Chapter 21: Blood

Vella La Cava, VMF 214 HQ

The Black Sheep's second mission over New Ireland met with nearly the same results as the first. The concentrated Japanese air support swarming up to meet the American planes threw up a wall of lead that knocked them back with unexpected force. The squadron counted themselves fortunate to make it back to the base in one piece.

"What the hell are they hiding on that rock?" Greg jumped the last few feet from his bird and faced Jim. "They must have scrambled every fighter they had on this side of the theatre. If we keep going up there, some of us are going to start not coming back."

Jim echoed his sentiment.

"I got so much lead in my butt I can barely stand up," he growled, pulling off his gloves. "We're gettin' spanked."

Greg glowered as he ran a hand along the edge of his bird's starboard wing. He could feel Kate's eyes on him as he traced the holes torn by the Zeroes' 20 mm rounds. The morning had held more than its share of near misses and they'd had to abort. Again. The Black Sheep had covered the 182nd Bomber Wing's hasty retreat and headed for home. Hutch and Micklin took one look at their birds and silently went to work.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I need a drink," Greg said, wrapping an arm around Kate's shoulders. Now that his men were safely back on the ground, he realized her presence had been with him in the cockpit for the whole mission, a quiet energy lingering just beyond his peripheral vision. Now, feeling the warm pressure of her body as she leaned against him, arm light around his waist, helped drain some of the morning's frustration. Sarah fell in next to them as they headed for the de-brief. Meatball trotted alongside Raider. Both dogs' tails were wagging. They were the only happy ones in the group.

Greg let the door to the Sheep Pen slam behind him as he followed the girls and the rest of the men inside. They helped themselves to drinks.

"According to our intel, there's nothing in that area that hasn't been there for the last six months," he said, back against the bar. "There's no word on troop movement and their lagoons aren't deep enough to shelter a destroyer or anything like that, anyway. They must be building something new."

"I talked to Major Christofferson at the 182nd," he continued. "He knows where they're supposed to hit but not what they're supposed to hit. He won't give me the coordinates." He grimaced. "Apparently this is a need-to-know mission and he says I don't. Our job is to keep the Zeroes off them, not know what they're tasked with destroying. Doesn't matter, nothing's going to change until we can hold Tojo off long enough for the bombers to hit the target." He ran a hand through his hair in agitation, leaving it standing on end. "If we knew what they're protecting, we could figure out how to get rid of it ourselves."

"Whatever happens needs to happen soon. I'm gettin' mighty tired of listening to Micklin tell me how much lead he's pulled out of my tail feathers every time I land," TJ grumbled.

"How's that different from any other day?" Don jested.

TJ glowered at him.

Don grew serious.

"We gotta get that airstrip fixed, too, Pappy, or one of us is gonna buy the farm out there," he said. "I've seen Swiss cheese that didn't have as many holes in it."

Greg passed his hand over his face and was silent for a moment.

"Casey, there's an engineering battalion cooling their heels on New Caledonia. I bet those boys are thirsty. Call 'em up and see if we can swing some kind of deal. It's bad enough getting beat up in the air, it's even worse coming home and getting beat up by our own strip." He surveyed the men who were all slouched in chairs or sitting on tables, nursing drinks. They were down but not out. He met Kate's gaze and held it, letting a grim, satisfied smile break across his face. "I've got an idea but we're gonna have to go up there one more time."

XXX

I'd seen the Black Sheep take some beatings since I'd been stationed here but nothing like this. It wasn't like them to turn tail no matter the odds and I knew Greg was ready to take things into his own hands. I saw the gleam in his eyes and could almost hear the regulations breaking. - KCC

XXX

Sarah was in the Sheep Pen, enjoying a late afternoon beer and the Black Sheep's company. Beer at 1700 was much more appropriate than whisky at 1100, although she thought 1700 was still pushing it a little. She'd never met a unit that liked to drink as much as these boys. She wouldn't say alcohol was their answer for everything but it certainly seemed to be one of their tried and true solutions.

