"Close Protection"

Disclaimer – As usual I own nothing but a large amount of debt and a severe lack of talent. Certainly nothing to do with Skins, (which makes me very upset)

Authors Note – hello, couldn't sleep it's currently 5:30am here in the UK as I type this and I really should be in bed. I hate insomnia, especially when it's caused by FFN screwing up my Easter egg in PfP...ooh it made me grumpy, mainly because I forgot it was going to happen and spent the next hour kicking myself for my stupidity )-:

Anyway, to relax and cheer myself up I did some polishing and here's the result, Chapter 11 of CP...let's see how badly lack of sleep can screw this one up eh? Right are you all still wanting more action or can you cope with a few more chapters of good old fashioned Naomily interaction?

No? Well you know what they called it when Naomi was in the army don't you...tough! (-;

Chapter 11 – A Morning Truce?

We sat and ate the Chinese takeaway in stony silence. Cook and JJ had just left, leaving me alone in the flat with the ice-maiden. She hadn't said a word to me since Cook's little announcement, hadn't even moved from her spot on the sofa in fact; hadn't even looked at me when I passed across her food.

Our meal finished, I took the dishes from the table and started clearing up. With all the shit that had gone on it was now nearing ten o'clock and I was starting to feel tired; it had, after all, been an early start and a pretty eventful day.

So it's now Wednesday night and I've just discovered that I'm going to be working for Miss Emily Fitch for at least the next couple of days.

'Fucking great!'

I'm glad of the work, don't get me wrong; and I suspect now that this kind of escort duty is exactly why Cook wanted me in the company, why he wanted me to go and see Rob Fitch in the first place. Here was I thinking that they all recognised my talent and thought that I'd be able to get the big deal with Rob himself, and then it dawned on me; all they really wanted was to provide a female bodyguard to his fucking daughters.

That's one way to shatter a girl's ego.

Still I'd done well today, I know I had. Forget about keeping Miss Fitch alive, that's bog standard protection work. No, I'd managed to impress Rob Fitch; I know I had. I suspect that there's a crack in the doorway that Cook is going to plant his size ten boot into and kick open. I'm hoping that we'll win some serious business there, let them know how valuable I can be.

"Do you want to stay here tonight or are we going back to my place?"

My mind snapped from its playback of applause and cheering in the office, celebrating our massive new contract and back onto the brunette that had graced me with her attention.

"Sorry?" I asked, sort of distracted by her comment. I've got a sound bite of Amy going through my head, asking me pretty much the same question on that drunken night in Ibiza; and it's kind of disconcerting because what happened after that was pretty fucking amazing.

"I said, do you want to stay here tonight or are we going back to my place?" She shook her head at me as if I was stupid. "Seeing as my father decided to put you in charge of my fucking life."

"Miss Fitch," I replied, a little snottily, "I don't know what you father or anyone else may have told you, but if I'm protecting you that's all I'll do. I'm not your nursemaid, your servant, your mother or your guardian. I can assure you I have no interest in being in charge of your life. My only concern is your safety and unless you do something that impinges on that safety you can do what the heck you like."

She stared back at me, was I imagining things or were those eyes a little softer?

"So if I wanted to go back to my flat I could?"

"If you insisted on it Miss Fitch, yes. However as I said earlier today I think it would be foolish to go back there today. If those people are serious, and it seemed they were, that would be the first place to try and pick you up."

I yawned, covering my mouth as I did so, "That's what I'd do anyway, stake out your home or your office and wait for you there."

Her eyes narrowed, "So I'm stuck here, with you?"

If you don't want to put yourself at risk, then yes. Perhaps the risk will be lessened after the negotiations Cook mentioned tomorrow; and things can go back to normal. I don't think it was a coincidence that that attack happened today."

She spent a bit of time thinking about this, obviously considering the evidence. At least I was able to be honest, I didn't have to lie to her; I did think that the attack must have had something to do with the meeting she mentioned to Rob back in the house. Idle threats are one thing, but you can only stretch coincidence so far before it comes crashing down around your shoulders.

No, it seemed more likely that the attack on Miss Fitch was designed to either scare her off the meeting with India's Border Security Force, or kill her and get Fitch Industries to pull out of the deal. Either way it had failed.

"I don't know why my dad even asked you to look after me."

"Perhaps it's because he wants to keep you alive, or perhaps he just wants to screw me, like his secretary." I answered quickly. Her head snapped up and she stared straight at me, her eyes wide.

