LEO
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02/06/2002 - 11am
Phoenix, Arizona
Redhawk Base
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Three days. 

It's been three goddamn days since that mission briefing, and it still pisses me off.

I don't know what it is exactly. Her face, her voice, the way she acted like she owned the goddamn room the second North left us alone. Like Richards didn't even exist, like she could just swoop in and outshine four years of solid fucking partnership.

My fists slam into the dummy's ribcage, over and over. I don't let up. The padding's slick with sweat from my forearms, but I keep pounding like I'm trying to break bone. Maybe I am.

Across the room, Jed's practicing knife drills, quiet for once, until he glances over and sees the absolute assault I'm putting this poor inanimate bastard through.

"Jesus, man. You training for the mission or trying to beat Ramirez back to hell?" he says, tossing a butterfly blade between his fingers.

I ignore him and hammer a right hook into the dummy's jaw.

He smirks. "Let me guess. You're pretending that's Nova."

"Bingo," I mutter, without missing a beat.

Jed laughs, the sound echoing through the empty space. He's way too amused by this.

"Still?" he asks. "She's not even here right now. You've been hung up on that briefing since Tuesday."

I stop for a second, steadying the dummy with one hand. The room smells like sweat and rubber mats, and I can't get her out of my fucking head. Her smug look, that tone like she knew better than me. It's like sandpaper in my brain.

Jed strolls over, cocking his head like he's debating whether to say what's clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue. Unfortunately for me, he goes for it.

"You know, she's really not that bad. Maybe if you two actually talked—"

I cut him off with a low growl. "Jed, I swear to God. Don't start with that shit."

He raises both hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying. You two were butting heads the second she walked in, and maybe it's not all her fault."

I shoot him a sharp look and deliver another uppercut to the dummy, nearly knocking it off its base. "She's a fucking problem. Always has been. I worked with her back in Santa Elena. Complete disaster. She pulled rank, went off-plan, nearly lost the target. She's reckless. Thinks she's smarter than everyone else in the room."

Jed wipes his blade clean with a cloth and shrugs. "I mean, she kind of is smart."

"Don't push it," I warn.

He snickers. "You know I'm just winding you up."

"You're doing a good job," I snap, rolling out my shoulders, trying to release the tension coiled in my spine.

He leans back against the wall, spinning the knife lazily. "Okay, but be honest with me. This whole grudge thing, does it actually have anything to do with her being the one to replace Richards?"

That hits a little too close to home.

I don't answer immediately. I just square up to the dummy again, pretending it didn't land. But it did. It fucking did.

"Maybe," I say eventually, voice low. "Richards and I, there was a rhythm. Trust. I didn't have to explain myself. With her? It's like talking to a brick wall."

Jed lets out a laugh and shakes his head. "You're a mess, man."

"I just don't like her," I mutter. "She thinks she's better than everyone. And I can't stand people like that."

"Funny, 'cause you sound a lot like that yourself."

I glare at him. He grins back.

He knows he's right, but I'm not going to admit that shit.

"Whatever," I mutter. "I'm just going to avoid her. Talk to her when I have to, that's it."

"Suit yourself," he says, turning back to his dummy. "I talked to her yesterday, by the way. She's actually kinda chill—"

"Jed."

He shuts his mouth like I flicked a switch.

"Right," he says. "Got it. Nova-free zone. Loud and clear."

Good man. I return to the dummy, letting the silence stretch out. Maybe I should be focusing on Ramirez, on the real target. But right now?

All I can see is those green eyes across the table, daring me to snap first.

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2pm

I'm parked in the sliver of shade between the cabins, biting into a sandwich I don't even want. The sun's brutal, relentless, but I don't move. 

The heat's easier to tolerate than the memory I can't seem to shake. Richards, laid out with the back of his skull missing. I've seen worse in this line of work, from pictures to real life, but never of someone I gave a damn about. 

That kind of image worms its way into your bloodstream. I keep telling myself I should've covered him better. That it's my fault. 

And then the fucking shadow appears. 

I don't need to look up to know who it is. The temperate doesn't drop, but the air changes. It's heavier, tighter. My jaw locks as I glance up, and there she is. Nova Shields, arms folded, eyebrow cocked as per usual. 

"You'll probably get heat-stroke if you sit there," she says, Southern accent thick as ever, tone sharp enough to draw blood. 

I squint to see her more clearly. "And here I thought you might say something useful for once."

She rolls her eyes. "You'll be no use on our mission if you drop dead under the sun."

"Well, you seem to have everything perfectly under control anyway." I mutter, wiping my hand down my face.

"What the fuck is your damn issue, Hendrix?" She hisses suddenly, narrowing her eyes as her nostrils flare just slightly.

"You're my damn issue." I snap, getting to my feet so I can tower over her instead. "You came in yesterday, instantly acting like you run this damn squad."

"Hate to burst your bubble, Leo. I do now run this squad along with you, remember?"

"You run your mouth. That's not the same thing."

She takes a second to debate killing me by the look on her face, but eventually sighs. "You think I asked for this? You think I wanted to be shipped here like furniture and made to look at your smug-ass face every day? I was good where I was. Settled. It wasn't my fucking call. I didn't get a damn say in the matter."

That stops me. I didn't know that. Doesn't change anything, but it's a punch in the ribs. 

"Well, that's rough," I grunt. "Still, doesn't mean you're not an arrogant pain in the ass."

She tilts her head, unimpressed. "Maybe if you pulled that fucking ego out of your own ass for two seconds, you'd see I'm not the enemy here. I got pretty damn far in the Falcons, and I'm not changing my attitude just so you can sleep easier at night." 

I blink at her. "We done?"

