Rating: NC17

Spoilers: None

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.

E-mail: cmbower@ennorath.net Comments are always welcome

In the morning, McQueen flew the transport to the Toga, Vansen as his co-pilot. An hour after boarding and stowing their gear, the squad had taken over positions of coordination between different departments. In some cases, the majority of the department had died. Entire sections of the Saratoga still needed to be cleaned out before repair work could begin.

McQueen flew the transport between the Toga and the Colin Powell. At the end of the day, he ensured that he ended up on the Colin Powell. He ate before going to Sickbay.

Silver pushed her empty tray away. "Looks like it was a rough day."

"We cleared out four sections today. We had to try and identify the bodies. Some were just bits and pieces, but we think all the dog tags survived." McQueen sank down in the chair, leaning forward so that his arms and head rested on the bed.

"It'll get easier." She stroked his arm.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Just remember that each was a life."

McQueen sighed heavily. "The 'Toga is in bad shape. Ross decided that we'll seal sections one at a time so that the bodies can be taken care of in a timely manner."

"Sounds reasonable."

"And crews are trying to put doors on the remaining operational bays, all five of them. They are connected to the only working docking bay."

"Sounds like you have your work cut out for you."

"Quite." McQueen turned his head toward her. "Do you need Russell and the others to stop by tonight?"

"Tomorrow night will do."

"Good. I don't feel up to another flight. I really doubt I'll sleep at all tonight. It was pretty grisly work and tomorrow is more of the same. They'll be securing the dead to the outsides of the ships before any of the bodies will be consigned to the sun. The morgues are already full throughout the 6th Fleet."

"Any word on the Tenth?" Silver watched his jaw tighten as he closed his eyes. "Totally gone?"

"The Twelfth made it back with a third of its ships. Commodore Wilson said that the Chig Fleet, what was left of it, easily outnumbered what we faced. The Tenth never stood a chance. The only reason the Twelfth made it out was because Wilson expected to be ambushed."

"Let's hope we start getting some good breaks." Running her hand over his hair, she asked, "Have you eaten?"

"Yes."

"Go shower and come on back."

That night Silver held McQueen through the nightmares, soothing him and letting him sleep.

To McQueen's surprise, Hawkes was waiting for him outside Sickbay.

"Thought you might like the company, sir. I caught the last transport of the previous shift." Hawkes glanced down at the floor when his stomach growled. "Have you eaten yet, sir?"

"No, but if you want to go in and say hi, go ahead."

"Thank you, sir."

A few minutes later, the two Invitroes were striding through the halls.

When McQueen stepped aboard the transport he was going to fly, he received his second surprise. The entire 64th squadron, including their commanding officer, Lt. Colonel Ramsey, was aboard. Out of courtesy, McQueen motioned for Ramsey to join him in the cockpit.

"Thank you, Colonel. " Ramsey settled his stocky frame into the co-pilot's seat. "I thought perhaps we could be of service aboard the Toga. The squad is getting thoroughly bored."

"There's plenty to do," remarked McQueen, starting his pre-flight checks. He sensed Hawkes'' presence at the foot of the cockpit entrance. "As long as you don't mind doing cleanup, running errands and performing other so-called grunt work."

"I'll take anything that keeps them busy." Ramsey read off several of the items on the checklist for McQueen. He then sat quietly until McQueen had eased the transport out of the Colin Powell and set course for the Saratoga.

"I hear congratulations are in order, McQueen. That you and Col. Silver are-"

"Getting married? Yes." McQueen tried to keep the dryness out of his voice. Several curious people had approached him the previous day.

"Congratulations then."

"Thank you."

Ramsey rose and left the cockpit. Hawkes came up after a moment.

"Everything ok, sir?"

"Yes."

Every night, McQueen made it back to the Colin Powell to eat and sleep with Silver. The staff brought a second meal to her room, allowing him to eat in peace and quiet. A different member of the squad turned up every morning to accompany him back to the Saratoga.

Silver's release from Sickbay was left until she could be released to the Saratoga where she had quarters to sleep in. Dr. Connelly came back to the Powell to escort Silver.

McQueen flew Silver and Connelly back to the 'Toga. There Silver took over the task of composing death notifications from Ross, leaving him free to concentrate on his greater task.

When dinnertime had arrived and she had not seen Ross, Silver sent runners to find the commodore and escort him back to his office. She continued working until Ross appeared twenty minutes later, tired and irritable.

"What is it, Colonel?" He rubbed a weary hand over his haggard face.

"You need to eat, Commodore. After you've put your John Hancock on these notices." When he stiffened slightly, Silver added, "I tried to track someone down who knew each of them so that the notices aren't so impersonal. The families will appreciate it."

Ross nodded curtly. "Let's get it over with."

He signed the hundred notices that Silver placed before him with dispatch. By the time he finished nearly ten minutes later, his stomach was growling.

"I understand the galley is up and running at full power again, sir. Shall we go eat?" Silver rose stiffly.

"A good idea. I skipped lunch."

"You need to keep your strength up. Have you seen McQueen?"

"He was down in Starboard Docking Bay 1 a couple of hours ago."

Outside Ross' office, Silver turned to one of the Navy personnel she had been using as runners. "Track down Lt. Col. McQueen for me, please. Ask him to come to the Officer's Mess. He had been in Starboard Docking Bay 1. Then go eat and take two hours off."

"Yes, Colonel." The young woman snapped a salute and trotted off.

"I take it you'll be going back to work after we eat." Ross asked her.

"For an hour or so. Then I'll quit for the night. Dr. Connelly said it would be all right. As long as I don't overtire myself."

"McQueen would have my head if you overtire yourself."

"You're safe. I have no intention of overworking." As they entered the empty elevator, Silver said, "Don't overwork yourself, Glen. You need to rest and eat regularly too." The doors shut. "If you do, then the others will follow your example."

"Tired people make mistakes. I hear you, Lysa. I'll limit myself to only another three hours, then I'll go to bed, and I will try to sleep."

"If you really have trouble, Russell could give you a massage."