Jim, TJ and Anderson tried to talk her into playing poker with them but she begged off, saying she didn't want to take all their money. TJ and Anderson laughed. Jim gave her the kind of look she'd seen Greg give her sister. It effectively took her mind off playing poker, which was another reason she'd left the boys to their game. If she was going to do anything that involved Jim Gutterman, she needed to keep her wits about her. She tried her hand at darts with Boyle and after he cheerfully bested her, decided she'd be better off to stick with poker even if it meant playing across from Jim's good old boy smile.

It was Sarah's third day on La Cava and she expected to have new orders cut any time, instructing her to deliver Raider to his new handler and head home. Part of her would be happy to put the Southwest Pacific in her rearview mirror and go back to the dogs waiting for her in Mississippi. But that would mean saying goodbye to Kate. And handing Raider off to a total stranger.

And then there was Jim. Kate had been her sister for 20 years. She'd spent three months training Raider. She'd known Jim for a couple of days. She'd miss Kate and Raider a lot. She didn't know how much she'd miss Jim although he was . . . intriguing.

She'd finally given in and gone for a walk on the beach with him the previous night. He'd been a gentleman in spite of Kate's warnings about the nature of fighter pilots in general and him in particular. Well, she amended, they hadn't been walking the whole time and he hadn't been a complete gentleman but when she'd said no to anything beyond a couple of kisses, he'd walked her back to Kate's tent without arguing. She imagined her sister's influence had something to do with that. She seemed to command a fair amount of respect and Sarah had no doubt she'd put her size seven-and-a-half boot down and earned every bit of it.

At Sarah's feet, Meatball finally enticed Raider into a canine wrestling match. While the shepherd had relaxed enough to play with the terrier, Sarah was keeping an eye on things to make sure the bigger dog didn't decide to eat him on a whim. So far, the matchup consisted of Meatball chewing on Raider's front leg, then going belly up in submission when the big dog grabbed him by the neck and shook him gently. Both dogs were wagging their tails madly.

The shepherd was getting restless after several days of inactivity. Although Sarah knew the men would volunteer in a heartbeat if she asked for their help with a training exercise, she didn't feel right about asking them to put on a bite sleeve and let 65 pounds of muscle and teeth play target practice with their arms. They'd taken enough abuse in the air that morning.

She supposed she could ask for help with a less violent aspect of training. Surely one or more of them would be willing to go hide in the jungle so she and Raider could practice their tracking skills. She should probably ask Jim. With a private smile, she thought he would agree to anything she suggested.

At a nearby table, Kate was studying maps and old recon photos of New Ireland. Her sister's tumble of sun-streaked light brown curls contrasted with Greg's dark head as they bent over the table. She was scribbling notes as Greg and Jim explained the topography of the island and the route of their current missions.

Jim was right about them, Sarah thought. Her sister and the major shared the body language of two people who very much enjoyed being in each other's space, no matter what they were doing. She'd watched them over the last three days – watched Greg break the technical points of their missions into layman's terms for a story Kate was writing, watched the curve of her sister's mouth as she handed him a tumbler of whisky in the evening, watched the unspoken connection they shared amidst the boys' non-stop rowdiness.

Was it possible that two people really could be made for each other, she wondered. And if so, what were the odds of them crossing paths in the middle of a war? And being able to look past the insanity of life in a front area to realize what they had? She'd been in a war zone long enough to realize fly-by-night hookups were as common as malaria. Male and female personnel alike accepted the no-strings-attached trysts without expecting any sort of lasting commitment.

Kate could say what she liked about living day-to-day but Sarah knew better. She thought her sister and the major radiated a presence that was somehow greater than the sum of the parts, whether they knew it or not. Greg Boyington was a very handsome man, she mused, although he wasn't her type. She didn't know if Jim was her type, either, although he was kind of fun in spite of Kate's warning.

Greg tapped an area on the map with a forefinger. Kate shifted sideways and pointed to another spot. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. He shook his head. She tapped her spot with greater emphasis. Greg gave her such a disbelieving look, Kate broke out laughing but kept her finger emphatically on the map.

"What? You think we should detour through Tokyo on the way there? Maybe reprise the Doolittle raid?" Greg said.

"You're not having such great luck doing it according to Lard's plan," Kate said a little indignantly. "Maybe it's time to try something different."

"How about you call him up and tell him that, darlin'?" Jim suggested. "He might take it better coming from you."

