A/N: Well, yeah. It's been some time. Thanks to kravn for not giving up and killing me especially when I wanted to give up entirely (ha! I didn't!) I'd recommend reading the previous chapters before diving into this one. I hope you are staying safe, i really do. The world is topsy turvy and we must hold onto the good. Then write about it. Later. Much later.


Kenzi sat hunched over the kitchen table pen in one hand, and the other tangled in her hair in the kitchenette of their adjoining rooms, singing, "And the knee bone's connected to the shin bone and the shin bone's connected to the ankle bone and…"

Outside, rain pelted the black road in front of the motel and drummed a constant and lively staccato on the roof. The curtain sheers danced at the insistence of a drowsy and humid breeze blowing through the open patio doors. There, beneath an awning, Bo ruminated on her latest failure. Nursing school didn't quite pan out as she had hoped. Bo worked twice as hard as anyone—and ah, how she struggled. Unwittingly—and yes, with very good intentions—Bo reached for the impossible and was met not only with disaster but also with quite the thorny ride down: a dismal report card that Bo angrily crumpled into her fist as soon as she'd read it. Kenzi had pried the balled piece of paper from Bo's hand and gently unfolded all the creases until she could lay it somewhat flat. Oh dear, she had exhaled breathily to herself. Well, it's only up from here, Kenzi tried to be encouraging but Bo's ego had already suffered too much: Bo also hadn't seen Dr. Lauren Lewis for several months. Except for the sporadic calls Lauren made to the diner's telephone (upon hearing the doctor's voice the wait staff knew to alert Miss Dennis in Bungalow 12) they hadn't seen each other since Tamsin and the doctor rode off back to base. Bo sighed into the humidity feeling truly, absolutely, maddeningly lost.

"And the abs are connected by the obliques…and the obliques are split into the inny and the outty…"

"Kenzi!" Bo called from the porch. "You're making that up now."

"No, Bo, I'm not. And if you studied a little maybe you'd know a little of the pecs and the delts and the quads." She began to sing again, "…are connected by the…"

Bo sighed into the wet afternoon. "It's all mumbo jumbo to me, Kenz. Maybe this was a bad idea."

"And buying this palace was such a great one?" Kenzi gesticulated above her head as she focused intently on the textbook in front of her.

Bo turned her head to see Kenzi chewing on a pencil while flipping a page of her book. "Think of the motel as an investment. Before the…" Bo seemed to stumble over her words trying to avoid any reminders of the horror she'd witnessed that morning at the Pearl. Bo swallowed. "…before the attack, the locals said this joint was their first stop. No hanky-panky."

"You mean like it was on 42nd Street?"

"Yeah, nothing like that. Seems that months at sea, sharing a bunk room with a dozen guys, can make one really appreciate privacy. They'd come here just to be able to sleep in peace. Alone."

"And when they're tired of being alone there's always Hotel Street," Kenzi winced, as Honolulu's red-light district reminded her just a little too much of her life on 42nd Street before Bo literally yanked her out of clutches of a ham-handed drunkard with evil on his mind. The thought of what could have happened still made her shiver.

Bo continued, surveying the collection of little cottages and the main motel on the dusty street. "We have everything we need here. We can lay low and come and go as we please."

"Not to mention ten minutes from the Pearl."

"Yeah, that, too." Bo answered heavily.

"I can hear your intercostal muscles from here, Bo-Bo."

"And for those of us who flunked anatomy?"

Kenzi put down her pen and stood, craning her neck left and right and rolling her shoulders forwards and back. "You got the blues, girl. You're a heavy breather when you're sad and when you're…" She flapped her hand wildly between them "Oh, never mind. A bad report card is a misdemeanor in the scheme of things. You'll turn it around."

"I feel like a dope."

"Books and bones are not for everybody," Kenzi said, stepping down onto the lanai to sit next to Bo. She leaned outwards and cupped her hand to catch fat drops of rain falling from the awning. She looked at the dappled sky curiously, a pleasant and relieved smile tugging the corners of her mouth. "Even the rain is beautiful here."

"It's all hieroglyphics to me, Kenzi. What was I thinking?" Bo inhaled the dampness and watched the mist from the road surround a series of puddles forming sporadically on the pavement as the rain slowed to a drizzle. "I just wanted to be useful…for once."

"Is that what this is about?"

Bo shook her head. "It's a lot of things and that abysmal report card doesn't help."

Kenzi laughed softly. "Did you like anything about nursing?"

"Yeah," Bo answered stern-faced. "The outfits."

Kenzi cupped two hands beneath the awning and splashed Bo with the rain.

"I'm kidding, kidding!"

Kenzi crossed her arms.

"Oh, you really want an answer."

Kenzi nodded.

"All right." Bo bit her bottom lip and peered upwards. "I liked…liked…the end of the school day!"

Bo stared into the distance.

Kenzi poked Bo's leg. "C'mon Bo. Tell that little black cloud over your head to take a powder."

Bo stared at her lap.

Kenzi poked her harder and kept poking.

"All right, all right! Stop it."

"Spill, Bo-Bo. I'm giving up precious medulla oblongata time for you."

"That's what I mean, that right there."

"Right there, where?"

Bo faced Kenzi. "You have passion. You have…excitement!"

"Well, it was a total surprise and I have you to thank, sister."

"That's all fine for you but what do I have? A penchant for spending money—that I didn't have to work for—and screwing anything with a pulse and legs."

"Oh, I think you're pickier than that," Kenzi chided.

"At the end of the day what do I see? A vast landscape of nothing. Nothing good behind me, and more of the same going forward. The life of a nearly immortal succubus has its perks for sure—"

"—forever young and gorgeous. A willing buffet of humanity just waiting to be served to you in a platter."

"Being young and beautiful is hardly an accomplishment. I need a purpose, a passion…a reason to get up every morning. Something good. I need—"

"—the doctor." Kenzi said, pointedly.