"You heard that?"

"Miss Fitch, most of the staff in your house heard that conversation, or would have done if I hadn't sent them away."

"How much did you hear?" she snapped, suddenly looking angrily at me.

"Enough to know you aren't happy with me being assigned to protect you, enough to know what you really think of me Miss Fitch. Enough to know that, for someone that's supposed to be keeping her father's secrets, you have a very loud voice when you're angry."

"Yeah well, you weren't supposed to hear that; fucking spying on us, who do you think you are?"

I just looked at her and raised an eyebrow in amusement as she paused in her tirade for a second before continuing; her voice now lower and calmer. "You shouldn't judge him you know, or me for that matter, that wouldn't be fair. It's not as simple as you think."

I had to sigh at that, it's sad really that someone can think so little of someone they've never met before and barely spoken to.

"Miss Fitch it's not my job to judge you, or your father. It's my job to keep you safe and that's all I'm interested in doing. What's really unfair is to judge someone you don't know and you've barely spoken to."

She looked across at me, "I don't know what you mean," she said sheepishly; her eyes telling me differently.

"You called me a psycho Miss Fitch; that's judgemental and that's not fair. You're also assuming that I'm making some kind of moral judgement on you and Mr Fitch and that's not fair either."

She looked abashed for a second before turning on me again. "You nearly killed Pieter," she accused, totally ignoring the main part of my defence.

"He tried to kill me Miss Fitch, you heard him. I was simply defending myself. He had every opportunity to stop but he chose not to, probably saw me as a vulnerable female that he could humiliate or hurt. I didn't want to hurt him, he made me hurt him. Please remember that."

She didn't look convinced, I'm not that surprised to be honest, a lot of people I've met can't separate the role from the person, why should she be any different? Some people just see you as a thing, a soldier, and not a person that's just doing a job. What's worse, they assume you're the same as every bad soldier that they've ever read about; angry, bloodthirsty...a psychopath with a gun, trained to kill and very little else. I'd had drinks thrown in my face in bars for answering the question, "so what do you do?" with nothing but honesty. Everyone assuming that I'm some kind of baby murdering nutter because I'm a squaddie. Well that's not me, and it's not anyone else I knew in the Army, yeah you get your meatheads, but they get drummed out pretty quickly; usually after we'd made them serve some time in the glasshouse.

Today's army is a professional unit and I'm proud of my service. If it wasn't for Gereshk I'd still be serving, doing my duty the way I'd signed up to do. I'm a professional and that's what she's going to get from me; professionalism, nothing more nothing less. I took a deep breath and prepared to give her a speech it seems like I've given variants of a hundred times before, on a hundred different escort missions.

"Miss Fitch let's understand one another please. I don't care what you think of me; I know you dislike me and that's fine. Lots of people I've protected didn't actually like me. I'm not paid to be liked; I'm paid to do my job. All I need is for you to trust me when I tell you something is for your own good, that's all. Now Miss Fitch, if you don't mind it's been a really long and stressful day and I think we both need to get some shut-eye."

I left her to her thoughts and went into the bedroom and rummaged about in the cupboards, sure enough I found an extra pillow and some blankets. I grabbed them and some personal bits and wandered back out into the living room; tossing the gear onto the floor before wandering back into the bedroom to grab some clothes from the dresser. When I returned Miss Fitch was staring at the pile of bedding.

"Right then, if you don't mind giving me a bit of peace I'll get my head down. If you need anything to sleep in help yourself to the clothes in the drawers, they're all new."

She looked at me blankly.

"Go to bed Miss Fitch, please."

"I can't take your bed," she said finally understanding what I meant and looking down at the floor, "that wouldn't be right either."

"Miss Fitch, until two days ago I was sleeping on the floor in a worse place than this. I'm a guest here as much as you are. Take the bed and leave me in peace please, I'll feel better if I'm closer to the door; just in case someone tries to get in."

I ended the conversation by sorting out my bedding and wandering around the house double checking everything was locked. I made a quick call to the flats porter, asking him to ring up if anything odd happened, no matter how small he thought it might be, and then headed for the bedroom. Finding the door shut I knocked lightly and waited for her to answer.

"You can come in."

I opened the door and walked into the bedroom, she'd already dived under the covers, her clothes a pile on the floor.

"Last minute checks," I said walking over to the window and making sure it was locked shut.

"If you need anything, or if you hear anything untoward, you call me Miss Fitch ok?"

