as, eliciting details
she didn't remember noticing, gaining her confidence even though she
was familiar with the techniques he was using, reading her face and
body language well enough that at times he seemed to be reading her
mind instead. No, she thought when the team left, he was more than a
simple lieutenant!

The drugs had worn off by early the next morning. When an orderly
brought her breakfast, Cortin was in physical pain and emotional shock,
but she forced herself to be as polite as possible to the orderly, and
then to eat in spite of her lack of appetite. Afterward, she endured
the medical attentions that brought more pain, telling herself she had
to go through that and the accompanying humiliation to reach her goal.
She was glad when it was over and she was left alone; the only person
she had any real desire to see was Mike.

He arrived moments after visiting hours began. She started to greet
him, but fell silent in shock when she saw his face. Mike had been
crying, and there were still tears in his eyes! Hesitantly, she held a
hand out to him. "Mike--?"

He took it, tears again starting to fall. "Joanie--oh, Joanie, I'm so
sorry!"

Her stomach churned with miserable certainty of his answer, but she
made herself ask, "What is it, Mike?"

"Dr. Egan said nurses had heard you talking in your sleep, that the bad
news would be easier coming from me, but not to tell you yet, not till
you were stronger . . ." He took a deep breath to steady his voice,
though the tears were running unchecked down his face. Dammit, there
was no kind way to tell her this! "She's a civilian, she doesn't
understand that we can't afford false hopes. Or how important this
is--she told me that except for your back, you'd have a complete
recovery!" He took another deep breath, trying with a little more
success to calm himself. "Joanie--I'll never share your bed again, and
neither will anyone else, unless all you want is company."

"I'm totally non-functional, then," Cortin said flatly.

Odeon nodded miserably. "I'm afraid so. The Brothers . . . damaged
you too badly. Egan's team was able to salvage the urinary tract and
make a usable opening for it in the skin graft--but I'm afraid the
other is gone, permanently."

Cortin clung to his hands, her mind numb. She wanted to scream, cry,
do something to protest this additional, gratuitous despoilment--dear
sweet Jeshua, they had been killing her, why do something so
po