before I knee him as hard as I can in the face, knocking him out.

I have just seconds I know before someone in the guard tower or the village sees what's going on, and I strip Gyeong quickly, pulling off his belt and harness. I pull out his keys quickly, unlocking my shackles and throwing them away before grabbing the harness and his rifle, taking off as fast as my body can. “Sorry, Gyeong. I hope they let you live after this.”

I'm halfway to the trees when the old fashioned siren behind me starts up, and the crack of a rifle echoes through the air. I start cutting back and forth like a running back, my wind already starting to burn in my chest, hoping that whoever's in the tower can't shoot for shit.

I reach the woods without being hit and scramble upwards, trying to gain elevation. It was one of the main lessons in survival school.

“The key,” the instructor told my class as we sat around in the dirt trying to absorb the information quickly, “is to do the opposite of what people want to do. You go high, you go through the thickest forest, the nastiest swamp, the worst terrain that you think you can manage. When you sleep, you sleep in a spider infested shithole, the places the enemy wouldn't look because they think nobody would go there.”

There were a lot more information, but the first thing I need to do is get high. The mountain in front of me is one of the higher ones in the valley the camp is in, and maybe if I get high enough I can figure out where I am.

Suddenly, I hear footsteps coming towards me and I half turn, seeing Cade flying out of the woods to tackle me, both of us falling to the leaf covered dirt. “Not that fucking easy!”

We roll, and the rifle goes tumbling somewhere, although Gyeong's web gear seems to hang onto my shoulders halfway decently, probably because Cade is holding onto one strap and trying to choke me with his other hand. “You won't get away!”

I knock his hand away and elbow him in the cheek, giving me at least a little bit of breathing room. He's bigger, stronger, and has been eating better for the past six months, although I'm just starting to see that he's never been a prisoner at all.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I gasp, rolling away. “We can escape!”

“Who the hell you think brought you here? Glad I was out here hiking for fun,” Cade laughs, pulling a knife from the belt on his waist. “What, you think that story I told you was real? Fuck man, we didn't need the drugs in your food if you're that fucking gullible.”

Cade swings his knife at me and I avoid it by less than an inch it feels like, stumbling backwards and barely retaining my balance. “You defected?”

“I went to work for the Chinese. Jenny and I... we've been together a while,” Cade says with a fierce grin. “Too bad, I was going to let you fuck her once before she chopped your balls off. You'd at least have died happy.”

Cade lunges again but I sidestep, kicking the knife away. It goes tumbling out of sight, and I grab Cade, throwing him over my hip. We fall to the ground, punching and scratching. This is no sport contest with clean maneuvers and respecting the health of your opponent. Cade bites at my arm, and I can feel his teeth sink into my skin, making me howl, but instead of letting go, I hook my thumb into his eye socket and grind deep, his growl of anger turning into a screech of pain as his eye pops out and he lets go, rolling away and trying desperately to put it back in.

It's a wasted effort though as I get to my feet and jump up, both boot heels crashing into his spine just above his belt, the sound of his back breaking loud even over his screaming. Cade stops, freezing, his voice cut off even though I know he can still breathe. “My back!”

“Your back,” I agree, knowing I can't waste time. I turn him over, pulling his belt off. I don't know what's in it, but I can use anything. “Enjoy being a half blind paraplegic.”

“You're going to die. No way you get past the DMZ,” Cade whispers, his remaining eye filled with hate and pain. “You ruined my life, but I'll still get the last laugh.”

I shrug, and throw his belt over my shoulders, where it hangs across my chest like a bandoleer. “Maybe. But Cade, I'll die a man, with honor. You... well, you never have known what that's like.”

I run off, leaving Cade for the North Koreans. Maybe I'm being soft, but I don't have the time to kill him, and besides, I'm not a murderer. After a hundred steps I turn back up the mountain, encouraged. If Cade thinks I'm close enough to try for the DMZ, I must be close to the border. I keep going, cutting back and forth at random times, reaching the top of the hill in another twenty minutes. I can hear the North Koreans behind me, but that's okay, they're nowhere close.

I squat down on a rock, looking towards the South, a smile spreading over my face. It's unmistakable, the thick band of terrain that's been pretty much untouched by human beings since 1953. The world's most dangerous four kilometers, the DMZ. And across that, just on the limits of my vision, South Korea. I can make it.

“Ashley, I'm coming baby. I promise, I'll see you soon.”

* * *

Getting into the DMZ isn't as hard as I thought it'd be. There's a chain link fence, but it's not in great condition, and the stick I find pries it up easily, the cover of night keeping the guard tower a half mile away from seeing me as I slither under on my belly. I sweep my hand in front of me as I start crawling towards the bushes, knowing that half the reason the North Koreans have mines near their side of the DMZ fence is to keep their own people inside as much as it is to repel South Korean forces. Thankfully, there's nothing there until I clear the fifty feet to the bushes, still staying low. I can't low crawl the entire two and a half miles of the DMZ though, and I get to my feet, praying that either the North Koreans haven't mined the thick bushes I'm in, or that it's been so long ago that their gear doesn't work any more. I can't make it in the night I know, but I need to be far enough away that I can sleep and try and avoid detection until daylight.

I go another hundred yards, then a hundred more, and call it enough. Without night vision or radar, there's no way that I'm visible to anyone right now, and I'm in a clutch of short, stubby trees. I burrow down, covering myself in dry leaves for both camouflage and heat, and close my eyes, putting up a little prayer. This is no time to get impatient. Getting into the DMZ was easy. Getting across it will require every skill that I've ever learned, and a lot of luck too.

I find it easy to fall asleep, and it's comforting as I dream of Ashley. “Thought maybe you'd forgotten about me,” she teases, her belly huge. “I didn't think I was possible.”

Her teasing words bring me to tears, and she comes over, kissing my cheeks and smiling. “It's okay, Simon. I know what they did, and how they did it. The food, don't you see? You were starving, so you ate every single scrap they fed you, drank every drop of water. Too easy at that point, you couldn't refuse even if there was a funny taste.”

“The voices?” I ask her, hugging her. “What about those?”

“Oh, come on, even the CIA pulls the old hidden speaker trick. Classic psy-ops idea I bet, you probably didn't see the speakers because you were too drugged up. But enough of that, just remember that I'm here for you now.”

We embrace, her stomach comically getting in the way, and I pull back, rubbing her belly. “Wow, you're getting big. How do you feel?”

“Good. You won't mind the extra weight and stretch marks after the babies are born?” she asks shyly. “I don't want to be ugly to you.”

“You will never, ever be ugly to me,” I promise her, kissing her lips tenderly. “I love you, Ashley. Forever.”

“Good... because it's time to rejoin me,” Ashley says, her voice fading. “Time to wake up, Simon.”

“I don't want to wake up,” I complain. “I like it here with you.”

“I know. But if you wake up, you only have a little bit more to go, and then we'll be together for real. I'm waiting for the man I love. I promise you that.”

