A/N: Wow, thanks for the overwhelming response! A few questions to answer too. Yes, this is set during Watson's Bay before the series started. Obviously I've never been there, so I'm taking a few liberties with the structure of the day in terms of lessons, instructors, morning activities, etc. Was kind of difficult to mind much clear information about that. I've got Kate as a Sub-Lieutenant and Mike as a Lieutenant Commander, because I know how reluctant he was to take promotions and all. And, no, Kate definitely didn't plan to get pregnant. Took a few creative liberties with that one too. Anywho, back into it. Oh, and the name Dr Grey? Complete fluke haha
"Yo, Princess. You almost turned into a pumpkin." Boxer's loud, booming voice rings across the chattering of their classmates as they all line up outside the Advanced Navigation classroom, arms laden with text books, papers and bags. Boxer's voice at least seems to attract the attention of several of their classmates, some of whom turn to look at her, smirks on their faces, always interested in egging on the ongoing banter between Boxer and Kate.
They've been competitive from the moment they'd first enlisted and met at basic training, comparing lap times in and out of the water, taking bets at the gun range as to who could get the most accurate shot and just generally teasing each other. Boxer would say she was the little sister he never wanted. Kate would remind him that she was two weeks older than him, thank you very much. Then they'd laugh and challenge each other to something else.
Now, however, she has no quips left to fire back. Her whole being is just so focused on her dilemma, she finds she's too distracted to come up with anything witty to fire back at him. For a moment, she racks her brain, desperate for something to throw back in his face, something to restore normality, so she could at least pretend that the world wasn't falling down around her feet. But there's nothing. No. Her brain is simply screaming one word at her over and over again. Baby. Baby. Baby. So she settles with simply flipping him off (praying she doesn't look too distracted) before finding her place in line, and a moment later sees Libby finish her conversation with another classmate and move over to her.
"Where have you been? You totally ditched me at lunch. More worryingly, you weren't in the library during study period? Which means it is now after 1400 hours and you haven't set foot in the library today." She jokingly presses a hand to Kate's forehead, as though checking her temperature. "Wait! Let me guess..." She adopts an exaggerated thinking face, then smirks. "Buying books?" Libby pokes Kate's backpack and pulls a face. "I don't know, Kate. Sounds heavy." Kate simply rolls her eyes and Libby continues talking in her usual jabbering fashion. "I tell you what, though, joke's on you, because you missed a fantastic lunch! Roast chicken, soft bread rolls, salads to die for-"
"Really?" Kate frowns, Libby's words successfully pulling her from her thoughts.
Libby scoffs. "Of course not! Same SCRAN as usual. But I had you going there for a moment, didn't I? Can you hold this for a sec? Thanks." She passes Kate her folder full of exercise books and pens, and sets about resecuring her long brown hair in the regulation-style bun. Not for the first time, Kate feels that twinge of jealousy that Libby didn't need a mirror, at least ten minutes and a hairbrush to make it look flawless. Hair successfully off her face once more, she takes back her things, smiling. "Anyway," Libby continues. "Did you get anything exciting in town? Or just a new set of highlighters?"
An unexpected pregnancy, actually. "Ah…" Kate hesitates for a moment, forcing herself to act normal. She can't even tell Libby that she went to the doctors, because Libby is sure to pester her until she manages to find out the truth and then... "Had to go to the shops. Just the good old Navy Starter pack – a new tin of coffee and a box of Nurofen." She could go for some Nurofen now, actually. Already, a tension headache is forming. Can she still have painkillers if she's...
Mentally adding it to the list of things she doesn't know about being pregnant, she turns back to face Libby, who is frowning in concern at her. "Are... are you okay, Kate? You... you look a bit pale?"
"Yeah." She answers, too quickly to sound unsuspicious, and she can see the concern growing in Libby. And, hell, she's known Libby since they first enlisted as well, alphabetical order pretty much ensuring that MacDonald and McGregor were generally together, and they've been best friends ever since. So Libby knows her, has always been able to see through her emotions. And so she needs to say something to get Libby off her back. Libby knowing would make it real. And she can't handle that yet. Speaking with a sense of humour she's certainly not feeling, Kate continues. "Oh, come on! I'm always pale. Practically blue next to you." She forces herself to smile, holding her arm up. True to her words, Kate's arm is ghostly white next to Libby's brilliantly tanned skin, and Libby grins.
