Mr Wang 330: I'm the pervert? Why yes, I most certainly am. Except I do my best to hide it, you know. Covert pervert. Did I just say that out loud? Aaaaaack! The lemon denial is just me covering my bases. And one of my better friends has the last name of Wang, so no, I'm not going to get any funny ideas, no!

Rotten-Kraut: Would you prefer something on the scope of Lord of the Rings? :D

Cloner4000: Oops, shouldn't have given the idea. And your prediction isn't too far off. As for the whole recognition thing, well, it's not that he was just some random grunt that she squished in the Edelweiss. Remember that Isara has had a grand total of, what, ZERO other experiences with Imperials outside of Edelweiss-smashing. That standoff surely would stand out, and such a minor detail, emphasized with the situation, is just the sort of thing someone would remember from a traumatic situation. I think.

Isara and Celes have had their combat interrupted by Welkin, soon to be followed by Alicia and Lieutenant Karst. And the first of those people is half-naked. What will happen? Read on!

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It could have been a scene from a cheesy drama. He was struggling with a shirtless woman who thought he had dishonorable intentions, and her brother had just flown into the room with the single-minded goal of protecting her.

A second passed as they stood frozen solid in their poses, hammer in his hand still grinding against his one-time patient's own wrench. Another passed, and Celes noted that a vein was bulging in Welkin's eyelid.

He'd never seen that happen before.

Two more went by. The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs broke the standoff, when Celes decided the best thing to do was come clean with exactly what had happened, and dispel any misunderstandings whatsoever.

With that in mind, he gave up the struggle, expecting Isara to stand down as well. What happened was the exact opposite, when the unhindered hunk of steel shot into his skull for the second time.

He went down again. Stars flew around in front of his vision, and the world blurred into grey, but he managed to hold on from it going black, like it had the first time. He had found himself staring into bare light blub on his back, with a wet spot in his hair, still into his medical garb. It would have been quite the sight, but he decided to not tempt hilarity and dump it before trying to check Isara for the second time.

Pattern recognition had driven him to snatch up something to extend his range before approaching the seemingly-innocent form on the table. Yes, it had been the correct move.

Laughing startled Celes out of his reverie as the world slowly came back into focus. He was treated to the rare sight of Lieutenant Karst showing humor, not a common sight. As he held his sides and chuckled merrily, Welkin and Alicia stood protectively in front of Isara, who had had Welkin's blue uniform jacket thrown around her shoulders. All three of them appeared completely offended.

"Excuse me, sir, what's so funny about your so-called surgeon molesting an unconscious woman?" Alicia snapped, clearly displeased.

Lieutenant Karst couldn't respond – or perhaps he chose not to – and simply pointed between the two uniformed soldiers. Confused, they looked at each other, before looking slightly farther back. It was only then that they seemed to realize that yes, Isara was conscious and glaring along with them, something that made Celes wonder how Welkin thought of covering Isara without discerning that fact.

Excitedly, they burst into cries of joy and laughter. Celes gave up the struggle and passed out for real.

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Wrench count: 2.

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"… there really are good people everywhere." A male voice, enthusiastic, jumping.

"Not really, just right here." A more subdued, elegant voice.

"It worked for me." A hushed, feminine voice, almost sheepish.

It was to this scene that Celes overheard when he finally came to. How long had he been out? Minutes? Hours? A whole day? The throbbing of his head made the last idea seem reasonable.

He realized that someone had been kind enough to prop him into one side of a couch, a fact that only became apparent when he felt himself almost fall out of it. Recovering quickly, he cracked his eyes open and glanced left and right, trying to figure out where he was. Lieutenant Karst was sitting in a chair to his left, the two Gallian officers were sitting across from him – where was Isara?

The former medical student looked to his immediate right and almost fell back into oblivion from shock. She was leaning into the other side of the couch. Despite the apparent relaxed and happy atmosphere, as he could see from the way the seniors were chatting, she still had that blasted wrench clasped in her hand, as if she expected to use it at any moment.

He refrained from stirring any further. It seemed like a poor idea.

