No one has said anything about the cover…

Alex's POV

After a couple of weeks spent mostly in a bed, I was getting stir crazy. Sure, they let me walk around to make sure I didn't start wasting away, but never got more than thirty feet from my med cot. I wasn't even allowed to go to my own tent and sleep there. Twenty-four hour medical surveillance, all the medical rations I could stomach, and all the sleep I could stand.

If I didn't do something soon, I was liable to hurt someone.

The burns and bruises were healing up, the stitches from the bullet wound were ready come out in a few more days, and I wasn't feeling lightheaded anymore, so I decided on my own I was fine enough to get out of there.

My battle gear and thrashed clothes had all been discarded, but someone had had the common sense to bring some replacement garments from my own tent. A pair of faded grey skinny jeans almost free of blood stains except for one on the left knee and a white tank top replaced my previously ruined armor and clothing. My black boots however, were nowhere to be found. Instead, I'd been making due with a pair borrowed from a soldier who—more or less—was the same size as me.

It was already getting late outside, so that meant the medics were gone save a single night nurse, and she'd stepped out to get fresh bandages. The med tent was surprisingly empty save for a couple of stragglers, all of whom were asleep and recovering well from lighter injuries.

No one would even know I'd snuck off.

I sat up in bed, feeling my still healing core protest every twitch of muscle along the way. Nevertheless, I managed to swing my legs off the bed and onto the ground. My legs gave for a second, but I managed to catch myself on the bedframe. I held myself up until my legs slowly got used to doing all the heavy lifting themselves, and then I cautiously released the bed.

My first step or so was a tad shaky, but a few strides later I was walking like a normal person once again. Walking to the exit of the med tent, I tried to decide where exactly I would go. Knowing Jacob, he'd try to convince me that I still needed rest, so dropping by him was no good. "Borrow" a car and go for a drive? Tempting, but as a Captain, I had to set a good example for the other soldiers. I was starting to entertain the idea of going to the armory to find a new replacement weapon when I opened up the tent flap and bumped right into someone.

All the strength I'd regained in my legs disappeared and I fell right back down again. The person I'd bumped faired a little better, staggering backward and dropping a small duffel bag they'd been carrying, but at least they kept their footing.

I landed hard on my butt as a shrill, British accent continually repeated. "I'm sorry! Oh, I'm so sorry!

I didn't recognize whoever I'd bumped into. She was young for sure, no taller than five feet even, dressed in a dark skirt, an unzipped tan jacket and a union jack t-shirt. Her hair was a curly dirty blonde that hung free from her head, cascading down to her shoulder blades. Gods, she would not stop apologizing.

"It's fine," I interrupted, putting up a hand to get her to stop. With a grunt of effort and another brief stab of pain in my stitches, I hauled myself to my feet as the girl grabbed her duffel bag from the floor.

"I'm so sorry," she said again anyway. "I just…you see I'm still sort of new to this place and I…don't quite know my way around just yet. I'm looking for the medical tent?"

"You've come to the right place," I assured her. "Someone you know inside?"

"Well, no," she explained. Or rather, tried to. "Well um, not really. You see I just...I'm looking for a Captain di Angelo. I was told I could find her here?"

"In the flesh," I said, gesturing to myself.

"What?" the girl asked, briefly puzzled. She squinted through the dim light of the setting sun, trying to place my face. Then it clicked for her. "Oh!"

Immediately she began running her free hand through her hair and trying to smooth out her skirt as if she was about to meet royalty. "I'm so terribly sorry about—"

I held up a hand to stop her. "It's fine," I stressed. "Just please, stop apologizing…I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Oh gods, I forgot to introduce myself!" the girl said, smacking herself in the head. "Erm, Campbell, Captain. Lydia Campbell, British intelligence. I'm…I guess you could say I'm a fan."

"Back up for just a second," I said. "You said British intelligence. How old are you?"

"I'm thirteen Captain. But Her Majesty has said I'm wise beyond my years," Lydia answered.

I raised an eyebrow and gave the young girl another look over as if I'd missed something threatening about her. What was in that duffel bag?

"You're thirteen, and you work for the British government?" I said, not buying it.

"Well, yes," she said, as if it should have been simple to understand. But then her gaze turned more solemn and her eyes traveled to look at the ground with regret. "Or rather I did… and then it was burned down."

"I'm… sorry," I said, trying to console her.

