"I really don't think he'll be a problem." I try to convince Quinn to see this my way. I almost wish I could just tell her everything. If she just knew who 'Brent' really was, it would be just as clear to her as it is to me. "He's just a nice boy." I think about the gentle girl who held me in her arms while I cried into her chest. I was unbelievably drunk and in that awful, weepy temper that sometimes effects me when intoxicated.

I look to the flowers on my window. "He's gentle. Caring even." I fiddle with the loose thread on my skirt, thinking of the blush that spread all the way to the tips of her ears when she offered to kiss me. "Practically a blushing mess—"

"So you deflowered the boy?" Shelby's sharp voice makes me jump and I accidentally stab myself with the sewing needle. "Is Quinn right?" Shelby continues, leaning against the doorframe. "If he gets possessive, that could be a problem."

I resist the urge to growl a response. "I didn't deflower anybody," I say defensively before amending. "Lately. Look, I'll let you know how this is going to go, if I may?" I look between both women. "Brent is harmless. He'll go on his merry way and never come back here for anything more than drinks and cards."

"Are you saying he didn't find our hospitality satisfactory?" Shelby asks. I blush at the insinuation, my pride instantly balking at the suggestion that I didn't do my job properly. I also curse my own idiocy. I let Shelby talk me into a corner and she knows it.

"Fine," I huff. "He didn't mean to pay for a fuck, okay?" chagrin makes my language harsher than usual. "He thought he was going to pay all that money for a room. I got so far as a hand job which he was perfectly grateful for thank you very fucking much." I stare straight at Shelby throughout my lie knowing that Quinn will probably see through it if she can see my face properly.

Shelby seems to accept the lie and even gives a chuckle. "He did seem a little simple."

I'd come to the same conclusion myself but I still don't like the way she says that about Brittany. "He's not simple. He just thinks a little differently." My mouth runs away from me again.

Quinn and Shelby stare at me like I've lost my mind. "What?" I ask, feeling like I'm going in a loop.

Shelby looks to Quinn for an answer. "Did she get knocked on the head on your way back here?"

Quinn gestures towards my flowers, "Pierce gave her flowers when we went to watch them training and she's been like this," she gestures to my entire person. "Since we got back."

Shelby eyes me speculatively, "Well, in any case if he comes back looking for more than whiskey and games of chance be sure he knows the rules."

I'm sick of my damn mouth so I keep my jaw clamped shut as I nod.

Shelby seems satisfied with my response, "Good," she says simply. "Get yourselves ready. You two are seeing Dr Beiste this afternoon. The two girls who were scheduled to see him are on dish duty instead."

"I really dislike that man." I say of the Doctor, my eyes focus back on my work pushing the needle and thread though my dark skirt.

Quinn scoffs. "Please, you love him."

"He's completely mad," I say glaring at the black thread daring it to tangle or snag.

"Which is what you love about him most."

"He speaks in nonsense riddles," I add.

"Enough," Shelby cuts into our argument before Quinn can respond. "You're going. Whether or not you like Beiste is irrelevant. I need you girls healthy. Puck has all but booked you out for the week Quinn."

Quinn's face falls. Puck is an alright Trick really. Quinn has just had a hard time of it since she gave up the baby. Puck was never told the child was his. I can only imagine what Quinn must feel being with Puck. I've never reached full term before.

Quinn's eyes reach mine and I hope she can see the sympathy I feel for her. She gives me a small wry smile.

If Shelby sees our exchange she doesn't say anything about it as she turns to leave. "You too Santana. Whatever you say about it, Sugar certainly thinks I should expect to see more of your soldier."

Of course Sugar has been in Shelby's ear. "He's not my anything." I say automatically. "He won't be back. And Sugar needs to learn to keep her mouth shut."

"We'll that's definitely true." Quinn nods.

Shelby turns to Quinn. "You don't think Pierce will be back either?".

Quinn shakes her head in the negative, "Oh no, he'll be back," she gives me a pointed look. "I meant that Sugar needs to keep her mouth shut."

Shelby walks back out the room, saying over her shoulder, "Don't be late for Beiste or you'll be taking over dish duty for the rest of the week."

Quinn and I look at each other before throwing our sewing aside and rushing to get ourselves presentable.

— s — — b —

Blaine never imagined he would see Brent and Private Evans at odds. They seem close as brothers and endlessly loyal to one another. Yet all it takes is the wrong words turned against that girl of Shelby's and Brent seems ready to wreck Sam's face.

Another thing Blaine never imagined was the possibility that he would have to watch the two men argue and pretend he isn't there. Eaves dropping is not something he is comfortable with, nor is the idea of watching two friends get into a violent scuffle over a girl. Unfortunately the woman currently in his duty of care has demanded he not interfere.

