She woke up early. Despite that she had agreed with Ariadne that it was better to postpone the test until Logan left she couldn’t just sit still. At the farm she had gotten used to hard work. Nothing came free, everything she had had she had had to work for. Now here at the base life was considerable easier. If she needed something she could walk to one of the storage facilities and buy it, or if it was something they didn’t have, the small marketplace just outside of the gates of the base was more than well stocked with everything and anything imaginable from hand-woven carpets to exotic herbs. They had running water and electricity. It had taken them both some time to adjust to all the luxuries most occupants of the base seemed to take granted.

She hadn’t gotten permission to make a small vegetable garden to the backyard as she had hoped for. That would have kept her busy, but some stupid regulations and rules dating back to times when getting enough clean water for everybody in the base had been an issue prevented it. When there had been very little else to do she had taken on jogging early in the mornings when majority of the people were still asleep.

Ariadne had thought it was a great idea. She’d balked the comfortable and lazy lifestyle most of the unemployed wives and husbands of the soldiers had adopted.
“They don’t have to go to battle, but that doesn’t mean that they should just sit on their asses getting fat and stupid…” Woman had muttered.

Roads were quiet and empty. Sound of her footsteps echoed from the buildings surrounding her, and her feet raised small clouds of dust when they hit the ground. For the hundredth time she started thinking how easy it would be to turn the rather inhospitable environment more comfortable and inviting with simply planting some dry resistant flowers and bushes here and there. Again one thing that was denied. Grounds were kept clean and bare. Buildings were simple and functional. Roads straight and wide. They fought for the free earth, but god forbid if even one free and wild weed dared to make a nest…

She had to stop when sudden fit of giggles struck. She could see it so clearly. Logan standing, towering over hapless patch of greenery, growling angrily and demanding it to retreat immediately because he wasn’t going to take shit from some fucking weed.

Except it wouldn’t be a weed. She didn’t have any idea of what the enemy looked like. She had heard rumors, of course. Who wouldn’t? Most soldiers coming back from the front kept telling tall tales of their adversaries. Green lizard-like creatures that moved slowly and sluggishly, all you had to do was to stay out of their reach and keep shooting, and they fell to neat piles. But that couldn’t be the whole truth. War would have been over in mere months if that were the case. There had to be something more behind those fables.

Urge to giggle was gone. She needed to get back home. Back to Logan. She started running again, her feet pounding the ground at punishing pace. What the hell was she thinking, getting out of the house alone when within a week he’d be gone and there was no telling if he was going to return ever?

He had woken up partially when Marie left. Laid half in slumber, listening her humming and rummaging through closets, pulling on clothes and shoes. He couldn’t muster up enough energy to get up and go with her. It was too early, bed was too warm and soft, and her scent and warmth still cling to the pillow and the quilt they shared. He grasped her pillow and buried his face to it, letting last night’s scents fill his nostrils. A week, and he’d be waking up to entirely different cocktail of odors. He was going to enjoy this luxury while it lasted.

He was drifting on that hazy middle ground between dream and reality when there was a knock on the door. He sat up rubbing his face groggily. Had Marie forgotten her keys? Another knock made him swung his feet to the floor and find his jeans. Just in case it wasn’t Marie hot for some morning action.
“Coming, coming! Keep your fucking pants on…” He muttered when yet another series of hard raps came from the door. Couldn’t be Marie. She’d known to stop after the first knock. He opened the door. It wasn’t Marie.

“Vasquez?” Woman swayed on her feet, barely keeping her balance.
“You can beat me up later… I need help…” Her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell. Logan managed to catch her before she fell to the ground and hurt herself.

“Come on, Bodycount. On your feet, bitch!” He growled, trying to support her limp form. Vasquez made an honest effort, but her knees buckled and she could only hang from his shoulder. There were no outward signs of violence, no bruises or other injuries. Her skin was hot and dry, and he could smell something sickly sweet and slightly dizzying in her labored breath. He closed the door and dragged her in to the kitchen, lowering her carefully on to a chair. He crouched in front of her.
“Vasquez, open your eyes.” She just sat there, her head lolling against her chest, small dribble of drool dripping down her chin.
“Vasquez. Open your fucking eyes. That’s a fucking order, soldier, open your fucking eyes, now!”

Vasquez’s head snapped up and her blurry gaze fixed to his eyes.
“Sir, fuck you, sir!”
“That’s the spirit. What have you taken?” Again Vasquez slumped, returning to muttering and drooling.
“Shit.” This was getting them absolutely nowhere. Logan grabbed a firm hold from her short-cropped black hair and yanked her head upwards.
“What have you taken?” It was no secret that different drugs were easily available if you knew where to look. Though he had never pegged Vasquez as a narc.
“Nothing… Poisoned me…”
“Poisoned?”
“Temporary cure… Was going to get married… Didn’t work…”
“I fucking thought you were smarter than this…” Logan huffed.

“Christ, you’re hot. Let’s get out of those clothes…” Marie heard Logan’s voice from the bathroom when she entered to the kitchen, still out of breath from her desperate sprint back home.
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