For his twenty-sixth birthday, Hudson wanted to take me and Wierzbowski, and our girlfriends, to Miranda's for a "small party among friends." You'd think that with such a small group, especially where everyone really knows each other, it would be difficult for Hudson to make a fool of himself.

Listen. It's not that hard for him to make a fool of himself. He could be alone in an empty room and he'll still do something stupid.

Of course, Vasquez fought me about going to Miranda's, but she did let up a little when I said it's for Hudson's birthday. That didn't stop her from telling me that we wouldn't be sleeping together for a week.

"It wasn't my idea, honey," I said.

She didn't care, of course.

It was a pleasantly warm May evening when we got on the Metro to Miranda's neighborhood. The destruction from an attack on the university she goes to (and will be graduating from next month) was still visible. The silver flower gas has dissipated, for the most part. Hazmat workers are still finding pockets of it in poorly ventilated areas. It may be awhile before specific buildings in the complex are open again.

We got off the train and spotted Eliza McAllister walking toward the steps leading aboveground. She turned to give Wierzbowski a hug, and then gave Hudson a hug, saying, "How's the birthday boy?"

"I'm doing great, man," Hudson replied.

So we continued walking until we arrived at Miranda's apartment building, where Hudson guided us up to the apartment. He knocked on the door, and Miranda greeted him with a hug and a kiss.

"So good to see all of you! Come on in!" Miranda ushered us inside, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief at the lack of stupid decorations. There were scented candles lit, and the coffee table and kitchen counters were covered in plates and bowls loaded with food. I was also glad that there was plenty of alcohol.

Aside from the couch and the small table in the kitchen, there weren't a lot of places to sit. Everyone else went to the couch, and Vasquez went to the table, making it pretty obvious that the only person allowed to bother her was me.

While I cracked open a beer can, Hudson, Miranda, and Eliza were talking. Wierzbowski was sitting next to Eliza, but seemed really shy about being too affectionate in front of other people. At the same time, I could tell he wanted her to get closer to him.

"Drake, come sit with us, man," Hudson said. "Oh, bring me a can, too."

I sighed before opening the cooler again. "Who else wants something?"

"Can you open a champagne bottle, Mark?" Miranda asked.

"I don't know how."

Eliza got up. "I'll show you."

"Gee, thanks," I muttered.

Eliza gave me a look. "You, my friend, have no reason to be such a sourpuss."

"He's a natural sourpuss, love," Wierzbowski said.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

The champagne was poured, and Hudson got his beer. He also got up to grab a plate and start piling food on it. As he passed by me in the kitchen, I hissed, "Remember Norway."

"Relax, man. I have everything under control," Hudson replied.

I decided to just stay quiet. He'll figure it out.

There really wasn't anything to do other than eat, drink, and talk. Nothing wrong with that, but in a party where about half the attendees are kinda shy and have a difficult time finding things to talk about, it gets old fast.

I spent most of my time observing everyone before dragging over a chair to sit next to Vasquez and put my arm around her. I put my can down before hugging her and kissing her cheek. "You OK, sweetie?"

"Drake, why do you insist on taking me to things like this when you know I hate it?" Vasquez whispered.

"I don't. Miranda invited us, and she did specifically say that she wanted you here."

"Next time, tell her 'no.'"

"OK." I kissed her again, and I could feel goosebumps on her arm. "You're cold. Want me to go get a blanket?"

"I don't care."

I stood up, and walked over to the living room to grab a blanket from the couch. Miranda was petting Hudson's head while he stuffed pizza in his mouth. Wierzbowski and Eliza were outside on the balcony. Taking a teal blanket, I brought it back into the kitchen, and draped it over Vasquez's shoulders. I sat back down, and hugged her, rubbing her back and arms to warm her. "Better?"

She nodded, and was quiet for a few minutes. "You don't have to do stuff like this, Drake."

"No, but I want to. I love you and I don't want you to be uncomfortable." I pressed her closer to me. "I am sorry about dragging you here. I shoulda spoke up and I didn't."

"Well, I should get better at going out in public and not . . . looking like I hate everyone. Sooner or later, somebody I don't know, or somebody I don't like is going to tell me-"

"'You need to be more expressive.'"

