Kim Possible Hearts at War

Point of Order: It is _highly_ recommended that you read the one-shot _Boots On Ground_ prior to starting this. Not only is it heavily referenced, it also introduces a good portion of the cast. For those who have read it, this chapter follows the events of _BoG_.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Kim Possible characters. Also part of the standard disclaimer (standard for this story at least) is that some characters are strongly based on real people- real soldiers- and will be credited when introduced, as I have approval for them to be used in this capacity. Also, I will warn that, through out _Hearts at War_, dialogue and actions will be made that do not reflect _my _(the author's) views but will be consistent with characters/situations and will be, most likely, considered offensive by some. It is not my intention; it is reality. Enough of that, onwards!

-Aftermath-

_"The soldier above all others prays for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war." -Douglas MacArthur_

Kim stared down at her gloved hands, willing back the tears that threatened to fall. All she could think was how wrong it all was, how it wasn't supposed to be this way, how it was supposed to be an easy mission in a well protected area and then home when that mission completed. They weren't supposed to go outside the wire, they weren't supposed to leave their annoying, tiring twelve hour shifts at the detainment facility, not until they were supposed to go home. They should've been home. Not in the middle of an ambush.

She wasn't in her full gear anymore. After the company regrouped and then launched a new offensive against the enemy, clearing out the area with haphazardly executed methodical precision, they went back to the base that was currently housing them. It wasn't much, really, and they hadn't even the time to unpack their bags before rolling out. Olive drab duffels bags were leaning up against the walls of the Containerized Housing Unit, with gray patterned ruck sacks opened and random items pulled out of them, strewn across various cots through the bay. This one was only for the females, so only a handful of them were inside. Mostly the Privates, like Kim and Rockwaller, with a Noncomissioned Officer or two walking around, as if to check on them. Kim wasn't paying them any attention though; no one had been able to hold her attention after the bird took off.

In her mind's eye, she could see the helicopter clearly, but she couldn't place the name to the machine. Perhaps a Blackhawk but then again, it could've been a Chanook for all she cared. That bird was never the focus of her attention; its cargo was. Before any one from the company was about to reach the fall back point, someone was on the radio calling in for a Medical Evacuation, calling Mass Casualties without confirming that information. Unfortunately, whoever it was happened to be right on the money; ten were injured severely enough where they had to be airlifted out, comprimising almost a dozen teams in the process. Kim's had been one, with Corporal Go being on the second flight away from the firefight. She had stayed with her Team Leader, irrationally snapping at anyone who tried to remove her, through verbal or physical means, and even threatened to punch First Sergeant North in his "fucking face" if he tried to pry her away, until the medics had to take her out to the impromptu landing pad. It was the least she could do, since Go had lost consciousness before Kim could even ask basic questions the medics would need when they arrived at the fall back point. She felt like she'd failed Go as a soldier first and foremost.

Then, there was the other thing. Corporal Go had asked her two questions before losing consciousness, two questions that didn't come from a Team Leader directed at her soldier. They came from a woman who respected her, and whom she respected, and Kim never had the chance to answer them. Go had lost consciousness moments later and Kim was too concerned with driving the bulky Humvee to notice immediately. On top of her failure as a soldier, she failed as a friend too, in her book anyway.

Her entire platoon was singing her praises though, acting as if she'd parted the Red Sea by pulling her Team Leader through a hail of bullets to the Humvee and driving off like they weren't in the middle of a firefight. The medics were impressed too; Kim had reached into Go's open IFAK during the drive and applied a pressure dressing to her TL's wounded leg- while driving- to save her life. They kept saying Corporal Go would be dead if it wasn't for Kim being quick on her feet and an amazing multi-tasker. All that went over Kim's head though; no one had come to tell her if Corporal Go made it to the Foward Operating Base in time, if she was even still alive, nothing. There were plenty of people joking that she'd get a Purple Heart for the graze on her arm, or a Combat Action Badge for her kills during the fight. The more battle hardened of the unit had already taken to calling her "Sniper" instead of "Princess", like Corporal Go always called her. She already resented the moniker.

That's why she was staring at her hands; her gloves were almost completely stained with Corporal Go's blood. Perhaps some of it was hers- she had checked her own wound once she felt it was safe to do so- but most of it belonged to her Team Leader, who could be dead for all she knew.

