A/N: Sorry for another delay... life is still a bit hard, but I'm doing my best. Thanks for your patience!

Chapter 32, part 2.

Setting up a profile turned out to be the easiest part of her new dating app adventure. Deanna did warn her to expect some pretty disgusting opening lines from some guys, but the reality exceeded Alice's wildest dreams. During the first few days on Tinder, she got at least half a dozen pictures of random men's intimate parts, and some texts that were almost as gross. She left them all on read, but some guys turned to be sneaky enough to start their chats pretty normal, only to quickly descend into vulgarity after she'd started engaging. Some matches started with cringey opening lines or tried to make puns about her name. And most people were only interested in quick hookups.

"You just gotta keep looking," Deanna told her. "There's bound to be some decent guys in that sea of shit."

She was quite impressed with the number of matches Alice got—until she learned that Alice was swiping right on almost every person.

"I don't want to exclude someone just because they aren't great at creating dating app bios," Alice explained. "Without your help, mine would've been horrible, too, I'm sure."

"You've gotta be more selective. You're a babe, why would you ever want to go out with that?" Deanna pointed at the photo that Alice was just displaying on the app.

"Come on, you know there's more to a person than what they look like," Alice protested, but rather feebly. The skinny and long form of the guy in the picture wasn't too alluring, she had to admit, but then again, her form wasn't too good, either—only she was skinny and short. "He's got an interesting bio."

Deanna sighed. "Fine, but seriously—you can't swipe right on everyone. You've gotta establish some standards, girl. Nobody in their right mind is going to swipe left on you, so you're the one that needs to filter 'em the creeps out."

Alice swiped right on the skinny and long guy and the next profile appeared on the app.

"Ooooh, that's a nice piece of man-meat!" Deanna enthused, taking Alice's phone from her hands to look closer at the photos. "Look, he's a firefighter, too!" And then she swiped right on him for Alice.

"You didn't think I'd like to have a look at that myself?" Alice shook her head, half-miffed and half-amused.

"Nope. Clearly, you're no good at this. Oh, look, the firefighter swiped right on you, too! You've got a match! Let's see what he writes!" Deanna waited with bated breath for a few seconds, and then exhaled, disappointed. "Hi. Well, that's underwhelming…"

"Can I please get my phone back?" Alice rolled her eyes. Dee handed it over and Alice replied Hi there. She was the first to admit she had absolutely no game in this. Before the guy could respond, she went back to look at his profile and had to admit, he did look good. Tall and muscled, with square jaw and dark blonde hair, he was probably Mr. June in the firefighter calendar. His bio mentioned that he was fond of hiking, going to the gym and playing video games, and specified that he wasn't looking for temporary flings. Honestly, it looked more promising than any of the matches she's gotten over the past few days.

I saw in your bio that you're into punk rock. What's your favorite act?

She smiled. Patti Smith, she replied immediately. But Dead Man's Eyes is a close second. You into punk rock, too?

More rock than punk. Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Doors, the classics. I actually like Dead Man's Eyes, too. They've become a little more rock and a little less punk recently. Doesn't that bother you?

She thought about it. It bothers me that I lost my best friend who's the frontman of that band, she thought, but didn't write it. Not really. All great bands veer off into different genres along their career.

Fair enough. Their last album was quite cool. Have you heard it? It's covers of love songs. I could play them on our first date ;)

She almost choked up. ABSOLUTELY NOT, she wrote, but didn't send it; she waited for a few seconds, then removed it. Actually, that's the only album of theirs I don't like. There. That's more benign.

Why? Are you not into romantic shit?

Not necessarily. I just don't like how sappy it is.

"I guess I can leave you to it, now," Deanna said, jerking Alice out of the conversation. She winked to her and quickly left the room. Alice rolled her eyes, but then he replied and she got pulled into it once more.