"Yeah. Exactly. You get it."

"Hey, you can be a little more expressive without looking like you hate everyone or you're a happy rainbow unicorn. I speak from experience."

"I know you do."

"I still have a ways to go, though, before I feel like I can control everything and feel like I can have a normal conversation with a stranger." I smiled a little. "We're on this journey together, OK?"

Vasquez nodded, and I gently nuzzled her face. "You know what? I changed my mind. We'll stay in your room tonight."

"You're not just saying that, are you?"

"No."

"Alright."

A few long minutes later, Miranda walked into the kitchen. "I'm cutting the cake if anyone wants some," she said. "Is . . . everything OK?"

"Yeah. We're just having a moment," I replied. "What kind of cake is it?"

"Vanilla ice cream with chocolate frosting."

"Sounds good. I'll have a slice."

Miranda set the cake on the counter, and took out a large knife with some paper plates. "We haven't talked since you were in the hospital for your surgery, Mark. How have you been?"

"Kinda restless," I said. "I can't wait to get the bandage off and start doing things again."

"Only, what, four days, and you come by to get looked at?" Miranda placed a slice of cake on a plate. "I'll be sure to be in my office that day."

"Frankly, I don't care who looks at me, as long as they say I can go back to being normal."

"You're still gonna have to be careful for a few days after."

"And then I'll have to be careful a few days after that. I'm really not putting up with this anymore."

Vasquez looked at Miranda. "You might have to restrain him. Just saying."

"Don't say that."

When Miranda served the cake, I noticed Wierzbowski had disappeared. Eliza said he was in the bathroom, but when more than five minutes had passed, I had a feeling he wasn't in there for a simple reason. Getting up, I walked into the hallway, and knocked on the door.

"Occupied. Don't come in," Wierzbowski replied.

"It's Drake. Are you OK?"

I heard a click, and the door opened. "Alright, come in."

Closing the door behind me, I saw Wierzbowski sitting with his back to the sink, eyes red from crying. "What happened?"

"I needed to be alone." Wierzbowski drew his knees up.

"Something bugging you?"

He nodded. "I didn't tell Eliza that's why I went in here, and I should have."

"Well, you just need to breathe. You're not mad at her, right?"

"No, not at all. I just wish I knew how to explain that . . . I need a few minutes to be alone in situations like this. You know, I . . . I don't think that you and Hudson and everyone else shouldn't be able to drink at a party, but . . . I'm still trying to not get back into any bad habits. I don't feel ready to have one drink."

I nodded. "I get it. You're feeling a little tempted."

"I can't do it in front of Eliza. You, yes, but . . . not her." Wierzbowski glanced at me. "Mostly I feel bad that I didn't tell her that's why I'm in here. I mean, I was afraid of someone overhearing."

"That's OK. Do you want me to go get her?"

"I don't know yet."

I crossed my legs, trying to get comfortable. "Fine. I'll stay here with you, if you want."

"Thanks, Drake." Wierzbowski folded his hands in his lap. "How's Hudson been doing with trying to fix his bond with Spunkmeyer?"

"Honestly, I don't know. Spunkmeyer kinda shut down when I brought it up."

"I guess I should've warned you ahead of time to go in cautiously."

"How come?"

"Well, I think it's become apparent that each one of us has something in our pasts that we're ashamed of, or we just don't like talking about. With Spunkmeyer . . . it's that he's adopted."

"I certainly didn't know that."

"I don't know every detail, but I know his mother didn't want him, but his father did. His mother ended up murdering his father to keep it quiet, and the nurse who adopted him didn't care for him, emotionally. He was pretty alone for most of his life, and decided to enlist to get away. Even so, not having a strong support system made it difficult for him to be around people. He's got no idea how to act or feel, and Hudson took him under his wing. They were close, but I do remember the day in which Hudson had a bit of a meltdown. The day Doctor Ranelli left-because he felt Hicks could function-Hudson sorta had this . . . realization that he was the only one who didn't haul his weight around when it came to helping out Hicks. He was telling me about this in the gym, and said something along the lines of, 'Why did it take me so long to see I suck as a human being?' I tried telling him that's not true, but he . . . he broke."

