Beach Head surveyed the group arranged before him. He tried not to smile enough to show through his balaclava, but boy did he have plans for them. When he couldn't sleep, he always spent the time thinking of new ways to torture the soldiers he was in charge of training. He had already made them run the obstacle course twice just to test out the "improvements" he and Stalker had implemented that week.

Now it was time for some hand-to-hand combat training. He would follow it up later with a few miles on the track. Beach Head didn't know what they had done to deserve the punishment PT and he didn't care. These Joes were his for five hours every day for a week.

He looked them over, trying to decide on sparring partners for the training. Shipwreck would be fairly evenly matched with Ace; Lady Jaye and Alpine were closest in size; Gung-Ho and Leatherneck were the other obvious pair. So of course Beach Head partnered them differently. They wouldn't learn anything fighting against someone with similar abilities and fighting styles.

"Shipwreck, you're with Gung-Ho. Ace, pair with Alpine. That leaves Jaye and Leatherneck." He made sure that each pair was far enough apart on the gym mats, and placed a selection of padded wooden training weapons next to each group, including staffs, escrima sticks, long knives, and batons. He watched as they each donned lightly padded footwear and gloves. That was one change that hadn't been his idea, but protests from Doc and Lifeline at the severity of injuries after a training match meant that they had to use them now.

"Listen up!" Beach Head barked. "Rules: use any weapon in the first round. No head shots. No groin shots. Don't break any bones." He looked at them. "The timer is set for ten minutes. After every round, you will discard your used weapons and choose new ones until in the last round you're left with just your fists and feet. I will judge winners for each match—losers run an extra four miles."

Lady Jaye, Shipwreck, and Alpine groaned. "Aw, Beach, after taking a beating from the Cajun you expect me to be able to run?" Shipwreck asked. Gung-Ho laughed.

Beach Head growled, "You should be able to run under any conditions. If you only ran when you were feeling good, what would be the point? We're supposed to simulate combat situations."

He stepped back and motioned for them to begin. He watched as the contestants dove for the weapons. Only Alpine held back, waiting for Ace to reach out for a staff before pushing him from behind. Unbalanced, Ace fell flat on the mat. Alpine did a little dance and said, "Okay, that was easy—who's next?" His glee turned to mock fear as Ace rose and swung the staff at his chest. "You're in for it now, man," Ace laughingly threatened.

Beach Head shook his head. They never took training seriously enough. Well, except Leatherneck. He understood what it was all about. After all, he had once been a drill instructor. The marine had opted for the two short escrima sticks and was swinging with a vengeance. Lady Jaye held a staff, trying vainly to ward off the blows from her energetic partner. It was impossible to block both sticks at once, though, and Beach Head winced as Leatherneck hit her on the leg. That is gonna leave a bruise, he thought. Of course, if they weren't black and blue from head to foot at the end of the day, he wasn't doing his job right.

Beach Head checked his watch. Four minutes left. Gung-Ho and Shipwreck were trading somewhat tame blows as neither of them felt the need to beat each other up that day. The drill sergeant called over to them, "If you two boys don't step up the pace you both run the extra miles!" He nodded to himself as they began to spar in earnest.

He blew a whistle to signal the end of the first round. Everyone stopped gratefully and discarded their "used" weapons. He started round two.

Gung-Ho and Shipwreck each grabbed an end of their staff and started a tug of war. Ace didn't move this time, and he and Alpine just stood there, each waiting for the other to reach down for a weapon first.

Leatherneck already held the heavy baton while Lady Jaye circled with the foam-padded wooden knife. She feinted a few times, keeping him back, but finally Leatherneck swung and connected solidly with her wrist, sending the practice knife flying. He moved in, and they traded blows for a moment before the hefty marine knocked her flat on her back. Leatherneck raised his weapon, but stopped mid-motion as Lady Jaye stared up at him. Beach Head looked closer to see what the problem was.

Ah. She was giving him the "look." Her eyes were lowered, lips slightly pursed. She looked hurt and vulnerable, but there was a glint of something else in her eyes; Beach Head knew it was ploy, and he hoped Leatherneck wouldn't fall for it. No such luck. The marine dropped his baton, muttering "sorry," and reached down a hand to help her up.

