It is bedtime, and I suddenly remembered (for the third time this evening) that I need to post a chapter. Let me give you a tension warning, in case you missed it last chapter.

Chapter 37

"That was good," Lester said enthusiastically, offering me a hand to help me up from the ground after what must have been the one thousandth run of our take down strategy this morning. We'd been in the gym for hours drilling various parts of the operation with the team Hawk had put together, but the main focus had been the moment I step over the threshold and out of the establishment with the skip.

Bones had been playing the role of the skip in our little dramatizations, pulling all the common moves a skip would pull when the guys come into view and my cover is blown. I'd been seized in various holds, including some pretty brutal hair pulling, which the team and I had had to manage to get out of without giving away our plan to Bones. We'd had to redo many of the holds several times. First so that Lester, Hank and Hal could explain to the Musketeers how they knew what my plan was, what I'd done to communicate with them. And then again at Mungo's insistence so that I could learn some more effective techniques of escaping the holds.

Lester had noted about an hour ago that my techniques were already much improved from the last time a distraction had gone haywire, but Mungo was determined that I learn the proper ways. The man was all about learning and improving yourself. He wasn't going to be happy until I was capable of escaping by my own merits. After the first few holds, he'd made it abundantly clear that we would be focusing on this for our next few gym sessions. He'd used words like "vulnerable" and "liability", which made me feel about three inches tall, but at the same time, I could see where he was coming from. I needed to work on these things not just for the team, but for myself. I wouldn't always have the Merry Men or the Musketeers there to safe my ass when I got into hot water.

"Do it again," Mungo instructed once I'd managed to dust myself off and push half my pony tail out of my face. I didn't even think about refusing, or complaining. I'd learned the hard way during our first session four weeks ago that complaining just made things, well, harder. Shaking out my limbs a bit, I went and stood next to Bones in my standard, 'lets go back to your place,' position. I was just lifting my hand to tuck it around Bones's waist when Lester spoke up.

"Seriously?" he asked. "She did fine."

"She hesitated," Mungo corrected. "She needs to do better."

"She barely hesitated a second that time. She's on fire today!"

"Bones is holding back, Stephanie's work is inconsistent and you're being too soft," Mungo snapped. "No wonder she's gone this long in the business without being able to properly defend herself."

The back of Lester's neck was turning a deep crimson, one of the only outward signs, along with his clenched fists, that he was fuming. And ordinarily, I'd be doing my tea kettle routine right along side him, but I saw Mungo's point. They'd coddled me. I was more of a pet than a colleague. If I couldn't even get myself out of these basic holds I really was more of a liability. With the amount of times I'd been manhandled on the job, I should have had training years ago and be a pro at this already. We wouldn't need to spend the entire Sunday going over all of this.

"She can defend herself just fine!" Lester exclaimed, losing his falsely calm demeanour.

Mungo was also done pretending. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, making the muscles bulge out ominously. I'd like to think that these kinds of displays didn't intimidate Lester; that he had seen his fair share of large, imposing men in his time and was simply not afraid of them. I could not, however, say the same for myself. Mungo may be a hard ass in the gym, but it was necessary, and when it came down to it, he really did care about my wellbeing and the wellbeing of everyone else in this company. "Fine isn't good enough," he seethed, taking step forward. "Fine is the whole second it takes her to remember what she needs to do next. Fine is the opportunity she is giving any opponent to cause her grievous bodily harm because she's taking too long to take action. Fine is taking the wrong action because she's not familiar enough with the techniques and when they should and should not be applied and ending up in hospital. Fine is-"

While Mungo continued listing all the ways fine was not the desired level of competence, I took a moment to glance around the rest of the group. Hank and Harry were over on the bench, revising some tech stuff on their tablets, but their attention was turned toward the scene going down on the mats. Hal had been discussing warning signs and other subtle cues I could potentially send off if things were going wrong and I was unable to communicate it verbally with a few men off to one side. They, too, were distracted from their task by the commotion between Lester and Mungo. Hawk and Stitch both stood at the edge of the mats, hands behind their backs and expression impassive. And Bones? Well Bones was looking about as uncomfortable as I felt.

