Just a short one today. And a note to let you all know that I've had this first conversation with Brandon written since the first time we all met him.

Chapter 21

According to both my email interactions with Brandon, and Aunt Beth's accounts over breakfast, he was aware that I would be arriving on his doorstep sometime today, but he was still making no guarantees about his part in my situation. If he didn't train me, I guess I'd stay a couple of weeks for a holiday and then go back and ask the guys to assist me. But I really would rather he be kind enough to train me. Last time he'd said no, claiming me to be a brat. He said my motivation was too self-centred and childish and left me in the dust. Literally.

This time, I knew what I had to do. I'd seen the light.

I rang the doorbell.

I couldn't hear anything going on behind the closed, boring brown door, but suddenly it was open and there was Brandon in a pair of blue jeans, a coca cola t-shirt and sneakers. His hair was perfectly in place, the side parting almost severe in its precision. He eyed me top to bottom. I'd decided on a quick messy bun, minimal make up (just enough to minimise the remainders of my bruising and scaring), v-neck t-shirt, yoga pants and sneakers, hoping that by turning up in appropriate attire to begin straight away he would see that I was serious.).

"Can I help you?" he asked coolly as his gaze came up to meet mine.

"I hope so," I replied honestly.

"What makes you think this time will be any different than when we first met?" he questioned, leaning a shoulder against the door frame as he crossed his arms.

This was it, time to explain myself. I took a deep breath and started. "Because without training I'm a danger not only to myself but to all those around," I said honestly. "I've caused injuries to more people than I can count. I'd be stupid to continue this endeavour without proper skills under my belt. I should have gotten training years ago, but I grew complacent with the support I'd been given and I took advantage of it. I'm a menace. I'm self-absorbed and you had every right to reject me. Hell, you have every right to send me away right now. But please. I like helping these people. I liked the thrill of the capture. I love figuring out the mysteries and drawing connections. I would die if I had to go work at the button factory. I will do anything to better myself and stop making all these stupid, potentially fatal mistakes. Please train me."

Silence.

A whole minute of silence.

And then.

He shrugged.

"Can't."

I couldn't believe it. He was still denying me? Probably he'd made up his mind before I even turned up. Bastard. I'd come all this way and he wasn't even going to give me a chance. "What?" I asked, feeling a little shell shocked.

"I can't train you," he said firmly. "Until you have medical clearance."

Okay, well that made sense, I guess. "I'll have Bobby, my medic friend send through my signed permission form, shall I?" I asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from my statement and trying to ignore the tightening in my stomach when I thought of Bobby. He'd been looking after me for years, had he been doing it out of more than a sense of duty?

"You can do whatever you like, but I'm going to need you to see my own medic friend. I don't necessarily trust yours, since he's one of the men that have been enabling yourself destructive ways for six years," he explained matter-of-factly. "I've taken the liberty of setting up an appointment for this afternoon for you."

"You're still an ass," I told him, not even bothering to shutter my glare.

"No," he countered easily. "I'm appropriately cautious. I don't want to start a regime with you if it's going to aggravate previous injuries. Let this be your first lesson."

I'm pretty sure I had to do a double take at that statement. "Let what be my first lesson?"

Brandon shrugged again. "Caution," he suggested. "Rejection. Knowing your limitations. Take your pick."

*0*

So I went to see Brandon's medic friend, who happened to be a woman. Her name was Bonnie. Because that wasn't confusing for me at all. Bobby and Bonnie, both medics. At least they had the fundamental difference of being opposite genders. She had blonde hair that seemed just as curly and unruly as mine, and a friendly demeanour, so that was a plus.

We spent half an hour or so going through the general check up stuff – eyes, ears, mouth, nose, throat, - then she got me to demonstrate my flexibility, at which point I informed her of my most recent injury, the shoulder dislocation, explaining that I'd just been given the all clear for normal activities a few days ago. She hmmed at that and I offered to give her the complete medical history that Bobby had downloaded to my phone, but she declined. Apparently, she'd done her research prior to my arrival and already had a copy of it. She did, however, ask me to leave the room while she made a phone call.

Ten minutes later I had a "not from the doctor" say I was fit for active duty or whatever. That's what she said it was, I couldn't be sure, since it was in a sealed envelope and not addressed to me. I took it straight to Brandon. The sooner he was aware of my fitness the sooner I could get started on his training regime.

He met me at the door before I'd even knocked this time, holding his hand out for the envelope and reading it carefully before looking up and studying me for a long moment. "If we do this," he said slowly. "You will follow every direction I give you without question." I nodded. "I'm in charge. I have the knowledge you need. If you want to get it, you will obey."

"Okay," I said, nodding again.

"I going to need you to swear to follow every direction I give you," he prompted, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stifling a sigh, I said, in my best imitation of a school aged child reciting mandatory words in class. "I promise I will follow every direction you give me," adding for good measure. "Without complaint."

He raised an eyebrow (could everyone in the world do that besides me?). "Keep that attitude up and I'll have you write it out a thousand times."

"Sorry," I said. Probably, I needed to watch my tongue a little more. One wrong word and he could refuse to help me all over again.

"Brilliant," he announced with a grin I didn't like. "Tomorrow you're taking Imogen to the park."

"What?" I shrieked. "I'm not here to baby sit!"

Brandon sighed. "What did you just promise?"

Sending him a glare, I pointed out, "I don't see how taking your daughter to the park is part of my training…"

"Which is why I made you swear before telling you the plan," he explained. "Tomorrow, at the park, you will do everything my daughter does. If she climbs a tree, you climb a tree. If she does the monkey bars, you do the monkey bars. If she plays soccer with a bunch of other kids, you play soccer with a bunch of other kids. Got it?"

I didn't see how that could be seen as training for bounty huntering, but I just nodded. I was already on rocky ground with him and couldn't afford another misstep.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow at ten."

Thanks for reading. I'd love to hear your thoughts.