The tears were almost ready to fall but Kim willed them away, squeezing her eyes shut tightly as she bit her lip. Her fists were clenched too, though she hardly registered it. They weren't even supposed to be there. No one was supposed to get hurt. Why, why did people have to get hurt? Why couldn't she prevent it? That was her job right? Why did she fail so utterly? _Why?_

Across the bay, the two Sergeants who had been patroling the CHU sighed. It was eerie, watching the Privates deal with their grief, each in their own way. Their company was heavy with Privates and first timers, leaving about a tenth of the company with deployments under their belt and only half that number had seen any real combat during their tours. In other words, the remaining soldiers- enlisted and officer alike- were almost in complete disarray, trying to cope with the losses.

However, both Sergeants, who had deployed before to Afghanistan and seen some of the grittier battles in that area, were pleased with the results. Of the ten who were wounded severely, most would make full recoveries. They thought it was a blessing that what could have turned into an all out blood bath was handled so well; the majority of the Privates had reacted true to their training and those who hadn't managed to keep their malfunctions to themselves, allowing their fellow soldiers to pick up the slack without risking their lives. No one had outright died during the firefight and both Sergeants considered that to be a miracle, considering the close proximity and abruptness. Hell, when shit started popping off, both had expected at least three casualties before the day's end. They didn't dare share these thoughts with anyone, though. Everyone was so shell shocked from the fight and focusing on all the bad things that happened, bringing up the reality of how lucky they all were wouldn't be well recieved. That didn't apply to soley the lower enlisted either; they were pretty sure the Sergeant First Class from Headquarters was still pissing himself in fear.

"Hey Sergeants, y'all can go wash up now," a familiar, jovial tone whispered from the doorway of the CHU. "We'll take it from here."

"Have they been this quiet the whole time?" a second voice joined the first as two Specialists stepped in, both staring around them in awe. It was obvious they had anticipated yelling or some other sort of craziness when they entered, not the total quiet that dominated the air.

"Yeah, most of them are just... staring..." one Sergeant shuddered. "It's really creepy."

"They've been through a lot," the jovial Specialist sighed, taking another look around the bay while her counterpart grunted.

"So did we; they have to understand that we're lucky things didn't get worse," the other Specialist shook her head, looking down at the Sergeants. "They've got hot water here."

"Thank God for small miracles," one Sergeant quipped while the other laughed, gathering their hygiene items from their cots and heading off to shower.

Kim looked up at the laughter, unable to understand how such a sound could be produced after all that had happened. Her mind started putting names to the faces she saw, identifying the NCOs and Specialists within the CHU for the first time. The one who laughed, she barely recalled, was from Headquarters, Staff Sergeant Marsden, while the other was from second platoon, Sergeant Jenkins. She recognized the Specialists more readily; they were both from first platoon and usually joked with Corporal Go when there wasn't anything else to do. Apparently, the three of them had gone to OSUT together and had been in the same duty stations through out their military careers. The tall one, who stood six foot five and towered over every other female in the company- plus half the males- was Specialist Hughes. Corporal Go called her "Triple H" just like she called Specialist Bartlett, the other female, "Lil Bit" without explaning where the nicknames came from. Remembering how the three were when they were all sitting in the locker bay back at the company in Fort Carson, Kim felt tears stinging at her eyes again. She could almost hear their voices, teasing each other or complaining about stupid things First Sergeant North said, laughing and smiling and... _normal._ Why couldn't things be like that again? Why did this have to happen?

"You should take those gloves off." The voice startled Kim out of her blank stare, enough for her to realize both Lil Bit and Triple H had moved from the doorway. When Kim looked up, she realized it was Triple H who had addressed her, towering over her even as she sat on her cot, a strange softness in her hazel eyes though her voice held a firm, rough edge. "You should change out of that uniform too, get cleaned up. You smell awful. Did you see Doc to get your bandages changed?"

Kim shook her head, not trusting her voice at that moment. She was still trying to will away the tears, knowing they would do her no good, especially considering the audience. For a brief moment, Kim envied Starburst, the Private from OSUT who cried during ranges and even during the firefight. It was normal for her to cry but Kim was 'Sniper', the 'hero' of the company, and heroes don't cry.