I blink, the gray early morning light filtering in to help me wake up. My bed of leaves might be softer than the concrete of my former cell, but it's colder, too, and I slowly work my way up from under my cover, getting to my knees before getting to my feet. In a lot of ways, the scenery is idyllic. I've read that the DMZ is one of the most uncorrupted wildlife areas in the entire world, and I might see some animals that very few people get to see. The Siberian tiger is one, and there's some form of black bear that's around here, too. All I need is a lion and I'm heading off for Oz.

As I wait for the sun to rise, I use little motions to try and get my muscles working, although I still feel exhausted and stiff. I'm cut and scratched all over my body, my arm throbs where Cade bit it, and as I touch my mouth, I chuckle as I feel a deep cut on my unscarred cheek, going almost all the way to my mouth. “Guess I'll have the full Glasgow smile at some point anyway. Well, why so serious?”

When I can actually see, I start off, staying low and pausing often to check out the ground in front of me. Four kilometers. If I were on a road and jogging, I could do it in twenty minutes and not break too much of a sweat. Of course, the DMZ is no clear road, and the hills and trees make the whole thing a lot more difficult. When I've gone about a kilometer, probably a few hundred feet north of the border, the trees stop, and all I see in front of me is scrubby, grassy dirt. It's not natural either, I can see the craters and impact points of the various pieces of artillery that have torn up this land from time to time for over sixty years. “Great....” I gripe, drinking the last of the water I got from Gyeong. “Unexploded ordinance. Just what I wanted to deal with.”

There isn't much I can do, really. I start off, staying to the least disturbed sections of dirt, hoping to cover the open space as quickly as I can. It's been creepy, honestly, walking across the DMZ. I haven't heard a single human sound, but I can't relax, I have to be aware that even now, a North Korean patrol or guard tower could see me and be calling in an artillery barrage. Hell, they probably have the spot pre-sighted.

There's a spurt of dirt near me, and then a second later a rifle shot, but it's coming from the wrong direction, and I haul ass, running as hard as I can for some sort of cover as a South Korean sharpshooter looks to be trying to see if he can qualify for one of the longest sniper shots in history it seems.

I scramble into the woods on the other side of the blast zone, hoping that whoever took that pot shot didn't signal to any North Korean groups coming after me where the hell I am. I slide into a bunch of bushes, trying to get under cover.

The hissing is what alerts me first, and I know I just ended up in trouble. There aren't too many poisonous snakes in Korea, but those that are, are usually found in the mountains, in untouched natural areas... like the DMZ. The viper isn't long, but it strikes fast, sinking it's fangs into my forearm before I can do anything. I scramble back as it moves off, and I look at my arm, gasping.

“Shit,” I mutter, trying to recall what I know of Korean poisonous snakes. Most of them are supposed to be not deadly to a full grown adult, but I'm not exactly in the best of health right now. I quickly fashion a pressure bandage, hoping I can slow the spread of the poison.

Taking a quick sighting of the sun, I head south again, now hoping my sharpshooter called in a patrol instead of artillery. The forest in front of me is relatively clear, and when I feel the first waves of dizziness, I slow down, leaning against a tree. Great, just great. I'd hoped I'd gotten the bite isolated in time, but at least some of it must have worked its way into my bloodstream, I'm feeling the effects. Or maybe it's Cade's bite.

I stumble along, unable to worry about mines or boobytraps now, I can't even see straight anyway. Instead, I plunge my way south, hoping that I get seen by someone who recognizes me for not being North Korean. I shrug off Geyong's web gear, there's no time to waste.

“Help!” I try to call at the top of my voice, but it doesn't come out for much. I keep going, now trying to make noise, knowing I'm racing a clock that I have no control over. My heart is racing, and I can feel my pulse in my eyes as I keep going. Sure, a snake bite like this might not kill a normal adult, but I'm alone, weak, with no water or food, and in the middle of the goddamn DMZ.

I hear people moving through the underbrush, and I keep going. If they're North Korean, I'm dead. If I pass out, I'm dead. But, maybe there's a chance.

<Who's there?>

Thank God, it's a South Korean voice. I get off my hands, raising my hands up. “Please..... Simon Lancaster, US Army.....”

The world's spinning, and I close my eyes, groaning. The voices come closer, and someone puts a hand on my arm. “Snake?”

“Snake. Please.... Ashley.....”

I try to say more, but the world goes black, and I collapse, hoping that it's enough.

Ashley

“Teacher says, every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings....”

The old movie is hackneyed, cheesy, and an absolute Christmas classic. Dad had it on VHS tape, DVD, and now Blu-Ray, complete with the promotional ornament for the Christmas tree.

So far, despite Mom and Dad trying their best, it's been the worst Christmas of my life. Still, I know there's nothing that I can do about it, and crying isn't going to change anything, so I lay on my back on the couch, just watching.

Mom however understands, and reaches forward, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and hitting the stop button. “I think that's enough Jimmy Stewart for one night,” she says, ejecting the disc. “I know it's early, but how about some chocolate cheesecake?”

That's Mom, always making things better with food. Some Moms clean to get rid of stress, some shop, some pour themselves into a career. Katherine Carlyle has always coped with stress by putting together some seriously awesome food.

“Mom, if I eat any more, I'm going to burst,” I wave off. “The twins are pushing on my stomach so much, one bite and I'm full. So lots of little, tiny bites is probably best for me. You go ahead though.”

Mom gives me a questioning look, then sits back down. “No, I think I don't need any myself. Don't want to get fat, you know.”

I smile and look Mom over. She's hardly fat. Perhaps a little bigger than she was when she was in her thirties, but she's hardly fat. “Mom, you're still pretty hot. I know Dad still thinks you're a foxy lady. Go ahead, have some if you want it.”

Mom thinks, then shakes her head. “No, I don't need it. I know it's just the nerves making me want to eat. It's hard knowing that my baby isn't happy, but also knowing there's nothing I can do about it.”

“I know, Mom. But you've been great this whole vacation. Really. Christmas Day was as good as it could have been, and I'll be honest, I don't think my laundry's smelled so fresh and clean since high school. That's a long time between dryer sheets, you know.”

“You really should look at starting to use them. I know that the rules with your ACUs are that you can't use starch, but there can't be anything wrong with using a little fabric softener, is there? Even for your dainties and your PT clothes?”

“Nah, I got used to Army laundry I guess.”

Mom groans, shaking her head. “You're just like your brothers. I never could get them to learn how to do laundry either. At least you learned some basics about real life before the Academy got its hooks into you.”

I struggle, but sit up, looking at Mom. “Mom, I never really asked over the past four years, but were you okay with me going to USMA? Me being in the Army?”

