AUTHOR'S NOTES: A short one this week after that long chapter. Ruby Flight needs a little time to decompress after that fight.

Naval Base Mayport

20 April 2002

Oscar Pine sat down on the bed at the VOQ. He was still wearing his flight suit. He was too tired to take it off. Instead he just sat there, feeling drained. Oscar glanced at the clock, and realized that it was only seven o'clock in the evening. From the time Ruby, Yang and Weiss had arrived at Mayport to this moment had only been four hours. In that time, he had seen Ruby in the sexiest swimsuit possible, had some of the wildest sex of his short life, had proposed marriage and had it turned down, and fought in one of the longest and largest dogfights he had ever been in.

In the distance he heard sirens. Returning from Cape Canaveral, he had seen burning houses on the beach where he and Ruby had played in the surf only an hour or two before. A few of the GRIMM had managed to break through, but none had reached Mayport; the burning came from where GRIMM had crashed into the town of Atlantic Beach. The majority of GRIMM had been pulled towards the Lawrence and Ruby Flight.

Oscar knew Ruby was all right. When he had landed, he saw her F-16 parked back on the transient ramp, with holes in the tail and one wingtip missing, surrounded by ground crew. He wanted to find her, but she was being debriefed by Commander Kzutto. VFA-41 had parked at their dispersal area—eight aircraft out of twelve. Four had been shot down over the Atlantic. He had no idea if all of the pilots lost had bailed out. After filling out a quick debrief himself to the squadron intelligence officer—not that there was much to report that the other pilots hadn't already—Oscar, with nowhere else to go, had returned to the VOQ. He spotted something on the floor and picked it up: it was the engagement ring box. Remembering Ruby's rejection, he wanted to cry…but he was too tired.

Oscar didn't know how long he sat there, and the knock on his door made him jump in surprise. He got up, tossed the box onto the bed, and walked over to open it.

"Hi," Ruby Rose said. She too was in a flight suit, and she too looked exhausted. In one hand dangled a six-pack of sodas. In the other was a pizza. "Peace offering?"

"Uh, sure. Come on in." He closed the door behind her, and they sat at the little table in the room. Neither spoke as both realized they hadn't eaten since lunch—and Ruby since breakfast. She devoured three pieces of pizza before Oscar finished his first.

Finally, somewhat sated, she spoke. "Oscar, there's no easy way to say this…"

"You meant everything you said before the GRIMM showed up," Oscar finished.

Ruby stared at her plate. "Yes. Well...maybe." She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands. "Everything happened so fast out there—I mean, it always does, doesn't it? We were facing over twenty GRIMM, all those new stealthy things, keeping them away from that destroyer—that's where I've been, by the way. Commander Kzutto wanted to make sure we got all the details right. I think they're going to award the Medal of Honor to the skipper of the Lawrence, and he deserves it." She was silent for a moment, then took a drink of soda. "I wanted to meet you at your Super Bug, but the meeting…"

"I saw your F-16," Oscar said.

"Yeah. Just shrapnel to the tail, and I lost my wingtip when I hit the Lawrence's mast. I was damn lucky not to lose the whole thing." She looked up at him. "God, I'm so selfish, Oscar. How's your squadron? They didn't say anything about the Cape."

"It was us and the Fifteens from Jax." Ruby translated that as the F-15s from the Florida Air National Guard, based at Jacksonville International Airport. "We got some reinforcements about halfway through—F-16s from Homestead, down by Miami." He shook his head. "God, Ruby, I don't think I've ever been in a fight like that, not even over Poland. Fighters everywhere, and GRIMM, and all I could do was just try to stay alive and pick my targets. I lost my wingman right off the bat—he didn't die or anything, we just got separated. We got most of them, but there had to be a hundred, probably more. They did some damage down there. I didn't see how much—I was busy—but I know they took out Pad 39. That's the Shuttle pad. Luckily the Columbia was still in the Vehicle Assembly Building. The GRIMM didn't touch that. I don't know about the rest."

"How…how many did you get?" Ruby asked. She felt bad about asking. Surviving was the victory today; kills seemed secondary. She wasn't sure how many she had; Weiss tended to keep track of that sort of thing.

"I don't know…I think five." Oscar chuckled. "Remember when I got five in Japan and made Ace in a Day? I got the DFC for that. Now, it just seems kind of…pointless."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that now," Ruby told him. "We did stop them, pretty much. The Lawrence is limping into harbor on one engine and she's shot to shit, but she's still afloat, and the base didn't get touched. And it sounds like the Kennedy Space Center is mostly okay. Considering what we were up against, we're—"

"—lucky," Oscar finished.

