In the two days that followed, things gradually returned to normal. The medal was kept in one of the pockets of my dress uniform, because I was never going to look at it unless I had to wear the dress uniform. Of course, I hoped I didn't have to wear that uniform in a long time.

The good news was that I could trust Hudson. Whenever we were around other people, he maintained his usual, mildly annoying personality. In fact, ever since I talked to him, he's starting to look a little better. For the first time in two weeks, he asked Bishop to do the knife trick at breakfast, and I was more than happy to hold his hand down while Bishop took the dagger and prepared to stab it in the space between his fingers.

Hicks was still trying to get us all to communicate better, but he's backed off somewhat. I wouldn't mind if it was gradual, but it was so sudden that I decided to be the bigger man and ask what was wrong when I cornered him in his quarters.

"We're leaving for the Moon in two days," Hicks said, flatly.

I felt like I got punched in the chest. "Base transfer?"

"No. There was an accident at the Sea of Tranquility company headquarters. A bunch of employees are stuck in one section of a building because a computer server exploded and compromised an atmospheric processor. They've got three weeks of oxygen and we have the tools to get them out." Hicks pointed to me. "Unfortunately, you and Hudson have to stay behind because you can't go in hypersleep. It's not a long trip, but I'm not risking two of my most valuable men."

"How're you allowed to go when you're down one rifleman and down one smartgunner?"

"Your temporary replacements are coming this afternoon from the Sydney base."

A ball of ice started forming in my stomach. I don't think Vasquez was going to take too kindly to working with a smrtgunner she hardly knew, but I imagined she'd keep her mouth shut and just work with whoever this replacement was going to be.

In the meantime, I had finished my test last night and gave it to the mail guys this morning. All I had to do was wait, and I hate waiting. Then again, it feels like all I do is wait. My whole life revolves around waiting. What am I waiting for, though? Am I waiting for some giant miracle to happen? Will that miracle allow me to live like a normal person? Are miracles even the answer? I highly doubt it. I've never had any miracles. They seem to avoid me like the plague.

I rubbed my face. I was about to think, Maybe I am the plague, but I quickly told myself that wasn't true. I'm just a young man with bad luck. That's all.

I ended up telling Hudson what I heard from Hicks, and he was really disappointed that he couldn't go to the Moon with them. "How long are we banned from hypersleep?" he asked.

"I still have three weeks," I replied. "You've got a month or longer, I think."

"A month?" Hudson gave an annoyed sigh. "What the hell're we supposed to do till then?"

"Do I look like I know the answer? We'll probably get sent to a hospital complex on the mainland and just sit and wait until everyone else comes back." The last thing I wanted was that. Lovingly called "grunt daycare," these large military hospital bases are used for two purposes: quarantine, and housing soldiers who can't fight but are going to recover. Most soldiers choose to go home in order to rest, but those who don't have a home anywhere in the world (like me) would get sent to the nearest base. I went to one shortly after being transferred to this unit because I broke my arm during training. It wasn't a very fun experience. The doctors and nurses are genuinely nice people, but I was incredibly lonely, and the shock of going from boot camp to my unit and then abruptly to another base was overwhelming. I imagine it would be significantly worse for Hudson, because just the atmosphere would make him feel like he was back in Hornby's lab in D.C. At least we would have each other for company.

"I don't wanna go there," Hudson muttered. "Is there anything else?"

"Yeah. We stay with Delhoun for a week." I shrugged. "He needs help anyway, because he's getting eye surgery in a few days. I think that's a perfect excuse."

Vasquez entered the room, looking rather pissed off. "Drake, can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure." I stood up, following her out into the hall. I was a little confused when she pushed me into her bedroom and slammed shut the door.

"I was very close to telling Hicks to go fuck himself as well," she hissed. "I don't want to leave!"

"It's not gonna be forever." I was guessing that she had just learned about their mission.

Tears were streaming down her face. "I can't do this again, Drake!"

"Yes, you can." I put my arm around her. "It'll be OK, sweetheart, I promise. I'll be here in Australia. Nothing's going to happen." I grinned. "Now it's my turn to worry about you." In truth, I was already worried. "You've never reacted like this to a mission. What's going on?"

"It's not the mission. It's being separated from you again. I'm so tired of it." Vasquez took a breath. "I've worked so hard to become one of the best smartgunners this unit has. I shouldn't be . . . falling apart because of this."

I kissed her, and gently pressed her close to my body. "Missing me doesn't make you weak. Trust me, I'm tired of this, too." I grinned. "Just don't be nice to whoever my replacement is."