"He realized life isn't fun most of the time."

"Yeah. I certainly didn't know what to do. I figured he felt like he showed that he doesn't care about his corporal."

"And that fucked up his relationship with Spunkmeyer, who . . . from what you're saying, doesn't feel like he can afford to lose a relationship with anybody, so this hurt a lot more than it would the average person."

Wierzbowski nodded.

"So, this is gonna be a fucking picnic," I muttered sarcastically. "I'm starting to wonder why I'm bothering."

"Drake! It's because you love your friends and you don't want to see them suffer like this."

"While that's true, I have no idea how to get them in a room together without one or both of them exploding."

"Actually, that's a good point," Wierzbowski replied. "We'll have to put our heads together on this."

"Yeah. Do me a favor, and . . . don't say anything to Hudson. At least not now, because it's his birthday and we don't want to make him upset on his birthday."

"Agreed."

Someone knocked on the door. "Hey, man, I really hate to interrupt anything, but I got a special delivery for the toilet, man," Hudson moaned.

I gave Wierzbowski a look. "We better leave before he throws up all over the carpet."

Nodding, Wierzbowski got up to follow me out of the bathroom. Hudson stumbled in, not bothering to close the door as he fell down and vomited in the toilet.

We returned to the living room, and the first thing I had to ask was, "Hudson didn't get naked in front of you ladies, did he?"

"No," Miranda replied. "He did hug my bamboo plant next to the couch, though."

"He didn't damage it, did he?"

"It's fine. Don't worry too much about it. Is Will OK in there?"

"He's puking. He should be fine, soon. Won't feel good in the morning, but he should be fine."

"Maybe he should stay here tonight. I'll bring him back, I promise."

I smirked. "Nah, you can keep him."

So we left Hudson with Miranda, and the rest of us got on the Metro to take Eliza home. When we got on the platform, Wierzbowski picked her up, and she kissed his cheek. "I had fun tonight. Do you . . . have any plans for Wednesday? I've got the day off and I thought we'd go miniature golfing."

"I'll call and let you know," Wierzbowski replied. "Look . . . I . . . when I went in Miranda's bathroom earlier, I . . . I just . . ."

"You wanted to be alone. That's OK."

Wierzbowski's face flushed red. "Y-You're not mad?"

"No. Why should I be?"

"Well, I didn't tell you-"

"You don't have to tell me, sweetie. I'm not your boss."

"Oh." The redness deepened. "I'm . . . I'm sorry, then."

Eliza smirked before taking off Wierzbowski's cap to kiss him on the forehead. "Good night, 'Ski. Sweet dreams."

I looked at Vasquez. "Are we still the superior couple?"

She nodded. "Don't say that to anyone, though."

We returned to base, met with silence. Hicks glanced at us, saying, "Where's Hudson?"

"He's . . ." I looked at Vasquez and Wierzbowski, "at Miranda's. He got . . . sick. Really sick. You know, he's throwing up, he's-"

"He's drunk, isn't he? Drake, don't play cute with me. It doesn't work." Hicks sighed. "No one got hurt?"

"No."

"Fine. As long as everyone's OK and Miranda has a good handle on him."

"She's got a good handle on him, for sure." I tried to hide a grin.

"Alright, go to bed. You sound buzzed too."

We had to wait until Hicks left the hallway before Vasquez joined me in my bedroom. I grabbed a T-shirt from my drawer, and threw it over her. "Here. I'll keep you warm all night."

"I took a hot shower. I feel better," Vasquez replied.

"Nope, I still have a job to do." I got in bed, and opened my arms. "Come 'ere." She lay down with me, and I squeezed her, tightening the blanket around us and rubbing her arms. "This is better, right?"

"You're being a little too fussy, Drake."

"Sometimes, I wish you'd fuss over me. Come on, woman, I can't be the only one putting my back into this relationship."

"Did I not go with you to Hudson's fucking birthday at his stupid girlfriend's?"

"You did."

"That's enough for me."

"Fine." I kissed her. "You still love me?"

"More than anything else in the world."

"You say that like it's a chore."

"Sometimes, it is a chore."

I grinned. "Well, I love you more than anything else in the world, too."

