A/N: So what is the deal with Carmen? Let's find out.

For about the ten millionth time in her life, Kyla Davies had the uncomfortable twisting feeling of her loyalty to her sister and her loyalty to her mother coming into conflict.

"Come on Ash, this won't be so bad," she began. She had been trying her best to cheer up her sister all afternoon, but there was little that ever seemed to cheer Ashley up on a day like today.

"Doubtful," Ashley mumbled from the other seat where her head was resting up against the cool window of the Secret Service SUV. She did not take her eyes off the flickering brownstones passing by as they drove through a residential part of the city on their way toward the convention center.

"Hey, less than a year of these left and then win or lose, no more campaign fundraisers ever again," Kyla tried again.

They were on their way towards one of the first official fundraisers for their mother's campaign for re-election next fall. Though Christine had been collecting donors and support throughout her first term of presidency, this was the first official event of her campaign and she had insisted that both of her daughters be there to show their support, despite Ashley's understandable desires to be literally anywhere else today.

"Doubt it," Ashley scoffed, sparing her a disbelieving glance before turning back toward the window. She looked so worn. "Even if she loses, you really think she's ever going to give up this power trip she's on? She's had a taste, I'm surprised she isn't already vying for dictator of the world."

In the seat behind them, Kyla heard either Chelsea or Spencer shift uncomfortably. Kyla had learned long ago that there was no keeping secrets from the Secret Service (or their Marine replacements in this case). In fact, when she stopped and thought about it, Chelsea probably knew as much about her personal and family life at this point as even Ashley did. It was a good thing Kyla liked her good-natured shadow as much as she did, and even more important, that she felt she could trust Chelsea with her secrets.

"Ash," Kyla warned. If her sister starting off on this train of thought, she would whip herself into a frenzy and be sure to do something she would regret at the fundraiser.

Kyla was the only person who ever dared to step into the crossfire between her mother and sister, but more and more she felt herself getting closer to Ashley and more distant from Christine. She wasn't sure if she would ever truly forgive her mother for forcing Ashley to hide who she was. The fact that she was holding Raife's money over her head to get her to do it was basically blackmail and now that she was in the hunt for another four years of the presidency, it was all too much to ask from anyone.

"It's just a few hours," Kyla tried again to lift her sister's spirits. "Make it through this, and you and I will go out and do the rest of the night right."

"I bet she doesn't even remember," Ashley muttered, sounding resigned to being forgotten and swept under the rug again.

"I'm sure she does," Kyla replied, not completly sure if she was lying or not. "But it's not like you make an effort to let anyone know." Ever since their father had died, Ashley had wrapped herself in a tough shell of sarcasm and nonchalance. Kyla figured that Ashley viewed days like today as a test – to see who really cared in her life.

"If people thought it was worth knowing about, they'd know. I'm not going to be the one to bring it up."

So many people failed Ashley's silent tests. Today for example, aside from Kyla herself and a few text-messages from Madison, for Ashley it was looking like a day just like any other. It pained Kyla to see her write everyone around her off as the unfeeling enemy, especially when she never seemed to give anyone a chance – not when Ashley had to open herself up to getting hurt again to do it.

Kyla didn't know what more she could say. She softly bowed her head against her sister's turned shoulder and wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to tell her without words how much she cared.

They completed the rest of the short ride to the fundraiser in silence.

Though Aiden and the other Secret Service agents had drilled Spencer and Chelsea to be prepared for the security logistics of the ten-thousand dollar per plate fundraiser dinner, Spencer was no way near prepared for the over-the-top luxury of the event.

There was an ice statue of an elephant. The silverware was plated with gold. Chuck Norris was there wearing a tuxedo, along with countless high-ranking military leaders who made Spencer nervous with just their presence.

She stifled the urge to scratch her leg as she stood at attention just to the side of Ashley and Kyla's table at front of the ballroom. It was the first occasion she'd had to wear her Dress Blues in over a year and the little used uniform was exacting its revenge for being stuffed in storage for so long.

