Somewhere in the distance he heard it start. Some part of his mind wished that sounds didn't carry down the corridors as easily as they did. He wanted to be like some of the men who slept so hard they didn't hear the knocking coming down the halls waking each room up individually before they got to his room. He wanted to stay in bed until the last minute in happy ignorant bliss to the fact in less than an hour he would be on a horse riding through the cold night to try and reach some town, some village, some fort, some something to help out with the rest of Third Company.

Eighteen knocks to go.

Dom's squad was at the end of the hall. His men slept in a common room while as their sergeant he held a small room tucked to one side. They would knock on his mens' room first, and his after that. The last to be notified but nearly always the first to be down at the stables. He had instilled that in their minds that they could be the quickest to be ready if things were set properly. Most of them even had time to eat something while they readied themselves. He set the standard himself, always being awake before the servant reached his door. He'd never tell anyone he only knew because he was a light sleeper and the knocking echoed down the hall getting ever louder as it drew nearer.

Seventeen knocks to go.

For years, twelve to be exact, he heard the knock come down the hall. Eighteen times when he first joined before they made it to the room he and his squad slept in. Less than three years later it became nineteen times he heard the hurried triple knock that resounded in each room like an alarm bell. There was always a pause as brief words were exchanged. Information regarding the estimated length of the call, the people or immortals involved, and where the rally point was. After a year he was always ready, wary of the next call or prank that would drag him from bed unprepared. He had his squad to thank really.

Sixteen knocks to go.

Except now he wasn't sure he wanted to thank them. This had been changing slowly over the last three years. Leaving his bed to be ready early was getting harder, and tonight was the hardest. She looked so peaceful curled against his chest, her face nuzzled against his shoulder, his arms wrapped around her clutching her closer. He knew from experience that the moment he moved to get out of bed, she'd wake. She was always disappointed to see him go but, at the same time, she understood. Usually she even helped him ready his gear.

Fifteen knocks to go.

It was a sergeant's duty to speak to his men about things like women and relationships while in the Own. They weren't frowned on but the risks had to be understood. Bedding women without a pregnancy charm often had men leaving to do the honorable thing. Women mostly didn't understand the comings and goings of the Own. They didn't understand being left in the middle of the night or returning six months later from a call that should have only taken three weeks. They didn't understand the inability to write for weeks at a time. If his men were serious about a woman it was best to sit them down and explain. And if at all possible, Court a Rider. They knew what it was like without explanation.

Fourteen knocks to go.

But he didn't have to explain to his sweetheart. Not this sweetheart. Long in the past, before the Scanran War, he had had sweethearts that had not understood despite explanations as he dodged out in the middle of the night. They certainly didn't understand they ranked under the Own in his priorities. But she did. She knew long before their first tentative kisses that the Own would come first, just as he knew her duties came first. That was until the last year or so when the shift had gone in her favor.

Thirteen knocks to go.

Over the last three years he had been letting the knocks get closer and closer before he got out of bed. The last few calls he let them get all the way to his men before he even bothered to move. She was getting to be just too hard to leave. Not that she made it hard in the least. She never let the disappointment or impending loneliness show on her face or in any of her features. She always took on a businesslike acceptance of what was happening. Of course, she knew exactly how it went. She had been there with them as a squire. Four years under the conditions had taught her exactly what to expect on the other side.

Twelve knocks to go.

He had Buri, the commander's wife, to thank that they returned back to court as often as they did. She had her dedication to Rider's that kept her at court during training and recruitment though she was as unofficially involved as the Queen. It meant Sir Raoul wished to return more often but it meant they were on the move constantly. They would spend a few days at the palace before riding out again sometimes. Other times they would get a couple of weeks. Never were they in one place for more than three weeks.

Eleven knocks to go.

He had thought fact would end this relationship before it started to get to this point. He had thought she would find someone who could give her all of the devoted time she deserved. But instead she stuck by him. When he was home, she spent her nights with him, tucked into his arms as she was now. When he was gone, she'd write him and return to her own rooms. She always left him notes under his door when she was called away with her own duties. More than two thirds of their relationship was spent apart. Two mortal years out of the three they had been courting, spent on the road away from each other. It hardly seemed destined to work out. Yet here they were, and it was getting harder and harder to leave.

Ten knocks to go.

He had realized about six months back that his thoughts on the calls often turned to her and wanting to get back to her. He missed her at night in his arms. He missed her quiet humor. He missed her dedication to her training. He missed her mothering. Then he realized on the last call that he was dwelling on missing her even being the company rode out of the gate. He had thought it would be his last call then. If it was to that point, he was no longer as in love with the Own as he thought and his resignation wasn't far off.

Nine knocks to go.

