It was the five guys from the scuffle – Ian refused to call it a fight, since the other guy never landed a punch – at the Dairy Queen from earlier that week. The leader of the group, the driver of the Bronco stepped even closer, probably expecting Ian to back down in the face of superior numbers, but the cadet didn't budge.

"Where's your girlfriend?" the guy asked, sneering. "I'd love for her to be here… when we finished kicking your ass, we could have our own little date…"

The other guys gathered around snickered appreciatively, and Ian scowled.

"Why? Your mom's busy on the corner tonight?" Ian asked him.

That was the end of that conversation. With a snarl of rage the driver of the Bronco swung at Ian, and the cadet ducked the blow easily and stepped in, delivering a shot to the guy's side – almost in the exact same spot that he'd hit him the first time they'd met.

There was a grunt of pain, but with his friends behind him, there was no way he was going to back down with one blow. Even a hard one.

"You fucker…" He swung again, his friends egging him on, and Ian blocked the blow as easily as the first. This time, the cadet swung high, and hit him square in the face – a perfect shot that broke the guy's nose. He fell back, holding his gushing nose and swearing.

"Get him!"

Enough one on one.

The gang of men jumped him at the same time, and Ian was buried under the assault, fists flying.

OOOOOOOOO

When the door opened Sam was sitting at the table drinking tea and glancing through the math textbook that Ian had been reading. She looked up as Jaffer came rushing over to greet her, his tail wagging wildly and his cold wet nose instantly searching for warm skin to chill as he whuffled her cheerfully.

"I don't have anything for you to eat," she told him, pushing his nose out of her pocket with a smile for Jack, who came up to them carrying a brown paper bag that smelled strongly of French fries and burgers.

"It's okay," he said. "I do."

He bent to kiss her, then looked at the book she was reading.

"Light reading?"

She shook her head.

"It's for a class Ian's thinking about taking next year."

"Where is he? I stopped to get dinner…"

"He went for a jog. Isn't it kind of late for burgers?"

"He went for a jog? Now?"

She nodded, noticing that he ignored the question about eating so late - big shock there.

"He was a little stiff from his sparring with Bra'tac, and the best way to work that out is a run – although I admit I didn't really like the thought of him going out so late."

"He's not going to get lost, Sam," Jack said, opening the bag and pulling out fries and burgers – and handing her one. "Not with that memory of his."

"I know…"

She set the burger on the table – she wasn't all that hungry, and was pretty sure that if she ate a double burger and fries before bedtime she'd have wacky dreams.

"But you still didn't like the thought of him going out so late…" Jack said, catching the odd note in her tone of voice, and knowing her well enough to know it meant she had some misgivings.

She shrugged.

"I don't know why. I mean, he's a grown up, and you're right about him not getting lost… but…"

"But?"

"He could slip and break a leg on some black ice or something…"

"Want me to go get him?"

She hesitated but shook her head.

"No… he's probably fine, and I'm probably just having some hormone driven worry session."

He hugged her close, pressing her cheek against his belly since she was sitting and he was standing, and ran his fingers lightly through her hair. She hated having hormones – and they'd been pretty rampant at times the last few months – which of course, wasn't her fault, and he was always quick to remind her of that and to reassure her.

"If he's not back in a while, I'll go see if I need to scrape him up off the sidewalk, okay?"

She nodded, hugging him just as tightly for a moment, before releasing him when Jaffer stuck his nose between the two of them, half-heartedly reassuring her, but mostly looking to get closer to the bag of fries Jack had set in front of Sam.

"I'm sure he's fine."

"Yup."

OOOOOOOO

Ian was still on his feet. That was about all he had to be glad about, since he knew if they managed to drag him down he was as good as finished. He wasn't completely sure how he'd managed to stay up – they were all bigger than him, although for the most part slower and no where near as good at fighting as he was. Unfortunately, they had the numbers, and he couldn't watch them all at once, no matter how fast and good he was.

