War Between Two doctors

by sydney563

AU: Bo and Lauren are humans. This is from Bo's POV. Bo is a doctor fresh from war and has to work with her ranking officer and new boss Lauren. Bo's get it done style as a doctor clashes with Lauren's methodical, OCD ways. Personalities conflict and as usual drama. Doccubus through and through. I wanted to try something where Bo was a doctor. Cover image done by @tsparklingblue!

1. Chapter 1

This is something new, Bo's POV and based off an idea sent to me by Athena64 and a strange curiosity of what if expanding on Lauren's own service. In time there will be a sequel to this as I re-work this story and clean it up.

Enjoy! Read and review!

As usual, I do not own anything lost girl. I just borrow the characters. Everything else is mine.

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My story starts at sea... a perilous voyage to an unknown land... a shipwreck... the wild waters roar and heave... the brave vessel is dashed all to pieces, and all the helpless souls within her drowned... all save one... a lady... whose soul is greater than the ocean... and her spirit stronger than the sea's embrace... not for her a watery end, but a new life beginning on a stranger shore. It will be a love story... for she will be my heroine for all time.

-Shakespeare.

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The overwhelming roar of the transport planes engines rattled me to the bone. I was thankful for the earplugs that a young private gave me when I was situating my bags on the plane. I had been staring at the metal floor for an undetermined amount of time, letting the coinciding vibrations of metal being shaken heavily as we traveled through rough airspace, numb my body along with my mind. I could feel my fellow passenger's eyes on me since I had sat down.

Even though we were all swathed in beige and brown camouflage, I stood out. I was a sight for sore eyes to the men going home and a surprise to the men just starting their new life in the desert. I was the only female and officer on the plane, pulling most of the attention and stares as soon as I walked on. I broke my own stare and looked around the inside of the old AC 130; everyone was so young and full of nerves. I smiled lightly at one young soldier who had to be fresh out of high school; he smiled back, blushing as he began to fidget with his uniform sleeves. I sighed heavily; my own nerves were boiling over inside me.

The epic length of the flight was a chance for me to stop and think, collect my thoughts some could say. I had jumped on this flight with a bit of bribing and promises of goods sent from home. I had been just on the edge of the green zone in Saudi Arabia. This flight was full with a handful of veterans and the rest fresh faced new recruits, replacements who would be landing in Iraq in a few hours and getting the first taste of what I had for the last year and a half. I was going home and I couldn't bring myself to look at all of the young eager faces, knowing what awaited them. My orders were handed to me the moment I arrived in the British Naval hospital in Saudi Arabia. I had gone with a critical patient to make sure that he survived the bumpy helicopter trip. As soon as I handed him off to the doctors there, an army sergeant ran up to me with a package, winking at me as he handed it over. I instantly knew what it was and began the bribery process to get onto the first flight back to Iraqi so I could get the first flight back home. I could already smell the smells home brought with it, the tastes, and the feel of the rain on my skin. Real rain that wasn't mixed with the stale smell of sand and blood.

I smiled as the thoughts of home filled my head when a shaky but strong voice broke my daydreaming, "Excuse me ma'am." The young soldier who had been fidgeting, was yelling over the sound of the engines. A few other passengers looked at him, but most was caught up in their own worries or had their IPods up louder than recommended.

I looked up to meet the voice coming from the fresh out of high school solider, I smiled at him.

"Ma'am, sorry to bother you, but can I ask what a Navy officer is doing on a plane full of Army?"

I laughed, "It was the only ride in town." my voice echoed through the rumble of the engines.

The soldier smiled and shook his head, "You in a hurry to get to Iraq?" I could see his eyes run over me, smiling wider as I knew that this was his feeble attempt at flirting with an officer.

I didn't answer him back; I just shrugged and let the sudden turbulence end the conversation. I didn't want to tell him that I was going home. He was about to start his year long experience and I didn't want to make a homesick kid anymore homesick. I flashed him a wide grin and motioned him to sit as we hit another bump of turbulence.

I kept my stare on the metal floor for the rest of the flight. I wanted to avoid any more casual conversations with anyone. When the plane landed, one of the flight crew came up the middle of the ramp and started yelling instructions to the soldiers who instantly sat straight up. Standing up on cue and clutching their bags. When the rear of the plane opened up, throwing desert sun and sand into the mix of airplane smells, I sat and squinted. I stayed seated as everyone was herded out with yelling and screaming. When the plane was empty, leaving eerie silence with the rumbling of the idling engines, I moved to stand at the edge of the plane and took one last deep breath of the sand, the heat and the stink of the war I was leaving behind.

---

Almost six hours later I was sitting in a cool, quiet airplane seat that had me fidgeting at the overall sense of calm atmosphere that I had not experienced in a long time. I was freezing; I had changed in a terminal bathroom in Berlin. My hands shook a little as I stripped my uniform off in the bathroom, throwing on dirty civilian clothes I had in my carry on. Stuffing the sandy camouflage into my backpack. I wanted to avoid more unwanted comments that my uniform brought forth. My weary, worn uniform had been drawing too much attention and too much unwanted conversation. One fellow passenger was relentless in asking me what I did in the military. Looking at all my ribbons and my bars, questions following his eyes.

When I responded that I was a combat doctor in a trauma unit that saw heavy casualties on a daily basis, he then asked me if I watched anyone die. I gave him a dirty look and told him go fuck himself and had sit in the plane bathroom for a half hour, calming myself down. I had lost what little patience I had when I was younger, replaced by a quick fierce temper that offered no apologies.

I was exhausted and looking forward to sleeping for the last leg of the trip. It had been a hard goodbye, saying farewells to my trauma unit nurses and fellow doctors. My right hand, Betsy the best nurse any doctor could ask for, had given me a letter and a small package that had a photo album of my last year at the 85th mash unit. The unit was in the heaviest part of the conflict right outside Baghdad, we saw a lot, did a lot and lived through it as best as we could. All of my team had signed the album, citing that Lieutenant Ysabeau "English Bo" Dennis, USN was loved by many, hated by more and will always remain the sand princess. But was one of the best doctors any of them had ever worked with and an officer that they would envy to serve under again. I had cried for the second time in a year, tears of joy mixed with sadness. I was leaving my second family and so fearful of what lay ahead for them, and feeling the heavy guilt that I was given the ticket home before them.

I pulled up the square of red felt the airline called a blanket and snuggled into it, trying to find sleep. I absently placed my hand around the dog tags that sat warmly on my chest. I had lucked out, the seat next to me was empty, a missed flight. The silence around me was painfully deafening for my ears. The only sounds were the hushed tones of mixed conversation, peanut packages being devoured, ice moving in plastic cups. All of it sounded so foreign to me. I had to put my earplugs back in just to shut the white noise out. I closed my eyes and let the gentle vibrations of the plane calm me.

When I went to pull down the window shade to cut out the glow of the plane's wing lights, I caught a glimpse of myself in the night reflection. My dark brown eyes always stood out against my shoulder length dark brown hair, both of which I had inherited from my mother. My face was made up of edgy angles that friends commented often on, saying that I could have been a movie star instead of a doctor. That I had the graceful face of an old time English actress, there could been some little truth behind those guess-timations.

I was English, but I was also American. The dark brown hair and the matching brown eyes was all my mother. My mother was American by birth and married my father, an Englishman, who met my mother as she went to college in New York City, where I was eventually born. I had my father's smile but every inch of my facial features was my mother, down to the tip of my nose. I traced my fingers round my reflection, noticing stress wrinkles settling in around my eyes, at twenty nine I was wearied looking. I reached up and slammed the window shade down, slamming out the thoughts of my parents. Instead I let my thoughts drift to how I got here, how different my life was almost three years ago.

Close to three years ago I was just Bo Dennis, graduating med student. I was two steps away from graduating from NYU medical school, looking to start a unique residency in pediatric surgery at Mount Sinai. I was the epitome of privileged girl living a privileged life, minus a few hiccups. The nickname "English Bo" came when I was in college, my accent was thick and still lingered almost ten years later, but now I was able to turn it on and off when needed. I blame my Aunt Grace, my mother's older sister, my best friend and the only family I have. I was orphaned at 6 and never knew I had an Aunt until Grace swooped onto the doorstep of our New York brownstone and took me to London, where she raised me until I went to college in New York. I only knew that my parents were extremely wealthy and I would want for nothing. My Grandfather, Ftizpatrick McCorrigan had gained immense amount of wealth as liquor distributor and horse breeder. Grace would constantly talk about my mother and father, telling me stories about my mother and what she was like as a child. Always happy stories, Grace never told me anything sad. Pictures of my parents filled the halls, so I would always know as I grew up, exactly who I looked like and whose smile I inherited. It was only a year ago that Grace told me the exact happening of my parents death.

My family wealth was the reason why I was able to pursue medicine. Money was no object and I could dedicate to studies and pick any college I wanted to. I chose New York City because I craved to go back to the city I was born in and in a small way I thought it would bring me closer to my parents.

My first year of college was the typical college experience, I partied, I drank, I ran around crazy and free from the traditional and conservative watchful eyes of Grace. In college I also came to discover the true difference between sex and love. I was pursued by male and female suitors and rarely would turn down a date. I became immersed in the fluid sexual culture New York had to offer a young beautiful girl. I dated on and off until I met him, Dyson.

Dyson was a ravishingly handsome, tall blonde man that swept into my life via a prerequisite modern history class. He was pursuing a degree in Ancient Languages and his bright toothy smile melted my heart. We became study partners for the history class and soon we were dating and enveloped into each other. I found myself carried away by his spirit and zest for life. He was, what I used to call a poor man's Chris Martin, and I loved him. Truly loved him. We dated through the last years of college and became serious in my second year of medical school, moving into a spacious loft in Brooklyn living a domesticated life. He was going to grad school to finish his masters in ancient dead languages. I was closing in on getting that prestigious residency at the foremost pediatric surgical training hospital in the country. Life was on track. I was happy and there were talks that Dyson and I would return to London and start a life there when we were both done with school.

Then came Christmas, almost three years ago. I had bought Dyson a plane ticket back to England, I wanted him to meet my family and show him the apartment I had picked out for us to live in. I knew he was the one I wanted to marry, and I wanted to hurry things along. As I clutched the blue envelope in my hand on the subway home, my heart was full of the future. It was two days before Christmas and I had snuck out of my lab group early to make it home and surprise Dyson with my gift. I literally ran the entire way home, skipping up the stairs to our apartment. I slipped the blue envelop in my pocket, and as I reached for the house keys I had to take a deep breath to settle my heart. As I slid the key into the lock, I heard muffled voices behind the door. I was mildly confused, Dyson was not supposed to be home for another hour. I pushed the door open, and the voices grew louder. One was Dyson, the other a female voice that I did not recognize. They were giggling and talking in hushed tones. I shut the door softly behind me and crept towards the bedroom where the voices were coming from. The door to our bedroom was closed but not completely. I tip toed and began to get a sinking feeling as I slipped my hand onto the door and pushed it open.

