December 24, 1991: Greater Caucasus Mountains, former undisclosed Russian base in the Republic of Georgia: Officers' Dining Hall

As the Joes trickled into the dining hall, they were overwhelmed by the sight of the makeshift banquet. The whisperings around the base did it little justice. Per Giorgi's instructions, the set-up crew had arranged the tables in one long line, joined end-to-end. Giorgi explained to the crew that a supra was always held at one long table, or a makeshift table of many joined end-to-end, running from one room to another, if need be. Due to the lack of adjoining rooms, the set-up crew improvised and the tables snaked along the wall, never touching. It created the sense of an Escher painting—where the tables began and ended no one could say. The tables' set-up, however, was not the subject of the marvel. As a matter of fact, most of the table tops were invisible to the Joes, laden as they were with huge earthen jugs full of wine and assorted dishes created by Roadblock and the kitchen staff. To the casual observer the servers appeared to pile the dishes on top of each other in an effort to reach the ceiling. To the more discriminating Joes, it was a showcase of gastronomy at its finest. The overabundance of food and wine was enough to make any Joe pause and preemptively adjust a waistband.

Alpine ambled into the room still weary of what the Georgians considered fine cuisine. Despite Giorgi's assurances he remained apprehensive for the evening's feast. His fears were laid to rest at the site of the lavish spread. All around the tables the kitchen crew placed steaming silver trays filled with khachapuri, a cheese-filled bread Giorgi declared to be the national snack of Georgia. After one taste of Roadblock's first batch, Giorgi declared the cook a citizen for life. In addition to the bread, there was shashlik, a type of Georgian kabob, salads, chicken, ham, rice dishes, and assorted greens. Alpine whistled to himself. Although it would be a failing endeavor to eat all that food, he was more than willing to make an attempt. He had to hand it to the staff; they certainly had gone all out.

Bazooka, already seated, caught a glimpse of the climber and waved the man over. Alpine eagerly took the proffered seat. The Georgian attendants began to pass the dishes and Alpine soon lost sight of his plate. Bazooka looked around quickly before hunching over into a small ball.

Alpine nudged him, "Hey man, what are you doing?"

Bazooka smiled as he straightened out, pointing toward his midsection. He had taken the opportunity to proactively undue his belt. "Don't need this getting in my way. Pass some more of that kapooey over."

"Khachapuri." Giorgi materialized out of thin air, offering a tray of the steaming hot bread to the men. Giorgi's eyes were ablaze with the excitement of the evening and something more. Alpine couldn't quite put a finger on it but to him Giorgi's wide-eyed expression bordered on the psychotic. It reminded Alpine of the movie Psycho and Norman Bates, a seemingly normal man on the outside but darn crazy on the inside. Alpine mentally shook his head. He knew he was being ridiculous. Giorgi had as much of a chance as being malevolent as Alpine's food had a chance of growing cold on his plate. Bazooka, oblivious to Alpine's discomfort, dived into the offered platter, using tongs to scoop up as much of the sticky, oozing bread as possible.

Giorgi cautioned the man, "Now Mr. Bazooka, don't fill up too much for there is much more. There are a few courses yet to come."

"No worries of that," Bazooka shoveled more of the bread into his mouth. Looking around, Bazooka grabbed the nearest filled wine goblet and prepared to guzzle down its contents. The bread, while good, nevertheless left one with a thirst.

"No!" Giorgi swiped the goblet away from the startled man's mouth. "You mustn't."

Bazooka felt like cowering under the table. He knew he'd gone and done it again, offending some local tradition or something. It was like the time Alpine, Lady Jaye, and he had that mission in Japan. How was he supposed to know that the pastries in the middle of the table were offerings for the minister's ancestors? It was a mistake anyone could have made. Alpine stared at Giorgi. Was this what he sensed, some controlling personality underlying the man's usual jovial nature?

Giorgi sensed the men's discomfort and attempted to repair the situation. "I apologize. One may not drink unless the tamada has offered the toast. It is a tradition of my people and it is bad luck to drink out of turn. Please allow me to get you some water. The salt of the cheese can cause a terrible thirst." Giorgi bowed slightly, disappearing into a crowd of servers.

