The days until Fox Squad was to return to Earth slipped past uneventfully, until, one morning, when Carter did her rounds, she found that Rowan was quieter and more withdrawn than usual. Carter checked her vitals carefully, but it seemed as though everything was getting back to normal.

"Everything feel okay?" she asked Rowan.

Rowan shrugged. Her fingers skimmed over her bandaged knee, barely touching it. "Pretty much," she said, which wasn't much help.

Carter rolled her eyes. "Right," she said pragmatically. "Well, I've got a handful of patients to check up on, so, if you need me, just page me."

Again, Rowan just shrugged, so Carter left her alone and got on with her rounds. As well as Rowan, she had been assigned another half-dozen patients into her direct care until she deployed with Fox Squad, all of them military who had fought in the battle at the power station. Their injuries were minor, but slow to heal, and their treatment distracted Carter for the rest of the morning.

One man had broken several ribs, but, using new technology that sped up the fusion of bones, he was mostly healed, and Carter felt a little burst of pride that she was able to discharge him with a little bag of mild painkillers and an instruction to see one of her colleagues in a week to check on his healing.

By noon, she was in a decent mood, and she shucked off the latex gloves she was wearing and slipped into a small bathroom. Her hair, usually held back in a neat braid, was coming undone and her cheeks were flushed, but she didn't feel the least bit tired. Even running around a hospital all day, fetching medicines and nursing supplies, wasn't even a physical challenge anymore.

When she'd first started, she'd thought she was fit after her time in the army, but running around a hospital was different than running around an obstacle course or a battlefield. It had taken her a few months to adjust to the new pace, but now, after all her training, all the time she spent acting as a fully-trained doctor, her body had adjusted, and the work wasn't a challenge anymore.

The truth was, other than the chaos caused by the Battle of Hosk, Carter was bored. Rowan's offer of a job couldn't have come at a better time.

She redid her braid, splashed water onto her face, and slipped out of the bathroom. In the hall, she took a moment to decide what to do next. Mentally, she ran through her list of patients, hesitating at the thought of two people. One of her patients had been shot only a few inches from his heart, and was being transferred to surgery and Dr. Piper's care, and she wanted to make sure he was all set.

Then there was Rowan. There had been something off about her early, Carter thought, not that she knew her well enough to judge it. And her condition was more severe than most of her patients. Still, she was pretty sure Rowan would have told her if anything was wrong.

So she decided to check in with Dr. Piper about the patient she was handing over. Of course, first, she had to find Dr. Piper.

She typed Dr. Piper's name into the locator in her tablet and watched as a map of the hospital flashed onto the screen. Dr. Piper's ID code popped up in a room right near Rowan's: Lieutenant Stark's.

Well, Carter thought, two birds, one stone, and all of that.

She turned off her tablet and hurried back to the other side of the hospital, where high-ranking patients were kept. To access that wing, Carter had to enter a code in a panel by the one door in, then scan her fingerprint and palmprint, and, finally, press an access pass against a reader, and only then could she get through.

It made sense, though. This wing housed the highest-ranking patients, the ones who had valuable information and quite a lot of power. No one wanted military secrets getting out to the Colonial Network's enemies because commanding officers hadn't been kept safe while recovering.

In that corner of the hospital, everything was quiet, calm, but the doctors and nurses were more urgent. The patients were more important to the Network, so, of course, their caretakers had more purpose than those who tended ordinary people. It was sad, but that was life.

Carter slipped past Rowan's room, across the hall and a door down from Stark's, without stopping. The door was closed, so she assumed Rowan wanted some privacy, so she kept going without a backwards glance.

At Stark's door, though, she hesitated. She really wasn't supposed to be here, valid excuses or not. But, for Rowan's sake, she needed to find out what had happened, especially since Stark was now her C.O., too.

She squared her shoulders, took a breath, and knocked.

It was several, agonizing, long seconds before Carter heard hurried footsteps and the door swung open, revealing a room much like Rowan's. Dr. Piper stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised, and Carter's heart sped up.

"What is it, Carter?" the older woman asked dryly.

Carter tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. "Um, it's about the patient transfer, Doctor," she said as politely as she could. "I just wanted to make sure everything was in order."

Doctor Piper's other eyebrow rose to join its companion, and, for a long moment, she simply looked down at Carter, her expression inscrutable.

"Really," she said mildly, but Carter got the feeling that she wasn't buying it. "You do know that you're not authorized to be in here, don't you?"

"For fuck's sake, just let her in," a gruff voice instructed from somewhere behind the door. "She's technically going to be working with us, and it's not that big a deal, anyway."

Dr. Piper rolled her eyes, but pulled the door further open. "Come on in, if you must," she said resignedly, and stepped inside. But Carter stood rooted in place, now that her view of the room was no longer obscured.

