Chapter 10, part 2.

Alice parked her car in the garage and walked outside. It was dark and quiet all around, and as she grabbed the trash bin from the curb to bring it inside, it made a noise that disturbed the peace and made her grimace to herself. Deanna usually beat her home, but it looked like she wasn't there yet—she was a conscientious girl and would never leave the garbage bin out for so long after it's been emptied.

Before Alice made it halfway up the driveway, a high-pitched bark came from behind her and she reflexively turned, her shoulders squared and knees slightly bent, as if to spring to action.

"Hey, neighbor!" A man in his forties, wearing grey sweats and a huge grin, waved to her, stopping by as his tiny Chihuahua sniffed at the grass in Alice's yard.

"Hi," she replied, a little hesitatingly, relaxing her stance. She thought she'd seen the man around before, but surely she'd never talked with him before.

"How are you doing?" He asked casually, still smiling pleasantly at her.

"Good, how about you?" She replied automatically.

"Good, good." He nodded and then looked at the sky. "Beautiful evening, isn't it?"

Alice followed his gaze up. The whole day was fair—not that she'd seen much of it, shut in the base underground as she was—and the night was clear, so from their position close to the mountainside and relatively far away from the glow of downtown, they could even see some stars. For a second Alice wondered if any of them had planets she'd visited and then she smirked at herself. You can be so cheesy sometimes, Boyd, she berated herself.

"Not bad," she agreed aloud.

"Now, listen," the man said kindly, making a few steps towards her, up the driveway, as his dog continued to sniff around. "I know you and your roommate have been living here for a few months now, but we've never had a chance to get to know each other. I feel a little guilty, we should've welcomed you to the neighborhood properly when you girls first moved in, but what's done is done. Still, I hate to see you isolated from the community and would like to remedy that!"

Alice blinked real fast, instantly regretting having stopped. She let go of the garbage bin she'd been holding onto and turned her whole torso toward the overly friendly neighbor.

"That's very nice and completely unnecessary," she assured him quickly. "We're both quite alright." There was no polite way of saying and we have no desire to get to know you. Also, it would probably be only half truth—Alice was sure Deanna would be delighted.

"Nonsense!" He waved his hand dismissively. "You girls are such great neighbors, so quiet and respectful of the HOA guidelines, you deserve a proper welcome, even if it comes late!" His smile grew even wider. "I have an idea. Why don't I organize a little barbecue get-together for all the neighbors this weekend and we can officially introduce you to everyone?"

Alice hoped her face did not show the utter horror she felt at the prospect of having to spend hours making small-talk with strangers. "I'm really flattered, but that's really not necessary, we're really not that sociable—"

"Nonsense!" He repeated. "It's settled! Sunday, four in the afternoon in my backyard—that's the house over there." He pointed in that direction. "I'll invite all of our neighbors and all you need to worry about is taking your lovely roommate with you!"

"I—uh—sure," she capitulated, because she couldn't really find a polite way to refuse such friendly enthusiasm. "Thanks, we'll be there."

"Excellent! Oh, and by the way, I think I haven't even told you my name, silly me! I'm Rupert Wallace." And he made another two steps and extended his arm.

Alice sighed lightly and closed the distance with two paces of her own and shook his hand. "Alice Boyd, nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine!" He assured her, and then pulled at his dog's leash. "Come, Toto! We're going home!" The Chihuahua barked in response and trotted down the driveway. "See you Sunday, Alice!" And he waved again, turned around and scampered away.

The next morning Alice got into her car and drove the familiar road she traveled every morning (unless she spent the night at the SGC), but instead of turning right on the Norad Road, she took a left turn, followed it down to the highway and then left again onto Nelson Boulevard and up to the Fort Carson entrance. She ignored the Visitor Center to her right and drove through one of the gates, her CAC being enough to let her through. She got lost for a moment, trying to find the right place, and had to stop and ask a soldier for directions. Finally, she parked her car in front of what looked like a standard military office building, and went in, already slightly irritated. Her appointment was with the trial counsel for Cho's court-martial; it had been set for Friday, and the JAG officer wanted to go over Alice's statement in detail ahead of time. Alice couldn't be present at Cho's Article 32 hearing, since she had been scheduled to go offworld; she had provided a written deposition instead. The court-martial was supposed to be the first time she'd be interviewed and cross-examined in this case.

"The defense counsel is going to try and attack your character," the JAG officer warned her gravely. "You mustn't let him."

She nodded, equally seriously. "I've been through this recently," she reassured him. "I'll be okay."

"You did another court-martial recently?" He frowned at her, dismayed. "In what case? How did it end?"

"The charge was espionage and I was the expert witness." She shrugged. "The person in question is no longer an officer and will spend the next ten years behind bars."

"Espionage?" He shook his head. "That's a pretty heavy offense. Why only ten years?"