While she felt more than a little out-of place surrounded by so much luxury, Spencer couldn't help but notice how well Ashley seemed to fit into the glamorous world around her. She was wearing a killer midnight blue gown that was giving Spencer a distracting view of her back thanks to a plunging rear neck line. Her curls were artfully sculpted into an up-do with a few strands left out to drape delicately down the nape of her neck.

And yet somehow, Ashley managed to look miserable even from behind.

The elder Davies had been quiet and sullen all morning, not even finding the spark to make a comment about Spencer's return to uniform before they left for the formal black tie event. Her mood had continued to plummet throughout the evening and now that the fundraiser had moved away from dessert and on toward a post-meal cocktail, Ashley looked about halfway between wanting to cry and wanting to punch someone in the face.

Spencer wished there was something she could say to cheer her charge up, but the formality of the occasion kept her firmly rooted in her place against the wall. At least Kyla was there to try to raise Ashley's spirits. Spencer would have to try her hand at cheering Ashley up later – that was if she could figure out why exactly Ashley was acting the way she was acting in the first place.

Spencer forced herself to stop staring at the Ashley's lower back and drew her attention back to her work. All of the unfamiliar faces in the large crowd had her a little on edge. These types of events were not ideal for security details.

On the other side of the table, she could see Aiden and Shawn, the Presidential detail for the evening, twitching every time another donor shouldered their way to the front of the hall to shake hands with President Davies.

Spencer's breathe caught in her throat when she realized that she recognized the newest well-wisher approaching the President two seats to Ashley's left.

"Madame President, on behalf of General Hewitt who was unable to attend the dinner this evening, I wanted to thank you for your service to the country this term and ensure that you know you have the General's support in the upcoming election."

Christine stood from her seat and placed her wine glass down on the table so she could grasp the gloved hand that was extended to her. "Well, that is very good to hear," President Davies cooed in what Spencer privately referred to as her 'president of the people' show voice. "Please tell General Hewitt that I look forward to playing another round of golf with him and the Misses when they return from their trip, Sergeant…?"

"Sanchez," Carmen replied smoothly, "It really is an honor to meet you ma'am."

Running into Carmen once was a coincidence, but Spencer's special operations training told her that running into former training officer twice in one week was a not coincidence, but pattern.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Carmen's gaze flickered over the president's shoulder to meet Spencer's challenging stare. Sanchez even had the audacity to give her a cheeky grin.

"And these must be your daughters," Carmen continued giving a nod to first Kyla and then Ashley. Kyla was polite enough to stand and shake the Marine's hand, but Ashley merely offered her a distracted nod from where she remained sitting, sipping at her Sidecar. "You are a very lucky woman to have such supportive daughters, Madame President," Carmen went on. "You must care for them dearly,"

The president wrapped and arm around Kyla's shoulders and pulled her tightly to her side, dropping a sickeningly fake kiss (at least to Spencer who knew better) on the top of her youngest's head.

"Her daughters are a mother's world," Christine cooed.

Spencer, knowing the truth about the Davies family dynamic, worked hard to resist an eye roll. Now she understood why Ashley was constantly making that particular gesture.

Spencer probably would have been stirred to anger over how fake the President was, even to her closest supporters, but she was too distracted by trying to figure out what game Carmen was playing.

Spencer didn't know how the older woman had managed it, but given the numerous links in the chain of command that should have fallen between General and Staff Sergeant, it seemed unlikely that Carmen had been selected to attend this fundraiser as General Hewitt's envoy without a little legwork on her part.

Carmen Sanchez was after something, and Carmen Sanchez always got what she wanted.

Paris Island, Four Years Ago.

"Carlin, that hunk of metal in your hands is an M16 assault riffle, not a rhythmic gymnastics baton. Hold it like a weapon girl!" Gunny Peters gave Spencer's shoulder a shove from behind, showing her that the base of the riffle was too loose against her shoulder. "This ain't cheer camp blondie!"

