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Full Story: Hearts of Darkness (w. ShadowOfDesire)

Miranda turned from the door as Jelena began speaking, brows slightly pinched as she considered the woman's question. It sparked a moment of anger, but the doctor quickly set that aside. Jelena was being nosy because she cared for the girl, that was all. Miranda could hardly fault her for it. She'd have the same reaction if their roles were reversed.

Sighing, she leaned back in her chair, considering the woman before her and Naomi's story. After a moment, she answered just as quietly. "Normally, I'm bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, and I'd tell you to ask Naomi for her story. I would not betray the girl's confidence, medical or otherwise. However, she's given me permission to talk to you about her... situation."

"She came to me at the clinic to confirm for her what she already knew to be true -- she's pregnant with Aldo's child." She paused to let that sink in. "The girl is a wreck. She's worried about what her mother will say when she finds out. She was worried about telling you, afraid that you'd tell her mother, afraid that you'd think badly of her. She begged me... literally begged me... to speak to you to ask you not to tell her mother. She wants to deal with this situation as an adult in her own time. I don't think she's even had the courage to tell Aldo. She was worried that he might not truly love her, or that he might abandon her and the child. You must understand all of the worries that are going through her mind right now."

"And now this..." She gestured sadly to the unconscious man upon the bed. "The stress isn't good for her or the baby."

"What she needs more than anything is a friend to support her. I told her that if you were friends with her mother, she'd be putting you in a very difficult situation. However, I hope that you'd give the girl enough credit to let her deal with things in her own time. She needs to break the news in gently, when she's ready."
 
A slew of emotions flashed over Jelena’s face when Miranda said Naomi was pregnant; anger, disappointment, concern. Surprise wasn’t one of them; when Miranda finished, “I suspected as much” was the first thing the Croatian woman said as she glanced at Aldo. Then Jelena just looked tired. “Her mother and I are not friends; I do not even like the woman. I respond to her because I know Naomi’s father.” The Croat sighed. “And I am not happy about this;” she glanced at Aldo again and her eyes were hard, despite the fact the Italian had been shot earlier in the day. Then Jelena looked back at Miranda. “Of course I will help Naomi. She … we will go to the WHO clinic tomorrow and get started, so that she and the baby are cared for. And I will help her tell the boy he is a father now, and that he must do what is right.” The Croat paused. “Or I will do it for her.” Then she sighed again and shook her head. “When he has recovered.”

The door to the room opened. Naomi came in and went straight to Aldo’s bedside, while Jack stood in the doorway talking to Doc Tovey; Jack’s hands were full of sandwiches and bottled water. Jelena glanced over at Naomi then at Jack, then resumed talking to Miranda in a low tone. “The Russian is fun, and can be charming when he wants to be. Like him.” The Croat woman tipped her head towards the door. “But I know who he is. What he is. Your … friend Jack is not so different I think.” Jelena picked up her bag as Jack walked over to her and Miranda.

“Hey, so this is the best I could do for now” Jack said as he set the food and water down. “And Naomi knows where to go for more.” He looked over at Jelena. “She hasn’t eaten yet, ‘cause she wanted to come right back. Sorry about that.” Jack looked at Miranda. “And I got a call too. Gotta go back. I’ll try to give you a call tomorrow so we can … discuss how the trip today went.” After saying his goodbyes to Jelena and Miranda, Jack went and stood with Naomi for a minute, then gave her arm a little squeeze and headed out.

Jelena fished her cigarettes out of her bag. “I must find a toilet and then a place to smoke.” The Croat looked over at Naomi then back at Miranda. “She will be fine watching him until I get back, there is no need for you to stay I think. And I will make sure she eats.” Jelena paused and quite sincerely added two last things. “Thank you Miranda, for taking care of her. Remember to take care of yourself too.” Then the Croatian was walking out the door, fumbling with her cigarettes and lighter even before she was out of the room.
 
Despite Jelena's opinions, Miranda did not leave Naomi alone -- not until she'd had a serious conversation with the woman. Settling beside her, she reached for one of her hands again and held it warmly. "I spoke with Jelena as you asked me to," she said softly to the girl. "She will not tell your mother. She's going to help you get the care you need from your own medical clinic, and will give you all the support you need to deal with your situation. Both situations."

Gazing at the girl for a moment, she studied her face. "Are you going to be alright, Naomi? Is there anything I can do for you right now?"

She wasn't sure what could be done other than to keep an eye on Aldo's progress and give the woman whatever support she needed, but if the woman needed her, she'd do whatever was necessary to ensure she took care of herself. She knew what it was to fear for the man you loved. She knew that pain and heartache. If Aldo didn't pull through, Naomi would be devastated. She truly did love the Italian. Miranda could see that quite clearly.

It made her wonder if she felt as deeply about Jack. How would she have felt if he'd been injured or killed? How would he have reacted if she'd been the one to take a bullet?
 
Naomi smiled at Miranda and squeezed her hand. “Thank you Doctor Blake. I knew you would help me.” The younger woman’s voice and gaze were noticeably steadier then they had been before. Still, Naomi hesitated before she went on.

“I know people think I’m just a silly girl. My Mum. Jelena.” The Ethiopian woman looked pointedly at Miranda and smiled a little. “It’s okay Doctor Blake.” Then Naomi seemed to change subjects. “When we went to get the food, Jack told me more about what happened. I didn’t like him at first, but he seems nice; I’m glad you go with him on your trips.” Naomi brushed some of her hair back, then kept talking.

“He told me there was a young soldier, almost a boy really, with you today. That the soldier’s job was to shoot a big machinegun at the people trying to hurt you. But he, the young soldier I mean, got scared. So Jack talked to him, the soldier, and reminded him his job was important, and that everyone needed him.” Naomi’s lips trembled a little as she went on. “Jack said that boy, that soldier, almost got killed but he saved you all. Aldo, you, the other doctor. Even Jack.” Naomi looked at Aldo as her hands settled onto her stomach. “I’ve never had anyone really need me before.”

When Naomi finally looked back at Miranda her eyes were moist, but there was a brave little smile on her face too. “I’m going to get fat, aren’t I?” Then the Ethiopian glanced down at her chest and laughed a little. “Aldo will like that. The baby too.” Naomi reached for a random sandwich, and as she began unwrapping it looked at Miranda again. “We got extra for you too Doctor Blake, if you’re hungry.”
 
Miranda laughed as well and nodded at the woman. "Probably, but not as much as you might think. With your metabolism, you'll probably have it gone quickly by the time the baby is born."