A string of conversations with the few men that didn't act gross or creepy was followed by a number of first dates—and only first. Two of the guys turned out to be in the Service—one an Army captain and the other a technical sergeant in the Air Force. Alice went through the date with the officer and then let him down gently via text, but had to cut the dinner short with the sergeant—she's had enough of fraternization with enlisted personnel to last her a lifetime. In a town like Colorado Springs, it was not surprising that she stumbled onto other servicemen as not everyone put their military affiliation on the profile—she didn't—but it did not raise her confidence in this whole Tinder affair. Especially that the following three first dates turned out to be rather boring—or maybe it was her who didn't know how to talk to normal people? She'd been so focused on her job over the past year, undercover and all, that the usual first date chitchat felt almost surreal. If she hadn't been also involved in the Springs Together, the community outreach program, where she was regularly meeting various types of people, she might have lost her grip on reality altogether.

"Dating sucks," Elena Ramos told her when Alice admitted she was trying Tinder out after one of the program's meetings. "I wish there was a quick way to skip that whole thing and go into an established relationship at once. But I don't know how else to meet people—except here, of course."

The volunteers for the program were a very diverse group—some older, some younger, some married, some single, but none seemed too interesting to Alice, though a couple guys did try to flirt with her at some occasions. She wasn't very good at even recognizing when it was happening, so it was Elena who had informed her that it was.

"According to my personal history, look for colleagues and bosses," Alice said morosely. "But I'm not a very good example."

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock." Elena noticed Alice's raised eyebrows and explained, deadpan: "If a woman with your looks is single, it means she's got some serious baggage."

Alice just rolled her eyes and turned around to call Dalia away from her friends so they could drive home.

Despite the false starts, Alice continued with a couple more interesting conversations, including the one with the rock-loving firefighter—whose name was Mike. They had even set up a date, but he cancelled when a colleague called in sick and he had to cover his shift. He proposed another slot, but this time Alice had to decline.

Going to Washington for a thing, she wrote. Trust me, I would much prefer to stay and go for a drink with you.

What thing? Sounds intriguing. Washington D.C.? Or the state? He replied.

D.C. Ever heard of the Presidential Gala for Advancement in Science, Engineering, and Innovation Excellence?

No, but it sounds fancy. Why wouldn't you want to go?

I don't like crowds. And events. And small-talk. All the pomp and circumstance. It's quite enough that I have to spend a couple days each month at various conferences or guest lectures and stuff. But I have no choice.

Gee, what a torture, being recognized for your work and having to share it with others ;-P

Do not mock what you have no idea about ;)

The invitation to the Gala had come a few weeks prior and it was signed by the President himself, which made it less of an invite and more of an order. At least the Apollo was on the orbit and Carter had nothing against Alice getting a ride straight to Washington. They deposited her in an empty alleyway near her hotel so she could simply walk two hundred yards to the entrance, small suitcase in hand, and check in less than five minutes from getting to the surface of the Cheyenne base. After getting herself dressed and prepped for the event, she got into a cab and told the driver to drop her off at the main entrance to the White House. He eyed her floor-length, form-fitting sapphire blue gown quite openly, but didn't say anything. It didn't take them long to arrive.

She knew the Gala would be a prestigious event, but even so, it exceeded her expectations. It was held in the White House's East Room and its stately ambiance and historic significance would've been enough to intimidate her, but the riot of elegant tuxedos and beautiful gowns, waitstaff in black uniforms and white gloves circulating throughout with refreshments, Secret Service agents blending in with the background and somehow still attracting attention, food stations placed strategically across the room with a gourmet spread of appetizers, beverages and desserts, and a classic string quartet whose music filtered through the hum of many voices talking at once made it all seem like another world entirely. Certainly it was like no science conference she's ever been to—she wasn't aware scientists could dress this well!

