"What did you think?"

"It was an experience," he says, dragging his hand through his wet hair. "You do that all the time? Willingly? You look exhausted."

I smile and stretch my arms overhead until my spine pops. "I love it. Most of the time, I leave class feeling amazing."

"And when you don't?"

"Usually it's because I can't focus and my mind keeps wandering on me."

He opens the bottle of water I filled up and tossed at him before we left the apartment, chugging it hungrily. "That was seriously intense. I already thought you were a badass but now it's confirmed."

I open my own water bottle and drink deeply. I'll get a headache if I don't drink enough. "Drink the whole thing," I tell him. "I usually pound down a full thirty-two ounces immediately after class to rehydrate."

"I can see why," he says dryly.

"What did you think about the yoga nidra?"

He looks away, taking a long pull off his water bottle. "What happened?" I ask, pressing him ever so gently.

He takes a minute to answer. "There were all these flashes behind my eyes. It was like, hypnotic and unsettling. I felt the strangest urge to keep staring at them, though."

I brush my fingers against the back of his hand as we walk back to my apartment. "It can open you up to strange emotions. I've had a variety of experiences with it."

"Why do you do it?"

"It's part of my practice. Part of being still, in the moment and just feeling your body and connecting with something deeper."

He frowns for a minute. "If it's so good for you and you're so into this, how come you still have insomnia and stuff? Like why doesn't it cure you?"

My turn to buy myself a moment by drinking. "I think because nothing is permanent. Every day, we're a different person. The practice that released something yesterday doesn't hit the same muscles today. But it's the best thing I've done for myself in my attempt to not be a raging chaos Muppet train wreck."

He smiles down at me. "Chaos Muppet?"

I flail my arms overhead. "You know, like Kermit's Muppet flail?"

He laughs and tugs me close then, kissing me lightly. "I'm glad I went with you. It was different and disconcerting and enlightening."

I rest one hand against the hard angle of his stomach. "Will you come back?"

"I don't know. I've got a pretty bruised ego right now, watching you do all those twists and bends and folds and I'm standing there looking like a brain damaged ostrich."

I brush my lips against his. "A very sexy damaged ostrich. I almost died laughing a couple of times. You were very distracting."

"So were you, bending over like that in front of me. Do you know how hard it was to keep my hands to myself?"

I make a noise in my throat, already wanting him again. "I'm very glad you did. I would not have been able to stay silent."

"Isn't there something like sexy yoga?"

"You're thinking of tantric yoga and it's actually been horribly bastardized by the West. It's about a much higher plane of energy than sex itself can create."

He purses his lips and I can see where his mind is going. "Have you…done this?"

I shake my head. "No. It's a very advanced practice that involves a release of energy."

He narrows his eyes. "Now you've definitely got me intrigued."

"Maybe after you've gone to more than one yoga class. Hell, I'm not even ready for it and I've been practicing for a couple of years."

He tugs me close, nipping my bottom lip. It's so strange, having his hands on me the whole time, having the freedom to actually touch him without fear.

To feel that utterly human connection with him again. I return the favor, scraping my teeth against his throat. "We have the cadets in a couple of hours. Are you prepared for the discussion today?"

He sighs dramatically and releases me. "That's a hell of a way to kill a boner, thinking about that little peckerhead Ryan. Thanks. I may never get aroused again."

"Challenge accepted. Later. After class."

"What did we give them to read this week?"

"That article about the war crimes in the 101st Airborne."

"Oh, that's going to be fun," Deacon says dryly. "Fine. I'll chew some Xanax before class and keep my temper."

I pat his shoulder. "You should shower first."

He glances as his watch. "Yeah, probably right." He kisses me quickly, then releases me, turning back the way we came in the direction of his own apartment. "Hey, Kels?"

I turn back. "Yeah?"

"I'm really glad you turned out to be the random stranger I was talking to on the Internet."

I laugh and shake my head. "Yeah, me too."

I turn away, heading to my apartment to read the article and shower and get ready for class today. We’re several lessons in and I still can't get used to feeling intensely nervous every time we bring them together. It's like I'm waiting for one of them to call me out for being an idiot.

I walk into my apartment and see the little Ganesh statue in the corner near the window. I smile at him, unable to resist the thought that maybe, just maybe, some obstacles are finally being moved.

It feels like an eternity until the class gets under way. We walked to campus, talking about the cadets, about The Pint. About nothing and everything.

I guess this is what normal people do? It feels very mundane.

It feels kind of perfect.