"When have I been nice to anyone other than you?"

"I don't even think you're nice to me, sometimes." I kept smirking. "So, does this mean tonight we can-"

"If you're up for it."

"Well, you bet I'm up for it. At least we're not gonna fight afterwards, like last time."

"No, we're not gonna fight." A slight smile crossed Vasquez's face. "Not unless you do something stupid between now and lights-out."

"And knowing me, that's entirely possible?"

Vasquez's smile got bigger. "Exactly." She kissed my cheek. "Please keep that in mind."

It must've been around three in the afternoon when the replacements for me and Hudson arrived. They weren't anything spectacular, to be honest with you. I was leaning against the wall, watching them enter the base and greet Hicks. The rifleman was a small, tanned guy called Private Jenzi, and the smartgunner was a taller, better built guy called Private Lucano.

Jenzi was talking with Hicks while it appears Lucano has the attention span of a three-year-old. He spotted me in the hallway and immediately walked over to say, "Hey! Are you the smartgunner I'm replacing?"

I glanced up at him, and didn't reply.

"Aw, come on, what's the matter?"

What's it going to take to send the message that I'm not interested in making conversation?

Clearly, Lucano was incapable of understanding nonverbal language, so he started poking my biceps. At this point, I was pretty much backed against the wall, frozen like a nervous animal. "You know, I could tell you're a smartgunner when I walked in. Our arms are better developed than a rifleman's."

"Lucano! Leave him alone," Hicks ordered, sternly. "He's not feeling good."

I'm pretty sure Lucano was expecting me to be in a sling or a cast or something like that. He stepped away from me, saying, "Sorry," as he went back over to Hicks and Jenzi.

I had a gut feeling that this wasn't going to be the last time Lucano was going to be a pain in the ass, and I was proven right shortly before lights-out.

I joined Vasquez in her room after taking a shower. She was already in bed, and patiently waiting for me to get ready. As soon as I got in bed, the door opened, and Lucano was staring at us. I felt every organ in my torso fall like rocks into my stomach. Both Vasquez and I had turned bright-red with shock and embarrassment.

"Get out!" Vasquez shouted.

A slew of emotions crashed down on my head. Should I cry? Scream? For a moment, I wasn't sure if Vasquez was yelling at me or Lucano, but I didn't have to worry about him for very long. I heard an inhuman howling out in the hallway, and a split-second later, Hudson had tackled Lucano. His cheeks were flushed and silver-tinged sweat was running down the sides of his face. His hands were tightly wrapped around Lucano's throat, and he was throttling him hard. I think the surprise alone had taken the breath out of Lucano, because he was feebly trying to push Hudson off of him.

The whole base was baffled by this, because everyone who ran over to see had the same look on their face, and I was pretty sure I was the only one who knew why Hudson suddenly attacked Lucano. Hicks was sprinting over, wearing only his pajama shorts, and tried to grab Hudson by the shoulders. "Let go of him!" Hicks snarled between grit teeth.

I jogged over, tying my boots, and promptly kicked Hudson in the ribs. His grip on Lucano loosened, and he was easily pulled away, allowing Lucano to scramble out from underneath him. The rage in his eyes faded, and he looked at me while holding his chest. Before Hicks could rip him a new one, I held up my hand, saying, "Don't get too upset with him."

"He just attacked another Marine!" Hicks shouted.

"It's the medicine he's on! If you're gonna get mad at anyone, get mad at Doctor Hornby." I went into Hudson's room, and came back with the packet of notes.

This was clearly the last straw for Hicks. Never in my life have I seen him lose his temper, or even break down in tears, but that night, I did. Throwing the packet on the floor, Hicks gestured for me to follow him into his room. After slamming shut the door, he sat at his desk, looking down at the carpet. I found this to be incredibly familiar, and realized I was seeing myself suffering a breakdown as well.

Hicks didn't speak for several minutes. He sniffed fluid back into his nasal passages. Dear God, the man was actually crying. You're more likely to see Vasquez cry than Hicks. I could see tears running down his cheeks and dripping onto the floor. He looked at me, struggling to keep his composure. I noticed he had a much better grip on himself than I did, but that didn't mean he wasn't susceptible to a major breakdown. In truth, I wondered if he was doing a far better job at bottling things up, and only now were things starting to come to the surface. This was exactly what he didn't want happening to this unit. Everyone, including leadership, was falling apart because we couldn't (or just plain refused to) talk to each other.