She waved off the offer of dinner. "No, but thank you. I've already eaten. Listen, I'm going to check back in with you. I want to keep an eye on Aldo's progress. Will you or Jelena let me know if anything changes with him? I'll be back to visit, but would especially like to speak with him when he regains consciousness. That baby is depending on you to eat well, so don't skimp on meals. Take breaks, go for walks, eat all you like. Let Jelena sit with him to give you a rest. Make sure you get plenty of sleep, too. That's important."

"You've got my number. Call or text me any time if you need anything. I can make myself available. And take care of yourself, okay? I'll talk to you later, Naomi."

Leaving the girl in Jelena's capable hands, Miranda took a cab rather than waiting for one of the hired cars to pick her up. She was physically and emotionally drained after such a stressful day. Her time in the village and emergency surgery seemed a distant memory, like a dream that slowly faded upon waking. As the cabby drove her home through the thick evening traffic, she had more than enough time to reflect on what had happened. She'd not had time to process the firefight in the moment but now, the thought of it chilled her to the bone. They'd been perilously close to not coming back at all.

Of course, Jack had probably had much closer scrapes than that, but it was the most combat that Miranda had ever seen. The enemy had been shooting RPGs at them, for Hell's sake! She counted herself lucky to have come away with her life, much less relatively unscathed. Her bruises were minimal and abrasions superficial. But she doubted that lucky would hold out for long. The more chances they took, the more likely that even more people would get hurt or even killed. She shuddered to think what might happen if Steven's plan was put into action and they were sent out without any protection at all. The casualties would be far, far worse.

Back in her hotel room, Miranda couldn't think about much except sleep. She fell into bed and curled up, wishing that Jack had been able to get free. It would have been nice to have his solid, comforting presence wrapping her in warmth and safety. Hugging her pillow, she finally drifted off and slept soundly, not waking until late the next morning.
 
The following day ended up being incredibly busy for Jack. After a joint debrief with the QRF and getting started on weapons cleaning and vehicle maintenance, Dieter informed Jack and Piet that they had to go back and recover the overturned MRAP; the GOC of the 7th was being a dick about things and insisted that if they didn’t, it could affect the logistical support Jack’s unit received from the 7th ID. Dieter was inclined to tell the General to shove it and call Abuja, but then the Maintenance Chief pointed out they could cannibalize the wreck for parts even if they couldn’t rebuild it completely. After that Dieter pulled Jack aside and dropped the other shoe; he handed Jack what looked like an invitation.

“Since you’re also my ‘Public Affairs Officer,’ I have another special mission for you Jackie. The Governor’s birthday party tomorrow night. The GOC will undoubtedly be there, and I’m not going to let that skelm embarrass me in front of the Governor. So you’re going on my behalf; pay my ‘respects’ to the GOC, kiss the Governor’s ring, that sort of thing.”

“Jesus Boss, c’mon …”

“This isn’t a request Jackie. Get yourself a presentable uniform, make us look good in front of the Governor; he probably has connections in Abuja, and I’m getting enough kak from the General as it is. You can bring a guest, so invite your doctor friend, take her someplace nice for a change. Have a few drinks with her after you’ve taken care of business.” Jack looked down at the invite and grimaced.

---

Before they headed out Jack zapped Miranda a longish text:

Hey, probably gonna have to work late again. Sorry. But can c u Wed night if ur free. I have to go to Gov’s bday at 730, wanna come? Might be folks there who can help clinic. I have to wear uniform, but invite says cocktail wear. (No pool party!) If not I can come by after. Let me know. XO, J

---

The mission to get the vehicle took all day but was uneventful; whatever might have been left of BH around Sumbola apparently decided not to come out and play again. But it took forever for the engineers to check the wreck for booby traps, and almost as long for them to figure out how to pull the overturned vehicle upright and onto a heavy duty wrecker. For most of that time Jack just stared out into the bush, thinking about Miranda; Mikhail was unusually grumpy all day, probably because he’d headed off to the motorpool to pound vodka last night instead of going over to Jelena’s to play ‘video games.’

Once they got back to base it was a mad scramble to find a tailor to take care of the uniform Jack needed for the birthday function. Fortunately Captain O. was able to help him out and as the sun was setting Jack was being fitted for regulation Nigerian battle dress, complete with patches, new polished boots and even a beret; there just wasn’t time for anything dressier and Jack figured what he was getting would look fine when everything was crisply pressed and polished. Plus it would also fit his new unit’s budding reputation, which he figured Dieter would appreciate. On the way back to base Jack also stopped by a couple of shops to check on the progress of some things he was organizing for Miranda; he was told what he’d ordered on Sunday while cookie shopping would be ready by tomorrow too. After that he had just enough time to swing by the motorpool for a couple of shots before he called it a night; as Jack drifted off he lamented that for the second night in a row after Sumbola he was sleeping someplace besides with Miranda. “Patience Jack, patience” his little voice said. “You’ll probably see her tomorrow, one way of another. Remember, ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder.’” Jack just groaned in reply as he thought “You have got to get a new writer.”

---Bonus Pictures---

A Nigerian Army couple wearing battle dress.

The head of Nigeria's Army addressing a press conference in battle dress.
 
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Tuesday passed without much fanfare. Miranda spent the morning at the clinic to ensure things were running smoothly in her absence, but after the shock of the previous day, Miranda often found herself in something of a daze as the memory of the firefight came back to her again and again. Noting her distracted state, Dr. Jensen gently suggested that she take the week off and leave the clinic to him. Acknowledging that she needed at least another day to work through things, she reluctantly agreed.

She had no surgeries scheduled. Her existing surgical patients had been shunted to other doctors before that week's mission, so she thankfully found herself without any obligations. Her first stop upon leaving the clinic was to check on Aldo's progress. Jelena's text indicated that his heart rate and blood pressure had both normalized, which was excellent news given his situation. He wasn't awake when she visited, but she did spend a few hours there with Naomi to give Jelena a break, and chatted with the girl about a great many things. She tried to keep the conversation light to distract Naomi (and herself) and left the girl in better spirits.

Esther texted her while she was at the hospital, so she stopped by the MSF compound to speak with her, as well. The other doctor had mostly recovered from the ordeal, but couldn't talk about the explosion without shaking. Miranda really couldn't blame her. So many people had been killed by IEDs that Esther was convinced that they were all going to die the bomb detonated. They shared stories, talking through the trauma, and even shed a few tears. It was cathartic, which helped Miranda a great deal.

However, her mood quickly soured when she returned to her apartment.

"Doctor! How nice to see you again." Carson smiled at her from the table, enjoying a sandwich and beer he'd stolen from her fridge. "I hear you had a bit of a dust up yesterday."

Dropping her bag near the couch, she scowled. "You could say that."