"I will," she replied softly. As I walked towards the open doorway I heard her call me again.

"Miss Campbell?" I turned to look at her, "I do trust you ok? After today I'd trust you with my life...again that is."

'Fuck me.'

I stood in the doorway and nodded, before stepping into the living room and pulling the door shut behind me. Perhaps my life had just got a little bit easier.

o+o+o

"Miss Campbell, Miss Campbell...fucks sake...NAOMI WAKE UP!"

I'm dragged from another nightmare by a voice from the heavens. I've no idea who it is or where I am, but for the first time ever someone in my dream has driven the faces away. As I pull myself back towards consciousness I realise I'm being shaken and my name is being called. I opened my eyes to see the concerned face of Miss Fitch looking down at me.

"What's wrong?" I asked quickly realising suddenly where I am and who I'm with, "Did you hear something?"

She snorted at me in disgust; all hints of the concern that had been written across her face now vanished. "Only you screaming out guys names. You scared the shit out of me. I thought we were being attacked again."

"Really? Sorry."

Two words, not really enough for scaring her; so much for being fucking professional. Her eyes softened at my apology. Jesus this girl really does have serious mood swing issues.

"It's ok, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I replied sitting up, allowing the blankets to fall around my waist. "Bad dreams that's all." I looked at the clock on the wall, it was only half four in the morning. 'Jesus'

"Go back to bed Miss Fitch, I'm sorry to have disturbed you." The dismissal was plain; she paused and looked at me for a second, before leaving me and heading back to her room.

I sat in the darkness for what felt like ages, just thinking. I felt a little bit guilty about what I'd just done; she was only making sure I was ok after all. But I just couldn't bring myself to let her see my weakness. Every time I woke up after a nightmare I felt drained and scared. They had been haunting me for so long now it was actually a shock to have seen the faces dissolve before they could speak, before that mass of people, my comrades, my friends could torment me with their accusations.

As I drifted off to sleep again I could feel a faint smile cross my lips as a new face came to haunt me. A face with a cute button nose, brown hair and brown eyes that I could swim in. Swim in forever, happily drown in.

'Emily….what a lovely name, suits her.'

Her face was the last thing I saw before sleep engulfed me once more.

o+o+o

I was woken up by the alarm on my phone screeching away like a miniature klaxon telling me it was six in the morning. As I wiped the crusts of sleep from my eyes I stretched and dragged myself awake. Climbing out of the duvet I headed for the kitchen and put on the kettle before heading for the shower.

As I felt the water pound my skin I took stock of my feelings. I was attracted to the woman I was supposed to be protecting. That's not on, I can't allow myself to think and feel like that. Fucks sake I'd only been out of the Army for a few months, I can't have lost my professionalism that easily.

I turned the water onto freezing cold and stood there, allowing the cold water to freeze my skin. Only when my lips felt blue and my teeth were chattering did I turn it off and reach for the towel. The cold felt good, made everything seem clear.

'Professional Naomi, just be professional; that's all you have to do.'

o+o+o

I left the bathroom having pulled on the clothes I'd worn for bed that evening. My love affair with the bed and mattress combo had been reawakened during my night on the floor; and I made a note that any flat I rented would have a proper guest room. I can only assume that the designers thought that a luxury flat needed an en-suite and a proper bathroom to suit the demands of the modern yuppie that bought this kind of place.

It only dawned on me that the funny bits in the bath, the ones that I kept standing on whilst I showered, were actually nozzles for a posh whirlpool bath long after I'd got dressed. I made plans to investigate that feature if at all possible that evening. A good workout in the gym, a long swim and a whirlpool bath seemed like the perfect end to what was likely to be a very stressful day.

When I'd left the bathroom I'd almost literally bumped into Miss Fitch. She was dressed and looking as if she was about to leave the flat.

"Going somewhere?"

At least she had the good grace to look ashamed of herself.

"I was, I...erm. I was..."

"Trying to leave," I interrupted her floundering. "I know Miss Fitch. I'm not stupid. Look, please sit down, make yourself a drink and let me get dressed. I promise I won't hold you up any longer than I have to.

"You're not, it's..." she tailed off as if unsure how to continue.

"Miss Fitch, please sit down," I sighed. "Don't make my job any harder than it already is."

She looked at me oddly and turned to flop down on the sofa. I wondered why I'd actually said what I'd said. It was the truth after all, but I had no idea why I'd used those particular words. For some strange reason she didn't seem to take offence though; just seemed to accept it and move on. I was puzzled, last night she'd have probably tore my head off for saying something like that, this morning she just took it in her stride.