"Possible, are you alright?" Triple H asked quietly, kneeling down so she was closer to Kim's eye level. Kim said nothing, still not trusting her voice, and lowered her gaze back to her gloves. The least she could do was comply with orders; the Specialist did outrank her, after all. She pulled off her gloves and set them beside her. A stray thought made it to the forefront of her mind: she hadn't even set up her bedding yet. The plan was to stay here for a while, clearing out FOBs and smaller bases through out Iraq, but that was before the ambush. She wondered now if there was even a point to unpacking her sleeping bags and poncho liner. They probably wouldn't stay there much longer, not with so many teams down, and that didn't even include those who, like Kim, had been injured in less significant ways. She knew Stoppable had burned his hand on his M4, somehow earning large whelts on his nonfiring hand despite the heat guard attached to his weapon. For perhaps the hundredth time, she was thankful Corporal Go had made her attach a forward grip on her own M4. The last thing she needed was a burned hand to go along with the dull throb in her arm. "Princess, look at me."

Kim's olive gaze snapped to meet hazel orbs, a slight shock going through the redhead's system. At once, she was infuriated and pleased with the nickname Go had given her; at least she wasn't being called "Sniper" though she felt a little weird being... Kim staunchly refused to finish that thought.

"Look, I know you-" Hughes stopped, seemed to rethink her words, then tried again. "You know it's okay to react, right? It's okay, it really is. That stuff back there, that was _real_. Real in a way other people won't understand. We all could've _died_ back there. We didn't, so it's okay to be... whatever, for that. Grateful you're alive, sad Shego's not here, thankful we're all going to pull through this, all of that. It's okay to _feel_, Princess. Being a soldier doesn't mean you don't feel. On this one, honestly, take a page from Starburst. Just let it out; bottling up what's upsetting you won't help."

"Sh-shego?" was all Kim could manage as the tears began to fall. Triple H was blocking her view of the others anyway; it was safe, for the moment. Triple H smiled and nodded.

"Yeah, that's what we called Corporal Go, back before she was Corporal Go. We still use it from time to time, when no one's looking." Kim looked genuinely surprised, having never heard the nickname before. Then again, she tried not to approach her Team Leader when she was talking to others, thinking that it was the best way to avoid doing push-ups. Hughes caught the look and laughed. "What, you thought she started the whole nicknaming thing? She picked it up from me, back when we were Red Phase Privates," Hughes laughed again, shaking her head slightly. "It seems so long ago now. Five years." She looked over her shoulder, spotting Bartlett talking to Rockwaller, Strong, and Inglee, probably walking them through the same thing. At least she knew what Bartlett would probably say; they had the knack for finding the words people needed to hear in times of duress. She turned back to Kim with a small smile. "My full name is Heather Hope Hughes. For nearly as long as I can recall, people have called me 'Triple H', and I said as much during that first week of Basic. Lil Bit over there liked the idea, and since we were in the same platoon, she insisted we all get names too, ones I had to dish out since I started the whole trend."

Hughes rolled her eyes. It seemed so silly at the time, and to some extent it was, but it also felt a bit like her Freshman year of high school all over again, so a little silliness could be excused. Hell, it was encouraged by the majority of her platoonmates, most of whom were fresh out of high school like herself. It was something the Drill Sergeants couldn't take away from them, something that counted almost like a rebellion against the discipline being drilled into them.

"How'd you get 'Shego' though?" Kim asked quietly, tears still falling from her eyes. She wasn't bothering with attempting to wipe them away; she still had her human shield kneeling in front of her. Hughes paused, unsure how much of the story to tell, then opted for what she told her parents all those years ago, when they met her Battle Buddies for the first time after they all graduated training.

"Corporal Go didn't always have that surname. She used to have one that was really common, especially in our training company. But, she was the only female with it, so she was the 'She-Go' of our company. She had her name changed, er, shortened, due to some issues with her family, but the nickname stuck. The only one of us who changes is Lil Bit- I didn't give her that one," Hughes frowned a moment, scratching her head. "Honestly, I have no idea where she got that from. I know it was this company, but I don't know how or why it changed. She went by 'Barnyard' when we were in Basic, because she always used to talk about riding horses and mucking stalls like they were the most important things in life. She went by 'Book' in Korea, and I think by 'Bender' when she was part of the one-tenth back at Carson. We didn't talk much back then. It wasn't until she volunteered for this deployment that we all got into our old habits. It's weird though; when we first saw each other again, it was like not a day had gone by since we were back in Korea."

"I remember that," Kim made the effort to wipe her nose, sniffling quietly. She hated that she felt so childish, breaking down into tears even after all the training and drills. Something in the back of her mind told her she should be stronger, better than how she was acting but Triple H's complete attention and understanding was keeping that voice at bay. "That was the day Lil Bit tricked First Sergeant North into sending us all home early, right?"

