A/N: Just realised I've been writing a lot of this story listening to Lindsey Stirling, a very talented violinist from America. One song, "Moon Trance' in particular is something that I've been bobbing my head to the whole time :P (If you don't mind violin playing with dubstep check it out - it's quite interesting and original in my opinion!)

This is really just a filler chapter (as much as I hate them!) But there a few things to explain and tie together before things really start to happen ;)

Thanks so much to all of you that reviewed last chapter! :D

Enjoy!

XIV. Exhaustive Measures

I yawned tiredly as I made my way down to the hub. It was now 11:00 AM and quite frankly, I was utterly exhausted. On a normal day, I would only be waking up in another couple hours, about to get started on my 'day'.

Instead, I was walking around the ARC in broad daylight (the horror!) acting like I was supposed to be there. It was not logical, reasonable, or truthfully, safe. Deciding on my course of action, I changed direction to Lester's office.

"Mr Lester?" I questioned awkwardly, stepping through the door.

James Lester barely glanced up from his papers and continued reading, "You know, I always thought that the idea of having a door was that people would knock before they just waltzed in." He mused sardonically.

I blushed a little at his comment, but firmly told myself to harden up. I'm not some little panicky schoolgirl that's done something wrong - I'm a woman concerned about her colleagues! With that thought in my mind, I cleared my throat, "Sorry Sir," I said formally, standing straight, "but I thought it an urgent matter which I had to discuss with you."

Lester looked up at that and leaned back in his chair, hands folded above his abdomen, "Very well then. Go on." he commanded, sounding almost bored as he waved his hand dismissively, "I guess there's not much point telling you to knock if you're already in here anyway."

I ground my teeth and nodded, he really was a sarcastic little man. "Well Sir. I don't think this 'job swap' on our end of things is such a good idea." His eyebrow went up at that, but I pushed doggedly onwards, "Some of us do have military training, but I still feel that it would be unwise to send us into the field so unprepared and tired - after all, the five of us have not slept in 24 hours Sir."

I took a deep breath, I wasn't done yet. "As such, I would ask, that if, by any chance, there is an anomaly, you let one of the other teams handle it Sir."

"Quite right Miss Sommerbush, thank you! It's already done," He said, returning to his paperwork and waving his hand dismissively, "Run along now and find your little friends - do whatever you find fitting."

I walked out of Lester's office feeling a little miffed. Him just brushing me off like that. He could have told me if he had already made that decision! Feeling rather aggravated, I stalked back to Matts office - my office for the day. Unsure of what to do with myself I sat blankly at the desk, staring at the fronds of palms and leaves of other plants that filled the room.

I couldn't help but shake my head, he really had a thing for plants, the place looked like a jungle. I find, that I have a problem. My mind is always running at a million miles an hour, always pushing and thinking. As such, I always need to be doing something productive. I can't just sit around idly doing nothing all day - which is exactly what I was doing.

There had been no anomalies - there wouldn't be any that we needed to worry about, and it just didn't feel right going through Matt's personal paperwork. Groaning, I pushed back from the table and leaned into the chair.

You wouldn't think something so shiny and metallic could be so comfortable. Lester had, after all, said to do whatever I found to be 'fitting'. A nap might just be fitting. Catch up on all those lost hours of sleep.

Of course I had no such luck. First, John wanted me to come up and see his progress with some new type of scan to check all systems (didn't vaguely interest me of course, but I couldn't say no to the poor dear).

Then, Marty wanted me to see the new exercises he had designed for Becker's security team (I'm not sure the Captain would much like anyone changing his method of training, but then again he probably wasn't doing a very good job of cleaning the toilets anyway and we'd have to fix that tomorrow).

Thatcher - I won't even go into what Thatcher wanted. I walked into the gym, took one look at those hard abs working on the equipment, drooled, realised what I was doing and high-tailed it out of there.

Penny, Penny, Penny. She thought, as I was 'team leader' she should make me aware of every single creature that lived in the menagerie. I'm quite certain she now believes Abby has the best job in the world.

