I'm high from having seen BD2 twice in the last 24 hours...and because of that high...you get another chapter!

^^TotS^^

EPOV

"Thanks, Mom. It was a great visit."

"Yeah, I'm in line to put my name in for the flight now."

"Shouldn't be too hard, they have flights leaving out of Travis every day for Hawaii."

"Okay, I've gotta run. I'm up next. I'll call you when I land."

"Love you, too."

I walk to the counter and sign up for the next available flight to Hickam Air Force Base on Oahu. The Airman First Class taking my information is swift and efficient with all the necessary paperwork. I love it when the system flows smoothly. I'll fly Space-A any day of the week in order to avoid the crowds at commercial airports.

"Here you are, Captain Masen. We'll be calling the categories shortly. You won't have any trouble getting a seat today. It's a C-5 with forty-five available seats and there are only seven other people who are on the roster to try and fly today, sir."

I smile and nod. "Excellent. Thank you." I grab my paperwork from the counter and walk to the seating area to wait for my name to be called.

I stare mindlessly at the blue screen watching the names filter into the system; I'm the first and only passenger listed as Category Two. I scan the monitor to see if anyone from my command is on the list. A family of four in Category Three, though I don't recognize the name. Then there are three singles in Category Four. My eyes are drawn to one of those names, however.

Isabella Newton.

I remember her. Could it be the same girl from years ago? That would be a ridiculous coincidence. What would she be doing on Travis Air Force Base in California flying Space-A? Unless she happened to stay in the DODDS teaching system after her husband was killed and moved out here? I suppose it's possible. I glance around the terminal to see if the face from years ago matches the name on the screen.

I don't see anyone who looks remotely like the young widow I remember, and my name's just been called, so I let the thought go.

After walking through security, we're immediately ushered out the back door to the tar-mac and up the never-ending set of steps up to the passenger door of the plane.

"You can sit wherever you like, sir," says the Airman pointing out the empty rows. "Take these ear plugs for the flight. It gets pretty loud up here." He hands me a sealed package of little blue foam plugs. He's not lying. I've flown plenty of times on these birds. There's no heat and there's no buffer to muffle the constant roar of the engines. It's brutal. Thankfully, I have my iPod with me as well. "We'll come around to hand out blankets after everyone gets situated, sir."

I nod and move to the last available row and take the seat on the aisle. It's a habit. As Marines, we're taught situational awareness. It's imperative. I don't know how I acted before Officer Candidate School, but now? I can't imagine going anywhere and sitting where I can't see everyone at all times. Granted, there are always scenarios where I can't keep everyone in sight at every moment, but I will always choose a seat where I'm able to have my eyes on the door and be observant of everyone in my periphery. In a restaurant, my back is always to the wall, facing out. It's second nature. I can't remember a time where I wasn't paranoid about my surroundings. Maybe paranoid is a strong word, but hey, you've got to keep your head on the swivel. Twelve years of service and three combat tours will do that to a guy.

The man and the three kids he's escorting claim their seats at the front of the grouping of rows, thank goodness. I hope their portable DVD players and handheld games are all charged up. Five hours in a Galaxy can be painful…for them and for the passengers that surround them.

I love my niece, but that's really where my love for little people ends. I'm just not cut out to be a Dad. I've watched too many families torn apart at the hands of war. I was one of those kids who got the news that Dad wasn't coming home. I don't ever want that to happen to a child of mine. And when you're in my line of work, that possibility is always on the table.

As a rule, a supply officer is a desk jockey more often than not, but a war zone is a war zone. Every time you walk out of the hatch, you're wearing your Kevlar helmet and vest. There's a 9 mill strapped to your thigh and an M4 slung across your body. And those only help if you're actively using them in the moment of engagement. I've knocked on too many doors in my career where the Marines had no chance at all; roadside bombs and blasts in random civilian areas don't wait for you to lock and load. They just destroy.

I dig through my bag for my iPod and ear buds, bypassing the paperwork I have to go over before I check back in with my command. That can wait. I hit the ground running this whole past week at Pendleton, I deserve a break. It was great spending time with my mom, my sister Lauren and my niece, Bailyn, but I consider that to be a part of the work package. Whenever I'm on TAD in California, I try to spend a little bit of time with my family. But I do NOT consider that a vacation…that's family bonding…bondage…whatever. It all depends on the moods of the ladies in my life. The amount of estrogen radiating through that house could drown a platoon of hard-charging Devil Dogs. Whenever I'm with them, I just shake my head and go with the flow as best I can.