Mom gives me that sort of head-shrug that means 'it doesn't matter,' and then half smiles. “When Gavin had his accident, I thought to myself, 'okay, that'll get that madness out of the family.' Julius wasn't interested at that age, and you were still in your Mommy's girl stage. Then Julius... well, that hurt. When you said you were applying to transfer, I'd come to the realization that I couldn't control you, and that you have to be you. Yes, I've worried about it, especially knowing what the Academy is like, and knowing it'd be doubly hard for you. But now, seeing the woman you've become, I couldn't be prouder. You're my daughter, Ashley, and I love you. And I know, you're going to be a great mother.”

Her words make my throat grow tight, and I smile. “Mom, you gave me a childhood that, if I am a good mother, is the whole reason why I can be. But to hear you say that... thank you.”

Mom's about to say something when Dad comes in the room, beaming, tears streaming down his face. “Ashley... it's Korea.”

“What is it Dad?” I ask, nervous but at the same time hopeful. If Dad wasn't smiling, I'd be worried, but he's smiling. “Simon?”

Dad nods. “He was found a quarter mile inside the DMZ by a patrol of South Koreans, who were responding to activity on the North's side. He's unconscious, he was bitten by a snake and is getting treatment. They said he'll be in the hospital for a few days, but the people I talked to wanted to know when you might want to talk to him. I told them ASAP, would you like to confirm that?”

I'm trying to answer, but I'm crying too hard, but I wave for the phone anyway. Dad hands it over, and I clear my throat, trying hard to speak. “Hello?”

“Lieutenant Ashley Carlyle?” the voice on the other end asks, gravely and deep, a total military voice. “This is Colonel Keith Hunt.”

“Yes sir, I'm Ashley Carlyle. My father said something about Simon? Is he...?”

Colonel Hunt's smile is audible even through the phone line, and he laughs. “He's fine, Lieutenant. I just got done talking with his doctors at the hospital in Seoul. They're keeping him sedated for another twenty four hours to let the anti-venom work and to let his body rest and recover. He's lost a lot of weight, and he's got a long recovery ahead of him.”

“In Korea, sir?” I ask, the first thought in my mind is that I need Simon home. “Sir, if it's possible, I'm nearly eight months pregnant with Simon's twins.”

Colonel Hunt hums in appreciation. “Well, normally we wouldn't do a recovery here in Korea, it's months long. It's normally done in Japan, but I think in this case... I'll get you an answer soon, but I'm quite sure that we can have him rehabilitate inside the United States. In the mean time, we can set up a video call. Would you like to do it at home or though the Fort Lee MWR station?”

“I'm on the last two days of Christmas leave, sir, think we can do it through my home?”

“I'm sure we can get something set up. I'll call you tomorrow, Lieutenant. I just wanted you to know before it hits the news wire. Happy New Year, Lieutenant.”

“Happy New Year, sir. And sir?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you. It's a week late, but you just gave me the best Christmas gift ever.”

* * *

The video flares at first, and I realize the camera is adjusting to the lighting in the hospital room where Simon is. He's in a robe, but even with it closed all the way to his throat, I can see that he's lost an enormous amount of weight. He stares at the screen for a moment, then blinks, a smile spreading across his face when he sees me, and we just stare at each other for a moment, taking it in. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Ashley.”

It's just my name, but it sets off a crying jag, and we're both weeping, no shame at all in it as we babble and blubber. I don't even know what I'm saying, except that I love him and that he loves me. Finally, after a few minutes, we both seem to calm down, but I'm leaking from my eyes, I can't seem to stop the tears from flowing.

“It's good to see you,” I finally get out intelligibly, and Simon nods.

“It's good to see you too. I'm still kinda adjusting, I almost think this is like some sort of grand trick or something. But... it's you.”

“It is me,” I say, adjusting the camera to show my belly. “Say hello to your son and daughter.”

“You mean it?” Simon asks when I raise the camera again, his face full of wonder. “A boy and a girl? I dreamed that we had a boy and a girl.”

I nod, and I'm smiling and crying at the same time. “Me too. Hurry up getting out of that hospital, and you can still get here to help me name them. I didn't want to do that without your help.”

Simon nods, then grows somber. “You saved me, Ashley. Your letter... I was so close to breaking. There was a Major Song, she was trying to get me to be her slave... to say things... to betray you. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry....”

I shake my head, and touch his face on the screen. “Simon, it doesn't matter. You were under the influence of things that nobody can ever expect you to handle. You survived for nearly six months in there.”

“Still... I nearly betrayed you,” Simon whispers, his eyes haunted. “You gave me the strength, and I nearly betrayed you. How could you ever forgive that?”

I shake my head again, the tears flowing harder. “Simon, you didn't betray me. Ever. Even in the hard moments, you never, ever betrayed me. I love you, and there's nothing to forgive. I want you to focus on a few things for me, please?”

“What?” he asks, looking up, his eyes clearer, but still haunted. Just what kind of hell did he go through?

“Get stronger. Get out of that hospital, and come home. I already talked to someone named Colonel Hunt yesterday, he said that they'll try to have you do your rehab and recovery back here. If that's what you want.”

I know I can't pressure him, Dad talked with me about it before the video call, that right now nobody can order Simon to do anything. He's just come from a hell where orders were given by the enemy, and demanding things now would make him associate me with that pain. I just need him so badly, and seeing him like this, it hurts. I want to hold him, to let him know that he's loved, and needed.

Simon though smiles and wipes at his eyes, nodding. “Gimmie five days. I already talked with the docs, they said I'll be able to fly in five days. Get this, I'm some sort of hero they say, and they said when I'm ready, they'll fly me first class back to the States.”

“You are a hero,” I tell him, smiling. “I don't know about the rest of the country, but you're my hero. You were taken away, and you came back. More than anything else... you came back.”

We talk for another fifteen minutes, mostly trivialities, Dad told me that for a long time, conversations like this will dominate Simon's mind. He's not quite ready to confront the horrors of what he went through, and when he gets back he's going to have to talk with a lot of people. That's enough stress for him, and he's going to need a way to just reconnect and to relax. Trivial stuff is going to be the way he does that for a lot of people.

“Hey, today the docs said I might be allowed to have some French fries,” Simon says, grinning. “From McDonald's even.”

“Sounds good, babe. As you can tell, I've been indulging too. But you're going to be proud of me, you've got the healthiest set of babies in the world inside my tummy,” I reply, rubbing. “I promise you that.”

“Five days,” Simon says, smiling. “I promise you, five days. Maybe six if we count the flight time and all that crap.”

After we hang up, I can't hold back my emotions any more, and I break down, sobbing in happiness and horror at what Simon's been through, and relief that he's back. “Daddy's coming home,” I whisper to my twins, rubbing my stomach. “Pretty soon, Daddy's coming home. You just hang in there a little while longer.”

Simon

My escort, Captain Iriguchi, gives me a worried look as the airplane circles above Andrews, waiting for final clearance to land. When the military said that they were sending me back first class, I didn't quite understand what they meant. I thought I'd have a first class seat on a United flight from Seoul or something.

No. Instead, apparently I rate VIP service, sitting in the Corinthian leather seats of the modified Boeing 757 that the Air Force sometimes calls Air Force One. I checked with the crew, they've only built eight of these things, and all I can say is that I doubt there are too many five star hotels that have better facilities.