"You would have to ask the members of the court-martial," Alice replied. She didn't know what extenuating circumstances they found to adjudicate such a light punishment, especially since there was reason enough to sentence Martinez to death; but she had to admit she was glad they did. Despite her own concerns about sharing the information of the future with anyone, she didn't feel particularly antagonistic towards the former captain; in fact, Alice felt a little guilty that, somehow, through her testimony, she had contributed to locking the young woman up for ten years. Consciously, she knew that Martinez did it to herself when she decided to sell information to this Paul Emerson; but deep inside, part of her knew it was also Alice's doing.

"Either way, I doubt the defense counsel went too far in such a case," the JAG officer continued, pulling Alice out of the reverie. "You weren't directly linked to it, but here, your character is at the very heart of the matter. We have to convince five Army officers to find one of their own guilty, that will not be easy under any circumstances, but if you let the defense get to you, it's gonna be ten times worse. We do not have a very strong case, so a lot will be riding upon you."

Alice nodded. "What are the exact charges?"

"One count of attempted sexual assault, one count of battery, and one count of larceny. Of these, the last one will be the easiest to prove—we actually have evidence, as your phone was found in the accused's house."

"Yeah, that was not very smart of him." She smirked. "I have a feeling which charge will be hardest to prove, though."

"Yeah, attempts are often difficult," he agreed. "And it will be the one the defense will focus on, so we have to be really well prepared. Okay, I'm gonna throw some questions your way, and you try to respond as best you can, and we'll work on them together," he suggested and Alice acquiesced reluctantly.

They spent almost the entire day on the preparations, and by the end, Alice's brain felt like it turned to mush. She wasn't used to having to consider her every word like this all the time, and the overwhelming tiredness from not sleeping well didn't help. Nevertheless, after they finished, she drove up to the SGC to do some work. She was still going over the evidence gathered in Martinez's case, but the only thing she found that others seemed to have missed was a rotating pattern of encryption the disgraced captain had used to contact Paul Emerson, and it told her nothing about where he might be now. In the meantime, Rodriguez, Watson and Morgan were in training—mostly for the lieutenant's benefit, since he had been off the team for such a long time. Alice would be joining them in a few days to run a few scenarios together, just to work out any kinks in their new team dynamics.

She went home late, utterly exhausted. She could not risk going to the SGC's doctor for a sleeping aid—they'd ask why she needed it again, and she didn't want to have to answer those questions. So, instead, she dropped by the local drug store on her way home and bought some Benadryl, and hoped that, aided by the inevitable glass of whiskey, it would work as well as the strong prescription stuff. And indeed, she managed to sleep through the night, but she woke up drowsy and headachy, and not refreshed at all. Going for a run and taking a shower helped a little, though.

She arrived a bit early and had to wait in the corridor outside the courtroom. She sat down on a little plastic chair just next to the door and pulled out her phone to check messages and look over her Twitter feed. She was mostly retweeting science articles, sometimes adding a comment here and there, and there was rarely any activity in her mentions—except for the rare moments when someone found Aaron's old tweet tagging her and reacted to that. And then the door next to her opened and she was invited inside. She put her phone on silent, shoved it into a pocket, and entered the room.

It looked different than the one she'd seen previously during Martinez's court-martial—and not just because it was bigger and fancier. There were fewer members—just five, instead of twelve—and the proceedings were open to the public; quite a few people gathered in the gallery. Alice recognized Heath and he nodded to her, noticing her glance.

There was another difference that put a stark contrast between herself and the other people in the room: Alice, in her dark blue uniform, stuck out like a sore thumb in a sea of Army green Class As. And, she realized belatedly, taking the witness's stand, she was also the only woman in the room, if one excluded the public.

As they were swearing her in, she threw a glance towards Cho; he was wearing a service dress uniform, his hair was immaculately trimmed, and his face—expressionless, except for a second when his eyes met Alice and she saw one corner of his mouth twitch in a cocky smirk. Then he went back to his façade of calm serenity and didn't react in any way to anything Alice was saying during her testimony.

It took a long time; the trial counsel was meticulous and asked about every tiny detail of the incident, and the events leading up to it. Alice was ready for that and answered with confidence and composure, inwardly dreading the wild card that was the cross-examination.

At first, the defense lawyer followed a predictable path: what she was wearing, how much did she drink, and was she sure she didn't lead Cho on? Alice replied to his questions calmly; they had gone over her answers with the trial counsel before, so it was easy. It became more difficult to keep her cool when he moved on to trying to attack her credibility by going after her character, and she felt her temper rise as they trudged on, but—thankfully—her anger turned to ice rather than flame, which allowed her to continue to respond in a measured, though very cold voice.

"How many sexual partners did you have in life?" The defense lawyer asked eventually, prompting the trial counsel to jump up and call:

"Objection, your honor! Relevance?"

"I'm going to demonstrate consent," the defense officer fired back before the judge had a chance to react.

"Fine, I'll allow it, but get to the point quickly, or I'll strike it from the evidence," he warned.

"Yes, your honor. Major—can you please answer the question."

Alice looked at him and her eyes were so full of disdain, he actually swayed on his feet a little.

"Six," she replied curtly.

He looked displeased for some reason—probably counted on hearing a larger number. "And how many of those were one-night stands?"