The rest of that memory was hazy, but in a cliff note, I caught Dyson in the middle of extracurricular activity with his program thesis advisor. A much older woman, which as I screamed at Dyson, found out the two had been fooling around behind my back for the last three months. It appeared that I had not been filling my end of the relationship with Dyson. I tried defending that he knew I was a medical student and had no time to even pee, but it just exasperated the situation. The screaming match turned into an epic breakup. The program advisor locked herself in the bathroom while I went toe to toe with Dyson. It was useless, the whole scenario ended with me throwing the blue envelope in a crumbled ball at Dyson, hitting him in the face and causing the plane tickets to flop to the floor and one rolled to sit against the bathroom door.

My last words to Dyson were, "You can sell those tickets and buy some ben gay for your new girlfriend, you fucking bastard."

I stormed out of the apartment and stayed at the Waldorf Astoria. I never flaunted my money, but I wanted to be the furthest away I could be from Brooklyn. I locked myself away in that hotel room, only venturing out to attend class. The thought of the military never entered my head until I was walking out of class and walked past the common area where there was some recruiting fair going on for future graduates. There was a United States Navy recruiter standing in the corner, the only reason I gave her a second look was because she was gorgeous. Standing in her navy whites and contrasting red hair hidden up in a tight bun. She caught me looking and beckoned me over to give me the speech. As she was going down the lists of how the Navy can benefit a soon to be graduate like me, my phone rang. It was Dyson, texting me, begging me to come back to the apartment. That he had no idea, about the trip to meet my family, the apartment. I looked at the recruiter, "If I sign up today, when can I leave?"

It took three months for me to actually leave. I graduated medical school, two days later I was on a bus to officer candidate school where my nickname came into to play full force. My drill instructors were not used to a trainee with an English accent, more confused as to how I was an American but had the slightest hint of a royal English accent. I made it through boot camp, even garnering the highest honor in my class and was given the choice of stations. I was now a Lieutenant in the United States Navy and a doctor. I had the option of working in the best hospitals in the world, or I could work in a trauma unit in Iraq.

I signed up for the trauma unit. I wanted to disappear; the only person who knew that I had joined the Navy was my aunt. She had written me numerous letters confused as how I was in the American military, but supported me and telling me that Dyson had continued to try and contact me. My heart was shattered in a million pieces; I wanted a complete distraction to keep me from feeling like I was a liar to my heart for ever loving Dyson.

A gentle hand shook me awake, I looked up and met the face of a smiling stewardess, "Miss, we are about to land in London." I nodded my thanks and straightened up in my seat. I reached over and slid the window shade up; taking a deep look at the city I had left almost ten years ago. The grey skies and ancient buildings seemed to reach up to me, welcoming me with open arms.

Everything felt so foreign to me as I watched people exited the airplane calmly without any yelling. I held my carry-on bags, more so I clenched them as I saw the masses of people in the baggage claim. I had a wave of nerves rush over me. I stepped slowly through the gate, letting the other passengers move past me.

I made it out into the terminal and saw Grace standing, primly off to the side looking cautiously over the masses of air travelers. I felt a tear slide down my face as I looked at her. My Aunt Grace was the pure and clear definition of an English lady. She was wearing a iron grey knee length skirt, a delicate light blue silk blouse, her everyday pearls hanging at the appropriate length around her neck, and she was wearing one of her many, many wool button up cardigans. Her silver grey hair up in a modern but modest bun. Everything down to her makeup was elegant, conservative and perfect. That was my Aunt Grace. She was a beautiful woman whose age only touched her hair. Her face was flawless, angled in the right places, and a mouth that was creased by the tremendous amount of smiling she normally did, but was now pursed in agitation.

She caught my eyes and tried very hard not to break down as she rushed towards me, smothering me in a rib crushing hug. "Welcome home Ysabeau."

I couldn't speak; my words were caught in my throat. I was home and it had been a long time since I saw Grace. Neither of us spoke a word until we got to the car. She kept breaking down as we waited for my bags on the luggage turn style.

It wasn't until we sat in the back of the black car grace had hired to take us home that the silence was broken. Grace fluttered her hands that held a tissue, "How long will you be home, Ysabeau?"

"I am here for good, Grace." I smiled lightly as I reached for her hand.

Grace wiped her eyes, "Your accent is different, all those etiquette lessons lost." I could hear the tsk tsk in her tone.

I couldn't help but laugh, "It's still there, I just had to learn to adapt." I looked out the window at the passing countryside, we had left the city and I was overwhelmed by the sight of green things everywhere. My life had been encased in beige, brown and splattering's of red for so long, I had begun to forget there were other colors aside from those three. I suddenly felt Graces hand on the side of my face, "you look different. There are lines." I could feel fear and concern in her touch.

I covered her hand with mine, pulling it from my face, "I am home now, Grace, stop fretting over me."

Grace huffed quietly, turning her attention to the purse on her lap, "You said you are home for good, what exactly does that mean, Ysabeau?"

"It means that I am home. I am not going anywhere. I finish the last bit of my commitment at the Royal Naval hospital. Teaching their combat doctors combat medicine techniques. I have six months left and I am a free woman."

"I am still confused as how you joined the American navy." There was a tone of diligent irritation in her voice. She had groomed me to be an elegant lady doctor that would practice in London and simply be a lady. I threw her world in a twirl when she got the notice from my recruiter that she had been listed as my next of kin. We had not properly discussed my activities for the last three years, and at that moment I had no intention to discuss anything. I just wanted to take a long hot shower, eat real food and sleep in cotton sheets that were completely sand free. I let silence be my rebuttal and lost myself in the raindrops that started to appear on the window. I missed rain, clean, clear rain without the smell of mud.

---

We pulled up to the house, and I bent my neck so I could get a better look. The house sat outside of London in the quiet countryside. The house stood tall and wide like an old English manor dictated. One that frightened me as a little girl when my aunt brought me here all those years ago, I smiled deep when I saw it. The manor was old and survived World War II, it had off white granite brick walls, chimneys dotting the hearty slate roof, breaking up the smooth flow of the architecture. It was a thirty room manor, which sat on over five acres of land that would hold onto the morning fog like it was a security blanket. Excessive for two women, but the space was perfect for my aunt and I to stay close but maintain personal space. The floor to ceiling windows were my favorite part of the massive property. The entire house was constantly bathed in light and I suddenly ached to be in the rooms again. I stood outside the car letting the light rain splash on me as Grace ran around with an umbrella telling the driver to put my bags inside the foyer. I took a deep breath and savored the smells of green trees and wet grass. Everything smelled alive.

Aunt grace eventually had to push me inside the house, "Go, go. I am sure that you would like to freshen up after your long trip. Your room is exactly as you left it, just smells a bit better." she winked at me as she said it. She then quickly shooed me away.

I carried my bag and walked the expansive hallways realizing how long it really had been since I came home. I found my room and smiled when I opened the door; it was just as Grace said, it was as exactly as I had left it that summer before my sophomore year in college. My bedroom was in pristine order. It resembled a New York City apartment in the style and furniture I purchased years ago when I had been consumed by the city and wanted to be surrounded by it, even when I came home for holidays.

I never did return home after that first summer I met him, I was caught up in Dyson and rarely made the trip home; Grace would always come to the city for holidays. I walked around the room, tracing my fingers along the walls. The walls were a light grey with darker highlights here and there. They were covered with photographs of London and NYC that I had taken when I was dipping into photography for a while in college, before medicine became my life's calling. The bed was a queen size and often my favorite place to be. There were more bookshelves filled with knick knacks, random toys and a handful of bestselling books. A small desk was against a window, facing out into the field behind the house, it held a medium size television that I could tell was brand new, I laughed. Grace had definitely planned out everything. I threw my bag onto the floor and headed towards the bathroom, stripping off the clothes as I went.

A puff of steam trailed behind me as I left the bathroom, I had the towel over my head as I dug in my drawers for old clothes, I had no energy to go through my desert bags. I found an old pair of jeans that now hung off of me; they were littered with holes and had an occasional paint stain. I threw them on and found an old, soft grey pullover and relished in the softness that it encased me in. I had to pull out my dog tags to prevent them from catching on the soft material.

I looked down at them; I had not taken them off in a very long time and really didn't know how to go about it. I didn't have to wear them constantly now, but at the same I felt like if I took them off it would be like removing a wedding ring, difficult. I held them up in the light; they were dented and worn, like me. In the corner of one there was half-moon bend to the tag. I ran my finger across it remembering, there was still sand trapped in the edges of the metal. I slipped the tags back under my sweater and dug into my bag looking for my journals.

I sat down in the wooden chair at the small desk, laying the towel over the back and looked out the massive window the desk sat against. I looked out into the acreage that I ran around and through when I was younger. it was raining heavier now and the sound of it on the roof was invigorating. The rhythm of the rain was making me sleepy, I stood up from the desk and collapsed into the pillowy softness of my bed and instantly fell asleep.

I woke up a few hours later, covered in sweat and my heart racing. A rumble of thunder shook me from the dream I was having. it was one that I had often, it was not anything in particular, I would just dream about the bad nights I had in Iraq. Trying to do surgery as bombs dropped all around me. The colors and smells, and the screams were all too real. It took me a second to gather myself and realize where I was. I fell back into my pillows trying to settle my heart, telling my brain to settle. I was safe, sound and nowhere near bombs. I stared at the ceiling, recounting the words of my exit counselor who briefed me as I sat in the terminal in Saudi Arabia. "You are a combat veteran reentering a non-combat zone. Life will take time getting used to. It will all feel foreign and you may not know how to handle a life without the intensity and the fear you have endured for the last year." He then suggested I start therapy when I got into the world. I wasn't ready to start talking about all that I had been through. I never was much of an open and honest talker, and I honestly believed that all that I had done and seen, no one would believe.

I laid in bed for what seemed an eternity until I heard Graces heels click down the halls and stop at my door, her knock coming lightly against the door. "I am awake." I rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed as Grace pushed the door open.

She smiled widely at me, "I don't mean to be a bother, and I know you are exhausted. I have your bags downstairs. I was going to see if you would like me to launder your clothes? They all seem very dusty."