Not that I've used much of it. Just having the ability to walk around and stretch, enjoy what I want to drink, eat and do whenever I want to has been a luxury beyond understanding. I spent six months pissing in a bucket and wiping my ass with a rag that would be reused for an entire day, while for the last fourteen hours I've been enjoying a toilet that has a built in spray that washes your butt when you're done.

Now though, the ride's about done, and Captain Iriguchi's worried. She's dressed in civvies, a nondescript black suit, but I've put on my dress blues, or at least a set that the uniform shop in Korea quickly put together for me and I put on for only the second time twenty minutes ago. No way in hell am I putting on my old one, I stepped on the scale today down an even fifty pounds from my last weigh in before captivity. Guess I don't have to worry about passing my height/weight check for the foreseeable future.

“The press is probably going to be there,” Captain Iriguchi says, looking over the clipboard in her lap. She's petite, and I think she was worried at first that I'd react badly to her since she's half-Japanese, and right now Asian women are not exactly having a great track record with me. But we relaxed somewhere between Japan and Hawaii, and she's okay by me. Part of it is that she's got a Boston accent of all things, which helps, but also she's laid back. She even insisted that I don't call her ma'am, but instead likes to be called Kayla, which is cool too. “Are you okay with that?”

“If you mean do I care if a bunch of press hounds snap photos, not a problem at all,” I tell her, trying to control my demanding side. The hospital shrink in Seoul, in the one session we had together, told me that for a while I might be extra demanding at times, as a way of what he calls 'establishing my sense of safety.' Conversely, there'll be times that I'll be acting like a puppy dog, eager to please. The conditioning will take a while to shake off.

“They'll want to ask questions, you know. The Pentagon screened who they're letting in, but the media there are going to want a quote,” she says nervously. “If you don't think you can handle it, say so.”

“Pentagon and White House are worried I'm going to come off looking shattered?” I ask wryly, and Iriguchi nods. “Chill, Kayla. As long as none of the media gets in the way of me seeing Ashley, they can get a quote. They get in the way though, and you might see me kicking someone's ass on the nightly news.”

Iriguchi chuckles and nods. “Not a problem. Nobody other than Ashley Carlyle is allowed within fifty meters of the steps once we land. Orders of the President himself.”

I shake my head, still trying to wrap my head around it. “Why? I'm no hero, Kayla. I'm just a guy who got his helicopter crashed, my crewmate dead, and sat in a cell for six months.”

Iriguchi shakes her head, and bites her lip, pondering. “Would you like my opinion on it, Simon?”

“Go ahead. I'm willing to listen, we've still got some time before we land. I'm guessing the Public Affairs folks are the main reason we haven't landed yet, right?” I ask, leaning back into my seat, leaving my coat unbuttoned. “Not digging on your job at all, by the way.”

“Nope, the Dog and Pony Show must always go on,” Iriguchi says with a self deprecating laugh. “Anyway, you're a hero for a couple of reasons. They didn't tell you in Seoul, maybe my boss would get pissed if I tell you now, but your chopper was sabotaged. They wanted your specific Apache, to go down when it could cross the border. I've heard rumors, but that's your business with the Pentagon later on. So you didn't screw up, Simon. You also survived, and fought back. Regardless of if you said things to survive, you never betrayed your oath or your country. You got your own ass out of there, and you did the damn near impossible, crossing the DMZ without getting yourself killed.”

“Nearly did, though. Damn snakes. I don't think I like them any more.”

Iriguchi understands, and folds her hands in her lap. “Simon, I've only been doing Public Affairs and stuff like this for about two years now. I've participated in quite a few events where VIPs got on a microphone or made a speech talking about the heroic troops around them. To be quite honest, a lot of it was bullshit. But you, you not only got put into a horrible situation, you fought like hell. Not for the flag, not for the service, not for the United States of America. In the fourteen hours we've been sitting on this plane, other than sleeping you've talked mostly about one thing. Ashley Carlyle. I probably know more about her than I do half the soldiers who work for me. And as a woman, I can tell you I'm just a little jealous that she has someone so devoted to her. So maybe you're not the hero that the White House and the Pentagon want to make you out to be. You're not Rambo, Simon. But in Kayla Iriguchi's opinion, you're something better. You're Ashley's hero, and in this world, there aren't too many people who are that damn noble. Let the Pentagon spin the way they want, you just focus on who really matters.”

Before I can say anything, the pilot comes on and says that we've gotten clearance for landing, we'll be on the ground in five minutes. I check my seatbelt, and lean back, closing my eyes as I feel us turn and start to descend. “Kayla?”

“Yes, Simon?”

“Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”

It's closer to fifteen minutes before the plane stops. The nerves are getting to me, and my fingers tremble as I try to button my uniform coat twice before I get it right. Glancing out, I can see the honor guard, dressed in their razor sharp dress blues.

“Where's Ashley?” I ask worriedly, and Iriguchi looks out the window. “I can't see her yet.”

Iriguchi studies the crowd, then points. “There. Looks like they kept her in the hangar until the plane stopped, probably for the heat. It looks cold out there.”

I look where she's pointing, and see Ashley coming out, huge and beautiful, the sight of her relieving all of my tension of a moment before. She's trying to walk gracefully, but it's more like a waddle, and I don't care. Excitement and energy fills me, making me run up the aisle to the door, hopping back and forth as I wait for the crew to open the door. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“Simon, relax. She's still got a while to go,” Iriguchi says, patting me on the shoulder. “On the tarmac, I'll split off for a bit, go to the press conference site. I won't be speaking, but until we get you settled in, I'll be nearby. Congratulations, Lieutenant, you've got a Captain to boss around a while.”

I stop, and give Iriguchi a grateful look. “Thanks, Kayla. So, after this, do I have to call you ma'am again?”

“Only when I'm in uniform and others are around. Other than that, relax. Wait, here comes the crew.”

The plane's crew opens the door, and I'm hustling down the steps. My eyes are totally on Ashley, who stops, the tears on her face clear even as I run across the tarmac, stopping just in time to not tackle her to the pavement and hug her, kissing her deeply and holding her close. I finally feel like I'm free again.

* * *

“They want to pin a medal on you,” Ashley comments as we watch the NFL wildcard playoffs, lying side by side on her bed. She has to go back to school tomorrow, they gave her three days leave with my return. The room in the Fort Lee Lodge isn't quite big enough for two people, but after one night of restless, freaked out sleep in my own adjacent room next door, I'm just using it as a storage closet, and we've adjusted. “What do you think about it?”

“Only if they give the same medal to Chief Jensen,” I reply, not concerned as the action unfolds on the TV. I'm going to get back to work too tomorrow, after a hospital checkup I'm going to go to the Fitness Center. I may need to gain back fifty pounds, but I'm going to do it the right way. “Let them get their fifteen minutes of good press out of it, I don't really care. I have what I need right here.”