"Considering what happened the last time he gave Ty a massage, I think I'll pass."

Silver chuckled. "That doesn't usually happen. He really gives great massages. Taught him myself."

As the doors opened, Ross said quietly, "I'll think about it."

"That's all I could ask for."

They were both sitting down to their dinners of mystery meat posing as pork chops, over warmed vegetables and rock hard rolls when McQueen entered the mess. He nodded to Ross and Silver and quickly loaded up a tray with food.

Sitting down opposite Silver, McQueen said, "Sorry. Lost track of time. We were trying to finish the fifth door before quitting. It was being difficult." Tapping the roll, McQueen grimaced at the hardness and shoved it into the brown gravy to soak.

"Is the 64th flying the transports?"

McQueen nodded once to Silver. "They took over after I brought you aboard. I think some of them felt that manual labor was beneath them. Col. Ramsey rewarded the ones who had been working hard with the flying." He cut some meat and started eating.

Despite the staleness and general unpleasantness about the food's consistency, it was hot and there was more than enough for people to have seconds. The cooks' contribution to the rebuilding appeared to be keeping the troops fed hot food and plenty of it.

Ross, McQueen and Silver ate steadily and hungrily. Both men went back for seconds. Finished with his food, McQueen jumped up and refilled all three coffee mugs. Setting them on the table, he asked, "So how much longer are you working tonight, Glen?"

"Three hours. Then I'm going to try to sleep."

McQueen gave Silver a questioning look.

"No more than two hours. Then a hot shower and bed. I want to keep Dr. Connelly happy." She sipped her coffee.

"Good. I want you well as soon as possible." McQueen gave Silver a hard look. "You need to take care of yourself. Especially after this last episode."

"I intend to. Just remember to follow your own advice. The Chigs will come back and I want you alert enough to fight them off."

"I will. And I've already given the squad standing orders to work no longer than twelve hours straight and to sleep at least eight." McQueen sighed. "If the Chigs come back, I can only hope we have some way to get the fighters off this floating hulk." He gave Ross an apologetic glance. "Sorry, but at the moment, that's what she is. We're making progress, but it's going to take weeks to get her even barely serviceable."

"I know and don't apologize." Ross sighed. "I'm aiming to get her livable while repairs are going on. If we can get the majority of the hull put back on, we can build the internal structures afterward. Except for the stuff that has to be put in before, like the computer mainframe, missile racks, and a thousand other things. I want as many people working inside as possible. We just don't have the number of space suits available to make this really work." He shook his head. "They just never imagined trying to repair a ship this badly damaged."

"World War II. The Yorktown," remarked McQueen, loud enough that several people turned to look at him.

Silver nodded. "Yes indeed."

"The Yorktown went on to fight several more times despite being held together with spit and bailing wire."

"Don't forget the duct tape." Silver grinned.

"Did it exist back then?" Ross grinned back at her, then sobered. "If the Yorktown could do it, so can the Saratoga. She's not out of this war yet."

"Not by a long shot. After all, she does have the Navy's best crew aboard her," McQueen stated firmly.

Sitting up straight, Ross said, "That she does. And with the Marines' best pitching to help, there's no limit to what we can do." Ross saw heads nod and weary backs straighten. Lowering his voice, Ross said, "Morale boosting in the Officer's Mess. God, what a day."

Pushing her chair back, Silver rose. "Good night, sir. Another two hours' work and I'm off to my quarters. See you for breakfast?"

"Usual time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then yes, colonel. I would like the company." Ross glanced at McQueen. "And you?"

"Breakfast sounds good. I'll check on the squadron before calling it a night." McQueen rose and followed Silver out.

Shaking his head slightly, Ross stood up. "Listen up. I do not want people pulling double shifts. Working a couple of extra hours I will allow. I want an alert crew in case the Chigs return. I also want a ship that's been put together properly. Pass the word. I want everyone to take the time to eat and sleep regular hours. Exhaustion is as much our enemy as the Chigs. Do a good job and do it right the first time. Now I am going to follow my own orders. Another three hours and then I am quitting for the night. That is all. Good night."

Ross left the Officer's Mess, his still full coffee mug in his hands. He kept his word to Silver and retired to his quarters after supervising the work in the command center for three hours.

Outside the mess, Silver waited for McQueen. "Which?"

"Yours."

Silver chuckled, knowing he liked the fact that her quarters were nearly empty, giving him more room for interesting maneuvers.

"Meet you there."

"Soon." McQueen gave her a cautious nod and headed for his destination.

Silver made her way to the office she was using. After two hours the notices she had gathered information for during the day, were finished. With a sigh, she locked the door, ready for some quiet time and sleep.

Her quarters were still locked, but she knew McQueen was inside. Entering, she heard the shower and guessed he had beaten her only by minutes. His flight suit lay neatly folded on a chair, ready to be dropped off at the laundry. Under the chair stood his boots. In her closet she knew hung a clean flight suit from before the Chig attack.

She locked the door behind her and undressed quickly. "Room for another body?" she asked from the bathroom door.

"By all means."

McQueen pulled her to him under the hot pulsing spray, kissing her hungrily, letting her feel his need and desire for her. When he finally broke off the kiss, he still held her tight to him. "I've wanted to do that since I saw you in the landing bay. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, drinking in the smell of him, her arms wrapped around his chest as tightly as his hold was on her. Pressing her lips to his throat, Silver felt a tremble course through him.

"Lysa? Will you drink from me tonight?"

\There was a breathless quality to his voice that made her pull back and look him in the face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Hungry desire flared in his eyes.

"All right." She caressed his jaw. "But not a deep one. I've already fed. Finch and St. John stopped by during the day."

McQueen kissed her again. "Can we... I mean, is it all right if we-"

"Yes. As long as we aren't too energetic." She grinned at him.

Two hours later, Silver snuggled into McQueen's side on the bed, content. McQueen had taken his time, ensuring that they shared a mutual good time. She had timed her drinking just right, sinking her fangs in close to the point of his climax. Seconds later, McQueen had slid over the edge. A leisurely shower afterward and they had settled into bed.

