Chapter 8, part 1.

Alice sat on a narrow bench, leaning on the wall and looking up, trying to tune out the constant, low hum of incoherent complaints coming from the only other person in the cell—an older woman who seemed to be high or perhaps mentally ill. Either way, her voice, though quiet, was pretty shrill and seemed to pierce right through Alice's hungover head.

She'd been waiting in the cell for a few hours already—it was difficult to say how many, since they'd taken her watch and, presumably, phone, though it was Cho who had had it last. There was little movement outside; it didn't seem like there was anyone else brought to the station all this time. Now, finally, she saw someone passing by the metal door. Alice got up and knocked on it quickly.

"Excuse me, officer?"

For a moment she thought she'd be ignored, but then a man appeared in the little glass square in the door that was the only window in the cell. She didn't recognize him, so he wasn't either of the policemen who'd detained her.

"Yes?" He looked at her expectantly.

"I need my purse," she told him. Before she had a chance to add anything else, he laughed.

"Yeah, and what else? A golden ticket, maybe?"

She felt anger rising up inside her and worked to keep it down. "I am not under arrest, as far as I know, and even if I were, sir, I'd still have some rights, wouldn't I? I need my purse because that's where my tampons are—or do you want me to bleed all over the cell?"

This shut him up, apparently, and his face looked a little disgusted. Without another word, he disappeared to the right, and a few moments later another officer came, a woman this time, carrying a whole pack of tampons. Alice didn't know whether the situation was more ridiculous or pitiful, and ended up only rolling her eyes at the man's reaction; of course he sent a woman.

After she'd reemerged from the bathroom, feeling much better now that there was no more possibility of leaking through her pants, she noted that there was someone waiting outside, and Alice recognized the younger of the cops who'd not-quite-arrested her.

"Seems like you're sober enough to talk now," he said, ushering her out.

Alice didn't feel completely sober yet, if she was being honest with herself; but, she was already passing from ridiculously drunk towards painfully hungover, and besides, it made no sense for her to argue.

Passing him by in the bright lamplight, she could finally read his nametag: Wakefield. He led her through the corridors to what she could only assume was an interrogation room: it had a table in the middle, chairs around it, a chest of drawers and some shelves by the wall at one side, and an obligatory two-way mirror on the other. The older police officer was already sprawled on one of the chairs as they came in. Alice was tempted for a second to sit down next to him, instead of across, but then she decided it would not serve her at all.

Wakefield closed the door behind them, and then walked to the chest of drawers, pulled a small water bottle, and handed it to Alice without a word.

"Thanks," she said. Her rebellious nature wanted to spurn the gesture, but her parched throat shouted it down; she took a big swig, feeling as if the water spreading down her esophagus was balm.

The other officer's nametag proclaimed his name to be Lowell. He watched his partner come around the table and sit down in silence before he finally shifted his gaze to Alice and sighed heavily.

"So, Miss Boyd, are you ready to tell us now what happened?"

Alice felt her hackles rise again at being addressed so; they had her purse, ID included, so they must have known her rank and affiliation. Miss sounded in her ears like a deliberate attempt to devalue her stature, such as it was. She took a deep breath to calm herself. Exploding with rage would not serve her here, either.

"So I take it you did not find any CCTV footage?" She asked, her voice cold and detached, as it often was when she worked hard at stifling her fury.

"What makes you say that?"

"If you had, you wouldn't be asking me to tell my story. You'd be arresting Cho for assault."

"He claims you assaulted him," Wakefield put in with a raised eyebrow. "And since, as you've deducted, there are no cameras, all we have is your word against his and vice versa."

"And you choose to believe him?" She felt a faint rush of warmth bloom on her cheeks, the indignity provoking a physical reaction despite her struggle to remain calm.

"We've not made any determinations at this point," Lowell hedged.

"You've literally seen me trying to get away from him behind the bar!"

"What we've seen was a fight between two people, no more and no less," he contradicted, and added quickly, perhaps sensing that Alice's hold on her composure was becoming tenuous at best: "Either way, we want to hear your side of the story."

"You've already spoken to Cho," Alice guessed.