Now I'm ready to officially start my leave. Thirty days to burn and I can't fucking wait. It's technically a stay-cation, because I don't plan to leave the state of Hawaii, but I'm more than ready to explore Oahu beyond the base and hit the other islands. Even though I've been stationed here for more than two years, I've really not had a chance to explore all of this state's natural wonders. Plus, since I've been gone for the last seven months, I don't have any ladies on speed dial, but I really don't care. I just want to relax and without the added pressure of calling girls back after casual dates. There might be a few women who are waiting for me to let them know I'm back, but…I'm not rushing to make the call. I'm certainly not a whore, but I'm not interested in settling down, either. For the same reason that I'm not keen on becoming a father, I don't think I want a wife, either. Too much pressure…too much can go wrong on a deployment. I've wrecked more lives than I care to count by knocking on doors and delivering the worst possible news. I wouldn't ever want somebody that I cared enough to pledge my life to, to EVER open a door to another Marine telling her I'm MIA or KIA.

I watch the rest of the passengers file onto the plane and take their seats. The last one is a petite woman. She looks familiar.

Damn. What are the chances? That is Isabella Newton.

I allow myself only a moment of pause. This could be a little awkward... well, a lot awkward…but I'm an officer and a gentleman. I'm not going to pretend I don't know her. I saw her at her worst. I helped her plan her husband's funeral. I held her up as we put him in the ground. I assisted her with all the paperwork that came with her husband's SGLI, and then I drove her to the hospital when she suddenly went into labor almost five months early and delivered a dead baby.

Of all the days I've had on the job as a CACO, that was the worst day ever. I've watched families grieve the loss of sons, daughters, husbands and wives, but they usually had children at home to bring them a little bit of a lifted spirit, some moments of levity in a situation wrought with sadness. But on the day that Mrs. Newton – Bella – lost her unborn child within a week of burying her husband, my heart ached in a way it never had before.

As I'm trying to figure out a way to approach her that won't seem bizarre, fate intervenes. Walking down the aisle toward me, Bella loses her footing and her backpack, which must weigh approximately two hundred pounds, falls off her shoulder and slams down on my head.

Ouch.

"Oh my— holy crap, I'm so sorry!" she gasps out, beside herself.

My face is buried in my hands, I feel the warm fluid start running from my nose. Awesome.

"S'okay," I murmur from behind my hands, not wanting her to feel any lousier than she already does because of the backpack blitzkrieg.

"Good gravy, are you bleeding?!" she squeaks.

Well, secret's out now. I nod my head, pinching my watery eyes. "Yeah."

"Hang on, I have napkins!" She kneels down next to me and starts rifling through the beast of a bag and yanks out a wad of napkins from various fast food joints. "Here, take these."

I mutter a groan of thanks and take the handful of napkins and try to plug up the leak. My eyes are still shut as I lean my head back and pinch the top of my nose.

"Captain Masen?"

I open one eye to find Bella's face right over my head, literally less than a foot from me. I give her a quick nod and close my eyes again.

Ugh, the metallic taste of blood in the back of my throat is awful.

"God, I feel terrible. Can I get you anything?" She asks, sounding honestly pained.

"My bottle of water…it's in the net pocket on the side of my bag."

I hear her shuffling around. "Here you go." She rests the bottle on my leg and I reach for it with the hand that was pinching the top of my nose. I manage to unscrew it and take a few gulps. It does the job of washing away the lingering taste, thank goodness.

I no longer feel the dripping in my throat so I start to sit up and pull the dirty napkins away from my face. Bella is up and talking to one of the airmen who gives her a small trash receptacle, which she brings back with her and takes a knee next to me again.

"Here. You can throw away what you need to." Her cheeks are red; I'm guessing she's embarrassed.

I wipe my nose and see that nothing else is dripping, but my hands are a mess, and I'm sure there are remnants of drying blood on my upper lip. I take a few napkins and pour water over them, letting the excess drip into the trashcan and I proceed to clean my face as best I can without a mirror. Then I do the same thing for my hands.

"I have some hand sanitizer if you want it…when you're done, I mean."

I smile, nodding. "Thanks. That'll be great." I hold my palm out for her and she squeezes a generous amount of alcohol onto my hand. I rub my hands together and then swipe them down my face a few times, ensuring that I'm presentable again. After a five-plus hour flight, everyone looks a little wrecked. I didn't want to have to start out that way, too.

I take a deep breath and chuckle. "Well, that was quite the reintroduction. How've you been, Bella?" I reach my now-clean hand out to shake hers. She slips her small hand inside mine and gives it a squeeze.