Grace stood with her hands folded in against her waist; I could tell by her tone that she was very unsure of how to act right now. I smiled at the thought of my tough elegant aunt being nervous. I rubbed my nose where the headache I woke up with lingered, "I will be down in a minute. I want to sort through the bags. I cannot remember what's in them, most will need washing and I will take care of that, Grace. You don't have too."

Grace shook her head, "No bother, my dear, I just want you to feel like you're home."

"I know." I stood up, "Lead the way! I fear I have forgotten how massive these hallways are." I walked over to Grace and gave her a big hug, "I have missed you so much Aunt Grace. I am sorry for being gone so long."

I could feel her sob lightly in my arms; she cleared her throat as she moved out of the hug, "Ysabeau, no need to apologize. I am glad you are here now. You are my only niece….."She trailed off as the tears came. She wiped them away and straightened herself up, "Alright, enough of that. Let's get you downstairs and fed."

---

As my piles of clothes washed, I sat down for lunch with grace and we chatted about random things. I could tell she wanted to ask about Iraq but was not sure how to bring it up. Instead she just asked me noninvasive questions.

Wiping at the corners of her mouth, finished with the chicken salad sandwiches she had made for the both of us, "How long are you on rest leave before you start at the hospital."

I was picking at the crumbs left on my plate, wanting to make sure I ate every crumb. I had devoured mine in two bites, "I only have today and tomorrow, then I start at the hospital Wednesday morning."

"Well that's not much time at all, you should ask for more time off. Get adjusted to things."

I shook my head, "I'd rather get adjusted to life through a normal work schedule. I don't want too much downtime. I will start thinking about everything…." I trailed off, my own tone heavy with memories long forgotten and still fresh to the surface, waiting to spill over at the first chance I gave them.

Grace set her tea cup down, making a sharp clink noise, "You let that boy speak for you, you left without getting your word in. I think it's time, you take full advantage of all that life has to offer you now." she gave me a hard steely gaze. I knew in an instant she was talking about Dyson and still held a grudge that Dyson was the one reason why I ran for the hills. Grace never liked Dyson. Always staying polite and respectable, as a lady should, when she visited. But often she would quietly suggest that I would be better off looking deeper at whom I was in love with. Grace told me more than once she had an ill feeling about Dyson. I just ignored it, thinking it was just my aunt being a mother, cautious of her only child's relationship choices.

"He is a world away now, Grace, literally and figuratively. I intend to keep him that way." I smiled to put Grace at ease. "I'm home and that's all that matters to me right now, the rest, well, come what may."

---

Wednesday morning came quicker than I thought I was ready for, my alarm went off and I woke up early in the morning disoriented and soaked from another bad dream. I showered, standing in under the hot water for longer than was necessary. I was excited that I could take a hot shower without the water running out in three minutes, and no one was pounding on the door yelling at me to hurry up. I dressed in a fresh service uniform, opting for the thick polyester pants since I was still adjusting to the English chill. I ran my hands down the crisp feeling of the khaki top and how everything on it, my rank bars, my ribbons and nametag. All shined so brightly on me, and how it made me feel so silly. I took a deep breath and headed out the door. I drove into the city, stealing my aunts 1964 green MG. I had opted to drive in rather than take a cab or the subway, I didn't want people to ask questions. I was still not socially ready to talk about my uniform.

I roared through the London traffic, making it to the hospital earlier than expected. I pulled the car into the parking garage, getting a few comments from the door guards about it. After leaving the car, I pulled my new orders out of my briefcase and headed towards the front door. The hospital was modern and shiny inside and out, more than anything it was clean. The inside was alive with activity. A mix of uniforms, military and medical, swarmed like bees through the reception area. The hospital even smelled clean and cold as I walked towards the large black reception desk. Behind the desk sat a rosy cheek, brunette Scottish girl who smiled as I came up to her.

"Hi. Could you possibly point me in the right direction of a Commander L. Lewis's office, please?" I leaned across the high desk, casually looking around at all the people.

"Of course, let me see here." I could tell she was a civilian by her ease of communication. My Lieutenant bars had no effect on her and she treated me like anyone else. She clicked across her keyboard at light speed. "Commander Lewis third floor, suite 204." she looked up at me, smiling, "if you take the elevator behind you it will let you out two doors down from the suite."

I returned the smile, "Thank very much."

"You're welcome; enjoy the rest of your day, Lieutenant." I could have sworn there was a wink behind her voice. I nodded at her and headed towards the elevator.

I rode the elevator up, with two British officers, in scrubs, who were rambling about their upcoming surgery. It was a simple foot surgery and they were going over tactics in the operating room. Their voices full of bravado and the egotistical confidence that came with being a surgeon. I listened intently, suddenly realizing that I had very little traditional operating room experience. My entire repertoire of surgery skills was created in the temporary tent city we called a hospital. The two officers left me as they exited on the second floor, leaving me more nervous than when I entered the elevator.

The elevator dinged, pulling me from my mind fog. I stepped out and took a left, counted two doors and knocked on the door that carried a nameplate broadcasting "Commander L. Lewis. M.D. Royal Navy."

I heard a lovely Irish accented voice call out from behind the door, "Please come in." I opened the door to find a tiny, but very pretty blond woman, wearing the enlisted uniform of the British Royal Navy. Sitting behind a small desk, she continued typing away on her computer and looked up as I entered. She smiled wide to the point that her deep green eyes smiled as well. She stood up immediately, saluting me. I returned the salute and as I dropped it she came towards me with her hand out to shake mine. "Hello, Lieutenant Dennis. It is very pleasant to meet you. I am Petty Officer Jane Leeds; I am Commander Lewis's administrative assistant. Please have a seat and I will let the Commander know you are here."

Petty Officer Leeds pointed me towards a couch that faced her desk then hurried off to a second door that was kitty corner from her desk. She knocked once, and then went in. a minute later she came out, smiling still, "Please follow me Lieutenant Dennis."

Leeds held the door for me as I entered the second office. It was different than what I was expecting. It had bookcases that carried massive amounts of medical texts. There were files upon files jammed into one of the bookcases. There was a large oak desk that was clean and orderly, and behind it sitting in a large leather chair was a woman. The woman was young, around my age, and was bent over her desk, filling out some paperwork. When the door clicked behind Leeds, the woman looked up. She stood up and smiled, coming around to meet me. I saluted her and she causally returned it, holding out her hand, "Please, in this office we can forgo military formalities, I am Commander Lauren Lewis, It is an intense pleasure to finally meet you Lieutenant Dennis." her grip was warm but gentle. "Please, have a seat, and please call me Lauren." her voice was smooth and hinted at the same type of English etiquette classes I had taken but American life had taken away from me, I also noticed she was lacking a thick English accent like I was expecting from a British officer.

I sat down in a leather chair as Lauren went back to sit behind her desk. As she smoothed out her uniform shirt, I took a better look at her. The first thing that came to my mind was how beautiful she was. Lauren was taller than I; her long blonde hair was pulled up in a tight, perfect bun, exposing the delicate angles of her face, lines that rounded in places that accentuated her overall beauty. Her golden brown eyes were sparkling in the light of the morning sun that peeked through the windows in her office. I found myself staring into them for longer than I should; there was something about the sparkle that had me instantly curious. Lauren was wearing a similar version of the uniform I was wearing, but it was tailored perfectly. Fitting to the curves of her body in a way that showed you just enough without being too bold and offensive to the military way. It was also obvious Lauren kept herself in shape. I absently cleared my throat, slightly embarrassed that I was looking at this woman in front of me like I was. It had been a long time since a man, let alone a woman made me blush. Lauren was absolutely gorgeous and it made me blush. I went to cover up that I was blushing by bending down to my briefcase, so I could pull out my orders, handing them over to Lauren. "Here is my file and my orders. They told me that you had requested to see them?"

She took them with a smile and began flipping through my file, "I did yes. I always thoroughly investigate those doctors whom I will be working with." she went quiet as she read a few pages in my file. I was feeling nervous and suddenly felt the need to fill the air, "If you have any sort of questions please ask."

Without looking at me, "Your accent, it's a mash up. I detect some New Yorker, mixed with Queens's country. Tell me, Lt. Dennis, how does an English girl end up in the American navy?"

Her question caught an edge in me; I knew I had a little snap in my voice as I spoke, "Technically it's an American girl in the United States Navy. I am sure if you read the front page of my file it will tell I was born in New York City. Should I point out your lack of an English accent? Do I detect a little Canadian in it?"

Lauren did not look at me; she raised an eyebrow, ignoring my jab, "yes, dual citizenship. I clearly understand that but you were raised in London from age six to age eighteen. You do realize that your duality would have also allowed you to join the British Royal Navy." Her tone had an edge to it as she spoke the last part.

"I fail to understand what your point is, Commander." I was getting irritated, I was far from used to paper pushing officers and it showed.

Lauren looked at me with a smirk, "My point is, with your credentials and your resume, I am only expressing jealousy that we had not gotten to you first." she set down my file, folding her hands on top, "How long have you been out of the desert?"

"Counting today, three days." I stared at her hard.

Lauren nodded as if suddenly things made sense, she moved my file off to the side, "I would like to formally welcome you home and to this hospital, Lt. Dennis. I am excited to have you as a part of the team. As you already know this hospital is a teaching hospital but does also function as a trauma ward and a veteran's care center. Your skills will be well suited here." she smiled at me and for a second I felt a little warmth wash over me.

"Thank you Commander. When do I get started?" I was anxious to do something, I was not used to having idle time and I was beginning to feel trapped in the confines of an office.

"I will give you the tour then you will meet some of your students." Lauren went to stand up and she turned to me, a questioning face pointed in my direction. "Lt. Dennis, can I ask one question, you may refuse to answer, but your assignment here has me curious."

"Go ahead."

"How did you get this particular assignment? You are the equivalent of a doctor in their second year of residency and you are now teaching others?" her tone had a twinge of ego.

I stood up and looked at her, "One year of intense combat medicine/surgery gives me more experience than you. I have almost two tours of in combat zone experience in, which more than makes up for my lack of traditional hospital work." my comment took down a hard right hook at her ego, "As for my particular assignment? If it's not in my file then you don't need to know, ma'am." my tone was hard on the ma'am at the end.

I could tell Lauren was biting her tongue from spilling out the irritation I could see rise in her, instead she squeezed out a hard smile, "There is a lot not in your file, Lt. Dennis, which raises more questions." she glared at me, hoping for me to crack, I glared back, "Let's start the tour."