Ruby sighed. "Aren't we always?" She sniffed. "Well, usually." She glanced over to the bed, then got up and walked over to it. Oscar's heart skipped a beat when Ruby picked it up, opened the box, and pulled out the ring. She came back to the table and carefully put the ring in the left breast pocket of her flight suit, just below her nametag. Ruby patted it. "Oscar," she said, "I can't be your wife. I meant that, though…maybe not as harsh as I said it. It scares me. I don't want you to be alone like Dad was. If we have kids—and if we did get married, we probably would—I don't want them to be alone either. But please…please…" She knelt in front of him. "Please let me be your lover. You can say no. You can hate me. I kinda hate me right now, because I can't be the Ruby Rose you want me to be." She took his hands in hers. "Oscar, we almost died today. Both of us. All of us. Like I said, I'm pretty sure I'm not going to live through this war. But…maybe, if you like…" Ruby sighed. "Oh, hell. I don't know what I'm saying anymore."

Oscar was silent for a moment, then spoke. "'But that is not for them to decide,' Gandalf told Frodo. 'All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.'"

Ruby's eyebrows came together. "Okay, I should know what that's from."

"Lord of the Rings," Oscar explained. "Tolkien. I got big into him in high school."

Ruby smiled. "Heh. I was more of a Mack Maloney girl."

"Who?"

"Never mind." She got to her feet. "Good advice, though."

"Well, he is Gandalf the Wise." Oscar got up as well, and kissed Ruby. Her lips tasted like sweat, cheese, pepperoni, and the faintest hint of salt. "Ruby," he said when they parted, "I meant everything I said too. I love you, and I want to marry you. And right now, we're right in the middle of who knows what. Salem's really upped her game. I'm scared to death of losing you, but…I accept your answer. For now. Please think about it." He wiped away a solitary tear from her face. "And please don't throw your life away. Live. If not for me, then live for yourself."

Ruby nodded. "I'll try."

Oscar held up a finger. "Do. Or do not. There is no try."

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "Oh my God. First Lord of the Rings, next Star Wars. What, you gonna tell me you played D&D in high school too?"

Oscar shrugged. "Not in high school. Pensacola. Guy at Saufley Field ran a great Forgotten Realms campaign. I was a wizard."

Ruby shrugged. "I was a paladin. Yang used to run a game when we were in school."

Oscar's eyes widened. "You game?"

"Yeah." Ruby smiled tiredly. "Oh shit. I just became really hot, huh? Gamer girl."

Oscar embraced her. "Well, it helps." He kissed her again. "Peace?"

Ruby nodded. "Peace." Then she yawned. "And it's not very romantic, but I think I want to sleep more than anything right now, okay? I must've rolled low on my Stamina."

"Not exactly rolling nat 20s myself," Oscar said. He put the pizza away and, by the time he turned around, Ruby's flight suit was already on the floor. She hadn't bothered with underwear. Ruby climbed nude into bed, and Oscar soon followed. They fell asleep to the hum of the air conditioner.

Later, in the darkness of the night, Oscar woke up. So did Ruby. They made love again, this time tenderly and slowly, neither wanting it to end, knowing when the sun returned, so would the war.

The sun was just touching the eastern horizon when Yang woke up. She also had gone to bed early from sheer exhaustion, as much as she had wanted to talk to Blake. Yang watched as the sun began to rise, and then thought, well, we're near a beach, dammit. She put on gym shorts and a sports bra, grabbed a bottle of water out of the vending machine, left the VOQ, and began jogging. The Navy had thoughtfully left part of the beach undeveloped for personnel to enjoy, and it would be a perfect place for a morning run.

"Yang! Wait up!" Yang stopped and grinned as Blake raced to catch up to her. "Morning," she puffed when she drew even with Yang. "Couldn't sleep either?"

"Nah, I crashed hard last night. Just woke up and figured I could go for a run."

"Same. You don't mind, do you? If I join you?" Blake asked.

"Hell no." Yang grinned at her. "I've been missing when we used to go on morning runs back in Japan."

"Me too."

The two women jogged at an easy pace, neither trying to outpace the other. The beach was in sight when another runner came up to them, coming from the beach. "Good morning, ladies," he said.

