Lils POV

I was in my mess, carefully putting my things away. I had already changed into a freshly ironed uniform, and as I placed the last pair of socks into my wardrobe, a knock at the door was a welcome distraction.

"Come in!" I called, watching as Sergeant Forster stepped in and saluted. "At ease, Sergeant." I instructed. "What is it?"

"Ma'am, CO Crawford requests your presence in his office in five minutes." Forster's voice was a little rough, as if he had been going heavy on the cigarettes. He probably had.

"Thank you. Dismissed." I replied, following him as he left. I jogged over to Crawford's office, straightening my beret before rapping smartly on the door.

"Enter." Came Crawford's deep voice. I did as commanded, saluting smartly. "Sit, Lieutenant." Crawford gestured to a chair opposite his desk, which I took. "You are being flown to Belize at 04:00 tomorrow." He informed me, not bothering to explain. "I want your soldiers ready. Understood?"

"Sir." I replied shortly. He nodded.

"Good. Perrio's replacement is coming today. I want you to meet him and show him how things work around here. He will be arriving at 17:30. Here is his file. Is everything clear?" Crawford asked.

"Sir." I said again, taking the file.

"Dismissed. I saluted and marched out, stopping to inspect the file. A familiar face grinned up at me: Bailey. I checked my watch; it was 17:20, so I marched down to the car park, figuring that it would be better to wait there. I stood at ease on the pavement, watching as a 4-by-4 drew up. Bailey jumped out and I strode over, deciding to see if he recognized me.

"Corporal Clayton." I addressed him in my most clipped tone, noting the odd look he was giving me as he stood at attention. "You have been assigned to 31st Regiment, as I am sure you are aware. I am in charge of said regiment and will be showing you to the barracks."

"Yes, Lieutenant..." He trailed off, obviously trying to glean my name.

"Just ma'am will do." I told him tartly, waiting as he gathered his bags, before setting off briskly to the barracks. I rapped sharply on the door.

"Are you decent?" I called, relishing the routine. There was a scuffle and the door was opened by Sergeant Forster, saluting. The rest of the barracks was in various states of disarray. I sucked on my teeth.

"At ease. I assume that Sergeant Forster has made sure that you are all here. Don't bother unpacking; we are going to Belize tomorrow. A full kit list will be issued at final parade, then I can answer any questions in the cookhouse after. Now, we have Corporal Clayton joining us. I expect you to be civil." I gestured for Bailey to step forward. He cleared his throat nervously. With that, I strode off to the admin office where I collected the kit lists, glad that I didn't have to assign any duties, for now. 18:00 ticked around and the soldiers assembled in the parade square. The evening was clear and far warmer than Forks, but a chilly breeze slipped through the air. Sergeant Forster saw me coming, bringing the soldiers to attention. I gave him a courteous nod and began explaining the Belize training mission. When I had covered it all, I dismissed them, joining the queue for the cookhouse. Noticing Bailey's furtive glances, I turned around, beginning a polite conversation with Lance-Corporal Lalley. The line snaked through, until I reached the warmth of the cookhouse, removing my beret as per protocol. I crossed my arms over my rank slide and waited for Bailey to notice. He was behind me in the line, and his attention had moved on, so when he saw me sitting at a table, his face lit up and he immediately plonked himself down next to me.

"Lils!" He cried, drawing attention left, right and center. I raised one eyebrow, uncovering my rank slide. He stopped, mouth hanging open almost comically. "Ma'am." He corrected.

"Hello Corporal." I said coolly, trying to hide the grin that threatened to take over my face. I looked at him, realizing that the once gangly boy had filled out quite... attractively. He was very muscular, and his warm smile made me think that in a different time, or a different place, if I didn't have the responsibility of mates... but those thoughts were irrelevant. At least I could try and stay single whilst I worked it all out. Bailey was looking like he wanted the floor to swallow him up; given the many pairs of eyes fixed on us, I knew his concerns were valid. He shifted a bit in his seat. "Well, it's pretty fucking good to see you." I told him, breaking the proverbial ice.

"It's nice to have a familiar face, Lieutenant Lahote." He replied.

"You took your time recognizing me." I grinned; he returned the look. A few other soldiers had joined us, listening intently. I heard a pair of footsteps enter the cookhouse and a loud rustle as the entire cookhouse stood to attention. I glanced around, standing too when I recognized Captain Brent's face.

"Return to eating." He sneered, as we all sat back down. I disliked Brent thoroughly; he had flirted with me endlessly since I had arrived, making barely concealed passes and darkening my reputation. By now, the men knew to ignore it but it still grated on me. "Just here to wish you well before you go out to Belize." It was obvious that he was lying, and probably wanted to take something out on us. I kept my head low, not wanting him to recognize me. He sat next to Lance-Corporal Jaffrey, digging in to provoke him. Jaffrey was, by most accounts, a very decent soldier but was renowned for a spectacular temper. I didn't want things going to shit, so cleared my throat loudly in the near silence of the cookhouse. It worked; Brent's eyes fixed on me immediately as he sauntered over to my table.

"Good evening, Sir." I said, voice wooden. He narrowed his eyes.

"Lieutenant. I did not think I would see you so soon after Port Angeles." His undertones were clear, but I almost snorted.

"Port Angeles, Sir? Where's that?" I asked, eyes wide and innocent. Bailey clamped his lips together to stop himself laughing. His green eyes danced. Brent growled in frustration.

"Who's this Lieutenant? Your new fuck toy?" He spat.

"No Captain. I don't make a habit of bringing them to work. This is Corporal Clayton, an old friend of mine." I explained, anger rising. Bailey clenched his fists but had the good sense to keep quiet. Brent turned to Bailey.

"Is this true?" Brent breathed.

"Yes Sir." Bailey replied.

"So how would you describe the wonderful Lieutenant?" Brent prodded, hoping for ammunition.

"Well, Sir, I will always remember that on her induction day, she broke a boy's nose for trying to kiss her." Bailey's face was hewn from granite. Brent looked as if he had been slapped.

"I have duties to attend to now. I have heard that the beds are quite cold in Belize, Lieutenant. If it gets too bad, I could always arrange for some cock to warm your little pussy." With that, Brent strode off. When he was out of sight, I held up a finger and spat vehemently onto my plate. Many of the men were doing the same.

"What a cunt." Bailey murmurs.

"Yeah. Thanks for trying, though." I got up and left, head spinning a bit.

Once I was back in my own room, I made sure I had everything packed before tuning into the link.

I'm going to Belize tomorrow. I told them, to mixed reactions. What happened with the serum? I asked.

Well, it's not much different, as per promised. We can't get drunk though. Paul informed me.

I'm not sure that's such a bad thing. I joked. You'll never guess who turned up today. Bailey Clayton!

So... about that hunky marine? Jake prodded, laughing.

Fuck off. Where are average things made? There were some groans. The satisfactory. I huffed a laugh. Goodnight ye immortal wankers.

Goodnight Lilo. Brady replied.

Night. Came the resounding chorus.