From the relaxation of his body, Silver guessed that McQueen had already slipped into sleep. She ran a hand up from his thigh, over the smooth abdomen and to the muscled chest, enjoying the feel of his body.

"Trying for a third run tonight?" rumbled McQueen.

"No. Just enjoying the sensation of touching you."

"Hm. Well, if you keep that up, I'll have to take a cold shower."

"Like there's any hot water left?" Silver chuckled. "I think we used up both our rations for the day."

"So what? There's fewer people aboard than normal. And you're still recovering. You need a larger hot water ration for a while yet."

"Trying out arguments to rationalize it, are you? Better watch it. Someone might think you were losing the proper reverence for protocol."

"Losing it, nothing." McQueen snorted and slid an arm under her to hold her tight. "It's going to be hard sometimes to remember to keep my distance. Who am I kidding? It's hard now."

"We will both manage just fine. Military couples have been doing it for years."

"How many of them were tanks?" Bitterness tinged his voice.

Silver rose on an elbow and stared down into his face. "Don't you dare start that. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You are more than capable of dealing with both your emotions and your duty, probably better than a lot of so called natural borns. I fully expect you to voice your opinion if you think I'm wrong and I'll do my best not to make you feel bad for doing so. And I expect the same from you."

She took a deep breath. "This is a partnership we are entering into, Ty. Not a domination game. We both have roles to play and have to pull our own weight. We support each other, but shouldn't be afraid to voice disagreements."

"I can see what you're saying, Lysa. It's just that marriage hasn't been presented to me as a partnership. The various marriages I've seen, they continue to live their separate lives even after being married." McQueen pushed himself up until he sat against the wall. "Look at Glen and his family. He's out here in space ninety percent of the time. Rhonda stays back on Earth and raises the kids. They rarely see each other. How do they make it work? How do people who see each other every day for only a few hours make it work? Or those who stay together all day long?"

"By learning to not take the time they have together for granted." Silver sat up beside McQueen. "Everyone has to learn how to get along with their partner in a marriage. There are the little things that you have to adjust to. Does the other person snore, hog the blankets, wake up grumpy while you're raring to go, or the other way around. Is one neat and the other messy? These are things that you work out early on and learn to handle."

"And the large things? What are they? Because frankly those all sounded large to me." His face reflected his seriousness.

"Don't think that I'm brushing you off with this, ok? Every truly successful marriage I've seen, including my workaholic parents, have this as their number one credo. Never go to bed angry with one another or part from one another for a long time while still angry."

"You'll always have regrets if something happens to your partner." McQueen nodded. "I can see that. I would add that we never go on a mission together while still angry."

"Agreed." Silver shifted so that she faced him. "Do you see what I'm trying to get across?"

"Yes. I think you'll have to bear with me more often than I will have to you. I've had a great many negatives beaten into me over the years. I try not to let them rule, but they still slip out."

Silver kissed him. "They make you who you are. Now, can we go to sleep?"

"Yes." McQueen slid back down under the covers and pulled her down next to him. "I promise I won't ask any more questions tonight."

"Mm, good. I really need some sleep."

McQueen held her and watched over her until she slept, her head on his shoulder. Even in this, she was different from Amy. There was no hesitation about touching him from Silver. In fact, she went out of the way when in private to touch him a lot. Amy had rarely touched him just to do it. The only time she had made free with his body was in their lovemaking. Looking back, he could see that part of it had been his own attitude of aloofness. Most definitely not all the problems in that marriage were Amy's fault, he had contributed to the situation. But he could also see that he had tried to live up to Amy's expectations and fallen short for she hadn't taken into account his reality.

Completely different were Silver's expectations as far as he knew them. She wanted him to be himself, but not shut her out. He didn't have to become a dinner conversationalist at expensive restaurants. He had only to be himself and he would be welcome. His reluctance about touching in public was honored, but when they were alone, he could expect her touch anywhere, anytime, and he found he enjoyed it, though it had startled him when he discovered that he wanted to touch her back. Most of the time there was no problems with his touching her, but occasionally, his past reared up and he had to fight it down.

A yawn caught him unawares and McQueen smile ruefully over at Silver. The morning would bring another hard day. Time to sleep.

By the end of three days, Silver had finished all the death notices and helped Lt. Martins with the inventory paperwork. Since the lieutenant had broken her leg during the Chig attack when she was thrown down a set of stairs, Silver did all the running around the office and surviving areas to finish the inventory. Together they figured out that the missing five torpedoes had been inputted wrong; they were actually torpedo casings.

During her light duty time, the squadron took the time to visit her throughout the day. Russell, Finch, and St. John managed to keep her satisfied. The squad usually dropped by during meals for several minutes, never staying to eat with the three officers since Silver managed to wrangle Ross into eating at the same time. She was getting to like using runners.

The next morning Silver received her clearance to return to full duty.

After a full week of relentless around-the-clock work, the Saratoga was barely functional as a warship once more. The 64th squadron received the honor of being her one and only fighter squadron since the 58th had proved far too useful in getting the ship and crew organized. Although temporary replacement crew had been loaned to the Saratoga, each ship had its own way of doing things.

Silver walked into the room where Hawkes was currently explaining to some replacement crew some bit of ship procedure that they had transgressed and managed to piss off a 'Toga crew member. Hiding her smile at how patiently the young Invitro answered the questions, Silver realized that he had grown in depth with this tragedy.

Dismissing the crew, Hawkes turned to Silver. "Colonel?"

"Have you eaten today?"

"Yes, ma'am. Although I am a bit late for lunch."

"Then you can join the colonel and I."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hawkes walked quietly beside her for a moment. Then he asked, "Silver, about what I asked that day-"

"Now is not the time or place."

"I know. I just wanted to say that I'm still interested."

"I figured."

Lunch found the entire 58th squadron together. They were eating when Ross showed up with his tray. "I see we are all eating late today. May I join you?"

