Lachlan walked into his silent apartment and dropped his bag. He dragged off his uniform jacket and slouched onto the sofa with a bounce and a groan. Rubbing his eyes, he couldn't help but shake his head and growl. "What the fuck am I doin'?"

It had been a three week stint, one assignment after another, most domestic, all…stupid. He'd taken the job with Larson's Corporate Jets in Vermont because he wanted a change, he wanted stability. A home close to the people he cared most about. Aside from family, things were not working out as he'd hoped. The relationship with Sigrine had taken a quick pummel into nothingness. He pursued again, only to hit yet another wall. How long had it been since he'd had a solid relationship? One that hadn't been strained by the severe compromises of his work and schedule? Too long. Way too long.

Another groan crawled up his throat. Blaming his work with Thorne & O'Leary was wrong. Blaming the frivolous flights he flew for Larson's wasn't the fault. He wasn't the problem either. He was a young, not-too-bad looking bloke. But he was the constant in this experiment of life and love, so what did that say about Lachlan Curry. He was the one failing. It had to be something inside of himself that needed to change. It just had to be.

He reached to his jacket, pulled out his cigarettes and lit, then dug deeper into the pocket for the brochure he'd been carrying since 2001. Well, not the exact same brochure. Several times he'd tossed the thing in the rubbish bin, only to find himself picking up another one to get dog eared and crumbled, shuffled then eventually thrown aside. Ignored but still burning a hole in his life. He knew it was there, even if he had to go out and seek another fresh version of it. It almost demanded to be in his possession.

The truth of the matter was he hated his job, but loved Vermont. He loved Vermont because it was close to the people he loved. Riley, bar none his dearest friend on the planet. John, a precarious but strong brotherly figure in his life. Maximus, who visited often and Lach found he missed most since leaving Thorne & O'Leary. Dino, a few short hours away in the New York office. Terry, who was supposed to be in London but seemed to be spending more and more time at the Inn. His other Aussie brother Colin, was unfortunately on the road with the NASCAR circuit, but twice Lachlan had the luck to fly clients to the races and sneak in a quick visit. And Hando, gone domestic in Burlington, and soft with a baby daughter on the way. These were his touchstones. His only stability. But he needed more.

"Be rational, mate," he grunted and walked to the kitchen for a beer. He'd have rather had juice, but such perishables were always spoiled or ruined between assignments, so why even buy them? He wanted to make himself an omelet, but of course, there were no eggs or milk. No bread for toast. So beer it would be. Later he could go out for some tucker…if he felt like it. If not, there was more beer.

Rational. What did that mean? He tipped the bottle and gulped. Was there a time in his life when he was happy? Centered? Complete? No, no, and no. But there was a time when he had purpose. There was no purpose to the work he was doing now. Bloody hell, he'd just returned from taking rich college kids to Amsterdam where they spent spring break munching mushrooms. Mushrooms? What the fuck? They were all still stoned out of their bloody minds when he landed. Just what kind of service was he offering, anyway? Pandering to the outrageously wealthy or pompously professional. That pretty much described his job. And he fucking hated it.

The only time he ever felt like he had purpose was long, long ago. Before he crossed over from his first life. It was a hard time, a difficult and frightening time for the world. It was war, and even though he had focus and purpose, structure and regiment in his life, he made mistakes then too. But there was a difference… Lachlan Curry knew who he was then. Knew it clearly.

Again he fingered the brochure. Maybe he just missed the excitement of working for Terry and Dino? It was demanding but never dull. Should he just throw himself at their mercy and beg for his job back? Bloody hell, it wouldn't be that hard, now would it? A thriving K&R business like that could always use pilots, right? Righto. But was that what he wanted? Or was what he wanted in that pamphlet. He sighed and flipped it opened.

The United States Marine Corps. Did he have what it took to be all he could be? One thing he was, was an American Citizen. He not too old to serve again. He was an experienced pilot with an engineering degree under his belt. Officer material. He was strong and healthy…and whether the average person wanted to believe it or not, the world was at war.

He flipped through the brochure. Twelve weeks at Perris Island. It would be rough going, but he was a bloke who could definitely make the grade. After that, a ten day break to relax in Vermont, be pampered, maybe even party a bit. Then another six to eight weeks of flight training.

A shiver of a thrill coursed though his body. The mere idea of flying and fighting with today's technology excited and challenged him. After flight training…an assignment he could be proud of, fighting for the people and country he loved…having purpose. And something told him he would be fighting. Everyday there was an escalation in the Middle East. Every day another news story or international policy. Every day since 9/11, Lachlan had secretly wondered about doing what he was considering at that moment. And it was the first time he was actually, seriously considering it.

All that excitement collided with a rush of fear. Back then, in that other life, that other war, he knew he was lucky, lucky, lucky. Now he knew that it had not one bloody thing to do with luck. Was he afraid? Or was he up for the challenge of a lifetime? The challenge that could end his life? Suddenly Lachlan crumbled the brochure into a ball and tossed it across the room hard. It hit the wall above the window and oddly, prophetically, bounced off the ceiling and landed…right in his lap.

And he slowly reached for the telephone. He wasn't calling family or friends for advice. He'd made his decision. He'd tell the family about it as soon enough. For now, he needed to start the ball rolling.