Her face brightens into a smile I've never had the chance to see from her before. How would I? I was in her company for what were probably the worst two weeks of her life. Nobody was smiling back then.

"You remember," she smiles and looks down. "It's been three years."

I barely nod, but whisper, "I remember." I pause for a few seconds and continue, "How are things?"

"They're good," she says, her head bobbing. "I decided I wanted to see Hawaii. I've wanted to go for several years. Mike & I were slated to PCS there later that summer, the year he died, but I've never gotten rid of the itch to see it. So I figured I'd make an adventure out of it," she shrugs, "I left Cherry Point yesterday morning and arrived here. Spent the night at The Westwind Inn on base and was able to grab this flight for Hickam. I'm really excited."

There's a light in her eyes that certainly wasn't there three years ago. It makes me happy for her. Time helps to heal and lessen the pain, but you never forget, that much I know.

"That's terrific. I'm glad you're able to take advantage of the hops. People stationed on CONUS rarely do."

"CONUS?" She questions. I smile, always assuming anyone in the military life knows the abbreviations and acronyms we speak in. It's like Greek to outsiders, though.

"Contiguous United States, as opposed to when you're stationed overseas, in which case you'd say you're OCONUS…outside the contiguous etcetera, etcetera," I add with a grin.

"Gotcha," she says, nodding. "So what are you doing out here? You're not stationed on the Air Force Base, are you?"

"Oh, no. I was down in Camp Pendleton for the week doing my debrief after another tour out in the sandbox."

Her eyebrows rise. "Oh wow, you're just coming back from Afghanistan?"

"Yeah, I was linked up with CLR-17 'cause they needed a supply officer. I hadn't been deployed for a few years, so I requested the individual augment."

"Are you still stationed at Cherry Point?"

"No, no. I've been at Kaneohe Bay for almost three years, actually. Once I get back, I need to talk to my monitor. I'm supposed to PCS at the end of August," I add, but then my attention's drawn to the airman walking down the aisle.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're about to taxi over to the runway. Please make sure you're buckled in and your bags are stowed underneath your seats."

Bella looks flustered for a minute but then hooks her thumb over her shoulder and says, "Oh, I should go take my seat." She gets up but I interrupt her before she walks away from my row.

"You can sit here if you want. I don't mind the company. I mean, as long as you promise not to slug me again with your anvil…I mean backpack," I add with a wink, hoping she doesn't mind the ribbing.

She huffs with a smile. "I promise to keep my bag under control. It was a happy surprise to find someone I recognized on the trip," she points past me toward the seats further in. "Do you mind if I scoot by you?"

"No, not at all," I say, standing up, allowing her to pass and take the seat two down from me.

Bella puts her purse on the seat next to mine and shoves her backpack under the seat as she buckles herself in.

"Here are the blankets in case you get cold." The airman hands me two blankets for Bella and me.

I look over to see she's rummaging through her purse, pulling out her iPod and what looks like a Kindle.

"Here you go," I pass the blanket toward her and her eyes widen, looking at me like I've just handed her a pot of gold.

"GAH! Thank you so much. I had no idea how cold it would get on these military flights! I'd never flown one of the hops before yesterday, and my teeth were chattering the entire time!" She laughs as she starts to tuck her arms under the blanket and draws it up to her chin. "Who would've thought I should've packed a jacket in the middle of May for a trip from North Carolina to California to Hawaii?"

"Very true," I chuckle.

"Anyway, thanks for inviting me to sit by you. Like I said, it's been a quiet trip so far. And I know I'll have a lot of alone time once I get to Hawaii."

"Are you visiting anyone or just roaming on your own?"

"Just roaming. I have the entire summer off. I'm still teaching, so it was the right time to go on a vacation." I nod, remembering that she worked in a local school when her husband was killed. "So my plan is to just rent a car and live for the moment." She smiles. "I've already called Hickam Lodging as well as the temporary lodging at Pearl Harbor. They each had some vacancies, so I'm hopeful I'll be able to stay on base for cheap, instead of blowing all my cash on touristy hotels out in town."

Wow. It takes gumption to just go off on an adventure without any real destination or solid plans.

It makes the organized Marine officer inside me cringe and want to twitch in terror.

I have a fleeting thought to offer myself as a tour guide, but maybe I shouldn't. I mean, I have time to kill. Hell, I planned to go off visiting the other islands for the next thirty days of leave. But she might think I'm being presumptuous. We only got reacquainted ten minutes ago.

"So, what are your plans now that you're back from deployment?" She asks, tucked in under the green wool drape.