"Of course, sir." Silver and McQueen slid apart, allowing Ross to sit between them. "Since the Saratoga is nominally a fighting ship again, I've authorized some relaxation for the crew. I've arranged for crew rotations to the Bacchus starting next week." Ross waited until the excited voices quieted. "But because of some plans on the part of the two colonels here, we will be among the last."

"Oh, man," grumbled Hawkes.

McQueen pointed to Hawkes with his fork. "Are you saying you don't wish to attend our wedding?"

"What? When? Where?" the squad burst out.

"After our rotation on the Bacchus, we'll be going to Earth." Silver leaned forward slightly. "On the Goddard station, the commodore will be performing the marriage ceremony. Full dress uniforms. Everything to satisfy the legal system and the military. After the station ceremony, there will be a week's leave granted. On the third day of that leave, the consort ceremony will be held at my family's estate. You have the option of attending in full dress uniform or formal dress."

"Formal dress? Like in tuxes?" West frowned slightly.

McQueen nodded. "Yes. I would like to see you all in formal dress. But it's not an order. Just a personal request."

"But we don't have any of that stuff." Hawkes crossed his arms.

"If you're willing to sacrifice a couple of hours at the start of your leave, tailors will be available to take measurements." Silver grinned wickedly. "I've already sent some ideas to my mother, so sketches of dresses will be available. And for tuxes."

"How will we pay for them?" Vansen sighed, obviously intrigued, but wary of the cost.

"My family is taking up the tab. I am the bride after all." With a laugh, Silver said, "They've been waiting ten years for me to pick a consort. I think there's plenty in the budget for eight sets of formal dress in addition to the two primary ones."

"Eight sets?" 'Phousse straightened. "Is Paul coming, too?"

"How can we not invite him? After all, he is a member of this squad," McQueen spoke quietly.

"He isn't cleared to leave the planet, so he can't be there for the Goddard ceremony. But since he's right there on the estate..." Silver shrugged.

"He'll love it." Phousse's eyes lit up.

"You are all welcome to spend however much of your leave you want to on the estate to spend with Paul. Silver's family has extended an open invitation to the entire squadron." McQueen sat straight.

"Who's your best man?" asked West.

"Ross will be performing the ceremony, so... Since Silver would like to have Phousse, Vansen and Finch as maids of honor, I was thinking of having Hawkes as the ring bearer with you and Paul as escorts. Russell and St. John would be ushers."

"Me?" Hawkes' eyes were wide. "But I'm-"

"It doesn't matter, Hawkes. You are the closest I'll ever have to a son. Do you accept?" McQueen asked quietly.

"Yes, sir," Hawkes stated fervently.

McQueen ran his gaze over the others. "What about the rest of you?"

"Yes, sir!"

With a nod, McQueen acknowledged them. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Silver said. "Hopefully this will offset the disappointment of not getting to the Bacchus for two weeks."

"How long do we have on the Bacchus?" asked Hawkes.

"Forty-eight hours, guaranteed." Ross smiled broadly. "We will be exempt from fighting during that time. Unless we absolutely have to."

McQueen nodded. "So don't screw up between now and then. I would hate to pull any of your leave."

"Yes, sir."

"And when you buy wedding presents, do remember where we'll be. Back on the Saratoga." Silver chuckled. "No bunny slippers, ok? Or toasters. Or any of the other stuff one usually gets at weddings."

"Promise." Vansen gave a quick smile. "We'll keep it to the practical and useful, but tasteful."

"Now that's a tall order," remarked McQueen.

Chuckles went round the table when Hawkes looked puzzled. Leaning over, Vansen whispered, "I'll explain it later."

The rest of lunch was spent with amusing tales of various weddings that folks had attended. Afterward, the squad dispersed to resume their unofficial duties.

Ross stayed behind with the two colonels. "I'm putting the entire squadron up for citations. They've really gone way beyond the call of duty on this."

"It'll be appreciated, but I think the R&R will mean more in the short term." McQueen sipped his coffee, aware of the fact that it was, for a change, real coffee. "How did this happen?" He gestured at his mug.

"Compliments of the Gettysburg, Twelfth Fleet. Commodore Wilson appreciates the fact we survived such overwhelming odds." Ross shrugged. "It won't last long, but it should last a day or so."

Silver finished her coffee. "More?"

"Please." Ross handed her his mug. As Silver walked away, he asked McQueen, "Are you all right with this, Ty?"

"Oh, yes. I'm looking forward to this more than my marriage to Amy." McQueen glanced over at where Silver was pouring coffee. "If even half of what's promised comes true, it'll be twice what I had with Amy; the differences between the two women are profound. I find myself constantly rewriting my assessment of Silver. She accepts me for who I am and still manages to push me to my limits and beyond. I'm better for her involvement in my life. I'm looking forward to the challenges of our time together."

Silver set the mugs down on the table. "Shall I leave you two to talk?"

"It's all right," McQueen waved her to sit down. "I haven't said anything I don't want you to hear."

"So if you don't mind me asking, what are you doing for a honeymoon? Four days isn't all that long." Ross cradled his refilled mug.

"She's said something about a wilderness cabin and aloneness." McQueen gave Silver a quick smile.

Hearing her cue, Silver explained. "We have this cabin in the woods. It's at least a twenty-mile hike from the estate. And there's no one around for miles. Best of all, if an emergency arises, it's a ten-minute flight. I have assurances from my family that no one will bother us unless it's an emergency."

"Good. I would hate to start things out by murdering someone for interrupting us." McQueen deadpanned.

Silver chuckled. "So would I."

McQueen glanced at his timepiece. "Hate to say this, but I have to go. We're trying to repair another docking bay. I'm supplying some of the muscle and grunt work."

"Don't let them take advantage of you." Silver's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not. I volunteered."

"Just remember. You're spoken for."

"I know. See you for dinner." He rose with his coffee and stopped to refill it before leaving.

Watching him walk out of the mess, Silver admired his body and felt pride in the fact that he was hers.

"You want him a lot, don't you?"

"Oh, yes." She let a hint of her pride show.

"Sure it isn't just lust?"

"Lust doesn't last five years. You know that. You care just as deeply, friend." Silver met Ross' gaze frankly. "Are you still on for the poker game?"

