Argh. Why does moving have to take so long? I don't even have that much stuff to move, but I still haven't finished yet! On the bright side, my friend who I'm living with works early hours and goes to bed really early, so the house is pretty much mine in the mornings and at night.

I will miss my cats and the dog, though…but not the family. Heh heh.

Unfortunately, I'm back at work again, though. Sigh…crappy job. At least it's not long til Christmas. I'll get another week off then :D After that, only a few months until a big holiday to Africa, and after that, hopefully, I'll get into the Army and be able to go live on base! Might be a big year next year. Go me! :D

Anyway, onto stuff you might actually care about… :P

Sorry this chapter's a little shorter than usual, and nothing much happens. I haven't had much time to write, and I haven't had many ideas for what happens next. I know what needs to happen, but I just can't seem to make it happen. So, yeah. Pretty dodgy chapter, lot of Nomad angsty stuff and a bit of sappy at the end. Apologies in advance :D

As always, thanks for all the reviews and the PMs, and if I've forgotten to get back to anybody, sorry! And a special shout out to theonewhowrotetatertots for letting me read her stuff, for reading all my little bits and pieces and for the encouragement in general! :D

Nightmare on Elm Street - the original one - was one of her favourite crappy old horror movies. Freddy still cracked her up, no matter how many times she watched it. It was so cheesy it was good.

She'd thought she felt up for a horror movie. She wasn't. Tonight, Nomad didn't even make it ten minutes into the film before snatching up the remote and switching off. She tossed the remote onto the coffee table, wincing a little at the loud clunk it made.

Tonight wasn't the night for Nomad to be watching a movie about dying in your nightmares. Especially not when Freddy's first victim died after getting cut up by Krueger's knives.

Even if she really had been set on watching the movie, Nomad wouldn't have been able to focus on it. She was restless; she couldn't sit still. She'd started off sitting on the sofa. Then she'd stretched out, lying on her side. She'd ended up with her legs flung over the back, her head almost hanging off the edge of the cushions.

Part of it was the caffeine buzz from the jug of coffee she'd just finished off - she hadn't drunk so much coffee in one hit for a little while, not since Lifeline had made her cut down. If he found out, he was going to throw a fit.

Nomad righted herself and perched on the edge of the cushion, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. She dragged her fingers down her face - or at least, the side of her face that didn't hurt to touch.

The rest of the jitters were caused by him.

She could still hear Goldilocks' voice in her head. It was almost like she was still wearing her earpiece. No matter how much she tried to block it out, she could still hear him; taunting her, asking about Lowlight, breaking Mutt's arm. Telling her what had happened was her own fault. When she closed her eyes, she could see him smiling at her.

It wasn't her fault.

It wasn't.

She wished she'd had more time to aim before shooting at him. She would've put a hole in his head.

No. She would've shot him in the gut first. Like he'd shot Matches -

Nomad stood up quickly, shaking her head as if to clear it out. That was a scary thought. She shouldn't be thinking like that. It made her as bad as he was.

She needed to do something; she needed to move. She was tired, strung out from the last couple of hours, but there'd be no sleep tonight. Even if she did manage to doze off, it wouldn't be worth it…she'd just wake up from a bad dream feeling even worse because she'd had a brief taste of sleep and needed more.

She absently headed back to the mess hall. Beachhead was gone. Nomad was almost disappointed - even talking to the Ranger would've been better than doing nothing.

Crossing to the sink at the back of food prep, she washed the mug and carafe and put them away. There; now Lifeline would never know.

She glanced at her watch. So, that had taken a whole five minutes…only the rest of the night to go.

Well, there was nothing to do in the mess hall.

Nomad headed for the door.

She walked with her head down, wandering aimlessly around the Pit, taking the stairs rather than the elevators to waste more time. She tried not to think. It wasn't working; that voice just kept forcing its way into her mind.

She glanced up as a gaggle of greenshirts walked by, heading for the elevator. Some of them were the greenies who'd gone on the training mission with Lifeline and some of the other Joes - according to the medic, they'd got back that afternoon. One of them - a young guy who'd earned the unfortunate name of Cactus - threw a snappy salute. Grinning despite herself, Nomad waved him down. A few of the others nodded to her and said hello - Lockjaw and Kismet amongst them.

Nomad didn't know if she was imagining it or not, but Kismet looked like she was standing a little taller than usual, smiling a little easier. That was a good sign - maybe she'd got herself a little more self-confidence out in the field.