"This is true, Casper." She quips, "But-" But a door opens, saving Kate the hassle of having to explain any more, and Libby gives a wry smile, shifting her bag slightly. "Back at it, I guess." She murmurs, filing forwards. Kate follows, heart hammering so loudly that she can barely hear Libby's absent-minded chattering about how she hopes the afternoon goes more quickly than the morning. For her part though, Kate is a million miles away, or maybe just trying desperately to remain in the present and not drift off to thoughts of yesteryear.
This is it. This is the test.
Her heart clenches as she makes eye contact with her lecturer, but she holds the salute anyway, praying her hand is steady. "McGregor." He greets respectfully, holding her gaze for the briefest of moments.
"Lieutenant Commander Flynn." She murmurs back, feeling another piece of herself crumble away.
"Come on! Come on!" Mike- No. Lieutenant Commander Flynn (she needs to stop thinking of him as Mike) calls from the front of the class, waving a hand impatiently at the stragglers. "Sub-Lieutenant Boxer, I know that you are a hilarious individual, but might we keep your comedy out of the classroom?"
"Sorry, Sir!" Boxer calls good-naturedly back at him. "Just trying to lighten the mood." He takes a seat and begins to unpack his bag. "But carry on, Sir."
Mike gives a light chuckle of laughter. "Why, thank you very much, Boxer." He turns to the class at large. "I understand that many of you would rather be... anywhere but here." There are a few murmurs of ascent. "And for those counting along, we only have thirty-four more days of this course. I would... much rather be on my boat right now, but we are where we are. So... shall we delve into it?"
After her last class of the day, she skips dinner in the hall in favour of ducking back to her room to quickly change before going for a walk to clear her head. During the last class of the day, her stomach (suddenly ravenous) had grumbled so loudly that Boxer, Donoghue and many others had been silently laughing from the other side of the room as Kate sat mortified, arms wrapped around her stomach in a futile attempt to muffle it.
But the thought of the bulk-reheated tinned spaghetti and tubs of instant-mashed potato is making her stomach roll over, so, intent on finding something a bit more edible, she makes her way down the paths offering sweeping views of the water, alternatively tugging her cardigan tighter across her body to protect herself from the biting sea breeze, then letting it go again when she realises it is pulling against her stomach, even though there's nothing visible there yet.
Kate's own mother had a child before she was ready. In fact, in Kate's earliest memories, Donna McGregor had been Kate's own age now, as she'd been barely eighteen when Kate had arrived. That had been the first of the many crimes of Kate, at least in Donna's eyes - that she had spent her eighteenth birthday "in labour with you, kid, when I should've been out having fun!" No, Donna had definitely not been ready for a child, and Kate knew it was not love that had brought her into this world.
No. Motherhood was not in her blood. She knew only from Donna's rants that her grandmother (curiously also named Kate, despite the estrangement at the point of Kate's arrival) was not overly maternal either, with her faith put in Jesus with none to spare for the neglected girl that had later turned to sex for affection.
"I can't have a kid." Kate mutters, her body at odds with her words as a hand brushes along her belly. All around her, families surround her. Families with mothers that have happy faces plastered across their faces, and children with no scars to hide behind long sleeves. How could she be a mother, when every fiber of her DNA told her she couldn't be? When generations of maternal neglect are stacking the odds against her?
She follows the footpath right, away from the water and towards the shops and wide, open parks, with no real destination in mind other than food.
She'd walked this way with Mike.
The realisation is enough to stop her in her tracks, and a moment later she's muttering a hasty apology to the bicycle rider who has to brake at the last second to avoid her. Cursing softly, she quickly changes direction again, towards the ferry terminals, trying desperately to forget the way Mike's hand had rested on the small of her back, or the way he'd smiled at her, eyes twinkling.
Just for a moment, she entertains the idea of telling Mike about her pregnancy. Would he be excited? He'd talked happily enough about his new baby niece, hadn't he? Surely, he'd want to be involved in his own child's life? But then she reminds herself that, even if she is keeping this baby, the Navy would end both of their careers if they were to find out.
And just what are you expecting, exactly? She asks herself, trying desperately to shake herself from the fantasy world in her head. Him there for all the midnight upsets, or open-armed for the first toddling steps? "You heard him talk about Hammersley." She mutters to herself, snapping the hair-tie against her wrist. "Get real."