"Try something different . . .," Greg muttered. "Maybe we should put the press corps in charge of these missions. That would make as much sense as this suicide Lard keeps ordering."

Kate smiled at him.

"If you want something done right . . ."

Casey stuck his head in the door, waving a sheet of paper. He had a big grin on his face.

"This just came over from Espritos," he said, crossing the room. "Pappy, you can do the honors."

Greg glanced at the paper and a genuine smile replaced the frustration his face.

"Hey, Sarah – looks like the Army finally decided what to do with you."

She pushed back from the table and stepped over the wrestling dogs. Meatball was completely upside down and one of his ears was in Raider's mouth. He looked ecstatic.

"Congratulations, Sergeant," Greg said.

She blinked, confused.

"What?"

"Field promotion. And relocation. Your master sergeant recommended it on the basis of demonstrated leadership and merit." He paused. "That's Army-speak for saying they really need someone with your skill level in this theatre."

Sarah looked stunned as the information washed over her. So much for going back to Mississippi any time soon.

Kate hugged her.

"That's great!" Then, seeing her less than enthusiastic response, "Isn't it?"

Sarah reached out for the paper. She forced herself to keep breathing as she read the typewritten orders.

"I'm to go back to Bougainville and train the dog and handler teams on the new base there," she said, reading slowly. "Then Raider and I will be assigned to the 37th Infantry Division on Rendova. Permanently. I'll leave on the transport this evening."

Kate took her sister by the shoulders.

"Sair, this is wonderful. You don't have to give up Raider. And you get to stay close to me. Well, sort of."

Jim left his poker game and threw an arm around Sarah's shoulders.

"Congratulations, Little Red. I never thought I'd want to kiss a sergeant."

"Don't get in a hurry to start now," Sarah said self-consciously. She slapped him on the chest but didn't pull away from his embrace. She took a deep breath. It looked like she was going to have to get over being homesick in a big hurry.

XXX

Sarah left on a transport bound for Bougainville two hours later. Kate embraced her fiercely at the base of the plane's steps.

"I'll see you . . . sometime," Sarah promised and gave her sister a peck on the cheek.

"I know you will." Kate nodded over her shoulder where Jim was loitering with some of the other Black Sheep. "Do you need to kiss anyone else good-bye?"

Sarah blushed, a soft rose that complemented her coloring.

"We said our good-byes earlier," she said. "In private."

Kate arched her eyebrows.

"Oh, did you now?"

"We did." Pause. "Don't be nosy, it's none of your business."

"Ha," Kate snorted. "That's never stopped anyone around here. Want me to keep an eye on him for you?"

"I think you've got your hands full already."

Kate hugged her again, scratched Raider on the head and then they were gone.

XXX

Nothing is static during a war. Our lives were changing and in ways none of us saw coming. In the blink of an eye, Sarah was assigned to the Solomons. She and Jim had something going on that wasn't any of my business. Greg and the boys were flying the worst missions they'd been assigned since my arrival here. When I fell asleep that night, I had that same dream – everyone I loved was in the same place. And we were all in danger. - KCC

XXX

The next morning, while the Black Sheep took their third beating over New Ireland, Kate loitered in the com shack, idly drafting a longhand version of a story about malaria and trying to shake the haunting images of her dream. She missed Sarah. Her sister had only been here three days but it had been nice to have a little more estrogen on the base. With Sarah soon to be stationed on Rendova, Kate hoped it would be possible for them to see each other more often but this was a war, not a family reunion, and God knew there weren't any guarantees. At least if she wrote her a letter, it shouldn't take three weeks to get there.

The radio picked up the squadron's chatter as they neared La Cava on their return.

"How you doin', Pappy?" Jim's voice was tense as it crackled over the radio. "You're losing altitude."

"I'm losing a lot of things," Greg answered. "This whole damn plane is falling apart. I think the engine's gonna seize but if I can make the strip I should be able to set it down in one piece."

Kate sat up in the chair and took her feet off the desk. Greg was having engine trouble. Again. She forced herself to take a deep breath and not let fear sink its fangs into her. She should be used to it by now. In the last three months, all of the boys had come limping back to the base in planes with various degrees of damage but never from missions that far afield. She didn't know what had happened but Greg must have thought he could nurse it back without ditching. The damage would have grown progressively worse on the trip home. New Ireland to La Cava was a long way to fly in a damaged bird.

