Chapter 5, part 1.

She got up late the next morning, having spent half the night laying awake, replaying the events of the evening over and over in her head, wondering what her next step should be; and then when she did fall asleep, she found herself in another nightmare that had her wake up in sweat and panic in the wee hours of the morning. It took her a long time to calm down enough to fade back into sleep—the room was already bright with the light of day when she finally did.

"You finally actually slept in," her mom commented after Alice came down to eat something, showered and dressed already. She didn't respond but allowed mom to prepare a big brunch, and told her about the reunion—or rather those parts of it she deemed safe enough to discuss with Eileen. Then she went back upstairs to pack her little carryon luggage and was at the top of the stairs, about to go down, when there was a knock on the front door. Mom opened up, and Alice heard the familiar bass float into the house.

"Good morning, ma'am, is Alice Boyd in?"

She felt the old anger flare up in her, and she worked hard to quell it as she descended the stairs.

"Allie, there's someone here for you!" Mom called, taking a step back to let Alden in. He closed the door behind him before Alice managed to get there.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded coldly, planting her luggage next to the door and standing with her arms crossed on her chest.

"Stephen Foster gave me your address," he explained; he looked embarrassed, almost sheepish.

Alice huffed, but then turned around to her mom and asked: "Mom, will you give us a second, please?"

"Of course, honey; I'll be in my studio." Eileen threw a curious look at Alden and then bustled away. Alice waited until she heard the door close.

"What do you want, Mr. Stack?"

"To apologize." He sighed deeply. "My behavior yesterday was… beyond the pale. I was drunk and it seemed harmless to boast a little about what I knew—and when you intervened, I was furious. I should never have accosted you like that. I am sorry."

She snorted. "Is that the only thing what you're sorry about?" She shook her head. "I am a big girl, Mr. Stack, and I can handle a couple shouted insults. I appreciate your apology, but that's not what you should be worrying about."

He nodded solemnly. "I realize that now, but I was drunk and…"

"If you can't keep your mouth shut when you're drunk—" she interrupted him coldly "—then perhaps you shouldn't be drinking in public."

He looked displeased at her putting it this way, but he seemed to swallow a retort. "Perhaps you are right." He paused for just a moment, looking at her calculatingly. "But I am prepared to make… reparations for my behavior. I'm sure we can come to an agreement."

The anger that she had managed to keep in check until then suddenly burst out again. "Are you offering me a bribe?!"

"That's a very inelegant way of putting it." He shrugged. "I'd like to think of it as an exchange—you do me a favor and forget what happened, and I'll see to it that you're well compensated. I'm a very wealthy man, Ms. Boyd."

"It's Major Boyd," she corrected him, her tone freezing cold. "I have near perfect recollection, sir, and you do not have enough money to buy my silence. In fact, until now I had not decided whether I was going to report you—you just ruined your chances."

"Major, please, be reasonable—"

"I am being reasonable," she cut him off again. "And you should understand that what you did was no little slip-up. I am going to report it, and if you don't end up in jail for high treason, it'll only be because no civilian court could be involved in this without revealing more classified information. Your company will suffer the effects of your indiscretion, though, and I have to wonder if you will still be the CFO after the Board of Directors sees all of your government contracts pulled."

"Now, Major—" he began again, but Alice shook her head.

"That's all I have to say to you, Mr. Stack. Please leave my house now."

"Five million dollars," he blurted out quickly, before she could interrupt again. "That's gotta be worth more to you than a few ill-chosen words!"

She laughed mirthlessly. "If you offered me fifty, I would still not budge—and you know why?" She didn't wait for his reaction, but went on: "Because these things matter. If the information is classified, it's always for a good reason. Lives depend on it—civilian and military alike. More often than not my life might depend on how well classified information is protected. And just because you think you're above it all because you're rich—" She stopped and shook her head. "You can't buy me, sir. You had your chance. If you had come here, apologized and promised never, ever to slip again—maybe I'd refrain from reporting you. But now, there is no chance." She walked purposefully to the door and held it open. "Goodbye, Mr. Stack. It's time for you to leave."

He didn't move from his spot. "Major, you do not want me as an enemy."