"I don't think you really could have done anything either way," Lydia dismissed. Her mood suddenly lightened. "We'll get him back for it of course. And that's what I'm here for! I brought you something!"

Immediately Lydia unzipped her duffel bag and began rummaging through it, sifting around its contents looking for something.

"Brought me something?" I said. I'd barely met this girl today, where was all this coming from?

"Well, I've been tracking your exploits for a while now. Well, not just me," she explained as she riffled through her bag. "You get around quite a bit too. I forget, was it you who sank that bridge…no, that can't be right… But anywho, I know who you are, what you can do, and how important to this whole war you are. When Henry brought me here from London I was actually looking forward to meeting you. I mean, the General as well of course, though he's never really been my area of expertise. Sorry, I'm getting off track… I'd wanted to introduce myself right away, but you came in critical and bleeding…"

Lydia must have found what she was looking for, because she briefly forgot what she was saying and beamed with pride down at something inside her bag. Meanwhile, I was trying to decode everything she'd just rambled off. And in all honesty, I wasn't making much progress.

"When you came in," she explained as she pulled a thick black garb out of the duffel bag, "I couldn't help but notice your uniform was, well…trashed. I hope you don't mind too terribly, but I took the liberty of fabricating a new one for you."

She held up the black garb for me to see. After a second, it registered to me what I was looking at. Lydia was holding a suit of Celestial Bronze flex-armor, the very same light, flexible style of armor Jacob's was, painted black. Lydia didn't stop there either. She went on to pull out a pair of matching bracers and new, armor reinforced black boots.

Lydia remained silent, smiling and waiting for a response. But I was still trying to some to terms with everything this thirteen year old girl from Britain had just spouted. In the space of five minutes, she'd bumped into me, told me she was with British intelligence, claimed to have been watching me, and now she hands me a shiny set of new armor?

"Oh no," she said, misinterpreting my silence. "You hate it, don't you?"

"No!" I said quickly. "No, it's amazing I just…"

I still couldn't believe who this girl was, until I remembered her saying something about Henry bringing her here from London. "Who are you again?"

"Lydia Campbell, British intelligence," she repeated. This time though, she added, "Daughter of Aphrodite."

"A daughter of Aphrodite who can forge armor?" I questioned.

"Designed really," she said. "I mean, I can forge armor and weapons just…well, I'm no child of Hephaestus. This set was made mostly by someone I met at the forge. Tall, one-eye, very kind, though not all too bright I don't think…"

"Tyson," I said. He was one of the few people still alive who knew how to make flex-armor. "He's smarter than he looks."

"So, you do like the armor then?" Lydia asked.

"I'd have to try it on," I said, looking it over. The armor all certainly looked nice, but looks didn't keep you safe on the battlefield.

"Really, you would?" Lydia asked enthusiastically.

"Wait, I never said—"

Lydia didn't wait for me to say anything else, she just handed me the armor set, grinning giddily. "Oh, you're going to love it! You can change inside the tent!"

And so I was shoved into the med tent once again, holding a shiny new set of armor with a little girl waiting outside for me to try it on.

A little reluctantly, and still not fully believing this was really happening, I donned the new armor over the clothes I was already wearing.

The black bracers wrapped around my forearms and even had leather extensions that guarded the back of my hands. Intricate silver engravings decorated the black surface, mostly simple, flowing lines that curled back and looped around the wrist.

The breastplate was without shoulder guards, leaving my shoulders and upper arms bare. Silver engravings were present on it as well, centered mostly on the breasts of the armor and coming down in a single central line to make a y-shape. The armor was form fitting, but it exaggerated my figure in some places, making my stomach look more tone than it really was among other…enhancements.

Twin, dulled gray belts wrapped around my waist, overlapping and serving as a border between the breastplate and the black battle skirt that extended down and stopped just above my knees. The skirt was armored of course, made out of metal strips joined by black leather.

The boots fit perfectly, with the toes and back of the heel both reinforced with light armor. Nothing mobility restricting, just something to make the usual wear and tear areas hold up a little better under stress.

It all fit perfectly, the weight was minimal for armor, I got to keep my full range of motion, it was a great set.

I exited the med tent clad in the new armor, and Lydia lit up.

"Oh my gods! It's perfect! You should definitely keep the pants on under the skirt, it goes perfect with the color scheme!" she squealed. "Oh, don't worry. I may pay attention to form, but I don't sacrifice an inch in function."