"She's come out of dozens of distractions completely unscathed," Lester was saying now, his hands flying about, a clear sign that his emotions were actually getting the best of him for a change. "Steph has been the key to so many of our distractions going off without a hitch that we're just wasting our time here. We're probably not even going to need this stuff."

"But we might," Mungo countered. "How many distraction jobs has Steph been involved in that have gone wrong? How many times has she gotten hurt on one of these operations? It probably could have all been prevented if someone had taken the time to make sure she knew how to get out of these sticky situations properly."

"Steph doesn't need training to get out of sticky situations!" Lester cried. "She has her Spidey Senses! She has gut instinct! She-"

Speaking of my gut, it was starting to tie itself in knots thanks to this argument. I knew that Lester was just trying to stick up for me. To defend me. But I also knew that Mungo was right. I needed this training eventually. Now was convenient, not only because we were already working on them, but because sometime in the next few days I would be putting myself out there in the line of fire again, and my eyes had been opened up to how much I actually don't know about defending myself.

It was impossible for me to pick a side. They were both looking out for my welfare, just in different ways. And for different reasons. Lester was my friend. On the one hand, I know that he would never want for me to get hurt, and he also didn't like it when people tried to boss me around, because he knew how I felt about people taking away my freedom. But on the other hand, Mungo was just doing his job, making sure I was prepared for whatever this operation threw at me.

"Les," I said, making sure to imbue some extra fibre into my voice so that it caught his attention. "It's fine. Let's just do it again."

The look the flashed across his face caused a lump in my throat. My twisted guts tightened. His eyes speared pain straight through my soul. He was hurt. He felt betrayed. But there wasn't really anything I could do about it. If he hadn't said anything, if we'd just done the routine again like Mungo said, we would have already been finished by now, and frankly I just wanted to be done with it all for a while.

After my episode last night, I'd taken a long shower and emerged into the main apartment area long enough to make and eat an omelette for dinner before retiring to the bedroom, citing the excuse of being exhausted and needing to be fresh for today's training. I hadn't been ready to discuss my sudden attack of feels then, and this morning, having majorly overslept, I'd been left with a grand total of five minutes to get ready and out the door if I wanted to be on time. Lester and I hadn't had the opportunity to discuss the matter other than for me to assure him I was okay when he asked me on our way out the door this morning. Between that, and my appearances of siding with the Musketeers over him, I could feel the tension forming between us. I hoped he understood that it wasn't personal. I just needed to do what I needed to do to survive up here in Boston, and having him argue with Mungo over my progress or lack thereof, wasn't helping matters. I needed to stand up and speak for myself.

"Run it once more, then we'll finish up," Hawk instructed.

That's exactly what we did. I allowed Bones to grab me the exact same way he had last time, and I tried my hardest to ignore the waves of tension rolling off Lester in order to get myself out of the hold without my apparent hesitation from last time. I definitely managed to get out of it, whether Bones went easy on me for whatever reason remains to be determined, but when I looked to Hawk and Mungo for approval, Mungo just nodded shortly and excused himself from the gym.

A silence fell over the gym for the first time all morning. Everyone was looking at each other with sideways glances, clearly awkward after the outbursts from Lester and Mungo. I know I was. Lester had been my friend for five years now. One of my best friends. One of the first Merry Men to accept me with Ranger brought me into the company. And Mungo, while hard on me, was one of the few Musketeers that actually showed that he supported me and believed I could achieve what I was trying to do. I was torn.

"Good work today, everyone," Hawk said, though there was no indication in his inflection or expression that he believed his own words. "Thanks for giving up your Sunday for this. I'll get in contact with The Greatest to get the ball rolling on that front, we'll gather again after morning meeting tomorrow to go over the game plan."