Bazooka looked at Alpine and shrugged, "Man, no matter where you are, people are always going to put out stuff you can't eat. I give up." He consoled himself with another heaping of the cheese bread. Speaking through a mouth full of cheese, Bazooka offered some up to Alpine, "You got to try this stuff. Man it's good." Alpine seemed transfixed elsewhere. "Hey, Buds, earth to Alpine." Bazooka waved his hand in front of Alpine's face. Alpine pushed the hand away. "Hey, what ya go and do that . . ." Bazooka's indignation trailed off as he caught sight of Alpine's view. Walking into the room was a vision sent from heaven, Cover Girl and Lady Jaye decked out in their finest. Bazooka let his mouth open, runny cheese dribbling down his chin.

Cover Girl strolled in as if she was on a runway, owning the room. Confidence hovered about her and she knew she captivated them all. Wearing the blouse and cardigan from Lady Jaye and adding her own black velvet mini-skirt, her legs went on for miles as the black velvet hit black stockings, which turned into black suede high-heeled boots. At once reserved and extravagant, she looked every bit the model she once was. Walking slightly aside and behind her, Lady Jaye was striking in her own way. Cover Girl, convincing Lady Jaye that true sexiness was not in what one showed but in what one chose not to, outfitted Jaye in a sleek black cashmere turtleneck, fitted black cigarette trousers, and delicate golden flats. It was an outfit Lady Jaye owned but would never think to wear. Her family's status earned her spots on various designers' mailing lists and during fashion week her New York apartment became buried under boxes upon boxes of couture and runway wear. Unbeknownst to the designers, however, Lady Jaye was more apt to wear combat boots than the stiletto heels carefully selected by the house of Chanel. The clothes fawned over by the fashionistas often remained wrapped in tissue paper, stowed away in a closet until forgotten. Occasionally, the woman to whom the packages were addressed, Alison Hart-Burnett, would shed her fatigues for softer things, like silk and cashmere. That occasion was tonight.

As she closely followed Cover Girl, Lady Jaye couldn't help but to notice the green monster clouding her thoughts. Cover Girl looked fantastic. Of this there was no doubt. Despite Cover Girl's assistance, Lady Jaye knew she would never possess the poise and grace of the other woman or, she had to face it, the height. It was like royalty. Either you were born into it or you weren't. You could marry but it wasn't the same. It didn't mean that she couldn't wish to command that primal power for an hour, or an evening, or, to be honest, a lifetime. Cover Girl was right though in that she probably tried too hard and overcompensated in her choice of civilian attire. Not that the model would ever come out and say it. She was too tactful to call anyone out like that. No, Cover Girl knew how to suggest to the listener that one thing was preferable to the other and next thing Lady Jaye knew she was strolling out in front of all her teammates wearing more clothes than she ever would for a party yet feeling more exposed then she ever had.

Her teammates had a different opinion on the matter and, in addition to Alpine and Bazooka's blank stares, Cover Girl and Lady Jaye's arrival was met with grins, congratulatory words, and a few catcalls, which were directly traceable to the motor pool inhabitants. Cover Girl grinned through it all and took pride in her work. She also relished sauntering past the motor pool's motley crew to join Lady Jaye in sitting with Mainframe and Ripcord to partake in a more civilized discourse.

As they took their seats Lady Jaye's wandering eyes did not escape Cover Girl's notice. "Looking for someone?" Courtney gently nudged the other woman.

Lady Jaye raised her shoulders, "I'm a creature of habit what can I say."

"Well I'll save you the effort. Your man of action isn't here yet and from the looks of it, he gets prime seating while us plebes have to enjoy the festivities from the bleachers." Cover Girl extended a graceful arm toward a section in the middle of the snaking tables where an ornate cushioned chair was joined by other plush seating. A nervous server was swatting away Joes anxious for a front and center experience. "I'll bet this week's salary that the big boys are going to perch there."

Lady Jaye nodded, pulled out a rickety metal folding chair, and tried to hide the disappointment that she would yet again be denied the opportunity to speak with Flint. Maybe after the dinner concluded she could corner him. She had the nagging feeling she had some apologizing to do.

"You're looking nice this evening."

Lady Jaye barely stammered out a "thanks" to Mainframe. She couldn't recall the last time any of her friends offered a positive comment on her appearance. Usually any quips directed her way pointed out the obvious, like sticks and mud in her hair or a particularly nasty bruise on her cheek. As Ripcord added his praise, Lady Jaye felt her cheeks grow warm. How sad was her state of affairs that Mainframe and Ripcord could make her blush? As for Cover Girl, Mainframe and Ripcord could barely stammer out any observations on her outfit. Ripcord gave a passable "I like your boots," but Mainframe was sad was her state of affiars that How Courtney, well aware of the effect her presence was having on her dining companions, slowly lowered her frame into the seat, adjusting her skirt so that more leg showed.

