Parker came to a dead stop, rocking back on his heels from the words that came out of Ghostâs mouth.  He was pissed at her, wanted to throttle her in fact, but his anger was justified.  Sheâd moved out of position, plain and simple, and it gave the enemy an opening they used.  Sure, they might have attacked anyway, and he might have still lost Claire, but it was made a hell of a lot easier by her actions yet she didnât seem to get it.  That comment, that cold, callous, comment was filled with so much hate for him he was stunned.  Join Claire in Hell?  His Claire?  Sweet, innocent Claire whoâd never hurt a fly?  Oh, Claire definitely wasnât in Hell but he was going to be there in just a few minutes, for the cold blooded murder of a fellow soldier.  âYou fucking daughter of a whoreâ he said, his face bright red from the anger that was flying off him in waves.  âYou fucking left your post!  Your post, soldier.  I donât give a flying fuck if you heard a noise or not.  Your job was to guard that doorway and you walked away from it.  You cost three good soldiers their lives, and Claireâs too, and you stand here and tell ME to go to Hell?  Oh, Iâm definitely heading there but youâre coming with me too.â  He reached into his belt and pulled out his combat knife then, nothing but her throat in his sights.<br/><br/>Heâd taken two steps towards her when another soldier spoke.  The words had nothing to do with him or Ghost, being about food, but they succeeded in breaking through the rage that had overtaken him.  In that instant, he realized what heâd been about to do and stopped himself.  Looking down at the knife, then up at Ghost, he shook his head.  âStay the fuck away from me Ghost.  I wonât be responsible for my actions if you come near me.â  He turned then, coming face to face with Angel, who handed him a pair of dog tags.  A glance down showed they were Claireâs and Parker felt tears form in his eyes.  He closed them, blinking rapidly.  âThanks manâ he told Angel.  âI appreciate it.â  Realizing that he needed  a distraction in that moment, he turned to Spaight.  âIâll handle dinner Master Sergeant.  Hereâs my communications gear.â   He handed it over and then began to gather what he needed to prepare the meal, his years as a hunter who had to live in the woods while out, coming into play.