"You know I want all the gritty little details, Doctor. So settle in and make yourself comfortable. I have questions for you."

He grilled her on everything she could remember, sometimes asking about strange things that Miranda considered insignificant at the time. It wasn't the attackers that interested him, either. It was Jack's team. How many men were there? How did they react to the conflict? How many wounded? What were their dispositions? Did she see any cowardice among them? Who was the weak link? How much gear did they carry in the trucks? How many quick response team members were sent on the return trip? How many stayed with the helicopter? On and on the questions came until, at last, he finally seemed satisfied. Miranda was snappish and irritable, but he waved off her attitude for once.

"Did you get the photographer's pictures?"

Miranda frowned. "The man had his camera smashed to bits against his face! We weren't worried about his damned photographs. I don't know if any survived."

Carson shrugged. "If they did, you'll make me copies."

"I hardly think they are relev..." Cut off by her phone's text notification, she glanced at the device in her hand and then shoved it into her pocket hastily.

"Who was that?"

"None of your damned business. Now I'd appreciate it if you left."

Carson rose and advanced, backing her into the wall. He planted one hand beside her head and leaned against her, his free hand delving into her pocket for her phone. She made a grab for it and he jerked it away with a grin, reading her private correspondence.

"Oh? Jack's invited you to a little soiree for the Governor's birthday. Isn't that sweet. He must have been impressed with your cock sucking. I hope you have a cocktail dress." He tossed the phone at her as he backed away.

"I'm not going," Miranda insisted.

He pinned her with a hard look. "Yes, you are, and you're going to show the man a good time and be your most charming self. There will be a great many important people at the party, so I expect you to observe and report. Keep your eyes open. Such events are usually very... interesting."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Her eyes narrowed.

He just smirked. "Wear something pretty, Miranda. I'll be watching."

After he'd gone, Miranda finally read Jack's text for herself and couldn't help but be a trifle disappointed again. Another day gone and they'd still not seen each other long enough to talk. Yet again, she'd be sleeping alone.

Oh, grow up. You don't need a man in your bed every night. He's not yours to keep, anyhow. Stop being clingy. You're not his first priority and he isn't yours, so get over it.

Logical as it was, it still hurt a bit. She sighed and wrote him back:

That could be fun. Let me know when you'll be here to pick me up, and I'll be ready.

Finding something suitable was tricky. She had several options, but discarded one as too formal, another as too casual, and a third as too slutty. In the end, she decided on a pretty a-line dress with a delicate scoop neck and gauzy chiffon skirt in a stormy grey. Paired with silver strappy heels, a touch of silver at her ears and wrist, and her long hair in loose waves, she looked elegant and refined without seeming overly snobbish. With any luck, she'd fit in well with the other party guests.

---

Miranda's Cocktail Dress
 
Jack’s Wednesday ended up being almost as busy as his Tuesday. Dieter wanted to quickly follow up on their success outside of Sumbola with another operation closer to home; the Boss’ idea was to keep the momentum going psychologically as well as militarily, not just against Boko Haram but also those within the Nigerian government who were less than thrilled about foreign contractors joining the fight. Valeriy and Danny had already been sifting through potential targets and the plan was to hit three in town simultaneously the next morning. Jack’s objective was a car bomb factory hidden inside a bush garage in Galtimari on the south side of town; as far as he could figure he got that one because Doctor Blake had recently provided the intel on it. The raid would cut into his sleepover with Miranda, pretty much ensuring he wouldn’t be doing breakfast with her again, but at least he was able to finish up the planning in time to put on his new uniform and head out to get her presents and pick her up.

Predictably the guys gave Jack a ration of shit on the way out. Even Ian came hobbling up on his crutches to compliment Jack on how “crisp” and “shiny” and “pretty” the new uniform looked; the South African also wanted to know if all the patches were sewn on the old-school way, or attached with “high speed” Velcro so they could noisily rip off when some tree branch snagged them in the middle of the night. Jack normally would have (tried to) put Ian in a headlock, but since his lifting buddy was temporarily one-legged, he let him have his fun this time. The only person who didn’t give Jack shit was Mikhail.

“Jek, will there be any famous people at the party?”

“Famous people?”

“Da, yes. Like that Irish musician who is always singing about Africa. Bonzo. If he is there, could you get his autograph for me?”

Jack assured Mikhail that if Bonzo was there, he’d get his autograph for the Russian.

---

Thanks to a delay at one of the shops he visited Jack was late getting to Miranda’s; he tried texting her as he drove, but when a family of four on a motorcycle cut him off he had to stomp on the brakes and his phone went flying. So when Jack finally knocked on Miranda’s door he had an apology on his lips – but that died stillborn when Miranda answered the door and Jack saw her. Jack’s jaw hit the floor; Miranda always looked classy and sexy, but what she was wearing for the party cranked that up to 11. “Elegantly hot” crossed Jack’s seized up mind, then morphed into “hotly elegant.” As part of his brain tried to unscramble that, Jack also had to fight off the urge to wrap his arms around Miranda, crush his lips to hers for oh … say a hundred years, and then rip her beautiful dress off, so he could get at the sexy body that was hinted at (and which he knew so well) underneath.

But, in a semi-incredible display of discipline, Jack was able to pick his jaw up off the floor, step forward and just reach out with his one free hand to caress Miranda’s cheek; then he kissed her. It wasn’t a wildly passionate kiss, the kind of thing that would screw up her hair and makeup; but it wasn’t a short little peck either. It had been far, far too long since Jack had been able to touch Miranda the way he wanted to (“Jeez, when was the last time? Sunday morning?” he thought) and he put everything he felt for her (and that was saying something) into that kiss. When it was finally time to come up for air, Jack’s hand still lingered against Miranda’s soft dusky skin for a long time, as he gazed into her beautiful brown eyes as if he was in a trance …

Finally though, Jack remembered how to speak and started talking a little. “Hey, sorry I’m late. I tried to send you a text but, uh … traffic. We still have a little time though.” He bustled past Miranda and set his beret and the plastic bag he was carrying down on the little kitchen table. “We can … catch up on the way over. Doc Tovey told me Aldo is doing better, but one of his eyes is still blurry; he said that might be because of the concussion. Is that true?” Jack pulled a couple of small parcels out of the plastic bag. “Anyway, we probably have time for a preflight drink if you want one and also … well, I have a couple of prezzies for you.”

Jack placed two presents on Miranda’s kitchen table; both were about six inches square and wrapped in simple brown paper. The first was only about an inch high, but the second was closer to four. Jack grinned at Miranda a little as he settled into a kitchen chair. “They’re both for you obviously, and are related. But you don’t have to accept both; if you’re only comfortable with the first one, I’ll understand.” Jack paused. “Or maybe you don’t want either one … “

---The Presents---

Like last time, if Miranda opens the presents click on the spoilers and links below in order to see what Jack got her.

