As I scrambled to take a position against the north wall, I was surprised to find that all my gear, weapons, and ammo weren't slowing me down. There was a lot of it, and it was bulky and heavy. I carried a big weapon, too, the Heckler&Koch G28 rifle. It was a prestige item, a highly portable sniper rifle that could deal death at seven hundred meters per second. Normally, fully kitted up like that, it felt like gravity had doubled. But I was surprised to find, as I scrambled for a wall, that my arms and legs felt a little numb, but that was it. I figured this was adrenaline, from the excitement and fear, and regarded it with my usual calm detachment.

I heard the explosion of gunfire and the zing and pop of rounds passing close. I had been taught that if you heard that crack it meant the bullet had passed near your head. A zing, which sounded to me like the sound made when you hit a telephone-pole guy wire with a stick, meant the bullet had missed you by a far margin. The shots were answered by a roaring fusillade.

In one of the rear Humvees, I heard the eruption of gunfire and felt my stomach turn. Then I realized most of what I heard were Ranger guns. Any Somali with a weapon faced a crushing wave of American lead, .50 cals on three of the Humvees as they barrelled up the muddy road toward the chaos. Hayes, Perry, Spenser and all those M16s massed on the trucks took out the man on the roof, and anyone else pointing a gun in their direction.

I grabbed a dazed Kowalski by the armour plate and half-dragged him toward the cover fire.

It was so loud that the sound of the guns was just one ongoing explosion. Bullets hit and rocked the Truck, I was surprised I didn't get hit.

Safely inside the heavily armoured truck, we didn't have to wait long for the gunfire to subside.

"Tangos clear!" Hayes yelled in the still silence.

My ears still rang from the resounding bullets, but I climbed out and began to help exfil the hostages.

Flag and several frightened American hostages emerged from the building, striding purposefully towards us.

That was the walk of the invincible.

*.*.*.*

Initiations weren't what I was worried about. For every wrong answer, you owed a box of beer. By the end of the first week at Alpha barracks, Kowalski was at thirty two boxes.

I kept my mouth shut and only owed thirteen. I didn't mind it though- I'd sit down and drink with them, listening to their horror stories, or miserable voicemails from concerned family members.

The team was only eight strong- Colonel Richard Flag Jnr. Commanding Officer, Captain Sam Taylor, Lieutenant Danny Hayes, Captain Eric Perry and Sergeant Clay Spenser.

Kowalski was the assigned equipment and comms tech, and little old me was stuck on weapons and ballistics, plus the only medic on the team. Their very own personal doctor. So far I was able to do assessments of only a few of the team mates, mainly blisters from breaking in new boots or old wounds playing up. The others weren't so willing to open up to me.

Kowalski was easily accepted into the group, but the men shied away from me. Maybe because I'm the only woman? I'd half expected to be the shiny new toy, but it didn't happen that way.

As goes with Sam Taylor, it was usually awkward with him. There was something about the way he would talk to me that seemed too monitored, as if he were processing everything he said first because he was afraid to say anything wrong. I wondered if he were trying to keep certain information away from me, but I of course couldn't be sure.

He was putting his foot down on the fact I was not one of the boys, and I had to bunk in the medic's bunker.

"No." He said at once. His voice was low and authoritative. It made shivers pass through my body while I looked at him with what I would assume were rather confused eyes. He saw my expression and quickly tried to renege his tone. "I don't need you coming to me every five minutes because the boys are disturbing you." His tone was so final and so dark that it made me frown.

"You're better off in your own quarter." He added, before striding off toward the barracks, leaving me reeling in front of the small metal shack that had been reserved for medics.

I thrust my hand against the wooden door, and it slammed against the wall. I didn't even bother to close it. "As if I didn't survive Green Team's sleeping arrangements." I muttered to myself, violently unpacking my gear into the tiny locker at the end of the stretcher bed.

I sat in the medic shed, filling in some paperwork, and doing inventory of supplies.

