On the other end of the line, sixteen-year-old Paige started bubbling. "Daddy said I could come to your school if I finished up here this year!"

Sam felt the stubble growing on his chin and sighed. He had to shave, get dressed, and get ready to drill with the ROTC, and listen to his sister gush in less than twenty minutes. "And do ya think ya can swing it?"

On the other end of the phone, Paige smiled. She had long ago learned that nothing was impossible for her. She had a natural knack for getting others to see things her way. "Talked to financial aid yesterday, and I'll qualify for a full scholarship. And I got the McAdam's Grant—the one that you turned down."

Hearing the implied criticism, Sam started to defend his actions. "Li'l Bit got out..." He had turned down three thousand a year so his best friend would have the money she needed to go to a private college school outside of Nashville. It might have made his life easier, but it gave her a chance to know a world outside of the small community she lived in. And she had gone on to become one of Nashville's rising stars.

"And you're too nice!" Paige protested. "One day you're going to meet a girl who'll do nothing but walk all over you, or cling to you like frost on a vine."

Sam looked up from tying his boots. "Huh?"

"Just what I said," Paige repeated herself with all the righteous indignation of a sixteen-year-old teenager who was trying to protect her big brother could muster. "You try so hard to be perfect that it's not funny!" Sam tried to voice an objection, but she continued. "I swear you're trying to take Daddy's place."

Sam blinked. That hurt him. He had wrestled with his responsibilities toward his family and what he owed himself. Several times since his father had been diagnosed with Black Lung, Sam had come close to dropping out of school and heading home to help keep his family. Last time, he had almost resigned from ROTC until Dayspring had promised to use his legal background to file a suit against the mining company. The idea of the General doing that had impressed Sam so much that he had agreed to honor his father's wishes and stay in school.

Paige quickly sighed and apologized. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't have said that. You've always been the stuffed shirt in the family."

Sam's mind was still reeling from Paige's earlier comment. "Ah—Ah want ta be there."

"I met a guy yesterday..." Paige quickly said, trying to pretend she hadn't heard that remark. "And he's all wrong for me because he's too nice and tolerant... you'd love him... but he doesn't match me... so I was thinking about you... and that last just popped out. You know I didn't mean it, but I was thinking about what kind of girl would match you."

Knowing that Paige was sorry for the slip of the tongue, Sam allowed himself to change the topic. "I met a girl yesterday... sweet, kind, so gentle, and very tenderhearted." He didn't know why he elaborated on Rahne's character, just that he wanted to share it with somebody who knew him and knew women and knew how to help him talk to them.

Paige squealed, happy to have changed the topic. "And did you ask her out?"

"She's not from around here, she's from Scotland," Sam explained. "I thought I'd take it slowly."

On the other end of the phone, he could hear Paige click a pen against the table, a sure sign that she was making a plan. "Do you two have anything in common?" she finally asked.

"We both love science fiction," Sam remembered.

"Anything coming up along those lines?" Back home, Paige had studied at her Grandmother Sandra's feet when it came to matchmaking. Advice from her was good advice.

Sam looked at the student newspaper, and quickly discovered that Madelyn L'Engle was coming to lecture next week. Straightening his BDU top so that the buttons were perfectly aligned, he informed his sister of the fact. Paige smiled. "Call her up tomorrow, ask her if she knew about that. Chances are, if she's interested in you, she'll hesitate and say that she hates to go to those things alone." This was almost too easy for someone with her background. "Wait a beat and offer to give her a ride. After that, on the way home, stop somewhere to eat and get her talking about the lecture. And..." Paige thought quickly, trying to think of something else. "I'm going to send you the performance Li'l Bit sent us of 'The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe' that she saw in Nashville. Invite her over to watch that—her and her roommate, of course—sometime. And I promise you, if she wants to get to know you, her roommate won't show up. Got that?"

Sam nodded, surprised at the complexity of her plan. "And when should I propose?" he asked her in jest.

"After I meet her—that reminds me, I'm taking a bus to see you week after next. That way, I can do a campus interview and you can drive me home for Thanksgiving."