"Four."

"Your honor—" the trial lawyer began, but the judge interrupted him.

"Let him finish!"

"So if you've previously had one-night stands, is it that hard to believe that you were looking to hook up with Major Cho that night, too?" The defense attorney asked triumphantly, addressing it to the court-martial's members—the jury of officers—rather than to Alice.

She replied, nevertheless. "Yes." She waited until he looked back at her, and then continued: "First of all, I have already told you that I was not flirting nor leading Major Cho on in any way—and, frankly, even if I did, what he did was still inexcusable. I am telling you now that I was also not looking for a hook-up, with Cho or anyone else. I went out with my colleagues to blow off some steam—and may I remind you, the group included my CO. That's not really a circumstance conducive to striking a romance, or a hook-up. You may choose to believe me or not, but the fact of the matter is, I did nothing to encourage Cho's actions, but even if I had, the moment I rescinded my consent, he should've stopped and left me alone. Instead, he dragged me away, punched me to the ground and held me in place while I struggled to get away."

"Or so you claim," he noted, and then added: "You don't seem very traumatized by this alleged assault. Why is that? May it be because you made it up?"

She actually rolled her eyes at that. "No, sir. I may not look traumatized but you haven't seen my nightmares," she said and immediately bit her tongue. She shouldn't have mentioned that. "I can deal with it all. I've been through worse and I am still here, and that's why I can stand here today and talk to you about all this. Not every woman can say the same, especially when they also have to fear for their careers if they come forward. It's difficult as it is to tell someone how you've been victimized, but if, in addition to that, you have to worry about men, especially those of higher rank than you, feeling uncomfortable, banding together out of misguided loyalty, or even retaliating against you in any form—that's a whole other issue. And I know that there are rules of non-retaliation in effect, but those rules ale policed by men, too—men who make decisions about your future assignments, promotions and other career opportunities. It takes a lot of courage to face all that. I'm lucky that I don't have to, but many other women don't have that luxury."

"This trial is not about other women," he declared dismissively, stepped up to his desk and picked up a folder from there. "What I am holding right now is your Pentagon personnel file, Major. Do you know what it says under current occupation?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, without elaborating.

"It says that you are attached to the 21st Space Wing out of Peterson Air Force Base, and that you are tasked with research into ways of incorporating cognitive machine learning into software programming of military satellites," he explained, not actually reading the papers, but waving them up and down. "I've dumbed it down a little, but that should be about correct, yes?"

"Yes, sir, that is roughly what my file says," she agreed carefully.

"This file also provides a list of all your awards and decorations," he continued. "I am going to read it for our colleagues who might not be able to see your ribbons." He pointed at the rack on her chest, and then cleared his throat. "Air Force Training Ribbon, Small Arms Expert Marksmanship Ribbon, USAF Basic Military Training Honor Graduate Ribbon, Air and Space Campaign Medal, Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal, National Defense Medal, Prisoner of War Medal, Air Force Combat Action Medal, three Purple Hearts, Air Medal and two Bronze Stars." He paused for a moment for effect. "Could you please explain how a computer engineer in the Space and Missile command is able to earn all those awards, Major? Of particular interest to me are the Purple Hearts and the POW Medal."

Alice shrugged. "I am not at liberty to discuss the details of my assignments, sir."

"Colonel, what is the purpose of this line of questioning?" The judge asked with a frown on his face.

"Goes to the credibility of the witness, your honor," he replied oily. "I would stipulate that since there is a definitive disconnect between the service history of Major Boyd and her list of awards, she must have not really earned them all. I mean, just look at her!"

"Objection, your honor!" The trial counsel piped up. "That's conjecture!"

"Sustained. Is there an actual question there, Colonel?"

"Yes, your honor." He turned back to Alice. "Major Boyd, could you please explain how did you earn those awards?"

Alice raised just one eyebrow. "Sir, the citations for each of those awards are a matter of public record and are included in the file you're holding in your hands."

"They're pretty vague," he noted, and read aloud: "Bronze Star—The President of the United States takes pride in presenting the Bronze Star to Captain Alice Boyd, United States Air Force, for valor in combat against the enemies of the United States. Between December 27th, 2010, and January 17th, 2011, Captain Alice Boyd demonstrated exceptional gallantry and intrepidity while subjected to extreme mental and physical cruelties. While captured by enemy forces, she managed to escape and free her fellow servicemen. Captain Boyd valiantly pursued her captors and called for reinforcements despite having sustained serious injuries. Her determination, courage, and resourcefulness brought credit to herself and upheld the highest traditions of the United States Armed Forces." He finished, and then raised his head. "The other one is even less specific. Doesn't even say what were these enemy forces. Doesn't that sound made up to you, Major?"

"No, sir," she replied almost nonchalantly, and then decided to elaborate: "As I have already mentioned, I am not at liberty to discuss my assignments—and if you're implying that by guarding classified details from being discussed in a public trial I am taking away from my credibility, then I suggest you reexamine your approach. I also would like to know how do you figure I could've made up these awards, knowing that each of them is approved by the relevant authority?"