"Thirty-four more days!" Kate's thoughts are jolted from her mind as an arm suddenly links with hers, singing at the top of her lungs, and she has to shift her feet in record time to stop herself from falling flat on her face from Libby's sudden and unexpected momentum as Libby sings a song of her own invention. "Thirty-four more freaking days of this and then we're done! Thirty-four more freaking days and then we'll have some fun!"
"Libby!" Kate feels her heart racing in her ear as she successfully frees herself from her best friend's clutches. "You scared the crap out of me."
Libby looks unapologetic, and rolls her eyes. "Hey, you're off in La-La-Land. That's not on me. I've been calling out to you for bloody five minutes. Been jogging since I saw you at the lighthouse. Felt like we were back at bloody PT again. Why the power-walking, babes?" She grins her usual mischievous smile and Kate feels her fear and irritation melt away. "Have you managed to find something to eat yet, or is your stomach still digesting itself?"
"Sorry. I was just..." For a moment, the urge to confess almost overpowers her. But then she remembers that, aside from admitting that she'd broke fraternisation rules to say the very least, Libby was, if nothing else, a hopeless romantic. If Libby found out she was pregnant, she'd be rattling off lists of baby names before Kate could even finish her sentence. So she trails off, brushing the hair from her face, then forces herself to act normal. "Nope. Still intent on food. But yeah, totally off in my own world. Got a brain full of tidal charts and maritime history jammed into my brain. I think I stopped absorbing general conversation last week after Hourigan and his droning on about 1939's Daily Narratives. I mean, it's so interesting that we still have these records, but Hourigan might as well be reading the phone book for all the enthusiasm he puts into his lectures."
Libby smiles affectionately at Kate, shaking her head. "You're such a nerd, McGregor. You've probably already read them all."
Kate refuses to give Libby the satisfaction of knowing she's right. "I read some, thank you very much. And you can learn a lot from the past."
"Yap yap yap." Libby grins.
"Whinge whinge whinge." Kate counters as they make their way towards the bustling of tourists along the shopfronts. "You hungry?"
In the end, Kate's hunger wins out against their desire to wait for a table, and they grab takeaway sandwiches to the park instead of waiting for a seat at one of the crowded restaurants. They sit leaning against a towering tree, and for the most part, they eat in silence, watching the people around. Kate can smell Libby's sandwich more than her own, because Libby always loved to add aioli and onion to her sandwiches ("Hey, any guy that gets to kiss me should thank his lucky stars, no matter what my breath smells like"), and as Kate picks at her own, less pungent sandwich, she finds her mind beginning to wander once more.
There are families everywhere. Unfortunately for Kate, and her current dilemma, they've chosen a spot right in front of the playground, and children are everywhere, sliding down the equipment, running after footballs and pumping their legs on swings. Kids. Could she ever be one of those mums? But despite her concentration, she just can't seem to imagine herself there amongst all these supermums. She was used to carrying books around, not bottles and nappies, and while she is confident manoeuvring a warship, the thought of one of those sleek prams terrifies the hell out of her.
Though not quite on the same wavelength as Kate, Libby seems to follow her gaze, because she suddenly exclaims, "Aww, how cute is that little girl! The one in the Dora dress chasing the bubbles."
Not knowing what the hell a Dora is, it takes a moment for Kate to figure out which child Libby is talking about, but soon spots her. In any case, she can't help but smile as the little girl squeals in delight, letting out a small skip-like jump in order to catch one of the bubbles her mother is blowing her way. "She is cute." Kate agrees tentatively, smiling softly at the family in front of her. "Uh... how old do you reckon she is? Like two?"
"Oh no." Libby takes another bite of her sandwich and shakes her head. Kate can hear her onion crunching between her teeth. "Nah, she can't be more than just over a year, I'd say. She's too small. If you look at the way she's walking, you can see she's still pretty new at it. A bit bow-legged too. See how her legs curve? She must get carried a lot." Lib lets out another laugh as the girl claps both hands and successfully pops another bubble. "Aww, look how clever she is!"
Kate looks at the girl, but wonders whether bubbles actually have any benefit beyond the pretty figure they form. "She's just clapping her hands together?" Kate murmurs tentatively.