"On top of sinking in school, I got that on my shoulders. I should have known better. My grandfather warned me about humans."

"Oh yeah? What'd he say? That's we're just pieces of meat? Thanks, Bo," Kenzi huffed and got up on her feet.

"Wait, no! I mean—"

"—I know what you meant. Food and cheap tricks. Glad I could entertain you otherwise I might be dead."

That stung.

"For the love of Pete, you're acing nursing school. You've been able to survive on your own steam long before we met…and now with this education, you'll hardly need a friend like me anymore. You're getting a new life! Freedom!"

"You have all the freedom in the world, Bo, and still you can't be happy," Kenzi answered. "Look at you."

"If this is you giving me advice, you're doing a piss-poor job."

"Not what I meant. Hear me out."

Bo sighed deeply but nodded for Kenzi to continue.

"If you're not liking school, then stop. Nobody's making you stay. Try something else. That's the freedom people like me envy. I was born right next to the gutter and until I met you? I probably would have stayed there with all the other rats. But you! Don't you get it? You can go anywhere, be anything because you're immortal—you literally have the time. Try on different lives, outfits, jobs – until you discover who you really wanna be."

"I'm not a quitter."

Kenzi sat right beside her friend. "Then, be a beginner. Start something new."

Bo pulled Kenzi into a sideways hug and kissed the top of her head. They sat there on the stoop silently for a while, watching the rain slow to a drizzle. Something else was bothering Bo and Kenzi sensed it.

"You're breathing like a sad person."

"What does that even sound like?" Bo said, her brow in a twist.

"Heavy. And sad," Kenzi shrugged slightly annoyed at having to explain something that seemed obvious.

"It's been months – the first school semester is almost over. All this time only two phone calls. Two!" Bo threw her hands in the air. "The second one shorter than the first."

Kenzi scooted closer and flung an arm loosely around Bo's shoulder. "It's about time you mentioned the elephant in the room. Take it from me as a future medical professional, she's got a lot on her plate. It ain't no picnic on the Pearl."

"You think I'm being selfish?" Bo asked sincerely.

"Nah, sugar. You're just being Bo. Heart of gold. Guts of oatmeal." Kenzi got to her feet and dusted off her backside. Kenzi observed the little world surrounding them: the grease monkey peering beneath the carriage of a car at the gas station across the road, next to the small diner where Bo and Kenzi ate most of their meals, and the little roadside stand that sold box lunches and homemade banana bread that was just a slice of heaven, according to Kenzi. "Don't lose faith in yourself Bo. I know I haven't, and whether you want to believe it or not, Doctor Lewis hasn't either. You'll see."


As Bo had noted, the end of their semester was closing in and Kenzi, unlike Bo, showed more concentration than a practicing tightrope walker. Bo couldn't even get her to walk across the road to eat at the Lilikoi Café owned and operated by a local older woman named Kailani—whom everyone called Auntie—as tart and sweet as the diner's namesake. Bo and Auntie Kailani brought meals over and made sure Kenzi not only ate but also slept somewhere other than the red Formica table in their little motel kitchenette.

Bo did her best to keep up with Kenzi while trying to tamp her increasing frustration. Her eyes glazed over the text until the letters on the page turned into little black ants, inspiring Bo to doodle into the margins shapes and bursts intended to be the moss and weeping branches of an enchanted garden. Unknowingly, she also began to tap her foot in rhythm to whatever ditty Kenzi hummed in the background—and Bo switched from doodling lady bugs to sketching out renovations to the odd clusters of buildings surrounding her. A new roof on the diner. Flower boxes beneath all the windows. Perhaps adding a bar to the side of the restaurant. The distraction didn't last. With the radio humming the latest big band tune, her thoughts returned to Lauren and the night Bo first heard her sing. That was it. Lauren became her focus. Looking down at the open textbook to her left and a notebook on her lap filled with her drawings, Bo simply gave up with a sigh.

One afternoon, she was glad to answer the determined knock coming from the front door—a welcome break from the anatomical charts she'd been pouring over.

"Hale, thank God! What are you doing way out here?"

"Hi, Bo," he greeted her with a wide smile. "I got a little surprise for Nurse Kenzi."

Kenzi padded over and perched her elbow on Bo's shoulder. "Not yet a nurse, Swingtime," she addressed Hale with the latest nickname she'd given him. "What gives?"

"I got a little sumpin' for ya', 'Lil Mama. But you gotta put this on first." He held out a black silk scarf.

"A blindfold? Kinky." Kenzi smiled devilishly at him.

"C'mon, Kenz. We could both use a break." Bo bumped shoulders with her.

"And I haven't seen you in forever," Hale whined. "I promise you'll love it.

Kenzi relented. "A short break. Short."

Kenzi walked forward in mincing steps as Hale steered from behind, his hands gently resting on her shoulders. "Watch your step, 'Lil Mama. And no peeking!"

"If I trip, I'm gonna give it to you right in the kisser, Mister."

"That's what I'm hopin' for, baby doll."

Kenzi harrumphed as the soles of her shoes shuffled through the gravel, kicking up fine clouds of dust. Hale led her in a zig-zaggy pattern from the motel to the diner across the road. As they neared the restaurant, Kenzi inhaled the familiar smells wafting from the grill.

Hale abruptly stopped and pulled his hands from her eyes. "Ta-dah!"

An ostentatious and rather stout piece of furniture was parked at the side of the diner. From afar, it could easily be mistaken for an ice box but at closer inspection, it was fancy and elegant as the Queen's very own throne.

"A bar?! You brought me a bar!" Kenzi cupped her hands and jumped a little.

"Has to be a Biedermeier. It's gorgeous, Hale." Bo had followed behind the pair. She gazed at the glossy sheen over the marbleized finish of the wood, a swirl of milk and dark chocolate browns.