The only other person she ran into was Muskrat, almost literally. He had a towel draped over his shoulders; it looked like he'd just come from the pool. He looked a little odd without his broad-brimmed hat.

Nomad liked Muskrat; he was an incredibly sweet guy. He'd been in social services, dealing with kids, before he'd joined the army. He was a lot like Dusty - not much fazed him.

"Ouch," he said, peering closely at her face and eyeing the Mickey bandaids. "What happened?"

"Rough day," she answered simply, shrugging.

Wow. Understatement of the year.

"Looks like it," he said. "Was it an op, or did you get beat on by a ninja?"

She rolled her eyes. "Op. Me and Beach and Hawk had to help guard the President."

Muskrat gave a whistle. "Big job."

Nomad nodded. "Yeah. It was all good until Cobra decided to show up and try to shoot the crap out of us." She forced a grin. "Last time I go anywhere without my assault rifle."

He chuckled, gave her a wave and strolled off down the corridor.

Nomad sighed and kept walking. No doubt he'd hear what happened in greater detail soon enough; the whole Pit would know about Goldilocks talking to her over the radio eventually. Beach or Mutt or Law - or Nomad herself - would let something slip, or tell somebody the whole story, and then the news would spread like wildfire.

When she thought about it, Nomad didn't really mind. It was like when she'd told a few of the guys how she'd got her scars…it was actually kind of easier to talk about them after everyone knew.

Hawk hadn't said anything about Goldilocks at all until he, Nomad and Beachhead had got back to the Pit. The debrief - the real one, not the glossy one he'd given for the benefit of the President and Denny - had been in his office. She had to see Psyche Out tomorrow morning - actually, technically it was later today, now - and he'd make up a profile.

Nomad didn't need a profile. The man wanted her blood, simple as that. She'd tried to get him put down, and now he wanted to do the same to her.

The only problem was, now he had Cobra's help.

Well…there was nothing she could do about that. But she could focus on doing her job and helping the Joes beat Cobra whenever they got the opportunity.

Yeah. She could do that.

A waft of cool air rustled through her hair. Nomad looked up to find herself outside; she hadn't even realised she'd wandered up through the Pit.

But of course she had - hadn't she just been talking to Muskrat outside the training room? And then she'd aimlessly walked around the heavy equipment level for a little while, checking out the tanks and the jeeps and everything else.

And now she was ambling in the general direction of the firing range, listening to the soft pops of the paintball guns. The night vision drill hadn't finished yet; she wondered who was in the trenches tonight. Maybe Sci-Fi was out there somewhere - he usually liked the NV drills. He'd stop to talk to her. He always managed to make her laugh.

She hadn't meant to head out to the range; her feet had just taken her there. It was like she was on autopilot. Or sleepwalking.

…Or maybe locked on to the one person who might be able to help her through the night.

Nomad felt a pang of guilt. Lowlight gave her so much. What did she give him? What could she give him? And here she was, running to him again because she couldn't deal with her own problems.

How did he put up with her?

She turned around, meaning to head back to the garage. She'd find something else to do. Lowlight probably wouldn't want to be bothered right now, anyway -

"I know you're there, Nomad."

She winced guiltily and glanced over her shoulder. Lowlight was standing by the edge of the trench, weight even on his feet, hands on his narrow hips. He had his back to her and was gazing out over the range.

God, his ass looked good in that uniform. "You're busy. I'll see you later -"

He clicked his fingers at her and pointed to the ground beside him. He still hadn't turned to look at her - his attention was mainly on the guys in the trenches. She hesitantly walked over to him, standing so that the bruised side of her face was hidden. If she could get away with it, she wouldn't tell him what had happened. Not just yet, anyway. "Who's out there?"

"Team One is Flint and Stalker, Team Two is Scarlett and Duke."

"The big guns," Nomad said with a mischievous grin. "My money's on Scarlett and Duke." A sudden thought occurred to her, and she had to ask, "Does Scarlett have a paintball crossbow?"

He tried to hold it in, but she heard Lowlight snort quietly. "It's been a while since you had a night run. I'll schedule you for tomorrow."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Gee, thanks."

He glanced down at her. His eyes were hidden behind his goggles, but he smiled, and his shoulders shook with a brief laugh. "How'd your op go?"

"Bad." Dammit. She hadn't meant to say that. Why did she say that? She should've lied - at least until he had the time to listen.

…Ah, who was she kidding? She couldn't lie to Lowlight. He always saw right through her; it bordered on unfair.