"Courtney, you're evil." Lady Jaye whispered.

"Oh, I'm only having a bit of fun. It's nice to socialize without being covered in last week's oil changes."

"Well, have your fun but make sure you don't give Blaine a heart attack."

Cover Girl smiled and hitched her skirt a little higher. Lady Jaye rolled her eyes as Mainframe's forehead broke out into a cold sweat. Even though Mainframe had the advantage of years on them, he still fell somewhat into the computer nerd mold. An attractive girl sitting in such close proximity was bound to make him sweat as much as a malfunctioning keyboard in a firefight when the safe egress of a team was all on him. Unlike the malfunctioning keyboard, which Mainframe stood a chance of mastering, the pretty girl probably would always leave him in the dust. It was a personality quirk Lady Jaye could never understand. Although she and Flint were often given credit as the team's heavy IQ's, Mainframe was an MIT graduate, certainly nothing to sneeze at. He had parlayed his education into a lucrative career prior to joining the Joes and he and Lady Jaye often traded investment advice. Lady Jaye was always thankful for the Microsoft tip Mainframe shared after some friends of his began to sing the praises of the company's operating system. Despite his otherwise rational mind, public speaking and pretty women got the techie every time. Lady Jaye's musings on how long Mainframe would last were cut short by the sharp sound of a ringing bell.

A hush formed over the assembled crew as a procession of Georgians dressed in traditional garb snaked around the tables. Some shook handheld bells while others clapped their hands in unison, all the while humming a strange and slightly ethereal tune. The overhead florescent lights dimmed as various staff members raced to light candles placed on all the tables. Suddenly the soldiers were transported from their present surroundings of an old Russian cafeteria, long in tooth and short in amenities, to a long ago time and place when friends and family would gather in rustic halls to feast to the living and give praise to the dead. A slight break in the procession announced the arrival of the leaders.

At the front of the group was Giorgi. Eyes afire with the excitement and spectacle, his exuberance was almost tangible. Lady Jaye could feel herself feeding off his energy, heart pounding in her chest as she began to clap with the others in time to the ancient rhythms and beats. Just behind Giorgi was Hawk, resplendent in his dress blues and black bow tie. Even though the general had given his blessing to civilian dress, he was ever aware of his station and always dressed the part. Behind Hawk walked the man Lady Jaye wanted to see, Flint. Following his commander's cues, Flint too proudly wore his dress uniform. She had to admit, the man looked good; Flint knew the lady couldn't resist a man in uniform. She raised a hand to her brow, trying to shade her eyes from the candles' glare and catch a closer look, perhaps even catch his eye to let him know all would be fine. Ignoring Cover Girl's kissy-face mimics, Lady Jaye almost wished it wouldn't be against protocol to jump up and down and grab his attention. She imagined it would be like a movie in which Flint was about to get married as she rushed into the church, breathless, to stop the nuptials. That brought a sweet thought. Flint hated those movies and always sympathized with the left behind bride-to-have-been, while Jaye thought it was romantic that true lovers would get to be together at last, no matter the obstacle. Flint, claiming it a product of his "wholesome" Midwestern roots, firmly argued that once you were at the altar that was it, deed done. If you really wanted to be with someone, then go on and be with that someone—don't mess up another pretty girl's life. He was equally in solidarity if the left behind party was male.

The lighting wasn't conducive to anything remotely nearing a romantic comedy scene and Lady Jaye lowered her hand, the rest of the procession going by in a blur. Flint, for his part, was doing the best he could to spot Jaye in the crowd. The candles, darkness, and sputtering smoke blurred the Joes into an indiscernible lot. Try as he could, he couldn't make heads or tails of the person a foot to his left let alone across the room. He was feeling grouchy and slightly miffed at the escalation the evening's dinner had taken on. The supra he attended as a student was low-key, welcoming, inviting. It wasn't this pageantry on display concocted by Giorgi. This wasn't how he imagined this night. He wanted intimacy, the laughter of friends, the intangible that needed nothing but closeness and camaraderie. He wanted the true spectacle to be later when no song, no dance, no words need be said. But Hawk said to suck it up, and suck it up he would.