She narrowed her eyes into little slits, looking at him with such condensed contempt she wondered why he hadn't run away yet. "First bribery and then threats?" She shook her head. "Pathetic."

"Please, Major…" His tone turned pleading.

"Leave, now." She pointed out the door. "I have a plane to catch."

"There's nothing I can say?"

"No."

He puffed, hesitated, and then walked out without another word. Alice shut the door behind him and stood, rooted to the spot for a long moment, working on calming her heart that beat so hard it was almost like it wanted to get out of her chest. Only when she was sure she got it to a normal rhythm—and that her voice wouldn't tremble with rage anymore—she went back to say goodbye to her mom and left for the airport.

"So what's gonna happen to him now?" Morgan asked eagerly. It was a couple days later, they sat at a table in the commissary and were eating lunch. Alice would have preferred to eat alone, but she made an effort to be sociable—she thought it was important fore the team morale. She just finished telling them about the reunion and Alden Stack's indiscretion.

"Less than I'd hoped," Alice admitted. "As I expected, they won't charge him with anything—better to keep our affairs out of civilian courts. He won't even get fired, it would be too suspicious, and the MSST is keeping its government contracts, but they have to pay huge damages due to breach of contract, which means we're getting our next 304 essentially for free—well, at least the part fabricated by MSST, meaning hull plating. That's not nothing."

Watson shook his head. "If you ask me, he should be put in a dark, dank dungeon for a while, it would put him right off blabbering about state secrets."

The sergeant's words made Alice flash back to Jareth's castle for a fraction of a second; she covered with a pale smile. "I do not disagree, but that decision is not ours to make, I'm afraid. Either way, I doubt he'll be so cavalier in the future."

"And the journalist?" Morgan pressed, curiosity ringing in his voice. "We gonna stop her from investigating this or something?"

"There's no saying what she's gonna do." Alice shrugged. "She might not do anything—I did downplay the entire thing, after all, hopefully she bought it. And if not—there's not much we can do, anyway."

"Can't we, like, hack her phone or something to see what she's doing?"

Alice chuckled. "That would be quite illegal, Airman." She paused for a moment, and then continued: "I guess the only lawful way of stopping her, if she were to investigate and publish a story, would be either to negotiate with her the way we did with Julia Donovan, or get a court injunction—but again, it's better to keep our affairs out of public courthouse."

"So I guess we're just gonna wait and see," Watson declared and Alice nodded.

"I guess so."

They focused on eating for a moment, and then Watson spoke up again.

"So, Major, any scoop on when are we going offworld again?"

"Probably tomorrow. We have a briefing set up for eight hundred hours. Why?"

"I was wondering if it would be okay if I left a bit early today?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but Alice saw it was important for him. "My daughter is turning five today," he explained.

Alice's smile was—for once—genuine. "Sure, Sergeant. Not a problem."

He nodded gratefully. "Thanks, ma'am."

"Doing anything special for her?"

"We're gonna go to an animal shelter and pick out a cat." He rolled his eyes. "I'm not a cat guy, but we did that with my son when he was five—except it was a dog. Lucy is adamant about a cat, though."

"Good for her," Alice laughed. "Cats are great, and much lower maintenance than dogs."

"I guess." He shrugged.

Alice smirked, and then caught a movement by the corner of her eye. She turned that way and smiled. "Colonel!" She half-rose before Carter waved her down, repeating the gesture a second later for Morgan and Watson.

"Hi," she greeted them. "Sorry to interrupt your meal—can I have a word with you, Major?"

"Of course, ma'am." Alice raised her eyebrows, rose and followed Carter our of the room and into the corridor.

"I'm leaving on the Hammond, for the last time as its captain," the colonel told Alice after making sure they were alone. "I'm taking Reynolds with me to show him around, we'll be back in about three weeks, at which point they're planning my pin-on ceremony—that'll be July sixteenth. I wanted to invite you to the event—would you consider coming?"

Alice looked at her, taken aback. "Why, of course, ma'am, it'll be an honor and a pleasure!"

Carter grinned. "The pleasure is mine. I figured you invited me to yours, I'll return the favor."