Nomad thought it might be his eyes. She was a sucker for his eyes. And his grin, and his -

He turned, and when he spoke she could hear the concern in the sniper's quiet voice. "How bad?"

Well…she might as well keep going. "Pretty bad."

"The President -"

"Oh, not that bad," Nomad said hurriedly, raising her hands. "You would've heard already if it'd been that bad. More…bad for me." She shrugged. "But it's okay, we can talk about it when -"

"What happened?"

"It's…" Okay. So it was a little harder to talk about than she'd expected. "It's nothing, Lowlight, don't worry about it."

He looked at her. Even through the goggles, she could feel his blue eyes drilling into her. She turned her head so he could see the bruises around her eye socket and cheekbone.

The sniper shifted his weight a little, crossing his arms. "Did you get hit?"

"Well…it was more like I hit something," Nomad said, trying to keep her voice light. "I, ah…kinda got slammed into a wall."

Lowlight said nothing, clearly waiting for a further explanation. He shot a quick glance out over the trenches, then looked back, his lips pressed into a thin line. Nomad didn't want to tell him, but what choice did she have? He'd find out eventually…the least she could do would be to let him hear it from her.

"Uh…" She took a deep breath. "It was…Cobra attacked, and…Goldilocks…"

Lowlight's head snapped around.

"He was -" Nomad cleared her throat to mask the way her voice cracked. "He was talking to me over our headsets. Must've tapped our freq. He broke Mutt's arm."

Lowlight scowled. "Talking to you, personally?"

She nodded.

"And he went for you."

Nomad shrugged, trying to dismiss it and failing. "He snuck up on me when I found Mutt. Slammed me into the wall. I got him off me, and - I honestly don't know how Mutt did it, he was so out of it, but he grabbed a fire extinguisher and squirted Goldilocks with it."

Lowlight swore, shaking his head. "The bastard got away?"

"Course he did," she said miserably, nodding. "I winged him, though." Small comfort that was. Just something else for him to want to pay her back for.

"Sounds like he's gunning for you."

She threw her arms up impatiently and glared. "Thanks so much for pointing that out, Coop, I hadn't noticed," she said scathingly. She must've snapped a little louder than she'd realised - for a brief moment, the popping of the paintball guns in the trenches ceased.

Lowlight checked his watch, unclipped his walkie talkie from his belt, keyed it, and said, "Five more minutes, guys." Then he just looked at her. "I didn't mean to sound -"

Nomad raised a hand, sighing. "No, I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I just…it's been…"

Anything she said would've sounded lame even to her, so she settled with another, "I'm sorry."

His stern expression softening, Lowlight reached for her. She pulled back - actually, it was more like she shrunk away. "I'll, uh…I'll let you get back to work," she said pointedly, then she managed a bashful grin. "I don't want Duke to catch me distracting you. Or Stalker or Flint, for that matter. Scarlett I could manage, but those guys? Nuh uh."

"Shezz -"

She shook her head. "I…we'll talk later, okay?"

He raised a hand and sat his goggles atop his head. He studied her for a moment. "You're not okay, are you?"

No, I'm not.

Of course, she wasn't going to admit it. "I'm fine, Lowlight."

He clearly didn't buy it. A muscle in the sniper's jaw twitched; he looked like he didn't want to let her leave, but he nodded anyway. "If you need me -"

"If I need you, I know where you'll be."

Nomad woke from her nightmare with a choked scream, flailing so hard at the sheets twisted around her legs that she almost tumbled headfirst out of bed.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Scarlett's sleepy voice called through it. "You okay in there, Nomad?"

The soft southern drawl brought Nomad back to the present. She wasn't in a small, dark room in a Cobra prison. She could move - she wasn't lying on the floor with her wrists and legs bound and a red Cobra mask stuffed into her mouth to gag her. Goldilocks wasn't standing over her and smiling his charming, misleading smile as somebody else screamed and begged and cried.

She couldn't tell who was screaming. After the day she'd had, it could've been Mutt, or Lowlight, or…well, no, maybe not Beachhead. Nomad had never heard Beachhead do more than grunt slightly louder than usual if he was hurt - he'd probably be more likely to spout curses. She didn't like to think it might've been Hawk - the general couldn't sound like that, could he?

She didn't like to think it could be any of them - it was horrible to imagine anyone sounding like that, let alone any of the Joes.

How naïve was that? None of them were invincible.

You never knew. Before the Amazon, she'd always thought she'd be braver, if it came to torture, and look what had happened. She'd been better second time around, though - not that it was much consolation.