"Beetle who?" Kenzi spun around to face Hale.

"Wrong on both counts. It's a nearly-new Victrola radio," Hale said with a slight bow as he removed his Panama hat and waved it with a flourish. "On sorta permanent temporary loan courtesy of a Count staying at the hotel who's fast and loose with the ponies…" he grimaced slightly and scratched his head, "…but slow and tardy paying his debts. 'Ya dig, me?"

"I get it. Lady Luck gave 'ole Mister Count the heave-ho. His loss is Kenzi's gain." She lightly palmed the Victrola's sturdy sides and elegant curves – practically glowing in the island sun.

Hale quickly sandwiched himself between Kenzi and the Victrola before she could get any closer. He tutted her with a shake of his head. "Wait, there's more!" he said with a glint in his eye. The band leader tapped twice on a nearly-invisible seam, and pop! A lid opened in slow motion, a shelf eased forward like a dirigible leaving its hangar, revealing a turntable and phonograph cartridge about the color and circumference of a large cast iron pan.

"A record player!" Kenzi hopped up and down.

"You really shouldn't spoil her, Hale," Bo teased. She leaned in closer to him. "Next, she'll be hinting at a ring."

"I heard that!" Kenzi answered.

Hale popped the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. "Okay, Kenzi. Why don't you turn that switch and give that little girl a spin? When the turntable starts to go—"

"—it's not my first time at the rodeo, Hale. I know what to do."

"Uncle Charlie," Hale addressed the other half of the team that ran the Lilikoi Café: a middle-aged islander with a shock of white hair and a smile just as bright; and Auntie Kailani's husband. He'd been sitting on the front steps of the diner watching the surprise unfold.

"I got you Little Brother." Uncle Charlie's ample mid-section jiggled as he laughed. Then, he pulled out two ukuleles he had been hiding behind his back and handed one to Hale.

The slam of the café's screen door announced the arrival of Auntie Kailani—a name that loosely translated into sea and sky–which she was equal parts, sea and sky: a tempest, a typhoon when stirred to anger or as still as a pearl in its shell, cushioned in the nacre of its own happiness. With Auntie Kailani, it was either fair weather or foul. "I said I'd be only a minute. You start already?"

"My love, my hope—when you evah look at a clock?" Uncle Charlie shook his head and plunked the strings of his ukulele.

"Island time! You nevah hear of it?!" Auntie Kailani rested fat fists on wide hips and glared at Uncle Charlie.

"Yes, my love," Uncle Charlie answered with a light nod. "Bettah now?"

"You bettah now, Charlie. Now play that record," she waved at Kenzi.

A few seconds went by of a needle scratching the record surface. Followed by a few more seconds of silence, then – a song! A lazy, dreamy song with a waterfall of clarinets, the strumming of strings, the soft steady brush of a snare drum, and giddy heartbeats of the trombone and bass guitar – just a little bouncy tune in three-quarter time.

"I'm on my merry way," Hale sang as he strummed the ukulele. "I'm on a holiday, I mean, I'm on my way to Honoluloooo…"

"I know that one!" Auntie Kailani smiled at Hale, then at Uncle Charlie who strummed his ukulele along with the band leader. She smiled to herself and began to sway her hips slowly in time to the music. Auntie Kailani moved her body and limbs with a liquidity reserved for the ethereal—a mermaid, a fairy, a swarm of jellyfish pulsating in the deep.

"The hula," Auntie explained, "is our language. We tell our stories in our eyes, our hands, our arms, our entire bodies." She transformed the end of her fingertips from the weary hands of a waitress to the slow, undulating waves of a magnificent ocean. She pushed and pulled her arms and hands in such mesmerizing motion that one could practically smell the brine and salt of the open sea. "We dance about love. We dance about war."

Charlie whispered loudly, "Please don't ask her to do the war dance. It scares everyone."

"It's meant to!" Auntie Kailani raised her brow at Uncle Charlie.

As Auntie continued her dance, she matched her movements to the lyrics Hale was singing:

"The days just drift along.
The nights are filled with song,
I hope that I'm not wrong on Honoluluuuu."

Auntie Kailani's gracefulness and the joy with which she moved stunned Bo and Kenzi into silence as she mimed the words of the song in an ancient language that bloomed at the end of her fingertips and in the slow undulation of her hips. Her eyes brightened with every movement. Charlie took the lead on the next verse:

"I bought a ukulele,
I practice on it dayyyy-lee.
Sounds wicky-whacky-way-lee,
My hula-hula song."

Hale made a big show of the final chord, strumming brusquely as Auntie Kailani pointed her big toe and bowed her head slightly with her arms outstretched.

Bo, Kenzi, and Uncle Charlie applauded enthusiastically.

Bo hugged Auntie Kailani. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!"

Kenzi held her hands to her hips, her eyes squinting at Auntie.

"What? What do you say, skinny girl?"

Kenzi shook her head. "I could never do that."

"I teach you," Auntie laughed, motioning with open arms for Kenzi to join her.

"I dunno. That's a bit too refined for me. How 'bout I show you how we jive back on 42nd Street." She whistled at Hale. "Take it from the top, mister!"

The record began and, as before, Hale sang along. "I'm on my merry way…"

Kenzi began with a loud clap of her hands. She chimed in, "I'm on a holiday…" Then, she hopped to the top of the three steps that led to the diner's front door and now transformed the landing into her makeshift stage. Her heels and toes brushed and bounced merrily – clickety-clack, clickety-tap-tap-tap, stomp – hopping in a syncopated rhythm of which the great Gene Krupa would be proud.

Kenzi sang the melody with Hale:

"I know it's gonna be –
An awful blow to me –
Unless I find romance in Honoluluuuu…"

Kenzi continued with an easy time step and, as the song neared its conclusion, she giddily tip-toed her way down three short steps onto the wide, wooden boardwalk that ran the length of the diner, and led right to Auntie Kailani. Kenzi bumped her shoulder. "C'mon, you and me—the big finish!"

