Five things that make my life miserable

1. Timed showers

2. Rules

3. People breaking the rules

4. Familial duty

5. Ash (See rules 2,3, & 4)

The small, green light by the showerhead turned amber, and flashed five times. Mary furiously attempted to rinse out the remaining soap bubbles before the water shut off, with the little red light remaining that way until it blinked green again in 8 hours time.

Water, like everything else on base that had a budget, was carefully managed, used and recycled. It had to be imported by tanker, and the commanding officials were not keen on it being wasted by those who fancied themselves a prima donna whilst carrying out their morning ablutions. It also meant no one was late for roll call. Mary could understand their stinginess, but it didn't mean that she didn't think of the bathroom of Longbourne, in all of its beige glory, with an air of longing.

She pulled on her grey uniform, and left her bunkroom to go to breakfast. Breakfast was the best part of Mary's day, because it was only on very special occasions that everything went wrong before she became acquainted with her tea and toast. She could sip and contemplate humanity in the knowledge that today she might scrape it through without being responsible for any screw-ups.

She hadn't even made it out of the Southern Wing before her pager bleeped, and deep in her heart, Mary knew what it would say before she had even unclipped the device. She had been expecting it ever since she had reluctantly signed off his mission that (apparently) required six flame-throwers, a ten-year-old gymnast, a potato peeler and a genie's bottle. Honestly, she was impressed it had taken as long as two weeks.

Mary reached the intersection where the domestic quarters joined the main artery of corridors that connected the base together, and paused to mourn the breakfast that might once have been hers if she were to continue down the corridor. The moment ended, and Mary turned right instead of left towards the law department, and all the joys held within.

Mabzinio's office was in bare essentials like almost every other room on the base. It was functional and square, with few personal touches or artistic flair. Mabzinio was a tall, wiry man, with a pencil moustache and rimless spectacles perched across his broad nose. He was behind his desk, contemplating the ceiling and clicking his rollerball pen when Mary entered the room. She didn't mention anything about rocking on two legs of his chair.

"How bad is he?" she asked bluntly.

"Mild concussion. They are keeping him under observation." Replied the lawyer, still gazing at the ceiling. Mary couldn't see the interest. Plasterboard tiles, like every other office in the facility.

Mary hesistated, "And the gymnast?"

Mabzinio shifted his attitude to give Mary his full attention – he leant forward, placed the pen on the desk, linked his fingers together, and placed four chair legs firmly on the floor. A calm smile graced his features.

"All is well."

Mary wasn't convinced. One did not get paged at 7:15 because 'all was well'.

"I see I have not convinced you. Please, Officer Bennet, take a seat." He gestured to an identical chair the near side of the desk. "I was surprised too. We know Ash well, you and I. Perhaps too well?"

"Well enough," replied Mary. "It's not uncommon in my line of work, I am afraid."

"Nor in mine." He replied, smiling. "But then, without people like Ash, would we have these jobs?" he shrugged. "Probably not."

"What do you need me to sign?" asked Mary wearily.

"To the point as ever, Officer." He replied, pulling out a manila folder in the calm deliberate way of his.

"I am missing my breakfast for this."

"Ah," He paused briefly. "My apologies." he nodded in acknowledgement.

Mary withdrew the thin wedge of papers from the folder, and began to scan them.

"How did he hit his head on a tree? He was no-where near a tree." She frowned. "The local language doesn't even have a word for tree! There was a reason they weren't included in the risk assessment."

"Events took an unexpected and unanticipated turn in direction. Unfortunately, the details are unclear." Mary didn't know why this surprised anyone anymore.

"Agent Lockley's memory has been sadly compromised. The doctors cannot say with certainty that his memories of the incident will ever fully return, or to what level of accuracy. In interests of efficiency, officials have decided not to wait the indefinite amount of time it may take to clearly establish the chain of events that led to this relatively minor outcome, but to file the reports with the information we have now and move on."

One knew all the tricks in the damage limitation book when it came to dealing with Ash and his ilk. There was a reason Ash's secretary was a lawyer.

There were fewer pages than Mary had originally feared. Most were duplicates, so they could be ferried and backed up and buried in all the correct departments. It was the usual confidentiality forms, technical specs, and a rather limp collection of statements from Ash, the gymnast, and the five members of the team unit that Ash had been commanding. She dutifully scrawled her signature in the indicated places, and by the time she was on the last one, a hot pain au chocolat and coffee had appeared in front of her.

"To make up for your lost breakfast." Offered Mabzinio genially. Mary gaped. She hadn't seen pain au chocolat since Elizabeth's wedding breakfast. It was practically mythical this far out in the sticks. "Don't worry. I will bill it to Ash."

…..

Mary had been unsure whether Ash's superiors would deem it necessary to inform next of kin of his injuries. Normally for something so minor they wouldn't bother, but Ash had previously requested home leave for the following week. Nobody had seemed sure quite who would be informing Lord and Lady Matlock their eldest would not be gracing their presence.

Personally, Mary had been in favour of releasing Ash on his nearest and dearest and seeing if anyone would notice the difference, providing it didn't result in Elizabeth chewing her ear off. Elizabeth seemed to think Mary was just a highly militarised baby-sitter. What she didn't seem to appreciate was that Mary was a relatively minor member of a team of people who worked very hard just to keep their reckless, covert operative alive, and that Ash had a lot more to answer to when it came to his personal safety than she did. However, attempting to explain this was pointless, and all Mary could hope was that she would be transferred before Lydia qualified as an agent. That didn't bare thinking about.

It had turned out that nobody, not even Ash, had informed any of his relatives that there had been a change in plans. This was why Mary was sitting in one of the snug little booths of the Post Office, with a telephone receiver pressed up against her ear and swearing that if he wasn't already, Ash would soon be concussed until Christmas.

"We were wondering if you had heard from Ash at all?" Elizabeth dropped nonchalantly, after exchanging pleasantries.

Having seen no need to go to the infirmary in person, Mary could technically say she had not. Heard about him? Sure. Direct communication? No.

"Haven't you?" she offered, innocently enough.

"No." Replied Elizabeth darkly. "He was meant to be with Lord and Lady Matlock for the last few days, but he never arrived. They contacted Fitzwilliam this morning wondering if he had come straight here for Georgiana's birthday celebrations."

Mary idly stared at the graffiti scratched into the small table in front of her, and fiddled with the telephone coil. She wondered briefly if there was any way she would get out of this unscathed. She decided not.

Ash was buying her pains au chocolat until Christmas.

"Ash's memory is a bit hit and miss at the moment, or so I'm led to believe."

"No-one forgets they're on paid leave."

"Depends how hard they hit their head."

Let it never be said that Elizabeth was slow.

"How hard did he hit his head?"

"I am not at liberty to comment."

"Mary!"

"He'll be fine. But he can't go anywhere until he is dismissed from the infirmary."

"Why didn't anyone tell us!"

"Because it wasn't that serious!"

"He's in hospital! What do you mean it's not that serious?!" Elizabeth hissed.

"And you wonder why we don't ring home every time someone gets a paper cut?" Mary bit back.

"What happened?"

"You know better than to ask that, Lizzie."

"Why wasn't he wearing a helmet?"

"Here we go." Muttered Mary.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know I can't talk about this Lizzie," Mary said bluntly. An evil thought flickered across her mind "but I will make sure Ash gives someone a ring as soon as he can form coherent sentences. Bye!"