"Good morning, sir." Blake stopped and went to parade rest; Yang stopped as well, and wondered if that was a Marine thing or just habit. "Yang, this is VF-84's XO, Lieutenant Commander Alan Musk. Sir, this is my friend, Captain Yang Xiao Long." Musk put out a hand, but Yang was saluting him, which made both of them look awkward. She finally shook hands with him. "Sorry, sir," Yang apologized. "Air Force."

"No problem, Captain Xiao Long. Call me Crunch." Musk grinned. "Let's just say I might have made some rough landings when I was a cadet. It's going to be hell if I get promoted to Captain."

Yang laughed, but wondered if Crunch was a callsign given because he had crunched a few aircraft, or for what the man obviously did on a regular basis. Most fighter pilots had a physique actors would be proud of; constant G-forces had a tendency to give one a workout. To survive those Gs, and because many pilots were athletes anyway, they also tended to run and lift weights. Musk, however, had the look of a bodybuilder. He wore a T-shirt and shorts, but his biceps were as wide as Yang's head, and his thighs looked like treetrunks. He and Blake began talking about the squadron, and he grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it to wipe sweat off his neck, exposing pectorals and a superb six-pack. Yang found her mouth going dry; she had always had a soft spot for hardbodied men. Musk glanced at her, and Yang found something fascinating on the horizon, where the sun was now above the sea.

"That wasn't an actual instrument failure, was it, Blake?" Musk asked.

Blake turned a little red. "It was Terri's idea, sir…but, to be honest, I didn't exactly mind."

Musk laughed. "I should put you on report, but hell—I probably would've done the same thing. Just don't do it again. And let Terri know, once she pries herself off her husband. I wouldn't be surprised if she comes down with kid number three halfway through the next cruise." He sighed. "Which won't be too much longer, I'm afraid. Keep this under your hat, Blake, but we'll probably sortie again in a week, as soon as we can get everyone back here. Yesterday scared the shit out of the CNO, and he wants the Reagan to backtrack where those GRIMM came from. He's also afraid of us getting caught in port again."

"It would have to be Cuba," Blake said. "Or some remote strip in the Bahamas."

"No, not with 200 plus GRIMM operating out of it. You're right; it's Cuba. Be interesting to find out where, considering just about everything except Gitmo glows in the dark down there. They used dirty bombs back in the 60s." Musk shook his head. "Well, get back to your run, ladies. Captain Xiao Long, nice meeting you. Hope to see you around a few more times before we all have to get back to work."

"Thanks, Crunch," Yang said, guessing correctly that the other pilot liked to be addressed by his callsign. He tossed them a wave and resumed his run, while Yang and Blake walked down the little boardwalk to the beach. "You lost five out of VF-84, Blake?"

"Yeah," Blake replied. "Everyone got out, though. We got lucky. Really lucky." Her ears went back. "God, Yang, we all did. Ruby hit the mast on the Lawrence, we had a GRIMM blow up right in front of us—it was no fun landing with a busted windscreen with a piece of GRIMM through it, either." Blake suddenly paled, realizing that, with a little more forward velocity, that piece of GRIMM might have gone straight through her instead of getting lodged in the canopy. "And you did that tip-trick with the last one."

Yang blew out a breath. "Yeah…and don't think that won't keep me up at nights. I must've been out of my fucking mind."

"You probably saved the Lawrence, Yang," Blake told her.

"I suppose. Maybe they'll give me a Silver Star or something that I can frame next to my letter of reprimand." Yang cursed inwardly. She had promised herself not to bring that up. "Sorry…guess I'm still bitter."

"So am I." Blake took off her tennis shoes and walked into the surf a little. "Put all that effort in, I get yelled at for four months by a little mouse DI with a chip on her shoulder, flight training, all of that…and it's all gone probably by next year." She turned to Yang. "Have you given any thought to what happens next?"

"Hell yes. I'm going mercenary. I'm not going to go back to Patch, marry Tripod, and get fat and preggers while Salem tries to blow up the world. Fuck the Air Force." Yang picked up a rock and threw it into the ocean. "Being a fighter pilot is what I'm good at. I damn sure ain't going to fly for the stupid airlines, flying some damn regional jet lawn dart from Charlotte to Norfolk every day."

"Amen, sister."

Yang saw the opening and took it. "You want to come with me? Go merc together?"

Blake smiled. "Probably. Not sure about the Branwen Tribe, though."