Auntie Kailani and Kenzi could not have made a stranger nor more perfect match, as they shimmied side by side, graceful and happy: Auntie's hip swaying, arms gently floating above like palm fronds in the breeze; Kenzi rolling her bright blue eyes and kicking and shuffling like a Rockette.

"I know just how it looks
From the pretty picture books
Oh, please don't disappoint me, Honolulu by the coral sea!"

At the song's end, Kenzi stomped her foot and held out her hand with a, "Yeah!" Beside her, Auntie Kailani pointed her toe as before and gracefully bowed. Kenzi and Auntie Kailani, both breathless, hugged each other while their little audience whistled and stomped their feet.

"Where have you been hiding all that talent, 'Lil Mama?"

"Hale's right," Bo agreed. "You're a regular Ginger Rogers. And Auntie—wow, just wow."

"Not bad for a two-bit shincracking taxi!" Kenzi wrapped an arm around a blushing Auntie. "Maybe we'll go on tour with the USO. What d'ya say?"

"Ha! I've got a restaurant to run. C'mon, Charlie. Let's get ready for the dinner rush," she answered breathily while dabbing a hanky to the sheen above her brow.

Charlie smiled and winked at Kenzi. "The only dancing she like me to do is in front of the stove."

With that the old married couple left the trio of Hale, Kenzi, and Bo in front of the diner.

"Hey, why don't the two of you come by the hotel tonight. Have dinner." Hale took Kenzi in his arms and danced a slow two step. "Take a night off."

"I can resist you, y'know," Kenzi answered.

Hale spun her around gently. "Impossible. I am irresistible."

Bo plopped herself on the raised, wooden sidewalk. "You go, Kenz."

Kenzi let go of Hale. "No sirree. If I'm playing hooky, so are you."

Hale smiled. "It's settled then. I'll reserve a table for two right up front."

"See you later, dream boat!" Kenzi waved as Hale got back in his car.

"If all it took to stop you from studying was a visit from him, I would've called Hale sooner," Bo cracked.

Kenzi hooked her elbow into Bo's as they headed back to the motel. She seemed to float a few inches in the air.

"Looks like someone's been missed," Bo teased.

"Someone misses you, too, Bo." Kenzi squeezed her arm. "Don't lose hope."


Lauren couldn't remember the last time she'd had a whole night's sleep. Between catnaps in her office chair or a makeshift bed of towels and bedsheets in the supply closet, she didn't know up from down, night from day—or if she'd even brushed her teeth or hair. It seemed that able-bodied sailors—herself included—were in the minority. There had been no end to the mending and saving and sadly, too, the draping of the American flag upon those who could not be helped. Lauren had allowed herself one good cry, so intense and bottomless that she heaved her insides empty of any feeling—except for Bo. That much she kept for herself, a small beautiful beacon in the back of her mind upon which her sanity had become tethered. Our timing is awful.In some ways, Bo had become somewhat of a mythical creature not unlike a unicorn or a mermaid: too exquisite and wonderful to be in our world for more than a glimpse at a time. She held out a small cup of hope that Bo might be waiting for her somewhere but the last few months had become such a blur with fleeting moments of rest, that Lauren's fatigue and doubt began to whittle away at any hope that Bo might still be waiting and wondering about her return. Lauren exhaled a hot breath into the palm of her hand; sniffed, and shuddered. That answers that question.

Lauren looked up at the round clock hanging over her office door, with its cracked face and hands frozen at 07:53.

Doesn't matter, anyway. Lauren folded her arms onto the desk and cradled her forehead there when the door banged open. She barely moved.

"Hello, sunshine," Tamsin sing-songed as she entered. "What are you doing here?"

"I was trying to sleep."

"Beds. That's what beds are for."

"Too far," Lauren mumbled into her arms.

Tamsin plopped into a wooden armchair that squeaked as she reclined. "I mean, what are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't you be guarding someone?" Lauren answered, head still lowered.

Tamsin tapped the back of Lauren's head until she lifted her chin and looked back at her. There they were: dark, half moons beneath her eyes and the pallor of a ghost. Sad tendrils of blonde hair hung limply over her brow. "You need a trip to the Max Factor counter, Captain. And a shower."

Lauren pushed back into her chair, her arms going limp over the arm rests. She stared up the ceiling. "A long hot bath is what I need. Got one of those in your back pocket?"

"You're delirious, Captain…what are you doing here, anyhow? Thought you'd be with the succubus."

"Bo. She has a name. I owe her a phone call."

"At least."

"Seriously, why are you still here?"

Lauren sat up. "Same as you. I'm on duty. I'm on duty forever."

"You didn't get the memo," Tamsin drolled.

"I'm too tired for jokes."

"I'm not joking." Tamsin eyed the stacks of paper loosely piled on the doctor's desk. She reached forward and began shifting them left and right.

"Hey! Stop making a mess."

Tamsin stopped when she found what she was looking for. She glanced over the sheet of paper before holding it in front of Lauren's nose. "This."

Lauren snatched it and read every other word aloud, "By order of … permission for non-combatant personnel and designated officers … shore leave…" her voice trailed, "…for seventy-two hours." Lauren gaped at Tamsin then shuffled the papers covering her desk like a mad woman until she found a piece of paper with her doctor's scrawl upon it. She picked up the phone and dialed the numbers written there. Lauren had counted up to twenty rings before she hung up.

Hastily, she stood with renewed energy. Lauren glanced at the broken clock. "What time is it?"

Tamsin flicked her wrist. "Fifteen-hundred hours."