"He was in a better condition to talk," Lowell admitted. "Please, Miss Boyd. Start from the beginning. How do you know him?"

Alice's eyes narrowed and she counted to ten before replying. "It's Major Boyd, sir, or Doctor Boyd if you prefer civilian forms of address. Not miss."

"You're a doctor?" They both looked taken aback.

"PhD. Computer Engineering."

"So you work with computers?"

"Among other things." Alice shrugged, looking away.

"Alright, so let's go back to my original question." Lowell tapped his fingers on the table. "How do you know Major Cho?"

"I don't, really. I met him for the first time a week ago." She sighed and recounted the story from the beginning—going for a drink with Carter, the challenge coins, her bet with Andersen, her dubious victory over Cho the next day and finally the events of the previous night, ending with the assault. She kept it brief and stuck to the essentials, and was not interrupted.

"That's an interesting account," Lowell said after she finally fell silent. "Major Cho claims that you flirted with him all evening, and led him on."

Alice laughed mirthlessly. "I flirted with him?" She shook her head vehemently. "No, officer, I did not flirt with him, or lead him on in any way, but even if I did, that would not have given him the right to assault me. I said no and he didn't stop. He literally picked me up and dragged me around the corner of the bar, for goodness' sake!"

"He says you lured him there with the promise of sex and then attacked him," Wakefield contradicted, checking his notepad. He wasn't making any new notes, she realized, only looked at what Cho had said in his interview.

She huffed. "Okay, let's think about it logically. If I did do what he claims I did—and I assure you there was no flirting, and certainly no promises made, of sex or anything else—but if there were, if I had lured him away, what possible motive would I have to suddenly attack him out of the blue, unless I rescinded my consent and he didn't stop? Which, I remind you, would still constitute an assault."

"He says you went crazy for no good reason. It's not uncommon for drunk people to behave in an unstable manner…" Wakefield mused.

"Maybe you simply don't remember making a pass at him," Lowell suggested. "It's also not uncommon for drunk people to forget what happened…"

"I just related to you what happened," she answered, her voice icy again. "And yeah, I was drunk last night, I don't deny it, but I think what you're missing is the fact that it doesn't excuse Cho's behavior in the slightest. I can't believe you don't see that it actually makes it worse. I was so drunk that I teetered on my feet and couldn't find the number for a cab on my phone, and yet Cho thought it was a good idea to try and get me to have sex with him. You do know about consent, right?" She didn't wait for either of them to reply, but continued, her tone now getting heated. "An intoxicated person cannot give consent. So what Cho did—or tried to do, anyway—was doubly shitty. Not only did he try to use my drunken state to get me to have sex with him, but when I actually said no, he decided to use force. My being drunk at that moment didn't change anything, it only gave him confidence to try in the first place." She rose from her seat and started pacing around, her cheeks flaming, anger pulsating in her voice. "And you know what? Let me tell you another story. A little over a week ago, I went to London for a couple days, on orders from the top. Once there, I found myself in a pub, sitting next to a stranger and downing one drink after another. I was waaay more drunk then than tonight, and I actually blacked out—I have no memory of how the evening ended, but apparently I went home with that stranger. I woke up the next morning in his bed—fully clothed and untouched. You know why? Because he wasn't a rapist. He had ample opportunity to take advantage of me—I was completely pissed, as they say over the pond, no control over my actions. But nothing happened to me, in fact he took care of me, because he was a decent guy. And he wasn't a rapist. Do you catch my drift? Last night I was drunk, not that drunk but still pretty shaky on my legs, and Cho tried to take advantage of me because he is a motherfucking rapist!" She finished, breathing hard, and stopped her pacing, looking at the two policemen with blazing eyes. They seemed a little taken aback, but recovered quickly.

"So you make it a habit of getting drunk with strangers?" Lowell asked.

Alice's sharp intake of breath was clearly audible in the room. She held it for a moment and then exhaled slowly, dropping back onto her seat.

"That's your takeaway?" She leaned in and put her face in one hand. "No, officer, I don't make it a habit, but I have an incredibly stressful job and letting off steam once in a while is not illegal. Assaulting someone is."