“Free food and a warm bed?” Ashley teases, and I laugh. She's been hesitant about making any sort of jokes, but she's starting to relax into her normal self again, which helps me more than she can ever understand.

“Something like that. The Internet's nice too. By the way, we promised to call Cara and Tammy again tonight,” I answer, humming happily as I hug Ashley, running my hand over her belly before I lower my lips and kiss her neck.

She purrs, arching her neck into me and giving me a whiff of her clean, natural scent, my body stirring in a way that I thought maybe was gone for a while longer. But Ashley has always had this effect on me, and I guess I still have an effect on her, too. “I've missed those kisses.”

“I don't ever want us to be apart again,” I murmur, tracing her arm with my fingers. “Actually, I had a question I wanted to ask you after you got to Korea, but I've had some time to think about it some more, and I don't want to wait any more.”

Ashley shifts, laying on her back in bed and looking at me questioningly. “If this is about family housing, my answer was going to be yes. That's kind of up in the air now.”

“True... so I had another one,” I say, climbing off the bed and getting on my knees next to her. “I was hoping... Ashley, would you marry me?”

Ashley

He's so serious, and I know what the shrinks at the hospital would say. He's desperate for security, for connection. He's not thinking straight, and maybe he's not. But I also know that we wanted this even before he was captured, and I can't help it, I know my heart, and I know his heart as well, shrinks be damned. “Yes, Simon. I will marry you.”

The smile that spreads on his face is worth it, and he takes my hand, kissing it before he starts to cry. “I... I forgot the ring. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry...”

“Shhhh...” I reassure him, knowing that it's part of his recovery. “I don't need a ring, and we can get one later. I know what I do need right now though.”

“What?” he asks, wiping at his eyes and recovering.

“I want to feel my future husband holding me... and maybe more, if he wants,” I whisper, reaching out and kissing him. “I know you said she tried to seduce you, but it doesn't matter to me. I'm your woman, Simon. And I want to give myself to you.”

Simon blinks, surprised. “You mean we can? But what about the twins?”

“I looked it up just in case, after we video chatted. I didn't know if the situation would arise, but with a little creativity, we can make love right up until I go into labor,” I reassure him. “Just no missionary, that's a no-no. Too much pressure on my belly.”

Simon laughs and rubs his hand over my stomach, which looks kind of like someone's shoved a basketball under my shirt. “Yeah, I guess so. But Ashley, I don't want to force you or anything.”

“Trust me, you're not. I would like to make love with you very much.”

Simon nods and stands up, pulling his shirt off. We've bought some clothes that will fit him for now, knowing that as he gains weight we'll be discarding a lot of it. His chest is still bony, the muscle wiry under his skin that shows the ghosts of the wounds he suffered, but he's already put on more weight, up to a hundred and fifty three pounds this morning, and I don't really care as he pushes his casual sweats and underpants down, revealing himself to me. “Still attractive?”

I nod and pat the bed where he was laying before, smiling. “Come here and I'll show you.”

Simon climbs onto the bed while I do my best to get my shorts off, and he stops my hands, helping to peel my shorts and panties off. “Still attractive to you?”

His cock twitches and grows, and we both chuckle. “Guess so,” Simon says, running his hand up the inside of my thigh. “So... give me some guidance. You said creative, how so?”

“Depends on how you want me,” I reply, my words turning into a soft moan when his fingers drag through the hair on top of my pussy. “Yeah... I grew that out again. I kinda forgot to trim them again after I got the news.”

“They're beautiful, and part of you,” Simon whispers, stretching out and kissing me tenderly. I lose myself in the twin sensations of his lips on mine and his fingers lightly playing with my pubic hair, the two of us slowly reacquainting ourselves with each other's body. “So beautiful.”

“So are you,” I remind him, running my hands through his hair. He's gotten a hair cut since a week ago, he's within Army uniform limits but it's still longer than what it used to be, and I smile. “I like the hair, by the way.”

“Then I'll keep it this way,” he promises, kissing down to my throat. It feels so good, and I let myself just murmur my appreciation, I don't even know what I'm saying as he kisses and sucks at my pulse points, nipping the skin occasionally and lighting my nerves on fire. It's almost as if by magic that he knows every place that feels good, and every place that used to feel good but doesn't now, like my hyper-sensitive nipples.

Simon's fingers drift lower, dipping inside my pussy and making me gasp, I've missed his touch so much. “Simon... my love....”

Simon slips his fingers in deep while we kiss again, his body pressed against my side but not on top of me, my skin thrilled by the contact between us. Slowly, lovingly his fingers pump in and out, my body on fire with every caress and touch. It's been so long, and my pussy is desperate, slick with the six months of missed touches and caresses, of missed whispers and shared promises. I need him, and I'm going to be his, forever and always.

Simon pulls his fingers out and gets off the bed, grabbing a pillow from his half before helping me slide down to the edge. “Is this what you meant by a little creativity?”

With my help he lifts my hips, sliding the pillow under my lower back and lifting my hips, my pussy on the edge of the bed as he stands, no weight on me at all but still I'm able to look into his eyes, the look on his face as he takes me in. “This... is perfect,” I coo, lifting my shirt up and pulling it over my head to free my breasts. “I know you've missed these.”

“I've missed every inch of you,” Simon whispers, taking his cock in his hand and squeezing it, bringing it to full hardness and looking me over. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Simon. Please... do what you want.” I'm conscious of the words, and while I'm choosing them carefully, there's nothing but intense meaning behind them as Simon shivers and steps forward, lifting my legs up and out to the side. His cock is so big, and looks even bigger on his skinny frame, but it's still amazing as he slides into me slowly, both of us shivering and groaning as he sinks, inch by inch, inside me. “Yes... oh God yes....”

Simon's silent, his eyes closed in rapture as he pushes in, pausing when I squirm in pain, and stops halfway in. He looks down, then grins sheepishly. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“Don't worry, just go slow,” I rasp, the pain disappearing as he pulls back and starts to stroke in and out. It only takes a few more thrusts before I feel him all the way inside, and in a perverse, sexy way I feel more womanly than I have in my entire life. My midsection bulges, filled to overflowing with the life building inside me, the man who completes me and gave me this gift now inside me, his cock filling me totally. I reach down and take his hands, entwining our fingers. “Forever, I swear, here and now, I will be your woman and wife. I love you.”

“And I will always be your man and husband,” Simon promises before pulling back and thrusting in again. It's heaven, my body crying out in pleasure as he lights my nerves with his electric touch, our hands clasped as he strokes in and out, not rough, neither of our bodies wanting or needing that. Instead, his cock moves on its own, our souls connecting and completing the healing inside us. I can feel his pain inside him, and I pour myself into him even as he fills me, our bodies, minds and spirits becoming one again.