Alice instantly felt mortified. "Oh, no, ma'am, please don't feel obligated to—I mean, I had invited you because I consider you a mentor, but I would hate for you to think that—" She floundered.

"Relax, Major," Carter laughed. "I want you there. I'm flattered that you think of me as a mentor—I admit I have thought of you as my mentee, too, as well as a close colleague and a friend."

Alice blinked very fast, blindsided by the declaration. Colonel Carter considered her a friend? Alice could count people she thought of as friends on the fingers of her hands—she reserved that term for people she was really close to, though she knew most people had a broader definition; even so, it pleasantly stroked her ego to be called that by the woman she admired so much.

"Wow, thank you," she managed stupidly, an elated smile on her lips. "I'll be there, ma'am."

"Good." Carter nodded. "Then I'll see you there."

"Yes, ma'am. Have a good flight."

U promised me we'd hang.

The text was brief and devoid of emojis—which usually accompanied all of Dee's messages. Alice knew her long enough to understand the subtle differences in the way she texted—like the fact that a period at the end of a sentence indicated high disapproval. It was a bit weird—and funny—to Alice, who knew nothing of the texting etiquette Deanna seemed to follow so religiously.

The clock said it was almost eight in the evening, and Alice had been at work since seven in the morning. She wasn't very keen on going back home—work was such an excellent distraction—but Dee was right; she did promise to hang out with her. Alice sighed and texted her roommate back.

I'll be home soon.

Still, she didn't really hurry; she finished her notes, put everything she had been working on during the day away into the cabinets lining up the wall, erased the whiteboard—all secretly hoping that there'd be an alarm and she'd get to stay in the base. No such luck, though; she left without being bothered and twenty minutes later she was entering her house.

The TV was on in the living room, so Alice stuck her head in to say hi to Deanna.

"You took your sweet time," the girl complained from the couch, sprawled on it in all of her tall glory, head leaning on one end and feet hanging from the other.

"Well, I work for a living," Alice snapped, but then checked herself. "Sorry. I had to clear my lab before leaving for the weekend. Clean desk policy and all that."

"Well, you're gonna pay for that, you know." Deanna grinned, belying her menacing words. "I have the entire weekend planned out for us."

Alice rolled her eyes. "I wonder if there's still time to escape."

"I have longer legs, I'd catch you!" Dee laughed.

Alice raised her eyebrows. "I seriously doubt that."

"Oh, you doubt that?" The girl finally scrambled up from the couch. "Wanna bet?"

Now it was Alice's time to laugh. "Sure, why not. You wanna race?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Let me change and I'll see you outside in five!" Alice promised and Deanna nodded enthusiastically.

A few minutes later, Alice descended the staircase, dressed in sports leggings and a short top, with black sweatbands to match. Deanna, on the other hand, was wearing a glaringly red tracksuit, her cornrows pulled into a thick ponytail, looking more like a runway model than someone about to go for a run.

They both went outside into the warm evening. It had been a hot day—Alice didn't really experience it, hidden as she'd been in the underground base, but even now it was still mid-eighties. The mountain range was already consumed by twilight, the dark peaks contrasting with the bluish-orange glow of the sunset behind them. Below, on the other side, the electric lights of the city were competing with the natural occurrence, their glow over the valley almost as bright as that of the setting sun. A light breeze from the direction of the Rockies was bringing a breath of fresh air. It was a beautiful evening, and all of a sudden Alice was glad that she let herself be lured outside—barring the times when she was offworld, she was spending most of her time in the windowless base, and it wasn't until now that she realized that it was starting to get to her. She had been so used to her lab in the central tower of Atlantis, with the view of the ocean… it would be difficult to adjust to this new situation. Maybe spending time outside—running and hiking—was the answer; it seemed to help at least temporarily.

"So, what's the rules?" Deanna asked as they halted on the sidewalk, turning away from the nearby cul-de-sac and looking down the road. "How far we going?"

"From here to that intersection and back it'll be around half a mile," Alice said. "Let's say we turn back at the lamppost over there—" she pointed with her hand "—and the finish line is here." She tapped her foot on the ground.

"Alright, let's do this!" Deanna jogged in place, her face split in a grin. "I'mma beat yo ass, you know! I know you running every day, but you have such short legs!"