Major Hudson's wife is a loud, demanding, impossible woman with far too much control over the men around her. Rachel Hudson fancies herself an observer of people and for some unfathomable reason wants to be an author. She wants to document the military in all its subtle intricacies and quiet beauty(her words, not Blaine's). So they watch from the shadows as Brent and Evens argue in quiet, angry tones.

When Brent's shoulders relax and his fists loosen at his side, Blaine feels his own posture relax. He looks down at Mrs Hudson who's eyes are shining with delight at what is unfolding in front of them.

— s — — b —

Rachel watches with rapt attention as the two young men discuss what she assumes is one of their lady loves. The younger(and skinnier) of the two holds an angry posture as he defends the honour of the woman he must surely be in love with. This boy names the other Sam. Sam seems to want only what is best for his friend but is expressing himself very poorly. Rachel longs to go in and discuss this with both of them but is loathe to interrupt this fascinating moment of military kinship.

Her own husband seems to relate with only a few of his fellow soldiers and the interactions that Rachel witnesses rarely hold the emotional depth or intensity she is seeing in this darkened mess tent. She thinks of her notebook tucked under the pillow of her cot. The notes on this encounter will surely run for four, maybe five pages.

Rachel claps a hand to her mouth when the boy tells Sam how his love doesn't see her own worth. It's such hopelessly romantic sentiment.

She hisses in a breath when Sam asks if the boy would court his lady love. She holds that breath until the boy shakes his head and asserts that he won't. It breaks Rachel's heart to think that this poor boy would think so little of himself.

Surely every person becomes more than themselves in love. Rachel is certain that every man and every woman should have the one person they want.

It is her duty as a human being happy in love to see that this boy get his girl, whoever she might be.

— s — — b —

Brittany is sorry that she reacted so badly against Sam. It's just that when he said those things about Santana, she could only think about this morning when Santana had been so down on herself. Santana reacted so strongly against Brittany calling her 'Miss'. It broke Brittany's heart and hearing Sam use that word against her in such a way. Like her circumstances made her a less worthy a person. It makes Brittany's chest tight with a quiet anger that made her lash out at her friend.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you Sam." She tries to apologise but Sam just waves her off.

A male voice makes them both jump, "Sorry to interrupt you both." Lieutenant Anderson is looking at them apologetically with a small woman smiling beside him.

The woman is wearing a pretty pink dress and grinning at Brittany. It is entirely disconcerting and Brittany feels her face go red even though she doesn't yet know why this woman could be staring at her. She's looking at Brittany like she is a great big prize wrapped up in a soldier's uniform.

Sam shuffles beside Brittany, "You're not interrupting. How can I help you Lieutenant?"

Anderson looks between the two soldiers and the smiling woman, "Mrs Hudson, this is Private Pierce and Private Evans. They will be escorting you into town."

Mrs Hudson's smile gets impossibly wider and she steps forward with a raised hand. "Please call me Rachel. I've begged Blain a hundred times to do so but he simply won't entertain the idea, he's always so proper. I would love to know your first names also since it will be so much nicer, especially since I will probably be requiring your services more during our time in Clothier."

Brittany looks at Lieutenant Anderson. Apparently the news that she and Sam will be spending more than the afternoon with Mrs Hudson is new to him as well.

Sam, in his simple country way, doesn't hesitate to take the other woman's hand with his own. "It is a pleasure to meet you Rachel. My name is Sam Evans and this is Brent Pierce."

Rachel turns her attention to Brittany who only hesitates a moment before taking her hand. This woman is her Major's wife so Brittany will take every word as if it were a command from him.

Lieutenant Anderson still looks mildly disapproving but doesn't say anything.

"It is nice to meet you Rachel," Brittany remembers her manners, "I'm pleased to be of any assistance to you."

Rachel practically sparkles and even giggles happily, as though she is in on some joke that Brittany doesn't quite understand yet. "Oh I'm sure we can all be of marvellous assistance to one another Brent. I look forward to getting to know you better," she looks at Sam and adds as if in after thought, "And you as well Sam. I'm sure we'll all get along very well."

The Lieutenant seems to have witnessed enough pleasantries and moves to dismiss himself, "You both are to escort Mrs Hudson to the local Doctor. Please ensure that you wear the appropriate uniform." He looks over his two soldiers who are both in their training uniforms. I will bring Mrs Hudson to the Major's tent where you both will meet her in ten minutes sharp."

