After posting the last chapter at midnight last night, I went straight to bed (where I read for about an hour before falling asleep). This morning, at 6.30am my muse woke me with the insistence that I get up and start writing. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but threats were made to make me forget the lines of conversation she was forming for me in my head, so, like the good writer I am, I got up and stumbled over to the laptop to type. Now, it is almost 11am, and despite the fact that it has only been less than 12 hours since my last update, I'm updating again, because the chapter is ready and you guys deserve it.

Chapter 45

We were riding our usual post-class high as we made our way out of the community centre, heading toward the street where we'd been forced to park due to the high volume of cars filling the parking lot adjacent to the building. It had seemed mildly inconvenient at the time, but now with the burn of our work out it was a definite setback, especially considering the walk was uphill to reach my slightly less POS than the usual car (Thanks go to the guys who had done some work on it while I was in England, and my gratitude was all they would accept for it too. I'd tried to offer to pay them back for the expenses, but they'd flat our refused).

"You know, I really feel like kicking that bags ass once a week is helping with kicking those creeps asses every day," Lula huffed as we reached the sidewalk and started up the hill. "Like, I was pretty bad ass before, but I feel unstoppable right now."

"That's the endorphins," I pointed out, managing to keep my breathing mostly even as the slope increased. "It'll wear off soon."

She snorted and gave me a dubious look. "Not if I go straight home and do some endorphin pumping with my hot hubby," she said, with that endearing grin. "My man is probably already on his way home right now, all high on variable expenses and tax deductions and… and scarcity or some shit."

I laughed. "You're not entirely sure what his job entails, are you?" I teased.

She stopped, hands on her hips jutted hips. "I know it entails a lot of math and planning," she sassed at me. "And I know he's used those words while describing his day and in phone calls. And I also know that it makes him happy. And that's all I really need to know, 'cause when he comes home from a good day of budget analyst-ing he is ready for a little Lula Lovin', if you know what I mean."

"Alright, alright," I said, waving a hand at her to get her to stop the gyrating movements she'd started to go along with her explanation. "I get it. Numbers get him in the mood." We started walking again, and I bumped my shoulder against hers as we turned the corner into the side street where we'd parked. "I'm really glad you found Louis," I told her. "You seem really happy."

"Damn skippy," she agreed, and was about to say more when a shout from the other end of the street cut her off.

"Hey Bounty Hunter!" It took only a second to find where the voice had come from – she was the only other person on the street – and then another two or three for me to recognise who it was: Janice Adino, one of my current FTAs, arrested for holding up a liquor store during what I suspected was a mental break down. We'd been unlucky enough to engage her in a footrace through the streets of the Burg just this morning. She did not seem keen on being taken back into custody.

"Janice?" I called, unsure what else I could say at this point. It was clear she wanted my attention, otherwise she wouldn't have called out to me. The problem was, I had a feeling she had not sought me out for a lift down to the station.

"Come an get me!" she yelled, spreading her arms wide.

Beside me, I heard Lula growl. She was still riding her endorphin wave, and did not sound happy about Janice interrupting her flow. Any moment now she was going to kick into rhino mode, and there wasn't a whole lot I could do to stop her once she'd reached that point of rage.

I, on the other hand, had just noticed the item she held in her left hand and was doing some quick calculations of the situation. "Is that-?" I started to ask, but never got the chance to complete the question as she lit the strip of material hanging out of the bottle and tossed it at my car. Instinct took over, and I grabbed Lula, dragging her down behind the low brick wall of the yard we'd been stopped in front of just as the car erupted. Luckily, we were far enough away that we weren't in the blast zone, but the wave of heat that billowed out from the explosion was less than pleasant.

"Molotov cocktail," Lula gasped, her eyes wild as the air filled with car alarms and shouting. "That son of a bitch launched a Molotov cocktail at your car!"

"Yeah," I agreed. "That son of a bitch."

At that moment my phone rang. I didn't so much hear it over the rising commotion as feel it, buzzing in the outer pocket of my sports tote. Grabbing out the device, I took a second to note the name on the screen before swiping to accept the call and press the phone to my ear. "Hey Les," I greeted.