"Roger that. You set down first, Pappy. I'm comin' down right behind you."

"Jim, you're smoking like a bad cigar." TJ sounded strained.

"Don't come any closer, TJ, I got enough problems of my own," Jim said. "This buggy's lit up like a Christmas tree. I don't think I got a single gauge in the normal range."

Kate bit her lip.

"Rest of you boys doing okay?" Greg voice was tense. "Anderson? Boyle? You still with us?"

"I'm low on fuel and oil and think I lost half my right rudder somewhere over Choiseul but otherwise, never better." Boyle sounded determinedly cheerful.

"That is affirmative, Pappy," Anderson replied, "still in one piece, although I hope I can say the same after we set down."

"Damn, Greg, you're losing altitude fast!" Don said. "And you're starting to heel over."

"All right, you meatheads, I'm gonna land this thing. Gravity's a bitch of a mistress. Don't worry about it making an oil spot – according to my gauges, there isn't any left."

Kate didn't see any reason to wait for more. She bolted out of the com shack and punched the jeep toward the airstrip, knuckles white on the wheel. Behind her, the radio crackled again, voices echoing through the empty room.

"Jim! You're on fire now. I can see flames from back here," TJ said.

"The fun never ends." Jim sounded resigned.

"Jim, you set down first, before you blow up," Greg cut in. "I can keep this crate in the air for a few more minutes."

"Last one down buys drinks." Jim signed off.

XXX

Kate got to the airstrip in time to see the first plane angling downward, several others close behind. She could hear the cylinders firing out of sync as it fought to stay aloft. Thick clouds of oily black smoke were rolling over the canopy and tongues of flame glowed under the engine cowling. Greg had to be flying blind, she thought, biting her lip. There was no way he could see the strip clearly. He would have to land by sheer memory. The boys joked about mapping the potholes but it was no laughing matter. The plane touched down, bounced. Kate heard the engine cut out, leaving an eerie rushing silence as it hurtled down the strip. She knew once the power was chopped, the Corsairs became even harder to handle. She watched as the plane slowed, veered, corrected. She let out her breath. He was going to make it.

Then it happened. The starboard landing gear dropped into a pothole. The plane jerked violently, half-obscured by the smoke. The morning's sunny peace was shattered by the screech of tearing metal as the aircraft cartwheeled off the strip.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Kate slammed the jeep into gear again and gunned it forward even as the plane ground to a halt, one wing sheared off, the fuselage canted at an impossible angle, the cockpit almost at ground level. She leaped out of the jeep and bolted toward it. Behind her, she heard the sound of other aircraft approaching but didn't turn to look.

The haze of smoke and dust swirling around the wreckage made it hard to see anything. The name stenciled under the cockpit was partially visible as the smoke shifted. " . . .TERMAN." It wasn't Greg. It was Jim. What the hell? It didn't matter.

"Are you all right?" she yelled.

"Been better, darlin'!"

Jim reached up to slide the canopy back but it wouldn't move. Jumping forward, Kate wedged her fingers into the crack and pried with everything she had. Nothing. The track was bent too badly. Fire crackled softly at the front of the plane.

She stepped back, adrenaline surging through her. She sized up the glass, which was already partially shattered from the impact of the landing.

"Cover your face," she yelled. Jim turned away just as her booted foot made contact. The glass shuddered but didn't break. She kicked it again with strength born of desperation. This time the already weakened glass gave a little, spider-webbing along established fault lines. She kicked it a third time, her heel landing furiously, and the glass shattered. She booted it a few more times to clear the space, then dropped to her knees and crawled partway into the cockpit. She could feel shards of broken glass biting at exposed skin. Jim looked dazed but he was conscious. Blood trickled from cuts on his face and the upper half of his flight suit was a splattered mess.

"Can you move?" she asked. "You're on fire, you know."

"That's what they keep telling me," he said, yanking at the clasp of his safety harness. "Damnit - buckle's jammed."