Spencer tried not to bristle. If she let the drill instructor on to the fact that she actually had spent a handful of her middle school summers at cheer camp, she'd never hear the end of it. Two weeks into boot camp and she had learned well to hold her tongue.

From beside her, she felt rather than heard Chelsea smirk. Her friend had taken to rifle training like a duck to water and had an eye and steady hand that promised to earn her an Expert marksman badge one day.

While Spencer's grandfather had taught all of his grandchild to shoot pistols, Spencer was having a little trouble getting used to the riffle most common carried by Marines, the M16. She'd have to ask her bunkmate and battle buddy for some pointers later.

Spencer tried not to jump as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her to reposition her hands on the weapon she was holding. Spencer's heart quickly picked up its pace even before a quick glance over her shoulder had confirmed that it was Sergeant Sanchez's body pressed up against her own.

"You have to relax into the grip Carlin," Sergeant Sanchez breathed, her lips all but touching Spencer's ear. Spencer shivered involuntarily. "Your fingers just have to… caress the trigger."

Breathe, Carlin, Breathe! She begged her foggy mind.

Ever since their eyes had met across the barracks on that first night of boot camp, Spencer had thought that it was possible that Carmen Sanchez knew that Spencer was attracted to her. At first, Spencer had been terrified that after less than 24 hours on Paris Island she'd be outted, court marshaled, and tossed into prison for lying about her sexuality.

She hadn't been able to sleep for days, which only made her sleepy and sloppy in training – attracting more unwanted attention from her drill instructors.

But if Sergeant Sanchez knew anything about Spencer's feelings, she didn't say anything about it to Gunnery Sergeant Peters or any of the other training officers. In fact, recently, Spencer had even begun to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Sanchez returned her interest.

She tried to tell herself that it was stupid, that is was impossible that Sanchez, a senior Marine, was gay. It was even more impossible that someone was hot as the Latina beauty would even spare someone like Spencer a second glance.

But there had been glances – lingering glances. And touches that weren't all together necessary.

And now this? There was no mistaking this for NOT flirting. Not with Sergeant Sanchez's hot breath on her neck and her hips pressed up against Spencer's backside.

The moment was over almost before it had begun, but Spencer knew she hadn't imagined it at all.

And when Sanchez threw her a covert wink as she walked away to correct other recruits, Spencer couldn't decide whether her racing heart was telling her that this was a very bad or a very good development.

Ashley grimaced through another sip of her Sidecar. She hated cognac, but there was a kind of melancholy to the drink that matched her mood.

It was keeping her from gagging at the site of her mother putting on a show for all of the heavy wallets in the ballroom. She didn't even know why she had to be here. Her mother had been ignoring her all evening.

Thank god Ethan had decided to get up and network after the meal had been cleared from the tables. His garrulous attention was almost worse than her mother's blatant negligence.

At the moment, Christine was chatting up a slightly built woman in what Ashley now recognized as a Marine dress uniform.

Whoever this Sanchez woman was, Ashley decided that she didn't like her. From her bluntly cut bangs to her over-exaggerated smoky eye make-up, she was rubbing Ashley the wrong way. It didn't help that the Latina was sucking up to her mother.

Ashley decided that there weren't nearly enough stripes on the woman's uniform for the attention Christine was giving her. The woman had to be the representative to some big wig.

Ashley looked back to her own Marine to see if could figure out the woman's rank by comparing her insignia to Spencer's and was surprised to see that the bodyguard looked even more tense than usual (if that was even possible). The blonde's eyes were laser focused on the other Marine who was now giving her excuses to Christine and making her way closer.

Ashley sat up straighter in her chair, turning to keep the woman in her sights as she approached Spencer.

"Sergeant Carlin, imagine seeing you here," the woman all but purred at Spencer in a gravelly voice.

"Good evening Staff Sergeant Sanchez," Spencer answered formally, but giving what looked suspiciously like a nervous swallow.

"After we ran into each other last week, I was hoping I would hear from you again. But I can't help but feel like you're playing a little hard to get." The woman laughed lightly.