The bed that occupied pride of place in the center of the room was unoccupied, but two men watched her from beside the big, glass windows that looked out onto the military base. One she recognized from the night she had brought Rowan in, Captain Falk, she thought. The other she would never have recognized if she hadn't known he was the man she'd found with Rowan.

One man–the one she was pretty sure was Lieutenant Stark–sat in a wheelchair, turned towards the window, looking over his shoulder. Now that he wasn't covered in blood, dirt and sweat, Carter realized he was rather attractive, tall and well-built, with dark blonde hair, chiseled features, and an all-around good-natured air.

Captain Falk stood at Stark's shoulder, his arms crossed. When Carter finally steppes over the threshold, he looked down at Stark. "Well," he said, trying to sound breezy, but failing miserably. "Just give a thought to what we talked about, Lieutenant, and get back to me when you've made a decision." He nodded to Dr. Piper and Carter. "Medic, Doctor." He strode from the room, and Stark's expression changed from amused to weary and resigned.

Doctor Piper stepped between Carter and Lieutenant Stark, folding her arms. "What on earth have you not yet discussed with me about the patient transfer, Carter?" she demanded, practically bristling with impatience.

"Um," Carter said, trying to organize her thoughts. "I just wanted to, um, make sure everything was in order, Doctor."

Doctor Piper crossed her arms. "So you've said already," she snapped. "And yes, Carter, everything is in order, so scat."

Carter ducked her head, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, and she didn't notice when Stark lifted a hand, but the sound of his voice froze her in her tracks. "No," he said firmly, in the tone of someone who was used to having his orders followed. "Doctor Piper, give us a minute, please."

Doctor Piper frowned, but, grumbling under her breath, left the room, shutting the door a tad forcefully behind her. Only now did Carter raise her head and meet Lieutenant Stark's gaze.

"Captain Falk told me you were assigned to my second's care," he said. "He also said you were the one who found Rowan and myself, so it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, as well as my life."

Carter felt her cheeks grow war. Great. She was blushing. "I was just doing my job, sir," she said softly.

The corner of his lips quirked up in a half-smile. "Well, to me it's more than that," he said. He adjusted himself in his wheelchair, wincing a bit. Carter sprang forward, her doctor-instincts coming to the surface, and hovered at his elbow.

"Can I get you anything?" she asked. "Some painkillers or some water, maybe?"

Stark gave a sad smile. "Thanks," he said sadly. "But I'm okay." He rolled his shoulders and leaned back, his face twisted with unhappiness. "And now that we're alone, and you've done the whole concerned-doctor thing, let's move on."

"Yes, sir," she said quickly. It had just occurred to her that this man, who she was starting to like, was technically her commanding officer, even though she wasn't sure if he knew that yet.

"So tell me," he said, and Carter found herself thinking that his word choice was rather ominous. "How is Rowan?"

Carter sighed. Well, this would be a fun conversation. "She's, um, recovering," she said. Yup, she had definitely mastered the art of understatement. "Sir," she added. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but Rowan's assumed acting command, and, well, you seem pretty spry to me, so I don't know if you'll be taking your command back any time soon, but Rowan's made a few personnel adjustments, and..."

Stark grinned. "You're babbling, medic," he said, but kindly. "It's good that Rowan's stepped up," he went on. "It'll be awhile until I resume my command, so someone has to get the work done. Now, you said she made personnel adjustments? What personnel? No one's told me who we lost. Do you know?"

Carter shrugged. "I only know who's still alive," she admitted. "Rowan, Ripple, Jase Takara, Gerrit Lim, Slate Aracelis, and two others. Uh, Operatives Kader and Daly." She counted them off on her fingers. "I haven't met them, but they're getting treatment." Then, she ducked her head, and said, almost inaudibly, "Oh, and, um, me."

But Stark didn't appear to have heard. "So we lost three men," he murmured. "Pierce, Loring and Ronan. They were... good Rangers. Good men."

Then he looked up at her. "I take it you're the new Medical Officer, then?" Carter flinched. She'd thought he hadn't heard. She opened her mouth to make her excuses, but Lieutenant Stark held up his hand. "It's a position that needed to be filled, and now I've met you, and approved, so don't fuss."

Carter blushed. She seemed to be doing that quite a lot recently. "Thank you, sir," she said, and she couldn't stop from grinning at him.

Lieutenant Stark gave her a small, sad smile in return. "I need a favor," he said softly. "Dr. Piper is trying to convince me to start walking again."

Carter nodded. "You don't feel ready," she guessed.

"No," Lieutenant Stark agreed. "And... well, Captain Falk is always here with me. I would be embarrassing if I face-planted in front of my commanding officer."