Make no mistake, I was certain this was my fault.

"Drake, I'm sorry," Hicks started. "I . . . I'm sorry I tried to help you guys when . . . you just don't want it."

"'Wanting it' doesn't matter. 'Need' is the better word, and some of us do need help."

"I know the difference." He swallowed past a growing lump in his throat. "I need to vent to you."

I pointed to myself. "You need to vent to me? Why me?"

"Does it matter? You're the one who understands what Hudson's going through. You're the one who knew that the medicine is hurting him psychologically. Plus, I know you were pushing me away for a reason. I don't know if I should've just left you alone or tried a different approach. I think you understand that this is really frustrating, feeling like no one around you is even trying to understand what you're doing."

I nodded. I completely understood that.

"I know you and Hudson are probably upset that you have to stay behind for this upcoming mission, and I'm sorry that the guys we were sent aren't the brightest."

"They don't have to know the exact reasons," I replied. "It's not your fault or their fault. It's also not your fault that Hudson's been easily angered. Trust me, I get it. I blame myself for shit that's not my fault all the time. It's hard to deal with on a daily basis, but I'm working on it." Was now the perfect time to really spill my guts to him? Would it help anyone if I told him the real reason I pushed him away? No, that would be selfish. He's going through shit of his own. "Did . . . Hudson attacking Lucano . . . push you over the edge?"

I prodded Hicks in the exact right spot. He rubbed his face, and when he took his hand away, I saw the glinting of fresh tears in his eyes. "It did."

"I'm guessing you were already feeling like trying to handle the mental health of everyone in the squad was overwhelming?"

"It was. I couldn't just drop it, though. I had you on my mind saying that the reason you pushed me away was because you felt like I didn't care about you as an individual. I didn't want to project that by suddenly . . . ignoring everyone's problems. Truth is . . . no one except you and Hudson really told me anything about stuff bothering you. Everyone kinda said, 'I'll say something if I start feeling bothered,' and left."

"You put a big ol' weight on your shoulders."

"Exactly." Hicks looked at me. "Drake, I don't want to ask, but . . . how do you know?"

"I just do." I shrugged. "I dunno, I know how you feel. It comes from trying to deal with my own emotions and realizing that it's a lot harder than just shutting up or crying. Whether or not you're ashamed of it is up to you, but, I won't say anything to anyone about what we say here."

Somehow, Hicks knew that I was telling the truth. It didn't bring a smile to his face, but I think it made him feel better. "Well, I appreciate that." He took a breath. "You're dismissed for the night. I . . . I need to be alone."

To make a long story short, Vasquez told me that I needed to sleep in my own room. She was really embarrassed by the fact that Lucano, someone we hardly knew, walked in on us right before we were going to have sex. She didn't even want that happening if it was someone we did know, and she was really afraid that Lucano was going to tell someone that we were sleeping together. I was embarrassed as well, but I also knew that I had been telling a select few people about our relationship. Then again, they were people that I could trust (although, I told Miranda out of necessity). No amount of talk could get me to stay, and all we could do was pray that Hudson had tackled Lucano hard enough to knock a few memories loose.

In the morning, I learned that Lucano had taken everything that happened yesterday as a sign that he needed to stay out of our business and not be so quick to try and be friendly with everybody. I knew that because of his silence at breakfast. As a matter of fact, everyone was silent at breakfast, and it was a little disturbing. We had all retreated into our own heads. No one cracked jokes, no one tried to talk about the mission, no one tried to ask if anyone was OK. It was almost pure silence.

I would also learn that Bishop had taken one of Hudson's pills last night to study it. He could identify most of the pill's ingredients, but was stumped by one of them. I expected him to call Hornby, but instead, he called Delhoun. It was around ten in the morning when Delhoun came by to take a look at this ingredient. He and Bishop were alone in sick bay for about an hour, and then Delhoun asked me to grab that folder with Hornby's notes. The two looked over it, and Delhoun said, "That's the component making Hudson aggressive."

"What?" I replied.

"Annexer hormones." Delhoun gestured to the broken pill in a petri dish on the table. "This particular one is stress-related. It's released whenever the Annexer is nervous and goes into flight-or-fight mode. It causes their fur to taste bad to predators." He folded his arms over his chest. "It's fairly easy to obtain as well. Just brush the animal, put the loose fur in a bag, and send it to a lab where they can separate it."

"Why would that be in this pill?" You learn something new every day.

