Yesterday, I wrote more than four thousand words for a chapter that will be among the last five of this story. I'm loving that I have a clear ending in sight, but there's still a lot that need to cover before we get to that point...

Chapter 42

"What time is it?" I asked Lula over my shoulder as I frog-marched Aaron Katsopolis down his own driveway to the car. It was Wednesday. I'd been home for almost a week and while things weren't exactly running smoothly, they were certainly going a lot better than before I spent three months with Brandon being whipped into shape. I think, after three days of tagging along with me, Lula was finally starting to notice the changes my training had wrought and realising that I was serious about doing this the right way. She hadn't even batted an eye when I'd instructed her to go around back and cover the back door when we arrived at the Katsopolis residence. Not only that, she'd turned up to the office today wearing sneakers. Sure, they were high fashion sneakers covered in diamantes, but they were flat, and secured to her foot, and I wasn't worried about her breaking an ankle.

"Almost two o'clock," Lula responded, trotting past Aaron and me to open the back door so I could guide him inside. "Time for donuts if you ask me," she added, stepping aside to allow me room to work, but remaining close enough that she could leap to my aid if Aaron decided to kick up a fuss "We should get donuts after we dump this creep."

I grimaced. Aside from that first day when I'd gone to see Vinnie to reclaim the position I'd all but abandoned, and the time she'd spent riding shotgun with me, we hadn't really hung out. I'd been busy setting myself up for success, working out my routine and getting my life in order. I would have loved to take her up on her offer of donuts, but unfortunately, now wasn't the time.

"I can't," I told her, shutting the back door on the skip and dusting my hands off on my jeans. "Sorry."

"What do you mean you can't, White Girl?" Lula demanded, jutting her hands on her hips as she fixed me with a scowl.

"I have an appointment," I explained. "At this rate I have just enough time to get this guy processed and drop you at the bonds office if we catch all the lights."

She continued to scowl at me as we got into the car, waiting until we were in motion to continue the conversation. "You've been different since you got back," she accused. "All serious and distant. You never used to have appointments to run off to. You went and turned into one of those boring adults."

"Lula," I drawled, horrified by the thought of being called boring, but wanting to placate her all the same. "Come on. It's not that bad. I'm just figuring things out at the moment. Once I'm back in the swing of things it'll be better." She huffed out a breath, crossing her arms under her breats with a pout. "We're still on for dinner tonight, right?"

In the back, Mr. Katsopolis let out a snort. "Never thought I'd be witnessing a lover's tiff on my way back to the clink," he mused. "At least it's more entertaining than when I was arrested."

Lula was a whirlwind of movement in the corner of my eye and I pulled up short at a stop sign, worried she was going to knock me out and cause us to crash. In the next second, though, she'd wrestled her gun out of her purse and was turned around in her seat with it aimed at Aaron. "I'll have you know that I am VERY happily married to a hunk of a man who treats me like a queen. Steph and I are just friends, buddy, so shut your face or I'll put a bullet in it."

I watched in the rearview mirror as Mr. Katsopolis's eyes grew wide as dinner plates and he swallowed hard. The way his face paled made me slightly concerned for the state of my backseat when I pulled him out at the station. It wouldn't be the first time Lula had inspired a grown man to soil themselves, I just hoped she hadn't in this particular case. I wasn't looking forward to having to clean that up.

Slowly, Lula turned around and returned the gun to her bag, and settled her hands in her lap. I waited another second to make sure she wasn't going to snap again before taking off again. The rest of the drive to the cop shop passed in utter silence. Aaron was probably too scared to make a peep after the threat Lula had posed on his life. I didn't want to provoke her any more than I had already. I knew I needed to make time for my friends and family, and I was making an effort to do that, but Lula was right. I was different since I'd come back from training. It was like a flame had been lit under me. I knew what I wanted out of life and I would stop at nothing to get it.

Lula stayed in the car when we got to the station. I wasn't surprised. Lula and police didn't mesh; a hold over from her former life as a 'ho. I dragged Aaron out of the backseat and into the building without incident, and Robin was just handing me my body receipt when Joseph Morelli stepped into the room. Unsurprisingly, he noticed me immediately.