Lady Jaye flashed him a smile and grabbed his hand, then raised her foot, planted it in his stomach, and pulled. Leatherneck went sailing over her head to land in an ungraceful heap on the mat. She stood, casually dusting off her pants as Beach Head strode over.

Everyone else stopped to watch. Beach Head rounded on her, yelling, "That was a dirty trick!"

She raised her eyebrows at him. "What trick?" she asked.

"You know what I mean!" the drill sergeant replied. "That look. That wouldn't work in a real battle."

Lady Jaye continued to play innocent. "What look?"

Beach Head waved his hand around. "You know, the one where your eyes get all misty and googly and your lips get kinda pouty, and then you lower your eyelashes and look up and then you take a deep breath and…" he sputtered to a halt as the other men burst into laughter.

"Man, Beach," Shipwreck chortled. "Have you got a picture of it on your computer or something? Can I get a copy?"

He rounded on the sailor. "You know what I'm talking about! She knocked you on your ass last week by doing the same thing!"

Shipwreck sighed. "And I'd let her do it again and again…"

The drill sergeant turned to Leatherneck, who was sitting up now and watching the show. "I thought you of all people wouldn't fall for it…" He shook his head sadly.

Leatherneck shrugged. "Couldn't help it," he muttered.

Beach Head crossed his arms and turned his head toward the female Joe. "Stop it. You need to fight for real. Cobra soldiers aren't going to get all mushy when you look at them like that."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "And you do?"

He narrowed his eyes. "Mushy in a nauseated sort of way," he answered. "I'm serious. Ninety percent of the men you fight against are going to be bigger than you. You need to learn how to deal with that. I'm going to tell Duke to keep you in PT until I think your fighting skills are good enough."

"What!" she exploded. "Beach Head, that's not fair! I can hold my own and you know it!"

"Only because the guys hold back when they spar against you!" he yelled.

Her mouth dropped open. She turned to the others and asked, "Is that true? Do you?"

They shuffled their feet, embarrassed. "Uh, maybe a little," Gung-Ho finally responded.

"Hey, don't be mad," Alpine put in. "They know Joes like you and me have other, more important skills. No one expects us to be able to take down Storm Shadow single-handedly."

"What skills would those be?" Ace laughed.

"Laugh it up, flyboy," the climber responded. "Next time you crash a plane and get stuck on top of a cliff, I'll leave you there."

"Wait a minute," Lady Jaye interrupted. "Back to the subject at hand. Do you all really think I can't fight?"

Gung-Ho answered her. "It's not like that. Face off against any regular old greenshirt,certainly any Cobra soldier, and you'd tie him in knots. It's just, well… compared to some of the other Joes—I mean—" He gestured at Leatherneck. "You know what I mean."

"What about Cover Girl?" she asked. "She hardly ever even shows up for hand-to-hand combat training."

"So? She drives a tank," Shipwreck replied with a shrug.

Lady Jaye looked at Beach Head. "Fine. Talk to Duke. We'll see whether he agrees with you or not."

"I will," he replied. "And I think you're going to be seeing a lot of me over the next few weeks."

Lady Jaye rolled her eyes in response, and the sparring began again. She found it nearly impossible to put much effort into it, though—Leatherneck was hardly even swinging now, too embarrassed to look at her long enough to keep track of her moves, let alone aim his blows well.

She thought back, and realized that as often as she used the male Joes' innate protectiveness to turn mock-battles in her favor, she never really considered that she was doing anything wrong. Roadblock used his considerable size and reach against his sparring partners; why shouldn't she use her acting skills? That was her specialty, after all. And yet, what Beach Head said was true. Most Cobra troopers wouldn't let her get the upper hand because she gave them the "look." Well, some of them would, but not every time, and she would never know until it was too late. She had fought Cobra countless times and had never been beaten one-on-one, but…what about next time?

That doesn't mean I want to spend a month or more with Beach Head every morning, she thought. There must be some way to avoid this.