The men approached the sectioned-off chairs and took their seats, Hawk in the middle, Giorgi to his left, Flint to his right, and Duke next to Flint. They waited for the stragglers to find spots and then Giorgi rose to speak. "Thank you my friends for sharing this time with me. It is not often in our life that we have the opportunity to meet so many to call a friend. Although our heritages may be different, and although we may honor separate traditions, I think it is appropriate that we can all break bread together on this night. When I was a young man, people in your country took me in and gave me a place to call home. I now cannot express to you the happiness I have in taking you in and giving you a place to call home. Tonight we will share in a dinner feast that Georgians have hosted for centuries. As host, I have the distinct honor and privilege of choosing my tamada. General Hawk here has accepted my invitation and I now turn my table over to him. Thank you so much for coming." Giorgi gave a bow to his audience and then turned to Hawk with a smile. Clasping his hands together he exclaimed, "They are now yours for the taking. Gagimarjos!"

Hawk bowed toward Giorgi as he rose to speak. The general raised his glass with his left hand, took a nervous glance at Flint, who shook his head and motioned to his right hand. Hawk switched hands, Flint gave a reassuring nod, and Hawk began to speak. "I am new to the customs of this country but not to the people whom we call friends. No matter where in the world we may find ourselves, the one hope I always have for us is that we will find a friend. Tonight is no different. We were called here for a reason, of that there is no doubt, but reasons mean nothing if we can't join together on a night such as this. Tonight I wish you the every happiness of the season and the joy it can bring. I thank our new Georgian friends and the hospitality that they extend. Someday may we meet in peace instead of war. Someday may our children play together at our feet as we share the stories of old. Someday may we feast together at a table where there is neither hunger nor want. These things I wish for you tonight. Cheers."

Hawk looked down at Giorgi, who was busy dabbing at his eyes with a napkin. "Wonderful General, simply wonderful."

As the gathered Joes and Georgians cheered and made motions to drink their wine, Hawk raised his left hand, urging them to hold off a little longer. "Please, please. We are not allowed to drink yet. You see, Giorgi has let me in on a little secret. In addition to the tamada, it is also customary to have an alaverdi. An alaverdi is the person responsible for making sense out of my gibberish." His line elicited some laughs from the audience. Hawk held up his arm, silencing the crowd. "In all seriousness, an all seriousness please, I believe that this is a beautiful tradition that we shall fully honor. I could think of no one better to take up this cause than Flint." Hawk turned to Flint and encouraged him to rise.

Lady Jaye, across the room, fended off Cover Girl's playful elbowing at the sound of his name. Cover Girl leaned in, "Ooooo, now we all get a taste of your pillow talk."

"Courtney!"

"Come on, you know it's true. He makes you swoon on Yeats."

Lady Jaye let out an exasperated rush of breath and sunk back into her chair.

Flint stood up, bowing slightly to the General, muttering under his breath, "Thanks a lot sir."

Hawk patted the man on the back. "Come on now. There's plenty of time for your, making it more public did you say?"

Flint looked at the man wide-eyed. "What. . . ?"

"Please son. I once stood in your shoes. Don't worry, in due time soldier, one battle at a time." He winked and gestured toward the room. "Consider it a warm up." Hawk chuckled at his joke and took his seat, leaving Flint to stand there alone.

Flint canvassed the crowd but still could find no signs of Lady Jaye in the crowd. She was there though, he could feel it. If he couldn't be there next to her, the words he would offer up were the next best thing. Swallowing hard, he took the plunge, "When I think of tonight, I think we should call each other by some better name, for friendship sounds too cold. A friend implies that we are not joined together in this night. A friend implies that we were once not acquainted and may yet not be. A friend implies a transient state. No, tonight I think of you all as my brother. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. We did not choose where we would be on this night. Rather, providence sought us out, picked us from a crowd, and placed us in the hands of fate. Be it wrong, or be it right, we will stand together, and make our pact on this night. We will make a pact as only brothers may. As we gather here, uncertain of the storm to come, know one thing and know it well, together we are more when we cease to be alone. We will not fold our hands and say it cannot be done—that we have sworn and will not turn aside. I lift my glass to you and provide my solemn vow. As my brother we will live henceforth. I thank the fates that brought us here and I thank you. Lift your glass and join me tonight."