"Well, we know you have connections both in the Pentagon and in the government that could've made it easier," the attorney suggested.

"Aah." Alice nodded understandingly. "You're referring to my uncles. I'm afraid you may have been misinformed, neither of them have had any influence over my military career. I earned my medals, sir, and I have scars to prove it."

"I'll believe it when I see it," he mocked. "It's easy to—"

"I am not really sure if I see the relevance of this conversation as to the credibility of the witness, Colonel," the judge interrupted him. "Let's settle it once and for all. Major, if, as you say, you have scars to prove your claim to some of those awards, would you be so kind and show them to us all?"

Alice felt her eyebrows go up in surprise. While she appreciated the judge's intervention in the nonsensical exchange with the defense counsel, his request was somewhat irregular. But, she figured, it didn't actually cost her much, and if it would shut off that line of questioning, it was worth the drama, she decided.

"Yes, your honor." She shrugged off her coat, removed the tie tab and popped the top button of her shirt to be able to slide it off her left shoulder. "The older scar was a piece of shrapnel that damaged some ligaments and landed me my first Purple Heart," she explained, touching it with her index finger. "And this line next to it was a deep cut, it goes all the way down to here." She traced its path over her shirt—she didn't think they'd appreciate her undressing any further, as the scar reached all the way to her left nipple. "This is the freshest one, got me the second device on the Purple Heart. There's also this one, it was so shallow it didn't even merit an award." She touched her left collarbone where a pale, thin line was visible—but only just. Then she pulled the shirt up and instead rolled up her right sleeve. "The one on the upper arm is a bullet wound, I've got a companion scar on the left calf, they earned me my first device on the Purple Heart—those were the injuries mentioned in the Bronze Star citation the colonel has just read aloud. Then there's this thing—" she pointed to the square inch-by-inch scar left by Jareth when he had taken a sample of her skin "—and this—" she rolled up her left sleeve, too, showing a very pale—even paler than the one on her clavicle—thin line on the left forearm, a souvenir from the young ravager she'd fought in Baltimore of the future "—and a knife wound on my left thigh which missed an artery by a hair's breadth." She started pulling the sleeve back down. "So, Colonel—you've seen it. Do you believe me now?" She asked, picking up the tie tab to put it back on.

The defense counsel looked unhappy with the whole spectacle. "I believe you have been injured—I am still not clear how does it relate to your official service history."

"Have you never heard about a cover story?" The judge asked him with annoyance in his voice. "This line of questioning is closed now, Colonel. Unless you have any pertinent questions, I'm gonna release the witness."

He grimaced, but then shook his head. "No further questions, your honor," he said, and Alice breathed deeply with relief.

"Major?" The judge asked the trial counsel.

"No, your honor, I think my esteemed colleague made some of our arguments pretty well for us."

"You're not wrong," the judge agreed with a small smile. "Major Boyd, you may step down. We'll now take a recess until Tuesday."

"Thank you, your honor," Alice replied, nodding, and she left the stand. Everyone in the room started talking and moving at once, creating a lot of noise, and she headed out quickly. The trial lawyer caught her before she exited.

"You did good," he told her with a confident smile. "How are you feeling now?"

"Fine," she answered, shrugging. She wasn't even lying; she was still a little annoyed with the defense attorney's ridiculous, personal questions, but she felt kind of proud at how she handled them—she congratulated herself for not blowing up, especially—and she figured, in the end, his ludicrous line of questioning actually worked in her favor.

"You can take a seat in the gallery on Tuesday, watch the rest of the proceedings," the trial counsel suggested.

Alice shook her head. "I've already lost two days for this, and I have something scheduled for that day anyway. I'll come back for the closing argument and the verdict—unless I'll be away, that is," she amended; the final part of the trial was supposed to take place late next week or at the beginning of the one after at the latest. There weren't going to be many witnesses called to testify in the case; the prosecution would question General Carter, who Alice understood was supposed to be her character witness more than anything else, and Officer Wakefield, the younger of the two policemen that arrived at the scene of the assault. Other than that, they would merely read out depositions from a number of other people—Colonel Mitchell, Daniel Jackson, Vala, Rodriguez, and the barkeep who had been the one to call the police after he heard Alice's screams. The defense added Colonel Andersen and Major Hale to the witness pool, but Cho himself refused to give a statement. There wasn't much in terms of physical evidence, either: they had already presented Exhibit A, Alice's phone, which had been found in Cho's house, and which she had to identify as hers during the first part of her testimony; and Exhibits B and C, the policemen's body cams footage was going to be played during or after Wakefield's statement. In the end, Alice knew, it would mostly come to he said, she said and she was concerned that there was nothing the prosecution could say or do to make the five Army officers turn against one of their own. All of this could be for nothing.

"It's funny, you know," the trial counsel said pensively. "Cho's supposed to be this important Special Forces guy, but his service history seems pretty thin compared to yours—or at least compared to what I can infer from all your awards and scars." He shook his head. "You're a rare bird."

She raised her eyebrows. "Thanks?"

