Christen returned to the base hospital, and two days later, Sergeant Driscoll strolled into her room like nothing had ever happened.

He walked right up to her, and the doctor, the same one from the other hospital, sidetracked him.

Their eyes briefly met across the expanse of empty beds.

"Sergeant, no visitors for Private Strickland yet," Lagerveldt said, and he frowned at her.

"Why? Is she too delicate?"

Suspicion lit his eyes, and the doctor frowned at him.

"Sergeant, that young woman is remarkable. The private had a punctured lung, a bleeding spleen, four sprained fingers, a broken thumb, a concussion, a broken arm, and a brain bleed, but still walked over a mile to get help," Lagerveldt defended, and she had no idea how true her words were.

If not for the Terrelium23A, she'd be dead.

"So, how did she end up at a private hospital, and why is she back here now?" Sergeant Driscoll asked, tension radiating from him.

"We didn't have a doctor available, and Professor Dana Strickland is a prominent physician associated with Grace Memorial Hospital. Although she hasn't practised medicine since the car crash that killed her parents and ended her surgical career, she teaches at the hospital three days a week and lectures at the university one evening a week. I took some of her classes a couple of years back for a refresher course," Lagerveldt said, and that raised red flags with both Christen and Dana.

~What?~ Dana texted. ~I do not remember her.~

"Who called this doctor?" he demanded, and Lagerveldt scowled at him.

"Don't know, wasn't here. I came in two days ago to replace Dr Mendlesohn," Lagerveldt said, and he seemed annoyed that she had no answer for him.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Excuse me?"

"Why did Mendlesohn need replacing?"

The sergeant stared at the doctor as if she were an enemy soldier.

"His wife's sick, and I don't see how that is any of your business."

"You're a little informal, Doctor," Sergeant Driscoll bit out.

"Major, actually, Sergeant," Lagerveldt corrected.

The Sergeant didn't enjoy that putdown.

Christen almost smirked.

She liked Lagerveldt despite the threat she posed to their mission and possibly her life.

"Major, I simply wish to speak to Private Strickland for a few moments," Driscoll changed tactics, but it didn't impress the doctor.

"She won't be ready for visitors for at least two more days. Someone on this base harmed the Private. She won't speak, but I will freely tell you that until the MPs do their duties and find whatever scumbag beat her up and almost murdered her, I won't allow any visitors to upset or question her," Lagerveldt's no-nonsense attitude broadcasted her intentions.

The word "scumbag" turned Driscoll positively livid, and something told Christen that Lagerveldt knew exactly who this sergeant was.

"Rumors reached me that Private Strickland would be leaving the program, Major, and I simply wished to ask her to reconsider. She's made remarkable progress the last couple of weeks," he gave charm a second try, counting on his natural good looks, but Lagerveldt stared at him like a statue.

"Private Strickland has no such intentions; in fact, this little incident seems to have given her a renewed sense of determination, but she won't finish her basic training until she fully recovers. Command agreed to allow her to complete the course, and you're right; she has improved and didn't deserve this treatment from people she would have to trust with her life," Lagerveldt stated in measured tones.

Driscoll looked like he swallowed something vile, and his heart rate, the dilation of his pupils, and the clenching of his hand betrayed him.

"Please leave, Sergeant; I won't change my mind or violate my orders to keep her sequestered until the investigation concludes," Lagerveldt prodded, and his hard gaze promised Christen vengeance if she even thought of naming him.

What she wouldn't give to have the watch off and be left in a room alone with him for just a few minutes. She'd smash that look off his face and then wipe his face off his bones for him.

The thought shocked her, and this side of her nature was probably why Dana would never allow it.

"Now, Sergeant," Lagerveldt insisted.

"Good day, Major. Private," Driscoll said with an unreadable face and strode off, his boots rapping on the linoleum floor.

Lagerveldt approached her and took her pulse, frowning when she found it steady as a metronome.

"I thought seeing Driscoll would upset you," Lagerveldt commented, and Christen turned her head.

"The Sergeant is not my first monster, Doctor. I saw the other one twice a week for a year.

"My family didn't know, and I had to hide my sentiments, but it taught me to control what I felt because I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of my pain. I pictured Driscoll stripped and tied to a chair as I pushed a cattle prod against his testicles, and he howled in pain. Since he seemed to enjoy making me scream, I thought turnabout is fair play," Christen said with a total absence of expression, and this seemed to puzzle Lagerveldt.