Kate fumbled in her trousers for the pocketknife she carried. It was small but sharp. She flicked it open and began to hack at the thick webbing of the harness. Where was Greg? Had he been able to land? She'd heard nothing over the semi-panicked buzzing of her own brain, hadn't looked beyond the wreckage of the plane she thought was Greg's.

"Can you hurry up, darlin'? It's gettin' warm in here." Jim's speech slurred. Kate looked up briefly. She wondered how badly he was hurt.

Fire licked greedily along the fuselage, igniting oil in a blue sheet of flame. She could feel the heat inching closer.

Jim groaned. His eyes were losing focus. Kate reached up and slapped him hard.

"Don't pass out on me, Gutterman, or I'll never get you out of here." She sawed at the webbing. "Sarah likes you for some reason and I'd take it personally if you expired on my watch."

His eyes flicked open again.

"You're a bossy little thing. What does Greg see in you?"

"I have my moments," Kate said through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. That's what he told me." Jim managed a lopsided leer. "Especially on the beach when there's no one around for miles. He said you're not shy."

"Greg didn't tell you anything about that night on the beach and we both know it." Kate said, sawing frantically.

"What I want to know is how . . ." his words faded. She looked up, saw him grimace in pain, then refocus. ". . . is how a guy his age manages to satisfy a girl like you."

"Jesus, Jim, I've got half a mind to leave you in here. Some things get better with age, you ever think about that?"

Jim snorted.

Kate could smell leaking fuel. It was trickling slowly in a dark line from the crumpled metal of the remaining wing. The fire curled closer, flames moving with a hypnotic, sensual slowness.

"I thought these things had self-sealing fuel tanks."

"Think I voided the warrantee with that landing."

Smoke billowed into the cockpit and Kate coughed. The knife handle was slick in her hand. Sweat? Blood? His? Hers? She didn't look down.

Suddenly, a strong hand closed on her shoulder. She jumped.

"I can't leave you alone for a minute, Cameron." Greg dropped to his knees and went shoulder to shoulder with her in the wrecked cockpit.

She looked at him, stunned.

"You're all right!"

"Let's just say I walked away from the landing."

Kate was weak with relief but there was no time for it.

"Can you lift him to take the pressure off the webbing?"

"Hey Greg, I suppose Lard's gonna take this out of my next pay check," Jim said.

"I hope we're all around to collect our next pay check." Greg pushed his shoulder under Jim's arm. He shoved him upward and Kate's knife sliced easily through the remaining harness webbing. Jim half slid, half fell out of the cockpit. Kate could feel the flames licking closer to her trouser legs now. She got to her feet as Greg pulled Jim backward away from the plane. With Greg supporting his left side, Kate grabbed Jim's right arm and heaved upward. They took one step and Jim stumbled, dragging them both to their knees. Behind them, the plane was burning in earnest, fire snapping greedily at the dripping mixture of fuel and oil.

Greg hauled Jim back to his feet and the three of them ran in stumbling slow motion like something out of a nightmare. Behind them, flames finally hit the fuel tank and the Corsair exploded. The concussion wave lifted them, throwing them forward before slamming them into the ground. Jim hit first and Kate covered her head as she tumbled on top of him. Greg threw himself over both of them. The fireball shot skyward with a deafening boom and flaming debris rained down.

Kate struggled for breath. She could hear Jim groaning under her. Someone's elbow was in her ribs and there was a stabbing pain in her right arm. Through the ringing in her ears, she could hear a vehicle approaching and a lot of yelling. Greg climbed to his feet and pulled her up. An ambulance braked to a stop nearby, nurses and medics pouring out. Dee was there, and Laura, too. Kate watched numbly as they directed the corpsmen to lift Jim onto a stretcher. He reached out and grabbed her hand. She squeezed it tightly, Greg's fingers closing over hers as they carried him to the ambulance.

"Thanks, darlin'," he said. "Pappy, don't let this one go. She's cool under pressure and she's got a mean right hook."

"You hit him?" Greg asked.

"I may have slapped him a little harder than was entirely necessary. I thought he was going to pass out," Kate said. "I should have let him. He was asking inappropriate questions."

"Probably got hit on the head."

"He asks inappropriate questions when he hasn't been hit on the head."