"Yeah, she did," Hughes laughed. "You know she did that just so she could get smashed? It was right before the four day weekend."

"Yeah, I think Corporal Go called me that night. She sounded drunk," Kim shook her head, no longer feeling the intense pressure that had been weighing her down earlier. There was even a small smile on her lips, sparked by the memory of that phone call. "I couldn't understand a thing she said."

"That's probably for the best," Triple H nodded, hesitating a moment before continuing the thought. "Shego's always been a bit fond of you. At first I thought it was because you two are so much alike- driven, focused, serious. At least, that's how Shego used to be; she became way more relaxed after earning her stripes. Speaking of which, you need to lighten up too. I know you've got the whole 'I can do anything' attitude, and it's great, but part of doing anything is relying on your Battle Buddies from time to time."

"Yeah, but, no one else is freaking out. No one else is..." Kim trailed off, sighing. She wasn't sure what she was trying to say, who she was trying to use as an example, but she knew none of the other soldiers she'd seen were on the verge of tears. No one else seemed as distressed as her; she felt alone and isolated, even though she couldn't come out and say it.

"Don't measure yourself against everyone else, Princess. People react differently," Hughes sighed while absently checking her bun, making sure her sandy brown hair was still in place. "It's an adrenaline dump. I think Shego said you used to skydive, right?" Kim nodded, surprised her Team Leader knew anything about her personal life. Perhaps all those talks they had leading up to the deployment weren't for show, like she'd previously believed. "Well, that's what you're rationalizing as your reaction to something major, but it doesn't even come close. Sure, it's exciting, and to some extent life threatening, but it isn't the same as being shot at, as shooting at people bent on _killing_ you. Your body-"

Suddenly a loud crashing came from the doorway to the CHU, followed by a few incoherent shouts, then Lil Bit barking for whoever had just barged in to get the Hell out before she punted the person back to Kuwait. Whoever it was obliged, though Kim didn't see the culprit and Triple H didn't bother turning her attention away, and a moment of stunned silence was followed by loud, somewhat unhinged laughter. At that moment, the dam broke, and following the laughter, mixed along with it, was the sobbing Kim had thought only she was experiencing.

As the laughing finished its transformation to crying and panic attacks, Bartlett appeared at Hughes' side, a slight smile on her face.

"If it's any consolation, Stoppable will _never_ be able to live this down," she hiked a thumb towards the CHU's door. "I'm pretty sure the kid had a genuine freak out moment in the shower and tried running back to his Chu... and picked the wrong one."

For the first time since the conversation began, Hughes diverted her attention from Kim and focused on Bartlett a moment. The other woman's face said it all. "That bad, huh?"

"There are things I will never un-see," Bartlett sighed, passing a hand over her face and through her short cut chestnut hair. "That _definitely_ tops the list."

"Did it top Kill Joy pole dancing to _Sexy Back_?" Hughes genuinely wondered, completely forgetting Kim for just a moment. The redhead didn't mind; she was almost completely over her fit of crying and felt a little void now that the emotions were released. Just hearing people talk was keeping that sensation at bay, for the most part. Bartlett shook her head without hesitation, flashing a rather suggestive smirk.

"Nah, _that_ I won't un-see for entirely different reasons. But, this definitely beats out that time we decided to try drinking each other under the table back in Korea and then Shego thought it would be a good idea to _walk_ back to base," Bartlett turned her attention to Kim, catching the curious expression and decided to explain herself. "Let's just say, when you're young and think you're rich, you'll throw money at people to do stupid stuff."

"In her case," Hughes nodded at Bartlett. "It was a strip tease on the hood of a cab. I don't remember much from that night, but I definitely remember that... and the announcement the next morning at first formation." Hughes leaned towards Kim, as if she was imparting some secret no one else was allowed to hear. "Our First Sergeant basically read the report from the Korean police about the entire night to our entire company. According to them, we also did the chicken dance in the middle of the street and somehow played limbo with a lamp post."

Kim couldn't help but laugh at the image of her Team Leader, who always seemed so strict prior to the deployment, chicken dancing in the middle of a busy Korean street. It was a welcomed relief to feel something other than the fear, panic, and distress from before. Once the laughing died down, Hughes tried to pick up where she left off, needing some prompting from Kim before she knew exactly what she was trying to say. However, Bartlett decided to take over for the moment.