Breaking the silence, was a knock on the wall, and Colonel Flag walked in the wide open door that I had forgotten to close.

I felt myself stiffen as I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was staring at me, but not gawking like the other Seals had — he had a slightly frustrated expression. I looked down again.

"Are you free?" He croaked.

"What can I do for you sir?" I was avoiding his glare.

Flag sat in vacant seat beside my desk. He went rigid as he turned to look at me, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face — it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red.

"My last op in Iran," he answered in monotone.

I nodded again, taking out his file and opening it. I flicked through to the most recent entry, made by the last medic.

"Well, since then my shoulder has been playing up."

I grunted. "It's not noted in here,"

"Well, it won't be. Medic didn't make it back." Flag didn't look away from me the whole time.

I kept my eyes down, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me. "Sir, I need to ask."

He grunted.

"Why did you choose me? I mean, I can understand Kowalski, but-"

"You and Kowalski graduated in top five. You, in top two. I wouldn't accept anything less than that." Flag replied. I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. "Skill alone. Though I don't always approve of the order you graduate in."

He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he didn't want to look at me anymore.

I arched one eyebrow in disbelief. "But there is a problem."

"Yeah. With my shoulder." Flag replied arrogantly.

During the whole examination, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible.

I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his skin. This, too, he never relaxed.

He had the long sleeves of his green shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his skin.

He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly Seals.

After massaging the knots his shoulder, and finding very little to be concerned about, I sighed. "Just a bit of inflammation. Nothing to worry about." I dug out several pills from my locked box, and handed them to him. "Take one every few hours and you'll be as good as new."

He looked at me, and I regretted peering back. He was glaring down at me again, his green eyes full of revulsion.

As I flinched away from him, shrinking against my chair, the phrase if looks could kill suddenly ran through my mind.

"For what it's worth, you're the best sniper, and the only trained combat medic. Plus side is, we'd have an advantage with your gender. You also have the most experience with us from the other Green team graduates. Alpha Dogs need your skill."

I looked to the ground, feeling silly I had even asked. I knew these facts; I didn't deny I had spent extra time honing my skills, and was most likely being watched while I did it. But the fact was, I was the first female in Green Team, and I never expected to be good enough, even for the Colonel's impossibly high standards.

"I don't regret my decision, Chapman. You need to have more confidence in yourself. Alpha Dogs will be coming in for their mandatory medical briefings. Your friend Kowalski is next." He strode toward the door, and I left out a long slow breath.

Mike Kowalski came in, giving Flag a wide birth as they traded places.

"Boy, am I glad to see you," I mumbled once Flag was out of earshot.

Kowalski chuckled. "What was that about?"

I shook my head. "Confidentiality, Kowalski. Remember?" I wasn't allowed to share the personal or medical information about a Seal without their permission; I respected them more to know better.

It made me glad I wasn't the only new member of the team, but it was easier for Kowalski.

"He doesn't hate you."

"Have you seen the way he looks at me?" I argued.

"We're both trying to prove our mettle. It'll be fine." Kowalski gave me a reassuring smile.

I scoffed. "Easy for you to say, you're not the first female to be on the team, ever."

"Respect needs to be earned, Trig. And you will earn it, and so will I. Besides, Flag doesn't like anybody. Even his own unit."

"I wonder why?" I mumbled.

"Apparently, he lost his last team a few years ago. The Jihads set up an ambush, and Flag sent out his team first, and he avoided the explosion. He survived and they didn't. So he avoids getting personal."

My shoulders fell with shock. "Oh."

"He has a real chip on his shoulder. At least now you know why."

"The others told you that?"

Kowalski nodded slowly. "Yeah. They're good guys. They'll warm up to you soon."

"Not soon enough." I grumbled.

"They are coming in after me, so you can get to know them. Better study them files." He nodded at the pile beside me.

Kowalski was right, as the men came in one by one, I got to know them a little. One even invited me to the coffee machine to learn how to use it. Generous offer, I had to admit.