"Damnit! I've got to go. Tamsin, I need you to—"

Tamsin held up her palm. "Stop right there, Doc. Every car, truck, bus, and bicycle's already been checked out. You know the drill. Shore leave means scram! Anyone who's anyone got their set of wheels at the crack of dawn today. You can forget about taxis, too; they're all on Waikiki where the sailors are."

Lauren slumped in her chair. "This is lousy…Bo. I imagined her every second—sometimes, the thought of seeing her again was the only thing keeping me on my feet. Bo! God, what she must be thinking of me. Or," she paused at a sad thought, "…or not thinking of me."

"Lewis! Snap out of it!"

Lauren sighed and let her head fall back on her desk with a thud. "Unless you've got a magic carpet, really, I'd rather be alone, Lt. Commander."

"Can you be any more pathetic?"

"Door, Tamsin. Use it," Lauren grumbled without looking up. She heard Tamsin's boots stomp across the floor. They stopped just as she should have crossed the threshold.

"Water. Soap. Use them together. When I return, you better smell like springtime."

"Where are you going?"

Tamsin smirked. "Finding you a magic carpet."


Tamsin had borrowed a literal pineapple truck—a flatbed with wooden slats for sides that delivered fruit to the base a few times a week. Lauren knew better than to ask how it had been procured. The seats were a bit sticky. It belched smoke, clanked like all its bolts and screws were loose; and, in spite of the pineapple thorn that speared her backside, Lauren was grateful for the ride. The truck rattled and shook for a good five minutes even after Tamsin turned off the ignition at their destination.

Lauren rapped on the door of Bo and Kenzi's motel with desperation.

"Keep knocking. I'm sure they'll eventually materialize."

Lauren turned to see a silver-haired Hawaiian woman leaning out of the diner window across the street. The woman held her palm up and Lauren could see her move to the door of the restaurant. "'Dey not home!" she said, resting her fists on her hips.

"Hello!" Lauren eked out a smile. "Did they leave?" Lauren tried to keep the desperation from her voice. Then, tentatively, "I mean, did they go back to the mainland. For good?"

"Maybe. Who might you be?" she eyed Lauren and then the woman leaning against the truck with a big gun on her belt. A very big gun.

"Oh sorry, she held out her hand and stood straight in her khaki uniform. "Dr. Lewis or Captain Lewis, whichever you prefer."

"I know you," Auntie grinned while wiping her hands on the towel tied to her waist. Auntie slowly inspected the Captain's smooth if not slightly weary features. She nodded approvingly. "You very pretty captain."

Lauren gave her a questioning look.

"Miss Bo. She speaks of a doctor, a beautiful doctor." Auntie Kailani crossed her arms over her broad chest. "But you stopped calling. Maybe the lady got tired of waiting."

Lauren slumped against the side of the diner. "There was never any time." She felt the woman's eyes boring into her. Lauren looked up before she could allow the self-pity to take over. She slid the navy-issue sunglasses over her eyes. "Thank you, Miss...?"

"Everyone call me Auntie."

"Thank you, Auntie. Thank you for your time."

Perhaps it was the way that Lauren made a slow retreat with her chin hanging low that clunked through Auntie Kailani's armor the way that the pineapple thorn pricked Lauren's behind. For whatever magic reason, Auntie Kailani found herself unable to resist what came out of her mouth next. "If I knew where she is—which I'm not saying I know anything—but why should I trust you not to hurt her?"

Lauren slowly removed her aviator sunglasses and looked down upon the gravel before meeting Auntie Kailani's eyes. "Because…because I think…" Lauren stammered.

"Because she's in love with her!" Tamsin yelled from the truck. "Geez! Do I have to do everything around here?!"

Auntie Kailani descended the steps and approached. "Doctor?"

Lauren nodded slowly. A knot formed in her throat. "She's right. I think I love her."

"You think or you know?" Auntie Kailani queried.

"I know I screwed up."

"Big time." Tamsin added her snark to the chorus.

"Not helping, Lt. Commander."

Auntie Kailani rubbed her palms around her generous middle before unexpectedly squeezing the doctor in a firm hug like an anaconda. Lauren gasped deeply when Kailani finally let her go.

"There is a band leader that came by today to visit with Miss Kenzi. He performs at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel," Auntie Kailani smiled at the now teary-eyed Lauren. "Miss Kenzi is his guest tonight. Find that skinny girl and you will find your Bo."


A fine tickle of sweat trickled at a lazy pace down Lauren's back, making its way just over the curve of her lower spine before pooling with the moisture staining the back of her khaki shirt. Both she and Tamsin glistened with a light sheen of perspiration and dust that blew in from the cane and pineapple fields they passed along the long stretch of road taking them to the shore. Then, there was the strong and noxious fumes blowing into the truck from the vents: a strange mix of burnt sugar and hot tar. Lauren held a hand over her mouth with her head somewhat tilted out the rolled-down window.

"Should I even ask where or how you finagled this fine automobile?" Lauren asked as she swallowed the breeze from her open window.

"Top secret, Captain. Strictly a need-to-know situation."

Lauren mock-saluted Tamsin. "Message received, Lt. Commander…you hotwired it."

"No, no—I beg to differ. I annexed this vehicle on behalf of the U.S. Navy to ensure that one, Captain Lauren Lewis indulges in three days of mandated rest and relaxation. For the safety and security of our great nation, I will ensure the success of Operation-Get-Lauren's-Girl, vowing to return only with confirmation of the succubus's absolute and unconditional surrender."

"Ha. Ha."

"She'll be over the moon when she sees you."

"But what if we have nothing to say to each other?"

"Oh, I'm sure you two will find plenty to talk about. Or not," Tamsin cackled. "Relax, Lewis. She really likes you."

"I thought you hated her."

"I did. Then I ran into Clementine."

"The nurse who has googly eyes for you?"

"She does not." Tamsin looked at the road, then at Lauren, then back to the road. "Does she?"

"Focus, Tamsin. What did Clementine say?"