He laughed. "Anyway, if you're sure you don't want to watch the trial, that's okay. I'll do my best to win it for you either way."

"I trust you," she assured him with a pleasant smile. "I wouldn't mind if you gave me a call at the end of each day, though—just to let me know how it went…"

He nodded. "Of course." He peeked at his watch. "It's late—I won't hold you anymore. You should go home and relax now."

"Oh, I am not going home." She shrugged. "There's still time to do some work today."

"Writing software for satellites?" He raised his eyebrows and smiled crookedly.

Alice smirked. "Something like that."

"Mhm. Well, then, have a good rest of the day." He nodded to her again and turned around to get back to his desk and pick up some papers.

Alice left the room, but she only made it halfway down the corridor when someone else stopped her.

"Major Boyd?" An unfamiliar voice called.

Alice turned and beheld a young woman in an Army uniform with a golden eagle insignia on her sleeve.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you, ma'am," she replied shyly. "I'm Specialist Lenore Hayes. I-I watched your testimony and I just wanted to say—I wanted to say—" She hesitated, then squared her shoulders and pressed on: "I wanted to say that I thought you were very brave and—and I appreciated what you said about—about how hard it is to come forward when you have to think about your career…"

Alice cocked her head to the side. "Thank you—though that wasn't really brave on my side. I didn't risk my career today, and it was already difficult to go through with this… I can hardly imagine how hard it would be if my career really were on the line. Though, you know, in theory they're not supposed to retaliate for reporting assault or harassment."

"Yes, ma'am—in theory," the girl agreed nervously.

Alice smiled wistfully and then sighed. "I wish I could tell you with conviction that it'll get better, but I don't know that it will." She shook her head, thinking back to her time in the future—it wasn't one of the things she'd discussed with anyone, and although she didn't think she'd witnessed any sexual harassment while being there, she didn't see any evidence of significant improvement in terms of gender balance, for example, either. "I do believe that we are responsible to report sexual assault and harassment any time we can—but nobody can ever decide for you if it's worth the risk. You have to make that decision for yourself. I hate this code of silence we're all forced into—and I think that every report that's made is already an important victory. Even if in the end it gets dismissed or whatever—it's still a step in the right direction." She paused. "You know, if you want to talk about what happened to you—"

"Oh, no, ma'am, I wasn't—I was just speaking in general," the specialist cut in anxiously.

Alice shook her head again. "You and I both know that's not true."

The woman dropped her gaze and didn't say anything, visibly uncomfortable.

"Don't worry, Specialist. I won't make you do anything—it's not an order. But if you do find yourself wanting to talk about it to someone who understands, call me up at Peterson anytime."

She blinked quickly, swallowed hard and nodded. "Thank you, ma'am. And—and thank you for what you did there today. It was inspiring."

"Well, I'm glad it came off that way, because it felt mortifying," Alice quipped.

"Yes, ma'am." The specialist smiled. "Anyway, thank you and I-I won't take any more of your time."

"Well, then, have a good day, Specialist."

"Thank you, ma'am, you too," she replied, nodded respectfully and then marched off.

As Alice had predicted, Deanna was thrilled with the invitation to the barbecue and wouldn't stop talking about how great an opportunity it was to meet everyone in the neighborhood. It made Alice feel a little guilty; Deanna had made a couple friends since coming to live in Colorado Springs, but she was such an extraverted person, she must have been feeling lonely, and Alice did nothing to help in that. So, instead of sneaking back into the SGC to work all through Saturday, she made a point of staying home and spending time with Dee, which made the girl even more ecstatic.

On Sunday, Alice procrastinated getting ready to the last possible moment and then had to rush—and even then, they arrived only a few minutes late. Even so, the backyard of Wallace's house was already full of people and immediately they were swept into a whirlwind of introductions and inane conversations, each of which went along the same old lines of what do you do, where are you from, why did you leave California, and suchlike. Eventually, after enduring about two hours of it, Alice fled to the furthest picnic table—she had no idea why would one person possess so many of those and a horrible suspicion that Wallace might organize such get-togethers more often sprouted in her head—and pretended like she wanted to focus on eating. There was already someone sitting there, and she hesitated for a moment, but all other tables were occupied by larger groups of people, so she eventually sat down and tried to remember if she actually spoke to the man in front of her already, as their faces somehow morphed into one in her head.

"Hi there," he greeted her lightly. He was devouring a heap of burgers and grilled veggies and chasing it down with beer. "Got tired of our venerable neighbors already?"

She smiled contritely, jabbing her fork into the salad on her plate. "I'm more of an introvert than my roommate is."

"I'll say!" He laughed gruffly. "She looks much more comfortable than you do!" And he winked at her.

Alice took a better look at him. He was older—late fifties or early sixties maybe—and the little hair he had on his temples was all grey, but other than that, he seemed quite spry. He had a sizeable beer belly, broad shoulders and a thick neck that would've made him imposing when standing, but now, spread on the narrow bench as he was, he looked rather mellow and genial, like a Santa Claus out of his uniform—minus the beard. The laugh lines around his warm brown eyes only enhanced that impression. No, Alice didn't think she'd talked to him before, which only made the next sentence he uttered seem that much weirder.