Libby seems unfased by Kate's uncertainty. "Well bubbles are good for exploring scientific concepts. You know, there's gravity, air flow, reflection, surface tension... exploring bubbles can help build a basis for further exploration. Plus, physically, catching them requires hand-eye coordination, and the child has to learn to track each bubble visually, and-"
"Yeah, forgot you were a childcare teacher once, Miss Wibby." Kate smiles at her friend to make sure she knows that she's not being deliberately hurtful, but Libby seems far away. She was always full of stories of her children from her two years in childcare, even when it was years even still wrote letters every week to her old centre, detailed letters full of child-friendly stories of the Navy's adventures.
Libby smiles softly. "I want like a million kids." She says, more to herself. The statement doesn't surprise Kate in the least. After all, out of the two of them, it was Libby who always seemed to find some random kid to play peekaboo with, or had what seemed like hundreds of nieces and nephews to babysit. No. Libby was the one destined to be a Mum. Not Kate.
Kate returns her attention back to her sandwich, even though it's getting harder and harder to swallow. "Why... why don't you have one then?"
Libby lets out a snort of laughter, as though Kate's genuine suggestion is nothing more than a humorous joke. "Yeah, I kind of need a man for that."
"Well... really only for the start, right?" Kate fiddles with the paper wrappings that had surrounded her sandwich, her whole body tense in anticipation for Libby's answers.
Libby shrugs. "With my mother? She'd disown me! No." Her smile grows slightly as she looks at the girl once more. "No, I think when I have kids, I want it all. The doting partner, the white picket fence. The pet dog. You know? The whole thing." She digs in her bag for a second and pulls out her water bottle. "Why? What about you? You ever dreamed about having kids?"
"I guess... not really. But recently..." Her eyes find the girl once more, watching as her mother wraps her in a tight hug. "I guess, I'm thinking about it more lately." And the urge to confess what Dr Grey had told her washes over her, because she needs some sort of advice, some help.
"But it'll be after you're Chief of Navy and married to Brad Pitt, hey?"
And it's easier, really, to force a laugh and roll her eyes. "I never really was a Brad Pitt fan." She replies.
"Hey, there's someone out there for you." Libby manages to stop a stray soccer ball with a foot and send it skidding back to its owner. Kate shrugs, digging her feet into the ground.
"I guess just some people are meant to be alone. Every guy I've dated has just..." She trails off. Every guy except one. Except him. The only guy she'd ever imagined a future together with.
"Oh, come on! How many guys have you actually dated? Since high school, I mean?"
Kate rolls her eyes, even though her heart is leaping about in her chest. "There... there have been a few."
"Well, none you ever deigned to tell me about, so..." Libby raises her eyebrow in a pointed manner, then smiles. "Not that I can really speak, hey. Evan dumped me to take his ex back."
"Not the pizza girl?" Kate splutters, recalling the stories Libby had told of the awkward time she and Evan had ordered pizza, only to have his ex arrive to deliver it.
"Yeah." Libby aims a kick at a rock on the floor. "The bastard. Good riddance, though." She grins again. "We'll find someone. When we least expect it."
And unseen by Libby, Kate touches a hand to her stomach. "Yeah." She agrees quietly.
"Urgh, kill me now." Kate groans as her alarm goes off, the soothing chimes anything but. She just resists the urge to throw it across the yard.
A moment later, another alarm sounds, this one playing the opening riff to Thunderstruck, and Libby's disheveled voice comes, muffled by sleep as she shifts in her bed. "Don't tell me Kate-Kate-Never-Late wasn't awake before her alarm went off?"
Lobbing a pillow blindly in Libby's direction, she closes her eyes tight against the sudden light from Libby's lamp, wishing for just another hour of sleep. She'd barely slept the night before, thoughts of the growing thing inside of her swirling around and around until well after midnight. "I do not have the heart to run this morning." Libby mutters under her breath, the same way she does every morning. Except, usually, Kate is already dressed and doing yoga or stretching. A moment later, Kate feels a hand shake her bed. "Come on, Kate!"
She wants nothing more than to stay here, and she contemplates feigning illness. But then she sighs heavily. She can't draw attention to herself like that. If she ends up in the medical unit and anyone found out... well, she'd be off the course quicker than she could say oops. No. There was a reason she'd gone to an ordinary doctor. "Are you not well?" Libby frowns as she watches Kate drag herself from bed. "You're normally up for hours before the alarm?"
"Yeah, Lib." Kate tries to assure herself as much as Libby. "I'll be fine."