She walked through the crowd slowly, looking around in search of a familiar face, but the room was simply too full of people. She grabbed a glass of white wine a waiter offered her from a tray of various drinks and stood a bit to the side, watching the throng of people and wondering what, on Earth, was she doing there. Her solitude didn't last long, though; a few moments later someone spotted her, recognized and she was suddenly surrounded by people asking about her 'heroic rescue of the flight BA 218'. It took her over half an hour to escape and she had to pretend to need a restroom. She was hoping she would be left alone after that, but as she strolled on the edges of the crowd again, she suddenly heard a familiar voice.

"Alice? Is that you?"

She turned around, surprised, and beheld a man of average height and build, with brown eyes and ash blonde hair stylized into a fashionable darker undercut and a light tousled top. He was wearing a tailored black tuxedo with a crisp white shirt and a sleek black bow tie, so unlike how he used to dress when she knew him that for a second she wasn't really sure it was him. But it couldn't be anyone else—Peter McArthur, her ex-boyfriend.

"Peter." She nodded calmly, pretending meeting him here, of all places, didn't throw her in the least. He was accompanied by two other men, one a few years older at the most and the other pushing sixty.

"What have you done to your hair?" He asked, giving her a critical look that would've hurt her back when they were at AFIT together.

"I could ask you the same question, but then again, I know how hair dye works," she replied, unperturbed.

He cocked his head, apparently surprised at her unfazed response. "What are you doing here?" He asked, the familiar undertone of judgment clearly audible in his voice. He never had any confidence in her abilities.

"I suppose the same as you." She raised one eyebrow. "I was invited."

He huffed. "I didn't know you were still in the game." He smiled crookedly. "I haven't seen any new papers of yours since you left AFIT."

"You must not have been looking very well, then," she answered coolly. "Aren't you going to introduce me to your colleagues?"

The chastising tone of her remark apparently confounded him, because he did what she asked immediately. "This is Major Alec Throughton and Doctor Edmundo Perez. Gentlemen, Alice Boyd, we used to date."

Alice restrained an eye-roll and shook hands with the two men. "It was a long time ago," she said, her voice clipped.

But Peter seemed to regain his countenance. He smirked and gave her another once-over. "You look good, the hair notwithstanding."

"Gee, thanks." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, striving for patience, and decided to redirect his attention elsewhere. He used to love talking about himself, so why not let him? "How have you been, Peter? What are you working on these days?"

"Me, Major Throughton and Doctor Perez are working on Advanced Radar Systems," he answered proudly. "We've just had a big breakthrough related to target discrimination capabilities and radar sensitivity. Our work will revolutionize missile defense of this country."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," Major Throughton interjected. "It remains to be seen how far our breakthrough will get us in terms of real-life capabilities improvement."

"Don't bring down the boy, Alec," Perez castigated. "Let him enjoy the success."

"Congratulations," Alice said, wondering how much of the success was really thanks to Peter—he's always been good at taking credit for things he had only a partial role in. He beamed with self-importance, his ego pleasantly stroked. "So you've been at Wright-Patterson all this time?"

"No, we're at Eglin in Florida. I love the weather, and the people are much cooler than the Ohio stiffs." Peter winked at her. "And the women, woohoo, you wouldn't believe!"

She couldn't restrain the eye-roll this time. "I'm glad you're happy." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and it threw him a little, but before he could figure out a comeback, Major Throughton intervened.

"What's your area of research?" He asked, sending Peter a look that betrayed a certain level of exasperation.

"My PhD was in Computer Engineering with specialization on Artificial Intelligence and Machine Learning, but honestly I do a variety of things. My latest article in the PRL was about quantum information transfer."

Throughton whistled. "From Computer Engineering to Quantum Mechanics? That's quite a leap."

Alice smiled sweetly, aware how her words were affecting Peter. "I have a very wide range of interests when it comes to research."

"I think focusing on one area of study makes much more sense," he opined petulantly. "You'll never become a real scientist if you jump from subject to subject."

"When was the last time you published in the PRL, Captain?" Throughton asked, his eyebrows raised.

"You're too hard on the boy, Alec," Perez interjected again. "He's done a really good job so far, you can't deny that."

"I don't, Doctor," the major acknowledged. "But he tends to allow his ego get the better of him."

