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was a brief moment where he considered stopping, then he was inside her. Jo made a strangled cry in his ear as he thrust forward, then bit down hard on his shoulder.

"I'm not…sure…we…should have done that," Sam panted a few moments later, voice trembling. He leaned back to look into Jo's eyes. In them he found the same sense of shock, surprise, and satisfaction that he felt as well.

Definitely shouldn’t’ have done that. But I'll be damned before I'll regret it.

Inhaling her lotion and perfume, Sam was almost intoxicated with lust. Without another thought, he tenderly kissed Jo. For a brief moment their tongues dueled. Then as if regaining her senses, Jo pushed him back.

"I have to go take another shower," Jo said quickly, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder at the empty walk. "You probably should too, but only after you open that window."

Sam was taken aback for a second as Jo bent down to collect her underwear.

"Uh…" he said, befuddled.

"Talk later, move now," Jo said, walking quickly towards the back of the house. "And wipe down the counter too."

With that, she was gone, leaving Sam feeling bewildered before he did as he was told. Jo's wisdom was apparent just as Sam finished mopping the floor.

"Some brother you are," David said from the front foyer, causing Sam to jump.

This is why I joined the Corps rather than lead a life of crime. He felt a rush of relief as David turned to put his uniform cap on the hat rack by the door.

"Major Haynes had you well in hand when I left," Sam replied.

David gave him a wry look.

"He said it was the least he could do after making me the 'weaving trailer' last night," the smaller Cobb replied.

"The what?" Sam asked, perplexed. David rolled his eyes.

"Apparently our friends in the RAF used to fly in three plane formations," David replied. "The Germans got really good at picking off the guy tasked to weave behind the other two to stop a bounce."

Sam looked at his brother aghast.

"That poor bastard," Sam said. "Anyway, I just got up."

"I could kinda tell from the robe and boxers," David said. "Mom would kill us both for how casual we've gotten around Toots and Jo."

Casual. That's a whole new slang for it.

"Speaking of which, did Toots and Jo ever make up?"

"No, we did not," Jo said airily, walking into the room with her hair up in a towel. Sam noted she was wearing a different dressing gown. "You want breakfast, David?"

Jesus, that woman could murder someone without giving it away. He was slightly horrified at Jo’s cool demeanor, her quick thinking and, most terrifyingly, the mixture of pride and awe he had with both.

The smell of breakfast is going to cover up anything else.

"If it's not too much trouble, Jo," David answered. He turned to Sam.

"Anyway, Major Haynes gave the squadron liberty for an extra day," David said. "Apparently there's a front moving in sometime tomorrow, and he doesn’t feel like trying to fly in bad weather."

"Yes, I don't think we suddenly forgot how to use instruments on the way over here," Sam noted.

"Sam Cobb, you spent all morning complaining about how long it takes me to get out of the shower, now here you are standing in my kitchen," Jo said, turning around from where she'd started some eggs. Sam looked at her to see her pantomiming a shooing motion.

Don't look suspicious, Sam repeated to himself, turning to head towards the back of the house. David shook his head, then looked as if he immediately regretted it.

"I'm going to lay down for a nap, if no one minds," David stated. "Where is Toots, anyway?"

"She didn't come home last night," Sam said. "I'll let Jo explain."

"No, you'll let Jo cook," Jo snapped, then gave Sam a smile to indicate the tone was totally for David's benefit.

I like that smile. I like that smile way too much.

For the second time, Jo shooed him away, brandishing the spatula. This time Sam obeyed her, heading for his own shower.

10

Restitution and Remnants

One more such victory and we will be undone

King Pyhrrus of Epirus

Pacific Fleet Headquarters

1000 Local

10 August

"With God as my witness, I hope I don't look nearly as bad as I feel, Frederick," Admiral Dunlap said, squinting as he stood on the second floor balcony of the Pacific Fleet Headquarters building.

It has literally been decades since I've been this hung over, he thought. I am never drinking with a man who has fundamentally lost his country ever again. Vice Admiral Wake-Walker and he had retired to his office after the Royal Navy officer had received the final update on events in the Indian Ocean.

"Sir, to be fair, if you looked as bad as you felt, I would be calling for a corpsman," Commander Powers said, handing Admiral Dunlap a large mug of coffee. Dunlap nodded in appreciation, took his first healthy swig of coffee, and almost spat it out.

"Who made this?" Dunlap asked, looking in the pitch black cup he held.

"I did, sir," Powers replied, his face blank.

Clearly he's not going to dime out some poor mess steward. But this coffee could almost get up and walk across that yard to the road.

Dunlap took another swig as he met his aide's gaze.

"Well, you should really learn how to make better coffee, commander," the flag officer said. "It's not quite sentient like Frankenstein's monster, and I don't feel my heart about to explode out of my chest from the caffeine."

"Yet, sir," Powers replied. "You don't feel your heart about to explode out of your chest yet."

Dunlap smirked at Powers’ comment.

"So do you have any actual reports for me, or are we going to continue having a discourse about cardiac arrest and Secretary Daniels' favorite drink?"

Powers smiled faintly, then stepped to close the door back into the building.

"Vice Admiral Fletcher has been disengaging all evening and into the night," Powers said. "His

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