When Miranda opens the first present she sees a small wooden box; it appears to be handmade, is painted dark blue and is lacquered, and is secured with a simple brass clasp. On top of the box is a post-it that reads “For when we’re out together. Or whenever you want to wear it.” Click on link one to see what’s in the box.

Link One: Miranda's first present.

When Miranda opens the second present she sees a simple cardboard box. On top of the box is a post-it that reads “For when we’re in private. Whenever I want you to wear it.” Click on links two and three to see what’s in the second box.

Link Two: Miranda's second present.

Link Three: An accessory included with Miranda's second present.
 
Miranda couldn't miss Jack's hesitation at the door and the obvious appreciation in her eyes. It warmed her heart and settled her nerves knowing that she'd made the right clothing choice. He was obviously enamored and the moment gave her the opportunity to study him in return. Not only was she impressed by the way he wore the uniform, she was shocked that he was in a uniform. She'd only seen him in what she'd label as 'casual fatigues' when he was on duty. This was a step above what he normally wore, though still obviously a standard uniform and very unlike the dress uniforms of the American military. It was practical and not at all flashy. Even so, the cut and precision of it flattered his muscular form to a degree that she wondered if he'd wear it just for her pleasure on one of his nightly visits. The stereotype of women drooling over men in uniform was a stereotype for a reason.

She met his kiss eagerly, not caring in the slightest if he had mussed her makeup or dress. It was heavenly to finally be able to hug him again, to feel his fingers caressing her skin, and the passion spring up between them once more. It was a tiny disappointment that the moment had to end, but there would be time later to explore that heat once more. (Or so she desperately hoped.)

"Don't worry over being late. You know that girls are never on time when they're getting dolled up," she insisted. She'd actually been worried that he'd arrive early and throw her routine out of whack. "I don't really need a drink, unless you do. I'd rather just wait for the party instead of kicking off my inebriation early." She actually didn't plan on drinking all that much. As usual, she didn't enjoy relinquishing control to anyone when in public. She didn't trust anyone enough to let loose. Jack might be the exception, though she was far more comfortable with letting him have control when they were alone together.

"I heard that Aldo is doing much better. Jelena and Naomi have been keeping me informed. In these cases, with the severe blow he took to the head, he's lucky to only be dealing with trouble with his vision. Concussion can certainly cause those issues and usually resolves itself as the bruising heals. He didn't have any swelling on the brain and his eyes themselves weren't damaged -- a true miracle -- but he'll be dealing with the symptoms for a while."

Her brows rose in silent speculation as he presented his gifts "For me? You know you don't have to do that. I don't expect anything from you, Jack," she insisted, though was enormously pleased he'd thought of her.

She couldn't hide the smile as she opened the first gift, the enameled box, and found a beautiful necklace waiting inside. "This is gorgeous!" Her dark gaze returned to his in surprise. "I love it, Jack. Truly. Thank you."

His second gift caused her eyebrows to lift in shock. Pulling the leather collar and leash free of the box, she felt her stomach lurch and that familiar heat bloom between her thighs. Blinking, she finally turned her gaze to his and was, surprisingly, blushing furiously. She opened her mouth and then closed it again. Placing both items back inside the box, she hastily closed the flaps and placed a hand on top as though trying to keep the offending items from escaping.

"I'm... at a loss for words," she confessed, her blush still very present. "I've never... worn anything like that."

She paused, licking her lips as she glanced nervously at the closed box beneath her hand. "When... when can we try it?"
 
Jack was relieved when Miranda ended up liking both his presents; he’d been a little worried about the collar, even though she’d mentioned it first and he’d sort of warned her he was taking the idea seriously. That’s why, when he found a leather worker to help him out, he had the guy make him something slender and feminine looking, and also went with a soft, red brown leather and brass fittings; Jack thought the finished product really would look rather pretty wrapped about Miranda’s neck, while still being quite powerful as a symbol. The old guy had suggested adding the leash too, and smiled knowingly when he did; Jack had figured “What the hell, in for a penny, in for a pound” and tossed some more naira at the guy for the accessory.

“Well” he said out loud, “I can put it on you for the first time tonight if you like, after the party. It turns out I have to work tomorrow morning, early, but I can still come back here, do a bit of a sleep over.” Jack gestured down at himself. “Since I already have a uniform here I won’t have to leave until five or so; probably no time for breakfast, but I can still help warm your bed for awhile … after. Sound like a plan? Anyway you go ahead and think about it, we should probably get going …”

---

The drive to the Borno State Governor’s Office and Residence wasn’t very far, but still took some time because of traffic and security arrangements around the Governor’s compound; Jack knew a team from his unit was also on standby tonight, in case something went bang or boom during the function. Despite all that he also had his pistol in an inside the waistband holster under his uniform top; getting to it there would take a little longer than usual, but still be a lot quicker than if it was in his go-bag back in the truck.

The Governor’s Residence was fairly large and quite ornate; marble steps went up to a portico outside the main entrance where invitations and ID were being checked. Parking was of course a mess and they ended up having to walk a fair way to join the short queue of guests heading in; Jack had seen how fit Miranda was several times now, but still offered her his arm as they strolled back to the residence in the muggy evening air.

After passing through a foyer they entered what could only be described as a good sized ballroom; it featured a lot more marble, high ceilings with chandeliers, and plenty of gilt and mirrors. After what they’d seen earlier in the week out in Sumbola it was hard not to see the décor as being more than a little ostentatious. The room was already fairly full and Jack was happy to see that he and Miranda were dressed for the occasion; while some of the guys were wearing ties others had ditched them, and he saw a few other military types in pressed battle dress instead of their dressier uniforms. Miranda of course looked just right; there were a few gals wearing something a bit more formal and several wearing little black dresses, but most seemed like they’d gone for the same look as Doctor Blake – though none had pulled it off quite as well as Miranda in Jack’s opinion.

Servers were milling around with trays of hors d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne, and Jack could see a string quartet off in one corner playing softly away; there were also a couple of bars, one on either side of the room. After Jack and Miranda stepped off to the side to scope things out he turned to her. “So basically my boss just wants me to pay his respects to his boss, then go say ‘Happy Birthday’ to the Governor and try to schmooze him for a bit; that’s it. The General is supposedly kind of a jerk and I can’t see that meeting him would help you out much. But if you want to come with me to see the Governor, maybe he could help MSF somehow? And is there anyone else here you want to try to meet?” Jack looked around some more. “But before all that, do you want some champagne? Or else we could head over to the bar for something else.” As he waited to see what Miranda wanted to do Jack happily reflected that while this room might look out of place in Maiduguri, she looked absolutely perfect standing in this room …
 
Miranda plucked a pair of champagne glasses from one of the serving trays as they passed and offered one to Jack. "I'm fine with champagne for now, though might want something a bit stronger later. It depends on how dull the conversation is going to be." She smiled thinly, only half joking.