His cock moves faster, both of us in harmony as we make love, my thighs trembling with sensations that shoot down my legs from my pussy to make my toes curl on their own. His cock fills me, my body lit up with pleasure with every thrust, the heat building between us as we look into each other's eyes. It can't last long, it's been so many months in between for both of us, but it doesn't matter, minutes can last hours or an eternity when we're like this.

I can feel his hips quiver, he's trying to hold back and draw it out, so I wrap my legs around him and pull him into me, letting him know he doesn't need to hold back, he just has to be himself with me. Tears trickle down both of our faces as Simon speeds up, his cock nearly blurring inside me as each thrust seems to start even before the one before it ends, my body rising higher and higher with each passing beat of my heart.

My mouth drops open, I'm gasping for air in my lungs as the waves build inside me, and my pussy clenches, squeezing on his cock as I feel my climax trembling on the edge. Simon grunts, his cock thrusting harder and faster now, and then I'm there, every nerve in me crying out in happiness as I come, giving myself totally to my man, this man that I love. I feel more than hear him cry out, and his warmth fills me, his cock deep inside me and causing my heart to explode in joy.

We stay that way for long moments before Simon pulls out, sweat shining on his body as he gasps for air, his body taxed. “I... I...”

“Come here, my love,” I say, scooting back as best I can and holding my arms out to him. He collapses on the bed, and I pull him into my arms, laying his head on my chest as he sobs, the demons inside him purging themselves from his heart at least for the moment. I know there's a long way to go, but that's okay. “I'm here, Simon. I'll always be here for you.”

Simon's sobs slow, and I feel him drift off into an exhausted sleep. I kiss his forehead and lay back, snatching the pillow from above me and tucking it behind my head. When my phone rings, I pick it up, holding it to my ear and speaking softly. “Hey Tammy. Hmmm?”

“I said, why are you whispering?”

“Simon's sleeping on my chest. I don't want to wake him, but I want to tell you guys first. He asked me to marry him,” I whisper, smiling. “You can guess my answer.”

“That you have to check with your sisters, right?” Tammy jokes, and I giggle. “Congrats. Tell you what, hold off on the official announcement until after he wakes up and you two can tell us together. I know he'll like that.”

“He will. And Tammy?”

“What's up, Ash?”

“Would you like to be my maid of honor?” I ask. “I can't think of anyone else that I would like more.”

“Damn straight I would. Cara gets to be in the whole group as well, right?”

“Of course. I'll call you guys later. My first official announcement's going to be to my folks after Simon wakes up. Then you guys. I love you.”

Tammy sighs happily, and I know how she feels. After all, we're sisters. “I love you too, Ash. 'Bye.”

* * *

“Since your due date is so close to the end of the course, I talked with the school commandant,” Captain Simson says while I sit on the other side of the desk, feeling huge, “and we've both agreed that while it might be possible under normal circumstances for you to graduate with your class, with the particular situation you're in, we feel that it's best that you go on maternity leave. You'll have to repeat the last month of the course after delivery, but that's okay, we'll just bump you back to the class behind you. Your choice however.”

I could fight it, but I know that he's right. By taking the recycle, it gives time for Simon and myself to both get back into condition and get married before we go back. “Sir, that sounds good. Although I'm not very good at sitting around on my fourth point of contact and doing nothing.”

“I would hear nothing of it,” Captain Simson says. “Actually, that was another thing the commandant wanted me to address with you. In addition to helping Lieutenant Lancaster, his schedule takes priority right now, you'll become my assistant here for as much as you can handle. It's not much, a little typing, poking around the office for the most part, but we'll try to keep you busy for the weeks until you want to go on full leave.”

I smile, knowing he's trying his best. “Sounds good, sir. You might if I still sit in with Captain Bali's classes when there's free time?”

“Of course not. In fact, if you get a move on, you'll catch the beginning of his lecture on basic sealoading operations. That's a fun one, you get to play with the Squids,” Captain Simson says. “Carry on, Lieutenant.”

I make my way up to the lecture hall, sitting in the back instead of taking up a desk as Captain Bali starts his lesson. There's a stir about halfway through when Simon comes in, wearing his current set of ACUs, and talks with Captain Bali, who nods and points to me. Simon comes back and sits down in the chair next to me, leaning over. “Your CO said I can sit through lectures in my spare time with you if I want.”

“Don't you want to catch up on six months of pop culture and TV instead?” I ask. “It is just Transpo.”

“I want to be next to you,” Simon says with quiet intensity, and I feel protected and loved more than ever. The lecture restarts, and at the lunch break, Simon helps me to my feet. “Okay, it wasn't exactly as exciting as when I was in Aviation classes. That was... well, at least I can say I've been through worse.”

His sense of humor is returning slowly, and I have to smile as we leave the lecture hall. He stops and reaches into his pocket, taking out a box. “By the way... I don't know if you want a ceremony on this or not.”

I open the box, looking at the white gold engagement ring inside, and shake my head. “Nope. We'll save the ceremony for the wedding. If we don't do that, Cara and Tammy are going to kick our butts.”

“Your Mom and Dad too,” Simon says, rolling his shoulder and wincing. “Protein powder, creatine, and all that's good, but I gotta remember I'm not going to regain the strength and weight overnight. Damn I could use a massage.”

“If you don't mind a massive bellied woman doing it, I could take care of that tonight,” I reassure him. My belly twinges, and I stop, rubbing. “Hmmm, maybe not.”

“Another one?” Simon asks, concerned. “Painful?”

“No.. just deep, different than I've had before,” I tell him, breathing deeply. “I go full term in only a few weeks, I'm not that early, and they say twins come faster than single babies. Think we should get to the hospital?”

“Better to be safe,” Simon says, leading me to the elevator. “So how can we tell false labor from the real thing?”

I feel wetness soak my pants, and I look down, surprised. “That's how.”

We end up taking my car to the hospital, it's faster than waiting for an ambulance, and twenty minutes later I'm in just my undershirt and a hospital robe thingy. Simon's out in the hallway calling everyone, and comes in a minute later, his face happy but serious. I've seen it before, it's his mission focused face. “Okay, Mom and Dad are on the way, Cara and Tammy are notified, and I told Brenda to fuck off when she called me wanting to worm her way back in.”

“Really?” I ask, gathering my breath in between contractions. Okay, okay, I've been a bit lazy with my Lamaze classes, but if I can get through Sandhurst, I can get through this. Especially now that Simon's here with me. “How'd she take it?”

“Don't know, I hung up on her after I said it. I get it, I'm nominally famous, but she can still go fuck off. I've got my family now.”

Another contraction starts, and Simon helps me bear down, holding hands with me the whole time. Things go quickly, I'm lucky for that, and Andromeda Julia Carlyle Lancaster is born at five seventeen PM, February twentieth, with her brother William Gavin Carlyle Lancaster coming at five thirty. Eight hours of labor, not too damn bad, but I'm still exhausted as I hold my babies in the hospital room, Simon next to me, his face full of amazement as Andromeda holds his finger while she sleeps.