Brittany looks down at her chest to see that her shirt is not only dirty but also unbuttoned. She moves quickly to reloop her buttons and brush off the dirt. She looks over at Sam who is scrambling to do the same. The Lieutenant is using a commanding voice that Brittany rarely hears from him. The Major's wife must be wearing on his nerves. His posture is stiff as he leaves the tent.

Rachel gives them both an airy wave and practically skips out of the tent in Lieutenant Anderson's wake.

Sam slumps down on the nearest bag of potatoes. "What was that?" he asks, running a hand through his hair.

"Major Hudson's wife apparently." Brittany says, staring out the tent where the small woman just left. "I wonder why she would need to visit a Doctor?"

— s — — b —

Shannon has seen a lot in her lifetime, both good and bad. Her time as a medic gave her an appreciation for the marvel of biology that lies beneath a man's skin. It also showed her the value of a sense of humour in the face of awful circumstances. Blood, guts, bile and pustules can be funny as all get out with the right attitude.

Shannon's time at the edge of the battle front prepared her for many things. She's not sure anything could really have prepared her for Clothier though. These mining camps on the edge of civilisation are so different from anything she has ever experienced before. She packed her bag with supplies, preparing for what she thought would be the worst case scenario. She arrived with an open mind, hoping to do some good.

The whore house was one thing that Shannon didn't anticipate but she has taken a special interest in Shelby's girls. Each and every one of those girls is making the best of a rotten situation and that is certainly something that Shannon can respect. She won't ever judge them, she'll just do her best to keep them healthy. The more unseemly aspects of their work can certainly wreak havoc on their bodies. Whether it's unpleasant bruising, pregnancy or—more distressing—disease, the girls fall under her care.

Shelby pays her of course, in both cash and booze. Sex was offered as it usually is—many in the camp will accept a few nights of pleasure as ample payment for services rendered—but Shannon had politely declined. The knowing smile Shelby gave her was a mite unsettling.

Shelby is sending a few of her girls to Shannon this afternoon and she is arranging her supplies accordingly. Shelby already sent through names of the girls she's sending in and each one has their particular requirements. They all have the general check-up of course, some need ointments, some suffer allergies and some suffer from peculiar nerves.

Quinn Fabray is always an interesting case and Shannon has her medication prepared. The opium solution is not one that the doctor favours but the girl's dependency has become acute. The trauma Quinn suffered bringing her baby into the world only to give it to someone else; no girl can come through that without some deep scars. It makes Shannon's heart hurt to even think about it. She hates what opium can do but understands that it can offer true relief for some ills.

Another name on her list is Santana Lopez. Where Quinn makes Shannon's heart ache with sadness, Santana gives Shannon the harsh feeling of pride. Santana is feisty as hell with more attitude than anyone could have guessed could fit into that little body. She is quick to use angry and hurtful words but is really so emotionally fragile that the smallest pressure could break her. Shannon is almost surprised that it isn't Santana with the inclination towards opium. There seems to be a subtle bravery in her though that, coupled with a less than subtle dollop of pride, keeps her head held high. Santana has let Shannon see behind her walls and that makes the doctor glad for her work.

— s — — b —

Quinn and I pick our way around the deep puddles that litter the road outside of Corcoran's. I dislike leaving the house at the best of times and this is the second time today. I curse loudly as Quinn's boots flick mud back toward me.

"Goddamn this mud. Why does Shelby do this to us? She gives us the afternoon off and then takes it away to go be poked and prodded by the strangest man in the country."

"Don't exaggerate Santana. It not flattering," Quinn smirks at me over her shoulder.

I check her face for any signs of tension. I know that she has been getting stronger doses of opium from the Doctor. Quinn spends quite a bit of her time in a haze these days. She assures me that it's perfectly pleasant but it still worries me. She's hardly herself when she is under the drug's influence; she can also become extremely anxious as the effects wear off. Especially when she doesn't know how long she'll be without the tonic. I can see that, even as we walk her shoulders are hunched and her hands are clenched in tight fists. Her eyes seem clear though and Beiste is certain to give her more of what she craves.

If Quinn wants to disappear into oblivion I can't hold it against her. Shelby has basically already told her that she'll be the exclusive property of one Noah Puckerman for most of the week. I have to wonder if Shelby knows what treatment Beiste is offering Quinn. I know that Quinn threatened Sugar with mutilation if she said anything to Shelby and Mercedes counts Quinn as a sister so she won't say anything. I won't tell Shelby anything while Quinn completes all her jobs in the House. It's none of my business or concern. Quinn has no means of threatening a man like Dr Beiste though and nothing of value to offer him for silence.