"I would definitely like to meet the Governor when you pay your respects. I doubt I will get another opportunity. You go pay your respects to your General and don't worry after me. I already see several people from MSF here, so I should probably go say hello. No doubt they'll try to recruit me to help them drum up funds or support from some of the guests. Any social event can be turned into a fund raising opportunity if you speak with the right people."

She'd been to several such events in fancy locales, so she wasn't overawed by their surroundings, but she was appreciative. The residence certainly wasn't something one would expect in the middle of a nation where so many people lived without access to medical treatment and clean water. Then again, it really wasn't all that different from the vast palaces in various dictatorships around the world. The wealthy flaunted that wealth while their people starved. It was a common theme throughout history, and one that didn't normally bode well for the wealthy.

"Just come find me when you're ready to give your regards to the Governor on his big day and we'll go say hello." She released his arm and turned to face him, wiping at one of his broad shoulders. "You look rather dashing in uniform, you know. It might not be your usual style, but the cut looks good on you. I look forward to peeling it off you later."

Her eyes danced with amusement as she took a sip of her champagne, leaving a faint imprint from her lipstick along the rim. She'd worn a rich shade of red that complimented her dusky skin. The rest of her makeup was classic and subdued, meant to enhance her natural features rather than hide or alter them.

She wriggled her fingers at him. "Now scoot. The faster you do your duty, the more time we have to spend with one another tonight. I'm definitely looking forward to those extracurricular activities this evening."
 
Jack grinned when Miranda started talking about ‘later;’ what guy wouldn’t have? But he was also really grateful that Miranda had come with him, and not just because he enjoyed her company tremendously. Even though other guys here were wearing battle dress, Jack was the only one with a white face and everyone could see who, and what he was. Not that Jack was ashamed of being a private contractor, but being looked on as nothing more than a whore with a gun got old sometimes – especially when you couldn’t punch some prick in the face for acting all snotty. He’d seen the looks directed at him turn to surprise when folks saw Miranda’s arm curled through his; she clearly wasn’t some high priced hooker he’d picked up downtown, and all of a sudden maybe he wasn’t such a piece of shit, dog of war after all. It nagged at him a little that he still had an ego about this sort of crap, but that didn’t alter the fact that he somehow felt as if he’d walked into Senior prom with the smartest, coolest, hottest girl in school as his date. “You are such an idiot” his little voice said to him. “Fuck off” was his mental reply.

Jack’s thoughts snapped back to what Miranda had been saying. “Okay, sure” he vaguely answered, as he sipped some champagne and tried to recall what Miranda had actually said. “Oh, okay. Yeah, lemme go see Gen-baby and get that over with, then we can go see the Governor.” Jack instinctively leaned in to give Miranda a kiss before he headed off, but quickly caught himself and gave her arm a little squeeze instead. Then he sipped a little more champagne and strode off towards the huddle of overdressed staff officers he saw in one corner …

---

A minute or two later a tall, buxom blonde slipped through the other party goers headed towards Miranda. She was wearing a sleeveless little black dress and matching heels that contrasted markedly with her pale skin, and the only splash of color in her ensemble was the bright red leather clutch which matched her nails and lipstick perfectly. Her highlighted hair was done in a stylish pixie cut that flattered her high cheekbones and her understated makeup brought out the brilliant blue of her eyes. The woman smiled coolly at Miranda as she approached. “Good evening” she said, in a light German accent. “I thought I was going to be the only Western woman here tonight.” If they’d both been bare footed the German woman would have still been a few inches taller than Miranda, so even in heels the blonde was looking down a bit as she spoke. “This isn’t a bad little party” the German remarked. Then she sipped a little of the champagne she was holding in her other hand as she looked around. “Though the champagne could be better.”

The woman looked at Miranda again and smiled. “What a pretty dress. Oh, excuse me. I'm Doctor Ilse Kahl, here representing Gazprom.” The German said ‘Gazprom’ as if she expected Miranda to recognize that it was Russia’s state owned oil and gas company, and the largest producer of natural gas in the world. Doctor Kahl reluctantly sipped some more of her champagne and raised an eyebrow at Miranda …
 
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Miranda watched Jack leave, admiring how good his ass looked in uniform. Did he know how handsome he was? Or how women looked at him when he passed? His skin color marked him as foreign, which some weren't to keen on, but he was still a man that drew appreciative looks from several directions. The thought of spending time with him later made her flush. She was definitely looking forward to the after party.

Making her way across the floor, she paused as the blond woman approached, not recognizing her in the slightest. Still, it was only polite as one never knew who might be interested in funding their charity efforts. "There are a few of us about," she commented. With a smile, she offered her hand. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Dr. Miranda Blake. Please, call me Miranda. I run a tiny clinic here for MSF. I'm not familiar with Gazprom. Is it a company or organization?"

The blonde woman was quite pretty and drew attention of her own, then again, among the sea of Nigerian brown, the two of them were in the minority. Still, there were others scattered about, many of whom Miranda had worked with on other projects. Catching a slight wave from one of the volunteers she'd had in her clinic a time or two, she offered a friendly gesture before returning her full attention to Ilse.

"I like your dress, as well. I was tempted to wear black, but I fall back on it far too much. Something different was in order. So, what sort of doctor are you, Ilse?"
 