When he finished, the room remained silent, taking in his words. Though they were simple and concise, the meaning resonated. Flint held up his glass and gave a nod, indicating it was time to drink. Everyone cheered again and Bazooka was finally relieved that he could now sip his wine. Flint looked out at the crowd, and with a wink announced, "Now gentlemen, make sure to drink it all!"

Bazooka sputtered out the small taste he had taken and turned to Alpine, "What? This is going to be a long night." Alpine shook his head in agreement as he downed his cup.

The supra continued in this fashion—a toast by Hawk, elaborated on by Flint, and then a glass of wine. The toasts ranged from comments about God, to family, to the men present, to love, and the friends that had been lost but not forgotten on this night. No matter how much was drunk, the wine glasses always remained full. Under no circumstances, as Giorgi reminded Hawk, was a toast to be made with a half-empty glass. Hawk began to get into a rhythm and, although he tried his best to follow the list of toasts and drinks crumpled up in his pocket, he felt the wine was getting to his head. It was obvious that Giorgi had succumbed to the alcohol's effects. After one particularly joyous offering, he yelled out, pressuring the men to drink more, "If you do not want the love that we have here, then you will not drink your entire glass!" His challenge was quickly met by the more competitive of the group.

It was then time for a most important toast. Hawk called upon the men present to stand on their chairs and toast the ladies present. The men, in various states of sobriety, did their best to climb up on their chairs and maintain some semblance of balance. From somewhere in the room a voice cried out, "Hey, Alpine, this is a toast for the ladies. I think you need to take your seat."

Alpine held up his hands, the earth swirling below him. He contemplated for a moment climbing up on his chair and thought better. He sat back down, "Gladly gentlemen, most gladly."

Bazooka, wine glass clutched in unsteady hands, found himself jealous of his friend's out. He decided to follow suit. This led to further ribbing, "Alpine, looks like your girlfriend is joining you." Bazooka smiled and draped an arm around a now-annoyed Alpine. More laughs followed.

Hawk took in the scene and, although it would have made him cringe in normal circumstances, he couldn't help but to smile. Despite every obstacle that was placed in their path, here was his team, together as they should be during the holidays. He missed home but felt as if he was home in a way. As long as the Joes could be like this, if even for a moment, then why wouldn't he consider this desolate outpost the closest thing to home? He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to face a contented Flint. "Warming up to the festivities are you?"

"Yes General, I think I am."

"Well, I think we should make this the last one." He gestured his head toward the motor pool table where Clutch was slumped in his chair, eyes closed, visibly snoring. "It might be nice to allow the men to have some free time to enjoy themselves outside of this, formality."

"Yes Sir, I believe that's the best course."

"And what about you?"

"Me, Sir?"

"Yes, you son. Ready?"

"Almost." Flint smiled at the thought, "Just a few more tweaks."

"I don't have to say good luck." Hawk faced Flint, "This will change your life. I couldn't think of anything I want more for you though." He extended a hand toward Flint, who gladly took it. Hawk brought the younger man in for a brief hug. "Go get her."

"I'll try my best Sir."

"Let's finish this up then shall we?" Hawk carefully stepped up onto his chair and faced the crowd. "Gentlemen, the toast we make now is the most important toast we make. Tonight, we drink to our ladies." Hawk held up his glass. "I must defer to those with more expertise." He cast a long glance at Flint as several hoots and whistles emanated from the audience. "But before I do, let me simply say that without our women, there would be no us. God made women both beautiful and foolish—beautiful, that man might love her; foolish, that she might love him."

"Hear, hear," a few cried out. The sounds of clinking glasses resonated around the room. Sometime after the toast to grandparents, some of those present fell back to their customary ways, finding that waiting for words before they could imbibe interfered too much with the whole process of merry making.

Flint lifted his glass; it trembled ever so slightly as his thoughts drifted him away to a different place. The finish line was in sight; he only had to remain in the here and now for a few moments longer. It was a struggle keeping his head in the game. Hawk was right though, this could be a good warm-up. If he could say the right thing in the right way, then maybe she would know. That was the problem he realized. Say too little and she would no doubt interpret it as a sign he was backing away, adding fuel to her hostile fire. Say too much and she would see right through him, the element of surprise lost. For once in his life, he believed he finally knew what it was like to stand in the boots of the fairer sex. He couldn't say what he meant and mean what he said. If anything, at least after this, if he ever decided to hang it up and become a poor, recluse author, he'd be able to flesh out a decent female protagonist. The thought was small comfort for if he was that poor author then it only meant he struck out. He felt a nudge and looked across at Hawk.

