It was late and Wash was sitting at her desk staring into space. She was supposed to be looking over reports from the latest OTG mission. Instead she was twirling her ponytail around her fingers (a girly gesture she would never admit to indulging). She enjoyed the gentle tug of the individual strands against her scalp and the memories that the relaxing sensation evoked.

The first memory is of Somalia, shortly after she joined Nathaniel Taylor's elite unit. A week was all it took for her to consider hacking all her hair off. For certain she would fit in better with the men and it would put an end to her constant frustration with the dark strands. They were an endless damp tangle she was fighting a losing battle with. No sooner would she get five minutes to wash and comb it out than it would be caked with jungle mud again. She tried putting it in the tightest most secure knot possible, but a few hours into any mission and the two foot tail would be swinging behind her.

She was currently laying in the underbrush about two meters from her CO waiting for an enemy patrol to move on. She could feel some sort of creepy crawly moving against her skin where the hem of her shirt was riding up and she knew that when she rolled into this dank hidey-hole that her hair had landed across the pool of jungle muck behind her. She refused to think of it, instead focusing her attention on the feet she hoped would be passing on quickly. She was so intent on them that the sharp yank to her hair almost caused her to start. Almost. She carefully turned her head with a scowl and saw that Taylor was trying to give her the signal that they were about to move out.

A few days later when the majority of them were safely back at their base she felt another, somewhat gentler, yank at her hair. She spun around to find her CO contemplating the bits of hair grasped between his fingers.

"Glad to know its good for something," he chuckled.

Alicia gave a fleeting smile to his retreating form and decided that she wasn't going to cut her hair.

Over the years it became a familiar gesture between friends. When he was ruminating by the fire she might walk up and nudge his leg with her boot. When she was morosely staring into the tree line he would walk up and tug on her hair. It was always brief, just enough to lift the heavy thoughts from her mind, and always private, something the two of them shared.

After his wife died things changed. At first he was withdrawn, refraining from human contact for the most part. Eventually the camaraderie returned, but over the years she noticed it had a different feel to it. Occasionally his fingertips would linger on her hair a bit longer, other times she felt the absence of his touch when he would reach out to her and pause, pulling away. She secretly hoped she knew what that meant, but it wasn't until the day she never thought she'd have that she got her confirmation.

There was a gentle pull dragging her slowly towards consciousness. Her head was throbbing and the thought of opening her eyes sounded like a really bad idea, but the tugging was insistent. As she swam back to reality she was able to zone in on the sensation. It was coming from the left side of her head, a small section of her scalp was tingling in a pleasant sort of way, a vast contrast to the throbbing coming from everywhere else. If she concentrated on that she was able to fight past the rest of the pain and crack her eyes open. Thankfully the lights were low and the face looking down at her quickly swam into focus.

"Welcome back to the land of the living Wash," Taylor said softly. His eyes were the beautiful, clear blue she remembered, but they had a blurry quality to them. She blinked to clear her eyes, wanting to make sure he was real before she replied, and realized that it wasn't her eyesight.

"Its good to be back sir," was her hoarse response. She tried to smile but it came out as more of a wince. That's when she noticed what Taylor was doing at her bedside. He was running a section of her hair through his fingers. As she watched she realized he had a pattern going in the way he ran the strands through his fingers, thus the insistent tugging on her scalp.

He smiled sheepishly when he realized he was caught. "Sorry, that probably hurts," he said, leaning back into his seat.

"No, its… nice," she whispered and watched his eyes soften.

The sound of footfalls broke her out of her memories.

"Wash?" the object of her thoughts called from the doorway. "Its getting pretty late for paperwork," he said, leaning in the doorway.

"Yes, sir," she eyes the piece of hair twisted between her fingertips before quickly flicking it over her shoulder. "Just got a bit distracted."

"Mmmm," was his reply as came to lean over her desk.

Wash's eyes fell closed as he reached behind her head and slowly dragged the band from her hair. A shiver ran down her spine as she felt her hair release to fall around her face. When she opened them back up she was met with Nathanial's twinkling stare. "Why don't you come home and let me distract you for the night."