Lieutenant Colonel Edward Beck looked over at Heather. When he'd first brought up the ball celebrating the one year anniversary of the reunification, Heather had been adverse to the whole idea. He was slightly puzzled by her reaction; he knew she wasn't the type to go nuts over a dance like some women were, but she seemed to actually want to avoid the whole thing. While Heather claimed her objection was leaving Alexandra with a sitter, he could tell that wasn't the whole reason. She knew either of Alex's grandmothers would be happy to come visit their granddaughter.

It wasn't until, in the effort to persuade her, he mentioned that she could go shopping for a nice dress that he realized her true objection.

He realized that she was still wearing long sleeves in public, despite the warming spring weather. There had been a couple of occasions where she hadn't, and had used makeup to conceal the scars on her wrists and arms, but he'd noticed that people still tried to look for them under the makeup once they realized who she was. So when he mentioned a formal dress, her reaction was understandable. Making polite small talk with high-ranking brass (which, honestly, wasn't Heather's favorite thing to do) while wearing a formal, sleeveless ball gown was not something she would do if she could avoid it.

While he understood her reaction, and would have let her stay home if she wanted to, it still bothered him. It wasn't that he would go alone, but more about her being afraid to do something. Of her admitting there were limits. So when his CO was complaining about how much his wife was spending on a custom dress for the ball, he asked for the seamstresses' business card.

He met the seamstress first, privately, to explain his concerns. She drew up several designs. Under the guise of a date night, he brought her to the downtown district and introduced her to the woman. Heather looked almost betrayed at first, being pressured to go to something she didn't want to attend – until she saw the designs. Then he saw the gratitude in her eyes. She discussed the options with the woman for an hour; Edward watched as Heather finally got to enjoy shopping for a dress. She ended up passing on the outfits with long white gloves for one that had full-length sleeves that were mostly sheer, but had a winding pattern that just happened to cover all her scars.

Thus far, the dress was a huge success. If he wasn't mistaken, Heather had started a new trend. There had been one person who had searched those sheer sleeves for what lay underneath. But that was the reason he'd 'accidentally' spilled red wine on his class A uniform at the last minute. He'd stuck out his class B uniform exposed arm to shake the offender's hand; the diversion was extremely effective. The woman's husband – General Smits – who had commented on the class Bs, had hidden a smile when he recognized what Beck had done.

Heather was mingling with the wives as Edward talked shop with his CO. They were talking about their husbands when one of them asked Heather a question.

"Why doesn't he hold the door for you?"

"What do you mean? He holds the door for me all the time."

"He didn't earlier, he came through the door first. Which is odd, because he seems pretty chivalrous."

She thought about it for a second, realizing that the other woman was right about that. Then another thought hit her.

"Did he scan the room when he came in?"

"You know, I think he did."

"It's a holdover from when we were first seeing each other. I hadn't really thought about it, but he still acts like he's my bodyguard – which includes going through the door first. He usually does hold the door for me after he goes through, though. And he always gets the car door."

That gave the other woman pause.

"You know, that's actually really sweet."

Lt. Colonel Beck was at the bar, waiting for a refill, when he first noticed it. Heather was in a spirited argument with a colonel on the floor. The colonel was fully engaged, despite a persistent lieutenant trying to get his attention. He turned to ask the bartender to hurry up; he loved watching Heather argue with other people. Then there was the distinctive sound of flesh hitting flesh, and his head whipped around.

Heather was pale as a sheet; the stunned colonel had a red mark across his cheek. The lieutenant had a distinct 'I tried to tell you' look on his face. He raced to her, drinks forgotten. She threw her arms around him and squeezed him tight. What had the colonel said to provoke such a reaction?

"Eddy."

The form of address told him a lot. She hadn't called him Eddy in public, where others could hear, in a long time. Not since…

He looked at the Colonel, who was beginning to come out of his stupor. Colonel Richard Aarens, according to his name plate. Where had he heard that name before? Oh, yes, he'd written a paper…his eyes narrowed as he remembered that the paper had discussed interrogation techniques. He looked Aarens in the eye, feeling the anger rise. Aarens looked like he had finally figured out what the lieutenant had been trying to tell him all along.

"You bastard. Talking about that here? Are you stupid?" (Beck peripherally knew that the man he was berating outranked him, but he really didn't care.)

Aarens felt the gathering crowd; he heard the music stop. But somehow that was less important than the look of fury on Beck's face, a look that froze him where he stood. He reminded himself that Beck could – and had – assaulted men for less. When Beck sought to extricate himself from his wife's arms and move in Aarens' direction, his feet broke free of the floor, and he ran out of the ballroom as fast as he could.

Beck watched him go, a glimpse of cold satisfaction on his face. Then, he swept the room with a glare that sent everybody back to their places. He ignored the buzz and took Heather out the other side of the ballroom to recover.

Later that evening, after the speeches, they were happily engaged in dinner when a lieutenant came up to the stage.

"Forgive me for interrupting your meal, but General Vitelli would like to speak to Colonel Aarens ASAP." His comments caused a buzz of conversation. An astute listener would hear a few 'I'll just bet he does' comments buried in the murmur.

"Is he present?" the lieutenant asked. A general 'no' went up from the crowd. "Does anyone know where he went?"

This time he got no answer. However, the lieutenant was the observant type. He noticed that the murmur did not reach one table – the one table that everyone else darted glances to. The one couple that everyone was looking at. Taking a chance, he called out.

"Lieutenant Colonel Beck, do you know where he went?"

The room went quiet.

"I cannot tell you where he went. I can tell you, however, that he was in a great hurry to get there." His delivery was completely straight, provoking a few distinct snorts of laughter. Beck didn't offer any further information. Finally, someone turned the mike off and took the lieutenant aside for an explanation.