"To force Hudson to sweat out the silver flower toxin. Most of the medicines you took had a very small trace of this hormone, but the dose was so small it didn't have any effect on you psychologically. Hornby decided to go with a whopping two milligrams in this pill. That's why Hudson's displaying such aggression." Delhoun picked up his cap, and looked at me. "I'm guessing you're still mad at Hornby."

I shrugged. "I'm not pissed off, but I'm not going to be friends with him."

"Drake, Hornby's not a perfect man. This is an experimental drug. I'm pretty sure that Hornby will take into account everything that's happened, and will adjust the medicine as such. You can't hold onto this grudge forever."

If Bishop wasn't in the room, I would've started arguing with Delhoun. Instead, I said, "What do we do until the bottle's empty? Someone could get seriously hurt."

"Maintain a low heartrate. No strenuous exercise. Try to avoid exposing him to things that would force traumatic memories to resurface. I would also cut the pills in half, just to lower the dosage a little." Delhoun grinned. "Don't you love it when big problems have simple solutions?"

I rolled my eyes, not appreciating Delhoun making light of the subject. "It's not going to reverse the fact that Hudson attacked one of the soldiers replacing us for the upcoming mission. Now we're probably going to be referred to as the loony squad."

"Maybe, but it could also not happen. There are just some things you should let go of, Drake," Delhoun replied. He started leaving the room, and I followed him.

"Hey, do you think Hudson and I can stay with you while everyone else is on the Moon?"

Delhoun paused. "I guess . . . You realize I'm having surgery in a few days, right?"

"Yes."

"You, Hudson, and Aran are going to be helpful while I'm incapacitated. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"Sure. We'll be helpful." When Annexers fly.

"Then you and Hudson can stay with me until your unit returns."

I was looking forward to staying with Delhoun for a week or so, but I was also afraid this would be a major setback in proving to everyone else that I was fit for combat. That being said, I had no gripes about eating more fucking cornbread for lunch. It was going to be my last meal with everyone else for the next week, so, of course I had to be sweeter than normal.

It was rushed, though. When everyone got up, I was still eating, and every conversation just stopped. It was almost like how fog disappears in the morning. They were trying not to focus on the events of the last couple days, and that was understandable, because this mission was more important.

After making sure no one was around, I knocked on Vasquez's door and said, "It's Drake. Can I come in?"

Vasquez opened the door, and pulled me in. She was clearly angry, but the longer we stared at each other, the more her glare began to fade. "No matter what happens, I love you," she whispered.

I smiled, starting to get a little choked up. "I love you, too. I'm-I'm sorry about . . . you know-"

"Forget about it. We'll have other times to make love, or cuddle, or talk, or kiss, or all of the above." Vasquez touched my face. "Because I promise I'll come back."

"And you'll keep that promise." I kissed her forehead. "Now, don't worry about me. Just go do your best out there. I'll be fine."

"I will." Vasquez let go of me, and grabbed her duffel bag to sling it over her shoulder. "Take care of Hudson, OK?"

"I will." I followed her into the hallway, and hung back a little as the rest of the squad headed outside, where they boarded a ferry that would take them to a spaceport in Sydney. I stood by the gates, watching until the ship was a dot in the distance. My heart aching, I turned back to gather up my stuff, wake up Hudson, and go to Delhoun's. As I put my I.D. card in the slot to get back in the base, one of the MPs said, "You got mail, Drake," and handed me a heavy envelope. The return address read "Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania," and my heart started pounding nervously as I opened it. Inside was a letter, a sheet with all my scores, and a diploma with my name on it.

The MP was smiling at me. "Congratulations."

Without a word, I sprinted to the gates, and yelled, "Vasquez! I passed! I passed! I got my diploma, baby!"

I know she couldn't hear me, but it felt good to do that.

Question of the Chapter: Did Hicks's plan really fail, or was he successful by opening up to Drake?

Author's Note: This story felt very intensive and not very intensive at the same time. I appreciate all the comments that have said this story was good, one of the best things they've ever read, and so on. I'm glad there are people who enjoy this type of slice-of-life, psychological writing. It's fun to work on, and it was good to let Drake breathe a little throughout the course of the story with small, happy moments; they were crucial to getting him to start healing, mentally, and it isn't good to have a character-any character-be continuously pressed down by the negative aspects of their life, whether it be something as severe as PTSD or as commonplace as past regrets.

It really was tempting to write about sending Drake home to receive his diploma, but that should probably be its own story, especially since I've got a wide variety of characters that could travel with him for support, or I could be cruel and send him alone. That will be something to think about while working on the next story. Happy reading - Cat.