"But in the end, nothing happened," Lowell added, his voice mellow and soothing.

Alice shook her head. "Only because I fought back and he didn't expect that much resistance. I bet he thought I was too drunk to stop him."

"But, by your own account, you're not good enough at close combat to defeat a fighter like him," Wakefield noted.

"It's quite different when we're sparring amicably, and when I'm fighting for my life in a dark alley behind a bar." Alice rolled her eyes. "Besides, I have a good track record on beating the odds."

"Yeah? Working with computers has prepared you for that, has it?"

She almost chuckled. "Yeah, sure." She waved dismissively, almost calm now. "I see you have your own view of this situation."

"We're just looking out for you," Lowell assured her and sounded almost sincere. "It's still your word against his. There were no witnesses, and, well, nothing happened in the end, did it? You're fine, he's fine, why not solve it amicably? Cho says he won't press charges unless you do. Just drop it, and you both can go on your merry way, no?"

"Do you really want the hassle of going to court with this?" Wakefield added, his voice and smile oily and almost seductive. "All the trouble and money to get a lawyer, the depositions, gathering witnesses and evidence that may not even exist… is this what you want?"

His manner of speaking annoyed Alice, but what he actually said made her think. She was still mad enough that logic held less sway with her than usual, but she had to admit that the thought of the effort required to go through with it was daunting in itself, even before she realized it might lead to some uncomfortable questions about her job that she couldn't really answer, not even to a judge. But the idea that Cho might get away with it, scot-free, was heinous, too.

"Fine," she decided after a minute of silent meditation; the two policemen didn't interrupt her this time. "I won't press charges. I'll just go and visit Cho's Commanding Officer on my way to work on Monday and we'll have words."

"Aw, don't be so petty!" Wakefield decried immediately, but her furious glance silenced him.

"The only reason why nothing happened, as you said, is because I was able to fight back," she said, the temperature of her voice dropping back down to around absolute zero. "Not all women can do that. And I bet this wasn't Cho's first time trying to use the situation like that. But I'm damned if I don't make sure it will be the last." She suddenly stood up again, straightening up all of her meager five feet and three and a half inches. "If that is all, I'd like to leave now. Unless you want to arrest me."

"No." Lowell rose, too, his face smoothed out in a relieved expression. "You're free to go. Officer Wakefield will give you back your personal effects."

Alice nodded coldly, turned around and walked away, without even checking if the cop was following her or not.

The office door was wide open, so Alice halted on the threshold and knocked on the frame to announce herself. The colonel didn't even raise his head from above a sheet of paper he was scrawling on.

"Come," he called simply.

Alice entered, stood a few paces from his desk, straightened up to attention, and waited.

The Army officer was pushing fifty, with hair that was a curious balayage of darkest shade of brown, almost black, and grey so light it was nearly white; it was still thick and hanging low on his brow, with no evidence of receding. His face was long, with a pointy chin and high cheekbones that made him look strangely stretched. He was wearing a Class B green service uniform, with a short-sleeved khaki shirt opened at the neck, and still he looked uncomfortable and sweaty, and Alice couldn't blame him; it was sweltering in the room, despite the fact that outside the temperature was only in low seventies, so early in the morning.

He finished scribbling, put down the pen, and finally looked up. He gave her a once-over, head to toe, and his bushy eyebrows traveled so far up his face that for a moment he looked as if he were made of Play-Doh and someone grabbed him by the chin and the top of his head and pulled in opposite directions. Alice had to work very hard to fight the urge to smirk.

"Well, you're not the person I was expecting!" He said gruffly. "What can I do for the Air Force—" he squinted at her epaulets "—Major?"

"I'm not here in any official capacity, sir," Alice replied calmly. "I came to discuss the behavior of one of your subordinates while off-duty."

"Uh-huh." The colonel—his nametag said his name was Heath—rose to his feet and walked around the desk to close the door. "Might be better this way, then," he explained. "Though the A/C unit in the building is busted and instead of cooling, it's heating the place up, so better keep it brief. You'll be sweating bullets in this coat very quickly."