I felt Vasquez hug my arm. She doesn't like to admit it, but I think she needs to hear somebody tell her they love her from time to time. Everyone needs to hear it, and it made me think about what Wierzbowski revealed to me about Spunkmeyer. He's never heard somebody tell him they love him. That's awful.

Frost wasted no time in guessing what happened to Hudson last night when we all sat down for breakfast this morning. "Is he passed out at his girlfriend's?"

"When we left, he was throwing up in her bathroom," I said.

"Probably passed out later, then."

I heard Apone sigh. "That's our Hudson."

"We love him anyway, sir," Hicks replied. He put a spoonful of watery instant grits in his mouth before turning to face us. "Hey, listen up, everyone. We're gonna be doing a little extra weight training in the gym today. There's a hurricane about to blow through parts of Florida and Georgia and we might be called down afterwards to help with rescues and such, so I want you all ready to lift debris and shit like that. Oh-nine-hundred, I want everyone except Dietrich in the gym, got it?"

Everyone mumbled a "Yes, Corporal," and then went back to their breakfasts. At nine, we were, of course, all in the gym, lifting weights and all that fun jazz. Not long after, we went outside to do some rescue drills.

If we go in after a natural disaster, there really is no need for smartgunners to go in with our big guns, but that doesn't mean we sit out. Our strength is needed to lift heavy objects and carry the wounded. Bad weather, earthquakes, tsunamis, and the like are just as scary as any warzone. To tell you the truth, this would be my first natural disaster zone, and I was praying that we didn't get called if the bitch hits the coast.

That night, I found Hicks in the lounge, watching the weather. After getting a chocolate drink out of the vending machine, I paused by the pool table, occasionally glancing over at Hicks. He sighed, picked up the remote, and changed the channel to a basketball game before getting up and going over to me.

"You doing OK?" Hicks asked, taking a cue stick from a rack next to the table.

"Yeah, why?" I bent over, focusing hard before taking a stab at the balls.

"Just asking. You and Wierzbowski worked pretty good together today."

"We're friends. I wouldn't expect us not to work pretty good together."

Hicks shrugged. "I wouldn't expect you to work well with anyone just a few months ago. Seeing you improve makes me feel good."

I was silent for a minute. "Hicks, can I tell you something, and can you keep it between us?"

"Sure."

"Hudson and Spunkmeyer were close when you first arrived here, right?"

Something flashed in Hicks's eyes. He stared into space-well, he was staring into the back of his brain, into something he likely didn't want to be thinking about. He looked down, and breathed a quiet sigh. "They were. When I . . . first came here, my . . . my problem was a lot worse than it is now. My mood swung a lot more easily. That first night, I was walking around the loading bay, looking at stuff. I noticed there were a couple things out of place, and of course the maniacal part of my mind was saying, 'This is wrong. This is wrong, it's a sign that this unit has no discipline and no fear of consequences,' so I marched down to Spunkmeyer's room because he operates the powerloader. The rest is . . . a little fuzzy, but I know I got violent with him and he was crying and Hudson flew in like a wild animal and there was . . . there was a fight, and . . . yeah, they were close. Hudson risked getting in a lot of trouble for Spunkmeyer."

"Do you remember when they kinda . . . fell out?"

"A little. Not sure why, though. Just one day they weren't talking to each other during meals."

A pang of guilt twisted around my stomach. "Hudson felt bad he didn't help you when your illness was still bad. He cared about you, but he didn't know what to do to help you, even a little. So, he assumed he was . . . emotionally stupid, and that had an effect on his relationship with Spunkmeyer. I'm saying this because I wasn't understanding why I was seeing certain things in my dreams. Apparently . . . those things meant that Hudson wasn't happy. I want to help them reconnect to what they had before." I glanced at Hicks before taking another sip of my drink. "You get what I'm saying?"

Hicks nodded.

"I thought maybe you'd know a thing or two about getting them to talk without one of them blowing up or crying."

"I'll have to think about it, Drake, but I will get back to you as soon as I can, OK?" Hicks offered a smile as he leaned over to take a carefully calculated shot at the balls.

Question: Is Drake really a good choice for helping Hudson and Spunkmeyer with their past difficulties?