"Yes."

"Good." Silver rose. "I'll see you at dinner."

McQueen limped into the Officer's Mess, trying to mask the amount of pain he was in. There were times being a tank really sucked and when he got injured was one of them. His entire right side hurt like hell and none of the remaining painkillers were safe for him.

The head cook, seeing the difficulty he had walking, shooed him off to the table. Gratefully, McQueen sat down and waited.

"What happened, colonel?" asked the cook as he placed a tray of food before McQueen.

"Cradle slipped out of the sling as we were trying to shift it. I, unfortunately, was beneath the damn thing." McQueen reached for the coffee. "Still the real stuff?"

"Yes, sir. I've saved a pot for the commodore. Is he eating with you again tonight?"

"I believe so."

"Then I'll bring it over." The cook hesitated, then asked, "How badly are you hurt?"

"I'll have bruises running from my shoulder to my ankle and wrenched muscles as well. Doctor said I was lucky it was a glancing blow." McQueen took a sip of the coffee.

"Will you be in your quarters tonight, sir?"

McQueen narrowed his gaze.

"I thought I would send over a bag of ice, sir."

"Send it to Col. Silver's quarters. I'll be there for a while." McQueen noted that the man's rank and name was Master Sergeant Rollins.

"Very well, sir."

McQueen watched as the sergeant returned to the kitchen area. He was still adjusting to being asked personal questions by people he didn't really know. But since the Chig attack, people took the time to inquire how things were going and it bothered him slightly. He hoped the notoriety would wear off soon.

Struggling to use his left hand to eat with, McQueen knew when Silver entered the mess. He hid a grimace at the thought of how easily she would read his pain and how much difficulty he was having.

"What happened?" came the expected question from his right side.

He glanced up at her and saw her face tighten. Damn, his face must be bruised too. "Cradle fell on me. A glancing blow, according to the doctor. No broken bones. But we're out of safe painkillers. The Chig attack took up too many of Sickbay's supplies."

"How bad?"

"Bad enough. Nothing's broken. Just massive bruising and muscle wrenching."

Russell, Finch and St. John walked in, moving in a straight line for Silver. "You called?"

Ignoring the look from McQueen, Silver said, "Finch, see about some ice, please. Russell, you and St. John get him to my quarters. Finch, take his tray with you to my quarters. Then please stick around, all three of you. I'll need you afterward."

"Yes, ma'am." Finch headed for the kitchen.

"Silver, I intend to sit here and eat my dinner. And enjoy this pot of real coffee with you and Ross." McQueen tried to glare up at her, but the strain on his neck and shoulders made him wince.

"I'll make sure you get some more of the coffee and Ross will understand. You can eat afterward in my quarters. We can't have you laid up. And if we don't take care of it now, you won't even be able to stand up come morning." She gave him a quick grin. "I'm being stubborn and willful and bossy. Surrender. You won't win. I'm not the one in pain."

As his body reminded him forcefully just how much pain he was in, McQueen sighed. "All right."

The two Marines helped him up out of the chair and McQueen quickly found that he could not even put weight on the bruised leg.

"A cold shower, then a hot one. Put him on the bed. I'll be there as soon as I've explained to Ross."

"Yes, ma'am."

Silver shook her head slightly as she watched the two Marines half-carry McQueen out. As Finch reached for the tray, Silver said, "Let him eat some if he can."

"Yes, ma'am."

Pouring herself a cup of the coffee, Silver sat down. The mug pressed against her forehead, she heard one of the chairs pull out several minutes later.

"Where's McQueen?"

"By now, in my quarters. He's hurt." As Ross looked worried, she added, "He says there's no broken bones, just massive bruising and wrenched muscles. But Sickbay doesn't have any safe pain killers for him."

"And you're going to do your thing with him?" When Silver nodded, Ross asked, "How far will he be healed? Or do you know?"

"Depends on just how bad the damage is. I won't know until I get a good look at him."

"Have you eaten yet?"

"No. Sort of lost it when I saw the pain radiating off him."

"You just remember what you told me."

Silver gave Ross a quick smile. "Very well. Though I need to get some of this coffee to take to him. I promised that I would get him some more."

"Ask the head cook. Rollins."

Silver rose and went to get a tray of food. As she reached the coffee pots, she caught the eye of the head cook. "I need some of this delivered to my quarters."

"Colonel Silver?"

"Yes." She drew the answer out, not sure of why he was asking.

"I'll have it and a large container of ice delivered, in what, an hour?"

"That would be good. Thank you."

"Coonel. McQueen mentioned he would be at your place for a while. Did he finish eating already?"

"No, he's eating in my quarters. He was in a lot of pain and I thought it better to get him somewhere private."

"Good thinking. All right, Colonel. One hour."

"Thank you."

Silver ate quickly, making small talk with Ross. Then she headed for her quarters at a trot.

The door opened and she inhaled sharply as she saw the extent of the bruising for the first time. Bruises were showing across his chest and abdomen as well as the entire leg. Swelling made his hip, knee and ankle twice their usual size. From his temple, a bruise wrapped around to his nose and down to his jaw. She had no doubt it extended to the back of his head. The cheekbone had vanished under the bruise. Hands on her hips, she said, "Blast it, McQueen! Learn to duck and roll, will you?"

"Easy for you to say. There was no warning. I'm lucky the damn thing hit me a glancing blow. I'd hate to think of what a full force one would have done." McQueen lay stretched out on the bed, body on top of the blankets. "Now, will you call these three off? I am capable of feeding myself." He tried to raise himself onto an elbow and hissed as his body protested.

"Ice pack?" Silver caught the ice bag that Finch tossed her. "I can see just how well you can take care of yourself at the moment. You can't even stand up on your feet without help. I intend to make you feel better, but even I need some help to get the swelling down. Especially on the hip, knee and ankle." She placed the ice on the mentioned knee, holding it in place when McQueen flinched. "Sorry, but we need to bring down the swelling before I do anything else."

"I understand." McQueen looked longingly at his dinner.