~Don't overplay your hand.~ Dana warned.

"Don't worry, Major, I won't do anything stupid. I know exactly how dangerous that man is, but we all cope differently. All I want is for him to be stopped before he hurts someone else," she said, looking Lagerveldt straight in the eye.

"Did someone stop your first monster?" Lagerveldt asked unexpectedly, and Christen frowned.

"No," she admitted. "He's a lot like the sergeant; he knows how to make people toe the line."

Lagerveldt noticed the tiny pulse in her throat hitch when she talked about him.

~Don't oversell.~

"May I sleep? I am tired," she asked, and the Major nodded, going into "doctor mode" as Christen intended.

~Agent, you are scarily adept at this,~ Strickland commented, and she almost grinned.

~Am I not fighting for my life? Before all this, I never understood how Anna manipulated the truth or a lie with such ease; now, I suspect it is genetic. I just fought it all my life because I didn't want to disappoint my parents, and look what that got me,~ she countered as Lagerveldt left her alone.

~Was Anna always like that?~ Dana asked.

~No. She returned from some camp that she insisted on going to, and after the summer vacation, she wasn't the same person. My parents didn't notice that their quiet, gentle daughter had turned into a lying, manipulating bitch. Did you know I am only alive because she unbuckled my seatbelt? Who does something like that?~ Christen asked.

~The last time I saw her face was as the door swung open, and I got tossed through the hole. I think that was when she finally realized what she had done to me. Just for a second, she was my twin again,~ Christen shared what haunted her the most as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

What she wouldn't give for something to read, but her phone was still in her room. At least she had Dana to talk with.

~I am sorry, Christen. I also lost my family in a car crash, but they drove into a river and drowned. My mother did it intentionally because she found out my father was about to leave her for another woman. He also intended to petition for full custody of my sister and me, realizing that my mother was unstable after her brain surgery, and he no longer trusted her with us.

~I should have drowned that day, but a guy dove off the bridge and pulled me from the car, but my sister wasn't strong enough to get her seatbelt loose. To this day, I still see her struggling as she watched him shatter the window with a rock and pull me through the opening, realizing she might live if she succeeded in freeing herself.

~I saw the moment she understood her little hands couldn't undo the clasp. She looked up at me and gave up, drowning as I reached out while being pulled away.

~The guy nearly died saving me, but he got me to the side of the river and did CPR on me until the ambulance arrived.

~Although he risked everything to save me, the image of my sister haunted him, and two years later, he committed suicide. He left a note that said he wasn't able to forgive himself for making the decision that saved me when he figured out there was no rescuing us both.

~My Grandma was actually mad at him for saving me when I might die at any moment from the aneurysm I was born with, instead of saving my gifted and strong younger sister.~ Dana shared the tragic tale of her life, and empathy brought tears to Christen's eyes.

~ Wouldn't she be unhappy now that you are probably immortal?~ Christen snarked, regretting it immediately.

Nothing came up on her HUD for a moment, and she wondered if she had gone too far.

~I saw her the other day in a hotel in England. She didn't recognize me without my glasses, the pimples, baby fat, and with me hiding behind my hair.

~Grandma used to make me feel so bad about myself, so I overachieved because I was unworthy of her. It wasn't enough that I was smart because, unfortunately, I wasn't into ballet like my mother or able to play the piano like my sister, with me being so awkward. Nor did I have the skills to write books like my father or be an actress like her, with me being painfully shy.

~Until I got Alexander's DNA, I was nothing she wanted me to be, but that day changed everything. The pimples went away along with the aneurysm, the baby fat became lean muscle, and I suddenly looked so much like Grandma when she was young.

~The shyness gradually turned to confidence, and I no longer believed myself unworthy. Instead, it seemed like I could conquer the world.

~For a second, as I watched my grandmother from a distance, I mentally pictured confronting her and saying. "Hi, Grandma. I am not dead. Spoiler, I am a professor and work with things you can't even imagine," but Sense prevailed, and I walked away.

~I was a mere intern when the accident happened, and my medical degree didn't impress her. She said I would not stick it out.~

Christen sensed her sadness but also a touch of anger and hurt. Dana still loved her grandmother, and all she ever wanted was for her grandparent to love her back.

~Maybe one day you should tell her,~ she said, realizing her mistake the moment the words left her mouth.

~No. They would kill her,~ Dana countered, and Christen nearly kicked herself, nor did the professor have to explain who "they" were.

She kept forgetting how precarious their lives were.