"Beautiful, did your car just explode?" he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

"As a matter of fact, yes," I replied. "But it wasn't my fault."

"Huh," he murmured. "Some things never change, I guess."

A groan left my throat before I could stop it as I slumped against the wall behind me. "I thought I was making progress," I said.

"You have to expect a few bumps in the road," he informed me matter-of-factly. "It's just one of those things in life."

I screwed up my nose. I didn't want to expect this kind of bump in the road, but I suppose that even with all the training I was doing, there was nothing I could do to prevent the crazies in my life from being amateur arsonists. I guess I'd just have to continue to take these things in my stride. "The explosion caused more of a quake than a bump," I told Lester as sirens cut across the noise filling the street.

"Must have been a decent sized one," he commented. "You okay?"

"Fine," I assured him. "Not even singed hair."

"Good to know," he said. "I gotta get back to work but call me if you need anything."

And before I could say a single thing he'd disconnected the call. I had just enough to time to haul myself to my feet and note that Lula was on the phone to – if her goo-goo eyed expression was anything to go by – Louis before my phone was ringing again.

"Hi, Tank," I said, returning the device to my ear.

"Your car tracker went offline," he announced without preamble.

I sighed. "It blew up." I was about to explain more, assuming he would want details, but he spoke again before I'd managed to get another word out.

"Are you all right?" he questioned, his tone clipped. I got the feeling he was in the middle of something important but needed to check that I was okay before he could return his focus to the task at hand.

"Yeah," I assured him. "Uninjured."

"Good," he stated. "Call if you need anything."

"Will d-" I cut myself off as he disconnected. Definitely busy-Tank. Probably mid-meeting. The guys had always had terrible phone manners, but this was a whole other level. Before I had a chance to contemplate the situation anymore, though, the phone in my hand was ringing for a third time. "Yes, my car blew up. No, I'm not injured. Yes, I'll call if I need anything," I rattled off the answers to the questions I knew I'd be asked as soon as I accepted the call.

Bobby's relieved sigh crackled down the line for a second before his voice filled my ear. "I take you've already done the survey, then?" he asked.

"Twice," I nodded, taking a seat on the low wall as I watched the fire trucks enter the street. The scene was starting to become over-run by uniformed officers of various kinds – police, ambulance, fire. Probably, it wouldn't be long before I'd be sought out for my statement.

"We'll try to work on coordinating better next time," he suggested.

"My hope is that there won't be a next time," I told him as Lula plopped down beside me. "Hell, I didn't even want there to be a this time."

"That's a good goal to have," he agreed.

I rolled my eyes. Unfortunately, the way my life usually went, there wasn't actually anything I could do to prevent these things from happening. "Maybe if I tell the rest of the world they'll give me a break," I mumbled.

"Maybe," Bobby said, then in a slightly hesitant tone, he added, "Hey, I know you already said you weren't injured, but do you mind if we revisit that for a second?"

A small smile spread across my face. Of course, he needed more information on that front. He wouldn't be able to concentrate properly until he knew for certain that I was okay. "Go for it, Bobby."

"How close to the car were you when it blew up?" he asked.

I glanced down the street to where the firefighters were getting the blaze under control. "About a hundred yards?" I estimated.

"You weren't knocked over by the blast?"

I shook my head, noting a certain plain clothed cop heading our way. Great. "No," I told Bobby. "We ducked behind a garden wall, but there was a wave of heat."

"Any ringing in your ears?"

"Hard to tell with the car alarms still going off in the background," I pointed out.

"Itchy eyes?"

"Nope."

"Shortness of breath?"

"Negative."

"Aches and pains?"

"Nada."

"Anything unusual or noteworthy?"

I considered making a smartassed comment about my car being on fire, but figured he was in serious medic mode and it would be lost on him. "Nothing I can think of," I said instead.

"Okay," he sighed, sounding relieved. "Good."

"So what's the verdict, Doc?" I asked, figuring that with the medical questions over, and his relief evident, now would be an okay time to pull out that joking interaction I'd wanted a moment ago. "Am I gonna live?"