"Why'd you change your hair?" He asked, nodding at her head.

Alice felt her eyebrows raise. "Excuse me?"

He laughed again. "I'm sorry. I'm a rude old fart, and I've been that way since I was your age!" He paused to swallow a big chunk of his last burger. "I sometimes see you running past my kitchen window in the mornings, and I always look at you and think to myself: Forest, you old fart, you should join her if you don't wanna croak before you hit your retirement! And then I turn around and pick up another breakfast muffin!"

Alice couldn't help but smirk. His vivacity and self-deprecating humor were kind of endearing.

"But anyway, so I see you often when you run past my house, and I always admired the beautiful fiery shade of your hair. Brown is so pedestrian!" He chortled.

"It was more of a carrot-shade than fire," Alice quipped, smiling. She didn't know why, but talking to this man actually improved her mood.

"Carrot is a great vegetable!" He affirmed, spearing a grilled one onto his fork. "So why'd you do it?"

She shrugged. "Just needed a change."

"Uh-huh." He didn't look convinced, but he was smiling. "By the way, my name's Forest Crawford, I live two doors down from you." He waved in the general direction of his house, though it couldn't be seen from where they sat. "My wife, Sonia, is somewhere in there." And he pointed with his thumb to the crowd of people behind him; they had now split into smaller groups, eating and chatting happily away.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Crawford, I'm Alice Boyd." She nodded to him, since their hands were occupied with cutlery.

"It's Doctor, actually—but you can call me Forest, everyone does." He shrugged.

"Oh, are you MD or PhD?" She asked, her interest piqued.

"MD," he revealed with a little proud smile. "I'm the Deputy Chief Medical Examiner in El Paso County Coroner's Office. Wow, that's a mouthful!" He gibed.

Alice dismissed the joke. "Oh, really? That's interesting."

"Is it?" He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Most people find it gross."

"Well, I'm sure it has its challenges," she acknowledged. "But I think it's actually kind of"—she paused, looking for the right word—"noble. You give voice to those who can no longer speak for themselves, and provide closure to their families. That's gotta be rewarding."

"That's very astute and completely true," he agreed with an air of incredulity. His inclination for silly jokes seemed to disappear for the moment. "Kinda sounds like you're speaking from experience, a little bit?"

She shook her head. "No, I've never had to rely on a medical examiner—but I know death much more closely than I would like to."

He frowned and kept silent for a moment, trying to parse her statement.

"Are you a nurse?" He asked eventually.

"No."

"A doctor?"

She smiled. "Well, yes, but mine's a PhD."

He perked right up. "Oh, really? In what?"

"Computer Engineering."

He cocked his head to the side. "So how does a computer engineer get acquainted with the old crone Death so well? Something bad happened to you?"

The question was very intrusive, but he said it with such genuine warmth that Alice found herself replying anyway. "Yeah, occupational hazard." She noted his arched eyebrows and added: "A computer engineer might be well acquainted with death if she's also an officer in the Air Force."

"Aaah." His face smoothed out. "This explains a lot. So you work up at Schriever? Or Peterson?"

"Peterson." At least technically.

"So what's your MOS?" He asked knowingly.

Alice smirked. "We just call it Specialty Code in the Air Force. Mine's Space and Missile Operations."

"Just how close have we come to being blown to bits with nuclear weapons, then?!" He demanded half-jokingly.

"Excuse me?"

"If you came close to death, and you work with missiles, doesn't it follow that there were some attacks that we're just not aware of?"

Alice understood his confusion and laughed. "No, no. Or, at least, not that I know of." But there have been quite a few close calls where attacks came from space, she didn't say. "I don't deal with the missiles part, actually. I do a lot of different things. I used to fly an F-16."

This always impressed people and Forest was no exception. "Wow, really? Why'd you stop?"

"I got injured, went to the Air Force Institute of Technology, got my PhD and when I came back, my knowledge and skills were needed elsewhere." She shrugged nonchalantly. Technically she didn't even lie yet. "It happens."

"But that means you must be really good at what you do now. Which is what exactly?"

Alice smiled and shook her head. "I mostly sit at a desk and stare into a computer screen, or I build things in a lab." She changed the subject quickly: "But enough about me. What's it really like to be a medical examiner? Do you enjoy it?"

"Enjoy isn't the word I'd use," he replied predictably, distracted away from the dangerous waters. "It's certainly fulfilling. And it gets me home to my wife and kids every day at a reasonable hour. Not that my kids want to spend their time with their old man," he added, amused. "They're both teenagers and they lock themselves in their rooms the moment they come home from school, and I don't see them until dinner, or sometimes the next morning. But, it gives me the freedom to commit to our community outreach program—I have the dubious honor to run it."

"Why is it dubious?"