What?

If anyone on the planet could recognize inappropriate flirting, it was Ashley Davies. Ashley knew flirting. That was flirting.

She flicked her gaze over at her bodyguard, confirming that the Marine looked the perfect mix uncomfortable and annoyed.

Spencer apparently had no reply for Sanchez's non-question and remained silent.

Well hell yeah. Ashley felt some stirrings of pride.

Damn right Spencer wouldn't go for that ish!

Of course, her lack of response to the flirting had absolutely nothing with Spencer being straight, or conservative, or a Marine. Obviously she just knew a lack of class when she saw it.

The Sanchez chick obviously was not as familiar with Spencer's anti-flirt face as Ashley was. Ashley figured she should step in.

"Hey, Marine lady," Ashley snapped, deciding to be a benevolent employer to her bodyguard, if only for this once. "If you want someone to guard your body, you're gonna have to look elsewhere because GI Jane over there is spoken for. Stop distracting my security!"

Sanchez had the audacity to glare at her. Ashley had the strangest feeling that the penetrating gaze was about something more than just a cock-block.

Nevertheless, Ashley glared right back.

Eventually the woman backed down from the challenge and decided to make her exit.

"Still waiting for your call Sergeant. I look forward to catching up and picking up where we left off," she said as she turned away.

Ashley let out a quiet, disbelieving snort as the Marine woman sauntered away. God, that woman had some nerve to flirt with her bodyguard. She crossed her arms and gave Spencer a questioning gaze.

"Care to explain that?" Ashley asked her.

"Not particularly, Ms. Davies." Spencer replied, looking noticeably more relaxed as the Sanchez woman moved off to the other side of the ballroom.

"So how do you and Bangs over there know each other," Ashley asked, her curiosity sparked by the interaction.

Spencer hesitated, glancing around the ballroom, as if she expected someone to chastise her for being more human than robot for two seconds.

"Come on Shaniqua," Ashley bated her, knowing how much she loved her various nicknames. "I just saved your ass from an awkward moment that you know perfectly well I could have just sat back and enjoyed." Ashley didn't need to mention that she hadn't particularly liked the encounter herself and that she had actually welcomed the distraction to her otherwise miserable evening. "You owe me something.

Carlin seemed to think about it for a moment before eventually deciding to give in.

"We met in boot camp," she finally replied, looking caught up in a memory, "She was one of the officers who trained my recruit unit."

Ashley waited for her bodyguard to say more, but it seemed that for now, that was all she was going to get.

Paris Island, Four Years Ago

Spencer was drunk – properly drunk for the first time in her life.

Carmen had been sneaking her drinks for the better part of the evening. Their training unit was at a local bar out on the town celebrate their graduation from boot camp. It didn't matter that you were only eighteen when your secret and very illicit friend-with-benefits was tight with the bar tender.

Because of her pleasant buzzing head, she wasn't in the right state of mind to consider the risks when she got up to use the bathroom and Carmen followed a respectable distance behind. All that Spencer knew was that she was feeling on top of the world and that the second the stall door closed behind them, Carmen's tongue was already in her mouth.

God, the woman was like an addiction and all Spencer wanted was more. She was young – to hell with the rules!

She lifted Carmen up, wrapping her hands around her ass and supporting some of her weight against the restroom's singe stall door. The stall groaned in protest, but seemed as though it would hold. Not that Spencer particularly cared with Carmen sucking at her neck like that. Carmen wrapped her legs around Spencer's back and ground into her, setting Spencer's body on fire.

The bathroom's outer door opened and closed, carrying in the noise of the crowded bar. Faintly, in the back of her mind, Spencer heard footsteps make their way across the dusty floor.

Sorry fellow bar patron, Spencer thought pulling Carmen closer. You are definitely going to have to hold it.

If she had been thinking straight, Spencer might have realized that given the crowd in the bar tonight, there was some chance that the person tapping their foot outside the stall was someone who she really did not want to see her in her current position. Unfortunately between the alcohol and Carmen shoving her hand down Spencer's pants, any sort of straight thinking was way out the door.