Carter felt a pang of sympathy for him. "Yeah," she said. "So why do you need a favor from me?"

Lieutenant Stark grimaced. "I have to have a medical professional with me when I try," he explained. "But I don't want it to be Dr. Piper." He looked up at her, desperation in his eyes. "Could you help me try? Right now, just from here to the bed."

Carter smiled. "Actually, I did a residency at a physical therapy center for six months. This is kind of what I'm good at. Now, the first step is actually getting you standing, so I'll steady you. Grab my forearms, like that, yeah. I swear, I won't let you fall."

"I believe you," Stark said, gripping her forearms. He hesitated, though, so Carter decided to just give him step by step instructions.

"I'll brace you, but you have to be the one to move," she said patiently. "Plant your feet about shoulder-width apart. Yeah, like that. Good. Now, slowly, stand up. I promise, you won't fall."

Slowly, Stark stood, straightening his legs, frowning with concentration as he did. Finally, he stood almost straight, bent a little at the waist and leaning heavily against her. "Yeah, that's it," Carter said, grinning like an idiot.

Stark smiled back. Encouraged, Carter instructed, "Now, just move on leg at a time. Don't think about doing everything at once. We can go as slowly as you'd like. You set the pace."

And, like a foal taking its first steps, Stark moved one leg forward an inch, two inches, three, braced himself, and moved the other legs, wincing a bit as damaged muscles relearned their functions. He repeated the movements, move each leg so slowly and not taking a step until he was sure of his balance.

But, as they neared the center of the room, his knees began to tremble with exertion, and Carter found herself holding her breath, bracing herself to catch him if he fell. Stark had a mutinous expression on his face and gripped her arms so tightly that she wondered if they'd bruise.

And then they'd reached the bed, and Stark collapsed onto it, panting, but smiling like a child who'd just learned to cartwheel. Carter sank down next to him, letting out the breath she was holding. Their gazes met, and Carter let out a relieved, victorious laugh, which must have been contagious, because, soon, both of them had descended into giggles.

For the first time since she'd met him–which, granted, hadn't been long–Stark looked completely happy, without his expression shadowed. "Well," Stark said, finally. "I doubt learning to walk was this hard when I was a baby."

Carter smiled, knowing he was making a joke. "Hey, it's all part of the learning curve." She stood, smoothing her hair, and went to retrieve his wheelchair. "So you can get to it," she explained, parking it next to the bed.

"Thanks," Stark said. "Not just for the chair." He shifted himself from the bed and into the chair, bending and straightening his knees experimentally.

Carter met his gaze. "It's what I do, and what I love." And she meant every word.

Outside the room, all of a sudden, there was a flurry of knocks and the sound of pounding feet on the floor beyond.

Carter ran to the door and flung it open. Outside, a worried nurse asked, "Medic Carter Roe?"

"Yes," Carter confirmed. She glanced back at Stark, sitting in the wheelchair, his expression concerned, and decided to keep her voice low. For some reason, she had a feeling he shouldn't overhear this particular conversation. "What is it?"

"One of your patients has worsened," the nurse said. "We suspect one of her injuries has been infected."

Carter's heart had begun to race. She only had one patient who was a woman. "Sergeant Rowan?" she enquired.

"Yes," the nurse confirmed. "I'll go prep her for an examination, if you don't mind."

"Do it," Carter instructed. "Do it now. I'll be right there."

The nurse hurried off, and Carter turned to Stark. "I have to go," she said apologetically. "But I'd be happy to work some more with you. Like I said, I have experience in physical therapy."

Stark smiled at her. "Thanks," he said. "You don't know how much you've helped." His face fell back into its usual expression of weariness and grief, and, when he looked up at her, it was with hollow eyes. "It's Rowan, isn't it?"

Carter didn't say anything. Instead, she walked out, turning to close the door behind her. "Wait," Stark called, freezing her in her tracks. "I've been shut in this room for days. Leave the door open, please."

Carter nodded and crossed the hall to Rowan's room, leaving, as requested, the door ajar.

Inside Rowan's room, her patient had been hooked up to a myriad of different wires and tubes, and the nurse who'd fetched Carter stood beside her bed. "Doctor, we're ready," the nurse told Carter.

Carter nodded. Rowan's fevered gaze darted around the room, and Carter couldn't tell if she was lucid or not. "Then get her to surgery," she ordered.

The nurse nodded and she and Carter pushed Rowan's gurney out of the room. In the hall, Carter saw Stark, watching from his doorway. Rowan's gaze landed on him, and she reached out a fevered hand to him, but her arm flopped uselessly over the side of the gurney.

As they rounded a corner, Carter caught one last glimpse of Stark, and she could have sworn there were tears in the corner of his eyes.