Alice smirked, but didn't reply, instead positioning herself at the invisible starting line. Deanna moved to join her.

"Alright, ready? Three… two… one… go!"

And they both started running. Deanna jumped on in ahead, rolling down the road at an impressive speed; but Alice was close behind, conserving her energy, a tactic that soon turned to be correct, for when they reached the halfway point and started going back up—and the terrain rose quite sharply there—Deanna started breathing really hard and soon Alice left her behind. She arrived at the finish line a good minute before her roommate.

"Damn, girl!" The younger woman panted, hands on her knees. "How'd you do that?! You ain't even breathing fast!"

Alice smiled condescendingly. "Well, first of all, Dee, you shouldn't spend all your energy running down the road if you have to turn around and go up next. It takes more effort, so you should've factored that in. And then—I do run every day, either on a treadmill or on this very road." She shrugged.

"Yeah, why do you do that?" Deanna shook her head. "I mean it's not like you need to lose weight or anything—if anything, you're too skinny."

Alice frowned. "I run because I have to stay in shape. It's a job requirement, for one, and also comes in very handy in tough situations." She laughed. "My brother calls it a tactical retreat—or, speaking plainly, when you have to haul ass to escape." She paused. "And it's also something that I've always done—I mean, my dad was a military guy, too, so physical activity has always been part of my life."

"It sounds so simple when you say it—but I can't quite imagine waking up at the crack of dawn to go for a run." Deanna was still shaking her head. "Though I could lose a few pounds!"

Alice rolled her eyes. "Are you crazy? You look like you've just walked off a runway—you have a perfect figure." Which was true—Deanna was the perfect hourglass, slim at the waist but with curvy bottom and chest. Alice wasn't really one to compare herself to other women, or to be jealous, but she knew her skinny and rather flat shape could not measure up.

Dee laughed happily. "Why, thanks! Still, I did gain a few pounds in the last few months and wanna lose them… Hey, maybe I actually should join you in your morning runs!"

Alice smirked. "You're welcome to, but remember that I get up at five-thirty in the morning to do so!"

"Well, maybe not all the time, but I'm gonna try!" Deanna decided and then chuckled. "But I'll start on Monday!" Then she reached out, grabbed Alice's hand and pulled her towards the house. "Come now, let's watch Fashion Star reruns and shove our mouths with Cheetos!"

Deanna wasn't kidding when she said she had the entire day planned out. From the moment she got up (which, admittedly, wasn't too early), she was proceeding with determination and a clear purpose. In the morning, she took Alice shopping—they spent hours walking from one boutique to another and browsing clothes, shoes, jewelry and cosmetics. Alice would've felt bored witless if not for Deanna's constant chattering; the girl's lighthearted positivity actually made the outing bearable; Alice even bought a few things, at Dee's urging. After lunch, Deanna dragged Alice to a beauty salon, where they got face masks, manicure and pedicure, and then Dee talked Alice into getting a new hairstyle—not to cut the already short strands, but only shape and layer it a little differently. The only thing Alice refused point-blank was a massage; she didn't feel comfortable enough to let a stranger touch her, especially that she still sometimes felt distant pangs of pain in her shoulder—and she had no desire to try to explain her various scars, either.

After the beauty salon, they went back home and Alice got a little breather—they actually ate a nice dinner together, and Alice hoped it would be the end of the day's activities, but she was badly wrong. After clearing the table, Deanna dragged Alice into her own room and presented her with a homemade dress—a bright red one, perfectly hugging Alice's frame; it went down to the middle of her thighs and had only one wide strap that hid her worst scars on her left shoulder perfectly. It also had asymmetrical cutouts—one at the level of the waist, going from the back around her left side to the middle of her belly, and another one starting in the center of the shoulder strap and widening at the chest to finish strategically a little lower, showing just enough skin to make Alice uncomfortable in it. Deanna didn't let her see herself in the mirror, though, until she applied some makeup and made Alice put on a pair of newly bought stilettos. With her new hairdo to complete the look, Alice hardly recognized her own reflection. Deanna told her to go wait downstairs (which wasn't that easy—the heels were higher than what Alice deemed safe) and came down herself half an hour later, wearing a dress of the exact same shade as Alice's, but with a lot more skin showing—the cleavage went all the way to Dee's midriff. She was wearing flats, though, perhaps in an effort to bring them closer together in height, since Alice's five-inch heels added about three inches to her overall height, cutting the difference between her and Deanna to about four inches. Even in flats, though, Deanna still looked like a runway model. This didn't bode well for Alice.