"She asked if I ever ran into a newbie nurse whose first day on the job was the day of the attack. I told Clementine to describe her and funny thing, she described a woman who might be a ringer for the succubus. I asked about her name and Clementine said, Bo. Yeah, your Bo. Seems she spent hours on the fire rescue rig with Clementine and a bunch of nurses, working the hoses until giving up and driving to the hospital. While everyone ran inside to scrub in, Clementine spied Bo sitting with the worst cases, offering comfort, making sure they didn't die alone. Then Clementine got busy like the rest of us and lost track of the newbie. She wanted to make sure she was all right."

Tamsin looked at Lauren who appeared pensive, staring out into the passing pineapple fields. "You had no idea about this, did you, Lewis?"

Lauren shook her head and dabbed at the corner of her eye. Bo's acts of unheralded selflessness deepened her regret of not calling sooner, and of dismissing her as nothing more than a pleasure-seeking dilettante.

Tamsin focused ahead as Lauren tried to hide her sniffling. "Yup. The succubus is all right in my book. That one has a heart. She might just be the one to—" A slow smirk pulled the corners of Tamsin's lips upward; and she sang out a little flat and very off key, "—melt that cold, cold haaaaaaaaaaaart!"

Lauren's relaxed into the seat and smiled at Tamsin. "Good thing you're mean and scary and know how to shoot a rifle."

"Why?" Tamsin asked taking her eyes away from the road briefly to look at Lauren.

"Because an Andrews Sister you are not! Stick to security, Lt. Commander." Lauren's shoulders shook as she snorted out a laugh.

"Yeah? Yeah?!" Tamsin took the ribbing as a challenge and started belting out the words to Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy of Company B, assaulting the dark green fields around them with a distinct lack of tone and rhythm that was more than compensated for by the Lt. Commander's sheer exuberance in shouting the lyrics be they right or wrong.

Tamsin warbled on as they bounced over every rut and bump in the road. Lauren removed her garrison cap, hung her elbow out the window, and leaned outward to feel the breeze cool her skin and comb through her hair. She closed her eyes and recognized the familiar oogly-booglies that made her shiver even in this tropical heat: the terror and excitement of seeing Bo again. There had been no one since Nadia and Lauren decided back then that one great love was more than most shmos got in a lifetime. Then, there was Bo, enigmatic and contradictory and unexpected Bo. If Tamsin—the Valkyrie who had witnessed centuries of the best and worst humanity had to offer—if she could have a change of heart regarding the succubus, well then, maybe it was the sign Lauren didn't know she'd been waiting for. A sign to give her cold, cold heart another chance. She'd seen enough tragedies these past few months. Maybe it was time for something better, and if she dared to even think it—something akin to love.


Bo scanned the perimeter of the immense dance floor, now more of a relic of times gone by, an elegant and ghostly wasteland. The tribes of socialites and industrial barons that provided the glitter and glamour associated with the hotel had abandoned this palace, leaving in their wake a few stragglers who apparently never received the memo that frivolous outings were de rigeur given last year's attack on the Pearl. Bo was never one to follow fashion or rules—except when it suited her, which was only rarely. Even so, it was hard to deny the greyness of her mood and the collective boredom hovering over the Sidecars and Champagne cocktails like a thick and impenetrable fog. Except for Kenzi. Her aura blazed for Hale making her all gooey-eyed.

Kenzi cast a rare glance at Bo, "See anything you like, sister?"

"Sadly, no. There's nothing on the menu I particularly care for," Bo answered while twiddling with a wooden match box that had been set on the table.

"Tell me, you've a hankering but only if it's yay high, and blonde?"

"Honestly, Kenz, I could use a snack but it's just slim pickins' tonight. And please no mention of you-know-who."

Kenzi nodded warily and spied a man at the bar in a seersucker suit. Kenzi pointed at him with her chin. "I thought it was at least a dark suit and tie minimum around her. We ain't at the community swimming pool," Kenzi sneered just a little too loudly that even Bo had to laugh.

Then, turning back to Bo, Kenzi proposed, "I know it's not the kind of spread you're used to, but a meal's a meal. What d'ya say? Huh? Some fun is better than none fun. See that? See what I did there—none—"

"—you know what," Bo conceded, "maybe I'm just not in the mood."

Kenzi suppressed the urge to snark when Bo shook her head and stared her down. Kenzi murmured to herself, "Keep the joke inside, keep the joke inside."

"But what I am in the mood for is a little stroll. Fresh air," Bo attempted to say lightly but her tone was so low and joyless that even Kenzi knew better than to joke at her expense.

"Do you want company?"

Bo shook her head and eked out a smile. "And leave Hale all by his lonesome?"

"All right, Baby Doll," Kenzi shooed her away. "Mind if I order a bucket of bubbly?"

Bo held up a thumb over her head as she stepped away. While the sight of her best friend head-over-heels over a new beau pleased Bo—Kenzi's blossoming romance coupled with the nearly-uninhabited ballroom—made Bo's lack of cheer and general ennui ever more acute. Failing at school. Failing at love. Yet, stars still shone in the sky; and waves rushed to shore. Bo Dennis of the Long Island Dennises traded Manhattan Island for a 'round the world adventure in order to find herself, only to realize she was as adrift as ever.

Bo blew out an irritated breath, very much aware that the strains of a lush and romantic melody had followed her from the ballroom and onto the expansive lanai. Even the crashing waves seemed to roar in time for the music. Bo bathed in the glow of the moonlight. No matter how far she traveled, the universe conspired to torture her, always dangling happiness just inches away from her grasp: close enough for longing but impossible to hold. A bitter laugh slipped from her lips.