Hayes was especially nicer to me over the others, and suggested I share the men's barracks to make more space for medical. He proposed this, meaning I was an equal member of the team. It seemed logical, because my small bed took up a lot of room. I declined, since being denied the luxury of sharing bunks by Taylor.

*.*.*.*

Kowalski waved me over to the table in the cafeteria, which over looked our old green team bench. It seemed strange to be looking at it from here.

Danny Hayes sat down opposite me, and handed me a bottle of beer. He was muscular, and taller than me, but not the tallest in the group. He looked to be in his forties, and sported the usual short scruffy hair and trimmed beard. But he was blond and blue-eyed; typical for the military. He reminded me more of the superhero's human disguise. "So, did you stab Rick Flag with a needle or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Colonel Flag's usual behaviour. I decided to play dumb. "It was just a sore shoulder." I defended.

Taylor rolled his eyes. Sam Taylor was the shortest, from Texas. He too had sported the beard, and always wore a hat. He was more burley than Hayes, and I was sure he couldn't have picked a tighter shirt.

"He's a weird guy." Hayes's eyes lingered on me. "If I were lucky enough to pick you over the other Greens, I would have talked to you." Hayes was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

Clay Spenser was the youngest out of all of us at twenty-seven, but behind the rugged facial hair and long shaggy blond hair, he was just another steroid-fuelled soldier. He was cocky and happy-go-lucky while the others were more mature. He chuckled and shook his head.

I smiled at Hayes before catching eyes with Flag, who stood in the doorway.

My smile fell instantly.

"Chapman! A word." Flag shouted.

The others laughed, and one shouted uh-ohhhh! like high school all over again.

I got up from the table and followed the Colonel. He didn't say anything-but led the way back to my cabin, without looking at me or saying a single word.

"Is everything alright, sir?" I asked as he sat down in the visitor's chair. I stood against the door, crossing my arms. I put on my best straight face, trying to keep any concern from showing.

Flag made himself comfortable, slouching a little. He leaned over his knees and put his hands together but looked down at the floor.

"Aren't your pills working?" I asked.

Flag shook his head. "It's not that. The General suggested I tell you what happened to the last medic."

I sighed. "Not necessary, boss."

Flag cleared his throat. "The op after the last one you were on with us, I lost two men.

Hakim Al Nazeri used this boy as a suicide bomber. Hayes put him out of action. He had a dead-man's trigger, we couldn't shoot him. Hayes disarmed the bomb and knocked the boy unconscious but..." he paused and licked his lips. He was still looking at the floor.

"But what?" I asked.

"When I returned to the stairwell he was standing, he was holding a weapon. When he saw me, he ran. But from where he was standing he had a perfect firing position on both men. I only had time to recover Steve before the Iraqi guards..." He cut off and blinked hard, falling silent.

"Sir, this isn't what you want to hear but… a clean headshot would have stopped the reflex release on the button. So you should have killed him, Colonel."

Flag raised his head, staring blankly but not looking at me. I think if he had, he wouldn't be able to hold himself together. "I know."

"Could have, or didn't want to?" My voice sounded harsh.

He turned slowly to glare at me — his face was absurdly handsome — with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I felt a thrill of genuine fear, raising the hair on my arms. I knew just how dangerous Colonel Flag could be.

The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the freezing wind.

He turned back to the floor. "This isn't the first time I failed my team."

I frowned. "Why are you telling me this?"

Flag swallowed hard. "Kowalski told me you're easy to talk to when you're not armed."

I scoffed. "May I be frank?"

He nodded, eyes flicking to the door and back again but he didn't look harsh or unfriendly in some way.

"If you bothered to spend time with your team outside of an op, we might learn to trust you, too. And don't be afraid to take suggestions. Not all the ideas have to be yours. It could save a life. I'm sorry about your team, I truly am. It must be hard to live with."

Flag was silent, but watching my reactions.