"I'm just going to quickly get dressed then. I'll call JJ as well and make sure your flat is safe."

She nodded in reply and I headed for the bedroom, making sure I didn't close the door behind me so I could hear her if she tried to leave. Thankfully she didn't and I could hear her banging around in the kitchen as I hurriedly dragged the straighteners through my 'frizzed to hell and back' hair. I called JJ, only getting his answering machine; I left a message and quickly applied some make up whilst I waited for JJ to call me back.

"Milk and sugar?"

The question came out of the blue, as did she; suddenly appearing in the doorway.

"Are you making tea or coffee?" I asked carefully.

"I was making tea, unless you want coffee."

"Don't like coffee, not first thing in the morning anyway. Tea would be great, milk no sugar please."

She nodded and walked away, heading back to the kitchen. I heard the clinking of spoons against cups and concentrated on finishing getting ready.

Five minutes later I'm dressed, feeling human and looking ok, the look isn't improved by the swollen and bruised eye, that no amount of makeup could disguise, and all the minor cuts on my face that yesterdays drive home presented me with.

Frankly I looked worse after one day in the company of Emily Fitch that I did in the whole of my time in the CPU, barring Gereshk of course. I wondered if I'd look too much of a cliché if I bought myself some sunglasses with some protective type lenses; at least then I'd have something to protect my eyes in the future.

'Yeah you do that Naomi, you'd look totally badass you tosser!'

I decided if I did do that I'd get a pair with clear lenses, sunglasses inside would be just too much. Cook might be able to pull it off, but I doubted I would be able to do it without laughing my head off.

Shoving some concealer into my shoulder bag I headed outside to see Miss Fitch sat on the sofa a large mug of tea in her hand watching the breakfast news.

"I left your tea on the counter," she said, her voice level. I picked it up as I walked past and sat on one of the chairs taking a sip.

"Anything happening?" I asked nodding at the television.

"The usual, war, death and destruction," she replied bleakly. "Another suicide bomber in Pakistan and more deaths in Afghanistan."

"Our boys?" I asked, "do you know what unit?"

"No another village hit by bombs; the Americans called in an air strike and something went wrong…again. Fucking typical, another waste of lives."

She glared at me as if it was my personal responsibility that it had happened, I simply grimaced. I'd seen and heard about this kind of mistake whilst I was over there. It's easy to criticise when your thousands of miles away from the situation.

"Oh but they have smart bombs and intelligent weapons technology and everything like that, how could this happen in this day and age?" the 'do gooder's' would wail.

Well, you try using all that kit perfectly when you're fighting for your life and the shit isn't just hitting the fan, it's landing all around you from a very great height. The shit that had rained down on us more than once doesn't just stink, it blows your fucking limbs off. Because of things like this, unfortunately, in combat accidents do happen; it doesn't mean we don't regret them happening, of course we do. We hated hearing about every mistake like that, hated the loss of life, hated the thought of innocents being hurt as a result of our actions; hated it because we knew it meant the locals would turn against us once more. We wanted to help bring about peace, and win the hearts and minds of the people we were trying to help.

It's not our fault that the Taliban wanted to use the very same people they claimed to be fighting for as human shields. The allied forces had lost a lot of good men trying to save civilian lives, attacking with real people capable of differentiating friend from foe rather than take the easy option of carpet bombing a Taliban position back to the stone age.

I kept all this to myself though, I didn't want to break the uneasy truce that seemed to have developed overnight between us by giving her something else to have a go at me for.

"I think it's terrible the way that innocent peop…"

I was rescued by the phone going off in my pocket; thank the gods for JJ. After a quick conversation he confirmed that Miss Fitch's flat was indeed safe and that he was parked outside; watching the street for anything suspicious just in case. He also told me that the car Mr Fitch had arranged for was on its way to pick us up.

"Good news," I said cheerily as I put away the phone, hoping to dispel the gloom that had descended on the room. "JJ says your flat is clear and your driver is on his way over to take us there."

"Good, I can't wait to get home."

I took a sip of my tea and ignored the slight barb in her voice. She knew why we'd wanted her not to go home, that should be the end of it.

"I need to get changed, I can't go to the meeting dressed like this," she continued; perhaps sensing that things were changing for the worse.

"Dunno why, you look ok to me." She did as well, smart black business suit, white blouse and heels. It all looked very expensive as well, not that I'm an expert but some things just ooze quality, and quality like that doesn't come cheap.