"Cupcake!" he greeted, sauntering over. "I didn't know you were back in action."

I glanced at the clock on the wall behind Robin. Shit. I really didn't have time for this. "Joe," I replied, smiling as I turned to face him. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have an appointment that I'm already going to be late for. Raincheck?"

His smile froze on his face. I'd caught him offguard. "Sure," he said, shrugging one shoulder, his smile turning into more of smirk. "I'll catch you next time your car blows up or something." His word garnered a smattering of laughter from the cops hanging around, but I didn't let it get to me. Explosions were entirely out of my control. They were not a reflection of my skills.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the body receipt off the counter where Robin had placed it and started toward the door. "Something like that," I agreed. They could laugh at me all they wanted. I had places to be.

Lula had apparently used the time I'd been inside to find all the words she wanted to say to me, because the second I opened the driver side door they were spewing out of her mouth. Rapid fire. Like when Lester and Hector are having a conversation in Spanish. Except this was English. I let her go as I drove back to the bonds office. I knew from experience that when a person had things they needed to say, it was extremely frustrating when someone else interrupted the stream to try and calm them down. By the time I pulled into a space out the front, she was winding down, thank god.

"And this is the second appointment you're running off to in two days!" she concluded, crossing her arms under her breast as she turned to face me fully. "I'm worried about you."

I sighed. This is what I get for not telling her what my appointments were for. "I promise I'll explain my whole deal at dinner tonight," I assured her. "There's nothing for you to worry about. I swear." Her eyes narrowed at me and I could hear the clock ticking the back of my brain. I needed for her to be out of the car. I needed for her to tell me she trusted me to tell her if there was something wrong. I needed to go, like, five minutes ago. "Please, Lula?"

"You're sure you're all right?" she questioned, finally unbuckling her seatbelt.

"Cross my heart," I said, miming along with my words.

She huffed out a breath, but gave a short nod, turning to open the door and slide out of the car. "Okay," she said. "But I'm holding you to your promise. Every. Single. Detail.

Oh, boy.

I was pretty sure I broke several traffic laws on the way back to my apartment, cursing myself that I'd allowed time to get away from me. Luckily, the parking gods were in a favourable mood, because I managed to nab a space right by the back entrance to the building. I took the stairs two at a time, already digging my keys out of my purse as I ran. Ten minutes late, and I still had to get my laptop up and running. Shit, shit, shit.

One thing anyone who's every been on a deadline knows is that you should never let the technology know how desperate you were for it to work efficiently. That was a sure-fire way to ensure it would encounter an error, or, in the case of my laptop right now, have a low battery. It was so typical. Racing around my apartment, I found the power cable, and plugged it into the wall socket in the kitchen, resting the computer on the table while I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and tried to get my breathing and heartrate under control. Eventually, the screen came to life and I wasted no time in logging in and pulling up Skype, finding the right contact and hitting the button for video chat.

My heart was in my throat as the chiming little tune filled the kitchen. I stared at the time in the corner. Fifteen minutes late. Tardiness was not usually tolerated. I was just thinking I'd missed my window when the chiming ceased, replaced by the muffled sound of someone speaking… in French, I was pretty sure. The screen showed a grainy, yet familiar office, complete with just a sliver of a person on the edge.

"Brandon?" I said uncertainly. "You there?"

When I'd sent Brandon the email to let him know I'd arrived home safely, and urge him to keep in touch, he'd replied fairly promptly letting me know that since I already had the details of his and Imogen's daily routines, I should figure out a time that worked with both theirs and my own schedule to set up a regular video chat. Imogen was keen to keep in touch, and Brandon had made vague comments about monitoring my progress from afar. I'd come back with two options to try out, and he'd agreed easily to them, but maybe something had come up and he was actually busy right now.