She had to accede to that—she was already feeling hot in her Class A uniform. It had been a deliberate choice, of course, to give herself some authority; only she didn't predict she'd be going into a sauna.

"Now, first things first." Heath didn't go back behind his desk, but rather leaned back on its front, reminding Alice of a posture of a teacher about to castigate his pupil. "Who are you, which of my subordinates' behavior offended you, and how?"

She felt a treacherous blush spread over her cheeks that betrayed a sudden flare of anger that kindled inside her at his casually dismissive words. She inhaled deeply, trying to purge the emotion from her voice and expression, before she replied:

"My name is Major Alice Boyd, sir, 21st Space Wing. I haven't been offended, sir, I have been assaulted by one of your men, Major Eliot Cho."

One of Heath's hands slipped off the desk and he almost lost his balance. He righted himself up quickly and looked at her with a deep frown, leaning back even more, and Alice wondered if he now regretted not putting the desk in between them. Cutting the distance was a strategy meant to make her feel uncomfortable, but it seemed to have backfired badly, and she felt a little bit of perverse satisfaction at that.

"Sexually assaulted?" He asked, his voice slightly hushed, as if he was asking about a secret.

"Very nearly so," Alice answered, replacing the heat of anger with cold detachment. It made it easier to say the words that needed saying. "If I hadn't been able to fight back, and if the police hadn't shown up when they did—"

"The police was involved?" The colonel interrupted her, his eyebrows now so close together that they looked like one curved line.

"Eventually," she confirmed, taking another deep, steadying breath. "Not before Cho dragged me away and punched me into the ground, though."

"Wouldn't you rather talk to someone from SHARP?" He asked, and there was a tiny bit of pleading in his tone, but Alice wasn't going to let him off the hook.

"I assume SHARP is the Army version of SAPR," she asserted. "There has been no sexual assault, sir, only attempted one. And theft," she added as an afterthought.

"Theft?"

She shrugged. "He took my phone and never gave it back, even after the trip to the police station."

Heath closed his eyes for a moment. "Alright, I think I need to hear all of it," he said, pushed himself off the desk and went around it to sit down. "Take a seat, start from the beginning. How do you know Cho, where did it happen and how?"

There was a chair tucked away in a corner. Alice brought it closer and sat down, hanging her purse on the backrest. With the movement, the shirt under her service uniform coat got stuck to her back, already damp with perspiration. Feeling icky and wishing she had opted for Class B, at the very least, she went through the entire thing once more, keeping it brief not just because she had no desire to share the details, but also because she continued to sweat bullets as she spoke.

Heath actually looked a bit amused when she was describing the challenge between Cho and herself, though his face fell a bit when he learned that she actually won; he perked right back up when she admitted Cho threw the last round. To his credit, though, when Alice finally described Cho's attack outside the bar, Heath seemed appropriately disgusted.

"I wish I could say I am surprised," he said after Alice finally finished.

"He's done it before, hasn't he?" Alice guessed.

"I've never had anyone report it," Heath clarified. "Never witnessed anything questionable, at least nothing actionable."

"Sure." The word was infused with such sarcasm that it made Heath frown again. "Well, now you have a report. What are you gonna do about it, Colonel?"

He didn't reply immediately. Instead, he stood up, walked up to the door, opened it, stuck his head out and said something to someone that Alice didn't catch. A minute later he came back, bearing two water bottles. Ha handed one to Alice and she accepted it with a grateful nod. It was pleasantly cold.

Heath sat back down and took a large swig of his water. Alice understood it was all in order to give himself more time to think, but didn't begrudge him that; at least he was considering it thoroughly.

"You know, Major, I have to agree with those police officers," he finally said, putting the bottle on the desk. Then he noticed that it stood on the paper he had been scribbling on so meticulously as Alice had come, and quickly moved it away, before it could wet it with drops of dew that were already forming on the outside of the bottle. "As much as I"—he hesitated for a second—"commiserate with you, there's not much in terms of evidence there for me to go on. And you must know it, too, or you would've pressed charges then."

Alice nodded calmly; she had expected this much. "The reason why I didn't want to press charges, sir, was because I didn't want to involve a civilian court. I think you'd agree that a civilian judge asking questions about our work is something to be avoided."