"I can feed you, sir." Finch reached over to the tray.

"Don't suppose I'm going to eat any other way tonight." With a sigh, McQueen surrendered.

By the time the pot of coffee and ice arrived, McQueen had finished the food and sipped his mug empty with help from Finch. The ice had melted away, but the swelling on his knee and hip had gone down.

Silver took the tray from the runner, not letting him see anything inside, and shut the door. The new ice pack in hand, she sat beside McQueen's foot.

Despite his effort not to jerk the leg, McQueen found himself doing it when the ice hit his ankle.

"The ankle is bad, Ty. What does all that Zen stuff teach you? How do you deal with pain? Surely there's a way to do that."

"Centering. I need something to focus on besides the pain." McQueen gritted his teeth.

"How about music?"

"Sure."

Finch hurried over to the music collection and quickly found one. Pachebel's Canon in D filled the room. "How's that?"

"Good." McQueen forced himself to concentrate on the music and slowly centered himself. He could then view the pain as distant.

After fifteen minutes, Silver shifted up to beside McQueen's head. She slashed her wrist and pressed it against his mouth. Softly she said, "Go ahead and drink. Think of the joints as moving freely, without pain. Picture the broken blood vessels as whole. The bruises fading."

Over and over she repeated the words for the next five minutes, withdrawing her wrist for short periods of time, then returning it to his mouth for another few swallows. She pulled her wrist away for the last time. "Close your eyes and keep picturing the healing. Rest."

Silver rose and staggered. Russell caught her, his throat deliberately exposed. Her fangs sank in and he sagged to his knees, still holding her. Then Finch pulled her away, allowing Silver to feed off her. After a moment, St. John took his turn.

By the time McQueen roused himself nearly a half hour later, he and Silver were alone. Silver he found curled up in the chair, dozing. "What are you doing over there?"

"Hm?" Silver raised her head. "Oh, this. I didn't want to disturb you. That way you would get maximum benefit from the blood."

McQueen took stock of his body and blinked in surprise. The bruises looked to be several days old. Moving his leg didn't trigger instant pain. Swiveling his ankle, he found that the pain was nearly gone, leaving him feeling like he had stepped wrong and merely twisted it. The knee, hip and shoulder joints all moved freely with little pain.

"Damn, you're better than the doctors."

"I can only help you heal faster. I can't fix something that is truly wrong. If it would take surgery to repair, I can't fix it." Stretching, Silver rose to her feet and headed for the coffee pot.

"Seemed to work pretty well on that planet." McQueen sat up carefully, finding that not everything was healed. Muscles still ached and flared if he moved too quickly.

"I gave you a lot more blood than I could spare at the time. I was determined not to let you die on me. Not after you came so far to get me." She poured a mug of coffee. "Want some more coffee?"

"Please." Swinging his feet over the edge, McQueen slowly stood up. "So you can't cure sickness and things like that."

"Right." Silver handed him his coffee. "Drinking regularly from me will boost your immune system even more than normal. It'll take a really determined bug to bring you down. Cancer is rare among us, another benefit of the symbiote. I can also help you heal faster from surgery."

"Definitely a good reason to keep you around." McQueen smiled to show he was kidding. To his surprise, Silver didn't respond in kind. "What is it?"

"There were those unscrupulous folk who did that, early last century. And they were really bad people." Silver's eyes darkened with anger.

"Who?"

"The Nazis."

A shiver went down McQueen's spine. "How bad did it get?" He drank some of the coffee.

Silver sat on the edge of the bed. "An entire family wiped out, twenty souls in the end, right down to the baby. Some general found out about them and used them ruthlessly to keep himself and a couple of friends in good health. A precursor to the Black Forces squadron slipped into the general's stronghold and killed him and his cronies. The family had been bled to death."

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." She drank from her mug. "Now, how do you feel?"

"Less like a carrier ran over me." McQueen set the mug down and stretched cautiously. "More like normal. A bit stiff and sore muscle wise, but at least my joints aren't in flames. You know, you didn't have to do that. I could have lived with the pain for the next several days. I would have healed just fine."

"Consider it one of the advantages of having a vampire in your life."

McQueen asked a question he had thought about off and on. "What about the squad? If one of them is injured? Would you do the same?"

"If they are willing to let me, yes. But it can be hard to let go of preconceived notions." Silver ran a hand down his back, noting that the mottled coloration extended to his spine. "And next time, get the hell out of the way, all right?"

"If I can." He chuckled and winced as muscles protested. "It wasn't like I had any time to respond. It dropped from one end and slammed into me before it snapped the lines on the other end. I landed ten feet away."

"Did you lose consciousness?"

McQueen nodded. "I have no memory of the time between the impact and being on the deck. A few seconds is all."

"Long enough." Silver sighed. "What did the doctors say?"

"No concussion."

"Good. One less thing to worry about." Silver drank some of her coffee. "A hot shower and then I think you better go to sleep tonight."

"Here?"

"Might as well. There's room." She knew very well that there was room.

"A hot shower you said?"

"Yes and no extracurricular activities tonight. You need to sleep so you can finish healing."

Getting up, McQueen could feel how tired his body was. "I feel what you mean."

Silver massaged his neck and shoulders lightly until he fell asleep before tucking him in. A quick shower and she curled up around him, overjoyed that he was not dead.

When McQueen and Silver arrived in the mess for breakfast, the head cook gave McQueen a hard look. "You have some definite advantages, sir. If I had been looking the way I think you did, I wouldn't even be able to get out of bed this morning."

McQueen gave the man a nod. "The advantages, though, do not outweigh the disadvantages."

"People give you a hard time over being a tank, huh? Well, it just goes to show how small minded they are." Rollins shook his head. "Some people can never see past the ends of their noses. Well, eat heartily, sir, as much as you want, on me. I expect all that rapid healing takes a toll on the body and you need to refuel."

"Yes." McQueen's stomach growled and he felt ravenous. But he was determined to get by on only one helping.

Despite his intentions, McQueen found himself going back for seconds. Sitting back down, he looked at Silver. "Is this normal?"

