Jack = Raven028 and her Mystery Muse; Sam = mine. Nothing else. Nothing's changed.

This chapter is dedicated too... *thinks* Raven028. Hope you're keeping a breast of what's happening. I know I said Jack should show up Chapter 4/5 ish, but you know how it goes. Sometimes these characters get a mind of their own and won't listen to the plan!

- Gray

Chapter 6:

The crew broke rank when they got back to the States, meeting up at Tool's with the intention of going out for a victory pint after.

"I don't see why she's invited," said Christmas in a low tone to Ross. "She isn't part of the team."

"She's as much a part of the team as anyone else," Yang stood up for her, again. It was more his dislike of Gunnar and Jack now; Sam's sharp shooting, good timing and quick thinking had pretty much saved his ass, and ensured the big pay day. "She saved my life."

"Yeah well," Christmas rolled her eyes but stopped as a familiar bike rolled into the garage.

Gunnar's custom chopper rolled in. It was a stretched out version of an old Harley hard tail, with rail forks on the front. With the large man on it the bike looked awkward but functional. The sweep of the front end made turning a bitch, and a smaller man would have a hard time getting the lean required to make a gentle turn, let alone a sharp one.

A collective breath was released when it was seen that no, Gunnar was in fact solo and Jack was not riding bitch. That would have been more than a little awkward as Sam was scheduled to show up shortly; she had wanted to go home and "wash up" a bit before going out. They guys indulged her, and were preparing for the three hour wait it ususally took Jack to freshen up after a mission.

"Gunnar!" Ross said with a smile. "Feelin' better are ya? We thought you'd died and gone to heaven?"

There was a groan and a laugh.

"Where's Jack tonight?" Christmas asked, getting a cold look from the German. He knew what Christmas meant; he wanted to know if Gunnar had tossed her aside so he could come in and sweep her off her feet like the white knight he imagined himself to be.

"Dunno, don't care," he said with a shrug. "What's this you went on a mission with out me?"

"We tried calling you, but we figured you had... uh," Ross stopped for a minute, and it was all the invitation Tool needed.

"We figured you hadn't come up for air yet, and why ruin a happy honey moon?" he smiled the charismatic smile that even women young enough to be his granddaughters couldn't resist.

"Everyone looks okay; went good?" Gunnar asked, leaning forward on his bike, putting the kick stand down and taking the balance off his long legs. It kinked him to the left, but he compensated to keep his vision straight.

"The temp worked great," said Toll Road, nodding as he looked to the others who agreed, aside from Christmas.

"Quick in and out; no one got hurt who didn't deserve it," said Hale. "Jack tending tonight?"

"Naw," he said. "She disappeared somewhere yesterday and won't return my messages. Whatever." It wasn't unlike Jack to just go AWOL for a while, saying she needed time for herself, she needed space, she needed chocolate and ice cream. It wasn't a big concern.

"You aren't worried something's happened to her?" Christmas asked, offended.

"She's a big girl, she can handle herself," Gunnar said with a knowing tone in his voice which shut Christmas up pretty fast. Truth was, when it came to the day to day stuff, if Jack could keep her head about her and her temper down, she could take on anything. Problem was she was never able to control her smart mouth or her vicious temper. Gunnar's worry, and he suspected Christmas' as well, was that one day she would mouth off to the wrong person, someone who would take it personal but not be blinded by rage the way she was, and then where would she be?

"So let's go to the Rail then," Hale said, knowing the boys got great service there. It was better when Jack was there, but it was great even when she wasn't. She had taught all of her girls that the Expendables were to be treated as family; special people, the best of the best, and no cost. Ever.

The low rumble of Sam's CBR drifted down the alley. Compared to the big choppers, she and Christmas made almost no noise, but when it was quiet, the angles of the alley made the noise echo.

"Your temp?" Gunnar asked, turning to watch as the slick red and black machine pulled in, but he didn't spend much time watching the bike and neither did anyone else.

This was a whole different Sam from their meet and greet, and certainly a different one from an hour ago.

She killed the engine, flicked the kickstand and dismounted, taking off her helmet and tossing her hair loose. It was bouncy, shiney and looked like molten copper. Her pale skin was flushed at her cheeks, her green eyes enhanced by make up she hadn't worn before; eye liner, eye shadow and mascara made the green gems sparkle. Her mouth, a thin pink line before, was lushious and enhanced with cosmetics as well.

She must have been wearing a sports bra before, because the guys were sure they wouldn't have missed her chest if she hadn't been. They weren't big, but they were very perky. She wasn't wearing overly suggestive clothing, but it was well fitted. A black polo shirt with a white long sleeved jersey shirt underneath; it nipped at her waist and was buttoned open low, but not too low. Her jeans were snug on her hips and thighs, dark washed and held up by a silver studded black belt witha Wonder Woman belt buckle. Following her long legs, the jeans tucked into a pair of brown suede knee high boots, they had a slight chunky heel and a cute fold over the foot.

Even Christmas found himself watching her as she twisted her hips and another blushed flushed her cheeks; she knew they were looking at her.

"So," she started off, bashfully looking down, trying not to find eye contact when anyone. "Are we going? Or gonna stay here for a drink or two?"

Tool was the first to jump on it. "Honey, when you dress like that, there ain't a man in here who wouldn't do exactly what you told them."

She laughed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Oh, I'm sure there's one," she tried to keep the venom out of her voice as she looked to Christmas for just a split second, then she noticed Gunnar.

Wow, she thought to herself. He was as big as a house; easily 6'6, well over 200 lbs. Big, broad and solid sholders, with arms as large as her thighs coming from his torn shirt sleeves. He had touseled, slightly greasy blonde hair, sky blue eyes and very angular face. He looked like someone had taken a Roman statue of Appollo and turned him into a mechanic.

In short, to Sam, he was goregeous.

She stumbled, but only for a second. It was partially because he was so attractive, but also because she was caught off guard. Had he been here and met her in her cargos and fatigues, she wouldn't have been so worried. Men tend to view you differently when their first introduction was a business transaction, she learned that from her service. She had many male friends who never thought her half as tough as she was, but they had known her growing up. Had seen her sillier side, had known her weaknesses, and worse, her insecurities. When it came to the military men in her life, these guys included, by introducing herself in very masculine clothing, she was able to hide any issues she might have had, so it didn't matter so much that in these jeans she had a little muffin top, or that in these ridiculous boots she towered at almost six feet, four inches tall. Ultimately, they'd go back to their first impression of her: Combat boots, Joe Rocket jacket and cargo pants; no make up, her hair au natural.

"You must be Gunnar," she finally said.

"And you are?"

"Retired Lueitenant Colonel Sam Dominey," Ross said, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against a support pole. "Your and Jack's replacement."

"Does Jack know?"

"If she answered her messages she might," Ross said, but shook off further questions, grabbing his helmet. "Let's go. Roll out."

The bikes fired up inside the shop, with Sam standing, still facing them in the door way. No one would be able to get around her, and she would have to back out to turn around, or so they thought.

She grabbed a big handful of clutch and front break, clicked down into first gear and gave her engine a rev. It purred like a kitten being teased with a toy before she dropped the clutch, planting her left foot, leaning her body to the left and let the bike drift. It skidded a full 180 degrees, leaving a cirlce of rubber on the smooth concrete at the opening of the shop.

"She's a show off Barn," Christmas said.

"If Jack could do that, she would, and you'd think she was the sexiest thing alive for it," Ross pointed out before pulling out to lead the band of misfits and rejects to Jack's bar, the Rail.