This made him raise his eyebrows again. "Interesting. I can see how we would like to avoid that in the 10th SFG, but why would you like to avoid questions about missile warning and space control? Or is that not what the 21st Space Wing does nowadays?" There was a curious twinkle in his eye, and Alice was reminded of the fact that, while Stargate Program remained deeply classified even to uninvolved military personnel, through the years of its operation there had been a number of gossip passing through the armed forces; it was inevitable. People talked, and servicemen were no strangers to that facet of human nature. They merely kept those rumors within their military circles—or so she hoped.

"Classified information is classified, no matter what it pertains to," she replied cautiously.

"Uh-huh." He didn't look convinced, and she noted his eyes straying to her ribbon rack.

"Either way, I decided to keep it out of civilian courts, but that doesn't mean I'm going to let it go," she said, and then raised her hand and started counting on her fingers. "Robbery, assault, and attempted rape. I think that's quite enough for a court-martial."

"Court-martial, is that really what you want?"

"What I want is to have the Armed Forces of the United States free of predators, sexual or otherwise," she answered loftily, but then realized how it sounded, so she added: "I want him out. Not for me—I'm quite alright—but for those other women, those you've never had any reports from because they were scared, or because someone told them that's just life in the military, and to stop the drama. I want him out because I don't want any other woman to suffer."

"Hmmmph." Heath leaned back in his chair, his eyes boring into Alice's. "It doesn't sound like you're quite as alright as you claim to be."

Alice shook her head emphatically. "Trust me, I'm fine. I've been through worse." And, despite an attempt not to, she shivered at the memory of Jareth's hands touching her as she lay on his exam table, naked and vulnerable, his business-like voice providing commentary as he poked and prodded every inch of her body…

She turned her face away, worried what Heath might see in it. Until this moment, she didn't really understand her own zeal in pursuing Cho—after all, in the end, nothing happened. And, though she'd never been so close to being sexually assaulted by another member of the military, it wasn't like it was the first time she had been sexually harassed. Even as early as when she had been in the Officer Training School, she could remember men making inappropriate jokes; men trying to hit on her while she was simply trying to do her job; men touching her "accidentally" when they passed by; men getting angry when she refused their offers of drinks. And then there was this over-sexualized, humiliating naming ceremony, and the thing with Espinoza… She was no stranger to the military sexual harassment culture. It had all ceased when she moved to Atlantis—not once, when she was there, did she witness anything inappropriate. Except, of course, the fact that she became involved with an enlisted man, which in and of itself was a court-martiallable offence… did it mean, though, that she had no right to go after Cho? Was she being hypocritical—like with Cox and Martinez? The devil was, of course, in the details. Cox shared classified intel with Martinez, even though she did not have the need to know. He would've gotten away with it, too, if Martinez didn't turn out to be a traitor. And Cho—Cho literally tried to force himself on Alice. How could any of this compare to what she had with Karim? They had been in love, she was going to leave the military for him, they were going to live happily ever after—at least until the Wraith came… And then—and then she made her choice and lost it all.

She shook her head. That train of thought was dangerous. It led into dark territory, where regret and grief mingled with doubt and shame, and she needed a clear head right now.

There was something in there, though. Just a memory of a feeling… because when Cho had pushed her to the ground, and pinned her down, clutching her hands so she could not move—in that moment she felt the same vulnerability as when Jareth had had her spread-eagled on his exam table; and it echoed every situation when someone bigger and more important than her had made her uncomfortable and vulnerable, with their jokes or touching, or flirting, or whatever it was… It had not been easy to erase the feeling of Jareth's hands on her skin, it took a lot of work and sleepless nights, but she'd done it—with no small help of Karim's serene presence, the sensation of his fingers on her body finally replacing that ghastly touch that had hunted her dreams for so long… and now it was gone. She felt violated and vulnerable again, and it was Cho's fault; and he had to pay for it.

"I'm sorry," Heath said, pulling her back to the present, and he sounded like he genuinely was.