"Yes. You burned a lot of calories last night. You need to replenish your energy stores."

Before he started eating again, McQueen said, "I promise I'll stay out from underneath any more heavy equipment."

"Good."

For the two weeks until their leave began, the 58th worked hard on repairing the Toga. Their efforts were rewarded the night before their transport left the carrier. Trickling into the Officer's Mess for dinner, each member of the squad was asked to step out of line. The head cook led them out of the Mess to a nearby conference room.

Opening the door, Rollins said, "This is to show our appreciation for all the hard work you've done the last month, and because you saved the Saratoga. Enjoy."

They entered the room and found Commodore Ross at the table. Behind the table a buffet dinner had been set up with a server.

McQueen's eyes widened slightly as he inhaled deeply. "They've cooked up a real meal." His steps quickened as he strode forward.

"They never do that unless we're about to go on a major assault." Hawkes glanced about in confusion. "I thought we were going on leave."

"Lieutenant, the cooks can do this whenever it pleases them. And obviously it pleases them to do it now - for you." Ross gave Hawkes a hard look.

"I appreciate it, sir. I just don't understand why."

"The head cook told you." McQueen halted near Ross. "The work that we've been doing is being recognized."

Silver touched Hawkes lightly on the arm. "It sometimes pays not to question things."

"But how do you know when?"

"Trial and error. And instinct."

West slapped Hawkes on the shoulder. "Just accept it, Coop. Now, come on. Let's eat."

Once everyone had taken a seat, Ross put his fork down. "Tomorrow our transport leaves at 0700. Have everything you are taking with you aboard by 0630."

Silver paused in her eating. "Anything you might like to keep from disappearing during your absence may be stored in my quarters. Not that I think anything will go walking, but we do have a lot of temporary personnel aboard."

With a nod, Ross said, "The colonel has a good idea."

The squad murmured their agreement to the idea.

McQueen waited until everyone had finished their first helping of food before working around to his subject. "While aboard the Bacchus we are officially off duty. There should not be any reason for us to fight since the Bacchus is headed back toward Earth."

"We're riding it back to Earth?" Hawkes grinned at the idea.

"No. Just as far as the 8th Fleet. We'll be catching a transport from there." Silver almost laughed at the comical dismay on Hawkes' face.

"Will you be able to stay out of trouble for forty-eight hours on the Bacchus?" Though the question was for the entire squad, McQueen kept his eyes on Hawkes, remembering that Hawkes had managed to get drugged out of his mind the last time.

"Yes, sir," Hawkes stated firmly, "I'll stick to alcohol, in limited quantities."

"Yes, sir," answered the rest of the squad.

"Good." Silver fixed her gaze on Russell, Finch and St. John. "I really don't want my good time to be interrupted by the news that someone has been tossed in the brig."

"We'll be good. No fighting and only friendly games of chance," Russell said quietly. "I don't want to miss out on a good time."

"Now that we have that straightened out, I'm saying good night." Ross stood up, coffee mug in hand. "Some last minute stuff before I can enjoy myself."

"Good night, sir."

Silver had a second plate of food before calling it a night. "If you want to drop stuff off, do so in the next hour, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

McQueen followed ten minutes later, having gone for thirds.

"Think they'll be together when we drop stuff off?" asked West.

"No." Vansen shook her head. "They've both been fairly circumspect. I think McQueen will be with the commodore."

In Ross' quarters, McQueen handed his friend a rum while he took a scotch. "Are you still game?"

"Yes."

"Good." McQueen gave Ross a quick smile. "Silver has something planned for our time there, but she won't tell me anything." He sat down in his usual chair. "Outside of our poker game, how are you going to spend your time?"

"Watch movies, basically relax. Get a massage or two." Ross strummed the guitar.

"Pretty much what I would do normally." McQueen stretched his legs out before him, aware that he was actually pretty relaxed.

"You and those W.C. Fields movies."

"And what is wrong with W.C. Fields?"

"Nothing, nothing. Just broaden your horizons, lad."

Pleasure filled McQueen as they settled into a long-standing discussion.

An hour later Silver entered with Ross' permission. "Well, everyone stashed something in my quarters."

"That really was a good idea, Silver." Ross glanced up at her as she walked over to the bar.

She shrugged. "This way someone has to be very determined to get in."

"And that puts them in a totally different category." McQueen sipped his nearly empty glass.

"Refill?" offered Silver, holding up the scotch bottle.

"No, thank you. I've had plenty."

"Same here." Ross strummed an A chord. "So, Silver, what about this ceremony planet side? I know the station ceremony. That's no problem and they give me a script."

Sitting down in the third chair, Silver gave Ross a grin. "Don't worry. There'll be a script and a chance to brief you on it. There isn't anything for you to worry about. No shape shifting or anything. Just a set of questions and an exchange of vows."

McQueen leaned forward slightly. "Do we make up the vows?"

"No." Silver shook her head. "They're set vows. But you can add to them if you want to. But you might read through them first."

"When?"

"After we get to Earth. Father's busy going over everything with an eye to having to explain. Something I don't want to do in addition to everything else I have to do."

"What preparations do I have to go through?"

"You have it easy."

"Yes?"

"Show up." After a quick grin, Silver said, "Really, that's about it. You'll be asked a set of questions, ritual, and you give the set answers. If you want to elaborate, you do so after the set answer. As the non-vampire member of the partnership, you have only to basically state your willingness to be my consort."

"Till death do us part."

"Yes."

"And what do you have to do?" Ross had the distinct feeling that Silver was hiding something.

Silver sat back with a sigh. "Forty eight hours of abstinence to show my control. Prove that control before the ceremony. After all, you don't want a famished vampire on display. Show my willingness to commit to this partnership. Things like that." She sipped her scotch.

"What aren't you saying?" McQueen frowned.

"I am a Warrior. I will have to prove my worthiness."

"What about my worthiness?"

"You are assumed to be worthy since I have asked you." Silver shrugged.

"And just how will you prove your worthiness?" McQueen's eyes narrowed.

"In a series of trials. Six in all."

"When?"