"Let's." Everything about this woman bothered me, she was a desk jockey with the ego of a neurosurgeon mixed with the false sense of entitlement the bars on her uniform brought. As I walked behind Lauren I thought to myself, "She might have a great ass, but what a pain." I stepped lightly behind her as we left her office, six months. That's all I had to do, six months.

---

Lauren took me through the administrative floor, showed me where the cafeteria was and finally, upon my request took me to the operating room then the emergency room. The hospital was clean and everyone was wearing hospital garb, other officers would either be in scrubs or their own uniforms wearing doctor coats. I noticed that as I walked with Lauren, I would catch looks and stares from most of the staff. Sensing it, Lauren turned to me and said, "You are the first American doctor we have had on staff, you are a rarity."

"I have the same feeling towards them, seeing doctors in coats and not covered in dirt and blood is a rarity for me." I was beginning to feel resentment towards some of these people; it was obvious they chose desks and clean coats over sand and blood. Lauren didn't make a comment; she just smiled tightly at me and pointed me towards the ER doors.

I had done my trauma rotation at Bellevue hospital in New York, I was used to the hectic pace and chaos that came with an inner city hospital. I pushed through the double doors and expected to see bustling activity, yelling of orders for drugs, blood on the floor, but instead I pushed into a very quiet, orderly unit where the nurses where chatting lightly over coffee. There was only one patient on a bed. a young British Army doctor was talking to the patient nodding as his questions were answered. I just stood and stared for a second, this was all so foreign to me. The only thing that stood out to me was everything was so calm and clean. I turned to Lauren, "This. This is your emergency room?"

Lauren smiled with pride, "Yes, we have one of the best trauma units in the city. We often take on cases when other hospitals are overwhelmed. Right now as you can see, it's a very quiet day." she nodded at a few of the nurses.

"How many cases do you average on a day?" I was getting an uncomfortable feeling.

"Two or three. The weekends we see up to ten, again depending on the surrounding hospitals overflow."

I let out a deep breath; my uncomfortable feeling was realizing that I was coming from a trauma unit that dealt with fifty to sixty cases a day to two or three. It was like switching from driving a Ferrari to a model T. I had a bad feeling that I couldn't shake.

Lauren kept walking and talking. Showing me all the equipment that I would have sold my soul for back in Iraq. She took us over to another bed where a crowd of white coats surrounded a patient who appeared to have their head wrapped in gauze. "Oh and here we are. This is the group of students you will be teaching in the coming weeks. Let's make our introductions." Lauren was remarkably stuffy and cold in her entire demeanor; it was mildly off putting to me.

We stood behind the crowd and I listened with a half-smile. An ancient looking Captain was going over the basics of a concussion, asking questions to the mash of young faced military doctors. it reminded me of my first day in a hospital, all nerves and fear and wanting to constantly wear my white coat that said Dr. B. Dennis. Your first day as an official doctor is one you never forget. I looked at all of the faces circled around the old colonel, I suddenly felt very old at the advanced age of twenty nine.

Lauren whispered to me that as soon as the feeble Captain was done I would be introduced to the students; I nodded and kept watching the faces.

Halfway through the diatribe of how to treat a concussion, a strange beeping noise came through the overhead speakers. All of the students heads turned in unison, looking towards the noise, all of their faces seemed to turn sheet white. The white haired Captain hobbled from the crowd and picked up a telephone. I looked at Lauren, silently asking her what was going on, and she smiled tightly, "It's an incoming trauma. That beeping noise is the alert system, when you hear it, pick up the nearest phone and the charge nurse will describe the incoming case."

The Captain set down the phone and looked right at Lauren, "It's a multiple gunshot victim, overflow from the Evanston Hospital. You're the only senior doctor on this floor; you have to take it Commander Lewis."

I saw no change in emotion come over Laurens face, as she saw all the students stare at her, watching for her reaction, she quickly nodded, "Right, right. What bay?"

"It's coming in bay three."

Lauren turned on her heels and yelled back at me, "You are more than welcome to come along, we may need a few extra hands." She started to jog back towards where we came from, stripping off her uniform jacket and grabbing an extra white coat. I jogged after her, eager to see what this hospital really was made of and secretly I wanted to watch Lauren at work.

As we rounded the corner the paramedics broke through the double doors, shouting vitals and directions. "Twenty five year old white male, four shots to the mid chest. Appears to be small caliber weapon by the size of the exit wounds. We were able to slow down the bleeding, heart rate is dipping constantly. We hit him with a few cc's of adrenaline to keep him from passing out. No allergies, no prior health history." The medic that was yelling turned to Lauren as his partner started handing the patient off to the nurses who had swarmed from out of nowhere like bees to honey.

I looked at the patient and had a strange feeling wash over me, I couldn't place it but my heart rate went up and as I watched the swarm of nurses I started picking out what they were doing wrong and what they were not doing fast enough. I looked over at Lauren who was nodding as the lead medic spilled more info to her, it felt to me that she was moving in slow motion as she pulled on gloves, nurses looking at her for direction.

One older nurse looked up at Lauren, shouting, "His heart rate is dropping fast! He is about to go into defib!"

Lauren looked at the nurse, keeping her calm as she began giving calm, orderly directions, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I pushed past Lauren and started barking orders, "Get an IV drip going right now, start charging the defib just in case." I pulled on a pair of gloves and started prodding into the gunshot wounds, "Three are clear of bleeders, and oh…yep. Number four is where it's at. I need a clamp, his main artery has been nicked and he is bleeding out." I had my left hand in the hole closest to the man's heart; I pinched the vein closed between my fingers, "Scalpel!" The scalpel was slammed into my hand by a relieved nurse, with my right hand I cut a longer gash by the gunshot wound so I could get a small clamp around the vein and see what I was doing. I was able to clamp it and stop the bleeding. I took my hand out and started looking at his vitals, "Stabilizing, you…" I pointed at Lauren,"Call the OR. He needs to get into surgery immediately. It feels like his spleen is damaged and his belly is distended, could mean he has internal bleeding." Lauren clenched her jaw, "That was exactly what I was telling the nurses to do, Lieutenant Dennis."

Lauren motioned to the nurses to assist her, I shook my head and yelled again, "He is going to need blood transfusions, keep him on the IV line, pack the other three wounds with gauze for now, stop up any other bleeding he may have. The boys upstairs can stitch up the rest. Move it, move it. Let's get this kid into the operating room."

I stepped back as the nurses started following my orders, they all seemed frightened by my yelling but also relieved. I didn't stop until the orderlies and the surgeon Lauren had called, came downstairs and took the gunshot victim into their care. I had stabilized him and stopped his bleeding, getting his heart rate to level out. The surgeon looked at me and as he ran by with the patient he said, "Well done yank."

I watched at the elevator doors closed and I finally let out the breath I had been holding, I let myself come out of the adrenaline push that always hit me when I was in a trauma. I looked down at my hands and saw I was covered in blood all the way up to my elbow, and some was on my uniform. I shrugged at myself, not unusual for me. I turned and saw Lauren standing, clean and still wearing the unused gloves. I looked at her, she was staring at me hard, oozing authority. For some unknown reason I felt an intense amount of anger towards her. I wanted to call her out right there and ask her what kind of doctor she was exactly. Before I could the older nurse who initiated my response came up and put a gentle hand on my shoulder, "Thank you, you saved that man's life."

I clenched my jaw, "Where can I clean up?" I was having a hard time biting my tongue.

The older nurse pointed me towards a wash room off to the side of the bay I was standing in. I looked hard at Lauren as I stripped off my gloves and threw them to the floor, as I moved past her I mumbled, "Excuse me, doctor."

I scrubbed furiously at the blood on my arms, watching the swirls of red and clear water mix together and fall down the drain. I was tired suddenly; I wanted to swirl down the drain with the water. I lost myself in the scrubbing until I heard the door open behind me and Lauren's voice.

"I had a handle on the situation, you did not need to cowboy up like that and take over." She folded her arms, "But Nurse Johnson is right, you did save his life."

I didn't say anything I just scrubbed harder. Trying to keep my anger to a minimum.

"Let me have one of the nurses bring you a fresh pair of scrubs, so you can change." I looked down and saw that my whole front was covered in blood and it was drying, again not unusual for me.

I turned around, looking hard at Lauren, "What exactly kind of doctor are you, Commander Lewis?"

I caught her off guard with my sudden question; she answered harshly, "I am a cardiologist."

I threw the towel in my hand onto the floor, "when's the last time you actually dealt with a major trauma? Just out of curiosity."

Lauren swallowed hard, "Is there a problem with my credentials? Lt. Dennis?"

I stepped close to her, "My problem is, that not even thirty minutes ago you were running me through the ringer about my "lack of experience" while I just watched you stand like a first day medical student as a man bleeds out in your trauma unit. Making safe, slow decisions."

Lauren's face flushed, I knew I hit a nerve, "I don't think this is the time to argue, Lt. Dennis."

I laughed, "Argue. I don't want to argue with you, but when is the last time you had blood on your hands? Me? Four days ago. 18 year old kid, more holes in him than this guy. I had to keep both my hands inside his chest, keeping him alive as his squad looked on." I shook my head, "I can't argue with a desk doctor, who only gets their hands dirty from paper cuts. I have never seen a hospital like this, filled with fearful doctors."

Lauren was furious at me now, "I am not going to continue argue with you, but if you feel that this hospital is not suited for you, I am sure we can find you a more appeasing assignment." I could feel the strain in her voice and I knew it was embarrassment folded over into anger.

I stepped an inch away from Lauren's face, staring hard into her golden brown eyes, "I am staying, I want to make sure that these students? That they learn how to be real doctors that they learn that fear is to be left at the door or they need to find a new career." I pushed past Lauren, "Excuse me, commander I think I am done here."

Lauren yelled after me, "You still have to report to me, Lt. Dennis."

I turned and saluted her, "Yes ma'am, and I will. First thing in the morning, but I need to go home and change my uniform. "I shrugged, motioning at the bloodstains all down my front. Leaving Lauren standing in the middle of the trauma bay.

---

Before I left the hospital I changed into a pair of scrubs and threw my ruined uniform into the back trunk of the MG. I sat in the car for a minute taking a moment; I knew my temper and my confrontation with Lauren may cause me some trouble. But it was clear in my file that I had a temper and would often ignore authority when it came to the heat of the moment. One of my commanding officers in Iraq flat out told me that I was the biggest insubordinate asshole he had ever met in his life, but also one of the best trauma doctors he ever saw in his life. My ability to react and think quickly and save lives was what saved me from many a court martial from insubordinate behavior. That's where I had earned the notoriety of a being hated by most. It wasn't about my ego, it was about working fast to unravel the tangled bodies that came my way, I would call out a General for being sloppy in the middle of a case, I didn't care.