By the time I got back to Matt's office I had had a grand total of 0 hours sleep and 5 and a half hours of running around letting everyone tell me exactly what they were doing. To say I was exhausted was an understatement. I thought perhaps I could get a few minutes of rest, but again no luck. As soon as I sat down in my chair, the watch on my wrist beeped, the alarm signalling it was time for lunch.

Sighing in resignation that I was not going to be able to catch a few minutes rest, I slowly made my way down to the cafeteria where I knew the others would be waiting. I had called a break from whatever tasks they had been doing twenty minutes ago and asked them to the lunch room for just that - lunch (although, truth be told, it felt awkward eating lunch per se, since I was normally asleep at this time).

The other cleaners were all gathered at one of the tables and immediately turned to me when I walked in the door. "Well well, if it isn't our illustrious team leader!" Marty smirked, shuffling over in his seat so I could sit between him and Thatcher, "Come to tell us how it is exactly you managed to resist informing us on your ex-MI6 status?"

"Yeah! Forget Bonnie Parker, we have our own live Bond right here!" Thatcher snickered and I glared at him, pretending to be annoyed.

I sniffed, "Bond? Who's Bond? I'm Sommerbush. Lark Sommerbush." I said loftily.

Thatcher laughed and threw an arm around me, much to my surprise (and to my horror - eliciting a blush). "I can see it now - you flying around the world saving men in distress" he snickered, "Right 007 you are."

I raised my eyebrow at him, but didn't move to shove his arm off (what was I doing?). "I'll have you know working with MI6 doesn't always involve running around getting shot at, jumping off tall buildings and seducing people Thatcher."

"Really? Oh well, that's a shame...you could make SOME exceptions though couldn't you?" he whispered, his head so close to my ear I don't think anyone else could hear. Come to think of it, I don't even think I heard correctly!

Another voice jerked me from my pondering, "What sort of missions did you do?" John asked, seemingly very interested

I gave the bespectacled man a severe look, "That's classified John." I rebuked trying not to smile at his blush.

"Oh, right. Course." He mumbled, obviously embarrassed, "Why did you become a cleaner then, Lark?"

I stopped smiling immediately and cursed my stupidity. Of course they'd want to know why I left. "It's simple John, I couldn't hack life as an agent and so I left." I replied as casually as I could, hoping that they would drop it. But of course, I have no such luck.

"You? Couldn't hack it? Really? You?" Thatcher's brows shot up, and he stared at me disbelievingly, "Come on Lark, don't lie to us, we're your friends."

I glared at him, but he simply smiled softly back. Finally I gave in and sighed, "Alright fine, the job ran in the family. My father was an MI6 agent as well and I always wanted to follow in his footsteps." I said, doing what I did best, detaching myself from all emotion, "I did just that, but then, he cracked one day. Had to be put in a mental hospital. I didn't want that happening. I couldn't hack life as an agent, I realised my sense of humor was the only thing that kept me normal, so I quit."

The others were silent for a moment as they considered what I had told them. "How long did you serve?" Marty asked, his expression curious.

"Two years of training, one of service." I replied automatically.

John pushed his glasses further back onto the bridge of his nose, "I still can't quite believe it - it just seems so...un-Lark like...MI6. Did you go overseas anywhere during that time?" The look I gave him clearly told him my response to that question and he quickly backed down, "Uhhh, no...don't answer that...course, you can't tell me."

"Did you ever kill anyone?" Penny asked softly from the corner. It was the first question she had asked, and the one I was both most, and least prepared for. I couldn't answer them. However, this time, it was for a completely different reason. I didn't need to say anything anyway. They already knew. I did nothing to hide the sadness in my eyes.

This was not a conversation I wanted to have. Awkwardly, I cleared my throat and stood up, Thatcher's hand falling from it's place around my waist and leaving me feeling decidedly cold. "Look, I've got to go do some cataloguing, I'll see you all before I leave ok?" I said, not bothering to wait for an answer before I walked out of the room.