"Your mom's a doctor, right?" she grinned, sitting down on Kim's cot, though not too close. She knew Kim still needed some space and respected that, for the moment anyway. She and Hughes had already promised Corporal Go they would look after Possible until their friend returned, though they had differing opinions on why that might be.

"Yeah, she's a nuerosurgeon."

"Alright, well, you might understand some of this then. See, adrenaline releases when you feel certain emotions, like fear, excitement, panic, that sorta thing. But, when you're doing something controlled, or even something wild but fun, you only experience a fraction of the adrenaline your body can produce. When it's something entirely out of your control, it tends to set off multiple triggers in your brain, so your body is supplied with a lot more adrenaline than you would get by jumping out a plane. Trackin' so far?" Kim nodded, starting to feel the grime and sweat of the day. Hughes was right; she really did need a shower. "Okay, so, with all that adrenaline pumping through your system, you're running full tilt. But then, everything stops; the shooting stops, the danger stops, and you subconsciously realize that it's over, even if you keep telling yourself it's not. The moment your body doesn't _sense_ the danger, the adrenaline stops, hard. It's like coming off a really hard high or going from completely plastered to sober, far too quickly for your body to really understand it. There's no tapering effect, just a complete dump. Everyone reacts differently, but in my experience, it usually comes with a heightened sense of awareness for a little while, it could last hours or days, and then the adrenaline completely cuts out. You'll start to shake, sometimes violently. Has that happened yet?"

Kim nodded quickly, remembering when they'd returned to the FOB and were clearing weapons. It took her three tries just to drop the magazine and pulling back her charging handle seemed like an impossible feat for a while. She could barely see from the tremors racking her body but they passed quickly enough; she had no lasting side effects that she could detect.

"Alright, after the shaking, usually you start coming to grips with what happened," Bartlett continued, allowing Hughes to check on the others, who were mostly quieting down now. It seemed like they just needed a little push to start the same process Kim had already been through and now it was time for Hughes to start explaning that the reaction was completely normal, somewhat anticipated. "That's when the emotions you probably think you should've felt while everything was popping off suddenly hits like a freight train. Your memory will get fuzzy, you'll only remember certain parts or things, and you won't be able to think of things that you saw but will think of others with vivid clarity. That's all normal, completely normal. At some point, once everything catches up with you, you'll break. You'll let it all out, if you know what's best." Bartlett gave Kim a knowing look, as if she expected the Private to contradict her. "Once you've got it out of your system, you'll feel an emptiness, like there's nothing there anymore. It's a numbness, really, because you'll feel tired and drained and just done. Have you reached that point yet?"

"I, uh, I think I'm there now," Kim mumbled, wondering when she started feeling insecure about, well, anything. It wasn't like her but, she reasoned, if Lil Bit's explanation was on the money, she shouldn't be feeling like herself quite yet. "Will it stop? I mean, will it go away, eventually?"

"Yeah, it goes away kiddo," Bartlett smiled, clapping Kim on the shoulder. "Your internal chemistry will reset soon enough. I'm kinda surprised; I thought Shego's reset time was fast, but you've got her beat by at least half an hour. And don't think that no one else is going through the same thing. Everyone will work through this, maybe in different ways and at different times, but they will. So, since you're going to be back to normal before everyone else, you better be supportive when they hit the dump, when they seem like they're about to fall to pieces, you gotta hold 'em up. No matter what their rank, no one comes away from that without feeling it. No one."

"What about you and Triple H?" Kim looked around the bay, noticing for the first time since her return how ragged everyone else looked. They looked tired, beaten almost, though they were holding up well. Now that Kim understood what was happening, she could see the signs as easily as Bartlett and Hughes had, sensing that her fellow soldiers would need her soon enough. She also knew they would be fine, confident that every one of those who remained would heal their unseen wounds as well as their obvious ones. It would just take some time.