I tapped the steering wheel, I knew that my blow up with Lauren would cause some ruffles for me in the morning, but I laughed, what's the worse they could do? Send me to war. Been there done that. I slammed the car into gear and sped out of the parking garage, feeling calmer with each passing mile.

It was late afternoon by the time I got back to the manor; I pulled the MG into the garage and grabbed my uniform. I placed the uniform in a bag and set it out for it to be sent to the cleaners. I then made my way to my room, immediately heading to the shower where I sat on the tiled floor letting the hot water pound on me. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically. I looked at my dog tags, the water running off of them, the only thing I could think of was how much I just wanted to stop and be quiet. I took the teaching job to escape the chaos of my unit, I had seen too much death and wanted to be so far away from it, but now I doubted my own ability to function as a normal person without the chaos to balance me.

The next morning I went into the hospital a little early, expecting a reprimand session from Lauren or a higher ranking officer that Lauren had managed to rope into dealing with my behavior yesterday. I went right to her office because I realized that in the midst of yesterday's trauma and leaving that I had not bothered to finish the rest of my tour. I didn't know if I had an office or a corner to call my own.

I took a deep breath before I knocked on Laurens door. Petty Officer Leeds opened it and had the same big smile she had met me with yesterday, "Lt. Dennis, good morning! How are you doing?"

I gripped my briefcase, anxiety bubbling up, "I am still adjusting to the quiet life, how are you Petty Officer?"

"Grand. Please give me two seconds and I will get my things ready." Leeds was fidgeting with files on her desk.

I kept looking at Laurens door, waiting for something to happen; instead Leeds came up to me with a handful of files in her hand. She caught my gaze, "Commander Lewis is in a meeting and will meet with you after lunch. I have been placed in charge of getting you to your office and started on your daily schedule." She held out a hand towards the door, "Shall we, ma'am?"

I chewed my lip, something was off and I desperately wanted to get my reprimand out of the way but I preferred not having to see Lauren first thing. I smiled at Leeds, "Lead the way."

My office was on the third floor next to the classrooms where I would be lecturing at the end of the hallway from where Laurens office sat. I couldn't help but smile when I saw my full name and rank on the door. The office was much smaller than Laurens but it would suit me. I had a window that looked out onto the courtyard below and the bookshelves were already full. There was an oak desk with a cushy leather chair. my computer was already humming and on, Leeds walked right to it, sitting in the chair, "I will set your email up, ma'am, and show you how to access everything you will need." she then placed her hand on the phone, "The phone is easy peasy, pick it up dial the extension of anywhere in the building, list in the upper right drawer. To call out dial 7 then the full number." I nodded that I understood. Leeds then busied herself with my computer, a handful of clicks later she had shown me it all. She looked at her watch and stood up, "Okay. Right on time. Your class schedule is in your email, these files are all of your current students. Class starts in three hours. Basic orientation for today, it will be an easy day for you and the students." I marveled at her efficiency.

"I think I got it petty officer, thank you." I couldn't help but smile when I was around Leeds, she just oozed sunshine. I enjoyed it.

"Yes, ma'am. If you need anything at all, please call my desk and I will do my best to get your righted." Leeds then hurried to the door, "Welcome to RNH Doctor Dennis." I swore she winked at me as she shut the door behind her.

I sat down and spun around in my chair, I picked through the files that had been left for me. Most of my students were Royal Navy,I had one Royal Army and one Royal Marine. None of them had combat experience and were fresh out of medical school and this hospital would be their residency, then who knew. I turned my attention to my email, sorting through it all getting my bearings. I had not had a computer to my own in a long time, nor did I have "company emails" to deal with. I sat clicking wondering how much more I could piss Lauren off if I stole Leeds. I became lost in webpages, I had managed to navigate out of my email and found the internet had open access, I was reading articles about what I had missed being elbow deep in sand and how the outside world felt about the war. As I scrolled I heard a soft knock followed by my door opening, I looked up and an older man stuck his head in, he had a huge smile on his face, "Pardon me, are you Lt. Dennis?"

I quickly clicked out of my internet reading seeing the colonel insignia sitting on his lapels, I stood up and saluted, "Yes sir, I am Lt. Ysabeau Dennis, how can I help you, sir?"

The colonel returned the salute, "At ease, Lieutenant. I wanted to stop by and introduce myself." He came over to me with his hand outstretched, "Colonel Nigel Windsor, Royal Navy, M.D. and Chief of Staff for this fine hospital."

When I let go of his hand he placed both on his hips, "Welcome to RNH, I am ecstatic that we have you on staff. I heard about your work yesterday, well done. Well done, especially for a yank." he winked at me.

"Thank you sir. I was just doing my job." I swallowed hard; maybe Colonel Windsor was here to reprimand me.

"Do you mind if I sit?"

"No, sir, please have a seat."

Windsor plopped down on the couch that faced my desk, crossed his legs and stared right at me. "I do apologize that I did not get the chance to meet you yesterday, meetings and such. First thing today, I made my way here. I am so very interested in meeting the American Navy lass, your reputation stands alone, Admiral Williams just gushed about you, if that's possible for an Admiral to gush, but his recommendation was more than enough for me to skip any hesitation welcoming you here. Admiral Williams and I go back to Vietnam, grand fellow, better soldier." Windsor winked at me.

I could feel myself blush, Tthank you, sir, but I am not any different than the next doctor."

"Oh on the contrary, Lieutenant. Your file landed on my desk filled with recommendations and commendations that I have never had the pleasure of viewing in a very long time." He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, "I truly am happy that you are here, I just hope in time I can persuade you to carry on after the six months. This hospital can benefit from a physician like you."

I just nodded, I was so embarrassed that I couldn't make a sound; receiving compliments had always been hard for me.

Windsor leaned back, "Are you settling in fine?"

Before I could answer, the door opened and Lauren came in, "Lt. Dennis, glad you made it in." her tone was beyond friendly.

"Oh hello Commander Lewis! The financial meeting end early?"

Lauren was startled and snapped into a salute when she saw Windsor. "Yes sir."

Windsor returned his salute, stood up and placed a hand on Laurens shoulder, "From what I understand, Lt. Dennis saved your ass yesterday."

Lauren shot me a deadly look, "Some might say that." I had just been a direct result of her being embarrassed by a ranking officer, epic faux pau on my part. I knew I deserved the death look she was shooting my way.

"Ha-ha, well done. No worries Commander, I have made sure that you receive trauma rotation at least once a month. Time to dust off those doctors coat and put it to some use." He looked at his watch. "Well, I must be off. Meetings."

I stood up and saluted the colonel, Lauren following my lead. Windsor returned them, "Lieutenant, Commander, enjoy the day. Oh and Dennis, let me know how the assignment suits you, I am always happy to help out a fellow Navy man. Next time you see Admiral Williams, give him my best won't you?" he winked at me then disappeared through my door.

I turned to see Lauren standing, uptight, she was visibly confused by Windsor's parting comment. Admiral Williams was the admiral in charge of the USN operations in Iraq, compare him to General Patton or Schwarzkopf, he was a man with status and fame in the military world. His name made anyone stand straight, regardless of whose country they served for. Lauren was clenching her jaw when she spoke, "I see Petty Officer Leeds has you situated."

"Yes, she is amazing. Very efficient and quick on her feet. Nice quality, rare quality around here, but still." I knew I was picking a fight, but I couldn't help it. She was being uptight and knowing she came here to reprimand me was making me itch to get it over with.

Lauren blushed, and pushed the door closed, she then stepped close to my desk. "I don't care who you are, the wonder kid, the incredible yank. One incident proves nothing about you. So far all you have shown me is that you are arrogant and combative." her tone was harsh, "I don't appreciate you making a fool out of me."

I smiled, "Whoa, you made a fool out of yourself."

She shook her head at me, "Arrogant American." it came out as a harsh whisper.

It was my turn to get harsh, I stood up looking Lauren right in the eyes, the big golden brown eyes that when she looked back I swore I saw a sparkle. A sparkle made my heart twinge, good lord she was beautiful up close.

I shook the feeling out before I spoke, "Arrogant? Not at all, combative yes, maybe. But I am here to be a doctor, teach other doctors. I am not here to push you off your pedestal or steal whatever thunder you may think you have." Lauren was infuriated now, I could see it all over her face as I continued, "I don't want every day to be a shouting match with you, my intention yesterday was not to step on your toes or make you look like an ass." for some reason the fight in me fell out the longer I looked in her eyes, it was a first sign that I was mildly attracted to this woman, bad news. "I acted on instinct, if you can't deal with that, then I feel sorry for you." I threw my hands up; I just wanted to leave the room. "Do what you need to, court-martial me, reassign me to Greenland or hell, send me back to Iraq. But I am not going to apologize for saving a life."

I sat back down waiting for the rebuttal; there was a moment of silence before she spoke.

"I am not on a pedestal; I just want to be treated with respect."

I couldn't help it; I looked her dead in the eye, "Then earn it, doctor."

I could see the frustration run rampant in Lauren, but before she could explode, my phone rang; it was Leeds informing me that my students were ready for me. I hung up the phone and looked at Lauren, "Are we done here?"

My lack of concern, infuriated her, "Far from it Lt. Dennis, tread lightly or you will find yourself in an undesirable position." she slammed my door as she exited and for a split second I had an inappropriate thought about what kind of position with Lauren would be so undesirable. I rubbed my eyes, it been way too long since I actually looked at anyone in a sexual, desirable way. Lauren was a bitch on wheels and that's all I needed to keep in my thoughts.

---

The rest of the day I kept my inappropriate thoughts in the back where they belonged. I met my students, ten of them, and introduced myself. All of them were proper English kids who kept wanting to call me ma'am or by my rank. finally by the fiftieth ma'am I interrupted, Rupert, my only army student, "Listen, I know we all have to follow military protocol, but to be honest when you are in the combat zone, rank means very little. You are all Lieutenants, I am a Lieutenant, big deal. At the end of the day I am a doctor you are all doctors. So from now call me Dennis or Bo, it makes me feel less like a boss and more like a person. Truthfully the more comfortable you feel with me and what I have to teach you, the better prepared you will be if ever the day comes you find yourself in a warzone trauma unit. Save formalities for someone else."