"Actually, I have a lot of leave to burn up, so I'm planning on relaxing a bit, myself."

Her eyes brighten even more, if that was possible. "Really? Good for you! I'm sure it's hard to enjoy the tourism side of Hawaii when you're stationed there and only see it as work."

The plane is moving now. Not speeding down the runway yet, but definitely taxiing that way.

"Exactly. I'm calling it my stay-cation."

"That's awesome. I'm sure you deserve it," she adds with a smile. Just as I'm ready to…I don't know…offer to show her around Honolulu, or at least what I know of it, she speaks up again because of the motion. "Oh, here we go!"

We start racing down the runway and about ten seconds later, my stomach flips and we're airborne. Our bodies are pushed back in our seats, the sounds of the jet engines roaring in our ears. This is why we have the earplugs. Unfortunately, all pleasant conversation with Bella will have to cease.

I look over and see her fidgeting with her ear plugs while I grab for my iPod buds. There's no way to have any kind of decent chat on the flight. The noise level makes it impossible. Once I get myself situated with my relaxing playlist queued up, I glance to my side, and see that she's looking at me.

I return her glance and just smile while I start to unfold my blanket. She lays her head back on the seat, eyes closed and squirms down in her chair, attempting to get comfortable in the less-than-luxurious military plane seats.

I sigh and settle in, knowing that I have five plus hours of silence ahead of me. If the opportunity to show her around presents itself when we land, I'll offer then.

She's pretty. I don't think I noticed her looks three years ago when I was helping her through her husband's death. But seeing her here today, I'm seeing her as a person…not just a job. She has a sweet personality. A little humor, a little shyness, yet spunky enough to chat with me when we really are just strangers.

The hours pass on the flight and, as I suspected, Bella and I have minimal interaction. From time to time we exchange glances and smiles. I pass her the boxed meal that they offer us: a turkey and cheese sandwich, apple, can of soda, bottle of water, bag of chips and a package of cookies.

The temperature must drop to close to forty-something degrees for a good portion of the trip, so she and I rarely surface from beneath the blankets we were given. I see her fidgeting with her ear pieces quite a bit, wincing from time to time. I want to ask her if she's all right, but it really is impossible to hear anything. It's like trying to talk in a small room with about a hundred hair dryers blowing right next to your ears. Not that I spend too much time drying my hair, but I've helped with my niece during bath time, and drying her hair afterwards is always a trying experience because she has ants in her pants. Every time she tries to talk to me while I'm drying her hair, I end up screaming, "What?" and inevitably have to turn it off in order to hear her small voice. So yeah…about a hundred of those, and that's what the volume of the jet engines is like from the inside of the Galaxy.

I feel an arm on my shoulder and I open my eyes to the airman, shouting, "We're going to be landing in about twenty minutes, sir!" I nod my thanks and start to gather my things.

I look over and see that Bella too, is asleep, so I lean over and tap her on the shoulder. Her eyes flutter open and when she focuses on me, the loveliest smile graces her face. It stirs something inside of me that I have to tamp down. Hmmm, no time for that.

I shout to her that we're getting ready to land and she mouths back 'okay' and sits up, assembling all her belongings. I notice her pressing on her right ear, cupping it, opening and closing her jaw. I wonder if she's having difficulty equalizing the pressure in her ear as we descend to make our final approach.

The pilots land the monstrosity safely. I stand up with my bags and file out behind the lady who sat two rows in front of me. Once inside the Hickam Terminal, Bella comes to stand near me as we wait for the baggage to arrive on the luggage conveyor belt and I see her messing with her ears, again.

"Are you okay?" I ask, not meaning to be nosey, but it shouldn't be that hard to pop your ears once you're on solid ground. "Do you need a piece of gum to help with your ear pressure or something?"

She smiles and shakes her head. "Oh no, it's not that. I've been having some problems with my ears since I fell asleep last night. I'm worried I'm getting an infection. It really hurt to have the ear plugs and even my iPod buds in while we were flying. I think I may need to get to an emergency room to get them checked out. Lord knows I don't want to spend my vacation in agony with a double ear ache. The only thing worse would be a tooth ache," she laughs, but winces.

"Ouch. That sucks. Sorry to hear that." I do some quick thinking. "You could head over to Tripler. They'll patch you up, I'm sure," I offer my advice.

"The army hospital?"

"Yeah. I mean, I'm sure you'll end up with…what? Some ear drops and of course—"

"Eight hundred milligram ibuprofen," she adds with a quirk in her eyebrow.

I can't help the guffaw that escapes.