"No time like the present."

"Um, right Sir." Flint faced his colleagues and began, "There is a saying that a woman can make an average man great, and a great man average."

"You'd know all about that Flint!"

"Yes, thank you Snowjob for that excellent commentary." Flint waited for the laughter to die down. "But we Joes know that our women do more than that. Day in and day out they show us time and time again that we truly are average without them. I'm reminded of the story of Aijaruc."

"Aaarooooo"

The dog sounds petered off, "Yes, gentlemen, I think we have just proven tonight that our women indeed have their work cut out for them." He paused a moment, and tried yet again, "Marco Polo met Aijaruc during his travels. The daughter of a Tartar king, she was spellbindingly beautiful but strong and brave as well. She refused to marry any suitor whom she could vanquish. In all trials she showed greater strength and fortitude than any man. She won 10,000 horses off hopeless young lads this way. As I look around, I have no doubt that were we helpless men to find horses in this place, they would not be ours for long." The men laughed. Flint again paused. It wasn't to let the men follow his words but rather was to divert them. Aijaruc's suitors, as reported by Polo, were never able to get the best of her. He shuddered to think that any such comparison should be made to the success of his own endeavors. The crowd, softened by much drink, was malleable and easily directed elsewhere. Flint changed course, "No, we know, we always know, that our Joe women represent the best of what we should strive to be. As Otway said, 'O woman, lovely woman, nature made thee, to temper man. We had been brutes without you. Angels are painted fair, to look like you. There's in you all that we believe of heaven.'" With these words, Flint raised his glass. The men in the room followed suit and let out drunken wallops in agreement.

Flint downed his glass and announced, "Thank you all again for your indulgence this evening. May the spirit of the holidays be with you."

Hawk stood to join him, "Another round for our own alaverdi!" The room eagerly met Hawk's call to praise, bringing hands together in loud applause. Hawk nudged Flint, practically pushing him out of the room. Flint escaped the onslaught of well-wishers. He had important matters to attend.

As the festivities wound down, Cover Girl turned to Lady Jaye. "Well, if that's but a taste of what he whispers to you at night, maybe I can see the attraction."

Lady Jaye rolled her eyes. Cover Girl was determined, "Come on, we have to get you to your man. Those words should not be wasted." She grabbed the other woman's elbow while using her own to cut through the crowd. It was a mission doomed to fail as all seated chose Hawk's final words as their cue to get up and stretch. In the windowless room, no one could say for certain how long the supra had progressed. Since the dawn of mankind, he has charted time by the course of the sun and other celestial bodies across the sky. Remove those heavenly objects and man must resort to other measures. Looking around the room, it was not hard to notice that the dishes on the table were stacked 12 plates high in certain spots. If one calculated a dish to minute ratio, it is likely that one plate would equal approximately 15 minutes. Therefore, using the clock plates, it was a safe assumption that the dinner easily ran over three hours, three hours during which everyone sat, drank, and ate with no awareness that three hours was indeed passing. Once the first Joe remarked on this passage of time, one massive rising of bodies couldn't be avoided. Tough as she was, Cover Girl was no match. She watched as Hawk blocked and Flint ducked away, fading from view.

She struggled against the ebb of the crowd anyway, pulling Lady Jaye with her. It had become personal. She, like every other individual on the team, was witness to the starts and sputters in Flint and Lady Jaye's courtship. Although it was supposed to be a secret, it was the most well-known secret on base. Even though the two strove mightily to keep things under wrap, it was nearly impossible when you lived and breathed the same air with the same people for so long. But now, now she felt as if she had the upper hand on the affair. Lady Jaye was open and truthful about her feelings, for once. Surely Flint could only be thinking of Lady Jaye with his words of beauty and need. If ever there was a night for a public declaration of endearment, this was it.

"Move! Come on, get out of the way." Cover Girl shoved her way through drunken conversations. The fate of a relationship was on her hands. Besides, maybe there would be a little less angst with which to contend if Flint and Lady Jaye could just get it out of the way. Cover Girl felt like she was dragging a buffalo behind her as her ward became less than cooperative.

"Oww," Lady Jaye yanked her arm away from Cover Girl's vise-like grip, "Courtney, your nails." She raised her arm, four red welts snaked their way from her wrist to her elbow.