"Heh, no." Yang laughed. "No, I think I'll see if Robyn Hill needs a few extra hands. I'm not flying for Raven. I don't care if her and Dad made up…I still hate her guts." The words felt a little hollow to Yang, however. Do I really still hate her?

"Do you still love me, Yang?" Blake asked quietly, barely audible over the surf.

There it was, out in the open. Yang stopped. She took off her shoes and sat down, her legs in the surf; Blake did the same. "Yeah," Yang finally said. "Yeah, I do. For all the good it does either of us." To her surprise, Blake's hand found her real one, and she held it. "Uh, Blake? Does this…I'm kinda confused…"

"Yang, you're my friend. That means we can hold hands." She shrugged. "I guess; I don't know. I don't see Ruby and Weiss holding hands. I'm doing it anyway."

Yang sighed, long and hard. "You don't love me, though."

"Like I said in Moravia, Yang: I do love you. Just not the way you want me to." Blake stared out to sea. "You're the best friend I've ever had. But love…romantic love? I don't know if I'm even capable of that."

"Sure you are. Just because Adam—" Yang put up her hands. "I'll shut up. That was out of line."

"No, no," Blake reassured her. "Because Adam, sure. He left some pretty deep wounds." She remembered the radiation-fever dream she'd had of her former lover back in Poland. "But he's not the only reason." Blake let go of Yang's hand and drew up her knees as the Atlantic washed over their feet. "I gave this a lot of thought, Yang. When we were at sea. I took extra watches because I wanted the squadron to accept me. I had a bad rep, but I was able to beat it. I didn't even go on liberty in Cape Town. So I had a lot of time to just think about it. Hell, I even tried to convince myself that maybe I did love you."

"But it's not there," Yang said sadly.

"No." Blake wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Yang. I love you like a sister, but right now…I can't see each other as more than that. I love being around you, and hanging out, having fun—and flying together. God, I forgot how much I missed that. When Ruby called me 'Ruby Four,' I felt like a piece of my soul fell back into place. Seeing you over in that F-15—best thing I've seen all year."

Yang smiled and nodded. "Me too, you in that Tomcat. Even if it was weird seeing you with a backseater."

"Terri's all right. She accepted me right off the bat. I thought it was Faunus solidarity or something, but it was just who she was. You'll like her." Blake giggled. "Though we won't see her in for a few days, I guess. Hope her husband stocked up on oysters and laid in a few boxes of condoms, unless he wants more kids." She nudged Yang. "And I saw you checking out Crunch's abs. He'd give Sun a run for his money."

Yang chuckled. "Yeah. Well, if I needed any more proof I was bi, there we go." Her smile faded. "Blake, I, uh…I did something kinda dumb the other day."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I tried to fuck Coco."

Blake was visibly startled. "You what with who?"

"Coco Adel. Remember her? Tall, dark and lesbian?"

"The Iraqi girl who flew Mirages and liked to wear berets off duty? What, did you fly to Baghdad or something?" Blake asked.

"No, moron," Yang told her. "She's at Signal, learning to fly '15s. I guess Iraq ordered some." She rolled her eyes. "Sorry I called you a moron. Anyway, I figured, hey, she's a lesbian, and I'm hot, so I bet I could figure out this whole girl-girl love thing with her. Give the whole gay thing a spin." Yang picked up a piece of driftwood and began tearing pieces off with her metal fingers. "Boy, was that dumb. Oh, Coco was rarin' to go. She answered the door buck-ass naked. I got undressed and started to go down on her, but she could tell I wasn't really into it. We had a good talk after that. She chewed my ass for using her as gay training wheels, and I deserved it."

"Did you…" Blake wanted to know, her cheeks burning. "You know…do it?"

"Nah. We got dressed and played Playstation for the rest of the night. Actually had a good time. She's not mad at me, but she said I needed to get my shit together. She said she didn't even think I was a lesbian, in that I look at a girl and find her attractive enough to sleep with. I mean, I didn't think I was a straight lesbian—" Yang stopped. "Okay, that didn't make a fuckload of sense, but anyway, Coco's sure I'm bi…but she's also sure that I'm not going to go down on her or any other girl anytime soon. Because I'm not even interested in them. I'm not in love with them." Yang looked at Blake, her lliac eyes full of so much pain that Blake felt her heart break. "I'm in love with you."

Blake closed her eyes, and once more took Yang's hand. "I'm sorry, Yang."