Sam stifled a laugh; his sister always had plans with layers and layers to them. "Sure," he agreed. "Can wait to see you," he said as Paige hung up. Glancing at the clock, he realized he was going to have to double time it to get to his class on time. After making sure that everybody at home was okay, he hung up.

Jimmy had woken up when the phone rang, and he waited until Sam was almost out the door to ask, "Want to go see the newest Jackie Chan movie tonight?"

Sam, who was in a rush to pick up his gear, backpack, and his bike, called out "Sure!"

"Meet me at the theatre at eight." Jimmy called out to his back. With any luck, Sam wouldn't realize that there was no new Jackie Chan movie until 8:03.

**

Feeling somewhat like her sole reason for breathing was to take care of the puppies, Rahne stumbled out of bed to let the animals out and cleaned up the overturned trash can. Unfortunately, once she was up, she was up for the rest of the day. Waking up suddenly to a loud noise did that for her.

It would be a while until the dogs were ready to come in, and she wasn't hungry. She had grown up without a television, so she wasn't really wanting to watch the typical early morning junk that was mostly designed to make children want to buy sugary breakfast foods or overly muscular action figures. And, for once, she was ahead in her school work, having finished her midterm paper on child abuse for a class last night.

That paper had taken more out of her than she expected. Even after all the years that had passed since Moira had taken her in, she couldn't just forget what it had been like to grow up like she had. Part of her was still looking around the corner, expecting Craig to snatch her back from her safe, happy life. She was improving however. At first, Moira couldn't even leave her alone without her starting to panic. Now, she had relaxed to the point that the security system and the two dogs were enough to make her feel at ease.

She looked at the calendar and clasped her hands. Saying a quick prayer, she wished that the 23rd, her eighteenth birthday, would come Once she was a legal adult, Craig couldn't force her to live under his roof. She rubbed the date on the calendar, allowing herself to cling to her hope. Two weeks from today couldn't get there fast enough.

Sharon caught her eye as she stumbled to the coffee pot. "Could have at least turned on the pot, you know." Until she had her first pot, she wasn't nearly human. To make amends, Rahne took a couple scoops of her gourmet coffee and put it in a filter. The stuff her mother bought tasted like the dried remains of some of her experiments.

"Thank you..." Sharon said as the first couple of drops hit the bottom of the glass container. She scooped food into the elevated dog bowls before looking up. "Smells nice."

"Peppermint Snowflake," Rahne read the label. She was always trying new foods, wanting just the right thing in the morning.

"Maxwell House would have been just as good." Sharon was more grounded than her friend, not given to fits of fancy or trying new and different things.

The dogs came tumbling in at that. Banshee picked up his favorite pull toy, a piece of rope, and dropped it at Rahne's feet. "Good boy!" she praised him in soothing baby talk.

"Teethe on that," her roommate muttered crossly. "Stay away from my shoes." She pointed to her rag-tag sneakers in the corner.

"And what time did you get in last night?" Rahne asked her friend. "A was up ta midnight."

Sharon shrugged and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Jubilee wanted to talk for a bit." Jubilation Lee had been in one of the foster homes Sharon had been in, and the two were close friends, despite the five year age difference. "Logan and Mariko actually want to adopt her."
 
 

Second chances were rare for people like them, and Sharon felt very happy for her friend, even if she was somewhat envious. Nobody had ever cared for her enough to take that final step of saying to the world "This is the girl I love like I love a daughter" no matter how much she secretly longed for it. In one or two homes, she had been loved alright—but not like a daughter should have been. The desire to belong to someone mixed with the fear of being hurt really defined her.

"That's great!" Rahne beamed. After waiting a second, she asked "What did you think of Sam and Jimmy?"

Sharon shrugged. Her final opinion of the men would come later, when she had a chance to talk to others who knew them. Dani Moonstar, for example, was supposed to work this afternoon at the shelter. "I'm thinking you should wait and see... it never hurts to take things slow."

Even as those words came out of her mouth, Sharon knew that it would be impossible for Rahne to follow her advice. The woman had two speeds—full throttle or not at all. And the last thing she needed to have happen was for someone to break her heart. Sharon shrugged and added, "He seems nice enough and all though." From her, those were words of high praise.