"Where are we going?" She asked, her voice morose, as they were leaving the house.

Deanna either didn't notice or ignored Alice's tone, because she replied lightly: "We're going dancing!"

Alice stopped in her tracks. "I don't dance."

"You will tonight," Deanna contradicted brightly, then looked at her roommate's face and added: "Listen, you told me once that didn't want to do things like you always used to do them—you didn't want to be the old you, I think were your exact words."

That was true. Alice nodded reluctantly.

"This fits the bill, then," Deanna stated authoritatively. "Tonight you're a party girl, and I expect you to act like it." She wagged her finger at Alice. "You can even whip that California gurrl accent I know you're hiding somewhere in there." She laughed.

Alice rolled her eyes and allowed herself to be dragged into a cab that just pulled in at the curb. Deanna babbled excitedly all the way to the club and while they were waiting in the line to be let in—rather shorter one than what Alice remembered seeing in L.A. at times. By the time they finally got in, a stamp on their hands, Alice's feet were already smarting in the unusually high heels.

The club was dark and stuffy; neons seemed to be the only sources of light. The music was incredibly loud and the dance floor completely packed, so that making their way to the bar took some doing. And then they stood there for approximately thirty seconds before some guy crept up and tried to buy them a drink. Deanna blew him off gently and got the drinks for them herself.

"Not that I'm opposed to free drinks," she shouted to Alice, trying to be heard over the music. "But in this situation they're not free—there are strings attached, and you gotta be sure who you wanna attach yourself to!"

Alice just shook her head, not even trying to respond; she knew from experience that her voice would jest get drowned in the noise.

After finishing their drinks, Deanna pulled Alice onto the dance floor, and wouldn't let her get off it for a few songs. She was having fun; but Alice's feet were hurting even more now, the loud music was making her head ache—and it was the kind of repetitive four on the floor beat that was so far removed from her own personal taste that it just frustrated her to even listen to. Eventually she managed to convey to Deanna—by a combination of yelling and hand gestures—that she needed the restroom. Dee nodded and they both got off the dance floor.

In the course of their search for the restrooms, they found that there was actually another part of the club—a smaller room, divided from the main one by a solid wall, where a number of sitting booths and standing tables were arranged, and the music was significantly lower in volume. There was also a second bar there, so after they got back from the restroom (which took forever, since the line seemed to contain half the capacity of the club), that's were Alice dragged Deanna. Dee was taller—and therefore better visible in between the crowd that swarmed the bar, so she went to get them drinks once again, while Alice stayed on the side. She observed the people around without real interest until her eyes fell onto a face that seemed somehow familiar… she racked her brain, trying to associate it with a name, but before she did, the man looked up directly at her and his expression changed into a deep frown. He was about a decade older than Alice, with dark hair and eyes, dressed in dark jeans, a button-up shirt open at the top and a blue blazer. He rose from his seat after a moment of intent staring and approached Alice.

"Do I know you?" He asked—and the sound of his voice unlocked the memory in Alice's brain.

"Major Tarrick?!" She blurted out, a little shocked to find this man here of all places.

He cocked his head and smirked. "Major, huh, so I must've known you from the service. I know I've seen you before—but I can't place you."

"I'm not surprised, sir." She shook her head. "You were my CO for like four weeks, eight years ago. I was part of your squadron in that base in the middle of nowhere before I was pulled off for a different assignment."

His expression cleared. "Ah, yes, the volunteer thing. I remember. Well, I'm glad to see you in one piece. You still in the service?"

"Yes, sir, up in Peterson now."

He smirked again. "You can lose the sir—I got out some six years ago, moved back home."

"And home's here?" She waved around.

He nodded. "Yep, born and bred in the Springs. You been here long?"

"Just a few weeks, but it looks like I'm here to stay." She shrugged.