"I'm fine," she repeated, though her voice trembled a little. She worked hard to stabilize it as she continued, looking back at Heath: "Either way, I may not have security cams footage or any witness statements, but that doesn't mean there isn't proof." As she spoke, her voice became stronger, and she felt relieved—the temporary weakness was passing. "First of all, there is my phone. Cho still has it, I presume, and there you have your first charge justified: he took it from me, without my permission, and that is theft, if nothing else. Secondly, you have the police: they arrived at the scene and I have to believe that at the very least their body cams will show what actually happened, which was me trying to pull away, and Cho grasping my hand. I actually fell down when they came because he released me so suddenly—that must be on the footage. And thirdly, someone must have called them. That means someone must have heard me scream—and I intend to find that person and convince them to testify."

"Almost all of that is circumstantial," Heath cautioned.

"People have been convinced with a lot less," Alice insisted.

"Yes, but… don't get me wrong, I believe you, but Cho is a very good officer, held in high regard by his peers and his subordinates."

"And I'm not?" Alice's voice became cold again as the fire of her anger rekindled.

"That's not what I'm saying," the colonel backtracked. "I'm just saying, you're gonna have to convince a lot of Army people that one of their own is a sour grape, and with not a lot of evidence to go on."

"Well, then that's what I'll have to do," she agreed icily, and then added: "Once it's become known that Cho faces a court-martial, and for what reason, there may be someone coming forth with additional accusations. You as much as admitted it, there must have been others. These things have a way of inspiring courage in those who might have worried about their careers too much to come forward before."

"And you're not worried about your career?" He asked, unscrewing his water bottle and taking another big swig, before he continued: "I bet there are a lot of men in your chain of command, too."

Alice actually smiled at that. "My CO's a woman, but even if it weren't the case, there aren't that many people in my chain of command in the first place, and I think they all kinda like me." Even the Commander-In-Chief seemed to, she didn't add, suppressing a smirk. "There are a lot of things I am worried about with connection to this whole thing, Colonel, but my career isn't one of them."

His eyes strayed back to her ribbon rack. "Yes, looks like you have had quite an impressive one so far, haven't you? Not one, but two bronze stars, three Purple Hearts… and is that a Prisoner of War ribbon?" He shook his head, waited for a moment, looking at her, but since she kept quiet, he went on: "And you also have pilot wings in addition to the Space and Missile badge… which is curious in itself, especially seeing how young you are. What are you—twenty-six? Twenty-eight?"

"Almost thirty," she corrected him.

"You don't look thirty."

"I know," she acknowledged. "And I am very used to being dismissed at a glance, Colonel, because I'm young and small, but I assure you I can hold my own. I am going after Cho, and I want this report to be on the record." She stood up, twisting to pick up the handbag that hung on the backrest of her chair. She pulled a folder out of it and placed it on Heath's desk. "It's all written up there."

"Alright. If you're sure about this…"

"I am."

"Okay, then. Understood, Major. I'll take it up further. Will start with searching Cho's house, if he held on to your phone, it should be there still."

"Thank you, Colonel."

He nodded. Alice put the strap of her bag on her shoulder and turned around to leave. As she was opening the door, though, Heath spoke up again.

"Major?"

She turned to face him again. "Yes, sir?"

"There is a general in the Army, working at the Pentagon, by the name of Boyd. Any relations?"

Alice huffed, but decided it would be rude to leave it at that. "Yes. My uncle. My father's brother."

"Aaah. So that's why you're really not worried about your career," he guessed.

She shook her head. "Simon has nothing to do with my career, sir, or this report. I'd rather he not be involved."

Heath raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Really." She smiled lightly. "He doesn't even know what I do. And what I do is important—and there's no-one on this planet who can do what I do, who knows what I know. That's why I'm not worried about my career." Of course, no-one was untouchable. All the amity in the world that Carter might have carried for Alice would not help if she knew that Alice had done drugs, for example. Once again, she felt a sharp prick of shame at how hypocritical she was being. Here she was, accusing someone else of conduct unbecoming, and who was she to throw a stone, really? She was as far from perfect as possible, so what gave her the right?

"If you say so."

Alice shook her head dismissively, and left the stuffy office.