She smiled, softly to herself. A quick twitch of perfectly pouty lips as she sprinted out of the train station. Her departure from Ottawa to New York had been delayed, delayed any longer and there was no way her long legs could carry her fast enough to the harbour. She had a troop ship to England to catch. Why she couldn't catch one with her Canadian boys, she did not know. She had orders, orders that no one deemed to clarify to her. Just get on this train, and be at this dock, at this time on this date. Clear and simple.

It was the military, she was expected to comply. Comply without question. So, here she was. In New Yok City, for the first time in her young life, running through the streets, the wind blowing her once carefully coifed, thick dark hair out of its pins. She couldn't help but smile at the irony of it, no time to look around, and quite possibly the only time she would ever be in New York.

Oh well. War is hell.

September 1943, Troop Ship Samaria

She arrived at the pier and was instantly assaulted by the sight of so many American flags, so many people, many smiling and laughing, and just as many weeping and crying. She quickly stopped and composed herself, regained her even breathing, and straightened her dress uniform as best as she could. Running so many city streets in a skirt had not been easy and she was well aware without seeing herself in a mirror that she did not look as an officer should. There wasn't much she could do about it, nor did she think anyone would really care, considering the circumstances.

She warily eyed the ship, and made for the gang plank.

"Ma'am" a strong male voice called from her left. She turned and eyed the young man, dressed similarly to her, in the dress uniform of the Canadian Army.

"Are you Lieutenant MacLeod of the Black Watch?" he asked, straightening up in a salute.

"Nemo me impune lacessit" she responded, eyeing the insignia on his shoulder and acknowledging his salute.

He handed her an envelope, and turned to leave. "God speed Ma'am".

She looked at the thick manila envelope in her hand for a brief moment, pondering the contents. They were her orders, her mission. Well, she would face destiny soon enough, first though, she had to make it through the throng of people to the gang plank before the ship's whistle sounded once again. It was time for it to depart.

The ship was crowded, he sighed, knowing full well that the cruise across the Atlantic would be no luxury trip. There would be a lot of spare time he mused with a wry smile tugging at his lips. A lot of spare time and very little space for time alone.

He was a man who enjoyed silence, who could retreat into himself and be completely content. He was a leader, a trained killer, and although, he never intended for that to be his destiny, Hitler had other plans for him and so many men.

Fucking Hitler, he thought, dropping his cigarette to the deck of the ship and stomping it out with a bit more force than necessary.

Seeing his expression and sensing his mood, the men around him stepped quickly out of his projected path, and then he saw her.

No sooner had he caught site of her, than a chorus of rowdy cat calls followed. He was silently impressed, she didn't blink, she didn't pause, but he did notice the twitch of the muscles in her high cheeks.

She was lovely, he concluded, studying her long legs in the dress uniform, one he couldn't quite place. It wasn't one of theirs, and she was most certainly not a nurse he mused.

No sooner had his study of her began than she disappeared from his sight. With a shrug, he pulled out another cigarette and walked the length of the deck to another officer. He might as well be social, it was going to be a long trip.

1 "Nemo Me Impune Lacessit" is latin for No one shall touch me with impunity