“I guess it's pretty tough on them too,” Simon says wonderingly as William yawns and closes his eyes. “How're you feeling?”

“Tired but not sleepy yet,” I whisper, looking down. “We did it.”

“You did all the hard work, I've only been around a few weeks,” Simon protests, “but that's going to change. When you go back to school, I'm going to be a total Mr. Mom, taking care of them all day and all night if need be.”

“You'll have help,” Dad says from the doorway, where he and Mom have just come in. “I'd hoped to get here in time, but you were in quite a rush, Ashley.”

Mom and Dad come in, and I show them their grandchildren. “Andromeda... and William.”

“Andromeda?” Mom asks, curious. “Why Andromeda?”

“It's Tammy's middle name,” Simon explains. “Actually, these two have middle names with meaning too. Andromea Julia... and William Gavin.”

Mom and Dad blink, and for the first time in years I see my Dad start to cry. “Thank you,” he says, leaning down and kissing my forehead before kissing William and Andi. “Thank you both.”

Simon

I'm finally feeling like my old self again, even if I am up to only one seventy five, but it's a lean, fit one seventy five. I know Ashley likes how I look, and while we've waited to allow her body to recover before becoming intimate again, our morning showers and nightly massages have taken on an edge to them that we've both missed over the past weeks.

The handles on the machine quiver, and I push harder, trying to grind out one more rep. If I'm going to be allowed back behind the controls of an Apache, here is where I prove it, not to the medical board, but to myself.

Finally, with one titanic heave, I get the weights up, and hold them still for a moment before lowering them and sitting up, wiping the sweat from my forehead. Spring is coming to Virginia, and I'm glad. I've had my worst nightmares and after effects with the cold more than anything else, and I'm looking forward to warm days and nights again.

“Nice job,” the center staffer says. He's wiping down the machines and trying to get a jump on his work. He and I have gotten to the point of a nodding acquaintance in the past few months, one of those people that you know the face but never really talk to. I'm just too focused on my children, my wife, and my rehabilitation, in that order. Still, he and I have passed words once or twice.

“Thanks. Gotta do what I gotta do,” I say, grabbing my water bottle and taking a swig. “Hey, have you wiped down the cable stacks yet?”

“Go ahead,” the guy replies, squirting the pad on the machine I just finished. “Use whatever you want, I'd say you earned it.”

“Thanks,” I acknowledge, not asking how he knows about me. I've been on TV enough, I even got my USMA graduation photo in The Army Times.

After a quick shower, I take over the babies from Ashley. She's got her bag packed, and she'll change into her ACUs at the fitness center after a quick shower and chug a meal replacement shake on her way to class. It's a tight schedule, but we make it work. “After you get home, massage time?”

Ashley smiles and kisses me tenderly. “Maybe more too. I've been feeling it all morning thinking of those hard muscles of yours working under the iron. You're quite the stud, Simon Lancaster.”

“With a woman like Ashley Lancaster to inspire me, I feel like it,” I reply, pulling her close and letting our kiss deepen for a moment. Okay, so going through training isn't quite the classic honeymoon, but we'll celebrate after she graduates tomorrow. “Go, enjoy the last day of class, and we'll be here for you when you get back.”

The day proceeds well, Andi and Will are wonderfully helpful for infants who are less than three months old, and when I have an appointment at fourteen hundred at the Post Command Center, nobody says anything as I carry them in their two carriers through the halls, one in each arm with their bag on my back. I leave them with the Post Commander's secretary in the outer office, with quiet assurances that if they start to cry they'll be taken care of.

“Sir, Lieutenant Lancaster reports to the Post Commander as ordered!” I say, stepping in and snapping a salute. I finally feel like a soldier again, my body fit and my mind more or less back to normal, even if some of the scars might never totally fade. I'm not talking about my facial cut, or the bite mark on my arm, they're mostly invisible by now. I'm thinking of the scars in my mind, which still wake me up when I have to sleep alone and I find myself huddled in a ball with my blanket pulled around me for warmth even though I'm in a climate controlled house.

“Relax, Lieutenant,” Major General Thomason, the Fort Lee commander, says. “Have a seat. How're the twins?”

“Good, sir. Andi's been having a little problem with sleeping, but Will reaches out and comforts her at night. We tried having them sleep apart, but those two insist on sleeping together. And Ashley's doing well too.”

“Yes, your wife is doing quite well, I just looked over her scores. Not quite the Honor Grad, but quite good,” MG Thomason says. “And you, are you feeling good?”

“All I want to do is have my honeymoon, and get behind the controls of an Apache again,” I tell him honestly. “I know I need some simulator time, but I'm itching to do it.”

General Thomason nods, then sighs. “Unfortunately Simon, that's why I called you here. I wanted to pass along the news personally.”

“What is it, sir?” I ask, dread running through me. “Are they taking me out of the Apache?”

General Thomason nods his head sadly. “Unfortunately. The Pentagon felt that with your ordeal in North Korea, that sending you and your wife there, especially with two babies, was not in the best interests of your family or the Army. So you've both been reassigned. Here's your orders.”

He hands over an envelope, and I tear it open reading the contents. “The 52nd Regional Support Command? Sir, that's not an active duty unit, I don't even know who they are. From the orders they look like a Reserve unit here in Virginia. Whoever they are, they sure as hell don't have helicopters. What the hell do they need an Aviation officer for?”

“Who knows? The Pentagon makes decisions that even us generals don't sometimes understand,” Thomason says. “I know this is a tough break for you, Simon. You've busted your butt getting back into shape physically and mentally. I'm sympathetic to your desire. Think of it this way, at least you'll have your family with you, and you can spend a few years getting that squared away before you do something else.”

I shake my head, frustrated. “Sir, by the time I finish this out, I'll be a Captain. There aren't too many Captains in Aviation still flying. This is a knife to my career.”

“Perhaps,” Thomason says, looking at me sympathetically. “Do your job well, and you'll never know what might turn up for you.”

I hear a little cry from the office outside, and I save my comment. “I gotcha, sir. Thank you.”

I stand up and give Thomason a salute, which he returns. “Good luck, Simon.”

“Thank you, sir. If you'll excuse me, that's Andi.”

Outside, I see that Will's woken up too, looking at his sister and his face working as well, but he's not crying yet. I kinda feel like crying though, and I lean over sniffing. “Yeah, my sentiments exactly,” I tell Andi as I smell the poopy diaper. They say baby diapers don't smell before they're a certain age, maybe my kids just started the stinky poop faster. “My sentiments exactly.”

* * *

“At least we'll be together,” Ashley says as we follow the map towards the address that's given as the headquarters of the 52nd Regional Support Command. “I know being taken out of the Apache sucks, but there's that.”

“I know, Ash. And I'll get over it. I just... I want to fly it one more time, just one more time,” I tell her. I turn left, and proceed down the empty blacktop which looks like it goes nowhere. “And we'll stay close to your Mom and Dad. That'll be nice, I'm sure they'll appreciate being able to see the twins more often.”