There was a unison nod from the Musketeers gathered, while the Merry Men just absorbed the information. But no one moved. I was unsure whether I was actually allowed to leave yet. It sounded like we were done here, but everyone was still glued to the spot. I travelled my gaze around the group, but everyone was still watching Hawk. And Hawk wasn't paying attention. He was staring at his phone.

"Are we dismissed?" I finally asked. All eyes cut to me. It's possible that I'd just spoken out of turn, but we were wasting time here. "It's just that I need to go shop for a distraction outfit. I didn't exactly pack for that kind of thing. I figured I'd just be… ya know… w-"

"Yes," Hawk interrupted. "You're dismissed."

I hesitated a moment, because no one else was moving, but a glance at my watch showed that it was already lunch time. I wasn't all that familiar with the local mall closing times, but being that it was Sunday, I wasn't holding out hope that I had more than a few hours to get just the right dress. I'd be strapped for time, and I still had to get upstairs to freshen up. Throwing caution to the wind, I took the first step away from the group. No one followed, but I didn't have time to waste.

Halfway across the gym Lester caught up, falling into step beside me. "Hey," he said. "Look, I'm sorry if I-" And that was all he got out before Hawk's voice reached out ears, calling his name. We both stopped, looking back to the Boston second in command curiously. "Yeah?" Lester asked.

"Can I get your help with something?"

Lester looked from Hawk, to me, to Hawk and back to me again, before grimacing. "I'll catch you later," he said to me, dragging me to his chest with one arm for a quick hug. "You know I just want the best for you, right?"

"Of course," I assured him, sensing that he needed to know that I didn't hate him right now. "Give me a call when you're done with Hawk."

*o*

Upstairs, I made fast work of stripping off my slightly sweaty workout gear, intending jump in the shower just long enough to freshen up so I wouldn't offend the sales assistant when I asked her to zip me up, but I was derailed from my plan when something hard an plastic clunked against my head as I pulled my shirt up and over. An inspection of the garment as I stood in the bathroom, revealed no less than four pegs attached to the back hem.

What. The. Fuck.

I'd been suspicious yesterday when I'd encountered a peg on my clothes on two separate occasions. I didn't have any pegs, and as far as I was aware, there weren't any pegs on the shirts when I put them on. Surely I would have noticed something like that. Like I noticed taking it off. There was absolutely no way that this wasn't the guys' doing. The only question was, who? And why? Okay that's two questions, but you get what I mean.

Without the necessary time to mull over when they might have appeared on my clothes in the last few hours, I tossed the shirt aside and continued getting ready to go out. I conducted the quickest and most perfunctory cleansing in my entire life and was stepping out of the stairwell and into the garage dressed in jeans and a stretchy top within five minutes. I was headed over to key cabinet to sign out an SUV when the elevator doors pinged open, admitting Harry to the space. He was distracted by something on his phone, but his head snapped up after a split second, meeting my gaze immediately.

"Hey," he said, seeming surprised to see me. The hand not holding his phone reached up to fidget with the strap on the brim of the safari hat he wore. "I thought you'd left already."

"Smelling like that?" I asked. "No. I'm on my way out now th-" My stomach interrupted me, reminding me that I'd barely eaten breakfast, and that had been several hours ago. "And my first stop will be somewhere that sells unhealthy food to assuage the beast within," I added, putting a hand to my stomach, even though I knew it would do absolutely nothing to stop the noises it was making.

Harry had the good sense not to comment on the rumbling from my midsection, but did take the time to tuck his phone into his pocket. "That was some scene upstairs," he mentioned. "How are you holding up?"

The groan that escaped my throat rivalled the rumbling happening lower in my digestive track. "Having the guys up here is turning out to be more awkward than I'd imagined it could have been," I confessed. "I've never seen Lester like that."