She pointed to the armor. "It's every bit as strong as what you used to wear, maybe even a little stronger. The bracers can withstand just as much punishment as your breastplate, give or take, and the hand guards prevent any nasty scrapes. The belts support any and all accessories you can loop them through. Binocular pouches, weapon sheaths...I'm rambling again aren't ?"

"Yes," I answered honestly. "But thank you. I really don't know what to say. I barely know you, and you're already giving me custom armor."

"You could tell me you love it," Lydia offered.

I raised an eyebrow, but smiled after a moment. "It's great."

I usually wasn't that big on prolonged conversation, especially with Aphrodite girls, but something about this girl was softening me up just a hair. IT might have had something to do with the fact that up until yesterday, I was sure all of Aphrodite's children were dead. I decided to throw her a bone, even if I might regret it later. I gestured to myself, and asked the one question that sane people never asked Aphrodite kids.

"So…how do I look?"

"You look fantastic!" Lydia said with a huge smile. "Gods, I knew I could make people look good in armor, but you're gorgeous!"

Before she could start on another rant though, her expression changed. "Wait…Captain…I was told I could find you in the medical tent…that you were still recovering…what are you doing out of bed?"

"I was about to ask the same thing."

Private Nick Bennett stood with his arms folded, leaning against a stack of medical supplies next to the tent. He was wearing camouflage fatigue pants and a light grey shirt. And he was supposed to be on restock duty for another two hours.

Over the course of my agonizingly long recovery period, I'd received many visitors. A lot of the troops from the 2nd, old friends like Henry or Roxanne. Jacob had stopped by a couple of times, though he'd looked extremely preoccupied whenever he'd been around of late. I'd actually gotten more visits from his secretary Cynthia.

But Bennett single-handedly stood out as the only person persistent and habitual enough to visit me every day, at the same time, fifteen minutes after he finished helping with distribution of supplies in the refugee camps south of base camp. Even brought flowers once, though I think my laughing at him for doing it was the reason for that not happening since.

"Bennett," I greeted awkwardly. "Hi."

"Captain," he returned, striding up to me. "Get an early discharge did we?"

"I do believe I'm supposed to be in my own quarters right about now. I think I'll just…" that was as far as Lydia got before speed walking away in the opposite direction.

He stopped a few feet in front of me, looking down at me from his six inch height advantage with his arms folded. "Last I checked you still had another week in medical."

"Last I checked," I shot back defiantly, "I was the one with the higher rank. I know when I'm ready to get back into the fight."

"Captain, you were in critical condition, and you're lucky to be alive," he reminded me. "Rest and recovery is the only thing you are ready to get back to."

"Aren't you on distribution duty?" I questioned.

"Snuck off early," he said flatly, eyes locked with mine. "Things were slow and the guys had things in hand. Figured I'd stop by."

"Shirking responsibilities now, are we Nick?" I taunted, cocking my head almost in a challenge.

"Bending the rules just a hair," he admitted, giving a smoldering look that said, It's not that bad… I knew that look. I'd used it often enough. "And I come to find you sneaking out in some hot new armor."

"Hot armor?" I asked. "Private Bennett, are you flirting with me?"

"Flirting?" he said mockingly, as if that were the craziest thing he'd ever heard. "Captain I was simply stating facts. That armor was designed by a fashion demigod/British intelligence agent, it was most likely designed for stunning looks. I'm merely pointing out the designer accomplished their goal."

"Flirting with a superior officer could be considered fraternization," I reminded him, taking a step closer to him. "That's a direct violation of protocol, you are breaking all kinds of rules today."

"This from the patient disobeying doctor's orders," he retorted, taking a step in my direction and narrowing the gap between us just a little more.

"Speaking of," I said, stepping closer. "I do seem to remember you disobeying my orders when I told everyone to fall back to the vehicles."

"Yes," he said, edging further toward me. "That was when I saved your life."

I shook my head and uttered the famous Tsk, tsk, tsk, sound as I took another step toward him. We were less than a foot apart now. "Orders are orders Bennett. Ditching assignments, fraternization, disobeying orders, I think someone is long overdue for a court martial."

Bennett gave a half smile as he look down at me. "So court martial me."

And I did. Which is to say, I kissed him.

003: Okay, I have to know, how many people were reading this, saw this coming, and started yelling "NO!" at their computers. C'mon. I know there was at least one of you.

1136: You weren't hugged enough as a child. I'm calling it.