There were real doctors in the hastily erected MASH unit in Lisskin. Drop some Reavers on an Alliance post, and miracles can happen. Cafferty did more time playing nurse than doctor, and when he could he kept his eyes open to learn real, honest doctoring. Keeping his eyes open after the fourth day was getting to be a real challenge. He had access to some particularly effective stimulants from the medical locker, but he didn't like the way they made his hands shake when combined with the dosages he'd already taken. Jian-Ku's lower arm had been taken off, and Kellerman was inconsolable. His friend had thrown himself into clearing up the wreckage and was about to fall on his face from exhaustion himself. The townsfolk had gotten off more lightly than the Alliance post. The base itself was a total loss, no survivors. Miloslaw's gathering a few militia together had allowed a scant number of regulars to escape the slaughter on the plain. The most humbling part had been realizing how easily the Reavers could have rolled right over the town if they wanted. "The post was their prime target," Miloslaw had told him later. "They just wanted to draw the defenders away from the walls. They don't think like us. They were willing to take a couple of hundred casualties or more in order to stage a diversion. I think that they wanted the whole area, post and town. But the town was just the icing on the cake." Miloslaw looked like hell. He had done everything he could to defeat a superior opponent, only to be humbled by the fact that they could have come right in and killed every last person in Lisskin if they so desired. He wasn't exactly popular with the locals, either. Some had remarked grudgingly that he had done what had to be done at the first battle, and that was about the best he'd get. The Alliance had deployed a battalion of Marines to the area along with the medical unit. Typical enough, they had sent in the reinforcements long after they were needed, but the Marines were at least making themselves useful, clearing away the wreckage and helping to restore the damaged homes and buildings at the edge of town. They weren't exactly received with open arms, but they weren't rejected out of hand either. Cafferty sat with one outside the hospital, sharing a quickly snatched lunch. "Where on Ariel are you from?" the Marine lance corporal asked. "Corman," Cafferty said, between bites of powdered eggs. "No ruttin' way! I'm from Corman!" the Marine said, pausing to take a slug of water. "What are the odds?" "No idea," Cafferty replied, not particularly interested in the conversation. The Marine got somber, speaking softly. "We wanted to be here, man. They had us sitting tight, guarding the governor's mansion. We wanted to get in here and get us a piece of those gorram Reavers." "You're a bunch of ruttin' fools then," Cafferty said, standing up suddenly. He wasn't particularly hungry anymore. The Marine jumped to his feet, food clattering down off his lap. "Who the hell do you think you are?" he said, angrily. Cafferty turned to look at him. The lance corporal was a kid, old enough to catch the end of the war most likely, but young enough to think there was something big and righteous, worth charging into death for with a smile on his face and an oorah in his heart. "Forget it. Sorry," Cafferty said with a tired shake of his head. It was weariness talking. The Marine was angry, but was hard-pressed to pursue the issue without some further provocation. As he walked back into the main enclosure, a nurse intercepted him. "Mr. Cafferty, Doctor Ullin said that you needed to get out and get some sleep," she said, "He did?" was all Cafferty could say. "The worst of it is over. I think we can handle things for a while without you," she answered, giving him a wan smile and a squeeze on the shoulder. He wasn't any good to anybody right now. Burned, worn, zoned out, he needed some sleep. He just didn't particularly care for the idea. It wasn't just a sense of duty that kept bringing him back here. It was almost the feeling that if he went to sleep, he'd never wake up. God only knew where he'd go while he was there, too. "Gotta go see my friend," he mumbled. The nurse nodded and smiled at him once more. "You've been a wonder, Mr. Cafferty. It's been, well, I haven't seen much like it," she said warmly. "Thanks."