"It's good for a man to know his own value," the older man declared.

Peter, looking encouraged, smirked again. "And I do know mine. Besides, what's the point of all this intelligence if you can't enjoy the perks, right?" He leaned in towards her slightly. "You've always been too serious, sweetheart. Lighten up a bit. You could use some fun in your life."

Her temper rose as she recognized the condescending tone he'd always used with her when they were dating. It hadn't started that way, of course—at first he had been quite charming, though always cocky and egotistical. She had been taken with his confidence, and he had known how to make her feel special—he had never spared her compliments or terms of endearment, and it had been nice at the beginning. It had taken some time for her to realize how deceptive his slick words had been, how critical his looks and how condescending his pet names. And then when she had started protesting, he would tell her she was being oversensitive, or that it was all in her head—and for a while, that had worked, too, especially since he hadn't been shy to tag on an I love you into the conversation. Eventually, she'd seen through his games and ended the relationship, but it had been quite a frustrating few weeks.

"Look around, darling—you've never been in a place like this, take it in and enjoy," he continued now, his confidence rising as she kept silent. "It's unlikely it will happen again, so carpe diem."

He looked pretty pleased with himself for this little diatribe; Throughton was shaking his head infinitesimally, but Perez kept nodding encouragingly. Alice waited until he was done before she spoke.

"Actually, I've been to the White House a couple times before." She affected nonchalance, but Peter's frown of resentment gave her some satisfaction. "Though never in the Residence, just the West Wing."

"Yeah, right." His tone suggested what she said was so preposterous, it couldn't be believed. "I'd like to see why a lowly captain would need to go to the West Wing of the White House!"

She cocked her head to the side. "I'm a major, Peter," she told him softly, knowing that piece of information would devastate him.

"No way. You're younger than me, so you can't be!" He protested with vivacity.

"And yet."

"Peter's thirty-two, if you're really younger than him, then even I'm surprised that you're already a major," Throughton admitted, taking his colleague's side for the first time in the conversation.

"I joined in earlier than most," Alice explained. "I was only twenty and did OTS, so I've been in the service for almost eleven years now. But I passed the board in March last year—it was slightly delayed because of the investigation into General Bennet and then I was on convalescent leave, so only got the oak leaf in June."

"Yeah, I remember that pitiful affair," Throughton said, but he seemed even more perplexed now. "Still, this is quite impressive. You must be a real go-getter. How on Earth did you manage to get a college degree by the age of twenty?"

Alice shrugged nonchalantly, noting Peter's grumpy expression with not a small amount of perverted pleasure. "I was an early entrant. Started at fifteen. I would've joined up even earlier, but my last semester I went to France for student exchange, and you can only do one major that way, so I had to finish the other one when I got back."

"Wow." He shook his head. "You're something else, aren't you?"

"Oh yes, she is," a new voice proclaimed from their left and they all turned to see who it was—though they all must have recognized the voice; Alice surely did. Peter's face turned white and then purple, Throughton's eyes widened in surprise, and only Perez looked quite unmoved.

"Mr. President," Alice said, nodding respectfully.

"Major Boyd, I am so glad you could make it!" He replied, shaking her hand. "I was so sorry that I couldn't present the Airman's Medal to you personally—it's been quite a busy time."

Alice studiously didn't look at Peter, but out of the corner of her eye she saw him grow even redder in the face. "Of course, sir, I understand perfectly well. I am very grateful for this invitation—it's quite a fancy affair."

"I want to make it an annual thing," he told her jovially. "There's some people I think you should meet—I was just talking to Brendan McGann, he professed an interest in making your acquaintance."

McGann was last year's Nobel Prize laureate in Physics, Alice knew, and his specialty was Quantum Mechanics. The only reason he might want to talk to her would be if he read her article in the Physical Review Letters.

"I would be honored, sir," she replied, because it was the only way she could.

"Fantastic. Let me introduce you, then." He made an inviting gesture towards the middle of the room.