"One second," he said, loud and clear through my speakers, before continuing to speak in French, presumably to Imogen. After a moment he leaned back into the frame, glancing straight at the camera briefly before focusing on where my image must have been on his screen. "Long time no see," he greeted. "You're late."

"I know," I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "I was in the middle of a take-down. I caught every red light. My friend cornered me. I managed to get a close park! But the laptop battery was dead and-"

"Stephanie," Brandon said shaking his head. "It's fine. I was only teasing. I would have been surprised if you managed to be exactly on time. With the time difference this call lands right smack in the middle of your day."

I sighed in relief that I wasn't going to cop an earful. "So how are-"

"Look, we've only got a couple of minutes before Imogen comes back. You need to know that she got a little upset when you didn't call on time. She started telling herself that you didn't want to see her. That you were just like her mum, abandoning her never to look back. I tried my best to reassure her, but you know what she's like when she gets like that."

I nodded. I'd only witnessed a couple of breakdowns in the time I spent with them, but I knew the hallmarks.

"I sent her to wash her face and get a glass of water, so hopefully she'll be okay, but I needed you to know," he added.

"Of course," I nodded. "How have you been?'

He shrugged a shoulder, his lips tipping up in one of his lopsided smiles that always caught me off guard. "Things have been quiet since you left," he informed me. "I find myself wondering who on earth I'm going to bark at to fill this void in my life."

"Maybe you should take on some work as a personal trainer on the side," I suggested. "Or hire yourself out to other companies, be a professional scolder. I think you'd be good at it."

"You might have something with that," he chuckled, but I noticed his eyes drift away from the computer screen. A moment later Imogen appeared at his side and he hauled her onto his lap so that they were both in full view of the camera. "Steph was just saying I should hire myself out to yell at complete strangers since I don't have her to yell at anymore," he explained to his daughter. "What do you think?"

"Well you are good at yelling," Imogen pointed out,

"Exactly!" I agreed. "I've been yelled at by a lot of people, but your dad just has this extra something that makes it special, you know?" She laughed, whether it was my joke or the fact that Brandon was tickling her, I didn't know, but I was glad to see that she wasn't crying. "Sorry I was late for our call, Im," I said, "I was chasing bad guys."

"It's okay," she smiled batting her dad's hands away from her most ticklish spots. "What time is it there?"

"A little after two. Prime time for catching scumbags off guard."

Imogen screwed up her nose. "I thought breakfast time would be the best time to catch someone off guard," she said. "Dad's always easier to- uh -" she glanced over her shoulder at her father as he leaned forward with interest. "Never mind," she said hastily.

"Hmm," Brandon hummed, resting his chin on her shoulder. "We'll talk about that later. How are you settling back in, Steph?"

I took a sip of my water, and proceeded to detail the training the guys had helped me sort out so far. "I'm running most mornings with Bobby," I explained. "And Tank offered me the use of his home gym. I've got a self-defense class and a kick-boxing class lined up as well, and Lester's taken on responsibility of my firearms training. I had my first appointment with my new therapist yester and she seems okay. I just need to figure out how I'm going to afford the license for the search programs I need."

"Hmm," Brandon repeated. "Sounds like you've got things under control so far, you're covering most, if not all of your bases. Just make sure that those men don't let you get away with that whiny baby stuff you did when you first arrived on my doorstep."

"I promise I won't let them let me go soft," I assured him, raising my hand like I was making a solemn vow. "I'm a little nervous about my kick-boxing class, though," I admitted. "What if the other adults don't like me?"

Imogen poked her tongue out at me, obviously catching on to the face that I was making a joke about how her and her friends had treated me when I'd first gate crashed their sports training sessions. "I'm pretty sure me and my team mates prepared you well for that eventuality," she said. "If you can survive twenty nine-year-olds giving you a hard time for your ball dribbling technique you can survive a bunch of boring adults whispering judgey things to each other because they're jealous of your high kick."

My classes start back tomorrow, which means that I'll have less time for writing [sad face]. I'm hoping to still be able to update periodically now that I'm on a roll with this story again, but they're probably going to be a little further apart than the last three weeks.