"Their reputation precedes them, right? Ear infection? Eight hundred milligram ibuprofen," I laugh.

"Broken arm? Eight hundred milligram ibuprofen," she adds, laughing all the while holding her ear, poor thing.

"Gunshot wound? Eight hundr—" and I stop short. I close my eyes, mortified. I'm such a fuck up. "Bella, I'm…"

She's smiling and shaking her head. "Please, don't. I know you didn't mean any harm." She reaches out and lightly touches my arm. "It's okay. It comes with the territory. We were being silly. Would it make you laugh if I told you they gave me eight hundred milligram ibuprofen after they released me from the hospital three years ago?" She giggles. I know she's trying to lighten the mood.

Jesus, what she went through.

I purse my lips and huff. "I would believe it. But I truly am sorry. I should've been more aware."

The bags start to tumble down the chute and I see my two military-issue sea bags are the first to arrive. I snatch them off the luggage belt and look up to see Bella chasing one of her bags.

"Which one is it?" I call out, stepping up quickly behind her.

"That red one." She points and I push ahead of her and grab it before it disappears behind the rubber flaps. "Thanks!" She smiles and unlatches the handle to pull it over to her smaller, matching suitcase.

"Well, thanks again," she starts, holding out her hand to shake mine. "It was good catching up with you." She smiles again and follows it with another press to her ear.

I don't pause to think, I just say it. For some reason, I just want a little more time with her. Maybe this is the way I can do it. Is this weird? I don't know. But I do know I want to help her right now.

"Can I drive you over to the emergency room? Make sure you get that all-curing eight hundred milligram goodness?"

"Do you have a car here?" She asks, curious.

"Yeah, I made a call yesterday and had a friend drop it off in the parking lot. It should be out there waiting for me right now."

Her eyebrows rise, impressed. "Nice!" Her eyes dart around, mulling over my proposition and she shrugs. "I uhh…I needed to rent a car myself so that I could get around the island," she says, pointing toward the Hertz counter.

"That's no problem. I'll bring you back here as soon as you get checked out," I offer. "I can give you a basic lay of the land to start you out on your adventure here. Drive you over to Pearl as well, in case you end up having to stay there rather than here on Hickam."

It doesn't take but a few seconds for another bright smile to come across her face, causing another tightening in my stomach.

"That's really sweet of you. Thanks."

"Great," I jerk my head toward the front door, "let's do it!"

Military terms to help you along your way:

Travis Air Force Base (AFB)- located southwest of Sacramento, CA

Hickam AFB – located in Honolulu, HI

Space-A – Space Available; military members, their dependents and government workers have the opportunity to travel on military planes between bases located around the world, if there is room available on that particular flight. If you don't have a timeline, it's a great and CHEAP way to fly!

C-5 Galaxy – among the largest military aircraft in the world; used in combat situations to transport supplies and personnel as well as humanitarian aid

Categories One through Six – the order of seniority of those eligible to travel on the flights; the higher the category (one being the highest) the better the chance that you'll get selected for a seat on the flight.

DODDS – Department of Defense Dependents Schools; where the children and other dependents of the military members are eligible to attend school

Hatch – door

9 mill – 9 millimeter pistol

M4 – M4 carbine; automatic weapon most frequently used in recent combat conflicts

TAD – temporary additional duty; the military's version of a business trip

Devil Dogs – motivational nickname for Marines

Leave – paid vacation time

MIA – missing in action

KIA – killed in action

SGLI – Servicemembers' Group Life Insurance; what the dependents are eligible to receive upon the death of their service member

PCS – permanent change of station; the location where a service member is placed for a specified amount of time; can be sent with or without family members, depending on the service member's choice

CLR – Combat Logistics Regiment; the combat service support division of the United States Marine Corps

Monitor – military member assigned to help a Marine choose where his/her next duty station will be

Kaneohe Bay – location of Marine Corps Air Station in Hawaii

A/N: Thank you to solostintwilight for her lovely rec of Tip of the Spear and all the readers and reviewers she sent my way. Come join the fun over on Facebook at The Cabanaboy's Playground where Spearward is the topic du jour, but the Cabana Boy is never far from our hearts. And a special thank you from the Cabana Boy to all the new readers and reviewers of Last Call! So glad you're enjoying that adventure, too!

Much love and lots of hugs to my beta LaMomo and my awesome pre-reading Cabana Girls: Born, Cejsmom and Jules. Their help is immeasurable.

To all of my readers, reviewers, lurkers, favoriters, alerters, tweeters, pimpers and such...thank you so very much! Can't wait to hear from you again this week!

xo, Jen