"Doing what? Last I checked, Peterson didn't have any Vipers garrisoned."

"I'm Space and Missiles now."

"Ah, that does make more sense. You got injured on the job or something that they reassigned you?"

"No, I'm just more useful here now." She smiled innocently. He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but she ignored it. "I wouldn't even be here—as in, in this club—if I hadn't been dragged here by my roommate." And she pointed to Deanna, who was standing at the bar, talking to a guy; both of them had drinks, and Dee didn't look like she was in a hurry to get Alice something.

Tarrick laughed. "She looks much more comfortable here than you are."

"And for a good reason. I'm not really a party girl. I'd rather go home, but I can't—I promised Dee I'd hang out with her, and I need to look after her anyway, see that she doesn't do anything stupid."

He huffed. "But that doesn't mean you're not allowed to have fun, too."

"This—" she twirled her finer around "—this is not my idea of fun. It's too loud, too crowded, the music's shit, and my feet hurt in these." And she stuck out one of her legs to indicate the stilettos.

Tarrick's eyes glossed over the shoes and then swept up appreciatively, all the way back to her face. "Well, perhaps you just don't have the right attitude," he suggested and then plunged his hand in his jeans pocket and brought out a tiny zip bag with a blue pill inside. "Try this, it'll make the whole experience a lot more fun."

She frowned. "What is this?"

"Just a little distraction, nothing bad."

"Ecstasy?" She almost choked on the word. Suddenly she felt very absurd; here she was, all dolled up, in a nightclub, talking to her former Commanding Officer whom she hasn't seen for eight years and who was right now offering her narcotics.

"It'll make you dance through the night. Trust me—you'll have fun and your roommate will be delighted. It's perfectly safe unless you take a crapload of it, or use it regularly. Just this one time won't hurt." His voice sounded very convincing, as if he had rehearsed the spiel, and Alice thought it wasn't the first time he was trying to persuade an unwilling customer.

"You're a dealer now?!" She instinctively lowered her voice, though Tarrick didn't seem to mind people overhearing their conversation—or seeing the pill in his hand.

"No, no, I'm just helping an old acquaintance to enjoy her night, that's all." He smiled slickly. "If you'll like it, you can always come back to me—I'm here most weekends. But if not, no pressure." And he extended his arm, palm up, the little bag laying in the center.

Alice opened her mouth to say no, so the words that came out were a surprise even for her.

"Okay. Sure, why not, let's try." And she snatched the baggie from his hand.

"Good for you!" He praised. "Now, let me get you a drink to wash it down with—it seems your roommate is not gonna do that anytime soon!"

A moment later he was back with a glass of whisky for himself and a tall mystery drink for her. She felt it was all wrong—taking a drug, allowing an essentially unknown man to bring her a drink, all of it—but there was a part of her that wanted to try it; it was the part that wondered how it would be to not think for a while, to not feel anything but the beat of the music, to forget all that's happened to her and instead just exist in the moment. And so she thanked Tarrick and swallowed the pill.

"It'll take about thirty, forty minutes to take effect," he warned her. "Have fun—I gotta get back to my table."

Alice nodded and watched him scamper back to a group of people he had been talking to before. She stayed put, watching Deanna getting cozy with the guy at the bar, and wondering what the hell did she just do. She had never done drugs—the closest she got was the morphine prescribed by doctors after her many injuries. Drugs were a big no-no in the military. If she were very unlucky, she could be selected for random testing—which she would fail, and that could entail disciplinary action. She could lose everything—her rank, her position in the Program, even be dismissed from service. Why would she do that? Why would she risk all of that—for what? A little distraction? A momentary relief? How could she have been so stupid? What was she thinking?

And yet, through the rising panic, she couldn't deny she was actually looking forward with excited impatience to the drug kicking in. In thirty minutes, those intrusive thoughts would be gone—all the thoughts would be gone, and bad memories with them. No more feeling of guilt, or sadness, or anger. Everything would become easy for a little while—and the expectation of the relief it would bring was more than she could overcome with rational thought.

And either way, it was done—the drug was already starting to affect her system, even if she didn't feel anything yet. There was no going back. Whatever happened next, she just had to face the music.