As he approached Jian-Ku's bed, he saw a pair of Alliance standard-issue combat boots on the floor, sticking out past the edge of the bed. Stepping around the foot of the bed, he saw that Kellerman was indeed attached to the boots. Somebody had tossed a blanket over his broad shoulders, and somehow his friend had worked it around to the point of bunching up in his hands, clenched like they were strangling the life out of somebody. Kellerman didn't look like he was enjoying his sleep either. "He wouldn't leave," Jian-Ku said weakly. "There's a chair over there," She pointed with her left hand to the other side of the bed from Kellerman. Cafferty made his way around and collapsed into it. "You need to get some rest," Jian-Ku chided him. "Gonna. Just had to stop in and say hi," he said, listening with clinical detachment to the way the words slurred as he spoke them. "How... how are you feeling?" "Gonna have to learn how to write with my left hand," she said simply. "Keep going to scratch my head, and there's nothing there to scratch with." "Sorry." "For what? You didn't do it," She was silent for a moment, then continued. "You two are so great. Had to have a gorram near-miss to bring it out." "Huh?" "You came across the whole damn thing to get to me. He carried me off the damn hill," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "When we came out here, there wasn't any other place in the 'verse I wanted to be. Because the two of you are the best damn men in this whole fucking 'verse." Cafferty couldn't look at her anymore. What a damn load. If either one of them were so great, why was she the one in the bed missing an arm? "Hey! Hey, look at me, Corpsman!" she said, trying to put a snap into her tone. She failed, but she got his attention all the same. "I know you, Caff. You're taking every damn body in here personally, and all the mounds outside. Probably taking earthquakes, tornados, and changing seasons personally too. You feel too much. Always have. Sometimes shit just happens." He felt a bit of anger rise. "I'm not stupid, Jia. I know what I can fix and what I can't." "But you still take it personally. Tell me I'm wrong," she said, voice dropping. He leaned forward, taking her hand in his, pressing it against his face. He had a four-day growth of beard, and her fingernails tickled along it. Looking in her eyes, he sighed. "I love you, Jia." It wasn't a romantic confession and they both knew it. It was simply a verbal affirmation of the deep bond they shared. "Take care of Steven," she said, using Kellerman's first name. "Don't let him hurt himself. Take care of him until I'm on my feet again." "I'll do that." "Take care of yourself too, you dumb bastard." "I'll do what I can." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- He didn't make it far. Getting back outside, he slumped down against the edge of the temp-building they'd thrown up for the hospital. He was asleep before he even hit the ground. It was light when somebody started shaking his shoulder. Considering that it had been early evening when he'd passed out, he'd been out for a good long time. He looked up and saw Yinna, a concerned expression on her face. "Doc," she said. His head throbbed as if from a hangover. His mouth was dry and foul-tasting. For her own part, her hair was still matted and tangled, tumbled chaotically around her shoulders. She'd cleaned up, for working in the temporary hospital, but she hadn't washed her hair since the day the emergency had descended upon them all. She looked like an angel. "Doc," she repeated. "Call me Kevin," he said impulsively. "Kevin, they're doin' some more buryin' today, papa and Alex and..." "Yeah, I'll be there," he said, nodding. "It's not that. I mean, thanks, but it ain't that at all. Your friend, he's still in the office." "Oh shit. Zip." Cafferty's head flopped backwards, impacting painfully against the wall. From the bottom of his vision, he saw her wince and reach out for him. Shaking his head, he sighed and levered himself upright. "I'll help," she offered with devastating sincerity. "Help move him, y'know." "Thanks," he said, dropping an arm around her shoulders. She huddled close to him. You're too damn old, and she's too damn young, he said to himself. Even now, too damn young. Her father just died, her brother just died, and she watched her home get turned into a war zone. But she felt good there, holding him close as they walked back toward his office. Townsfolk simply nodded or offered their greetings, treating it as a totally normal and typical sight. Too damn old and too damn young, he repeated to himself. There was something else bothering him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Borrowing a cart, they got Zip moved to the burial field. The shepherd was already occupying one of the earthen mounds, and Matthews was doing a steady stream of services in his stead. The militiaman had been a sight to behold in the days after the fight. Coming right up to the edge of breaking, he'd turned a personal corner and was taking his already impressive leadership skills to new heights. Hobbling about with a badly damaged knee, he seemed to never wear down. Matthews had gone from being one of the leading citizens to being the leader. People were full of surprises. Most often, it seemed like as soon as one hero went down, be damned if another one didn't spring right up in their place. If one were inclined to feel optimistic about the future of the human race, there was a damn good place to start doing it. Matthews managed to get in a good word about Zip, for what little he knew of him. 'A man who gave his all for what he believed in,' and 'Someone who's courage could never be questioned.' Zip pretty much only believed in flying, but Cafferty was too busy fighting back tears to quibble. It was important for him to maintain his composure in the face of these Border Worlders. Maybe they would have understood. Probably they would have, but he didn't dare take the chance. It was like being in the Jaegers all over again, and he wanted them to know that he was strong when they needed him. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night in his office, he allowed himself a cautious drink. Unlike a lot of people, he didn't want to get drunk after, well, a week like this one. He just wanted something to take the edge off. There was a knock at the door, then it opened, jangling the bells. Nobody locked their doors in this town. "Kevin," Yinna said. "I can't sleep at home, not now. Maybe not never." "I understand," he said. She'd was wearing, of all things, an old Browncoat duster. Probably her father's. A nip was gathering in the air, and the local farmers were going to have a hell of a time getting their harvest in after everything that had just happened. "I was wondering," she said, nervously. "You don't even have to ask," he replied. They looked at each other as she closed the door. It would be so easy, so natural. The answer to death was the create life, and he had a feeling she would be all too willing to succumb to his rather pedestrian charms. But standing in front of the door of his office, looking nervous and tired and scared, he remembered the girl who'd come into his office just a scant two weeks ago, looking for the gateway to her future. He was going to live the rest of his life on this planet, he was sure of that. He'd never been a drifter, an explorer. Life in the Jaegers had shown him all of the 'verse he'd never wanted to see. His destiny was here. Hers was somewhere out there. He couldn't think of taking that away from her, couldn't contemplate muddying her future with a relationship that could have no end but a bad one. "I'll sleep on the couch," he said.