Alice looked around at Peter, Throughton and Perez and nodded at them. "If you excuse me, gentlemen," she said lightly and turned back to follow the President, knowing the look on Peter's face—as if he was about to suffer from an attack of apoplexy—was going to be a source of great pleasure for her for days to come, each time the memory passed through her mind.

The boom and the screech of metal getting crushed was deafening. Pushing on the break as far as it would go, Alice managed to stop just before she hit the trailer in front of her—but then someone rammed into her from behind and her car jerked forward, driving into the semi. Fortunately, the force of the crash wasn't too big—the airbags didn't even deploy, though the lurch forward made the seatbelt bite painfully into Alice's chest.

She shook her head to clear it, but her ears were ringing. She grabbed her phone, unbuckled herself and got out of the car to assess the situation.

The semi took up almost all of the width of the intersection, crushing the Toyota into a lamppost—the small car looked almost wrapped around it. Alice's Cadillac made contact with the rear end of the truck and the Ford that rammed into her veered a little to the right, but was still linked to her Caddy. The only other person who made it out of their car so far was the truck driver, and he stood leaning on the cab, his eyes huge and his face white as a sheet.

"Call 911," she called to him and ran towards the Toyota. Clearly, it got the worst of it. The heap of metal didn't even look like a car anymore—but it also meant the side windows have shattered, so, after climbing onto the truck's hood, she was able to look inside. The driver was a woman—she was sitting up, but slanted to the side, only held in place by the seatbelt. Even in the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the light of the lamp above them, Alice could see there was a lot of blood, but, she ascertained by sticking her hand in and checking her vitals, the driver was still alive. There was no way Alice could pull her out, though, and trying to do so could only make her condition worse, especially if there was any spinal injury.

She slid down from the hood, turned around and saw that the trucker was still standing there, his eyes large.

"I didn't…" he said, his voice rough and shaking. "I didn't see it…"

She rolled her eyes; clearly, he didn't do what she asked. She pulled her phone form the pocket where she'd put it and dialed while walking towards the Ford.

"911, what's the location of your emergency?" A female voice asked as the connection was established.

"I'm at the intersection of East Platte Avenue and North Circle Drive," Alice replied. "There has been a four-car collision, we have at least one serious injury, female, looks to be about forty, unconscious but breathing—there's a lot of blood, though, and she's trapped in, can't get her out. Sir, don't move," she told the Ford driver as she looked into the car. He was conscious, but his head was bleeding and he seemed confused, trying to get his seat unbuckled.

"Rescue is on the way," the 911 operator said. "What's the condition of other victims?"

"Sir, calm down and don't move, the paramedics are on the way, they'll help you out," Alice told the man first, and then addressed the operator: "One driver seems to have had a head injury, he's conscious but disoriented. Doesn't look like any airbags deployed. The last driver looks okay, but shaken, possibly in shock—he's out of the truck and talking, though. Don't move, sir," she admonished again.

"You said it was a four-car collision—were you the fourth driver, ma'am?"

"Yeah, but I'm fine," Alice confirmed. "I managed to break in time, got rear-ended but without much force."

"Is anyone else in need of immediate medical attention?"

"No, just the woman in the crushed Toyota and this guy in the Ford." Alice put her hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving so much.

"I don't… Where am I? What happened?" He asked, as if he was just now realizing that something bad occurred.

"You've been in an accident, sir. Don't move, the paramedics are on their way, they will take care of you. It's best if you just stay as still as possible," Alice told him.

"Are there any hazards at the scene, such as leaking fluids or downed power lines?" The 911 operator asked.

"Not that I can see," Alice replied, taking another look at the intersection. "The semi ran a red light and ploughed into the Toyota that was driving in front of me. It rammed it into a lamppost, it looks rather bad. Hey!" She called to the truck driver. He looked at her, still visibly spooked. "Can you back your truck up? Make way for the rescue to get to her!"