**

Sam arrived two critical minutes late to the joint Army/Navy ROTC training exercise, much to his chagrin. The icy cold looks from Colonel Dayspring and Captian Dominica made him squirm. "My sister called with news from home," he explained, while hating having to cut the truth so thinly. Both of the officers knew that his father was sick, and quickly accepted the excuse.

He took his seat as Dayspring started to lecture. It was dry material, stuff that his instructors had relayed to him before. Instead of listening, he sat back and watched the two take turns presenting the information. Dominica was the first and only female SEAL. She remained a SEAL even after giving birth, right until the day she gained custody during her divorce proceedings. Then, faced with the demands of raising a daughter, she took the post at the school.

Dayspring, on the other hand, was an older much more grizzled than his colleague was. He had spent seventeen years as an Army JAG, bouncing from station to station and embracing the lifestyle. He would have been a lifer, if he hadn't sacrificed his arm to save the life of President's daughter. As a thank you, he received a cybernetic arm and a medical discharge. One no one was going to hand him-- just about everybody was afraid of him to some extent, and they knew the act of giving it to him would mean getting one themselves. So instead, the President herself had arranged it so that he would be assigned to the ROTC until his twenty years were up, which would allow him to retire with full benefits.

Sam watched the two of them effortlessly team-teach the class, working almost as one. Those in the classroom, as a rule, knew nothing about them. A few knew about Lucky, Dominica's daughter, and fewer knew about Taylor, Dayspring's son. But Sam was the only one to know that the two teachers were living together, a discovery he made purely by accident when his job meant that he had to arrange a conference with Taylor's parents. He had given his word that he wouldn't tell, and he intended to keep it.

It was funny to see how perfectly matched they were, Sam thought as he sat back in his chair. Both were hardcore, action junkies who pushed each other to their physical limits, supported each other in their careers and ... their noses looked alike. Grandmother Sandra swore that matching noses meant matching souls.

A piece of chalk barely missing his head quickly got his attention. "Sir?" Sam asked.

Dominica corrected him, "Ma'am!" It had been whispered that Dominica wasn't really a bitch, she merely had a highly effective form of PMS every single day of the month. The look she shot Sam promised him that she wouldn't forget his mental lapse. "Moonstar, will you repeat what I said for Guthrie's benefit?"

Dani Moonstar beamed while Sam clenched his jaw. It wasn't that he hated Moonstar but they were always competing. She felt she had something to prove, being one of a handful of women in the Corp and the only Native American. He felt that he was the better leader and wasn't going to step aside just because she wanted his spot. As his mother once told him, in order for women to have equality, they had to be treated as equals.

It wasn't that Sam didn't appreciate what it took for a female to succeed in the Army. He did. But when it came down to it, he preferred a true lady, someone soft, gentle, tenderhearted. Being southern, he knew that that didn't mean a lady was weak but that she had her mystique, her own way of being successful. His mother and grandmothers were steel magnolias, iron fists inside velvet gloves.

Moonstar started, repeating word for word what Dominica had said. "The Dayspring medal for outstanding Army ROTC cadet will be awarded next week. Each candidate will be ranked according to three areas: physical fitness, mental fitness, and representation of Army values. The last set of PT scores will be used to determine physical fitness, GPA will be used to decide mental fitness, and a test will be given on Monday on values." In other words, Sam figured, he had the top PT score, she had a slightly higher GPA—3.97 vs. 3.93—and the test would decide the winner.

***

Craig stroked the small photograph of Rahne and smiled. His dear child had been snatched from him so long ago by a grieving mother looking to replace her demonically controlled son, but soon he would have her back. Her mind might have been poisoned by that she-Devil, but Rahne wanted to come back to him.

More than that, Craig had a God-given duty to model her into the person that the Lord almighty wanted her to be. The kind of woman the Bible commanded: one who did what she was told without asking questions, one who did nothing rash. One who obeyed, mindlessly.

After staying with that she-Devil, it would take time to condition Rahne, return her to the state he had her. But, in the end, she would thank him or suffer the fate that was commanded for a disobedient child—death.