She gave a bitter laugh. Apparently, practice did make perfect.

"Nomad?"

She glanced up at the closed door. "Uh…yeah," she answered quickly. "Yeah, Scarlett, I'm good. Thanks."

There was a brief pause, then a doubtful-sounding, "Okay..."

Nomad waited a few moments until she heard the door to Scarlett and Lady Jaye's room close, then groaned. She rubbed a hand over her face - her skin felt gritty with sweat. A bead of it trickled down the small of her back before soaking into the waistband of her shorts.

Nomad swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat there for a moment. "Shit," she muttered, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Aaah, fuck me…"

Well…it wasn't like she hadn't been expecting it, was it? She'd known it was going to be a bad night. She should've got some sleeping pills from Lifeline. It'd been a while since she'd taken any; which was pretty good, considering when she'd first arrived at the Pit she'd practically been dependent on them to get a least a couple hours sleep each night.

A Joe with an addiction to sleeping pills…god, it was a wonder she'd been allowed to stay. She was pretty sure Lifeline and Doc would have noticed…

But that was enough of that. She didn't have that problem anymore. Life back on active duty in the Pit had helped her with that. The constant training; the regular, healthy meals (as opposed to microwave dinners just about every night), and even - though she hadn't liked to admit it at first - even the company of the other Joes had helped her to settle.

A little.

With a sigh, Nomad pushed herself to her feet. She stuck her head out the door, then quietly closed it behind her and headed for the bathroom, just a short walk away. She thought about having a quick shower, but there was no point - in a few hours, she'd just get muddied up on Beach's obstacle course, anyway. She settled for splashing her face and rubbing her neck with icy cold water.

She looked at herself in the mirror. The bruises on her face had already started to turn from reddish-brown to purple, and she was a little puffy on that side. On the other cheek, Lifeline's damned Mickey Mouse bandaid still held together the cut from the shattered glass wall.

She wasn't pretty. Hell, she'd never been a stunner in the first place, but lately she'd taken a real beating. She wondered what Lowlight thought, when he saw her like this. The scars on her gut were one thing; having a bashed up face was another. You couldn't hide a bashed up face.

Well, not unless you wanted to go for the Masked Ninja or Beachhead Balaclava look.

That thought sent a stab of guilt through her. Compared to Snake Eyes' scarred face, she really had nothing to complain about. Her bruises would fade. And, really…she knew that Lowlight didn't care. He'd already proved - repeatedly - that he wanted her, scars and all.

She was just feeling sorry for herself. Again.

Wasn't she supposed to be getting over all that kind of crap?

Nomad sighed as she pushed open the bathroom door. She knew what she wanted to do. But if she did it, she'd look…weak. Helpless and pathetic. Wouldn't she?

She paused outside her room, hand reaching for the doorknob.

Screw it.

For once - just this once - she pushed aside all thoughts and went with her heart.

He was in the dimly lit mess hall, a coffee mug by his elbow and yesterday's newspaper spread open on the table. His head rested on his hand. His long legs were stretched out, feet resting on the chair beside him. He'd changed out of his uniform and now wore his red t-shirt - it was his favourite - and a pair of baggy cargo pants. He hadn't noticed she was there yet.

"I didn't think I'd see you again tonight," Lowlight said quietly.

Dammit. Nomad narrowed her eyes at his back. "How'd you know -"

He turned and offered her a small, lopsided smile. "You ever get that funny feeling somebody's watching you?"

Did she ever. "All the time," she said simply, crossing to the table and sitting beside him. "Let's see…the last time was when a certain sniper showed up at my front door unexpected and gave me a heart attack. What'd you mean, you didn't think you'd see me again tonight?"

Lowlight's eyes flicked over her face, and then he gave her a half-hearted shrug. "You had that look."

Nomad frowned. "What look?"

"The one you get when you don't want to ask for help," he answered bluntly.

Damn. He'd seen right through her all along. Of course he had - he was about the only person she'd never been able to completely fool.

Still, she tried. "I ask when I need help," she said indignantly. "A couple of days ago I had to ask Gung Ho to open a jar for me. It was embarrassing."

"That's not what I mean, and you know it," Lowlight said firmly, fixing his eyes on her.

"I don't -" she began, but couldn't keep up the pretence. She sighed and nodded. "I know. I guess…I'm still not used to it."

Lowlight shifted in his seat, leaning forward. "Used to what?" he asked earnestly.