"Please exercise extreme caution when moving any vehicles involved in the accident. The rescue team will be there shortly to assist with the necessary measures," the operator warned.

"This guy's useless anyway," Alice huffed because the driver only shook his head and stepped back. "I'll see if I can do it."

"Ma'am, if you're unfamiliar with that type of vehicle—"

"Relax, I haven't met a machine I couldn't operate yet," Alice cut her off, walking towards the semi. "Get out of the way—stand over there, try not to let that driver move too much!" Alice told the trucker and he eagerly stepped away while Alice wrenched the door open and climbed into the cab of the semi. It didn't look that much different than a normal car with manual gear. She sat down, looked into the mirrors to ascertain the situation better—it was still pretty dark, even with the powerful lamplight from each corner of the intersection—turned on the engine and started backing up, very slowly. She heard the screech of metal as the trailer brushed against Alice's Cadillac. It made her grimace, but she didn't stop—the most important thing was that the movement didn't push the Ford any further; her own car was a goner, anyway. "Okay, we're alright," she said loudly so that the 911 operator could hear her; she had deposited the phone on the dashboard as she'd come in. Then she shut off the engine, grabbed the phone and got out of the cab.

"That's good," the operator said, a tiny undertone of censure in her voice. "Can you get to the injured victim now?"

Alice didn't reply immediately. Instead she walked up to the pile of metal that had been the Toyota and tried to wrench the door open. "No, it's jammed," she panted after a moment of struggle. "I can get through the window, but I don't want to move her in case of spinal injury," she added, retaking the woman's pulse. "Heartbeat is weak and thready, but still there."

"Good, the fire and rescue should be there any moment," the operator advised.

"Yeah, I can hear the sirens now," Alice confirmed. "Thanks for your help."

"You're welcome, ma'am. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name?"

"Alice, Alice Boyd," she replied. "They're here—I'm gonna hung up now."

"Okay, thank you, Alice."

The line went silent and Alice put the phone back into her pocket, waving at the firefighters spilling out of the engine. The one at the front had a red helmet instead of yellow, like the rest, from which Alice deduced he must have been the captain.

"Over there—there is a woman trapped in there, the door is jammed," she called to him when he was still some distance away.

"Saws and jaws, gentlemen!" He yelled to his men. "Frankie, Jorge, check in on the other cars!" He then jogged towards Alice and the Toyota. "Is she still alive?"

"Yes, but she needs urgent help," Alice replied, stepping away to let them work. She watched as they brought out a set of heavy-duty tools, rammed it between the car frame and door and it began spreading, forcing the door open inch by inch until something gave in and it swung open. A paramedic then got to work on the driver while the other firefighters readied a backboard.

"How are you doing, ma'am?" Someone asked her.

"I'm fine," she replied, turning around, and then frowned. "I know you…"

"Alice?" He asked, his eyebrows going up. He had a handsome face with a square jaw and dark blonde hair, but seeing him in all the protective gear gave her a pause. It took only a second, though, and then she connected the dots.

"Mike?" She couldn't help but laugh. "Well, well, that's not how I imagined our first meeting…"

He grinned. "Me neither, but in this job, one gets used to strange happenings."

"Tell me about it," she agreed, thinking about all the wacky coincidences that happened over the last year since she was back from Atlantis—like meeting Peter at a Science Gala in the White House or getting drugs from major Tarrick in a nightclub she happened to go to with Deanna. Not to mention terrorists on a plane.

"But seriously, are you alright? Experiencing any pain or confusion?" He shined a light into her face and she had to squint.

"No, I'm fine, I didn't get hit with much force." She shook her head and looked around at the woman the paramedics have just pulled out of the Toyota.

"She'll be alright," he reassured her. "It looks worse than it is—thankfully he hit her from the passenger side, though that lamppost didn't make it better."

Alice nodded and turned to look at her Cadillac. "I just bought it two months ago," she sighed.

"You were very lucky," he said. "You should go to a hospital, get checked out just to make sure everything's alright."