His chuckle carried down the line, sending a warm wash of gratification through my body. "It was touch and go for a bit there," he said, his tone mockingly serious. "But you'll pull through just fine."

I let out an overly dramatic sigh as Morelli spotted Lula and I and started weaving through the crowd toward us. "Thanks, Doc."

"Have you given any thought to how you're going to get home?" Bobby asked.

I screwed up my nose. I had not. In the past Ranger had always miraculously turned up right when I needed a lift and whisked me away. "I'll probably call my dad when I'm through with the police and all that jazz," I said, thinking out loud. "That way I can pick up Big Blue."

He seemed satisfied with that answer as he made a sound of approval. "Let me know if he's not available and I'll come get you," he suggested.

"Thanks, Bobby," I said, and I really meant it. All three of the guys had shown their concern for my wellbeing in their unique ways, but it was the conversation with Bobby that finally managed to ease the rattled feeling that always came over me in the wake of an explosion.

"No worries," he replied. "I'll call you later to check in."

And with that, he too, hung up. I really needed to talk to them about their phone manners. Surely, they didn't treat their clients like this, right? It was just because we were friends?

"Look out," Lula muttered beside me. "Here comes Officer Hottie."

I looked up to find that Joe was indeed closing in on our position, looking amused as he always did at the scene of one of my disasters. "I didn't mean you had to blow up a car to let me know you were ready for a catch-up chat," he chided as he approached, referencing our very short interaction when I'd brushed him off a few weeks ago.

"Believe me," I assured him, not bothering to stand from my position on the wall. "This wasn't me trying to get in contact. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to call my mom before too many gossips bombard her with the information that I've caused yet more chaos."

"Going proactive on the mom front," he nodded, a look of admiration crossing his face. "That's a big step for you."

"Yeah, well, I'm full of big steps lately," I countered, lifting my phone to dial my parents and effectively cutting off the conversation.

*o*

I'd been home long enough to shower and slip into my pyjamas, intending on enjoying a quiet night in with a peanut butter and olive sandwich and whatever mindless television I could find on tv when my phone rang. I could help but smile as I saw the name on the screen. True to his word, Bobby was calling to check in and make sure that I was still okay after the adrenaline rush had had a chance to run it's course.

"Hey, Bobby," I greeted, flopping down on the couch and tucking my feet up under me.

"Hey Steph," he replied. "Just calling to check in. How're you doing?"

"I'm okay," I assured him, fiddling with the corner of the blanket that was draped over the back of the sofa. "I've certainly had worse car bombing experiences."

Bobby made a noise in his throat that might have been agreement, but also might have been something else, it was hard to tell with the phone static breaking it up slightly. "Just okay, huh? Sounds like you need some cheering up. Lester and I are heading over to Shorty's for a pizza, why don't you join us?"

I looked down at my pyjama clad self, contemplating if I wanted company right now, if I did, indeed, need cheering up, and if I had enough energy to get dressed and go out. There was no doubt about the fact that I wasn't in the best mental state right now. My car blowing up had me bummed out. And I was kinda tired after a full day of chasing skips followed by an intense kickboxing workout, but the thought of Shorty's pizza had my stomach growling in need, and it would be nice to wind down with the guys for a while.

"Steph?" Bobby prompted when I'd been silent a little too long.

"I'm in my pyjamas," I noted outloud.

There was a beat of silence before Bobby's hesitant reply. "Does that mean you don't want to join us?" he asked.

"No," I sighed, hefting myself back off the couch and making my way into the bedroom. "It means I need to get dressed before I can leave the house. Shorty's sounds like the best thing in the world right now."

"Just Shorty's?" he questioned teasingly. "Not the company?"

I chuckled, pulling out a pair of jeans and a stretchy top out of my dresser and tossing them over to the bed while I rummaged in the top drawer for a lazy-day bra. "The company sounds good, too," I said. "I'll meet you there in about twenty minutes."

"We're already waiting downstairs," he admitted. "Just come down when you're ready. No rush."

Now I'm off to have a staring contest with my assignment. (Send help!)