Spencer's pulse was racing, and everything just felt so good. Carmen's whispers that they might not get tomorrow were all that Spencer could think about. She was tired of being a good girl; she just needed a little release. She had spent the last few months in vigorous training, 24 hours a day. This morning she and her fellow recruits had just completed their training and been award the rank of Private. In a few days, she and her new unit were being deployed to Afghanistan for their first tour and further on the job training.

She could be dead in a week. Why shouldn't she deserve this tonight?

Carmen's lips swallowed her gasp as the Latina's fingers ghosted over the outside of her panties.

There was a pounding on the stall door. Spencer could feel the vibration through Carmen's body.

"Would you fucking hurry up in there, I have to pee!"

Carmen and Spencer froze at the same time. After listening to that voice yell at her for weeks at boot camp, there was no way that even drunken, horny Spencer could not know that voice.

Gunnery Sergeant Lorraine Peters was about a half an inch of stall door away from catching one of her newest Privates hooking up with another marine – a female Marine.

Spencer and Carmen stared at each other, wide-eyed for a moment, struggling to quiet their breathing. Spencer's foggy mind raced, trying to think of how she would explain herself.

Explain? If the Gunny wanted to knock down that stall door (and God knew she could) or even crouched down to look underneath, they wouldn't even be able to catch their breaths in time to provide enough reasonable doubt that they were doing exactly what it looked like they were doing.

She was barely a real Marine and Spencer's military career was over before it began. Her sexual orientation would become very, very public when she was charged with dishonorable conduct. Don't Ask, Don't Tell wasn't all that helpful when your actions screamed to the world that you were gay.

Carmen spoke first, her voice husky and deep so that even Spencer did not recognize it. "Just a second."

They needed way more than another second. Spencer was desperate enough to look for a window that she could lift Carmen through, but the only window was outside the stall and over the sink. There was no escape. They were only delaying the inevitable.

"You don't fucking have a second, finish the hell up!" The inebriated Gunny started to pull on the handle of the stall, trying to pop the lock.

The door to the bathroom opened and closed again.

"Wait! Gunnery Sergeant, don't go in there!" Was that Chelsea?

"And why the hell not Lewis?" It was Chelsea after all.

"Because…" If Chelsea knew as much as Spencer suspected she did, Spencer could practically hear the wheels in her friend's head trying to explain away this situation.

Recognizing that her friend was trying to buy them time, Spencer turned, bringing Carmen further into the darkest recesses of a stall and gesturing for her to stand on the seat. If she could somehow slip out without the training master noticing, it would be easier to explain why Carmen was locked alone in a bathroom stall then why she was locked in there with Spencer.

"Spit it out Lewis," Peters growled.

"Because, uh," Spencer had never heard Chelsea stammer like this. She didn't want to imagine what the Gunny looked like right now, "This is a women's bathroom, Gunnery Sergeant, and with all due respect, I, uh, really don't think you should be in here?"

Spencer's eyebrows shot up into her hairline and it was hard to mistake the sound of fist meeting flesh. She peaked through the creak in the stall door just in time to see the Gunnery Sergeant grab Chelsea by the lapels of her jacket and push her out through the door.

Spencer took this as her cue to make her escape and she managed to slip out of the bathroom unnoticed, just in time to see the Gunny pulling Chelsea roughly to her feet.

Spencer felt rather than saw Carmen slip out of the bathroom behind her and hurry over in the direction of the exit. Around the bar Marines and civilians were standing up to see what was going on.

"I oughta rip your goddamn tongue out Lewis and shove it down your throat. No one talks to me like that, and you are about to find out why!" She gave the dazed trainee a particularly vicious shake before releasing her to fall back down on her butt. Usually the Gunnery Sergeant had better insults, and more self-control; Spencer figured she might be more than a little on the drunk side herself.