I do hope the doctor has kept it to himself. I share so much of myself with him in our brief visits. If he shares Quinn's secrets than he might share my own.

I'm certain that he understands me better than any other man in Clothier(or anywhere). He knows my body as intimately as any Trick but has only ever shown professional indifference. It makes me feel safe in his company. It might be an illusion but it's one I indulge in as I share more of myself with him than I do with anyone else.

— s — — b —

Brittany is convinced that Rachel Hudson is one of the most conceited and annoying people she has ever met. She had seemed nice enough when they met in the Mess tent. She even indulged in a certain amount of self effacement on the way out of camp. It's just unfortunate that there just doesn't seem to be any kind of filter between the woman's thoughts and her tongue.

"I hope you can forgive my intense curiosity Brent. I know it is a poor quality in a woman but you see, I truly just want to understand people," she looks at Brittany sideways as she continues. "If my understanding of a certain person maybe helps that person understand themselves than all the better."

Brittany is tempted to just ignore her chatter and concentrate on the noises in the grass instead. It is so easy to hum her own tune with the peculiar rhythm of the insects. The smell of the grass and the colour of the sky combine with that song into an intoxicating medley of sensation. She wishes she could feel the grass under her feet without the heavy boots in her way. She longs to dance.

Brittany wonders of Santana can dance. She will have to ask next time she sees her. Santana had suggested that they might not see each other again but that had already been proven untrue. There has also been indications in the Company that they will remain in Clothier for some time. No matter how long a time that is, Brittany will take every opportunity to make Santana see how wonderful she is. The night they spent together was not enough and Brittany suspects that Santana doesn't remember much of it besides.

An annoyingly sing-song voice interrupts her thoughts. "Brent, did you hear my question?" Rachel is looking at her expectantly. She seems impatient and irritated that Brittany hasn't given her full attention.

Brittany reminds herself that she was to be taking this woman's words with the same consideration as her commanding officer's. "I'm sorry Mrs Hudson, I just got distracted."

"I told you it's Rachel. Please remember Brent, it's important to me."

"I'm sorry Rachel, you were saying?"

"I was asking actually if you had a sweetheart. A girl that you may have been thinking of just now perhaps?" she asks slyly.

Sam, a few paces ahead of them coughs into his hand. Brittany wonders if he's covering a laugh. She hopes so. The tense moment between them earlier has left her a little unsettled.

Brittany reflects on the question, blushing as she realises what Rachel means. She was thinking of Santana but that wasn't what Rachel asked.

Brittany shakes her head, trying to reduce the heat in her face by sheer will. "No, I don't have a sweetheart."

Rachel nods solemnly as though she expected this response. "But you do have someone you're sweet on?"

Brittany shakes her head but Rachel is having none of it.

"Now, don't be shy with me Private. I know that look on anyone. You're in love. I'm sure of it."

Brittany stumbles in her step, almost catching herself on Rachel's shoulder. She rights herself just in time but nearly chokes on her own tongue in her rush to reply. "N—no, nothing like that. I mean, Santana is—i—is—" she stutters to a halt and swallows dryly. She feels light headed; her feet are too far away from her body and her hands tingle. The buildings that they're walking past appear lopsided and altogether…drift-y.

Rachel's smirk brings Brittany back to the ground and her feet. "Her name is Santana?" she asks.

Brittany doesn't respond.

Rachel sighs longingly, "Oh this is so lovely. I do hope I get to meet her. Seeing the two of you together would make this all so much more wonderful to write about. Is Santana an Italian name?"

Brittany just shrugs, wishing that Rachel would stop talking and that Sam could lead them to the doctor faster.

— s — — b —

I spot the hanging board with the symbol for medicine at the same time Quinn does and we pick up our pace. Quinn longs for the medicine inside and I long to be away from this mud. I could swear the dirt is embedding itself under my nails even as we walk. The warm, clean interior of Beiste's house could not be near enough.

I blink when I hear my name. It's too far away and in too high a voice to be Quinn calling me. I scan the street, weary of some awkward diversion.

Then Brittany Pierce domes into view, walking directly towards my same destination. She is led by her blonde friend and accompanied by a short brunette. Brittany looks extremely perturbed by the smaller woman and I am immediately curious.

Quinn spots the group a moment after I do. She glances at me then yells out before I can stop her, "If it isn't Private Pierce."

Brittany's attention snaps toward us and her gaze instantly finds mine. That twinge happens again in my chest again and brings my footsteps to a halt. My hands tingle and a lightheadedness makes the ground seem further away than it ought to be.

Brittany smiles. I think of pretty flowers on my windowsill and long, delicate arms wrapped around my waist.