<em>- Bo with others in Great Room -</em><br/><br/>Bo was lost in his own thoughts as he picked up his glass of champagne in one hand, looking into the golden bubbles without seeing them.  He glanced at Angus, tempted to request something stronger but decided against it.  Never had he expected to be affected so strongly by regret, especially for actions that could be so easily justified.  He had done nothing wrong.  Yet for some reason his subconscious mind felt otherwise.  And why now, of all times, for it to make it's complaints known.  Glancing once again at Agnus, he realized why so many veterans turned to alcohol.  But he wasn't a man given to weakness.  Not of any kind.  Mentally forcing his moodiness back into the recesses of his mind, he felt Marcus's clap on his shoulder.  Bo didn't hear what Marcus said, but the manner in which the man had delivered it suggested a common frivolity that one often associates with strangers becoming acquainted.  In an effort to remain in the spirit of this new start in his life, Bo responded with a polite nod and tight smile.  Then he purposefully set the champagne glass down without taking a sip.<br/><br/>As he glanced over the other members of his new family, his eyes were drawn immediately to Nicci.  When Marcus spoke to her, raising her chin slightly, the look in her eyes jolted Bo out of his reverie.  A sudden ache radiated from his core as he saw the hurt in her gaze.  She must have noticed the change in him and blamed herself.  She must be so confused.  Bo wanted desperately to explain.  But how could he.  How could a woman so lovely, with no means to understand, ever grasp any explanation that he could offer.  It was the age old burden carried by men who had seen combat.  It was truly one of those things that you never could appreciate unless you had been through it, and the reason Bo never spoke of his experiences with anyone outside of his team.  And rarely with them, except in joking, boisterous exchanges of conquest as happens amongst comrades.  How could a civilian ever understand the image of a little boy stumbling out of an exploded building before collapsing dead into the dirt.  How could they ever comprehend the hundreds of lives taken by each member of his team, including himself.  They would never know the feeling of holding a man tightly against you, feeling his muscles compress and thrash, as you slipped a knife up under his rib cage, and then hearing the last gurgles of life slip from his body as it goes limp.  And most of all, how could they ever understand that all of these things were done for love.  Not love of country, God and family, though these were the platitudes that any combat veteran would utter if asked.  Rather, love for the men standing beside him.  The only men in the world that could understand the look in his eyes when those moments of dark reflection came.  Warriors killed for love of each other.  And no civilian could ever understand that drive.<br/><br/>These thoughts, so ingrained in Bo's mind, sorted themselves quickly as he sought for a way to take the hurt away from Nicci.  Resigned to the fact that he could not explain the truth in a manner that would give understanding, he decided instead to offer his own words of encouragement.  After Marcus spoke to her, Bo reached up, dragging the knuckle of his index finger gently along her cheek, his fingers catching her hair and pulling it over her ear.  He leaned in, hovering his lips close to her earlobe, and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Nicci, you were truly wonderful.  My heart is already drawn to you with a suddenness that has taken me by surprise."  Then, lowering his voice so that even this close she could barely hear, he offered, "we all have our demons, my dear.  You needn't worry yourself over mine."<br/><br/>With that, he pulled away slowly, a heartfelt smile stretched his lips as he met her gaze.  His hand reached out to briefly stroke her arm in a comforting gesture.