"Oh and you're an expert are you Miss Campbell?" She looked across at me and blushed, "sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Miss Fitch I told you last night, I know you don't like me and that's fine. All I need for you to do is trust me; and trust me you look fine."

"It's not that I don't like you Miss Campbell, I just don't like what you stand for."

I'm kind of shocked, no actually I'm just plain shocked; I never realised I stood for anything, not really.

"Oh," I manage to utter, rather stupidly I think as my brain tried to work out what it is she thinks I stand for .

"I mean you're all the same aren't you, ex-military types. War is just a big game to you isn't it? Killing people is nothing to you lot; it's what you're trained for isn't it?

Look at you, you burst into a meeting I'm having with Dad and you pull a fucking gun. Miss Campbell you're just like every other ex-military dickhead I've had to deal with you've got too much testosterone."

Right, so the truce is over is it? That's me definitely told, put in my place, stuck in the box marked 'Military Nut-Jobs.' The trouble is I don't fit into that box, I don't fit into any boxes; I never have done. I've never allowed someone to label me like that. Not even Amy was allowed to label me like that, and she'd got closer to me than anyone before or since. She'd tried of course, tried to label me as girlfriend, partner, and at one stage - fucking fiancée. But I don't do labels, I'm more than someone's fucking label. Being labelled as something always just made me angry; in fact I can feel my blood start to boil just a little bit right now, because Emily Fitch having a go at me for what I did, with what she does for a living, is pretty fucking hypocritical.

I was about to go on a full scale tirade when I remember that I'm actually now working for her father and I promised myself I'd be professional. So I took a long deep breath calming myself before speaking. Planning how to get my punches in without getting myself the sack and ending up back on the streets.

"Miss Fitch, yesterday you accused me of judging you and your father and told me it wasn't fair; but you're doing exactly that, judging me; judging all soldiers. You have a false impression of what military people are like. Military people are like me and Cook and JJ; we're just normal people that are doing a job. I was in the Military Police for Christ's sake, it was my job to keep order; yet you accuse me of being some kind of mindless killing machine. I've only ever used my weapon to defend myself Miss Fitch, to keep me and the people around me alive, whoever they are. I'm a professional, all I've ever done is my job."

"But you've killed people haven't you?" she snapped back. I sighed and nodded; that's something I can't deny.

"Yeah, I've killed people, do you want me to feel guilty for doing what I did? You can't Miss Fitch, you can't make me feel any more guilt than I already do. I was doing a job, just like you do. How many people have been killed as a result of your deals Miss Fitch? We've both killed, in our own ways. It doesn't make us good people, but it doesn't make us bad people either."

I looked at her and saw her eyes start to fill with tears; she turned her back on me suddenly, I guess the truth hurts more than a little. Then I remembered what I'd been told yesterday by Alan the security guard.

"Rumour has it she's not exactly in love with what she does."

"Anyway," I said trying to break the silence again, change the subject if I could. "Like I said, you don't have to like me Miss Fitch, you don't even have to like what you think I stand for. But please, judge me on what I do, not what you think I'm capable of doing.

Now, if you'd like, we'll go and see if your car has arrived and get you home and on to your meeting. Then we can discuss what you want to do for the rest of the day and how I can best protect you during it."

I led her out of the flat and down the stairs in silence. We had nothing to say, both processing the hurtful words that we'd said to each other. I checked that the little guest car park at the front of the building was safe before escorting Miss Fitch out and into the waiting car. Checking, of course, the drivers credentials before I allowed her to get in. It's not that I don't trust anyone, it's just that...well I don't take anything on face value. Iraq, Afghanistan and London's fucking streets had taught me the value of that.

As she climbed into the back of the huge car, I got into the passenger seat up front. I caught a look from her out of the corner of my eye as I pulled on my seatbelt; but she continued with the silent treatment. I'm actually really hurt that she thinks so little of me, despite not even knowing me. I don't know why it hurts so much, it's not like It's the first time I've been faced with an attitude like hers.

'Fuck off Naomi, you know exactly why it hurts, you like her, you really like her.'

and with that disconcerting thought floating through my head we set off to St John's Wood and the place that she called home.

.

.

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A/N – we starting to learn a bit more about these two yet? Actions becoming a bit clearer? Hope you now understand what Naomi meant by 'the next level' back in chapter two...surely she can't have wanted to push Amy away because of that...

lol (-: