Hello guys, here is the next chapter of A Christmas Date. If you've been reading my stories then you know I have a hard time only ever writing fluff and that there is usually more going on than meets the eye. That's true for A Christmas Date too. I know some of you are waiting on me to just write what happens on New Year, and I promise that will happen, but before we get there I need to take this story back to 2014 and tell you what happened that year.

Stick with me and I promise all shall be revealed :-)

All faults are mine.

Also, this story is set in the universe of the Navy and the Air Force. All I know from those institutions is what I read online, so pardon any and all mistakes I make. The aircraft carrier USS Enterprise is an actual ship. It was decommissioned some years ago, but I couldn't let the chance to have Lauren Lewis serve on the Enterprise pass me by ;-)

As for replies to reviews, I shall just say "THANK YOU SO MUCH!" for all your positive and heartwarming responses. I love the fact that you guys loved it, and your reviews very much drive me to write in the first place. :-)

Thanks!


A Christmas Date

Chapter two

March 2014

Baltimore, Maryland

Lauren's POV

Long after the salutes are fired, long after men and women I hardly know have stood around me and the priest has said his final words, has swung his thurible for the last time, and words of consolation have left people's lips do I stand over a man's grave. Twelve red roses contrast with the dark wood of the coffin. There's dirt strewn across as if the point is to plant these flowers, but we're not here to honor life, we're here, I'm here to witness death. My father's death.

The small piece of paper I have crumpled in my hands is hit with rain drops, the water distorts his picture and the smile he has looking up at me. Suddenly, I'm not sure whether I feel rain on my face or whether I'm crying. I haven't cried since I got the news. I didn't cry when I first saw his lifeless body, when I sat with him in the morgue, nor did I cry during his mass, I did not even blink a tear or struggled when I read my eulogy to him in church.

I saw them sobbing on the first row: his two sisters, the ones that took his money but never bothered to help when he became a widower, and I noticed their judging stares , the ones that condemned me for being a heartless bitch. I'm not, but there's almost no one left now to know that.

"Lauren," a familiar voice pulls my attention. I thought everyone had left already, but I recognize and welcome this voice. "Ben, you came." I say as I finally pull my body into a type of motion. The ground under my feet pushes back against the soles of my shoes, and squishes softly. Broad shoulders and arms pull me in. I smell his ever expensive cologne, and feel the stubble of his beard scratch my cheek. My hands go to his waist. His strong jawline sets and I can feel the tenseness in his body as he exhales.

"Thank you," I say.

"Of course," he replies. "The car is waiting." He says after a few moments. "Let's get you inside and get you home, you're soaked." I nod my head.

I didn't know I was.

Baltimore, Maryland
Lauren's apartment

I open up the front door, and push through it when the smell of Ben's bolognese sauce hits my nostrils and I grin wide. It's been a week since the funeral. The hospital and the university have both given me two weeks off, but I've been coming in pulling my shifts, and I've been going in to give my lectures. Ben has been staying in the guest room. It's nice to have him around. If I close my eyes and forget that ridiculous beard he is growing out I can pretend we're still at college and we're still roommates.

"Honey, I'm home!" I call out grinning.

"Love muffin, I'm so glad you're back!" I hear him shout back from above the cooking pots in the kitchen.

I grin again and quickly put my coat away, then pick up what the mailman brought me. I'm still going through the letters when I walk into the kitchen. There's a glass of wine on the counter for me and a smiling Ben behind it. He's wearing my 'Kiss the Cook' apron that's way too small for his muscular frame and shoulders, and it makes me laugh.

"What are you making?" I ask and take a sip of my wine. "Gods, that's good." I say. Ben has always had an excellent taste in wine, and I don't know what type of wine it is other than red, but darn, it's delicious.

"It's a Chianti."

"Don't tell me you are making liver and fava beans to go with it."

Ben laughs out loud. "No, no, Clarice," he jokes back. "It's a Chianti Classico which will go excellent with my signature lasagna."

"Mmmmm, that sounds delicious."

"What's with the glasses?" I ask now noticing that he's got a pair of glasses perched on his nose. "I didn't know you needed them."

"It's not about needing, honey. It's all about how fabulous they make me look on my night out." He says flipping his blonde locks in a way only a gay man can get away with.

"You're going for the nearsighted look?" I say with a laugh bubbling at my lips.

"I'm taking a page from the nerd book of Dr. Lauren Lewis actually."

My brows shoot up. "The nerd book? MY nerd book none the less?" I say amused.

"Yup, one moment I am a 'mild mannered doctor, and then..." He pulls off his glasses like he's Clark Kent changing into superman and bats his eyelashes. "Dancer stud at night!"

"Oh gawd!" I laugh out loud at his antics. "And men go for that?"

"Well, maybe not the glasses, but I'm sure they'll go for the leather chaps and harness I'll be wearing."

I burst out laughing again. "Classy!"

"Go with me Laur, you need a night out and maybe you'll run into a lovely woman there, clad in tight leather." Ben bats his eyelashes again.

"Ben, the last thing I need is a bad gal in my life."

"No, no, you don't want the bad gal, you want the gal that looks like she's bad but actually has a heart of gold. You want Xena. The leather, the dark luscious hair, the big boobs. The power, the passion,..." He adds quoting the intro of one of my favorite shows.

"You're basing your idea of what you think is the perfect woman for me on a crush I had when I was fourteen?" I ask with mock indignation.

"Yes," he says gleefully. "When you were flatchested and wore braces."

"Ugh," I grunt and glare at him to which he only smiles broadly.

"Did you or did you not spend all of your pocket money on Xena posters and fan stuff."

"That's beside the point, and if you're just going to throw it all under a denomination as simple and silly as 'fan stuff' then I think you should just leave," I counter. "And for the record, I was and still am a Trekkie!"

"Yes, I remember your obsession with Kathryn Janeway, but that was years later, Laur," he says with a knowing grin, and I glare at him amused. Sometimes it's annoying how well he knows me, but most of all I find it endearing, and teasing one another is just the way we relate.

"I'm just saying, you may have to adjust your parameters when looking for women. I don't think there are many Xenas around."

I raise my eyebrows. "I'm not looking for Xena, Ben. I'm not looking for love, period, and as much as I enjoyed being your wingman in college, I'm going to pass for tonight." I look down at the photo book that's been lying open on the coffee table for the last week. "What I need is a change of pace."

Ben scrunches his brows. He's usually so in tune with what I need you would think we were a married couple. Who knows if he hadn't been gay, and I hadn't been a lesbian, maybe we would have been, but he doesn't have a clue what I'm talking about now.

"I mean, I need to change. I love my job at the university shaping young minds and I love being a neurosurgeon,- But, lets face it, my standing only lands me the cases the hospital wants me to take to earn them more prestige, and that's not what I want to do. I want to make a difference all the time, not just simply when there is time to spare. Which is practically never," I say sighing and running a hand through my hair. "I want to go back into active service."

"What?" Ben's voice is high pitched betraying his surprise and the fact that he thinks its a bad idea. "Laur, if you want a change of pace, come work with me. It'll get you out of this city, and into a new one. I've been asking you to come work with me for years! You know you'd be a perfect fit. It may not be life changing work on the front line, but the drugs we develop save millions of lives! I can get you an apartment, we can take Zumba classes together, I can introduce you to my tennis coach who I've been in lust for for two years."It'll be just like college: you and me!"

I smile. "I love you, Ben. I do, and the offer about the tennis coach makes it really tempting," I joke and Ben laughs. "Paolo, right?"

"Si."

"But I can't, I need to be in the thick of it again."

"Laur, you haven't been in the Navy for over half a decade, and when you moved away from it, it was because you didn't want to deal with the bullshit regulations and stipulations."

"I was twenty two, Ben. I'd been in college from when I was sixteen, and then from that I went straight into the Navy. I had people twice my age saluting me, and I didn't get it. I was a kid. I moved away from the Navy because of my career, because I needed to for me. Now I need to feel like I'm giving back again." I look down at my father's picture. "Like he did."

I see Ben's handsome face frown in worry. He runs a hand through his soft blonde hair and looks at me with those big blue eyes of his."Alright, Laur. I get that, I get about wanting to give back, but could you please do this drama queen a favor and not go straight for the front line. You're my family, and I don't want to loose you."

Washington DCDyson and Bo's apartmentBo's POV

"Dys, I can't do this anymore." I say for what is only the fourteenth time this night.

"Bo, please, you know we haven't seen each other much...You're always on mission somewhere, we hardly connect anymore, we don't even have the time to work on 'us'."

"You're right, we hardly see one another, but when we do we always come to this point. We always land right here. The truth is I am not going to slow down. I'm not going to leave the Air Force, and be a stay at home girlfriend or even be a girlfriend with a regular job. That's just not for me, and before you say anything, I am not fine with you sacrificing your career for us."

"I love you, Bo."

"I know."

"You don't love me?"

I inhale sharply. It had taken him all of this night to muster up the courage to ask me that question point blank. I had wondered all night if I'd be able to answer that question truthfully. I know the answer, but I hate hurting him.

"I love you, Dyson, " I say truthfully. "But as a friend. I'm not in love with you anymore, and right now if I have to choose between you and my career, I choose my career." I see his eyes fill with tears and I know I need to leave. As a friend I want to run up to him and comfort him, but as a former lover I need to leave him alone with his grief. I make a mental note to call Tamsin later on and ask her to check on him.

With a sigh I close the door behind me, and walk out the apartment. I don't have much with me, just one duffel bag and two boxes.

Two years of living together, and it's all I have to show for.

One week later

"Bo, please talk to the man cause he is driving me nuts!" Tamsin says as she walks through the door. I'm in the kitchen preparing to go out for my run with my hand on a bottle of water in the fridge.

"Dyson?" I ask as I round the corner of the kitchen and catch Tamsin in the hallway.

"Is there some other dude you broke up with recently?" Tamsin asks in her usual sracastic tone. "Of course I'm talking about Dyson Schmyson!"

"Sorry, Tam, but what do you want me to do?" I say unscrewing the cap of the bottle of water and taking a sip. "What is there left to talk about?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just that you don't have to work with him. He comes to me with puppy dog eyes all red and shit. I'm telling ya, he's scaring off the chicks cause they think I'm 'involved' with him or something."

I roll my eyes at my best friend. "Tams, seriously, I think your chicks are fine. I'm sure they get it when you wear your Rainbow Flag pin and socks to work."

"I should look into getting a bigger pin, I honestly don't think it gets me enough exposure."

I shake my head grinning at my friend. "I'm going out for a run," I say. "I'll be back in an hour. "We can have dinner together, or do you have a date?"

"Dude, seriously. I don't date when my bestie is in town, you know that." I smile at my friend. Although Tamsin is 90% brash and loud, she likes having me around. Both Tam and I grew up without much of a home to speak of. Over the years became each other's family. Living with her this week like I had when I had been in college had actually been nice.

"Wait, what's for dinner? It's not some sort of organic dish again is it? Last time you bought that shit I was in the crapper more than the fucking toilet lady."

"Chinese food," I say amused. Tamsin has the worst eating habits on the planet, and when I'm around I try to at least feed her some proper food, but we do both like Chinese.

"Now you're talking!" Tamsin high fives me. "I loves me some artificial flavor enhancers and fried pork."

"Chow mein, fried rice, sweet and sour pork and dumplings, it's all on the counter, we just have to reheat it."

"You got all my favorites!" Tamsin says gleefully and moves towards the counter opening up the bag of Chinese food. She's happily digging through the cartons when her expression suddenly changes. "Wait, this is guilt food," she says in an accusatory tone. "You're leaving."

I nod caught red handed. "Monday."

"How long?"

"Three months."

"Fuck."

"You've only been home for like three weeks."

"That's the Air Force for ya," I say popping my headphones into my ears.

"The Air Force can suck my ass!" Tamsin says loudly chewing on a dumpling.

"Such foul language, Tamsin."

"Bite me, Isabeau," Tamsin says flipping me off. "The Air Force sucks!"

I laugh. "Well, look on the bright side, you'll be able to date again and bring those hot chicks home."

"The thought of having sex again does cheer me up," my blonde best friend says and pulls out a beer from the fridge.

"There you go, silver lining."

"You're running away."

I scrunch my brows, and put the bottle of water I was holding on the dining room table. "What do you mean?"

"You enlisted the day after you broke up with Stella Whitley in college."

"Tams," I say with a little bit of a huff in my voice because I know I'm about to get a lecture about my love life. "The Air Force paid for my engineering degree, I was always going to enlist."

"Yeah, but you loved that girl and you were considering other options, then she broke up with you and you just ran away from everything."

"Unrealistic options."

"And now you're doing it again. You're going back to that artificial world where what you do, eat, shit and think is chosen for you. You'll close yourself off again, from love and every other feeling in the world."

"Tams, this is my job."

"Don't Tams me, Bo. For the longest time, I hoped you and Dys would work things out, but that's not the case, and that's fine, but I don't want you to close..."

"It's not the same, Tams," I interrupt her. "I'm not running out of hurt. I don't love him, not that way."

Tam nods her head. "I know. He was a safe bet. You haven't really loved anyone since Stella." A heaviness sets in my heart as Tamsin speaks her name. It's true that I was head over heels in love with Stella, and I would have changed my whole life for her if she had simply asked. I'm ashamed to admit that it's also true I never loved Dyson in that same way.

"It only took me one look to fall in love with her, Tams. That type of connection, it's a one in a life time thing."

"Oh please, how can you think some bitch that broke your heart in college was the love of your life?"

I shrug. My bestie has a way of phrasing things that make me realize how dumb my inner monologue sometimes truly is.

"I will however concede that you were always more of a lesbian. You were always the butchier one of us," she says as she finishes her can of beer and then burps loudly. "You should start wearing a pin," Tamsin adds with that trademark smirk of hers.

"Fuck you," I chuckle and I grab my bottle again. "See you in an hour," I say. "Oh, how about we look for an apartment together when I get back? I'll need a place to live, maybe we can get a place together or maybe something close by, like same street type thing?"

Tamsin's lips curl into a smile, and I walk out of her apartment.

June 2014 Norfolk naval base, Virginia

USS Enterprise, Class A

Lauren's POV

Settling back into the Navy has been easier than I thought it would be. After contacting my former superior, I learnt the Navy had been following my career and was all too happy to welcome me back. Very much like my civilian employer, their first instincts were to place me at some advanced research facility where I would be allowed to further develop my career as a surgeon with only the most challenging of cases and surgeries. It took some convincing on my part to get them to assign me to an aircraft carrier and be the senior physician on staff there. I was overqualified for the position I knew, but the challenge wasn't just the medical work there. The ship has just undergone a two year overhaul, and I needed to get familiarised with all the new upgrades, not just the medical ones.

As the chief medical officer on board I am the fourth up the command chain. As such I am expected to be able to take command of the ship should the need arise. For the nerdy, somewhat socially awkward doctor that I am, the challenge also lies in interacting with the crew, becoming a team with them and working inside the Navy framework again.

Both challenges are actually working out remarkably well. I have 'friends' here, people I have superficial and less superficial chats with, people I go have a drink with and then warn them not to have too many. I play poker with some of the other senior officers and am on good terms with the Captain. With the medical team around me, I play scrabble and watch Dr. Who, and despite my busy daily schedule I always have time to see my patients and have one on one interaction with them. Life on board a ship like this is structured and disciplined. It has a routine to it I find comforting and I often catch myself wondering if my father appreciated the same things about his enlistment that I do. I often wish I had asked him before he passed away.

Tonight, however, is anything but routine. Tonight is our last day to go a little wild ashore. The day after tomorrow the ship will receive our complementary flying squadron, the group of some eighty pilots that fly the most advanced planes on the planet, and when that happens our crew will finally be complete and we will be setting sail for open waters. But before that we celebrate and what better way and place to celebrate than at one of the most exclusive venues in Virginia? Clifton House is a private Georgian house that's been in the property of the Shaughnessy family from before the civil war. The house with roman columns and a grand porch sits on 200 acres, and offers the most stunning view of the bay. The Shaughnessy family have produced, and backed Senators and Congressmen throughout their long prominence in the state, and today is no different. The Shaughnessys organize deployment parties for each ship that sets sail. It's a chance for politicians to schmooze up to some of the most powerful military men in the country and vice versa. The stunning setting, the expensive alcohol and the beautiful women in attendance add allure and swagger to the night, and I observe the room and the punch bowl with intent.

It's five minutes later and with a drink in hand, I'm going back to observing the room. It's a mix of civilian and military and although no one is in uniform I only have to look at the haircuts and the shine of their shoes to see which side of the divide they fall on. The women are a little trickier, but then I do know how to spot a dress that costs more than what junior officers make in six months. My mother was a Cavanaugh, part of one of the most influential and affluent families in upper state New York. These types of soirees were common at our house. Dressed in one of those outrageously pricey gowns, you would think I would be at ease in settings like this, but I am not. It's why I drink a little too fast and then fiddle with my glass. Even with eitiquette classes, I have never learnt to feel comfortable in a room filled with strangers unless they are scientists, and right at this moment I would much rather be back at my lab or my sickbay.

I'm about to go for my friend the punch bowl when I hear a familiar voice behind me.

"Don't mind if I do."

I turn around and smile wide at a beautifully dressed Stacy Altman. Her dress is a dark green silk that hugs her curves, her eyes sparkle with golden eyeliner and blush and she matches it well with a few golden accessories. I'm not used to seeing her with her hair down, but the redhead pulls it off in stylish waves. Stacy Altmann is one of the bridge officers and when I first came aboard, she showed me the ins and outs of the ship. We have been cordial friends ever since. Stacy is a commander like I am and having the same rank makes it easier to interact.

Unlike me, however, she thrives in social settings like these, and with her presence an awkward load falls from my shoulders. With Stacy here I know this evening won't be boring and I'll get the latest gossip on who's who.

"Wow, Lauren! What a gorgeous dress!" she exclaims. "I'm gonna have to beat them boys off of ya with a stick later on!" she jokes in her trademark southern accent.

"As long as it has the same effect on the women here, I'm all for it," I say with a wink and I see Stacy's eyes grow wide as she realizes I'm not joking.

"Oh, I'm sorry..." she babbles with a semi-horrified expression on her face. "I didn't know..."

"That's okay, it's not contagious," I joke. I know some people get uncomfortable when I tell them about my sexual preference, and I find that joking about it usually offsets the tension.

"That's not..." she says and then she sees my grin and laugh. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, you had me going there!"

"You look gorgeous too," I say. "And I say that with nothing but platonic intent," I bubble laughing.

"And here I was thinking I had you pegged!" Stacy laughs in that boisterous way I have come to associate with her. " I suppose I should start looking around for the pretty women for ya," she jokes.

Bo's POV

I'm not a senior officer and as such I don't have a formal invitation for this party when I walk upto Clifton House, but not having an invitation has never stopped me before and I'm confident it's not going to now. I smile sweetly at the doorman and after one look at me and my -I do have to admit- rather suggestive outfit he lets me in. I know why. In fact I was banking on it. On a night like this, and with the amount of big shots in that house, it's good to have eyecandy around, and tonight I am definitely that.

Once inside, I decide to mingle and blend in a little instead of going straight for my target. Amid a group of four other people I spot a guy I went to the Academy with. Jay had to drop out because of an eye injury and is now a Lieutenant Colonel at the JAG office here in Norfolk. I can tell by what he's saying that despite his rank and the fact that he loves his current job, he misses being a pilot. I can't blame him. Being up there in the sky pushing your limits and that of the powerful machine under you is unlike anything else. We talk for a few more minutes until the man I am here for passes me by.

"Oh, I see someone I need to say hi to," I excuse myself. "I'll catch up with you later?"

"It was good to see you, Rip," Jay says sincerely using my callsign like most pilots do, and shakes my hand.

"Likewise," I say and disappear in the crowd in pursuit of my target. It takes me only a couple of minutes to find him again. There's a waiter with a tray of champagne offering me a glass and I gratefully accept. He steals a look at my cleavage.

"Hey buddy, my eyes are up here," I say and shake my head. He blushes slightly and scampers off.

Putting the glass to my lips I take a small sip. My target and two other gentlemen, obviously military, are talking to a woman half their age who only smiles and laughs to pretend she's keeping up with the conversation. I know these types of men, and I can tell the military men are telling her about the ship. No doubt they are suggestively relating its length and firepower to that of their own, and my politician is eagerly joining in. I roll my eyes.

And this is the man I'm supposed to schmooze up to? Goddamnit, Sandy! I curse under my breath. Well, I suppose this would be harder to do if he wasn't an old creeper.

Downing the last of my champagne glass I quickly look around to see if there aren't any familiar faces around. The last thing I need is to run into my commanding officer or one of the generals that know who I am and that I'm not supposed to be here. With none such dangers lurking I see my target on the move. He's heading for the bar.

Lauren's POV

I lost Stacy to her flirting ways about half an hour ago, but I've found my own medical staff and am happily conversing with them when a gorgeous brunette walks into view. I no longer hear the conversation around me, and instead focus on the woman just a couple of feet away from me. Her dark hair is long and luscious, and stylishly put up exposing a slender, delicate neck that draws my attention. Her make-up is dark giving her a boldness I find intriguing. The dress she's wearing looks like it's designed for her and it accentuates her full breasts and curves. And holy Fibonacci, does she have curves! She's the type of woman you see in movies or on screen not some fifteen feet in front of you at a party for the military.

I'm not the only one who notices her as I see appreciative glances left and right. The waiter stares a little too long at her cleavage and then gets an earful. I grin in amusement, and for a moment I'm confused. Her behaviour doesn't fit the pattern of the party girl for these types of events. They are supposed to smile and act like polite southern ladies. Then I see her scanning the room, and notice a group of three gentlemen to her left: two Rear Admirals I have met before, John Lacy and George Hernandez, and a Congressman Clayton Wayburn III. I am unaquainted with the Congressman's reputation, but if those of John Lacy and George Hernandez are anything to go by, it does not bode well for the Congressman. The two admirals are known womanizers with penchants for heavy drinking and partying. Not exactly the Navy's finest. The puzzle pieces click together when her eyes follow Clayton Wayburn's strut to the bar. She's here to charm the Congressman. There's probably some bill or issue the Shaughnessys need the Congressman's help with, and she's here to butter the man up.

"Commander Lewis?" A voice to my right snaps me out of my intrigue and makes me turn my attention back towards the conversation I had zoned out of. A tall, dark, broad shouldered figure has appeared, and I smile in recognition. Standing in front of me is Vice Admiral Nathan Jamison, one of the Navy's finest and a good friend of my father. I'm about to call him Uncle Nate, because for a second I am eight years old again and he is chasing me in the garden with a squirt gun, but then the formality of the occasion comes back to me, and I choose a more formal greeting.

"Admiral Jamison."

"That's Uncle Nate to you, missy!" he chides and pulls me into a strong hug. In his embrace he whispers. "I am deeply sorry about your father, Lauren." He pulls back. "He was a great man, a great soldier and an even better friend." I nod at his words as I see tears form in his eyes. "I wish I could have been at the funeral."

"You were there in spirit, Sir." I reply. "Thank you for your letter," I add. "It meant a lot to me." At the time of my father's funeral, the Vice Admiral was away on mission and he could not attend, but a few days later I received a letter from him. It was more than just a note of condoleance, instead Nathan shared memories and anecdotes of the time he had spent with my father. Things that made me laugh out loud, things that made me proud to be my father's daughter, things I wish I had talked with my father about.

"He was something, you know?" Nathan looks at me with his big soulful eyes. "How about you and I drink a toast to your father later on? Share some memories."

"I'd like that, Sir."

"Uncle Nate. Just remember to Sir me in public."

"Uncle Nate." I chuckle. "And yes, Sir, I will," I add lamely.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to say hello to some of these fine ladies and gentlemen."

"Of course," I smile, and let my eyes follow him right until he disappears into the crowd. As I do, I also look around the room to see if I can spot the intriguing brunette again. I'm not disappointed when I locate her near the bar chatting with a small group of people. I can see her smile and laugh. There are dimples in her cheeks when she does. I look at her fingers that elegantly hug the glass she's holding. Her lips are full and inviting, and I know I'm now mildly stalking her, but I can't seem to help myself, and so I'm still following her when she bumps into the congressman and his tray of drinks.

My eyes go wide at what I see her do next.

Bo's POV

It's busy at the bar so I bide my time chatting to a woman I used to work with, and slip out of the conversation when I see Clayton Wayburn head towards me with a tray of drinks.

"Oh, excuse me!" I say after I've intentionally accidentally bumped into the congressman making him spill his drinks all over his suit. "I'm such a clutz!"

"That's okay, little lady," the congressman chuckles as he looks up at me, and ogles my breasts. "These things happen," he says with a southern drawl.

"But, look at your vest!" I exclaim mimicking his accent. I'm so used to the accent from the guys that I fly with that I find it easy to reproduce and for some reason I find it fits the daft damsel character I've adopted. I press myself against him and dramatically wipe at his vest with my right hand while my left hand goes into his vest pocket and I extract what I need. "Oh, I just feel awful about this!" I say while I put away the key I just pickpocketed without the congressmen noticing. "Let me get you a refill on those drinks," I offer.

"Well, only if you promise to come drink them with us, doll," he says putting on the charm as he ogles me up and down.

"I'll be sure to do that!" I say without having any intention at all to either get him new drinks or join him. I got what I came here for. The only thing I want to do is get out as quickly as I can. I'm halfway across the room and three quarters to mission accomplished when I spot a face in the crowd that stops me dead in my tracks.

Color instantly drains from my face, and I'm reminded of why I avoid these types of shindigs. I am experiencing what I can only think is a minor panic attack. My breathing is heavy and out of control. My first reaction is to run away, but my second thought stubbornly refuses. There's something stronger pulling me back. It's probably my anger, the need to know, or the need to confront my past that steadies my breathing and has me walking in his direction.

His neatly trimmed beard is greyer, and there are a few more wrinkles on his face, mostly around the eyes, but other than that he is the handsome, well-groomed man I remember. Everyone in this room recognizes this man from television. Senator Jack Dennis is a household name. They know him for his tough stance on economic matters, they know him for his charm and swagger, and his intellect. They know him as a selfmade man who struck gold some ten years ago, and now leads a life in service of others. They know him as a married man who is childless because his wife is barren. They don't know that he did father a child, and that he left that child behind fifteen years ago. They don't know that child is me.

"Senator Dennis," I announce my arrival, and at my words the group of people surrounding the senator parts like an ocean before me. "Pardon me for interrupting your conversation," I say as I go for his hand and shake it. "But, I just wanted to thank you for the work you do for this country." His gaze meets mine, and that's what I'm here for. I want to know if this man, this great man, this man of the people recognizes the daughter he left behind. I want him to look me in the eyes, want him to press his hand against the hand of the child he gave life to, and he does.

If there is even a flicker of recognition, I don't see it.

"Thank you kindly. It's all in a day's work," he says like a machine, and I smile lightly at his words.

"Keep up the good work," I say to a man who does not recognize the child he raised and fathered, the child he left behind without a word. I'm surprised that my words come out as smoothly as they do.

Long before I head for the exit, he's turned his back towards me again. People pass me left and right, and if they address me, I am not able to tell. My vision is a blur, and my ears register only noise. It's the stroke of midnight and I feel like Cinderella fleeing the scene.

I'm in the hall when a hand wraps itself around my wrist. For a moment I think it is my father realising his mistake, but when I turn around I see a beautiful woman with light brown soulful eyes, long, blonde hair and delicate features hold my gaze. Her eyes look at me with wonder and surprise. My breath hitches and my heart skips a beat at the intensity of her stare. I think she's about to say something, but then she hesitates, she startles as I feel a tear roll down my cheek. Her grip loosens and whatever she was about to say is lost to the moment as I draw myself free and run for the cool night air, away from this house and away from my father.

My tears dry as I run. The car is parked just outside the estate. The passenger door opens up when I'm close. Pilot Rick 'Sandy' Sanders, one of my best friends in the squadron steps out.

"Did ya get it, Rip?" he asks worriedly and I open and dive into my clutch.

"You mean this?" I say tossing him the key I snatched.

He catches it and his entire body sighs in relief. Sandy stalks towards me and pulls me tightly to him. "You're a lifesaver, Rip!"

"Don't thank me yet," I reply. "Let's go get you out of trouble first."

Sandy nods and we both get into the car. Charlie 'Suits' Zane is driving and she takes off towards the congressman's hotel like a bat out of hell.

Lauren's POV

I let her go. I think bewildered. Why would I let a complete stranger get away with stealing from a man? Did I let her go because she was beautiful? Was it because I let my loins do the thinking? I cannot deny that this woman piqued my interest, that for an instant, no matter how brief, I was like one of those men who ogled her when she first walked in. I inwardly scold myself, and decide on damage control.

I'm making my way back to the ballroom in search of congressman Wayburn. If she stole something valuable, I'll at least be able to give a description of her.

I look around for the congressman and the senator, but I do not see them. I ask around, and do my best to locate them. In the end it's the doorman who tells me that the congressman left in a hurry, and that the Senator has been pulled into an impromptu private meeting.

A strange feelings creeps up on me. A feeling that I should let this go, that she should get away with this, that the universe is telling me to let this go, to let her go.

It's a preposterous notion, and as a scientist I rebel against the thought. I am not the kind of person who lets instinct guide my decisions. I've never been able to do that despite my father having told me numerous times to trust my feelings, to go with my gut.

Maybe it's that thought that decides for me tonight. The thought of listening to a father I have only recently lost. Maybe it's seeing Uncle Nate tonight when I hadn't expected it.

Against my better moral and rational judgment I decide to let the woman I met tonight get away with what she did.


End of chapter two