There's a building up ahead, a squat concrete block that looks more like a delivery warehouse than an office building. In front, on a small brown metal sign is 'US Army Reserve, 52nd Regional Support Command.'

“Guess this is it,” Ashley says as I turn into the parking lot, putting the car in park. She gets out, and smooths her ACUs over her figure. She's pushed herself hard to get back in shape, and the changes that are left make her all the more beautiful to me. Sure, there's a few stretch marks around her belly button, her hips are a little wider, she did push two children out through there. Then again, her C cups are now solid Ds, something any man can appreciate, and she's still got that amazing auburn hair and face that our daughter has copied. Maybe it is a resting bitch face, but when I kiss her lips, the smile is that of an angel.

Ashley notices my look, and smiles, blushing. “What?”

“You're beautiful, that's all. I'm sorry if I have been whiny about losing the Apache. I gained something more. I gained you. I'll trade all the Apaches in the world for that.”

Ashley comes over and gives me a kiss, smiling. “Careful there, Lieutenant Lancaster. That's dangerously close to sexual harassment.”

“Noted, Lieutenant Lancaster. Come on, let's report in.”

We go up to the solid door, finding that we have to buzz to get in. The girl who opens the door is in a civilian woman's suit, and looks at us with a smile when she waves us in. “Oh, the Lancasters. Good, the Colonel's been expecting you.”

“Thanks,” Ashley says. “Uh, are you one of the GS civilians?”

“Not quite,” the woman, who's got streaky blond and brown hair and a little smile on her face still, says. “We do things a little different in the 52nd. You'll see soon enough. Come with me.”

She escorts us to the back of the building, past a line of nondescript doors, until she reaches the one at the end. She knocks, and opens the door. “Colonel Carlyle? They're here.”

“Colonel Carlyle?” Ashley and I say together, going in wonderingly. I blink, stunned as Henry Carlyle gets up from behind his desk, in his own set of ACUs. “Henry?”

“Hmph, I thought they taught you how to report properly at the Academy. The Corps has,” Henry says gruffly, and I snap to attention, saluting. Ashley does the same, reporting according to protocol, and Henry returns the salute. “Okay, that's the first, last, and only time you two are going to salute me, by the way. Major Ursek obviously didn't fill you guys in all that much.”

“Sorry Henry, I thought the surprise would be fun,” our escort says, her eyes twinkling. “I think it was more than worth it. Sorry for that, I'm Dee Ursek, your Ops Officer. Nice to meet you both. We'll talk later.”

I shake, still stunned at seeing Henry in uniform, in an office. Major Ursek leaves, closing the door behind her, and I turn, looking at Henry. “I think you have a lot of explaining to do, Henry.”

“I do,” Henry says, pointing to the couch. “First off, welcome to the 52nd. As for what the 52nd is, well, it's no Regional Support Command. It's... well, let's just say we're the unit that watches the watchmen.”

“What do you mean, Dad?” Ashley says, still sounding rattled as we sit down. “You retired.”

“That's what I am publicly. In reality, I'm the commander of the 52nd. I'm still active, a full bird now, and my job is to keep track of all the stuff that the Army doesn't want people to know about. Such as the man who sabotaged your Apache, Simon. Publicly, it's swept under the rug. But that's what the 52nd does, we're the ones who take care of what's under the rug,” Henry says. “You ever get into spy novels?”

“Not since West Point, sir,” I reply, realization slowly dawning on me. “So... why all this?”

Henry looks at both of us and smirks. “I need people I can trust. I've got five, maybe six years max before I have to retire. I need to know in that amount of time, that the family legacy lives on. Ashley, I never told you, but your Grandfather also commanded the 52nd when he 'retired' from active duty. I owe you an apology I know, and later on we'll have one. But for now... what do you say?”

I look over at Ashley, who nods. “I'm in. Simon?”

I nod, and look back at Henry. “Is there a chance I get to fly helicopters?”

Henry laughs and stands up. “Simon, you're going to find that you get to do all sorts of interesting things for the rest of your career. Both of you, welcome to the 52nd.”

Epilogue

Ashley

“Your five year reunion is coming up,” I mention casually to Simon as we wash up the dishes, looking over at my husband. He's never quite gotten all the way back up to the one ninety he was before Korea, but he's fitter, and more importantly, I love him more now than the day we first kissed. “Do you want to go?”

“I was thinking about it,” Simon says, wiping down the cast iron skillet before putting it away. “It'll be nice to see Cara and Tammy again. Skype's nice, but being able to hug our sisters, that's more important to me. What about you, do you want to go?”

“I want to if for no other reason than to see Cara pregnant,” I tell him as I get to work on the plates. “I always thought Tammy would be the one if either of them decided to have babies.”

“Well, Cara's at the right spot, if you think about it. She's strong, she's fit, and she can do it before she reports for the Captain's Career Course at Sill. Although to go from Germany back to Sill, that's gonna suck,” Simon comments. “Speaking of which, did you enjoy Germany six months ago?”

“How could I not? It was the first time I've heard you actually speak French,” I comment, smiling. “Those nights were memorable.”

My duty phone rings, and I look, it's Dad. I give Simon a glance, and he can't help but smile. Dad doesn't call on the duty phone unless it's important. “Good evening, Dad. You just missed dinner.”

“Sorry to hear it. I have a mission for you two. This one will have special purpose to you two. How'd you like to participate in the capture of Major 'Jenny' Song of the Democratic People's Republic of Korea and the Chinese People's Liberation Army?”

I glance at Simon, who's got an anticipatory look on his face. “I think we'd like that a lot. What's the timeline?”

“Two weeks, in South Korea. You can leave the kids with me and Katherine.”

I cover the mouthpiece, and look at Will and Andi, who’re finishing up their desserts like only little kids can. “How'd you two like to spend a couple weeks at Grandma and Grandpa's?”

Of course they love it, Mom loves it too, and Simon's grin spreads. “Really?”

I nod. “We might get to say hello to your old friend Jenny from Korea. You game?”

Simon's grin turns slightly predatory, and he nods. “When do we leave?”

I repeat the question to Dad, who chuckles. “Tomorrow morning. You'll be back in time for Simon's class reunion. Meet me at the 52nd at seven thirty. Good night.”

“Good night, Dad.”

I hang up the phone, and turn to Simon. Simon puts his arms around my waist and kisses me, his passion already evident by the stiffness in his pants. “Jenny Song?”

“The Songbird herself it seems,” I giggle, feeling his cock push against my hip. “You're already looking forward to it from the feeling in your pants. Or is that just me?”

“That's all you,” Simon growls, pulling me close. “Do you know how sexy it is to have a secret agent wife who's also my partner?”

“Well, this will be the last partnered mission for a little while,” I whisper, kissing his lips quickly. “After this, I'm going on profile for the next few months. Congratulations, Simon. You're going to be a father again.”

Simon's smile is all I need, and we embrace, looking forward to the future.

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Also by Jesse Jordan