She smiled condescendingly. "I told you I'm alright—trust me, I can tell when something's wrong. Not my first rodeo."

"Have been in many accidents, haven't you?" He asked mockingly.

"It's about quality, not quantity," she told him with a smirk, thinking about the 302 crashing into Carl Vinson. She then noticed a police officer waving her over. "I think I gotta go give a statement."

He turned around to look. "Seems like it." Then he faced her again. "I thought you were in Washington."

"That was yesterday." She smiled. "Don't worry, I wasn't blowing you off. We're still on for tomorrow afternoon, right?"

"I'm looking forward to it." He winked at her. "See you."

"See you." She nodded and walked away towards the police officer, knowing he lingered to look.

"I was impressed with how cool you acted yesterday," Mike told her as they took a seat at a tall table; the coffee shop was apparently discouraging people from lingering too long that way. "Even if you've been in a car accident before—well, I wouldn't expect such calm and collected approach from a civilian."

She smirked. "That's because I'm not—but you are," she told him and watched his eyebrows travel up his forehead as she sipped her Americano. "I'm in the Air Force," she explained after a moment.

"Whoa." He whistled. "I wouldn't peg you for one of those people."

She huffed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, you know—you folks drive through the city like you own it," he complained. "And anytime there's an issue, you wanna swoop in and meddle, and the Fire Department be damned."

Alice cocked her head to the side. "Meddle how?"

"Just last week there was a crash on North Powers Boulevard, involving a civilian and one of your guys. We come in to do what we do, and five minutes later there's a super-important officer this or that getting into it, trying to tell us how to do our job!" His voice was quite heated and Alice understood it really bothered him.

She sighed. "Yeah, sometimes it's not that easy to determine jurisdiction, especially if the service member was driving for duty-related purposes. And of course no one wants the military to be cast in the wrong light, so there's almost always some sort of follow-up or intervention to ensure that the optics of the accident are clear." She shrugged. "Though of course such behavior like you describe is unacceptable."

"Yeah, well, you should tell it to that guy." He shook his head. "Pompous ass." Then he seemed to remember that he was on a date and added: "Of course, you're not like that."

She snickered. "I would hope not. Out of curiosity, did you catch the name of the pompous ass?"

"Nah, Lieutenant this-or-that." He took a sip of his Macchiato. "I was more focused on trying to pull his guy from inside his car." He then eyed her curiously. "You haven't heard of that incident, have you? I wonder how far such things are discussed at a military base."

"If it was on North Powers Boulevard, it was probably people from Peterson," she said. "It's a large base and I'm only there occasionally."

He raised his eyebrow. "So what do you do for the Air Force, actually?"

"I work with satellites," she lied. "And I do a lot of science or engineering based research."

"Sounds mysterious," he noted. "And rather vague. What exactly does that mean?"

"Well, I write cognitive machine learning sub-routines for satellite programming," she specified, though of course that was also a lie. "My main area of research is AI, though I've touched upon quantum mechanics recently, as well, just for fun." She grinned.

"Quantum mechanics for fun," he repeated, snickering. "Sure." He fell silent for a second and then asked pensively: "You know, I think I've heard the exact same phrase before—cognitive machine learning sub-routines for satellites. And I've had this feeling since the first time I've seen your photos on Tinder—like I've seen you before. Have we met? Maybe at that previous car crash of yours?"

"I've never been in a car crash before yesterday," she contradicted. "Think bigger."

"What?"

She sighed. "Nevermind. Anyway, no, I'm pretty sure we've never met—but you probably saw me on TV. A few months ago, during the trial of one of the BA 218 hijackers."

He opened his eyes wide. "Right! Of course! It was you! The BA 218 hero!" He shook his head and whistled again. "Wow. That was something else!"

She shrugged. "Honestly, it was just a Saturday to me."

"You take on dangerous terrorists every week, then?" He asked mockingly.

"I don't know if that's how I'd characterize these guys," she said. "And no, of course not. Like I told you, I work with satellites."