The German woman smiled at Miranda. “Ah, you’re a physician. Yes, Doctors Without Borders is wonderful. You do great work, especially considering how small your organization is.” Ilse then explained what Gazprom did and sipped a little champagne before she went on. “But at this point we also do quite a lot of exploration and development outside the former Soviet Union. We’re considering a project here, offshore and some of the engineers think there may be significant natural gas deposits under the Lake Chad basin as well.” The German wrinkled her nose before she continued. “Digging for oil is not my specialty though. My thesis was on international security policy analysis. I’m here for the week working on that portion of the project’s viability assessment.” Ilse seemed to think for a moment, then pulled a little business card from her clutch and offered it to Miranda. “Perhaps we could have lunch before I go. I imagine you have your own perspective on this Boko Haram group, something different from what all the politicians and military men are telling me. Coming from an educated woman like yourself, that sort of insight could be quite helpful to me …”

---

The first part of Jack’s mission for the evening, to pay Dieter’s respects to the General, went off blessedly easily; the hardest part was working his way through the gaggle of staff officers all toadying around their boss. The GOC did indeed seem to be a bit of a jerk, like so many other General Officers, but Jack wasn’t Dieter and so was let off lightly enough after a few moments; maybe Dieter had rubbed the guy the wrong way, or perhaps it was just because Jack’s boss was a white Afrikaner. In any event Jack was headed back towards Miranda quickly enough; he thought about swinging by the bar, but when he realized he didn’t know what she might want to drink he just grabbed a couple of fresh champagnes on the way …

---

As Jack stepped around a couple with the fresh drinks in his hands Miranda could see his jaw drop as he caught sight of Doctor Kahl. Then his eyes squinted and his jaw clenched up like it had when they were dragging Aldo across the road. Ilse turned to look at Jack with a twinkle in her eye. “John! I’d say this is a surprise, but I must admit Valeriy told me you’d be here tonight.” The German woman looked down at the two glasses in Jack’s hand. “Is one of those for me? Or …” Ilse looked at Miranda then back and Jack and laughed lightly. “Are you two together?”
 
Miranda accepted the woman's card, slipping it into her purse, and was about to pull her own out to give the woman when she spied Jack's approach. Something in his expression told her he wasn't at all happy at seeing the blonde. So she dropped her card back into her purse and closed it with a snap.

Ilse's tone irked her. She laughed like there was something comical in the fact they might have arrived together. Downing the rest of her champagne, she left her empty glass on one of the tables for a sever to collect and moved to intercept Jack before the woman could bowl him over. "Oh, you are a lifesaver! Thank you. I was just about to go for another." Plucking one of the glasses from his hand, she curled her other about his arm and leaned close. Miranda wasn't normally the jealous type, but something about the blonde sparked a protective instinct. She wanted to make it clear that she was staking her claim.

Yes, he's mine, I'm his, and we fuck hard. He's even got a little collar that I'm going to wear tonight while he fucks me. So back off, bitch.

But she didn't say that aloud. Instead, she opted for a more diplomatic approach.

"Yes, Jack and I work together, so he invited me this evening. I suppose you could say I'm his plus one for the night, though I'm not sure if that's because he wanted eye candy on his arm or just intelligent conversation when the room proves to be lacking. Perhaps a bit of both." She smiled sidelong at him before her dark eyes settled back on Ilse. "How do you know the Major?"

She could guess the answer, of course, but she wanted to know just how haughty the woman could be. Miranda might submit to Jack's whims in the bedroom, but she was a force to be reckoned with in public, and she wasn't easily intimidated. Certainly not by a blonde bimbo that might be trying to steal her man.
 
Ilse looked at Jack and laughed lightly once again. “So you’re a Major now. Very impressive.” Miranda could feel Jack’s arm muscles tensing up hard.

Doctor Kahl looked at Miranda and smiled sweetly. “John and I dated in Basrah. When we were both working in Iraq. He was my silber fuchs, my silver fox.” The German woman looked at Jack and her perfect lips lifted into a little grin. “Valeriy told me Mikhail is here too.” Then Ilse looked at Miranda. “Have you met John’s little attack dog? A very grubby Russian who smokes constantly?” Doctor Kahl looked back at Jack. “We had some fun there, didn’t we John?” Miranda could feel Jack’s arm trembling. Then Ilse looked at Miranda. “Right up until the night he raped me.” The German’s voice was loud enough that people around them looked up and then quickly looked away. “You should ask him about it Miranda. And then when he’s done lying to you, you should give me a call.”

As Ilse looked at Jack the venom in her eyes was unmistakable. “Enjoy your evening Major.” As the German woman strutted off it was hard to tell which was louder; the sound of her heels clicking on the ballroom floor, or the sound of Jack’s molars grinding themselves to powder in his clenched mouth …
 
"What a fucking bitch," Miranda muttered under her breath.

Her gaze flitted to the immediate crowd, slightly embarrassed for Jack, and threw him a worried glance. Rape? She doubted Jack was capable of it. He was rough and demanding, but a rapist? She didn't believe that in the slightest.

"Hey..." She gave his arm a hard squeeze to get his attention. "Come with me."

Throwing a glance to see if he'd follow, she lead the way out of the grand ballroom and into one of the side corridors that led to other parts of the palace. Guests were in and out, visiting the restrooms or finding a place for a smoke. The servers had their own entrances that led to the kitchens and catering staging areas. The ceiling in the corridor was significantly lower than the ballroom, but still a great deal taller than a normal room. The ornamentation here was no less ostentatious. Various kinds of marble and inlays decorated the floors and walls, with gilded accents, columns, and sconces. There were no romantic alcoves where assassins might hide or invading troops might take cover, but the corridor was rife with potted greenery.

Miranda paused in the relative privacy between two large palms, one shoulder to the wall as she waited for Jack to look at her. Though brimming with curiosity, she tried to keep her expression neutral and free of any judgement. Waiting for him to speak, she left it to him to explain if he wished or to rant. She thought he'd give her a bit more courtesy than to tell her to mind her own damn business, but that was always a possibility, as well. She knew from experience how anger often blinded the senses and overrode all logic.
 
The red haze had cleared from Jack’s vision by the time they stopped walking, and his breathing had settled down some too. He could see Miranda was curious, but was doing him the courtesy of not prying; he appreciated that tremendously. So after he’d looked up and down the corridor, Jack took a breath and just started talking to her quietly.

“She and I did spend time together in Basrah. At first it seemed like we were … compatible.” Jack looked away for a moment then went on. “One of her fantasies was being raped. So I accommodated her. She started fighting, even though she could have stopped everything by saying her magic words. She nailed me pretty good.” Jack briefly touched his left cheekbone. “When I started blocking, she banged up her arms on mine. And when I grabbed her wrists, I bruised them up too.” Jack looked down at his boots then back at Miranda. “I also came close to hitting her.”

Jack looked away for a second and then continued. “She enjoyed it. A week later she wanted to do it again, but this time she wanted me to choke her too. So she could feel like she was going to die. I told her no. She didn’t like that and kept pushing. And pushing. Finally I told her I couldn’t see her anymore; she really didn’t like that.” Jack sighed.

“The next day the Iraqi cops came calling. They’re normally pretty worthless, but her outfit was throwing a lot of money around, so they suddenly became interested. And a few of her colleagues had seen the bruises on her arms. There was talk of me sitting in an Iraqi jail while they did their ‘investigation;’ if that’d happened, that would’ve been it for me. Fortunately the folks I was working for backed me up, so I ended up in limbo for almost four weeks; I couldn’t really work, since if I’d been hurt and needed a medevac we didn’t know if the Iraqis would let me leave the country. Then the French came in with more bribe money and snagged the project the Russians had been angling for; Gazprom left and she did too, and the supposed investigation evaporated.”