It was like I hit a decompress button, all of my students seemed to let out a huge sigh and loosened up, they all agreed to just call me Lt. Bo, a compromise of names. The rest of the orientation was spent them asking questions about my path into the USN, and what it was like in Iraq. I only shared the fun stories; the first day was not a place to share the gruesome I had seen. It was still too fresh for me and I knew if I thought about it too much my bad dreams would be worse than normal. I dismissed the group a little early. I desperately wanted to go home and start my weekend. As I walked through the hallway I passed Lauren's office and caught Leeds waving to me, I stopped and waved back then awkwardly made eye contact with the blonde doctor, who stared cold and hard at me, making no moves. I smiled and whispered, "Bitch on wheels, what a waste of an attractive woman."

That night when I got home, I wandered the halls of the manor. I was still unused to the intense quiet that filled the house. There was nothing but the sounds of outside, the creak of the floorboards where I walked, and the quiet hush tones of Grace milling around the house, preparing for bed. During the day there were groundskeepers and housekeepers helping Grace with the daily maintenance, but at night it was silent. The silence was something I was dealing with, struggling with. I couldn't sleep and found that walking barefoot through the wooden floored halls settled my mind. Whether it was the solid feeling or the ridges of where each plank met, but something about the floor made me feel safe. Right before she went to bed, Grace tracked me down near the library and tried ushering me into bed. Offering to make me warm milk, a snack, anything. I could see the worry on her face when she asked, I had started wandering the halls the second night and Grace was becoming more concerned. "Bo, are you alright? We can get you a new bed in the morning if that's the problem." I smiled at Grace forgoing my formal name and using the shortened version my parents called me.

I laughed, "No Grace, my bed is beyond perfect. I just don't sleep much." I kept smiling, I didn't want Grace to worry and I didn't want her to find out that I dreamt every night of horrid things I could never share with anyone. "I just miss these floors."

Grace smiled but I could see worry in her eyes, "Fair enough, I feel they have missed you as well. Sleep, Bo, it will do you good." she squeezed my shoulder and shuffled down the halls, her slippers making hushed whispers.

I made my way back to my room and collapsed into bed, I was exhausted but still had a dream that pulled me from sleep. I sat up in bed breathing hard. This dream was the same, there was never anything specific. I was always back in the 85th, dealing with the causalities that came my way. One after another that they piled up. There was yelling and screaming, more blood than an ocean and then the bombs fell. It was always the one that landed right next to me that would scare me awake. I swung and sat on the edge of the bed, peeling off my soaked shirt. I shivered as the air hit my sweaty body, I wrapped myself in a blanket and looked at my clock. I had only slept three hours. I never got much more sleep than that while in the desert, but now I craved like a drug addict to sleep a full night, and it was beginning to feel like it was not allowed. I went to the bathroom and showered, hoping the heat and steam would settle my brain.

I redressed in an old NYU shirt and crawled back into bed, I pulled open my bedside drawer. Reaching for the crinkled prescription paper, reading it. It was the prescription given to me by my exit counselor, for sleeping pills. I guess it was standard procedure to dole out drugs to combat veterans to make the transition easier, I never filled it. I was determined to mind over matter and it had not been a week since I was home. I dropped the paper back in the drawer and flicked it shut. I rolled over and buried my face into my pillows. I stared out the window into the yard that was illuminated by the moon; I just needed to give it some time. Eventually I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I only got four more hours of sleep before Grace came into my room, she was trying to be quiet but the clicking of her heels on the floor was enough for my still sensitive hearing to shake me awake. I squinted at her as she set down my laundry and a couple of boxes. She then tried to tiptoe out but saw me staring at her, half asleep. "Oh Bo, did I wake you?"

I shook my head no, "Don't worry, the birds woke me up." I sat up, "what is that?" I pointed to the box.

Grace was persistent, "Go back to sleep Bo, I am going to leave these things here, please let me know when you would like something to eat."

I sighed, "Grace, don't fret. I am awake, and you can stop worrying about what I need. Trust me I will tell you if I need anything, just like when I was a kid." That brought out a smile in Grace, when I was little I was a handful, whenever I asked for something and was told no, I would say that I needed it, saying that I had needs that had to be met. It was a line I heard from a crazy neighbor in New York that I gotten stuck in my head when I was little and I used it until it became an inside joke when I was a teen.

I drew attention back to the box, "What's in the box?"

Grace picked it up and brought it over to me, "It's a new cell phone, I purchased it yesterday while you were working. The shop boy said it's the top of the line."

I opened the box and held the touch screen phone in my hand, it felt odd, I turned it on and suddenly felt like a child with their first computer. I looked at Grace, "Thank you? I mean I think it's great I just can't picture you in an electronic store, Grace." I started to laugh a little.

Grace folded her hands, "Well I thought it necessary for you. I wanted to call you and realized I had no way to. So I went out and purchased this." Grace reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out a similar phone to the one in my hand, "I also got one for myself."

"You? The queen of anti-technology? You have a cellphone?"

She was proud as she spoke, "Yes, I have a cell phone now. You of course, will have to help me learn the use of it. But I don't ever want to be unable to talk to you, Ysabeau." she dropped the phone back into her pocket as she said; "I have had my fair fill of that."

I felt my heart squeeze tight, I squeezed the phone in my hand, "I just hope you don't become addicted to texting me constantly, I don't want your arthritis to get worse."

Grace laughed, smoothed out her dress, "I will let you get ready for the day, find me when you want lunch and we will have our first phone lesson." she nodded curtly and clicked out of my room.

Holding the phone I had an overwhelming urge to take a walk outside, see the city and sweep away all the foreign feelings I had of being back in a civilized setting.

I dressed and had lunch with Grace, getting her setup with the phone to the point that she now knew how to dial out and do basic texting. She was frustrated with the technology and threw in the towel before too long. I left Grace talking to her neighbor on the new phone and headed into London for the day.

---

It was busy on the London streets, people and tourists milling through the streets of London. The sun was shining and I felt like I was flipping through an old yearbook. I had not been in London since I left almost ten years ago. it was so familiar and so strange to me all at once, the excitement of the city invigorated me. I headed towards my old stomping ground near Piccadilly to see if the old magazine stand/bookshop I hung out in as kid was still there. Maybe getting into a book would help me fall asleep at night.

I found Pages and Fonts in the same spot. I was so excited that a part of my youth lasted. The shop was the size of a large hallway, filled with bookshelves and magazine racks, floor to ceiling. When I pushed the old door, ringing the bell that I swore was the same one from when I was a kid. I took a deep breath of the paper smells that flooded the shop. The smells of old books mixed with the distinctive scent of new, fresh off the printer magazine smell. I nodded to the clerk sitting behind the high desk; he looked over his glasses to acknowledge that he knew I was in the store. I walked past the magazine rack, avoiding the garish headlines shouting at me to read about the latest affair of movie stars. I walked towards the back, to the used classics section. I ran my eyes over the spines looking for something large and something I had never read before. I had found an old copy of The Fountainhead hardcover, I slipped it slowly out of its spot and started flipping through the pages, I had never finished the book the numerous times my aunt tried to get me to read it. I glimpsed through chapters, feeling as though now was the time I could dedicate myself to finishing the epic novel. Sleep was not an interruption, and I doubted it would be anytime soon.

As I turned pages, I heard the doorbell ring and a strong female voice carry on to the clerk. the girl was asking about magazines and if this week's edition of some tabloid rag had come in. I kept listening and a slow recognition settled over me. I closed the book and placed it under my arm and moved towards the voice. When I got around the corner I saw a tiny dark haired girl, dressed in an artistic flair of mixed and matched items. She had her arms full of magazines and juggling a cup of coffee. When she spoke her voice was the same as it had been when I met her on the school yard when she moved to England from Russia. "Oy! You have the new OK!? Becks is on the cover and my flat mate has wicked crush on him. Can I set these down? Don't get your kit in a bind, I am buying all them." she turned and looked up at me smiling, she then took a double take and stepped closer to me, squinting. The moment she put her hands on her hips and jutted one side out, it hit me. There stood my best friend since second grade, Kenzi. I could see the same recognition wash over her face, I had not seen her since three weeks before I broke up with Dyson, she still had the same energy that kept us in trouble throughout most of our lives.

She spoke first, "Bo McCorrigan? My Bo Bo? Is that really you?" she was still squinting, mildly unsure that it was me.

"Kenz." I shrugged.

Kenzi ran over to me and literally picked me up off my feet, squeezing my ribs until I was sure they would poke through my sides. "Holy shitsticks! Bo Bo is back in black!"

She set me down and held me at arm's length, looking me over, "You look fabulous as ever! What the hell are you doing here? I thought you were over in the states!"

I shook my head, "No. At least not yet. I just got back into London a week ago. I have been stationed here for a little while."

Hands back on hips, "Balls! Still in that old Navy?"

"Yes. But I am on the last few months then I am out, a free woman."

Kenzi reached up and grabbed my arms, "You are thin! And a little beefy! They make their lady officers weight lift in the US of A's navy?"

I laughed, "No, I just…um..I have been out of town on assignment for the last year." I stumbled over the words. The last time I spoke to Kenzi was a month into my OCS, I sent her letter telling her what was going on and the how amazing of a life choice this was. I lost touch with her and while in the 85th I only had enough time to consistently write Grace letters. I felt guilty, Kenzi had literally been the sister I never had from the moment we shared paste in the second grade. She even came to New York City with me to go to college, but like most things when relationships come into play, I focused more on my love life than my friends. We drifted but we were still close, then came the break up. I joined up, left and was too distraught to try and keep up with Kenzi. Standing there having her squeeze me like she always did, I felt how much I truly missed her over the years.

Kenzi grabbed my hand, "Let's go. The pub waits for us; you have to tell me an entire world of tales. Starting with what happened to your accent? You sound like a Midwest mom."

I couldn't resist, she dragged me with her, only stopping to allow for her to pay for her pile of magazines and me to pay for the book. Then she linked my arm into hers and dragged/skipped me down the street to a pub that we used to sneak into when teens, it had a different name and a different look, but it really made no difference to me. The moment I stepped inside the pub, I craved the taste of a real beer.

Kenzi and I caught up on life within three pints; she was a PR agent for large entertainment firm, explaining the massive stacks of magazines she lugged with her. She had come back to London right after graduation and told me flat out she had no intentions of leaving. Kenzi had a wonderful boyfriend, Hale who was an entertainment lawyer and they were heading down the path to marriage. Kenzi's life was a perfect story of everything falling into place at the right spots in time. I envied her.

When she was finished gushing about her last client she squinted her face at me and said, "Bring it out, Bo. Where have you been? Your auntie wouldn't tell me much when I came back to England, said you made her promise to keep a lid on your whereabouts. So, did you become a secret agent? Get assigned to Russia chasing some of my unsavory family members?" she wiggled her eyebrows at me, I groaned, I would have to tell her or she would harass me until I gave in.