As expected, Beach Head announced that Lady Jaye, Alpine, and Shipwreck were the losers. That made six miles each of them had to run to the winners' two. As they trotted along the track, Lady Jaye pulled ahead of the men, hoping to finish earlier even if she would ache all the more tomorrow. She came up behind the group after lapping them the first time, and she heard Shipwreck say, "Fifty bucks on two months with violence instigated by Jaye." Ace nodded and said, "I'll have to come up with odds, of course, which may change as this drags on. Alpine?"

The climber answered, "Fifty on three months, no violence, Beach Head finally gives in to get rid of her."

"A hundred on one month, violence instigated by Beach." Gung-Ho put in.

Lady Jaye slowed, realizing the guys didn't know she could hear. They were already placing odds on the outcome of her extra PT! She was furious, and only partly because no one seemed to be betting that she would actually satisfy the drill sergeant and be legitimately released from his program. She pumped her legs and shot past the men, continuing to run almost full speed even after the three winners left the track after their two miles. She lapped the others a few more times and finished, walking for a while to stave off cramps. She headed to the locker room, brushing off Beach Head's praise that she seemed to be taking his advice seriously. That was certainly not why she had run so hard; she needed to work off the angry frustration before she could face anyone else on base.

Heading to lunch after a quick shower, she thought about the situation. She wanted neither to train with Beah Head for however long he decided it was necessary nor to give him the satisfaction of being right. Even if he was. She grabbed a tray and sat down, idly pushing her food around with her fork.

She was joined shortly by Flint, who sat next to her with a grin. "How was PT?" he asked.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Next time you have to take the punishment," she replied.

He looked sheepish. "I said I was sorry," he mumbled. "I didn't mean to knock over the stack of chairs, and I didn't know Duke was in the hallway…"

She gave him a small smile. "Pick a better spot for a tryst next time, will you? It was bad enough Duke thought I was wandering around in the conference room by myself at night—if he had found you hiding under the table, he would have been really PO'd."

"Have I thanked you yet for taking the fall for us on that one?" He brushed his hand lightly over her leg under the table.

She blushed slightly, her smile widening. "As they say, actions speak louder than words. You're forgiven." She met his eyes, losing herself in the depth of emotion she saw there. She jumped as another tray clanged down on the table.

"Heya, doll, Wookie." Shepwreck sat down on Lady Jaye's other side, completely ignoring the glares his teammates threw his way.

"Wookie?" Flint asked, eyes narrowed.

Shipwreck waved a dismissive hand. "Easier than saying 'W-O."

Lady Jaye laughed, but bit her lips when Flint turned his glare on her. "You are hairy," she whispered with a giggle. "I'll get you for that," he whispered back.

Shipwreck was completely engrossed in his food, missing the short exchange. "Tell Flint yet about all the extra time you get to spend at the beach?"

She sighed. "Please just drop it," she said flatly.

"What?" Flint asked.

"Beach wants her in PT for the rest of her life," Shipwreck answered.

"Why? What did she do?" He gave her a questioning glance.

"Ah, you know Beach. He thinks she uses her looks and her cleavage too much to give her an edge in sparring. She threw Leatherneck today 'cause he fell for the 'damsel in distress' loo—OW!" He pulled his leg away to rub the spot where Lady Jaye had kicked him.

"Shut up," she hissed. She turned to Flint and scowled. "Beach Head thinks I can't fight."

Flint gave her a lopsided smile. "And I thought you only used that look on me." She elbowed him, and he chuckled, continuing, "Come on, Beach Head can't expect everyone to be Fight Club Champion of the World. Just because you need to use your considerable charms in training—"

"Need to?" Lady Jaye stood, grabbed her tray, and stormed off.

Shipwreck watched her leave, commenting, "I think we hurt her feelings."

Flint sighed. He had meant the comment only to tease; apparently Beach Head's assessment had affected her more than he thought. "It's not like she can't fight," he said.

"Heck, no," Shipwreck agreed. "But it's just that she's surrounded by a group of the toughest guys in the world. And Scarlett. No one but Beach Head expects her to be able to take Leatherneck or Snake Eyes in a match." He shrugged. "By the way, we've got a pool going…"