"I can't imagine having that on my shoulders, but the only way I would cope, is to blame it on the job. There's only so much one can do, I mean, you're not a superhero. It won't go away. But you have your team to talk to about it. I'm sure they've all lost someone." I thought about the death of my mother as I spoke, and hoped what I said was halfway relevant.

He stood up suddenly, and peered down at me. "Thank you Major. I'll let you get back to your lunch." With that, he up and left.

I let out a sharp breath in disgust. I wished I could say it would get easier, but…every now and then you come across a guy who doesn't feel anything. He goes out there, kills people, and falls asleep before his head hits the pillow.

I used to think that would be better. That maybe I was just too weak. Then I realised-no. It's the thing that reminds us that we're human.

I returned to the cafeteria table, where the guys were already getting up to leave.

"What did Scrooge want?" Hayes asked bluntly.

"Long story. Buy the e-book." I replied flatly.

Perry and Spenser chuckled. "Welcome to Alpha Dogs." he slung a long, heavy arm over my shoulder. "Come on. Kowalski is going to make us his traditional… halal something."

I shrugged him off, and looked at Kowalski, demanding an explanation. Kowalski didn't cook. Ever.

"Shakshouka," Kowalski corrected.

Relief swept over me as the men kindly invited me along.

"But what about the Colonel?" I asked, sitting down at the table in the barracks lounge.

Spenser snorted. "He ain't here, he misses out." He slumped into the chair opposite me and winked.

"N-no, I mean- I'm not supposed to be in here."

Perry chuckled. "You're on our team, yes? That means you have every right to access this area. Even if Taylor thinks you're not up to bunking with half a dozen trained assassins,"

"Wait- he said I'm not up to it?"

Kowalski hooted as he stirred the delicious smelling ingredients in the kitchen behind us. "Oh please. Like you aren't used to that? How did you ever survive Green Team, having to share bunks and bathroom with a bunch of muscular, sweaty, hot guys?"

The others didn't seem surprised by this. It wasn't common practice to provide separate facilities for one female trainee.

"Sorry, Trig. Hierarchy rules." Hayes said finally.

I frowned, noticing Taylor wasn't with them when I re-joined the group. "Where is Taylor?"

"Oh, he went to speak with Flag." Spenser said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

It was one of those never-alone days where my perception on life was altered.

Perry had decided not to wait for Kowalski's meal, instead throwing a bag full of fries into a rather dirty looking deep fryer.

"You don't want to try some of my Shakshouka, Trig?" Kowalski called from over his shoulder.

"Sure, I won't pass up a free meal."

"You know, my mother made this meal as a Saturday tradition. What about yours?" Kowalski asked.

I scoffed. "My mother wasn't a traditional anything,"

It was no secret that Kowalski was my best friend, but it was, however, a secret that my mother died when I was younger. It wasn't something I wanted to be pitied for.

Perry and Hayes were making a pile of chilli-cheese fries. The excessively angry and violently envisioned 'The Score' album had stopped playing only three minutes prior to the fries being half way done.

Spenser and I were trying hard to flick some of the sauce onto each other's faces without moving from our five foot distance in between us. It was easy for him because his arms seemed about a whole foot longer than mine were, but I was doing well.

Apparently I had good hand-eye coordination.

Right after Spenser unsuccessfully threw a glob of cheese on my right cheek I heard very angry voices at the door through my laughter.

"-it's ridiculous, if you don't smarten the hell up, you're going to get someone-" Taylor's voice rang angrily. The sound caught me off guard and I had to listen to see if it was even him talking.

Even though, who was I kidding? I knew his husky accent anywhere.

"If you say kill I swear to God-" Hayes's voice sounded just as angry, despite not actually talking to anyone in particular. His voice suddenly much different than when he spoke to me. I wondered if his eyes were no longer warm, emotional, and welcoming.

"Well it's true, Flag!" Taylor bellowed again, replying to a much lower voice outside.