I took a large sip of my beer then started, "No Russia, no secret agent. I was in Iraq, stationed with a combat trauma unit for the last year where I was one of the lead doctors for the unit. You could call it a ER on speed. Four times the amount of patients and four times the danger."

I paused to look at Kenzi, to see her reaction, her face was pale and she was still. It was the same reaction I always got when I told people where I had been, the war was something that you stepped lightly around when someone said they had served in it. I reached over and squeezed her hand, "you can say what you want, I won't be offended. it was my choice to go, I wanted to be the furthest away I could."

Kenzi let out a sigh, sipped her beer, "you wanted to be away from that asshole Dyson, right?"

Hearing his name still struck a nerve, "You could say that yes, but I don't regret my decision. I did a lot of good over there."

"Bo, it breaks my heart. No wonder you didn't want Grace to tell me, I would have been over there kidnapping you and taking you back home. Iraq. Wow. And as an American."

"I am American, remember?" I smiled to ease the awkwardness that was drifting in, "Anyways, I am almost done with my service. I am over at the RNH teaching and in six months I will be discharged and intend to live the second half of my duality as a full English lady." I held my pint glass up, "To Kenzi! The best little sister I never wanted."

Kenzi grinned her giant mischievous grin, held up her glass and clinked against mine, "To Bo, the little brother I always knew I had." She shouted out a quick toast in Russian as we both burst into laughter, after it died down, bits cocked an eyebrow and nudged me, "So, any special sumthin sumthin in your life?" she waggled her eyebrows at me.

I kept my stare on my glass. Kenzi had been the first person to catch me kissing girls after she caught me kissing boys in high school. I made her swear not to tell anyone, but she let it spill out at dinner with grace that same day. Grace never got mad, or went on a rampage, she quietly told me later on while I was in bed, hiding in embarrassment and fear, "You are going to be who you are, I cannot change it nor do I wish to alter anything about you. Just live and love to the best of your ability, least of all, live honestly. I will always love you Bo you are my family, nothing will change that." After that Kenzi was my constant matchmaker, the only boy or girl she didn't set me up with was Dyson. Therefore Kenzi always hated Dyson.

"No, no ladies or gentleman callers at all." I took a second, thinking, "Actually there has not been anyone since Dyson. Wow three years, I just did not have time to try or really want to try and find someone." The reality of how alone I was sunk in. At the same time, I could barely adjust to a silent night let alone sharing my life with anyone, I was emotionally empty.

Kenzi clapped her hands, "Well let's get that fixed!" she rustled through her purse and pulled out a day planner, flipping through pages, "Ah! Yes! Here we go. Next weds, double date. You, Hale, me and Sally."

"What? Who is sally?" I sipped at my beer faster, enjoying the numbing feeling it was giving me.

"Sally is the assistant to this movie star fancy pants that I work with all the time, she is a cute little Irish redhead and feisty. I think she would be a good choice to get your feet wet."

Before I could open my mouth, Kenzi kept on, "No ifs ands or buts. I just texted her, it's a blind date!"

I groaned again, I couldn't argue with Kenzi. I was going on a date, but the idea of meeting a feisty redhead tantalized me, a quick flutter of Lauren's face came in my head. Maybe it was time to shake the dust off, if anything I could make a new friend. I drained the rest of my beer and let Kenzi prattle on about this and that and what kind of outfit I should wear. It was like I had never left, and I loved it.

I spent the rest of the day and the rest of the weekend with Kenzi. She came over to the manor, reconnected with Grace and had me running through the house like I was ten again. Laughing and sliding on the floors in our socks. Kenzi stayed over in my bedroom Sunday night, I was going to give her a ride into work that morning. We had spent most of the day running around and I was exhausted so when I fell into my pillows, falling asleep instantly I had high hopes that I would sleep through the night. It didn't happen.

I had the dream again, but it was slightly different. When the last bomb that always woke me up hit, the dream continued. This time the bomb shattered and shrapnel went everywhere, striking everyone. In the dream a huge chunk hit me in and I felt no pain, just kept looking around. I started to yell for help but everyone around me was gone. I kept yelling until it became a scream and I woke up screaming, and crying. I didn't hear Kenzi come up next to me asking what was wrong; I didn't even really feel it when she hugged me trying to calm me down. All I heard was her whisper, "That damn war…."

I couldn't speak, I just squeezed tighter to Kenzi, I was scared. She finally got me up and into the bathroom for a shower. She waited outside the bathroom, helped me get back into bed and sat next to me in the bed, asking if there was anything she could do. "Just talk to me, it's better if I don't think. I need to stay distracted."

Kenzi put her hand on my back, and then just started rambling about stories of her meeting movie stars, just pure nonsense stories. I eventually fell back asleep, calmed by having someone around me. My last thought was I hoped this dream was not a start of a new trend.

---

I woke up four hours later, Kenzi passed out next to me tangled up in the afghan I had given her. She was snoring and mumbling. I slipped out of the bed so as to not disturb her; I went and got ready for the hospital. I got out of the shower and wiped the steam off the mirror and took a look at myself. I looked exhausted, I had circles under my eyes, and as I pulled at the corners of my face I swore wrinkles were setting in. I took an aspirin and rubbed the bridge of nose remembering that I would have to deal with Lauren today, I had not slept well the second time around and was borderline crabby. Fingers crossed she would be tied up in meetings all day.

When I was dressed in a fresh uniform, placing the last few ribbons in their rightful spot over my chest, Kenzi stood behind me, rubbing her eyes. "What's with all the flair?"

I joked, "They show the world that I have been a real good girl."

Kenzi reached out and hit me on the arm, "Bo, be chatty and tell a girl. I always wondered when I see them what they all mean."

I turned around, feeling inclined to indulge her request since she had endured a hellish moment with me. I had twenty ribbons on my chest, I pointed to them and told bits, "This one is for good conduct, this one was given to my unit, it's called a Navy "E" ribbon, this one is for outstanding service, overseas campaign ribbon, Iraq campaign ribbon, expert rifle, expert pistol. These few are for finishing OCS at the top of my class; a couple are basic good attendance ribbons, etc. The Navy likes to give out medals for being a good sailor." I skipped over the last one, a purple one. I turned back to the mirror to fix my lapel; Kenzi noticed my ignorance of the last two.

She poked at them on my chest, "The purple one looks familiar, is it what I think it is?" She frowned lightly.

I pulled my collar down further, hoping they would hide things better; I was able to keep them out of sight. "Kenzi we are going to be late."

Kenzi stared me down, "That's the Purple Heart, isn't it." she folded her arms.

I chewed on my lip, looked at Kenzi in the eyes and couldn't help it, she was the only sister I ever had, my best friend. I took a deep breath as I smoothed out my jacket. I said nothing.

Kenzi stared at me, "When were you wounded, and why didn't you tell me."

I clenched my jaw, "Because there is nothing to tell." I turned and gave her a look that told her the conversation was done with. "Bo Bo, I want to know what happened to you."

I turned and looked her in the eye, fixing my lapel to cover the ribbons again, "Not right now Kenz." I pushed past her and started busying myself with my briefcase.

"Does it have anything to do with your "dream" last night?"

I sighed, "Please, not right now." I turned to look at her again, my face telling her more than I could in words. Kenzi slowly nodded, "Right, right. When you are ready." she pushed off the bathroom door and went to start the shower, I could hear her whisper, "Damn war…."

When the door shut I let out a deep breath and tried to calm the shaking hands that were trying to jam files into the briefcase.

The drive into work was mindless chatter, Kenzi kept looking at me hard and I could tell she was trying to figure out what I was hiding, thinking if she bore holes in me I would break. I dropped her off at work with the promise that she would email me and call me about the blind date.

---

I managed to make it to my office without running into Lauren; I collected my paperwork for the day and headed off to my students. Today I would be starting the basics of combat medicine, I decided that listening to me all day, lecturing and writing on a whiteboard would do no one any good. So I ushered my class down to an empty operating room and started going over what you should have in an operating and what you will actually have out in the field. I made a show by pushing monitors and racks into the corner and dropping equipment onto a tray. "Everything on the tray, you will want, and desperately need in the field. But for one reason or another you won't have it or run out of it. So I am going to teach you how to use what you will have for multiple uses."

I started showing the many uses of surgical tubing, how you can make the most out of gauze. It was truly backwoods medicine but these kids had to learn to work with little. As I was lecturing and letting my students get their hand into practical learning I did not notice Lauren hovering and staring at me through the OR door windows. The day ended and my students thanked me and even offered to meet them up at the local pub, I politely declined. I had wanted to keep some distance between them before I tried talking them all out of careers in the military.

Packing my things into my briefcase I was feeling good about my day, I had not run into Lauren and felt that I had actually begun to teach something to someone, all the students seem very receptive and continuously asked questions. Jamming my notepad into the briefcase I heard my door push open, I looked up with a smile, thinking it was a student trying to persuade me into a pint. Instead it was Lauren, standing straight arms folded and furrowed brow.

"Commander." my smile faded and I busied with trying to click the clasp close on my briefcase.

"Where exactly did you go to medical school, Lt. Dennis?" her tone was even.

"NYU, you know where my degree is from. It's all in my file." I looked at her, "Why?"

"I am just curious to know if they teach all of their students to throw medical equipment to the ground and shove very expensive equipment into a corner as if they were shopping carts."

My temper began to flicker, "Why do you feel it necessary to spy on me?"

"It was not spying; I was at the nurse's station, getting my weekend trauma rotation schedule when I heard clattering. I came and saw you, I guess, teaching? If you dare to call it that." Lauren was mocking me and the flicker was now at a flame.

"Perhaps you should have stuck your head in and said hello. Then you would have seen that, yes I was throwing medical equipment on the ground, to teach those kids how to react when a nurse or a fellow doctor knocks over a tray full of equipment due to shelling or enemy fire. I was teaching them how to make do with what's left and how to quickly decontaminate. Basic introduction to combat medicine."

Lauren was not giving an inch; "All I saw, Lieutenant was a doctor being sloppy in the operating room. It makes me wonder how you really are in the operating room." she glared, hoping that her comment would bite deep.

"All I see, is a doctor who feels inadequate enough to spy and pick holes in another doctor, where exactly did you go to school, Commander Lewis?"

Lauren sucked in a breath, hissing, "Cambridge medical school, top of my class."

I shrugged, "Fair enough, but I have yet to see any top form out of you."