"Uh! That was grueling!" Libby reties her hair as they make their way towards the food hall for breakfast after their early morning activity of the day - a five k run around the field. The run, while usually making Kate feel better and more awake, has today had the opposite effect. After a mostly sleepless night, Kate is fighting nausea and exhaustion hard. Even Libby's determined walking towards the food hall is slightly too fast for Kate, and she is struggling to keep up. "I could murder some bacon right about now. What do you think the chances are of there being sundried tomatoes and spinach omelettes?"
She wishes Libby would stop talking about food. "About zero, I'd guess." Kate manages thickly.
Mercifully, Libby doesn't seem to have noticed. "Well, hey, a girl can dream, right?" She takes a swig from her water bottle and continues. "Hey, can I flick through your notes on Flynn's last lesson during brekky? I swear, I only understood about half of what he was saying and you always seem to be on the same wavelength as him."
Kate feels her stomach do another flop at the mention of his name. "Sure." She stammers, stomach churning as she slows down, knowing that if she keeps going she is bound to collapse. "Look, go to brekky. I'm not that hungry." She scrabbles in her bag and tugs out the exercise book with her notes from Advanced Navigation. "Take it. I'll meet you-" She takes a step backwards.
Libby stops and turns back to Kate, concern growing. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Kate tries to smile but, judging by the ever-increasing worry on Libby's face, it's more of a grimace. "I think I just pushed myself too hard." Even standing is a struggle, and Kate takes a few steps to the side so she can lean against a heavy tree trunk. "Lib, just go get some SCRAN."
"I can wait for you." Libby assures her. "Just sit for a sec. Then we can go together and you can get your hideous concoction of Coco Pops and Yogurt- oh babe!" Kate doubles over suddenly and retches. In an instant, Libby runs to her side, tugging stray hairs from her face. "Dude, what's wrong?" The nausea is filling her like nothing else, and she feels herself flushed with embarrassment. Not only is Libby right there, their classmates are still walking by, some, judging by the fleeting snatches of conversation she catches, concerned, others disgusted. She coughs a few more times, curses, then swipes at her mouth with the back of her hand.
"I should have guessed you were sick. You never sleep in!" Libby rummaged in her bag for a moment, then hands Kate a small packet of tissues. Kate takes them with a mixture of gratitude and shame.
When she's finally cleaned up, Kate forces a weak smile. "Sorry, Lib. I... I'm fine."
Libby gives her an unimpressed look. "You're not fine, Kate. I mean, we've dormed together all through basic training and here now, and I've seen you with the flu and hungover as fuck after a night out, but I've never seen you puke. You're never sick." Kate has nothing to say to that. "Look, go to the nurses office and get a note to excuse yourself. You shouldn't have done morning EMA if you felt like this."
"It's the Navy, Lib. They're not going to let me out because I feel a bit dodgy, and I... I think I just didn't drink enough water this morning." She forces herself to stop shaking. "Look, I'm going to head to the drinks machine and just get myself a gatorade or something. You go have breakfast and I'll see you later, okay?"
Libby still looks hesitant. "I don't think I should leave you."
Kate shakes her head and points to the breakfast hall. "No. Just go! You know if you don't, then today will be the day they've got a five star caterer. Just... just bring me some waffles and ice cream if they make that, okay?" She forces another smile, and, this time, it seems as though Lib at least somewhat believes her.
"Okay." She murmurs reluctantly. "But... drink some water, okay? And if you get any worse, you're off to medical, okay? Or... or I'll tell Commander Olinsky his star pupil is crook. He'll take you straight to the hospital."
"Okay." Kate nods dutifully, with a mocking salute.
As she walks away, Libby turns around and calls after her. "You know, if I was family friends with a Commander, I'd use that connection to my advantage!"
Only when she's sure that Libby is out of sight, does Kate let her smile fall. Dashing towards the nearest bathroom, Kate just makes it to the cubicle before she vomits again, and she's glad at least that, this time, no one is around to see it. The thought of food at the moment has her stomach churning, and the morning run has done nothing but make her feel worse.
For the most part, she'd managed to hide the vomiting from Libby, leaving early and heading to the empty bathrooms during breakfast time. But she knows she can't keep going on like this, vomiting in secret. "Just give it a rest." She mutters to her middle. "If you want to actually get into this world, then I'm going to need a job."
She allows herself a moment, resting her head against the toilet roll holder and thinking of anything but just how many germs must be around her. She has another appointment with Dr Grey the day after next, and she makes a mental note to ask for something for nausea then.
Flushing the toilet, she moves out and begins to wash her face and hands.