Jack looked up and down the corridor again. “And now she shows up here, when I’m with you.” He could feel his fists starting to clench again and desperately tried to force himself to relax, so that he could focus on Miranda and not some psycho specter from his past …
 
Her hand slid down his arm to his clenched fist, pressing lightly, urging his fingers to unclench and twine with hers. While their hands were shielded by their bodies, she truly didn't care who saw them together. Studying his face with deep concern, she shook her head lightly and leaned a touch closer, both to distract him and to avoid being overheard.

"She's just looking for attention," she replied softly. "Don't let her rile you. You didn't do anything wrong, and she can't make any further accusations against you. Not here. She's a needy bitch, plain and simple. Some women just can't handle rejection and feel the need to ruin the lives of those that deny them what they want. Heaven forbid she realizes you were just trying to protect her from something dangerous."

"I really don't care what she says about you, Jack. I know you, and I know you'd never do what she said you did. I'm also not interested in her side of the story and don't intend to call her. Whatever her connections, I really don't need them." Holding her glass in the crook of her arm, she released his hand so she could dig into her clutch, pulling out the woman's card with two fingers. She crumpled the card in her palm until it was just a twisted bit of paper and dropped it into the planter behind her. "Screw her and the horse she rode in on."

"Now, let's not let that ruin our night. Governor first and then we can get the hell out of here?" Wiggling her champagne glass, she lifted an eyebrow. "I could go for something a bit stronger, too. How about you?"
 
Jack felt himself relaxing as soon as Miranda took his hand, and given his state of mind he listened to her even more attentively than usual. In the back of his head he’d noticed how protective she’d become when Ilse started talking shit about him and them, and her complete support now meant the world to him; Ilse may have been bat shit crazy, but her accusation against him was about as serious as it gets. And yet here Miranda was, crumpling up the German woman’s card and suggesting they just get on with their night together. He really wanted to kiss her then, but knew how she was about that sort of thing so he just squeezed her hand as he gazed into her beautiful brown eyes. “Sure, I think we’ve earned a trip to the bar …”

---

After they’d gotten something stronger (in Jack’s case it was a double Johnnie Walker Black) they headed towards where the Governor and his entourage were. And as they worked their way through the other well wishers Jack tried to recall what Valeriy (“I’m gonna have a few words with that prick tomorrow” Jack thought to himself) had told him about Borno State’s Chief Executive. Kashim Shettima had been Governor since 2011 and was of course a devout Muslim. But during his time in office Shettima had established a reputation for being very tolerant of other religions, to particularly include Christians but also those who still practiced more traditional beliefs; hence the booze at the function they were at, as well as Shettima being pretty high up on Boko Haram’s shit list. Jack was able to pick out three bodyguards eyeing him and Miranda as they approached the Governor and wondered how many others were mingling with the other party goers.

The Governor was in traditional dress and eyed Jack as he approached; Jack came to attention for a second before he introduced himself and Miranda. “Salaam alaikum Your Excellency. Major Jack Grainger of the Combined Independent Battalion. My Officer Commanding, Colonel Schallen, was unable to attend this evening due to ongoing operations, and asked me to pay you his respects on your birthday.” Jack gestured to Miranda. “May I also present Doctor Miranda Blake, of Doctors Without Borders.”

Governor Shettima smiled easily at Jack. “Wa alaikum salaam Major;” the Governor’s English was clear and crisp, much like his eyes. “Thank you and my compliments to Colonel Schallen; my military aide has informed me of your Battalion’s success to the east earlier in the week. I understand that your helicopters are now flying and featured quite prominently in responding to this attack on a humanitarian mission.” (“Here it comes” Jack thought.) “Perhaps the Colonel could show me a bit more about this new capability.”

Jack and his boss had talked about this beforehand. The General in charge of the 7th Infantry Division was already trying to glom onto the helicopters that were part of Jack’s unit, and there was no way in hell Dieter was going to let that happen. But if doing a few VIP transport missions flying the Governor around earned them a powerful political ally, that’d be well worth it. “Of course Your Excellency” Jack replied fairly smoothly. “We’ll contact your aide and arrange for a demonstration at your convenience.” With that bit of business out of the way Jack relaxed a little more as the Governor turned towards Miranda; his voice and features were really quite pleasant, but he did also clasp his hands in front of him to make it clear there would be no hand shaking.

“Doctor Blake I am of course well aware of your organization. Please let me thank you for your efforts on behalf of all the people of Borno State. Some of my own family and many of my tribe have been helped by your doctors, and I am personally grateful for that as well.” A bit of curiosity crept into the Governor’s voice and his eyes. “So you seem to be here with Major Grainger. Might you have been on the humanitarian mission I was told about? The one that was attacked by these terrorists?”

---Pictures---

Governor Shettima
 
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Miranda didn't offer to shake the man's hand. She knew better. Unless greeting a westerner or someone extended their hand first, she rarely offered while in Nigeria. Instead, she placed her left hand over her heart as she was introduced and offered a slight bow of deference. It was better to err on the side of caution in such cases, and one of the reasons she'd chosen a dress that showed no cleavage. Before they'd approached the Governor, she'd finished her drink (a very potent screwdriver) and drawn her shawl up about her shoulders to cover as much of her arms as possible. She wasn't Muslim and wasn't expected to cover herself from head to toe, but she did try to be respectful of the region's primary religion.

She actually didn't expect the governor to greet her directly. She wasn't at the party by invitation, only by the grace of Jack. As such, she merely listened politely to the conversation and gave them both her full attention, doing her best to ignore the intense scrutiny of the governor's armed guards. However, as the man's questioning was directed at her, she wasn't shy to answer.

"Yes, Your Excellency," she confirmed. "It is my pleasure to serve your people. Major Grainger and his team have escorted us to both Akanni and Sumbola so that we can help with the terrible sickness that's overtaken those villages and vaccinate as many as we can to prevent further spread. We were attacked returning from both locations, but the return from Sumbola was, by far, the worst. It saddens me that these terrorists don't understand that we only wish to provide medical aid. There are so many that are dying needlessly simply because they do not have access to life-saving medications and medical care."
 