"Almost." She steps in a little closer. "The mission. It matters. So let's not fuck it up by trying to kill each other before we neutralise Ramirez. We'll just deal with each other until it's done. And then hopefully by then, fingers fucking crossed, they'll send me back to the Falcons."

Damn, I'll fucking pray for that day. 

"Fine, Shields." I stand up now, letting her feel the height difference. "But when this all goes sideways because you fuck up, it's all on you. I won't let you forget it." 

"Fine by me, fucking it up isn't on my agenda." She tells me, voice laced in confidence before someone calls out her name from behind her, Tara Mulvey.

Without another word to me, she spins on her heels and strides off in Mulvey's direction, almost whipping me with her long braid.

The next few months are going to be interesting, if we don't kill each other first.

—

This is the worst fucking idea anybody has had in a long time, and I owe it to Jed.

Somehow, the prick has managed to convince the group to do some sparring. Despite the fact I'm a godforsaken Captain, I agreed. So did Nova.

This isn't exactly the 'team-building' activity I had in mind ahead of a fucking assignment. We've picked our way through the group, and now we're at the 'showdown', as Jed, being the stupid fucker he is, calls it.

And of course, why am I not surprised. The little green-eyed devils-spawn sizes me up on the mat, stepping into the boundaries of the ring and clicking her knuckles in a painful attempt to seem intimidating.

"Oh! Captains up against each other! Should be interesting." Jed whoops, as though he's gearing up to watch a professional cage fight. I don't know if he's trying to get us to cooperate, or despise each other even more.

Whatever it is, it'll probably end up being the latter.

"Run me through the ground rules you've created, Jed." Shields cracks her neck, and I almost laugh. Sure, she's not some midget in height, on the taller side for a woman maybe, but five-foot-nothing compared to me. Her subtle attempts to appear threatening are nothing more than comical.

"Well, with you two, just don't kill each other." He shrugs, rubbing his hands together.

She might have gotten everybody else down, but so have I, and I have no fucking doubt that I'll be able to get her down. We approach each other until there's only a small distance between us, and I look down a fair few inches until I meet her glare.

She's deadly serious about this, chewing on her bottom lip, so I take advantage of it and grin. "Nervous about this or something, Shields?"

She scoffs, raising her fists. "Nervous? About you? Tell me something funny next time, Hendrix."

Jed shouts "Go!", and that's exactly what we do. My right arm swings towards her face, and she narrowly avoids the hit by the skin of her teeth. As tempting as it might be to humble her, I have no intention of seriously injuring her before an assignment.

North would have my head.

She swivels, kicking out her foot to the back of my knee, but it lacks in some force. I grip her elbow, and her free fist flies towards my face.

I move my face, but she gets me right in the collarbone, with much more force than I was expecting. Bitch.

And in a move that I honestly don't see coming, she pummels herself at me, knocking me right to the floor. Not before I grab her tank and drag her down with me.

She lands directly on top of me. Thighs bracketing my hips, palms splayed by my head. I've had women in this position before. Just never ones who've wanted to kill me.

For a brief moment, I don't push her off. Because fuck, I don't know which urge is stronger right now.

"Giving up?" She drawls, and that gives me the motivation to launch her away. She grunts as I knock her left elbow, clasping both hands around her right arm, and spin us so her back whacks the floor.

I press my knee against her stomach, and wrestle her wrists until they're pinned above her head. Sweat slicks her forehead, stray strands stuck to flushed skin. Her breath fans against my throat, shallow and hot.

Her eyes meet mine, trail down slightly, then back up.

"Distracted, Shields?" I grin. A sly smirk tugs on her lips.

Her smirk turns feral. "Next time, take me out before I'm on top of you, Leo." She says, quiet enough so nobody else can hear, but loud enough so it's the only thing I can. 

Fuck. 

I blink, eyes flashing, eyebrows scrunching in complete fucking surprise. My voice lowers, along with my face. "Oh. This why you really came here, Shields? To finally get this close to me?"

She plasters a false smirk. "If I wanted to be close, I wouldn't need a mat. Just a body bag to shove you in." And then she knees me right in the balls. To my devastation, I go reeling off to the side.

"Balls are off limits!" Jed wails from the edge of the mat.

"Wasn't in the ground rules." Nova calls back with a grin, turning to face him as I push off of the ground. 

I snarl, grabbing her from behind. I hoist her and slam her forward, chest-first into the mat. She hisses, twisting, but I've got her. My full weight pins her down.

I lower my mouth to her ear. "Rule number one, Shields. Don't turn your back on your opponent."

She squirms under me, sweat-slick skin sliding beneath my grip. Jed counts down. I press my forearm to the back of her neck until he hits one and I can grin like the bastard I am. 

"Unlucky, Shields." He says as I finally roll off of her, a sense of satisfaction flowing through me. She rolls onto her back before pushing up, and I catch a glimpse of her flushed face. Rosy cheeks, beads of sweat, enhanced, intense eyes.

I debate offering her a hand, but she gets to her feet before I find the chance. Instead, I raise my hand out between us. She stares at it, then takes it. Her grip could break fucking bone. 

"Give me a challenge next time." I cock my head and grin, and she squeezes my hand so damn hard my knuckles might fucking crack.

Such dainty hands, such ruthless abilities.

"I was going easy on you." She drawls, and in a way, I believe her. If we both fought with our full strength and skills, one of us would end up dead. I'd like to think it wouldn't be me.

I say nothing as I drop her hand, just hold her gaze and let my eyes talk for me. She does the same, but there's something so difficult to read about her eyes.

Green, yes, but not typical. Not hazel, no hints of brown, just completely green. Completely unusual. Green like the jade stone my Mom used to wear as a necklace. Green like the bottles of beer I have stashed in my cabinet.

Strange.

And once she's had enough of our staring showdown, she spins on her heels and strides off of the mat.