"Yeah, but that's bullshit, isn't it? I mean I remember the talking heads saying it was a cover story, that you were clearly involved with something a lot more dicey—what was it…?"

She merely smiled. "Whatever it is, I can't comment on that."

"As I said, mysterious." He grinned. "I like that."

Alice barely restrained an eye-roll. "Oh, goody."

"You know, you're different from what I expected," he added. "From your photos it seemed like you'd be a fragile little thing, you're so small and slender. But it turns out you're a regular badass!"

"I try," she quipped and was rewarded with a chuckle.

"Well, I love it," he declared. "All that strong, independent woman thing—it's very hot."

She shook her head, amused. "You didn't get that from our chat conversation? Is my strength only predicated upon the ability to take down hijackers on a plane?"

"Nah—but it helps." He winked. "The convo told me you were cool, and coolness is an important quality to have, too. Though I still say classic rock trumps punk."

"Oh, how wrong you are!" She affected a big sigh. "You're lucky that you're cute."

He smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "So there's a chance for a second date?"

"Maybe," she allowed. "But you haven't told me a lot about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"What made you want to become a firefighter?"

"Hmpf." He thought for a moment. "I guess every little boy wants to be a firefighter at some point of his life. I'm just particularly stubborn!"

She snorted. "And seriously?"

"Seriously, I like that I get to be a badass but still help people," he replied, finally sounding genuine. "I walk into fires and repel down walls and all that, and at the end I get to see a person who'd otherwise die walk away, or at least be driven away into the hospital. And sometimes I get to rescue cats from very tall trees," he added jokingly.

She nodded with a smile. "That does sound pretty cool. I kinda wish my brother chose this instead of the police."

"Your brother is a police officer? Here, in the Springs?" He asked curiously.

"No, L.A. That's where we're from. Jake was in the Marine Corps until recently—well, he's still in the Reserves—and he was looking for something to do in the civilian world and decided on the Police Academy. He just started in July."

"And you didn't want him to?"

"I'm not very fond of the police in this country," she said euphemistically. "But I'm trying to be a supportive little sister."

"We cooperate with the cops a lot," he noted. "Most of them aren't bad guys. It's just—"

"A few bad apples, I know." She shook her head. "Except it's not. The whole system is rotten through. Jake says it's never gonna change unless we change it from the inside, but I'm not sure about that."

"So, what, you think we don't need the police?"

"I think we don't need a civilian military," she clarified. "The police departments are armed like infantry, and some of their armored vehicles are more like tanks. They have sweeping powers and authority, and jurisdiction in cases where social workers or mental health service providers would be better suited to provide relief or help." She shook her head. "My brother is a good man, and I know he wouldn't just stand by while his colleagues beat on a man lying on the ground, but I worry what might happen if he tries to stand up to the whole department that firmly believes in blue protects blue."

"Damn, you really thought it through."

She nodded, but didn't respond because her phone vibrated. She looked at it an sighed. "Sorry, I'm gonna have to cut it short. Gotta go to work."

He seemed taken aback. "Right now? It's Sunday—aren't you off duty?"

"I'm never off duty," she quipped, getting up. "Just not on shift. But sometimes things happen and I have to go back."

He stood up, as well. "Bummer. It was a very interesting conversation."

She nodded. "We should finish it another day," she agreed with a smirk.

He beamed. "Yeah, absolutely. How about dinner tomorrow?"

"I gotta see what this thing is about and how long it's gonna take," she tempered his enthusiasm. "I'll text you."

He seemed a little disappointed. "Sure. I'll hold you to that."

"One thing about me, Mike—I keep my promises." She climbed on the balls of her feet and gave him a kiss on the cheek. It was chaste, maybe even prudish, but it succeeded at mollifying him. "See you."

"Good luck with your sub-routines," he quipped, a hundred-watt smile back on his lips. Alice snickered and walked away, feeling lighter than she had in a long time.