My eyes snapped to Spenser. He seemed to be very peeved with the argument outside and apparently was distracted as to hear whatever it was Flag seemed to have done wrong.

His jaw was set forward, his nostrils flared and his eyes seemed to burn through the front door as if he could see them through it.

"I didn't kill him Taylor! Stop blaming me, he told me he was okay so I could follow the tang-"

"And did you even get the trail? No, you didn't, did you Colonel? You almost got my team killed!" Taylor sound like he was about to burst from fury.

My eyes flicked to Spenser again, trying to see what he thought of the argument.

His eyes were closed as if he were trying to figure out what to do about the situation.

"It's too late, you can't put it back in the box! What has that got to do with segregating the team?"

My eyebrows furrowed...that wasn't what it sounded like, was it?

"You have no idea, do you?" Taylor blared, his voice shaking with anger. From experience I knew that his whole body was trembling with anger. Hopefully he could get it under control, whenever it happened he'd have to leave it to me to deal with.

Good medical practice for me, but nonetheless, I didn't want anyone within the unit to be fighting.

My eyes were now suspiciously wide and my ears were completely tuned in on the conversation. I saw Spenser swivel toward me quickly, understanding what I did: I was probably hearing too much.

"Trig," Spenser said with shifting eyes. He couldn't decide where he should look, at the door or at me. "If I tell you to stay here, would you?"

I scoffed. "No,"

"-I can't take you being here. If you need to go outside the base, you will-" Taylor's voice hissed. It was one of those unearthly sounds that I did not recognize as human. It was so dark, so deep, and so much unlike Taylor that it made me shiver.

"Taylor, Chapman is a Tier One Operator, just like you and me. It's protocol to treat you all the same. Just because you're above the others, it doesn't mean you can make those calls."

That's ridiculous, allowing one man to make the choice of what's best for our team outside of the field. It felt a bit degrading.

Then again, Taylor was good at everything, so I assume he probably got the Alpha male because he was, logically, the best at blowing things up.

"Flag, stop being pigheaded! I know she's the best sniper on base. You know she chose Bravo over us."

Us? The word was vicious. It dripped with some hidden meaning that I didn't understand. Who did 'us' include?

"I'm not giving her the chance to change her mind or to get hurt by your fucking stupidity-" Flag barked, his voice getting raw with anger.

"Damnit, what would she say if she looked out the window and saw you like this?" Perry shouted, standing at the door yelling at them.

There was a pause that also made me pause.

Did I want to see them at each other's throats? Did I want to see if one of them had laid a punch on the other and see the damage and bruises?

Taylor let out a growl, much like Flag's but it was a little lower pitched.

His words came out even, barely controlled and shaking, but still slow. "You're making a mistake. She won't like the idea."

"Watch me." Flag told authoritatively. Somehow, with the tone of his voice I knew that the conversation was over. When I heard something on the wood, something about as heavy as foot falls, I knew I was right.

He was dismissing Taylor from the conversation. Taylor let out a mournful groan, it sounded so full of pain that I felt bad for him immediately, knowing that they were arguing about me. I heard something thunk, like he was hitting one of the poles of the deck.

But before I could gather my thoughts, Taylor and Flag stood inside the door of the barracks-staring straight at me.

The remaining members of Alpha Team seemed to have crossed their arms, and stared back at Taylor with judgmental eyes.

Did I want to have to think about how I was the cause of this rift between comrades?

Kowalski was in a complete daze, he looked worried. So did Spenser and Hayes who were sitting on the kitchen chairs with him, eating away at the chilli cheese fries with a distant expression, all the while being very aware of my reactions.

I backed away from the table slowly, my feet falling softly on the cold wooden floor. Suddenly I was very aware of the guilt eating away at my stomach.

The chair slid back from under me, and I was on my feet. "I'm not as soft as my gender implies." I looked directly at Taylor, who merely sniffed at me. I've gone too far to turn around. I got through and I didn't care how. There was no way I was backing down now.