Yang tossed the driftwood away. "Yeah, I know." She took a deep breath of the salt air. "And I'm not mad either, Blake. I need to figure this out. Hell, maybe a year from now I'll look back on this and laugh my ass off at what a stupid bitch I was." Blake had a feeling that was not going to happen.

Blake pulled Yang's hand to her lips. "Please don't leave me, Yang." Her voice was plaintive, pitiful.

Yang smiled despite herself. "I thought that was my line." She looked up and down the beach. It was empty. "Hey…can I at least…kiss you?"

"Of course you can." Blake drew Yang closer, and they kissed. Just like it had been in Moravia, it was not an open-mouthed hungry kiss of lovers, nor was it just a friendly peck. It was a kiss, firm and loving, but Yang knew it did not promise more than being the closest of friends. They withdrew, and Blake's eyes were shining. "I'm sorry it can't be more." She looked away. "I mean…I guess it could—"

Yang put a finger on Blake's lips. "Nope. I told you before. If we make love, it's going to be because we both want it. Not because you feel guilty or pity. That's the last thing I want, Blake. If I wanted a pity fuck, I'm pretty sure I could get Crunch to sign up."

"You have no idea. He gets more action than a platoon of Marines." Blake snickered. "I know because he's about the only single pilot in the squadron who doesn't brag about it."

Yang laughed. "My dad used to say that it was the quiet ones who were getting all the action." She flopped back into the sand. "Oh, the hell with it. I'm not going to get all weepy and shit because my best friend doesn't want to be my lover." She winked at Blake. "Fuck it. Let's get shitfaced tonight and eat a ton of crabs. We'll get Weissy drunk and see if she can't tell us how hung Marrow is. Maybe I can get Rubes to quit moping around. I don't know what her problem is. You'd think she would be happy with her boy riding her like she's a three-dollar mule."

"Sounds like…" Blake suddenly sat up.

Yang saw her looking out to sea, her cat ears straight up and facing forward. She sat up as well. "What?"

"There. Right there." Blake got to her feet and pointed. "Do you see that?"

"What? I don't—" Then Yang spotted what Blake had, the sun reflecting off metal. It bobbed up and down in the surf. They looked at each other, then both ran into the ocean. Blake and Yang were both good swimmers, and they were quickly to what they had seen, surfacing next to it.

"It's a wing!" Blake exclaimed, pushing wet hair out of her face. "Not one of ours, though."

Yang grabbed onto it. It was about fifteen feet long, tapered at one end. The wing had broken cleanly from what looked to be the wingroot; it was hollow inside, and as it bobbed up and down, she thought she saw the silver of a fuel tank. "Blake, I think this is off one of the GRIMM we shot down!"

Blake ran her fingers over the surface of the wing. "It's painted, but the skin's kind of rough. This feels like ironball paint…we messed around with this at VX-4 when I was at Pax River."

Yang nodded. "Stealthy. Explains why we couldn't pick them up."

"We've got to get this back!" Blake swam under the wing and came up on the other side. She noticed that there were spoilers, but no flaps. She grabbed the trailing edge of the wing and raised her legs, kicking hard. Yang saw what she was doing and helped. Using the wing like a kickboard, they pushed it ashore, the tide helping. To their surprise, it was heavy, but not so heavy that the two of them couldn't pull it into the sand. Both Blake and Yang knelt in the sand, puffing with exertion. "Composites," Blake said breathlessly. "It's…composites."

Yang nodded, and got her breath back before she spoke. "Like my F-23 was." She got up, wiping the wet sand from her legs. "Blake, this is super weird. We almost never recover fragments from GRIMM. Nothing this big, anyway."

Blake got up as well. "I know. We always figured Salem rigged them with a self-destruct." She ducked to look into the wing. "Fuel tank. I don't smell any fuel, though…and if we had swam through fuel, we'd know it."

"Might've been empty." Yang checked the beach again. "There might be more out there. We gotta let people know."

Blake grabbed her shoes and threw Yang's to her. "Definitely. Let's get hold of the base commander. My CO, too. We need to start a search for more wreckage. I know they were out looking for any survivors of that E-2 crew."

"We need to do that, yeah," Yang agreed. "But we need to go higher."

"The Air Wing Commander?" Blake asked.

"No." Yang put on her shoes. "We've got the band back together, Blake. Now we just need our producer."

Blake turned her head to one side, looking very much like a confused cat. "We need what now?"

"Not what, who." Yang shaded her eyes against the morning sun and looked out to sea. "I think we'd better get hold of Arashikaze."