"Buck up, Bo," she said to herself. "A succubus cannot love. This succubus will not love again." Bo set her purse down on the sea wall and committed right then and there to, "acquit myself of the ridiculous notion that anyone could ever truly love me for who and what I am." No, after tonight she would live as her kind was meant to — as a libertine, unshackled from any illusions of love. "To be exactly and nothing more than I am, a succubus." Bo squeezed her eyes and allowed herself one final indulgence: to recall every detail of Captain Lewis that she could muster before banishing the woman entirely from her heart. On a night as idyllic as this, she had walked with the doctor hand in hand. Under the same moonlight. Beside the same hypnotic sea. How Lauren's brown eyes lit up when she laughed. The scent of her skin, as soothing as a field of lavender. Lastly, the sound of her voice and the spell it cast the first time Bo had heard Lauren sing.

"The mere idea of you…
The longing here for you…
You'll never know how slow, the moments go—
'till I'm near to you…."

The caramel of Lauren's voice stirred Bo to near tears. Remembering was a stupid thing to do, she realized, for it only worsened her mood. It was all too much. "Get out of my head! You're not real. You've never been real."

A voice, low and soft, answered from the shadows. "Was my singing that bad?"

Bo spun around, mouth agape, and froze at the sight of the captain in the flesh. That gaping hole into which Bo was about to throw her heart? Like a palooka cadging for drinks on the Bowery, rebuffed in the nick of time.

"Lauren," Bo managed a whisper as she watched the woman step into the light. "You're—"

"—here."

"But, why?"

Lauren took a step forward. "Isn't it obvious?

Bo, still as a statue, barely shook her head. She watched Lauren lower her eyes, the inkling of a smile forming on her lips.

Lauren looked up and held out an arm with her palm upward. "To dance, of course."

Bo looked at her with glassy eyes, as she gingerly slipped her hand into Lauren's, a piece of her still in disbelief that this wasn't a mirage conjured by a thirsty heart. Then, the woman she'd missed for so long, wrapped an arm around Bo's waist and eased their bodies closer. The heat of Lauren's breath against her ear broke the spell. Bo exhaled as she allowed herself to melt into her embrace, "Lauren."

They swayed beneath an impossible moon and to faraway music so sweet and low and the perfect accompaniment to the stirrings of a love that had clung to hope even when reason commanded it not to. Bo and Lauren's second chance arrived on a sweet plumeria breeze. The twin pitter-pattering of hearts coaxed a new song into the air with a pleasant refrain, "Stay, stay."

Bo sighed when Lauren whispered her name. Bo answered by ghosting her nose on Lauren's cheek.

"I need to tell you something," Lauren confided.

"Mmmm."

"I've only pretended to myself that work took me away from you."

"Shhh," Bo scowled. "You're here now."

"No," Lauren countered. "Let me just say this, okay?"

Bo nodded and pressed her cheek against Lauren's.

"In truth, I've been terrified. Terrified of my feelings for you and what that might mean in the future. I'm rather unlucky in love, you see. But if I don't take a chance then I'll never know. These past few months I've seen what hate can do. What war can do. I reckon I've cried enough tears over those poor boys to fill an ocean. It could easily have been me, gripping a stranger's hand…"

"But it wasn't."

Lauren sniffed and pulled herself together, turning her head to look directly at Bo. "I know. It was just dumb luck. I'm an officer in the U.S. Navy, Bo. I can be sent anywhere at any time."

Bo paled and opened her mouth to speak but Lauren shook her head to stop her.

"And truth is, I'm scared. Of many, many things. But right now, here with you, I think the thing I'm most scared of is never knowing what it would be like to love you…" Lauren stepped back from Bo and took the woman's two hands into her own. "If I'm going to cry my eyes out anyway, may as well be for a good reason," she paused, "and what better reason is there but love?"

Bo did not hesitate. Short of lunging, she threw herself into Lauren's arms and kissed her madly, kissed her repeatedly, kissed her thoroughly until every unspoken question was answered, and every doubt vanquished. Bo cradled Lauren's face in her hands. "You know how to seize a moment."

"For some of us, life is shorter," Lauren mumbled.

Bo smiled warmly. "Then, let's make it count." Bo grabbed Lauren's hand and pulled her away from the terrace, inside the hotel, and past the ballroom's open doors. "One suite or two?"

Lauren wrinkled her brow. "What do you mean?"

Bo stopped and pointed through at the open doors where they could see Tamsin and Kenzi guffawing deep in their cups, the bright yellow labels of two opened Veuve Clicquot bottles peeking out of their champagne buckets.

Lauren squeezed Bo's hand. "If you don't mind, I want you all to myself for as long as possible."

Bo pecked Lauren and inhaled her powdery perfume. "Your wish is my command, Captain Lewis. One it is."


The first time was urgent. Carnal. Ferocious. Needy, vocal, and clumsy. After they both peaked, they collapsed backwards and, while after long swallows of air, fell into a fit of giggling. Before the silence could become awkward, Lauren propped herself on a bent elbow and kissed Bo softly on the lips, lingering there until she had coaxed a smile out of her. Lauren's heart beat like a drum. "Let's do it again."

The second time was more subdued, exploratory, a warm, welcome home. Initiate. Return. Spring. Hush. Brush. Push. God. Fuck. Moan. Reassuring.

"I'm here."

"I'm here with you."

Light again. Whole again.

Ah, but the third. Keening and with lust sated, they turned to love. Communicating. Questioning. Responding with a quickness, a shuddering, Yes. There. Please. Words spill against flesh, a comfort, a conviction. Softly they warm her throat and the heat spreads up into her cheeks and below, well below her cheeks. Butterflies in one's belly.

Bo had set a teasing pace as Lauren rode above her.

"Don't stop," Lauren panted. "Don't stop loving me.

Bo stilled beneath her.

Lauren realized too late that perhaps she had overstepped and began to retreat, slipping off of Bo's torso.

Bo clasped her wrist and tugged, pulling her to lay upon her chest and holding her there within her embrace. She cupped Lauren's face and brought her in for a lingering kiss. Gently, she eased Lauren onto the bed and switched their positions.