"So…" the Gallian lieutenant started, "just where did, er, Celes, right? Yeah, Celes, uh, become such a competent surgeon?"

Celes stayed relaxed, even at the possibly incriminating question. The Lieutenant could definitely handle it.

"The finest Imperial Academy of Medicine, the Vaclav. He was at the top of his class – shame the headmaster decided to volunteer the heads of all those old enough as a 'symbol of goodwill' to the Emperor, long as he may live." Celes's jaw dropped. "Personally, I believe it has something to do with reading all the materials available at the extensive libraries – following piecing together research made by others to come up with the most modern ideas."

And so the minor prodigy promptly fell flat onto his face in shock.

He cocked his head up from the awkward position. "What in Valkyrur's name happened to subterfuge?" It was almost a shriek.

All the Lieutenant could offer was a shrug. "We wouldn't have been able to keep it a secret for long, so I decided to just tell the truth while you were working." He spoke as if it was the most natural thing in the world to condemn the entire unit to discovery.

"And NOW what you do plan to do? Kill them after blowing the whole operation?"

"Do you want to do that?" The Lieutenant's voice suddenly became frostily cold.

Stunned silence. It stretched for several long seconds. "… eeehhh, no," came the resigned answer.

Someone shifted awkwardly – when Celes rolled his head to the right to follow the noise, he was treated to the sight of Isara hastily retreating a heavy wrench back to her thigh. He balked. There was already a second lump growing on his head, and he had no wish to add a third. Thoughts of concussions and permanent brain damage spun around his head, but he came to the ultimate conclusion that the damage wasn't permanent. Yet.

As he scrambled back onto his side of the couch, his two-time assailant made her own comment.

"Just what were you attempting those two times anyways?" she said in a low voice. "I don't recall that being a medical procedure."

Angrily, Celes left his refuge in the couch's corner to lean forward in attack towards the other side of the furniture, jabbing a finger towards the Darcsen girl's face. "That, my fair lady, is palpation. I can determine if your organs have any major problems by touch," he retorted, boring his one-eyed glare into her own dark eyes.

She didn't back down, choosing to instead tilt her head in a counter. "I think that's just an excuse to feel up any attractive looking females underneath your care. Conditions by touch? Ha." she grumbled, almost to herself.

Heart and head near bursting with rage, he leaned as far over as he could, close enough to make his single eye only visible to one of hers, taking away any sort of advantage she might have had with her normal two – he watched the pupil of that one dark eye widen in shock, or possibly outrage, and then she averted her gaze. The pointing finger clasped her chin and forced her face up – the single eye he could see snapped back to his own. "I suggest that you avoid insulting another's occupation, Isara," he snarled.

He barely caught a whistling noise to his left – and caught the swinging wrench by her wrist. A red mist descended upon his vision; call him a quack, would she? A wild swing of his right hand pulled at her jacket collar, yanking her face straight up to his.

Lieutenant Karst let out an awkward cough, and as if that was some sort of code for calm, the haze he saw disappeared.

Without anger, suddenly the fact that his face was right next to Isara's was highly embarrassing. He took a deep breath – one laced with the scents of ragnoline and greases, yet somehow sweet and pleasant at the same time – and let her down. He didn't let go of her wrist, though, until he had scooted back into his side of the couch. Sheepishly, he glanced back at her face. Her expression was still smoldering.

Welkin caught the awkward ball and spoke. "Is, don't make me look bad. How'd you feel if I said you couldn't possibly make a tank waterproof?"

"I'd retort that that rhinoceros beetle is the most hideous sight in the world," came the deadpan response.

"HEY!"

It took Alicia's firm hand to restrain him from rising up in righteous indignation.

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Yes, this conversation isn't done yet. But I'm out of time today – I'll do my best to finish tomorrow, promise! With the return of my supervisor, work has been hectic.

I realize that these conversations may seem a bit OOC, but first remember that such intimate contact with Imperials is hardly a normal situation. If you think it's still overly OOC, ping me with a review and point it out! I haven't gotten to touch Valkyria Chronicles in a while, so click that button down there and point out my idiocy!

I used the phrase "intimate contact". WHY?!?