The thought of his resignation had him torn in two. One side of him was depressed. It was the end of a long chapter in his life. He would miss the freedom of the road, his men, the pranks, and all of the help they did throughout the realm. He would never make Captain, though Sir Raoul had said he was a perfect candidate. There were only three companies of the Own and each company had only one captain. Flynn, the captain of Third, though he was getting into his forties, had no intentions of leaving the Own alive. When First had lost their captain, Qasim had moved over as he had trained under Raoul and Flynn in Third. And Second had their own replacements already trained up. Flynn would be his only chance and only if he died. Captain would be an honor, but the odds were against him.

Eight knocks to go.

The other side of him was elated that nights like these would be ending. He wouldn't have to leave her and he could put in the proper time to courting her like a woman should be courted. And yes, he was thinking about marriage. He was only thirty and she was still young at twenty-two. Perhaps they would still wait a few years for children but eventually it would happen. He knew he was the perfect choice for a husband. With her career she needed a man who could be stationary so the family could have stability and she could have a home to return to. If she didn't see that already, he'd make sure she did when she inevitably complained about his resignation.

Seven knocks to go.

His family would be happy he was settling down. The fief was comfortable enough for him to return home to after all of these years on the road and he would be happy to help his brother with the estate. He often received letters from his brother regarding the men-at-arms that were charged with the protection of the castle and the town. His brother didn't know what to do with soldiers. His oldest brother, a knight who knew those types of things, had been slain along with their father in the Immortals War. His second oldest brother had stepped in from his place at the university to become Lord of the fief. It was a comfort to know he would have a niche at home in taking over the men-at-arms.

Six knocks to go.

But he hadn't resigned yet. He had planned on it when they had returned. He had planned to write it out and march it straight over to Sir Raoul's rooms. He had planned on having to explain himself and then packing his things. He knew he could take up residence with her at any time. She wouldn't turn him away. But then his cousin had found him after they had ridden in and too many things got in the way of him being able to get the resignation in order. He had only been home at the palace for two days. He had hoped a little longer would enable him to get things in order.

Five knocks to go.

He had time now. It would only take a few minutes to pen and he could hand it in to Sir Raoul when he went down to saddle his mount. But no, he couldn't do that honorably. He wouldn't want to leave them a man down, especially a commander down. Would they even have time to fill the spot before being called out again? Which of his two corporals would be promoted? He wasn't sure either of them were ready for such a thing. But it would be bad to spring the resignation on Sir Raoul when they returned too. Perhaps he would tell him they this would be his last call. It would give enough warning for observations to be made about who to promote and for a spot to be filled.

Four knocks to go.

They were getting louder. He thanked Ganiel that she was a heavier sleeper than he was. But his cousin had said she had a harder time sleeping when he wasn't around. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he wanted to stay so badly. He didn't want her to lose sleep. He had confronted her about it only the day before hoping it wasn't loneliness that kept her awake. She had told him that of course she missed him, but it was hard to get comfortable now that she knew how comfortable sleeping with him was.

Three knocks to go.

He had planned to use that conversation to tell her he wanted to resign. But she had taken his worry for her sleep as a sign he needed to be distracted and had started to kiss him. The conversation devolved to kisses and then to lovemaking without ever coming to the point of his resignation.

Two knocks to go.

Perhaps she knew what he was thinking about doing. Perhaps she blamed herself that he wanted to leave. Perhaps she feared if she said she was lonely without him that he would see her as weak or that she needed a keeper. He could never see her as weak and certainly she didn't need a keeper. He often teased her that she was his keeper, and many of them who knew about the relationship said the same thing.

One knock to go.

The right thing to do would be to get out of bed and put breeches on before the servant knocked. Though sergeants had answered the door naked before, it was generally frowned upon. It would be right to not make the servant wait too long for him to break away from his lover to put on those breeches. But somehow what was right didn't matter at this point.

Knock, knock, knock.

He sighed. There was no way to avoid it now. He took an oath to go out on calls in the middle of the night if needed, whenever needed, however often, however long. Even if he wanted to call it quits, he hadn't yet. He leaned forward and kissed his lover on the forehead to watch her eyes flutter open before he took his arms from around her. For a moment he could see the emotions that she normally hid away dance behind her hazel eyes. She didn't want him to leave either.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It came again, louder this time. It was rare that anyone would have to knock more than the one time to wake anyone in the Own. Veterans were trained to wake to that knock and rookies were never in a position to be alone when the knock came. But the knowledge that his lover did not want him to go had him transfixed in place, midmotion from taking his arms from around her back.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The noise of the men out in the hall getting ready stopped completely. It was unheard of to have to knock a third time. It really was time to get moving. People needed the Company and he was still part of it. If only he had had time to get things in order. If only he hadn't been distracted. He wouldn't be in this position now.

"Dom?" The door opened and the voice belonged to one of his corporal's, Wolset.

"I'm coming, just give me a damn moment," he snapped. The door closed.