Banks pointed around the corner of the bar, which Harker hadn't seen from the door. There was a snooker table there, and also an old upright piano, pushed against the wall. A smallish blonde in a very large sweater was sitting there, playing notes with her left hand and apparently singing to herself. The sound was largely lost under the noise of the bar.

Nodding vaguely to Banks and Tallulah, Harker moved across the room, and as he did people seemed to notice his uniform was slightly different, that there were pips on his shoulder, and little by little they grew quiet, until he could hear what Eve was singing.

She'd played it once or twice back at the Chase, but he'd never caught the words. She was singing about fields of destruction; she was singing about baptisms of fire ...

She was singing about not being deserted by her 'brothers in arms', and the words hit Harker like a knife in the chest.

For the first time in his life, his nerve failed.

He shoved out of the hot, crowded bar, silence dropping down around him until his footsteps thudded loudly on the cheap boards, and slammed outside into the rain, which was coming down heavier than ever, soaking him in seconds. He needed to damage something, hit something, because Eve had been hurt and she was so precious and it was all his fault, but he wasn't armed and he ended up punching the sign announcing the NAAFI bar, which was rough and hard and bloody hurt.

Sucking his bleeding knuckles, he decided to go to the officers' mess to get very drunk, and headed back towards the parade ground and the main entrance to the building.

He'd probably got halfway when Eve shouted, 'Harker!' and he froze.

She hopped out of the bar on one crutch, ducking against the rain, and reached him as he turned, slowly. She was smiling, but it faded when she saw his face, and for a second she stared at him uncertainly.

'You're here,' she said, and Harker just nodded, taking her in. Her face was pale, her wet hair flat to her head, and her right hand was tucked inside its sleeve. She looked small, smaller than he remembered.

'Are you all right?'

He nodded again. He wanted to grab her and hold her against him and tell her all kinds of mushy stuff that appalled even himself.

When he didn't say anything, Eve asked, 'Is Tallulah all right?'

'She's in there.'

'Oh.' Eve glanced back at the comparative cheer of the bar, then at Harker again. She looked unsure. 'Well, I ... Where are you going?'

'Officers' mess. Nicer bar.'

She nodded. 'Yeah, probably.' She shivered.

'You should get back inside,' Harker said, gesturing to the pounding rain.

Eve nodded again, and he turned to go, aching for her.

'Wait,' she said, and he spun back. 'I don't believe this.'

'Believe what?'

'This! Last time you saw me I was incoherent with fever, I had a gunshot wound in my leg and a burnt hand and needed hospitalisation, and you can't even ask how I am?'

Her cheeks were pink now, her eyes flashing angrily, and it was taking all of Harker's self-control not to grab her, strip her naked and find out exactly how she was.

'How are you?'

'Cold, wet, and annoyed.'

Harker, angry, frustrated and aching, moved suddenly, picked her up in his arms and she struggled, but not particularly effectively. 'Hey! What are you doing?'

'You need to get inside. Shouldn't get those dressings wet.'

'Oh, so you have noticed I'm hurt?'

'Yes,' Harker said grimly, striding towards the officers' quarters.

'Right, but I can walk, you know!'

'No, you can't.' Was it his imagination, or was she slightly less soft and round than she used to be? More fragile. Heaven help him, he was going to kill each and every Coalitionist in Leeds.

'Well, I could if you'd let me have my crutch back! You just left it there, someone's going to trip over it.'

'I don't care.' He kicked open the door, ignored the duty officer, and carried Eve up the stairs to his quarters.

'And where are you taking me?'

He hesitated on the stairs. Eve glared at him.

'Do you have a bunk somewhere else?'

'Well, no,' she began, and Harker started walking again, 'but if you take me back to the hospital then'

'Daz has already reassigned your bed.'

'Well, yes, but'

He shoved open the door to his room with his shoulder.

'Um, whose room is this?' Eve said, looking around.

'Mine.' He set her down carefully on the bed, but to his annoyance she sprang back to her feet again. At least, that was probably her intention, but the end effect was that she moved carefully on to one foot.

'Oh,' she said, looking uncomfortable, her arms wrapped around herself. Her injured hand was still tucked into her sleeve. 'Well, don't you get the nicest accommodation?'

'It's called "pulling rank",' Harker said, 'and I might as well while I still can.'

'What?'

'Never mind.' He threw his sodden jacket on the floor, which made Eve scowl.

'Don't you ever pick up after yourself?'

'Look, don't start,' Harker said. 'I have spent a week trawling through the mud in that damned wagon, it hasn't stopped raining, Tallulah has been trying for the Most Cheerful Soldier award, and I am tired, and hungry, and soaking wet through, so don't bloody start, okay?'