We take our normal positions at the opposite ends of the conference room table, the cadets filling the same seats they always occupy.

Kelsey starts the discussion. "You all are going to be lieutenants very soon. And whether you like it or not, you will serve in combat unless you are very, very fortunate. Will someone sum up the article for us?”

Surprising exactly no one, Ryan's hand shoots into the air. "I guess I'm not sure what we're supposed to wrestle with here. This was pretty cut and dry. The brigade commander set a command climate that led to his men murdering civilians. What's the ethical dilemma?"

Iosefe leans forward. Oh, this ought to be good. He's so quiet, sometimes I feel like he's mentally somewhere else. But today, he's definitely present. "There are huge issues here. If you're a lieutenant and your brigade commander is giving you a take-no-prisoners order? How are you supposed to fight back against that?"

Ryan frowns. "Refuse to obey? We don't commit war crimes."

I catch Kelsey's eye and she's as surprised by his response as I am. I expected Ryan of all people to be supporting the command climate in the name of self-defense.

Funny how people sometimes defy the boxes we try to put them in.

I lean back, listening and watching the future officers. It's like a fire has been lit beneath Iosefe. Veer, too, is antsy in his seat, waiting to get a word in as Iosefe launches another argument.

"It's not that simple. It's like you're that dude who says ‘yeah I could never enlist because I'd totally knock a drill sergeant out when he gets in my face.’ Until you've actually stood up and spoke truth to power you never appreciate how hard it is."

Veer leans in, his hands moving as he speaks. "I think Iosefe's right. I mean, we all want to believe that we'd be the one helping the Jews escape the Nazis but at the end of the day, most of us wouldn't be."

Jovi glances over at him, her expression solemn. "That's a really depressing thought."

Ryan sits back in his chair with a huff. "I don't buy it. I don't believe we can just sit around and say ‘yeah, I'd totally go along with this.’ It's not right. There's no moral dilemma here. We don't kill prisoners."

Iosefe mirrors his body language, folding his big arms over his chest. "My grandfather was in the Pacific during World War II. My father was in Vietnam and the Gulf War. I've heard the stories they tell. And they would tell you that when you're in that situation, it's different."

Ryan still isn't buying it.

Kelsey taps her pen on the table, drawing their attention. She's edgy, taking a deep breath before she starts talking. "I was faced with a situation like this. Our base…"

Oh shit, she's going to tell them. My heart tightens in my chest.

"Our base was attacked. We managed to push them back and keep them from overrunning it. We captured a guy in a VBIED that didn't go off." Another deep breath. She's never told me this story before. I realize I'm holding my breath. "My lieutenant wanted one of my soldiers to shoot him. To just end him. We were in the middle of a firefight. We didn't have time to take control of a prisoner." Another deep breath as she looks each of the cadets in the eye. "I refused the order. I told my soldier to disobey the order." Another breath. "And while we were standing there arguing, the prisoner grabbed my LT's weapon. There was a struggle. My LT didn't make it home."

"Jesus, Kels," I whisper.

"Do you regret disobeying the order?" Jovi asks, her voice a stark contrast to Kelsey's in that moment.

"Part of me does. Maybe my LT was right. Maybe I should have pulled the trigger myself and gotten on with the rest of the fight." She holds another deep breath for an impossibly long moment before slowly releasing it. "I don't know whether I made the right call. I regret that my lieutenant didn't come home. That his parents received a flag instead of their son." She looks at each of them again. "But I do know that I would have the exact same doubt if I had pulled the trigger."

I clear my throat softly. "Nothing in war is simple," I say finally. "The friction Clausewitz talks about has not gone away with new technology and guided munitions. Every choice you make has consequences. Every single one has a second and third order effect. Your war is infinitely more morally complex than even the one that Kelsey and I served in."

The cadets are somber now, less animated. Our words are sinking in, hopefully making them think about the choices they will have to make.

Ryan glances over at me. "How do you do it? How do you tell yourself it's worth it?"

I can hear First Sarn't Sorren's voice in my head. My gaze collides with Kelsey's. "You do it for the person to your left and right. You try to make a difference one day at a time. You try to leave the world a little better than you found it, even over there. And you hope that the people you love the most all make it home with you."

Jovi's voice breaks the quiet. "And if they don't?"

"Then you honor the life they led. You crack a beer on Memorial Day and remember all the good times, the stupid shit," Kelsey says softly, her eyes never leaving mine. "And you keep going. Because that’s what they’d want you to do."