"Well, as far as Triple H over there, hers is a lot slower. She's been through so much shit in her life, I don't think she ever finds a place to feel 'safe', her body just gets tired of producing adrenaline. It usually takes about three days for her, anywhere between sixty-five and seventy-seven hours from my experience, before she starts to wind down. Even then, it's slow and she's typically able to cope with it pretty well, but she will lean on me for support in the emotional sense," Bartlett then smiled and looked down at the ground before turning brilliant blue eyes on Kim, a slight moisture to them. "Me? I wind down quick. I'm sitting on this cot because I know I don't have the coordination to stand. That's what goes for me; my hands never shake as bad but my legs are damn near useless when I start to wind down. Right now, the only thing holding me together is knowing that a lot of people depend on me being strong. Every Joe in this company is looking up higher and to the right and left to see how they're supposed to deal with this. I can't break right now, not where y'all can see anyway. I will though, later when it's okay to do that, I'll break. You think the others haven't already? The Sergeants are out there now, pulling themselves together because they _have_ to be strong for the lower enlisted. Every NCO in the company is scrambling to keep themselves together, doing whatever it takes to appear as normal as they can. Officers too; most of them are probably with the Commander hoping she'll make everything better with a wave of her hand. Even Sergeant Barkin, who's been through more firefights than he can count, he's feeling this too. Two of his soldiers were shot, even if yours was just a graze, he could've lost two today and that man takes pride in coming out with just as many as he took in. You're not alone in this, Princess, you aren't alone and you're not weird for feeling the way you do. It's normal and expected. It's fuckin' combat, kid, you can't expect to walk in and out without at least a few screws loose."

"Said the queen of being unhinged," Hughes chuckled, holding out her hand to help Bartlett up, though it looked more like she was trying to yank her counterpart's arm off. "We could tell you this stuff all day but you'll still have to live through it. So grit your teeth, lick your wounds, clear your head, and then get back in the fight. Corporal Go's still counting on you to keep her other knucklehead in line and everyone else will count on you in one way or another. Be there for your Battles like they were there for you. Have each other's back."

"Heh, sounds like what the Drill Sergeants used to tell us. 'Look out for your battle buddy to your left and to your right, 'cause they're the ones who will be fighting next to you'," Kim quoted while looking around the room. The firefight was brief, she supposed, but she had seen the majority of the other Privates out there, like Starburst, Stoppable, and Rockwaller. They all went through the same thing, though none of their experiences were the exact same. She got the point though; she wasn't alone. There were soldiers who were going through things for the first time and others who were just reliving the experience. But she wasn't alone. "I'll keep an eye on them."

"Good to hear, Sniper," Bartlett grinned, watching Kim's reaction to the new nickname. While she still didn't like it, Kim didn't display an overwhelming amount of apprehension about it like before. She just rolled her eyes and scoffed, much to Hughes' relief.

"You'll go through plenty of names before you get out, Possible. A few might even be ranks," Hughes stopped a moment, then shuddered. "Sergeant First Class Possible. It sounds scarily realistic."

"What about Command Sergeant Major Possible?" Bartlett chimed in with a laugh. Kim smiled, knowing she just had to top them.

"How about Major General Possible?" Both Specialists gave her mirrored looks of horror.

"I refuse to salute a little squirt like you!" Bartlett playfully declared, laughing as she turned away. Kim noticed the slight limp in her walk but said nothing of it; the other occupants of the CHU were too absorbed in their own worlds to notice anyway.

"If you do become an officer, be kind and wait until I get out," Hughes grinned, giving a mock left handed salute that Kim returned. "I'd hate to have to call you 'Princess Ma'am' every time I see you."

"You're right, 'Princess Sniper' sounds more appropriate," Kim joked while standing up, determined to get into the nearest shower she could find. She would have to be mindful of her arm but she needed to get cleaned up and into a new uniform. As she started rumaging through her ruck sack for clean clothes and her hygeine items, Kim noticed the state of her IOTV, the blood stains marring the once pristine condition of her gear. That would have to be cleaned too, along with her boots and belt, not to mention her M4 and M9, though she hadn't used her sidearm through the entire encounter. Still, she needed to clean everything once she got out of the shower. It was something to do until more information came through.

-Check Fire-

Author's Note: Specialist "Triple H" Hughes is based on my good friend and Battle Buddy Private First Class Heather Hope Hughes. The only difference between Triple H and PFC Hughes is that, in real life, Hughes stands approximately five feet two inches tall. Her height in this story is a representation of her dedication and mental strength. PFC Hughes completed Basic training in the summer of 2010 but, during a Field Training Exercise, dislocated her knee and was forced to take a medical discharge. Thanks to physical training and a will of steel, she has enlisted again and will be leaving for her second round of training this November. She is the embodiment of dedication and duty, an expert and a professional, and a brilliant friend.

I also wish to extend my sincerest wishes to the survivors of those who have fallen during this war. Though gone, those who have given their lives will not be forgotten.


End file.

Kim Possible, Drama