Two were completely out of the fray. One had been on the receiving end of a snap kick, and Ian had enough force behind it that he was certain the guy had broken a bone in his leg. He hadn't returned to the fight, anyways. He was writhing on the ground, whimpering. The other one had taken an elbow to his stomach and was puking his guts out over to one side. Three on one wasn't as bad as five on one, but Ian knew he had to finish things quickly, because he was hurting, too – although he was hiding it as well as he could.

He took a half step back, trying to watch all three of them out of his right eye – his left had been closed by a punch that had slipped through his defenses. The three weren't in any better shape; the leader of the group had blood smeared all over himself from the broken nose, and the other two were both bleeding as well from smaller cuts caused by blows.

He decided he needed to finish this quickly, because he was having trouble taking deep breaths, which probably meant he had bruised some ribs, and he didn't want it to become more serious if he could avoid it.

Going on the offensive for the first time, he struck out with his right foot at the leader – a fast kick that didn't get blocked. Ian's sneaker wasn't as hard as a boot would have been, but the shoe landed hard in the guy's gut, and he doubled over, right into Ian's left knee, which he'd brought up as soon as his right foot was back on the ground. The Bronco driver screamed in pain when his already shattered nose was slammed into once more, and he fell backwards, blood flying everywhere.

The quick viciousness of the attack left the other two guys stunned, and that was all the time Ian needed. He swept one's feet out from under him while the same time striking at the other with a hard elbow. The one who fell rolled to the side, but he was breathing heavily and in no hurry to get up and face the cadet any time soon, while the one who took the elbow bent over, grabbing his side where Ian had aimed for a kidney, knowing it would hurt worse than anywhere else. The New Yorker brought his knee up again, and missed the guy's nose, but managed a glancing blow off the side of his cheek, which sent the bigger guy to the track.

Standing there for just a moment, Ian couldn't help but be impressed with himself. Come on, he'd just kicked five asses at once – even Bra'tac would be impressed by that, right? His anger at being ganged up on long since gone in the pain he was feeling pretty much everywhere, he couldn't even think of a suitable insult for them.

"Fucking hillbillies…"

He turned his back on the five men, and moved off the track and into the snow, headed back for the fence that led to the street. He'd had enough, and they probably had, too, he was sure.

But he was wrong, and he'd just made the one mistake Bra'tac would never have made. He'd turned his back on an enemy who had every reason to hate him. Five on one and they had been beaten, and nothing will make a man lose all reason than to have someone turn his back on him while he's on the ground trying to get his breath back from a serious ass kicking. Fumbling in his coat pocket with hands that were swollen and cut from the fight, the Bronco's driver spit out a mouthful of blood and pulled the small handgun.

"Don't you walk away from me, you little piece of shit! I'll-"

Ian turned, unable to ignore the insult, his hand clutching his own aching side.

"Go fuck yourself you cock suc-"

The shots rang out before he could finish, and Ian felt the blows low, one right where his hand was holding his side, and the other only a little higher. The impact rocked him sideways, and did what the five guys couldn't – knocked him to the ground. Flat in the snow, he tried to get his hands under himself to push up out of the cold, but one hand wouldn't move and the other was pinned under him. And nothing else was working. He couldn't feel anything, and couldn't seem to get his body to do what he was trying to tell it to…

"Oh, Jesus Christ!"

The other four stared at their ringleader with shock and fear. It was one thing to get into a fight and gang up on someone; this however, was a line none of them had thought to cross. Hadn't even considered.

"Shit!"

They all staggered to their feet, fear and horror taking over and the pain of their own injuries vanishing. The guy with the broken knee was hauled to his feet and dragged back towards the street where they'd parked, while the other three pulled the driver of the Bronco to his feet as well, all of them staring at the still form lying in the snow, a crimson stain growing under him.

"Let's get out of here!"

They all rushed for the Bronco, not even looking back.