The medic closed the ambulance doors and trotted around to the driver's seat.

"Any other customers?" he asked over his shoulder.

"No." Greg looked around. "Everyone else made it down in one piece."

"You two all right?"

"We'll do," Greg said.

The medic gave him a thumbs up, jumped behind the wheel and pulled away.

XXX

Wars aren't won or lost in epic battles. They're won or lost in matters of seconds that spell the difference between life and death. And I realized how much I had to lose. - GB

XXX

They stood, watching the ambulance weave across the airstrip toward the hospital as the blackened hulk of the plane burned behind them. Smoke swirled on the breeze. A fire crew responded, somewhat belatedly. Greg wrapped an arm around Kate's shoulders and led her away from the wreckage. He'd damn near landed on top of the jeep, she noticed. The adrenaline-fueled rush that had carried her through the last quarter hour drained away, leaving her cold in spite of the day's heat. Greg pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head as she pressed her face against his chest. They stood, neither of them saying anything, then he tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her head back.

"You took 20 years off my life when I saw you climb into that plane." His voice was tight, his face inches from hers, smeared with sweat and soot. "Promise me you'll never do anything reckless like that again. Promise me you'll stay out of the way."

"The fire crew wasn't going to get there in time," she said. "I can't . . . I can't promise I'll ever stay out of the way."

"You could have died in there!" Anger edged his voice now. "A few more seconds and you'd have gone up in that fireball. What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"I thought it was you." Her eyes locked onto his, defiant, as her words came out in a torrent. "And I'd do it again in a heartbeat so don't tell me to stop."

He looked at her, stunned. She continued. "I was listening in the com shack. I knew you'd been hit and I thought you were coming in first. I couldn't see the markings on the plane before it went down. There was too much smoke. I had to see if you were . . . if you'd been . . ."

"Do you make it a habit of rushing head first into things that could kill you?" His mouth was a hard line but the anger on his face didn't match the emotion in his voice.

"You bring it out in me."

She started to turn away. Her clothes were covered with filth and sticky with blood. Her arms were stinging with a dozen tiny cuts from broken glass and she could feel bruises forming where she'd been thrown to the ground by the explosion. All she wanted was a shower and clean clothes. And a drink. The wind changed, sending smoke eddying around them. On the flight line, pilots were yelling back and forth. Greg swore. He grabbed her arm, spun her roughly back to face him.

"Damnit, Kate, I love you."

The words hung on the smoky air between then, creating a vortex that pulled time to a standstill. She tumbled into the hot blue depths of his eyes, unable to breathe, not trusting herself to speak. She was aware of the heat of his hands on her arms, the warm metal of the plane against her back.

"You do?" Her voice was shaky.

"Yes! Is that so hard to believe?"

She'd known.

She'd known since the night she told him about having dinner with Colonel Lard. She'd known by the look in his eyes when he asked if Lard knew who she really was – knowing the truth would mean her leaving La Cava.

She'd known before their night on the beach. She'd known afterward, from the way he guarded her privacy from the men in spite of their incessant teasing. She knew it from his touch. His words. The way he wove her into his life, sharing the daily routine with her in a way that went beyond even the searing heat of their physical connection. She closed her eyes – saw him laughing with her, staring at her in disbelief, that look on his face when his thoughts couldn't be spoken out loud.

The impact of his words ricocheted through her like a live round, creating chaos she could no longer ignore. She'd been falling in love with him for weeks. She hadn't thought about her feelings, tried to ignore them. Every time he got into that cockpit, there was the chance she'd never see him again.

There was blood on his temple. She reached up and wiped it away with her thumb. Falling in love in the middle of a war was dangerous business and from the look in his eyes, he knew it, too.

"I love you, too." Her words came softly, like the sudden discovery of something unexpected and rare.

He took a step forward and pinned her against the wing.

"God, Cameron, you are difficult."

"It comes naturally," she whispered.

He kissed her and her body ignited as her lips opened under his, surrender and possession at the same time. They were both covered in sweat and oily soot and blood but she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. She wanted to feel the heat of his body, strong and alive against hers, an affirmation of today, devil take tomorrow.