Does she look any different?
She peers at her reflection in the mirror, at the shadows underneath her eyes and her pale complexion. Nothing about her is even remotely maternal. Nothing about her looks capable of raising a child.
And for the millionth time since she'd seen that missed red circle on her calendar, she finds herself cursing everything about Mike Flynn. But not just him. At herself and her own stupidity, at the childish belief that she could be loved, that she could throw caution to the wind and expect to escape with no consequences.
And, gripping the sink, she finds she hates herself as much, maybe even more, as she hates Mike Flynn.
Swiping a wet hand against the mirror, her reflection distorts, the water successfully masking the fear in her eyes. And maybe, just maybe, she can kid herself that the rest of the world can't see her properly either.
Intent on nothing more than getting away, into the fresh air, Kate turns on her heel and leaves the bathroom...
And runs straight into him.
Not for the first time, she's overwhelmed by how truly unfair this situation is. That in amongst this massive campus, it is him that she runs into, probably with vomit-tinged breath and a sweaty forehead. She takes a hurried step backwards, and it's no consolation that he looks just as taken aback to see her as she is him.
"K- uh... S-Sub-Lieutenant McGregor." The ghost of her first name lingers in the air, and she has to fight memories of all the times he'd said it in the great before. "Uh..." He eyes the bathroom suspiciously. "Are you okay?"
"Quite alright, Sir." Kate tries to keep her voice as curt as possible. She doesn't want his sympathy or his concern. "And you?"
"Oh. Okay." He looks over her shoulder before frowning in concern. "Why aren't you at breakfast?"
She feels the anger wash over herself again. How dare he? How dare he?! She longs to shout, to tell him that he has no right to show concern over her. She wants to wound him, wants him hurting as much as she is. And, God, can't he see that it's killing her to stand in front of him and pretend that she can't feel the ghost of his touch on her hip, or the warmth of his touch. To pretend that her heart isn't breaking every single time she looks at him.
She wonders whether he is feeling even a fraction of what she is. Then she remembers that she doesn't want to think of him at all.
"Kate..." He begins, and it's the other voice. The voice he'd used when he'd showed her that remote beach where it seemed like they were the only two people on the earth. Or the voice after they'd first kissed. And the voice he'd used when he'd ended it all.
"Sir." She feels as though she's pleading with him. Please, just make this easier on me. But his eyes are darting around in that same way they did after they first saw each other in the classroom, before everything fell apart, and she knows he's making sure that they're alone.
"Kate, about... about what happened-" But she shakes her head furiously.
"No. I'm not talking about this now." She snaps, as curtly as she can when she's feeling this dodgy. "You're my instructor, Lieutenant Commander. Nothing more."
He doesn't look surprised by her anger. He tips his head, trying again. "If things had been different... the timing-"
Kate scoffs. "Timing didn't seem to matter to you the last time." She spits at him, feeling a flash of satisfaction when he winces.
"Kate-"
"No! Don't Kate me!" She hisses. "You said we would talk and figure it... this... out. Then you screwed me and tried and failed to sneak out before I woke, knowing full well I'd see you in class the next day. You don't get to try to justify what you did. I'm not a toy you can put away in a cupboard with the intention of playing with it later." She wants to say more, she has a million different things to say to him, whole paragraphs she's rehearsed late at night to explain the heartache and anger she is still holding at the way he had ended things.
But there's the sound of footsteps and Kate catches sight of a familiar uniform-clad Commander making their way towards them.
"Commander Olinsky." Kate calls out, a little more loudly then she would normally have, cursing her luck, because just when she wants nothing more than privacy to throw up in peace, she runs into the only two instructors she knows outside of Watson's Bay. The name feels foreign on her tongue, because she's known him as Mr O since she was a kid, but she greets him professionally nonetheless.
"McGregor!" He smiles brightly, in that same way he always has with her, and returns her salute. "Don't let Mighty Mike Flynn convince you to do anything reckless. Give him long enough and he'll have you bending every rule in the book."
Kate just manages to hide the wince. "Gee, thanks Rowan." Mike lets out a laugh that Kate can see is forced. "You really give me a bad rap, you know that?"
"If the cowboy boots fit." Olinsky adds, patting Kate on the back. "You should get some SCRAN before class."
"I'm just headed there now." Kate lies, smiling at Olinsky before nodding at Mike. "Sir." She adds. And without another word, she leaves.