Peters whirled to stare at the rest of the bar, red faced. Spencer was prepared for her to give the whole company punishment, but it looked like Gunnery Sergeant Peters was too mad to even think about the possibility. "Well, what the hell do you think you're looking at?"

The Gunny turned toward Chelsea again, grabbing her arm with more than a little force. "Lewis," the Gunny growled, "You and me are going to have some quality time contemplating the meaning of discipline and respect." She dragged Chelsea out of the bar amidst a chorus of laughter from the rest of the men.

Chelsea never told Spencer what her punishment had been other than the vague description of being some particularly unpleasant late night PT. Spencer avoided Carmen like the plague, realizing just how close she had come to losing everything. Carmen was smart enough to ignore her in return. Things could have ended badly for them, very badly.

After her third and final night of punishment, Chelsea looked as though she had been hit by a truck. She was barely making it through deployment briefings, and during regular training her muscles clearly not responding to her commands.

"Why did you do that Lewis!?" Spencer asked her friend once they finally got a moment alone together.

"Why did I do what?" Chelsea asked, barely able to keep her eyes open. She was either playing dumb, or she was so sleep deprived that she did not understand the question.

"Why did you cover for me? I'm the one who deserves all of that crap the Gunny has been putting you through – hell, I deserve more." Spencer whispered fiercely.

"Oh, that," Chelsea said, "Don't worry about it, I just really want to go to bed, okay?" She turned to leave, clearly wanted to end the conversation, but Spencer needed some answers.

"Chelsea," Spencer tried again, grabbing her friend's shoulder. Chelsea sighed, realizing that Spencer wouldn't leave her alone until she got an answer. She squared her shoulders and Spencer recognized Chelsea's signature 'I'm going to tell it like it is' face.

"Were you being stupid and horny? Yes. But was Carmen getting you drunk and trying to take advantage of you? Yeah. If you had been caught doing whatever the hell it was that you were doing in that stall together, things would be way worse for you then they are for me right now. If weathering a little heat from the training staff is what it takes to protect my friend and save the career of a Marine who I know will do great things for this country, that's what I'll do. Semper Fidelis means something to me."

Spencer shook her head, "I shouldn't even be here. I'm a disgrace to the Marine Corps,"

"Do you know what's a disgrace to the Corps?" Chelsea asked fiercely. "The fact that dozens of honorable Marines ready to fight and die for their country are being put up on trial or thrown into jail because of who they love. If you had been caught, but with a guy Marine, you'd both get slaps on the wrist and instructions to keep it in your pants and get on with your life. I don't pretend to know why the world is the way it is, but how can that be right?"

Spencer didn't have an answer. She'd been wondering the same thing since we was old enough to figure out that most people considered the way she felt about girls to be wrong, and that her feelings might one day interfere with her dream of becoming a decorated military officer like her grandpa.

"Thank you," was all Spencer could say, "You don't know what this means to me."

"You're my friend," Chelsea replied, "We watch each other's backs." She said it like it was easy, at matter of course.

And with Chelsea, it turned out that it was.

A few months later, Spencer was promoted to Private First Class while Chelsea, despite her outstanding service record, was obviously overlooked. Later officers in the field were able to overlook the minor disciplinary discrepancy on Chelsea's record and she advanced quickly, but Spencer's seniority was always a constant reminder of what she owed to her best friend.

Ashley was on about her fifth Sidecar of the night when the fundraiser seemed to be finally winding down. She had to guess it was about eleven o'clock and they had been there for hours. She had always thought that old people went to bed early, but tonight she was having no such luck. It seemed that everyone wanted a few minutes of personal time to chat with the president.

"Please, just hang in there Ash, it won't be much longer now." Kyla was rubbing a gentle hand up and down her back. "Then we can go out and really celebrate."

"Right," Ashley sighed into her drink. Like their mother would ever let that happen.

As if on cue, Christine turned away from the middle-aged suit and slightly younger suit she was talking to so that she could beckon to her daughters. Kyla at least had the energy to rise from her seat and drift over toward their mother.