"Have you ever tried to manage a team of twenty people from wildly different backgrounds, each of whom has only a few hours a week they can spend on doing the work, and no set schedule?" He asked and then laughed. "Don't get me wrong, it's wonderful that people want to volunteer their time, but trying to control it all is like looking after twenty unruly puppies. Or maybe I'm just dumb," he joked, smoothly returning to his lighthearted self-derogatory humor.

"So what is it that you do, exactly, as part of this program?"

"Oh, a number of different things. We help the local food bank to refill pantries, we do charity auctions and fundraisers, we organize blood drives and do a door-to-door election registration, we collect clothes for the poor and homeless, we help kids with schoolwork and tutor them in music, we have a football and a volleyball youth teams, we do neighborhood cleanup events and recycling awareness campaigns, and many, many more—essentially if we can think it, we will do it."

"All of it?" Alice was sure her face expressed disbelief. "With just twenty people?"

"Well, we don't do it all at once," he admitted. "And it's twenty regular people, but we do get a fair amount of seasonal or temporary volunteers. Say, you wouldn't want to join us, would you?"

Alice blinked quickly, surprised by the proposition. "Uhm, I'm afraid my work schedule wouldn't allow for it," she replied, a little defensively.

"You wouldn't need to sacrifice much time," he assured her. "Even an hour a week—it's an hour more than what we have and we'll take all we can get. You know computers, so perhaps you could teach digital literacy to the older folk?"

Alice smirked. "I'm afraid my temperament does not lend itself to such work. When I tried to teach my mom to use e-mail, I almost threw the laptop out the window before she finally got it."

"Something else, then," he pushed. "You could teach fitness techniques. Or organize a self-defense class for women. Or tutor high school kids in STEM." He produced ideas without having to think it through, which meant he must have had a lot of them swirling in his head.

But Alice shook her head. "I spend almost all of my time at work. I'd be there right now if I hadn't accidentally promised to come to this thing." She waved her hand around. "I never know when I'm gonna be off."

"That sounds unhealthy," he commented offhandedly, and then pressed: "But you know, with the advent of the wonderful technology that is a smartphone, you don't even have to have a set time. You just send an e-mail about your availability a day or two before and whoever is able will come."

"Uhm, thank you," she said, a bit flustered. "I don't think I can commit to anything at this point, but I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded, unperturbed, and pulled his wallet out of a back pocket. "Here's my card. Call or text me if you change your mind."

"I will, thanks," she promised, knowing that she wouldn't. Aside from being busy all the time, she also had absolutely no headspace to even consider volunteering in addition to everything else that was going on in her life.

They continued talking for a bit after that, and then Deanna came to join them ("I feel guilty that I left you alone for so long!") and enthusiastically expressed interest in joining the community outreach program, so they discussed her potential volunteering at length until the day started to wane and people began dispersing. Alice and Dee said goodbye to Forest, thanked Wallace for the invitation and headed back home.

"You're in a good mood," Deanna commented as they entered their house.

"Yeah, I guess it wasn't as horrible as I thought it would be," Alice admitted with a smirk. "Forest was quite charming."

"Wasn't he? The others were very nice, too, but I guess you didn't really click with anyone else?"

Alice shrugged. "I guess I'm such a Debbie Downer myself—"

"You're not!" Deanna exclaimed.

Alice ignored the interruption. "—That I naturally gravitate towards extraordinarily positive people—like you." She smiled to her roommate.

They were now standing in the hallway. Suddenly Deanna looked nervous.

"Yeah—about that. Can we, like, talk?" And she pointed towards the living room with her thumb.

Alice cocked her head to the side, surprised at Dee's agitation. "Sure."

Alice plopped down onto the sofa, but Deanna didn't sit and instead started pacing up and down the room.

"Okay, you're making me nervous now," Alice said, her eyebrows arched. "What is it that you want to talk about?"

Deanna didn't stop immediately, but took a few more steps, and then stood in front of the couch, shoulders squared, as if she was afraid what Alice might do. She was always so confident that her anxiety was seriously starting to rub off on Alice.

"There's something I haven't told you," Deanna said, and her words were rushed, as if she was afraid if she were too slow, she'd reconsider. "I actually haven't told anyone at all, and I'm a little bit worried, but I can't keep it in anymore—and with you being in such a good mood for a change, I think it might be a good time and—"

"Come on, Dee. Just spit it out."

She took a deep breath and announced with trepidation: "I'm bi."

Alice blinked. "That's it? That's your big reveal?" And she laughed. "God, Dee, I thought you were gonna admit to a murder or something…"

Deanna fell onto an armchair with a big exhale. "You're okay with it?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Alice shook her head and added with censure in her voice: "Did you really think so little of me?"

Dee laughed nervously. "No—but I wasn't sure. It's… I mean, I haven't told anyone about it, and I was worried—I mean you are military, I heard it's not a very accepting environment—but of course I hoped—I mean I think I knew—and—"

"Breathe," Alice instructed. "And you're right—the military is not necessarily the most accepting environment in general, though it's already gotten better since the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell last year. But my specific environment is much more progressive than the rest of the service. And I've been an ally to all LGBT people since I can remember." She didn't mention her brother because he was still not out publicly, and although Alice didn't think Deanna would tell anyone, it wasn't her secret to share in the first place.