The Governor frowned a bit at Miranda’s reply and shook his head. “I am sorry to hear that Doctor Blake. The assistance you provide saves many lives; it is unfortunate these terrorists are so misguided they cannot see that.” Then he smiled. “But mashallah, as God has willed it and with the help of the Nigerian Army …” Shettima nodded towards Jack “… you have returned to us unharmed.” The Governor looked at both Jack and Miranda. “Thank you for your good wishes and please, enjoy yourselves this evening. Albayt baytak; my house is your house.”

As the Governor turned towards other well wishers Jack knew their audience was over, which was fine by him. So he just took Miranda’s arm and strolled off with her through the crowd; once they were a fair distance away he grinned at her and spoke softly. “Well that wasn’t too bad, seems like he’s a decent enough guy. At least he didn’t bite our heads off for your comment about the lack of medical care.” Jack glanced up at one of the chandeliers then back at Miranda. “I wonder how many vaccines pawning that part of the house might buy?” Jack paused, then decided to be fair to the Governor. “Of course Uncle Sam buys all kinds of stupid sh … stuff too, so I guess I shouldn’t be too holier-than-thou.”

Jack saw a tray of champagne go by and started to grab a few more drinks, but then checked himself. The double of Johnnie Walker was warming his belly nicely and he knew that collaring Miranda for the first time later in the evening was going to be … a bit of a process. Seeing Ilse again had also been a stark reminder to him that he really needed to keep his wits about him when he was playing with a woman that way. So he grabbed an orange juice from another server instead and as he held onto the guy, looked back at Miranda. “Would you like another drink or some more champagne? I think I’m good with juice for now.” Once they’d sorted out Miranda’s drink preference Jack went on. “So I’m good, mission complete. Is there anybody here you want to find and talk too? I can be your ‘plus one’ for a bit if you want.” Jack sipped some juice and grinned. “Of course I’m not gonna be as good as you when it comes to being ‘eye candy’ or offering ‘intelligent conversation’ but I can give it the old college try.” Jack paused for a second as if lost in thought, then looked at Miranda quite seriously. “So Doctor, in your professional opinion which came first? The chicken or the egg?”
 
"I phrased it that way on purpose to suss out his nature," Miranda confessed. "He'd either be annoyed and try to deny it, or he'd acknowledge it and move on. I'm glad to see he did the latter. It tells me a lot about his character. He knows of the deficiencies and would like to correct them, but they're a bit beyond his scope at the moment. Now I know why MSF is given such free rein and a certain level of autonomy. They've been helping the world for decades and coordinate their efforts better than anyone. It makes sense for him to leave it to the professionals."

She waved off the offer of another drink. "No, I'm fine. I don't want to be sloshed before we get home." Like it or not, we have things to discuss. She was going to tell him about Steven's proclamation eventually, but now definitely wasn't the time -- especially not after the incident with Ilse.

"I do need to say hello to a few people and make the rounds. I didn't really have the chance before that woman accosted me." She tucked her arm in his and tilted her head to a group not too far away that seemed to be a mix of natives and foreigners. "And so that you know, in that uniform, you're more eye candy than I am. You have no idea how good those pants make your ass look."

She grinned and directed him in the direction she wished to go, though his question did cause her to throw a look his way. "In my professional opinion, I try not to get into philosophical debates in the middle of grand parties. But if you truly want to know, the chicken came first and was hatched by something that wasn't a chicken. I hope that doesn't mean we can't be friends."
 
Jack laughed at Miranda’s reference to his ass. The female soldiers he’d known had mostly hated how they’d looked in the Army’s version of battle dress; the fact that it made their rear ends look bigger tended to be high up on their complaints list. Like most guys Jack had agreed, but always been careful to keep that sentiment to himself, even when a gal had gotten her uniform tailored. (As far as Jack was concerned, the question “Do these still make my butt look fat?” was roughly equivalent to walking into a live minefield.) Of course his shoulders were quite a bit broader than the average gal's and his hips a lot less … hippy, so maybe Miranda was onto something; beauty was in the eye of the beholder after all.

Needless to say all that made Jack think of the firm, curved cheeks hiding under Miranda’s dress as he sipped a little of his juice. He planned on taking her ass properly for the first time that evening, as part of her collaring; of course it would be their first time doing that, but he wondered if she’d ever tried it before with someone else. Looking at Miranda now or thinking of her in her Doctor Blake uniform, Jack’s immediate thought was “no way.” On the other hand she’d mentioned her crazy past on several occasions and also seemed to really enjoy some of the nuttier stuff they’d done together, so the better answer probably was “maybe she has.” “Why don’t you ask her?” chimed in his little voice. “Maybe I will. Later,” he thought back.

Jack smiled indulgently at Miranda’s reply to his question. “Ah, so you’re one of those nuts who think chickens are mutated dinosaurs. Which of course makes no sense; have you ever seen a T-Rex with feathers? What med school did you go to anyway? Was it one of those online ones?” Jack sipped a little more juice before he went on. “But since you’re looking pretty good yourself tonight, I guess we can still be friends.” Jack nodded in the direction of the group they were headed towards. “So let’s go meet your other friends. I’ll try not to embarrass you …”
 
Miranda couldn't help but laugh at Jack's comments, having heard that same argument from people that actually believed it. She cut her eyes at him, wearing a slight smirk. "Just be on your best behavior, Major. I know how crude you soldiers can be."

The remainder of their time socializing was relatively painless, if slightly boring. Miranda stopped to chat with several groups that included those she knew, both from MSF and other charity organizations that worked closely with them. She introduced Jack with a brief explanation of what he did and how proficient his team had become. Nearly everyone had heard about the terrorist incident and wanted all of the juicy details. Miranda skimmed over the generals and left Jack to add his insights on the specifics if he so desired. She was careful to keep an eye on him to gauge whether the topic annoyed him or if he truly didn't mind being seen as the hero.

Beyond her colleagues, she also met with several people that were recommended to her as potentials who might be interested in contributing to the MSF's efforts. Of those potentials, only two sounded genuine in their desire to assist in some manner and went so far as to make appointments with her at the clinic to tour the facilities and further discuss how they could help. The rest hedged without any true commitments, but were at least polite about their waffling. Miranda had expected as much, so didn't press as hard as she could have. She was separating the cream from the watery skim and certainly wasn't interested in wasting her time on the latter.

At some point, she'd gotten herself a glass of red wine to lubricate her dry mouth and throat, afraid she'd talk herself hoarse if she had to recount the tale of their narrow escape one more time. Finally, when she'd spoken with everyone with whom she could possibly claim any sort of professional acquaintance, she found herself growing weary of the press of people. Her feet were also beginning to hurt in her heels.

Leaving her half-empty glass for one of the servers, she turned her attention to Jack. "I'm ready to go, if you are. No one can fault us for not doing our duty this evening. Do you want to call it a night?"
 
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