"The Trenton Crew has never really gotten along with the gang up here in Boston," Harry said. "I think it has something to do with clashing management styles. We're quite strict up here thanks to Hugh's failure anxiety. Everyone is held accountable at every turn. But from what I can gather, Trenton is rather relaxed, despite being home to our hardened patriarch. Hugh resents that because he feels like he needs to work harder to get the same results. And the rest of the men resent it because Hugh makes them work that much harder."

"It doesn't mean they have to fight over me like sand toys, though," I muttered. And that's when I realised that that's exactly what they were doing. It must be as awkward for Lester and the others to be up here as it was for me to have them up here. They were coming in with authority and, as it turns out, stepping on peoples toes. When it came to the training today, their opposing views of how the company should be run and what allowances should be made for me had been the root of the clash. Lester probably felt like he knew best, because he'd known me longer and was – I think – higher up in the chain of command than the other men. But Mungo had been the one putting in the hard yards lately to ensure that I had all the skills I should have learned five years ago. Each of them felt like they had a certain claim over me and didn't like the way the other was treating me.

Apparently it didn't occur to these men that I was actually a person, with thoughts and feelings and no desire to be fought over. I needed to talk to both of them and set the record straight later.

Separately.

Definitely separately. There was no way I was inviting those to into the same space without an exit strategy and emergency backup for when they both spontaneously combusted.

Sighing, I tossed a curl out of my face, only to realise that Harry was still standing in front of me, watching every expression that crossed my face. There was no doubt in my mind that he could read me like a book by now, we'd spent enough time in each other's company, and I was incapable of hiding my emotions the way all Rangeman employees are supposed to. "Are you headed home?" I asked, trying not to be concerned about what he'd probably surmised from watching my features contort, or the possibility that I'd been thinking out loud again.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"What are the chances that I could drop by for some peanut butter?"

Harry gave me a sympathetic smile. "Any time you need," he assured me. "My door is always open." He paused, a crinkle in his forehead, and added, "That's not true. My door is always locked and I have a standard Rangeman security system… but I'd be happy to give you a spare key and the code."

"Oh," I said, shaking my head. "No. You don't have to do that. I can just-"

"I insist," he said firmly. "If you like, you can follow me back now, get some peanut butter, and I'll set you up."

"Won't your housemate be annoyed that you're handing out access to the house to random girls?"

"Reese won't mind," Harry assured me. "We have Rangemen over all the time."

I still wasn't sure about it. I'd like to say that I wasn't often given access to people's apartments and houses, but it really wasn't true. I had spare keys to mom and dad's house, Morelli's house (I really needed to return those), Tank's house and granny flat, and my Trenton Rangeman key fob was programmed to allow me access to Ranger's seventh floor penthouse apartment. People trusted me with their keys all the time. I didn't know how I felt about that. I mean, sure, it meant that people trusted me not to steal their stuff or whatever, but it was also a pretty big responsibility. I barely knew Harry, and what happened if we had a massive argument and never wanted to speak to each other again? For one, that would make work really awkward. Like, let the earth open beneath my feet and swallow me whole, kind of awkward. But I could always move back to Trenton, or move desks again, or something. Returning someone's key to them actually required seeing the person and interacting with them. Or, at the very least, asking a mutual friend to return the key for you. Which, in a way, is worse.

Harry still hadn't moved his gaze from my face, harvesting my every thought as it crossed my face. "Steph," he said. "Don't over think it. It's just a key. Think of it like the key to a cupboard. You'll literally only be using it for peanut butter anyway, so that's all it is. A really big cupboard."

"But what if I-"

He silenced me with a finger on my lips, which was odd, but effective. I'm surprised none of the other men have ever tried that one before. "The fact that you're so worried about what could go wrong with this means that you're trust worthy and reliable," he said. "Now, come on, I'll give you a lift. Let's get you some peanut butter before you start crying, or ripping heads off."

"Which would you prefer?" I asked.

"If I have the choice?" he asked, not looking back at me as I followed him to his assigned SUV. "Neither. That's why I'm taking you to peanut butter."

Until next week, I hope you're all staying sane. Remember to take time for yourselves if you need it.