"During the two days before the ceremony."

"But you have other things you need to do."

Again Silver shrugged. "It's the way it's done."

"And if you should fail any of these trials?"

"Then I must break all ties between us. Until I can prove my worth."

"Has anyone ever failed?"

"Yes. Most managed the second time around." Silver gave a quick smile. "Not to worry. I'll pass. Even against Griffon. I have no intention of missing our ceremony. I will be there."

Both men heard the determination in her voice.

Giving herself a shake, Silver said, "Enough of this. I have forty-eight hours of complete and total enjoyment ahead. And I intend to enjoy it to the fullest."

"Just what do you have planned?"

Silver smiled at Ross. "A series of comedy movies. I know how much Ty likes his W. C. Fields movies. I thought I would add a few of my favorites from the early 20th Century."

"Whose?" Ross continued strumming.

"The Marx Brothers and Chaplin."

"Excellent. I've been trying for years to get him to watch some of them. Which ones?"

"The Coconuts, A Day at the Races, and the Gold Rush, in particular."

"Some of my favorites."

The slightly wistful tone in Ross' voice made McQueen glance at Silver. She nodded slightly. He said, "You're welcome to join us, Glen."

"I wouldn't want to intrude."

Silver rose and crouched beside Ross, a hand on his knee. "You won't be intruding. We'll have plenty of time after our 'game' to be alone with room service. If you want to join us, we would like you to."

Covering her hand, Ross said softly, "You two are kind to an old war horse."

"You're our friend." McQueen rose and stood beside Ross. He tilted his friend's head up so he could look into the brown eyes. "As one old war horse to another, it's not kindness but friendship. Friends care about one another. You taught me that."

"You win, Ty." Ross appeared somewhat sad.

"What is it, Glen?" McQueen squeezed Ross' shoulder.

"I miss my family." Ross sighed heavily.

"You'll be seeing them soon."

"I get this way before I go home. Despite all the letters telling me everything that's been going on, I am still missing it. I'm not there for my girl's first prom date. Or a million other things."

"Yes, it is hard." Silver turned Ross' head toward her. "But you trust your wife to raise them right. And they know you're out here, keeping them safe. If you were at a desk job back on Earth, you'd be utterly miserable. Wouldn't you?"

Ross nodded.

"And no doubt, no matter how much your wife would love to have you home each night, she knows this about you. She knows you would be constantly fighting the urge to come out here and turn your talents to the war."

Again Ross nodded.

"So do your kids, no doubt. It's a trade off you decided to make a long time ago, my friend. Just like I did." Silver sighed. "I love Cassie dearly, but I have to be out here where I can make a difference in this war, with any luck."

McQueen snorted. "Silver, you've already done that, several times."

"As have you both. It is time for a well-deserved break for the three of us and the 5-8. Glen, treasure the time with your family. Store up the memories for the dark times ahead. That's what you and I must do." Silver stood up slowly. "McQueen is a somewhat different story. His family is here."

"And I worry every time they're out of my sight." McQueen stepped around Ross' chair and pulled Silver to him. "All of them."

"Even though we can all take care of ourselves, we like to know someone worries about us." Silver wrapped her arm around McQueen's waist.

"Until recently, there's only been one person to worry about me. And he wasn't around very often." McQueen gave Ross a smile. "I never realized how much he cared though. But it gives me a good feeling to know how many people care about me now."

Hugging McQueen's waist, Silver said, "Enough maudlin emotions. Everyone caught up on their paperwork?"

"Yes, thank God," muttered Ross.

"An hour before dinner." McQueen grinned. "I even started some of what I expect to be filling out when we return."

"Sneaky bastard," Ross groused. "What about you, Silver?"

"Before dinner, too. And you?"

"Same here. I was determined to have everything in order for Captain Standish's taking command in the morning." Ross strummed several chords. "She should have no difficulty with crew during our absence."

"Or the Toga. All critical functions work. Hopefully the worst of the jury-rigging will have been repaired." Releasing his hold on Silver, McQueen returned to his chair. He watched as Silver sat down. "Chief Master Sgt. Richards estimated at least another month of intensive work before the majority of the Toga's urgent repairs are finished."

"That's with only one tender." Ross grinned. "I received word just before dinner that the HMS Cromwell will be arriving in two days to expedite repairs. The British seem anxious to have the 5th Fleet up and running ASAP." He gave Silver a shrewd look. "Do you have something to do with this? All those calls you've been making lately?"

"I haven't said a word to the British." Silver smiled. "But vampires tend to help out where needed. And we are not all Americans."

"That would explain the shipment of supplies from the French." Ross shook his head slightly. "Just how wide spread are you folks?"

"Throughout the world, now." Silver shrugged. "We're pretty much integrated these days."

"Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth, Glen." McQueen sat back, his eyes on Silver.

"I have no intention of doing so. Anything that gets the old girl up and running smoothly..." Ross shook his head, remembering all the damage his ship had suffered.

"Well, the old girl is someone else's problem for the next two weeks." Silver rose, walking back to Ross. She leaned over, whispering sultrily in his ear, "I intend to have a very good time with both you and Ty."

Long association enabled McQueen to see that Ross flushed with embarrassment. He rose, setting his hand on Silver's hip. "See you in the morning, Glen. Good night."

Giving Ross a promising smile, Silver said, "Night."

"Good night," Ross managed in a strained voice.

In Silver's quarters, McQueen asked, "What did you say to him?"

"Just that I plan on having a good time with you both."

"He isn't going to get any sleep after that." McQueen laughed softly.

"Speaking of sleep, we should get some ourselves pretty soon."

"I have one or two activities planned." McQueen kissed her soundly.

"I think we can fit them in."

The 58th and 64th squadrons stood waiting in the landing bay when the three officers arrived, sea bags over their shoulders. Ross, McQueen and Silver acknowledged the salutes given them and boarded the transport. The squadrons followed them. Sea bags were stowed away and seats taken.

"Let's go get some R&R," Ross said.

"Yes, sir!"

Next : Chapter Fourteen
Previous : Chapter Twelve
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