The concerned look in his eyes almost brought Nomad to tears. Dammit, she'd never used to be this sappy. What was wrong with her?

"You," she said, her voice catching. "I'm not used to you."

"But we -"

She held up her hand, silencing the confused man. "I don't mean…it's…" She paused, trying to think of the words. "I'm not used to…"

To how you make me feel. To how you care so much. To why you care so much. There were so many options to choose, but she couldn't bring herself to confess to any of them. She couldn't say just how goddamn much she needed him. She'd never liked admitting she needed anything; she was too proud for her own good. It had always been one of her weak points.

It hadn't started out like this with him. The first day she'd met him, on the firing range, he'd just been her instructor - a quiet, almost sullen man who Nomad hadn't been too sure about. Gradually, over the next couple of weeks, she'd got to know the sniper; well enough to call him a friend and tease him a little. At some point - sometime around the Guatemala mission - she'd started to take a little more notice of him, to find herself working a little harder to try and impress him.

Now, though, every time he touched her, she felt little tingles. Her heart seemed to thump just a little bit louder when he said her name. It wasn't just the sex - which was incredible, no question - it was everything else, too: he just seemed to get her, like nobody else had since Matches and the others.

How was she supposed to say all that and not sound like an obsessive freak?

"Not used to…?" Lowlight pressed.

She shook her head and flapped her arms. "I dunno," she said, trying to get out of the mess she'd got herself into. "I'm just tired, that's all. I think I'll just go back to bed."

It looked like Lowlight wanted to say something, but he just leaned back in his seat. "Okay."

Was it just her imagination, or did he look a little disappointed? She gave him an awkward nod and turned, heading for the door, biting her lip. When she glanced over her shoulder, he'd turned back to the newspaper.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"Coop?"

The sniper glanced up quickly.

Nomad took a deep breath. "Um…Covergirl's still on leave."

"And?"

Of course he was going to make her say it. Had he known what she wanted all along? Probably. Nomad took a deep breath. "Can you…I…I need -"

He waited.

She heaved a sigh and hung her head. "I can't sleep; I had another nightmare. I…need you there. I'm sorry, I hate asking, but -"

Lowlight was on his feet already, striding over to her.

Nomad shifted awkwardly, averting her eyes until he put a finger underneath her chin and made her look at him. He kissed her softly - her knees almost buckled beneath her. It wasn't fair that he could do that to her. Nomad wondered if he ever felt like that when she kissed him. She doubted it. "I'm sorry," she said again.

"Don't apologise," he said quietly. "You've got nothing to apologise for. Come on."

Nomad told him everything as they lay in her bed. Lowlight pressed his body against her back in the narrow single bed, his arms around her. Every now and then he ducked his head forward to kiss her shoulder, or her ear, or the top of her head, but that was all. His hands didn't roam. He was just there, listening to her talk, sometimes giving her a reassuring squeeze as she recounted the things Goldilocks had said to her.

She felt better once she'd got it all out. She still had to go through it all again with Psyche Out later, but having Lowlight just listen and not ask shrinky questions was nice.

"It's not your fault," the sniper told her firmly. "You know that."

"Yeah, I know," she agreed, rolling over to face him. "But still…"

Even in the darkness, Nomad saw Lowlight's eyes flash angrily. "You listen to me. Don't you give any thought to anything he said. He's taken enough from you already; don't give him any more."

"I know, but -"

She could feel the tension in him. He was worked up, angry on her behalf. "I swear, if I ever see him, I'll kill him."

"No," she said, a little more harshly than she'd intended. "Stay away from him, Coop. I mean it."

The sniper shook his head. "If I -"

"No!" she said again. "He knows who you are; he knows I -"

Nomad stopped short. What had she just been about to say? He knows she…what? "I know what he's like," she said quickly, trying to cover it up. "He'd kill you like he killed my team, just to mess me up even more. And it would mess me up. You know that."

"Fine. I'll snipe him," Lowlight decided. "I'm telling you now, though: if I get the chance, I'm taking it."

Nomad closed her eyes and huddled into his chest. "People seem to say this to me a lot, but it's my turn now. Just don't do anything stupid. Please."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

She didn't know how long it took before she fell asleep - properly asleep, not fitful dozing - but eventually, she did.

Just as she was on the verge of sleep, she thought she heard Lowlight say something to her. It was only a whisper, but…well, it sounded almost like he'd said, "I love you."

But he couldn't have said that.

She must've heard wrong.