He'd moved closer to her, and she'd backed up against the bed so they stood nose to nose. Her hair curled slightly at the ends, tendrils of it clinging to her neck. She smelled of rain on hot skin.

'All right, so it sucks to be you,' she said, nostrils flaring. 'I've spent the week lolling about in bed by choice, have I?'

'No.' He closed his eyes. She was infuriating. 'Look, those dressings could be wet'

'They're fine.'

'Let me see.'

'No.'

'Eve.' He leaned closer, but there was no point trying to intimidate her with his height or his strength. She just glared back up at him.

'Look, the one on my hand is supposed to be wet, it's called a wet-to-dry dressing, it's'

'Meant to be dry on the outside.'

Snarling under her breath, she drew her right hand out from her sleeve and thrust it in front of his face. 'There. Happy now?'

Not really. Her hand was practically mummified, each finger wrapped up separately, the palm swaddled with bandages. Waves of anger and guilt crashed over Harker as he took her hand in his, gently, careful not to put any pressure on the injured side. The dressing was, at least, dry.

'Does it hurt?' he asked.

'Little bit. Some times more than others. Daz has me on lots of painkillers.'

Harker turned her hand over and very, very gently kissed the bandaged palm. 'I'm so sorry.'

'Yeah, well, you should be.' She took her hand back belligerently. 'Banks told me how you decided I'd defected to the other side, so thanks for leaving me to rot. They could have raped me or killed me'

'But they didn't?' If they raped her I'll kill every one of them, I'll burn them alive, I'll bleed them and 'I'm still alive, aren't I?'

'No,' Harker said wretchedly, 'I mean'

'I know what you mean. And no, they didn't,' Eve said softly, then rallied. 'Which is just as well for you, because if they had, I'd have to beat the crap out of you.'

Relief flooded him, and he nearly smiled, which probably would have been a mistake.

'Beat the Eve, you're half-a-head shorter than me, and can you even lift a sword?'

'Oh, so now you're picking on me because I'm hurt?'

'No, I am not picking on you, I'm just saying there's no way you could take me in a fight.'

'Oh, I so could take you.'

She was really close and really hot, and Harker thought, Hell, yes, take me, but then the light caught a fading bruise on her cheek, and he cursed himself.

'You're soaked through,' he said, stepping back to a safer distance.

'I'm okay.'

'No, you're not. You've only just recovered from one infection, your body is weak, if you catch a chill now it could be fatal, and that dressing on your leg could be soaked through.' This is going to kill me, he thought, even as he added, 'Take your clothes off.'

'No.'

'Eve'

'I don't have anything else to put on. I had to borrow these as it is.'

'You can wear my clothes.'

'I can't, they're all in wet heaps on the floor.'

'If that dressing is wet, there could be maggots crawling in there, right inside the wound, eating'

'All right,' Eve shouted, and unfastened her belt. She kicked at her boots, nearly losing her balance, and shied them across the room. One of them hit his shin.

'Ow,' he said.

'Bite me.'

Love to, Harker thought, but then she was shoving off her trousers and standing there wearing only an oversized wool sweater and a bandage, scowling at him.

'Sit,' he said, a touch hoarsely, relieved to see as she did that she was at least wearing underwear. There was only so much he could take.

The bandage was wrapped around her left thigh and didn't leave much of it uncovered. Harker knelt by the bed, reminded himself that he'd do this for any one of his men who was injured, laughed internally at his own feeble attempts at justification, and ran his hands over the pale linen.

'See?' Eve said. 'Dry.'

With one hand, he lifted her foot, making her thigh come off the bed, and ran his other hand under it.

'Any maggots?' she asked, and he looked up at her, wondering if she was being this beautiful on purpose. It was the sort of thing she'd do.

She was so warm, and so soft; yes, she'd lost weight, but her skin was smooth and he could see her breasts moving under her sweater as she breathed, and he wanted her so much he was nearly blind with it.

Abruptly, he dropped her foot and stood up. 'You're fine,' he said. 'You should you should get some rest, and dammit, you don't have a room, I'll'

'I also don't have any dry clothes.'

Her sweater was damp. She should take it off, but Harker honestly didn't think he could handle any more without pinning her down and ravishing her.

'Look, stay here, I'll go and find somewhere else to sleep.'

'No, it's fine.' She reached for the damp trousers and boots she'd just taken off, and he lost his patience.

'Eve, don't be so bloody stupid. You can't put wet clothes back on.'

She glared at him, standing up again and resting on one foot. 'I can and I will. I'm even old enough to dress myself, you know.'

'What, with one hand?'

'Oh, that's below the belt.'