"Oops, sorry about that. But come on, we can still catch him."

"I don't see him Courtney."

Cover Girl detected a hint of resignation to Lady Jaye's tone. She had to rally the troops, "It's probably because he's trying to make his way to us, well, to you. He's got a better chance of parting the seas than we do. Let's head back and save him a seat."

"I, I don't know,"

"Well I do. Get moving lady." Cover Girl pointed behind Lady Jaye and fluttered her hands, shooing Lady Jaye in the opposition direction. The two began the slow shuffle back.

Their progress was slowed down by the Georgian crews removal of some of the tables to clear some space for a make-shift dance floor. Over the loudspeaker Giorgi, no doubt, had commandeered some Georgian folk music. A couple robed in traditional garb began dancing, pulling others onto the floor to teach the steps. Plates were removed, and more time passed. In a far corner of the room, a select group of Joe men were discovering that there was more than one way to fleece a sheep. Ace, the team's resident bookie, had convened what he called "a nice gentlemen's leisurely pursuit" at an abandoned table.

"Okay gentleman, the name of the game is Texas hold-em. I tell you, this game's going to be huge someday." Ace began to deal out the cards, slipping a cigarette behind his ear.

"Hey Ace, I thought you gave them things up?" Wild Bill began collecting the cards dealt to him.

It's all for the effect, just the effect." Ace tapped the table before a dozing Bazooka, "Hey, wake-up, next game!"

"What? Huh? Oh, right." Bazooka quickly straightened up in his chair, adjusting his baseball hat, hoping that he had enough cash to last one more round. Ace was on fire tonight and had succeeded in cleaning out most of his reserves.

The game continued, each player regretting his decision to be involved in any pursuit Ace started. There was no way around it, Ace was a card shark and the one person who could top him retired early. Each also secretly hoped that maybe, for just this once, lady luck might get fickle and chose to grace someone other than the hot shot pilot.

That thought was short lived as Bazooka threw down his cards, "Nothing. I fold." He pushed his remaining cash towards the center of the table and stepped away, scanning the room to see who else he could bother. Across the way, near the entrance, he noticed Alpine lingering by the main doorway. He had the look of being up to something. Bazooka had witnessed this look many times before and instantly knew he had to be involved.

As Bazooka made his way over, Cover Girl and Lady Jaye had abandoned their quest to reclaim their original seats. Nowhere to be found, Lady Jaye left the room to see if she could find Flint and Cover Girl, witnessing the same look on Alpine as Bazooka, decided that there might be some more fun to be had. Closer to Alpine, she reached the man first and he whispered quietly in her ear while showing something to her. His stance concealed the object from Bazooka, but the way Cover Girl laughed out loud, Bazooka knew it had to be something good. He eagerly approached them, "Hey, what you two up to?"

Alpine tried to shush him away with an elbow. Bazooka, with nothing else to do, would not be dissuaded. "Come on guys, what's going on?"

"Promise to keep it a secret?" Cover Girl's eyes sparkled with holiday cheer and a little something more. As a special treat, in addition to the epicurean feast the team had just consumed, Roadblock brought out his special holiday punch as an encore. Punch was not a misnomer as the beverage had a way of packing quite a wallop. The drink worked its magic subtly. It was warm and inviting, flowing down one's throat ever so smooth. One sip and the deed was done. No one ever refused seconds and for those lacking Roadblock's size, seconds were usually enough. Cover Girl took another sip from her cup and giggled some more. "I swear, I don't know what Roadblock puts in this but I know I love it tonight and will regret it tomorrow." She nudged at Alpine, "Oh come on, let him in on it."

"Yeah," Bazooka chimed in, "let me in on it."

Alpine grinned as he held out his hand. Cupped in his palm was a small bright green plant with waxy leaves and minute crimson berries. A red ribbon was tied to the top with a silver hook. Bazooka looked at the two conspirators, quite certain that the punch had taken over. "What, I don't get it?"

Cover Girl laughed again.

"It's mistletoe!" Alpine exclaimed, "We're going to hang it up by the door and next people who walk through will have a surprise."

Bazooka still didn't understand.

"Mistletoe, you know what you have to kiss under?"

"Oh, okay. I thought you meant there was a missile shaped like a toe somewhere. My grams always put that stuff up. I don't think anyone kissed under it though."