Lauren looked away from Bo's gaze. "I didn't think that—"

"—I felt the same?" Bo laid her cheek on Lauren's chest. "But I do, Dr. Lewis," she answered drawing circles around Lauren's heart. "This right here? It's Bo territory." Now, Bo was the self-conscious one and let her chin drop to hide her face.

But only for a moment.

Slowly, upon Lauren's flesh, Bo tattooed notes of her devotion with every warm breath, soft caress, and lingering kiss—each touch a line, a verse in this, their unfolding story of two souls adrift, found, lost again, and resuscitated by the very thing they feared and desired the most: love.

Their ardor reignited, Bo watched Lauren surrender beneath her, her eyes hazy in rapture, her back arched in supplication; Bo was lost in Lauren's breathy refrain. Lauren gasped as Bo entered and filled her completely; right then and there, Bo decided that that was her favorite sound in this whole, broken-down world.


Hale Santiago and his Sirens of Swing made wonderful work of a medley of Cole Porter in front of an audience of three. Or five. Nine, if the bartender and busboy were included. A world at war had sucked all the air out of the party, everywhere—and yet, holed up in a corner decorated in various shades of gloom, two figures sparkled in the night, high from the warm tropical air thick with invisible clouds of jasmine, frangipani, and gin.

Kenzi spun on the barstool, raising her martini glass in the direction of the ballroom. She squinted hopelessly, trying to bring Hale into focus from way over there. Kenzi belted a voce piena, "Strange, dearrrr. But true, dearrrrr!" Kenzi slid dangerously to the edge of the barstool and wobbled as if they were on a ship and it just hiccupped over unexpected swells. Kenzi recovered and howled once again, "When I'm close to you, dearrrrr!"

Tamsin, meanwhile, observed the human pleasantly. The Valkyrie had made several trips to Valhalla since early December—too many, not because of the numbers for she had seen tolls greater than the attack at the Pearl—but because of the brutal suddenness of it all, an ordinary sun, rising over an ordinary day—one way of life gone, the other enters aflame, far reaching; permanent. To Valhalla she carried the young warriors of the ships Arizona, Oklahoma, Maryland, California. Yet, this human sings at the top of her lungs, drinking like a fish, crazy in love. Just like the captain. Life simply went on. If only they knew how little time they had, Tamsin thought to herself as she knocked back her Kentucky bourbon. What little time they had, the thought lingered. Though she felt warm, Tamsin knew it wasn't the alcohol that was making her giddy. She was laughing hard enough to stop Kenzi mid-song.

"Heyyy, copper, "Kenzi slurred. "I'm doing all the singing, and you're doing all the laughing. I hardly think that's fair."

Tamsin watched Kenzi's eyes roll trying to find a center point to focus upon. Tamsin pointed at the bridge of her nose. "Right here, Kenzi. Look here."

Kenzi's eyes stopped rolling, and she managed a frown. Then, as if a light were turned on, her eyes popped open. "I see you!" she said excitedly before falling chest first into Tamsin.

"You don't know how good you got it, little one," Tamsin said under her breath as she returned Kenzi to an upright position.

"What d'ya mean, sailor?"

Tamsin smoothed the imaginary wrinkles on Kenzi's clothing as she spoke. "That you get another day. That it can feel new, like a new present to unwrap every morning. Morning after morning. The wonder of it."

"Are you making a pass at me, missy? Because," she pointed at her chest proudly, "I'm taken. By that handsome fella over there." Kenzi pointed behind Tamsin. Then, thinking better of it, spun herself around until she was facing the ballroom. "I mean, there."

"Yes, I know Kenzi." Then, as Kenzi had done before her, Tamsin sang at full voice along with the band, holding her palm dramatically over her heart, "In love with the night mysterious!"

"The night when you first were there," Kenzi crooned in return.

It occurred to Tamsin that she was at the center of a cliché, one where love is lost over and over through the Millenia, yet though familiar the tale, tedium had yet to stop the pining of one more heart, the writing of one more letter, the singing of one more love song. Or, in the case of her friend, Dr. Lewis, the absolute joyful descent into madness that inspired the theft of a pineapple truck in war time. "In love with my joy, delirious," Tamsin sighed. "When I knew that you could care."

Given all that she had seen of the most recent war, Tamsin surrendered her hardness to the air. She shrugged to herself as she swirled her drink anew and raised her glass to no one in particular. Why not believe in love? "Even a love as ridiculous as one between a dilletante and a doctor, a human and a near immortal." Only after she had knocked back her drink did she realize that she had been speaking her thoughts aloud.

Kenzi stood with her mouth agape. "You flipped your wig, copper?"

This earned a laugh. "Just feeling sentimental is all. Tamsin scrunched her brow. "It's an odd feeling."

"Good thing you're with me," Kenzi plopped her arms on Tamsin's shoulders. "Feeling odd is my speh-cee-a-li-tee." Kenzi waved at the bartender. "Another round, my good sir!"

When their drinks arrived, Kenzi pushed one over to Tamsin and asked, "We should toast to something." She scrunched her brow like a Rodin sculpture, pensive. Until at last, she brightened, "To love! Let's drink to love!"

Tamsin shook her head, amused. "Of course," she whispered only to herself. Tamsin then straightened up from the bar, cleared her throat, and held her glass aloft. "To love. A love so true and fierce that it could stop all the clocks, freeze the moon and the stars in the velvet sky, and delay the dawn for miles and miles."

Kenzi didn't know whether to drink or salute her.

As she slammed her empty shot glass onto the wooden bar top, Tamsin thought, Yes, let love be like that.

Tonight.


kravn helped. a lot. To make this better. send over a bottle of wine to kravn's table. then, if you're so inclined, leave me a review so I know folks still follow LG.