"Kyla, I was just telling Ambassador Albertson that you would be more than happy to show his son a night out on the town, wouldn't you dear?"

Kyla looked like a deer in the headlines. She chanced a quick glance back over to Ashley. "You know that I love to show people around the city," Kyla began, "But mother Ashley and I, we have plans…"

Christine gave her a warning death glare.

"…that can be saved for another night when our new friends are not in town." Kyla looked torn, but she had little choice when it came to their mother's political ambitions. Sorry, she mouthed to Ashley. "You up for going out Ash?" She asked her sister, clearly hoping to make it up to her and salvage the night.

Before Ashley could decide whether it would be better to spend the night alone or baby-sitting the son of one of her mother's newest cronies, President Davies cut in.

"Oh I don't think that would be a good idea, especially since Ashley has been feeling under the weather all night. What a trooper, making it through the dinner to show support for her family," Ashley tried to recoil as Christine placed a palm on her forehead, as if she was a concerned mother, "You still feel quite warm dear, why don't you head to bed?"

And with the lie, Christine had a perfect excuse as to why Ashley has looked so petulant and sullen all evening - one that made the Davies family look even more tight-knit than ever. The dotting daughter, wanting to show support for her Mother's re-election campaign.

It made Ashley sudden feel physically ill.

She was done with this. She couldn't handle this tonight.

She rose from her seat and half-way ran out of the ballroom.

It was time to go home.

Back home, the White House was oddly quiet with much of the staff still across town at the fundraiser. The only sound was that of Ashley's gown quietly swishing as she made her way back to her apartment.

Well, the gown and the soft footsteps of Carlin following her. The Marine had been silent all the way back to Ashley's apartment, and at first Ashley had appreciated the bodyguard giving her some space.

But the space was clearly metaphorical at this point. As she pulled her keys out of her clutch, Ashley whirled to glare at Carlin. The frustrations of the evening were finally coming to a head. If Carlin wanted to stand in the crossfire, so be it.

"Why are you following me? I'm in the building. Mission accomplished. Go away."

Carlin merely raised an eyebrow at the outburst, looking as unphased as ever.

"I am just making sure that you have gotten properly home Ms. Davies," the Marine replied, moving to stand at an odd sort of attention with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Whatever," Ashley grumbled, finally managing to get her door open. At this point all she wanted was to get out of this dress, into her bed, and try to forget that this day had ever happened.

But when Ashley tried to push the door closed behind her, she found a uniformed arm gently resisting her effort.

"My apologies Ms. Davies, but can I bother you one last time this evening?"

Ashley was fully prepared to tell Carlin off when from nowhere, Spencer drew up a tiny cardboard box.

She flipped it open, produced a lighter, and flicked to life a tiny flame on a tiny candle settled in a cupcake – mocha lava, Ashley's favorite.

"Happy Birthday," Spencer told her with a soft smile.

"How did you know?" Ashley asked softly, all of the fight drained out of her. She could not take her eyes off the little candle.

Spencer shrugged, giving a wry smile, "I know way more about your personal life that anyone should be forced to bear the knowledge of, and yet somehow you are surprised that I know your birthday?"

Ashley laughed softly, too tired from the emotionally trying day to come up with her usual snark, "Yeah I guess you're right," But Ashley wasn't completely fooled. There were plenty of people at the White House, her mother included, who could have known that today was her birthday if they had made the effort to look. Apparently Spencer was the only one who had.

"Look I'm sorry if I'm overstepping some boundaries here, since you didn't seem to want to make a big deal about today, but I just thought you deserved to celebrate even if it's just a little." Spencer held the cupcake closer to Ashley's lips.

"Make a wish."

Ashley was a little mesmerized by the reflection of the wavering candle flickering in Spencer's deep blue eyes. Something told her that maybe she didn't need wishes to get her happily ever after.

Without breaking their comfortable eye contact, Ashley blew out the candle.

Another delay, but I hope the wait was worth it. Thank you all for reading!