"Well, they'll kiss under this one." Alpine stated matter-of-factly.

"Actually, we're hoping to get Flint and Lady Jaye." Cover Girl bounced slightly at the thought of catching them. "She just went looking for him and when they come back, we'll have them."

Bazooka was confused, "Why do we want to have them?"

Alpine let out an exasperated rush of breath, "You are the most obtuse person I know. Because they sneak around as if it's the secret of the century, but we all know. Maybe if we can surprise them now…"

"They won't have to try and surprise us later." Cover Girl concluded. "This is just what they need. But we need everyone to cooperate, so spread the word."

Bazooka still didn't understand how the miniscule plant was going to solve the pair's romantic woes but decided to play along. Cover Girl and Alpine clearly were convinced it was the right action to take. They wouldn't steer him wrong so Bazooka whispered it to Roadblock as he filled his glass, who then whispered to Gung-ho. Clutch overheard it, mentioned it back at the poker table and soon the whole room was ready for the first overt public display of affection between their third in command and Jaye.

It was another matter entirely when instead of Flint, Ripcord first entered the room, followed a few seconds later by Lady Jaye. No one had thought to pay attention to the comings and goings of their teammates or to stall those they wished to ensnare. Bazooka's eyes grew wide. He knew no good could come from this. The others weren't thinking as clearly.

Alpine shouted out to them, stopping them in their tracks. He pointed out the object above to their attention. The undercurrent of the room picked up and several shouts and whistles filled the space. Lady Jaye and Ripcord looked up, then at each other, and up once more.

Transfixed, Lady Jaye whispered to Ripcord, "Is that what I think it is?"

Ripcord's eyes darted back and forth from Lady Jaye to the object. "If it's what I'm thinking it is then it's what you're thinking it is." The two stood there, unsure of what to do. Ripcord knew what the response was customarily but he felt glued to the spot. He, like many of the other men, had answered Girogi's call to arms. Any sudden moves and he feared the tilting earth would swallow him whole. It was best to stay firmly planted.

Several of the teammates called out, "Come on Ripcord, you know what you have to do," while others shouted out, "Kiss her!" Cover Girl's laughter rang above the crowd. For the moment, she abandoned her original plan. This was far too much fun. Clutch starred across the room at her, contemplating how he could manage to maneuver her under the plant.

Ace leaned down, whispering into Mainframe's ear, "Listen, double or nothing, he goes for the lips."

Mainframe's eyes lit up, finally a bet with Ace worth taking. He may not know much about the gambling world, but he knew his friends, and at these odds he was willing to lay down a little cash. "You're on," he whispered back, "cheek, only the cheek."

Ace folded his arms, satisfied the computer geek would cough up yet some more dough. It was going to be a nice Christmas under his tree once he was through with these guys. He took in the scene before him certain that his prediction would pay off.

Lady Jaye and Ripcord stood there, awkward and self-conscious of the attention bestowed upon them. Looking up at the shiny green plant above, Lady Jaye knew it didn't get up there on its own. Lady Jaye's eyes wandered away from the plant and darted around the room, quickly finding the source of her predicament. Alpine sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, mouthing an apology that fell on deaf ears. Ripcord, for his part, thought it was funnier than anything and glanced over at Jaye, the pink tint to his cheeks otherwise betraying his apparent calm demeanor.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Well Jaye, pucker up." He couldn't be certain if it was the wine, Roadblock's special punch, the lack of sleep, or maybe a combination of all the above, but somehow he found he possessed a swagger usually painfully absent. If it was a show the boys wanted, why not have a little fun with it? Jaye was alright; she was just one of the guys after all.

A more alert sober man would have thought through his actions to their inevitable repercussions. Tonight, Ripcord was not that man. Throwing caution to the wind, he reached over, and taking Lady Jaye by surprise, dipped her back, and to Mainframe's consternation, firmly planted a kiss on her lips. Lady Jaye, herself no stranger to the wine and merrymaking, lost her footing as Ripcord dipped her back. On instinct, she grabbed Ripcord to keep from tumbling to the floor. Her arms encircled Ripcord's neck as his lips met hers.

The dining hall door swung open in the midst of the moment. With their lips still pressed together, arms wrapped around each other, and Lady Jaye's left leg poised in the air, the duo instinctively turned toward the sound. Lady Jaye's eyes opened wide for standing there, face a mask of stone, was Flint.