Bingo, I lit the flame. Lauren dropped her arms and stepped hard to my desk. I could tell she wanted to be inches away from my face but the desk stopped her, her voice was one step away from an all-out shout, "I am done with your combative disrespectful attitude, and you have no regard for your co-workers. You are making a mockery out of the image of this hospital as a teaching institute, demanding your students ignore rank and military protocol."

I smiled smugly, "you really are spying on me. Do I smell jealousy in the air, Commander?"

Lauren clenched her jaw so hard that I thought it would snap, and for a second I found it incredibly attractive, "You are not in a war zone anymore, Lt. Dennis. I am ordering you to weekly therapy sessions, it's obvious that you have authority problems and I think, no, I know you need to get your head back into the real world."

it was my turn to clench my jaw, therapy. It was the last thing I wanted to touch. I wasn't ready to sit and face my demons; I had no strength to fight back. I choked back the urge to tell Lauren off, she was my boss, in truth, and I had to follow her orders. I just gave her a hard cold stare, Lauren smiled, "not one comeback? Really, you are always quick with the words." I let her have her win.

I just uttered, "Yes ma'am whatever your orders I will follow them."

Lauren did not seem to relish in her victory as much as I thought, she straightened up, stepped back from my desk, "Petty Officer Leeds will have the therapist information for you in the morning. You are required to go or face reprimand."

I should have kept silent, I didn't, "I haven't been here a week yet, you already want to make my life complicated. Tells me you have no competitive spirit."

"For someone who claims to adapt and react quickly, a week is more than enough time. I am done with the attitude. Your first day of therapy will be weds morning, any missed session will result in your reassignment."

I stared at her, feeling sick emotions rise in me, "You really have no clue."

Lauren folded her arms, "Nor do I desire too. Good evening Lt. Dennis."

She turned and quick stepped out of my office shutting the door behind her. As soon as the door was closed I dropped into my chair and covered my face with my hands, I wanted to cry but I had forgotten how to a long time ago.

---

The next day I debated calling in, I did not sleep at all and the vicious dream I had when Kenzi was over came back, I knew it was going to be a regular thing. I went into the hospital and did a quiet lecture, went to a faculty meeting then went home. I did not see Lauren; she was at a meeting in another hospital. The only interaction I had was when Leeds dropped off my therapy orders, smiling at me as if she understood it wasn't my fault.

At home I stared at the therapy sheet, lying in bed. The longer I stared the angrier I became at Lauren for forcing this upon me and not giving me any chance at all. finally I sat up and went to my computer, I did not want to pull strings but there was no way I could deal with a therapist picking in my brain when I knew he would not understand and prescribe me drugs, I was still determined to give myself time to heal on my own. I turned on my computer and emailed Colonel Windsor and Admiral Williams', requesting that my ordered therapy be adjusted to non-military therapy that would start in a month's time. I claimed that it would interfere with my teaching schedule and it would be better if I started my session's right at spring break when I was adjusted to being home. I also requested that this email stayed quiet and that the order for off base therapy would come from the therapist Lauren ordered me too. I knew it was lying, but I wanted to keep a secret that I had so much pull, it would just add to the negativity Lauren had for me. I would appear to be a rich kid who had her money talk for her instead of her work.

I knew it was an asshole move, but I was not going to be forced by someone who had no idea what I had been through, not given me a chance to explain why I was the way I am, and lastly Lauren had pissed me off. I ended up not sleeping at all that night, I was too worked up.

Wednesday morning I went into the office early, sitting in my inbox was an email from Colonel Windsor. It was basically informing my request had been granted and that if I needed anything to just send a line. I breathed a sigh of relief. There was also an email from Leeds informing me that my therapy orders had changed and the updated paperwork would be on my desk by noon. I felt lighter as I went to lecture. I refocused my exhaustion into more practical work, teaching my students how to keep the elements around you out of wounds. The class went quickly; the day always went fast when I was teaching. I was distracted and enjoying sharing my knowledge with eager young minds.

I sent the students home with a research project, realizing that I was required to actually have them express their absorption of my instruction on paper. When I returned to my office, my new therapy orders were on my desk, reading them I smiled, there was no hint that I was responsible. Just that the current therapist would be unable to see me for a month due to caseload and he felt, in his opinion that off-site therapy would be best for a combat veteran. I slid the papers back into the envelope and went about closing down for the day, expecting Lauren to come in at any moment with a diatribe of prissiness, but nothing came. It was the second day in a row that I did not have to deal with her. I should have felt relief but for a split second I missed her, standing in my office spewing anger and staring at me with those intense brown eyes that I knew hid a lot. "Whatever." I said out loud. I headed out for the day, to home and to prepare for my blind date.

---

Kenzi had not stopped texting me until I met her in front of the restaurant/pub. She introduced me to her boyfriend, Hale. He was boy next door handsome and kind. He was taller than me and thin but in his handshake I could tell that he was a strong man. When he spoke he had an instant charisma about him, which made you feel like you could tell him anything and also made you want to be around him. Hale was an entertainment lawyer and had met Kenzi at a charity function a few years ago. He absolutely adored Kenzi and showed it openly as he held doors for her, pulled her chair out, and just treated her like a lady. I was happy for her.

After introductions I looked around, "So Kenz, where's my date?"

Kenzi clapped with glee, "She is already inside sitting at the table, oh Bo Bo you are going to eat her up."

I just raised my eyebrows, "We will see."

My date, Sally, was a very pretty girl, short reddish auburn hair, round but cute face and a runners body, but that's where my interest stopped. Sally dominated the conversation, she was an assistant to so and so movie star and would ramble about all the events she went too, people she met, and so on. I only was able to tell her that I was a doctor before she went on about how her boss played a doctor in a movie. I stared at Kenzi across the table, holding her hands out as if to say sorry, I just smiled. I enjoyed being in Hale and Kenzi's company, but it was obvious that sally and I were not a love match. Right after the appetizer was cleared away I excused myself from the table. The endless rants of Sally had me craving whiskey.

I used the bathroom excuse and weaved through the restaurant. The restaurant was a mix of pub and eatery, had that kitschy feel of an old pub but modern feel of the high end restaurant it was. I found the bar near the front door off to the side. I stood up against the bar and nodded to the bartender, a young disheveled man who fit the bars atmosphere perfectly. he smiled as he asked in a thick Scottish accent, "What you be having?"

"Two shots of Jameson."

His smiled widened, "ah, an English lady with a bit Irish fire?"

I laughed; my accent had come back thicker than normal during the evening. Being around all of the citizens of London had brought it out, it made me feel normal, taking the edge off the effects of the day and the residual sadness of my shitty dreams. I winked at the bartender, "Irish fire yes, but always a lady." I picked up the first shot glass and downed it in one shot. Quickly feeling the addictive burn of the whiskey slip down my throat. I savored the second shot, taking my time sipping it. My ears were ringing from the constant noise of Sally talking, and needed a moment. I looked around the bar, getting lost in the people watching. The bar top was filled with young people enjoying the Wednesday night. I looked at all of the laughing and smiling faces and felt a pang of sadness, the bar crowd reminded me of the nights at the officers club at the 85th. Young kids laughing, drinking the day away, trying for a split moment to forget before the hell rained down again. I missed my trauma team; I missed the family I left there. I closed my eyes letting out the feeling in a slow steady breath. That's when I heard an all too familiar voice. I leaned forward on the bar looking in the direction of the voice.

What I saw pulled a small laugh from me. At the end of the bar was the one and only Commander Lauren Lewis, obviously on a date. What made me laugh was that her date was a very attractive pharmaceutical representative, a female pharmaceutical representative. The rep had long brown hair and a supermodel face that was plain but exquisite. I smirked to myself as I watched to the two interact in a way that was a blatant advertisement that they were romantically involved. The woman kept touching Lauren, on the face, the arms and occasionally reaching up to brush hair out of her face. Lauren looked different, her hair was down, making her look completely different than what I was used to seeing her at work, she was dressed down and even I had to admit she looked even more beautiful in a pair of jeans than she did in the uniform pants. I whispered in her direction, "I know your secret." I then swallowed the rest of my shot, and then did something that could be considered as a bold asshole move, but Lauren had pissed me off with the therapy order. I could not refrain; my temper was begging me to do it.

I set down my empty glass, motioned to the bartender to meet me down at the other end. I then walked to stand right behind Lauren, with my accent , now even more heightened by the whiskey, I stepped to the bar, "Another shot of Jameson, mate."

I could see Lauren turn slightly in my direction, obvious that my voice was some familiar to her, but the accent, it threw her.

As I picked up my shot, I purposely bumped into Lauren, she smiled and half looked at me, in silent acknowledgment that the bump was forgiven. She was far too engrossed in the woman.

"Apologies, Doctor Lewis, I guess I am a little sloppy in and out of an operating room."

Lauren was pale when she turned and her eyes met mine, I had a devilish smile that was dripping with sarcasm. She stumbled on her words, "uh, Bo, I mean Lt. Dennis, I didn't know you were here." I had her in shock.

I kept my smile, "Why would you? I came to the bar for a drink. I have to get back to my date, sorry if I disturbed yours." I smiled at the rep and she smiled back. I had chatted to the woman once during a lunch; she introduced herself to me and then tried to make a move on me, where I delicately let her down. "Nancy, good to see you again, thanks for the pen, works like a charm." I stepped away, "Dr. Lewis, enjoy your evening."

I pushed through the crowd and back to my table where Kenzi was telling a story about our school days to Hale and Sally. The rest of the night I paid little attention to the conversation, just had a little smile on my face. I was excited for the next day of work and the conversation that was to come. The pedestal Lauren kept herself on was about to get kicked out from under her.

The evening ended with an awkward hug and an attempt at a kiss by Sally, but I pulled the whole move it to the cheek. Sally was a lot more into me than I was into her, but I knew Sally and I would be great friends in the future. I caught a glimpse of Lauren as I exited the bar; she was still sitting talking to her date but seemed overly aware of her surroundings. I laughed a bit and could not wait for the next morning at work.

When I got home it was late, the house was dark and quiet, it made me edgy. I walked through the hallways to my room, falling onto my bed. I was a little woozy from the drinks I had earlier and was close to passing out. I lay there, staring at the ceiling thinking about the look on Lauren's face as I surprised her, it was one mixed with a small amount of fear. it was evident that Lauren was caught completely off guard, she did not have time to put on her cold demeanor and keep control. The ball was in my court, and it was not something that I cherished, I felt a small amount of guilt. Her brown eyes had sparkled even after she saw it was me, I let out a sigh that I had no idea where it came from, I suddenly realized there was something about Lauren that lit a fire in me and I had no idea if it was a good fire or a bad fire, but she definitely kept me on edge. I fell asleep replaying the look on Lauren's face.