As a special favor to chachakid, who informed me that it is Monday in Australia, I am updating now. Enjoy!

Three Months Later…

Jules flexed her hands again, wincing as the burns rubbed against her gloves. She adjusted her grip and focused her sights on the subject.

"Jules?" came the question.

"I have the solution," she said calmly, fingering the trigger, praying she wouldn't have to use it. Her skin ached. She couldn't even remember what the fight was about – probably her coming home late and never spending time with him. Or maybe about how she slept all the time when they were together. Or maybe how slow she was getting dinner ready. Lately, Scott had decided that it was her job to serve him. She had protested, but what was the point? Was it worth a beating just to claim to have some semblance of control? Cooking dinner – what had once been a task divvied up equally or done together, had been reduced to 'women's work'. And if she wasn't home early enough to cook a whole meal, she usually suffered for it. She hadn't been out for drinks with the guys ever since she had let Scott back into her life.

Her life had been restricted slowly, so that she couldn't pinpoint when exactly she had gone from loving girlfriend to obedient slave. The requests were simple. Over a two day period, maybe, he'd get it into her head that he wanted her to cook a whole meal for him, all the time. She would protest, but after a while she didn't see the point, so she'd submit. Not because she thought it was right, she was constant reminding herself, but because it was the smart thing to do – get bruises and be right, or be healthy and suffer through some more chores. There really wasn't much of a choice. Self-Preservation wasn't high on Jules list of things she liked, because she wanted the team and the innocent victims to come first, but the dynamic with Scott was different. It was self preservation coupled with the ability to do her job, and all she sacrificed was herself.

She shook herself back to the present, as Sarge ordered, "Scorpio."

She checked her aim one more time, and twitched her finger closer to the trigger – but she couldn't. A jolt of pain swept through her skin and her grip faltered. The gun teetered, threatening to fall, and she grabbed it and pulled it back, sinking against the short wall of the roof top. Yanking her gloves off with her teeth she revealed blisters that had popped and were oozing. She blinked back tears – an automatic reaction – and let her hands rest in her lap, closing her eyes. It was too late now to do any good. The sound of a gunshot broke her concentration. She realized that Sarge's voice had been shouting in her ear ever since she had lost the shot.

"Jules! Jules! What happened? Are you okay? Jules! Report!"

"I'm fine," she finally said, knowing that she couldn't postpone the inevitable, "I lost my grip. I…I…I'm sorry."

"Ed got the solution," he said simply, "Do you need a minute?"

"Yeah," she said, yanking the earpiece out and sighing as the burns throbbed. Eventually, she was going to have to put her gloves back on, if she wanted to leave. But her hands ached. She jumped as she heard the door open and saw Sam, his face filled with worry.

"I'm fine," she said, as he hurried toward her.

"Jules, what…?"

"I lost my grip," she pulled her gloves on quickly, biting her lip to keep back a gasp of pain, "Almost dropped the gun. Didn't have time to aim again. My hand slipped – that's all."

He stared at her, breath coming fast – even considering the fact that he had probably run up several flights of stairs.

"I thought…when you didn't fire…"

She smiled, "At least I know I'm loved."

He laughed without humor, slinging an arm round her shoulder and walking back downstairs with her. She was pretty sure if she had to keep biting her lip when anyone came in contact with her body she was going to bite through it. Sam's hand was clutching a particularly nasty bruise – but she wasn't going to tell him that. Since she rarely saw him, she wanted to enjoy every moment she had.

"Drinks tonight?" he asked, as though expecting her answer.

"I – " she began,

" – can't," he finished with a sigh. "Come on, Jules. You never come any more."

"Scott wants me back by eight," she found herself saying, "and I've got a lot of paperwork to do," she added, dragging her mind from the restrictions her boyfriend had put on her life.

"Just tell him you're gonna be late tonight. Come on, it's not like you guys'll break up if you go out with your friends for one night."

No, Jules wanted to tell him, we won't break up, but my arm might. Instead, she smiled, "You're just jealous 'cause I'm gettin' lucky and you're going home to a cold bed!" she teased, jumping away when he reached out to give her a slap.

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