Dee nodded, but she still looked nervous. "And you don't think it's a phase? I mean I was with Lamar for such a long time…"

"I really don't. Only you know who you are." Alice smiled. "But I am honored that you decided to tell me first. It means a lot."

Deanna took a deep breath, anxiously bouncing up and down on her seat. "There's more."

"Okay." Alice said calmly, determined to show the younger woman that she had her back no matter what.

"I think I'm… developing… feelings… for a girl," she stuttered out.

"Okay," Alice repeated with a small smile. "Are they reciprocated?"

"I don't know."

"Why don't you ask her?"

"I'm trying," Deanna muttered and then looked at Alice apprehensively, biting her lip.

Alice blinked very fast, blindsided by the implication. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"I see."

They fell silent for a moment, sitting on opposite sides of a coffee table and studiously not looking at each other. Deanna's eyes were down, staring at her hands; Alice was gazing up and to the side, her mind occupied with a thousand thoughts, all galloping in circles as she was deciding how to respond to this confession, but it was Dee who spoke first.

"I've had a crush on you since that day you picked me up on the side of the road," she admitted, eyes still down, her voice small and unsure. "At first I didn't think much of it—I wasn't yet completely over Lamar. But then we moved in together, and you were always so sweet to me, and you were so protective when Lamar came to see me—I thought, maybe, there was a chance you were a little bit jealous…?" She shook her head. "And then we went to the club, and you danced with me so much—I mean, you danced with other people, too, but I thought maybe you were trying to make me a little bit jealous… Did I make it all up in my head?"

Alice sighed deeply. "Dee—" She stopped herself from saying honey—perhaps using endearments like this wasn't the best idea. She didn't want to send any mixed signals; apparently, she's already done enough damage. "I'm so sorry, I never meant to mislead you… I think you are a great girl, an amazing, warm, positive person, and I love you like a sister—but I'm straight."

Deanna lifted her head to look at her. "You are?"

"You seem surprised."

"Well, it's just that… you never really talk about boys—or men." Dee shook her head slightly. "I've never heard you say anything like he's hot about anyone, and I say it all the time about pretty boys… but you never do. You don't even see them, it seems. It's why I thought that night at the club, you talked to a few guys, but then you came back to me and—" She stopped and seemed unable to continue.

Alice wet her suddenly dry lips. "I'm so sorry, Dee. I never meant for you to think—I mean, I really like you. I consider you a friend, and I don't really have many friends. It means a lot to me to have you in my life—you don't even know how much…" She took a deep breath. "And you're right. I don't really see them. But it's not because I like girls—it's…" She paused, swallowed, and then continued haltingly: "Remember when we first met, I told you something bad happened to me?"

Dee nodded slowly, keeping quiet for the moment.

"Before we met, I-I lost someone." She realized her hands were balled into fists in her lap, so she made an effort to relax them. "His name was Basil. I'd known him for three years and we'd been together for eight months when… it was my fault, too."

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry." Deanna put her hands on her cheeks and mouth in a gesture of shock. "I'm sure it's not true…"

"It is," Alice replied simply. "And see, it's been five months and I still don't have enough headspace to—I mean, I just can't—and even if I weren't straight—"

"I get it," Deanna interrupted. "I understand. And I'm so sorry."

Alice smiled very sadly. "Yeah, me too."

"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine," the girl assured, but her eyes glistened wetly, belying her words. "I'm glad we had this talk. It's better to know."

"Dee, I'm sorry, I should've—"

"No," she cut Alice off again. "It's my fault. I've never really been with anyone else, other than Lamar I mean, and I think I might have a skewed idea on what it means when someone's friendly and kind, and confuse it with, you know, having a crush or something. And I shouldn't have assumed anything. That was not cool. I'm sorry I put you in this awkward position."

"Don't worry about it." It was Alice's turn to reassure. "I guess I'm flattered that you think so much of me, and I'm sorry I can't be for you what you'd like me to be. I'm sure you'll find someone who'll be just right for you."

"Sure." It didn't sound like Dee believed it. "But… can we still be friends?"

Alice smiled and nodded. "Of course. If that's what you want. If it's not too—difficult."

"I'm sure it's not," Deanna replied, her voice trembling and her eyes now looking very wet.

Alice stood up. "Okay. Just… take your time, okay? Everything's gonna be alright."

Dee didn't reply, only nodded, looking down at her hands again.

Alice didn't say anything else, just retreated from the room to let Deanna cry in private. She'd never imagined she'd be a cause of a broken heart for someone, much less her roommate and friend, and unwittingly to boot; she felt awful about it, but there was also a small part of her that was angry—frustrated at Deanna for ruining their friendship this way. She didn't believe it would be possible to remain friends after all of this; how could they be, if Alice would always be a reminder of unrequited feelings? She worked on crushing those contemptible thoughts, but the persistent voice in her head kept nagging that it would never be the same between them—that here was another loss of someone who'd grown to be important in her life.