He gripped her upper arms, pulling her up hard as his mouth dominated hers, leaving no room for doubts. She jerked in pain and cried out.

"Whoa, sweetheart." Greg stepped back, scanned her upper body, saw the dark stains on both her T-shirt and his flight suit. "That's a lot of blood, are you sure it was all Jim's?"

Kate looked down. Her mind was spinning from his kiss and the intoxicating realization that he loved her. He loved her. It left her dizzy and unable to think about anything beyond the burn of his mouth against hers. He loved her. He'd said it at the most wonderfully unexpected time – which made it perfect.

"Yes. No. I –" she stared numbly as he gripped her right hand and straightened her arm, palm up. Blood trickled from a deep gash between her wrist and elbow, steady rivulets dripping down her fingers. She must have cut it at some point during Jim's fire-etched rescue. In the adrenaline rush of the moment, she hadn't even felt it. She studied her arm, scarlet smeared with soot. Her vision started to blur at the edges and she felt a wave of cold wash over her.

"Don't let go of me," she said weakly. "I'm going to pass out."

Greg gathered her tightly but looked disbelieving.

"You dive into a burning aircraft and drag an injured man out seconds before it explodes over your head, then you pass out at the sight of blood?"

"If it's mine? Yes."

She fainted in his arms.

XXX

Kate came back to consciousness while he was carrying her into the hospital.

"Put me down," she protested, struggling feebly. Her mind was still spinning from a combination of pain and emotion.

"Not a chance. You couldn't stand up by yourself if you tried." An edge of concern underscored his words.

She let her head rest against his shoulder. He was a mess. They were both a mess.

"I'll be fine. Really. I just won't look." In complete contradiction, she looked at her arm. Greg had wrapped it with what appeared to be one of Hutch's clean grease rags. At least it had been clean to start with. Now a dark stain was seeping through the rough cloth. She felt her head start to spin again.

"Where do you want her?" Greg asked Dee when she appeared around a corner.

Dee's eyes widened as she gave her friend a once over.

"Follow me. You both look like you've been through hell." She reached automatically to check Kate's pulse. "Both of you. I thought Gutterman was the only casualty."

"He started it. This is all his fault," Kate muttered, starting to get her wits back.

Dee led them to an empty bay in the infirmary and Greg deposited her on a table.

"It isn't," he said to Dee. "It's mostly her own fault. Was she this bad when she was younger?"

"I think she's getting worse," Dee said. She took one glance at Kate's arm and began arranging suture material on a tray. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you bring it out in her."

Greg rolled his eyes.

"Don't leave." Kate reached out with her left arm and gripped his hand. He squeezed back.

"I'm not going anywhere. If I let go of you, you'd fall off the table."

Kate resolutely averted her face while Dee cleaned her arm. She kept a firm grip on Greg's hand and anchored herself in his eyes as Doc Reese inspected it and tied off a neat row of stitches. Greg was smiling, she noticed. Filthy, bloody and smiling. Well, they were a matched set.

"I'd ask how a news correspondent ends up needing more stitches than the pilot who crashed the plane but I probably don't need to know," Reese said, wrapping her arm with gauze. "Your blood pressure is back to normal. You can go if you can walk out of here on your own." He looked at Greg. "If I release her, can you be responsible for her?"

Kate rolled her eyes.

"I don't need – " she started, but Greg cut her off.

"I'm not sure anyone is qualified to be responsible for her," he said. "But I'll take my chances."

Kate pressed her arm across her stomach and tried to ignore the throbbing ache.

"How's Jim?" she asked.

"Mild concussion, cuts, bruises and a few burns. I'm keeping him overnight for observation. Ya'll can have him back in the morning," Reese said. He nodded at Kate's arm. "I'd give you a pain killer but I imagine you can find a bottle of it back at your base."

"Finally," Kate blew out an exaggerated sigh, "someone who recognizes the medicinal benefits of whisky."

"Come on, Cameron." Greg helped her slide off the table. "I know where there's a bottle with your name on it."

XXX

He was right. If he let go of me I would have fallen off the table. And not just because of the blood and the pain. I never wanted him to let go of me. I didn't want just one morning of waking up with him. I wanted every morning and every night and all the hours in between. And that scared me to death. - KCC